Athir

Lyran shrank rapidly in size, the shimmering light faded, and the butterflies dropped dead and spiralled into the water.

"We have a mutual acquaintance. Young farm boy, overly nice to everyone, annoyingly accurate moral compass," Athir said.

"Did Konrad send you to kill me?" Lyran asked, nodding to the rusted sickle with an expression like she had sucked on a lemon.

"No! This isn’t for you; I mean, it could be, I imagine, but I really just came here for some peace and quiet."

"You’re a Faelen champion," Lyran sniffed.

"I am."

Athir felt like the whole forest was glaring at her and fought not to raise her defences. In reality, she had the sickle, and there was very little a deity could do to harm her; that’s why they had champions to do their dirty work for them. Their powers were suited to minor trickery and mischief; even Lyran, with her control over the natural world, could not actually make a tree attack anyone; that's not what trees did.

"If the Faelen sent you here, then you should know I had nothing to do with what happened to them, but there’s no way I want them back. They strutted around for long enough, acting like judge, jury, and executioner."

"They only sought balance," Athir said through gritted teeth.

"Bah, believe their lies if you wish. But I was there; they like balance when the Faelen Queen’s thumb is on the scales. They got exactly what they deserved, in my opinion."

"I’m leaving. Enjoy your tree."

Athir had barely made it two steps before Lyran appeared in front of her.

"Tell me, what is Konrad doing?"

Lyran had a natural advantage when it came to maintaining a wooden expression, but there was an edge to her voice that wavered like a missed note. Was the small god actually concerned for Konrad?

"Ask him yourself. Get out of my way; I’m busy."

"If he sent you here, he must want me to help, he's just to proud to ask."

"I don't think—" Athir was interrupted by a rustle in the undergrowth and Lyran promptly disappeared as Otto emerged, panting and covered in sweat.

"You can’t cut them off; there must be another way," Otto gasped.

Athir’s fingertip grasp on her patience slipped.

"I’m not talking to you about this any more. I have my instructions, and I’m not going to be the reason this plan fails. There’s too much on the line."

"You’ve got no idea what this will do to them; it’s worse than death."

"Kill them then; save me the trouble."

"I’m not a murderer."

"We’ve both done it before."

"I’ve never killed a prisoner, and I don’t think you have either. I think we should leave them in there. Alice says, they’ve been shut off; that must be enough."

"If you want a second opinion, there’s one here for you. Lyran come out."

"I do not appreciate being summoned," Lyran said, materializing again.

"Go on, ask her," Athir prompted, ignoring Lyran completely.

Otto turned his attention to the small god, his voice desperate. "The black rock blocks things—so it’ll block a champion's connection with a god, yes?"

"Of course not. If a champion were encased in the Latho rock, the deity would know where they were, but they couldn’t reach them or communicate with them. The bond, however, exists on all planes; of course it would still be there."

"See, it’s not enough. End of story," Athir concluded.

"Enough for what? And don’t tell me you can’t tell me. Konrad knows that some of us will have to share information; the idea is that he is the only one who knows everything."

"The fact is, Otto, that what you think might’ve mattered when you had the strength to back it up, but you don’t."

"Harsh, but fair," Lyran murmered.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Otto’s shoulders slumped, and whatever resistance had been in his eyes faded. "There must be another way."

"Am I given to understand that you have captured some champions in that little den of yours? If all you need is to cut them off, I think I see a solution," Lyran said. The small god narrowed her eyes and gazed off into the distance at something they couldn’t see.

"No, we don't need your help," Athir snapped.

"I know Konrad has a very poor opinion of me, but I’ve always tried to look out for him. I’ll help you, but you must tell Konrad how selfless I was," Lyran continued as if Athir hadn't spoken.

"Don’t do anything," Athir commanded.

"I don’t take orders from you; just remember to tell Konrad that I was helpful," Lyran replied, and she disappeared as the whole volcano started to tremble.

The blood in Athir’s veins turned to ice, and she barged past Otto, racing through the forest. Branches and trees blocking her path were blasted aside with silver scythes of Faelen magic, tearing a path directly to the small clearing where she found Alice cradling Walters head in her lap.

"They’ve escaped!" Alice cried.

Blood pouring from a wound on Walter's scalp, and behind them, the prison was little more than a pile of rocks and snapped branches.

"Which way?" Athir growled.

Alice pointed north, and pieces of shredded forest rained down in Athir’s wake as she stormed up to the volcano’s rim, arriving just in time to see two small figures descend the last steps of the giant staircase and disappear into the ruins of the city.

Otto staggered out of the jungle behind her, leaning against a tree and gasping for breath. "If we work together, we can catch them in the jungle."

"No problem, take your time, get your breath back," Athir murmured, surveying the jungle far below. Too far? She’d survived worse.

"Thanks!" Otto gasped.

Athir took four steps back, then sprinted forward and leapt off of the ledge, leaving Otto’s curses far behind her. The wind whistled past her ears as she hurtled down feet first towards the vast green canopy, and she summoned all of her power to her core, screaming as it exploded from her in a thick silver bar of light that eviscerated the jungle below. She plummeted through the hole she had made and landed in a crater five feet deep with a shockwave that sent birds flapping in panic for miles around.

A high pitched whine rang in her ears as Athir staggered to her feet and collapsed again, looking dumbly at her knee, which was pointing entirely the wrong way. In many ways, dislocations were worse than breaks; breaks could be healed, but who wants to heal a joint and have it forever point the wrong way?

Clutching her kneecap with a shaking hand, Athir pulled hard as she extended her leg, screaming as the ligaments slipped back into place. Then she wiped away the tears and drew her long sword before limping into the jungle.

The ruins of the lost city held their breath as Athir slipped inside. Monkeys and lizards sensed a predator and froze in terror, and a jaguar with a scarred face and incisors large enough to rip out the throat of a full-grown man hid in the shadows, trembling as Athir passed by close enough to touch his velvet coat.

She found the champions of the Father crouched in the gloom of an old courtyard, the stone benches and fountain long since reclaimed by the creeping jungle.

"We’ll have to work together; you saw what she did to the Second Champion," one of them said as he desperately used his hooked hand to shave a sharp point onto a thick branch.

"You think a sharp stick is going to stop her? She’s a demon; I can still feel what she did to me; it was like she reached in and grabbed—"

A retching sound came from the gloom, and the sharp smell of bile permeated the stale air.

"Pull yourself together!"

These two were pitiful and unarmed. Killing them would be like murdering puppies. But what choice did she have? Konrad’s instructions were specific; the connection between these two and the Father had to be severed. The least she could do is give them a sporting chance.

Athir’s swords few out of the gloom and landed on the stone beside the champions. "Each of you takes one of these."

The champions spun around and gazed in terror as she stepped out into the weak light, but they barely glanced at the swords at their feet; their eyes riveted to the rusted sickle in her hand.

"Father!" called one of the champions.

Athir held her breath, her knuckles cracking as they gripped the handle of the sickle. She begged for him to come down and incarnate one of these fools so she could get to work with this sickle. But there was no divine presence; the Father was too shrewd to fall for the same trick twice.

"It looks like you’re all alone, boys," Athir said.

"What do you want from us?" one of the men gibbered.

"I can’t tell you, but if you don’t resist, then this’ll be painless. You have to trust me; it’s really just one little cut."

Any blood left in the champions' faces drained away.

"Okay, poor choice of words," Athir added as the two champions shrieked and scrambled towards the darkness of the closest corridor.

Athir calmly collected her swords and followed them through the twists and turns of the abandoned city until she caught up with them in a familiar stone tunnel. The champions had stopped in front of a crude sign that had been scrawled on the wall that read: "Trap ahead."

"I wouldn’t go down there if I were you," Athir called.

"As if we’re going to fall for that!" the champion with the hook retorted.

"No, really, there’s a trap down there; it’s quite complex. I put the sign there to warn people."

"Why didn’t you just disable it?"

"I thought it was a good trap; it would’ve been a shame to ruin it."

"What’s wrong with you?" the other champion asked.

"This is another one of her tricks!" cried the champion with the hook, and he threw a small cube that detonated as soon as it hit the flagstones. A cloud of dust billowed out as the rock walls collapsed, and in the aftermath, Athir placed her ear against the caved-in rock and listened intently with an air of professional curiosity.

There was a twang sound, and the hurried footsteps of the fleeing champions stopped abruptly, followed by a high-pitched scream. Hidden mechanisms in the wall started to turn, and a grinding noise elicited another, higher-pitched scream. Athir winced slightly as two hammer blows made the stone tremble, and one of the screams was abruptly cut off.

After a period of silence, one pair of cautious footsteps approached, and there was a scrabbling noise on the other side of the cave-in, which could have been a metal hook scraping on the rocks.

The scraping stopped, and a voice gibbered. "Nononooooo."

Athir heard what sounded like wingbeats, then a series of unpleasant, wet, crunching sounds followed by the clank of a metal object, that could have been a hook bouncing on a stone floor.

It wasn’t exactly what Konrad had asked her to do, but the result was the same; she just had to hope that it worked, or Konrad was walking into a much more dangerous trap.