Revenge is poorly spent passion. Vengeance is justice.
She had been too long in the City. The cold, dark, and emptiness closed off her heart, her humanity, her pain.
Now she stood on a hillside overlooking the City of Black Stone. A warm breeze fluttered her tattered robes as she surveyed her fallen kingdom once more.
Her withered heart ached for the beauty and light that had been lost, no, taken. The ache sparked, but she snuffed the growing rage. She had come here to learn.
The strangers were easy to track but hard to see. Some type of arcane camouflage hid their movements in their camp. She could sense that the nature witch was already recovered and that another of their party was very stealthily stalking her, but she could glean little else.
She had learned much from their conversation. They knew him, but they didn’t know who he was, not really. The irony forced a broken smile across her face. In another life, she hadn’t known him at all. She had learned much from their conversation.
She felt the sun rising behind her. Moving all day and all night, she could watch the next sunrise from the shore. While she looked for their boat.
The Escape
Unfucking believable. These two words rang through her head over and over as she fled through the byways of the Favela. She slipped through a well oiled hatch, scooched down the half pipe, and dropped ten feet to the subterranean track below. Her escape was soundless, but all the while a voice in her head screamed UN…FUCKING…BELIEVABLE over and over. The phrase clanged in her ears as she clambered over the tangle of subterranean ruins, scaled the jumble of remains that was once an ancient dike, and worm-crawled through a drainage pipe. But by the time she reached the margins of the sea, the phrase had simplified into just a repetitive chorus of fucks.
Once out, she sat gracelessly in the sand and looked at the black waters rolling onto the beach. Her empty skiff waited. It bobbed and knocked listly against the rocks of the small jetty. The cove was quiet. She didn’t bother looking back. There was no one left to follow her out. Nine …Nine on Six. With those numbers she should have won easily. Po’s unconscious form should be slung over Garth’s shoulders and they should be getting ready to sail her out to where Sorn waited on the decks of the Ravager. Now I have to meet him empty FUCKING handed AGAIN, she thought. She grabbed a clump of sand and threw it in frustration. “ARRRRRGH!”
Another defeat, she fumed, the Stone cottage, The Battle of the Bay, Trader’s Gate…now the Favela! What was even more galling was that this time it was her turf. The Favela’s mine! None of them should have made it out alive. Possessio’s galling words came back to her unbidden.“You asked what it is that I love? The answer is revenge. So, if you want to take it away from me, kill yourself before I can.” Seething at the memory, Krenka sprang to her feet, and began to pace. That Pit-Trash should be terrified! She should be pissing herself! Her hands clenched and unclenched into tight fists. What am I doing wrong? She had to calm down and think.
She reached for the small snuff box in her pouch, popped its lid, took some of the iridescent powder and rubbed it against her gums. The Shell hit her system like a brand, burning away her anger, doubt and self-recrimination. Settling between some of the large boulders of the jetty, Krenka curled up into a tight ball and let the shell do its work.
She stayed that way until all the noise in her head quieted and her mind cleared. Alright, she thought with a sigh, time to review…
The trap had been well conceived, no doubt about that. She had done her research. She knew her mark. She knew it was only a matter of time before Possessio ended up in the Favela. The second she did, the Lookout had done her job. Krenka got the word. From there it unfolded flawlessly. Taxman had knocked a couple of urchin heads together to get the details of her movement, and he found the little old laundress with ease. It wasn’t hard for Taxman to shake Po’s return time out of the kid. It took Krenka no time to get the boat, the skiff and the rest of the Clan in place. Then it was just a waiting game. It should have been a cinch. She was coming back at night to the Favela…her turf, She would have her arms filled with laundry, and her mind on stupid fucking do-gooder-y, Easy Pickings. Or it should have been. She let out a dismayed sigh into the night. Keep thinking.
She had to admit that her research was old. She had based so much of what she had known about Possessio and her little gang of dabblers on what her sources had known and seen of them before they had followed the Oliphant to Ajagara. These people had significantly changed since then. They are not who they were when they left. Not one bit.
It was well known that the little Pryce princess had won some fancy tournaments in Arabar. However, those fights had rules and etiquette that shouldn’t hold up against a shiv in a dirty alleyway. But… Krenka closed her eyes and tried to recreate the moment in her mind…She disappeared. No, that wasn’t quite right, she hadn’t disappeared. Krenka chewed at her nail as she thought She had become a... what? A ghost? Some sort of Wraith? She would have to talk to Luness and see what she knew about this kind of magic. She shook the worry out of her head. Every advisary has a weakness. Every single one. Keep thinking…
The Breckon servant was a surprise of a different sort. He was certainly no stable boy as she had been told. Her original assumption was that the Pryce girl had hired him to carry her baggage and polish her sword on their travels. But, when the alley fight started he had used the shadow like…. Well, like a Drow. Krenka hung her head. No way around it, she would have to get Sorn involved, fight fire with fire. It was the only way to deal with Wraiths and Shadows. And I do have to deal with them all. Her hopes of catching Po alone had all but dwindled. She was glad that the Shell was starting to take the sting out of that disappointment.
She shrugged to herself, rose, brushed off the remaining sand, and returned to sit in the skiff and wait for her survivors to return to her. They better return, she thought and rubbed at the hammer tattoo on her bicep. It glowed slightly in response to her touch and intention. Possessio had new ink too; Caminus hadn’t mentioned that. Po was always the best of the Pit Fighters, but she took down Sorn’s Shadowblade Fighter like a hot knife through butter. Maybe the new tats have something to do with that. Keep thinking…
The Magic Users are going to be problematic. From the lack of intelligence she could gather on the Shadar-kai and the Wood Elf, she had dismissed them as drifters with a few parlor tricks, but that was clearly not the case. Krenka shuddered slightly. She had seen a lot of ways to die in the byways of the underdark, but there was something particularly gruesome about the swarm of leathery wings and tiny fangs picking apart her men like so much meat on a stick. She should have learned her lesson with the Sea Wardens. Never underestimate a druid. This one though, protected the child. She could exploit that, maybe draw the druid off. Now where can I get me some kids to… Krenka’s thoughts were interrupted by two approaching figures on the jetty. Trix and Skulker cut a familiar silhouette.
“There better be no tracks,” Krenka hissed into the night.
“No tracks, boss, rooftops and river only,” Trix assured her as he climbed into the Skiff. Skulk remained quiet. Neither of her men were stupid enough to look her in the eye. They just set about readying the boat to depart. Krenka moved to the bow and let her henchmen be. There would be plenty of time reproaches later. Keep thinking…
The warlock would be tricky. The amount of Eldritch energy flying around was proof of that. Taxman caught the wrong end of it for sure. She would have to find a new one. It’s hard to do your job with a gaping hole through your head. She shook the image from her mind. But all Warlocks had a master, didn’t they? If she had learned anything from Luness, is that ancient power like that didn’t come for free. There was always a catch. She wondered if she could figure out his patron and cut a side deal. Or maybe I can offer the Shadar-kai something he needs. The memory of a little rumor she had heard at Trader’s Gate niggled its way up making the corner of her mouth twitch. Everyone has a price. Good. Keep thinking…
“But, first things first is that Paladin,” she whispered to herself. She’d have to get that weapon out of his hands. She licked her lips. If she delivered a staff like that, paired with a few of Po’s friends in slave chains, well that might just get her back in good graces. It was no silver dragon, but it was enough to get doors opening. The staff might have to be a straight up second story job, the thought curled her toes in pleasure. She sighed happily, the Shell now worked its way deep into her cells.
Actually, considering all that she had now learned, the night wasn’t a total waste. Oh Po, I thought this was all about you…but these friends of yours have been in it from the start, haven’t they? It seems I have to draw the target a lot bigger.
She watched Skulker and Trix fumbling with the sails in the impotent breeze. “Row, you morons, ” she said with a roll of her eyes. She was going to have to up the caliber of her team considerably.
She laced her hands behind her head and stretched out her legs. The sound of the oars splashing and pulling soothed her. The Shell wound its way through her chest, warming her and rekindling her confidence.
Don’t worry, little Protectors of the Realm, I won’t underestimate you again.
Meanwhile, On the Elemental Plane of Water…
The fluid environment of the Boundless Sea, that held no sky or dry surface, on this day was still and pleasant. A diffused light gently illuminated two marids as they reclined in the waters at the edge of the Stratoria.
Ahmul watched as his brother Blu flicked the rectangular mirror that was perched between his thumb and his forefinger. It flashed dark, light, dark, light, dark light, over and over as it spun slowly in the little current he had created. Ahmul found it hypnotic, but the trance was broken by his brother’s sudden hand movement. With a swish, the metal disappeared into his brother’s large palm. Blu peered over the edge of the escarpment on which the two brothers rested. The water of the depths below mirrored his mood as of late, unending darkness. He unclenched and looked at the scrap of reflective silver in his hand and then back at Ahmul and whispered into his mind,
< I should hurl it into the abyss. It is a wretched thing.>
Ahmul had brought him the scrying mirror, dutiful brother, that he was. He thought he was helping. He thought he was giving his brother a solution to his restlessness.
Ahmul shrugged and replied back,
<It is no insult to me if you do. I merely wish to help you brother. If the scrying shard doesn’t please you, feel free…>
Ahmul motion to the fathoms below them. He had gone to some trouble to attain the object, but if it would help lift his brother’s mood he was all for it. He was getting bored with all of the despair and drudgery. He had missed the brother that used to drink and carouse with him…missed him terribly.
Blu had been absent from their home for centuries, but even so, Ahmul knew the marid that had returned was fundamentally different.
Marids were sometimes known to go missing from the Boundless Sea. It was not uncommon. They became slaves to the powerful magic users who could summon them to their mortal plane and bind them to their will. Some never came back, some came back with tales of horrific indiginites suffered at the hands of their masters. All were grateful to be free, to leave the plane of burning sky and barren rock and return to their watery realm. All came back with stories of strange creatures and strange customs. The stories were exciting, intriguing, and even coveted by the other marids. However, Ahmul knew that no matter how good the tale, none of those who had escaped servitude ever came back with a desire to leave the Plane of Water and return to the Material Plane.
And yet, there was Blu, pacing the glorious halls of the Citadel of Ten Thousand Pearls, pining to go back for some mortal girl…some freed slave…some warrior woman.
Ahmul had pressed him for tales of his time in captivity. All marid were hungry for a good story and his brother had always been a talented debātu. But no matter what tale Blu told, it always somehow led back to the girl, this Po. Ahmul thought if Blu could perhaps glimpse her, know that she was well, then maybe this ridiculous obsession would end. He could have his brother back, and they could return to their merry indulgences. He knew there was a scrying shard in the Padishah’s vast treasury. He knew he could obtain it! Was he not Ahmulisann the Sly?
Stealing the shard was a fabulous undertaking that required a keen mind, superior skills, and a little flair. He felt it was a worthy heist, both in difficulty and in purity of motive. However, he now regretted the trouble he had gone for it.The Scrying Shard had made matters worse .
Now, he would find Blu huddled in odd corners of the kelp gardens, waiting for it to work, waiting for the moments he could steal a glimpse of this human. True, this girl had freed him from his bonds. Ahmul would be forever grateful that she had given Blu back to them, but at what cost? This was not the Blu he knew. This was not Inblu-azeen the Brilliant. Inblu-azeen, the confident and carefree young lord whose jests delighted the Coral Court. Inblu-azeen whose silver tongue the Padishah sought when she needed entertainment. The Blu that returned to the Boundless Sea was still a captive of the mortal plane, a slave to his desires, a slave to this Po. It worried and sickened him. The gentle water seemed to chill around them.
Ahmul had had enough. He needed a break from all of his brother’s dramatics. He needed a chance to think. He made to go but Blu caught his forearm.
<Have patience with me brother.>
Ahmul rolled his eyes. It was time for hard truths.
<We have patiently awaited the return of Inblu-azeen the Brilliant for centuries, Brother. Do let me know when you see him.>
His brother winced, but Ahmul was unmoved. He slipped free from his brother’s grasp and swam for home.
It was time for a new plan, plan that would help end his brothers moping and waiting and carrying on, a plan that meant getting back to the Mortal Realm. It would be a bold plan, and it would probably mean they would both get in a lot of trouble! Their family would be furious. The Padishah would definitely not be happy! Oh, yes! Ahmulisann the Sly smiled a crooked smile. He wasn’t exactly sure of the particulars yet, but he was going to fix this… or die trying.
Meanwhile, Back at the Breckon Estate…
“You will not,” the “t” was spit through clenched teeth and his tone brooked no dissent. But oh no, I was dissenting. I was about to dissent hard. I was about to dissent in a way that would break us and I knew it. He sat there imperious, cold, and so fully High Lord Duke Breckon, that it actually made what I had to do easier.
I set my shoulders back. My nostrils flared. My breath became quick and shallow. My father glared back, warning me. The energy between was a taut line, fraying more with every second. I didn’t care, not any more.
“It’s already done, Father,” I said as evenly as I could. I said it with a bravado I didn’t fully feel. “I would not undo it…even if I could.”
His eyes, the ones that were always so soft and adoring when they looked at me, now hardened to stone.
“You can and you will, Elsbeth.”
I said nothing for several long seconds and then I rose the legs of my chair scraped across the stone floor. The sound grated against the awful silence that filled the space between us. The anchors of decorum and self control slid loose.
“You threw me into Ao’s arms when I was a girl,” my voice trembled with fury. The truth of my story lay across my heart like a brand. If I didn’t tell it, it would burn me to ashes. “You gifted me to Ao, but not as an act of devotion or sacrifice. You..” He opened his mouth to protest, but I raised my hand, “No! You will hear me,” I commanded. I needed him to know I knew, if nothing else. “You gave me to the Church like a donation. A donation that would secure your influence. A donation that would strengthen your position politically.” I stalked away, needing to put my back to him so I wouldn’t lose my nerve. “ And I gave Them everything. I did everything right, didn’t I?” I had reached the bookshelves that lined his office walls, but I didn’t turn. “I did it for you. I learned. I maneuvered. I made myself love Ao. I knew there was no other way to please you and there was no faking it under his roof. I was all in, Father, and I ended up in the exact position you wanted. The head of His temple in Keepers Port…Justice of the Scales!” I still would not face my father, choosing to run my eyes across the leather bindings of the books on the shelves instead. “I did everything you asked of me, father,” I worked to keep the words from turning into tears. “ Even things that were more in your interest than Ao’s, forcing me to place you above Him. But that wasn’t enough was it? It’s never enough.” I glanced back over my shoulder, needing to see how that landed.
His expression was forbidding. His hands lay flat on his desk as if ready to launch over it and across the room if I dared continue. And I did dare. “Then…” I dug my nails into the fleshy pad of my palm to keep my voice from failing. “Then, you began your little campaign to position me at the Blind Isle. And who knows what deals were made behind closed doors when you were in Arabar. . I can only imagine…” I snorted at the last.
His continued silence emboldened me. I turned back to the shelves and spotted the book I needed, a beautiful text entitled Aspects of Ao. It was my gift to him, back when I had thought Faith was something that bound us deeply. I had it hand copied and illuminated for him. It was a lovely tome, filled with many of the holy parables that had shaped my character. It was the Eve of Children’s Feast. I had come to him in this very room, filled with the solemnity of the holiday and my need to share it with him. I presented it to him in a satin lined box. He nodded and smiled, but pushed it aside and began explaining the power structure in the Embassy. I was stung and filled with dismay. It was the beginning of the end.
Now, with the same book in hand I felt my courage crest. I walked back over to his desk, cradling it to my chest. “Ao meant everything to me. His power gave me purpose. His guidelines gave me comfort. His justice… clarity.” I thrust the book towards him. “But, see…” I opened the book with both hands, the spine of it cracked and protested as I knew it would. It had never been opened. Not once. “Ao means nothing to you, does he? The church only matters in so far as what it can do for you. I only matter as a means to an end. You used me as a tool… your only daughter.” I pounded my fist hard against my chest. “Because you are lacking. You lack the character. You lack Faith. You lack heart. So, I had to do what you couldn’t. I had to make up for all that you are not.”
Something flickered across his face for a moment. I dropped the text on his desk. It made a satisfying thump. He eyed it and then looked up at me, his countenance glacial. I almost relented, almost gave in. For a moment I wanted my father back, his protective embrace, the shimmer of pride in his eyes- not this thin lipped rage. I looked down at the holy book splayed on the desk, its gilt edges gleaming in candle light. I wanted Ao back too, I wanted The surety of righteousness and belief.
But then a flash of memory from the Celestial Event…
I was standing on the dias alone, utterly alone. The creature from the painting controlled my every move. Her will over powering mine, her desires a crushing tide. In desperation, I watched my body on marionette strings marching towards the tentacled abomination. Feeding it.. Pleasing it… Assisting it in the ruination of a city that I pledge my life to protect.
I screamed against the taint of her dark eagerness to please, to no avail. She owned my lips, my tongue, my throat… my very breath. I prayed to Him. Ao, deliver us.. Ao save these people. Save your loyal servants. Ao, free me. Let me help my city. I was alone. Trapped as this creature violated and used every cell of my body. Trapped as it killed our king. Trapped as it threatened my people, my friends, my brother, and even the man I loved.
But Ao didn’t come. I was abandoned. What good was all my faith, all my training if in the one moment I needed it most I was useless? And as the Void fully unleashed this dark and ancient beast, it occurred to me that this was what I had always been…a puppet to the whims of others- a puppet to my fathers machinations -a puppet for the Church. And now, Teo’s puppet.
When was the last time I truly had a choice or say in my life?
And this question led me to one last dark realization.
My father and Lord Teo were the same. Both cloaked their ambitions in the guise of kindness. Both used me. Both had tricked me into self subjugation…into building my own prison.
The memory of that exact moment rinsed through my body, leaving me with a cold resolve. I wanted him to know this. To know that I saw him for what he was.
“When I lay dying last ni-“
“Enough,” my father’s voice thundered. He would hear no more. Snatching the book from the desk, he stood and came to tower over me in one fluid motion. “Enough of your dramatics, Elsbeth!” He shoved the text back into my arms. I stumbled backwards with the force of it. “I will hear no more. No. More.” His voice ground out each word. “You will obey, and cease acting like a spoiled selfish child.” There was steel in every syllable. “Go back to the Church! Reinstate yourself! You are a Breckon and you will do your duty to this family. ” He stabbed his finger at me, smashing the book against my pounding heart..” You think you are the only one who makes sacrifices?”
And then it snapped, the last thread binding us. By reminding me of my brothers he meant to shame me, but the thought of how he used them only provoked me further, severing the last bit of obedience I had for him.
“Oh I know, Father!” My rage rose to meet his rage. “I know what you are forcing Gareth to do! And what you’ve turned Gardel into,” I hissed. I had to tip my head backward to meet him full in the eye. “And I won’t sit by and watch whatever you have planned for Tryn either!”
I cast the holy book at his feet. “You can take your grand designs and your legacy, and you can just go right off and fuck yourself. I am no longer a part of it. I am no longer Ao’s. I am no longer a Breckon and I am no longer your daughter!” I spun on my heel and flew out of his study, out of the manor, and into the city. He would think I was grandstanding…bluffing. He would not accept this as an end. But oh, it was. It was, most definitely, the end.
