15 - INTRODUCTIONS

I explained, as simply as I could, and withholding certain details that I deemed either unnecessary or too personal, the purpose of my Order, and what my destiny entailed.

I left out one critical point—the circumstances surrounding my birth. That, within me, the souls of other necromancers, sacrificed and then consumed by my mother while I grew within her womb, still swirled around inside me, lending me their power.

I left out, as you might expect, the specifics of what I needed to do.

Which was that, in order to possess the power required to destroy Autarch Marak, I needed to consume more souls.

Hundreds of them.

Thousands, even.

I felt strongly that no one else could know. No one who had not grown up amongst our Order could possibly understand. They would simply see me as a monster.

And perhaps I was.

Both Camillan and Amaline listened quietly as I told them everything I thought they needed to know.

When I was done, Camillan said, “How long, do you think, until you have the power to defeat the Autarch?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I simply don’t know how powerful he is. Worse, I know that I cannot do this alone. Which, of course, is why I have come to you. If I were in a room with the Autarch…if I could get close enough to look him in the eye…perhaps I could destroy him now—but I still need to somehow get into that position in the first place.”

This, in hindsight, was a hilariously misguided thing for me to say.

At the time, I simply couldn’t fathom the true power of the Autarch.

And perhaps if I’d known—if I had truly grasped just how high a mountain I’d need to climb, just how low the odds were, and how great the risk—I would've given up before I’d even truly started.

Camillan scratched his chin. “That’s a start.”

“The chances of you ending up in the same room as the Auatarch,” said Amaline dryly, “are about the same as the odds of me pissing out liquid gold on any given morning.”

Camillan waved a hand in her direction. “That’s not the point. Not right now. The point is, our friend here wants the same thing as we do, and has the ability to make it happen. Now it’s a matter of figuring out how to get there.”

“I have questions,” I said, “about the Thorns.” That was putting it mildly; I had so many questions that I could’ve filled a book with them.

“Sure you do,” said Camillan. “I’d be concerned if you didn’t. Only thing is, my friend, it’s a lot safer for everyone involved if I say as little as possible.”

“There are certain things I need to know.”

Camillan inclined his head.

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“How powerful are you in the city?” I asked. “How much influence do you have?”

“Not as powerful as we used to be, and not as much as I’d like. But we’re still alive. That’s something.”

Not a particularly comforting answer, I had to admit.

“And,” I said, “do you have a plan? A way forward? Something you’re doing, right now, that I can help with?”

Camillan and Amaline exchanged a look. From it, I learned much about the dynamics of their relationship: Camillan, as expected, was the leader, but valued Amaline’s judgement enough that he wanted her approval before proceeding. Meaning that Amaline was possibly his second in command, or at least close enough.

“There is one thing,” Camillan said finally.

“I’m listening.”

“Firstly, I think you need to understand what it is we primarily concern ourselves with.”

“I’ve been led to believe that it mostly relates to being as much of a thorn in the Autarchy’s side as possible—hence the name.”

Camillan offered me a slight smile. “True. But what, exactly, do you think that means? Let me tell you. The Autarchy is a great beast—its sheer size is difficult to comprehend. According to the Autarchy, two years ago, when the last survey was conducted, it had two hundred and fifty million citizens. Now, to be clear, most people who know anything generally assume they exaggerate by at least ten per cent for propaganda purposes. So. Let’s say it’s still over two hundred million. Is that a number you can easily conceive of?”

I shook my head, feeling more than a little dizzy. “Not easily, no.”

“And probably not at all. By the way, that number is set to increase rapidly. The Autarch’s breeding programs have been consistently successful, and they’re bound to scale them up as much as they can. The Autarch wants—and maybe even needs—as many citizens as possible. We all know his ambitions are boundless.” Camillan drew in a deep breath. “All of this is to say, the work required to support that many people is mind-boggling. New train tracks are laid down every day. There are rumors that the Autarch’s engineers have devised a new way of communication across long distances—they’re calling it a telegraph. Not to mention expansions to the network of Blood Rifts—although, of course, we common folk aren’t supposed to know anything about that.”

I listened silently, beginning to put the pieces together of my own accord. An empire so massive, with so many people, and so much requisite infrastructure, was naturally vulnerable. There would inevitably be weak spots. I’d only recently learned what a train actually was, and yet it was already obvious to me that if a nation relied on such a thing for, say, supplies, they would be exposing themselves to risk; if a hostile party was to destroy key areas of track, vast quantities of supplies could be delayed, people would go hungry, and the Autarchy would suffer.

On a small scale, it’d be like chiselling off a small piece of rock from the side of a mountain.

On a larger scale, done over the course of years, non-stop, in a thousand separate locations…

Growing up amongst the Withered Isles, I had learned much about the fact of nature that we called erosion.

“Ah,” Camillan breathed, “I can see by the sudden fire in your eyes, Aurion, that you know where this is going.”

“I believe I have an idea.”

“And what do you think?”

“I’d need to know more about what progress you’ve made.”

He pointed at me with a wry grin. “It does not escape my attention that you are awfully careful with what you say. Very deliberate. You don’t like to over-commit. That’s good. Eager, but not overly so.” He stood again. “I’d like to extend a formal invitation. Join the Thorns. Help us break the Autarchy.”

I considered his hand. I wanted to ask my questions. I wanted time to think, an opportunity to sit in a dark, quiet room, and calculate the best way forward.

But I’d spent most of my life doing that.

I had never before truly allowed myself to be impulsive. I found the notion appealing.

I took Camillan’s hand. “I will join you.”

Camillan pulled me into a tight embrace, thumping me on the back, then created some space, grinned, and said, “Then we’re brothers, now, and until the day we die. And I can finally tell you what I really have planned.”