Chapter 11: Reincarnation
"Im…possible!" Sonja stuttered as the flickering flames of the Forsaken's torches swayed to and fro to eliminate the shrouded and twisted figures of the undead magicians. The priest froze, her heartbeats seeming to come an hour after one another. She could only stand in horror, watching as the members of Glade cackled, necromantic magic arcing from their bodies and engulfing the Scarlet Crusaders.
Dextra was elated, unable to keep herself from cackling as she fired blast after blast of energy towards the humans, her face alight as she watched her foes struggle. A young man, not more than twenty-two, cringed and cried out in agony as a violet bolt struck him in the chest, the dark magic slowly constricting his lungs until they finally burst, causing the soldier to cough up a pint of blood before his limp corpse collapsed to the cave floor. This was too easy; her plan had worked perfectly. The Scarlet Crusaders were confused and fearful, unprepared and unable to react effectively. Dextra took her time: she could easily kill many of these pitiful foes with but a passing thought, but she preferred to watch them suffer; these humans had slaughtered the Forsaken like monsters and so they would receive no sympathy.
The Scarlet Crusaders were in chaos; dozens rushed this way and that, some still attempting in vain to flee while others charged blindly at their foes. The undead were fewer in number than the humans, but the discord they had sewn had given them a huge upper hand. Each second the plight of the Scarlet Band looked more and more dire, yet some refused to give in and die.
Adrian and Illana stood back to back, the former firing arrows while the later shot bolts of arcane and holy energy towards their adversaries. The two formed a circle of destruction, taking down a mage here and there, wheeling back into the crowd each time their foes were alerted to their presence.
Gareth also did his fair share of fighting as he hurled a throwing axe through the chest of one of the members of Glade. He dodged a bolt of magic by ducking behind a stalagmite before re-emerging with bow-drawn to plant an arrow squarely in the skull of one of the Forsaken torch-bearers; the undead figure tumbled backwards, dropping the flaming brand as he did so which caught on the robe of an adjacent mage, catching her robe on fire and burning her to a crisp. Gareth used this chance to move forward and collect his throwing axe before retreating to his position behind a massive pointed rock.
Sonja continued to remain stolid as carnage unfolded around her. I've…failed, she thought, her face twitching. I have led my troops to their death. This will be our grave! Our mission has been an utter failure!
Dextra motioned for the members of Glade to move forward, their hands pointed forward as they splayed magic into the Scarlet Crusade's lines. Some of the Forsaken had begun to swig from vials and bottles they had stowed beneath their robes, the arcane potions inside bolstering their magical power or resistance to the attacks of the Scarlet Crusade. Others began to hurl similar glass containers into the human lines; as the glass shattered, deadly smog swirled throughout the cave, choking Scarlet Crusaders and sending them to the ground, convulsing as their lungs were filled with toxic smoke.
Dextra fixed her eyes on Sonja, breaking off from her underlings and moving directly towards the priest. The Priest Captain snapped out of her haze as she noticed the robed figure gliding towards her across the slick stones of the cavern floor. Dextra began to chant, a ball of black magical fire engulfing her entire arm. Sonja reacted quickly, firing a weak blast of holy magic at Dextra's chest, causing the undead to stumble and groan, interrupting the chant and causing the Forsaken's spell to dissipate.
"Damn, it looks like she will not go down easy," Dextra muttered. The leader of Glade waved her hands and conjured a barrier which blocked several more of Sonja's energy blasts. The Forsaken female began to rummage in her robes before producing a vial of emerald liquid, which she placed to her lips and swallowed. As the contents of the vial trickled down her throat, an aura the same color as the liquid engulfed Dextra's body. As Dextra finished draining the liquid, her magical shield dissipated.
Sonja smiled as she saw her opening and fired a concentrated spear of holy power at her foe. Dextra yawned, nonplussed as the spell struck her head, only to dissipate against the aura. Sonja was stunned; one of her most powerful spells had no effect on this enhanced foe.
"You look confused, human," Dextra guffawed, walking slowly towards Sonja. The Scarlet Captain continued to fire blasts of energy, but each one broke harmlessly on the aura as it hit. "You see, we know your organization favors Holy magic, as such spells are the weakness of our species. The concoction I just consumed is known as Sylvanas's Tears and contains a mixture of Gnarlrock mushrooms, bat fangs, and paladin's blood; it's the perfect defense against all types of holy energy."
Sonja shivered, but regained her composure rapidly and drew her mace, swinging it at her approaching foe. Dextra caught Sonja's wrist and clenched her hand, cracking the bones in Sonja's wrist and causing the priest to drop her mace as she screamed in pain. "I did also mention that this liquid temporarily increases my physical strength as well yes?" Dextra chuckled, her crooked nose shaking as her face neared Sonja's. "I believe," Dextra continued, her free hand covered with azure energy, its index finger extended towards Sonja's stomach, "it is time for you to die."
"Damn it all," Warren cursed, standing up rapidly and kicking over the chair he had just been sitting in. Sweat beaded on the elder's brow as he stared across the table at Maxwell Mason. "It is just as I feared."
Delilah's recent victory over the Death Knight Tyrick had earned her high praise with Aurora, making their relationship closer. Though Delilah still only held the rank of Marshal, Aurora had given her control of a unit of two dozen troops, a force of bodyguards that now rarely left her side. Additionally, Warren had gained scorn from the troops for not standing up to fight against the Death Knight; ironically, Warren's absence had been one of necessity, as he had been busily battling a cadre of Necromancers on the army's western flank. Alas, Aurora did not believe this tale, nor did most of the Scarlet Band's troops, including many of Warren's own faction. Dissent had started to spread among the ranks, and many of the soldiers had pledged their allegiance to Aurora, whether surreptitiously or openly. After the battle with the undead, the New Scarlet Band totaled one thousand troops, with six hundred loyal to Aurora and four hundred loyal to Warren.
Maxwell sat silent, unsure of what to say to his commander.
"If only you had killed Delilah earlier, then this never would have happened!" Warren roared, slamming his fist on the table.
"Sir!" Maxwell replied. "I tried my best, but it was difficult; she was always accompanied by other troops!"
"Yes, and now it will be harder, for she will always be surrounded by soldiers!"
"But…sir…look at it this way; if not for Delilah, that Death Knight may have caused massive damage and even caused us to lose the battle!"
"Stop making excuses and 'what ifs,'" Warren was fuming, pacing rapidly through the tent. "You will still kill Delilah Corwin, and you will do it before we leave in the morning, meaning you have six hours."
"H…how?" Maxwell stuttered, his eyes quivering; he knew that failure would not be tolerated and would be met with harsh punishment.
"That is for you to figure out, now get out of my sight!"
"This is…too much," Delilah said in awe as she gazed at the table arrayed before her outside Aurora's tent. The Inquisitor and Captain Elric were already seated, beckoning for Delilah to take the final seat at the table. Atop the oak surface a fantastic meal was arrayed: aged cheese, fine wine, and even meat. Delilah knew this was a reward; such food was rare, especially in the few remaining ration packs that the Scarlet Band possessed.
"Are you going to stand gawking all day or are you going to join us?" Aurora asked before placing a piece of salted beef into her mouth. Delilah nodded hesitantly and joined her commanders at the table, pausing briefly before digging into the feast at hand.
"You did well yesterday," Elric said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and placing his goblet on the table, accidently sloshing a bit of wine on the wood. "You certainly surprised everyone with your courage, quick-thinking and skill."
"I only did what I thought was best for the Scarlet Crusade," Delilah stated. "I do not seek a reward."
"Heh, so modest," Aurora laughed, "you should take more credit. I was right to see potential in you; so many other fools did little of value during the battle, or rather were too weak to do anything useful. No, your promotion was well deserved.
"However," Aurora continued, fixing her gaze on Delilah, "you must be more wary than ever. I have heard from some of Warren's defectors that he had plans in place to assassinate every soldier loyal to me. Most likely, he is currently focusing on the more promising and threatening members; your recent rise to prominence and victory over the Death Knight have surely drawn that damned mage's attention. I did not just give you soldiers to give you a sense of command; you will need bodyguards if you want to sleep peacefully at night."
"Well…what should I do if an assassin comes for me?" Delilah whispered.
"Isn't it obvious?" Aurora replied. "Kill him."
Delilah mentally struggled: she may have a human foe. No, she had resolved long ago to do what was necessary to save her beloved Lordaeron. She was clearly more valuable to the cause than some sadistic dissenter, and thus she needed to survive. The only option was to remain alive at all costs.
"Of course," Delilah answered, her resolve rising.
"Good," Aurora stated. "Now, onto other matters: the time has come to discuss the planned route of march."
Aurora stood up and walked over to a corner of her tent, grabbed a clunky object and unfolded it, assembling a folding table in seconds. She reached into a rucksack at her feet and produced a scroll which she unrolled atop the folding table. Aurora slammed her right index finger onto the parchment and began to speak.
"I estimate this to be our current position, a location roughly twenty miles east-southeast of Hearthglen," Aurora began, circling the region with her finger. "If we can pick up our slovenly rate of march a bit we should be able to reach the Eastern Plaguelands within three days. Sadly, the fastest path will force us to move through Andorhal yet again."
Aurora sighed before continuing. "It's our only option. We must fight through the undead again. Even with fewer men we will succeed. We are not so weak as to die to such rabble."
Delilah and Elric sat silently, knowing any words of dissent would be shot down: Aurora had set her sights on this plan, and nothing would change. Even so, the two had no other ideas: their options were to do nothing or attempt the route through Andorhal.
Aurora turned towards her two subordinates and paused as if hoping to solicit a response. After neither said a word, the Inquisitor waved her hand. "You two are dismissed; get some rest, I hope to leave at dawn as usual. If we are lucky we can reach Andorhal within two days."
Elric nodded and left the tent, with Delilah following closely behind. The newly promoted Marshal turned back to her superior before heading out.
"Goodnight, commander," Delilah whispered.
Aurora turned and raised an eyebrow before chuckling slightly and replying, "Goodnight Marshal Corwin."
Delilah smiled as she left the tent, her newly appointed bodyguards trotting behind her. The group walked for fifteen minutes before reaching Delilah's tent. She bid goodnight to her guardians and slipped into the canvas structure.
As Delilah entered the tent, a sharp voice greeted her. "Hello and goodbye, Delilah!"
The paladin reacted just in time to wheel out of the way of a sword strike and to draw her hammer, squinting in an attempt to see her foe in the darkness.
"Who the hell are you?" Delilah roared, hoping to alert her guards. She attempted to summon holy energy to light the room, but found herself feeling drained and incapable of such a gesture.
"Enjoying the magic dampener? My master put it together for me since I often fight foes with magical aptitude and I cannot use anything beyond basic martial skills myself," the foe stated.
"Why would you tell me all of this you son of a bitch? And where the hell are my guards?" Delilah fumed as she swung her hammer at the outline of the figure, only to watch as it dodged out of the way and kicked her in the gut, causing her to double over in pain on the cold soil that made up the tent's floor.
"Your guards cannot hear you," the figure answered. "The magic dampener I brought also has a built-in sound canceller, so anyone outside this structure cannot hear anything out of the ordinary. Also, I will not permit you to leave here and signal your sentries," at that the figure rushed in and clasped manacles around Delilah's feet, preventing her from standing.
"Just what the fuck is going on?" Delilah screeched, flailing her arms as another set of manacles bound her wrists.
Delilah heard the figure sigh. "It's such a shame to kill someone so beautiful. In another life you and I could have been husband and wife."
"You sick bastard, just who are you?" Delilah roared.
"That is none of your concern," the figure stated, leveling his sword at her throat, "All you need to know about me is that it is my sworn duty to kill you."
"Mason's sure taking his time," the gruff voice of Arnold Reskin barked. The veteran huntsman ran a whetstone along the blade of his knife, eyeing the weapon as his most precious treasure. "Do you figure his cowardice got the best of him?"
"No, that is impossible, he is fully loyal to the cause and carries out every mission to the letter," Warren replied.
"Heh, it's funny, you sent him to kill one girl and it takes him an hour, whereas I took care of the six men you assigned me in ten minutes," Arnold replied, chuckling.
"Not everyone is as cold-blooded as you," Warren answered.
"Look who's talking? And you say that like it's a bad thing."
Now it was Warren's turn to chuckle. "Of course not; it's a compliment."
At that moment, the flap of Warren's tent opened and an out of breath soldier rushed in. His hair was matted to his brow by sweat, and he gasped and panted. He hastily saluted Warren and caught his breath before speaking. "Sir, I hate to disturb you, but we're under attack!"
"Damn it all," Warren growled, rushing out of the tent, staff in hand. Arnold and the sentry followed closely behind him, the former licking his lips at the prospect of battle.
"Marshal Corwin, the undead are…" Gina Flint, one of Delilah's newly appointed guards, stuttered as she rushed into her superior's tent. Outside the sounds of battle already raged; the rest of Delilah's defenders were already busy staving off the first wave of Scourge forces that assailed their campsite. Gina, however, ignored the noise as she gasped at the scene before her: standing in the center of the tent was a man with a sword pointed at the Delilah's body; the Marshal was unable to move, her wrists and ankles bound by a series of shackles.
Gina wasted no time and lunged forward, tackling the man, causing them both to tumble backwards, ripping the covering of Delilah's tent. The two rolled across the hardened earth, the assailant's blade dropping and clattering against a tree as they continued their scuffle.
Damn, am I lucky, Delilah thought as she watched the scene unfold from her place on the ground. Still I need to get out of these chains and get into the fray; I also need to find out who that traitor is and slaughter him before he has the chance to cause more harm.
Maxwell growled and Gina wrestled against him; he was surprised at the woman's strength, as she was at the very least able to hold her own against him. As each second of their struggle continued, however, it became apparent that Maxwell would gain the upper hand, as his greater endurance prevailed. He managed to stand, pulling his opponent up with him as he did so, before hefting her onto his shoulders and throwing her against a tree; the woman's skull slammed against the ancient trunk, knocking her unconscious.
Maxwell sighed as he drew out a dagger. "I hate to have to kill someone who is not even supposed to be involved in any of this, but you have seen my face. Sorry, but maybe we will meet in the next life." And with that, he slit her throat.
"Burn you unliving bastards!" Warren shouted, blasts of holy flame flying from his arms. The mage wheeled in a circle, incinerating lines of zombies, skeletons, ghouls, crypt fiends, and other undead horrors. A single abomination continued its march forward, its skin charring as flames licked at the seams holding the creature together; pieces of its body fell off, but the creature continued its implacable march, batting a paladin out of the way as it charged towards Warren. The self-appointed Grand Inquisitor shook his head. "So foolish…" a lance of holy magic rushed from his right hand and skewered the monster through the chest, causing it to topple over.
"Sir, looks like this area is clear," Arnold stated, appearing beside Warren. The veteran continued to stare directly at the mage as he wiped caked blood off the blade of his knife. "We had best move towards the edges of camp; it appears the undead there are keeping Aurora and her personal elites at bay."
"Perfect," Warren cracked a smile, "it will be fun to see how that bitch reacts when she has no choice but to be saved by us."
Aurora had settled into a routine: as each new undead foe presented itself before her, she would swing her hammer downward and crush its skull; she would then blast the next one with holy magic, before raising her hammer to strike again, thus restarting the whole cycle. This conflict had become monotonous; Aurora did not even feel the least bit of exertion as she smashed apart foe after foe. The soldiers around her felt the same way: few of them fell to the undead while most claimed dozens of foes.
This attack was obviously poorly coordinated or else is an accident, Aurora considered as she melted a skeleton with a wave of holy energy that extended from her left palm. Even for undead these enemies are sluggish and predictable. This was probably a force that was sent to link up with another and just happened to encounter us; their commander probably initiated an attack in hopes of gaining favor with the Lich King, but based on these troops' reactions their leader either died in the early stages of the battle or is unskilled. Aurora smirked. Is this the best you can do, Arthas the Betrayer?
This force of undead was large, to be sure, but numbers was all it could boast. The majority of its troops were either zombies, skeletons, or ghouls, with the occasional crypt fiend or abomination seen amongst the ranks of rotting flesh and exposed bone. There were no apparent necromancers, though a force of scouts had managed to find a duo of such dark magicians earlier; though the Scourge officers tried to flee, the arrows of the Scarlet Band had cut off their retreat and returned them to death.
Aurora heard explosions and sensed magical energy behind her, cocking her head to see Warren blasting apart a group of undead, a group of three score soldiers following behind him. This force reached Aurora within a minute, the elder mage looking stunned as he saw the paladin and her forces standing firm against the onslaught.
"Hello Warren," Aurora stated, turning away to bash in the skull of a lumbering zombie. "What is yours business here?"
"We came to aid you," Warren stammered.
"Well, we are fine at the moment," Aurora stated. "Sorry, but you will not have the pleasure of playing the hero. We have everything under control here."
Damn you Aurora, once my plans proceed further I will deeply enjoy killing you, Warren thought, gritting his teeth as he fired a ball of arcane energy at a duo of crypt fiends, blasting the arachnid creatures apart.
"I had best check on the western flank then," Warren muttered, beckoning to his troops.
The mage's face twisted into anger as he stalked away; it seemed every conversation with that woman inevitably ended with him in disgust and her riding high. It was clear this battle was already over; clearing out the last few undead was a mere formality.
It had taken half an hour, but Delilah had managed to crawl to closer to the center of the Scarlet Band's camp where she was found and freed by a trio of elderly paladins. She thanked them hastily, failing to mention the reason for her shackles, before returning to her destroyed tent, grabbing her hammer and rushing off into the woods in search of her assailant.
The young paladin conjured a sphere of holy energy which hovered above her left hand, the ball giving her light in this shadowy maze of trees and briars. Delilah's right hand clenched as she gripped the haft of hammer tighter, her hatred rising. That bastard was definitely a human. Is it not enough for us to have to fight two strains of undead? Must we try to slaughter one another?
It was not long before Delilah came upon Gina's limp form, her body slumped against the trunk of a tree, a trail of red staining the bark and becoming invisible as it ran along her uniform. The woman's eyes were rolled back in her head and her tongue lolled out of her mouth; Delilah had to choke back a cry of terror as she saw the destroyed body. The two had not known each other well, but Delilah had heard the woman was a skilled warrior and had sworn to protect the recently appointed Marshal.
With renewed impetus, Delilah rushed deeper into the forest, following a trail of broken branches and disturbed shrubbery. Either he was in a hurry or he wants me to follow him, she pondered. It wouldn't take Captain Elric to be able to track someone moving like this…
Several dozen yards off, Maxwell Mason sat, panting behind a shrub. He had heard Delilah's approach, partly noted by the magical sensor on his magic dampener. He had readied himself for combat, only to have the magic-cancelling device crack in his hands. Warren did say it wasn't very resilient and wouldn't be able to take too much magical stress, he had considered, staring glumly at the cracked sigil atop his palm. That must mean she's angry…and I can't exactly fight too well after all the energy I spent fighting that damned guard.
Maxwell prayed Delilah would not find him; he only had to stay hidden until she vanished from the area, then he could make his way back to the battle lines and act as if nothing occurred. Surely, Warren could give him an alibi…
At that moment, Maxwell heard footsteps behind him. He slowed his breathing, hoping she would pass. The figure, however, continued to move towards him, pushing the brush aside; he could not run, that would only prove his guilt.
"Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?" Delilah asked gruffly. Maxwell turned himself around to face her.
"I…I…ran from the undead…" Maxwell stuttered, lying hastily. "I was on first watch when the undead attacked; I saw six of my best friends immediately decimated by the blades of an abomination. I ran, unsure what to do, and ended up here. I ran out of energy and decided to hide here." If nothing else, Maxwell had a talent for lying; he had always been able to weasel his way out of most situations, mainly by playing on the emotions of those he spoke to. Delilah's expression seemed unchanged, but at the very least she did not seem intent on harming him.
"Hm…you wouldn't happened to have seen anyone suspicious moving through here, would you?" Delilah asked.
"No…of course not," Maxwell said. "Now, please, can you help me back to camp? I…I want to make up for my cowardice and avenge my friends."
"Fine," Delilah stated, offering him her arm. Maxwell took it and stood up, dusting himself off as he did so. The trail ends at this bush, and he has a suspicious air about him. Sadly, he's unarmed and I don't see any evidence of magical artifacts on his body anywhere. Also, making blind accusations and killing him outright would be foolhardy; I doubt he would do anything randomly: he must be part of some sort of subversive group, if he is indeed guilty of this crime. I will keep a close eye on him, and report him to Aurora when I get the chance.
Damn…why did I not kill her faster? Maxwell pondered as he moved beside Delilah. The glowing orb she carried had vanished when she had helped him up, but now it danced above her palm again, the light illuminating her attractive features, the shadows dancing across her eyes and lips. Maxwell would never be able to kill Delilah in the light.
"What is your name?" Delilah asked as they marched through the trees towards the din of battle.
"Maxwell Mason," the soldier stated.
No other words passed between them as they made their way back to camp. By the time they reached the Scarlet Band lines, the undead had already been driven off.
Sonja cringed and screamed in agony as Dextra fired blasts of magic into her body. The Forsaken leader delighted in prolonging her foe's death, and purposefully missed vital organs with her attacks. The priest attempted to struggle against her foe, but her efforts were of no use as the magnified pain made her limbs weak.
All Sonja could focus on was the cackling emanating from beneath Dextra's hood, the Scarlet Crusader unable to see any of her foe's face save for the crooked nose that poked from beneath her hood. The priest wished she could at least see the face of her attacker so she could know who to rip apart in the afterlife.
Carnage surrounded Sonja, though she was totally oblivious to it. The massacre continued in short order. The majority of the Forsaken had adopted Dextra's methodology and had begun torturing their foes, making them die slowly for their amusement. Groups of Scarlet Crusaders were corralled by rings of Forsaken where they were blown apart piece by piece, praying each second for death.
Several Scarlet Crusaders had better luck and were able to take down their enemies, but their efforts were ultimately ineffective compared to the slaughter wrought by the undead.
Harold cursed as he narrowly dodged a blast of magic. Seven others followed from the same group of Forsaken and the warrior was forced to rush behind a stalagmite for defense. Gareth crouched behind the same outcropping and nodded sternly at his superior, jumping out briefly to fire an arrow before returning to his position.
"Those bastards have us pinned," Harold grunted. "I feel so…powerless."
"You aren't going to give up are you?" Gareth asked, throwing an axe into a foe's shoulder.
"Of course not," Harold stated, winking. "I'm going to die like a man. Each extra undead I take to the grave with me makes me feel slightly better."
"That's a good mentality," Adrian Loksey growled, firing two arrows before diving behind the rock. Illana was close behind him, and Harold sighed briefly as he felt the tight space becoming more cramped.
"Do you think we can win?" Illana said, her voice wavering.
"You already know the answer," Harold said glumly. "But I've already resigned myself to death. If we die here, honorably, fighting until our reserves of energy run dry, we will be heroes. We may not be remembered and we may never gain statues, but our spirits will become complete."
"A bit too philosophical for my taste," Adrian muttered, "but somehow I like it." The four soldiers, some of the few who were not in the process of being tortured to death, grinned at each other.
"Let's give them as much hell as we can before we die!" Harold roared, stepping out from the rock and pointing his sword at their foes. At that moment, the stalagmite melted, the rock destroyed by shadow magic fired by ten wizards working in unison. Harold glared at them warily, raised his shield, and readied to charge. Illana summoned her reserves of arcane energy, while Adrian and Gareth loaded their bows. All four knew this was their limit. The battle would end within minutes with victory going to the Forsaken; now it was just a matter of how many of the undead would walk out of these caves.
Suddenly, all noise seemed to decrease for but a brief moment and, in that instant, a voice that preceded the events to come echoed through the caves.
"LIGHT, GIVE ME STRENGTH!"
"Maxwell Mason eh? Never heard of him," Aurora muttered as she marched, looking directly ahead as if Delilah's words meant little to her. "Regardless, I will have some of my people look into his record." Aurora lowered her voice before continuing, "I get the feeling this is no coincidence; a decent number of my officers also died last night far from the field of battle. I'm starting to get the idea that Warren may be involved…
"Regardless," Aurora raised her voice again, "let's focus on the task at hand. We should reach Andorhal sometime tomorrow, and we will surely have another battle on our hands. For now just stay close to me; I get the feeling your potential assassin will show himself again soon enough."
"Thank you, Inquisitor," Delilah said, saluting her commanding officer before fixing her eyes on the desolate grass of the Western Plaguelands.
Across the lines of marching Scarlet Crusaders stood Grand Inquisitor Warren, attended by Arnold on his right side and Maxwell on his left. The wizard attempted to keep his expression neutral, desperately fighting at the pent up rage building inside him. His plan was moving forward: Arnold and many of his other underlings had slain their assigned targets either before or during the previous night's confusion. Warren hated to kill members of the Scarlet Crusade, but it was necessary if his plan was to succeed, and furthermore it was necessary for his machinations to come to fruition if the organization was to defeat the undead in due course.
Maxwell's failure, however, nagged at Warren's core, acting like a slug burrowing beneath is skin and spreading filth throughout his organs. How could one of his best trained fighters have trouble with such a young paladin? He had every option to slay her, why had he seemed to hesitate? The boy had even wasted a well-prepared magic dampener; did he have no sense in such complex matters?
Warren fixed his gaze on Maxwell, who lowered his eyes, shame clearly manifesting itself across his visage. It was her appearance, Warren was sure of that; young men hoped to play heroes so they could win the hearts of such maids, not kill them. It was, however, necessary for Maxwell to complete such a task to prove his aptitude and loyalty; perhaps it would be best to give him company.
Warren turned to Arnold, snickering as he formulated his plan. If Reskin goes with the boy, he will have no choice: he will either kill Corwin or be killed by Reskin who will in turn kill Corwin. It's perfect.
"You two will come by my tent again tonight," Warren whispered to the two subordinates. "We have much to discuss."
"Come on, there's no time to waste," Arnold Reskin muttered, motioning with his dagger towards the far side of camp. The dichotomy of the New Scarlet Band had caused the force to split its camp down the center with Warren's troops on one side and Aurora's on the other. The two leaders had positioned their tents as far from one another as possible, their mutual hatred and differing opinions represented by the distance between their two tents.
Maxwell Mason nodded hesitantly as he followed the grizzled veteran, fear in his eyes as the elder's gaze pierced through his face, seeming to penetrate into his psyche and unravel his thoughts. You are too weak to do this, Reskin's eyes seemed to say. Too young, too fragile. Your doubt makes your weak.
Maxwell nodded and moved forward, following his superior. After all Master Warren has done for me, I cannot afford to ignore his requests. I must comply, Maxwell thought as he and Reskin slipped behind a series of pines and past clumps of tents.
Reskin spotted Delilah, the girl stationed on watch alone. It had taken some work, but the assassin had managed to get the marshal's guards out of the way; Reskin was down three barrels of ale, but it would be worth it if the plan would succeed. Besides, an all-out conflict with the guards would have been too messy and inconspicuous.
Reskin's hunting knife flicked twice, pointing directly towards their quarry. Maxwell gulped but nodded, clutching the haft of his halberd tightly. The weapon seemed too large for a covert mission, but the soldier had more training with it and would be able to lay her low with one blow. The two moved slowly, inching their way past the tents of sleeping troops and soldiers on watch who patrolled to and fro.
"Mason must strike the final blow," Warren's words echoed in Reskin's mind. "His loyalty can only be assured once he has done this for us. We must cast off desire and eliminate beauty if we are to defeat the undead; such petty concerns will only allow the Scourge to triumph."
"Ready, boy?" Reskin muttered to Maxwell. The latter nodded incredulously, and seconds later felt Reskin's massive forearm nudging him forward. "Then go!"
Maxwell charged, his muscle memory overwhelming his mind. His gauntlets tightened around the polearm's haft as he rushed Delilah. The paladin whirled around and raised her hammer to block, but the force of Maxwell's charge knocked the weapon from her hands and bowled her to the ground. Delilah raised her leg to kick Maxwell, but he instinctively jammed the haft of his weapon into the joint between her belt and breastplate, the pressure causing her to double over in pain.
Delilah started to scream but Maxwell forced his boot onto her windpipe, causing her to choke and sputter, allow no words to come out.
Reskin emerged from his hiding place and strode beside Maxwell, bending down and producing lengths of chain Delilah to tie her hands and feet. "Good work, Mason," Reskin chuckled. "She's immobile. So, what say you finish her off and we had back for a drink, eh?"
Maxwell paused, he gazed down at Delilah's face illuminated by the unfaltering moon. She looked so frightened, so beautiful. How could he kill something so perfect? His now-deceased fiancé had always been impressed by his chivalry and kindness…what had he become?
"Agh, Warren was right," Reskin muttered. "You hesitate too much. Move aside Mason, I'll finish the job for you."
Maxwell stepped back, removing his foot from Delilah's throat as Reskin crouched and held his knife high, a villainous glint in his eyes.
Delilah gasped for air as she saw Reskin moving in for the killing blow. Damn, it was that Mason who was the assassin after all, Delilah's mind raced. I should have killed him then…what hope is there now for me? Unless…
"Maxwell please! Do not let him kill me! I thought you were a good man!" Delilah cried out, doing her best to sound like a damsel in distress. Her gambit worked: not two seconds later, Maxwell's polearm protruded from Reskin's chest.
"You…bastard…" Reskin gasped. "To give up…on your mission…for some…wench…?" With that, Arnold Reskin, once a famed assassin of Hillsbrad and a personal friend of Warren, met his end.
Reskin's body slumped to the side as Maxwell placed his boot against the assassin's corpse and pulled his halberd free. He shouldered the weapon, bent down to untie Delilah's shackles, and lent his hand to Delilah to help her up. She smiled knowingly as he did so.
"Thank you," Delilah said, "how can I ever repay such a handsome hero?"
Maxwell blushed before regaining his composure. "No need, it's the duty of a gentleman to protect a lady."
"No, I have the perfect reward," Delilah's smile widened, turning almost sinister. She snapped her fingers and instantly eight of her guards appeared, surrounding her assailant. "Guards, this is the man who attempted to murder me last night. His name is Maxwell Mason; we are going to bring him before Inquisitor Aurora for questioning."
"Yes, Marshal Corwin!" The soldiers said in unison, advancing on Maxwell as Delilah stepped back and retrieved her hammer from the ground.
"B..but how? Why?" Maxwell stuttered, dropping his halberd in disbelief as two soldiers clapped irons on his wrists while another struck him across the face with the back of his hand in punishment.
"Oh, you mean you expected the gift of alcohol to incapacitate my guardians?" Delilah laughed. "You must realize that Ignus is from Southshore; his type can put away a barrel of ale without much effort. Even so, we expected another attempt on my life and purposefully made me appear alone. We wanted you alive, Mason; it'd be too troublesome to try to subdue you with violence as one of us might accidently kill you." Delilah chuckled victoriously. "Don't worry, though, I'm sure Inquisitor Aurora will finish you off…after you've divulged some information and plenty of torture, that is."
Maxwell's eyes widened as he was led away. It was true what Warren had said: beauty was his undoing.
"Did he talk?" Elric asked as he grabbed a piece of bread and took a bite from it.
"Of course he did, though he was awfully stubborn," Aurora stated, taking a swig of wine before continuing. "I had to break two of his ribs and put out an eye before he even began to divulge key information; my Soul Scrying ensured that he told the truth. You did well, Corwin."
"It was nothing, that bastard needed to pay," Delilah growled. I had to succeed in his capture or risk looking too weak in front of Aurora, Delilah thought. If I want my revenge, I need to continue to get close to her, learn her weaknesses, and become strong enough to exploit them. As much as Delilah hated to admit it, however, she was beginning to respect Aurora's strength more and more.
"So what exactly did you find out?" Elric questioned again.
"Nothing too unexpected, though now at least we have evidence," Aurora replied. "Warren is attempting to kill the troops that are most loyal to me so he can gain complete control over the Scarlet Band. Once he has the majority supporting him, he thinks he will be able to kill me and then move things ahead as he sees fit. Honestly, I think he's just afraid that upon reaching Tyr's Hand he will be accused of murdering Isilien to steal his title, despite their longstanding friendship."
Aurora took another gulp of wine, wiped her lips and continued. "Warren is also too cowardly to do this himself, so he has his loyal soldiers complete the assassinations. The weaklings usually carry out the killings during battle to catch us by surprise and blame the deaths on the undead. Apparently, about a dozen of our losses in the last battle can be attributed to this plan. Luckily, however, the plan is barely in motion and isn't even a tenth complete.
"Now, as much as I would like to kill Warren myself I have to admit that he is a valuable tool against the undead," Aurora stated. "It is necessary, however, to make sure this little plan of his fails. As such, we are going to need to track down his most devoted followers and bring them to our side; as much as I would love to kill them, we cannot afford to waste troops, especially as such weak cretins are necessary cannon fodder. Also, it will be a blow to Warren's pride if we can turn them to our service."
"I assume you're concocting a plan, Inquisitor?" Delilah asked.
"It's already complete; I will just need a little help..."
Character Profile: Arnold Reskin
Age: 44
Rank: High-ranking "covert operations" officer
Affiliation: Member of Warren's Faction, former member of the Scarlet Band's Coral Company, former member of the Scarlet Monastery's 14th Scout Division
Abilities: Reskin is a soldier who specializes in assassinations and thus has expert skills in stealth and tracking. He has fought for years and thus has fairly high combat experience, though he prefers surprising his foes rather than engaging them head-on. He favors knives for combat, though as a former Scarlet Scout he occasionally uses crossbows, though he is an average shot at bests and trusts his blades above all else.
Appearance: Reskin is a tall man, about six feet four inches tall. His eyes are dark brown, almost black, and his hair is burgundy though graying at the edges. He wears a red tunic and red pants that are reversible to become black, giving him added camouflage at night when most of his assassinations are carried out. Regardless of his chosen dress, he always wears a Scarlet Crusade insignia on each shoulder.
HES: And so another chapter comes to an end; the politics within the New Scarlet Band are really heating up, while Sonja's Faction continues to struggle against Glade. What will come of the turmoil experienced by the Scarlet Crusaders?
As always, thanks very much for the reviews and support, everyone! Your input is always valued! Please be sure to review this chapter as I love to get feedback! Until next time!