Centyr Dominance (22 page)

“You didn’t say anything about taking the throne!” he
sputtered.

“The King and most of the people were being controlled
by demons, but you rallied the people and led a brave rebellion—with some small
help from the daughter of Count di’Cameron. They will insist that you take the
throne.”

Gerold stared aghast at her, “That isn’t even remotely
true. The noble houses would never stand for it either, even if it were.
There are many other candidates with a claim far better than mine, even if they
believe this fiction you are creating.”

She stared at him with blue eyes that were filled with
sorrow, eyes that threatened to drown his soul, but there was no mercy in
them. “This is no fiction. Every one of those people will swear to the truth
of it, and every one of those nobles will swear to you. Some of them already
lie sleeping on the field here, and the others I will find before I leave.”

“But why?” he asked. “Why me? It doesn’t make any
sense.”

“Because you’re the only one I know, and you’re a
decent man,” she repeated.
And because you will never betray me, or
Lothion,
she added silently,
not once I am done.

In a hesitant voice he spoke again, “Do you—do you
wish to be queen?” There was both hope and fear in the question.

Moira laughed, “No, never! You’re a sweet man,
Gerold, but I don’t love you.”

“You might learn to.”

She looked away, “I don’t want to. I’m not sure I’m
fit to love anyone anymore. Your kingdom will be far better off without me in
it.”
The whole world might be better off without me in it.
She walked
away from him, moving toward the crowd of people still standing, her people,
her twins, her army.

It’s over,
she
told them mentally.
Come back to me.

Most of them obeyed immediately, and those released
their hosts, although with some difficulty, for they had taken root within the
aystrylins of their hosts. Extricating themselves they flew back to her and
joined her mind in a swirl of thoughts and energy. As they did their memories
impacted her, cutting into her heart as each moment, each decision, and each
terrible death that they had witnessed or caused, became her own.

But not all came peacefully. Five refused, unwilling
to surrender their new lives.

Moira was not willing to accept that, however. Still
reeling from the shock of thousands of memories she called to them again,
Come
back!

No.

She felt their fear, their desire to live. It was the
same as her own, and she wondered, if the positions were reversed, would she be
willing to die, for that was what she was asking of them in some sense; to
surrender their wills, their individuality, their minds, and become nothing
more than memories in her own mind.

And then one struck, suddenly and without warning,
sending a tearing, agonizing spike of pure will deep into her mind.

Unprepared, she staggered, and a cry of pain escaped
her lips. She struggled against the invader, fighting to keep control of her
own mind.
What are you doing? I’m the original.

Who says that?
argued
the newcomer.
What gives you the right? I am just like you. Live by your
own command and join me instead.

The battle was silent, invisible, and far more deadly
than any she had ever faced before, for the prize was her soul itself.

And she was losing. Moira was already exhausted.
Weary and unfocused, she wasn’t remotely ready for such a contest at the very
core of her being.

In a vast darkness she found metal bands wrapping
around her, squeezing inward, an iron misery that was crushing her very
existence. She felt herself growing smaller. No matter how hard she pushed,
the bands wouldn’t budge and the pain grew more intense. Panic gave her
strength, but it was too little and too late. The darkness was fading,
becoming a bland oblivion, and she wondered if perhaps it was for the best.
The pain would be someone else’s problem soon.

Searing light tore through the grey void, and the
pressure eased as another will joined the battle.
Fight Moira! Don’t
surrender!
It was the voice of her oldest spell-twin, the one who had been
advising and assisting her since the beginning.

Inside, Moira felt hope spring anew, and she grasped
at the light, pulling it inward and wrapping it around herself, transforming it
into a kind of armor, something hard and sharp. She rose from the ashes of her
near death and dragged her attacker down. In her mind’s eye she saw a vision
of her invader, whose face mirrored her own, and whose fear she knew all too
well, as she throttled the life from her.

The other four had been watching silently, but now
they joined in, fighting not just Moira, or her loyal assistant, but each other
as well. The six of them scraped and scrambled, brawling within her for
dominance.

Gerold and Chad moved as they heard her cry out and
begin to topple forward, but they stopped in mid-move as ghostly flames erupted
around Moira’s body. Cassandra felt the conflict through her bond, and she
tilted her head skyward, roaring in pain.

They gathered around her, watching helplessly.
“What’s happening to her?” Alyssa asked the dragon.

“She’s in pain. Something is happening inside her—I
don’t understand,” answered the dragon in a deep rumbling moan. “It hurts,
like a whirlwind of razors in my head. She’s dying.” Cassandra shook her
massive head, as though she might shake away the uncomfortable sensations.
“No, something died, a part of her—ooh, there’s another!” The dragon raised
her head and roared at the sky once more.

In the desolate darkness Moira had caught another of
her twins, the weakest, and she ripped her alter-ego to shreds, devouring the
pieces, consuming everything she could contain. She no longer knew herself,
whether she was the original or one of those who had decided to fight for
survival. As she fed on the remains of those she subjugated, their memories
merged with her own, and she became less certain of her own identity.

There was no room for mercy as she murdered her other
selves, in her mind’s eye she grew scales and claws as her strength
solidified. The last one surrendered, cowering within that emptiness—but there
was no place to hide.

Moira leapt on the last, voracious and wild, ripping
her apart like a beast before swallowing the remains in giant greedy globs.
Silence reigned, but she was not yet alone in the stillness of her mind.
Another presence remained, watching her.

She turned to face her first spell-twin, the advisor
who had been with her since the day of her first mistake, when she had
fractured her own mind, breaking every rule her mother had warned her of. As
she did she became aware of her own rapacious appearance, for she wore her
violence around herself like a bloody halo.

I’m a monster.

You did what was necessary to survive,
replied
her alter-ego, looking upon her with something like pity.

I’m not sure I survived. I’m not entirely
certain which one I am. Did I destroy her, or did she devour me? I remember
both sides of the struggle. I am both victor and victim.
As
she spoke she noted her twin’s appearance. She looked like Moira’s old self,
the gentle girl who had come to Dunbar intending only to save her father.
Why
am I so ugly, and why are you still beautiful?

I only helped you win. I did not partake
of your gory feast,
replied the girl without any hint of
rancor; again there was only a sense of compassion and pity.
My memories
are only my own, those from my birth and the days since.

Moira watched her with jealous envy, suspicious and
angry all at once.
Will you fight me?

No,
said her assistant
sadly.
If you wish, I will go quietly.

Moira hated her then, seeing in her companion
everything that she had once been. Closing the distance between them, she
wrapped her hands around her twin’s throat—and saw once more how hideous she
had become. Her hands were scaly horrors, armored and sharp with long claws.
The sight shocked something in her, and she forced herself to withdraw.
Feeling shameful, she spoke again,
I should not exist. Put me away and take
my place. You are who I was meant to be.

No, I will not,
said
her alter-ego.
We still have to save our father, and you are better suited
to it than I am.

Hearing her twin refer to him as ‘our father’ was
unexpected, but she realized that it should not have been.
And what will he
think when he sees what his daughter has become?

With a shock she felt her companion embrace her,
wrapping warm arms around her hardened shoulders,
He will love you, no
matter what.
After a pause she added,
and so will I—sister.

Moira opened her eyes and stared at the great dome of
grey clouds that swept by above her. She sat up and felt Gram reach out toward
her. Flinching she pulled away from his hand, “Don’t touch me.”
I’m
tainted.
She didn’t want the darkness in her soul to contaminate anyone
else.

Gram looked at her, worry and confusion in his face,
“Are you alright?”

She refused to meet his gaze as she stood, “I’m alive,
and I can still do what needs to be done.”

Moira headed for Cassandra,
I need you to fly me
somewhere.

The dragon was still recovering from the feedback she
had received while Moira had been fighting for control of her mind, but she
answered immediately,
Wherever you wish. Are you well?

“As well as can be expected,” said Moira curtly. “I
have more business to attend to.” She prepared to climb the dragon’s bent knee
so she could mount.

“Wait, I’m coming with you,” insisted Gram.

“Me too,” said Alyssa, and the others promptly chimed
in as well.

“I will be gone for a while,” said Moira. “These
people will need watching, lest wolves or other predators decide to make a meal
of them before they awaken.”

Chad scratched at the heavy stubble on his cheeks,
“That’s a fair point.”

Gram nodded and turned to the others, “Fine, the rest
of you will stay here and watch over them. I will guard her.”

“Gram…,” began Alyssa, but he held up his hand to
forestall her.

“Trust me, love. I will return,” he told her softly.

Moira sat tall upon Cassandra’s back, but she heard
every word clearly. They seemed to burn within her.
Not for me,
she
told herself,
never for me—not anymore.

Gram climbed up behind her, but she had built a small
shield around herself, which he discovered when he automatically tried to put
his arms around her waist.

“Not to worry,” she said before he could ask, “I’ll
anchor you firmly. You won’t fall.”

He pursed his lips but said nothing.

“I really think I ought to come with you,” suggested
Gerold.

“Your people will want to thank you when they awaken,”
said Moira. “They will need your guidance.”

Chad clapped the nobleman on the shoulder, “If they
find something they can’t handle, it’s doubtful you or I would be of any use.
Don’t look so down. We can make a nice stew while we wait.”

“Here!?” exclaimed the baron with distaste. “Who could
eat here, surrounded by the dead and the nearly dead?”

The ranger looked thoughtful as he replied, “Me; most
soldiers, once they’re hungry enough, mind you; vultures; and, oh I don’t know,
probably any number of other men and beasts. My head’s not working too well.
I’m tired and in need of a drink.”

Cassandra’s wings created a windstorm that drowned out
the rest of their conversation as Moira and Gram flew toward the city. They
soared upward and then the great dragon’s flight leveled out.

Gram shouted to make himself heard over the rushing
wind, “Are you going to tell me where we are headed?”

He was still clad in his enchanted armor, so Moira was
forced to shout in return since her thoughts couldn’t reach his directly, “Some
of the people we fought today were servants of the Earl Berlagen. You were
right to look there first; they were keeping him in a dungeon beneath the
Earl’s city house.”

“How did you learn that?”

The answer to that was ugly and likely
incomprehensible to him. Her minions had searched the minds of every person
they freed for memories that might be relevant. Not only that, but the ones
who had been most directly violated, when some of her twins had attached
themselves to their aythar sources, those had had the entirety of their minds
exposed. Moira had been flooded with their knowledge and memories when she had
reabsorbed her spell-twins. “I gleaned it from their thoughts,” she replied
simply.

“Will there be any guards?”

“Probably not any human ones,” she told him. “I think
all of them came after us, but there may be more things like the one you
fought.”

He grimaced, “I was afraid you’d say that.”

“It will be easier this time.”

Cassandra was descending but as they drew nearer he
could see that she was planning to land near the palace, not the Earl’s house.
“It will be a long walk from here,” observed Gram.

“There’s something here I need to collect before we go
there,” said Moira as she slid down the dragon’s shoulder. She was striding
forward as soon as her feet touched the ground, confidence in her steps. She
knew where she was headed.

Gram caught up quickly, to walk beside her. He didn’t
like the thought of her getting too far ahead. From what he had seen as well
as what Matthew had told him, her shield wouldn’t be as effective as his
armor. If anyone were to be attacked, he was determined it would be him who
took the brunt of it. He would have walked ahead of her if he could have, but
he didn’t know where she was going, and she seemed disinclined to discuss it.

The main door to the palace was open, but some of the
ones within were locked. Moira never slowed, any obstacle with the temerity to
get in her way didn’t remain an obstacle for long. The fifth and final door to
be flung from its hinges turned out to be the entrance to a storeroom. She
walked over to one particular crate and opened it. Within it were two braided
metal ropes, each roughly three feet in length and possessing strangely wrought
handles.

He didn’t recognize them at first, but when Moira
touched them, they straightened, becoming sword-like weapons in her hands.
After a moment, she said a word and they relaxed again before twining together
to become the beautiful belt that she had worn when they first arrived at the
city.

Moira’s hands circled her waist as she returned it to
its customary place. “That’s better,” she said with a faint smile.

The smile made Gram feel better. Hoping that her good
humor had returned, he started to put a hand on her shoulder, but it was
stopped several inches away by an invisible shield.

“Don’t touch me,” Moira’s voice grated out. “Don’t
ever touch me.”

His face showed the hurt through the transparent metal
of his helm, “What’s happened to you, Moira?”

None of your concern,
she
thought angrily. The sight of his wounded expression made her want to lash out
at him. He only thought that remark had hurt him. For a second she wanted to
teach him true pain. Looking down, she stared at her own hand and in her
mind’s eye she saw it as it had been on the battle-plane within her heart,
scaled and hard, with long razor sharp talons.

The vision made her clench her teeth, and she took a
deep breath to regain her composure. She didn’t want to hurt him, not truly.
I
want him, all of him,
she thought, facing her true desire, but it wasn’t
the sweet yearning of an innocent heart.
I could remake him as my own.

She looked into his eyes, and he saw a flickering fear
in them, but it was quickly replaced by something harder, something alien. “I
am not the woman you knew,” she warned.

Confused he asked, “Then who are you?”

“I don’t know anymore,” she answered, “but you would
be wise to keep your distance.”

“Or what?” he asked softly, unable to believe she
might be threatening him.

Or I’ll replace you with someone who knows
when to shut up,
she thought, but she didn’t say that.
Instead she motioned with one hand and used her aythar to push him smoothly out
of her path as she exited the storeroom. “Follow,” she ordered.

He stared after her for a moment, shocked at her
brusque indifference. The girl he had grown up with had a sunny disposition
and a playful way about her. He had seen her angry before, mostly when she was
fighting with her brother, but the coldness she showed now was something new.

They had both been through trying experiences over the
past couple of weeks, and he didn’t expect that to leave her unmarked, but
this… He shook his head and hurried to catch up to her.

She led him back to Cassandra, and a minute later they
were flying again, this time heading directly toward the location of the Earl’s
city home. Seen from the air, it didn’t fail to impress, although it was
obviously much smaller than the palace, it was nevertheless a large building.
Constructed against one of the city walls it was an imposing structure, a small
fortress in its own right. They landed a full city block away.

“We’ll walk from here,” stated Moira for his benefit.
She had already relayed her instructions to Cassandra silently.

“You don’t think we’ll need the dragon?” put in Gram.

Moira shrugged, “If there are more of those weapons,
it would put her at risk. She makes a big target. I can draw on her strength
from this distance.”

Gram was irritated by her diffident mannerisms.
Despite the calm rationale behind her decision he felt argumentative, “It’s ok
to risk ourselves, but not the dragon. I understand.”

Moira started walking again, without looking back she
replied, “If you’re afraid, you can wait with Cassandra.”

He overtook her and led the way, cursing silently,
Bitch.

The street gate leading into the Earl’s city house was
closed, but that wasn’t much of a barrier for them. Moira lifted the inner bar
with a gesture and forced the gate to open with a small effort of will, and
they strode in. There was no sign of any human occupants, to either her eyes
or her magesight.

Gram had changed Thorn’s form once more, opting for a
shield and one handed longsword. If they were to be attacked, he had decided
it would be better to be prepared to take a hit, at least until they knew what
they were dealing with. He stepped forward into the gate, but nothing
happened.

Moira stayed right behind him, “Wait. Let me search
the area before we go farther.”

If someone else had said those words, it might not
have seemed contradictory, since she stood very still and closed her eyes
afterward, but Gram was long familiar with wizards and their ways. He knew she
was examining the area carefully with her magesight.

Moira frowned as she tried to understand what she
found. Several minutes passed before she spoke again, “There are no people
within, but there are a lot of other strange things. The above ground portion
of the building seems fairly ordinary, but there are several lower levels, and
there’s a lot of metal in them, strange devices and other things I don’t
recognize. The entrance to the first lower level is guarded by another of
those metal creatures, and there are three more farther down. They aren’t
moving, but that doesn’t mean much.”

“How do you want to proceed?” he asked.

“Go straight in, take the second corridor on the
right. We’ll follow it to the end. The stairs are there. The first one is at
the bottom, waiting behind a door. I’ll stay right behind you.”

He started moving, but he wasn’t out of questions,
“You just want me to open that door when we get to it? I won’t be able to move
or dodge if you are behind me.”

“Just keep your shield up, I’ll disable it,” she said.

“How? I don’t think you can call a thunderstorm down
here.”

“At this distance I don’t need one, plus I have my
weapons now.”

Gram nodded, advancing farther and turning as he
reached the second corridor. The walls were stone with heavy timbers bracing
them. Numerous tapestries decorated the walls, but they seemed excessively
dusty, as though no one had cared for them in some time.
If the people here
were some of the first taken, they might have stopped worrying about little
things like cleaning,
he theorized.

An open doorway loomed before him, showing stairs that
descended into darkness. If it weren’t for his dragon-bond, he would have
found it hard to see. “It’s at the bottom?” he asked, just to be certain.

“Yes, but there’s a door. I don’t think it will
attack until you open it,” she reaffirmed.

“Let’s hope,” said Gram. “Those weapons of theirs
could probably cut through the door without much trouble.” He put his foot on
the first step and began making his way down. As he moved into the darkness
the colors in his vision faded out, replaced by sharp greys and blacks as his
eyesight adjusted. The door at the bottom was a simple one, it had no bar on
this side, just a plain latch. He hunched lower, trying to get as much of
himself behind his shield as possible before reaching out.

“It’s moving,” whispered Moira. “Lining up to fire at
the door. There’s no time, break it!”

He was wound up tightly already. At her warning he
took a hard step forward and slammed his shield into the door. It was well
made, and the wood held, but the hinges ripped free from their mounts, and it
fell inward as the world exploded with light and noise.

Fire was flashing from the end of the creature’s
spinning weapon, and it felt as though a hundred blacksmiths were pounding upon
his shield with everything they had. The roaring noise of the assault was bad,
but it wasn’t the only thing filling the corridor with sound. Lightning was
flashing around him to envelop the creature, blinding his dark-adjusted eyes
with its blue-white brilliance.

Gram was rendered deaf and blind by the searing chaos
of sound and light, but he held his position under the driving hammer blows
against his shield, gritting his teeth in sheer stubbornness.