Decoy

by S. B. Sebrick

In the courtyard, chaos ruled. Small pockets of families huddled alongside the walls or behind groups of soldiers trying to instill order. From along the walls, archers standing watch fired into the crowd toward the gallows.

  Warden shouted over his shoulder for his guards and started pulling men from the crowd, demanding their help in separating and calming the population. So much for Vengral’s ball, Kaltor thought. Got to get a better view.

  With a flick of his hooked rope he climbed to the top of the wall, drawing on enough power to keep his arms from tiring so he could keep the weight off his wounded leg. Overlooking the courtyard he could see the recently executed Perversions, along with others of their kind lying in the center of the field and where the nobles had sat.

  Peasant and nobleman alike scampered away in attempts to escape, but before his eyes he saw two more people drop to the ground, their veins turning black as their bodies convulsed in agony. A volley of arrows impaled them before the transformation was complete.

  Drawing a bit of power into his eyes, his vision improved, cutting through the fading light. A few people who turned without receiving the archer’s immediate attention convulsed violently, then lay unmoving on the ground. Strips of roasted mutton lay alongside most of the unfortunate victims, covered in red flecks of spice.

  Melshek poisoned the food supply, he realized. So much for Vengral’s show of control.

  Varadour power flashed in the distance, short-short, long-long. Kaltor drew on his power in a similar formation, and two Stunts rounded the castle walls, swinging onto the walkway and hurrying toward him. The torches lining the courtyard cast an eerie, shifting light over the already panicked crowd, making things look far worse. Another Stunt arrived from the opposite direction, jumping into the crowd without a thought.

  Figures. He must have family down there as well. Frustration smoldered within him. How does Warden avoid situations like this? He controlled his men with a single word. A wave of insecurity washed over him. Will I ever be able to lead?

  Two of the Stunts met him in the middle of the wall overlooking the front gate. Though their quivers were almost empty, each had an arrow notched and ready to fire, eyeing the crowd below anxiously.

  "It’s the food supply," Kaltor explained, pulling their bows down before they could shoot. "Hot red spice that Melshek has tampered with. Go warn the kitchens not to send any more food from the last shipment. I’m going to tell Vengral, so he doesn’t panic and start killing civilians—" He stopped, taking in both their beaten expressions. "Where are the other two?"

  "They got cornered between two groups of Perversions," the more confident of the two answered, blood still oozing down his head from a small wound above his eye. So intense had been their flight they could not expend even the power to plug a bleeding wound. "We bought them enough time to get to Gereth’s group. Three web-mouths are dead, as are the groups they were leading."

  Kaltor nodded, sighing with relief. "At least we made a considerable dent in their forces, then."

  "Why aren’t they moving?" the other Stunt asked, his voice quivering a bit. Though unharmed he seemed more—fragile, than before.

  Turning toward the courtyard, Kaltor paused. Why didn’t I notice? Was I too excited to finally know about Reeth’s secret? He glanced around the castle walls. Apparently, without a more powerful Perversion nearby to take control, those who succumbed to Melshek’s venom just died.

  What’s Melshek really up to? he wondered.

  "There aren’t any web-women around to control them. Now go," he ordered the Stunts. "We can’t let any more panic spread," They nodded, hurrying away as best they could despite their obvious exhaustion.

  They must be almost out of power by now, he thought. Got to let them rest soon.

  Warden and his soldiers pushed their way through the crowd, enlisting any large men they came across to help separate and calm the people. They grabbed the meat from a few people’s hands and threw it to the ground.

  Shouts of poisoned spice started to work through the crowd, and calm slowly returned, though the soldiers on the walls were still on edge. No doubt they’d heard stories about Melshek’s forces in the prison and feared the worst. Healers rushed onto the field to tend to civilians shot by accident.

  Combing the city north of them, Kaltor searched for signs of assault. Perhaps they meant to sneak a web-woman in close enough to possess the Perversions as they changed, he theorized. But close inspection revealed that the streets below were empty. Even along the roof-tops he could not see any lookouts for a dozen streets in any direction except for on the buildings toward the center of town.

  The poison could have been placed there much earlier today, he thought. Before we managed to draw out his troops and get three of his web-women killed.

  Their actions had foiled the next phase of the assault without even knowing what the coming attack had entailed. In the distance a sole rider approached, waving a white flag. A thick cloak hid her arms and legs, but the hood was thrown back to expose her strange hair and web-veined mouth.

  "A flag of conditions," one of the archers muttered, recognizing the insignia. "They mean to negotiate someone’s surrender."

  A surrender, Kaltor thought. Is he going to bluff Vengral into submission? Pretend he can Pervert the entire castle, if he so desires? At least we killed off most of the Perversions before she could get close.

  The rider stopped at the castle gate, eyeing the guards above angrily, her desire obvious. Warden appeared at the top of the wall, shouting orders. The crowd parted, and the gates opened, giving the messenger a clear path toward the castle’s inner keep. Every archer kept her in his sights, bow drawn tight.

  Hurrying down the stairs near the gate, Kaltor walked alongside the web-mouthed woman, daggers drawn. "Why are you here?" he demanded.

  "My message is for the ears of the regent," the web-mouth explained with an air of superiority as she heeled her horse toward the inner keep. "Not even for a Battleborn such as you, hiding a Sage." She galloped to the keep, dismounted, and handed her horse to the guards as she entered. Kaltor stood stunned, trying to sort things out in his head.

  The closest Sage worked in the capital, forging armor and weapons for the king’s own guards. They were Varadours of a different nature, their powers rooted in stone, not in living things.

  Tera did mention her daughter looking cold and grey— like a Sage, he realized. In order to lure Marethena upstairs. But we killed her right afterward. She never had time to tell Melshek. Did she?

  The guards shut the gate after the web-woman, glancing Kaltor’s way curiously as he merely stood in place, staring toward the keep. He thought of the web-woman’s control of all Perversions nearby, recalling how perfectly she’d timed their assault on the prison without external means of signaling the attack.

  What if Melshek is connected to the minds of his web-women? he thought. That’s the only way he could know of the Sage. He just doesn’t know it was a lie. She never saw Tera’s daughter.

  Making his decision, he walked to the doors of the inner keep, revealing his brand. Both guards drew their maces, eyes glowing blue, forcing him to stop. "You are not permitted to pass," they said defiantly. Kaltor tried giving them his most intimidating glare, but to no avail.

  "I have fought with Melshek twice in the last two days," he tried to explain. "And I know how Melshek is Perverting the people. Vengral needs to know these things before trying to negotiate with her."

  He tried to enter again, but this time the blue, mind-altering energy jumped to their weapons. "No Varadours are to enter the keep," they repeated defiantly. "Leave at once or we will take you to the dungeon!"

  Tension crackled between them like lightning flying between clouds as they stared into each other’s eyes. "Fine," Kaltor said. "Stay away from the poisoned food," He walked away abruptly, leaving questions in their eyes, momentarily interrupting their anger.

  What is Vengral’s problem with us? he thought in frustration. H
e’s endangering the entire city over a feud between racial powers! He’s going to get a lot of men killed unless we can stop him soon, or wake him up.

  Kaltor hugged the wall of the inner keep ‘til he stood a few stories under the window of their small room. Blending the surrounding colors to hide his ascent, Kaltor hooked the window sill and climbed up hurriedly, some Sight Seekers could see Varadour energy when their eyes illuminated.

  Crawling through the window, he saw Talen, two other Stunts, and Tera and her daughter sitting around a table, chewing on their private stores. The Stunts saluted in between mouthfuls. They needed all the energy they could eat in case trouble arose in the next few hours.

  "How are things out there?" Tera asked.

  "Not sure," Kaltor said truthfully. "A web-woman is negotiating with Vengral, but he won’t let any Varadours even enter the keep, much less participate in the negotiations."

  Tera sighed. "It must have been hard when a sixteen-year old Varadour passed him over and started running things," she admitted. Prince Tyran had been in control of the city for over a decade. Vengral had been demoted to regent upon his arrival. "He even started meeting with Melshek before all this trouble at the vault broke out."

  "I try not to think about who Melshek was before all of this," Kaltor admitted. "It doesn’t change what has to be done," Not to mention how to do it. If the three of us couldn’t kill him together, how are we supposed to stop him at all?

  The Stunts nodded in agreement. They were not going get sentimental about the man who’d assassinated one of their own and killed their prince. "So, what’s our next move?" Talen asked. "What do you think Melshek could want?"

  "It’s obvious," one Stunt cut in, holding a bandage to his head wound. "He wants a peaceful surrender and a toast where the entire city drinks his poison. He kills whoever he can’t Pervert and moves on."

  "How were Lord Gereth’s troops holding up?" Kaltor asked. "Did they have many casualties?"

  "Not that I saw," the last Stunt added, devouring a large chunk of venison. "Some of Melshek’s troops fired arrows back, but Gereth and Master Taneth were prepared. Their men had enough cover to protect them, and they did enough damage that our boys made it over the wall safely."

  "At least we have one functioning army to help us," Kaltor stretched, taking a seat at the table. With all the chaos of the day, he’d forgotten his hunger— not an easy feat for a Varadour. First he gathered enough dried fruits and meats to fill his small backpack. Battleborn always carried enough stores for at least two days of heavy power usage, in case circumstances proved unfavorable.

  "Where’s Honmour?" Talen asked.

  "We’re going to have to be careful about Vengral," Kaltor sighed. "Honmour was imprisoned, and may be executed later, for going behind the regent’s back and giving orders to rescue Reeth’s family," Tera’s face paled, realizing the full risks taken in bringing her and her daughter back.

  The Stunts all returned confused stares. "But, you’re the one who ordered—"

  "Apparently Honmour did not tell it that way," Kaltor said with a sly grin, rubbing his leg as his muscles continued healing.

  "Leaving us with our true leader," Talen realized out loud. That comment sent Kaltor’s head spinning a bit. ‘True leader’ was not a phrase he’d expected to hear anytime soon in reference to himself. Talen continued. "It’s not a bad plan. Vengral assumes we’re leaderless now, right?"

  Someone knocked loudly on the door. Even without accentuating his hearing, Kaltor could tell the fist in question was clad in chainmail. Everyone eyed the door uneasily. Walking toward the door, he motioned for the Stunts to be ready.

  What could they want? he wondered. Only Reeth’s family is even supposed to be here right now. Melshek’s discussions with Vengral have only just started. What kind of demands could he have made through that web-mouthed wench?

  Flashing the most trusting smile he could manage, Kaltor opened the door. Three bulky Sight Seekers stood there with maces drawn, their shoulders so large that their necks vanished completely amidst muscle and metal. "Vengral has demanded we bring the child Sage to him," the largest of them ordered.

  "I would of course be happy to comply," Kaltor replied, opening the door wide to reveal its occupants. "But I don’t know what Sage you’re referring too. The girl over there appears quite normal," The guards paused at that, hesitating.

  "This is the daughter of Tera, the one Melshek’s men were killed pursuing?" the guard asked tentatively, though his grip around the handle of his mace suggested a larger inclination to violence than he let on. His comrades looked equally displeased and anxious.

  "What do you want with her?" Tera asked, her voice shaking nervously as she pulled her daughter close.

  "Vengral’s agreed to a trade," the soldier explained, muscling his way through the door and pushing Kaltor aside as he passed. "The castle will remain untouched if we agree to hand over the girl," Tera gasped, pulling her daughter deeper into the room.

  The Stunts tried to look as hesitant as possible when the guards entered, though one smiled playfully. Kaltor massed raw energy within his veins, grateful none of the Sight Seekers had thought to check the room before entering.

  The Stunts caught on fast, sensing his gathering power, and drew on their own. Kaltor was careful not to reach for his weapons, indicating they were not to kill these men, just get Tera and her daughter out of there. When the last soldier entered the room, he struck.

  Wrenching the door shut with all his strength, he spun into the corner of the room. The last soldier heard the door slam and turned to his left, to get a clear view of the noise.

  So predictable, Kaltor thought gleefully.

  Throwing energy into his legs, he kicked off the wall with inhuman strength, looped his arm around the last soldier’s throat and, kicking the man’s knee from behind, forced him to fall backward and to the side. It reminded him of the games peasants played with bulls, grabbing them by the horns and forcing the massive beasts onto the ground by twisting their necks viciously.

  The guard’s mace clattered to the ground as he struggled to catch his fall with his hands. His large upper body muscles did not serve him well from this position, as he had difficulty reaching far enough behind him to get a firm hold of his attacker. Got to love heavily armored opponents, Kaltor thought. Just have to get them off their feet.

  Tera dove aside as all three Stunts lunged across the room. The other two guards sprayed the surrounding area with Sight Seeker energy, hitting civilians and Stunts alike. One Stunt, his head wound bleeding again, took the blow of energy to his eyes. Varadour energy surged in his skin as he compensated for the blindness with his black-and-white skin vision, grabbing the surprised guard by the hair and smashing his forehead into the man’s face.

  Talen and the other Stunt, sustaining various distortions to their senses, managed to tackle the middle guard and drive him to the ground. Though he outweighed them by a good fifty pounds, they fought back with a level of agility only Battleborn could maintain.

  The moment the guard threw an assassin-in-training aside, the Stunt would twist, land on his feet, and dive in again. They were relentless.

  Kaltor groaned with the effort as he tried to keep his opponent from rolling onto his belly. The man’s thick, muscular arms groped the ground desperately as his need for air grew. Suddenly, he got a hold on his mace. The metal head rushed over his shoulder toward Kaltor’s face, infused with Sight Seeker power.

  He tried to dodge as best he could without releasing his opponent, but his mobility was very limited. The mace collided with his forehead, blasting his face. His eyes went dark, the world fell silent, and even his sense of smell diminished.

  Don’t let go, he thought grimly. I still have my sense of touch.

  With his hips and legs he pulled the Sight Seeker further onto his back, like a turtle getting high-centered on its own shell. Through the floor, chaotic vibrations announced his friends’ continued struggles. <
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  A body slammed into them, knocking Kaltor’s opponent free.

  Kerslatch! Kaltor thought, drawing on his skin vision. Now the real fight starts!

  By the time he’d oriented himself, his opponent was on his feet and charging forward, mace bristling with energy. Kaltor twisted aside, relying on his superior mobility and tried to hamstring the guard as he rolled past. The blade slid uselessly across the guard’s chainmail armor.

  Come on! he thought desperately. Why was Master Taneth always complaining about chain mail? In desperation he unloaded a half dozen throwing blades in the guard’s direction. The Sight Seeker covered his exposed face, the rest of his body impervious to the weapons.

  Finally, the guard grew tired of being a Battleborn’s target. He shoulder-charged forward, swinging wildly. Kaltor blended his extremities, smacking his attacker’s arm aside from odd angles, his arms and legs slipping out from his camouflage at random intervals to confuse his opponent.

  The Sight Seeker took a step back, spraying the walls in a fountain of blue energy. A few strands connected with Kaltor’s skin, causing the vision therein to blur slightly. Rolling to the right, he jumped in between the guard’s swinging blows, retreating back toward the door. As he passed, he blended his hooked rope, opening the door slightly as he wrapped the tip around the far door handle.

  The guard mistook his actions for an attempted escape, forcing him away from the door as he advanced. After his next swing, Kaltor dove forward, pushing the Sight Seeker’s head backward and pulling the rope with all his might. The door exploded open, smashing into his opponent’s skull from behind.

  His hold over Kaltor’s senses vanished as he crumpled to the floor.

  Gasping from the sudden rush of his primary senses returning, Kaltor saw Talen and the other Stunt finally manage to land firm blows against their opponent’s head, the only unarmored part of his body, dropping him hard against the table. The last guard held Tera in a deadly bear hug, squeezing her so fiercely that the simple matter of breathing proved impossible.

  The Stunt he once fought lay useless on the floor, deprived of too many senses to function. She just had to cut in and help, Kaltor thought in annoyance, remembering her help against the web-mouthed woman.

  Still wobbling from the Sight Seeker’s blast, Kaltor took a steadying breath and threw his dagger toward the guard, slicing his cheek open just under his eye. The man stiffened up, his teeth clenched in a sudden battle of willpower. Then his hands went to his mouth, allowing Tera to escape as the guard rolled onto his side in an intense fit of nausea.

  Good one, Selene, Kaltor thought, glancing at the knife. I need to remember to thank you later. The Stunts stood, shaking off the effects of the Sight Seeker’s attacks.

  His mind whirled with indecision. Melshek’s strategy was obvious. He had to intimidate one army long enough to overcome the other. Once one flank was neutralized, he could either escape or flank his next target, overwhelming them. Demanding the Sage girl was a ploy to keep Vengral on the defensive, whether her abilities were genuine or not.

  Well, I won’t turn Reeth’s family over to Melshek, he decided. Perhaps if I arrange to meet Warden we can come up with a plan. Dad’s forces will be attacked once Vengral’s been intimidated into inaction.

  "Get them out of here," Kaltor ordered, pointing toward the window. "I’ll go distract Vengral. I need to speak with Warden anyways," Hooked ropes were suspended from the window sill and thrown to the ground below.

  "Honmour’s family is in the dungeon as well," he added. "Hide them together ‘til this is over or I come find you," Before they had a chance to argue or object Kaltor rushed out of the room and slammed the door shut.

  Hurrying down the hallway, Kaltor drew on his Varadour power to maintain the speed of an all-out sprint. A few surprised guards called out a warning but were not fast enough to catch him. He rounded a corner and found two fully armored guards at the door to Vengral’s chambers.

  That’s where the meeting must be, he decided. Time to make one last impression.

  "Vengral’s making a mistake!" he cried, charging the door. Sight Seeker energy ravaged his brain, taking his sight and hearing and slowly eating away at his enhanced sense of balance. He’d intended to front-kick the door wide open, but by the time he reached the door all he could manage was tackling the two guards so hard that all three of them poured into the next room.

  He felt vibrations in the stone floor as the pursuing guards entered the room. Rough hands restrained his arms and took his many weapons. Despite being unable to hear, he could still speak.

  Even though he could not hear his own words, he shouted, "Melshek will kill Lord Gereth while you watch! Then us! He—" Mailed hands clamped his mouth shut, hauled him back into the hall, and bound his hands and feet.

  In the distance he could feel the Stunts drawing on their power to cover Tera’s retreat into the castle’s outer keep. He allowed himself a small smile of victory as the guards hauled him down stone corridors and across grassy terrain.

  They paused for a moment before stepping up into another stone building. After a slow pace around a few corners they tossed him to the ground, and he felt the vibrations in the stone as a cell door ground shut. The Sight Seeker energy masking his senses slowly abated as the guards returned to their posts, their hold on his mind weakening as their distance from the target increased.

  The cell slowly blurred into view, echoing laughter in the distance contrasting oddly with the dismal surroundings. He lay there against the cold stone in little more than his linen under-cloths for almost an hour before heavy boots sounded around the corner.

  "How do you feel?" Warden asked, dropping a bag to the ground next to his chair. It fell open, revealing the Battleborn’s armor, daggers, and throwing blades.

  Kaltor turned, sitting with his back against the far wall, facing the war veteran sitting on the opposite side of his iron barred door. He glanced at his arms and legs, flexing them tentatively. "Sight Seeker effects are wearing off," he admitted with a shrug. "How are the people?"

  Warden sighed. "Terrified. More people died from the ensuing panic than the actual poison. Rumor is that Melshek and Vengral are arranging a ceasefire of sorts. If the surviving noblemen feel anything like the people, it will likely happen."

  With a grunt of agreement, Kaltor stood and stretched. Another wave of Varadour power bathed his leg, urging the muscles to return to their former potency. "What would you do if two armies surrounded you?" Kaltor asked.

  "Back in war time?" Warden asked, putting his fingers to his lips, deep in thought. "Divide them against each other, if they’re rival armies, or simply hit one before the other has time to react," He sighed, leaning forward, putting his elbows on his knees.

  "I don’t think Melshek intends to leave this castle alone for long," Kaltor surmised, walking up to the cell door’s iron bars. "He’ll intimidate Vengral as long as he can, destroy Gereth’s forces, and come back for us."

  Warden pulled a folded piece of parchment from his belt and tossed it through the iron bars. "It’s worse than that, I’m afraid. Have a look."

  Picking up the paper, Kaltor folded it out and tilted it toward the torch in the wall opposite them, picking out the names on the page listed under the word ‘Casualties’. He gasped, running a finger along each name. "Are you sure this is correct?"

  "Indeed," Warden admitted. "Many of the casualties are among the peasant class. Only a handful are from among the nobles. But each one of them had strong ties to Tyran, and each one of them was a Varadour."

  With a cry of frustration Kaltor punched the wall next to him, the mortar cracking and his knuckles bleeding from the blow. "Melshek spent a week with Vengral before coming out to the vault," he remembered aloud. "How much of this did they actually plan?"

  "A lot," Warden said simply, handing him another paper. "Before he died, Prince Tyran ordered a servant to search the castle for signs of Melshek. It took a lot of digging, and the pr
ince died before the servant could report. After the poisonings, he came to me asking to be imprisoned for his own protection."

  "For protection?" Kaltor asked, having only read part of the written report.

  "The first thing Melshek did when he entered the city," Warden said, grabbing an iron bar and pounding it angrily, "was sneak into the castle to talk with Vengral and sleep half the day away. Who knows how much of what’s happened was planned between them?"

  "Who else knows of this?" Kaltor said.

  "The servant is hidden," Warden replied. "We are the only two who know."

  Silence filled the cell as they let the true meanings of these discoveries sink in. Vengral is helping Melshek willingly, Kaltor thought. Sacrificing tens of thousands of inhabitants for the right of ruling whatever is left. If Melshek doesn’t plan on just Perverting him afterward, anyway.

  Kaltor thought of the excavation site, of the prison, of how every feint was meant to hide immediate action. He’s going to attack Dad tonight, while Vengral is tied up in ‘negotiations’ and his armies are ordered to remain defensive, he decided.

  With only one army to concern Melshek, the Perversions within the city would be more than sufficient. Kaltor pictured large groups of archers atop the walls maintaining pressure while their ground troops flanked Gereth’s men on both sides, slowly consuming them like a fuse burning from both ends. Melshek would not be there for once. A king sat in his war room and commanded his troops.

  "He must sleep soon," Warden said, interrupting Kaltor’s thoughts.

  "What?"

  "He fought three Battleborn and killed one of you, right?" Warden expounded. "Could you even beat him yourself?" Kaltor thought back to the fight where Jensai had died and shook his head.

  Not unless I risk the Blood Break, he thought grimly. Not unless I use my full power.

  "So kill him while he sleeps," Warden said simply. "Honmour and I have already been discussing it. He has to recuperate after every major exertion, or sleep and prepare beforehand— we’re not sure which," Kaltor leaned against the iron bars, thinking it through.

  Rivatha had mentioned Melshek sleeping before going to the tavern. He’d paused at the merchants’ camp afterward for over an hour—far more time than would have been needed just to kill them—to rest, perhaps? He’d reached Vengral’s chambers and had slept before doing anything else, then had showed up at the prison a few hours later and assassinated the regent’s biggest rival.

  "If he plans to attack tonight," Kaltor decided, "then he may already be asleep, trusting his negotiator to carry on the charade with Vengral until he awakes and launches his attack," Warden sighed in agreement, grabbing the Battleborn’s bag of equipment and sliding it through the bars.

  "So, what do we do, then?" Warden asked. "I don’t have much sway over the regent’s armies. Just this small prison detail. I could probably arrange for your Stunts to stage a miraculous escape, though."

  "My thoughts exactly," Kaltor said, sheathing his daggers and throwing blades. "I may need some help. Where is Selene, the Battlescorned?"

  "Here," Warden said, waving toward the stone confines. "She’s a smart one. She noticed all the prince’s former supporters getting poisoned and came here. She’s been brewing plants for the last hour. I have no idea what for. She said you would know."

  "Alright, then," Kaltor smiled, sheathing his last weapon. He glanced up toward Warden with a curious stare. "Has Selene already seen to my weapons?"

  Warden grinned. "She said your daggers are as before, but you should save your throwing blades for special targets, whatever that means."

  "It means that I need to ask one last favor of you," Warden nodded, pulling out his keys.

  Too many have died already, Kaltor decided. Melshek won’t even touch Dad’s troops if I can get to him first. "Tell Honmour and the Stunts to head for Lord Gereth’s forces for the coming battle. Don’t tell them I won’t be there," Warden nodded in agreement.

  Kaltor recalled the violent images of their first fight against Melshek, accompanied by Jensai’s and Prince Tyran’s lifeless stares ever present in his mind. Thinking back to his sparring matches with Master Taneth in the mountains, he tried to anticipate how Melshek would react to fighting a Remnant. A shudder of panic tickled his spine.

  No! he thought defiantly. They can’t sense a Varadour coming. I can get to him undetected as he sleeps. This is how a Battleborn wins against a stronger opponent.

  He thought back to his mother’s steady faith and quiet religion, thinking her son trained to relieve the sick. His lurking fear of Blood Breaking emerged, reminding him of the sacrifice of cutting his life span in half.

  Sorry Mother, he thought. I’m ending this tonight. One of us will be dead before the sun rises. The Varadour Remnant will be unleashed.

  After all, I still have to find Keevan when this is all over.

  Chapter 23