When Pheus opened his eyes, he was, for a brief moment, in two places at once, two images flickering between each other for just long enough to get a vague impression of barren trees before the other image won out, the ancient creature finding himself in an apparently deserted village, the entire place a patchwork of foreboding wooden and thatch buildings and deep shadows, so thick and absolute a man could get lost in them.

A brief check of the horizon showed the absence of the sun, though the faint glow promised it had either left recently or was soon to arrive.

“It’s dusk,” Erebus said firmly, “though you should have known that. This is a nightmare afterall.”

Pheus whirled around, eyes narrowing at the black-robed silhouette as he rested nonchalantly against the timber wall of what appeared to be a butcher’s shop.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the master of dreams declared. “Your presence in the boy’s mind could contaminate my investigation.”

“Fortunate then that I am not in Alec’s mind, nor in Holly’s,” the magician answered evenly.

“Impossible,” Pheus scoffed. “A mere instant in my thoughts should drive you to insanity.”

Erebus chuckled lightly, the sound jarringly out of place in the soon-to-be night air, “It’s cute that you consider me sane in the first place, besides your mind is far less alien and inimical to mine than say a fae or a daemon’s.”

“How are you alive? It’s like you read a book titled ‘Really Stupid Things To Do’ and treated it as a checklist,” the lord of dreams muttered, returning his attention to his surroundings.

“Lots of practice,” the magician replied, resuming his own observations, “And my master was a daemon, and we had to cover mental defences, so… that wasn’t fun. Lots of therapy afterwards.”

“Very trite. But I still wonder what they all see in you, a mere mayfly before a mountain. What makes you so special that The Swordsman would risk war? That the Wanderer would be moved to return to the world?”

“Perhaps, to use your own metaphor, because the mayfly was given the option of being a mountain but chose to remain a mayfly. Now I believe that we are here to help Holly and Alec, not bicker like petty children.”

“It is as you say,” Pheus conceded, “though I am confused as to the relevance of this place to the girl.”

“None that I know of. Why?”

Pheus frowned deeply, dark creases of annoyance across an otherwise perfect face, “It means the nightmares aren’t shared, merely parallel.”

“Can you still do it?” Erebus asked after a moment to digest this information.

“I don’t know. A generalised spell was one thing, a single fact, a single point where it could fail. I could accommodate for that with the right runes, but a second generalisation does more than double the risk and the energy needed is greater. You’ll have to accept there is now a very good chance that the spell won’t work.”

This was met with a simple nod from the necromancer, “I presume the difficulty is one of complexity and not power.”

“Indeed, though I’ll need someone to contain the fallout.”

“I’ll do it,” the mage declared without hesitation.

Pheus laughed in his face, “You’re a battlemage, I need a specialist in warding and defensive bindings.”

“Present.”

The ancient creature looked surprised at this, “I assumed the Necropolis’ favourite attack dog would be more aggressive.”

Erebus met his gaze with cold compassion then began, with an air of quiet indignation, “It matters not the strength of the blow, nor how many are thrown, simply that-”

“Your’s is the last,” Pheus finished for him. “A practitioner of Endurance Vile. Very well, you’re qualified.”

“How much inefficiency are you expecting from this spell?” the centuries-old youth asked, tone no longer bitterness and hate but that used with a respected peer as he focused on the task at hand.

“Up to half.”

“That’s pretty crude for an intricate spell. What’s the expected backlash?”

“Enough to turn the infirmary into a smoking crater.”

Erebus winced, drawing the air sharply through his teeth.

“More than you can handle?” Pheus enquired dryly.

“No. Just enough that I hope you work fast. What do you need to complete the spell?”

“An intimate knowledge of the fears that built this ghost town. I’m rather surprised actually, normally in a nightmare something has jumped out and tried to kill me by now. This place just seems desolate and sad.”

“Then let us explore further and see if we can find you such a monster.”

The two of them began going building to building but found not even a trace of life until finally there was but one home to check. It had been obvious, really, but it had been important to check the rest for fear of missing a vital detail.

“I don’t know what exactly we’ll find in here but if anywhere will let you understand the cause of this nightmare it will be here,” Erebus informed him yet put out an arm to stop him going inside.

“You know something, or at least suspect,” Pheus observed.

“Two good people died here. This is the home he can never return to. What the two children have in common, the loss of a home, the loss of their parents.”

“And the reason I can’t go inside?”

“You can but I suspect Alec will be there, I’m worried about the effect someone might have on his nightmare if they were to burst in.”

“I thought you weren’t an expert on dreamscapes?”

“I’m not but I know Alec, possibly better than he knows himself.”

“Really? A boy you just happened to rescue on your travels, who’s village you just happen to have a near intimate knowledge of.”

“You know,” Erebus whispered tiredly. “Please don’t tell the boy.”

“If he’s as smart as you say he’ll figure it out for himself. He won’t thank you for not telling him.”

“You almost make it sound like you care.”

“Or I just enjoy watching you hurt. Can I go in now?”

“Yes. Dining room and kitchen the doorway on the left, both bedrooms in the back, and the door opens onto what is essentially a living room or parlour.”

Pheus gave his unsought partner a curt nod before pushing the door open, striding in as if he were still a god amongst men.

His first impressions of Alec’s home were poor. No gold, no marble, nor even the simple stone he was forced to tolerate these days. The place smelled strongly of earth, and the furnishings were simple, if well made, oak. The kitchen had a similar motif; the crockery possessed of a certain deciduous air, each bowl, plate and cup made of many thin layers of various woods, bent and carved into shape and held together with strong resin. Pheus turned his nose up at the lack of jewels.

Both rooms shared another additional theme; they were devoid of life.

His next target was the boy’s room, surprisingly fully furnished, though it had been a theme of the entire town that the children all had a small writing desk in the corner of where’er they slept, courtesy of Alec’s first mentor, the monk. What it was missing, however, was Alec himself. With an annoyed scowl marring otherwise perfect features, he moved to the final room, Alec’s parents’ room.

Even at the door, he could tell. There was a tension to the air, a charge of power still potential. A fact only further confirmed when he got hit by a static discharge strong enough to make his knees weak when he touched the smooth worn wood of the doorknob.

He drew his hand back sharply, cautious to a fault. This would require a gentle touch, he decided.

The child’s power was a strong one, he could certainly survive an outburst from him, but to do it nestled this deep in the boy’s psyche, the measures he’d need to take would likely leave the boy unable to even feed himself.

Carefully he drew back out of the house, standing in front of the patiently waiting Erebus.

“Well?”

“He’s stronger than I expected. A lot of natural power, none of your borrowed nonsense.”

“Envy ill becomes you,” Erebus replied dryly. “And my borrowed power has its advantages.”

“If the rumours are true that’s a lot of advantage.”

“You know how rumours are, people exaggerate.” The necromancer smirked slightly.

“I also doubted them, until I found out how you overcame all that null.

“Lifeforce, over a decade of impure vitae. Which is shocking considering I know your bloodline hasn’t a trace of daemon in it.”

“This borders very close to stalking.”

“No it is stalking, I did tell you we were taking an interest, you and your merry band are the best entertainment since your lot stopped warring with your nearest neighbour.”

“Back to the matter at hand please. What can you do to help Alec?”

“I’m no longer sure,” Pheus admitted begrudgingly. “This is going to take a day; minimum. You used to be a full-time healer as I recall?”

“You need me to keep them stable.”

“Correct. Is this a problem?”

“Quite a large one,” Erebus confessed, expression deep and drawn. “I don’t have very much in the way of reserves right now. The process of warding alone is going to tap those. Nearly everything I have has been going on growing new heart cells and fixing our dear patron’s botched heal.”

“A little ungrateful aren’t we?”

“Not even mildly, he saved my life, but he also left me with a section of my heart that is likely to tear itself slowly apart without constant supervision. As it is I’m barely surviving through the night.”

The ancient creature gave this due thought, “How long until you finish healing?”

“Without risks? Six months. Myocardial cells are a pain in the ass to make, not high energy, just technical.”

“Myocardial being heart cells? I lose track of the terminology you mortals bandy about.”

“Yes it’s heart cells,” Erebus growled, “the point being that I am very limited in what I can do right now. Too much energy and my ‘stitches’ burst.”

“Can you bring in someone to handle the healing then?”

“Not a chance. In Seruatis I could find at least one of any brand of battlemage you’d care to name even the illegal ones… make that especially the illegal ones. But most of them don’t even have basic triage training.”

“Why didn’t you stop the paladin?” Pheus demanded, sharp and sudden, jolting the mage from his line of thought.

In other circumstances, Erebus would have applauded the ambush, nice and private where the answer would be unheard, but with his thoughts in disarray, he opted reflexively for defence. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because you’re too important to show weakness. Because I want to know this fragile little world is in safe hands and because I like knowing things others don’t. Pick whichever one appeals to conscience and ego.”

Erebus stared at him studiously for long enough that the silence grew deafening until, at last, “He wasn’t worth the price. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a patient to attend to.” With that, the mage vanished, withdrawing from Pheus’ mind as gently as he’d arrived.

“Interesting,” the old god mused before getting back to work.

*

From the safety of his own body, Erebus took a few precious moments to plan. The situation was, from the information available, hopeless. It was a matter of hours before Holly’s body, and then Alec’s shut down, and the only chance was for a madman to create a spell of what even he admitted would be of dubious help. Normally he’d have been able to hold the pair of them at the cusp of death for days, or if he were prepared to delve deep into the few forbidden arts, he could hold them there indefinitely.

As things stood, he might hold for an hour, maybe two if he approached it aggressively, predicting and addressing failing organs as they happened, but that was optimistic in the extreme with no equipment beyond his travelling staff.

The spells would have to be cast on Alec and then hopefully mirrored across the link; dryad biology was just too unknown to him to heal on the fly. What he needed was an edge, desperately, and he knew exactly where to find one.

Against his better judgement, Erebus permitted himself a moment of self-pity before he put his plan in place. “You’re getting soft old man.” The lie slipped easily from his tongue by virtue of practice.

Soft had been thirty years ago. Soft had been foolish promises to a dying friend and a daemonic contract made in haste and rage.

Soft would have killed Lutan without a second thought.

Self-pity over with, he made his way to the door, unsurprised to find only Saiko outside.

“You said something innocuous and she lashed out,” he surmised. “Not your fault sellsword, she would have been looking for any reason to go on the offensive ever since I involved Pheus.”

“How did you-?”

“It’s my job to know. Also their antagonism is infamous.” Erebus smirked, at a passing thought, fast as a trout rising for a mayfly and then gone. “Now I need you to do two things for me.”

To his credit, at least in Erebus’ eyes, Saiko didn’t protest at his co-opting, merely looking briefly bemused, “What do you need?”

“Go to Dus, she’ll be in her room at the library, top floor, can’t miss it, tell her I need her to see me immediately, not I need to see her, I need her to see me. Make sure she knows I insisted on that wording, she should be able to figure out my plan. After that I need you to sprint to the cafeteria, get a warding expert to come here, I don’t care how you do it. Then to the Confluence’s meeting hall. Tell The Swordsman that I urgently request access to the Seruatis’ vault and require temporary use of the Temporis Vitae hourglass. Understand?”

“I’m not sure Dus will be very-”

“Just tell her it’s to save the boy, she has a weak spot where youngsters are concerned.”

“And The Swordsman?”

“Enjoys every bit of mischief and intrigue he can manufacture within the rules he’s bound by.”

“Very well,” the mercenary conceded, taking off at a reasonable jog which rapidly accelerated to a sprint as he rounded the corner.

With peace assured, Erebus allowed his mask of confidence to slip. He was taking a risk involving the Temporis Vitae hourglass, whilst magic that altered the perception of time was allowed, magic that actually altered one’s path through it was strictly forbidden to mortal kind, with immortal kind only allowed it because no one had been brave enough to take it away, and whilst he bent that rule many times, often to the point it was practically a knot, requesting the hourglass would make it a matter of public record. A situation previously avoided by the phrase ‘no survivors’.

Still, the chance that future necromancers might stumble upon his misdeed was one he was prepared to take; the Temporis Vitae was an invaluable device, allowing a mage to throw a single spell up to an hour into their own future, literally as long as the sands lasted. An extra hour he could buy and then once more into fate’s less than gentle hands. If it came to that, he’d ask Dus to gaze the boy, Alec, to become yet another stone patient, their lives on a permanent hold until a cure for their ailment was discovered. Holly, with a body of magic, would be less fortunate, dryads immune to a gorgon’s gaze.

Dus was first to arrive, the gorgon almost silent in her approach as she took station by the door, facing the wall as her voice rang quiet but clear through the infirmary, “My mask is off.” And then she stilled, much like a statue herself.

“Thank you,” Erebus replied quietly, one hone over Alec’s insensate form as he ran some low energy diagnostics on his patient. “The plan is to stonegaze me while I channel a high energy panacea spell into Alec. Hopefully the spell will carry on whilst, being a stature, the resultant wasted magic won’t tear my stitches.”

“I’m hoping there is more to this plan because all I’m seeing is Alec unable to die until you run out of magic, and it can’t be your magic powering it.”

“I have some daemons contracted to supply me in times of need.”

“I bet that cost a pretty penny. What did they want?”

“Nothing I’d miss.” Erebus assured her.

“Well as delightfully perverse as I find using daemons for a healing, this still leaves you even more stone-faced than usual come the end.”

“That has been accounted for,” he promised. “Hopefully our dear patron can be persuaded to loan me the Temporis Vitae.”

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Either I spontaneously replicate the effect of an advanced artifact who’s magic is not only nuanced but who’s construction took thirty years without even seeing the device in question. Or I can look forwards to a highly successful career as a lawn ornament.”

“It’s not worth it,” Dus said softly. “I like Alec, truly I do, but this world needs you.”

“I’m rather relying on that to be given the Temporis.”

“Manipulative,” the gorgon observed approvingly.

“Is it really manipulative when the person you’re manipulating actually wants to be manipulated?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes it’s manipulative. Still unless you and the merc finally got past your sexual tension enough to gaze lovingly into each other’s eyes,” he already had his own shut for Dus’ inevitable reaction, the shocked gorgon spinning around unmasked as she rallied to defend herself, “then the hourglass will be here shortly.”

“I would never-”

“Then there’s no need to be so angry, my lady,” Erebus interrupted with consummate calm. “Just stop being so spiky around the poor child.”

“He’s a grown man Erebus, accountable to his own choices,” she snapped.

“Maybe. But after so long they all seem like children.”

“And there lies the doom of mages. Everyone’s a child who can’t be trusted with responsibility, so you make sure no one else ever has any. You know there’s a word for that, it’s called tyranny.”

“And the alternative? This world hangs by a thread. We dare not risk another war ‘tween mages, not for ten thousand years. Too many wounds in the world, easy to inflict hard to heal. And too many chains still lingering in the mind, warping our natures towards conflict.”

“And is that really yours to decide?”

“No. But I’m doing it anyway,” Erebus declared. “And yes my hypocrisy is breathtaking.”

“Then why do it?” Dus demanded, greater heat and greater ire venting from her than she’d ever directed at Saiko, such strength to it that for a moment, he feared violence.

“Because no one’s principles are an unassailable fortress, everyone has to compromise them somewhere, or force others to do the same to accommodate them.”

“I’ve never-”

“Your situation is unique Dus, and cruel, and your principles revolve entirely around revenge and staying alive. Everyone else has to compromise under certain circumstances, maybe their life is threatened, maybe a loved one’s life is threatened, maybe they are faced with torture, starvation or the condemnation of their peers, or perhaps their principles conflict and they have to choose which one they compromise. Such is the fate of all who wish for more than to have their enemy dead at their feet and to spit on the corpse. My personal point of compromise is the destruction of all life.”

“A cruel fate.”

“They seem to enjoy it.”

“And what of your fate young necromancer?”

“I had it told once, a true telling from one driven mad by their spark of divination, she told me my destiny, told me that while most such fates can be escaped with effort and foresight, mine was bound tighter than chains. Naturally I rebelled against such a proclamation, but alas she was correct.”

“Cursed to eternal happiness, joy and success?” the gorgon asked sweetly, almost sing-song in her speech.

“Nothing so cruel as that. I will simply always arrive too late.”

“A nebulous statement, your victories are great, the fate false,” Dus argued.

“No, any victory I ever had came from battles I stopped from happening, or from battlefields rendered lifeless before my arrival. Necromancy at least benefits from tardiness. I could not escape it, so I subverted it, embraced it even, I joined a first response team, tried to use my fate to my advantage, later second response, and still the fate was cruel.”

“So all you’ve done is because you’re trying to outrun fate. A pity. I thought there might by hope for you.”

“No.” And there was iron in the necromancer’s voice, a cold fury that flared brighter with each bitter word. “Everything I’ve done I did because someone had to do it. My fate, true or not, is not something I’ve run from; I turned it into a blade to be wielded against those I call enemy.”

“Good. Now… go back to saving Alec’s life,” the order undisguised and resolute.

“Of course m’lady,” Erebus answered amiably, his hand never having left Alec’s shallowly rising chest. “But I can’t maintain this forever.”

“You seem perfectly fine at the moment.”

“That just means I’m good at seeming m’lady. One of the spells on my heart just gave way.”

“Wonderful,” Dus observed dryly.

Erebus shrugged, a slight strain creeping into his voice, “It is what it is. Now I need you to face the wall again; if Saiko bursts through those doors right now I’m going to have to explain to a very good friend why his apprentice is doing his best impression of a rockery.”

Silence reigned after that, one irritated at their dismissal and the other increasingly struggling to even stay on his feet.

By the time the mercenary arrived, cradling a brass hourglass the size of a pub stein, Erebus was on his knees, eyes closed not from concentration but agony and fatigue, the necromancer slumped against the bed, a single-arm limp across Alec’s chest as his mind raced to keep them both alive with the limited magic he could avail himself of.

As quickly as he could, without risking the artefact entrusted to him, he roused the necromancer with a gentle nudge.

Erebus turned half-focused eyes upon him, taking precious seconds for his pupils to sharpen, focusing upon the hourglass in the mercenary’s outstretched hand. “Thank… you… you need to leave.”

“Well there’s gratitude for you.”

A hand gently came to rest upon his shoulder as Dus whispered to him, “It is.” The grip tightened as he tried to turn. “Don’t turn around. My mask is off. Eyes to the floor, crawl out. There is no time for consideration.”

Saiko complied, eyes not leaving the floorboards until he reached the door, gaze raising in time to see the vibrant green-yellow flash of the panacea being cast, the excess energy of the spell rattling the windows and raising the ambient temperature from muggy night to lacklustre sauna.

Seconds later, everything that was Saiko was forced from his body, mind-expanding to encompass the world and everything in it, then wide, a perfect sphere of awareness encompassing next the moon then the world’s fellow planets and the star they faithfully orbited.

Then wider, the local star systems, wider still until he could make out a spiralling arm and then the galaxy it was attached to. More information than any mind was meant to hold.

Then more, the local group, out and out until he could not even have pointed where he started from, whilst at the same time his focus narrowed; every grain of dust, and smaller. He didn’t have the words to describe what he saw as his vision shrank, molecule then atom, all of it down to the space between space. A meaningless expanse of infinite information.

When Saiko came back to himself, he became aware someone was screaming, ragged, reedy and hoarse; seconds later, he recognised it as himself.

“There’s a reason some spells are banned,” Dus said from behind him; fortunately her mask was on again, the merc lacking the presence of mind to close his eyes — if he were honest he’d probably struggle to count his fingers right now.

Unsteadily the gorgon slithered past him, managing to make it to the grass before retching copiously; moments later, Saiko joined her in feeding the flowers.

“What was that?” he gasped once there was nothing but bile left and precious little of that.

“Spell backlash,” Dus answered weakly, wiping her mouth clean with the back of a hand before wiping that clean on the grass.

“Bullshit,” the mercenary replied. “Spell backlash is a bit of heat and a few sparks, not… whatever that was.”

“That’s because you have never been near a time spell before… and that the energy required was enough you’d need to destroy reality itself to cast it.”

“Then how did he do it?”

“By destroying the universe.” She paused to enjoy his disbelief, “Well in potential. The hourglass axes entire lines of causality, carefully selecting ones where the spell fails, or where the spell backlash is expressed in a fatal manner. That potential powers the spell.”

“How can you know all this? I can’t see ancient magical artifacts coming with a book of instructions.”

“Well I could say that logical deduction states that that’s the only way that such an obscure branch of magic could be used by anyone, or that I had the pleasure of meeting the designer before her execution, but in actuality I’m just a good librarian, and there’s a copy of her notes in the library.”

“Why was she executed?”

“Time altering spells are completely forbidden, for most people even knowing there are time altering spells is completely forbidden.”

“Then this ring The Wanderer gave me…” Saiko began, fishing it from his pocket.

“Is sufficient to sign your death warrant many times over if anyone outside Seruatis learned of it.”

“And the Immortals have them why?”

“Death penalties have historically proven ineffective against them,” Dus quipped. “So as long as they restrict themselves to spells that don’t threaten to violate causality they’re given some leeway.”

“And if they do violate causality?”

“Steps are taken,” the gorgon replied, finality etched onto every word, her jaw clenched at the end of it.

“Steps?” Saiko answered, unable to take the hint in his spell-stunned state; presumably Dus was in a similar mind-altered state given she didn’t sound like his continued existence was a deathly insult.

“Steps. That which cannot be killed can at least be severely inconvenienced.”

“Wonderful,” The Swordsman grumbled. “Life sentences when you can’t die.”

“It serves as an effective deterrent… most of the time.”

“Why are the Immortals given so much leeway? It can’t just be a power thing.”

“They’re a deterrent for threats from elsewhere, daemons, fae and suchlike. Anything strong enough to give a lich heart palpitations turns up, one of them gets a message. It’s one reason they meet so infrequently, entire swathes of the world are undefended right now.”

“I can’t see The Ancient being up to fighting a daemonic horde.”

“You’d be rather surprised. Daemons are his specialty. Daemonic bindings are effectively legal contracts, given enough time there are few daemons he can’t banish or bind.”

“I’ve never met a daemon that was inclined to give much time to people they’re trying to kill.”

“True enough. That’s why he’s only wheeled out when a major threat makes it to the mortal realm.”

“Why would such a being agree to leave?” Saiko demanded, struggling with the concept of a demon-duelling lawyer and quietly allowing a thousand jokes about ‘conflict of interest’ and ‘professional courtesy’ die unsaid.

“Well sometimes they don’t, an unbound daemon doesn’t have to do anything it doesn’t want to, including accept a binding but most are just too happy to negotiate terms. It’s usually why they invade at all. To force a concession which strengthens their position back home and they know if they push their luck too far we’ll arrange for someone with the raw power to banish them to send them packing, that or have allies in the infernal realms attack their holdings while they’re away.” Dus paused as a snippet of gossip came to mind, “Didn’t you have a daemonic girlfriend? You should know all this.”

“One clingy succubus is hardly a magnum opus on infernal political theory,” Saiko groused before adding more quietly. “And we didn’t really uh… talk much.”

“You pig,” Dus snarked, shaking her head in condemnation.

Scarlet shame spread across Saiko’s gaunt cheeks as he changed the topic, or rather returned to the initial one, “One thing I’m still not getting, if we’ve got people who can just dismiss a daemon lord from our world… why bother negotiating at all? Actually I’ve got other questions on those lines but I’ll stick to this one for now.”

“Well firstly,” The librarian began, delighting in his discomfort, “A banishing and a dismissal are two very different things. A dismissal is between a summoner and a bound daemon, reasonably low energy and usually mutual. A banishment is far more difficult, by definition the daemon is unwilling and usually will have great magical reserves of its own to bring to bear. Lesser daemons actively seek out contracts with very few exceptions but the greater daemons and the lords tend to be far too prideful to bend the knee to a mortal. So you’ve got to be both stronger willed and have more magical strength that it to forcibly eject it from our reality, people like that don’t come around very often. People that could survive doing it even less so.”

“What about him?” Saiko demanded, indicating the infirmary where Erebus laboured in stony stasis.

“Without any help? He probably could but even if he lived through it he’d be a hollow shell of the man he was.”

Saiko let out a long, low whistle, “That’s a lot of power.”

“And they know it,” Dus agreed. “Most of the time a banisher charges more than the demon. Hells sometimes they go so far as to collude to drive the price up. Bastards.”

“You make it sound like being mercenary about the fate of the world is a bad thing,” said the mercenary.

Even through the mask, Saiko could feel the force of her glare as if he had gotten close to a campfire but abruptly, the intensity dulled as Dus barked out a dark peel of laughter, “You truly are unapologetic, aren’t you?”

“What should I be apologising for exactly?” Saiko asked, not having to feign the confusion in his voice.

“All the harm you’ve caused over your lifetime. All the lives taken. All the monsters you’ve helped escape, whose plans you have enabled and carried out.”

Saiko scowled, expression borderline thunderous, but his voice was steady, “I’m a mercenary. That’s the job. You do what they pay you to and don’t judge until afterwards. Why? Were you planning on a sudden bout of repentance yourself?”

“I have no idea what you’re-”

“I know who you are. Who you were. It took me a while to put together but I managed it last night. And I am amazed that you have the sheer brass neck to talk to me about lives taken. About repentance. You who blazed a trail of destruction through war after war, friend and foe alike!”

Dus scowled, “Were we anywhere else in the world I would strike you down for that.”

“Case in point,” Saiko observed dryly. “You’re a thug Dus, an exceptional thug but no more than that and you wear your pain like armour and shield.”

“You bastard!” The gorgon snarled, hideous venom and fury frothing forth, “I am going to-”

“Attempt to threaten me into submission again.” He cut her off with a sharp wave of his hand, “I know I’m not the smartest man in the world but I do figure things out eventually. You can’t actually hurt me.”

Dus scoffed, “Whilst I’m thrilled you’ve found your spine if you insist on following this line of argument I will take great pleasure in removing it.”

“No. You won’t. I mean you’re more than capable but you’d be kicked out of here.”

“And you would be dead,” she pointed out frostily.

Saiko’s smile was either enlightenment or madness, “I told you I figured it out. You know I asked around. Got to know people here. And not one of them could remember a time you weren’t here. Killing is against the rules, threats aren’t and your threats are empty and hollow.”

The gorgon scowled, anger boiling off her in near-visible waves before she tensed, calming herself with an effort that left her shaking until she finally mastered herself, suddenly calm, and with a voice like a human stiletto said, “I finally see what he sees in you.”

“I wish I did,” he muttered, not quite quietly enough.

“Then again maybe not. What are you prepared to pay?”

“For?” He tried not to sound too interested.

“The knowledge of what he sees.”

“Or what you think he sees,” Saiko observed.

“You’re bargaining,” Dus observed in kind, “trying to talk my price down.”

“Maybe. Is it working?”

“Until you asked that question, yes.”

“I haven’t got much to pay you with. I didn’t exactly plan on an extended stay, so I’ve only got my emergency stash on me, unless you desperately need a nullsteel ring.”

“What about your sword?” Dus asked, soft as velvet and smooth as silk.

Saiko glanced briefly down at the blade at his hip then back up to the eyeless mask. “Why exactly would you want an immortal slaying blade?”

“Why would you?” the gorgon countered.

“You’re deflecting. But if you want the honest answer… I think at this point to stop people who want it from having it.”

“Hoarding or is that a glimmer of conscience?”

“Oh I wouldn’t go that far…” Saiko mused, “but… I never had any illusions I was a heavyweight when it came to magical nonsense, but I did think I was a bloody good swordsman and with enough nullstone I could take just about anyone.”

“So it’s wounded pride?” Dus interrupted. “How terribly disappointing.”

“I haven’t made it to my point yet,” Saiko growled. “My point is… my point is.. that I’m now surrounded by people who could take me out if they sneezed at the wrong moment. But with this sword I’m a threat to any of them and the last thing any of these people need, including you, is more power.”

“I see.” Dus smiled, quickly covering it with a hand, “So you want to act as a deterrent? And you think that the sword will let you? It’s not an awful idea, but the bad news is that I just killed you.” As she finished, the hand darted up, removing the eyeless domino mask.

Saiko tried to turn away, to close or cover his eyes, but not in time to avoid seeing Dus’ closed eyes.

After a few seconds Dus would say, “It’s safe to look now. But I trust the point is made.”

Turning back with more than a little glare, “Stone me you stone the blade too, probably.”

“And if my intent were to remove it permanently from circulation?”

“Then I’d be a dead man, you’re still not having it.”

“Fortunately I don’t want it. My price is one favour, to be called at my discretion.”

“You must think me an imbecile. I’m not going to write you a blank cheque.”

“I’m prepared to give you a guarantee that I’d never ask you to do something you weren’t capable of, physically, mentally or morally.”

“The answer is still very much a no.”

“Suit yourself.” Dus shrugged, “But be aware that you’re little gambit is very much a double edged sword, as you said as long as you have that sword you’re a threat to everyone, most of the other retired monsters aren’t as kind hearted as I am.”

Saiko withheld a chuckle, “I find that more than mildly doubtful. So how long until we get worried about how long it’s taking?”

“The spell lasts an hour so after an hour,” Dus said, rolling back her shoulders as she moved to recline against the walls of the infirmary.

“And so far it’s been?”

“I don’t know. Ten minutes? Quarter of an hour tops? I’m a librarian, not a clock.”

“Do people actually enjoy your wiseass remarks or do you just enjoy being regarded as a complete bitch?”

“Maybe I’m not the one who has trouble making friends?”

“Maybe I don’t need friends?”

“Spoken like every lonely outcast in history.”

“So is this really how you’re planning to spend the next forty-five minutes? Trading insults?”

“Unless something better becomes available.”

Saiko let out a long sigh, “You sure love a captive audience huh?”

“I’m hardly holding you hostage drama queen.”

“Honour is holding me hostage, I gave my word that I’d retrieve the artifact as soon as Erebus was finished with it.”

Dus shrugged, “I suppose I can hold my tongue awhile. Still I will probably need to go in first, to gaze young Alec.”

“You don’t think this is going to work then?” he asked, shocked; not once had it crossed his mind that this could fail.

“No,” she admitted, sad and soft. “The chance was good at the beginning, but now? It would take a miracle.”

“Well according to you we do in fact have a god on our side,” Saiko pointed out.

The old gorgon forced a small chuckle, “Oh Pheus is the best for this sort of thing. I’d happily feed him his own entrails before saying it to his face but no one else would have a prayer. But still… I suspect this battle is lost. And perhaps it’s for the best… oh don’t look so shocked. I want the boy to live, but Erebus is… important, and Alec is a distraction. We don’t need Erebus here playing nurse, we need him out there, stitching up the wounds in the world. His childish feud with the paladin has cost so much I could slap him at times.”

“That’s pretty cold,” he pointed out. “And I can’t help feeling that you’re being dramatic, I can accept that the necromancer is powerful, but not that he’s vital. No matter how much power he can bring to bear he’s still just one man amongst many other very strong mages.”

Dus gave a sad smile, “You’re not wrong, in truth even a middling magician could rise to the same heights through the same methods, but they don’t. It requires an act of madness to commit oneself to an apprenticeship in the hells.”

“So that’s what this is all about? That he knows a lot?”

“It’s… more than that. You know how the Immortals are all bound, how liches are contained, and all the elder races have bargains constraining their power. That’s what makes him special, that he has all that knowledge and strength whilst skirting the bounds of such controls. He is bound by but two things, his word and his conscience,” the gorgon sighed. “Now if only he’d stop letting the latter lead him astray.”

“You say that, but power without conscience would be worse,” Saiko said levelly. “You’re talking about him as if he were a weapon rather than a person.”

“He is a weapon,” she snapped. “In the last thirty years he’s cleared up threats that have plagued the mortal realm for centuries. Demon lords laid low, old curses lifted, lost artifacts found, scars in the fabric of reality itself finally faded, two of the aetheric chains broken! And yet he insists on indulging in petty sentiment.”

“And thank the Veil he does,” the mercenary replied softly. “You’ve been here too long I think. What you’re calling his flaws I’d call saving graces.”

“Then you’d better grow up if you wish to keep wielding that blade.”

“Yeah that’s not happening, you already condemn me for my lack of morals yet you say I have to become even less so?”

“Such is life. You wanted to be a threat to the great powers of the world, this is the price.”

“I refuse to pay it,” he said simply.

Dus shrugged, “Then you accept the consequences.”

Saiko decided he could live with that. Or die with that if it came to it.