Chapter 32: The Pullers of Strings
At the end of this semi-hidden marauder village, pressed up against a rock incline, there resided a large, tall, enclosed tent draped with fine curtains at all ends. This must have been what they'd called the "command room." It stood out drastically from the rest of the village, looking as though it did not belong.
As Dal approached, he felt his ankles grow heavy but his heart heavier still. Reluctance struck, and it was all he could do to keep placing one foot before the other. The thoughts in his mind swirled around and around, creating a haze of regret and nervous anticipation. Part of him doubted it could really be her—Ahni. Such a thing seemed impossible. Yet even the chance it could be true…that alone was enough to make Dal feel as though an anchor was tied to each of his feet.
"Relax, Dal," Volorn said, patting him on the back of his right shoulder. "I already told you: me and Grolm are gonna put in a good word for you. Boss ain't so bad once you get to know her."
Maybe not to you, Dal thought, though he did not speak those words. Instead, he found his courage and continued along the stone path until he was just upon the curtain that served as the tent's sole entrance. Now, he was close enough to touch it.
I'm not ready for this, he thought. I'll never be ready for this.
"Dal, come on," Grolm said, leaning in and shifting the curtain to its side. Then, before Dal could protest, Grolm gave him a rather forceful shove, sending him scrambling into the tent and almost knocking him over.
The moment he entered, Dal looked around—and in less than a second, his heart did not so much break as it did explode.
At once, thousands of emotions rushed into him at the speed of light. His breath caught, his posture faltered, and if not for Volorn and Grolm grabbing his left and right shoulders respectively, he would have collapsed. He struggled to comprehend how he could possibly be seeing what his eyes indicated. He struggled to rationalize how or why this was so.
Ahni!
There she was, all the way across the command tent and seated at a large wooden writing desk. She wore a black, plated set of armor minus the helm, and her head was angled downwards as she glanced at a parchment while writing on it with a quill pen. Her short, tousled black hair, her impossibly purple eyes—the deep, decades-old scar on her jaw. There was no doubt. This was her.
She also wasn't alone, either.
A tall, fully bald man in black robes with a black goatee was sitting in a throne-like chair on the right side of the tent. Presently, he had a staff lying flat across his lap, and he was staring very intensely at Dal. But Dal did not care. No, he could not bring himself to think of anything but Ahni.
It's really her. But how?
Slowly, the woman lifted her head, and the two made eye contact. She was in her mid-30s now, but she'd grown into an even more beautiful woman than she'd been in her early 20s. And as she regarded him, Dal felt like he couldn't breathe, whereas she simply appeared calm, composed, and completely unruffled in the way that she had on their previous encounter a little more than a decade ago.
"I knew it," she said, the first words she'd spoken to him in a very, very long time. She dipped her quill into ink, signed a document in front of her, then placed it down. "When the carrier pigeon landed and informed me of what happened to my men…" She sighed. "I knew it. I knew it had to be you, Dal Rineloch."
Grolm and Volorn looked at one another as though immensely confused, but neither seemed willing to dare voice their obvious questions, both remaining quiet for the moment. Dal actually wished they'd speak, because in their silence, it put the onus on him to talk to Ahni. Dal could tell that she was waiting for just such a thing; her eyes, powerful and radiant, locked onto his as though expecting a reply.
"Ahni," he said, his voice breaking. "I…I thought you were dead."
"Of course you did," she responded immediately. Following those words, she stood up from her chair, her armor making a slight clank with each motion. "Why wouldn't you? After all, you did throw me off of a bridge in the Kurmani Highlands."
Volorn and Grolm again looked at one another, their eyes widening in unison. But still, neither spoke. Dal, for his part, lowered his head apologetically. So many feelings were swirling around in his chest. So much regret. So much resentment—towards himself, not her.
"I never wanted to kill you. Or hurt you! Ahni, please. You have to believe me. I wasn't trying to harm you."
"Oh no?" she asked, stepping out in front of her desk. As she spoke, she leaned over to her side and picked up a black helm, which she placed on her head as though readying herself for combat. "Is that why you threw me off a bridge and watched me plummet a thousand feet?"
"But that's not what happened!" Dal shouted. "You attacked me. I defended myself. I made…I made a mistake and you went over the side." Despite the unfathomable ache in his wrists, he tightened his hands into fists. "I spent three days looking for you. When I couldn't find you, I assumed the river had swallowed you."
"And then what?" Ahni asked, her helm now fully upon her face.
Dal lowered his voice. "I mourned you for years. Years."
"How touching," she said coldly as she walked off to her right, opened a chest, and then bent down, retrieving a large spear with a grip that was equally as dark as her armor. Heading back over to the front of her desk, she opened her mouth as if to say something else, but the mysterious, black-robed man to Dal's right spoke before she could say another word.
"So, this is the man?" he asked, his voice sounding crackly, ominous, and thoroughly unpleasant.
"That is him, Lord Sula."
Lord Sula? Dal thought to himself, shaking his head at the name. Surely, he couldn't be Derzka Sula, one of the highest-ranked Sorcerers in Ostros.
The man coughed. "You said my name aloud, Ahni. Now, you'll definitely have to kill him."
"That was always the plan."
At this, Volorn and Grolm stared at one another for the third time, and finally, they spoke. "Actually, Boss, Dal here isn't such a bad guy. The three of us, we—aghhhh!"
Something happened: something beyond Dal's comprehension. The black-robed man, jumping up from his seat, grabbed his staff, made a swinging motion, and then just in the time between heartbeats, the two marauders opened their mouths, their heads tilted back, and something akin to a green, amorphous cloud fired out of both their throats before lifting up to the tent and disappearing near the ceiling. Both men then fell forward and landed with dual plops on their faces.
They did not stir again.
"What the fuck?" Ahni shouted. "Those were my men!"
"They heard my name," the robed man said.
"And? You never indicated to me it wasn't permissible."
"Should I have to?" he asked, speaking down to her. "What do you think would happen if Ostros learned that I am here?"
"That wouldn't have been a problem," Ahni growled at him, both hands tightening on her spear's grip.
"Not a chance I can take." Once more turning his head in Dal's direction, he took a seat and said, "Now, let's return to our earlier conversation. This young man…you've told me a great deal about him. But I want to see for myself if it's true, because I find your claims to be impossible."
Ahni shook her head. "I wish that were the case." Even as she spoke to the robed man, who Dal was beginning to think might actually be the esteemed Lord Derzka Sula, she kept her eyes pinned on Dal's. "I would give anything for it to be just a figment of my imagination. But that is the man who ruined my life, stole my dreams, and took everything in the world that mattered to me."
Despite a feeling of confusion so strong that it actually hurt, Dal couldn't help but put aside the strange business with Lord Sula and focus only on the words that Ahni had just spoken. "Ahni, I never wanted to do any of those things. Nothing I've ever done to you was by choice."
"I don't doubt that," she said to him. The portion of her face that was visible inside her helm began to tighten as though with rage. "But that doesn't fucking matter to me, Dal! Do you think I would accept an apology after what you've done to me? Do you!"
"Of course not," Dal whispered. "I've never even forgiven myself, so how could I expect you to forgive me?"
"Exactly." She raised her spear and took several quick steps towards him, but she stopped at the sound of Lord Sula's voice.
"Wait a moment, dear," he said, leaning forward in his chair. "I want to see this young man's ability."
"No, you don't," she said. "He's a monster. If luck turns in his favor, we'll both die. Best to kill him now."
The man smiled. "I'll take my chances. Tell the young man to perform his miracle."
"It's not a miracle!" Dal shouted.
At the exact same time, Ahni also shouted, "Don't call it a miracle!"
The man laughed and tapped his staff against the floor. "You two are not so different, are you? You both hate the same person!" He again stood up, and now, his tone became dark, hateful, and malignant. "Ahni, dear, tell him to show off his power."
"It doesn't work like that. From what I can remember, he can't control when it happens. There's a timer, and when it hits zero, he changes."
"And how long is left on this timer?" the man asked, though now, he spoke to Dal.
Time Remaining:
2 minutes, 8 seconds
"About two minutes and ten seconds," Dal said, becoming hopeful that the two might actually allow him the chance to shift. It was far and away the only way he might walk out of here alive. For this reason, he had been speaking slowly and trying to stall. But it seemed that such a thing wasn't necessary at all.
"I can wait two minutes," Lord Sula said. "Can't you, Ahni?"
Ahni growled and backed away until she'd returned to the spot in the tent that was near the front of her desk. Once there, she spun her spear around several times, making an audible whooshing in the air until finally she extended her front leg, bent her back leg, and jabbed it forward at the air, entering into a battle stance.
"I've waited a long time for this," she said. "I guess I can wait one final minute. You'd better pray to the God above for luck, Dal. I am a Dragon Knight now, and I intend to make this quick."
Dal nodded, and the motion involved in doing so caused him to fill with dizziness. He had done significant harm to his body today on the climb up here. For that reason alone, he longed for the shift. His hands were now so swollen they looked as though he were wearing bright red mittens on each one.
A roll of the dice to determine my fate, he thought. The same as always.
Even knowing it would do so little good, Dal met Ahni's eyes and said, "I am not saying this so you'll forgive me, but because it might be the last thing I ever say." He fought to hold back tears as he spoke. "I loved your sister more than life itself. I loved you too. All I ever wanted was a place in this world. But truly, Ahni, I would die a thousand deaths to let her live once. I will never forgive myself for what happened."
Of all things, Ahni nodded, and there was even a touch of softness in her voice as she replied—but only just a touch. "I know that, Dal. But you're an infernal beast, and your intentions mean nothing. You robbed me of my whole family. If you were truly contrite, you would lie down and die."
"I cannot do that, Ahni."
"Why?"
Dal continued to fight back tears, refusing to let them free. "Because I promised mother I would live no matter what."
"Well, that promise breaks today."
Time Remaining:
1 minute, 18 seconds
Ten seconds passed in silence, and then Ahni said something so important and so meaningful that all the fear rolled off Dal's shoulders. Truly, he had not been expecting it. The Ahni of a decade ago would never dare utter such a thing. Even amid her having somehow taken up a position as the leader of a marauder band, and even considering the evils and horrors she now inflicted upon the innocent—in spite of all these things, she must have matured, for what she said next meant more to Dal than any words she'd ever spoken to him before.
"If I kill you today, Dal," she said. "I will forgive you."
Dal gasped, but then quickly closed his eyes for a moment. "Thank you." He opened them. "Fifty seconds now."
"No complaining if you get something useless, Dal. I don't want a repeat of the apple-picking contest."
Dal laughed, and he felt genuine mirth, which surprised him. Now, for the first time during this conversation, a few damp tears did flow. "You…you remember that?"
"I remember your excuses. I remember that you blamed your class for losing to a little seven-year-old girl."
"It was a valid excuse!" he argued, seeing just a glimpse of her—the real her—after a lifetime. "It wasn't my fault that I ended up being a—"
"MASTER!" a voice screamed, causing Ahni to flinch, Dal to lose his train of thought, and the man in the black robes to make a dark scowl. "Master, master, master!" A flying figure tore its way into the command tent, then began flapping about before landing on his shoulder.
"R-Ravenia!" he shouted as she continued to squawk again and again as though in alarm. What did she want? Why had she returned now, of all times? After ignoring him through all of his struggles?
"Did that bird just speak?" Ahni asked with a gasp.
Ravenia seemed to ignore the offense or perhaps not hear it at all. Her attention seemed locked onto Dal, as she squawked again and again as though so emotionally distraught that she couldn't form words. But eventually, she did, and what she had to say next struck Dal with such intensity that he was nearly blown off his feet from her words alone.
"Master, you must retreat! That man is no sorcerer! Squawk! That man is no sorcerer, no-no-no-no!"
"What are you talking about?" Dal asked her. "Who isn't? Lord Sula?"
"Yes!" the familiar cried. "He is a Necromancer!"
"Impossible," Dal said, using Identify on the man.
Name
Derzka Sula
Class
Sorcerer
"See?"
"No, Master! You charlatan fool! He is using Deceive IV. But it does not work on me." She squawked. "He is a Necromancer. What you should have been. He is going to kill you in a way that this Dragon Knight could not!"
"Wait, what?" Dal asked, so much hitting him at once that it made him feel overwhelmed. "What do you mean she can't kill me?"
As he spoke, two things happened at the same time. First, Ahni, looking puzzled, asked what a "Necromancer" was, and as she did so, Lord Sula began chuckling as though he'd just heard the funniest joke ever told. He even put down his staff so he could clap. His laughter then grew, becoming full-on guffaws before eventually evolving into cackling.
"Is that a familiar?" he asked. "Perched on the shoulder of a Goat Castration Specialist? Ohh, I think I know what happened." He waggled his finger even as he laughed. "And I think this alone proves that my dear Ahni was not mistaken. You must have become a Necromancer. Is that right, Dal?"
Ahni's eyes flashed red, the sign of someone using Identify, and upon doing so, she looked even more confused. "Lord Sula, what is a Necromancer? What is Dal talking about?"
"I am a Necromancer," he said, outright admitting to it. With that, he bent down to retrieve his staff. "And because of this silly little familiar, I'll now have to kill everyone in this village and find another band of marauders in the Shik Mountains to do my bidding. What a shame. I liked you, Ahni."
Ahni narrowed her eyes. "Are you fucking with me?" Then her mouth fell open as though something else entirely crossed her mind. "Wait, actually, time out a second. Are…are you saying one of Dal's made-up classes is actually real?"
"They're all real!" Ravenia shouted angrily. "There's no such thing as a fake class! Fool!" Then she flapped her wings and took off, seemingly abandoning Dal. She exited the tent, leaving the three of them alone. No sooner had she flown out, however, than Lord Sula made a rowing gesture with his right arm, upon which a familiar appeared in the air before him as though springing from the nothingness itself.
"Yes, Master?" it said with an elderly male voice. The creature was of a similar shape to Ravenia, but it was about twice Ravenia's size, and its body was the color of pure gold with a few splotches of silver around its head and eyes.
"There's a familiar for you to eat. It just flew out of this tent."
"A familiar, you say?" it asked, flapping its wings while remaining stationary. "Are you battling one of your brothers again?"
"No, Brinx, this is a complicated situation. Just do as I say. Hunt down and kill Ravenia."
The creature's wings flapped even faster, and it took off. "As you wish."
Now, turning to face Dal once again, the man made a sly, disturbing grin. "I'll wait for you to shift because I'm curious," he said. "And then, I'll kill you both."
"You can kill me," Dal said, stepping in front of Ahni. "But I cannot let you kill her!"
"Ohh, someone's feeling sentimental." Lord Sula began waving his staff around, and then, following these strange, wide, full-body motions, a number of screams began to emanate from somewhere outside of the tent.
"W-what is that?" a voice cried. "Aghhh!"
Screams of agony and pain filled the air. Thinking back to his time as a Necromancer, Dal quickly surmised that the man must've summoned several undead creatures. Dal even recognized the howl of a fiend along with the sound of its sharp jaws snapping shut as it likely tore a marauder to pieces. At once, a cacophony erupted in this marauder village, and hundreds of voices could be heard shouting and screaming while the sounds of battle echoed from all around.
"How long now?" Lord Sula asked. "Until you change?"
CLASS SHIFT! NEW CLASS ASSIGNED
"Now," Dal said, readying himself.
Lord Sula smiled, though there was only malice in the sight of it. "Entertain me, then. I want to see this curse in action!"