CHAPTER THREE
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Ezil Ek’Regar
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12th of Decepter, 935 PC
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For centuries, the small village of Steppe had used the thick trees and rocky cliff sides of the K’Ruys Valley to hide from the outside world. Unseen from the skies and surrounded by rough terrain, few had ever laid eyes on the majestic place. Thus, it filled Ezil with great satisfaction to watch the village burn from beneath the trees on the hillside. A moon spent trekking through this wretched forest. I belong in her castle, not traipsing through the wilderness like some drifter. She will see that soon. The devious grin his soldiers were so fearful of formed on his lips but it didn’t last long. As pleasing as the scene in the valley was, the fall he’d taken the night before had left his tailbone bruised and his wrists sore. Any movement was stiff and painful.
Screams reverberated off the rocky walls, caused by the Lotus that filled the valley, his Lotus, as they hunted for his prized possessions. Purple streaks of death sailed through the light snowfall, shredding primitive huts, nature, and natives without prejudice. A Lotus named Laspin Rouille shined brightest amongst all the others. His long crunchy hair was as brown as the mud he was stomping through. His arms were like logs, his legs like tree stumps. An enviable arrogance formed a dark aura around him as he controlled the massacre with complete dominance. His blasts killed with absolute precision, something most Lotus struggled with greatly. He will make a fine captain when I’m gone. Disciplined, strategic, and cutthroat, just as she likes her captains.
Ezil pulled his cloak tighter around his neck and turned to the man crouching beside him. Urman Gant’s appearance had changed drastically since they set out on their arduous journey. What had been a perfectly clean-shaven face was now covered by unruly black hair. Puffy bags hung under his eyes from long nights of making sure none of Ezil’s men slapped shackles on him in his sleep. A criminal like him trusted no one, let alone a group of Lotus that would love nothing more than to deliver him to their queen. His gray cloak looked like he’d been wearing it for years. It had more tears and stains than untainted fabric. “Just how he liked it,” he’d said.
“I have to say, I doubted you, Gant,” Ezil said. Urman spit and put a twig between his teeth. “Who would think a man like you would know of a secret like this.” Urman’s clenched jaw suggested he wasn’t in the mood for being talked down to but what good was authority if you didn’t use it to piss off the people beneath you?
“I’d take the formula now,” Urman said. Not many men could sound so menacing with such a simple request. It was almost as if he had daggers right there in his throat.
A wag of Ezil’s finger was just enough to annoy the other man but not set him off. “You don’t expect me to trust you that easily, do you? You’ll get the formula when I have the Marsallas. Not a moment before.”
Ethel Marsalla was a Purist and beyond brilliant. Her husband, Idliock, was a commoner who’d taught alchemy at the University da Mi’lier while the Lotus Queen had studied there. Together, they were working on a way to reverse the effects of the queen’s magical concoction. Ezil would be showered in well-deserved praise and gold if he apprehended the couple and put an end to their work. Perhaps then the queen would finally move him up through the ranks. Perhaps then his brother would understand it had been a good choice to turn himself into one of these so-called false mages.
“They’re here,” Urman said, shifting toward Ezil on his bent legs. “Brought ‘em here myself. Before I came and found ya.”
“I find people as highly sought after as the Marsallas tend to relocate more than most. Often with the help of men like you. What’s to say one of your lackeys didn’t deliver them to safety while we were in the woods?”
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Urman stood, stretching his legs and putting his hand on a branch above him. “I find when I make plans, I don’t fuck ‘em up.”
Ezil put his hands behind his back again, a staple of his authority. So too was the refusing smirk on his face. “You understand.”
Things grew quieter as the last of the natives accepted their fate. Bodies lie anywhere and everywhere that had been considered a hiding place; between rocks, behind trees, in the small stream that cut through the valley. Charred huts were burning purple and splintered trees leaned clumsily. Men and women in green gambesons checked for signs of life amongst the carnage, squashing any hope they came across.
Urman let out a throaty scoff when he spotted two of Ezil’s lesser Lotus wandering around on the outskirts of the village, appearing completely disengaged with the mission.
Hurd and Spader. Always falling short of excellence.
“Gotta hand it to them two, they don’t give a flyin’ fuck what you expect of ‘em.” Something like a smile formed on Urman’s dirty face. I’ll kill them as soon as we're done here. “How’d ya get your hands on the formula anyway? Iris ain’t the kind of woman to lose track o’something so important.”
There was an easy answer, Ezil had become good friends with a man that had helped create the formula, but providing the criminal with any extra information wasn’t on his list of things to do. “I have many resources at my disposal.”
“I know Iris, she ain’t one to let things slip through the cracks. You’re playin’ a dangerous game goin’ behind her back.”
“Playing it safe doesn’t get you anywhere. Surely you can agree.”
“Aye, but we ain’t nothing alike. I can handle myself when I’m knee deep in shit. You seem like ya haven’t wiped your own ass in years.”
The more the criminal spoke, the easier it was for Ezil to justify betraying him. No need to let him see he’s getting under my skin. “Another week or two and we could have flown here on Master Rellin’s new ships.” He enjoyed seeing Urman flinch at the mention of the infamous alchemist. “Silent as mice, I hear. These pitiful dolts would have never heard us coming. Wouldn’t have had to hike through this shithole.” His devious grin made another appearance. “We’ll be catching Purists by the droves soon.”
“One day, you’re gonna try to catch the wrong person and you’re gonna regret it.” Urman turned his focus to the valley below. Two Lotus were leading a man and woman out of one of the larger huts by the ropes tied around their wrists. “There ya go. Handed to ya on a silver platter. Just like everything else in your life.”
Ezil had half a notion to tell the man exactly how difficult it had been to get where he was now, how hard he’d worked for his recognition, how many lives he’d taken. But in the end, he chose to ignore Urman and think about the coming glory he’d be given for finding the elusive treasure that was the Marsallas.
“The formula,” Urman said.
“In such a hurry. Where do you have to go?” Urman spit on the ground and stared at him. “Fine then, have it your way.”
Ezil reached inside his cloak and removed a plain red box, no bigger than his own hand. He prepared for what he had to do when Urman reached for it. A twinge of pain in his tailbone made a sliver of doubt crawl out of the back of his mind. He had to remind himself it wouldn’t take much effort to tame the commoner. A small blast of magic in Urman’s chest would put him down, allowing Ezil to put shackles on him safely. “Here,” he said, handing the box over temporarily.
Or so he thought. He was on his back before he knew what’d hit him, jaw throbbing something fierce. His whole head was heavy and blurry, pounding like a drum. Then a heavy weight pressed down on his throat. That cleared things up quickly, reminded him that he had deadly power in his fingertips. He tried to grab Gant, anywhere, but his wrists wouldn’t move. They were pinned beneath the man’s knees. His own terrified eyes stared into Urman’s crazy ones. The knife Ezil had taken from Gant nights before was somehow in the commoner’s hand now and it was lifted high above the man’s head. Ezil gurgled and squirmed as the dagger rushed toward his forehead. For the briefest moment he could still see Urman’s blank stare, he could still feel the lotus magic in his fingertips begging to be used. Then black.