At last!
The dreadnaught was free.
Joy echoed throughout the mind that once belonged to Rol Mandred, as the Voidharrow chortled with glee at the loosening of the mental bonds that had been used to shackle the dreadnaught in place.
It was the first of many soldiers of Tharizdun that would stalk across the land bringing the god’s will to life. As the Voidharrow’s first act of freedom, the dreadnaught reached out to grab the soldier on top of his head and then twist. With a meaty squelch, flesh tore and blood spurted, and the snap of the man’s spine as it broke in twain echoed in the corridor.
The dreadnaught exited the cell in two lengthy strides, face-to-face with the psionists, as well as the king’s chamberlain, Drahar; another soldier; and Gan Storvis, the one-eyed human who had been friends with Rol Mandred.
The Voidharrow took great glee in the look of dismay on the one-eyed human’s face at the sight of what his friend had become.
A dismay that increased noticeably when the dreadnaught grabbed two of the psionists around the waist, picked them up, and slammed them headfirst into the third one’s torso. Flesh and bone and muscle and blood commingled in a twisted, pulpy mass from the impact of the three bodies against one another.
The soldier turned and ran away, and Drahar looked as if he wanted to do the same, but instead he seemed to be preparing to cast a spell.
Gan Storvis stepped forward. “Rol, it’s me. Please, you’ve got to-”
With a mighty howl, the dreadnaught opened all three lips and screamed, making it clear to the one-eyed human that he had no say in what the dreadnaught had to do.
Even as the dreadnaught screamed, Drahar cast a spell. The scream modulated from one of anger to one of agony as spikes of pain shot through the dreadnaught’s head.
Drahar was attempting to regain control. The Voidharrow could not allow that, so it resisted.
Gan continued to plead his pathetic cause. “C’mon, Rol, you can do it. Fight this.”
But Rol was no longer a factor. The Voidharrow had taken full possession of this body and transformed it into something better.
The dreadnaught backhanded Gan across the face with its left hand, sending Rol’s friend through one of the doors to the cubicles that held the fighters.
To his credit, Drahar only hesitated for a moment before casting another spell.
One that brought the dreadnaught back to the Astral Plane where the Voidharrow and Drahar had had their last conversation. The multicolored plane was designed differently than before. The ground was earth, not metal, and it was cerulean. The walls were a sickly green, while the ceiling was striped.
But as before, there were three figures on the plane. One was the Voidharrow, one was Drahar-but the other was Rol Mandred.
But no, he was merely a shadow, a remnant of the original consciousness that belonged to the body. Mandred was curled up in a corner of the plane against one of the green walls, not moving, not even breathing.
Even that shadow would be gone before too long.
Drahar faced the Voidharrow. Unlike the previous time, Drahar came in on the floor.
You wish to control me, minion?
“I wish to work with you, dreadnaught,” Drahar said. “We should not be at odds. Together, we can-”
Do nothing. The Voidharrow does not collaborate, I subsume. And then I destroy. Your assistance is neither required nor necessary, minion.
And then the dreadnaught struck Drahar. The walls grew darker, becoming the color of cacti.
“Something’s wrong.”
Komir looked up at his sister’s words. He was standing in the arena, looking up at the wooden seats in front of the obsidian walls. With no people in the seats, the black walls were intimidating as hell. He felt as if he was staring right into the Abyss.
Karalith had come in through the entryway to the holding area. Remnants of a rusted metal gate hung from the top of the entryway like stalactites, all that remained of the gate after Zabaj had kicked his way through it, freeing the enslaved fighters.
“What’s the matter?” Komir asked.
“Gan isn’t in the office. And one of the fighters said he saw Drahar walking around with a soldier.”
“Crap.”
“Yeah, crap. We’ve got our ‘investment’ from Hamanu, we just needed Feena to distract the psionists so we can get Rol and get out of town. That’s gonna be a lot harder with the chamberlain here.”
With a sigh, Komir said, “Yeah. C’mon, let’s see what Drahar’s doing here-maybe we can use it to our advantage.”
“I don’t know, Komir.” Karalith sounded hesitant, something Komir had never experienced in his sister before.
“What’s wrong?”
“We’ve already taken a lot of risks here. I mean, we’ve gamed the King of the World.”
Komir glared at her. “How else were we supposed to get Rol out? If we didn’t game the king, we’d have had to try to figure out a way to break him out of the dungeons in Destiny’s Kingdom-something we’re utterly ill-equipped to do. Gaming the king is a bit more within our means. Besides, what happened to all that nonsense about not caring who the victim is, just running the game the same no matter what?”
Karalith stared at him. “I was trying to reassure Gan. But he’s right, this is a little crazy, and if we try to game Drahar again, we’ll be pushing our luck all the way over the edge. We need to cut and run.”
“Fine, then,” Komir said, “let’s do that.”
“Good.” She sounded relieved. “We’ll get the coins out of the office, get Feena, Gan, and Zabaj, and get the frip out of here.”
“What about Rol?”
Karalith threw up her hands, causing her bracelets to rattle up and down her forearms. “What about Rol? Have you seen what he’s been turned into? I’m not sure he wouldn’t be better off with the psionists.”
“Uhm, okay,” Komir said slowly, “but you get to explain that one to Gan and Feena.”
“I will. Don’t worry about it. Let’s just go.”
Komir wasn’t at all confident that there would be nothing to worry about-but she was also right that they needed to finish this and get the hell out of Urik. They’d rescued Gan, at least, and they were about to make off with almost three thousand gold. It was a helluva big score, one that would have Komir dancing in the streets normally, especially given who they took the gold from.
But Gan wasn’t going to like them leaving Rol.
However, he saw the same thing Karalith saw: whatever that creature was, it could no longer truly be considered to be Rol Mandred.
Komir wondered if that meant that Gan was going to want to stay with the emporium. Komir certainly didn’t mind-he’d always enjoyed Gan’s company, even if he did talk a little too much-and Feena would naturally be all for it.
The others, though, might take some convincing.
As he followed Karalith down into the catacombs, he reminded himself to worry about one thing at a time. They had to get out of there alive, first, a notion complicated immensely by the presence of the chamberlain.
Zabaj was walking down one of the corridors when they got down there, and Karalith walked up to him.
“Can you retrieve the coins from the office and bring them to the carriage?”
The mul raised both eyebrows. “We’re leaving?”
Karalith nodded.
“About time.”
Komir snorted. “Yeah.”
“Just hold back enough silver so we can pay the fighters,” Karalith said. “Oh, and when you get to the stable, have Mother and Father get the carriage ready to bug out. We’re going to have to get out of Urik pretty much the instant we all get into the carriage, and since they’re back there guarding the merchandise anyway, we might as well have them make the getaway as smooth as possible.”
Zabaj turned to carry out that instruction. Komir allowed himself a small smile. Nobody got their crodlus moving faster than Mother.