Throne Hunters Book 4, Chapter 16

The chamber was small, square, and though the deep alcoves gave the occasional extra room to step back or maneuver, their practice space was to all effects greatly constrained. This would be a standing duel, both tightly circling or simply holding their ground.

The murmur of Sam and Nessa’s voices came from the depths of the corridor that led to the exit. Kársek had moved to the very rear of an alcove and lay on his side facing the back wall. The bedrolls and gear had been packed up in anticipation of their moving out, and Harald quickly moved it all into an alcove, giving them just a little more room.

With a smile he turned to face Anna, who was studying him fixedly, her eyes wide, her burnished auburn hair gathered into a tight coil upon the crown of her head where it had served as a cushion for her help. Two spots of color stood out high on her freckled cheeks, but her manner was focused, poised, intent.

“I must admit I’ve been waiting for this opportunity.” She raised her blade, its length slender and tapering to a wicked point. “For years I’ve been forced to play the part of the staid countess, content to sip wine at balls or linger in my library.”

“Play? You were quite convincing.”

“I put my heart into all my endeavors. But his.” She placed her left hand on her hip, and stood with an erect carriage, shoulders back, chin raised. “This is my true passion.”

“You’re making me nervous,” smiled Harald, and settled into the familiar plow guard, hilt by his hip, point aimed upward at her face. “You know, this feels almost like coming home.”

She raised one fine brow. “How so? The 27th Level?”

“No, this.” And he moved slowly and to dawning delight through the Dungeon Square, the Dawnblade flickering out and around, back and down. “I spent months practicing these forms with Nessa, but recently? I mean, look at the Scourge. Fighting with it feels more like waving a club than actual sword work.”

“Ah, I see.” She smiled. “Yes. I noticed that, too. All those years fencing when now I’m throwing Artifacts and not bothering with my armor. It is strange.”

“Yeah.” Harald considered the Dawnblade. “The greatest duelist in the world wouldn’t have stood a chance against Thracos and his vines. I wonder… maybe the whole point of learning swordplay is just to help you survive the first levels?”

“It’s more than that, I’m sure.” Anna’s manner grew focused once more, the tip of her blade rising again. “Nessa can explain once I’m finished teaching my knight to fear his lady.”

Harald grinned. “I look forward to being chastised.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve been far too forward and familiar, it’s true. It’s time we re-established propriety.”

Was she joking? For a second he wasn’t sure, but then the crinkling at the corner of her eyes, the slightest upturn of her lips reassured him, and he executed a very shallow-mock bow. “Can you blame me? In such close quarters and so much danger? I am but a man, my lady.”

“Yes, that you indubitably are.” Her gaze flicked up and down his length, and just as he felt a startled flash—was she admiring him? She attacked.

Her blade flicked forward as she glided forward, and they exchanged three rapid fire blows, testing and parrying, each cross ringing out in the small chamber. Harald didn’t go for a bind, didn’t seek to test her strength or reflexes, but simply held the plow as he began to circle clockwise, watching her shoulders, her eyes.

Again she stepped forward, and this time she attempted to trap his blade with a rapid swirl and toss it aside, and perhaps might have succeeded were his Strength not a natural 15 even without his Scourge and the Goldchops. He flowed the blade back to center and now he pressed forward, testing high, testing low. Anna gave ground, keeping her poise, blade flitting up and down to parry with verve and rebuff his assault.

She sprang aside rather than be pinned to the wall, and unleashed a flurry of probing attacks. All the while she kept herself perfectly balanced, hand on her hip, chest thrust out, chin raised, her gaze becoming an imperious glare as he failed to succumb to her assault.

It was delightful. Her blade was as quick as her wit, and with each passing moment she struck with greater confidence, becoming subtly faster, each blow more powerful.

But of course. Her Petal Guillotine. The longer she went without receiving a blow, the stronger she became, leading up to a devastating strike.

Harald shook out his shoulders and found himself relaxing, truly enjoying the spar. She was skilled but rusty; sometimes her follow-ups were a second too late, as if she’d forgotten to flow immediately into a riposte, while at others she simply hesitated only to move into a different stance, favoring both the Plow and a strange, hanging variation of the Ox, her blade held high by her temple, point angled toward his midsection.

Neither scored a touch, but as the moments passed she became ever more formidable, just as he’d hoped.

Not that he was a master swordsmen. But his Dexterity 15 was on the upper limits of what was naturally possible for a human, and as such the Dawnblade seemed to leap of its own accord to parry incoming blows, allowing him to anticipate her strikes and move accordingly to deflect them.

Anna’s manner grew more intent, her brow furrowed with growing anger, and he realized she absolutely did not like having her will stymied. She was genuinely growing frustrated with her own inability to pierce his guard. Her blows became fiercer, her manner more haughty, and Harald couldn’t resist getting himself into trouble.

At the next opportunity, he stepped into her downward slash and bound it, their blades pressed together as he moved in close so that only the distance of a foot separated them. He moved his blade with hers so that they remained tangled, not shoving her back as he might have done in a real fight, or sidestepping when she pressed, but keeping her close, teasingly so, as he gazed past both gleaming swords to meet her fierce glare.

“You’re not bad, my lady. You must have trained for at least a few months. Well done.”

Her eyes widened in outrage then narrowed as her nostrils flared. She threw him off with a sharp cry, stepped out wide and slashed down as she turned. But that proved a distraction; the moment he raised the Dawnblade to parry, she actually booted him in the chest, her forward thrust powered by the hips that sent him staggering back with laughter as she closed in quickly to finish the deed.

Off-balance, delighted, Harald barely managed to parry the next few attacks before she slid through and pressed the edge of her blade to his throat, pinning him against the wall.

“What was that you said?” she asked, pressing in close. “I didn’t quite hear you.”

Ah, but a world of Abilities lay just within his grasp should he choose to activate them. Passives and Actives that would utterly change the dynamic at play, that would crush her will and overwhelm her defenses with the power of the Abyss.

But he had absolutely no inclination to summon them. Instead, he spread his arms and smiled widely. “I surrender. It seems even your paltry training is enough to defeat your knight.”

“Paltry?” She increased the pressure on his neck, eyes widening again. “I trained for years with the very best, and—”

“Oh please, spare us all and just kiss him already.”

Vic.

Anna spun with shock as Harald felt his heart surge with alarm and joy.

Vic stood at the back of one alcove, a lavender portal closing beside him, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. Clad only in a lady’s black silk robe stitched with fanciful designs in silver thread, he watched them both with cold amusement.

“Vic!” Harald stepped past Anna. “You’re—are you—?”

“Here? Indeed, and in the flesh. All of me and less of me and yet somehow more than I ever was. You know how it is, Harry-boy.” Vic’s smile was a razor cut. “Those Demon Seeds do a wonderful job of just fucking you up.”

Kársek grunted as he sat, and footsteps echoed up the corridor as Sam and Nessa in all her Crowned glory appeared in the archway.

“Oh my,” said Vic, raising a hand as if to shield his eyes from the sun’s glare. “Nessa, darling, you’re… ooph!” He gave himself a little shake. “Did you shower or something?”

Harald couldn’t help but reorient everything on Nessa. She was the hub around which they all spun, and with the Twilight Crown yet gleaming on her brow, everything became secondary. That moment of intensity with Anna, even Vic’s arrival.

“I’d take this off if I wouldn’t immediately collapse into a panic attack,” said Nessa, touching the Crown. “Vic, I’m so glad you’re back. I…” She glanced around at the others. “I’m going to step back so you can all talk intelligently. And—if I can—I’ll remove this and return in a moment.”

“I’ll stay with you,” said Sam immediately. “In case you need help.”

“I’ll be fine.” Harald felt a stab of jealousy when Nessa smiled and touched Sam’s arm. “I’ll just manifest the Crown again if I get in trouble. Stay.”

Sam nodded mutely as Nessa beamed at Vic and retreated back into the corridor. Her departure was like the sun being hidden behind clouds.

“My, my,” said Vic. “That’s fascinating. Nessa’s gone and become a fractured queen. Let me guess: her increased stats forced her to confront her traumatized past?”

“Yes,” said Harald, taking a deep breath as his wits returned. “But wait. What happened? So you have the Seed?”

“I do, I do,” sighed Vic, pushing off the wall to move to the alcove’s entrance. “Yay. Along with a Divinely ranked soul and all the bells and whistles that go with it. Hurrah for Vic.”

“What happened, though?” demanded Sam, taking a wary step closer. “You’re in her service now, correct? Did she ask you to do anything specific…?”

“Bring gaiety and joy to the hearts of lost children, mostly.” Vic shrugged one shoulder. “She’s surprisingly sappy for a demon queen. Also, she wouldn’t take it amiss if I opened a sweet shop for orphans. Honestly, it was quite insufferable, listening to her wax on and on about her maudlin obsessions.”

“Vic,” said Harald, tone growing tense. His friend had changed. Where before he’d been all caustic wit wrapped around a mercurial and mercenary core, now he was… collected. Focused. Cooly in control of himself in a manner he’d never been before. But to what end?

“You don’t believe me? Fine. Yes, we fucked.” He said this with the heavy air of a forced confession. “A lot. And I mean, a lot. It was vigorous, overwhelming at times, but you know, in the end, not that satisfying? I mean, heavenly body. Really. Luscious and soft and curved in all the right places, but with a surprising strength that—”

“Vic,” said Sam in her old warning tone.

Vic grinned. “Oh. You weren’t asking about the insanely athletic marathon sex session I just suffered through? Sorry, sorry. You continue to surprise me, Sam. But at least now you’ll know why I’m walking as if I rode a horse for three weeks straight. But yes. Demon Seed? Check. Horrific demonic mission to take over the Dungeon? Surprisingly… no. Then again, Harald didn’t get any explicit marching orders out the gate, did he?”

All eyes swiveled to Harald, who shook his head. “I was just told to go out and consume the world.”

“I didn’t even get that much. Poor Eclavistra. I’m not saying she had buyer’s remorse, not after the third time I employed the Blockade Breaker, but I think…” He winced. “You see, I wouldn’t stop making jokes, and surprisingly, that started to get on her nerve. I think she booted me out the door—out the portal?—surprisingly quickly as a result.”

Sam crossed her arms, expression settling into steadfast annoyance.

“Vic.” Harald stepped up to his old friend, still cautious as if he were approaching a strange hound of uncertain temper. “You can stop. You’re with us now. Please, tell us what happened.”

Vic’s eyes narrowed but a fraction, and for a long while he simply met Harald’s stare. Then he relented, shrugged one shoulder, and smirked. “It’s as you know. The Demon Seed boosted my Ego to 18, and like poor Nessa I was forced through a revolting bout of self-examination and pitiless honesty. And—well. While I don’t intend to cut my hair like you did, I do have some new objectives.”

“Demonic objectives?” asked Sam.

Vic clucked his tongue in annoyance. “Honestly, Sam, just because I’m now beholden to a voluptuous, wickedly depraved, and utterly unabashed sex demon doesn’t mean that I’ve become unreliable. Though, you know?” He paused as if considering. “Sex, per se, the act, with random women, every night, forever, is no longer one of my life goals.” He bit his lower lip in consternation. “It’s not that Eclavistra ruined me—I dare say it was the other way round—but rather… it’s almost as if I now see my very vocal obsession with carnality as a means to distract both myself and others from my aversion to sincerity, vulnerability, and healthy relationships.” He winced. “Which is a truly terrible loss.”

“Wait,” said Sam. “Did you just say something actually profound?”

“Probably not,” said Vic, then clapped his hands together. “So! Where are we? What are we doing? Planning to kill things?”

Harald grimaced. “Damn it, Vic. This is important. You said something about objectives? Did you learn anything about the demon war? Surely she revealed something to you?”

“Alas, no. Nothing about the demon war, no names were dropped, no secret plans. And while I’m aware that’s exactly what you might think I’d say if I were hiding things, the truth is that I’m a vastly better liar than that. If I were intent on lying, I’d feed you a watered down tale devoid of important bits, not just flatly deny it.”

It was only then that Harald realized how worked up his friend was. He was speaking too quickly, his witticisms too forced, his manner too languid, to pull off his air of amused detachment. There was a subtle mania to him, his eyes gleaming, his smile stiff.

“Vic.” Harald placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re safe now. You’re back with us. Your friends.”

“Oh, I know, darling. Couldn’t be happier.”

“No.” Harald forced himself to speak slowly, to make each word as impactful as he could. “I mean it. You’re safe now. You’re with us.”

Vic bared his teeth in what might have been a desperate smile. “Honestly, this saccharine attempt at…”

Harald softly shook the other man’s shoulder. “Vic. It’s over.”

Tears filmed up in Vic’s eyes, and Harald felt his whole body tremble through his shoulder. “I know.” This last was almost a gasp. “I’m quite aware of… you know, insert insouciant witty comment here—”

Sam moved in and hugged him tight.

“Oh by the Fallen Angel’s sizzling tits,” groaned Vic. “This is getting embarrassing.”

Harald stepped in next and hugged them both.

“I’m so happy you’re back,” said Sam softly.

Kársek stepped up and put one hand on Vic’s back. “Welcome back, Vic. You were missed.”

Then Anna was there, and she put a hand on Vic’s other shoulder as well. “You truly were.”

Vic went still, noticeably trembling now, and finally, after what felt like a long, aching silence, exhaled raggedly as he rested his brow on Sam’s shoulder.

They stood together thus till at last Kársek clapped Vic on the shoulder and stepped away, Anna doing the same, so that Sam and Harald were left to move back and examine their friend.

His eyes were glazed with unshed tears, his jaw clenched, but he gave a curt nod and wiped his black silk sleeve over his face. “Ah. That was nice. Let’s do this again same time next year.”

Sam chuckled. “Never change, Vic.”

“Too late, I’m afraid.” And finally his voice took on a sober, honest tone. “I am changed. But for the better, I think. I want—more than anything now—to visit a little justice on the systems and the world that forced me to survive what happened to me.”

“I understand that drive,” said Harald. “For me things only fell into place when I realized I wanted to protect the people of Flutic from the monsters in the Dungeon.”

“Ah, the Dungeon is the least of my concerns. It’s the monsters in City Council, the monsters who dine on the people’s lifeblood that have drawn my attention.” Vic nodded to himself, as if confirming the veracity of his own words. “Trust me, my ambitions have become quite astoundingly grandiose.”

“Luckily for you we’re already opposed to those Houses,” said Sam. “But there’s not much we can do against them right now.”

“All in good time,” said Vic. “We’ve the tools, the means, and now I have the will. I’m sure some good change is on its way. In the meantime.” He sniffed. “Nessa? That looked… messy.”

Harald exchanged a glance with Sam. “It’s… like she said. She’s doing amazingly well trying to figure it all out, though.”

“But she can’t wear the Crown forever.” Vic said that with strange certainty. “I’ll go speak with her.”

“Don’t be cruel,” said Sam. “She’s not in a place for your jokes.”

“She’s my oldest friend.” Vic’s voice tone grew soft, almost melancholic. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”

They stepped aside, and Vic strode across the chamber to enter the dark corridor.

The rest of them stood watching for a spell, before Sam took a deep breath. “Well. He’s back.”

“I’m glad,” said Kársek, rubbing the last of the sleep away from his eyes. “It didn’t feel complete without him.”

“Agreed,” said Anna quietly, and after stealing a quick glance at Harald, moved over to her pack.

Sam watched her go. “Did…? I heard you two sparring?”

“I…” Harald didn’t know what to say. He’d been teasing Anna mercilessly there, seeking to provoke… what exactly? He’d been purposefully playing with fire, had been electrified by her presence, her vitality, her fierce determination, that he’d been unable to help himself from pushing her to…?

Oh please, spare us all and just kiss him already.

Harald watched Anna’s stiff back as she resorted her pack. It didn’t need sorting. He exhaled, shrugged away Sam’s inquiring glance, and went after his waterskin.

As he drank, he imagined leaning between their crossed blades to kiss Anna, and felt a warm flush pass through him. He imagined his fingers loosing her auburn crown of hair, her breath in his ear as he kissed her neck, their bodies…

She still hadn’t turned back in his direction.

She was his liege. Everything had been scrambled by their descending into the Dungeon, but he couldn’t lose sight of his solemn oath to serve and protect her. Could he—would she—be willing to explore another side of their relationship while he remained so bound? Was that what he wanted?

The very idea of laying down with her, skin against skin, aroused a storm within his breast, but his Ego of 23 refused to let him simply sail away thoughtlessly into that fantasy. His mind and will remained focused and sharp. Would a tryst imperil their group, their chances of survival, their goals?

Worse yet, could he risk Anna’s life and soul by allowing her to grow even more entangled with his demon-haunted fate?

She obviously had her say in the matter, but he had to know what he was doing before he carelessly brought her deeper into his troubles.

He thought of his mother, wan and weak in the manor garden, rescued by his father in exchange for all the torment Vorakhar had brought upon their line.

There were no easy relationships when demons were brought into play.

No.

The realization came like a slamming door.

He cared too deeply for Anna to risk bringing her to Vorakhar’s attention, or to make her a plaything in his war. A means to bribe or blackmail Harald into compliance. He couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t allow her to become so important to him that her soul became endangered.

That would be truly of monstrous of him.

Regret, yearning, and melancholy stole into his heart.

He’d chosen a lonely road to walk.

If, that was, he meant to walk it with any integrity.

He and Anna couldn’t be. He couldn’t encourage that, couldn’t lead her on, couldn’t promise her something he could never truly deliver.

Not while Vorakhar lived, and had a claim on his soul.

Harald inhaled deeply and steeled his resolve.

Nothing would happen between him and Anna. Even if it hurt her feelings, he’d never encourage her in that way again. Never flirt, never tease, never…

Harald closed his eyes as throat closed with pain and loss.

No.

True strength, true affection, was doing what was best for those you loved.

Even if it resulted in her thinking him a cold beast, he’d do whatever it took to guarantee her safety.

Anna glanced back at him at last, a furtive look over her shoulder, gaze probing, speculative, conflicted. There was vulnerability there, confusion, perhaps… perhaps even hope?

Harald held her gaze, and then with the utmost deliberation, slowly and coldly looked away.