//------------------------------// // Bel'az // Story: Death Be Not Proud // by ShinigamiDad //------------------------------// Luna dozed lightly as Bitch swayed rhythmically beneath her. The afternoon stretched on lazily and smoothly after a morning spent descending out of the narrow valley east of Rutze on a rough, stony path, under a light sleet/snow mix. Tall evergreens gave way to lower, broad-leaf deciduous trees, still bare of leaves, though some were beginning to show buds. Reaper reined-in Colt and dismounted, looping the dalzi’s lead around a tree branch. Luna roused and blinked as Bitch came to a stop and put her head down to bite at the brown grass: “Why have we stopped?” Reaper stretched and dropped his shoulder bag next to Colt: “Well, for one, I need to piss, and two, I need to take our bearings. We’re here at a different time of day from my first run through this, and I need to make sure we don’t get to Bel’az too early.” Luna nodded and swung her right leg over Bitch’s back and bent neck, then smoothly hopped down: “Then I, too will stretch my legs for a moment while our mounts graze.” Reaper stepped off to the side of the path and undid his breeches: “Do me a favor--get into my bag and fish out the map.” Luna bent down, opened Reaper’s bag and pulled out the map they had acquired in Rixk’a. She studied it for a minute as Reaper drained his bladder against a tree while looking up the sun, breaking through the low clouds. Luna walked over to Reaper and sat down on a fallen tree trunk as Reaper closed up and belted his breeches: “It appears we will come into Bel’az a bit before dusk, yes?” Reaper nodded as he took the map from Luna: “That’s the plan. I arrived in the evening, stayed the night, then headed across the river to Yunada’s camp just before sunrise the next day.” “Yes, and spent the night with a delightful, young parzaile, if I recall your memories correctly.” Luna turned her head and glared at the jet-black dalzi that had joined them moments earlier. Reaper faced the sound of the voice and furrowed his brow, unable to make out its source: “Yeah, but not this time.” The dalzi walked off the path and switched its tail in Reaper’s face: “It seems unwise to tamper with fate, yes? Should you not let the scenario play out as ordained?” Reaper shook his head as he turned toward Luna: “Where is she?” Luna sighed and pointed to the ground at Reaper’s feet: “She has taken the form of a dalzi, and is standing directly in front of you with her rump in your face, waving her tail.” “Well, I have neither zaka nor booze with which to tempt, so…” Reaper waved his hand blindly in front of his face: “Right--‘cunt,’ I get it. Not this time. I spent decades using, abusing, tormenting, ordering executions of, and degrading my fellow Kurlin. Never again.” Luna nodded: “I remember Zain. You would have killed him if you truly were Gerrar.” “Correct. I do agree that I must encounter the girl, but only to pay her and send her on her way in the morning. There’s no need to ruin another life.” The dalzi raised an eyebrow: “How noble. But what does it matter now? Are all these people not already doomed? Are they not so much walking carrion?” “Perhaps, but not today. Today I am not Death’s Harbinger. Today they have their lives to live, and they deserve the chance to do so without my interference.” “I suspect the ‘interference’ ship has already sailed. It is likely my True Sister fucked it out of port the other night!” Luna shot an ugly look at Nightmare Moon: “Hey!” Reaper sighed: “That’s a crude way to put it, but she’s not wrong. Too many things have gone differently from the first time. My hope is that between Zain and Gerrar, nothing of note has been altered. I will do my best when I get to Bel’az to avoid changing anything further.” He bent down and hoisted his bag over his shoulder, and offered a hand to Luna: “But I will not do anything more to that parzaile. Shit, she was no ‘parzaile’--she was just a farm girl! I’ll do no more than sit with her for a time, pay her, and send her off.” Luna took Reaper’s hand and stood: “I understand. Just as I could not kill Gerrar, I appreciate your desire to do as little harm as possible.” The dalzi snorted as it fell in behind Reaper and Luna as they climbed aboard their mounts: “I have seen your visions of Bel’az’s torment. I do not see how you can avoid harm without entirely exposing yourself.” Reaper adjusted his cloak and sword as he settled into Colt’s saddle: “You mean the memory you unearthed back at the baths?” “Yes.” Reaper took a deep breath: “The majority of that is being done as we speak. I leave standing orders with my units’ leaders regarding typical operations to undertake when Yunada’s vanguard approaches a district.” Luna furrowed her brow as she tugged at her cloak and made herself comfortable on Bitch’s back: “Standing orders?” “Yes, just as Yunada gives his Tunzals great latitude and autonomy, I invest the local gangs and outriders with the same. There is a basic script, if you will, that the local gang will follow in my absence, assuming that I will come along at some point to extend or adapt the mission as I see fit. Most of the dirty work will already be done by the time we get to Bel’az.” “How awful! So the burned victims in your vision…” “Are likely already undergoing their torture even as we speak. There is nothing that I can do about it now.” Luna shuddered: “What shall I do? I assume if I were to appear with you it would raise questions and suspicions.” “Exactly. There are some low hills, almost like downs, just to the south of the village where you can hole-up and wait for me to return tomorrow mid-morning. We can make final plans then, since the battle will take place that evening.” Luna gazed toward the darkening horizon and noted a reddish tint: “I see the setting sun’s rays falling on smoke in the distance.” Reaper squinted eastward: “I’ll take your word for it--I don’t quite have your eyesight. I assume that’s evidence of the various fires my gang has set. Like I said: too late now…” Luna chewed her lip: “I am relieved we will arrive after the bulk of the depredations. I know they are unavoidable, but I would have been hard-pressed to simply ignore them.” “I know. It’s going to be hard enough as it is dealing with my underlings and the village elders. I loathe everything about this, but have to see it through.” “Unlike last time…” “Right. I couldn’t have cared less last time; I just wanted it over.” “You were intoxicated, yes?” “Yeah--another deviation from this run-through. I’m keeping my wits about me, and my head clear this time.” “Were you sober when you met with Yunada? I can recall seeing little of note in your memories past tonight--well, until your death.” “I had a fair amount of zaka in me, but that’s not it. Starting just before dawn, I went into a sort of fugue state, almost as though I was not myself. I remember the things that happened, but from a distance. I was afraid, and had to overcome that fear through complete detachment.” Luna nodded: “That explains other gaps as well…” “Right. I would force myself into a detached state whenever I had to do or experience something especially awful.” “I have seen that behavior in many ponies’ nightmares.” Reaper shifted uncomfortably in his saddle: “Yeah, well I get to walk into this nightmare sober and with eyes wide open.” As the sky deepened to a purplish-pink blush behind them, Reaper and Luna came around a bend in the road and looked down a shallow slope toward the village of Bel’az, lying under a pall of smoke from several still-smoldering buildings. Reaper nodded to the south: “Here’s where we part ways until tomorrow morning. I’ll find you in those low hills away to the south sometime before noon.” Luna scanned the area and furrowed her brow: “I do not know where my alter ego is. I cannot see her at the moment.” Reaper shook his head and shrugged: “It’s too late to do anything about her now. All we can do is carry on and see this through.” Luna nodded and dismounted. She took Bitch and Gerrar’s dalzi's reins and led them to the edge of the road: “I wish you the best of luck, Reaper.” He raised an eyebrow: “What, no drugged kiss this time?” Luna smiled: “Not this time. Only you can act out these scenes. If I have to become involved, something has truly gone wrong!” Reaper nodded: “No doubt! I’ll do my damndest to see to it that this all goes smoothly. Take care of yourself, and keep to the treeline until you get to those downs. It shouldn’t be much more than a mile.” Luna led the dalzi off the road and down into the brush. She turned and waved as Reaper spurred Colt forward toward Bel’az’s dark silhouette. He looked back over his shoulder as Luna and the dalzi slipped away to the south: “Stay safe…” After fifteen minutes of wary riding Reaper passed two headless corpses in bloody, torn, blue-and-white livery, hanging from a barren tree. He could see several burned-out buildings and a group of men around a bonfire. He dismounted, smoothed his tunic and strode up to the five men drinking and talking loudly around the blaze: “Who is in charge here?” A large, sallow man with a heavy scar across his forehead and a scraggly beard turned, his face flush from beer: “I am!” Reaper stepped into the firelight and turned so the last rays of sunset fell across his face: “Wrong. I am.” “Who the fuck’re you?” A short, thin, balding man in a baggy doublet pulled a jug of liquor away from his mouth and choked, eyes wide: “Oh, fuck! Shut yer hole, Baro--that there’s the Tunzal!” The men fell back from the fire as Baro nervously wiped his mouth: “Beggin’ yer pardon, m’Lord! I knowed you’d be comin’ but we’ve never met! Gerrar, yes?” “Correct. Have you rounded up the hostages?” “Y-yes, m’Lord! They’s over by the hay barn!” “Which had best be intact. The last incompetent who burned a village hay barn in winter died with his intestines wrapped around his throat.” Baro blenched: “N-no! No heavy burning--just a few cottages and two of the hostages!” Baro’s thin companion stepped to Reaper’s side as the group headed away from the fire toward a large, round structure. He pointed at a pair of shapes slumped and twisted in the dirt: “See--that’s them there! Well, what’s left of ‘em, anyway…” Reaper glanced at the headless corpses lying in drying puddles of blackened, burned blood and brains. He choked back a bile-filled cough and reached into a tunic pocket for a plug of Gerrar’s zaka. He covered his discomfort by talking round the zaka and his finger as he slipped it into his cheek: “Who were they?” “Ah, nobody--he was a tanner and she was his wife. We’s also pretty sure she was the village galdu to boot…” Baro nodded with a rough laugh: “Yeah, she seemed to take on me and the boys pretty easy-like. Didn’t help save ‘em, though--they still got the ‘Tunzal’s Haircut!’” Reaper gritted his teeth and swallowed hard: “It never does. I am pleased to see the hay barn is intact.” “Sure, and you gonna like what else is in the barn even more!” “I assume the village leaders delivered Lord Yunada’s tribute and my...recreation?” Baro’s companion waggled his eyebrows: “Recreation--nice! Yeah, she’s a cute little thing. They’s stocked a room in the old village council building with a bed and wine. Nobody’s gonna bother you until late morning!” Reaper and the gang stopped in front of the hay barn door: “Correct. Everything seems in order. I need three of you to go down to the river and wait at the ferry crossing. The other two are to head to the west edge of the village, take cover and be on the lookout for agents or riders from Degia. I have heard rumors they seek to make mischief while we engage Gindu.” “No worries, m’Lord--we’ll take care of it.” “I have no doubt. I will leave here early, meet with Lord Yunada across the river, and send instructions back. Be on the alert for an errand rider.” Baro saluted as the other four men bowed and separated: “Yes, m’Lord!” Reaper watched the five hurry away, then turned back to the barn, taking hold of the heavy, dark, brass latch that secured the door. The door swung outward with a groan on rusty hinges. Reaper stepped inside. There was a lamp on a low table just inside the opening; Reaper picked it up and trimmed its wick, throwing a pale, flickering light across a figure huddled on a pile of grain sacks. Reaper regarded the figure coolly: “Stand up, girl.” The figure rose and stood trembling. “Take off the robe and come with me.” The girl shuddered and pulled off the simple linen robe, exposing goose-bumped skin and cold-stiffened nipples. Reaper looked down at the girl’s slipper-shod feet as he took the robe: “You may leave on the slippers. Let’s go.” He turned and pushed the door open, guiding the shivering girl out in front of him. Two of the gang looked back as they mounted their dalzi and smiled lasciviously. “Hey, there ‘recreation!’ Save some for the rest of us! We’ll be back tomorrow sometime!” They laughed and made crude gestures as they took up their reins and rode past Reaper and the girl. The two walked briskly toward a low stone building with a dim light visible in a window. Reaper pulled its door open: “Get in.” The girl’s teeth chattered as she crossed the threshold: “Y-yes, m’Lord!” Reaper closed and locked the door behind him: “Enough of this--they saw what they needed to see. Put your robe back on, please.” He handed the girl her robe as he stepped to the fireplace and added fuel, kneeling and blowing on the coals, stoking it for several minutes while the girl stood silently behind him, robe on, but open. “M-m’Lord? Wha-what should I do?” Reaper glanced back over his shoulder: “Pour both of us some wine, then take a seat in that chair.” Reaper added a last log, stood and removed his outer belt and sword, and set them aside. He looked at the girl as she handed him a cup of deep-red wine. She came roughly to his chin, and had smooth tan skin, sandy, ginger hair and hazel eyes. She clutched her cup with both hands and stood staring at her feet. Reaper took a drink and sighed: “Sit, girl--please.” The girl nodded, backed up a pace and settled into a chair next to a large, sturdy bed. Reaper stretched his neck and shoulders, and took another drink: “What is your name?” “P-parzaile…” “No, not that shit! I know that’s what you were told to say. What’s your real name?” The girl started at Reaper’s raised voice: “Ar-Argía, m’Lord. I was named fer the dawn.” Reaper smiled lightly: “Fitting. How old are you?” “I-I’m not really sure--I’m an orphan. M’ ma and pa died when I was real little. They say I was born at th’ end of the last plague.” Reaper looked up at the ceiling and pondered for a moment: “So, roughly eighteen.” “Yes, m’Lord. I guess so…” “Petite with unusual hair and eye color. My reputation, or more likely my gang, precedes me.” “M’lord?” “Nothing. I have a type, it appears. Had, anyway…” Argía took a tentative sip of wine and bit her lip: “Wha-what'd 'ya want, m’Lord?” Reaper smiled grimly: “That’s a much bigger question than you know. Why don’t we turn it around: you tell me what you’re to do here. What did the village elders tell you?” “Th-that I’m t’ do anything you ask. That it’s m’ great honor to give you my virginity, and to--” “Wait--you’re a virgin?” Argía lurched out of the chair, spilling a bit of wine as she set the cup down. She took a step toward Reaper and hastily slid a hand between her legs, spreading her folds open. “Y-yes, m’Lord! I swear it! I didn’t lie t’ th elders when they asked! 'Ya can check fer yerself! They did!” Reaper put up a hand and furrowed his brow: “First, I believe you. Your elders are clearly clever, horrible people, but I can’t say that I blame them: again, my reputation has preceded me. Second, please close your robe and sit back down.” Argía stopped, then returned to the chair, pulling her robe tight around her as she sat. Reaper moved to the edge of the bed and sat down: “So you’re telling me you’ve never been with a man?” Argía blushed: “Well, we girls know how to give the boys a ‘helping hand,’ if you know what I mean…” “I do." “But no, I ain’t never lain with a man. I promise!” “Again, I believe you. So what else did the elders tell you?” “Th-that you might ask for some unusual or uncomfortable things…” Reaper blinked slowly: “‘Uncomfortable.’ Did they explain what that means?” Argía bit her lip: “You might tie me to th bed, or put yer cock in my other hole, beggin’ your pardon, or force me to suck you ‘til I gag, ‘cept I’m not allowed t’ gag…” Reaper closed his eyes and sighed: “How many years of this horror-show? How many farm girls-turned-‘parzailen’ after an hour of crude instructions?” He steepled his fingers and opened his eyes: “Did they tell you what would happen if you refused me anything?” Argía shuddered and pressed her thighs together: “Y-you’d take m’ virginity with yer blade, and...and…” She choked back a sob and took a gulp of wine. A cool, measured voice came from across the room: “And is she aware she will end up choked into unconsciousness, overdosed on zaka, and slumped against the wall in a pool of what I must assume is her own urine?” Reaper peered into the corner beside the fireplace: “No, and we’re not going to tell her. It will never happen, so she doesn’t need to know it.” Argía looked around in confusion: “M’lord? Who’re you talkin’ to in that strange tongue? Is there somebody else here?” “Just an old ghost who delights in needling me at inappropriate times.” Argía’s eyes grew wide: “A ghost? Is it dangerous?” Reaper smiled: “Not to you, though you might do well not to fall asleep in her presence: you would likely not enjoy your dreams.” “My dreams’ve been awful lately, anyway!” “No doubt. The battles between Lord Yunada and Gindu have enflamed this whole region. You have seen many awful things.” Argía glanced accusingly at Reaper for a moment then cast her eyes down: “Y-yes, m’Lord.” Reaper nodded: “I saw your look…” Argía’s head snapped up in panic, and she waved her hands in front of her face: “I-I didn’t mean nuthin’ by it, m’Lord! I-I…” Reaper put his hand up and smiled grimly: “Yes, you absolutely did. Your look accuses me of being the author of your village’s terror and rape.” Argía gasped and pushed the chair backwards against the wall with a thud. Reaper shook his head sadly: “You have nothing to fear from me, Argía. You are right that I am the monster who has visited this ruin on your village, and I cannot make it right. But I can end it. And I will.” “Seeking absolution from her are you, Harbinger? That seems rather cliché.” Reaper looked at the fireplace: “No, not absolution. No one can give me that, not even death will give me that. But I can at least extract a small measure of redemption.” “Equally as cliché…” “Wrong ‘C’ word: I will give you ‘catharsis’ or even ‘cold comfort,’ but not ‘cliché.’ If I can spare just one person on this sorry world whose life I otherwise destroyed, then I can salvage a crumb of redemption, and die knowing I left Kur a tiny bit less of a monster this time.” “Weighed against a lifetime of cruelty and horror? Pointless.” Argía watched in quiet confusion as Reaper raised an eyebrow, took a deep drink of wine and continued to talk to the fireplace in an alien tongue: “What’s the matter, Nightmare--jealous?” He heard a harsh laugh: “Of what?” “That I get a chance to redeem even one small moment in my past life, but you don’t. That all those you tormented and even killed in some cases are now beyond succor or relief. That your past as a monster is irrevocably sealed.” Reaper sat for several moments listening to the crackle of the fire and Argía’s breathing. “What’s wrong, Dark Angel? No cutting remark? No witty rejoinder?” Nightmare Moon’s voice came slow and soft from behind Reaper: “You are right that my past lies in unrecoverable ruin, and those I tormented can never be assuaged. But redemption may take many forms, and our grand tragedy is not yet complete.” Reaper sighed as his expression softened: “True, and I know you were drawn into this undertaking unwittingly. None of us wanted to be here, and you are the most constrained of the three of us.” “Unwittingly…” “Sorry?” “You might be surprised by how much True Sister and I perceive.” “I don’t un--” Argía stood suddenly and stepped nervously toward the bed: “Beggin’ yer pardon, m’Lord, but what do ya want from me? I ‘preciate you not rapin’ me, don’t misunderstand, but surely there’s sumthin’ I can do for you. I’m ‘fraid the elders will get mad if they think I shirked.” Reaper turned away from the fireplace, pulled off his boots and moved fully onto the bed. He faced Argía: “Yes. Please lie beside me here on the bed.” Argía furrowed her brow and began to remove her robe. “No. Not for that. Please keep the robe on. Just climb on the bed and lie next to me.” Argía got onto the bed to Reaper’s right as he slid sideways, pushing a pile of cushions up against the rough-hewn headboard. He propped himself into a reclining position. “Refill your wine cup and hand me the jug. Then I want you to tell me your dreams, Argía.” “Her dreams?” “M-my dreams, m’Lord?” “Don’t call me that. Call me Reaper. Yes, your dreams.” “I don’t understand m’L--Reaper.” Reaper took a deep breath and closed his eyes: “I have seen the fleeting last images, hopes, fears and memories of countless thousands of beings, and I will be burdened with countless thousands more. I would like even the briefest break from memory and visions of death to hear the dreams of life.” He turned and looked to his left: “I know you’re there, I can feel your presence. What do you say, from one monster to another--how about a little catharsis?” There was a long pause: “Yes.” Reaper took a swig of wine, folded an arm behind his head and lay back: “Tell me your dreams, Argía…” “Wake up Harbinger.” “Oooh, not you again! No more dreams, please…” “No, not this time. It is time for you to awaken and take Gerrar’s fateful penultimate footsteps.” “Shit. I didn’t mean to fall asleep!” “I assumed as much. That is why I am rousting you.” Reaper sat up and rubbed his eyes as he looked to his right at Argía’s sleeping form: “Wait--I don’t recall you in my dreams. You’re always tinkering in my dreams, you or Luna!” “I was in Argía’s dreams this time.” “Aw, crap--why? What did you do?” “Fear not, Harbinger--I merely wanted to observe. Perhaps I needed a bit more catharsis.” Reaper smiled as he swung his legs off the side of the bed and grabbed the chamber pot from under the bed frame: “I hope it helped. I know I feel a lot more clear-headed this time than last time!” “A little redemption goes a long way, yes?” Reaper took the chamberpot to a corner and emptied his bladder with a sigh: “I guess, but I’m not done with that yet.” “How so?” Reaper closed and belted his breeches and knelt beside the bed: “Argía! Wake up! I need to go and we have some things to discuss before I do.” Her eyes fluttered open and filled briefly with fear as they focused on Reaper’s face. She held her robe closed and sat up against the cushions and headboard. “I-I’m awake m’L--sorry! Reaper” Reaper smiled and nodded. “I understand. We have to talk before I go. This region, your village, the area across the river, are about to get turned upside-down. I want you to have the best chance you can to get away from here in the confusion.” Argía’s eyes teared-up: “Get away? Where? I’m just a farm girl--now a dirty farm girl who got sold to a Tunzal! What good am I now?” Reaper shook his head and reached into his pocket: “Not in Rixk’a, you’re not.” He pulled out the two sapphires Luna had presented to Gerrar: “Take these and go north up the East Road to Rixk’a. Do you know Rixk’a?” “Sure--traders come ‘n go all the time.” “You should be able to sneak out of Bel’az without much trouble when things get hot around here tomorrow, or maybe the next day. It should take you about two days to get to Rixk’a, likely traveling among any number of fellow refugees.” Argía stared at the brilliant blue gems Reaper dropped in her hand: “B-but the elders’ll just take--” He reached back into his pocket and brought out three bits: “No, not those they won’t; they’ll take these. This bit of gold is theoretically the price paid for your service as a parzaile.” He pressed the coins into her other hand: “Now, honestly, I expect this really gets taken by the village elders as their ‘pimp’s-price.’ I doubt the girl ever sees a copper penny of it.” Argía nodded and looked at the gems again: “So what do I do with these?” Reaper glanced around the room: “We can hide them here. Can you get back into this building later? Especially if everything’s topsy-turvey?” “Sure, but that ain’t the problem…” Reaper furrowed his brow: “What do you mean?” Argía fidgeted nervously with the gems and coins and looked away: “Well, beggin’ your pardon, but it sure don’t look like I been used by a rough customer. And the elders: they’s gonna check my cunny again--I know it!” “She is right, you know. It appears she spent the night giving a local boy a ‘helping hand’ at worst, then dozed off for a few pleasant hours of sleep.” Reaper ran his hands back-and-forth across his bald scalp: “Shit, you’re right! Okay, so we need to make this convincing.” “You could spare a few minutes to resolve the virginity issue…” Reaper glared across the room at the source of Nightmare Moon’s voice: “Hardly, but you just gave me an idea.” He knelt by the foot of the bed and rummaged through his saddle bag. He pulled out a candle which he sat on the bed next to Argía. "Where did you get that?” “The inn. I thought it might come in handy. Never figured it'd be used for this!” He stood up: “As for your elders and their investigation, we can take care of that. Slip this candle up inside yourself, and don’t be too gentle about it. You’ll feel a bit of a sting and a tearing sensation, and there’ll be a smear of blood. Wipe that off on the robe.” Argía bit her lip as she picked up the candle, running her fingers along its irregular, waxy surface. She spit in her palm and rubbed it along the length of the candle, dropped her spread legs over the edge of the bed, leaned forward, and slipped the candle between her folds, rotating it tentatively at the same time. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and winced as she pushed the waxy spindle several inches deep inside. She bit her lip again and gasped a little, then relaxed and pulled the candle out slowly. “Perfect. Now pull some robe up from underneath your ass and wipe that thing off.” Argía did so, leaving a crimson streak behind on the cream-colored fabric. She shuddered slightly and handed the candle back to Reaper. He tossed it in the fire. “Alright, so that’s resolved. We hide the gems, that telltale maidenhead’s gone, you give your parzaile’s price to the village elders. What else?” “Well, while I applaud your ingenuity regarding eliminating the evidence of her virginity, you may still need to become involved to provide some additional, shall we say, material.” Argía looked up and caught Reaper’s eye: “Beggin’ yer pardon again, Reaper, but even it’s true I ain’t never lain with a man, I been around enough breedin' farm animals and boys to know what’s supposed to happen next. When the old healer checks my cunny it ain’t gonna be good enough to just be a little bloody.” Reaper sighed, looked up toward the ceiling and rolled his eyes: “This seems to be a recurring theme! Where’s that towel when I need it?” Nightmare Moon chuckled: “There are other suitable orifices that might make for a better alibi.” “True…” Reaper turned back to Argía: “Tell them that after I was done with you I finished in your mouth. They can’t check--” His eyes suddenly lit up: “No--I have it! Tell them I couldn't finish! Too much zaka, too much wine, too old, too tired. I went soft, and try as you might I just couldn’t do it!” “Clever, though I suspect Gerrar would not approve!” “Fine--he can come talk to me about it! My reputation has preceded me for far too long. Time to put an end to that, too!” Argía pondered for a moment: “Okay, I guess that could work. But wouldn’t ya’ get mad at me fer not makin' ‘ya come?” Reaper chewed his lip for a moment, then picked up Argía’s half-full cup of wine: “Close your eyes…” He threw it in her face, splashing her hair and soaking the front of her robe. Argía sputtered and wiped her eyes with a sleeve. “That is a good beginning, but hardly convincing, given your reputation for brutality. In reality, if an escort failed Gerrar, I assume he really did use a blade on her!” Reaper shuddered: “More than once, yes. So what do you suggest? I can’t strike her…” “I understand. Ask her to stand and walk toward the window. I have an idea.” Reaper furrowed his brow, but turned to Argía: “Please stand and walk toward the window.” She swept her dripping hair from her face and stood. Just as she took a step away from the bed and turned toward the window, she stumbled forward suddenly and slammed face-first into a small, low table beside the door. Argía cried out in pain and fear, and clutched her face in her hands. Reaper jumped to her side and knelt down: “What in Tartarus was that? What did you do, Nightmare?” “You have felt my actual touch, Harbinger. You know I can nearly manifest as a full, physical being. I summoned all my power to one point and shoved her in the back as she leaned forward into a step.” Reaper helped up Argía and guided her back to the chair. He gently pulled her hands away: “Holy shit! Look at her eye!” “Indeed--look at it. Quite convincing, would you not say? It almost looks like she had a piece of furniture thrown at her.” Reaper hung his head and sighed: “You’re right…” He stood, picked up the table and smashed it against the fireplace. He turned back to Argía and watched her stanch the flow of blood coming from her nose. He picked up a shattered table leg and crouched beside her: “Smear this with blood. And wipe more between your legs.” She sniffled and touched her swollen eye tentatively: “Wha-what happened?” “It turns out my ghost really could hurt you. I’m very sorry for this. I don’t think your nose is broken, and…” “It-it’s okay. I was gonna have 'ya hit me anyway. This’ll be better.” “Still, I’m sorry.” “I know ‘ya are. I dunno how 'ya ever got yer fierce reputation. 'Ya don' seem so bad to me.” Reaper smiled sadly as he pulled a towel and water bottle from his saddlebag and helped Argía clean her face a bit: “Everything you’ve ever heard about me, no matter how terrible, is entirely true. In fact, it probably falls short.” “Then--then, why…?” “Because that man died five-thousand years and two days ago.” “I don’ understand.” Reaper smiled, leaned forward and kissed Argía’s forehead: “You don’t need to.” Reaper closed his saddlebag, belted his sword and dagger back on, straightened his tunic and secreted the sapphires behind a loose stone in the fireplace mantle. “Will you remember where these are later?” Argía spat a mouthful of blood on the floor and nodded: “I don’ think I’ll ever forget anything 'bout this place!” He knelt by the side of the bed and slipped his map underneath: “I’m going to leave my map behind as well. You likely won’t need it, but it won’t hurt to have it.” “Thank you.” “And don’t forget, when you get to Rixk’a go to Dux’a’s baths. Show him the gems and map and tell him the T’zesa and Reaper sent you, and they will flay him alive if he cheats you.” “Then what?” “Then anything you want. Those gems will give you anything you want to make your dreams happen. Start a new life. Find the best dream you have and make it real.” Reaper stood and turned toward the door, when he suddenly pivoted, headed to the far corner of the room and picked up the chamberpot. “You are not going to throw that in her face, too are you?” Reaper chuckled: “No--I’m just adding a finishing touch that will likely discourage any investigation of the bed.” He walked back to the bed and dumped the chamberpot on it. Argía wrinkled her nose and tipped her head sideways. Reaper glanced over his shoulder as he tossed the empty vessel into the corner: “I suspect no one will want to come near the bed now, until you return to retrieve the map.” Argía nodded, stood up and walked to the door: “I’d give ‘ya a hug, but it’d make a mighty mess on that pretty green jacket.” Reaper chuckled and took her face in his hands. He leaned down and kissed her lightly on her swollen eye and split lip: “Have a good life, Argía. Best of luck in your escape and journey!” “Good luck t’ ya’ too, Reaper! I’ll never forget 'ya!” Reaper smiled sadly as he opened the door and stepped outside without looking back: “I sincerely hope you do…”