Chapter Eighteen

The Machinations Of War

The Queen grabbed Titus’s hand and the fortress melted away. They became surrounded by a barren, red-soil wasteland. A glaring, red sun encompassed the majority of the sky. Before them stood the lone building for hundreds of miles.

This building was a mockery of the Archaic Mansion of The Seven. Structurally, it was the same - a three-story monolith - but it was built from the same material as the Queen’s fortress. The black metal glistened; the crimson veins permeating this metal pulsed. Glassless windows featured all over the building. In place of the thriving gardens and orchards of Archaic was nothing but sand and red soil; this building stood out of place like a broken thumb.

Guarding the entrance were a wide ring of Pirikan guards dressed in crude, black armour and clutching black, jagged scythes. The Queen and Titus marched up to them without worry.

‘I need to see him,’ The Queen said to the Pirik in front of the ponderous doors. He towered above her; unlike her own Piriks, his greying skin was free of decay, and his green eyes glowed like emeralds.

‘Zhanakh? He is indisposed, Zhanagah,’ he growled.

She tilted her head and gave him a cold smile. ‘I need to see him. Would you deny me that?’

The Pirik gave her a long, searching look, his chest puffed out. ‘Arkh, no, Zhanagah. I bid you enter.’ He stepped aside and two other Piriks heaved the doors open.

The Queen stepped forward and ran her fingers down the cheek of the first Pirik. He shuddered at her touch. Then, she stepped inside, Titus on her heels.

The interior could not differ more from the Archaic Mansion. The hallway was cave-like in its desolation; a weak, slender, spiral staircase lumbered to the upper floors, and the only light was that which came through the windows; there was no crystal chandelier here. Indeed, there were no forms of decadence here whatsoever.

She led Titus into the first room. This, too, lacked furnishings. There was a single, stone bench slapped in the centre of the room before a fire pit. On this bench sat a mighty creature with his back to them.

His silver hair flowed down to the ground. His bulky physique gave Titus a run for his money. Around his body was a faint, white light - so faint it was nigh on imperceptible.

‘Zhanagah,’ the creature spoke in a booming, powerful voice. ‘What a pleasure it is, as always.’

He swivelled to them.

An extensive white beard glided down to his stacked stomach. His chest was wide like a river at its estuary. His glimmering, blue eyes reflected the Queen and Titus as clearly as a calm, freshwater sea. They lacked fervour, and his movements were lethargic and sedentary. There was no vigour or liveliness in his taut, white skin.

‘A Verik?’ Titus scowled and spat on the ground. He seized her arm and pulled her around. ‘What do you want with this abomination?’

The creature sighed and collapsed back onto the bench. His lidded eyes lingered, half-closed, on Titus.

The Queen placed a hand on Titus’s chest. ‘It is not what you think. WIthout that abomination, we would not be able to pursue the avenues we do. Without him, the Piriks we have worked tirelessly to hide from Jasper would not have peaceful deaths. Without him, all our work would be futile.’

Titus lurched away from them both. ‘I will not work with one of his kind!’

‘The kind you speak of?’ The creature’s voice was weak, the same way a stream is after a dam limits its flow. ‘They are mine. They are my creation. Your kind? My boy, they are mere imitations of my work. Please do not insult them, or me.’

‘Who is he?’ Titus squeezed the Queen’s arm.

She released herself from his grip and turned to the creature. ‘This, my darling Titus… this is Lyal.’

Titus snapped his head to Lyal. He put his hands together, then crossed his arms, then put his arms down by his side. Then, he knelt to the ground. ‘My apologies. I was unaware I was in the presence of one so esteemed as yourself.’

Lyal gave him a weak smile. ‘Stand, my boy. You are forgiven.’

‘It’s not every day you meet one of the original gods, huh?’ The Queen said, tilting her head toward Titus, smiling.

‘No, indeed,’ Titus stood. ‘It is an unmitigated honour. The esteem of your presence is usurped only by my own Queen.’

Lyal waved his hand at him and refocused on the Queen. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure? Given your presence, I feel it pertinent to inform you your Piriks here are thriving, and we have had no word that they are under threat of discovery.’

The Queen smiled again. ‘Excellent.’

‘What Piriks? Where are we?’ Titus asked.

The Queen smirked. ‘Lyal? You want to take this one?’

‘I can. My boy, your feet are planted on the planet Ggosronakh, in the Hauguon system. Your ancestors conquered it long ago. Thousands of years before your Queen came to power, after standing as the last bastion of ancient Pirikan expansion, this place was abandoned, along with the rest of the system. A perfect place for my exile…’ His yearning gaze drifted to the nearest window. ‘When she did come to power, we established new settlements.’

‘To what end?’

The Queen took over while Lyal stared. ‘Jasper’s obsession with utilising Piriks to the full? Raising the ones we breed from death? We established these settlements to store the souls of dead Piriks, beyond Jasper’s reach, to prevent him from doing this. Lyal… he’s their guardian. There’s a reason that Pirik called him ‘Zhanakh’. It means-’

‘Father,’ Titus finished.

Lyal’s lips quivered.‘Why are you here, my Queen?’

She put her hands together and sighed. ‘We need… the Scythe of Xepesmos.’

Lyal staggered back, placing a hand on the bench for support. ‘How…? How do you know about that?’

‘It matters not, I-’

‘It matters!’ Lyal stepped up to the Queen, his nostrils flaring. ‘How came you by this knowledge?! WHO SENT YOU?!’

The Mansion quivered and thunder clapped in the distance. Titus took a step back.

The Queen didn’t move. Her eyes hardened. ‘It matters not. I sent me. I am here of my volition - none command me. I need the Scythe.’

‘What do you seek to do with it, pray tell? Do you wish to wreak havoc on Krivonia?! I thought you were better than that! I TRUSTED YOU!’ Lyal pressed his face so close to the Queen’s their noses touched.

The Queen put her hands on Lyal’s shoulders. He flinched and his lips curled, but he did not remove her grip.

‘I am better than that,’ she said, her voice even. ‘What if I told you… I intend to use it to kill Jasper?’

Lyal staggered again. ‘Wh-what? If that… were the case… I would tell you you are a fool.’

He pulled away and slipped back onto the bench.

‘Using the Scythe… killing Jasper… it can’t be done. Even if it could… that would be the largest risk anyone has ever taken. Do you know the Scythe’s true power?’

She sat down next to him, her hands knotted in her lap. ‘Yes. It has the ability to kill anything. Living, undead, immortal… the touch of the Scythe of Xepesmos will kill the being it is used upon.’

‘Ah, so you do know what you would be surrendering to Allothriskos. I cannot allow that.’

‘Lyal-’

‘No!’ Lyal leapt to his feet. ‘You don’t understand! You cannot kill Jasper! If you even attempt to do so, he will unearth your plot, kill you, scatter your ashes to the Void, and take the Scythe for himself!’ His voice dropped. ‘If you surrender the Scythe to him… there is not a soul in this universe who can stand in his path. He will kill all of us.’

‘Lyal, you know what I am capable of. I do not fail.’

He scoffed. ‘In this endeavour, you shall. Of that I am certain.’

She gave a vociferous shake of the head. ‘Then you are wrong. Jasper, in his hubris, would not dream anyone would be so bold as to make an attempt on his life. He believes I am working for him. You know him as well as anyone, Lyal. He has an overbearingly large blind spot when it comes to his safety. He believes none can touch him. And… correct me if I’m wrong, but the Scythe was used to imprison Kyla, yes?’

‘Yes, but-’

‘And this was done over a millennia after Jasper’s fall?’

‘Yes, but-’

‘So the likelihood is he has no knowledge of the Scythe.’

Lyal breathed out, long and low. His shoulders hunched and he backed away a pace. ‘Yes… but I can not sanction…’

‘This is our only chance. Our only hope.’ The Queen placed her hand on Lyal’s arm; this time, he did not flinch. ‘The universe will be at peace. Our largest threat will be no more. Is that not what you want? What all of us want?’

Lyal slumped against the wall. She was close - she had him.

He walked back over to her and pointed a finger below her chin. ‘You… must not fail. If you do… we all may as well say our farewells now.’

Lyal tore himself away from the conversation, and the room. They heard his footsteps stomping up the stairs.

Titus went over to the Queen. He bent his head so his lips were pressed against her ear. ‘You did not inform me that you were planning to kill Jasper.’

She echoed the gesture, bringing her lips to his ear. ‘I’m not. Do you think I’m that stupid? I’m not risking my neck. That, and we still need him, whether we like it or not. Lyal would’ve never given me the Scythe if he knew I was using it to free Kyla. I had to get it off him somehow.’

Lyal’s footsteps came back down the stairs and the Queen stepped away from Titus.

Lyal entered the room carrying a long, thin object wrapped in grey rags. She went to grab it, but he held it out of her reach.

‘I have kept this in my possession for two thousand years. Do not waste this opportunity. Do not let him get his hands on this. We are doomed if he does.’

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‘I swear to you, he will never get his hands on this blade.’

Lyal fiddled with the object, making a strange noise in his throat.

With a heavy sigh, he handed the bundle to The Queen.

The Queen ripped off the rags and beheld the Scythe of Xepesmos with a sharp intake of breath.

The ebony staff of the weapon had interwoven veins of purple and intricate, ancient letters carved in gold. At each tip, a long, delicate blade extended, one red and one black, each with an eerie shimmer. Having it in her hands sent a chill down her spine.

She wrapped the Scythe back up, careful not to touch either blade; it would not do to kill herself by accident now she had the blade.

‘Thank you, Lyal,’ she dipped her head at him and threw the blade to Titus. He caught it, but Lyal shrieked.

‘Be careful with it!’

*

‘Well… isn’t this fantastic,’ Kyla said in the throne room of the Pirikan Queen with none but the Queen and Titus for company.

Kyla quaked, her nostrils flaring. As usual, the Queen was smirking like everything was going her way. ‘We’ve lost her to The Seven. They’ll convert her to their ways, brainwash her against us and that’ll be the end of everything we have sacrificed. Are you satisfied? Are you pleased with yourself? You’ve lost us this war before it’s even begun!’

The Queen tilted her head. ‘What makes you think that? I see no reason to worry. By all accounts, the girl has shown no real amount of power or ability. Yes, I do not deny it’s clear she has some magical ability and therefore potential – one would expect that to be the case. Even so, do not underestimate The Seven’s ability to turn their own apprentices against them. At any rate, they will nurture and grow her and her powers. When we swoop in… she’ll be ripe, ready-made to serve our ends. Are you prepared?’

Kyla scowled. ‘Yes, but I fail to see how I’m going to be utilised in your sordid scheme whilst I’m trapped in this depraved hellhole.’

‘Not for much longer,’ the Queen said, smiling. She gestured to Titus, who handed her an object wrapped in grey rags. ‘I believe this will solve that particular problem.’

She unwrapped the object and Kyla gasped. ‘How did you get this?’

The Queen held the double-ended blade. ‘The Scythe of Xepesmos. Your old weapon, I believe?’

Kyla reached out, retracted her hand, then reached out again. The Queen passed her the blade and Kyla grasped it. After two thousand years, the two were finally reunited. Once upon a time, this blade had been an extension of herself. You’d never find one without the other. Such history…

Kyla jerked back. A purple vapour leaked from the Scythe. It wrapped itself around Kyla’s wrist and began spreading up her arm. Before ten seconds had passed, the vapour had extended all over her body.

The Queen stood up and paced around her. ‘When you were imprisoned here and stripped of your power to travel between the systems, that power was imbibed into this blade. Where better to hold the key to your imprisonment than in a weapon you loved more than anything in this universe? Unfortunately, the blade was not particularly difficult to come by. I assume, like everything with The Seven, complacency was the key on that one. Now, upon contact with you, that ancient power has recognised its owner. A reunion that will shake the foundation of the universe.’

Kyla’s eyes glinted. A grin spread. ‘I’m liberated?’

The Queen returned her grin, sitting back down. ‘You’re free, yes.’

Kyla pressed her free hand against her chest. Two thousand years in a wasteland, removed from a universe she was as old as, a universe she belonged at the forefront of… she’d make them pay for this. All of them. It was high time she got revenge. By hell or high water, she would make them beg.

‘Now, I have procured this blade for purely selfish reasons, of course. I have a task for you,’ The Queen observed Kyla, her fingers tapping the arms of her throne.

Kyla barked a laugh. ‘My imprisonment is over, I don’t serve you anymore. What’s stopping me from taking this and wreaking a scant amount of chaos?’

The Queen shrugged, having anticipated that response. ‘I don’t want you to serve me. I want you to serve us. Do you want the universe in our grasp? Do you want an end to The Seven and all they stand for? Do you want chaos? I am the way you get that, and the only way you have something to rule beyond embers.’

Kyla scowled. She wasn’t wrong. ‘What would you have me do, your highness?’

*

Alyssa gave an approving nod to Savannah after she hit the bullseye with each of her five knives. Savannah’s archery accuracy still left a great deal to be desired, but her swordplay and footwork had improved exponentially - she still lacked confidence with a sword, but she was growing into her throne in that regard. For four weeks solid, the girl had been training most hours of the day. Whenever Alyssa had entered the indoor training facility, Savannah had been there - red-faced, sweating, and exhausted, training laboriously. She had a marvellous work ethic, and it was paying off. Her talents were increasing at a rapid rate; a growth that Alyssa found both impressive… and unsettling.

Leaving Savannah to her training, Alyssa went upstairs into the Assassin’s dining area. As with everything else in their headquarters, no expense had been spared here - four tables that could seat eight stood side-by-side, made from the finest mahogany and carved within a millimetre of perfection. The high backed chairs were reminiscent of thrones, and the cutlery was solid gold, as were the goblets. Even the plates were expensive. Not that they’d purchased them, of course - they’d been part of the benefits package that came with the assassination of some king three centuries ago. A great open fire crackled in a circular grate in the centre of the room, hearkening back to Alyssa’s homeland - whenever she saw it, she was filled with nostalgia for her childhood on Rhitarr. The delicate clouds of smoke it gave off floated out of an opening in the ceiling above it.

Alyssa collapsed into the chair at the head of the table and clicked her fingers at the nearest Imp, who filled her glass with the finest Alphin wine and her plate with steak and roast potatoes. After thanking him, she began wolfing down the food.

Elianna was present in the seat to her right, Adriel to her left. Adriel was a slight Alphin man who was stronger than he looked. His hair was strategically braided to the twigs protruding from his scalp so as not to make any sound whatsoever. His slim, oaken frame aided him when it came to slipping between cracks and getting into positions no other being could. Though he endured relentless teasing about his slender figure, he was aware his fellow assassins admired his use of his body.

Between the three of them, they covered most bases: Alyssa, the strong, agile one who killed solely for moral reasons; Elianna, the strong-willed, cold, but rash killer without any form of conscience to hold her back; and Adriel, the slim, dark killer who was the stealthiest of them all.

Elianna and Adriel were Alyssa’s subordinates. Neither acted like it, nor were they treated as such. The pair formed part of the Trivecta: the three assistant leaders of the Assassin's Quarter.

The third branch of this Trivecta was a Kaerqan named Orion. He was a stacked brute of a male who, despite his occupation as a stealthy killer, preferred a direct, up-close-and-personal approach to his contracts, utilising pure strength rather than the element of surprise.

He was nowhere to be found. This was unsurprising, for Orion tended to roam the systems getting drunk where he could, with whoever and whatever he could, rather than spend his time with the other assassins. He was popular among the civilians of Krivonia - until he got drunk enough to become aggressive at any perceived slight.

Orion had never been one for companionship. Alyssa, Elianna, and Adriel, on the other hand, had been as close as siblings once, rising through the ranks together. The decade since had changed that and they’d drifted apart. Nowadays, it was rare to find Elianna in the headquarters, never mind with Adriel. She preferred the company of a couple of mage freaks and wayward warriors. Regardless, she was effective, and that was all Alyssa could ask of her.

‘So,’ Elianna said, draining her glass and clicking her fingers at the Imp for a refill. She did not thank him. ‘Have we adopted the neophyte, then? Is she one of us now?’ Her face was blank, but her tone had a caustic edge to it.

‘I do not know what you mean,’ Alyssa said, through a mouthful. ‘She is simply training here for the moment. She has not been here long, nor has she experimented with any of the other Quarters.’

Elianna laughed. ‘Alyssa, she practically lives here now. She’s made a room hers, she’s always training... I can’t seem to walk three feet without rounding a corner and seeing her sweaty form. Everywhere I go, she’s there.’

‘Listen to me. She is our guest, and she is new to this world. We all were, once, even if it was a long time ago. The least that we can do is offer her the same comfort and guidance we were blessed with. She is kind of heart, polite, and dedicated. That is more than I can say for some within our ranks.’

Elianna raised her eyebrow but spoke no more, slumping back into her chair and sipping her drink.

After a few minutes of blissful peace, Adriel spoke in his dry, quiet murmur. ‘Do you think she will join us when the time comes?’

Alyssa fingered the rim of her glass. ‘Perhaps. I certainly hope so. Her abilities have come on tremendously, but… alas, I do not believe that she has the moral compass to be an assassin. Or, lack thereof.’

Elianna laughed again. ‘Oh, you mean she’s one of those unfortunate souls hindered with a damnable conscience?! Gods, my heart bleeds for her. Or it would, if I cared. There’s no place for those things here.’

‘I like to think I have a conscience,’ Adriel said. ‘I don’t think I admire the idea of being a wholly evil slayer completely devoid of emotion or purpose. It would indeed make our job easier, but…’

‘You must be joking,’ Elianna giggled. ‘Why would you want a conscience? Look at Lys, she’s got one, only accepts contracts that aren’t ‘morally questionable’. Imagine how rich she’d be if that wasn’t a concern.’

‘Yes, but the fact remains that it is a concern. And, will always be so. No, Savannah seems too… pure to join our order of tainted souls,’ Alyssa said with a smirk.

‘Where will she end up, then?’

Alyssa flexed her hand. ‘Only time will tell.’

‘And what do our supreme overlords think of her progression?’ Adriel jumped in, his head in a mock bow. His stormy, grey eyes narrowed.

‘The Seven? I am meeting with them now, actually,’ Alyssa said, checking the grandfather clock in the corner (more intricate than a generic clock, with forty dials of varying sizes whirring independent of one another).

Right on cue, the door opened and Tristan, Kyra, and Manuel filtered through.

Elianna scowled. ‘Are we no longer worth the time of your full contingent? Did you three draw the short straws? Bet you’re pleased to be mixing with the peasantry.’

Tristan looked Elianna up and down, his lips curling into a hungry smile. ‘Now, my dear, don’t be so insolent. Come by my room later, and I’ll make you pay for that behaviour.’

‘Tristan,’ Kyra said, her tone warning and enunciation slow. ‘Keep it in your underwear, will you?’

Elianna stood and moved within an inch of Tristan. In a whisper, she replied, ‘keep looking at me like that... and I will. Only… I won’t be the one paying.’ She gripped his crotch and her lips parted. ‘You’d never forget a night with me. We’d have such a beautiful time… beauty is in the eye of the murderess, after all… and there’s ways to kill even an immortal man.’ With a parting smirk, she released Tristan, whirled, and left the room, her head upturned.

Tristan, Manuel, and Kyra took seats at the table, the latter glaring at Tristan.

‘For clarification,’ Manuel said in that hearty voice of his. ‘It is merely the three of us because the other four are away on various assignments. Now, Alyssa, what of Savannah?’

‘She trains endlessly. Her growth is impressive - she has the… physical capabilities and potential to make a great assassin. Though, her emotional capabilities leave a lot to be desired on that front. Nonetheless… I would like for her to join us, eventually.’

Tristan chortled at this. ‘We have greater plans for her than a measly life as a good-for-nothing backstabber. If you heed the words of Lauren, that is.’

‘You do not take that attitude when you need me to kill for you.’

‘Enough, Tristan,’ Manuel jumped in before Tristan could retaliate. Tristan scowled, frustrated that his fun had been called off.

‘So, what’s the plan for her, then?’ Tristan said, sinking into a chair and putting his feet on the table. ‘What’s the purpose in training constantly? Seems a bit overbearing to me.’

‘The purpose,’ came a voice from the doorway. Alyssa twisted in her seat to see Savannah enter the room drying her hair with a towel, her cheeks flushed and teeth bared. ‘Is whoever killed my brother and grandmother is going to come after me, my brother, or my sister next. I plan to be prepared for when that happens. If that’s a problem for you, then, by all means, say so.’ Her eyes, cold and sharp, were latched onto Tristan. He squirmed beneath them. ‘Maybe we can test out my training with you as a live dummy.’

‘No, no, not a problem. I’m just… impressed by your commitment.’

‘Yeah, whatever, you little weasel. Keep your nose out.’ Savannah turned on her heel and left the room.

Alyssa smiled - she loved when someone put Tristan in his place. In her opinion, it didn’t occur often enough.

‘Oof, she’s a fiery one. I like that…’ Tristan ran the tip of his tongue over his lips, his eyes on the door. ‘A bit of fight…’

‘Tristan, enough. Back to the matter at hand.’ Manuel addressed Alyssa again. ‘My dear, we have another topic to discuss. Some are... taking issue with our mission on Rhitarr.’

‘Yes, predominantly with your insubordination with regards to the orders you received from a god,’ Tristan said, picking at his fingernails.

‘Last time I checked,’ Alyssa said, pushing his feet down off the table. ‘We do not answer to you. We pursue our contracts in whatever manner we see fit, and we reap the consequences.’

‘Why are you insistent on saving these vampire harlots? They’re killers - does that not fly directly in the face of your little morality mantra?’

Alyssa snarled. ‘Just because I am not a callous, self-serving pervert such as yourself does not grant you the right to question my methods.’ She returned to Manuel. ‘I do not care what they think. I am doing this my way, as you and I agreed.’ She stood and walked towards the door. ‘If you are going to accompany me, Manuel, we leave in an hour.’