Ignore the reality long enough, Lash thought, and youll turn around to find yourself spitted on a blade forged of ruin. In this case that ruin is lightning. He stood at the head of an assembly of red-clad mages marked across their occipital lobes, fists, or hands by scarified patches of dragonscale. His mages - the Dragonscaled Storm - was the thunderhead from which his minotaur reckoning-gangs struck with lighting-fast efficiency.
Molten entities with elongated skulls of lava tapering to blunt snouts rained fire from their great wings. The flames were caught by nets of magical lightning from the minotaurs. Bolts of lightning clipped the wings of efreet that tried to escape the reckoning-gangs. In dying the efreet screeched about blasphemies against the Midnight Tyrant, the Great Bahamut Itself.
The only blasphemy here is complacency. Lash spoke loud enough for the gathered Storm to hear. Dragonscaled, disperse to the foothills, link up with the other Storms. Geomancers, get fortifications raised. I want the region inaccessible to outsiders.
The crunch of snow told Lash that the Storm had obeyed. He ordered the rest of the gathering into the weald where the minotaurs were cleaning up the dead efreet. Get the defenses up. We can count on their cinder shades. They wont want to give up the castles network of underground forges without a fight.
Lash watched as they went to do their work. Many of them had been there when Lash earned his infamy, and his branded name. Pride lifted his shoulders, swelled his chest at the obedience he saw in his Dragonscaled Storm.
Lightning is the stone-cold killer, the stormbringer, the life-taker, the great consumer. Fireball laughed. The efreet werent entirely wrong. A sharks grin cut across her tawny face. Id rather the rest of those dragon-headed frauds knew that we were the ones wielding the weapons that ended their rule here.
Lash dismissed his minotaur-wizards. Well, the efreet reckoned wrong when they reckoned we wouldnt lash out
reality has a nasty way of dragging you out of your safehouse. He swept his runesword toward the ranks of Dragonscaled Storm geomancers, pyromancers, and elementalists scouring the highland weald. Weve got the efreet by the balls and they dont even realize it. Without access to this regions timber, well, theyll have a hell of a time with their forges.
He stood on the plateau overlooking a castle said to be sacred by the efreet warlords of Midnight. A bit of well-placed dragonspeaking by Lash gave the holy site a consecration in the vital stuff of the efreet. He smiled like a father watching the birth of his children, clutched the handle of his runesword tightly as a husband supporting his wife through her contractions.
Feels good, yeah? Fireball clutched his arm, gave him a friendly shake.
Yeah. Its a bit like seeing your firstborn come into the world. Lash looked back down at the Dragonscaled Storm. Those hed stirred to rebellion were using their talents to get rid of the evidence. You cant help but wonder if theyll get to make full use of their skills, make a name for themselves.
Didnt know you had any kids.
I dont. Lash drew his weapon. Raised blue runes glittered across the swords red blade. When youre in the ranks of dragonspeakers you gotta weather the empathetic storms. Theyll rage right through your psyche when youre trying to work. He shrugged, laying the blade across his palms. Manipulating the tinniest elements of chance like that, the mind kinda wanders. He scowled. Whatll happen to this ones family if he cant pay the bills because he lost a bet, will that one like the concrete shoes he gets when he cant repay his loans
Lashs tongue flicked against the back of his teeth. The phantom taste of Branders blood lingered years after the incident where hed chewed through the shamans jugular. He grimaced, remembering the horror on his mothers face. She hadnt expected her baby boy to bite the hand that had been feeding them. His hand traced the ice-blue runes; images played within their depths Brander shaming Lashs father, mother and father fighting, everyone screaming when little Lash savaged Branders throat.
I think you need to put that away. Fireball said. You keep looking at that runesword all funny. Sure its not whispering sweet nothings to you? The runeswords in the pulps always did that before they gutted their owners.
Lash laughed. Pulps never passed those ridiculous morality tests the efreet mandated.
Working the furnaces
jeez you talk about mind-numbing. Fireball pulled a beaten yellow-paged book from her cloaks pocket. Even my elementals wanted a bit of stimulation. One of them may have filched a pulp or two before they went into the flames. She handed it to Lash. Give it a look starts like a rag, then turns into a history journal, complete with peer reviews.
Blech, history. Lash cracked the book, wasting a couple of hours speed-reading the gist of the historical bits. Tables and diagrams describing something akin to dragonspeaking. Fireball had gone, then returned and cleared her throat, startling Lash.
Lash shifted his runesword to one hand and flipped the pulp shut. The cover depicted a beak-snouted barbarian in chains with a horned, elongated skull wielding a black sword on which an efreet had been spitted. His eyes went to the author. Is this some kind of joke? He chuckled. Midnights Tyrant. Its almost as if the efreet were embarrassed that their master would pen anything so interesting.
I know, right? Fireball opened her fists, conjuring fire elementals. She sent the trio of fiery creatures down to help the geomancers fortify the castle defenses. Hah the little bundles of energy, theyre children when you get right down to it.
Lash watched the elementals tumble over one another in their mad dash to help their earthen brethren. Like a clutch of newly hatched raptor whelps. All tripping over one another with their games of dominance.
Fireball nodded. That too. Red flames flickered across dragonscale patches on her palms. It does my heart good to see my elementals happy. Their lives are too short, too eventful, for them to not be happy. She made fists. I dont think they enjoyed eating our own. A shiver seized Fireball. Or being forced into the burnt remains of the so-called infidels.
Winds blowing in carried a stinking cocktail of rot, burnt fat, and rotting eggs.
Right on cue, Lash the cinder shades. Hear them?
Smell them, yeah. Lash said. He closed his eyes, cocked his head. A rumbling moan carried to them on the icy winds of Midnight. Maybe the reckoning-gangs will find it in their demons hearts to deal them a mercy. Lash ran his fingers along the icy runes, chanting a summons.
They erupted from the metaphysical arteries in a storm of lightning. Ozone washed over the killing field. Thunder roared with the horned devils bellows. Matted fur hissed against armor whose mirror sheen reflected the summation of injustice strewn across the blood-soaked snow.
The minotaurs armor warped the ruined features of the cinder shades into something passing human. The demonic beasts drew blades of white lightning. Together they slaughtered the Dragonscaled Storm with lightning storms hurled from their cloven-hoofed fists. Elementals charged with hails of fire and stone. The minotaurs lightning blasts turned the enfilade back against the elementals and their conjurers.
****, **** ****! Lash gripped his runesword with both hands, crying Skredflamecaller! Skredflamecaller! In response the blade glowed red, then howled. From the charnel shriek came storms of snow that clung to the minotaurs armor. Fire roared from the sticky snow. The stink of burnt hair suffocated the killing field.
Fireball conjured fire elementals. Lash thrust out a hand to halt the overeager fire-things.
Stop! Lash said, These are my problem. You make sure the Storms hold the fortifications.
Fireball nodded. You keep that book, Lash.
Thanks! Lash smiled briefly.
Roars from below snared his attention. Fire from the explosive snow swept out from the minotaurs. It consumed the Dragonscaled Storm that survived the reckoning-gangs initial attack. He ran down into a mire of singed hair, burnt fat, and voided bowels.
What the **** are you doing? Lash shouted over the dying screams.
A red reckoning. The nearest minotaur said. It has ever been our duty. Youve invoked a tempest of emotion: passion for righteousness, passion for power, hatred for ignorance. Its deep voice shivered into a disgusting grunt. You speak with the tongue of our creators, but it was their passions that were our yoke. Not their serpents speech.
Thats the last time I use abstraction to rationalize a bad decision. Lash massaged his temple. Oh, binding these dynamos of red mana to your service seemed like it was a gamble so hey, why not use your talents as a dragonspeaker? He took a calming breath.
To whom to do you answer, then?
Justice, righteous passion
****ing can it., I heard you the first time! Lash said. He flinched at the minotaurs snort. Either an efreet or someone hopelessly brainwashed by them. He saw death in the reckoners demonic eyes burning like coals. May as well give the pulp a shot. He flipped to the bent page, one eye on the text. His other stayed on the minotaur; then both went to the reckoner-gang as they knelt. I havent even started an incantation
The earth exploded behind Lash. He started, tripping over his boots and falling face first onto the ground. Teeth aching, ears ringing, he pushed himself up and rolled around. A geomancer, indicated by the full forearm scabbing of dragonscale running along both limbs, rose from the crater on a tide of rock.
In his eyes Lash saw a madness that ignited something within. Deep inside he felt it uncoiling. It wasnt unlike the feeling hed had before vomiting after doing four cups of whiskey.
That was our livelihood. The geomancer pointed to the scattered efreet carnage, then the castle. Their forges and munitions factories.
How many of you geomancers got a chance to use your abilities? Lash said, climbing to his feet. He saw the old pulp was too far out of reach. So much for that; lets see if this being a gambling scenario where my lifes on the line is good enough for my dragonspeaking to pull through.
All of us were given a chance. The geomancer said.
Even the ones that were executed before their branding? Lash said, readying his runesword. His fingers ran along the blades runes.
Families of dissidents were eliminated, yes, the geomancer said. He crossed his arms across his chest. Keeps them from ruining life for the rest of us.
Something in Lashs chest burned. I know this isnt necessarily the geomancers fault, but thats just too ****ing vile.
Do you hear what youre saying? Lash said, walking toward the geomancer. In a rumble of thunder and blast of ozone, a minotaur stood before the dragonspeaker.
No crimes were committed. The efreet acted in accordance with their laws. The reckoner brought its lightning blade around to bar the path to the geomancer.
Really? Lash said, suddenly hot. He was acutely away that sweat plastered his leathers to his tanned skin. Then tell me why my Dragonscaled Storm had to die. Im the one that talked them into seizing the Forgeland Frontiers!
None of this was your fault, the geomancer shrugged. They were the ones that chose to follow you. Their decision, their consequences. He stepped down from his tide of living stone. Looking at Lash over the minotaurs shoulder, he said: I wish the minotaurs had laid you low. I stood against the madness you inspired. His voice hitched. And what did I get for it my workshop raided, my weapons taken for your armies, my family made examples of. Why did my family have to suffer for you?
What, I didnt tell them to do any of that! Lash snarled, grip tightening on his runesword. Gotta get Fireball my other officers to shut that **** down, make examples of the savages taking advantage of the chaos.
Lash began to speak. His words were slurred. He struggled to piece them together. The geomancer and minotaur were lost in a flurry of white. Shooting pains rocketed from his chest to his arm, neck, and head. His heartbeat was in his ear, loud as the pounding of hammer on anvil. Words came out in a nonsensical mess. Gritting his teeth, he chanted against an encroaching loss of consciousness.
The ones that did that disobeyed my orders, Lash said. Thats a damn lie, you know you didnt think that far ahead. Relied on that old dragonspeaking to pull you through. Leaning on his runesword like a cripple on a crutch, he reached out a shaking hand, against the burning pain that had it firmly in its jaws. The longer you sit here whining the- the more it happens; you turned lose a horde hardened by privation
your dragonspeaking failed again. Now people are hurting. Lash grinded his teeth against the storm of unpleasant images flashing through his mind, and said: The longer we waste time here, the more people will fall prey to the efreet and their attempts to play us against one another.
The geomancer pushed the minotaur aside and walked up to Lash. He swung a scaled forearm, knocking away the runesword. The dragonspeaker crashed to the ground, rolled over to look the geomancer in the eye.
Everything was fine until you came along and ruined it, the geomancer snapped his fingers. At his beck a jagged earth elemental clawed its way from the ground.
Lash kept on eye on the elemental and the other on the geomancer. Alright. Everything was fine until then. Now, its not. We can keep fighting here and let it get worse, he ate a handful of snow to sooth the fire raging inside. He rubbed another handful against his burning face. Or, we can go and put an end to it what the **** are you doing?
The geomancer knelt, took Lash by the chin and twisted his head to the side. Brushing aside hair, Lash knew that the geomancer had found his dragonscale.
Im not surprised. A dragonspeaker your kind have a knack for turning all against the one. The geomancer let Lashs head fall, rose and stepped back. Disgust etched itself onto the geomancers bronze features. Ill not be your tool in this.
Bahamutdammit, but this kids slow as ****ing molasses going up a hill in the dead of winter! Lash began climbing to his feet.
I dont need a ****ing tool. On shaky legs, he began hobbling for his runesword. What about the others whore probably suffering right now? Dragonspeakers that didnt do anything other than stick up for their beliefs, geomancers motivated by love of kith and kin are you going to keep heaping them on the sacrificial altar to tear me down, make yourself feel good rather than face the reality of this ****storm?
Lash could tell the geomancer was thinking on his rant. The goodhearted, yet misguided kids eyes had that distant look. He muttered something.
What was that? Lash said.
What else have I got left? the geomancers voice quivered, then cracked. The efreet and the Tyrant of Midnight, theyll kill us all because of you. Thats what always happens when someone goes against the grain. You tried to give us everything. In doing so, you took it all. He dug his fist into the earth elemental, pulled free a jag of stone. This is all I have left.
Screaming, the geomancer threw himself at Lash.
Revenge is not reckoning! the minotaur spun, swinging his lightning sword at the geomancer. Its electric blade fizzled against the jagged earth elemental as it barreled into the minotaur from the side.
Lash fell back, threw up his burning arm, screaming the words from Fireballs pulp. Flesh rippled, liquefied, his fingers fusing and nails growing into talons. Talons sprouted into fangs. From the roaring dragons snout at the end of Lashs arm came a burst of fire, shot through with lightning. It devoured the crying geomancer.
The kids screams clawed their way into Lashs ears. Slithering through his ear canal, they ripped their way into his brain. In the darkness of his mind the reminder of his heroics found a home. Sorry, I didnt
the efreet
the ****ing efreet and their ****ing regime did this to you, kid.
Roaring against the pain, yet grinning in spite of it, Lash was jerked forward by the conjuration at the end of his arm.. The dragon shed Lashs arm like a snake shedding its skin. Serpentine with red scales mottled brown, the dragon let out a hissing cry. It struck the minotaurs, snakelike, frying them.
Lashs grin rolled over and died when the gang of reckoners rebounded the dragons assault with their lightning swords. He started when arms grabbed him. Craning his neck, he saw Fireball, disheveled, pulling him away from the massacre. She looked down at him, then back at the minotaurs, throwing another horde of elementals at them.
A blade of ruin, Lash thought. Breathing was getting harder. Reality drove that ****er home. As if to remind the dragonspeaker the geomancers screams ripped through his head. Sharp and loud as a thunderclap. Im a coward, a damn coward. Couldnt face reality
Much as Lash longed for the fever and bloodloss to drive him under, they didnt. The highland weald around Fireball and Lash was alive with magical explosions, the roar of unseen creatures, screams, grunts, the wet ripping of things dying.
This is now your reality, dragonspeaker, Lash told himself. Deal with it.
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