by M. K. Gibson
When no one spoke, I nodded my head and started to walk on. “Good evening to you all.”
“Jackson,” Hawker called out.
“Yes?” I said, pausing.
“Would you . . . care to join us for a drink?”
“I would like that,” I said. “Soon. First, I must see to some business. Lady Alianna has requested my presence for an audience. Is there . . . anything you would like me to pass on to her?”
With their relationship out in the open now, the two had been separated. During Hawker’s time in the Woods, their love had been forged in secret. Now, the lovers must stay apart. Sad, in a melancholy, star-crossed lovers way.
“Tell her that I love her. And we’ll be together soon.”
“I will tell her.”
“Come back, Jack,” Lydia said. Wren and Caitlin nodded their agreement. Zachariah eyed me warily, but said nothing.
“I shall.”
I moved along the path of the treetop kingdom, across an open-air bridge to the section in the oldest part of the keep where the mystics lived.
I approached the standalone tree home that belonged to Lady Alianna. Two guards stood outside with crossed halberds.
“State your name and business here,” they said in unison.
“I think it is bloody well obvious who I am now.”
“Name and business.”
I sighed. “Jackson Blackwell, Shadow Master, responding to a summons for audience from the Lady Alianna.”
The guards uncrossed their halberds and I knocked at the door. A moment later I heard her call from within, “Come in, Mr. Blackwell.”
I nodded politely to the guards and entered the tree home of the Truthseer.
The door shut behind me, plunging me into darkness. From the center of the receiving room, a small ball of blue light flittered in the air. The light illuminated the natural wood of the tree home, while giving off an eerie, supernatural feeling.
“Follow,” came the disembodied voice of Lady Alianna. The ball of light flittered away, past the receiving room and up the stairs. I followed the light, passing shelves full of antiquated books and scrolls along framed, ancient paintings and etchings of majestic landscapes. The stairwell was lined with candles that burst to life with each upward step I took.
At the top of the stairs, the space opened to a large, loft-style room where the Lady Alianna waited. She sat on her knees in meditation. Her eyes were closed and the room was lit with candles that gave off a green flame.
Once I was at the top of the stairs in the Truthseer’s presence, the ball of blue light winked out of existence.
“Shadow Master,” Alianna addressed me.
I smiled. “Lady Alianna, Truthseer of the Whispering Woods.”
Immediately we both began laughing.
“It’s good to see you, Jackson.”
“You as well, Bethany,” I said. “Or do you prefer Alianna?”
Bethany Madison Jacobs was what you would call . . . a quirky girl, from our world. Along with her multi-colored hair, ear spacers, and facial star tattoos, she normally wore thrift-store clothing and items she made herself. She made her own outsider art and listened to bands you’ve never heard of (all of them shit, I might add). You know, a hipster.
Anyway, I met Bethany in a tattoo parlor (long story, don’t ask) over ten years ago, before all of the things she was into were cool. What caught my eye was her ears. She had them surgically pointed to look like an elf.
I struck up a conversation with Bethany and as it turned out, she was a huge Everquest, Magic the Gathering, Tolkien, card-carrying super nerd. She went on and on about her fairy wing tattoos and how beautiful elves were and all that nonsense. The other thing that caught my attention was how after she got her third face star completed, she convinced the artist to give it to her for free. I watched as she manipulated this schlub into free work.
So I gave her my card and told her to call me if she ever wanted to really be an elf.
Normally, that line wouldn’t work on anyone. People would assume I was crazy or slinging some new drug. But Bethany called me and we struck a deal. Fifteen years as my spy within the realms as an elf and I would return her, un-aged, to our world with fifteen million dollars in her account. Of course she didn’t believe me. But one quick trip to my dimensional realm, and she was mine.
“As long as we are here, best stick with Alianna.”
I nodded. “So, my dear Alianna, I must thank you for that performance in there.”
“It’s easy. I saw how your mind was working. Plus, with this,” Alianna tapped the woven silver circlet on her head, “telling a truth from a lie is easy. Thanks for giving it to me.”
“It’s a loan only,” I countered.
“That was amazing, Jack. I’ve never seen them so pissed and so speechless.”
“It’s a gift.” I smiled.
When Bethany agreed to enter my service, I first sent her through several months of acting lessons followed by elocution lessons. My own Eliza Doolittle. When she was ready, I prepared her backstory.
Scouring the old legends, I came across a story. Twenty-five years ago, a pair of elven ambassadors went missing and never returned. They were presumed killed by orcs. Their infant daughter, the Lady Alianna, was also one of the casualties.
When the time was right, I used my power to transform Bethany into a real elf, then had her placed inside the realms in a previously abandoned castle, locked away by several orcs I have on payroll.
An anonymous tip to the Arboreal Council led the elven search party to the castle, where my orcs were killed and “the Lady Alianna” was rescued. Because she had grown up a slave to the orcs, the elves treated her as broken and never questioned her lack of grace. They did take note of her ability to see truth from deception, a very rare elven gift. So, seeing an opportunity, they took her home.
Thus, my spy within the elven people was born.
“So, what do you have to report?” I asked.
“I fucking hate it here,” the Lady Alianna swore.
“Well, that’s a succinct report.”
“Dear God, Jackson, send me back home. If I have to eat another berry, listen to another poem about a leaf, or shag one of these wimps, I’m just going to die. These people . . . what was I thinking?”
“That living here was a perpetual renaissance fair come to life?”
“Exactly! I expected adventures and madrigals. Beautiful, sexy, buff men . . . and women, with impeccable grooming, ripe for the shagging. Action and dragons. You know, everything from the books.”
“I take it you did not get those things?”
“Oh, I did. And at first it was great,” Bethany conceded. “They fawned all over me and I saw so many amazing things. But then . . . boredom set in. Ever try to get laid in an elven forest? These people are near immortal so they play the long game in everything. They still court people, damn it! And get this . . . they actually watch grass grow. And they like it!”
“Sounds horrible,” I said, trying to suppress a smile.
“Don’t patronize me, Jack. I know my assignment. I just miss the real world. Oh hey, how did Lost turn out?”
“Horrible. Purgatory.”
“Damn. What did Peter Jackson do next?”
“He made The Hobbit,” I told her.
“Awesome! Was it good?”
“He turned it into a trilogy after bowing to the studio.”
“A trilogy? It wasn’t a big book to begin with. How were they?”
I raised an eyebrow and waggled my hand. “Bad to middling at best.”
“That sucks. So what’s your next step?”
“I am going to take the fight to Grimskull. I am going to wipe him off the face of existence. After that . . . a latte, I think.”
“Oh god . . . coffee. And pizza. Free music downloads and all the internet porn a girl can have. Jackson?”
“Yes?”
“I know I said I would do this for fifteen years.”
“I know, I know. But if you are going to kill Grimskull anyway, I assume you’re done with this realm. I would like to request an early extraction. I’ve done two-thirds of my time and I will forgo half of my agreed-upon fee.”
“Interesting. Why?”
“Jack, I’m tired,” she said, with the persona of Alianna slipping away and Bethany coming through. “I miss the world. I miss my old life. I miss showers and air conditioning. Bad TV and technology.”
“I see. What about Hawker?”
“What about him?”
“Nothing romantic?” I asked. “He is in love with you. He even asked me to pass his love along to you.”
“I know. And yeah, he was fun. But he’s . . . passionate. He’s driven. He wants to save the world and then settle down and raise a family. I hate kids and I’m pretty sure my cat is dead.”
“You’ll break his heart,” I said.
“And you care about that?” she asked.
“No, not really. But it gives me an idea,” I said as I wandered around her living area. I picked up a small candleholder. It was simple yet elegant and carved of obsidian.
“What idea?”
“The guards outside. They’re your guards, aren’t they? Your personal guards.”
“They’ve been with me since I was ‘rescued’ over ten years ago. They’ve sworn themselves to me for all their life. Why?”
“The transitive property.”
“Meaning what?” Alianna asked.
“Well, in your contract, you swore yourself and all you have to me for the duration of our contract. In essence, you and all you have is mine.”
“So?”
I used a fraction of my power and changed the candleholder into an obsidian dagger. An exact replica of the blades used by General Anders’s elite assassins, the Night Fires. They used obsidian blades imbued by the general herself so that they burned with the power of the fire giants. The blades caused the body to burn from the inside out. I imbued the blade with the same kind of fire.
I crossed the space between us and slammed the blade into Alianna’s heart, while I covered her mouth with my hand. Her eyes went wide with the shock. I wasn’t sure if it was the betrayal or the knife in her chest. Either way, she began to smolder and burn from within. The fire inside melted her throat and lungs, and no sound escaped her mouth.
She was dead in moments, but the agony must have felt like hours. I lowered her body to the ground and watched as the fired consumed her from within, melting her organs. In seconds her skin turned black turning into a charred husk of ash and melted skin. In the center was the dagger.
Perfect.
“Bethany, your intel has been very valuable. And I will ensure your payment is sent to your next of kin. No one leaves my service until I am done with them. But don’t worry. Your death serves a purpose. The young Hawker would have been traumatized by your leaving. But your death at the hands of the Night Fires will galvanize his resolve towards my purpose. Farewell.”
I took a moment to open the window and turn over a few chairs to make it look like there was a slight scuffle. When the room looked complete, I went back downstairs and went through the front door and faced the guards.
Once again, I reached into my power reserves and touched the two elves on the shoulder.
“As you belong to Alianna, and she belonged to me, you are mine to command.”
Both the elves’ eyes went glassy and they nodded in understanding.
“In three hours, you will hear a noise and you will go upstairs to investigate. You will see two women dressed in black fleeing the scene through the window. You will see the obsidian dagger in the middle of the late Alianna’s chest. You will then know without a doubt it was the Night Fires who assassinated her. After you report this to the Lord Protector, you will take you own lives for your failure. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Shadow Master,” they said in unison.
“Excellent.”
I walked away, picking back up my whistling of “Walking on Sunshine.” A leisurely stroll and a hopping skip with a heel click later, I was heading back to the common room where my allies were. I joined my companions and had that drink with them. Hawker toasted me and we laughed and had a very pleasant evening.
It is so very good to be me.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Where I Negotiate Villainous Plots During a Funeral
The Lady Alianna’s funeral was grand, yet tasteful.
When the Truthseer was found dead, her remains were gathered with respect and reverence. What was left of the wayward noble was placed on a small rowboat along the banks of the Lower Elder River. The boat was hand-carved from a fallen tree and adorned with fallen flowers gathered. Beside her, her sworn guards were placed. Silken scarves covered their throats to hide the self-inflicted slashes from their suicides after reporting their findings.
It was argued that the guards should not receive a place of honor. But it was Hawker who spoke up, demanding that they be with her. To guard her in the afterlife for all time. Forever making amends for their failing while alive.
All of the Arboreal Court and the Whispering Woods had gathered on the banks and in the trees that morning to say farewell to Alianna. The Treesingers’ mournful song vibrated off each living tree and was repeated all across the woods.
I stood there with my comrades and watched as the Lord Protector spoke the eulogy in the high Elvish Tongue. He spoke of her beauty and grace. He spoke of her imprisonment at the hands of the orcs and how her life was one of torment. Yet, for ten years, she had found peace. He blessed her and thanked her for her life and love. Her smile and her joy.
God, I was bored. If I had a watch, I would have been looking at it.
Look, it isn’t that I was unmoved by the situation, or the gravity. But I was on a timetable and an ever-dwindling supply of power. So forgive my impatience.
The problem was, elves rarely die. Natural deaths, anyway. The smug, fashion-model granola eaters were immune to almost every disease and healed from injuries at alarming speed. Coupled with their magical abilities and vast knowledge of herb-lore, they lived almost indefinitely.
When an elf died, it was almost always due to violence. War, assassination, murder. You know, the good stuff. The irony is, since they were always holding themselves on a higher level than other sentient beings, they did not grasp why anyone would want to hurt them. So, when said occasion happened, it turned into a rather large affair, sometimes lasting for days, weeks, or even months.
It was disgusting.
Have you ever seen a bunch of really depressed model-types, wearing black for months on end, acting all emo? It’s like a high-end goth club, but with fewer people named Raven, Anastasia, Calliope, Caliban, Tempest, or Oberon. (Come on goths, get some new names. I literally googled “popular goth names” and it was the top link. Also, just because Shakespeare wrote it, doesn’t mean you should change your name to it.)
When there was a lull in the thirteenth chorus of dead-elf mourning songs, I made my way toward Hawker. I knew the others would join me, but Hawker was their de facto leader. Getting him to come with me sooner would motivate them. Also, I didn’t want to be the asshole who was trying to bail on a funeral early.
I was clearly that asshole and I didn’t really care. But I needed the perception of me to be on the upswing. I did very recently get through a life-and-death trial using a planted witness, then murder said witness to further my personal gain.
Villainy. It’s complex and very time consuming.
As I approached Hawker, Zachariah stepped in front of me.
“We need to talk.”
I looked him up and down. “About?”
“Your plans with that boy,” Zachariah said as he crossed his arms.
“If you’re attempting to be menacing, then you are failing,” I told Zachariah as I squared up on him.
> “Ten minutes, please. In private.”
I looked over at Hawker. The young man was staring at his beloved’s corpse floating down river with tears in his eyes. Yeah . . . he was useless for now, anyway.
“All right. Ten minutes,” I said.
Zachariah nodded and walked off to a small clearing. I followed, keeping an eye out. Strangers wishing to speak in private was often a setup for bad things to happen. I didn’t see any traps, nor did I sense anything out of the ordinary. Still, I kept my guard up.
Zachariah spun toward me with his hands on his hips. “Excuse me for being blunt, but who the fuck do you think you are?”
“Excuse me?” I said, confused.
“Look, I get it. I know who you are. My brother told me all about you and your magical realm,” Zachariah said, using air quotes, “but I have been working that kid’s corruption for the better part of a year now. Now all of a sudden you swoop in and snatch him up for an easy win? No, that is not professional courtesy.”
A bemused smile crossed my lips. I raised an eyebrow and looked at Zachariah. “Are you on the job?”
“What do you think? That Viktor’s brother is a good guy? Oh, and thanks for outing me, by the way.”
I had to keep from laughing at the situation. “The thought did cross my mind. You’d be surprised how many villains’ siblings or relatives turned out to be heroes.”
“Tell me about it. My own nephew, a hero. I blame his mother.”
“Well, what was your plan then? You had a year to turn him—what were you waiting for?”
“I was taking my time, oh great ‘Shadow Master.’”
“If you air quote one more time, I’ll cut your fingers off,” I said.
“Fine. But look, you should know how hard it is to turn someone. It takes time and subtle approaches. You have to build to a moment and then give them the right nudge to push them into the darkness. In the last year I trained him, I got him to go on an epic quest to recover the Amulet of the Ember Soul and defeat the Bray Beast. I was then going to use him as my instrument to kill my brother once and for all. Do you think you could have done better?”
