“Sarah.” Nemesis taunted, giving the imperator a nod as she discarded Erebus, a backhand sending her apprentice sprawling bonelessly across the baked dirt.
The imperator looked the god up and down, “You know me? Then why don’t I know you?” There was caution there if not fear. An unknown deity was always a threat.
“If you promise to leave now I shall facilitate a portal home.” Nemesis promised, the two anathema blades in his hands not yet raised in defence, as if trying to talk down a dangerous animal.
In response Tsa’rahlitzek stuck her tongue out, the far too long organ rolling out to reveal a forked tip that began tasting the air, “Olympian… vengeance… hatred… with faded hints of justice. Why Nemmy dear you’ve gone through quite the change.”
“You’re stalling.” Nemesis growled, “It won’t help you.”
“Not that the change doesn’t suit you dear,” The demoness continued, ignoring him completely, “Justice was always your weakest aspect. This suits you better, the thug you were always meant to be.”
“What are you doing here Sarah?” The god of vengeance asked quietly, “This isn’t like you. You don’t do conquest, you barely even do people.”
“The board changes, and plans change with it.” The imperator of shadows and madness shrugged, a hideously casual ‘what can you do?’ gesture.
“You know we can’t let you rule Reath.” Nemesis tried gently, “And you’re wounded, please just leave.”
“He did something.” Tsa’rahlitzek continued, almost talking to herself, “He thought I wouldn’t see it but I did. He changed something on Reath. Pawn promotes to queen. I don’t know what it means but I will find out.”
That brought Nemesis up short, “Obli- Your father changed something on Reath? That’s impossible. Wait… why can I say his name?”
“The board changes.” The imperator repeated, “My apprentice gave it back to him.” She gave Erebus’ crumpled form a fond smile, “He has been a good apprentice. If very bad at feigning unconsciousness.”
Erebus sighed, springing cleanly to his feet, “You can’t blame me. All I have left is a sucker punch.”
“Oh I don’t blame you. Now shoo dear, the old people need to talk.”
The necromancer didn’t need telling twice, only pausing to pick up his warstaff, miraculously thrown clear in the blast(s), leaning on it more than a little as he headed for what was hopefully a minimum safe distance.
Nemesis watched him flee with interest, not saying a word until he was well and truly outside hearing range, “Why would you want him to have his name back?”
“Because the status quo was unsustainable. Better it break in our favour.”
“I don’t think Ob- the devourer having their name back is something in our favour. Why do you?”
“He was static, unchanging, just a cruel and desperate hunger, trapped in that terrible moment of starvation where he ate his very identity. It made for a very hard opponent to fight, one that risked nothing. He’s a person again, able to react, able to change, able to make mistakes. Whereas before he was downright deterministic, which would have been easy to take advantage of if he weren’t stronger than every demon ever made.” Tsa’rahlitzek explained to her foe with curious patience.
“So you’re pinning everything on the hope that he’ll make an error?” Nemesis asked doubtfully.
“A forlorn hope beats no hope. Your forebears fled remember? You’ve never seen the Old War, never seen how inevitable our defeat is. I’ve seen it. Whenever I close my damned eyes I see it. Without change we were lost! At least now there is a chance, however small!”
The sheer force of the outburst rocked Nemesis back on his heels. Imperators didn’t scream, they didn’t rage, and they certainly didn’t yell. It was bad for the image. “Be that as it may,” He rallied, “I still cannot allow you to conquer Reath.”
Tsa’rahlitzek slumped a little, “So be it.”
Nemesis brought his swords up, “You misunderstand me. I cannot allow you to conquer Reath. I name you my enemy. I name you the enemy of all that walks. I name you the enemy of all that flies. I name you the enemy of all that swims. This world will oppose you until it’s last, desperate dying breath.”
With a whipcrack Tsa’rahlitzek cut through the air, abandoning her humanoid shape entirely as she threw her entire metaphysical mass at the god, nothing but rage in those purple eyes glowing within the morass of darkness.
Nemesis did the wise thing, darting back as fast as his legs would allow, anathema blades carving chunks off of the oncoming monstrosity as he resisted the temptation to press forwards instead. It was what the imperator wanted, for him to try and drive the anathema blades towards her mote.
They’d never reach it, he was certain of that, Tsa’rahlitzek would pull the mote deeper within herself, engulf him and then pierce him with about a thousand shadows.
So he stayed reactive, just retreating as she shifted forms, a few moments exchanging blows against a classical demoness, the next diving out of the way as a foot bigger than he was tried to crush him like an insect, then fighting what he could only describe as a wheel of blades, and every time making sure to slice away a fraction of her body.
He hated fighting like this. His ideal engagement had himself as the oncoming storm, the unending onslaught, but that was rather the point. Noone freely gave a foe their ideal engagement.
Nemesis could sense it from her, her intentions, her ideas, everything about how she fought, she was the enemy now. Nothing more. He’d always been good at killing enemies.
That was his aspect; retribution. Always last one to the battle but always the last one to leave as well. That was the trouble with retribution, there had to be something take vengeance for first.
For now he focused on the wounded Aesir, the gods Erebus had teleported to safety (and boy was that a debt he was not looking forwards to repaying), kin he’d not even known existed, brutalized at Tsa’rahlitzek’s hands. And as he fought he kept talking the entire time, turning every aspect of Reath against her one sentence at a time until she would have no choice at all but to become queen of the ashes even if she beat him.
“…I name you enemy of the rocks. I name you enemy of the wind. I name you enemy of the dead. I name you enemy of lightning. I name you enemy of thunder. I name you enemy of birdsong. I name you enemy of the autumn leaves. I name you enemy of the forests…”
Anything he could think of, as fast as he could say it. So the entire world would know on sight who and what she was.
He could feel her rage growing with every word, there was no playful banter to be found here, no condescending comments either. She wanted him dead now with a passion that almost hurt to witness.
Worse she was winning. Even with her mote guttering from lack of fuel and wounded besides, even with a body of mana, even ravaged by martyr’s fire, she was still his better. Still faster, still stronger, still fundamentally a greater being than he was in every aspect.
It was to be expected, although younger than him she was still a child of the second generation while he was a child of the fourth. Worse still she’d been forged by a conceptual being’s own hands as a weapon, then honed in an endless war against that very being.
If Reath itself had not been designed from the very beginning to restrain beings like her then she’d have simply been able to kill him by deciding he should be dead, or just decide about half a kilo of antimatter existed where his chest had been, or a dozen other ways that there was no fighting against.
Still he clung on, refusing to accept his fate. Determined to make her pay for his death. Because there was still a victory to be eked out here. If he could just survive until she spent the last of the chaos in her body, until her mote had nothing left on which to run…
Like the lady herself had said, a forlorn hope was better than no hope.
A moment’s inattention cost him an anathema blade, and a hand, though he was far more upset by the blade. A thorned tendril wrapping around his wrist and tensing as it prepared to reel him in.
Nemesis didn’t hesitate, cutting the hand free to let mana-rich godsblood spurt freely upon the ground. The tendril withdrew with nauseating crunching sounds even as the god cut down a half dozen more. He was so close, so terribly close to winning he could almost taste it. And so terribly far.
He’d barely been able to hold her off with both hands. With a growl of fury the god summoned fire where his hand should have been, cauterizing the wound close. There would be time for a proper healing after the battle.
Slowly the shadowy blob that was Tsa’rahlitzek condensed back to her demonic form, the anathema blade in one hand and his missing appendage in the other, the imperator holding eye contact as she bit off the forefinger and chewed noisily before smearing the golden blood from cheek to cheek in an exaggerated grin.
The demon stalked towards him, her weight on the balls of her feet as she all but bounced with excitement. She was no duelist, he could tell that much. Somehow he suspected it wasn’t going to matter.
The only reason she was doing this was she wanted the pleasure of spitting him on his own blade.
As she moved the shadows moved with her, ignoring the position of the sun to turn to face him.
Including his own. A grip every bit as strong as his own grabbed him from behind, pinning him in place as she advanced.
“How-?” He hadn’t even sensed it, not even for a moment, not even suspected she’d been holding something in reserve.
“Oh I brought them to life the moment you arrived dear.” Tsa’rahlitzek explained, tapping the blade on her thigh as she approached. “They were just waiting for their moment.”
“I name you enemy of the light.” Nemesis snarled, “I name you the enemy of darkness. I name you the enemy of sha- I name you the enemy of shad- I name you-“
The imperator patted him gently on the head, “Not even you can turn my aspects against me. Still I think you’re the last of them, everyone else will fall in line once I kill you and harvest your spark.”
Stolen story; please report.
“Not everyone.” Erebus told her. The necromancer appearing behind his master with a pop of displaced air. He had his warstaff in hand, the sphere of annihilation at its tip glowing as the spell prepared to go critical.
“I thought we’d already established that little bauble can’t harm me.” Tsa’rahlitzek sneered imperiously, not turning away from Nemesis.
“That was true. But you’ve not enough chaos left in you to sustain the mote. And mana comes from Reath.” Erebus stated, “Ace three. Target: Tsa’rahlitzek, the Goddess of Shadows and Madness.”
Nemesis wished he could say it was dramatic. That there was a flash of light, an explosion, but all that happened was that Tsa’rahlitzek vanished, and so did the spell sphere, leaving the dying mote suspended in the air.
On reflex the god tried to reach for it, to consume it, but his shadow was still holding him in place. It would get no further orders, just standing there as it prevented him from moving an inch. He was ashamed of the fear in his eyes as Erebus advanced on him. Utterly at the mercy of his hated enemy.
“You look like crap.” The necromancer told him, before his cloak crawled off his back and began to devour the other shadow soundlessly.
“Why-?” Nemesis began, not even sure what he was asking.
“Why wait so long?” Erebus asked, to his foe’s relief picking the wrong question, possibly on purpose. “Same reason you arrived so late. I had to give myself the best chance possible of winning.”
The god of vengeance looked at the dying mote, “By rights this should be your spoils of war…” He admitted reluctantly.
“I don’t need it.” Erebus told him simply. “And neither do you.”
“It represents a considerable store of power, even now.” Nemesis pointed out, though he didn’t reach for it.
“I don’t eat souls. And kill things that do.” The necromancer replied evenly.
“I would point out that I am still an order of power stronger than you little death-mage.”
Erebus’ smile wouldn’t have looked out of place on a crocodile, “So was she.”
“Your injuries-“
“Are every bit as earned as the mote. You said they’re my spoils, are you going to go against that with the whole world still watching? There is however one thing you could do for me.
“For the saviour of Reath, how could I refuse?” Nemesis replied dryly.
“Very pettily.” Erebus remarked, letting his warstaff fall from his hands, moving instead to cradle the mote in his hands. “About three hundred paces that way is where my apprentices and friends were banished to a pocket dimension. If you could retrieve them, safely, I’d consider it any debt between us paid.”
“Consider it done.” Nem assured him, walking away, though he took the time to retrieve his mangled hand.
Slowly Erebus sunk to his knees, tiredly moving to a more comfortable position as he examined the mote in his hand, “Get it over with master. You’re not going to be able to wait me out.”
The speck of light flickered then dispersed, spending the very last of its power until a demoness lay in his arms. Starved to the point of emaciated, her horns broken and her skin crimson rather than the grey he’d grown used to, but unmistakably Tsa’rahlitzek.
“You can’t blame me for trying.” The demoness laughed, surprisingly carefree given the grave danger she was in. Erebus had beheld imps with more power to their name than his master had now. “In hindsight I shouldn’t have trained you to be so perceptive.”
“I wasn’t totally blind before that either.”
“True enough.” She took in a deep breath then released it, “I’m not going to beg for my life.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to.” Erebus promised, “But you have to know I can’t spare you. You know too much to remain powerless long. And you won’t ever stop doing what you believe is right.”
“I’d say it’s another lesson I shouldn’t have taught you, but I know I can’t take credit for that one. Still it is fitting I think. I was the greatest weapon my father ever made, only to be aimed at his own throat. And you are the greatest weapon I have ever made. My grand masterpiece.” She laughed weakly, “There is a beauty in the symmetry.”
“Pawn promotes to queen.” She continued, “My father’s message to Reath. Well I’ve promoted my own pawn. Find his queen. Kill it. You have to.”
“Anything else?” The necromancer asked softly as he picked the anathema blade up from the ground next to him.
Tsa’rahlitzek laughed again, “Oh so much else. Far more than we have time for.”
“You know, for all the torments, I was as happy as I’ve ever been in your world. Everything made sense there.” Erebus admitted, “The order of it appealed to me.”
“Sentiment.” The demoness spat.
“Hypocrite.” Her apprentice chided.
“Yes.”
There was nothing more to say after that, or perhaps there was simply too much. Either way Erebus pressed the anathema blade home between her ribs to pierce her heart. Tsa’rahlitzek’s eyes widened then went still.
If Erebus’ friends were surprised to see the body in his arms as they approached him, they didn’t show it. Erebus however did get a surprise, putting the body of his final mentor down to almost tackle-hug Lana, only stopping short when he realised he wouldn’t survive the impalement involved.
The necromancer’s jaw hung limp as he tried to find the words to fill his many questions.
“You needed the motivation.” The devil of guardianship, first and likely last of her kind explained, reaching out to ruffle his hair, only to pull her hand away with a frown.
“What are you going to do now?” He asked her, very slowly and carefully pulling her into an embrace and even more slowly being hugged back.
“Well with my master dead I’m an unbound demon. The wise thing to do would be to flee Reath immediately before someone tries to enslave or kill me. Unless you want to keep me around?”
“I’m not going to bind a friend.” Erebus told her, slowly disentangling himself. “You mind watching over the body for a bit? I don’t trust those watching not to try and grab it.”
Lana turned an annoyed eye to the skies, “Cowards.”
“Or otherwise occupied.” Erebus said reasonably, “Or simply unable to get their hands on enough mana to teleport. Even those who knew something was coming wouldn’t have known where and when, it’s hard to get armies into position in those circumstances.”
His former bodyguard didn’t answer as she stalked over to protect Tsa’rahlitzek body. It was a token gesture really, there was little they’d be able to do if some ancient power decided to simply teleport her away. Dead bodies were ultimately just objects, unable to resist magic as a living being could.
Still the token gesture worked. The saviour of Reath had declared the body off-limits, no one was churlish to deny the necromancer what would doubtless become the foundation of a masterpiece.
Lana stared down at her master’s fallen form, tears not quite falling. It’s cliché to say that in death a person looked peaceful and Tsa’rahlitzek was more than happy to say she defied cliches. In death she just looked annoyed.
More than most the devil knew what the consequences of today would be. No imperator had ever fallen before, huge swathes of the Hells now lay undefended. Demons would die in droves as they fled to the surrounding worlds. Many would try and flee here.
But those were problems for another time, for now she just had to bodyguard a corpse.
Back with Erebus, it was apparently Natalya’s turn to come under the necromancer’s regard. Normally they’d have been crowding him, everyone trying to get a word in edgeways but the separation they’d always had to fight their way over was now a sheer cliff-face.
Killing a god in all but name would do that. Something of that thought was betrayed in Erebus’ gaze, and perhaps Natalya’s. Both of them knew what the necromancer’s future would look like.
There would be no further grand escapades now. God-slayers didn’t get to be a curiosity or an edge-case that evaded the rules. They didn’t share quiet drinks with friends, because those friends wouldn’t live long for fear of what secrets might be told to them.
If he were very lucky he might be permitted to retire to Seruatis or simply be sent crusading into the Old War never to return.
In the necromancer’s own words, he was seldom ever lucky.
The silence held between them well past the point of uneasy, never quite reaching companionable until finally Natalya could bear it no more. “Are you okay?”
“As I think I can be.” Erebus admitted slowly, smiling as he said it. “And you? You had no trouble protecting everyone?”
“It was touch and go for a few moments.” Natalya admitted, “Without Amara I doubt I could have stopped that much radiation. I don’t think anyone could.”
“’Mar knows heat.” The archmage agreed.
“So that cloning spell… I hate to ask about an ace but are they really all dead?”
“To the last.” Erebus nodded, “It was going to be my last gambit if the sphere failed to kill her, a few hundred angry wraiths feeding on her until they went pop from over-eating and enough Forsaken that even she’d struggle to hew through them all.”
“So warcrimes basically.” She joked, though it was clear her heart wasn’t in it. “What will you do now?”
“Take her home I think. For all she was a monster, she was my teacher.”
“You tend to get that a lot.”
“True.” His smile softened further, “Go home Nat, go see your daughter. Noone’s ever died thinking they spent too much time with the people they love.”
The necromancer took it for the gentle dismissal it was as Erebus turned to face Amara, taking the initiative this time. “I don’t think we’ll see each other again, old friend.”
Amara nodded, “Hellbound?” She asked him.
“Something like that. At minimum this is where our paths diverge. You should be able to finish the Rite now, and Qrilotesh perhaps needs a friend more than I do.”
“Some would say that’s extremely arrogant of you.”
“And they’d be right. I also suspect for all our work here today I’ll be persona non grata at Vulcanus, or perhaps because of it. There’s no way they’ll let a god-killer within a kilometre of Qrilotesh.”
The vampire chuckled, raising a finger like a fencer acknowledging a touch. “I did always wonder what the adventuring life was like. Got to admit I hated every second of it.” She paused awkwardly, “Dammit I don’t know what to say, it’s all so sudden.”
“Say nothing.” Erebus told her, placing a hand on her shoulder and trying to ignore the way she flinched, “People will assume you’re wise and inscrutable.”
“Has that ever once worked for you?” The vampire asked, the gleam in her eyes saying she already knew the answer.
“Not once. I always have to say something.”
Next came Weaver of New Tales, the arachni more than a little shrunk in on herself. Like Natalya before her she was struggling to come to terms with the realisation that she had been totally eclipsed by her student.
“Please don’t be afraid of me.” Erebus told her, pain in his eyes, “You have to know I would never hurt any of you.”
“Not on purpose, no.”
“Ah.” He rubbed at his face as if he could simply massage aware the exhaustion that moment of comprehension brought crashing down. “I take it you’re done with adventure?”
“I hope not, but certainly something much lower stakes would be nice.” Weaver admitted, bobbing from side to side nervously.
“Well I’m going to be out of circulation for a little while so you should be safe there.”
“You know there’s something bothering me. Near the end you were throwing your lives away just to buy seconds yet this one you didn’t… and the only reason I can think of why you wouldn’t is that you were-“
“A coward?” Erebus interrupted, perhaps more angrily than he’d intended. “More than you could ever know, teacher. Now please, let me speak to my apprentices before I take Tsa’rahlitzek home.”
Weaver didn’t say anymore, just fled for the safety of Amara, Natalya and Lana represented. It hurt, which was fine.
Finally just Holly and Alec stood before him, and wasn’t it ironic that only the two young ones were the only people not looking at him like he was a serious case of bad luck just waiting for someone to happen to.
“You’re leaving.” Holly asked, taking the lead. The dryad was just about managing to hold back tears, unlike Alec. That probably explained the teen’s silence, the young man having to fight hard not to let his feelings leak over to Holly and cause a feedback loop that would reduce them both to sobbing. “Why?”
“I’m dangerous.” Erebus said with a shrug, waiting patiently as Holly got her thoughts in order.
“You were always dangerous.”
“True. But I was also always dangerous and far away. At least to those that mattered. A rogue necromancer is one thing. An escaped criminal is one thing. Even a killer of demon lords is something people could tolerate the existance of. Someone who killed a god is another matter entirely.”
“You’re telling me your reward for saving Reath is people will try to kill you? That’s just unfair.” The dryad protested, “and ridiculous!”
“Oh it won’t start with death threats. At first it will be offers of protection, requests for me to pick sides, lavish offers of retirement. Things like that. But soon enough, when I refused to take myself off the board there would be attempts to remove me.”
“Where does that leave us?” Alec croaked out, wiping away at his cheeks.
“In a rather precarious position I fear. Even if I hadn’t declared you my apprentices with all these scrying spells on us,” Erebus gestured vaguely at the sky, “it would not be hard for people to find out. People will expect or fear great things from you. My advice is to ignore them.”
Holly went to speak but stopped when Erebus shook his head.
“My burdens are not your burdens. You have no obligation to pick them up.” The archmage continued, “I’m sure you will achieve great things in time, but that doesn’t mean becoming a killer, a warrior, or any other variation on the theme. Ignore them all and just focus on discovering who you are both meant to be.”
“Is there any advice you can give us going forwards?” Holly entreated, trying hard not to wring her hands.
“Just to be kind, I suppose. To remember that being naïve is not a crime, for all that those who take advantage of the naïve wish us to believe it so. To recognise that you will make mistakes, and to try not to ever repeat the same mistake…” He shook his head, “There really is too much for a single conversation. I fear I was a poor teacher.”
“Where will you go?” Alec asked, practically a plea.
“Oh I think I’ll spend a little time fighting the Old War, somewhere no one knows me. Give all this drama a chance to fade, then return from time to time, to remind the old monsters what fear feels like.” Erebus told him, turning to walk away before adding, “and perhaps to occasionally visit old friends too. Have a good life you two.”
Slowly, feeling the many unseen eyes on him, he delicately lifted up the body of the god he’d slain, opened a portal to the hells and was gone.