Executioner- Reign of Blood

by Edwin McRae

  Karina enjoyed watching him deflate. “Yes, my dear demon. If he has read the book then he knows I can neither give the figurist up nor kill her prior to the ritual’s completion. There is no room for bargaining here. He will come for his lady with the vehemence of a stricken lover.” She sighed. “Our only hope is that I complete the ritual. Of course, if I am to do that, I will need some assistance in slowing him down.” She shot Gunder a dark look that left the man visibly shaken. “You and he have already proved that my defenses are less than sufficient.”

  Karina almost laughed as Arix struggled to retain his composure. “Not a problem. We could...um…”

  “Here’s what we’re going to do, demon,” Karina interjected. “You bring the figurist and the book to my camp.” He opened his mouth to protest. “I know there’s no point in killing you,” she cut him off, “as you’ll simply pop up again somewhere annoyingly difficult to find. What I’m offering here is a partnership. I will offer you the services of my remaining soldiers so that you may capture the warlock before he becomes too much of a nuisance. Then I will send you both home. Do we have a deal?”

  Arix’s face took on a suspicious cast. “How do I know you’re not going to just slap collars on us both and keep us as slaves?”

  Karina smiled. “To be honest, demon, I would send you home right now if not for that warlock. You’ve proved yourself to be more of a hindrance than a help.”

  “I’ll take that as compliment.”

  “Please don’t.” Karina turned and began to walk back to the camp. “I will see you and the figurist at my tent,” she called over her shoulder.

  “Hey!” shouted Arix. “We’re not done negotiating here!”

  Karina didn’t bother to answer. As far as she was concerned, the deal was already done.

  25

  [Mark]

  “Mark?”

  He stopped in his tracks and ducked behind a wall for cover.

  “What’s wrong, Sid?”

  “Place me against the stone.”

  Mark did as he was bade.

  “Yes, I thought so. We’re being followed.”

  Mark peeked around the edge of the crumbling bricks. “Where?”

  “See the bell tower?”

  There was only one building tall enough to be a bell tower, but it was weathered and eroded beyond recognition.

  “How did you know that’s a bell tower?”

  “The bell’s still inside it. The ropes have long since rotted away but the breeze is blowing across the bell, causing a faint vibration.”

  Mark peered up at the tower’s summit and could just make out a dark, shaggy silhouette. “Oh shit. It’s the werewolf.”

  “Werewolf? What is that?”

  “A shapeshifter. Someone who can shift between human form and a wolf-monster thingy. Arix and I saw it near the reiver camp.”

  “Is it going to attack us?”

  “I don’t think so. It didn’t before, and surely it would’ve had a go by now.”

  As he watched, the lycanthrope moved into view, allowing the sun to fully reveal her sinuous form and the silver-grey of her coat. The thing looked straight at him, her bestial face impassive. Mark wasn’t quite sure why he thought the creature was a she. Maybe there was something about her stance or her features that was feminine.

  Mark stepped out from behind the wall and offered the werewolf a tentative wave.

  “Mark? What are you doing?”

  “Establishing contact.”

  “You think it’s friendly?”

  “She hasn’t proven herself hostile yet.”

  “She?”

  Mark shrugged. “Just a hunch.”

  “Need I remind you that Vari is in the clutches of the despicable Arix the Damned and that we have little time to be dallying with the local fauna?”

  “This might be an opportunity we can’t afford to pass up. It’s not like we have an oversupply of allies right now.”

  “Forgive me for pointing this out, Mark, but your last attempt at an alliance didn’t work out so well.”

  The werewolf waved back, a jarringly human gesture. She then descended the tower, crawling down its sheer wall on all fours like it was the easiest thing in the world. Mark was reminded of the scene from Gary Oldman’s Dracula when Keanu Reeves sees the vampire scampering like a lizard across the castle wall, his crimson cape trailing behind him.

  “She climbs even better than Arix.”

  “And that is a reason to trust her because…”

  “Oh, I’m not about to trust her, Sid.” He followed up the assertion by casting “Second Skin”. He would save Obsidian Plate for when the werewolf really wanted to have a go.

  The werewolf approached across the courtyard until Mark raised a gauntleted hand. ‘That’s close enough.”

  She stopped and cocked her head. Mark was surprised by how cute he found the gesture, like she was a friendly dog wondering if it was walk time.

  “Can you speak?” asked Mark.

  “Yes, I can speak,” the lycanthrope answered.

  She sounded like someone trying to talk while chewing a large chunk of steak. The image wasn’t terribly comforting, and there was something unnervingly familiar about her voice.

  “Do I know you?”

  The wolf shook her head. “But I know of you, warlock.”

  “How?”

  “I was human, a Garlander. I heard things before the corruption did this to me.”

  Mark had tried to keep abreast of the troubling news that poured into Citadel these days, and he’d never heard of lycanthropy among the tales of woe. He attempted to bring up the creature’s stats but only managed to access the basics.

  Level 6 Wardog

  “Do you have a name?”

  “Greta.”

  “Right then, Greta, what is it you want?”

  “To help you.”

  “Help me with what?”

  The werewolf’s smile was more of a snarl, but Mark could see she was trying. “I heard you travel with a dark-skinned woman. A healer? Where is she now?”

  Mark felt heat gather around his eyes. “You know where they are.”

  “The healer and the axeman. Yes.”

  He took a step forward, his hand now gripping Volcanic Bastard. “Tell me!”

  The werewolf raised her long-clawed hands. Contrary to folklore, her palms were hairless and Mark noticed heavy calluses at the bases of her fingers. They were more pronounced on her right hand. Was it from wielding a hammer or sickle, or was it from a sword? His grip on his own sword tightened.

  “They are in the reiver encampment.”

  “Fuck! That slimy, traitorous-”

  “She is alive,” the wolf cut in. “Do you want her back?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Then follow me.”

  The werewolf trotted away on all fours. Mark followed her through a series of winding streets and shattered buildings until they reached the base of a spiral staircase. Greta motioned for Mark to wait, then scampered up the steps. A few moments later she returned, her claws now glistening with blood.

  “Come.”

  “Who or what did you just kill?”

  Greta ignored him and headed back up the stairs.

  “Now would be an opportune time to leave,” suggested Citadel.

  “I want to see where this goes.”

  He ducked into a nearby chamber and found a secluded spot where he could lay down a resurrection point. Then he followed the stairs upwards until masonry and dust gave way to sky. The stairs ended prematurely on a landing. The top section of the tower had been cut clean off, presumably during the cataclysm. There was just enough room for him to share it with the werewolf and the dead reiver archer at her feet. Her smell was pungent but not unpleasant. It reminded him of his mum’s old cocker spaniel, Biddy. At least it covered the stink of freshly spilled blood.

  They were on the opposite edge of the encampment from where he and Arix had launched their initial
attack against the reivers. They were just a stone’s throw from where the altars had been arranged in a triangle. A woman in black stood at the head of the triangle. The palm of her left hand was pressed against the Altar of Solmora. She held Ishka’s book open in her right. Vari was nowhere to be seen, but Arix stood nearby, leaning on his axe. Somewhere inside Mark, a bucket plunged down into the well of his emotions and came up brimful with hatred.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the werewolf looking at him. “You can have the demon,” she growled. “The inquisitor is mine.”

  Mark assumed she was talking about the woman in black and that rang more than one alarm bell for Mark. Once again he gripped the handle of his sword. “How do you know she’s an inquisitor?”

  Greta’s blue eyes bored into him. He was sure he’d seen those eyes before. “My village was attacked by reiver slavers. I escaped, but not before the inquisitor among them practiced her ‘arts’ on me.”

  “I thought you said the corruption changed you.”

  Greta growled. “Other arts, warlock. The painful ones.”

  “Was it her?” asked Mark, inclining his head in the direction of the camp.

  “No. Another.”

  “Yes, you can have the inquisitor, but not before she sends Arix back where he came from.” “Arix? That’s the axeman’s name?”

  “Yes. Arix the Damned. And I need to see what that book she’s holding says first. I might still need Karina alive, at least for a little bit.”

  “That’s a lot of conditions,” the werewolf complained. “I was just thinking I’d bite the inquisitor’s throat out, maybe disembowel her first though.”

  “Well, there’s a ritual that needs to be completed and Karina is a vital part of it.”

  “What ritual?”

  “See those altars down there? They can cause something called the Breaking Dawn, and from what I’ve read in Ishka’s book, that could either spell really good news or bad news for Garland.”

  “What’s the bad news?”

  “If Karina completes the ritual, she would be able to command the chasms and the corruption that lies within them. She could open up new chasms in Garland and overwhelm it with creatures of her creation and under her control.”

  “That is bad news.”

  “It gets worse. The ritual requires a blood sacrifice. A human being of Level 6 or higher.”

  “Your dark-skinned woman?”

  Mark squinted and gritted his teeth against the anxiety that was welling up within him. Every moment they hesitated was one moment closer to Vari’s death. But the more he thought about the task ahead, the more daunted he felt about attempting it alone.

  “Then what’s the good news?”

  “If I complete the ritual then I can close the chasms for good. No more corruption. With luck, it might even cure your lycanthropy.”

  The werewolf sniffed and scratched at a spot behind her ear with a long claw. “You’d still need a sacrifice?”

  To Mark she didn’t seem all that taken with the prospect of a cure. “Yes, that’s where Karina comes in.”

  The werewolf ran a long tongue along her sharp teeth. “You have a deal.”

  “Any idea how we’re going to fight our way through ninety reiver soldiers?”

  “You seemed to have no trouble yesterday.”

  “So that was you watching us.”

  “Yes. You fought well.”

  “That was with Arix, and we had Vari supplying us with healing and essence potions.” Mark quietly cursed the fact that he’d cannibalized Avalar’s Leech. “You don’t happen to know any healing spells, do you?”

  “No, but I heal quickly.”

  “I don’t.”

  “You can come back to life.”

  “Saw that too, did you?”

  “Yes.”

  He realized just how lucky he and Arix had been. If this werewolf had decided to make their lives difficult last night, it could have staked out their resurrection points and griefed them as they respawned.

  “If I die, I’ll need you to collect my gear.” He patted the pommel of Volcanic Bastard. “Especially my sword. We’ll designate a meeting point each time.” He wasn’t about to let Greta see his resurrection point this time around. He would wait until she was engaged in battle before setting it.

  “Might I interrupt this planning session with a little suggestion?”

  The werewolf gave a start and stared at the amulet around Mark’s neck. “What is that?”

  Mark offered a wry smirk. “Sid the Talking Building, meet Greta the Talking Dog.”

  “Hello, Greta.”

  Greta sniffed, as if trying to catch Citadel’s scent. “If it’s a building, then why is it in a necklace?”

  “It’s complicated,” excused Mark. “Sid? You had something you wanted to add?”

  “Indeed. I noticed it during the attack yesterday, underneath the campsite. I didn’t mention it yesterday as it didn’t seem relevant, but today it could prove rather helpful. Mark? Would you do the honors?”

  Keeping the amulet on, Mark pressed the ruby to the closest section of wall while Greta watched. Her ears twitched with curiosity.

  “As I thought, there are sewers running beneath the campsite. Most have collapsed and are impassable. A couple remain intact. There’s an entrance to one of them nearby.”

  Mark laughed, drawing a growl from Greta. “What’s so funny?”

  “No adventure is complete without a sewer run.”

  “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” was her response and Mark was once again struck by how familiar her voice sounded to him.

  “Nevermind,” he said, shaking his head. “Sid? Is there some way we can pop up into the camp from the sewer?”

  “Yes, two places, and one of them is quite close to that marquee.”

  “Good, then we need to sneak in and get Vari out of there first.”

  Yet as soon as he said it, something felt off. There was a key piece of information missing.

  “I’ll bite some throats out then.”

  The statement startled Mark out of his reverie. “What? Why? As a diversion?”

  “No, for dinner.” The lycanthrope’s mouth gaped into what Mark assumed was a smile. “Yes, a distraction. Give you a better chance of nabbing your lady friend without getting overwhelmed.”

  His instincts were waving red flags again. Mark had learned to trust them over his years of gaming. His brain invariably picked up far more than he was conscious of. As if summoned by a spell, a memory fluttered up from the depths of his subconscious. Tiles glowed brightly in the Chamber of Solmora. A secret room that only Arix could find.

  “Shit!”

  “Something about this plan vexes you, Mark?” asked Citadel.

  “Shit, shit, shit!”

  “A triple vexation. This must indeed be a terrible plan.”

  “Yeah, sorry, but it’s not going to work.”

  “Why not?” demanded Greta.

  “Arix has a spell called Truelight. It allows him to detect traps and secret doors. If I was him, I’d use it all over that camp to make sure some warlock doesn’t pop out of a trapdoor and jam his Volcanic Bastard sword up my treacherous ass.”

  “Although I do enjoy the image,” commented Citadel, “I must disappoint you there, Mark. The executioner’s anus is remarkably reliable. His motions were regular and of an even weight and consistency.”

  Mark’s mouth opened but no words came out.

  “Arix’s brain,” continued Citadel. “Now that’s a different story entirely. His face too. If you were to jab Arix in his treacherous-”

  “Sid?” Mark interrupted.

  “Oh, sorry. Yes?”

  “You’re nervous, aren’t you.”

  “I’m rambling?”

  “Yup.”

  “Alas, yes. A little anxious, if I’m to be honest.”

  Greta snarled, startling them both. “Do you two fucking mind?”

  “Right, y
eah,” agreed Mark. “We need a new plan.”

  “And before you mention it, that hard-to-see spell of yours won’t work either.”

  “Shroud of Shadow? Why not?”

  “Karina has a spell called Sparks of Sentience. It lets her sense anything with a decent-sized brain in the surrounding area.”

  Mark eyed her with suspicion. “How do you know that?”

  Greta shrugged. “I was shackled but they didn’t blindfold me or block my ears. Had to stay sharp so I could find a way to escape.”

  Mark couldn’t quell his anxiety any longer. “Can I really trust you, Greta?”

  “We both want the inquisitor and we’re more likely to do that if we work together. Trust has nothing to do with it.”

  Mark wished he could believe that. “Fine. In that case, I think I have another plan forming. I’ve got another way I can get in that might sneak me past Karina’s brain-sense spell. But after that I’ll need a full thirty seconds worth of distraction so I can make my escape with Vari.”

  “Can I help in any way, Mark?” asked Citadel.

  “Yeah. If I got us close enough, do you think you could pinpoint Vari’s exact location based on her weight and shape?”

  “Yes, I believe I could.”

  “In that case, my friend the talking building, and my new friend the talking dog, we are about to ruin Inquisitor Karina’s day.”

  26

  [Vari]

  “You know this is nothing personal, yeah?” asked the executioner. “Like literally. You’re not even a person and Mark needs to realize that.”

  She could read the guilt clearly in his dark brown eyes. He was struggling with what he was doing, but Vari doubted it had anything to do with her. She was a non-player-character to him, an illusion created by the great brain of metal and lightning that had forged her entire world. No, Arix’s guilt was about Mark, and what her death would do to him.

  But Vari had a few ideas of her own on that front. Mark would try to rescue her, of that she was sure. Whether he would succeed, now that was a different matter entirely.