Aldruin, Chapter VI: Traitors
Aldruin,
Chapter VI: Traitors
By Kimono-Box-Fox
'He' wears that black smile, he stands at your backside.
'He' offers the killing knife in his hand.
'He' offers it to you, for you, against your brother.
'He' is the backstabber at your side.
'He' is you, you are he;
You who are who you are.
A lesson of reflection to be heeded--friends, children, lovers, students, warriors--alike;
We are all traitors, to ourselves--and so we must betray ourselves,
So that we may curb the betrayer in each of us,
Before our extremes betray us each,
And the Greater Balance is undone.
Council of Artificers, Sermons of Duality, 1:3
Gil felt a soft presence floating over her, but for a moment, and then all was still. She felt no different. She held out her hands--touched herself, looking herself over; making sure everything about her was still her.
"I... don't feel any different, Yuri." Gil said.
"Trust me Gil, you don't 'want' to feel any different," Yuriko remarked caringly, hugging her close, as the transference was complete. Gil brushed Yuri's hair back, and they both shared another kiss. Yuriko pulled back gently, and said; "Losing your soul for real is a terrible thing Gil. Most people don't survive the process. What I've done to you is a lot gentler, and it will let you live a normal life."
"Thank you, Yuri. Take care of my soul, please?" Gil whispered.
The fox nodded respectfully. "Just understand, Gil, I'm doing this because sharing a soul between us will have uses later down the road. And this is a promise between us, Gil. Never leave me. We will die if forced apart, now. Although that will be much harder than it sounds, Gil. I can be with you as easily as 'wanting' to be now."
"That sounds convenient, Yuri, but--"
Gil was interrupted. The door behind them creaked open, and Gil's heart stopped for a moment, expecting Dalnassir to return, and catch them in their act of escape before it had even begun. She feared for their mutual separation.
"No! I don't want to go back to that!" Gil screamed, turning and holding herself in a fetal position against the shackled wall she had been chained to many hours ago.
"Gil, look at who it is!" Yuri tapped Gil on the shoulder, getting her to turn and look at the person who had entered the chamber. Gil squinted, expecting Dalnassir to be standing there, mocking them, ready to separate them with a spell, torture them both, or worse.
Instead, however, it was the mage, Malcolm, who had unlocked the chamber, and was standing there perplexed. He had his hood on, but Gil recognized his soft face by now, and he was holding the bauble he had been playing with the day Gil came to Dalnassir's dungeon. It was shining golden light, and he was trembling a bit, as if it were hot in his hands.
"I-I felt a powerful dweomer just now... now tell me--which of you was using magic?!" He said, sounding unsure of himself, but trying to be authoritative. Gil had not heard his voice before, but he sounded younger than her, and softer.
His manner was nervous, shaky, as if he didn't know whether he had done the right thing by coming here first, instead of alerting Dalnassir to his findings, which might have resulted in punishment for wasting the Councilor's time.
Yuriko stood up, immediately.
"I'm sorry, Gil, but it's time for us to escape." She said, back in her serious tone.
"Yuri, what are you--" but Yuri silenced Gil with a finger to the lips, and walked determinedly up to Malcolm, raising a hand.
"It's time, Malcolm. You're going to help us get out of here, and help me get free, whether you like it or not."
Malcolm flinched back from Yuriko, clearly terrified. Gil didn't understand it. Why didn't he cast a spell at her? Was he that afraid of Yuriko?
"No, I won't let you escape, nogitsune! I'll tell Dalnassir! ARCHMAGE DALNA--Ssssir...AhhhHHHHH! Ohmygod! Ohhhhhh... Ahhh-ahh-ahh..."
Yuriko thrust her palm to Malcolm's head, and he immediately began to spasm, drool seeping from his lip. Soon, he was thrusting his hips, his body turned flush red, and Gil could smell something... he had soiled himself. Gil could make out a wet spot growing under his grey cloak, as well. Finally, after a matter of a minute, Malcolm had fallen to the floor, his hand gripping a spot between his legs, shifting his grip up and down against his member. His hood fell back to reveal short white hair, sky-blue eyes, and the ears and unmistakable facial features of a half-elf.
He's just another misfit taken in by the Order, like Gavin, Gil thought.
Yuriko kicked Malcolm in the face with her bare toes, rolling him over on his back, and waking him from his trance.
"It... it felt so good..." was all Malcolm could say, between staggered breaths.
"Gil, bite him." Yuriko intoned--now deadly serious.
"What?!" Gil said, her mouth agape. "But Yuri, that will make him a werefox!"
Yuriko made a small, fake cough, as if she thought she had been misheard, and repeated her intention. "This is serious, Gil. Bite him--We can't afford to lose this advantage. Malcolm is a mage, and we need his knowledge to stand a chance to escape from Dalnassir."
Malcolm coughed, catching his breath. "You-you're going to turn me into a f-f-fox?" he gasped, still red and shaking now from Yuriko's threat.
Gil's eyes shot to Yuriko, shocked.
"Yuri, that will make him go crazy, though, won't it?!"
Yuriko closed her eyes for a second, placing a finger across her lips, and weighed the situation. "Hmm," she thought, aloud.
Then she opened her palm, and conjured a small ball of red fire, which she brought to the mage's face. She snapped her attention to the elf, her hair and tail raised, her fangs bared. He trembled, clearly terrified of having his face burned off, although he could not break his gaze with Yuriko's beautiful, angry eyes.
"Malcolm. Tell me now, if you value your life: Did Dalnassir say what would happen if Gil bit someone, now that she's no longer under the divine influence of the Dark Gaia?"
Malcolm shuddered, and shook his head, placing his hand in front of his face, as if he expected it to shield him from Yuriko's foxfire. "I only know he said... If someone was bitten by Gil, they could be controlled by the rod. But he didn't say if they'd have the Goddess in their head or not! You'd have to be crazy to try something like that, though!"
"Gil, bite him." Was Yuriko's reply.
"N-no! I... oh... UGH!...ah... ah... ah..." was Malcolm's only response. He had cummed inside his robes, and was panting, catching his breath, his chest rising and falling, his arm still hammering away.
"Alright, Yuri... I think I see where you're going with this." Gil nodded from her crouched position, with a wicked smirk on her face. "We need this pervert's help to get out of here in one piece."
Gil opened her mouth, feeling her canines to make sure they were sufficiently sharp enough. Her mouth had not transformed, but she figured it wouldn't matter. She stepped over to Malcolm, took his wrist, and opened her mouth.
"Sorry, kid, but you picked the wrong madman to study under. We're getting out of here, and you're coming with us, half-elf, or not." Gil said, salivating a bit as she lowered her head.
"I... I... don't... want to..." he moaned.
"Don't worry too much, Malcolm. You seemed to like being a fox in your little bedtime fantasy," Yuriko jeered.
"Y-you'll give me more if I go with you, r-right?" Malcolm said to Yuriko hopefully, in his young boy voice.
"You seem to like marking yourself well enough Malcolm, I don't know. I'll have to ask my significant other. Gil, what do you think?"
"Don't give him shit, Yuri." Gil muttered, biting into the half-elf's arm.
"Ahhh! DAMN!" the young mage screamed, as Gil's teeth drew blood.
"Well, you heard her, Malcolm. Guess you'll just have to shit by yourself." Yuriko mocked, winking and standing triumphantly over him with her ears and tail raised.
"Okay Yuri, he's ours. Tell me what we need to do next." Gil asked, wrapping the bite with a dry piece of Malcolm's cloak she tore.
"First let's get you two some new clothes. I don't like running around with kids who shit their shorts. It gives a bad impression of my taste in partners," Yuri said.
"Foxes... really--uhhhh...stink. Ohh man..." Malcolm muttered, sighing as he rolled flat into his own mess, then got up and followed the women out reluctantly, Yuriko dragging him by the collar when he dawdled to stare back at the shackled wall behind him.
"Arch-ch-m-mage D-Dalnass-ss-suh-sir... forgive me!" the stinking half-elf moaned, pissing himself again as he was dragged off for a change of clothes--and a diaper.
* * *
"It's almost time for us to strike, Van." The figure near the window intoned, naggingly, as if reminding the Captain he had an important appointment.
"Yeah." The Captain remarked, in his terse, but thoughtful manner. He did not seem to notice the tone of the other person standing in the room, across from him at the window.
He drew his cap back off his head, revealing his short, raven-colored hair, and sat it gently down on the nightstand in front of Gil's bed. On it was a picture of her, in her military uniform, receiving her first promotion in his squad, from General Serradine, her previous superior, who she had served before her time with Van and his men. Standing next to her was Lieutenant Briggs, holding her hand and smiling as she saluted the elven General.
"You were both such promising officers." Van said to himself.
"All things have to come to an end, Captain. Just look at what's happening around us. Do you think we can allow it to go on like this, for much longer? I think Gil would thank us, if she knew the full extent of it all." The figure said.
"Dalnassir has her in the palm of his hand, Lieutenant. I let my guard slip, and let her into that madman's grasp. I'm a fool of a Captain."
The figure shrugged again. "Yeah, you always were a bit careless. But we served you well, and you always told us the risks we got ourselves into. Gil knew she might get infected. I just hope she likes what she becomes."
"You seem sympathetic to them, Lieutenant." The captain intoned.
The voice scoffed. "I understand their belief, Captain: We humans have grown weak and soft, and the corrupt elves try to drag us into their quagmire of dark magics and false philosophies. I think that this is the way humanity should be, Captain. Strong, powerful, clever--yes... but natural."
"There is nothing natural about a mad beast that slaughters its own kin, Lieutenant." The Captain remarked, polishing the picture frame with a lens cleaning cloth from Gil's nightstand.
"As you say, 'sir'." The Lieutenant replied, shrugging to his superior with a tone of sarcasm. "I merely mean... that I do not agree with the way our King has allowed things to become."
"The elves are planning something. I know, Lieutenant. That is why I cannot allow what Dalnassir is planning to transgress. We will stop the God, before he can get his hands on her essence and turn this World into his waking nightmare. Our King and our old ways will have to die, for this nation to be reborn a free land."
"That's what I like about you, sir. You know where your 'loyalties' lie." The voice chided.
"Hold your tongue in front of your Captain, Lieutenant." Van muttered, walking out of the room, and donning his cap once more. He ran a finger over the scar under his left cheek, one Dalnassir himself had put there, long ago, and whispered;
"Forgive me, Gil."
He turned back to the doorway, and said. "You shouldn't stay here, Lieutenant. Dead men don't come back to life when they're savaged by lycanthropes."
The figure in the shadows shrugged, changing forms, into something that was large and canine, and leapt through the open window. There was no sound, or trace of the person that had once been there.
The captain opened a locket he wore around his neck, and looked at a picture of himself and a dark-skinned woman with long, beautiful black tresses and lengthy ears. He was laughing in the picture, which was yellowed with age.
"I'm sorry, Kayelle. Soon, it will be time to bring you back. Just wait a little longer," the Captain said, a tear forming in his eye.
* * *
Corpses dropped constantly, from the large shafts that opened into the Catacombs. Tasmir breathed the familiar stench of dead air, once again. It was such a lovely place of repose, with so many bodies to make use of. He was thankful for his Emperor's innovation, albeit not so much for the joyously cavorting woman in his arms.
"We're getting ready for the invasion soon, right? RIGHT?!" Larami squealed, excitedly, clenching her fists with a crazy look of jubilation on her face.
"Shut up." Tasmir replied. "Or did you not interpret my lesson from before? Here. Let me fix your head." He placed his hands on both sides of her face, getting ready to wrench her neck into the right position.
"No, I like it the way it is!" Larami spat, crossing her arms and shaking the priest's hands away. "I can see people who are sneaking up behind me and slaughter the perverts before they know what they're dealing with!" she argued, childishly.
Tasmir sighed, getting ready to instruct the woman, again. Larami was his student, who had eagerly begged him to learn the Dying Way, out of a hungry want to kill. He was not fond of berserkers, and Larami was crazier than the majority of them, but she was an eager student--as long as she was offered the promise of blood. Her technique, however, was crude, and her impatience required large and frequent quantities of punishment. He much preferred the cooler, calmer Wicked, although Wicked was less easy to read, and Tasmir could not use his undead state for the same kinds of tasks.
"So do I get to kill the traitor? Please?!"
Tasmir sighed, stabbing Larami in the head again with his middle finger.
"Oh, it's time to shut up. Damn," she said, her head tilting and drooling, dying in his arms again suddenly with a burst of blood from her chest, which tore her breasts aside and knocked her onto her back, spattering Tasmir's white priest robes with corpse ichor.
Tasmir began checking his doll for defects, making sure she had no broken joints, or tears in her organs or her skin. Anything he could find, he repaired with healing arts. Larami was a disposable soldier, who could be recycled as many times as Tasmir needed her to be, and all he would have to do was to burst one of the necrotic cysts embedded inside the woman's flesh, and she would be a complacent pile of meat and bones again, ready to resurrect and reprimand, as many times as necessary.
Something sloshed between the pile of bones and festering corpses in the watery pit of the catacombs. Tasmir turned, a finger poised to thrust, fearing the Agent had returned early, but he quickly relaxed. It was only Wicked, come with his report.
"Master, Two-Shoes says that our airships are ready to spread your plague to Altia. I await your orders eagerly." The vampire said, in his gravelly, raspy voice.
"Excellent work, my pet." The Priest remarked, busily working away at repairing Larami's corpse.
"Also, that bitch Auruma has been snooping in on your plan to drug the Agent when he returns," The Vampire continued. "I chased her off, but what should we do?"
The Priest got to his feet, stood up straight, and coughed humorously, as if he had a joke in mind. The compromise was required, he supposed. Wicked could be anywhere at once, but if he was to die, Tasmir would have a difficult time replacing the Ooze Vampire the Emperor had created for him, and a harder time explaining it. No--it was better--that Tasmir have a disposable drone like Larami, even if she was unpredictable. At least her thirst for blood was consistent.
He still didn't know enough about Wicked, and Tasmir never did like things others knew that he didn't. Secrets were invaluable only if no one else knew them but you. That was the Lich God Vecna's philosophy. Wicked was simply a nut whose shell Tasmir would have to crack open later, of course. The Agent was more of a concern presently.
"No, no, that's quite alright, Wicked." He reassured the vampire. "Let the whore queen reveal her hand to us in time. She does not know about our greater plan, yet. Besides," he remarked, "I think she'll be especially interested in finding out about all the Nightshades I've prepared for her, for when we take this Empire over. They'll have a 'lovely' time draining her of her ever-so-'lovely' demonic essence. She and her nosey harem will be a feast for our brothers below." The Priest spread his left arm across the pit beside him.
"Indeed, Master." Wicked said, folding his cape, and melting into a viscous black substance that mixed in with the catacomb waters, and flowed down into the cisterns below the city.
He looked down, to the flood of corpses that were crawling and moaning in the deeper levels of the pit, reaching for live flesh, as fetid water spilled over them.
"Yes, I do believe we may have the 'advantage', come the time for my coronation. Who can say? Who can say?" he said, as the oozing vampire washed away.
Tasmir sneered in the shadows as he returned to servicing the dead berserker, his golden, orb eye shining in its empty socket. The dragon Emperor would fall, and 'he'; Vindicator Tasmir_,_ the Earthly Vessel, would reign over all of Pandora, a sovereign god of corpses. It was only a matter of time--and bodies.
"Soon, my Lord, your secret will come to light! EiiiYaHahahAHA!!!" the mad priest cackled, his dark brown hair standing straight as spittle flew through the air from his open mouth. His ludicrous laughter echoed through every corner of Pandora, carried by the corpse-shafts that brought its fallen or plagued citizens directly to him.
"All flesh is mine." He whispered, gripping a ringed fist triumphantly.
* * *
"So you can read anyone's thoughts, Yuriko?" Gil asked.
"Only what my victims reveal in their crazy fantasies," Yuriko replied. "I can make them see what arouses them most, or I can invent something of my own if I'm feeling particularly clever, but it's mostly just illusions, not mind reading, Gil."
"I see," Gil said, a clever and dirty expression on her face. "That sounds like a useful ability to have for a girl looking for a nice catch."
"It's not as nice as you'd think, Gil. I mean, I get to see the thing that arouses them most, but anything else is up to them to babble. So it depends on the person really, Gil. And there are some nasty fetishes out there. You would not imagine what most humans think of when they're alone with a hot demon girl. And it's not just guys, either. Yuck. Sometimes I think I'd rather stick with guys because they tend to be less imaginative about it."
"Being a demon sounds like more trouble than it's worth!" Gil said.
"Especially when you have to take their soul, Gil. It's just... not nice having to take their sexual ambitions into you, if it's something nasty like scat, or incest, or... but I digress, those things can be fun. It's just some people are so unsubtle about it. Blech."
"Do you like sex, Yuriko?" Gil asked, straightening her cracked glasses.
"No, not particularly, Gil," Yuriko replied. "It 'would' be nice, but so many people are self-absorbed, and divulge all their filthy wants like bilge water to me. It really takes the fun out of it, especially considering I can't have desires like that."
"You're a sexual demon, but you don't have kinks?" Gil raised an eyebrow, not buying that.
"Well, I wouldn't say that, Gil, but my existence revolves around being able to feed on many sorts of souls," Yuriko explained. "So I've learned to adapt to what other people want me to be. It's really a shame. I had forgotten a lot of what I used to be like, until I met you, Gil."
"I'm glad I met you, Yuri." Gil said softly. She turned her attention to the mage, who was cleaning himself of scat in a nearby shower for prisoners, a fresh robe hanging over the stall.
"You about done yet, Malcolm?!" Gil complained, holding tight to the catalyst rod they had forced him to retrieve for the pair. "I can make some modifications, if you like, and then you might be a little faster! You won't need clothes on to make a mess next time, if you turn into an animal!" She said in a sing-song tone.
"It's... it's not like I want to get on your guys cases, or something...Ms. Alastor, sir! Dalnassir is my teacher, and he says I have to make sure you don't escape, or he'll break my casting fingers!" The half-elf replied, practically crying.
"What a despicable man." Gil muttered to herself.
"Now are you seeing what I was telling you, Gil? Dalnassir even uses children." Yuri nagged.
"Hey, I-I am not a child!" Malcolm complained, "I'm almost sixteen now! I'm part elf, and a very good mage! Treat me with some respect alright? I'll be your servant if you get me away from that guy. O-okay?" he blushed, scrubbing his smooth rump down.
The two girls sighed. Dragging a kid like this along was not something they had in mind when they kidnapped Malcolm. He really was more intimidating wearing the cloaks Dalnassir's men wore. Which reminded Gil.
"Malcolm, where is Oswald?" Gil shouted.
"My half-brother?" he asked, half-excited, half-nervous. "He's with Dalnassir, at the briefing for your Battalion!" he cried, becoming more anxious by the second.
"What?!" Gil said, panicked. "Has something happened with the cult activities while I was imprisoned, Malcolm?! Did Dalnassir tell you?!"
But there was no response from the stall, but stifled, hyperventilating breaths.
"ANSWER ME!" she shouted, furiously, banging on the wooden wall of the stall.
"I-I-I...NO! AGHH!" Malcolm screamed; ripping, fleshy, crunching noises beginning to emanate from the stall. "No, leave me alone! Stop! Just let me go! BROTHER, HELP ME!!!" the young half-elf screamed, in a total panic.
A stream of foul-smelling urine flooded the floor, as the stall door slammed open, and a thing that was part human, part elf, and part fox staggered out on two elongated, animal legs. It braced against a wall with one clawed hand, which enlarged and morphed into a more pawlike shape.
"I told you, I didn't want to... I...but why? Yuriko... Ohhh!"
*SQUELCH!*
Malcolm's face began extending, contorting and stretching, even as he shook his head, trying to resist. His handsome elven ears grew out to their full length, and broadened, rising up his head as it compressed, his nose forming into a muzzle.
"WAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!" he wailed animalistically, a tail sprouting from his spine, as white fur engulfed his entire body. He turned and plodded up to the girls on all fours, sniffing them both.
"M-Malcolm... is that... s-still you?" Gil asked, sweating. She had not been ready to have to kill the poor kid, just like that!
"..."
The werefox simply sniffed Gil's leg, though, turned, squatted, and pissed on her.
"GAH!" Gil kicked out at the fox, which yelped, taking a backspin into his own pee. "Gross, Malcolm, if that's you, say something, don't piss on me you animal!"
"Gil... I think-I... I think I kind of like this. I feel a lot freer, than when I was Dalnassir's student. T-take me with you, please?" the creature that was Malcolm said, his voice deepened slightly by the metamorphosis.
Gil looked at Yuri, in a 'you have got to be kidding me' sort of way, and Yuri threw her hands up.
"Sorry Gil, but he's still our only mage. And he seems soft enough to spill anything useful Dalnassir might have told him. We'd better take him with us."
"You will?!" the boy said, overjoyed. He turned as if to lope up to Yuri for another round of scent-marking. But Yuriko had other things in mind.
"But first, Malcolm... you have to wear this;" she said, conjuring a silky, white, disposable diaper.
"N-no way! I'm not wearing THAT! I'm not a baby!" he protested.
The fox simply raised the other hand, opened her fingers, and conjured a ball of red flame.
The fledgling werefox got the message in an all-time record.
* * *
Redressed, scat-free, and looking fully human once more, the trio snuck out in grey cloaks, much like those Dalnassir's apprentices had worn when Gil was imprisoned. None of the Elf's minions from three days ago were to be found, and most of the tables were cleared of remains. Gil was relieved. If she had to run into one more corpse or mutilated soul before she left this place, it would be too soon.
Malcolm was adjusting fairly well to his new, clean 'attire', and was back in the familiar grey robes that made him look like a threat, once more. He clutched his scrying bauble in his hands, trailing close behind the two girls.
"Oswald and I are half-brothers," Malcolm replied, continuing the conversation they had been having since departing the dungeon area. "Our dad died, and mom threw us out for me being a half-breed, but Oswald always protected me from people on the streets. Dalnassir saved us from some slavers that were illegally operating in an attempt to make money off of women and children like us. He took us both in, and he taught me in the Art!"
"What about your brother, Oswald? What can he do?" Yuriko asked.
The mage flushed, having been addressed by Yuriko again, who he apparently had a crush on. "Oh, Ah-Oswald doesn't like magic much, and so Dalnassir trained him to become a mage hunter, instead! He has an array, so he can use some powerful artifacts; and he can even deflect some spells, like the bolts or ice shards Dalnassir used on you, Gil!"
"He sounds like a useful ally to have, Malcolm!" Gil shouted with a jubilant expression as she ran, her head turned back over her shoulder."
Her adventure was becoming more and more interesting, and she was almost glad to have been imprisoned at this point. Breaking free of Dalnassir's trap was a rush she didn't get much on the force, and it didn't involve slaughtering innocent humans transformed by the Goddess, for a change, so she was thankful to be able to do something so seemingly simple, for once. Her new gifts, coupled with Yuri's intelligence, made for a much more enjoyable time, and she wondered what it would be like to be able to take her new lover with her into the line of duty. That was a thought for another time, though, as they rounded the corner into Dalnassir's private chambers.
"W-wait, Gil! M-ms. Yuriko! Don't go inside! Wait, wait!" Malcolm panted, catching his breath.
"You alright, Malcolm? Don't tell me..."
Malcolm blushed. "No, Gil, it's not that, and that's not my fault. I... I can't run very fast. I have some... umm... defects."
Gil paused for a second, a motherly look of concern in her eye. "Malcolm... are you... are you crippled, Malcolm?" she asked, concernedly.
"Huh? N-no, Gil. It's not like that. And your gift would have healed me of something like that, Gil. I'm just not very strong. Not like Oswald." He flushed, his red color, blue eyes, and white hair making a cute contrast with his grey cloak. "Oswald was always yelling at me about it, but he meant well. I just spent a lot of time cloistered in here, studying the Arts. I'm not very flexible... and I scare easily."
"Well, at least you're an honest child," Yuriko cooed, trying to be positive. It only seemed to make Malcolm blush more, although he was smiling guiltily at Yuriko, now.
"I... I am not... a kid... here, but let me show you!" His demeanor changed. "I can be useful to you! Dalnassir put a lot of magical wards and traps on his stuff. Let me show you!"
Malcolm stood upright, caught his breath, and raised his hands together. He began chanting and making hand gestures, and then recited a sutra, or sermon of some sort.
"Things that lie in darkness, and trip the foot that walks astray, you are revealed, and show your true nature--the extreme you are, the unbalance you conceal!"
A white orb formed between Malcolm's outstretched arms,whipping the sleeves, hood, and hem of his cloak about, before swelling and bursting, sending out small glowing particles that floated about, leaving footprints and handprints about the room. When these prints touched cabinets, floor panels, walls, rugs, and furniture that were trapped, they stopped flashing, and the offending objects glowed a deep red, like Malcolm's blushing face.
"See? Now you see?! I'm useful! I'm useful, see?" he insisted, pointing to himself and staring at them both, mouth agape.
Gil hugged Malcolm, to his surprise, and his hood flipped off, revealing his bright red face. He gasped, and Gil thought she saw a nosebleed forming above his lip. She sat him back down, and he caught his breath, a dazed look on his face.
"That was very good, Malcolm. Now... explain... how do we get past these traps?" Gil cooed, eagerly, waiting for another spell out of her handy new servant.
"Umm...well..." the lad put a finger to his temple, and ran it in a semicircle. "I hadn't really thought that part out. Sorry!" Malcolm said, scratching the back of his head, with an innocent smile on his face.
Both girls sighed heavily. They were back to square one.
"Alright, Yuri... Burn everything that looks magical," Gil finally concluded.
"I'll set the whole damn room on fire, Gil, you don't have to say it twice." Yuri reassured her, an indignant look in her eyes."
"Oh boy... I hope you guys can get me away from the Councilor fast," Malcolm groaned.
* * *
"Soldiers of the Watch!" the dwarf Captain Baram harrumphed, winding himself up for another of his infamous morale-raising speeches.
"There is a traitor in our midst, brave lads and ladies of Altia. Your fellow Lieutenant, Morris Addison, has betrayed us, and is even now working behind our backs for the mongrels of the Thorn and Fang! See how our mages even now track his progress, following his panicked fleeing throughout our fair City!"
There was much muttering and discussion among the soldiers, and the Captain gave them a moment to speak amongst themselves of this grim turn of events.
"I can't believe it, Lera. Addison was one of the good guys. How did he end up working for the Thorn and Fang?" the komali Gavin exclaimed. His orange-tan skin, and long, wild, firey red hair covered in sweat. He had ran to this meeting, knowing what to expect; but seeing the blonde-haired lieutenant transform into a black werefox--in the Screen divination--and flee three armed officers from Peacekeeping ops had shaken him a bit nonetheless, he had to confess.
Van was right. He IS the traitor. And not just the way everyone else thinks, either, Gavin concluded.
Lera got his attention, suddenly. "I bet he was behind those ambushes we encountered last week, Gavin." she remarked, her usual analytical self. "That would explain why he disappeared when his squad raided the warehouse. "But why is he still running, I don't understand it... he 'came' from where all the cultists have gathered, according to our intelligence... it just doesn't quite make sense. Do you think...?"
But Jonen's surviving sister did not get the time to make her thoughts known, before the Captain from Squad One resumed his rallying speech.
"But there is good news, my fine Soldiers of the Artifact-Wielder Battalion! The foolish young lad, Addison, and his cultist sympathizers, have tipped their hand this time, my brothers-in-arms! He has revealed to us the hiding place of the Goddess herself!"
There was much cheering and aplomb, as this was celebrated amongst the four squads. Many soldiers spoke up, throwing their opinions out in the air.
"It looks like we're going to finally crack down on the Cult!" one cheered.
"Those bastards will pay for what they did to my brother!" another man cried.
"How do they expect us to defeat a god?!" another, female member, cried, dismayed. "We're armed against mages and monsters, not deities!"
"Quiet, quiet, let the Captain speak!" a fourth finally shouted, amongst the mixed muttering and triumphant cheers. Things finally died down, and Captain Baram began to resume his speech.
"Fear not, friends and fellow soldiers! For our fine Councilor, who has aided us in the street wars against the Cult, has devised a plan; to 'drain' the Goddess of her diminished divinity, and rend her asunder! A plan he will bravely execute himself, accompanied by you, the men and women of the Military! Comrades, Brothers-in-Arms; our COUNCILOR!" the Captain shouted boisterously, as he turned their anxious stares to the door. Cheers and applause rang out, but fell short, as it remained firmly shut. The Councilor was late.
"..." A hush fell over the crowd.
"Ah, but it seems our Councilor is yet attending to matters in the City. Fret not lads and ladies--for I, your Captain shall--"
But the Dwarf Captain was cut short, and would not get the chance to reveal his new intentions. No sooner did he begin his excuse, than did the door to the briefing room break open.
Captain Baldwin and Councilor Dalnassir walked into the room at a clipped pace; Dalnassir having received several scratches to his face, including a bleeding gouge wound across his normally handsome brow, and was uncharacteristically bleak-looking, having been separated from his guardian Oswald fleeing. It was Captain Van, instead, who was supporting him, his blue cape tattered and torn--albeit the elf did not look appreciative of this aid, and quickly separated from him once in the room. They had apparently fought their way here.
Van was the one to finally shout the news that would follow, breaking the silence, and turning the entire situation upside-down.
This is like watching a play unfold, Gavin thought. Van is really a brilliant Captain to have thought this far ahead.
"Battalion! I bring you all grave news!" The Captain shouted. "The King's palace is under assault--by the Cult of Thorn and Fang--and our city streets are filled with their numbers! Several of their ilk have already broken through the front gates, and have breached into the inner keep!"
The murmur rose, until it was nearly a deafening roar of voices conversing.
"What will we do? We're not prepared for a full on assault!" one of the soldiers cried.
"So much for a street war, this is more like an invasion!" another shouted.
"How can you say things like that? We're the Artifact Battalion! It's our job to maintain peace throughout the City, when the regular Watch isn't enough!" a third remarked.
"You can all throw your lives to the lycanthropes if you want, but I'm leaving this crazy city!" the one fretting about an invasion replied.
"Defector! Stay and wait for the Captain's Orders! Don't leave the room or I'll stop you myself!" the third, the one arguing the Watch's purpose, retorted.
It had begun to grow riotous in the briefing room of the headquarters. Finally, the Councilor split the soldiers like a sea, clearly full up to his neck with the unprofessional demeanor that had circulated; sending them all quickly back to their seats, with a thunderous, uncanny, "ENOUGH!"
The room fell silent at the battered elf's uncharacteristic roar. He looked like something out of a nightmare, his flowing white hair mottled, his bloodied expression curled into a scowl, and the silver armor he was wearing stained with flecks of beast ichor.
He collected himself, and angrily paced the room, placing a pair of gauntleted fingers to his smooth elven face, and whiping blood away. He was wearing his finest suit of mithril full plate, rather than his normal fineries, and looked ready to cut or blast the first thing that got up, man or woman or thing--into pieces--if it so much as stepped out of line again. He promptly marched down the center aisle, between the squads, rallying them again, before making the plan he had calculated while fleeing the palace known.
"Battalion, you are my finest men and I say that without any pause for digression--But we cannot hope to defeat an enemy that outnumbers us when our 'minds' are uncollected, and our feelings sunder our balanced judgment! Heed the words of the Artificer's Council, the words of Balance I bring to you! We must rally around each other, in this grim time, and prepare to drive back the pestilence that fills our city!"
"But what about the Goddess! What about her Organizer? How do we defeat a deity?! It is something that cannot be done!!" the soldier who had previously expressed his intentions to defect shouted.
"Silence!" Dalnassir barked, waving his arms and casting a spell across the room that stifled all cries but his own.
"Good. You are brought here to listen; this is a briefing, and not a public forum. Know. Your. Places. Subordinates!" he saluted.
After the soldiers had calmed, and met his salute with each of their own, Dalnassir lowered his arms, and let the blanket of silence pass.
"In this most unfortunate scenario, we must organize a rescue party," the elf began calmly, his voice rising gradually as he continued his point.
"A small group of our most efficient close-quarters combatants; those most capable of covert assignments must be selected. Lieutenant Fields, from First Squad, Lieutenant Reys from Squad Three, Deputy Lieutenant Serradine from Fourth Squad. You have performed acceptably well in reconnaissance and urban operations. You three will join with Fourth Squad's Captain Baldwin in insuring the safe rescue of our King."
There was some repressed, nervous whispering, and general nodding of heads among the four squads. Among them, Gavin spoke up. It was time it all began.
"That's not a bad formation, pulled up at the last minute, Councilor," he interrupted wryly, from the back of the room.
"I had said this was not a public forum! Now who is speaking out of turn, and wishes to be court-martialed?!" the Elf shouted indignantly.
"Oh, I'm just concurring with your lucky guess, Councilor, no need to get upset. No. That would be unlike an elf," Gavin Bones said smugly, shaking his head and thumbing his chin as if he were speaking prosaically now himself.
"Baldwin's an especially capable former clandestine ops agent, and Fields is a capable recon operative; and she knows how to handle light-weapons like short swords, which would be more appropriate for the tight corridors of the palace than something like my greataxe." Gavin shrugged.
"Oh, you have an opinion; do you, Officer...Bones." Dalnassir smirked, scribbling a note on a scrap of paper for later.
The Deputy closed his eyes and shrugged, his hands open and his body reclined in his seat as if he didn't give two gold reins that Dalnassir was sizing him up for a demotion. The racist elf could have his fun while he was feeding the goddess her breakfast meat. He knew where Dalnassir would be headed already, and it wasn't for the Cultist hideout. There was a whole plot in Hell laid out for his filthy corpse, and plenty of tortured souls down there waiting to pay him back with a pitchfork or two. It was time to put the plan into action.
True, Dalnassir had figured out a working plan for the King's rescue brilliantly already--as anticipated; but Gavin continued his haughty analysis anyway, knowing that taking credit for the Elf's own decision-making would rub him the wrong way. Which was what was needed, right now. For Dalnassir to be angry. Things had finally begun to unfold, and it was up to Gavin to execute the first part of his Captain's plan, to the best of his ability.
"Well, Reys was a bit of a stretch," the Deputy continued patronizingly, "But he knows how to tend to injuries, and has some simple arts that could be vital if the King's injured or we need to avert a hostage situation. As for Lera here, I think you can count on her; she's a bright girl...although I wish you could bring a certain Lieutenant...what was her name again--Gil Alastor. Since she's a better close-quarters combatant and all, after all--but I think we all know where you buried her, Councilor." The komali paused, as if he were surprised, when this offended the Councilor.
The elf looked like he would throw a conniption. Gavin continued, keeping that same righteous smirk on his face; knowing what he secretly had to do. He continued to jump on the Councilor's last nerve.
"But I joke. Of course we all know, Councilor, that you are a master of subterfuge greater than any other, and there is likely no way we would discover where you hid your other, filthy pair of hands, let alone her poor corpse--
"Gavin, what are you saying?!" Lera cried. "(Have you forgotten this is the Councilor you're talking to?!)"
The large komali man simply ignored her, and continued his boasting rant.
"--so maybe it would be better if we gave up on that matter entirely, and just sent you in place of the Captain to rescue our King from... oh, that's right, the Cultists. Who you're 'not' in cahoots with. Scratch that. Guess we'd better throw this whole rescue operation, then, since this was all your dirty plan from the start."
"Exactly 'what' do you think you are implying, Deputy Lieutenant?" Dalnassir inquired rhetorically; stepping through the crowd in that ethereal gait he was so well known for, swishing his mantle across the room, and trying to intimidate.
Gavin would not have that peacock nonsense, this time, though. It was not time to back down. It was time to make sure this part of the plan the Captain and he had discussed together weeks ago worked. He took on his most confrontational attitude, and stood up suddenly, marching up to the elf and grabbing him by his collar in what was a clear and open act of insubordination.
"Let's make this absolutely clear, so that we're all on the same ground, 'sir'--since I seem to be speaking in a language too primitive for your elven ears to fancy--I think you took Gil away on purpose, Councilor. I think you're planning to take us all away, one by one, unit by unit, while we think you're 'rallying' us, or 'organizing' us against so-called 'cultist enclaves' and 'cult organizers' and 'hostage scenarios.'" He insinuated.
"Gavin, what are you SAYING?! Have you gone nuts?!" Lera screamed, getting up from her seat and shaking Gavin. "This is the Councilor you're talking about! He's our ALLY! He nearly got torn apart by lycanthropes just now, fleeing from the palace!" But Gavin threw her off entirely, knocking her to the floor and breaking his gaze from Dalnassir's acid green eyes.
"Shut up, Lera, you have no idea what the hell you're talking about!" Gavin yelled. "This uppity, traitorous bastard has blood on his hands, and you know it!"
He snapped his eyes back to Dalnassir, who was muttering something under his breath, and continued his diatribe. Of course he knew what he was saying to the Councilor wasn't worth a load of werewolf crap. He was eliciting the response he wanted from the Councilor, and that was the important thing. Things were going as planned.
He continued by stirring up dissonance among the squads, so that things would really get whipped out of control. Dalnassir hated that--lack of control. Gavin knew it. He was one of the least controllable people in the entire Battalion, after Gil.
"I think you're planning to split us a few at a time--until the Watch is too weakened to resist a real full scale assault, Councilor Dalnassir," the Deputy continued. "And you're going to capitalize upon the dissention and chaos in order to have an entire city of "test-subjects", lined up for those...torture exercises you call 'experiments', isn't that right, murderer!"
There was a hush throughout the room, and then people began staring at one another incredulously, not knowing what to believe anymore.
"Deputy, I have no idea what substance would cause you to begin rambling as if you had some personal grudge to settle with me, but would you will kindly Put. Me. 'Down'." Dalnassir hissed, a dead stiffness made manifest in his facial expressions.
Here it was; the coup de grâce. When Dalnassir started barking imperative orders, instead of breaking into diatribe, it meant he was finally serious.
Gil, Nicholas, this is for you, Gavin thought. Captain, it's all up to you after this point." He brought himself together, tightened his grip with both hands now, and growled so the room could hear him.
"You killed Lieutenant Gil Alastor, didn't you, you oil-slick son of a bitch?" he began, his volume growing as he continued. "You experimented on her, and found the answers you wanted, and then you threw her body away somewhere we couldn't find it, didn't you?! You probably fed her to your werewolf pets. You sick fucking bastard. You elves make me sick."
"To your KNEES, DEPUTY!" the Elf shouted, sending a ripple of black energy pulsing through Gavin's body with a spell he had cast under his breath.
"*Hurk!*" Gavin gasped, writhing in pain.
"Gavin!" Lera screamed, running to him. Captain Baldwin grabbed her from the throng of screaming and rioting soldiers though, and kept her by his side. Gavin had made his impact. Things were going exactly the way they needed to be, now.
It's all up to you now, Captain. Gavin thought.
They couldn't allow Dalnassir to have the Dark Gaia's essence, and rain down an ethnic cleansing upon the entire city. Couldn't allow him to become a deity himself, as they had reconnoitered, weeks before Gil was taken away. Dalnassir's plan would be sabotaged, now, and it would begin here. He would not allow that double-crosser, Addison, to alert Dalnassir to what they had planned--to sabotage the Cult raid. He would wait for the lieutenant, and end his life here in the headquarters, before he spilled his guts. Then this divine madness would end once and for all, and he and the Captain and Gil could be restored--to themselves.
He may have succeeded, but Dalnassir's enfeeblement spells really packed a punch. He collapsed, unable to hold himself up, unable to even move his limbs in attempts to stand. He was helpless.
Gil, wherever you 'really' are. Hang in there. This'll be over soon, he thought.
* * *
"Captain...this is your squad member, is it not?" Dalnassir asked, brushing himself off and getting his breath, beat red and clearly furious after he had been forced to bring the entire room to resting stance.
"Yes... Deputy Bones." The captain intoned.
"Since our prisons are not accessible at this juncture, your Deputy is to be detained in the Watch Barracks until further notice. Is that clear? He will 'not' take place in the raid, and will be court-martialed at the next available notice!"
"Absolutely, Councilor. I cannot abide insubordinate men in my Battalion." He remarked.
"It is MY. Battalion. Captain." Dalnassir remarked.
"Sir. Yes sir." The Captain replied, saluting him, and walking out with his newly arranged squad, making sure the black bandana he had in his jacket was secured.
All according to plan, Gavin. He thought. Keep up the good work, and keep a tight lip, like I told you to. You were always my most loyal and unquestioning soldier. All because I supported you on a simple matter of ethnic diversity. How simple. If only it could really be your way, Deputy. How I wish.
The Captain organized with his squad mates, knowing that it was irrelevant what Dalnassir believed, now. The arrogant elf had not suspected someone like Gavin of being a part in such a devious plan, and the Deputy had driven it home perfectly. Everything was now back in the Captain's hands. For a fresh change of pace, it was the Councilor, who was being deceived.
Addison will go to you first, Gavin, because you'll be the only one here, and he'll be on the run from the others, who'll be on a witch-hunt. He thinks you two still work together, but you'll kill Addison as the traitor you think he is--and it won't matter what he says about me, Gavin--because you trust me, unquestioningly. You always trusted me; I was your safe-harbor. Just like I always will be, for believers like you. And like Gil.
Van suppressed the urge to smile, as this was hardly the joyous outcome he had once hoped for, back when he was an innocent Deputy Lieutenant--like Gavin. But he had them all deceived now, and he rested well knowing that his would soon be the last twisted, vain, and self-serving laugh among the pack of liars.
Among every traitor in the dissention-riddled ranks of Altia's Watch--which would soon crumble to pieces, he reminded himself--Van Hughes Baldwin now reigned supreme. Soon, it would be time. Soon he would bring his plan into action.
"Soon, Kayelle." Van whispered to himself.
End of Chapter VI