Outside the Cycle - Act VIII

Another day, another Act. The plot thickens from the consistency of apple juice to a tomato soup.

Act VIII: The Threads Frayed

Abaddon had left not long after they had departed Vo'hollom Domosh, destined for his ancestral home. What he had seen disturbed him, and he had to return to the Font to reconcile his discovery. Arash understood, and he thought the others did too. Dragonus had also taken that opportunity to leave, carrying a tome of magic that would help him restore his beloved to the throne. The look of immense mistrust Arash had received before the Skywrath took off suggested that he'd found something else in the doomed tower, but what it was nobody knew.

This left just him and Lanaya to return to the Ancients. He was somewhat disappointed she hadn't gone, as he had a feeling she would get in the way, but the company could've been worse.

The pair had made good time and had just entered the woods on the outskirts of the lanes. At this rate, another day and the Ancients would be in sight.

"Where are we going when we get there?" she asked suddenly. He up at her - she having taken the lead through the thick underbrush.

"Radiant. There are things I have to do there," he replied. "So for all intents and purposes I'm your prisoner."

Lanaya nodded. He stopped, and she kept walking for a moment until she realised this.

"What?" she said grumpily.

"You're supposed to tie your prisoners up," he said. Seeing the expression on his face, she blanched.

"Prisoners aren't supposed to look excited about the prospect."

His idiotically happy grin vanished. Lanaya rolled her eyes and continued on. "We're going."

The next stage of the journey was eerily silent, even the trees shrouded in quiet. Arash had never thought to see Radiant trees looking so bleak and hostile.

We're being watched, he realised, just a second too late.

"Isn't this cyclical?" a mocking voice called from the trees. Both Heroes turned around.

"You're both coming with us," one of the three Heroes standing there said, a bow aimed at Arash's heart. "Traitors."

"Traxex, he's MY prisoner," Lanaya snapped, playing her part well. Unfortunately, the ranger wasn't buying it, and she simply laughed.

"Your loyalties are for others to decide. I personally do not see you as anything resembling an ally," Traxex growled. "No, your mad run ends where it began, at the end of my bow."

Arash sighed. "Sorry, Lanaya."

"For wha-" she began. The question was never finished, as Arash reached out and touched a pressure point in her neck, sending her to a temporary sleep.

Traxex's arrow sailed through the air, loosed before the assassin hit the ground. The Psychomancer's talon swept up to deflect it, and his counterattack was not physical but mental. Tapping into Lanaya's psychic energy as well as his own, he extended his will, utterly paralysing the three Radiant Heroes as they burst into action.

"A word of advice, little drow," he said cheerfully. "If I'm going to the effort, at least play the game." He surveyed them with contempt.

"This is all they sent to capture me? I'm insulted. A ranger, a buffoon in armour, and a little girl." He knew them by name - Dragon Knight and Crystal Maiden, but if this was all the fight they put up they weren't worthy of the honorifics. The so-dubbed 'little girl' struggled to speak. She was somewhat powerful, he mused, if unpractised. With age, she may amount to something, if she lived that long. He waved a hand, and she suddenly could talk.

"You won't get away with this," Rylai said, voice trembling with fear. Arash laughed.

"Of course I will. I know full well your most powerful forces are on the battlefield proper and I am quite capable of handling the dregs they can spare to hunt me. Now, I'm going to do you a favour and rid you of all childish notions of justice you still have."

He gestured with the talon, and a sigil appeared above the head of each Hero - the marks distinct.

"How about a game?" he asked. "Here's how it works. Right here, I kill two of you. Those sigils above your head? One, completely at random, will engulf the others. The Hero it represents will live. The other two…"

He shook his head, drawing the motion out. The Crystal Maiden was terrified, the Drow Ranger looking at him with pure hatred, and whatever expression the Dragon Knight had was obscured by his helmet.

Each sigil flickered, blazing. For a good minute, the power within them fought, until chance made its decision. The sigil above Rylai's head erupted into flame, and the other two were drawn into it. Arash shrugged.

"So be it."

He walked to the Dragon Knight first, whose eyes up close bore the look of a man knowing he was to die and ready for death. His readiness, realism and courage impressed Arash. He smiled.

"Izh safras kal ozh," he whispered, one claw of the talon piercing the front of Davion's helm. He pressed forward, feeling the resistance of the steel give way to flesh, then bone. A soft crack sounded as the skull was pierced, and the claw hilted itself in the knight's brain.

Arash withdrew the talon and the corpse fell to the ground.

Rylai gave a strangled cry, and as it faded the only sound was her whimpering and sobs. He moved over to Traxex, her eyes burning with righteous anger.

"**** you," she spat.

"Please," he said. "I don't have to do that myself." Arash whipped his hand up, tearing open the Drow Ranger's throat in a spray of blood. Her head rocked back on what remained of the neck, and the talon swung back around to break through her ribcage and shred the heart. When he withdrew his hand, it was dripping with gore. He savoured the agony issuing from her soul as it was prematurely torn from her body.

Finally, he glanced over to the Crystal Maiden, who had shut her eyes to try and escape the horror around her.

"There was a lesson in that," he said calmly, "if you were wise enough to learn." He did away with his psychic grip, and she fell to the ground in the foetal position, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Go," he said. She did not respond. "Go!"

The wreck of the mage rose unsteadily, taking one glance back before tearing through the jungle as fast as she could. Arash sighed and wiped his talon on a tree trunk. Lanaya was just stirring.

"Change of plans," he said. "We're going Dire."

Her eyes cracked open, violet orbs drinking in the scene. "What have you done," she whispered.

"In the long run, a favour to the next generation, but more importantly in the short term I got us out of gaol."

The Templar Assassin rose quickly, violently shoving him into a tree trunk before kneeling down beside the corpses. He hissed as sharp branches scratched the parts of him that weren't armoured.

"This wasn't even a fight," she said. "You murdered them."

Smoothly extricating himself from the shrubbery, he waggled a finger in disagreement. "I'm Dire, they're Radiant, this is a war. Technically, I did nothing wrong."

"Technically-" oh ****, she was angry this time, wasn't she? "- I should spill your demented brains on the ground. We could have reasoned with them, explained the situation. Instead, you override me and slaughter two Heroes in cold blood." All trace of her usual shyness was gone, replaced by an anger that burnt ice cold. Her voice raised slightly as she continued her rant. "You let Rylai go, too. Don't you DARE say it was mercy. Mercy would've been to kill her! Instead, you scar a CHILD for life and then cast her away as if she is nothing more than dirt." He could see that she was trying to think of some insult that encompassed her rage, but there was apparently no such word in her vocabulary. Her voice cracked as she spat out her last chastisement, almost crying herself.

"When this is over, Arash, I am going to kill you. Slowly. Exquisitely. I want you to feel every second as I tear the skin from your bones and flay your mind until all that is left is the pain and the feeling of you choking on your own demonic blood. And if you dare to die on me during this, I will hunt down your spirit and put that to the flame as well. I swear, by all the gods, you will pay, not just for this, but for every other person you've harmed, every life you've destroyed."

She lapsed into quiet, and he wisely stayed silent. Perhaps he had crossed some sort of line.

No. This was no time to be second-guessing himself. He had done worse, this was nothing major to him.

And then it hit him. That was the point. He had done worse, and those deeds had not even left a mark on him. He would forget this one, too. The voices in his head were screaming at him louder, now, and he had ignored them. They had never understood, the parasite never felt the pain of the host - but maybe they could have once worked together, each mind complementing the others. Instead of a raging maelstrom of thoughts, maybe his mind could have been calmer. Perhaps even in time they would have thought as one.

He looked at the blood on his hands, and for the first time it sickened him. The crimson he had once revelled in shedding now seemed as out of place as his own demonic soul. All those lives lost, and for what? What was the point?

"I'm sorry," he said, and truly meant it. Lanaya gave him a look of absolute hatred and he realised that he had lost perhaps the only friend he had ever had.

"Don't ****ing say it," she warned. "You're not even worth the words."

She spoke no more, storming off towards the Dire Ancient. He remained still for a long time, contemplating for once the consequences of his actions. She was right, and that stung the most.

"What have I done," he whispered, and there was no answer but the screams in his mind.
___________________________

The road to Slom, and, by extension, the lands of Avernus and the other noble houses of the region, was large and well-travelled. Thousands of years of dynasties of kings were eked into the history of the region, and when the kings were deposed and the noble houses became the dominant forces in Slom, further hundreds of years of glory issued.

House Avernus had always been at the forefront of the region, first as one of the most honoured Houses by the old kings, and now as the most powerful faction in the semi-republic. The Font gave them immense power, and the Lords of Avernus were royal in all but title.

In truth, the prospect of reuniting with his lordly relatives was not the most pleasant of options to Abaddon. He had always been the black sheep of the family, despite the direct favours of the Font. His brothers were all far more talented with a blade, more fitting in the politics of Slom. Often it had been remarked that had Abaddon been a bastard then he would have brought less shame to the family. The comments stung, though he never let it show. Thus, when he left for the Ancient War, it had been with indifference to his eventual fate and perhaps even hope that he would meet his death on the bloodsoaked lanes.

But he had survived, and thrived, and now possessed knowledge that the other Lords could not possibly ignore. The irony that the one who was shunned was now the one who could save them was not lost on him.

The road was unusually empty - every other time Abaddon had traversed it traders, travellers and many other kinds of people had packed it. This added to his sense of foreboding and the feeling that something was deeply wrong.

A group of mounted warriors rode towards him at a trot. One in the centre bore a sigil Abaddon was unfamiliar with - a wolf's head with a jagged scar over the left side on a background of crimson. He raised a hand in greeting to them. Suddenly, they burst into action, circling him and drawing weapons. One of them, in more decorated armour than the rest, levelled a sword at his chest.

"By what right do you tread here?" the Lord of Avernus snapped. "Few are gall enough to impede the passage of a Lord of Avernus. Fewer still survive the experience."

The leader smiled. "Things have changed since you were last here. I think you will find that now, it is my house that rules Slom. I am Kanthis, and you are already dead."

Without warning, the forests to the side of the road came alive. Arrows covered the sky in black hail, cutting bloody lines in the circle surrounding Abaddon. He was quick to respond, drawing his runeblade and batting away the sword of Kanthis. The knight growled and wheeled his horse around for mounted combat.

"I do not honour those such as you with combat," Abaddon hissed, his eyes flaring blue beneath his helmet. Jagged ropes of mist issued from his blade, wrapping Kanthis in their chill embrace and smothering him and his mount. When the tendrils receded, only a slight fog was left where once had stood an enemy.

So, too, were his other assailants deceased, filled with arrows or cut down by the swords of Avernal warriors who emerged from their ambush. One, mounted on a steed and clearly recognisable as a relative by his silver-grey hair, trotted up to Abaddon and bowed respectfully.

"Welcome home, Lord Avernus. Would that we could give you a warmer reception, but times have changed. I am Vanath d'Avernus, second cousin on my father's side, and there is much you need to know."