“Oh, what a wonderful spread! You have truly outdone yourself, Guild Master.”

Politis sat at the head of an ancient wooden table, gorging himself on the leg of a yak the Guildsmen had killed earlier in the day. Politis had been in insufferably high spirits ever since the Master presented him with the artefact and Elizabeth’s urge to gut him repeatedly with her blades was growing difficult to control. The voices started up, encouraging her, and she let herself drift off in a flight of fancy, imagining walking over, climbing on the table, and slitting Politis’s throat before plunging her knife into Harold the Apprentice sitting beside him.

She giggled a little at the thought, but shut up as soon as the Guild Master turned in his seat to stare at her. When he had turned back to the two men, she sagged against the wall and started worrying at her fingernails with her teeth, eyes darting around the room, her attention split between her master’s conversation and the voices whispering in her ear.

“I shall pass on your praise to my family, High Mage,” the Master replied, contenting himself with a goblet of wine as he watched Politis wolf down his meat. “No doubt, they will be overjoyed to hear you enjoyed your meal.”

Elizabeth could never tell, but she suspected that was sarcasm. It should be, at least, given the men who had caught the yak were currently sitting outside in the cold, gnawing on some shrivelled yam-like roots they had scraped out of the frozen earth. Everyone was cold, hungry, and miserable.

She didn’t understand why they were here. She had taken the Key, admittedly with the disciples getting knifed in the process, but still, she’d brought it back and handed the goods off to the client. Sure, Ahud was still alive, but the Master had said his death was optional anyway, right? So why the fuck were they out here with these creepy fire mages, freezing their arses off and waiting for the wrath of a Calandorian marine company to crash down on them?

She yelped as her teeth took off a bit of finger, glancing away when the men at the table looked back at her.

This is all bullshit, she thought as the voices in her head grew louder, their rasping as soft as silk and grating as sandpaper.

You will die here in this frozen waste.

The Master won’t care… he hates you.

Everyone hates you.

No one cares.

Elizabeth suppressed a twitch, trying to overwhelm the voices with her will, like she had every time before, but it was growing harder and harder every day. The thought brought bile to her throat as panic threatened to drown her mind, but with a final effort, she forced the voices away and the bile back down where it belonged.

She realised she had been shaking, and a bead of sweat ran from her hairline down her nose, hesitating a moment on the tip before falling to the ground. As she looked back to the table, she found the mages had returned to their food, but the Master was still staring at her, his head cocked to one side. She quickly turned away again.

“That was delicious!” Politis said, smacking his lips and dabbing them with a napkin in a petite manner, completely at odds with how he ate. “And now onto business, I suppose. How are the arrangements for the defence of the city?”

“They are suitable for the task, and ready for our friends’ arrival,” the Master said. “Besides my family, we have taken the liberty of preparing some particularly unpleasant surprises for them.”

The Guild Master leaned back in his chair, a smile in his voice as though he had told a joke that only he understood.

“I do love surprises,” Politis said, rubbing his hands together like a child. “Pray tell, what are they?”

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

“That would ruin the surprise, High Mage. I assure you, will be absolutely astonished on the day.”

Politis stared at the Master, his face twisting briefly in annoyance before a grin broke through.

“It wouldn’t happen to be a Resonance device like the one in Salazaar? That wiped out a chunk of the City Guard when that dreadful mayor decided to ‘crack down’ on your business?”

The Master laughed, and the dry, crackling sound brought Elizabeth’s voices back again. “Nothing makes it past you, High Mage,” he said as he steepled his fingers.

Politis joined in the laughter and slammed his hand on the table, knocking over a bottle of wine and scattering dishes. The idiot was drunk.

“How wonderful!” he cried. “I must see it when it goes off!”

“When they go off, High Mage. And of course, I shall find a suitable vantage point for you. The walls around the Gateway will be perfect, I believe, and convenient too, since I expect we will play out the last stage of the battle there.”

“Guild Master, your services are worth every penny,” Politis said as he raised his goblet, drained it, and stood to take his leave with the bottle of wine in hand. Harold skulked out in his wake, throwing one final smirk back at the Guild Master before he left. Elizabeth was sure his days were numbered, since he had made a habit of smirking at the master since they arrived, and she knew for a fact he had murdered people for less. She, for one, looked forward to it.

With the ‘formal dinner’ concluded, she left the shadows and hurried to the door. Though she loved the Master dearly, she couldn’t bear to be around him since the business with Eheron. Every time she looked at him, she flashed back to that room.

Eheron strung up on hooks.

A bloody blade in the Master’s hand.

The indifference in his voice.

And without fail, the voices would seize on the horror and invade her head, tempting her to commit unspeakable acts of her own. She had almost reached the safety of the door when the Master’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

“We need to talk, Eliza.”

He said it simply, without malice, but Elizabeth knew now that didn’t mean shit. She turned slowly, keeping her eyes on the floor.

“What about, Master?” she asked, icy fear climbing up her spine.

“I’m worried about you, my dear,” he said, crossing the room and embracing her. “Come close and tell me your troubles. You do not seem yourself lately. I miss your witty banter. Your bubbly, youthful energy. Your enthusiasm for our work!”

Elizabeth was frozen in his arms, wanting so desperately to embrace him back, tell him about everything. The voices in her head. The fear she felt when she looked at him. Her hands twitched, her arms about to move, when he suddenly pulled away, grasped her arms, and peered into her eyes. Despite being so close, his face was still shrouded in shadow.

“I know what it is!” he hissed, his breath reeking of wine and… blood? “Guilt.”

The fear came back in full force, the warmth of hope from his affection frozen into shards of ice in her gut.

“Yes… I see it now. You feel guilt for what you have done!”

The image of Ban rose, unbidden, in her mind. Her playful banter with him and Calris, and the sight of him lying on the jungle floor, alive, as she raced away with the artefact. The Master’s grip tightened on her arms, and she winced in pain as his fingernails dug into her skin.

How does he know? she wondered. Actually, it doesn’t matter.

She sagged, propped up by the master’s iron grip. He would kill her regardless.

“Eliza. Oh dear, poor Eliza. I forgive you.”

What?

“Master-” she mumbled, but he cut her off with a wave of his hand.

“It is alright, Eliza. I understand. I have already forgiven your failure in Marduk. You brought me the Key, which was the most important thing.” He cupped her chin, tilting her head up, so she stared directly into the impenetrable black beneath his hood. “I am saddened by the loss of my disciples, of course, but I can forgive their deaths.”

WHAT?

“It will take time, but we can replace them. I’m just glad that you made it back in one piece. I treasure you above all others. You know that, right?”

Elizabeth was stunned. She didn’t know how much emotional whiplash she could take. But if he thought that was the source of her ‘guilt’, then it meant he didn’t know she had let the boys live after all. She let out a sigh of relief, which the Master took as confirmation.

“I knew it. You disappoint me, Eliza. I thought you knew me better than that,” he chided, tweaking her chin with his thumb and forefinger. “I am nothing if not forgiving to those I care about.”

Elizabeth nodded dumbly, eager to get free and back to her room where she could breathe again. The Master released her. She bobbed her head as a bow and turned back to the door, fighting the urge to break into a run. She was stopped just short of safety by his voice once again.

“Of course, Eliza. Even my patience has, limits. I sincerely hope you perform well in the coming battle. I would hate to have to discipline you for failing a third time.”

Elizabeth screwed her eyes shut, focussing all her willpower on vocalising the words “I understand,” before calmly walking through the door, and then tearing away as fast as her legs could carry her.