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Phaedra watched the group of men at the back of the dining hall the Resurrected used. Torin had been in front, but when someone from the group at the back of the room had yelled out a challenge, she pushed forward, glaring at the one who had spoken. He was tall, though not much more than her, with average features. He could have been any square jawed man back on Terra. Nothing about him struck her as a monster. “Got a problem?” she asked.
“I said we didn’t need you,” he said, detaching from the group and trudging up to her. Phaedra drew herself up to her full height and glowered at him. He laughed. “What makes you think you can take me?”
“A two bit boxer drunk on his last coin could take you.”
The man stopped just inches in front of Phaedra. “Big words for someone just recruited.” He poked a thick finger into her sternum. “You’re not even wearing armor yet. Not that it matters, you’ll just wash up. You’re not going to hold on to a title. You’ll just be reduced to a glorified scullery maid.”
Phaedra swatted his hand away, face hot, and grabbed the man standing in front of her. She saw a look of surprise right before she head butted him, letting go as he rocked back.
“You bitch!” he yelled, taking a swing at Phaedra. It landed on her cheekbone, stunning her. Pain blossomed in her face as her head rocked back for a moment, momentarily blinding her. He took a step forward as her vision cleared, and Phaedra slugged him twice in the face. He howled, face reddening, and reached out to grab a fistful of shirt.
Hands pulled the two of them apart. “Edmund, stop!” someone yelled as three men restrained him. Edmund clawed at the men holding him, trying to get to Phaedra as hands on Phaedra’s arms kept her in place. She glanced over to her left to see Torin holding one arm. On her right was the white-haired elf who had helped kill her sister.
“Let me go. I can take him.”
“Leave him be,” Torin whispered as more people showed up to manage the other man. “Let’s go. Now.”
Phaedra shook the two men off, clenching her jaw as she stalked out after Torin.
“You need to control your temper,” the elf on her right said. He was taller than Phaedra by a head, and Phaedra wasn’t a short woman. By men’s standards, she was a little above average, the same height as Torin and Eldren. The tall elf in question had waist length white hair and gray eyes. He glared at her, though he only pointed in her direction. “You can’t do that here.”
“Or what?” Phaedra said. She knew she was mad at the wrong person, but she didn’t care. She was getting off the fortress, no matter what.
Torin grabbed her elbow and pulled her into an adjacent room. “ Luca isn’t the enemy. You’re projecting your emotions and intent all the way back to where we took you from.”
Phaedra closed her eyes and focused on the spot in the back of her mind where she’d go to cool down. Taking in deep breaths, she held fast to that space in her mind until she was certain she could control herself.
Torin was watching her as if she had done a brand-new magic trick when she opened her eyes. Luca looked disgusted. “Better,” Torin said.
“I’m glad to see you can exercise control. Now stop picking fights,” Luca said, a look of loathing on his face.
Torin glanced at Luca. “Most people fight when they come here,” he reminded the taller man. “She is well within her right to be angry.”
“Still doesn’t make it a smart idea,” Luca said.
Torin made an exasperated noise. “Let’s just move on, then. I’ll show you the rest of the fortress and get you settled.”
Phaedra huffed, but said nothing. Some of the adrenaline had waned after the fight, and she didn’t feel the need to pick more at that moment. Plus, Torin seemed to at least understand where she was coming from. It was almost refreshing.
Torin glanced at Luca, who was scowling with arms crossed over his chest. “You’re welcome to come with us. I doubt he’s sending us off anytime soon, not until we have set Phaedra up and she’s ready to go.”
Phaedra scowled even as her hands tingled. Luca just shook his head. “If it keeps her, and thus us, out of trouble, then fine.”
***
Torin was about to leave Phaedra in her room to cool off when an insistent feeling exploded in her skull, and he groaned. “He’s summoning us,” Torin explained. “The sensation will get stronger the closer to him you get, but once you’re in his presence, it goes away until he needs you again.”
Phaedra felt sick, but didn’t see what choice she had. “Might as well get it over with.”
Torin led her through the labyrinth-like fortress. Nothing about the layout made sense. Floors didn’t seem to match up, and some sections seemed to be isolated from the rest of that floor layout. If she didn’t have the insistent compass of pain in her head, she’d have had no way to navigate the corridors. It was enough to drive someone mad. No wonder everyone was so off here.
“Either me or Luca will stick with you until you figure out how to get around here. I’m in the magic lab. Luca is in the alchemy lab. We can show you the areas to avoid, where the less scrupulous members of the team like to congregate.”
“Why don’t you just leave?” Phaedra whispered, afraid to say it too loud. “Run away? Start over?”
Torin glanced at her; his face closed down. “There is nowhere to run that he can’t find you. The only way out is through death, and you know as well as anyone how hard it is to kill one of us.”
“It’s not impossible.”
“No, but it is unlikely.”
Phaedra groaned, hoping the answer would have been different. She kept silent after that, following Torin through the halls until they came to doors more ornamental than the others. “This is the Control Room. It’s what he uses as an office. If he’s not here, he’s in the. . .” Torin trailed off for a moment, hands clenching and unclenching, as if grasping for the words. “Normally it would be a throne room, but it’s where he does all his planning. That’s also where his generals and advisors hang out, too.” Torin’s fair skin paled a little at that. “The controls for the flying fortress are here, though only he ever touches them when needed.” Torin glanced at her, a warning on his face, and knocked.
“Come in,” a voice thundered; whether it was out loud or in her head, she didn’t know, and it left her unsettled. Shaking off the unnatural feelings that caused, Phaedra waited for Torin to open the door and stepped in. “Ah, you’re here,” Aurelius said, standing up to greet them. “Your sister is going to be my Savior, the one who will remake the world. But you will be my Oracle.”
“So that’s what I am to you, a source of divination?” she demanded as she felt Torin go still next to her.
Aurelius laughed, a deep guttural sound. “I like your attitude,” he said, smiling. It was not a friendly expression.
Phaedra looked around the room instead of at him, scowling. There was no way to hide her hatred of the man and she knew, deep down inside, there was no point. She didn’t have a choice.
Phaedra took even breaths to control her raging thoughts while looking around the room. It was the same flat gray walls, the dim lighting that seemed too dark for what it should be, though she could see just fine. A massive desk took up one section of the room, with chairs in front of it she was certain she was not supposed to use. A bank of controls sat behind the massive desk, complicated looking with more moving parts and lights than she knew what to make of.
Her eyes came back to Aurelius. He himself wasn’t wearing the jet-black cuirass she was used to seeing on him and his men. In fact, she realized, most of the men and women here seemed to wear clothes closer to what she would wear back home. Aurelius wore a white button-down shirt with a black vest and well-tailored pants. Torin, in fact, had also changed out of his uniform into something similar, which seemed more comfortable.
Phaedra turned back to Aurelius. He was smiling at her, a mockery of a friendly expression. She could tell he was daring her to shoot her mouth off again. As much as she hated it, she was in no position to bargain. Defeat was a heavy weight on her shoulders, causing her to slump and lower her head. “What do you want with me?”
Aurelius smiled. “Good. Like I said, I need an Oracle. I’ve been looking for the Godstones, and—”
“Those are just rumors,” Phaedra said, crossing her arms in defiance as she straightened. “All that exist are Hellgems, and those didn’t come from gods,” she said, confidence flagging only slightly as he laughed again.
“You might not have known the Gods, girl, but I was the one who killed them. The ’stones exist, we just don’t know where.”
“And I presume you’ll tell me why you want them next?” she asked, prompting another round of laughter.
“They appear in the places the gods felt a special connection. Where that is, however, is proving difficult to track down. Torin, here, has been trying to search them out for me, but we’ve run out of ideas. I need an Oracle. I wanted your prophecy machine, actually, but you’ll do just as well, I suspect.”
“And what makes you think I’ll help you?”
He leveled a gaze at her that turned her veins to ice. “Because if you don’t, I’ll take it out on your dear sister.”
Phaedra fell silent. There wasn’t a way out she could see. But if there was some way to escape, to break her bond with him? The possibility seemed so farfetched, but Phaedra had been in impossible situations before. And her experience had only grown since then. It was a slim chance, but it had to be there if she could only comply long enough to figure out how. “I’ll do it. If we find it, though, you’ll let us go.”
Aurelius laughed again. “Fine; if you find them, I’ll let you two go. It’s not like you’ll ever be welcome Terra side again. All I need is the Godstone that belonged to Death, and you can go.”
Phaedra was silent. It felt like a trap. Glancing at Torin’s face, she could see the panic on his features, in his wide eyes behind glasses that hid nothing. Looking back at Aurelius, she nodded. “I’ll help you find it in exchange for freedom.”
“So be it,” he said. “Torin, get her outfitted, get her weapons, and then come back to talk to me. I’m sending the three of you out, and soon.”
Torin took Phaedra’s arm. Phaedra huffed, but followed, mind working. She had no plans to follow through with her end of the bargain. It was just a matter of figuring out how to get free.
Through the corridors, Torin took her to the armory. Phaedra felt the inner workings of the fortress would drive her insane if she had to wander them alone, and she was grateful for the company. As they walked past the bare walls that blended into each other, she looked at Torin. He was walking in front of her with his head tilted down and hands shoved in his pockets, as if he didn’t need to watch where he was going to find it. She figured he was used to it, though everything about him screamed defeat. He wasn’t aggressive, like so many others, and he wasn’t angry like Luca. Torin was resigned. The idle thought occurred to her that maybe there were others like him; that they wanted to leave as well. If there were enough people who wanted to revolt, could she lead them? She felt silly pondering the question.
Torin stopped in front of her, almost causing Phaedra to walk into him. “Through here,” he said, opening the door. Phaedra followed him in and stopped short as she saw Luca.
“I had a feeling you two would wind up here,” Luca said. “I was sourcing some pieces to get ready.”
Phaedra eyed him. “You don’t make it custom order?”
Torin glanced at her. “We all start with the same basic black pieces. Magic molds the armor to you and bonds your weapon as well.”
“What happens if someone else picks up my weapon?” she asked.
“If it’s one of us, nothing. It just doesn’t work. But if someone alive picks it up? It absorbs their soul and life force.”
Phaedra stared at him. “What?” she asked, not sure she had heard correctly.
“It serves a few uses. First, humans and elves can’t capture the technology and use it against us. Second, the weapons and armor store soul energy, to draw on, to give us all a boost of power.”
“More than one of the Resurrected have died at human hands.”
“But how much equipment have you recovered?” Torin got a sly look, almost as if proud, as Phaedra just opened and closed her mouth a few times. “We just retrieve the equipment later because so far no one has broken the spell on any of it.” Torin turned his back on Phaedra to grab a boiled black leather cuirass. “Here, we can help you get it on. We’ll put it on over your clothes for now, but there is a uniform we’re all expected to wear while out and about.” Phaedra gritted her teeth as Torin helped her into the armor. It fit awkwardly, though part of that could be because people didn’t wear much armor these days. “Okay, hold on,” Torin said, laying his hands on her shoulders. Phaedra went to protest, but the words died in her throat as she felt a surge of power. It encompassed the flat black armor and flashed a brilliant, blinding white. Blinking, Phaedra looked down to see that the armor fit better than anything she’d ever worn before.
“What weapons do you use?” Torin asked as Phaedra admired the armor against her will.
“What, don’t you remember?” She asked.
Torin closed his eyes, looking defeated. “Believe me, I don’t want to recall any of what I already do. So no, you’ll have to tell me.”
“A cutlass and a spell cannon.” She watched Luca walk away. “How do you get the armor?”
“A lot of it we looted, but none of it resembles anything of what it once was. Everything here we enchanted, for one. We stripped off old enchantments to put on new ones, and the new ones are too much for living beings to handle,” he said, not looking at anything in particular.
“Is it how he finds people?” Phaedra asked.
Torin looked up to make eye contact for the briefest of seconds before looking away, surprise etched on his face. “No, it’s not. The enchantments serve several uses, but he tracks us through the bonds we share with him.” Torin didn’t look at her at all as he sorted through things. Phaedra thought about what she knew of thralls; it wasn’t something Temple had bothered to cover.
“Can he read our minds? Our emotions?” She asked.
“True telepathy isn’t a gift anyone has ever possessed and if there is magic that can do it, no one I know has ever used it. As for emotions, it’s hard to say. He hasn’t said he can, but I can’t rule it out. I know he can project simple thoughts to us, and we can feel what he wants us to feel, but he’s never said if it goes both ways.” Frowning, Torin looked over his shoulder. “Where is Luca?” he asked, giving his back to Phaedra as Luca appeared, carrying a sword and a spell cannon tucked into an ammo bag.
“Sorry. I was looking through the pieces.” Luca handed over the equipment. The spell cannon was finely made, a gentleman’s weapon. The cutlass was equally fine. It shimmered in the dim light as Phaedra hefted it. It was lighter than she expected. A glance at Torin showed a look of surprise. She turned back to Luca. “Thanks, I guess,” she said, not sure what else to say.
“You get used to it,” Luca said. “None of us wanted this job, but you learn how to deal with it.”
“How do we do the bonding thing?” Phaedra asked. “Because I want to get it over with.”
Torin’s hands hovered over hers. “I’m sorry,” he said, lightly touching her. An electric bolt shot through her, and for a second Phaedra wasn’t sure if she was still holding the weapons or if they had become part of her. Just as quickly as it came on it passed, and Phaedra marveled at the connection. It was surreal how they had become an extension of her. “You can store it over here,” Torin said, pointing at a wooden dummy that held nothing. “We all have one. No one has used this one in a long while.”
Phaedra put the weapons and bandolier down, struggling to unstrap the cuirass. Torin reached over, and with deft fingers, undid the straps. She said nothing, only pulling the armor off and draping it over the dummy. She added the bandolier, slipping the spell cannon into the space made for it. The sword belt she draped the other way, the cutlass hanging at a strange angle.
“Why don’t you join us for a drink?” Torin said. Phaedra looked at him. “Not much else to do. We can sleep if we want, but drinking at least helps pass the time while awake.”
Phaedra’s shoulders twitched. “Sounds good.”
***
Phaedra sipped at the drink offered by Torin while watching him. He was staring down into his glass, silent as a grave. Glancing over at Luca was the same deal. Phaedra had assumed her whole life that the Resurrected were bloodthirsty monsters; sitting in uncomfortable silence with two of them dashed that imagery.
“How did you get here?” she asked, voice loud and startling in the silence. Both men looked up at her and blinked. “You both know how I got here,” she pointed out, setting the glass down on the uneven table, “and we don’t have much of a choice but to get along, right?”
Luca huffed and looked off to one side; Torin took a sip of his drink. “Cristiano killed me for Aurelius,” Torin said, glancing at Luca.
“Does it matter how I wound up in hell?” Luca asked, crossing his arms over his chest and glowering.
Phaedra took a sip of her drink instead of letting loose the tart reply at the tip of her tongue. “I suppose not. But seeing as how we don’t have a choice in this, we might as well try to get to know one another.”
Luca downed his drink, pouring another few fingers’ worth into his glass, not saying anything.
Torin glanced at him, eyebrow raised, but said nothing. “You learned magic at Temple, I’m assuming,” Torin said, switching his focus to Phaedra.
“They only took us in if we agreed to work for them. They chose me for magic and weapons training after a bunch of different tests to see where I’d best fit.”
“Interesting. I didn’t know Temple did that.”
Phaedra grunted. “Everyone who winds up there goes through it,” she said, dismissing the subtle inquiry.
Luca stared down into his glass while Phaedra considered him. He had been the one to take Demeter’s body away, but he didn’t want to be here either. It sat funny with her, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was more than just the two of them who didn’t meet expectations.
Phaedra realized Torin had asked her something, and she hadn’t heard him. “What was that?” Phaedra asked, realizing she hadn’t heard Torin.
“What kind of magic does Temple teach?” he asked again.
Phaedra looked at Torin, but all she could see was excitement. She got the overwhelming feeling that he was asking out of genuine interest. Her chest ached as she imagined him as a professor or scholar for a moment. “It varies. I got selected for their arcane division, though,” she said. “Not everyone is. Temple produces a lot of priests, but I learned offensive magic instead. Healing magic is gone, but they turn out medics as well.” She noted the spark of interest in Torin’s eyes. A glance at Luca just showed that he was still brooding.
“I didn’t know Temple had an arcane division,” Torin said, almost breathless. “I wonder what kinds of differences there are.”
Phaedra couldn’t help but chuckle. “I learned nothing divine, so I can’t say.”
Luca scoffed, slammed his glass onto the table, and turned away. Torin reached out and grabbed his hand, trying to tug him back, but Luca shook him off and kept walking. Phaedra watched him go before turning back to Torin.
“Is he. . . ?” she asked, trailing off as she grasped for a way to ask it.
“As well as any of us are, I suppose,” Torin said. “With the caveat that some of us have fared better than others, of course.” Torin looked down, disappointed.
Phaedra looked down at her hands before looking back at Torin. She caught him gazing towards where Luca had stormed off to, something forlorn on his features. If he was a friend, she’d say it was longing. But she didn’t know him or their history, and it wasn’t something she could ask. “Why don’t you all revolt? Overthrow Aurelius?”
Torin looked at her as if stricken. “He has too many supporters to pull it off. And besides. . .” Torin trailed off, pouring a bit more of the amber liquid into his glass, “it’s not that easy.”
Phaedra clenched her jaw as she regarded Torin. The light that had been on his face when he had been asking her questions was gone, replaced by something darker. His shoulders slumped as he rested his forearms on the table between them. All she had to do was get the Death ’stones and she and Demeter would be free. Looking at Torin, however, it didn’t feel like it was enough.
“What would you sacrifice to be free?” she asked.
His face rose to look at hers, a frown creasing his features. “What do you mean?”
Phaedra opened her mouth to ask again, and the summoning sound went off in her head. She watched as his eyes fluttered shut.
“We have to find out what he wants,” Torin said, draining the cup before standing. He looked down at Phaedra, who hesitated. “Everything okay?”
She stood. “Yeah.”
They walked to Aurelius’s control room in silence, Torin’s head dipped as usual, hands shoved in his pockets. For someone as feared as he was, Torin didn’t live up to expectations.
He stopped in front of the door and glanced at her before knocking. She nodded once, so he opened the door and held it for Phaedra.
Phaedra walked into Aurelius’s control room to see a lanky man standing next to the desk. He turned and smiled; it was an expression full of darker things. “So, this is your new Oracle,” the man said, stalking around Phaedra in a tight, predatory circle. “Wonderful. I thought you killed all the Seers, so you lucked out with two.”
Phaedra scowled as the man came to a stop right in front of her. He had on a light blue vest and matching cravat over a white shirt, with a matching blue coat on over everything. He was a little taller than Phaedra, with short blond hair and piercing blue eyes, and something about him screamed danger. She had gotten away with fighting one man, but it was out of sight. She didn’t want to be so combative in front of Aurelius.
“This is Cristiano, my most trusted advisor,” Aurelius said, stroking his beard. “He was asking about your abilities,” Aurelius continued. Phaedra’s face settled into hard, unyielding lines that made Cristiano laugh.
“I have so many questions I want to ask you,” Cristiano said. “Maybe you can show me Temple’s secrets.”
Phaedra took a step forward, reaching out to grab Cristiano’s shirt. “Stop,” Aurelius commanded, causing her to freeze against her will. “No fighting here,” he said. “Cristiano wants to know the secrets of Temple arcane magic, as well as divine. Since you and your sister are one of each, I figured you can pass your secrets onto him.”
Phaedra suppressed a scream as Cristiano smiled again, an expression that told her everything she needed to know about his intentions. “And if I don’t?” she demanded.
“You can obey of your own free will, or I can force you, but either way you’re going to learn how little of a choice you have here.”
Cristiano circled her again. “You’re not an elemental fighter, and I saw how you caused Torin to falter. Tell me, does Temple have Command Words?” Phaedra said nothing, but he still smiled. “Command Words are powerful magic; I’m impressed you made Torin stumble the way you did. And as a human, too. I bet you’re a force to be reckoned with now.” His hand hovered over her face, and Phaedra fought the mental command to stand still, to no avail. He laughed and withdrew his hand. “I’ll start with your sister, to keep you in line,” he said, stepping back. The hair on the back of Phaedra’s neck stood on end. “I’ve always wanted to learn Temple’s secrets,” he said, stepping away and causing Phaedra to breathe a little easier. “Temple didn’t invent Command Words, but they did turn them into something wholly different from what they used to be.”
“Torin, are you ready to go?” Aurelius turned to look at them.
Torin stepped up next to Phaedra. “Yes, we are.”
“Good. Take one of the ’ships and Phaedra and go ferret it out.”
Torin grabbed Phaedra’s arm as Cristiano waved an aggravating wave and dragged her backwards out of the room.
“You’re in a mood,” Phaedra said outside, shaking Torin’s arm off to follow him.
Torin looked at her, a sour expression on his face. “Not here,” he said.
Phaedra looked behind her. “Not a bad idea.” She hurried next to him as they walked along. “Where to now?”
“we’re looking for the ’stones.”
Phaedra ran a hand through her hair. It was like going to the dentist with him. “And where might that be?”
They paused outside the armory doors. “Don’t you want to know?” Torin asked, then swung the door wide and stepped through. Phaedra followed him. “Grab your equipment,” he said, thrusting things at her in rapid succession. “And put these on underneath.” Torin laid a black turtleneck and black pants on top of the pile, a pair of men’s boots on top.
Phaedra’s heart raced as she walked away towards where he pointed. A series of alcoves with curtains for privacy lined one wall, every single one empty. The clothing was what she recognized as the Resurrected uniform, and she wasn’t ready to don it.
With shaking hands, Phaedra drew on the clothing and dressed herself. The fabric of the shirt and pants was cool and comfortable, which made her palms slick as she gpt dressed. The symbol of the dead on her skin felt harsh and abrasive, though she knew it wasn’t the smooth fabric causing the sensations.
Phaedra held the armor in her hands, throat constricted and dry. Few wore armor anymore, not that Aurelius cared. It was a symbol of everything he stood for, and Phaedra stared at the black molded leather. She shuddered, repulsed.
“I can help with the armor part if you need,” a voice said from the doorway. “It’s difficult to manage the fastenings on your own.”
Phaedra turned to look, but didn’t see anyone. “Yeah,” she said, turning around to face the doorway. Torin stepped through. He was dressed as she was, which made her blanch. Torin looked at her, mouth twisting in what looked like sympathy, and helped her secure the chest piece. “It’s not a full suit,” she said, strapping on her cutlass and bandolier once he was done.
“It’s more to hold enchantments than anything else.”
“Why not just regular clothes, then?”
Torin took a sip from a hip flask. “He says this holds them better. Frankly, I think he just likes the aesthetic. We’re ready when you are.”
“I’m not.”
“You have the same choice the rest of us do,” he said, something understanding crossing his face for a moment. “You can obey, or he can force you, but that’s not much of a choice if you ask me.”
Phaedra watched Torin walk out before following him, heart threatening to slam its way free of her chest. Not much choice indeed.
