Knives in the Night

by Nathan A. Thompson

  Ugly stupid boy, a disturbing and familiar voice softly into my mind.

  And then the presence vanished completely, and I tried to decide whether I had made a mistake by driving Cavus away instead of helping Anahita kill him.

  You made a mistake, Anahita whispered urgently. I do not know why he fled so soon, but his presence was needed!

  I looked back up at the woman whose abuser I had just tried to stab and electrify with what was probably AIDS-lightning.

  Excuse me? I sent in what was a super-patient-and-understanding tone, all things considered.

  Yes, I said needed! the almond-toned woman hissed, now flying away from us. Now that he is gone, the other will act with impunity! My two hunters have kept each other at bay!

  Two? I demanded, casting my eyes about. Cavus doesn’t share—oh, right, I remembered, you said you had two things hunting you.

  The relief and goodwill I had earlier felt from Anahita now completely vanished.

  Yes, I said, two! Technically more, if you bothered to count the Horde, but at least two! Two powerful monstrosities, each of whom should be creating two Abomination-class Tumults with their very presence, have been haunting my steps for many months! And now that the more unnatural one has vanished, and only the weakest of nearby Hordebeasts remain, the most destructive of my hunters will now make his presence known! This was why I had to isolate myself, so that no one else would suffer the consequences!

  She was back to making dire prophecies about her fate.

  But before I could complain about that, the sand around the remaining Hordebeasts in the distance suddenly roared into the air and began swirling around them. I heard them cry out in surprise for a few moments, but then the roaring, billowing sand cut them completely off from both sight and sound. The storm formed a sphere completely covering the hundred-strong army, and collapsed on top of them, smothering the hundreds of Mongrels and Miscreants under what looked to be thousands of pounds of sand.

  You saw that, yes? Anahita whispered into my mind. Now imagine that happening to Tajam one day. And if you can’t believe that is possible yet, then imagine that happening to one of the smaller cities like Nedjena, those isolated settlements that still host thousands or tens of thousands of people. Imagine all of them vanishing, one by one, including the farms that have somehow survived the famine. Including the hidden storehouses containing the food Stell has smuggled to us.

  How does your going to the middle of the desert prevent that from happening? I asked as I cast all of my senses about, trying to locate yet another asshole that could drop storms on people. This is getting pretty fucking old, and I need to talk to the Pendragon to find an easy counter for it.

  The old ghost owed me a couple lessons by now. Or at least, he would after he finished beating some more swordsmanship into me.

  Because he hunts beings and objects of power, Anahita replied tiredly as the last of the dust settled over the remains of the Hordebeasts. Or so we have discovered. Since you have arrived here, every one of our remaining Icons hiding in their temples of power have vanished, along with all of their panoplies. Even some of our heroes have vanished as well, when they were isolated. Whoever this figure is, whatever he is, he devotes all of his attention to acquiring beauty, power, and wealth, and pursues it piece by piece, singlemindedly.

  Told you he was an asshole, Teeth grumbled in my mind.

  He sounds no different than most of the people we fight, I retorted as I refreshed my flight spell. By now my mana had dipped noticeably, but I still had over half of it left—something that surprised me, now that I was paying attention to it.

  Exactly, Teeth spat, we’re stuck in an entire goddamn solar system of powerful pricks, and it’s our job to eat every one of their faces. Also, can I take over looking for this guy?

  Yeah, I said grudgingly, since Teeth’s senses were better than mine, but I’m keeping control over everything else. Especially our vocals. You’re not saying a goddamned word to Anahita or Breena.

  But she totally needs to know she has a hot—ugh, fine, my inner dragon growled in disgust, you’re lucky I’m the more rational one.

  Wrong-Me surrendered primary control over our senses, letting me look for our enemy.

  But so far, the asshole hadn’t done anything but crush the straggling Horde. Apparently he had been just picking off objects of opportunity with magical sandstorms and other nonsense.

  Which didn’t really make sense, unless he was either close by, had a transportation spell, or both.

  Or he came by later with a very large shovel.

  I focused my eyesight on the mound of sand that had smothered the surviving Hordebeasts. By now, the sand had blown away and uncovered their bodies.

  Wrong-Me wouldn’t be able to tell because he still sucked at using the draconic parts of our eyes, but the bodies had been stripped of the more magical pieces of their Horde gear, and a number of the bodies looked to be killed by powerful, concussive force instead of suffocation.

  So something had come by, killed all the Horde that didn’t suffocate, and picked them clean.

  That question answered, I looked about for our enemy. I could smell a faint bit of magical residue, just enough to indicate the presence of a creature, but nothing more.

  So the prick was watching, but not nearby enough to attack.

  Meanwhile, Wrong-Me continued to piss off the new hot girl we had just encountered, who was still mad at him for…something. I was busy and couldn’t quite catch why, but it was probably because of something he hadn’t done yet.

  And because he wouldn’t let me talk to her and fix everything.

  He could at least let me tell her she has a great voice, I grumbled reasonably to myself. Why is that so wrong? It’s not like I’m going on about how gorgeously flexible she looks when she does her stunts. I haven’t even talked about her hair.

  It was ridiculous. I had no idea how creatures this uptight ever manage to reproduce.

  But enough of that. The invisible klepto-entity was nearby, and hadn’t made any move to attack us yet.

  Figured him out, I told my idiot human side. He’s hanging back and watching us. Probably in a projected body of some kind.

  Do you think he’ll attack? Mr. Dumbass Virgin asked me.

  Not openly, I snorted. We just made his stalker buddy bitch out with a single attack. If he’s not confident enough to fight Cavus for Anahita, he’s not confident enough to take on the guy that just drove him away. Not until we fall asleep, or sit down to eat, or maybe get our act together and show Breena and Anahita just how well we can—

  Point made, Wrong-Me interjected, so how do we get him to run off or fight?

  Now he was talking.

  Either we can burn a bunch of mana and attack right where I think he is, and hope we can take him, or we can call him out and see if we can intimidate him into screwing up.

  Damn it, Wrong-Me whined, I hate talking to these pricks. But trying to start a fight we may not be able to find is an even dumber idea.

  I’ll do it, then, I offered.

  Because I am a helper.

  Wrong-Me was silent for a moment.

  Actually, we’re being idiots, he finally said. Why risk fighting this asshole now, when we have a team of people waiting for us? I’m calling them over here.

  You do that, I encouraged, but it’s going to be a couple hours until they get here, assuming they try to conserve their mana and don’t try to have everyone fly over at full speed. Let me distract him with talking. You know I’m good at it.

  The uptight bastard swore one more time, and gave me more freedom.

  “Well, it’s not really that weird, if you think about it,” Breena explained, “I mean, technically we talk to ourselves all the time.”

  “Yes, but it doesn’t look nearly as strange as when they—he?” the woman with the dangerous, exotic, silky voice said, possibly in a flustered tone, maybe, it was hard to tell, said. “And he’s doing it right now, of all times.” />
  “Well, I’m sure he has a good reason for it,” the tiny, cute-faced woman said in what was probably a patient tone, “Wes never messes with his dragon unless he really needs to.”

  Anahita cocked her head.

  “What exactly are we talking about now?” the dark-haired woman asked suspiciously.

  “What do you mean, ‘what am I talking about’?” Breena asked innocently.

  Okay, I’ve had it, Prude-Me said seriously. Do your thing, now, or I’m taking back control.

  I would have much rather listened to the two hot Satellites talk about me for a bit longer, but he had a point. I had a job to do.

  I straightened up, looked out in the direction that the asshole was probably hiding, and inhaled.

  Then, I reached for my genetic memories, and released the Breath.

  “I…see…you…” My words rolled out one at a time, as tradition demanded.

  If our foe was the type of creature I thought him to be, he would respond.

  The presence at the edge of my senses vanished, and re-appeared some handful of feet in front of us. A small whirlwind of sand rose up, forming a horned skull the size of our body that hovered a few feet above the ground.

  It was perhaps ten feet in front of us.

  “I…see…you…” the creature echoed, in a massive, monstrous voice.

  And by doing so, accepting my invocation of the ancient Rite of Parley created during the war of Breath and Fell, and revealing his nature as one of the ancient fiends.

  “Tribute,” he demanded, in a still-massive, but no longer echoing voice. “Now.”

  “Very well,” I granted, nodding my head. “Where is it?”

  The floating skull’s stare intensified.

  “Tribute,” it repeated, “now.”

  “I heard you the first time,” I said, letting a little more of a growl crawl out of my voice. “Now where is this tribute you are offering me? In exchange for your existence?”

  Another intense stare.

  “Really?” I snorted. “You’re going to sit there and just give me that look? After agreeing to uphold the old rites? This is how you try and be cool?”

  The skull’s head tilted, as if considering me.

  “Your body is less than nineteen revolutions old,” the floating jolly roger said. “Even if it is not your original body, and even if you are one of the Fell-touched, you are still tens of thousands of incarnations too young to have been instructed in the ways of the last war.”

  “The Breathborn do not rely on incarnations to thrive, Fellspawn,” I growled, offended that the fiend has mistaken me for one of his own kind. “They pass down their legacies through their blood. Now explain your presence and predations on my world.”

  “Ignorant hatchling,” the skull boomed, “I ruled this world long before your brood’s patriarch sired his first whelp! Everything in this world is mine! Including the few hovels that pass for civilization! Including the few meager handfuls of treasure! Including the weak whelps that call themselves Icons! Including,” the demonic skull glowered as it turned to Anahita, who regard him with an icy glare, “the tiny shred of a Starsown foolish enough to be scattered on my world’s surface!”

  Oh fuck that, my human side growled at the same time I did.

  But to both of our credits, we handled the bastard’s taunt like a couple of pros.

  We laughed. A full-blown one. With our head thrown back and everything.

  The skull turned back to us again.

  “You’re adorable,” I said. “You’ve had at least one invading army rampaging around for almost fifty years, taking whatever they could—whenever they weren’t stopped by ‘the tiny shred of a Starsown’ half the time.” I jerked a thumb toward where Anahita had been standing. “And now that you’ve finally woken from whatever nap you were taking and noticed all the noise going on, you have the audacity to claim you own all the property that was built over your tomb! Idiot! This entire world has been claimed, owned, and governed by numerous parties the entire time you have been asleep! By the oldest of laws, you may no longer lay claim to it!” I gestured to the sands all around me, to the cities and ruins hundreds of miles off in the distance. “Yet here you are, stumbling out of your infirmary, like some deranged patient, pretending you still have a valid claim to anything beyond the sand that blew into your bedroom! You embarrass yourself before every Breathborn and Fellspawn with any knowledge of the last war.”

  Sand flared around the asshole’s projection. I got the sense of another figure far off, a horned, humanoid form clad in steel armor and jewelry, on a throne and surrounded by other treasures heaped all around him.

  The figure trembled in rage, but with an exhalation of his own, brought himself under control.

  “You mock me with all the audacity of the foolish young,” the skull-projection before me intoned, with his voice deepening. “It is for that reason that I have chosen to show a modicum of restraint. Now listen clearly. My prior claim was a courtesy performed for one who knew a smattering of the ancient laws. Since you have proven unworthy of such manners, I will resort to the ancient rules of war. I lay claim to this world by the very oldest of laws: the law of force. This world will yield me its due, or I will claim its treasures by force.”

  I gave him a blank, unimpressed stare.

  “I’m not sure you heard me earlier,” I began, “but there’s literally an army of occupiers here doing the exact same thing you’re claiming to do. If you’re wanting to strip this world bare and enslave its citizens, you’re late, and there’s already a long line.”

  “I noticed,” the skull rumbled. “And until recently I had mistaken this army for your own. Hence I have not crushed it yet, before meeting you.”

  “Dragonshit,” I spat, “you haven’t crushed it yet because you haven’t been sure you can take it out. And because you don’t understand the relationship it has with that shadow I just drove off.”

  The skull went silent as it once again regarded me.

  Man, this is easy, I sent to Wrong-Me. I don’t understand why you bitched out so quickly about this.

  Think whatever you want, Wrong-Me replied, just don’t interrupt my nap.

  He couldn’t be napping.

  He’d better not be napping.

  “The first stage of the rite has now been honored,” the sand-sculpted skull intoned, “we have exchanged enough threats and reasoned arguments for me to deem you worthy of proper bargaining.” The monster’s tone became more formal, and less threatening. “I am Steel-Armor Zereh, Planetary Oppressor of the Radiant Motes, and First General of Stellar Imperator Malek. Who am I speaking with?”

  Go ahead and tell him, Wrong-Me sent, which meant that he wasn’t really napping, which suddenly worried me, because it meant that I didn’t actually know what he was doing right now.

  “I am Wesley Malcolm, Lunar Viscount of Avalon and its sister worlds, Breath-forged by Aegrim of Affliction and Pain, and Vinclum of Honor and Bonds.”

  Then, because I knew Steel-Condom Whatshisname wouldn’t believe a claim like that without proof, I activated our dragonform just enough for my own skin to leak through.

  Gold and red scales crawled up and down my body, over my clothing and armor, and then vanished the next minute.

  I tried to make it slow, controlled, and relaxed, so that it looked like a casual display of my lineage, instead of a young whelp who can barely armor himself for any length of time.

  “The heritage of not one, but two Cosmic Wyrms are in your birthright,” Zereh noted calmly, without any of the shock I was hoping my proclamation would generate. “And a Lunar Viscount, no less. Your arrogance is far more understandable now. Very well, Breathborn of Aegrim and Vinclum,” the floating skull intoned, “I propose a truce. We refrain from engaging each other, until we deal with the Void-Glutton and his allied army of occupiers.”

  Making my enemies fight each other was exactly what I wanted—as long as I got to eat them both afterwards—but I couldn�
�t agree right off the bat.

  Even my human brain wasn’t that stupid.

  “What you are proposing is that I should ignore one enemy of mine, the one who is still very much gathering his strength, and instead go after the ones who have already gathered as much strength as they can, and will not grow any stronger if I take longer to destroy them. Meanwhile,” I added as I narrowed my eyes, feeling Wrong-Me add his own anger into this exchange, “you will continue to take wealth, Icons, cities and citizens from me at every turn, claiming that such items do not belong to me, and therefore do not violate the terms of the truce.”

  “By the ancient laws, they do not currently belong to you,” the horned fiend replied.