- Epilogue -

 

The Succubus did not stay long, setting sail at Brossganth's request as soon as possible once the somewhat shortened formalities of his enthronement had been completed. Marishanna's ship made best speed for Mantir-Dolekth, the nearest Murgand colony, and left word with the authorities that the Forge of Legend was in Murgand hands again. That news did not stay a secret for long, for by the time the Succubus was ready to set sail for Freeport, Murgand warriors and common-folk were already hurrying around the harbour, seeking to secure passage to Jaglundar's Rock, and a place in history.

Raven had many questions for Mararen, hoping that his knowledge would hold the key to tracking down Almin, and her interest made him ask her if she might be interested in joining the Waeribane. "I've asked Marishanna to make a small course change, and drop me off at Muro's Point, where I can join up with one of our ships heading back to our home-base at Lhat'Maedaan", he told her. "You're welcome to come with me, and put your powers to good use..."

The dancer declined graciously. "The life I have is quite enough, thank you", she said. "I hope that when next we meet, it will be under more pleasant circumstances."

"The life of a Waeribane is most unpredictable", the warrior replied, "as this experience has shown me."

The Dyal's smile told Raven plenty. He's not about to give up on life, she thought. He's seen that any soul can fly, and they don't need wings.

Raven saw little of the others - Sshraada spent much of her time alone in her cabin, seeking to renew her focus through prayer, and Strides-Tall slept through most of the journey - but Marishanna was the one notable exception, and on one occasion in particular...

One night, Raven returned from her cabin after a session of wistful star-gazing up on deck to find that all was not quite as she had left it. The dancer had familiarised herself with the empathic auras present on all the objects in her room, so that any intruder would leave a impression that would stand out, and just such an impression stood out on a number of items - Raven's cloak, draped over the back of a chair; a hair-brush on the table...a tiny leather dress, lying crumpled on the floor near the foot of her bed...

"I had to come", purred Marishanna from the bed. "I hope you don't mind..."

I do, thought the dancer, but for the moment, she felt inclined to let the encounter play out.

Marishanna, who had been lying spread out, naked but for her boots, on a silken bed-sheet of her own jet-black hair, sat up and crept slowly to the end of the bed, her movements a sinuous combination of feline and serpentine. "It takes a most exceptional female to arouse my interest..."

I'm flattered, thought Raven. But should I be? "And what if the subject of your interest isn't aroused in return?", she asked.

"I can change that", murmured the Salvandireen, crawling over to one of the bed-posts and wrapping herself around it. "Normally, I prefer to be in control, but for you..."

Marishanna twisted around, and sat with her back against the bed-post, hands held up high above her head. "You can do anything you like with me", she murmured, letting one foot slip off the edge of the bed. "Tie me up, spank me...just leave me my boots..."

Somehow, Raven found the idea strangely enticing, but she did not feel in the mood to pursue it. "To serve whose pleasure - yours or mine?", she enquired.

"Both - I hope", came the reply, as Marishanna started to dig her spiked heels into the mattress, not unlike a cat pawing at a cushion before settling down to sleep.

She wants more than pleasure, Raven could sense. "And you are offering yourself to me in return for...what?", she asked.

Marishanna's writhings ceased. "Your favour, dark lady", she said softly, letting her head roll back onto one shoulder. "I have learned to be wary of those who seem demonic, for often they are nothing of the sort. I have made extensive studies of demonic entities, to ensure that I am not caught out again, and yes, I see much that is demonic in you. Thus prepared, and having witnessed your power, I have decided to pledge myself to your service."

"I may not be as demonic as you might think", Raven warned. "I would hate to think that all your...efforts only led to you being disappointed again."

"I see...much that is more than satisfactory", the warrior-sorceress replied.

"And I, for now, have seen more than enough", Raven responded, picking up Marishanna's dress and tossing it onto the bed. "If you wish to please me, just stay out of trouble. I am deeply grateful for your help, and the hospitality of your vessel, but I like my life as it is, and do not want you becoming a source of...difficulty."

"As you wish, my lady", purred Marishanna as she got up onto her knees, and started to pull on her dress.

Life may not get any more difficult, Raven thought, but it's certainly getting a whole lot more complicated.

The dancer watched Marishanna leave, then locked the door behind her. As she did so, another thought came to her, and made her smile - And no-one could say that life in these parts is boring.

None of the Directors of The Reclamationist Foundation found anything positive in Bresquet's report about the mission to Jaglundar's Rock. They had been prepared to make sacrifices to achieve their ends, no matter what damage that did to relations with the Murgands or the people of Esechapan - but the whole thing had ended up as a disaster. They had made those sacrifices, and came away with nothing.

"At least he could have made sure none of the Murgands survived", growled Vice-Director Malashet. "We could have stepped in, claimed protective custody, and mined what we needed before any rescue party showed up."

"The report completely fails to explain how these others became involved", snapped another of the Foundations executives, a rotund, bald man near the head of the conference table. "Bresquet failed to ensure the site was secure - in blatant disregard for standard procedure!"

"We should have sent someone else", sighed the tall woman sitting opposite him, shaking her head, even though it seemed that the slightest move might cause the hair heaped up on top of her head to topple over. "The evaluations suggested it, and this...this farce proves it - Bresquet is unstable."

The figure seated at the head of the table leaned forward, emerging from the darkness that had surrounded him. Chief Director Pharden D'Zahn was a gaunt skeleton of a man, with cold grey eyes everyone tried to avoid, for in them his subordinates saw a dedication to success that went far beyond mere single-mindedness. Friends, family, morality - all such things were meaningless to him, and one could hear it in his voice when he spoke.

"This operation is not a failure", he told them, in cold, unfeeling tones. "True, we did not acquire the radioactive materials necessary to power our new construction facility - and we have lost the trust of the Murgands in the process - but the remaining objectives were achieved."

The Vice-Directors exchanged uneasy, bewildered glances. "Sir...?", queried Malashet, avoiding any words that might put a spark to the tinder of his superior's rage.

"The battle-robot was equipped with sensor devices attuned to detect, record and transmit all traces of extra-dimensional energy", D'Zahn replied. "It was in exactly the right place to provide us with the key to another universe - a universe ripe for exploitation by those brave enough to stake a claim. We knew the Dark Dravwyrn were using it to travel undetected around The Realm, and we knew one such traveller was using Jaglundar's Rock as its lair. All we needed to do was set up our scanning equipment, and force the monster to open its portal. We even let word of the creature's location...fall into the hands of the Waeribane, in case the Dravwyrn required extra coercion."

The Chief Director sat back, and let the shadows enclose him again. "Why else would I allow an idiot like Bresquet to take the war-machine with him?"

"Forgive me for being so blunt, sir", said Malashet, "but just who might this 'we' be? Looking around this table, I see that none of my fellow Vice-Directors count themselves in the ranks of those who know."

"The Jaglundar's Rock operation was carried out in conjunction with Executive Operations", said the Chief Director. "You are, I trust, aware of how effective Executive Operations have been in advancing our activities."

"Indeed, sir", Malashet replied. "But just when do we get to meet the people behind Executive Operations?"

"When they feel the time is right" was all D'Zahn offered in way of an answer. "Anonymity is one of the most effective tools at their disposal."

D'Zahn closed the meeting almost immediately thereafter, and he did not move from his seat in the dark as the Vice-Directors filed out, for the present satisfied with what they had heard. The Chief Director was always first into meetings, and no-one ever saw leave - the others assumed he had his own private way in and out, one of the perks of his position.

That assumption served D'Zahn well. It helped him keep his secret.

That assumption ensured that no-one saw the segmented tubes, extending from the base of his neck and spine, leading back through the curtain behind his seat and into the concealed chamber where four huge glass cylinders, filled with bubbling luminous green fluid, stood in a square, around a low platform.

D'Zahn stepped up onto the platform, and gave the voices, the ever-present lifeless voices, unlimited access to his mind...

"Yes, I understand. I will have the matter investigated. They will be assessed, and processed according to your requirements. No, I believe the Directors can be convinced that The Darkening is the answer to our needs. After all, they are only organic..."

The creature that had been Almin flew as long and as hard as he could, letting the cosmic currents fill his wings to the limit, and beyond. However hard he tried, however far he flew, the Curse was with him - within him - the psychic chains binding him to Heslangithmanir. Only half-remembered fragments of what had existed before the Curse drove him on...scattered mirror-shards reflecting another life, another place, another face, glittering against the night-black back-drop of a soul stripped almost bare by servitude to a monstrous master.

And then, quite suddenly, the chains were gone. The monster was gone...

...but there was no release. There was a void for but a moment, then bestial instincts flooded in from all sides, flood waters overwhelming that fertile plain where hope and self could have thrived. The struggle began again, and that which had been Almin sought shelter in the caves of a lifeless rock, some way out from the main flow of the cosmic currents. If he did not have to concentrate on flight, there was a chance that man could prevail over monster.

Time meant little to one who had lived so long as the instrument of another's twisted, cruel will, and the creature could not tell how long he had fought with the beast raging within him before it became still, as suddenly as the bond with the Dravwyrn had been severed.

Almin opened his eyes, slit-pupilled heavy-lidded eyes, and he saw it - an image from legend. A serpent made of flame, floating in mid-air, its eyes made of the stuff of space, awash with stars...

The man in the body of a monster only had to look into those eyes once to know all the answers to all his questions before he could even begin to put them into words. "Yes, Lord - I understand", he said eventually, as the firey serpent shrank to a spark, then was gone.

 

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