“Would you stop that!” Till barked at her while examining the poor elf. “Go play with something and let me finish my examination.”
Inney was about to protest but thought better of it. This wasn’t a game, nor was it one of the many pranks she and the others played on one another. There was a good chance that her great-grandniece might never wake up from the catatonic state she had fallen into. At first, Viin’s reaction was what everyone expected, and what Inney herself had experienced a number of times when revealing her face to a chosen one from the Temple. It was usually a parting gift reserved for the unfortunate creature chosen to be the next Asai.
The moment of primal shock, the stunned look on the sapling’s face, when Inney removed the ceremonial mask, and the utter terror in the eyes of the Asai-to-be. This was what Inney craved to see at the moment before the meat sack was dragged to the laboratories in the complex under Scoria. It was a most satisfying form of punishment she liked to inflict on those of her kind who doggedly followed the doctrine Inney had created by mistake. Or was it out of spite that the Asal clan had refused to accept her back? That her own parents had screamed and called her an abomination as they tried to kill her. It might have been, but Inney no longer cared about what the true reason had been.
For over two thousand years, the only elf amongst the Slayers had thought her line eradicated. Erasing any evidence that could connect her to her former life was far more difficult and time-consuming, but she had achieved her goal. Tristram was the last of the old elven settlements to burn and with it, the last copy of the book of Emoleth should have been destroyed. Three centuries of peace, that’s all her actions amounted to.
However, to Inney’s surprise, she didn’t hate Viin. There was no sign of the loathing that she felt for her parents and cousins. On the contrary, she was actually worried about the poor little thing. The last person that stirred the same feelings in her heart had been Nina. But her sister was dead. And without knowing it, Inney had lost another sister. It only made her wish that she had tortured her parents before killing them. Perhaps if they had told her about her new sister, things might have been different.
Perhaps, Inney would never have started this idiotic religion that worshipped her as a god. She might have chosen a different path than trying to chain and control her own kind. As necessary as it was back in the day, so that the elves could stand a chance of surviving the human expansion, there had been other options available to her. After all, it was the Slayers who were driving the forceful unification of the known world. It was they who decided which species would remain when the fires of war died down. However, at that time, Inney had been driven close to insanity from the pain that tore through her heart. Regis’ betrayal had wounded her deeply and the actions of her clan, and her parents had been the last drop. Anyway, it didn’t matter anymore. There’s no changing the past.
Either way, sooner or later Inney would have become the Goddess, just like Kurt, Asmund, Calder and everyone else. Sure, their position as local deities had been a short one, but it happened to all of them. It was a natural outcome after the mortal races saw the true power of the Godslayers. But only Inney had the strength of will and foresight to take it a step further. A mistake for sure, now that she had the time to look back and re-evaluate her action. But by the time she was calm enough to reflect, it was already too late. She could no longer obliterate the Temple without plunging the entire world into chaos. And that would benefit no one, least of all the other remaining Godslayers.
“For the love of Carthia, woman! Back off or I’ll have you removed!” Till snapped and hit her chin with his shoulder as he stood up.
Without thinking, Inney had been leaning over his shoulder for quite some time. To think that the well-being of a single insignificant modified elf was all it took to throw her orderly mind off balance was outstanding. Venting her anger on Martell just wasn’t enough. Beating him bloody wasn’t any fun when he refused to fight back. And with Cylin and Lilly currently yelling at him, her words would be wasted.
“Fine!” Inney stepped away from the angry Professor. Pushing Till was never a good idea. The man could be surprisingly cruel and heartless when it came to someone getting in the way of his work. “Sorry.”
“Look, I don’t understand what’s gotten into you Inney. And I won’t bother to try to figure it out.” The anger slowly disappeared from Till’s voice as he spoke. “All I can say is that this is not a normal reaction.”
“Ogh.. pleesh!” Dominique let out a gurgling chuckle from the couch, where he was sitting quietly while his torn throat slowly healed. “Iht… only… showsh… shee… hash… no… plashe… khere. Shee… ish… weakh.”
“If you have something to do with this, you will regret it, Dominique,” Inney stepped menacingly towards the young Slayer.
It wasn’t an idle threat. There were ways they had devised to punish one another. Cruel and savage ways. Seth was the first one to experience the Silent Cage. He had been a good lesson for them all that immortality came with its own drawbacks. And if he was not careful, Dominique would soon learn that Inney had found ways to improve the torturous experience.
“You… are… noht… ghoingh… toh… doh… anytshing.,” the blonde man gurgled, spraying her face with droplets of dark blood. “You... all... need me… fohr… whensh… Regish wakesh.”
Dominique’s smug smile froze and his face contorted as Inney’s hand tore into his groin. The elf felt a wave of pleasure as warm blood soaked her fingers. She had spent more time with Os than the others needed to know, mastering all the lessons the torturer taught her. All in the hope that it would help control her desire to inflict pain. It had always been there, kept hidden, but after Scoria, it had turned into something monstrous. Only Regis and Os knew the true depths Inney was willing to dive to in order to satisfy her needs.
She had hoped that the others would never learn, allowing them but a glimpse, to keep them from turning on her. But right now, Inney was willing to risk everything. She could feel time slow its pace, as her nails dug deeper into the soft flesh of the greenhorn’s groin. Unlike normal humans, Dominique would last longer, allowing Inney to spread her wings. For so long she had to sustain herself on scraps when a fine meal like this was right in front of her eyes. She had been blind to miss that the Godslayers were the best subject for her urges.
So trapped was Inney in her thoughts that she missed when Martell had moved. Curse him, but the Second was fast when he wanted to be. With relative ease, he pulled her away from Dominique and pinned her against the desk. Inney expected him to yell at her, bark his orders and threats. No. She wanted it. Needed it. Instead, all she could see was Martell’s emotionless expression as he spoke in a calm cold voice.
“You will behave yourself and follow the rules.” He then turned to look at the others, while his grip on her hands and throat tightened. “You all will. Or face the consequences.”
He looked expectedly at Inney. The elf entertained the thought of starting a proper fight for a moment, before thinking better of it. Martell was not to be underestimated. He hadn’t remained as Second and the de-facto leader of the Godslayers just because the others allowed it. The man had proven himself worthy to stand at the top of the pack through force, cunning and brutality. One look at Cylin and Lilly was enough to inform her that she would lose if she chose to challenge him.
Only Regis could properly control the Bleak Walker and the thing her lover had become was the only one strong enough to beat Martell into submission. Although Inney had to admit, the Regis was the only one who could beat them all into submission at the same time if they were not careful. The only chance they had against that monster was to work together and trust each other. That’s why what remained of the Godslayers had made the rules and doggedly followed, for the most part.
Reluctantly, Inney relaxed her body, letting the Second know that he could let go of her. Her grievances with Dominique could wait. There would be plenty of time to settle the score, once they had dealt with the Regis.
“Good,” Martell nodded, taking a step back from the elf but keeping himself between her and the greenhorn. “Cylin, escort Dominique to his room. Till, take Viin to her chambers and continue your examination there. I want to have a word with Inney in private.”
This time there was no protest to his orders. Quietly the others obeyed and shuffled out of the room. Lilly was the last one to exit, lingering for a moment at the doorway. Even a blind man could see that there was some question or statement she wished to voice, but whatever it was, it could clearly wait. Once the door closed, Martell turned to Inney and to her surprise let out a sigh. She observed him as he moved behind his desk and took another bottle. Steadily he poured a generous dose of the amber liquid into a pair of glasses and pushed one towards the elf.
“You said you wanted to talk. Talk.” Inney’s words came out harsher than she intended, but not enough for her to feel guilty about it.
“Well?” She continued after a minute of uncomfortable silence. “If you wanted a drinking partner, you should’ve asked Till to stay. I’m not in the mood…”
“I’m tired Inney,” Martell interrupted her. “I really am tired.”
“So? Find yourself a woman and relax for a few months. It’s not like you’ve been chained to this desk,” she laughed and snatched the bottle to refill her drink.
“No. I’m tired of Dominique’s schemes, of Cylin’s jealousy, of Lilly’s need to compete, of Till’s obsession with the facility,” the man dawned his glass and left it on the desk. “And I’m tired of your outbursts.”
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Martell’s fist tightened around the glass, shattering it without a second thought. Slowly he opened his hand and watched as his flesh pushed out the shards that had pierced the palm. “I’m tired of myself.”
“You want to quit?” Inney raised an eyebrow, unsure if she could trust what she was hearing.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Martell snapped at her. “We both know I can’t.”
“Then why are you telling me this? I’m not a confessor, and last time I checked I’m not your shrink.”
“Because I want you to understand how serious I am, when I tell you this,” Martell stood up and adjusted the jacket of his suit. “This is the last time I’ll tolerate such behaviour. For centuries, I’ve been lax in enforcing the rules. Trusting in each of you to behave like adults.”
“Please,” Inney rolled her eyes and sat in one the free couches, “you’ve made this threat a thousand times. Need I remind you how this song and dance goes?”
“Not this time. For too long we have ignored the world around us. So trapped are we, that we are blind to all that has changed. But enough is enough. The Godslayers will evolve, whether you like it or not.”
There was something in the Second’s tone, that stopped the snarky remark Inney had prepared. As much as she wanted to laugh at Martell for being melodramatic, she tried to dissect his words. Had she really missed something important? No, that was impossible. With each passing year and every new technological advancement, more and more of the knowledge locked inside her head became available. What Martell was saying had to be wrong. If anything, the few remaining Godslayers had changed so much over the last two thousand years, that their former selves would not recognise them anymore.
“You want us to play Gods again? That’s a stupid idea. A really fucking stupid idea!” Inney shook her head once she reached the only obvious conclusion.
“You’re wrong again.” It was Martell’s turn to do the same gesture. “You are the best example of why we shouldn’t.”
He reached for the drawers of his desk and retrieved a well-preserved short sward from one of them. Unceremoniously he threw it at Inney’s feet. It took her a moment to recognise the weapon as the one the Second had used back in the day. Which made his actions all the more puzzling, he loved that blade to a fault.
“I ended Asmond’s life with this. I used it to kill the Regis five times.” He sat back behind the desk and produced a data slate which he carefully left for Inney to examine at her discretion.
He let out another sigh before continuing. “You might not have it with you at the moment, but your bow is on its way to the facility beneath Scoria. Just as Cylin’s daggers and Dominique’s cutlass.”
“And your point is?”
“Tell me, Inney, what’s it made of this time? The latest carbon-based polymers? And the arrowheads? I bet they are reinforced titanium alloy.”
“Hexavalent Chromium and tungsten actually,” she corrected him, trying to hide her irritation at this pointless conversation.
“I see,” Martell chuckled. “Looks like you’ve had the same idea as Cyin and Lilly. And Till, for that matter. Actually, you know what, Dominique has the same idea about the material for his weapon.”
“I…” Inney closed her mouth. There was nothing wrong with them coming to the same conclusion. After all, each of the Godslayers shared the same pool of knowledge, and according to it, this should be the best combination to use against the Regis. However, now that Martell pointed it out, she could feel that there was something not right with this way of thinking. The only problem was that she couldn’t put her finger to what the exact issue was.
“And what of the armour you’re going to use? A light super-alloy in the fashion of your clan.”
“Get to the point, Mar,” Inney hissed. The man’s need to be dramatic was starting to grind on her nerves.
“For two millennia, we’ve used the same tools,” he answered impassionedly. “We make sure that they get stronger and more durable, but they are the same tools. For twenty centuries, we’ve clung to the same old structure that we used, thinking of ourselves as a tribe. For two-fucking-thousand years we’ve done the same thing over and over again!”
He slammed his fist on the desk, cracking the polished wooden surface. The outburst surprised Inney. But at the same time, she was starting to see the point the Second was trying to make. It was true, they were stuck in their ways. However, it was the only option they had. They excelled at killing with the weapons they were used to. The Godslayers, or what was left of them, needed the old familiar structure, and although Martell made it sound as something wrong, it wasn’t. Or at least that’s how Inney felt. Still, she wanted to see where he was going with his rant. It was clear that the Second believed every word of what he was saying.
“We’ve tried it all, Mar,” she felt the need to point out the obvious to him. “Sure, nuclear weapons are very efficient at stopping the Regis but far too damaging to be a viable option. And with how things are at the moment, we can’t move the stasis chamber outside of the Facility.”
Inney lift a finger, stopping him from interrupting her. “And all the new recruits we push through the enhancement program are too slow and weak to be more than an inconvenience to that monster. Things might be different with Viin, and I’m not saying yes to your plan to turn her into one of us. But even if she survives the process, what then? What will change?”
“This is not about her,” there was a knock at the door and Martell paused for Jonathan to enter. Without a word, the failed Slayer placed a large gun case on the table and left.
“It’s about this,” the Second continued once the door closed again. “It’s about change and about remembering that times have changed.” He smiled at Inney and pointed at the case. “This is for you.”
Somewhat confused, the elf opened it and retrieved the bulky rife stored within. The weapon was a work of deadly art. It was far more advanced than anything she had seen or heard about. It felt comfortably light in her hands and a careful examination confirmed that the weapon allowed for a great deal of customization and on-the-go modification.
“Thanks, I guess,” Inney uttered somewhat confused. “But what am I supposed to do with it?”
“It’s your new bow,” Martell almost purred, a predatory grin splitting his lips.
As soon as the words registered in her mind, the elf wanted to curse herself. Damn her, but the man was right. She had been blind. In their arrogance, the Godslayers had allowed stagnation to envelop their minds. Using a rifle, instead of a bow and arrows was something she would consider heresy a moment ago. But not that Inney really thought about it, a riffle was nothing more than an advanced bow. It would make their task of subduing the Regis a far quicker one. However, it would also make it a more dangerous one. They could inflict far too much damage to each other with such weapons when the monster takes control of one or more of them. And there is no telling how quickly that might happen, or who it might be. Still, that didn’t make Martell’s suggestion any less valid.
“Damn the consequences, am I right?” She offered the Second a sincere smile.
“About that,” he tapped his fingers on the data slate. “As I said, we’ve ignored the world for too long. Events are already spiralling out of control.”
Inney took the rectangular device and read through the few lines of text shown on the display. Her expression turned sour as she gently left the slate on the edge of the desk.
“I see. We’ll not be playing Gods, but gardeners.” The elf clicked her tongue and licked her teeth. “I guess, it’s about time the line of Hester does with some pruning.”
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Martell sat quietly, while Cylin dove into Viin’s mind. Whatever the cause was for the poor girl’s catatonic state, the mage should be able to pull her out of it. At least Till sounded convincing enough when he offered this solution. An ordinary psychokinetic wouldn’t be able to achieve something like this, but Cylin was anything but ordinary.
Plunging into another person’s mind was a dangerous task with catastrophic results for both parties. And to make matters worse, the former slave’s skills were far more suited to destruction than whatever it was Till hoped this intrusion would achieve. Under other circumstances, Martell would have sided with Inney, but they were slowly running out of time. Viin’s vitals had become dangerously low over the past five days. And as the Professor had put it, they were running out of options.
Still, the Second was growing impatient with how long it was taking for Cylin to finish her task. Already she’s been at it for six hours and there was no change in Viin’s condition. He was about to voice his concern when the mage pulled away from the unconscious elf with unsteady steps.
“It’s done,” Cylin’s laboured voice broke the deathly silence in the room. “Might have caused some brain haemorrhaging but you should be able to fix that, Professor.” She offered Till a tired playful smile.
The pair of lobotomised orcs the doctor had brought, sprang into action. It would take the brutes a few minutes to prepare the room for surgery, and as fascinating as it was to watch them wrap the room in sterilised synthetic cloth and position various medical equipment, Martell ordered the remaining Slayers out.
“What happened to her?” He inquired while supporting the unsteady Cylin towards his study. It wasn’t the best time to ask, but he had to prevent Inney from bombarding the mage with questions.
“The way I destroyed Dominique’s device,” the young woman paused, looking for the proper words to explain herself.
“It was a psychic emitter tuned to our specific brainwave pattern, right.” Martell and Inney nodded in confirmation that they were following for now. “When I destroyed it, or rather the way I did it, created a delta wave oscillation in an arrhythmic frequency.”
Although he understood the words, Martell failed to grasp the meaning of what Cylin was saying. Every time one of the Godslayers’ mages tried to explain how their gifts worked, it sounded like they were speaking in another language. It was as if his mind refused to add this information to the already vast amount stored within it. And it wasn’t only the Second, the other Slayers had admitted the same issue. After several years of futile attempts to understand why they had given up on it since it had no impact on their combat efficiency.
“Right, right,” Cylin groaned. “Think of it as a backlash that was harmless to me and us. However, it created a temporary moment in which our memories bled towards the only mortal in the vicinity.”
“Viin!” Inney exclaimed, earning herself a scolding glare from Matell and a roll of the eyes from Cylin.
“Marvellous observation, genius,” the mage added mockingly, before continuing. “In short, the girl’s mind was overloaded and in order to protect itself, it tried to destroy itself.”
“Will she be, okay?” Inney insisted becoming more agitated with each passing second.
“I guess,” Cylin shrugged.
“You guess?” Martell lift an eyebrow. It was rare for the mage to be vague when her gifts were concerned.
“Yes, I guess. I’m sure that the little lass will be as good as new when Till is finished fixing her. But,” she placed a finger on her temple, “the real issue is here.”
Cylin then pointed at Inney. “Before you start yelling, keep in mind that I have one hell of a headache and that I did all I could. Fixing a fractured suicidal mind isn’t exactly child’s play.”
“Out with it, bitch!” The elf barked, keeping her distance only because of the warning gesture Martell gave her.
“I anchored the extra memories as best as I could. And trust me, there were a lot of them in there. Not sure what exactly they are, but there were a fucking lot of them. So, I had to make some room.”
“What did you erase?” The Second asked before Inney could open her mind.
“Her childhood, I hope. Or her ability to speak, or who the fuck knows!” Cylin snapped at him. “Ask a blind man to describe a collection of portraits, see what answer you get!”
The mage took a moment to calm herself. The implication of her what she said next made Martell worried.
“Whether she comes to terms with the new memories or not is up to her. However, remember this, they are there to stay. Viin knows all of our secrets.”