“What do you want,” a voice demanded through the amulet. Bludtyr couldn’t help snarling, a sentiment the Grievum shared if his murderous expression was anything to go by.
“This is General Bludtyr,” she replied icily. They both knew who was on the other end of the connection. After all, each pendant had a twin. The process of splitting a soul and putting it in two separate containers was part of the magic that allowed the Vallyr to speak to each other across a vast distance.
“I know who this is,” Mors said, clearly annoyed. “If you aren’t calling to tell me that you’ve destroyed the Scourge, then I don’t know that you have much to say to interest me. I need you to finish your work in Bastion and then join me at the border.”
There was a pause in their conversation, and both Grievum and Bludtyr could sense the Patriarch’s hesitation. It wasn’t an emotion that they were used to witnessing from the Collective leader.
“I need your help,” Mors said bitterly. The words prompted the two generals to look at each other with identical expressions of shock on their faces. Mors, like his father Gould before him, had never been able to ask for help. They were typically so arrogant that they expected the Vallyr to follow them merely because of their occupation of the throne. Mors continued as the two generals weren’t sure what to say.
“I don’t trust any of the high lords here. The Cult has informed me that the Ignati have a few of the noble families in their pocket. The Empire has been pressing in on all sides, and I’ve just been informed that they’re invading Koral as we speak.”
“Koral?” Bludtyr said, confused. Her eyes darted to one of the maps on the wall. Koral lay on the other side of Bastion from her location. It was south of the border, and there was still a fort between them and the Empire. “Has Corsa fallen as well?” She asked the Patriarch.
“No, not yet.” He said. His tone implied that it was a foregone conclusion that the fort would fall. “It seems the Empire snuck saboteurs into the city and cracked it open from the inside. After that, the Empire sailed a fleet of portal ships into the harbor and released an army behind our lines.
Even Grievum understood why this was a disastrous development. “They’ll be able to raid up and down the border forts without reprisal.” His voice was horrified.
“Exactly,” Mors agreed. “I can only be in so many places at once. I need you to defeat the Scourge and then press west to defeat the invasion of the Empire. I’ll reinforce you once you arrive at the border. I have an army of soul-forged here that we can use to destroy the Imperial incursion.”
Grievum looked at Bludtyr in askance. They had converted most, if not all, of the surrounding population into soul-forged creatures themselves at the urging of Magister Carrarn and the cult that he represented. They still hadn’t told Mors of the plan because they didn’t want him to intervene when it was unnecessary. Bludtyr’s mouth drew into a grim line, and she shook her head. She didn’t want Mors to know what they had done yet. If the Cult hadn’t seen fit to inform him, then she didn’t have cause to either.
“We’ll make sure we get there.” Grievum asserted confidently. Mors disconnected right after. Grievum allowed the room to stay silent for a beat before addressing his companion.
“Well, I guess it’s time for us to leave,” he said softly.
Bludtyr leaned back in the chair that she was sitting in and crossed her hands behind her head. She studied the ceiling as if she could divine the outcome of the coming battle in the masonry. She felt like she was being forced into a corner. She didn’t have the time to rally her forces, she needed to attack in winter, and the Patriarch needed her assistance on the border. It was a shitty position to be in, no matter how one parsed out the details. The Scourge was royally fucking up the stability that the Collective had maintained for well over three centuries. Bludtyr had the sense that Lucidus’ whelps were working within the Empire so that they could attack from within and without. If not, there was a cosmic sense of timing to the whole thing.
“Fuck,” she spat. She hated being backed into a corner. She had climbed the ladder of power, and on every rung, she had been asked to give up some piece of herself. She wasn’t one of the Patriarch’s favored generals for no reason. She had paid in blood and souls for her power, her beauty, and her position, and she had hundreds of years of experience on the battlefield. She had spent her time on the front lines, and she had felt this way before. It was usually when the Ignati had set up a portal on the battlefield. The structure sucked the mana out of the air, and any magic user such as herself could feel for miles around when one was activated. Every time she had been forced to assault one, she knew two things going into the battle. First, that it had to be destroyed, or else Imperial forces could pour out of the portal like a river from a broken damn. Second, that the Ignati were going to try damn hard to defend their portal, every time, attacking their portals felt like a loser’s bargain. She could feel that same sense of defeat now. Everything was falling apart in her hands, and Mors was either too stupid or naïve to see how this all had to end.
I might win, she thought to herself, but at what cost? She knew that the Collective was on its last legs, there was no denying the position their enemies had placed them in.
“Yes,” she replied to Grievum. “It’s time for us to advance. We’re either going to win this war or lose it all.”
CHAPTER 26: THE KING RETURNS
MORDRYN HAD SPENT the last week preparing for the return of the Scourge leader. This wouldn’t be the first faction leader he had killed, and it wouldn’t be the last, Nocturnus willing. He had used his time productively by mapping out Slate’s most popular routes, where he liked to sleep, and who he frequently talked to. It wasn’t difficult information to attain. The Guardians were unused to his methods of information extraction. Once he had relieved their souls from their bodies and begun his questioning, they were quick to reveal anything. Torturing some as a method to collect information wasn’t a very effective technique typically. People were all too willing to give their captor incorrect information just to make the pain stop. However, most people didn’t torture the very essence of a person’s existence. When their flesh was laid bare and a knife placed upon their soul itself, they talked. Getting them to shut up was more of a bother than getting them to talk.
The Vallyr was surprised at how insular the leader was. Slate rarely left the palace, and when he did, it was usually to another part of the inner city. He didn’t hold public trials, briefings, or audiences. Most of his meetings were conducted in the throne room of the palace or a small chamber on the same floor. He had sleeping quarters but when Mordryn had inspected them, they were spartan in appearance and decoration. There had only been a large piece of furniture similar to a bed and racks for hanging equipment. Had Slate been a typical opponent, Mordryn would have simply spread poison in his bed that would work on contact. However, even the Scourge’s Guardian had a high enough vitality to prevent most types of poisoning. Mordryn was concerned that Slate would find it a nuisance.
Mordryn had decided that the best way to defeat his enemy was to ambush him when he arrived back in the city. It wouldn’t be so difficult to find an opportunity. The Vallyr had already slain all of the Guardians in the palace. After that, he recognized that something or someone had evacuated the rest of the inner city, and the guards were residing in barracks in the outer city. That suited Mordryn’s purpose. It meant there were fewer factors for him to consider in his ambush. Isolating Slate and striking at the most opportune time was integral to his plan. After he had decided on his plan, he went to the trouble of creating Shades from the souls that he had taken from the Guardians. The sense of irony struck him. He had used Shades when he was attacking the Scourge’s settlement in the woods, and now he was using the same tactic in Bastion. The difference between that occasion and this one was the fact that Mordryn had time. Time was a valuable commodity to an assassin. The more time one had, the better-prepared one would be. That was true with most thing
s, but the art of assassination was primarily dependent upon the quality.
Once he had finished gathering all of the information he needed, he returned to the throne room in the palace. It was brightly lit and full of pretentious symbolism. The sight of the silver and gold carvings, marble architecture, and clean, inorganic lines made him want to be physically ill. Everything about this place was a direct contrast to the Vallyr. He sat in the throne with a leg lazily thrown over one of the sides and watched as Shades took guard positions around the room. They didn’t look anymore substantial than a normal shadow, but that would change once they were engaged in combat. He wasn’t concerned that someone would surprise him; he had a method by which to reduce the chance of the ambusher turning into the ambushed. Using his unique blend of shadow and soul magic, he summoned a portal of shadow and left it floating near his head while he picked dirt out of his fingernails with a dagger.
The portal was called an Eye of Nocturnus, it was a complicated piece of magic to use for a younger Vallyr, but Mordryn used it as a means of detection. So long as the practitioner had a bit of material that belonged to the one being observed, then the Eye would show the person and their surroundings once they came into the range of the spell. The scope of the detection depended upon the user’s skill and the amount of mana they used to sustain the spell. Mordryn created a detection range that covered most of the inner city. He would be able to maintain the spell as long as necessary for Slate to return. If he tried to push the detection range further, his mana would expend itself faster than it replenished. As it stood, Mordryn would be unable to use his shadow powers to ambush Slate if he also wanted to see him coming. The assassin knew that it was more important to know when Slate arrived in the city rather than turning into his shadow state. He could rely on his natural stealth to attack the Scourge leader.
When Slate had finally arrived, Mordryn thought that the Eye was malfunctioning. It showed him the image of a giant dragon in the air. Last time Mordryn had checked, the Scourge leader hadn’t been a fucking dragon. Mordryn noted that this creature wasn’t exactly as it had been described in the legends or depicted in their histories. There was a more predatory appearance to the beast. The dragons of old had been majestic beasts. Their scales were the color of gemstones, and they had been creatures of peace and discussion. The scaled monstrosity that Mordryn saw in the Eye was not that. This dragon looked like a weapon of war. It was lean and agile; it looked like a larger version of the creature that he had faced before with wings and different proportions. Previously, they had been able to transition from two to four legs while this dragon moved only on four legs. The tail was longer in proportion to the previous form and wielded spikes down the tail before ending in a long sharp blade. Even the bat-like wings seem like weapons. Each pinion ended in ivory-colored spines, and the fingers at the tops of the wings were clawed as well.
The entire creature was covered in gold scales that overlapped and looked thick like armor. Mordryn was thinking about how he would penetrate the dragon’s defense when it landed within the inner city and started to transform. Mordryn felt a smile cross his face as he observed the intimidating dragon become an elf. A strange amalgamation of a dragon and female elf landed behind him. She was a woman, but she had wings and unusual draconic features that resembled the woman that Mordryn had fought in the underground hatchery. It wasn’t the same person, Mordryn would remember the face of the woman that had defeated him, but she was close enough in appearance that she could’ve been mistaken for the other woman’s sister.
Contrary to the woman’s bestial appearance, the man that Mordryn assumed to be Slate didn’t look very different from the wood elves that the Vallyr had slain in the Wyldwood. Instead of brown skin, the man had flawless tawny-toned skin. He had long silver hair that was kept wild and free. He was wearing armor similar in style to the Guardians that Mordryn had killed. The man eschewed any form of protection outside of the breastplate. It was a mistake that Mordryn felt he could capitalize on. Studying the image closer, he couldn’t make out any details like the color of Slate’s eyes, but he was more interested in how the man moved anyway. Any small movement would be a dead giveaway to Mordryn’s trained eyes. He hadn’t had the time to study his foe before, and it had cost him the battle. He wouldn’t be nearly so arrogant now. The Scourge had demonstrated that individually, they weren’t to be trifled with.
Slate started walking briskly toward the abandoned barracks in the inner city, and Mordryn watched him through the Eye. The assassin stood from where he had been lounging in the throne and gestured for the Eye to follow him as he exited the palace. He watched somewhat distractedly as the elf walked with the smooth flow that signaled heightened speed. The woman shadowed him like a faithful bodyguard. The way she moved was even more impressive. She looked like a stalking cat and had clearly been trained. Her eyes darted in every direction as she searched every part of their route for an enemy. Mordryn didn’t care, though; he would turn over in his grave before he allowed a welp like her to find him. He watched as Slate entered the barracks, and Mordryn dismissed the Eye. He wanted to conserve his mana, and he trusted his powers from this point onward.
It didn’t take long for him to reach the barracks, and he cloaked himself in shadow. It was still early in the morning, and long shadows were still stretched out upon the ground. Mordryn’s cloak worked in a few ways. He could turn himself entirely into darkness, but the drain on his mana was extreme. He only used the power when he wanted to make a statement or when he wanted to end a battle quickly. If he wanted to save his mana, he could use the cloaking magic to allow him to blend into existing shadows; the darker the shadows, the easier to hide. He flitted from shadow to shadow as he crossed the street to the actual barracks. It didn’t matter how large the silhouette was, as long as it was there, Mordryn could make use of it. His shades traveled the paths made of shadow with him. He would be able to summon or banish them at will. He kept them close. He would need them to slay the Scourge monarch.
The assassin considered whether to enter the building or stay outside, and he ultimately wanted to wait for Slate to return from the room. He didn’t like the idea of being trapped in a confined space with two opponents. That was how he had been defeated last time, and he wasn’t going to underestimate his foes again. Instead, he climbed his way to the top of the building. Part of being an assassin was the ability to get to hard to reach places in ways that people didn’t think possible. It wasn’t hard, though. The architecture of the Scourge was block-like and bold. Grabbing a window ledge, leaping to another, before jumping to lever oneself onto the roof was made more accessible by how thick the masonry was in the building. Mordryn would have preferred the building be made from crumbling stone with plenty of cracks, but in this case, the smooth and brightly polished white marble was easy enough to scale by using their standard stylistic features. Mordryn had noticed that the tower in the inner city that stretched into the sky like a marble spear didn’t have the same openings or ledges gracing its features. It was a simple silhouette of polished stone against the backdrop of the city.
Fuckkk climbing that, he thought.
Once he had reached the crown of the structure, he situated himself above the entry to the building. The barracks were constructed with only one entrance and exit. It allowed the barracks to be fortified in the event of a siege, but it meant that there was only one place the Scourge could exit from. Mordryn wasn’t sure that this would be the place he ambushed Slate, that would depend on the Scourge monarch, but it allowed him the opportunity should it arise.
Sometime later, both members of the Scourge exited the barrack and made for the palace. Mordryn noticed immediately that Slate clutched something in his left hand while he wielded a newly acquired sword in his right. The leader didn’t want to fight Mordryn unarmed and by himself.
Probably a good idea, Mordryn sneered.
Mordryn had all the time to wait for an opportunity, so he didn’t rush the attack. A good assa
ssin was patient, and they knew when the least action would have the most significant effect. He didn’t leap upon them from above. Instead, he shadowed them figuratively and literally as he used the rooftops to follow his prey. They traveled quickly to the practice, and once they had reached the front steps of their home, Slate stopped and seemed to be studying the entryway of the domicile. Mordryn had situated himself on top of the small wall that portioned the palace from the rest of the inner city, and he simply waited.
Without warning, the female bodyguard turned and started moving toward his position. Mordryn didn’t panic; he had no reason to think he had been discovered. He stayed still and breathed in slowly but quietly. Amateur assassins made this mistake of holding their breath. All that happened was that they would inhale or exhale more violently when they shouldn’t and found themselves discovered by the enemy.
There was a small gate in the wall beneath Mordryn that marked the entrance to the palace grounds. The female bodyguard passed through and under the assassin. He was so close to her that he considered removing her as a threat right then and there, but he didn’t want to be on the back foot when facing Slate. The monarch was the real target of today’s assassination, and he didn’t want to waste his opportunity on a simple bodyguard. Mordryn remained still, eyes fixated on the goal in front of him. He heard the female move further away, and a part of him felt relieved.
Meanwhile, Slate had stopped his strange observation and entered the palace proper. Mordryn left his perch and followed the Scourge monarch inside. He had been able to slip inside the door before it closed, and there were plenty of shadows inside the building for Mordryn to remain hidden. Instead of making his way to the small meeting room he usually occupied, his office, or his bedroom, the Scourge leader made his way to the throne room. The assassin thought it was a strange choice, and he wished that he had left his Shades in the place instead of bringing them along with him. He had fully expected Slate to retire to his bedroom or begin planning his moves against the assassin. Slate had to know that someone had killed all his staff. After all, he had been killing Guardians all over the city to lure Slate back. Mordryn frowned.
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