When Silenos awoke, his body was bound in great sheets of steel. Head, neck, shoulders and ribs, all four limbs, as well as every other joint attached to him. It was the sort of restraint that spoke of ridiculous, excessive paranoia. Or a healthy familiarity with the powers of a Shaiagrazni Senior.

From his position in the bindings, Silenos’ head was just barely angled to let him catch the sight of Falls by straining his eyes to one extreme of their sockets. The magus was pinned against a wall, like him, by bands of metal that did not seem quite so thick, but would nonetheless do well enough in holding him.

“He’s awake.” Came a voice. King Galukar’s. Silenos heard the anger in it just before it continued. “Great idea, magus, having us all split up like that. Really, we ought to put you in charge of this whole expedition.”

“I am in charge of this whole expedition.” Silenos informed him, despite still being unable to actually catch sight of the man. He tuned out the King’s petty arguments to the contrary, focusing instead on seeing what he could glean of the room around him.

It seemed to match the architecture he’d observed in Castle Edmari, save that, unlike the bottom floor, there was a window within his view. Silenos peered through it to find a dark landscape flitting by far below them. The altitude and speed confirmed that he was still in the castle, at least, but the look of the lands below…

“...The Dark Lord’s territory.” He guessed, outloud. “We’re there, yes?”

For once, for a single, rare moment, Silenos let a shade of hope build before he was answered. By Ensharia this time.

“We are.” She breathed, sounding as defeated as he’d ever heard any human sound at all.

“Correct.” He heard a new voice ring out, less familiar than Ensharia’s, but not hard to recognise all the same. “All of you are making your way there as we speak, captured and bound, perfectly prepared to be slain and reanimated by the Dark Lord’s glorious power!”

It was the Necromancer, who now strolled into Silenos’ line of sight with…Yes, an undead. A Belladonnan Puppeteer, in fact, dancing with it like the two of them were in the middle of some ballroom floor.

She had changed her apparel since last Silenos saw her in person. No longer did she wear combat-practical attire made to permit swift movement and wide extension, instead her body was covered by some trailing black dress which would not have been out of place on a woman awaiting her wedding. Or Silenos’ own master, for that matter.

“Admiring my beauty?” She asked, surprising Silenos by addressing the question to him. The woman spun in a circle as she spoke, grinning from ear to ear, practically giggling as she gesticulated with more joy than he’d seen in a long time. It was rather revolting to behold.

“You remind me of someone.” Was all he said. “What would it take for you to release us?”

The Necromancer laughed, striding towards him with the gait of a predatory cat that had been struck with the urge for expression through dance while it toyed with its prey.

“What makes you think you can offer anything that would interest me? I have everything I want already.” She grinned.

Silenos did not find his confidence chipped, that she was answering him at all provided an opening.

“You’ve fought me twice now, and both times it was with all the preparation and situational advantages on your side. You’ve seen how quickly I’ve improved the shortcomings in my armament and combat-capability.”

That wiped the smile from her face, if only for a moment.

“I’d expected an easy victory.” The woman replied, stiffly. Silenos took no small degree of satisfaction in that. Oh, he’d lost, and lost without question. Even now his body stung with the bruises and broken bones lying beneath the skin- injuries that he was fixing even as he spoke. But he’d obliterated numerous suits of enchanted armour and high-grade undead before being felled. His only regret was that the Necromancer had sent too little of the latter for him to enter his combat form. That would have put an end to the question of his supremacy.

“You’ll have a harder victory every time you fight me again, even assuming this isn’t your last.” Silenos replied. “And I can augment you to make your own enemies have harder ones still. You noticed the power of our Paladin, I assume, compared to last time.”

The Necromancer’s eyes flicked towards Ensharia, just as Galukar’s voice rang out.

“What did you do to her, you abomination of a caster.”

Silenos did not even dignify such a drooling question with a response, merely kept his eyes on the Necromancer.

“You’re considering it.” He observed. “Thinking about what you could do with a body capable of matching a seasoned Knight, and, I imagine, thinking about whether you might also learn the skills needed to create such things yourself.”

Her eyes hardened with conviction.

“You overestimate the appeal of your offer, I think.” The Necromancer replied. “I already serve the greatest caster to ever live, your petty hedge-magic does not interest me in the slightest.” She turned, and Silenos felt a stab of haste touch him.

An idea struck him, then, and he directed Fleshcrafting energies down into his chest, weaving the tissues there into newer constructs. A springy, coiled mass of muscle to twist and extend like a piston, then yet more around to rotate one way and the other like an oscillating drill bit. At the tip he wove the same nacre-like composite used to create his deadliest weapons, and let the construct get to work.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

It began eroding the steel bit by bit, limited only by range of motion and the need to go unnoticed. As flecks of the binding around Silenos’ chest began to fall away, he let nervous tissues catch them, assimilating them into his biomass. Iron for geophyte, carbon for keratin.

Fleshcrafting was an art of destruction as much as creation, and the harder its target material, the more resistant to strain and destruction, the longer it took to break down into its constituent elements and absorb for biomass. Solid steel was not dirt, with its components easily extracted and processed. Silenos would have to hurry in his work, even while buying himself more time.

“King Galukar.” Silenos called out. “Tell me, how powerful was the Dark Lord, as someone who’s fought him in combat directly? A first hand account seems an appropriate contribution to this discussion.”

Silenos felt his confidence grow. A few white lies, the occasional stretched truth or understated fact, and this conversation could be turned a hundred and eighty degrees to his favour.

“The Dark Lord was the most powerful creature I have ever fought, seen or heard about.” Galukar replied, and Silenos barely managed to keep from letting the choking sounds audibly leave his throat as his own tongue threatened to suffocate him. The Necromancer’s smile was smug and incandescent, but fell as the King continued. “-However, his power is not limitless. Had there been two of me, I would have tested him. Three and I would have wounded him. I cannot imagine him withstanding five Heroes of my strength or above.”

Stiffening, the Necromancer turned on him.

“And how would you fare against him and his armies? If he wanted to, the Dark Lord could concentrate every undead under his command into the same location and render himself unstoppable. But he has grander ambitions.”

“And, I would imagine, too little skill to coordinate them in such density.” Silenos noted. He’d absorbed close to a full kilogram of carbon already, and fifty times as much iron. Progress, but slow progress.

“Do you recall the grotesquery- the towering undead- that I conjured to crush the first army attacking Elkatin’s capital?” Silenos challenged her. “I imagine your Dark Lord has never produced one as potent as that.”

Her eye twitched.

“Because he can’t Fleshcraft them together like you did.”

Clearly, she would not believe Silenos if he told her he could have made a similarly powerful reanimate through other means, so instead he concentrated on the point of what she’d seen him manage.

“It would appear that my knowledge makes my Necromancy superior to your master’s, then.” Silenos pressed. “And it could similarly benefit you.”

“Enough.” The Necromancer snapped, her good mood diminished, but restoring itself shortly.

“You are my prisoners.” She repeated, slowly, calming with every word. “Mine. I will present you to the Dark Lord, and I will be rewarded handsomely for handing him such powerful reanimate-fodder. Perhaps, even, by being made his wife. This is my victory, now, and there’s nothing any of you can do to-”

She was interrupted as the skyship crashed into the side of the castle.

Even Silenos hadn’t expected that, despite it being him who had sent word ahead to Swick the Swift, using the fastest means of communication available to the Hand of Abaritan, that they would require his help. He’d spent no small amount of effort after learning of the flying Castle Edmari to calculate where it might go if it were to be taken and moved towards the Dark Lord’s lands, then factoring in projected travel times as he sent the predicted trajectory on to the captain ahead of time.

It had been a tedious thing to prepare, but seeing the great mass of enchanted copper and wood that made the vessel’s face breach through enchanted stone only made him vindicated in having taken the time to do so.

Dust filled the air within an instant, then became a hurricane in an instant more. With the outer wall breached, the castle’s extreme velocity was clearly felt as intense currents of wind scraping through the interior. They doubtless left the eyes of all else present wet with tears, but Silenos’ had long since been treated to resist such things. He focused, letting airborne particulates into his mouth and lungs, breaking the molecules down to add their constituent carbon to the reserves he was already amassing from the steel bindings. With the sudden volume, he’d increased the power of his drilling, and already taken in a hundred kilograms more.

He needed half a tonne more to enter his combat form, and Silenos had it by the time his restraints were completely removed.

Silenos worked the Fleshcrafting he’d gone so long without drawing on, feeling an uncharacteristic cry of triumph escape him as his body swelled with power and mass. More than a metre added itself to his height and width as centimetres of composite plating swelled to form along his epidermis. The musculature below was woven so tight and dense that its waste heat would cause tissue damage given too long, and talons and fangs replaced nails and teeth.

While he transformed, the bodily alterations taking long, sluggish seconds to fully complete, Silenos aimed his cannon at Galukar. The King remained in his towering, muscular form. Which was good, as the shrivelled thing Silenos had first seen sprawled across his bed would surely have died when his cannon’s single-shot caught the steel bands wrapped around his body.

The bullet smashed against the metal, cleaving hundreds of cubic centimetres to ruined scrap, and before Silenos could even fire again the King had already torn the bound arm free. His fist came down on the strap about his chest, denting it slightly, and Silenos fired on the same spot. This time the band was thicker, but with Galukar’s free arm working to widen the gash left by Silenos’ weapon, he did not remain trapped for long.

Before the King was free, however, Silenos saw undead descend upon him. He realised their motives instantly. Galukar was easily the greatest threat that still remained bound, and was moments from freeing himself. One did not allow that to happen if one had half a brain. The King would be either killed or restrained before he could bring his full strength into the battle, and likely before Silenos was able to fire on his attackers.

It was not Silenos, however, who saved him. A man appeared behind one undead, lancing it through the neck with a knife the size of Silenos’ un-transformed forearm, then disappearing before the rest could turn their blades on him. The instant he bought was enough for Silenos to remove one of their heads with his cannon, aiming it to ensure the projectile slammed into one of the King’s leg restraints after ripping through their body. It came free just as the chest band did, and Galukar was straining his torso and two of four limbs against the remaining bonds without any hesitation.

He ripped himself from the wall just in time to evade the stabbing swords and crushing hammers, rolling back from his enemies, and Silenos took the chance to fire a bundle of nerves far across the room, stabbing them into the body of the slain undead.

That provided the final ingredients needed for his growing combat form to be completed, precious missing elements drawn from the three-metre reanimate and added to Silenos’ own body. All that was left was for him to shape them.

While he did, the world erupted into chaos.