B5 Chapter 88 - Crash Down

Author note:

I knew people would crash out after the last chapter, so I figured I would give you the next week of BoD in advance. This means BoD will be on break for an extra week in January though. So there.

This is the finale of Book five people! Only the Epilogue to go, which will release today or tomorrow, depending on when I finish writing it.

Swords were sticking out of him. 

So shocked was Merigold, she didn’t even flinch away, merely froze on the spot, peeking from behind Stennis’ shoulder after they entered the tent.

Along the walls, four guards stood, watching, one hand upon the hilt of their blades, the other resting uneasily by their side. None of them moved to assist their prisoner.

Six… there are six swords stuck inside him, she thought woozily.

One in each leg, one through each shoulder, and two stabbed straight into his belly. As he had been stripped naked, she could see the thick blood oozing from the wounds and dripping onto the ground. In the back of her mind, she wondered why there wasn’t more, but reasoned she couldn’t really know what the physiology of a platinum ranked individual might be like.

“Is that… strictly necessary?” she squeaked to Honoured Stennis.

His expression didn’t change as he stared at the captive Necromancer, unblinking.

“No,” he replied.

So they had done this out of… spite?

It seemed unnecessarily cruel, yet could she truly blame the Golden Legion for holding a grudge? More than half of them were dead as a result of this man. People had lost friends, comrades, lovers, people they had served with for decades in some instances. It seemed nobody was bothered to prevent them from extracting some measure of revenge.

At least they had been sensible enough to avoid any wound that might become fatal. Painful, yes. Agonising, even. But she judged that the prisoner was in no danger of imminent death.

He stood in the centre of the tent, although ‘stood’ wasn’t quite the right term. His hands were shackled high above his head, pulling his shoulders back and lifting him off the ground to the point where he could barely touch the floor with his toes. Each finger was restrained, nailed to a board in order to prevent any form of spell-casting. Not that it was strictly necessary.

The entirety of the tent sat within a null-magick zone. Beneath their feat, the ritual circle hummed with quiet power, sucking away any energy within its range. Projecting any sort of spell would be impossible within this space.

Tyron Steelarm, stripped bare and unarmed, was not the intimidating figure Merigold had seen on the battlefield. Without his magick, his servants or his weapons, he looked almost like a normal person. Yet, hanging from his restraints with half a dozen weapons sunk into his flesh and his head hanging forward, raven black hair obscuring his face, she still felt a shiver of fear run down her spine.

“Why is there a gap in the null-magick field?” Stennis snapped, a hand flashing to his blade.

Merigold’s eyes widened as she took an involuntary step back, only for an answer to come from an unexpected place.

“Because it’s the only way to keep my heart beating,” the Necromancer said, raising his head to stare at them.

It was the first time he had moved since they had entered the tent. She wasn’t sure what Merigold had expected to see from him. Regret? Fear? Anger? She saw none of those in the face of Tyron Steelarm. If anything, he appeared… distracted?

“So you didn’t know about the array on my chest,” Tyron said, glancing towards Stennis, “you were just lucky.”

He shook his head slightly, but that was enough to cause his entire body to sway a little, hanging as he was. Stennis didn’t react to his words, instead focusing on the Necromancer’s chest.

“Do you sense anything?” Merigold asked him softly.

“There is a faint trace of magick there,” he replied, frowning. He looked at the captive. “Your heart doesn’t beat on its own?”

“A noble demanded it stop beating and it seems as though the Five Divines were happy to oblige them,” Tyron replied, eyes glittering. He shifted uncomfortably, the blades in his flesh moving along with him, then spoke again. “Are you here for any particular reason? I’m a little distracted.”

“Distracted with what?” Stennis growled, eyes narrowing.

The Necromancer flicked the Swordsman a glance, then turned his eyes to Merigold. He could tell that she was the reason they were here.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped out from behind her protector, clasping her hands together for courage.

“I wanted to speak with you,” she said clearly, then faltered in the face of the unblinking stare he levelled at her. “I… I wanted to… ask some questions.”

“And why would I answer you?”

Even now, he showed an almost total lack of emotion or care, as if he were completely unbothered by his circumstances, which couldn’t be true. No matter how high his Constitution, hanging there must have been agonising.

“Because in a few hours your soul will be destroyed,” she replied, finding her courage once more. “I work within the administration of the Imperial Court. I’m a… a record keeper, I suppose. This is your only chance to leave behind anything to explain…  why. Why you did the things you did.”

Rather than reply, he stared at her for a long moment, dark eyes boring into hers until she was forced to look away. On the verge of giving up, she jolted with surprise when he eventually replied. 

“It was you, wasn’t it?” he asked.

Merigold froze in place.

“I’m… not sure what you mean?”

“It was you that made them bring so many Soldiers. You’re the reason the first thousand were pulled back. Someone with an actual brain had to be interfering in the Court for those things to happen.”

He blinked, his dark eyes still locked on her.

“It would have been difficult, that first thousand, but I would have won. Most certainly I would have won.”

And then… he didn’t even need to say it. Merigold could well have imagined what might have happened next. The experience he would have gained might have been enough to push him to platinum there and then. Pushing into the Western Province, he would have amassed an undead horde that dwarfed what had taken the field the previous day and swept into the rest of the Empire like a plague.

“I am glad that I was able to play my part,” she said after taking a steadying breath.

“Why?”

The question came so quickly, so bluntly, that she needed a moment to process it.

“Why… what?”

“Why are you glad? You’re happy that I’ve been stopped? You’re proud to help contribute to the continuation of the Empire. Why?”

“Why?” she spluttered. “B-because it’s obviously better than letting it be destroyed. You would kill my family, my friends. Why wouldn’t I be glad you were prevented from succeeding?”

The thought of her own mother and father, crushed beneath the bony heels of an endless undead horde was enough to give her nightmares. It had given her nightmares. 

“That’s interesting. I can accept that,” Tyron said slowly. “Because it is better for you, you are glad that I was stopped.” He nodded. “It is most definitely better for you. You are a Noble, correct?”

“You address the Lady Herimar,” Honoured Stennis ground out. “Show some respect.”

“No,” Tyron replied flatly, then continued his earlier thought. “Because I am going to kill all of the Nobles. Every man, woman and child. I will permanently expunge the tainted blood of the Gods from this world. That includes you. That includes your mother, and father, and your siblings, nieces and nephews. They are all going to die by my hand, and I will capture their souls to ensure The Five cannot save you from my grasp.

“But don’t you find it interesting that you didn’t suggest stopping me was better for the people of the Empire? That it was better for the realm? I wonder why you didn’t say that? Well, I know why, but I wonder if you do.”

His murderous declaration was delivered so calmly, so matter of fact, as if he were discussing knocking down a wall or buying a new set of clothing. As she listened, the blood drained out of Merigold’s face, leaving her pale and trembling. So horrified, she almost didn’t hear what he said next.

Stennis blurred next to her, lunging forward and sinking his fist deep into the restrained man’s gut. He hit him with such tremendous force that Tyron was doubled over, his feet rising two feet above the ground before he fell back down, the chains digging hard into his wrists and fingers.

“You were warned,” Stennis growled as he stepped back to Merigold’s side.

The Necromancer dangled, using his toes to steady himself, then leaned his head to one side and spat.

“Hit me as many times as you like,” he said, sounding bored. “Nobles killed my parents, and I will make sure they die for it. How did it feel?” he asked suddenly, turning back to Merigold, “when you ordered the deaths of millions? An entire province wiped off the map with the stroke of a pen. You believe that I am evil? I could never hope to enact death on such a scale, even if I tried. The Empire is an engine of death and suppression, acting on a grand scale for thousands of years. All in service of a great lie.”

Stennis went to move again, but Tyron pierced him with a glare.

“You, of all people, should know. You spoke to the Unseen. You know what is happening here.”

“I will not speak of that heresy, and neither will you,” Stennis declared, eyes flicking to the guards around the room.

Merigold felt as if the conversation were slipping from her grasp. The Empire was what? How could a person believe something like that? What Heresy?

“How exactly are you going to prevent me from talking about it? Kill me? Tyron mocked. “Please, by all means, cut my throat.”

“I will cut out your tongue.”

The Necromancer thought for a moment.

“You could, I suppose, but then you would be condemning your friend here to death.”

Stennis ripped his blade from its sheath. 

“Threaten her again and you will lose your tongue and your limbs, Necromancer. I am not curious in the least at what you have to say.”

“But I am,” Merigold yelled, grabbing at Stennis’ arm. “Please, Stennis.”

He looked at her and softened, a little. After a few seconds passed, he relaxed his posture and put his blade away.

“Fine. But if he speaks of that Heresy, this dialogue will come to a close. By whatever means I deem necessary.”

“Thank you, Stennis,” she said.

Merigold still hadn’t learned what she had come for. If this was to be the final statement of Tyron Steelarm to be interred in the records, then she would get all she could, so that a case such as his was never repeated.

The Necromancer simply looked unbelieving.

“How in the world did they brainwash you so thoroughly?” he wondered. “Are you Imperial Guards selected based on your gullibility? It beggars belief that you would speak to the Unseen itself and still swallow the lies.”

“Please,” Merigold interjected. “I do not want to hear of… this. I want to know what caused you to do the things that you did. Why did you begin on this path?”

Finally, the Necromancer turned his gaze back to her, frowning.

“Why not?” he said. “We have a few minutes.”

“A few minutes until what?” Stennis grated.

“You’ll find out in a few minutes,” Tyron shot back, irritation showing on his face. He kept his focus on Merigold.

“Do you know who Magnin and Beory Steelarm were?” he asked her carefully.

Merigold hesitated, then nodded.

“Y-yes. They were approved platinum rank Slayers. All of those need to be registered with the administration. I read their files after… after all of this started.”

“Platinum rank,” the Necromancer mused. “I’m not sure that’s as far as they got, to be honest, but that’s besides the point. Do you know how they died?”

That was a loaded question if ever Merigold had heard one. She was unsure how to answer.

“There is some… confusion… in the records.”

“I’ll clear it up for you,” Tyron said, eyes hardening. Suddenly, he was no longer cold and emotionless. As if the veil had been stripped away, he exuded a boundless, irrepressible anger that burned so fiercely she was shocked she hadn’t been able to see it before.

This man was burning alive from within, flames of rage and pain endlessly consuming every part of him.

“Magnin Steelarm took a knife and plunged it into his wife’s heart,” he said, eyes so dark they were almost black. “Then he lay down her body, lay beside her, and did the same thing to himself. Why do you think he did that?”

Merigold’s mouth was dry. She tried to speak several times before she managed to force out the words.

“T-to… avoid… executing their orders, I imagine” she managed.

“And what were those orders?” Tyron demanded, his gaze boring into her own.

“They were… ordered to… neutralise a threat.”

“Me. They were ordered to neutralise me.”

Merigold managed a nod.

That much, she had known. The exact details of the Steelarm’s death had been a mystery, but it would have been impossible for Tyron to kill them at that point. She surmised they had ended their own lives rather than kill their son.

“Slayers of that rank have… have great responsibilities,” she said, unsure why she was bothering to justify it. “Their loyalty must be… must be constantly assured.”

“So they need to murder their only child?”

“You were an illegal! You ran! Why didn’t you just report yourself?”

“Why would I reject the Class the Five Divines saw fit to bestow upon me?” Tyron returned, shocking her into silence. “My mother and father both believed I was granted this Class due to interference in the Awakening ritual in order to punish them. They were too ambitious, growing too strong. The Five are not fond of competition. They certainly don’t like it when the rifts are managed too well.”

“You believe the Gods themselves were jealous of your family?” Merigold blinked. That was… delusional.

Tyron closed his eyes for a moment, then suddenly seemed to relax, as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

“That… that was difficult,” he muttered.

He rolled his shoulders a little, causing the blades embedded in his flesh to wobble.

“Talk quickly,” he encouraged her. “There isn’t much time left.”

“W-well,” she looked towards Stennis, unsure what was happening. The Swordsman appeared tense, but didn’t make a move.

“Well… that was your motivation? To avenge the deaths of your parents? You’ve killed hundreds… thousands. Is it worth it?”

“Yes,” Tyron replied without blinking. “To avenge those two death’s, I will kill tens of thousands. Hundreds of thousands. Millions, if I have to. I will kill until not a single Noble is left alive in this realm. Then I will kill Selen, Orthriss, Lofis and Hamar. When that is done, my vengeance will be complete.”

This man was insane. He wanted to kill the Gods?

“If the Empire falls, millions will perish! The world will fall into ruin,” she tried to reason with him. “Is that what your parents wanted?”

Magnin and Beory had been heroes before their death’s, that much had been clear in their file. They had accrued a dangerous amount of goodwill amongst the people.

“This world is already a ruin,” Tyron said, then tipped his head towards Stennis, “he knows.”

“I do not,” Stennis growled.

“So you say.”

The Necromancer looked up.

“You learn a lot of things when you become platinum, but the most important lessons I ever learned came in my youth. My father, for instance, taught me that there is more than one way to skin a cat. My mother taught me that a set-back can be an opportunity, with the proper planning.”

Stennis frowned as Merigold turned back to face him, then cocked his head to the side. Before she could ask him what he was hearing, he moved, his blade flashing to the Necromancer’s throat.

“Stop,” he demanded.

“It’s already done,” the Necromancer smiled for the first time, a savage joy sparking in his eyes.

“You’ll kill yourself as well.”

“Will I?” Tyron looked around himself. “I’m in a null-magick zone. I think I’ll be just fine.”

“I can kill you myself,” Stennis warned, pressing the blade into the Necromancer’s neck.

“Go ahead,” Tyron said, tipping his head back. “Save me some time.”

The guards around the edge of the tent reacted, jolting in surprise as they heard something. Panic rising in her chest, Merigold fought for calm.

Then she heard it.

The screaming.

Everyone who had been present at the battle knew what caused that sound, they would never forget it.

“You’re supposed to protect her, right?” Tyron said, still smiling. “You should move quickly. Keep her alive until I come for her myself.”

Boiling with obvious rage, Stennis turned away from the Necromancer and rushed to Merigold’s side.

“We have to go,” he said, taking hold of her arm.

“Stennis, what is happening?” she said, trying to fight down the rising panic.

“I win,” Tyron laughed from behind them. “I will always win.”

“I’m sorry my lady.”

Apologising, Stennis reached around Merigold and swept her into his arms, causing her to cry out in surprise. Once he had a firm grip on her, he moved, and the world blurred around her.

They were outside the tent now, staring up a three enormous Death’s Heads descending on the camp, skulls with hollow sockets of miasma. This time though, they were different, threaded with an ominous green energy that pulsed like veins.

“That’s impossible,” Merigold said, shocked numb. “He’s contained. We saw him, we both saw him. He can’t cast magick!”

“He found a way,” Stennis said grimly. “He used the gap in the field somehow. We have to go.”

“Wai–Stennis!”

They had to stay, they had to help. So many in the camp were still in their beds, recovering from the crippling fatigue that came with being cured of the curse. 

“The dead are coming,” he told her. “Everyone here is already lost.”

“No,” she whispered, but it was too late.

Stennis ran, the world blurred and Merigold buried her head in his chest.