Martin Greenberg - If I Were an Evil Overlord

He studied the terrain. The most likely route ran directly down a valley between two tall peaks. A quick calculation told him they’d have to camp on the far side of this valley. If they got caught inside at night they might not make it through, and even if they did, they’d be close enough to fear a counterattack at that point. It made sense that they would rest. A strategy formed.

He called up two of the elite guard characters and outfitted them with horses and weapons. He opened the mission menu and selected “capture.” A set of icons popped up representing known members of the enemy force. The first was a strikingly beautiful woman warrior named Mavis. Jason stared into her ice-blue eyes, moved the cursor with his thumb-operated joystick, and pushed “select.”

Makeeda’s face appeared in the upper right hand corner of the screen. Her eyes were animated, not like a CGI-generated character at all, and when she spoke it was so real he might have been seated across a table from her.

“You have selected a capture mission. Your chosen target is Mavis, lover of Colin and current leader of the rebel alliance. Please confirm your orders.”

Jason didn’t hesitate. He selected confirm. He felt like the mission would accomplish one of two things. Either it would succeed, and he’d have the current rebel leader hostage, or he would send the message to the enemy that they were being watched, and that nothing they did would be a surprise. He also hoped that the party he sent out would bring word of the two unknown siege engines.

Meanwhile, he set about placing traps and barriers throughout the immediate area of the citadel itself. He made certain that the vents were still watched, and concentrated on details. He checked the timer in the lower left corner of the screen. This was a very long scenario. If his plan failed, he wasn’t going to survive staying up to run through it again. He had to keep active, do everything he could think of to bolster the defenses of the citadel, and pray that his side mission wasn’t a waste of time. If they could cut out the leadership of the enemy, the efficiency of the attacking forces should be crippled, at the very least. If they could use the hostage to their advantage, they might avoid major confrontation completely.

When he’d done everything he could think of to prepare, he hit the one button that gave him hope. It was marked, simply, “accelerate.”

Locked in her room, seated in full lotus on a pile of furs and rugs so soft she sank in and blended, Makeeda stared at the small glowing square in her hand. She watched as events blurred. What had been a slow advance of rebel forces across the fields became an intricate web of quickly progressing lines of probability. She watched as one line diverged from the citadel, skirted the forest to the left of the main road, and wound around behind the rapidly approaching rebel forces.

This small force slipped in, and back out, apparently undetected, their mission a success, and moving much more rapidly than the small army with its siege engines and ground troops, wound its way back toward the citadel and General Vale.

“Excellent,” she whispered.

Makeeda tucked the talisman into her robe and rose. In doing so, she missed the quick wash of colored waves across the surface. The images distorted, righted themselves, and then distorted again, but there was no one to see.

Jason panicked as the images on the screen wavered. His small force had infiltrated the rebel encampment, and somehow they’d managed to make off with the rebel leader, Mavin, but now the system seemed to have overloaded. He quickly whacked his hand against the side of the control in the universal frustrated repair tic of gamers everywhere, but it was no use. The picture wavered, cleared up, and then, with a final fizzle of static, went dead.

He sat and stared at the screen. He gripped the controller so tightly he heard a small pop, looked down, and tossed it away quickly before it could break. The straps of the chair held him fast, and he had to fight the sudden claustrophobic wave of fear that threatened to engulf him.

It took a few moments for the pounding on the door and the rasping voice crying from the other side to break through the rush of blood and too-fast pounding of his heart. There was a splintering crash, and the door burst inward.

“Police,” he heard. “Don’t move!”

Jason stared at the blank screen as relief flooded his sense. Then he threw his head back and began to laugh.

General Vale stared at the sorceress in disbelief.

“Gone? Our contact is gone? What does that mean? Can’t you break through somehow and get it back?”

Makeeda shook her head. Her expression was unreadable. Her hands were buried deep in the folds of her gown. Vale considered having her seized and searched and trying the device himself, but he knew there was no point. If she couldn’t make it work, it was over.

“It does not matter,” she said. “I witnessed the capture of Mavis before the connection was lost. Your men will bring her here very shortly, and well ahead of her forces. We have everything we need.”

“I would have told you that the first day we spoke of this,” Vale growled. “I would have been wrong, and this citadel would already be in enemy hands, ruled by that upstart Colin. I no longer trust the obvious.”

“Trust me,” Makeeda purred, stepping closer and sliding around him in slow circles. Her robes teased over the leather of his boots, and her hair brushed his shoulder in passing. Vale’s eyes narrowed. She continued, “I am never obvious.”

Makeeda curled herself in under his arm and the two of them stood there, very close, and watched the security monitors. A scout burst from the trees and not far behind him the small force Vale had sent to capture the rebel princess followed. Vale allowed himself a single ill-formed smile before unwinding Makeeda from his arm and heading down to greet his unwilling guest. Perhaps things would go well after all.

Mavis was beautiful. She was still dressed in battle gear, though her armor had been stripped from her, and her arms were bound behind her with straps of leather. Her long hair flowed down her back, and her eyes flashed fire. Vale grinned and stared at her for several minutes, making two slow, circuitous rounds to study her from all angles before speaking.

Makeeda said nothing. She stood in the corner, her lips pressed very tightly together and her brow knit in a tight frown. Every few moments she pulled the small vision cube from her pocket and shook it, but there was nothing. Not even a dim glow met her gaze. Every time Vale ran his gaze up and down the prisoner’s lithe form, Makeeda shook the device in her hand harder.

“So, we finally meet,” Vale said softly. “I had hoped to speak with your brother, as well, but he… fell on his way inside.”

Mavin struggled fiercely. Her eyes blazed again, and Vale laughed.

“If I’d known how lovely you were, I’d have taken you long ago,” he said, leering.

“They will take this citadel,” she grated, “and they will burn you as you burned my brother. You and your little witch.” Mavin spat toward Makeeda, who merely stepped back out of range. Vale only laughed.

Then he stepped closer, and though she struggled wildly, she was held as he lifted her chin, inspected her more closely, and shook his head.

“Not right for a warrior,” he said dismissively, “but there are other ways you can serve.”

He turned to his men.

“Take her to my chambers. Bind her to the bed. I will deal with her myself.”

Makeeda started forward. Her lips parted, and then clamped shut. Vale turned to her, as if daring her to argue. Their gazes locked, and Makeeda turned away. She left the room quickly. Vale watched her go, smiled, and turned back to his men.