“Child, I can already tell that you’re gonna be a lot,” Mama Nomi told Nakoda. With Sir Andres finally buried, he and I had left poor Sir Rupold to his splintered thoughts and wandered over to her “store” for something to eat or drink. It turned out that she could talk the Good Talk-as Nakoda called it. She said it was the tongue of celestial beings and that, likely like him, she’d inherited the ability to speak the language from a distant ancestor. Nakoda could understand it automatically but he was less tactful than usual as he tried to speak it back. More amused than annoyed, the elven woman rolled her eyes before saying, “Just breathe, little fella. Breathe, gather your thoughts, and speak to Nomi.”
She was cutting up the pineapple-ish fruit with a butcher knife. She tossed the pieces into two piles onto the crate she was using as a table. Nakoda took a piece from the smaller pile. “I think I messed up…I don’t know if I like being Sir Rupold’s squire,” he sighed, “or I just don’t like being a squire again in general. I started calling myself ‘Sir Nakoda Drake’ because none of the other Riders were there to, uh, kinda correct me. But now he’s here, and I’m his squire, and if he gives an order I gotta follow it, unless he knights me, but I’m not supposed to ask for him to knight me, and I’m happy Don and I aren’t alone anymore, but I really liked being my own Rider-”
Nomi raised a hand for silence. Nakoda popped the piece into his mouth to oblige her.
“Alright,” she said, gesturing for me to go ahead and get started on my pile. I didn’t need to be told twice. The sweetness made my taste-buds scream in gratitude. “From all of the information that you slapped me with in the last five minutes, it appears to me that the only one sayin’ that you can’t be a full-fledged, uh, Rider of the Wing is you, son. I mean, you’re the one who brought up being the man’s squire. In his current state he was likely just going along with the flow when he obliged you. Maybe trying and reestablish a status quo to make you comfortable. Especially since, like you say, there ain’t many of you Riders left.”
“Mama Nomi,” Nakoda said hesitantly, “would you like to be a Rider?”
She gave him a look. “Child, I’ve done more riding than you could fathom, but those days are behind me. These legs of mine ache all the time. And not just them. Being the voice of reason within a hoard of men-some who despise each other, no matter what they may say otherwise-means that the stress is real.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “I cook, I trade, and try to keep the peace. All that riding around, fighting monsters, ain’t me. No offense.”
“Oh,” The little Rider said, making himself small. Well, smaller.
She reached over and gently nudged his shoulder. “Hey. Look at me. You need to see value in your own self-worth. See that you’ve got friends that depend on ya and vice versa, You might do things that piss each other off, sure. But you’ve got value. Use it.” She shrugged. “If you wanna be some knight, then just knight yourself. Or you can be something else. There are other ways to help people than stabbing that giant needle of yours into beasts and baddies. Just decide.”
Nakoda looked up at her. He hesitated before hurrying around the crate to hug her. She hugged him back. “You’re gonna be alright, child,” she assured him. “Now if you would, please go check up on those hard-headed tigers up on that there ship for me?”
My brother stepped back and saluted.
“On it! Come on, Don!”
I hurried down a few more pieces of of fruit before following after him. We eventually made it to the ship. After a quick check up on Turtle-and and the unconscious Shivers in his mouth-we hurried up the ramp. We didn’t make it far before I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. One of the rooms on the first floor was open, with a large figure standing inside. I nudged Nakoda with my hoof to get his attention and then used it to point.
“Sir Rupold?” he asked, looking back the way we’d came, frowning deeply. “Huh, didn’t even notice he’d left the grave.”
We walked over together. We stopped a few feet just shy of the threshold, but we didn’t need to go any further to be able to witness the madness inside. I’d picked up enough Common back on Golarion to be able to make out most of the writing on the wall. There was A LOT of it. It was either scratched into the steel surface or scrawled with ink or dark blood. It took several minutes for me to piece the gist of it all together. It was the rambling of two souls warring with one another. Sir Andres the Rider’s voice covered the left side of the room, and the Reaper’s covered the left. They eventually merged in the middle, with the Reaper crossing out or writing over the Rider’s words, symbolizing his victory as the dominant voice in Sir Andres’ mind.
“My friend,” Sir Rupold said, pressing a hand to the nearest wall, staining his fingertips with dried blood. “I no longer regret striking you down if it freed you from this madness.”
He glanced down at his other hand, balling it into a fist.
“Our madness…?”
“Sir Rupold?” Nakoda called over. He pulled out something from one of the pouches on his belt. “We, uh, brought you and the tigers some fruit. Um, what’s all that in there?”
Sir Rupold ushered us away from the room. The doors closed behind him. “I appreciate you, boy,” he sighed, taking the fruity gift. “But some things are best left in the past.”
“Oh. Okay.” Nakoda tilted his head. “But what about your past? Do you remember more of it now? Like my dad or Auntie Oli-?”
Irritation flashed across the giant’s face. “Wait…Oli?”
“Yep. My dad’s big sister. She’s in charge of letting our faction of the Riders know where they’re supposed to go.”
Rupold’s irritation became recognition. That, in turn, transformed into thinly-veiled contempt. “Oh, yes. A real slave driver that one.”
“Exactly! She’s…………….” Nakoda leaned in, as if terrified of being overhead by the woman in question. “She’s not nice.”
I snorted with laughter despite myself. Even Rupold almost smiled.
“Wait.” My brother perked up. “She could talk to Lady Desna! You’re a full Rider, too! Can you talk to our Lady?! Maybe get her to fix you?!”
The larger Rider took a knee. “I don’t think I can,” he said. “Something is…keeping me from that.”
“Yourself?” Nakoda abruptly poked him on the chest and said, unconsciously imitating Mama Nomi’s accent as he did so, “The only one who thinks that you can’t do something is you.”
I rolled my eyes. Neither Rider seemed to notice. “Whenever I was fighting today,” Rupold said patiently, “the presence of our god wasn’t there. Something else helped me.”
“Huh. You didn’t have your floating spear-thing back home,” Nakoda conceded. He glanced over at Rupold’s bardiche, currently strapped across the giant’s back. “You just slashed or stabbed at things with that. But you were still the best! Whenever we had a gathering with another Order, had tourneys and stuff, with games and turkey legs, you almost always won! You were the best! You were…Rupold the Righteous, y’know?”
Sir Rupold shook his head. “Whatever happened to me, changed me.” He gestured down at himself, at the bony armor he’d been grafted into. “I’m not the same.”
“I don’t think anybody’s the same,” Nakoda said. “Not since you were all taken. I’m not the same. I’ve changed, become better-SIR RUPOLD, I WANT TO BE A KNIGHT! AND I DON’T THINK THAT I GOTTA ASK FOR YOUR PERMISSION BUT I’M GONNA DO IT ANYWAYS! AND EVEN IF YOU SAY NO I’M STILL GONNA BE ONE ‘CAUSE I’M GONNA KNIGHT MYSELF!”
Explosion over, my brother stood there, trembling with under Sir Rupold’s shadow, awaiting a reply with baited breath. This time the giant did smile, if sadly. He placed a large hand upon the boy’s shoulder. “You’ve been looking for us this entire time,” he said. “For how long?”
“A year,” Nakoda answered at once. “Maybe a little more.”
“On your own-”
“Yeah, I couldn’t track down Auntie Oli, or Ally.”
“Nakoda,” Sir Rupold growled.
“Right. Shutting up now.”
“Nakoda, you don’t need me to make you a Rider. You’ve been a Rider all this time.”
The little Rider’s eyes became dinner plates and immediately began to brim with tears. “Sniff…Sniff…Can I hug you?”
Sir Rupold allowed quite possibly the most awkward hug in the history of the Riders of the Wing to unfold. For one, their size difference made getting the angle right a challenge. That, plus Rupold trying not to accidentally cut the boy with his armor, made me have to look away to keep myself from bursting into laughter. The “hug” didn’t last long. Once it was over, the three of us went straight up to visit the tigers on the bridge. Or really, tiger. Singular.
And even then Revalynd was currently in his elf form. Seemingly alone, he waved over at us as he tapped his fingers against one of the walls, making sigils pop up and disappear just as quickly. No sign of his son or even Sapphire. I did spot Chrys floating above the nearby core, circling around it like some silver buzzard.
“Ah, perfect timing,” Revalynd told us. Chrys flew over, perched upon the elf’s shoulder, and translated for our sake. “Would any of you mind standing guard while I go down? I’d like to make sure that the message to hold a meeting was properly delivered-Sir Rupold, are you still not feeling well?”
Sir Rupold was making a face, as if he were on the verge of vomiting up the fruit he’d just eaten. He glared through the sickness at the core. “That thing,” he snarled, “is concentrated evil.” He glanced over at Nakoda. “Don’t touch that.”
“Trust me, I know,” Nakoda said. “I don’t wanna end up with a shark hand-”
“Don’t. Touch. It. Ever.”
“Okay, okay, I won’t!” Under his breath my brother muttered, “Even though technically since we’re both Riders you can’t give me orders-Ow!”
I’d absentmindedly thumped in the back of the head. The rest of my attention was on the core. So much so that I barely noticed Revalynd excuse himself and Chrys fly over to settle atop Nakoda’s head instead. Rupold was right. I’d felt it before the last time I’d been here, but the core’s evil was slowly spreading outward. Without a sapphire to control it, it was as if the evil orb was very, very slowly waking up. Which begged the question: Where was our Sapphire?
“Any thoughts, Sir Don?” Rupold asked, looking at me. “The boy says you’re sentient, yes?”
Oh, right. Might as well use Chrys to translate and properly great the giant. “Some thoughts, perhaps, but before that: I apologize for my brother, Sir Rupold. He means well. And if you need any help or healing, I am here to assist in any way I can.” I looked him up and down. “Except for riding. I know you’re a Rider but…”
“Yes, I doubt we’d be compatible,” Sir Rupold said dryly. “I’m fine to keep walking until we mind something more…in my weight-class.”
I nodded gratefully. “I appreciate that.”
Rupold returned the nod. “So, your mother and father were a unicorn and a mule or donkey…Divine intervention?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. He frowned at me. I repeated my answer. His frown only deepened. He turned from me to Chrys. The silver dragon’s body was shivering and dimming. “Chrys, why did you stop translating? Chrys? Chrys, what’s wrong?”
Nakoda reached up but wasn’t quick enough to stop the dragon from falling and hitting the floor. The lights of his body went out completely on impact and didn’t turn back on.
I sighed mentally, That can’t be good.
#
Good, Lilian whispered telepathically to Belkross. He was still back in the map room, providing her consistent intel on Zahir and Imperion’s dealings with the elves. Standing just inside the entrance to the building, Lilian watched a familiar, orange-haired face making his way over. This might be easier than we thought. Target’s moving in, with no sign of any of the others. Remember, Xaphan, you’re there to support Ormingun, not do all of the work for him. The same applies to Imperion.
Ah, the devil thought back. This is a test to see if the elf is all talk or not. Willing to get his hands dirty.
Exactly. Aloud Lilian told the approaching weretiger, “Afternoon, Revalynd.”
“Afternoon.” The elf glanced past her, into the unit. “Did my son happen to stop by…?”
“Yes,” Lilian lied. “He and Paco both did. They passed along the message about the meeting you were wanting to have. After that, I don’t know where they went. Perhaps your son set off to inform Nomi?”
“Perhaps,” Revalynd conceded, but he was still clearly on edge. He sniffed the air. “What’s that smell-?”
“There was something Zahir wanted to talk to you about before the meeting. I wanted to stay but,’ she put on an annoyed expression, “it was ‘man talk’ apparently.”
Revalynd shook his head. “Don’t let that dishearten you. Zahir is very old fashioned. Even when my wife was here, he butted heads with her as well. And his and Nomi’s arguments are a sight to behold.”
“Understandable,” Lilian conceded, taking a short step to the side to let him through. “But I left Belkross back there with him. He can speak on my behalf. Anything that he says has my seal of approval.”
Revalynd nodded. “Duly noted.” He walked past. Lilian didn’t bother staying to watch him enter the backroom. Instead she traversed through the valley, analyzing the overall atmosphere of the place. Elves whispered as she walked past. Their reverence pleased her. Smile tugging at her lips, she finally reached the android corpses that had been lined up along the ground. By this point they’d been picked clean of weapons and armor. While the blazes resembled waxy, overcooked dolls, without her armor the onyx was simply a naked, heavily mauled woman. One of her eyes had been knocked open. It stared lifelessly in Lilian’s direction. Unfazed, she pushed forward towards the ship.
#
Belkross was leaning across a nearby wall when Revalynd entered the map room. He had enough strength, even in his elf form, to close the secret wall behind him by himself. “Zahir,” the elf said and then nodded to Belkross. “Belkross.”
The mercenary returned the nod.
“Revalynd,” Zahir said. He stood from his chair only to then sit upon the table itself. “Not quite dusk now yet, is it?”
“No, but we’ve both much to discuss.” Revalynd raked a hand through his orange hair. “Listen…we’ve…done a piss poor job of hiding our growing animosity over the years-Why does it smell so awful in here?”
“Don’t you pay that any mind,” Zahir grunted. “Just say what you came here to say. And then I’ll do likewise.”
“…Very well. At tonight’s council meeting I will offer the curse to any man who wants it-”
“You mean the gift?”
Revalynd’s mouth became a harsh line. Belkross noted his eyes grow a few shades lighter. “Yes. The gift.”
In contrast, Zahir’s mouth curved into a triumphant smile. “Glad you’re finally on board, Rev.” He leaned in. “But I still wanna hear you say it. Want you to admit it.”
“Admit what?”
“That I was right.”
Revalynd hesitated. Belkross refused the urge to roll his eyes. Zahir’s showboating was tipping the tiger off. That was the problem with weaklings new to power. They just had to show it off. Nothing could ever be clean or professional. No. it had to be a show.
Regardless, his mistress had ordered him to back up the power-tripping elf. So he took the quietest step off the wall, angling his hand just casually enough to be able to draw the knife in his coat in one quick motion. Unfortunately, he couldn’t use his main blade. Were-creatures were resistant to all types of metal except for silver. The weretiger would just regenerate from a regular attack. They were lucky that he’d “borrowed” this silver knife off of Imperion. The imp floated above all of their heads, watching on eagerly for the bloodshed to start.
Revalynd took a step back. “What have you been up to in here?”
“Unifying our men,” Zahir answered, pushing himself off of the table and facing him fully. “Empowering them.”
“With what?”
Zahir offered no reply. The air crackled with tension. Imperion had to slap his hands around his mouth to stop himself from giggling.
“Zahir,” Revalynd growled, eyes now glowing, stripes staining the edges of his face, “what have you done?”
“WHAT IS RIGHT!” Zahir slammed his fist into the table. “What is necessary! For our people! This is the time to make our move.” He leaned in and spat, “With or without your gift. Or curse. Or whatever you choose to call it. You’re not special anymore…But I still want you to say it. I want you to admit that I was right.”
Damn, he took to this, Belkross sighed, bemused.
The elves glowered at one another. Belkross was sure that Revalynd was going to pounce. But much to his surprise (and Imperion’s clear disappointment) he took another step back. “I’ve changed my mind,” he snarled. “Because as bad as you are now, Zahir, I know that this curse will only make you worse. Men like you are too hungry for power. We’ve finally found a glimmer of hope. If it was up to you, you’d find some way to kill it. Damn us all.”
He turned to walk away.
Zahir’s eyes burst alight with hellish energy. Running on rage and instinct, he aimed a palm at Revalynd’s back. Red-black flames hit home, sending him spinning and immediately filling the air with the odor of burnt meat. Revalynd roared with pain as he spun. His body was already transforming. Belkross took the opportunity to slash at him with the knife, hoping he could down the tiger before it fully manifested. He managed to get one slash in, driving the knife across Revalynd’s chest, but the tiger tossed him away and jumped to the side. While the damage to his back was healing, the wound across his chest was not. Blood splattered across the floor.
“ZAHIR!”
The tiger launched himself at Zahir. It grabbed the elf by the throat, picked him up, and then slammed him straight down into the table. Its legs gave out and a second slam rang out. Pieces of the table shot up and embedded themselves into Zahir’s back. Revalynd drove his other hand into Zahir’s stomach and began yanking out organs. Laughing through the agony, Zahir reached around wildly before grabbing hold of two jagged pieces of wood. He drove one into the tiger’s left eye and twisted the other into his neck. Blood sprayed from Revalynd’s jugular, across Zahir’s face.
Scarlet veins were spreading across Zahir’s body, doing damage control. The damage to Revalynd’s eye and neck were already healing as well. If left to their own devices they would have been trapped in this hateful (and semi-erotic) dance of violence.
But then there was a twitch, the tiger shuddered out a final breath, and his body collapsed across Zahir. A silver knife was embedded to the hilt into his brain.
Belkross stepped away from the bloody pair and reported to his mistress, The deed is done.
How did Zahir fare?
The devil glanced over his shoulder. He watched the man struggle out from under the corpse before saying, Well, his hands are pretty dirty. Trust me.
“Are you going to eat that?” Imperion called down, making himself visible. “His heart, I mean.”
“No,” Zahir groaned, struggling to shove his organs back into his body. “Help yourself.”
Not needing to be told twice, the imp went to work on the body until all that was left of Revalynd Yggdrafield was a new fur coat. It was several sizes too big for the skinny devil, but he looked pleased enough. He dumped the silver knife back into his satchel, shooting Belkross an accusatory look as he did so. Then, seemingly feeling generous, he waved a hand and all of the blood vanished into thin air. The table was a lost cause, however.
“That takes care of the body,” Belkross grunted. “But what’s the story? Are you going to tell them that he died? Ran off? What?”
“Y’know,” Zahir giggled wheezily while clutching his still-healing stomach, his teeth stained red with both his blood and Revalynd’s, “I wasn’t thinking that far ahead.”
“Why am I not surprised?”