The soldiers all work with a quiet efficiency now, one that entirely justified the severity of the reprimands we’d been forced to deliver earlier in the campaign. The common foot soldiers were coarse and brutal creatures, animals really, and we soon found that their respect could only be given through domination and fear. We had whipped them at first, but they learned to tolerate the lash, and then sneered at us when our arms no longer proved up to the task.
It was my idea to reward them with the gift of the Bloodseed, rather than punishing them with the rod and lash, a moment of genius that had earned me praise from the Master himself, an honour made all the sweeter by the even greater jealousy it fostered in Ludvig. He was Bone Lord of this cabal, but we all knew he’d only been promoted because he’d been one of the Master’s first apprentices at the University, rather than from merit or any ability to think for himself.
Now, instead of wasting hours strengthening and conditioning clumsy host bodies, we had subjects whose instincts and sinews had been soaked with violence for years. And more than that, seeing the change come over their peers cowed the rest of the unruly brutes better than any whipping ever had. There was even a small mutiny, but that never happened again after we blessed the entire company who had rebelled against our command. It was an expensive gesture, and the General protested to the Master himself, but in the end he accepted it, as we all knew he would always have to. Their army was nothing without us, and we all knew it.
Ludvig may still have been in charge, but everyone knew it was me who had completed the final ritual at Aknak. This was my show now, and once Falkenburg’s node was cracked, I would have my own cabal.
I made my way into the ritual tent where the others were carefully cutting the turf away and flattening the area, preparing the ground for the laying of the circles, while several acolytes carefully repainted the containment sigils that had been damaged when the tent was repacked for its journey here. Satisfied that all was in order, I ordered the Lance to be brought forth. The cradle that would hold it while the souls were bound was not yet ready, but there was still much to do before we could begin charging its power. Ludvig of course raged at me for opening it without him, but he couldn’t argue the fact that there was little time to spare if Falkenburg was to fall on schedule.
Standing before the Lance, it was easy to put our differences aside though. It was a breathtaking artefact, even if you ignored that it had been crafted by the goddess herself. It was eighteen feet long and as smooth as polished marble, and the silver filled runes incised into its length were sharp enough to slice the whorls from careless fingers. Its tapering length was marked with three thick bands of silver, each bearing further runes chased in red gold, their meanings known only to the Master. Even now, with the ritual to wake its power yet to be performed I could feel the potency within it buzzing pleasantly against my skin.
To call it a Lance was of course entirely demeaning to something of such power and grace, but it was easier to speak than the name the Master had given it, the same name that the prisoners would chant as they offered their souls to it. Akusangai. I felt the Bloodseed within me shift like a cat waking from a long sleep as the word pressed at my lips, desperate to be said out loud. Despite my gift and skill in the Art, I felt something like fear creep along my spine and hastily pressed my lips tighter together. To summon it so, without the proper protections in place was to invite madness.
I forced such thoughts from my mind and focused on the task at hand. The Master’s instructions left no room for argument; the Lance had to be ready before he arrived. If we failed in that, it wouldn’t matter that the ultimate responsibility had rested with Ludvig. We were his cabal, and would all be punished alongside him.