Toren Daen

A silence passed through the table as my words settled in the air. Sevren suppressed a widening smirk, but I knew him well enough to guess that he expected me to turn the woman down. I’d turned down the full support of Highblood Denoir before. Why would I accept Bloodstone Elixirs’ leash in place of his house?

Renea Shorn, who had just brought her tea to her lips, paused. She froze as if she were a perfect machine, even her breathing seeming to halt. For the barest of moments, the woman was a statue frozen as if by aevum.

Then time resumed, and the woman sipped at her tea with a measured pace. Her hair shadowed her face, and I had the feeling I’d done something she hadn’t expected at all.

Lady Shorn lowered her teacup down to the tiny plate that held it once more, allowing me to see her eyes. I’d expected anger there. Maybe disappointment or disapproval. After all, why would I deny such a generous offer?

But Renea Shorn’s eyes danced, her lips curling at the edges. I blinked, surprised by what I saw.

“This is truly unexpected,” Lady Shorn said, crossing her hands over her stomach. “May I ask why you reject my offer?”

“I cannot be tethered to anyone,” I replied truthfully. “My goals cannot afford it.” I paused, grinding my teeth. “It will take time, but I’ll drive Mardeth from my home by my own hand eventually.”

Renea tilted her head. “I think you misunderstand something, Lord Daen,” she said. “Did I ever say my elimination of the Doctrination in East Fiachra depended on your employment in my service?”

I frowned, leaning forward and resting my arms on the table. “You said that, in return for you forcing the Doctrination out of East Fiachra, you wanted me to work under you.”

“No,” Lady Shorn said. Her smile was sly. It spoke of something she understood but I didn’t. A grand secret I’d missed. “I told you I would drive the Doctrination from your home. Never did I say what it would require.” I opened my mouth, but Renea continued on unphased. “You asked me what I desired from you, not what I desired in return for my help.”

I closed my mouth, mentally going over the last few minutes of our conversation. I asked, “What do you want from me,” but not “What do you want from me in return,” I thought with an inner curse. The fact of the matter, however, was that the implication of my question was clear. If the woman was going to drive away the Doctrination regardless, then she leapt at an opening I provided like a waiting crocodile. Aurora would have a field day with my blunders here.

“Why?” I found myself asking. “There is no way you get out of this without repercussions. Mardeth is insane. The fact that he’s done this to the unadorned of East Fiachra at all speaks to that. What would make you take the risk?”

“You may choose to perceive me how you wish, Lord Daen,” the woman said, bringing her tea to her lips once more. Her brows furrowed as she withdrew the beverage, then pushed it aside. Absently, I realized it was no longer steaming. “Perhaps I am simply a conniving merchant, trying to get the best deal. Maybe I’m an opportunist recruiter, attempting to find the best and brightest mages to collect. I could be worse than the Vicar of Plague himself. But I’ll tell you one thing,” she said, leaning forward so her hair cast a shadow over our table. It was long and dark, blotting out the sunlight streaming in from the tall windows nearby. “Mardeth and I have had this dance for a long, long time. Perhaps, underneath it all, I simply think there are people out there it is worthwhile to defy.”

For the first time since I’d met her, I thought I saw flame in the pale woman’s face. Her eyes carried a storm in their turbulent depths.

—

I walked behind Lady Shorn with careful steps, keeping my eyes peeled for signs of danger. The streets of East Fiachra carried a biting chill that nipped at my heels, but I didn’t let it harry me. The people stayed in their homes, watching us with wary and guarded eyes from windows and alleys.

After leaving the cafe, Sevren explained there was something with his work he needed to check up on. Considering he didn’t explain to me, even under a sound bubble, I suspected it had to do with his more illegal operations with the djinn relic he’d hidden away.

Renea Shorn had drawn an entire contingent of mages into what had once been less than ten guards in total. Now, we walked through the narrow streets of East Fiachra, an entire platoon of magic users making the ambient mana shudder and flow with their presence.

I spotted a pair of vicars as they exited an alleyway, their dark robes cut near the shins. Their eyes widened upon seeing us, and without further ado, they bolted away, their dark robes billowing as they headed for their overlord to report our presence. The thump-thump-thump of their heartfires slowly left my range of perception.

“Are you just going to let them go?” I asked, my hand tightening on Oath’s hilt. “He will know we are coming now.”

“The Vicar of Plague would already know something was amiss from how my men are affecting the ambient mana,” Lady Shorn said, dismissing my concern. “If his minions failed to inform him further, he’d prepare to fight us on sight. And despite my plan to oust him from this place, it is not in anyone’s interest that he unleash his power.”

I looked around, noting the destitution this place still struggled with. The canals were empty of life-bringing water. The streets were caked with dirt and grime from snowmelt; no city workers to clear the refuse away.

“And how do you plan to oust him in the first place?” I asked. “You’ve failed to tell me that so far.” I looked at the mages around us, all walking in perfect formation in robes bearing the insignia of Bloodstone Elixirs. “These mages you’ve brought are powerful,” I said more quietly. “I can sense it. But they would be like swallows in a storm trying to intimidate that vicar. So if that’s your ploy, it's dead in the water.”

Lady Shorn was quiet for a short while. Along the rooftops, I spotted movement. Another heartbeat brushed against my ears as someone entered my range.

Naereni, with her Rat’s mask on, was crouching on a nearby roof and watching us march. She was extremely well hidden, and only my new ability to hear the emanations of lifeforce alerted me to her presence.

We locked eyes for a moment. I tried to convey everything I felt at that moment to her: my surety, comfort, and hope that this would work out. I had things under control.

“Mardeth leaves traces with his work,” Renea said at last. “In the aftermath of your battle with the vicar, I had my men gather the evidence they needed of his illegal actions here. You are right in your assumption: our force cannot intimidate him. But some powers can if informed.”

“So you’re planning to threaten him with blackmail?” I said incredulously. “He’s proud of what he’s doing here, Lady Shorn. It’s not something he goes to great lengths to hide. His blithe circulates through this place even now.” I huffed, noting that Naereni was following us from the rooftops. “And who would risk the Doctrination’s scorn for unadorned?”

I was more than willing to put myself in the line of fire for the people here, but the majority of citizens in Alacrya? Even those at the top? It would seem like the worst trade they’d ever known: gain the ire of the state-led church and save a couple hundred unads in return. It was akin to saving a few homeless people and in turn, earning the murderous ire of the CIA towards you and your entire family.

But Renea Shorn’s next words struck the argument from my mind. “Have you heard of Scythe Seris’ October Decree made a few years ago?” she said.

I nodded slowly. After Wade had made the offhand comment that Scythe Seris detested the blithe trade and made her comments about it known, I’d done some brief digging into that section. “I have,” I said as we weaved around a corner. I could feel the mana signatures of vicars, each coming in twos and threes, converging on the massive temple in the distance. “Scythe Seris publicly denounced the production of blithe, claiming any who did so would face her wrath. Afterward, the drug plummeted in production within Sehz-Clar to nearly zero percent.”

Except the Joans, I thought with irritation.

My face twisted into an expression of disgust. “Now the major problem is smugglers getting the drug in. That’s a lot harder to pin down because of teleportation gates, dimension rings, and a dozen other barriers.”

But I exhaled, feeling a spring of hope. “But if Scythe Seris were to receive word of what’s happening here, and personally intervene…”

If it were anyone else, I would have felt the same wary disbelief at their desire to help unadorned mages. But Scythe Seris was different. Her long-term goal of uplifting the Alacryan people wasn’t just limited to mages, but extended to everyone.

My steps became a bit lighter as the thought seized me. My common assumption was that there weren’t any in power in Alacrya who truly cared for those at the bottom. The reminder that someone did buoyed my mood significantly.

“Are you satisfied with my explanation, Lord Daen?” Lady Shorn asked.

I spotted a vicar nearly trip over a jutting rock as he darted for the temple. I felt a smile stretch over my face. “I am.”

The refurbished temple loomed over every building around, casting everything in its grim shadow. The pristine peaks and silent dome, both of which had been in bad disrepair, now stood out as brand new. Effigies of basilisks, ascenders, and silent black fire stood on glass stained in shades of gray and red.

As the platoon stood before the grand temple, I felt some of my reservations return. Before this monument of stone arches and cobbled domes, we were small.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

After a short moment, the door creaked open slightly. A vicar I didn’t recognize stepped out. His light hair was cut close to his head, revealing two tiny nubs that could almost be called horns stretching from his scalp. He carried himself confidently, each step undeterred by the half-a-hundred mages standing resolutely in front of him.

“Lady Renea Shorn of Bloodstone Elixirs,” the man said, his voice echoing outward into the chill winter air, “On behalf of Mardeth, Vicar of this Subdoctrination, I welcome you to our steps. All are welcome to worship our Sovereigns in their glory and mercy.” The man paused, his eyes scanning our group. “However, it appears you’ve come to do more than worship, bringing armed soldiers. If you wish to enter the sanctum of the blessed, you cannot bring such a force inside.”

Renea Shorn tilted her head, appearing to process the man’s words. “You make a fair point. If I were here to worship, this would be excessive. What is your name and rank, vicar? On what authority do you speak for Mardeth?”

The man went slightly red in the cheeks at Renea’s dismissal. “Lordel, third-level vicar in service of the southern Dominion.” He narrowed his eyes. “Know this, Lady Shorn. We cannot let an armed contingent into our holy place.”

The dark-haired woman hummed, then answered. “Of course, you could not,” she said. Her words came as if they were spoken to an unwitting child, making the vicar flush even further. “But I believe I am entitled to a few guards, am I not?”

The man looked ready to object, but whatever he saw in the merchant’s eyes killed his retort. “Certainly,” he muttered, turning around. “Mardeth will greet you once you enter.”

Renea looked to the side, pointing to the mossy-haired man I knew was her spy. I’d learned–finally–that his name was Xander.

Afterward, she addressed the large platoon. “I shall be out shortly. Wait at attention for twenty minutes for my return. If fighting does begin inside or I am captured, you have my full authorization to assist or leave at your leisure. What we would face is beyond you all.”

“Lady Shorn,” I said as the woman began to move independently of the group, bringing Xander and another mage I didn’t recognize with her. “I’m going to accompany you inside.”

The woman’s brow furrowed. “I do not remember selecting you, Lord Daen.”

I ground my teeth silently. “As the vicar from before said, everyone is welcome to worship,” I started. “And I’m technically not a part of this armed contingent, am I? I don’t work for you.”

The reward for my retort was only the slightest upturn of Lady Shorn’s lips. Barely a smile.

“Do watch yourself then,” she said, turning on her heel and marching toward the massive doors with purpose. Her two bodyguards opened them for her, the massive oak doors groaning as they shifted inward. I pulled myself to her side, preparing myself silently for the looming confrontation.

The layout of the temple was the same as it had been the only time I’d been in it before. Pews lined a central aisle, leading toward a large stone altar that was watched by a judging basilisk mosaic. But now, a long carpet streamed from the altar down the center aisle like flowing blood. The rotting wooden pews were replaced with dark metal, and the only light was from stained glass and a few torchlit sconces on the supporting pillars.

It was utterly empty inside, except for one person.

Mardeth, the Vicar of Plague, was waiting by the altar. He was turned away from us, examining the mosaic that dominated the back wall. But I still knew it was him. Those ragged black robes. That blithe-mottled skin. Those horns seemed a grim mirror of those of the basilisk imagery I saw all around.

I immediately felt my mana reacting instinctively at the perceived threat, churning in my core and fighting for an escape. My vision narrowed to the man in front of me, the memory of my utter desolation at his hands repeating in my mind like clockwork.

Calm yourself, I told myself, feeling the vein in my temple pulse. You can’t fight him. Not yet. You don’t have the strength or means.

Mardeth turned, revealing his murky gray eye and piercing other. They scanned us below, and when they landed on me, his dark lips pulled into a rictus grin.

Focus, I told myself. Focus.

Mardeth’s intent was restrained, clinging to his body like a funeral shroud. But with the growth I’d experienced in the undead zone, I could tell it was waiting to lash out like an animal. It was a typhoon shoved into a glass bottle, the cork ready to blow.

“Ah, little mage,” Mardeth crooned, his voice violating my ears. “Do you wish for a rematch so soon? I’m sure you remembered the lesson I taught you last time.”

My hand tightened on Oath’s hilt. I wished Aurora were awake. I needed her here.

I forced a nonchalant smile of my own, though I knew it was strained at the edges. “We have an offer you can’t refuse. It’s the best deal you’ll get.”

Lady Shorn chose that moment to speak up. “Lord Daen speaks the truth. We come bearing an offer.” Her hair was as dark as Mardeth’s horns, but in the light, it seemed brighter than anything in the room.

Mardeth seemed to notice the leader of Bloodstone Elixirs for the first time. His face scrunched up into a snarl, his eyes narrowing. His intent finally billowed outward, crashing over us like a tsunami. “Renea Shorn. I’ve wanted to meet you in person for so, so long.” Green acid churned around the mage’s twisted fingers, writhing like maggots. “You presume to make me an offer? After all the hindrances you’ve placed in my way?”

I withstood the wave of intent with minimal effort, shrugging off the constricting effects with a subtle flex of my mana. While this wasn’t the worst the man had leveraged over me, my understanding of intent–which had grown exponentially in the undead zone–protected me from what had once been nearly crippling.

Renea’s guards shuddered in place, their eyes widening and knees shaking. Xander, surprisingly, tried to draw his weapon. His mana flashed with determination, trying desperately to throw off the suffocating effect. He was stronger than I'd given him credit for.

Renea seemed utterly unphased by Mardeth’s show of power, her dark hair shifting slightly in the wake of his power. Her words were clear and concise. “Exit this city safely with your forces, leaving the people of this district to their lives without further malice, and you shall be unharmed.”

“I’ll be unharmed?” Mardeth said, floating down the steps with growing power. “I do not think you should be worrying about a gaggle of unads right now, Renea Shorn. You have far more pressing concerns.”

I felt a lance of fear stretch across my body, preparing myself to fight. So quickly, this had already broken down. I wasn’t confident in fighting Mardeth head-on, but if I grabbed Lady Shorn and ran–

The dark-haired woman waved her hand with a flourish, a packet of paper appearing in her hand from a dimension ring. She tossed it to Mardeth, who was approaching with a menacing green whip in his hand.

The Vicar of Plague stopped, catching the stack of paper. He looked over it shortly, then flared his power. Drops of gooey green mana ate through the material like it never existed.

“These reports mean nothing, Renea Shorn,” he said, though he stopped his advance. “Meaningless proofs.”

“There is one who would find it interesting,” Renea retorted, looking up at the hovering vicar.

Mardeth, since noticing Renea, had utterly disregarded me. Part of me wondered if his vision was as tunneled towards her as mine was to him. “She won’t risk High Vicar Varadoth’s ire for a hundred nameless peasants,” he said with a dismissive sneer.

“Won’t she?” Renea asked, tilting her head. “The October Decree was forceful and real. Nowhere were nonmages unincluded.”

Mardeth drifted forward once more. Sensing danger, I stepped in front of Renea Shorn, preparing to call on my Phoenix Will. “Stay back, monster,” I hissed, feeling my blood boil.

The vicar seemed to remember I was there for the first time, his one good eye looking me up and down. “I told you before,” he said, his voice slimy. “That I’d use every person I have to make an example if you tried. She’s here because of you, isn’t she, little mage?” he said, his eyes resting on the hilt of Oath where my hand clenched. “You’re going to throw your life away for this wench? Throw away the lives of everyone you care for?”

This close to the mage and with broadened experience, I could tell without a doubt the vast gap of power between Mardeth and me. I had compared Renea’s mages to swallows in storms earlier.

But I was just as much a small bird stuck in a gale too big for it. I would be ripped apart and tossed around if I entered that tempest. My wings would shatter. My cry would die in the winds, a songbird’s broken echo.

But my wings were stronger now.

“Are you so certain?” Lady Shorn’s smooth tone cut through the simmering tension between Mardeth and me. “High Vicar Varadoth provides you ample protection. But conversely, would he risk stepping in the way of a Scythe to justify your mistreatment of nonmages?”

Mardeth turned slowly to the woman, observing her with a blank stare. The focused intensity made Xander and the other guard crumple, their wills finally snapping under the killing intent.

“You stand on a razor’s edge, Vicar of Plague,” Renea continued, utterly unbothered by the waves of power wafting off the mage. She narrowed her eyes. “Is that blade thin enough to chance walking further? Or will you use that edge to cut your losses?”

Their staredown continued for what could’ve been a second or an hour before the vicar sneered. “I’ve found a solution,” he said at last. “I’ll kill every one of you here. I’ll fill your bodies with holes and drip blithe down your throats. Without your minds, none shall hear of your paltry papers.”

“Touch a hair on the heads of any under my protection,” Renea Shorn said, sharp as a whip, “And you bring your doom upon yourself. If I do not report the all-clear to my headquarters in an hour, my scribes will send copies of those papers to Scythe Seris regardless. With reports that Bloodstone Elixirs was directly attacked.”

The Vicar visibly tensed, his eyes widening in anger.

“You’ll regret this,” he said, hovering past us. “One day, when you’ve found yourself complacent and content, when you think you are safe, I’ll reappear. I’ll remind you of this humiliation. Of this confrontation. So when I tear down everything you hold dear, brick by brick and stone by stone, you can only blame yourself for your wretchedness.”

“We shall see,” Lady Shorn said, watching the man go. He drifted toward the wide doors, his killing intent receding as he angrily retreated.

I let my shoulders relax for a moment, utterly in awe of what I’d just witnessed. Renea Shorn had stared down Mardeth in the heart of his power and won without using a single drop of mana.

Could I learn to do something like that? I absently wondered, feeling a strange tingling run through my tense muscles.

I turned to Renea, opening my mouth to speak. To congratulate her? To thank her? To ask her if she truly did this without cost, maybe?

But my mana sense blared in my mind, warning me against imminent danger. Acting on pure instinct, I whirled, putting myself in front of the almost petite owner of Bloodstone Elixirs. I threw out my hands, flaring my sound and fire magic.

A large, condensed cannonball of green sludge impacted my hands, driving me back a foot and nearly making me collide with the shrewd merchant. I clenched my teeth as I fought against the decaying nature of the spell.

But I’d planned for this for a long time. I’d rehearsed where I could’ve done better; what my last failure was.

Holding the ball of Vritra sludge, which continued to eat through my mana and seek my heart, I revved up a sound shroud around my hands. Though each speck of mana quickly decayed through my own spell, the vibrations made the giant glob of green goo separate and become less viscous. I partitioned each speck into smaller, easier-to-handle spots. And as the spell thinned, I used a burst of overwhelming fire to singe the rest away.

I looked up, my teeth bared at our attacker. His spindly hand was still outstretched from his last attack, but instead of the rage that had painted his blithe-stained features for the past few minutes, there was a rictus grin like that of a corpse.

“You’ve improved again, little mage,” he said, using that infuriating nickname. “Maybe this wasn’t a lost cause after all. Indeed,” he paused, his fingers twitching. “This is just more pain you’ve brought upon me. More fuel for my ascension.”

I was ready to call my Phoenix Will to the surface, but Mardeth simply turned, floating out the doors after those ominous words.