GREY

All Is Lost

Delmor charged his steed down the village street. His cavalry followed close behind him, their holy spears gleaming in the morning sun. The Witch Empress had done good on her word and disclosed the location of Emroth, the last village of the damned infernals. The cost of her kindness would be handing over specific infernals and the single human being she had said they’d find to her, safe and unscathed. It pained him that he had resorted to consorting with witches just to eradicate the infernals, but these were difficult times. The Elect Prophetess had given him a strict order to extirpate all infernals at any cost.

Horns blew simultaneously from the east, north, and western fronts. The village had been successfully surrounded. Delmor, who led the southern front, had the responsibility of neutralizing the power of the infernals before they had a chance to retaliate. The holy knights had no ready weapon to dampen infernal power over a wide area, but Feonna had given them one of her personal attendants to accompany them. When the time was right, she would know what to do. Delmor nodded at the enchantress, who rode close by his side, and she drew a silver sceptre from her horse and lifted it up high.

To humans, the sceptre of subservience held no power. It was a relic that belonged to a monarch of demon descend, and it was used to control subjects by projecting commands directly into their minds. Infernals, having demon blood, had no will to resist its call. The enchantress, however, lacked full control over the sceptre due to her limit in spiritual strength. She evoked channel suppression, an areal spell that barred infernals within range from using any of their power. The command projected from the sceptre and dispersed in every direction. The enchantress felt part of her soul crumbling. She ignored it and pressed forward with the charge. She’d gladly lay her life down for Empress Feonna.

Delmor apologized to the Light for admiring the enchantress’s spell. The infernal soldiers were powerless and disoriented. Without their power they were not formidable, and the holy troops razed their way through the resistance, killing everything on their way and setting all houses ablaze. Children cried as the s*******r continued. Smoke roiled out of the valley and made a dark column that slowly rose to the clear skies. Infernals died everywhere. Their blood fed holy blades to their fill. Delmor savored the victory. After this land was purified, the much loathed prophecy of the rise of resurracts would be burn in flames along with Emroth.

“The human,” Feonna’s servant reminded him coldly.

Delmor followed the enchantress through the battlefield, slashing at anyone who attempted to attack her. She led him to the northern edge of the village. The place was quiet and abandoned. There were remains of a wrecked cottage on a small hill, and the woman halted and dismounted at its base. She started up the path to the summit. Delmor slid off his horse, sheathed his sword and equipped himself with a crossbow before following after the woman.

Everything was lost. They could not win. Not after the holy men had used their sorcery to negate their affinity to the elementals. For the first time since her initial encounter with Grey, s***h felt fear. She had fought and killed countless knights, but they kept coming. Without infernal power, her wounds were not healing, and sooner or later, a sword or arrow would claim her life. She was not ready to die yet. She wanted to be the blade-master of Egnir, to lead the strongest assassin guild in the four lands.

Slash made her way back to Grey’s homestead. She ran carelessly, cleaving through anyone who dared to stand in her way. She even murdered a few infernals who were too slow to move. Her head was filled with rage, yet it was helpless. She was supposed to follow after Sight, but here she was, doing Grey’s bidding like a loyal pup.

Slash cursed when she reached the summit. She took in rushed breaths and wiped away the stinging sweat from her eyes. She noticed two changes within the place. Grey’s body had decomposed to bones. The abomination that Grey had sacrificed himself and the priestess for stood motionless and looked down at the chaos. No blade had touched her, and her white dress was unstained.

“Hey princess,” s***h called. “I don’t know if you haven’t noticed, but it’s raining fire and steel down there. You need to come with me.”

Lyana turned to face s***h, her expression impassive. She did not make any attempt to move.

“I don’t have time for this!” s***h said, walking briskly to seize the human’s hand. “Let’s go.”

“I am afraid you won’t be taking that one,” an icy voice said from behind. Hearing it sent a chill down s***h’s spine. She turned and saw a tall woman who wore black and red robes. Her face was cowled, and in one hand she bore a silver talisman. A witch.

Slash’s first weapon was her speed and precision. In a quick draw, she charged forth and swept her blade through the witch’s neck within a blink’s time. The witch’s body puffed into crimson smoke and whirled back into human form a few yards behind s***h.

“If you so desire,” the witch said. “I can spare you. My master will appreciate your skills.”

Sight spat in response. She turned, arcing her blade along with her body. Her sword arm froze. An instant later, it burst at the elbow, the forearm and blade-wielding hand falling off. The pain that gnawed into her bone and torn muscle triggered an involuntary scream. Despite being in pain, s***h quickly unsheathed her dagger with her remaining hand and attempted to drive it through the witch’s heart. Her body did not respond. Paralyzed, she fell to her knees and awaited her inevitable end.

“Not yet,” the witch said. She whispered a spell and s***h fell on her face, her muscles spasming.

Pain spread through s***h’s body like an infection. Her heart beat harder and ached as if it was about to burst. Her thoughts twisted and turned into a migraine. Her limbs shook with a life of their own. Grey had promised to teach her how to fight physical enchantments, but the old bastard had bailed out on her the moment his goals were fulfilled. He had used her with no remorse, and in the end he did not even have the decency to thank her for everything that she had done for him. A tear spilled out of her eye.

I hate you, Grey. I hate you with all my heart.

Slash woke up with a stiff body. She felt cold from within and every muscle ached so much that tears flooded her eyes the instant she became conscious. It was night, and the place looked like a clearing in a forest. Her legs were shackled. Half of her right arm was missing. She flinched. No one had bothered to dress it and infection was already setting in. So much for being the famed blade-master.

Slash managed to sit upright, though with laborious effort. She was not the only one who was shackled. Some of her brethren were tied in a coffle and they were all rendered unconscious by a witch’s spell. That kind of magic took a toll on the spell caster, and if s***h hoped for a chance to escape, it was now. With the witch’s power strained, she could manage to defeat her. But…

A dozen soldiers or so sat around a campfire and ate some game. Looking closely, s***h noticed that some were hidden in the trees with nocked arrows. The white tent on the far adjacent side of the encampment must have sheltered the witch or the commander of the army. To get there she’d at least pass through thirty troops. The option of taking someone of importance was far from reach. But what now? She could not just sit and wait to die.

“You have strong resistance to magic,” a familiar voice said.

Slash did not notice how the witch came to stand in front of her. She felt the witch’s gaze bore deep into her from beneath the cowl. It made her flimsy against her will.

“Tell me,” the witch went on, “were you a disciple of the one who called himself Grey?”

Slash was too angry and terrified to answer. Her lip trembled, but her tongue remained tied.

“You have a chance to live and serve my master. But that will all depend on how you choose to behave.”

“Just die, w***e,” s***h retorted and spat.

“Very well,” the witch said. Her shadow passed, and she was gone.

A body moved beside s***h and sat.

“You never change, do you?” the person remarked.

“Sight?” s***h asked, her heart sinking.

The anger she felt was suddenly replaced with dread. She had believed that her sacrifice was to spare the women, the old and the children. Sight had led most of the young ones to the secret tunnel that was an escape route towards the cursed forest of Gildor. Her presence here meant that they had failed to reach it in time.

“I am sorry,” Sight said. “I don’t know how they knew about the tunnel. The holy knights were guarding it in numbers. We could not even use our power…”

“Did they…?”

“They spent the day selecting the worthy. Those with unworthy abilities were killed on the spot. Those left here will get the honor to see the Witch Empress. Then she will extract our power and feed what’s left to her dragons.”

Slash had never imagined her life coming to such a bitter end, and so abrupt. She had lived for a long time under Grey’s shadow that she had lost any vision of what lay ahead. All that had mattered for the past decade was knowing where Grey wanted them to go next. Pathetic old man.

“Well this is sad,” s***h said.

“It gets worse for us. Did Grey ever tell you that he was the first person to overpower all guilds that guard the citadel? Sixty years ago, Grey went in during Edelweiss and defeated the Holy Sentry to assassinate the newborn heir to the throne. We are dangerous to keep around because we bear Grey’s mark, that’s what the commander was saying. The witch made it clear that if we weren’t willing to cooperate, we were going to be killed first thing tomorrow.”

“Interesting,” s***h speculated. “Even in death the old man’s name is our bane. I bet he is laughing at us from hell.”

“I thought you liked Grey,” Sight said quietly.

“Spare me. I only followed that walking corpse because I had no choice. You wouldn’t understand, you thought Grey was a god or something.”

Sight flushed. She recalled the first time she met Grey. It made her smile despite her present circumstances. She owed Grey her life. No, she owed him everything.

“You and Grey were the only true family I ever had. We were bizarre, but we didn’t care when we were together. It felt like the world was never against us, until he decided to sacrifice himself for that human. This is most likely our last moment together. I want you to know you were more than a friend, Thalia. And your heart carries more compassion than malice.”

“Yeah… yeah, I am not going through that last words crap. I might even survive this.”

“I’ve seen how you die,” Sight said, her voice filled with gloom. “Do you wish to know?”

Slash remained silent for a while. She did not want to contemplate how her death would play out. The pain, the torture, the humiliation. She looked around. She saw life for what it really was. A vain effort to evade death. Sooner or later, it claimed everyone. At least, she had lived her life by her rules, even under Grey’s will. That brought her peace.

“I’d rather you don’t spoil the surprise,” s***h said with a smirk. “So humor me, Seer Abitha. Are you going to die a virgin?”

Sight faltered. s***h tossed her head back and laughed.

“I’ll wager you did not see that coming.”