Outside the Cycle - Act X

Sorry for the extra week, I was on holidays.

Act X: It All Comes Together in the End

Her rage had burnt down to smouldering ashes but her hatred remained a blazing inferno.

It had taken the two another day to reach the Dire Ancient, and over that time, Lanaya had seethed. She could never bring herself to forgive Arash for what he had done. To think she had once pitied him. She could picture it already, him bleeding, broken on the ground, in hundreds of pieces. The image was burnt on her brain. It was justified, but more than that-

It was… glorious.

He would burn- no. She would drag him before the Hidden Ones and enact their lethal judgement. Painfully, of course. But no less honourably.

She could see the walls of the fortress in the distance, and wondered what Arash was planning.

"Oh, of course!" he said suddenly. "You're my prisoner now, aren't you?"

He turned around, drawing Orchid Malevolence and striking her with it. The staff struck her on the arm, and its silencing effects utterly incapacitated her sorcerous abilities. Caught off guard by the sudden attack, she felt Arash's mind force itself upon her own, a chaotic maelstrom of unreadable thought and malevolent will that reached into every corner of her brain, scouring it and leaving her paralysed. As Orchid's effect wore off, she found herself in thrall to the Psychomancer's command, wrapped in psychic chains that broke her will.

"Follow me and say nothing," he commanded, and she had no choice but to obey. Her mental struggles were pointless, he had her completely. Powerless, she was led step by step towards a fate she had no control over. Scenery passed in a blur until the gate of Direstone loomed above, menace etched upon its jagged, mishappen lines.

They entered the Dire compound, and almost immediately were surrounded by hostile creeps. Before they were attacked, however, a delighted cry resounded across the grounds.

"My little pet!"

Arash stiffened at the call. The oily black, vaguely feline demon that bounded towards him could be no other than the Shadow Fiend.

"I knew you would return to us," the demon said, smile cracking its face with red.

"My sojourn has ended," Arash replied, and the change in his tone was profound and shocking. All trace of his usual bitterness vanished for a servile, almost reverential tone. "I'm back where I belong, now."

"And this one?" the Shadow Fiend gestured at Lanaya, who tried to recoil from the gesture, if Arash's mental bonds would have let her.

The Psychomancer shrugged. "I don't really care. Interrogate her, imprison her, kill her, whatever you want. Just don't let her confuse my allegiances anymore."

That bastard! Did he dare think he could use her as a sacrifice so he could get back into the Dire's trust?!

"Very good!" Nevermore nodded at two of the creeps, who took her by the arms. Obviously confident she was under control, Arash let go of the chains on her mind.

Yet when she found she could again control her movements, Lanaya ripped out of the creeps' grasp and dived towards Arash, psi blades appearing in hand. The Shadow Fiend was caught by surprise, and reacted too slowly, too slowly by far. She smiled viciously as her blow drew closer, already imagining the spray of blood as she cut his throat out-

A jagged pain tore through her abdomen, and she stumbled, falling back as Arash's elbow connected roughly with her face. She fell to the ground, breath heaving as the rough red lines marking her torso gushed with blood. The pain was surprisingly dull, but her vision was blurred enough that she could just make out the Psychomancer calmly wiping blood - her blood - off of his talon. Her hand fluttered to the wound, and as she brushed it the pain erupted. The cuts were shallow enough to not be lethal, but deep enough to leave her in dire threat of exsanguination. She bit back a cry as a fire raced through her body, hazing her senses in a cloud of blood.

The Shadow Fiend patted his pet on the back and walked off towards the barracks. Arash looked at her, gasping in pain with blood staining the ground a red river in her vicinity, and roughly kicked her in the side before following his master. Lanaya curled up, gritting her teeth, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry out.

When he too had left, the creeps roughly dragged her away, and finally she allowed the blackness to take her, and fell into a warm, welcoming abyss.
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"Please, sit. We are honoured by your presence here."

Abaddon sat in the proffered chair across from Lord Samael Blackforest, a minor lord of a lesser house. And currently, a potential ally. While Lycos Banehallow revelled in his newfound dominion, believing himself untouchable, Abaddon was gathering allies, buying their support with favours, marriages and gifts both monetary and tangible. Currently, he had four Houses beside him - Vantresor, Outridge, Ashkarai and Whisperreed, the latter of which had been extremely eager to avenge the death of their daughter, who had been married to Abaddon's cousin Vance d'Avernus and had been murdered in Lycos' purge. Vanath had approved of his mother's House joining the small alliance.

Hopefully, House Blackforest would join them. Samael's alchemists were without peer, and when combined with the materials in the Outridge Gardens, Abaddon had birthed the semblance of a plan.

"Your hospitality is much appreciated," the Lord of Avernus replied. "Our Houses have been estranged too long."

"Two hundred years, hmm, if I recall," Samael mused. "Since Lord Kayle d'Avernus killed my ancestor in a duel."

Abaddon smiled wryly. "That is a long time. Now the time has come for reparations. I know your House is on unfriendly terms with the Lord Banehallow, and with that in mind I would propose an alliance."

Lord Blackforest would already have known that - Abaddon's pacts with other Houses were not exactly secret. Formality, though, demanded that he explain fully his intentions.

"House Blackforest would support the Font, hmm, assuming we can come to a satisfactory agreement that benefits both Houses equally."

"I have no doubt we can do that."

Lord Blackforest knelt forward on his knees, steepling his fingers. "You proposed the venture, so you should, hmm, make the first suggestion."

Abaddon rattled off his points with an extended finger for each. "Firstly, the military might of House Blackforest behind the warriors of the Font. Secondly, access to the alchemical labs. Finally, assistance to be granted in the event of a coup. In return, I offer you numerous reagents from the Outridge Gardens, free trading routes through the lands of House Avernus, and a marriage to one of our scions."

The other's eyes widened at the last offer. A marriage of a lesser house such as Blackforest to an Avernus, even one of lesser blood, opened up many opportunities for advancement within Slom's political circles.

"Your offer is very generous, and I will gladly accept these terms. If I may ask, what do you plan for House Banehallow?"

Abaddon smiled. He had the ingredients, now all he needed was an opportunity. "Oh, that will be apparent soon enough." It would not do to say too much, there was too much at stake to completely trust other lords. "Suffice to say, there are many ways to skin a wolf, but you generally have to trap it first."

He left Blackforest's mansion pleased with the results of his negotiation. Abaddon was not sure how well Vanath would take the news that he had been married off, but it had to be done. For now, there were other matters to attend to.

It was past time he paid his respects to the dead.
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The mausoleums below Castle Avernus were almost as large as the edifice itself, and held the remains of the Lords of Avernus stretching back thousands of years.

Six tombs had been recently filled, all that was left to acknowledge that Abaddon's trueborn relatives had lived. Of the youngest generation, there had been six, but only Vance had left an heir in Vanath, and he was half-blooded. Now, they resided in the mist with Lord Ezekiel d'Avernus, Abaddon's father and the old Master of the House.

Abaddon had replaced his armour with black mourning robes as befit the situation. He had never gotten on well with his relatives, with the exception of his cousin Kayle, but never would he have wished them harm. They deserved better than to be eradicated.

Vengeance will come soon, he assured himself. He placed a wreath of mistflower at the door of every tomb. A thorn on the wreath he placed at his father's grave pricked his thumb, and a small spot of blood appeared. Abaddon smiled at the marble statue that bore Ezekiel's likeness.

"I know it was always Belial you wanted to follow your footsteps, not me. I never wanted this either. But now that it is done, I will make sure your legacy is a glorious one."

He gave one look back as he left the mausoleum, and so many conflicting emotions and memories flashed through him. It was with some irony he realised that only now did he feel that he had found somewhere he belonged.