“How?” Eriatt spat along with a mouthful of blood.
“Did you really think I’d be so stupid as to risk seeing you again without being prepared?” Drake said. “I’ve got power of my own these days, you dumb bitch.”
“Drake?” Beck’s voice floated into the little clearing outside the big tent, and Drake turned to see the Arbiter bloodied and limping.
Eriatt started muttering in the Drurr language, and Drake recognised the beginning of powerful magics. He sent a kick into the woman’s stomach, and the words failed her as she doubled over and fought for air.
“Beck,” Drake said. “You Arbiters got some ways to bind magic, right? I reckon you’d best do it on this poisonous bitch.”
“Give me your belt,” Beck said to one of Drake’s crew, and the man responded quickly despite the look of deep loss etched on his face. Beck hurried forwards and tied Eriatt’s hands behind her back with the belt while the Drurr matriarch was still gasping for air. Beck then dipped a finger in a small pool of Eriatt’s blood and proceeded to draw two symbols on her upper back, just below her neck.
“Done,” Beck said, wiping the blood on her trousers. “Who is she?”
“This,” Drake said, grabbing hold of the matriarch’s hair and pulling her head back so Beck and all his crew could look upon her. “This is Eriatt Arandell, mistress of Darkhold and matriarch of the Irkonsole clan.”
Drake wanted to punch the woman, to break her bones and burn her skin. He wanted to rip the Drurr to pieces, but he also wanted to comfort her, to console her, to set her free and to love her. He settled for giving her head a rough shove as he let go of her fiery hair.
Eriatt sputtered a curse, but there was no magic there, only a venomous insult. Drake understood it and he cared not a drop. He’d been called a thousand worse things since his time as a slave.
“This is the matriarch who…” Beck started, but Drake cut her off with a dark glare before she could say what the woman had done to him. She’d violated both his body and mind, and that was something he didn’t want his crew to know.
Eriatt let out a weak laugh. Her shoulders were slumped and her head hung low. She looked a pitiful creature, with blood dripping from her face and her pale skin sweaty and waxen.
“I am the one who made him what he is,” she said in the common tongue.
“I made me what I am,” he roared, “from the broken pieces you left behind. You tried to destroy me again and again and again. You tried to turn me into another one of your broken slaves who can’t live without your fucking love and approval.”
Eriatt raised her head then, a cruel smile on her face. “And I do approve, my favourite.”
Drake punched her on the cheek and she toppled sideways. Agony burst to life in his fist and he turned away, clutching his hand to his chest and letting loose a growl of pain.
Eriatt lay on her side in the sand, whimpering. Beck stood close by, a pistol cocked and ready.
“Cap’n,” said Wes, the only one of his crew who seemed to be in full control of his faculties. “What…” The man sniffed loudly, and Drake realised there were wet streaks down his face. “Orders, Cap’n?”
Drake took in a deep breath and let it out as a sigh, trying to calm his emotions. He hated that Eriatt could still make him feel so much, and so badly.
“Check the camp over again,” he said eventually. “Make sure we got them all, then signal Ying on the corsair. Oh, and watch out for the troll.”
“The troll?” Wes said.
“Fuck.” Drake had forgotten to tell his crew about the possibility of running into a troll. “If no one’s seen it yet, it’s probably off hunting in the forest. Just be careful in case it comes back, eh?”
Wes looked terrified. “Aye, Cap’n.” He turned to leave, and some of the crew followed him. Three men stayed behind, their eyes still locked on the Drurr matriarch.
“All of you,” Drake hissed in his angriest captain voice. “Fuck off.”
Drake waited until all of his crew were wandering away before he turned back to Eriatt’s prone form. Beck still stood nearby, and there was a look in her eyes that said she would be staying no matter how many orders or threats Drake threw her way. Instead he gave her a nod and a brief hint of a smile. If he couldn’t get rid of her, it was best to make it look like he wanted her there.
“Are you going to kill me?” Eriatt said, her dark eyes staring up at Drake even though she was lying on her side with her head resting on the sand.
Drake didn’t respond. They both knew what he was going to do.
“Drake, don’t,” Beck said. “We could learn so much from her.”
“I’ve already learned far too much from her.”
“I didn’t mean you. The Inquisition. A live matriarch. We could make her talk, make her tell us everything.”
Drake shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with, Beck. She would tell you things, no doubt, but she would corrupt your Inquisition from the inside out. You wouldn’t be able to contain her.”
“What?”
“If a demon sword can corrupt your organisation, this bitch definitely can.”
“How do you know about the sword?” Drake felt Beck’s compulsion wash over him, her magic finding no purchase on his will – not while there was a charm to guard against it tattooed onto his skin.
“Don’t listen to him, Arbiter,” Eriatt whispered from her place in the sand. “Your Inquisition is stronger than he knows. Think of all you could learn.”
Drake laughed. “Tell me you don’t feel it, Arbiter. The magic infused into her very words. It goes beyond the forming of spells. It’s like your compulsion, only instead of forcing the truth from folk, it replaces it. Give her long enough and she’d convince you the sea is dry.”
Beck frowned, the firelight dancing in her eyes. Eventually she nodded. “I feel it.”
“He’s lying,” Eriatt tried again.
“I feel it,” Beck repeated.
“The Inquisition is weak at the moment, Beck,” Drake said. “We both know it’s not prepared to deal with her insidious magic. She would tear it apart, and then who would stand against the Drurr?”
Beck nodded slowly, no longer questioning how Drake knew so much about the Inquisition.
“I’m putting an end to her,” Drake said. “You should go.”
Beck looked torn. Eventually she put away her pistol and turned, wandering away. Drake watched her go and waited until she was out of earshot. At some point Beck would realise she’d forgotten to ask about the necromancer, but it was clear the dark sorcerer wasn’t here and Eriatt would never give up the knowledge she held.
Kneeling down in front of Eriatt, Drake took her by the shoulders and pulled her upright. He pulled a knife from his boot and turned it over in his hands. Eriatt watched him play with it. There was no fear in her dark eyes.
“See, that was something I learned from you,” Drake said after a while, and he watched Eriatt’s face crinkle in confusion. “What, you didn’t feel it? That same magic you tried to use on her.”
“What?” Eriatt said.
Drake grinned and nodded. “You used it on me enough. So much, in fact, I started to get a feel for it. Took me a fucking long time, but I got the hang of it my own self. I bet you didn’t even know that was possible, eh? Do you really think your own daughter would just up and betray you, free your favourite slave, without a little bit of magical coercion?”
Drake watched the matriarch’s eyes widen as she took in the possibility. Some lies were so satisfying to tell.