Chapter Twelve: “Distractions”

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Soft strains of piano music filled the office, not that Jaeger was paying much attention. The drapes were pulled shut, easily denying the late afternoon, and only a single gaslight flickered dimly from the antechamber. On his desk, an empty decanter of bourbon refracted the light into several shimmering jewels to his bleary eye.

The music stopped, and Jaeger pulled himself out of his chair with a sigh. He stumbled across the room then gave the phonograph a few cranks and reset the needle back at the beginning of the cylinder. Recorded sound still had a large degree of novelty, despite having been introduced some fifteen years earlier. The technique had been created by Lector Cennet, as it happened, and perhaps that was part of the reason the Guild was currently not making large volumes of the devices to sell to eager nobility.

The piano music filled the room again, and Jaeger sighed. It was a recording of Becka playing one of the hardest arrangements of the day and never once missing a beat. It seemed fitting, seeing as he had locked the outside door and refused to see anyone the entire afternoon. He had managed to make a show at being properly busy in the morning, but after his meager lunch, he had decided to just stop for the day. That had been several hours ago, when the decanter has still be newly refilled.

He slouched back into his chair and stared at the empty decanter. Part of him wanted to scream and throw the crystal at the closest wall then laugh as it shattered. It was a small part, though. Mostly he just wanted to stare at it and forget the last week.

He had been drinking when his military advisers, such as they were, returned with that monstrous arm. After the horrible meeting with the cardinal, the arm had seemed a blessing. That was at least until Captain Hares forced Lieutenant Lux to reveal why that had been able to find it. Lord Shadow’s involvement made the whole thing suspect, and Jaeger had decided they should sit on the evidence and see if they could find anything else without being tipped off.

He thought he had it well under control, until a steady stream of nobles started to stop by his office and ask about the arm. None of them could really say where they had heard about it, gossip being gossip, but they would not accept Jaeger’s insistence that the arm did not exist. Before the day was out, the entire court was speaking about the arm and its meister-engraved plate. Then, the next morning, Anglind had made his scene in the middle of court.

The city was slipping away from him. His own staff was beginning to look at him askance, especially with the charge of heresy against him. Thankfully it was a more civilized age. A few centuries ago, and Jaeger would have been hung at the Cardinal’s command. He should feel fortunate the king had only issued a formal censure instead of actually stripping Jaeger of his title and office.

Just thinking about it made him thirsty, and he stumbled over to the sidebar, where another decanter, this one of sherry, was still full. He had wanted to save it for tomorrow, but he could just have both of them refilled in the morning.

The lock in the outer chamber clicked, and the door opened. Jaeger fell back into his chair and drank straight from the decanter, not caring. When he lowered the crystal, it was to see Becka and Ana standing at the door to his office, both of their mouths agape.

“Witness the great Sunset Count,” Jaeger said. “In all his majesty and usefulness!”

Becka regained her composure first. “Uncle, you’re drunk.”

“What I do in my free time is my own affair,” Jaeger said. “Always has been.”

“It’s the middle of the afternoon,” Becka said.

“Ah, but haven’t you heard the rioters in the factories?” he said. “Nobles don’t work! We just sit around and drink and debauch all day. Way I see it: I’ve been missing this luxurious lifestyle and need to catch up. What else is a heretic to do?”

Ana walked around the desk and knelt down next to him. “Jaeger, please, don’t do this.”

He looked down at her and felt his heart wrench. She was so young. She did not deserve to see him like this. He did not deserve her at all, truth told.

“Ana, I think you should leave,” he said. “Or find some new acquaintances at court. It won’t do for you to be associated with a failure like me.”

“A failure?” Ana said. “Jaeger, you’re just distracted, that’s all. It’s been a bad week.”

Distracted? Yes, he was distracted. Distracted by her beauty. But it was a welcome distraction, the same as the liquor. Anything to help him keep his mind off the way the world was falling down around his ears.

He looked back to Becka. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Prince Dorian asked us to come see you,” she said. “It would not be proper for him to come and try to pull you out of this himself.”

He shrugged and slouched deeper into his chair. Becka frowned and walked across the room, where she pulled the drapes back to let in the light. Dim as it was, it still hurt his eyes.

He turned away from the window and scowled. “I am still signing the documents that need signed. Dorian is happy enough to run the city for me. I don’t see how he even noticed.”

“Apparently he noticed that you had stopped changing his orders behind his back,” Ana said. “Said it was strange everything he sent you was getting through without some creative editing.”

“And I have to agree,” Becka said. “Count Jaeger just letting someone else run the city? I can hardly believe it.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jaeger said. “Any change I could make that he wouldn’t just change back was of no consequence. The city can run itself beyond that. It has for generations.”

“The city survived, perhaps,” Becka said. “Under you it has flourished. And besides, how are you supposed to stop the Guild from whatever it is doing from in here?”

“Stop the Guild?” he said. “When did you get on the anti-Guild wagon?”

Becka blushed, and Ana put her hand over his. “Come on, Jaeger. Why don’t we go for a walk and clear your head.”

He looked over at her and was tempted, but before he could say anything, a dull roar filled the room. He turned towards the window and outside saw a large plum of black smoke rising into the sky from over in the factory district. Becka and Ana saw it too.

“What is that?” Ana said.

“A factory?” Becka said. “Did a factory just explode?”

They both looked at Jaeger, and he sighed and rubbed his temples.

“Probably,” Jaeger said. “Probably those Praedin-be-taken revenants. And I’m going to be blamed for it, I’m sure. Nothing I can do about it, though, except wait for the report to come in.”

“Then let’s go take that walk,” Ana said. “Maybe get some coffee? You need your head clear.”

Jaeger sighed and looked up. “Just go. Both of you.”

“But uncle—”

“I said go!”

The women blanched, and Jaeger slumped back down into his chair. They shared a look then left. Jaeger was sure he would suffer for that later. Yelling at a woman was a sure way to bring misery at a later time. Not that it could be worse than he was already facing. He hoisted the decanter of sherry towards the plum of smoke.

“To the factory and my career,” he said. “Shall they see the same end?”

He took a long swallow then contented himself to stare out the window and watch the smoke fill the sky.

 

* * *

 

Markus walked into Mikhail’s office. “You wanted to see me?”

Mikhail gestured to one of the chairs on the other side of his desk. Mirisa sat in the other, a curious look on her face. Once Markus was seated, Mikhail handed a folio to him. One was already in front of Mirisa.

“Good morning, Sergeant,” Mikhail said. “How has your search for these revenants been coming?”

Markus glanced at Mirisa.

“Oh, Miss Rigs has already given me her report,” Mikhail said. “I just want to hear if you have anything else to add.”

“Well,” Markus said. “Aside from the one joint attack on Lord Holmes’s factory, the revenants have been keeping fairly low. There are still reports coming in about random activity in Docktown, the slums, the Brass Purses, and the factories, but nothing major. Just random thefts or singular murders, and no one in particularly important.”

“Yes, Mirisa said as much,” Mikhail said. “What do you make of it?”

“Honestly,” Markus said. “It’s almost like someone is letting hounds out to run and play while they don’t have a need for them. The first three revenants, they are wonton. They don’t just commit crimes at their masters bidding, they do it because they want to. Holmes’s factory was the first time they were taken on the hunt, though, bent to their master’s will.”

Mikhail nodded. “An apt comparison. Anything else?” When Markus shook his head, Mikhail continued. “Well, there are two additional pieces of evidence. One comes from Arik. Apparently, it has been leaked all over the castle that an arm was found at the factory: a metal arm with the Meisters’ Guild emblem on it. The other is that apparently the victims of the hounds’ play, as you put it, are not completely random. Since the factory job, every single victim has been in the employ of the castle. Dock clerks, constables, tax collectors, soldiers, and so fourth.”

Mikhail gestured to the folios, and Markus and Mirisa both picked one up and started flipping through it. Inside was a list of the victims from the last several nights and how they had been tied to the castle.

“So, the revenants have a grudge against the government,” Mirisa said. “Not hard to imagine.”

“They also have a tenuous link the Guild,” Markus said.

“Tenuous?” Mikhail said. “Why do you say that?”

“I have Quintin’s mark on my parts, true enough,” Markus said. “But he had no reason to hide who had built me. If the Guild did make these revenants and were using them to strike out at the nobility, then it would be profoundly arrogant to stamp them with their symbol.”

Mikhail nodded. “Regardless of who made them, though, they are acting as though agents of the Guild out after some sort of destabilization.”

“Or they could be double agents,” Markus said. “It wouldn’t be the first time Sunset House has had such, yes?”

“You think the nobility would target its own?” Mirisa said. “Use revenants to, what? Turn the people against the Guild?”

“They used me that way,” Markus said. “I killed nearly as many Sentatian soldiers for the sake of my cover and to ferment Sentatian hatred of revenants as I did Adervynian. All at the orders of my superiors.”

Mirisa looked at him, aghast. “And you did it?”

“I was . . . am a soldier. I follow orders.”

“And whoever the master of these revenants, they are soldiers too,” Mikhail said. “Or, as you more aptly put it, hounds. Whatever their reason, they give the impression of the Guild striking out at the nobles. Thus, I think we can safely guess their next move.”

He again gestured, and Markus flipped passed the remaining pages detailing the victims and found another page with a map of the factory district. A particularly large factory was circled.

“Lord Davis’s factory,” Mikhail said. “It would be a prime target.”

“It’s been hit by Meisters before,” Markus said. “Three months ago, shortly after the fire onLogain Street. You think they will strike here?”

“Yes,” Mikhail said. “I suspect there is a method to the madness. Arik tells me that Lord Holmes is widely regarded as an ally to the Guild, but had a tiff with them shortly before his attack. Lord Davis, on the other hand, has a history of antagonizing the Guild, and apparently made a bit of a scene at court.”

“Alright,” Mirisa said. “You want us to intercept the revenants if they show up at the factory and stop them?”

“Partly,” Mikhail said. “Find out who they are, why they are doing this. If they are random criminals with a grudge, convince them that it would serve them better to work for us.”

“Work for us?” Markus said. “You want to convert them? They aren’t like me, Mikhail. These aren’t lost soldiers. These are monsters! You’ve seen the reports.”

“Many would say you are a monster, Markus,” Mikhail said.

“And just how are we supposed to convince them to switch sides?”

“If they are criminals working for a master,” Mikhail said. “Be quite clear that I can pay better. If they work for the castle, trying to frame the meisters, appeal to their reason about just what Sentat does with its loyal revenant soldiers.”

“And if they actually do work for the meisters?” Mirisa said.

“Then convince them that working for us is better.” Mikhail accented the sentence by picking up a pencil and snapping it in two. “Off with you then.”

“What?” Markus said. “To the factory? You expect us to have a stakeout until they eventually attack it?”

“Oh, I’m sure you won’t wait too long,” Mikhail said.

“How?” Mirisa said.

“I have my sources, my dear,” he said. “Although, you won’t have to wait at all if you dawdle too much longer, because you will have missed it.”

Markus stood, frowning, but turned to leave. Mirisa was right behind him, and they both went down the hall to the room that had become their shared office.

Markus stormed over to a locker and switched out of his uniform coat and into the old brown coat he had first been given in the Hole. The rest of the uniform he kept on; it might make him stick out a bit, but from how Mikhail spoke, he did not have time for the rather convoluted process of changing the rest of his clothes.

He turned back around and found Mirisa on the other side of the room, by another locker, wearing only her under-dress, her back to him. He spun around quickly and coughed.

“Mirisa, you should have told me you wanted to change,” he said. “I could have left the room.”

She laughed. “So, you are a man after all, eh?”

“I never said I wasn’t,” he said. “Besides, this is a matter of simple privacy.”

“I knew you were in the room.” She walked closer to him. “I hadn’t magically forgotten.”

He glanced around and found her now in a pair of loose breeches that had come into fashion amongst the working class and a simple coat that hugged her body. The shirt under it, though, showed considerable bosom. She had a knowing smile, and Markus felt his face heat in a blush.

“Then why . . . ?”

“Markus, do you ever relax?” She was now close enough that he could smell the perfume in her hair. “I’ve only known you for a week, but I can’t say that I’ve seen you doing anything but fret over these revenants the entire time. You are here when I arrive in the morning and stay when I leave. It is almost like you’re . . . .” She paused and her smile broadened. “More machine than man.”

He tried to take a step back but found his locker in his way. “Perhaps I am, Mirisa. More of me is metal than flesh.”

She put her hand between his legs. “Even this?”

He pushed passed her and put a table between them. “No, not that it matters.”

“And you still have your mind,” she said. “So, you’re a man in the end after all. Why don’t you act it?”

He took a breath and shook his head. “Did Mikhail put you up to this? Perhaps he thought I’d be more loyal?”

She scoffed. “You prove you’re man over and over, Markus McGrigor. Do you think I’m just some strumpet Mikhail orders around?”

“I’ve only known you a week,” he said. “I’m not quite sure what you are.”

“I’m a woman,” she said. “And you’re a man. Does there have to be more to it than that? Does your ego demand that there be something more than that?”

He frowned. “As Mikhail pointed out, I’m a monster, Mirisa. What woman in her right mind would be interested in a revenant?”

“Perhaps I’m not in my right mind, then,” she said. “Who says I have to be?”

He opened his mouth to say something but realized he had no answer. Instead, he shook his head and started towards the door. “Come on. We need to get moving.”

He heard her sigh and imagined she was probably shaking her head. He wanted to do that as well but did not afford himself the luxury. He had a task that he was not too thrilled about and needed to focus on that. He squared his shoulders and headed toward the stable yard, the very image of a man on a mission.

 

* * *

 

Maaike smiled as Becka walked up to the gathering, but just as quickly frowned when she saw Ana trailing behind her. Becka she had use for, but Ana was just salt in a wound. The girl had no place in Tijervyn, much less at the prince’s salon. Still, if Maaike disapproved for the girl, then surely others did, and that would only work to harm Jaeger all the more.

She turned back to Prince Dorian. “Speak of Praedin, your Highness. Here they are, returned.”

Dorian looked at Maaike then beyond, to Becka and Ana. “Ah, ladies. Yes. How fares our good count?”

Becka curtsied. “He is still in something of an ill mood, your Highness. Even that explosion did not seem to much move him.”

“Explosion?” Dorian said. “What explosion?”

Maaike glanced at her watch. Was it so late already that theDavisfactory had been attacked? No. Unless there was some other explosion that might have been seen from Jaeger’s office, those cretins had acted early.

“I thought I heard something,” Maaike said. “Don’t you recall, your Highness? Perhaps fifteen minutes ago?”

“Oh, yes,” Dorian said. “I do recall that now. Odd there have been no pages coming in to tell us what it was. Do you know, Lady DeRosa?”

Becka bit her lip. “It looked like a factory, sire. It was quite visible outside of Uncle’s, er, the count’s window.”

“Really?” Dorian said. “Did he say what he was going to do about it?”

Becka and Ana shared a look.

“No, sire,” Ana said. “As Lady DeRosa said, he was extremely out of sorts.”

A man who had been listening laughed. “No doubt. If I had the church denouncing me as a heretic, I’d be in a poor humor too.”

“You give him too much credit, Charles,” another man said. “I’d say he has finally realized he is completely ineffective as the Sunset Count. Your Highness, you really should petition to your father to have Jaeger removed, as he obviously cannot handle the stresses and demands of his office.”

Dorian turned to the second man. “Lord Cameron, Jaeger has been dutifully and effectively executing the office of the Sunset Count for longer than you’ve been allowed at court by yourself. I doubt there is a more qualified man in the city. Do you know of any? Perhaps you are volunteering yourself?”

Cameron paled and demurred. Yes, it was easy to deride Jaeger, but no one could deny that he was one of the few men who would willingly take the position as Sunset Count. Still, this was not truly the path Maaike wanted this conversation to take. She looked over at Becka and raised an eyebrow. Becka saw it, took a quick breath, then stepped forward.

“I do not think it is Count Jaeger we should be blaming,” she said.

“Of course not,” Charles said. “Why would you want to see your darling uncle blamed?”

Becka winced. “It isn’t because of my fondness for him,” she said. “Although I will point out, his oaths do not bind me. Yes, he is my uncle, although I am not his niece, not anymore.”

“Peace, Lady DeRosa,” Dorian said. “I am curious, though, if not Jaeger, who do you think we should turn our critical eye to in these trying times?”

“The meisters,” she said quickly.

Dorian glanced at Maaike, and she kept her face neutral, if perhaps a hair surprised. Much like Anglind, if she was seen as connected to this too directly, it would only undermine it.

Dorian turned back to Becka. “The meisters, my lady?”

“Where else do revenants come from?” Becka said. “Yes, Jaeger has made it clear that the arm found at Lord Holmes’s factory is suspect to tampering, but it does not change that revenants do not just appear from thin air.”

“These are serious allegations you are leveling, Becka,” Dorian said. “Do you have any proof?”

“Is this a court of law, sire?” Becka said. “I am merely talking to what I believe in my heart. I know Qristina Barak, your Highness, and her father, and they are not noble people. They are the kind to promise before men and under Troena not to do a thing, only to go ahead and do it anyway.”

“Doesn’t House DeRosa have several lucrative contracts with the Guild?” Cameron said. “Seems rather ill advised for you to naysay them so.”

“My house does,” she said. “Because I helped them to undermine my uncle, and that was their reward to a favored pet. But I have seen what they are doing, my lords. Attacking those who don’t give them what they want and smiling down on those who buckle under their strong-arming.”

A page came running in and spoke into Dorian’s ear, and he frowned and sent the boy off. The other nobles looked at him expectantly, and his frown deepened.

“I have just been informed that it was Lord Davis’s factory that just exploded, the same one that Jaeger had attempted to force the meisters to support some months ago.”

“My point exactly, sire,” Becka said. “First Holmes, who has recently fallen out with the meisters, and now Davis, who has for some time been in their bad books. Do you not see the pattern emerging?”

“Two factories don’t make a pattern,” Dorian said. “But I will take what you’ve said into account.”

He walked off, and Charles and Cameron followed after him. Maaike turned to Becka with a faint smile.

“Very adamantly put.”

Becka bit her lip. “Do you think it will really help?”

“Your uncle?” Maaike said. “I haven’t the foggiest, nor do I really care. My concern is Tijervyn and Sentat.”

“I don’t think this will help at all,” Ana said.

“No one asked you,” Maaike said.

Ana straightened her back and glared. “What, jealous over Jaeger?”

Maaike laughed. “Lady Manne, the day I am jealous over Jaeger will hardly be the day he counts you as one of his conquests, I assure you.”

Ana blushed, cleared her throat, and turned to Becka. “I still don’t think all this distraction will help, Becka. The court is already confused as it is, but to make them start doubting the meisters like that? And you don’t even have any proof!”

“They have used me like a puppet,” Becka said. “This no distraction, Ana. This is a quest for the truth.”

Maaike smiled. “Quite right, Becka.” Little did they know it was both and neither at the same time. “A quest for the truth. I like that.”

What truth, these pawns had no clue. If it even was truth was of little consequence. When Maaike was done, everyone would believe it true, and that was all that counted. And then, she would save Sentat from the meisters. It was funny, to think that was her cause. She hardly even thought about how her actions would help Kanadis anymore. Of course they would, no doubt, but she had gotten herself pulled into a larger cause. She would save Sentat, no matter the cost.

 

* * *

 

Markus looked over the parapet he was leaning against. TheDavisfactory, a massive conglomeration of three different factories all smashed together, was just across the street. Workers moved in and out of the several entrances, and the street was full of protesters and workmen alike.

Mirisa looked up beside him. “I can’t really see the revenants striking in broad daylight.”

Markus glanced at her. “Why not?”

“There’s too many people,” she said. “I mean, even with them being monsters, there is a lot that could go wrong with simply trying to march in there in broad daylight. You said it yourself earlier: even the most modified revenant can be brought down by a lucky shot, right?”

“True,” Markus said. “But nobody said they were just going to march in. Even in the open, there are ways to hide. An attack like this would send a message, though. It isn’t just the night people need to fear.”

Mirisa nodded slowly. “So. A woman bears her heart to you, and you just keep going like nothing happened.”

Markus groaned. He knew that the office would not have been the end, only the beginning, but when she had not brought it up on the carriage ride over, he had hoped it would wait for another day.

“Listen, Mirisa, it isn’t that I’m not flattered,” he said. “Oh hell, not that I’m not interested, but, well, we really don’t need this kind of distraction right now.”

“Distraction?” she said.

He winced. “I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, I think you did.” She leaned back down and put her back against the parapet. “And you’re right. It is a distraction. We have a job to do, right?”

He sighed. “Right.”

“Wrong,” she said. “Oh, we do have a job to do, but does it have to be our entire lives? Are we not entitled to an occasional distraction?”

He licked his lips. “You just met me.”

“Well, this would be a distraction, that would be an excuse,” she said. “Yes, I just met you. What can I say, I have a thing for men in uniform. Besides, as you put it, this is only a distraction, and you are interested.”

“I didn’t—” He bit his lip. “It still isn’t that easy Mirisa.”

“I don’t see why it shouldn’t be.”

“It just isn’t.” He sighed, wondering how to explain as he looked around the area. Motion from another rooftop caught his eye. “Wait, what’s that?”

Mirisa looked back over the parapet and followed Markus’s gaze. “Looks like someone else is checking the factory out, too.”

“Not just checking it out.” Markus stood and attached his grappling hook. “Time to hope someone is looking up.”

Mirisa looked at him. “What?”

“Cover me.”

He aimed at the tall smokestack of the factory and fired the hook. It soared through the air and found a firm grip. He then jumped out over the street before Mirisa could say anything else, engaging the wench and starting to climb as he swung. He just barely cleared the edge of the factory roof.

Below, he heard screams. He paused and looked over the ledge while his grappling hook freed itself and made its way back down to him. People were pointed up at him, and he stood proudly, letting himself be seen, before he ran towards the revenants. With any luck, that would be enough to start emptying the factory. He was not sure if he could stop four at once, but he could minimize any damage they might do.

He ran across the roof, and he saw the other four jump across the narrow alley from their building. They came up short when they saw him, and the largest of them started walking towards Markus. The other three followed much like a pack of wolves following their alpha.

Markus walked towards them as well. That there was a leader was good. It meant that he only had to really appeal to one person, not four. Convince the leader, and the others would follow. When he was ten yards from the man, he stopped as he recognized the face above the twisted metal body.

“Tymeran?”

The revenant, Tymeran, cocked his head to the side and a smile touched his lips. “Tymeran.” He said it like he was unsure if it was actually his name, almost as if he was tasting it. “Was that my name?”

Markus took a step back. “What does that mean?”

The revenant with a glass eye stepped forward. “Shizan, who’s this?”

Tymeran, or was it Shizan, looked to his side. “I’ll deal with this, Mizan. Go on ahead.”

“Wait,” Markus said. “I want to talk to you. All of you.”

Tymeran glanced back at the other three. “Are you deaf? I said move.”

The other three revenants started moving, and Tymeran took a step towards Markus. Markus took several steps back, and Tymeran laughed.

“What, not so brave when you don’t have a load of lumber to drop on a bloke?” he said. “I really should thank you. I was being so short sighted before. Because of you, she found me and offered me this new life.”

“She?” Markus said.

“The Lady,” Tymeran said. “She gave me a new name, a new body, a new life. Although, I supposed I should thank you for giving me my old name back. Tymeran. I honestly can’t remember if that’s right or not, but I have a feeling it is, from the look on your face.”

“Tymeran,” Markus said. “Yes, that was your name. And I’m in a new life too. And the man that gave me my life is very interested in giving you yet another, greater one. I can assure you, whatever this lady is paying or promising you, he can beat it.”

Tymeran laughed. “Oh, can he now? Actually, all she offered me was the chance to live, and then, when she was done with us, my name, which you’ve so graciously already given me, and a boat ride to wherever I want. So yes, I’m sure your man could beat her offer, but I’m not in this for the money.”

“Then how about for your own self interest,” Markus said. “Because I have a feeling that whoever this lady is, the only ocean voyage she’s going to give you is to the bottom of it. You’ll be a liability, just like I was to the military.”

“I’m nothing like you,” Tymeran said.

Markus pulled his glove off and showed Tymeran his hand. “We are more alike than you know, Tymeran.”

He smiled. “Oh, I already know what you are.”

Markus blinked. “What?”

Tymeran held out his hand, and Markus grunted. His legs started moving, and he suddenly fell down to his knees. He could still feel them, but for some reason, he could not move them. His arm refused to move, too.

“I can feel you,” Tymeran said. “I felt you just before you started talking. Both legs, your arm, and part of your heart, is it? Good work. Better than those knuckleheads, or me for that matter. Let me guess: that Quintin-fellow the meister is always prattling on about made you.”

“What?” Markus said. “How?”

“I don’t rightly know,” Tymeran said. “I don’t rightly care. But, you want to know why I’m doing this? Let me tell you: it’s because I can. That’s the law of the world, boy. It’s why a street tough steals and a nation wages war. Why a meister builds his machines and why a noble abuses the peasants.”

“Tymeran—”

Markus felt pain in his chest and grunted.

“My name is Shizan,” the revenant said. “What’s yours?”

“Please, you don’t have to—”

Markus’s own hand reached up behind his neck and grabbed his spike. His eyes went wide. “Markus! My name is Markus.”

Shizan smiled, and suddenly Markus could move his limbs again. He fell forward, and Shizan stepped back a few paces, took a deep breath, and then nodded.

“Right then. I owe you something, Markus.”

Markus looked up just in time to see Shizan’s boot flying towards his middle. The kick lifted him off the ground, and he felt ribs break and metal plates bend.

“Come on, Markus,” Shizan said. “Stand up. Try and fight me. I won’t even stop you. That’d take the fun out of it.”

Markus got to his feet and took a shallow breath. It still hurt, but it did not feel like anything was broken beyond the ribs. The look in Shizan’s eyes said he planned on changing that.

Markus rushed forward at him, ignoring the pain as best he could and bringing his blade out in mid punch. Shizan lifted an arm up and blocked the blade with his forearm, then brought the other fist around into Markus’s side. More ribs broke, and Markus could taste blood in his mouth.

“You were modified in the war, weren’t you?” Shizan said. “Odd, I thought you’d be stronger. I heard that most of the Adervynian revenants were almost completely metal.”

Markus tried to bring his blade around again, this time aiming for a joint instead of Shizan’s head. Shizan merely shifted his stance, and the blade bounced harmlessly off the thick plates that were now his skin.

“Pathetic.”

Shizan brought a foot up and then back down into Markus’s knee. The foot rose and fell several more times, first in one knee, then the other, and metallic pain seared Markus’s mind. Shizan then grabbed Markus’s right arm in both of his and snapped it like a dried twig.

Markus fell. He could still feel his hand; the lower half of his arm dangled by a few tubes and wires. Shizan walked around him a few times then stopped, reached down, and picked Markus up like a rag doll. Markus managed to open his eyes, and all he could see was sky, then Shizan threw him, and the cityscape shifted into view, and then the street. As he fell, he felt more than heard an explosion, and as he twisted towards the factory, he saw a fireball spraying out of one of the large windows in the side and coming towards him.

The shockwave threw him back into the next building, and a sharp, real pain fill the world with stars for a moment until he hit the cobblestones below, and they disappeared along with everything else.

Story by Richard Fife | Art by April Herron