Outside the Cycle - Act XI

How many Russians does it take to raise a child?

Six - one to care for it, and five to feed it.

(My god that truly was terrible)

Act XI: Over the Edge

Lanaya woke gasping for air, head throbbing painfully. The shredding agony from her wound had subsided to a dull ache, and she noticed that someone had stitched the wound shut.

She was locked in a cell inside on of the buildings, who knew which one. Slowly, she looked around, trying to find anything that might be able to help here escape, but there was no such luck. She tried using her psychic abilities, but something was blocking her.

"I'm going to kill him," she snarled. He would burn. She wondered what the room would look like painted in Arash's blood, but figured that he wouldn't come in here at all to give her the opportunity to see.

Stupid, stupid! Why had she ever believed he had good intentions? No doubt he was scheming away, and had already forgotten her. Hatred rose in her as she inwardly cursed everything - her own foolishness, the Psychomancer, the Ancients, Dragonus and Abaddon for abandoning her. They would burn. They would all burn.

Suddenly, she realised what she was thinking, and the haze of bloodlust lifted. Yet something at the back of her mind entertained the notion of destroying them all. She laughed at the image. It was perfectly logical, of course. Betrayal rewarded with death, and she had been betrayed too much to give anything but death to the whole world.

That was one thing Arash had taught her, Lanaya realised. You get nowhere by allowing yourself to be led around. The only way to get anywhere in life was to lie, trick and scheme your way to the top of the pile. It was all so much clearer now.

"No - what am I saying!" she whispered, and doubled over in pain as the half-healed wounds on her stomach suddenly pulsed. The pain receded quickly, but she remained in the position, clutching her midsection and trying to gather her shattered thoughts.

What is happening to me? she implored silently to anyone who could hear - the Hidden Ones, herself, a god, if they existed - but there was no answer. Slowly, she sifted through each thought in her mind and cast out those dark delusions, and her headache receded.

Lanaya did not know what was happening to her, but she would have bet her life that Arash was the cause. Was he trying to control her mind? Or perhaps it was the whispers of the Dire Ancient.

She sat down, back up against the wall, and thought, because there was nothing else to do.
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Arash took a long look around at the clearing, ritually checking he had not been followed, and gingerly stepped over a fallen branch to enter. He brushed down the sleeves of his coat, straightened his collar, and only then turned to Terrorblade.

"I'm back," he said cheerfully, giving the titanic demon a grin. "Fill me in."

The marauder shrugged his massive shoulders. "You won't like it."

"I like about three things, and two of them I eat. This is too important to worry about my sensibilities."

Terrorblade cocked his head slightly, and Arash felt his gaze boring into him, stripping back his layers to see into his soul. It made him… uncomfortable. Extremely uncomfortable. Finally, the Demon Marauder nodded, as if he had deemed the Psychomancer acceptable.

"Very well. Both sides have had an influx of new arrivals. Many are just mortal, but there are a few that are greatly problematic - the Elder Titan, Morphling, various denizens of the Underscape. Doom has turned up, too."

Arash recoiled in shock. "Lucifer is here?! What could he possibly hope to… best leave that unanswered, actually. He never liked me and I dread to think what he'd do if he knew what I've been doing. Who else?" Last he had heard, the Doom Bringer had merely sent a host of Infernals to observe and report.

"Numerous planeswalkers, mostly on our side but a few notables as Radiant. And, perhaps most dangerously, all four Fundamentals."

All four. Not one, or two, but four. And everything else.

He let out a huge sigh. "Weavers, demigods, planeswalkers, Fundamentals, five of the seven demon lords of Hell." Terrorblade nodded, apparently pleased at being recognised as a being of import on the battlefield. "Let's just hope Belphegor and Asmodeus don't turn up."

Terrorblade smiled. "I am certain you have plans for everyone here. You used your previous allies rather well."

Lanaya. "Yes, I did," he admitted wryly. "Used them up, spat them out, and I couldn't care less."

But something inside him whispered, liar.

The Demon Marauder looked at him, amused, before suddenly reverting to his native tongue of ozkavosh. "Izh acha arkosh? Izh poz ahm'fo domosh ozkavosh." You are the master now? You are too weak to rule demonkind.

"Ozh vo'hollom domosh. Ozh greesh Nevermore vo'lieyev," Arash replied in kind, the guttural language of demons awkward on his mortal tongue. I will never rule. My debt to Nevermore is not yet paid. "I am just the puppeteer behind the scenes. I leave the lording to Abaddon."

"Very wise. But you made sure that you were the leader of your little band. Where are they now?"

Once again, his thoughts returned to Lanaya, left to rot in some cell, betrayed - yes, he had betrayed her. She had trusted him and he had sold her as if she were nothing.

"They still play their parts. It will all come together at the end," Arash desperately attempted to justify himself. He was being judged by the executioner, so to speak.

"Do not play games with me," Terrorblade said, terrifyingly calm, but stressing the last word with a painful edge. "Izh vo'acha, fol. Vo'domosh. Vo'acha." You are nothing, weakling. No lord. Nothing.

Arash shuddered. "Sof izh."

"I have told you what I know. Now it is your turn to repay the debt."

Reluctantly, the Psychomancer laid bare his plans to the demon he now realised he could trust the least. By the time he was finished, Terrorblade was grinning wildly.

"Oh, very clever, indeed." Once again, the demon's eyes bore into his soul. "Ozh icha tak lieyev, alatho chron." I will take my payment, in time.

The Marauder left without another word, and only then did Arash let out his breath. He hadn't realised he'd been holding it.

"And to think I thought we were friends," he muttered, clenching the fist that was not wearing the talon. His nails dug into his palm, drawing blood, but the pain was a distraction from the horrifying truth.

If he crossed Terrorblade, he would die. Lanaya might threaten to kill him, but it was unlikely she would be able to defeat him in combat. An archdemon, though… that was inviting death.

Arash began the work of picking up the pieces of his ahm'domosh, dominion. He would have to work with the shambles of the plans he had left.

He gave one last look at where Terrorblade had left, as if he feared the Demon Marauder would return to rend him asunder, shuddered, and walked off far more quickly than he would have liked.
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The Ghastly Aerie was beautiful, soaring, gilded, illuminated, but above all, savage. Its high spires were barbed with massive spikes upon which unfortunate enemies of the queen were often impaled. The towers were dozens of levels in height, joined to other towers by stone bridges lined with Radiant Ore. Poles jutted out from some of the spires, with Skywrath of all kinds perched upon them.

Dragonus took a deep breath of the clear air, and allowed the sun to beat across his wings. The glorious white pinions spread to their full extent, and as he landed on the causeway leading to the palace they folded behind him. The queen did not like her subjects flying in her presence. She was insecure about that, likely as a result of her betraying Shendelzare. Guards and servants bowed to him as he went past them on his way to his wing of the palace.

If he were caught, it was his death. What he was doing was treason of the highest order, so much that if he stopped and thought about the mad thing he was doing, he would not start again.

With him, Dragonus clutched the book of haemomancy he had taken from Vo'hollom Domosh. Once he began the ritual that would restore Shendelzare to her physical form, they would not have long to act before the queen called her guards on them both. Yet he still had reagents to gather, which would take a while in itself.

He acted as if in a trance, and when all he needed was in his summoning room he marked an octogram on the ground and placed the reagents in their proper places.

Dragonus breathed deeply, and begun.