It was with a heavy heart that Erebus stood silent vigil over Alec’s sleeping form, though sleeping was a poor descriptor for it. The boy’s brow drenched in a cold sweat as he twitched and moaned with agony, in perfect synch with the dryad in the cot beside him. It had taken a full day longer than Erebus predicted, but Alec had finally succumbed to the nightmare leaking across his bond with Holly.

Holly herself was in a worse state and, in many ways, the necromancer’s primary concern. With the soul bond in place, to lose one patient was to lose both of them and even at a glance, it was clear that the dryad was on the cusp of death, her bark hewn skin drawn, cracked and weeping from dehydration despite Erebus’ best efforts.

The door opened with a gentle creak, Pheus stepping in quietly, but for that, there were incorporeal spirits that moved louder.

Slowly Erebus turned to face him, fight or flight instincts warring across his face before they could be forced behind a barricade of calm and collected dispassion.

“I expected you earlier,” the necromancer stated, an opening salvo of reproach.

Pheus narrowed his eyes, “You were a low priority. Now allow me to see my patients.”

Begrudgingly Erebus stepped aside, trying not to antagonise the creature further.

Pheus moved nimbly to the bedside, placing his hand on Alec’s forehead. “His natural mental defences have almost completely crumbled. Once the last barriers have fallen I can begin.”

“Why do you need him in such pain?” the magician enquired.

“Better access,” the thing-in-human-form half-explained. “I will need optimal conditions for this to work.”

“And what exactly do you intend to do?” Erebus not quite demanding.

“Well, like you, I have no idea how to even begin healing the dryad. Normally I would simply consider her a lost cause and spare her not a second thought, but the boy opens up a line of approach.

Erebus folded his arms, less than impressed by the grandstanding even if it was relevant.

“The boy’s condition on the other hand I could solve in a heartbeat but for the fact the problem would retransmit back to him in a matter of days. What I can do however is build a general spell template using the boy to specifically cater to the nightmare in question. Then I simply use the template on the girl, she wakes up and then so should he.”

“Clever,” Erebus conceded. “But what if the difference in species causes an adverse reaction? No one can build a spell that affects magical and non-magical beings that fast, it takes decades of research.”

“Then they both die. I don’t care either way what the result is.”

The magician took a deep calming breath but held his tongue, “How long will it take?”

“As long as it takes,” Pheus replied, eyes now closed, his hand still on Alec’s forehead.

“That isn’t helpful.”

“Helpful wasn’t part of our bargain. Now leave me to work.”

“There is no way in the hells that I’m leaving you alone with them.”

“Very well, if your paranoia extends that far but be warned: I shall require complete silence whilst I’m working.”

“I can do that,” Erebus assured him solemnly.

“Starting now.”

*

Outside, a small audience waited, Saiko, Dus, Agh’zak and Alisha, each with their best impressions of patience, disrupted only by the occasional bout of conversation.

With an amused smile, the mercenary-turned-honour-guard swept his gaze across the motley crew, biting his tongue gently in concentration before speaking.

“Well I know why I’m here but the rest of you I can’t quite figure out,” Saiko drawled in transparently feigned disinterest.

“I have grown fond of the boy and thus am standing vigil lest the creature attempts something,” Dus all but spat.

“I take it you don’t like this Pheus guy?” the swordmaster hazarded.

“No. You I dislike sellsword. ‘Pheus’ as he now calls himself, I loathe and revile with a burning hate. I have waged wars and toppled empires to kill him and all those like him.”

“What is he exactly?”

“In terms you would understand? A god, ancient and terrible,” Dus replied. “You could honestly say they made me the woman I am today.”

“But gods aren’t real,” Saiko said dully. “Everyone knows that. They’re a fairytale for children.”

“And we have worked extremely hard to make sure it stays that way,” the gorgon growled.

“If he’s a god, then what would you possibly hope to do?” Saiko demanded as he struggled to comprehend this new paradigm, not even half-convinced that the gorgon wasn’t simply pulling his leg.

“Kill him, if he breaks the rules then he’s fair game,” the glee in her voice was quite worrisome. “I have waited so very long for him to step out of line.”

“I thought gods were supposed to be immortal?” Saiko pointed out the obvious problem.

“As our patron is so fond of saying, ‘Immortal simply means no one has found a way to kill it yet’. The necromancers found a way, if you ever earn Erebus’ trust, unlikely as that is, ask him about the Ascended Martyr.”

“Why can’t you tell me?”

“Because I don’t trust you.”

Alisha sighed, rolling her eyes, “For inspiration’s sake Dus, you’ve told him this much, you might as well tell him the rest.”

The gorgon scowled behind her mask, “You tell him then. It’s bad enough the necromancer figured it out.”

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“Hardly figured it out, if you didn’t want anyone to know you’d have destroyed the damn book rather than burying it in the back catalogue,” Alisha snapped, clearly an old argument.

“No one ever read the back catalogue!” the gorgon grouched emphatically.

“He did,” Agh’zak observed, the orc’s deep bass rumble bringing the matter to a close.

“So is anyone going to actually tell me whatever it is you all keep alluding to?” Saiko demanded, “Or do I need to know the secret handshake first?”

The orc chef placed a hand on his shoulder, “It’s about trust lad. Now I want to trust you and Alisha wants to as well, but we ain’t had the time to get to know you properly.”

“Joy. So hurry up and wait essentially.”

Alisha smiled, aiming for reassuring, “I’ll tell you what I’m allowed to when we next spar.”

“Allowed to?”

“An unwritten rule you don’t share secrets that aren’t yours,” she explained.

“Are you able to tell me who can tell me?”

“Yes but they won’t. Erebus is the most likely to share some of it, but he doesn’t know everything, and he obeys the same strictures.”

“So I get why the snake-haired psycho is here but why are you two?”

Dus bristled, snakes extending out from her hood, hissing and spitting venomously as Saiko backed away, slightly pale as he looked plaintively at Agh’zak and Alisha.

The orc laughed, fully content to let things fall as they would.

Alisha was less accepting, “Control yourself Lady,” she snapped with acid ire.

Dus paused, then slowly the serpents withdrew back into the shadowy recesses of her hood and then the last sound Saiko could possibly have expected from the raging gorgon — a quiet sob.

In moments Alisha was beside her, arm around her shoulders, “It’s okay my lady,” she said quietly, leading the robe gorgon away with a gentle hand, “deep breaths.”

As Saiko watched them walk away, he noted Agh’zak, the orc watching him in turn with a chill look of calculation behind his perpetually bloodshot eyes.

“Was that deliberate?” he asked quietly. The question, while soft, was devoid of his usual warmth. For the first time since meeting him, Saiko actually saw the orc as a threat. Sure he’d seen him cleave through a carcass with a single casual swing of his cleaver but thus far, he’d never once imagined what might happen if the jovial behemoth turned that herculean strength upon him. It wasn’t a mental picture he relished.

“No,” he said with slow caution, “I’m not even sure what just happened.”

The orc’s expression softened, “You don’t live in Seruatis unless you’re a monster of one form or another. For a few that’s a more literal statement than moral.”

“That is either a deep philosophical statement or utterly uninformative, maybe even both.”

“It’s part of her curse. Anger, rage and hate boil to the surface easily and with Pheus so close it’s particularly raw. If she didn’t hate you before then she probably does now.”

“Oh joy. You’re telling me she was giving me regular death threats but didn’t hate me?”

“From Dus that’s basically hello,” the gourmand gourmet assured him. “You weren’t really worried were you?”

“Absolutely terrified,” Saiko admitted, leaning in and lowering his voice further. “She said she would-” he glanced around nervously, reducing himself to a whisper as he relayed the threat.

The orc warlord turned a shade greener than usual, audibly dry-heaving. “I take it back. That threat she meant.”

“Wonderful. So is there anything I should know about how to avoid disproportionate snakey vengeance?” he asked the orc, looking somewhat queasy himself.

“Just… try to stay out of her way. Dus has far bigger prey on her mind than a mere human mercenary. No offence.”

“Some offence taken. What’s all this mere human malarkey? Even Alisha’s pulled it on me once or twice.”

“It’s well.. how to phrase this nicely? It’s your lifespan. When so many people here will never die of old age there’s a certain disconnect, a level of insulation.”

“You’re saying they view me as a child,” Saiko interpreted sourly.

“Nothing so dismissive,” Agh’zak assured him. “But see it from their point of view, any of them who befriends you is going to watch you get old and die. When you live thousands of years that’s a lot of heartache. After a couple of lifetimes most just don’t bother getting to know anyone who comes with an expiry date attached, less hurt in the long term.”

“You don’t do that, The Swordsman doesn’t.”

“Oh orcs get old, it takes slightly longer than with humans but it happens, it’s just so rare, what with the whole constant tribal warfare problem, not even most orcs know it happens. An orc is referred to as ‘Elder’ if they make thirty.”

This drew a tight-lipped frown across Saiko’s narrow features, “But I’ve lived amongst orcs, two years with the Bloodtide tribe, and never heard of this.”

“That is because of how rare it is. My people have based their entire culture around war. It’s a practice that has made us exceptional in terms of strength and resilience. Life expectancy not so much.”

“Sounds tough,” the human replied, trying not to sound uncaring. “I can see why you gave it all up.”

Agh’zak stared at him, or possibly through him, large, deep-sunken eyes not unkind, “No. You can’t,” the orc answered, gravelly voice coming across even graver than he’d intended. “I forsook my clan, my family and my honour by leaving.”

“Then why do it?”

“For friendship. Matters of leadership in my clan were dealt with by an honour duel to the death.”

“Not much of a friend if they challenge you to a fight to the death,” Saiko interjected, stopping as Agh’zak pierced him a look of pure venom.

“He was a good friend. He simply disagreed with the direction I was taking the clan.” The orc’s voice was a fire of barely suppressed rage, “He was a good orc, an orc of strong principles, that is why he was my friend and that is why he felt he had no choice but to challenge me for the leadership of the clan. You know nothing of our way, so don’t presume to.”

“I know you’re a very lucky person. I’ve never had a friend I wouldn’t be willing to kill if I had to.”

The orc frowned, “You are either a terrible person or have had terrible friends.”

“Probably both,” Saiko admitted shamelessly. “So is there anyone in Seruatis who isn’t fleeing something?”

“There’s you.”

“Perhaps. Though running to is not so different to running from.”

“And what exactly are you running to?” the old orc asked, surprised and perhaps even mildly suspicious of this introspection.

“Being a better version of myself I think. I haven’t been in this place long, I only actually met my room‑mate a couple of days ago for example, but I can feel it changing me. When I spar with Alisha I know I’ve never been this fast or this skilled.”

“She tends to have that effect.” Agh’zak looked thoughtful, deep furrows travelling across his brow, “Been a while since I gave the old armour a good airing. Mind if I join you tomorrow?”

“I don’t have a problem but she’s a bit tetchy around other people.”

The orc nodded, not rising to the inherent question. “I’ll ask her. See you then.”

“What about this whole keeping an eye on this Pheus guy?”

“That’s Dus’ worry, not mine,” the orc called back, beginning to head towards his siege-proof kitchen. “I just wanted to back up a friend; she’s not here so my job is done.”

As he watched the orc walk away, it occurred to Saiko, and not for the first time, that Lutan had played him for a fool and that, rather naively, he’d assumed himself invaluable.

The concept of atonement was a new one for him; previously, a mistake was something he’d simply survived then avoided in the future.

Still, there was another concept, far older and easier to grasp, running parallel to the blossoming of his newfound conscience: Revenge.

Lutan had set him up; there would be a reckoning.