Transcending Limitations

by Brian Wilkerson

  “Thank you, Yulyn,” Basilard said. “Your voice of reason is much appreciated.”

  “Chief Basilard,” Yulyn replied, “if ritualistically killing Zettai is truly the only way to save our clan, will you allow us to do so?”

  Basilard gripped BloodDrinker’s hilt. He breathed in and out. He opened his mouth but closed it again.

  “Forgive me,” Yulyn said. “Such a decision cannot be made on the spot. Neither option is palatable. You will need time to prepare yourself either way.”

  It was clear which option they all preferred. Basilard knew they expected him to surrender her soon. Otherwise, they would storm the Dragon’s Lair to get to her. Even Yulyn would support them because it was the only solution they had.

  “I will research the situation. I have certain resources I can explore and connections I can tap. If there is no other solution than what you propose, then I will accept it. However, if there is another solution, then I expect you to accept it as well.”

  “Even if such a solution exists, it will not mean that we will accept her,” Tarquin said. “The Adoption Ceremony will not change our minds.”

  “Your mind, Tarquin,” Yulyn said. “I look forward to it myself.”

  Tarquin turned away from Basilard and towards Yulyn. “Then perhaps we should consider you for heresy as well.” He shivered from the bigger Bladi’s Evil Eye.

  “Cousin, you do not wish to pursue that train of thought any further.”

  Basilard quickly left the council chamber. It was safer to raid a dragon’s treasury than to spend any more time there. Then he saw what was waiting for him outside and took a step back.

  Kaiba Gunrai, with his gaudy bowtie and identical assistants, tapped his foot while staring at an old-fashioned pocket watch. Upon noticing Basilard, he pushed a button on the watch with his thumb.

  “Shiroe wins,” he declared, to the delight of his male assistant. “However, it was close.”

  “What do you want, Gunrai?” Basilard already knew but hoped it was something else.

  “Humans can be surprisingly set in their ways given how short their lives are,” Gunrai said. “Perhaps it has to do with a sense of ‘this is the way things have always been.’ Whatever the reason, your daughter’s uniqueness threatens to cleave your clan in two. Give me Bladi blood and I will make sure she is not unique anymore.”

  “She will always be unique,” Basilard replied. “Individual and irreplaceable; you can’t manufacture the bond that has formed between us.”

  It had the desired effect: Gunrai’s business facade vanished in the face of his anger at Basilard’s words and his frustration that he could not disprove them. He might have attacked Basilard right then and there, but his desire for business was stronger.

  “True, for the moment, but what I can manufacture is a new clan for you.”

  The audacity of the statement stunned Basilard. The very idea repulsed him so deeply his mind refused to process it. When it could no longer delay the inevitable, he said,

  “You can’t be serious.”

  Gunrai mimed a pair of scissors.

  “Trim off the dead branches, drain the stagnant water, burn the underbrush; these are all chaotic ideas. If I recall my Isaryu history correctly, your founder rose to prominence by killing his enemies. Nor is your situation the first time that your family has encountered internal strife. You have a problem and I am offering you the solution.”

  Basilard itched to check if his relatives were listening but suppressed the urge. If anyone saw him look left or right, then they would construe it as him checking for witnesses and thus considering or even accepting the proposal.

  “I will not give you Bladi Blood. If I did, then we would become business rivals, and everyone knows what you do to your business rivals.”

  A small smirk tugged at Gunrai’s mouth. “I made a similar offer to Tarquin and his immediate family. He has a need to fill as well. I bet you were amazed that those first assassins could hide from Tiza’s Third Eye and how a dead Bladi seemingly came back to life.”

  Basilard squeezed BloodDrinker’s hilt. It sent him tempting messages of bloodshed and vengeance. Drinking elf and Bladi back-to-back; the evil weapon could not imagine a finer scenario. All Basilard had to do was draw it and it would take care of the rest. Basilard let go of BloodDrinker and squeezed his opposing gauntlet instead.

  “As you can see, you already have ‘business rivals,’ Chief Bladi,” Gunrai said. “I assure you that I would be a more pleasant enemy.”

  “I will...no...I won’t stoop that low. I’m not that desperate.”

  He walked past Gunrai, but Shiroe stepped into his path. Basilard glared. Shiroe stared stoically and handed Basilard a slip of paper.

  “Mr. Gunrai’s card, if you change your mind or desire our services for another reason.”

  Basilard glared at the card and then accepted it.

  It was late afternoon when he returned to the Dragon’s Lair. By then, the lobby had returned to normal with only one exception. Bladi blood was classified by the Ataidar government as “hazardous waste” because it would slowly poison or dissolve anything it touched. Thus, the marks where he and Zettai lay were forever marked into the lobby’s floor.

  For the rest of my career, I have to be reminded of the fact that I let something get close enough to hurt my daughter.

  Mia was back behind her desk and looking as cute as ever. She had washed her face, changed into a new dress, and redone her makeup, so the blood from earlier was gone. Now she typed away at her terminal as normal. At the sound of the door ding, she paused and said, “Welcome to the Dragon’s Lair. How may I help you?”

  “Is Zettai with the Dragoness?”

  “Yep! It’s a charming sight.”

  Basilard smiled and patted her head on his way up the stairs. The Dragon’s Head was the tallest room in the guild building and office of the guild’s leader. There was certainly no safer place in all of the Dragon’s Lair.

  He found his daughter resting on a foldout cot set in front of the guild head’s desk. She lay on her side, tucked in under a fluffy pink blanket. Her little chest rose and fell in peaceful sleep. He bowed his head and said, “Thank you for watching her, Dragoness.”

  “How could I not? She’s adorable.”

  Ridley the Dragoness, leader and most powerful member of the Dragon’s Lair mercenary company, latest successor to the Mother Dragon, and one of the few active paladins in all the world, was cooing over the child. She wasn’t wearing her dragon armor, but the scene was still much like a dragon with a ruby.

  “She makes me wish I’d taken Spalici up on his offer during the Unicorn War.”

  Basilard knelt on the other side of Zettai’s cot. “You couldn’t spend five minutes with Spalici without kicking him in the groin.”

  “He’s an orc. They like it,” Ridley insisted.

  “Mhh...go for the eyes...snnn...” Zettai mumbled in her sleep.

  “You’ve taught her well.”

  “I hope I’ve taught her well enough. Today is just the beginning.” He stood up. “Guild head Ridley.”

  Ridley raised an eyebrow at being addressed so formally.

  “I’m about to doing something so stupid only a desperate father would consider it. If you want me to go somewhere else first, I will do so.”

  “No, it’s all right. Go ahead.”

  “Thank you.” He took a deep breath and said, “Tasio. Tasio. Tasio.”

  The king of the tricksters appeared at his side. At once, he hovered over Zettai’s cot and tickled her chin.

  “Oh look at the widdle baby! She’s so cuuuuute!”

  “Tasio, you owe me one.”

  Tasio looked over at the mortal with a blank expression.

  “I’ve kept your chosen safe as you ‘requested.’ I was beaten within an inch of my life in the Yacian Caverns. I traveled to Ceiha and relived both my worst fear and the worst moment of my life. I committed heresy and blood was stolen from me. You owe me
at least one favor.”

  Tasio flipped over on his back, placed his hands behind his head, and crossed his legs. When he met Basilard’s quietly furious expression, he said with the utmost casualness, “What would you like me to do? Kill the council? That won’t solve the core problem and will only stir up more resentment. Kill Gruffle? Another reaper will take his position and continue. Should I kill Death himself? The universe will not be to your liking after that.”

  A ferocious blood-red aura emerged from Basilard and threw its pressure to every corner of the room.

  “Do you what you always do,” Basilard said. “Work trickery. Manipulate people into resolving the problem without knowing what they’re doing. I don’t care how you do it, just fix this!”

  Tasio sprang from his lounging position to hover directly in front of Basilard. A malicious grin spread across his face and his eyes glimmered with the mischief he was about to unleash. With two words, he confirmed both Basilard’s hopes and fears.

  “Wish granted.”

  He disappeared from the Dragon’s Lair.

  Inside Mt. Fiol, a herd of wind and fire spirits stampeded towards the Rite of Fire Ascension Corridor. There were so many of them, they choked the passage with their ectoplasm.

  “Gruffle’s getting better…”

  Priestess swung her arms and brought her bow and quiver out of her personal pocket dimension. Slipping the latter onto her back, she pulled an arrow out of it and nocked it to her bow. She drew it and took aim. A magic circle formed underneath her feet and programmed the arrow for maximum damage against spirits of these two elements. She released the arrow and a double helix of blue and brown soared forward.

  It cut a swath through the herd and plunged into the far wall. Though many were vanquished, many remained. Then four directional earth spikes impaled the wind spirits and spheres of water encased the fire spirits. This secondary attack vanquished most of the remaining spirits. Priestess sniped the rest with chaos bolts. She hugged Deathkiller to her chest and pivoted on her heel.

  “I’m done. You?”

  Perrault growled at a vast clump of grey mist. Ten or so spirits cowed at her paws. Priestess tapped the air directly above them with her staff and another magic circle drew itself. It opened a portal to the Veins of Noitearc and sucked up the souls. Then Priestess closed the portal, put her staff and bow away, and briskly rubbed Perrault’s head and back.

  “Good girl!”

  The wolf wriggled in pleasure.

  “Now I’m going to check on Eric. Can I trust you to handle things here for a while?” Her familiar stared at her. Priestess pulled her hood further over her face. “It’s not like that. There is serious stuff to monitor.”

  Sullenly, Perrault stood at the entrance of the corridor. Her mistress skipped through it for a pleasure trip.

  Deeper underground and closer to the heart of the volcano, Eric meditated. A roaring blaze engulfed his entire body, but only his mortality was burning away. The rot in his stomach and groin were the first to go. Though they would no longer be needed when he woke up, he would still be able to use them, which pleased Annala.

  She stood at the foot of the altar and sighed happily. Seeing her boyfriend in a focused state of contemplation as he reached for a higher state of being appealed to her. Then Tasio appeared in her field of vision.

  She squeaked and smacked him with her staff. A cartoonish bump grew out of his head. He crossed his arms, and she bowed her head.

  “Sorry! It was a reflex!”

  “I came to warn you, Granddaughter. You’re going to have company soon. It will be someone you know, so please be a good and proper host when they arrive.”

  “I understand, Grandfather. Thank you for the warning.”

  Tasio disappeared and Annala could see Eric again. This time, her eyes were hard with resolve. She pounded her staff on the ground and declared, “Eric, I swear to you and to Lady Chaos, that no matter what happens, I will protect you until you awaken.”

  Chapter 15 I Will Solve Your Problem by Creating a New One

  Basilard stared at the black spot on the floor of Central Hearth’s library.

  After making a deal with The Trickster, he left Zettai in the care of his boss and returned to Mt. Fiol. Stepping on Omnias’ teleportation circle, he appeared in the middle of Central Hearth without breaking stride. His first stop was the library.

  If he searched enough books, maybe he could find a way to keep his clan alive long enough for Eric to make the problem go away with his new godly power. It was a long shot, but a Chaosist never discounted long shots. Also as a Chaosist, he expected what he needed to be something he didn’t want. That was why he continued staring at the scorch mark and praying to a different deity.

  The morning sun illuminated the black spot. It was a perfect circle that never crossed the red line surrounding it. If he stared at it long enough, he hoped the solution to his problem would reveal itself. Instead, he only became more agitated and forlorn.

  A knock on the door of his private reading room didn’t break his concentration. Only when three knocks joined it, followed by a pause and then four more knocks, did he realize the identity of his visitor. Immediately, he became as quiet as the dead. With a heavy heart, he said, “Come in.”

  A teenage boy stepped in. He carried a scythe in his hands and a book in a strap on his back. It was like watching a kid going to school. The boy removed his hood and revealed his chalk white, yet still youthful face. The sight rended Basilard’s heart. He wasn’t any older than Raki.

  “Brother Neuro, from the Brotherhood of Death faction of Momento Mori, here to assist you with your necrotic problem. It is good to see you again, Basilard Bladi.”

  “I hope customs didn’t give you too much trouble.”

  “No, not too much,” Neuro replied. “I only had to demonstrate my holy power to leave Ceiha and I will have to go through the weapon exception registry when I return.”

  “You are indeed a pious and devoted servant of Lord Death if you are willing to return to such a country as Ceiha.”

  “Thank you for the compliment, Mr. Bladi, but I am a mere instrument of his mercy. I go where I am needed and I am needed in Ceiha. However, the bishop said my familiarity with your case was necessary. Again I ask, how may I assist you?”

  Basilard silently cursed the trickster deity. Of all the death priests in the world, why did it have to be one so young?

  “It concerns my daughter, Zettai.”

  “Zettai?” Neuro consulted a notepad he kept up his sleeve. It contained the mission briefing given to him by the Necrotic Bishop of Ceiha. “Ah yes, the girl you met in Ceiha and whose conversion you completed. You truly call her ‘daughter’ now?”

  Basilard nodded. He was too choked up to say anything else on the subject. If he opened his mouth, he might blaspheme and the last thing he needed was a god laughing at him. He swallowed and spoke only the facts.

  “Unknowingly, and due to circumstances outside of her control, she committed a number of misdemeanors listed in the Book of Death.”

  Neuro’s eyes narrowed. “How many?”

  Basilard winced. “...As many as five.”

  Neuro blinked. “That’s what my mission briefing says too. I didn’t believe it because reapers usually smite after the fourth one.”

  Basilard waved his hands as if he could dash his concerns. “Her violations are of questionable legality and the local reaper has not officially come into his office.”

  “Benjamin Gruffle,” Neuro said. “I recall the announcement that Reno Grade was deposed for abusing his authority and that a new reaper was transitioning into his role.”

  “And so I find myself in a difficult situation,” Basilard said.

  “It is not as difficult as you believe,” Neuro said. “You choose either quantity or quality. The more important one will stay with you and the other will be released into Lord Death’s care.”

  “Yes, yes, but there is another solution. That’s why I
called you.”

  “I will not violate the Book of Death for anyone.”

  “I’M NOT ASKING YOU TO!” Basilard took a breath and let it out. “Sorry. This is a stressful time and I’ve been up all night. I checked the Book of Death and there is one other solution to my problem, and it will also solve your problem.”

  Neuro arched an eyebrow. “I have no problems.”

  “I’m surprised you would say that. You’re trapped in a meat sack! I thought you had some daily prayer to that effect, but I suppose—”

  “Basilard Bladi,” Neuro said slowly, “are you asking me to die?”

  “No! Not at all. I’m asking you to ascend,” Basilard said. “As soon as you die, you’ll become a reaper and receive an immediate post to a new world fruit. That’s the point of the clergy, right? Training new reapers who will not need a probationary period!”

  The haggard man dashed back to his desk, grabbed a book, flipped through the pages, and then thrust it in Neuro’s face.

  “Volume 8, Chapter 20, lines 21-25: ‘a death priest may give their life as wergild to absolve necrotic violations accumulated by a layperson. Their blood will be consumed by the layperson, who will then perform penance to complete the process of reconciliation with Lord Death.’”

  Basilard snapped the book shut. Neuro waited a moment, then unshouldered the book on his back and took it in both hands. He leaned his scythe against the wall while he flipped the pages. Basilard was tempted to strangle him but did not because he knew what the boy was going to say.

  “Volume 8, Chapter 20, lines 20-25: ‘at his or her sole discretion, a death priest may give their life’...etc.” Neuro gently closed his book and returned it to his back. “You want me to commit suicide to save your daughter.”

  “Why are you so upset?” Basilard demanded. “This is the only occasion where a death priest is permitted to terminate their own life. Even arranging for someone else to kill you at a random time and in a random fashion is forbidden. By helping me and granting me your god’s mercy, you will skip decades of finite existence in a body ruled by physical urges.”