Chapter Two Hundred Fifty-Six: 'Thine intervening ambitions...'

For what must have been the thirtieth time today, Francisco Elroy hit the dirt with a heavy thud. He decided to stay there for a while longer. He wasn't prepared to give up quite yet, but the thought grew more tempting each time he found himself kissing the ground like this again.

He was exhausted. And sore all over. His vigor had worn off a while ago, which should have been his cue to go rest, but he wanted to make the most of his training while he still could. For as much as he disliked Damian Rofal, Cisco had to acknowledge that these sparring sessions were invaluable.

And once he and Dunstan escaped, they might never be able to receive this level of instruction again.

Crazy as it was to consider, a part of him thought that maybe it would be better not to escape. To just let the old bastard have his way. To make use of these messed up circumstances for as long as they might continue.

The worst part was, it actually made sense. He could see the logic in it.

And maybe a bit more than just logic...

Now that Damian had taken him and the rest of the Rofals away from that damn cabin in the mountains, things were quite different. He'd brought them out to Melmoore.

To the front lines of the continental war.

It had barely been a week since they'd arrived, and he'd already witnessed more real combat than in the rest of his life combined.

Witnessed, but not exactly participated in. The amount of actual fighting he'd done was still comparatively minimal. Why Damian had bothered to bring them to a war zone if he didn't intend to make them fight, Cisco had no idea.

He wasn't necessarily upset about that part, though.

Damian had also been disappearing with surprising frequency. One minute he would be there, and the next, he'd vanish.

At first, Cisco and Dunstan had thought that would be advantageous for making their escape, but they'd attempted it five times already, and Damian had always caught them without fail. One or both of them would suddenly stop moving. Or their reapers would come floating up out of the ground, seemingly paralyzed after trying to flee on their own.

And then the old bastard would insist on another sparring session and beat the daylights out of them both.

Damian never seemed to get angry about their attempts to flee, though. If anything, it looked like he found them amusing. And he never stopped giving them tips, either, even while smashing their faces in.

"All tuckered out?" came the old man's voice again. "Ready for bed?"

Cisco groaned and rolled over. He saw Dunstan a couple meters away, also struggling to get up again. Their respective reapers, Dennex and Rezamaar, were suspended in midair behind the old man.

"Have you thought about making a break for it when I'm asleep?" said Damian, sounding genuinely curious somehow.

Rezamaar answered him. 'Well, yeah, but Feromas will sense us and wake you up immediately.' She couldn't move, but she could still speak, apparently. She didn't sound terribly upset about the situation, either, come to think of it.

"True." Damian paused for a chuckle. "What if I make him promise not to wake me up, then?"

'Why would you do that?' said Reza.

"Why wouldn't I? Could be fun."

'Don't let him bait you,' said Feromas. 'Even if I agreed to that, it wouldn't work. He can sense you in his sleep.'

"Aw, don't tell them that! It was gonna be a surprise!"

'Try being more subtle next time, then.'

Subtlety didn't seem like one of Damian Rofal's strong suits, Cisco thought as he finally managed to heave himself up onto all fours. Actually standing up wasn't looking too likely, however. His sense of balance was taking so long to return that he was beginning to worry it might not come back at all.

"Let's call it there for today," said Damian. Perhaps he'd grown tired of waiting for them to get back up. "Better luck next time, boys."

Cisco could hear a bit of laughter from the peanut gallery on his right. Several of the other Rofals had gotten into the habit of observing these sparring sessions with obvious delight. They never seemed to grow tired of watching Dunstan in particular get smacked around.

They weren't all like that, though. The littler ones mostly just seemed curious, and the grandmother, Damian's wife, kept trying to tend to Dunstan's wounds. Dunstan just kept brushing her off.

Cisco, however, didn't mind taking her up on her offer. She was a loony old lady, to be sure, but she had her moments of tenderness, he'd noticed. Plus, none of these people were undead. To Cisco's mind, that fact alone afforded them some leeway.

Servants were supposed to look after non-servants, even when they were assholes who might not necessarily deserve it. That was how he'd been raised to view this power of theirs.

Maybe Dunstan viewed things differently, but Cisco felt that way more strongly than ever. It was embedded into his heritage as a Rainlord. If he let that go, he would be a disappointment to both himself and his ancestors.

Dennex was allowed to hover over to him again, but Cisco didn't have him invoke the regeneration or numb his pain. Better to let wounds like this heal naturally for as long they could. Less of a hangover later.

He made his way out into the crude veranda of the house that they'd been squatting in. All of the homes in this neighborhood had been abandoned, but with the Melmoorians having pushed the Ostrans back up north, there was a chance that the residents might be returning to this little suburb soon.

Maybe. Dennex seemed to think it would still be a while yet. After having been pushed out by the encroaching war front, the reaper suspected that the people who fled wouldn't be so eager to come back until the conflict was fully resolved.

Which made sense, Cisco supposed. But it also made sense to him that those people wouldn't want to just abandon their entire lives in this place, either. And from the sound of it, this war might continue for quite some time. Or at least, that was what he'd been overhearing from Reza and Feromas. They both agreed that, with so many active fronts, the tide would probably shift many times before the end. If one side started losing in Melmoore, they could divert forces from another front in order to pick up the slack and mount a counteroffensive.

Cisco had been trying to pay attention to any details like that. Damian wasn't sharing the reasoning behind his decisions--assuming he even had any--so Cisco had to make due with what the reapers were saying and whatever he could piece together on his own.

Feromas probably knew more than he was letting on, but then again, this was Damian they were talking about. Cisco wouldn't have been surprised to learn that even the old bastard's own reaper was being kept in the dark.

'Why don't you just ask him directly?' Reza was saying.

Dunstan was hunched over in his chair, resting his face on a small white table. He hadn't bothered to wipe off any of the dirt or blood yet, and he didn't look like he'd have the energy to do so anytime soon, either.

Her question went unanswered. Aloud, at least. Perhaps Dunstan was talking to her in his head.

Reza had a habit of not keeping private conversations private, Cisco had noticed.

Cisco collapsed into the seat across from Dunstan. He didn't plan on asking Reza what she was talking about, but Dennex did, apparently.

'Ask who about what directly?' the reaper said.

'Ask Damian about what his plans are,' said Rezamaar. 'I kinda feel like he'd just tell us if we demonstrated interest, y'know?'

'Are you serious? There's no way he'd do that after we've tried to escape so many times.'

'Yeah, but I don't think he's too worried about us actually managing to get away. So by extension, he wouldn't be worried about us telling anyone else about what he's up to, right?'

'Well, that man's mind is a mystery,' said Dennex, 'but I'm sure Feromas would never allow it.'

'Ah, yeah. The party pooper. We'd have to ask when he's not around, probably.'

'They're always together, though.'

'We'll have to figure out some way of separating them, then.'

'That seems impossible.'

Cisco stopped listening and rubbed his throbbing temples, but on the whole, he had to agree with Dennex. And while he appreciated both of the reapers' attempts to make their little quartet here feel like it had any agency whatsoever, he was a bit on the pessimistic side when it came to their current circumstances.

Perhaps it had something to do with how many beatings he'd taken over the last few days. Freedom was beginning to feel like a distant luxury that he would never be able to enjoy again.

And yet.

He wasn't prepared to give up, either.

He was a Rainlord. He didn't need hope in order to keep trying.

And he finally had a lead. He had to make it to Matteo Delaguna in Lorent. Or Atreya. Whichever one it was, he'd figure it out. Matteo could help him find his family. He was sure of it.

He just had to get away from Damian Rofal.

The longer he stayed with these Rofals, the more entrenched he would become in their affairs--and the more motivation Damian would have to prevent him from leaving.

Or to hunt him down.

Agh. That might actually be the worst-case scenario, Cisco thought. If he somehow managed to slip away, he didn't want Damian to come looking for him. He knew his father was powerful, but Cisco didn't know if even the famed Water Dragon of Sair would be able to stop this crazy old man.

He definitely didn't want to bring the problem of Damian home with him.

And in that sense, maybe it would be better to remain totally ignorant of whatever Damian was planning. If Cisco didn't know anything, then Damian wouldn't worry about him leaking sensitive information.

If only it was that simple.

By now, it was clear that they weren't going to escape by any normal means. Brute force was obviously out of the question, and stealth wasn't looking too great, either. And as such, they needed to bide their time and gather more information.

That was how Dennex had explained it a few days ago, anyway.

And yeah, going by that logic, it might've seemed a bit stupid to keep up the escape attempts, but there was more to their reasoning. The escape attempts were still useful as a way of gathering their own kind of information--as a "limit testing" strategy, Dennex had said.

With each attempt, they tested the extent of Damian's capabilities. Thus far, it didn't seem like they'd gotten close to even making him break a sweat, but in time, that could change. They had to approach each attempt as a learning experience unto itself. The more they understood what they were facing, the better they could prepare for the next attempt.

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

The way Damian could disappear, for example, was very odd. Even the reapers couldn't sense him approaching or leaving. It was perhaps their largest problem right now, because it created an air of fear around them at all times. He could be right there without any of them knowing. He could be eavesdropping on any of their conversations.

It was a form of psychological manipulation, Dennex said--a way to make them second guess everything they were saying, and by extension, everything they were thinking. And of course, the thought that he could pop up anywhere at any moment would also make them more reluctant to try and flee.

Cisco didn't know if he agreed on that point. He thought the reaper might've been giving the guy a little too much credit. Damian was terrifying, sure, but he was also a chaotic mess, and that type of ploy seemed a little too calculated and cerebral for him.

Plus, Damian still had those big, underground worm monsters at his beck and call. Cisco had first heard about them from Dunstan--and thought him crazy, at the time--but he'd seen them a couple times with his own two eyes since then.

If nothing else, those things made it about a hundred times more difficult for the reapers to flee underground. Not that Damian even needed the help.

Lakefire. Come to think of it, Cisco was starting to wonder if Damian actually had any reason for bringing them to Melmoore. Maybe this was all just some random whim of his with no real justification behind it.

Would that be for the better or worse?

With Damian's constant vanishing, there was no way to know, really. He could've been going off and doing all sorts of things, talking to anyone, or even stealthily involving himself in the war. Sabotaging one or both sides, perhaps.

Hmm. Yeah, that seemed like something Damian would do.

Feeling his exhaustion weighing him down in his seat, Cisco considered just letting himself drift off to sleep right then and there. It was barely past midday, but they were prisoners, so what difference did it make? Dunstan seemed to be having the same idea. The guy hadn't moved in minutes.

As he was on the cusp of embracing that warm and familiar darkness, however, he felt something there on his right. A presence. Very large. And very near.

He scarcely opened one eye before noticing the form of a giant animal standing there next to him. A wolf. A white one. As big as a car.

And it was staring at him.

Cisco's eyes were suddenly stuck open, his fatigue forgotten. Had he fallen asleep? Was this a dream? What was he even looking at?

The dog was already quite close, and now it stepped even closer, raising its massive snout up to his face and sniffing audibly. The air being sucked into its nose was loud enough at this distance that it sounded like a small wind tunnel.

'Cisco,' came Dennex's urgent echo. 'No. Sudden. Movements.'

That wasn't a problem. Cisco could do little more than blink, anyway. But the reaper was seeing this, too? So he wasn't hallucinating? Perhaps he would've felt relief if he'd had the presence of mind for it.

Then the wolf licked his cheek. Its giant tongue was so coarse that Cisco felt like the peach fuzz on his face might get ripped off, but the drool it left behind probably prevented that.

Well, he was most assuredly awake now, at least.

'Hello there,' came Reza's voice from somewhere. She sounded a lot more composed than Cisco felt.

The wolf didn't acknowledge her, instead remaining focused on Cisco and even nuzzling its head against him now. It smelled like it had been rolling around in dirt, though its fur coat looked pristine.

A man, however, appeared from behind the animal and responded to Rezamaar. A man with a single horn on his head. "Hello. Please excuse our intrusion."

'Not at all,' said Reza. 'I'm sure I speak for all of us here when I say that we're pleased by new company. Been going a bit stir crazy lately, you might say.'

The wolf was still pressing his head against Cisco's.

It was all too weird and sudden to process, but impulsively, Cisco couldn't help himself. He started petting the giant pupper.

Heh. The fella seemed to like it behind the ears a lot. He sat down next to Cisco's chair but was still so tall that he had to hunch over to stay around head level with the young man.

The horned man, meanwhile, was giving them a look and exhaling a weary breath. "Apologies for my friend here, cedo. He is a bit quick to become attached to young ones like yourself, and he has been starved for affection ever since we dropped Durendia off."

Cisco wasn't listening, though. He was too busy being awestruck. And quite pleased.

What species was this, he wondered? Judging by the relative height of the ears, length of the snout, and pure white coat, it looked like a Northern Ardoran wolf--perhaps a Jariki tundra wolf or a Katoa Mountains wolf, to be more precise--but this size was absolutely absurd.

Hmm, he supposed it could've also been an albino Western Eloan wolf--Dantean, maybe--but he thought albinism was associated with smaller-than-average sizes, not larger. Yeah, Northern Ardoran was the safer bet, he figured.

But still, he couldn't get over the enormity of this handsome fella. Wolves this size weren't supposed to exist. Not anymore, at least. It was like something out of prehistory, back when mammals were still competing with dinosaurs.

And what was that other smell, beneath the dirt one? Kind of ashy? Like smoke? Had this guy been near a fire recently or something?

Cisco's fascination with the animal consumed his attention even while the conversation among the others continued. It wasn't his fault, though. Honestly, he'd always wanted a dog, and this specimen right here was one of the most incredible creatures he'd ever laid eyes upon. A part of him wanted to ask the horned guy if he could have him--along with any number of other questions.

'So who are you two, anyway?' Reza was saying. 'And what brings you here?'

"Oh, we are just a couple of travelers," said the horned man. "We are searching for someone. A man named Damian. Would you happen to know where he is?"

'Y'know, I had a feeling you might be looking for him,' said Reza. 'Are you old friends of his?'

"Yes. You could say that."

'I see, I see. Well, he has a tendency to just disappear. We're not sure when he'll be back. He kinda just shows up whenever he wants.'

The stranger's gaze lingered on Rezamaar for a moment, then shifted to the wolf. The pair seemed to share a silent exchange, and then the stranger said, "That is interesting. So you have no idea where he is right now, then?"

'Nope,' said Reza, still perfectly casual. 'He seriously just disappears. It's kinda spooky, actually. But hey, if you'd like to leave a message for him, I'd be happy to deliver it for you whenever he shows back up.'

"That is kind of you, but what I have to say is something that must be said in person."

'Mm, I see. Sounds important. Hope it's nothing too serious. Y'know, with all the craziness going on in the world, right now, I find myself becoming something of a worrywart. Which goes against my better nature, by the way.'

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true."

Reza paused. 'Which part?'

The stranger gave her a look but didn't answer. Instead, he said something entirely different and unexpected, no longer addressing the reaper, seemingly. "Please, show yourself. We did not come here for a fight, but if you keep hiding for much longer, I'm going to start thinking that you intend to ambush us."

Cisco was paying full attention now, as was Dunstan, who'd finally raised his head off the table.

It wasn't entirely clear who the stranger was talking to, but Cisco could only suspect Damian. Was this guy implying the old man was already present but invisible or something?

Hmm. That... might explain a few things, actually.

Regardless, no answer arrived, leaving only uncomfortable silence behind.

"Koh can smell you, you know," said the stranger. "He never forgets a scent."

Ah, was that the name of the wolf? How interes--

Wait a minute. Koh?

Cisco had heard that before. Of course he had. "Did you just say Koh?" he asked, eyeing the beast anew.

The stranger regarded him for a moment, looking rather uninterested in him or his question, but then the man paused and tilted his head at him. "Why, yes, cedo, I did. Do you perhaps recognize his name? Or has he simply piqued your curiosity?"

At the insistence of his mother, Cisco had memorized the names of the most famous Vanguardians and Abolishers in the world. Oftentimes, that had made for tedious study, but the name Koh was one that had been easier to remember. Because it supposedly belonged to a giant, wolf-like monster.

At first, he'd thought that was super cool. He loved dogs, so he'd been keen to learn more. But when he'd discovered that Koh was also known as the Man-Eater of Melmoore and the Silver Devil of Dante, Cisco's enthusiasm had quickly been replaced with dismay--especially as he continued to learn more about him.

This wolf was, among many other things, a prominent member of Abolish.

Which meant that this one-horned guy was almost certainly the same.

Hmph. Fine. He wasn't about to let something like a name make him lose composure.

"...What does Abolish want with Damian?" said Cisco. He didn't expect this weirdo to actually answer that question, but the real purpose of it was to let everyone else at the table know who they were talking to. Maybe the reapers already knew, but judging from the expression on Dunstan's face, he didn't.

And indeed, the stranger did not answer him. Instead, he merely returned a smile.

A very striking smile. It had a warmness to it that was difficult to describe. Cisco had never seen the like before. What an odd feeling.

The stranger looked between Cisco and Koh for a moment. "What is your name, cedo?" he asked.

Cisco didn't quite feel like answering that. "What's yours?"

"Heh. You remind me of someone, cedo."

He wasn't sure what to make of that, so he said nothing.

The stranger turned toward Dunstan and stepped closer. "In any case, I came to meet with Damian. If he does not wish to reveal himself, then that is a problem." He raised a hand toward the other young man. "Would you mind assisting me?"

Dunstan's thick, furrowed brow suggested that he would mind. But he, too, chose to say nothing.

"I won't hurt you," said the stranger. "I ask for but a trifle. A moment of your time, only." His hand moved closer.

Cisco was intensely uncomfortable all of a sudden. Like the whole world was abruptly turning upside down or inside out, like everything was no longer as it should be, like he should speak up. Intervene. Anything.

Yet his whole body hardly seemed to be listening to him. And thoughts arose in his mind as if from nowhere, both for and against that nebulous feeling.

Something was wrong. Everything was fine. Do something. Relax. This horned guy was creepy as hell. He seemed kinda nice, actually.

Dunstan was just sitting there, too. And the reapers weren't saying anything, either. Surely, if this situation was so odd or disturbing, then one of them would do something, no?

It would all be over soon.

There was nothing to worry about.

The stranger's hand stopped, mere inches away from Dunstan's face.

Damian Rofal was standing there, gripping the stranger's wrist.

"Ah. There you are, old friend."

Cisco blinked upon seeing Damian. His head felt odd, but the warring thoughts abated, allowing him a kind of tired peace. He didn't let his attention waver too much, though. He'd never seen such a grave expression on Damian's face before.

"What do you want, Germal?" the old man said. His tone was not at all the jovial one that Cisco had come to know.

"You're looking well, all things considered. I'm glad."

"For a dead man, you mean?" Damian released his grip on the other man's wrist.

'Where is Nerovoy, you monster?' said Feromas. The reaper, too, sounded shockingly different from his usual self. Where Damian sounded flat and cold, Feromas now sounded like he was barely containing his anger.

The stranger, apparently named Germal, regarded the reaper with an icy look. "You should not ask questions you do not want the answer to, old friend."

'And you shouldn't be using that body or that voice, outsider. If you think your tricks will work here, you are sorely mistaken.'

"When will you accept that I am Germal truly?"

'Never. Act like him all you want. Fool as many others as you like. Damian and I know what you really are. Until you bring Nerovoy back, there is no hope for a viable union between us again. Of that, you can be sure.'

Germal broke for a sigh. "I had hoped that all this time would have allowed you to cool your head, but I see that is not the case."

'You devoured my best friend of two millennium, you unholy son of a bitch. If you think that's something I'll ever--'

"And what if your other best friend were to become endangered?" said Germal. "At the hands of the Mad Demon, no less. Would that give you pause?"

Feromas fell silent.

Damian folded his arms. "You seek an alliance now, of all times?"

"I seek to rekindle what we once had," said Germal. "You do not trust me. That's fine. Verify for yourself that what I say is the truth. Parson and Overra are in Morgunov's clutches. You, more than any living being on this planet, know what that means. The danger they face."

Damian's wrinkled face was like stone.

"If you would consign them both to a fate worse than death, then so be it," said Germal. "The bond between us will be well and truly dead, then. And I will go to rescue him on my own. But you should be aware that if I, too, am captured, then it is only a matter of time before he comes for you, as well."

"Hmph. Perhaps it would be better to have you take my secret to the grave, then," said Damian.

At that, Koh turned his massive head toward Damian and began growling.

And the air grew so oppressive that Cisco suddenly found it difficult even to breathe, much less move.

"...Hah. If you think you are capable of killing me, then feel free to try. I came prepared."

"I'm sure you did."

A long period of heavy silence followed, until at length, Germal broke it.

"Does no remnant of camaraderie remain within that broken heart of yours?" the horned man asked. "If not for me, then for Parson, at least?"

"You tell me," said Damian. "You're the expert on feelings, aren't you?"

"Damian..."

"What? Is this not what you wanted when you tried to make me your puppet?"

"For the last time, that was not my intention. I was foolish and lacked experience with my--"

"Save your excuses. And don't apologize, either, for that matter." Damian paused for a throaty chortle. "Y'know, in a way, you granted me freedom. Going half-mad has had its perks."

To say that Cisco was surprised to hear Damian saying such things was an understatement. The old bastard knew he was crazy this whole time? And it wasn't all just an act, either?

The man's tone was different, too, to the point where it almost sounded like someone else was speaking, like he was using his vocal chords in a way that Cisco had never heard before.

Damian was so... calm. And severe. In an odd way, Cisco was reminded of his own father. The overall mannerism was just similar enough.

Germal sighed. "Do you really mean that? If you would just remain by my side, as Koh does, then your madness would never trouble you again. I swear."

"You think I forgot?" said Damian. "Or are you just playing dumb, as usual? If it's a choice between being insane or being your puppet, then that's no choice at all."

Germal shook his head. "My old friend... you would not be my puppet. I assure you. We would be companions. As we were always meant to be. Even if I wished otherwise, I do not have the power to bend you to my will in that way."

"Hmph. The Liar of Lyste, indeed."

"Why would I lie about that? I'm not the monster you think I am. If I were, why would I not simply force you to come with me?"

"Because it's not that easy, and we both know it," said Damian. "Your tricks are messy. And the more powerful the subject, the messier they become. But just because it's difficult for you doesn't make you harmless, old friend."

Germal turned away and paced a few steps back, scratching his head. "We're getting sidetracked. I didn't come all this way to have an argument with you."

"Hmph. How did you even find me?" Damian's gaze shifted to the wolf. "Was it really his doing? Or was that another of your little white lies?"

"If you will not believe a word I say, then is there any point in me answering you?" said Germal.

"Good question," said Damian.

Another bout of tense silence arrived.

This time, it was Feromas who broke it. 'Overra. She has truly been captured by Morgunov?'

"Yes," said Germal. "Even if you think I am lying, that fact will be simple enough to check on your own."

'Hmph. And are we also to believe that you have some sort of plan to rescue her?'

"Indeed."

'How? If Morgunov has her, the only way she'll make it out alive is if he decides to let her go. Don't tell me that's your plan. To convince that lunatic to release her?'

"That would make things easier, to be sure, but no. Any plan that involves that man's cooperation is a last resort, at best."

'Then I ask again: how?'

"Can I count on your assistance, then?"

'If this sounds at all feasible, perhaps. If not, then you might as well turn around and walk away, right now.'

Germal took a long, slow breath. "...What do you know of Project Blacksong?"