The Hierophant 5.5 – Memento Mori

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The Hierophant 5.5

“… All in all, we suffered minimal casualties,” Rhodia said, “We counted five deaths on our side with three times more on their end.”

“What about prisoners?” I asked.

“Those we tried to take alive committed suicide before they could be incapacitated,” Rhodia replied. “Those who could warp away did so.”

I would normally call that a complete victory. The gate was secured, the Forsworn on my territory routed. So why did the whole affair taste like shit?

Sol told me.

“We killed a few spies,” he said. “The true enemy escaped.”

He doesn’t have a scratch on him, I noticed. While his squire is in Senna’s tender care as we speak.

“The land’s transformation has slowed down after passing the mile threshold,” Rhodia continued her report. “The maws our outriders observed remain small so far.”

And now I had a Div nest right at my doorstep. No wonder everyone avoided killing Unborn. “I want that entire forest burned to the ground,” I told Rhodia. “Then bury the area under tons of rocks and stones, and send patrols to monitor the area. Put Kresnik and Kudlak in charge. I want the gate permanently sealed. If the Forsworn are foolish enough to warp back to the site…”

“Head on a spike?”

“Head on a spike. I also want you to put a bounty on Niyaz and Sitoj. Spread the word that I will give land, riches and honor to whoever brings me their head. Tell them not to bother bringing them back alive; I will give you a portrait of them to spread. You may now go.”

As she left my throne room with a deep bow, I focused on Sol. “Will you join in the hunt?”

Sol nodded with some tiredness, his expression undecipherable beneath his helmet. “This is the tenth squire I have lost in my lifetime,” he said. “I am sorry.”

“He was my friend,” I replied, my anger rising. “The fault is on Stitch’s head, not yours. I will have his corpse back for burial, no matter how long it takes me.”

Sol, again said nothing. He seemed lost in his thoughts. The loss hit him harder than I thought. “I hate to say it,” I said, “But we will mourn later. The fight is not over. They might warp back… how do your people prevent the Malebranche from using it?”

“We use angelic wards,” Sol explained. “They are difficult to make, and need an angel bound to a land.”

I would rather avoid having outsiders on my territory if I could help it. I had to find another solution. “There is another problem on our hands.”

“The second, southern gate?”

“I do not have the means to secure it alone,” I admitted. “My campaign’s timetable to subjugate the continent expected it to take three years. I do not have a disciplined army, I have a rampaging horde and they are not fully equipped and stocked. Now I have all but declared war on the Forsworn, I am wary about employing foreign mercenaries, whose loyalty is dubious. Maybe we can make a deal?”

Sol raised his head. “You want us to help you fight your wars?” He sounded doubtful, as if he had heard of it before.

“The Pilgrims’ troops will support my own and help me subjugate the continent in the following months, securing the southern gate. This will be your war tax. As a boon, you will gain exclusive access to the area once it is secured, and let you build an embassy there. Since my armies will secure the land around the door, your guild’s claim over the Fief beyond it will go unopposed.”

He seemed to take anger at my suggestion. “A friend of yours died,” he said, sounding irritated – Sol never sounded irritated. “And all you think about is your political gains?”

I rose from my throne on impulse. “What I think about is revenge!”

Even Sol seemed cowed by my outburst. I shouldn’t have shouted, I thought, sitting back, that was not kingly. “I want revenge,” I told him bluntly. “I want the Forsworn exterminated to the last man. I want Niyaz and Sitoj dead. Any second we lose wallowing in sadness is one that benefits them; securing the southern gate will put a stop to Forsworn plans, and your guild will help me achieve this task while we still have the initiative. Am I perfectly clear?”

The knight listened to his words without one of his own. “I will speak with my commander, Nuriel, about this,” Sol finally said, without enthusiasm. “But I cannot promise anything. You have a treaty with the Malebranche, the only enemy that matters to my superiors. They will think carefully.”

“Tell them to be quick,” I replied. “Time is not on our side.”

Sol nodded, too abruptly for my taste, and left the throne room, leaving me with Manah on the left side, and Sabeen on the right. “You could have been more subtle,” my shadow said. “He is grieving.”

“So am I,” I replied, irritated by the implications. Although I am less about mourning and more about filling new graves. “Sol is a friend. He deserves honesty. It remains to be seen if they will see things my way or not.”

“The Pilgrims did not send additional forces only to avoid being one-upped by the Malebranche,” Manah replied. “Their guild is on the decline, and their Seraph knows it. Gaining a new Fiefdom might reverse the decay. Lucrative trade advantages with Pandoria will help convince them. It is in everyone’s interest that your domain, and the nexus it keeps, is fully secured. I know you feel sad but-”

“I do not feel sad,” I replied. “I feel angry… and empty. Hollowed out.”

Sabeen seemed to feel the same, her previous depression replaced with cruel determination. I exchanged a glance with her, and I saw something strange in her eyes. Hesitation? “Is there something on your mind?”

“She died eaten alive,” she said, her tone heavy with cold fury. “He devoured her. Like an animal. He defiled her.”

She needs me. She needs my help to put Sitoj down but she doesn’t want to admit it. I did not say a word, confident she would continue.

“I want justice,” she said. “I want that petty creature tormented at my hands. Give me that and…” she hesitated, as if the words were bottled in her throat. “I will be yours.”

“You are mine already.” She didn’t have an answer to that. “Kneel.”

She hesitated, her pride keeping her upright. “Kneel,” I repeated, more softly this time.

Finally, she did, with enough reluctance for the gesture to be genuine.

I could feel the eyes of Tartarus on us both, and if her soul’s aura was to be believed so did she. Sabeen knew an immortal entity would be witness to this moment, her surrender public and absolute.

“Swear unconditional fealty to me,” I said. “You will now serve me without doubts, without constraint, without reservation. You will do my will and be my faithful creature. In exchange, I will give you glory, power, and justice.”

“I…” she ground her teeth. “I swear.”

“Extend your hand.” I stood, as she gave me her right hand.

I took her hand, opened her palm. Then, I removed the ring on my left ring finger, and handed it to her. She couldn’t help but raise her head, her eyes meeting mine in complete incomprehension.

“It is unsightly for one of my elite to be my slave,” I said. “You knelt as Sabeen, queen of no one. You may now rise, as Lady Sabeen of Pandoria.”

She did.

—-

One of the main advantages of Tartarus was its ability to shift its form. I simply had to ask for a new wing to form from the ground itself, and that wing would appear. The newly styled “royal hospital” was, for now, a mere underground wing with walls of stone and ghostly, floating blue flames for light.

Senna and a few select Fleshcrafters – who I had extensively screened beforehand – attended to the wounded, most of them previous veterans from my first campaign or soldiers from my raid on the Forsworn. Many seemed shocked to receive healing. I guessed universal healthcare wasn’t in their culture.

I could see they were thankful for it, which warmed my heart of ice a little. Manah hung behind me. “See?” she asked. “Fear is not the only thing in the world.”

Indeed, I thought, and made a note to visit the wounded myself later today. They were my men and put their lives on the line for my ambitions; I guess they deserved my respect.

I noticed Kari and Violet discussing something. The first was standing, the other was still in her bed. I approached them first. “I hope everything’s going fine,” I told them. “I was informed you had no serious wounds, but I asked for a check-up anyway.”

“I’m fine,” said Kari, with the economy of words I had come to expect from her. I noticed she hadn’t put on her scarf, exposing her unmoving lips. I took that as a good sign.

Violet kept her eyes down, unwilling to glance at my face directly. “Thank you for saving us,” she said. Her anxiety was almost adorable.

Almost.

“You are welcome,” I said, trying to put her at ease with a warmer tone. “I have informed your fellows of Green Mandrake you will be returned safely to them shortly. They were quite worried about your disappearance. So was Seeker, Kari.”

The Asian gave me a calm gaze. “They will come back for us,” she said, Violet sinking into her bed.

“Yes,” I replied.

“We are Unborn,” Kari continued, “They will never stop coming. You will not always have our back.”

“That depends.”

I had peeked her interest.

“I intend to keep the Striges and Pandoria as separate forces,” I told her. “The Striges being tasked with fighting the Forsworn and other operations that should not be made public. I will act both as Guildmaster of the Striges and Edge King of Pandoria. However… I need a second-in-command to manage the guild’s operations.”

“Me.”

“If you are willing. You have the training, and the necessary disposition. More to the point, I trust you.”

Her soul beamed with light, although her face didn’t show it. “I am with the Mapmakers,” she said, her tone emotionless.

“And Jahi could abduct you anyway,” I pointed out. “Did they rescue you? No. I did. The Mapmakers are useful, very useful, but they are a support network, not a true army. We are at war, and they are compromised.”

Her soul was a whirlwind of colors and confusion, while her face remained as still as a calm pond. She’s always on her guard, I thought. We were more alike than I thought.

“Okay.” Violet raised her head at Kari’s declaration. “But I must tell Seeker first. He is nice to me. He will understand.”

“As you wish,” I said focusing on Green Mandrake’s representative next. “As for you Violet, we were to discuss the terms of your guild when we met.”

“Y-yes,” she once again tried her best not to look at me. I began to wonder if she had developed an obsession with my boots. I felt like a lion looking at a helpless, innocent gazelle; I struggled very hard not to follow my instincts and take a bite. The snack was simply too easy.

“You should raise your eyes when you look at someone,” I told her. “If you avoid their gaze, they will take that as submission, weakness. Keep your head high.”

She took that as a reprimand, and sank deeper in the bed. I sighed inwardly. “I assume this is your first time in a position of authority. You are the latest child with all the fear that implies. You are afraid you will not live up to the task they gave you. It’s alright. I started like you once upon a time. It is fine to be afraid, to be nervous; you simply mustn’t show it.”  

After a short moment of hesitation, I took her hand. She froze at the contact even as I patted it paternally. “Look into my eyes.” Violet struggled to, but she did follow my advice and met my gaze. “Better. I could help you with that, if you want.”

“Help me?” She seemed more confused than displeased.

“I wondered if you were willing to stay in my lands for a time. You see, I have heard about your peculiar abilities. Pandoria has fertile lands, but lack a full agricultural system. I thought I might offer a fulfilling partnership with your guild.”

She hesitated, and glanced at Kari, who answered her with a nod. I guessed staying close to her new friend encouraged her to take the deal. “I… I must discuss with the others.”

“Take your time,” I replied.

“Hey, Blank!”

I sighed. “If you will excuse me,” I said, giving both girls a sharp nod and leaving for another bed.

Doc’s torso had already started to recover, the skin having fully regrown. I could see ribs reconstitute themselves slowly beneath it. Just how durable is he? He waved at me, while Grimsour stood next to his friend. “It’s Tenebrous now,” I told Doc. “I’m glad to see your ribs are doing fine.”

“Blank sounds better,” he said. “I told them if they wanted one of my ribs they simply had to ask.”

“… You realize they were trying to torture you?”

“Silly, torture is painful! Like needles. Now that’s cruel!”

I glanced at Grimsour, who shared my pain. “You fought well,” I told the goblin, “Although I did not see you take your warbeast with you.”

“I’ve got dozens of them right in here,” Grimsour replied, pointing at his bag. “Pretty nifty Relic, that Beast Bag.”

“I could have a job for you both,” I said. “I have a need for talented fighters.”

“Sorry, Boneguy, we got our own group already. Don’t get paid enough for our job, but double-timing is unprofessional.”

“The Forsworn might return.”

“We’ll be careful next time.”

“Don’t you want revenge?” I asked, glancing at Doc. “They abducted you, tried to torture you.”

“But I regrew!” The troll protested.

“Revenge is a sucker’s game,” Grimsour shrugged, making me realize recruiting them was a lost cause for now.

“Hey?” Doc asked, confused, “Where is stinger?”

“The Candlemaker burned it,” I said. “I am sorry. I know it represented a lot of work on your part.”

“Why? I will build a new one,” Doc said, before noticing my mace, “Oh… are they comestible?”

“We are the tastiest fiends in all of Hell!” The Three giggled.

“Can I eat them?” Doc asked me next, his lips covered with saliva.

“That can wait,” I said. “I would advise you to rest. You are my guests here for as long as you want.”

“See you around, Blank,” Doc waved happily, as I left.

I found Senna tending to a one-armed centaur, clad in white doctor’s garb. “Oh hey, Tenny,” she said, a bit too casual for my tastes. “Ah, sorry, King Tenebrous. Got to remember formalities.”

“I don’t see Lierre,” I said, brushing off her worries.

“The Pilgrims took her,” Senna replied, clearly displeased. “They said they didn’t need me to cure her. Her condition wasn’t critical. Hmph,” she scoffed, “How rude!”

“I see you are taking your new charge with aplomb.”

“You gave me such a nice title to go along with it,” she replied with a smile. “Lord Hospitalier. I’ve got to remember it.”

Manah had come up with the name. She had a knack for pompous court titles. “I want it done for tomorrow morning,” I said. “Can it be done?”

“Sure,” she replied, “I got the drawing you made and gathered the material. A brand new face.”

“And-”

“No symmetry,” she said. “Killjoy.”

—–

The room was dark, barely kept alight safe for the fire at the center.

Skins laid in a coffin of black wood, closed. I supposed Ace couldn’t support the sight, the mockery the Forsworn had turned her into during her last moments. Mur stood vigil next to it, his maimed wing slowly growing back. He looked half as impressive without his crown, and twice as bitter.

Ace had been lent one of the Danaides’ dresses, a black ensemble from a long age past. She looked elegant in those robes, if clearly uncomfortable; Senna might have repaired her face, and put back her teeth, but the experience had shaken her. Her face was somber, her gaze distant, even as she turned to face me and dropped the cigarette she had been smoking.

“Ace, I…” I am sorry, I meant to say, only for the words to die in my throat. “I…”

She didn’t say a word, stamping the cigarette out. She simply turned, extended her arms, and hugged me in a sisterly way. I held her so strongly I worried I might hurt her.

“I am sorry I could not make it in time,” I apologized.

“You came, didn’t you?” She replied warmly, as she broke our embrace. “We would be dead or worse if not for you.”

“You wouldn’t have been in danger if it wasn’t for me,” I replied, glancing back at the coffin. “He wouldn’t have died.”

Ace put a hand on my cheekbone. “You did not kill her, Shroud. The Forsworn did.”

“I did,” I replied bitterly. “I stepped into the light, when you advised staying in the shadows. It’s because of me they noticed you. I painted a target on all of you.”

“Shroud, life’s too short to ask ourselves how things could have been. We must look into the future.”

Without my deck, went unsaid. Even if she kept her dignity, I could sense that she felt powerless, deep down. Weakened, as naked without her Relic as she had been when we had rescued her. “This is still my fault.”

“Maybe. Maybe they noticed us a long time ago, and simply decided to move when you did. Maybe they always intended to abduct us and your actions would not have changed anything. I cannot blame you on maybes, and you shouldn’t either.”

Lies. Her soul told me at least a small part of her did blame me. If anything, that only made it worse.

I shook my head and glanced at the coffin. “I will protect you, I swear. I will protect you both. This will not happen again.”

“Mur does not need your protection,” the imp spoke, his eyes on the flames. “Mur needs weapons, so he can cut off hands. Mur will learn if their appendages can regrow like his own.”

Ace broke off our contact, and touched Skins’ coffin with her nimble fingers. “You offered me to be your second-in-command, almost a week ago,” she said softly, without enthusiasm.

“You don’t have to, if you don’t  want to,” I said. “I can buy Relics for you both.”

“Then what? Secrecy protects only so far as the truth remains hidden. The Forsworn know who we were, what we did, and where we were. They will always find us. We can hide no longer, and without my deck, we’re powerless.” She smiled without joy. “Having an army between them and us would feel nice.”

“Mur will not hide behind an army,” the imp said, seething with an undertone of deep, penetrating rage. “Mur will lead one.”

I nodded for both of them, my gaze losing itself in the flames. “You are certain you want to do this?”

“She would not have wanted to be buried,” Ace said. “Not like that. I’ll give the ashes to the sea.”

She, I reminded myself. I had grown so used to thinking of Skins as male, I often forgot. “I never liked her,” I started. “I will not pretend that I did. She did not like me either. I was fine with that. But she was a teammate, and she died through treachery and was robbed of her dignity. She didn’t deserve her fate.”

“Mur told her he would kill her one day, because she kept belittling him. He always intended to follow through. But Mur liked her. Sometimes, he found her funny. Only Mur had the right to kill her.”

Ace’s eulogy was the longest. “She told me the first name she took when she landed in the Cage was Clizyati,” she said. “She was a skinwalker. A witch who took the skins of others to take their power. In time, she grew powerful enough to take the skins of shapeshifters. She committed many atrocities before Lazarus caught her.”

She inhaled, taking her breath. “She committed many more crimes after. She carried on. People can carry on for years, then wake up one morning, and their world crashes down. One day, something inside her broke. She left, she fled. She wanted to make up for what she did… but felt nothing she could ever do would make up for her past. Perhaps that was why she sought the exit. To give her life some sense and direction. Her light has been extinguished, drowned in the dark.”

Ace seized the coffin, “Come, help me.”

We gave her to the flames, and watched her burn in silence for hours.