Knives in the Night

by Nathan A. Thompson

  Unimpeded, the axe sped on toward the Malus commander, who screeched in surprise, only for his concealing magic to cause the weapon to veer off course. I growled in annoyance and summoned the weapon back into my hand, closing the distance between us with a final leap.

  He snarled and crossed his arms, summoning a protective red screen in front of his body. It lasted a half-second longer than the Mongrel’s magic, and then both Toirneach and Colada went slicing through.

  My enemy shrieked and fell to the ground as my blades severed both of his arms. As he landed, his cowl fell from his face, and I immediately recognized him.

  “Johnson?” I asked in disbelief as I stared at the visage of one of the medical techs who used to operate their treatment on me—treatment I now knew to be the actual cause of my former disability. “The hell are you doing here?”

  He answered my question by screaming something about his arms. I risked a quick glance to gauge the rest of the battle, but my retinue had matters well in hand. The Horde army had been pretty well shredded with our original volley, and the other four Malus Members were both outnumbered and outmatched by my cohorts, even if Headmaster Moram and his people hadn’t joined the fight themselves with their Saga magic. Even now, the head Testifier’s sonorous, echoing voice was driving the remaining combatants to their knees as they clutched their heads.

  “Hey, asshole,” I said to the limbless idiot still screaming on the ruined cobblestones. “I know exactly how much losing your limbs hurts. Quit being a wimp and answer my question. What are you doing here?”

  “Don’t ask me that!” the obnoxious imbecile shouted. “You’re the one who’s not where he’s supposed to be!”

  I looked into his eyes and found a familiar, maddened glint that answered my question.

  Malus corruption.

  The weaker group of operatives back on Avalon had the same sheen to their eyes, a hint of insanity brought on by being unable to fully handle the magics they had learned from Aegrim and Cavus. They were still useful, as well as powerful compared to non-Risen combatants, but their potential and reasoning would forever be limited by being unable to fully integrate the dark hate of their patrons.

  It also made them say all sorts of stupid shit.

  “You’re nothing!” the bleeding man screamed, his vital guard somehow able to stave off the blood loss from both limbs. “You haven’t earned any of this! You haven’t earned any of your victories! You’re just a fucking cripple that the universe took pity on and started giving you everything you ever wanted! You cheated! You should be back in your cell where you belong!”

  “Uh-huh,” I said nonchalantly, noting that the sounds of fighting all around me were winding down, “Got it. You’re here because you’re just powerful enough to be mildly useful, but you can’t be trusted with anything more important, like an actual seat of power. Warren must be more stretched on staff than I realized. Thanks for the temper tantrum, though. It reminded me just how useless talking to any of you always is.”

  For real, man, Teeth spoke up, has this ever worked out? You have Blood magic. Just drink his brain and move on.

  I grimaced at Teeth’s statement, decided I didn’t want to climb into this maddened idiot’s brain while he was still alive, and stabbed into Johnson’s heart.

  He shrieked again, but I could tell that his vital guard still wasn’t quite exhausted. Red trails of magic began trickling from the nearby corpses and into his body; probably some version of a Malus healing spell.

  So I snarled in annoyance, raised my axe, and cut off his head.

  The pitiful remnants of his magic fizzled away. I glanced up in time to see my retinue and the Wealthwalkers crouching over our enemies and stabbing long knives into their still-twitching corpses.

  I worked a quick Blood magic spell to take Johnson’s memories and found that I could alter it slightly. I wouldn’t have to touch his corpse, and, more importantly, I could process his memories later, when I didn’t have saner, more important people to talk to.

  “Thank you for coming to our aid,” the Headmaster said as I rose to my feet. I was pleased with the fact that the battle was already over, with predictably no casualties on my team’s end, thanks to our ambush and the sheer power of my personnel. The local Testifiers all appeared unscathed as well. “I was prepared to resist them no matter what, but I feared that some of my people might not have survived a pitched engagement of this size.”

  “We’re happy to help,” I replied, “but do you know whether there are any more Horde or false Earthborn in this city? I don’t want them lashing out at anyone else.”

  I was still new to the Breath, and for all I knew, it might have missed a number of other operatives, which would have been really bad. Luckily, the turbaned man shook his head.

  “Unlikely. They abandoned caution many years ago, when they thought they had conquered our world, so they made no effort to hide their numbers. The five false Challengers were the only ones who regularly appeared here, though I am sure more will come, now that you have killed both them and the group protecting the giant mage at the nearby ruins. I should warn you, the Pit producing these Horde was also there,” he said with a disgusted glance at the furred bodies littering the ground, “so if you have destroyed that as well, then Nedjena has been truly cleansed for the first time in over a decade.”

  I sighed, dismissing my weapons and allowing myself to relax ever so slightly.

  “That’s good news, I suppose,” I replied, “but I think it’s too early to start celebrating, and something tells me you believe the same. These idiots just proved that they’re not solely going to come after me. I’d like to speak with you further, and determine whether you can help me draft some sort of plan to protect this city while still allowing me to drive out the rest of the Malus Order. While we’re at it, I’d like to speak with any other leaders still remaining in town, if there are any.”

  “There are none,” the dark-skinned man said sadly. “This city was in decline long before the false Earthborn came and wrought their havoc. The other city leaders no longer wield any influence here, but my college still retains a loose connection with the other colleges. I can assist you with some long-range communication—as long as we avoid contacting the central college in Tanaj.” He gave a meaningful look to Eadric, Weylin, and Karim, who returned it with bitter grimaces.

  Right, I remembered, the college that abandoned my three Testifiers.

  It also seemed that retaking that college should be a priority, and one which I should discuss at length with both Moram and the three Saga users in my retinue.

  “Okay,” I said, turning back to my people. “Let’s work out the quickest route from here to our earlier base, and then let’s set up a second camp inside the Testifier campus. Then, Headmaster Moram, if you don’t mind, my people and I would like to plan out the retaking of the Golden Sands…”

  He nodded, and took us inside to a room already set up to be a temporary headquarters for us. Apparently, the Headmaster had thrown in completely after seeing the destruction of Fragglerock’s construct a few hours ago and decided to prepare for my next arrival.

  “These are the primary caravan routes that the Malus Earthborn have utilized,” the Headmaster said as he traced a dark finger across the map on the table in front of us. My retinue and I were inside one of the campus’ libraries, along with the most veteran Wealthwalkers that had accompanied me. “These are the other routes they know of, that they could use if they began losing caravans on the other paths through the sand…” His finger moved to a new set of lines, and began gliding downward. “And these are the routes they could discover, if they were desperate enough. If you can take control of these, your enemies will be disarmed except for the major cities.”

  “…who will probably suffer terribly, as retribution for my actions,” I sighed, still upset over just how many of our plans failed to prevent Warren’s degenerates from making the local population pay for my actions.

  But
the old Headmaster scrutinized me with a dark, serious gaze.

  “They are already suffering terribly, Lord Challenger,” he said in a respectful yet admonishing tone, “and they have for the entirety of your absence. So have you, for that matter. I have no doubt that every moment you were not with us was one spent in utter agony, rendered by every sadist which the Malus Earthborn could spare to torment you.”

  “You’re…not wrong,” I admitted, blinking as I reminded myself of the fact that I had endured a hundred gruesome deaths.

  I had come a long way in overcoming the trauma of my long torture.

  But experiencing those horrible things still sucked, and perhaps it would be healthy for me to keep admitting that.

  “That said,” I added decisively, “we still have to minimize the damage done to the populations in each city. It’s not just the right thing to do; it’s necessary to preserve this world. The planet’s trade routes need the cities just as much as the cities need the trade routes. Getting stuck in anything resembling a siege battle for populations will hurt us in the long run. I’m not going to pretend that I can save every single innocent life, but I’m not going to spend any that I don’t have to. We have too much to lose.”

  “In that case, my Lord,” Moram began deferentially, “these routes will require many people to cover. I believe you said that you had more forces beyond what you have gathered here?”

  “I do,” I replied, looking briefly around at my retinue. “Avalon is awakening once again. I have a small force of elite warriors from a lost age that are already training rescued prisoners from other worlds into an army of soldiers who have been blessed with the lost powers of at least three different worlds—including this one. Beyond that, we can currently draw from the tribes of the Woadlands and the navies recovered from the Sun-Jeweled Seas for additional aid, though we will have to ensure they retain enough of their own strength to repel more invasions from our enemies.”

  Moram blinked, then his face took on a cautious expression.

  “Our understanding is that the Woadland tribes suffered greatly under the invasion of the Hoarfolk, and that the old navies of the ocean world were completely decimated.”

  “Both are correct,” I replied, nodding and accepting his skepticism, “but the people of both worlds were, for the most part, recovered. The populations themselves have survived, along with technologies which had been lost to them ages ago. The Gaelguard and Woadfathers have returned, and the lost city of Atlantis, with its Icons, people, and navy of Scriptships, was restored. This is in addition to the other benefits gained from overcoming their Tumults. Finally, both of the Steward’s Satellites on those worlds have undergone powerful transitions. From what I have learned, each planet has been able to repel at least one invasion since I have left. I understand your caution. I respect that you are using it to temper the optimism and hope which our arrival has brought. But you can reinforce it with the knowledge that I am not just offering to give back what you had before the corrupted Earthborn beat you the first time. Every world, every person, that has thrown off their control has done so by becoming stronger than they were before their first defeat. All is not lost. And better, greater things are still yet to come.”

  I hadn’t planned on stating the Universal Laws at the end. They had just sort of slipped out of my mouth, probably because I had heard so many other voices repeat them countless times. And it didn’t feel like they had the same solemn, bone-shaking effect as they did when the Earthborn ghosts or Invictus spoke them. But the old Headmaster still relaxed at my words and allowed a small smile to form at the edges of his mouth.

  “That is encouraging news,” the old man replied, “and your words at the end somehow remind me that some things are still true, even when current tribulations suggest otherwise. I thank you for the reminder.”

  “At any rate, this gives us more information to execute our plans on owning the travel routes,” Salima interjected as everyone turned to regard the Wealthwalker in my retinue with interest. “This will require bringing in most of the Wealthwalkers still remaining on Avalon, however.”

  “I figured it would,” I admitted as the Headmaster’s eyebrows rose in recognition.

  “Wealthwalkers,” he said slowly. “I should have recognized you before, but your order has barely been mentioned within the last millennium. The sources are so rare and suspicious that we have long suspected that someone attempted to purge all mention of your existence.”

  “Judging by what we have learned upon leaving our sealed tomb, I would surmise that to be the case,” the elven woman said darkly.

  “Well, that concludes the main portion of the plan,” I announced. “We have a way to strike at our enemies when they attack Nedjena, although that means we’ll need to move quickly to secure the routes leading to town.”

  “Agreed,” the college leader said with a nod. “Even if your army is a comparable force, fighting large battles in the desert can be a costly enterprise. Best that you are already in a position to strike their supply lines.” He peered back down at the map, pointing at a dot several miles south of our own location. “My people and I will help manage operations here, but I would recommend that you and your personal force move to Mejem, the city south of here. It will be a better nexus to control the routes, and will likely give you an opportunity to encounter the Sable Veil.”

  “The who?” I asked as Breena covered her face and groaned.

  “It’s Anahita’s personal title,” she mumbled behind her hand. “A name chosen during the teenage years. Early teenage years.”

  “Indeed.” Moram bowed low toward my tiny companion. “Forgive me, Holy Fairy. It has come to my attention that your local body now hates that title, but it has become so endeared to the people that not using it is a hard habit to break.”

  “It’s okay,” Breena said in a strained voice, “these things happen. But this was exactly why Via and Merada weren’t allowed to come up with their own titles.”

  “Well, I’ll make sure not to mention the title when I see her myself,” I replied, recalling the sensations I had felt during the Breath. From what I could tell, a woman interested in meeting me was traveling toward the same settlement that we were planning to make our base of operations. If we left soon, we would probably arrive at roughly the same time she did.

  However, my team had already been very active for an extended length of time, traveling dozens of miles and fighting two pitched battles without a solid rest. I was reminded of the time we had taken back Avalon, when I had pushed my team to complete exhaustion and had almost gotten us all killed in the process.

  The current situation was undeniably urgent, but retaking the Golden Sands would take far, far longer than retaking Avalon had, even if everything went perfectly. If I pushed my team to move as quickly as the little ball of stress inside of my chest insisted that we should all go, we’d probably wind up dead by the third day.

  Then I remembered the way my retinue had cautioned me that time, reminding me of not only their limits, but my own.

  The best way to dictate their pace would be to get their input.

  I sent an inquiry through the mindlink, and was instantly met with tired relief. They all made it clear that they were weary, but capable of doing more, if necessary.

  The ones that had been with me the longest, such as Karim and Breena, made it clear that everyone would be capable of doing their best after a good night’s sleep.

  “Right, then,” I pronounced aloud, for the sake of the college Testifiers present, “this gives us a pretty good strategy to work toward. The only thing left to do for the night is to contact Avalon again and verify that we have fairy support and whatever else we need to maintain a solid line of communication. Then we should get some rest. We have a lot to do, and we’ll need to stay healthy in order to manage it all.” I turned my focus back to the Headmaster. “Do you have enough spare beds in your dormitories for my team?” The old man graciously nodded. “Good. Then with the
Headmaster’s permission, we’ll pull in another team from Avalon to stand guard at the Pathway, and everyone here can sleep in an actual bed, instead of on a pile of sand or a stone floor.”

  I heard a few sighs of gratitude from the other Wealthwalkers in the room. I reminded myself that they weren’t privy to the mindlink like Salima and everyone else was, and therefore had no idea how much harder I’d push them.

  It also struck me just how much they and my retinue were all looking forward to a good rest, despite their magically reinforced bodies and minds. Though we all could likely have gone without a night, or even five nights, of sleep, none of our bodies wanted to, unless it was absolutely required.

  There is a lesson in that, I realized, and the Well in my mind shifted and began to speak.

  Affirmative, the voice of Atlantis intoned within my mind. Power itself is an insufficient substitute for self care. Planetary Lord is advised to regard the needs of his own body, mind, and spirit, as well as the needs of those under his authority, as integral elements to the stability of his realm.