Кейт Новак - Azure Bonds

“None of that, now.” Phalse waggled a finger at the mage reproachfully. “Not fair at all to attack a poor, defenseless halfling.”

“Zero for three,” Olive said. “You’re none of those things.”

“Something wrong, One?” Phalse addressed Alias, ignoring Olive completely. “I thought you didn’t like others doing your talking for you.”

“My name is Alias,” the woman warrior retorted, striding toward the little creature.

“You are One,” Phalse said. “Two, Three, and Four are behind the door. As well as Five through Thirteen. While I worked with the other members of the now-defunct alliance, I was very careful to always refer to you as the One, instead of just One. I couldn’t let them suspect that I only thought of you as the beginning of something far grander. Why make just one weapon when you can make several? Especially if you have as many enemies as I have.”

Alias took a step forward, and Phalse waved Cassana’s wand.

Alias stopped in mid-stride, as though she had walked into an invisible spider web. Unlike Cassana’s taut bonds, these were gummy. Phalse could wield the wand differently than the witch had.

“Problems, One?” Phalse mocked her. “Cassana’s toy still has effects you haven’t learned yet. She built for variability, you know. When you were within her area of command, the wand made you her puppet, much like that poor, undead fool, Prakis.”

Olive and Dragonbait began to close on the small form, but Alias growled at them through clenched teeth, “Back away. He’s mine!”

Phalse laughed. “No, One, you have that backward. You are mine. If I want you, that is. I think I prefer Two. She’ll be much more tractable.”

The shorter strands of Alias’s hair were rising like serpents as she fought the controlling force of the wand. Dragonbait remained in position, respecting Alias’s desire to resist the wand without help.

Olive was not so amenable to the idea. She drew out her daggers, but she remained even with the saurial.

Alias felt as though she were pressing hard against a membrane, like the skin of some gelatinous monster. She strained and the muscles in her legs bunched, but she did not move.

“Now Prakis, he wanted you,” Phalse said. “He really loved Cassana—devils knew why. She put him through hell. When you came along, though, I think he realized he could have his cake and eat it, too. You had all of Cassana’s charm, not to mention her once-youthful looks, and after the sacrifice was made, you’d be pliable, too. Not one of Cassana’s characteristics.”

Alias looked like a medusa, with the longer strands of her hair standing out from her head. The strain of fighting the grip of the web was evident in her face. Her forehead beaded with perspiration, her teeth clenched together, and her eyes squinted—fixated on the pseudo-halfling’s form.

Dragonbait gritted his teeth as he felt the familiar tug within his chest, the call of Alias’s sigils to his own. No stranger to discipline, he remained in place.

He turned to look at the mage. He was still clutching his head, but the bleeding had stopped. Akabar staggered to his feet. The saurial sensed nervousness in the halfling and wondered if it would overwhelm her caution and she would attack. Or bolt.

A movement along the wall behind and above the halfling caught Dragonbait’s eye. Two banners hanging along the sides of the courtyard parted ever so slightly. Another player had arrived on the scene. Slipping into his shen state, the lizard caught the familiar feel of the intruder. He turned his attention back on Alias’s struggle.

“It’s amazing, though, that all of them failed. Moander got you to free it, but it was so enfeebled that a laughably small group brought it down. The Fire Knives played their hand so badly that you only succeeded in throttling some Wyvernspur fop. Zrie was never going to get you to love him. Only Cassana was perverse enough to feel anything for him. And Cassana only used you to taunt and bash her lovers. She had no concept of the forces she was unleashing by trying to get you to kill your little lizard brother.”

Phalse turned the wand over in his hands, batting his blue eyes. “They all thought so small. Once they left me this citadel, I quickly duplicated their work on a much larger scale. I needed their expertise to make you, One. Creation is so very difficult. But duplication, that’s another matter entirely. It was child’s play smuggling out the equipment used to create you, coaxing Cassana out of a piece of her flesh, syphoning off a portion of the life energies Moander contributed. That’s why I chose this particular form. Halflings make such good thieves.”

Alias watched his eyes. Blue within blue eyes. Bull’s eyes. “The last sigil is yours,” she said. “You have no hidden master, do you?”

Phalse broke into one of his widened grins, the corners of his mouth almost touching in the back. “Very good, One. I led Cassana to believe that I was just a servant. The ploy had its inconveniences, but it was much safer letting her believe someone even more powerful backed me. I couldn’t risk letting Moander know we were partners. The old god and I are … rivals. As to the sigil on your arm, don’t think of it as the last sigil. As far as you should be concerned, it’s the only sigil—the only one that matters.” Phalse stood up, moved to the side of the circle, and waved the wand.

Alias felt her muscles bunch up against their will, trying to march her straight ahead—into the pool of silver and red.

“Now, I have a small job for you. Pass through this portal and take care of it. I wouldn’t be stubborn about it, if I were you.”

“Why not?” Alias growled, fighting the pull toward the bridge into Phalse’s domain. Along her arm, the single mark of the last master shone like a beacon.

“Because then I shall be forced to sacrifice you and the saurial and use Two in your stead. Two will be much more accommodating, anyway.”

“I’ll bet you made that same assumption about me,” Alias said. “You can’t be sure, though, which is why you’re trying to persuade me instead of just forcing me.”

“Oh, I’m sure. I’ve determined why you are flawed, and I know how to prevent it in other models. You see, when we made you, we hadn’t taken into account the strength of the saurial’s will. We needed a soul and a spirit for you. The soul was easy to divide, but a spirit is supposed to have limits. We assumed you would not come to life until we slayed the saurial so his spirit could transfer into you, enthralled by our will, of course. Somehow, the saurial found a way to create a spirit for you, broke off a shard, so to speak, from his own spirit. You were able to draw on his stronger spirit whenever you needed to. When I kill the two of you, I will take care that only enough spirit flows into Two through Thirteen to animate them, without making them unruly.”

“I still think you’re bluffing,” Alias said. “I won’t obey your commands willingly.”

“Oh, but you can’t refuse, One. It’s not just the wand that controls you. You want to jump into the portal. You were made to jump into the portal. Don’t you sense how right it would feel?”

Alias gasped. The portal was what had called her into the room. Its siren call was as subtle as Yulash had been, yet much stronger, like the compunction to kill Winefiddle and Giogi. The patterns compelled her to find what lay beyond.

“You see,” Phalse explained, “through this portal lies a second portal which leads to the Abyss. As you may know, my former partner, Moander, resides there in its true form. Once you step into a plane where it exists, its sigil will return to your arm. Because you bear its mark and are known to its minions as its servant, you will pass through to its domain unharmed. Once there you will kill it. You will not be able to stop yourself. You will rid the world of a great evil, a noble purpose. Just right for you.”