Captives

“And He will come to you on a black horse, and that horse will be Death. With him will ride two women. The first will be pure as driven snow, and she will bear the sign of Fembyl. The second will be his Bride, and she will bear a name as yet unknown, and her countenance will burn with the intensity of the sun.” -Excerpt from the Vædr Cycle

Steam wafted off the hot bath, filling the air with the scent of clean humidity. The room was dim, lit only by a dozen flickering candles. Viscera, tacky and wet, clung to my skin where my armor had not covered me, and my hair was stiff with dried sweat. I dropped the towel from around my waist, picked up a bucket, and dumped scalding water across my skin. The natural resistances I had against temperature changes prohibited me from feeling the adverse effects, but it was hot enough to seep into my achy muscles.

I studied my body for the first time since arriving in this new world as I scrubbed myself clean. During my time in Otherworld, I designed the avatar I inhabited with careful deliberation—it was my ideal form, the body I always wanted but was denied due to illness. Functional muscle rippled with every movement, my vision was crisp and clear, and my body felt light and responsive. And I had used it to commit violence against another. My stomach turned.

A sigh escaped my lips as I lowered myself into the tub, settling in for a long soak. Visions of the battle plagued my mind, each gruesome scene lingering in my memory like early morning fog. Two days ago, I was a man resigned to his own death, and now I was participating in the wholesale slaughter of ostensibly sentient creatures—people, in other words. I have to be strong. It was them or us. I would choose ‘us’ every time.

The door to the washroom clicked, then swung inward on silent hinges. Margaret stood in the doorway, her lithe figure silhouetted by the setting sun that peeked in through the window in our bedroom. She stepped inside, and shut the door behind her, flipping the lock to bar anyone else from entering.

“Good evening, my husband,” she said. Without preamble, she dropped her towel, and began scrubbing the gore from her own flesh.

Heat that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water rose in me, and my face flushed hot. I averted my gaze, and regulated my breathing. “Good evening, my wife,” I responded.

When Margaret finished washing her hair, she slipped into the tub, and pressed her back to my chest. There was no sensuality in the gesture, but there was an intimacy that went beyond that. She sighed, and laid her head against my shoulder.

“I could tell something ate at you,” she said, eyes closed to the world.

“I am not used to this,” I said, and wrapped my arms around her. “Violence should be the last resort, always. The guilt won’t go away, and yet deep down I know we had no choice.”

“Take some time to align your mind and your heart,” she said. “What you know and what you feel are not necessarily prone to cooperating. You must find that balance yourself.”

“And if I cannot?”

“Then you cannot, that is all. It does not make you less-than,” Margaret said, and peered up at me. Her eyes burned like embers in the candlelight. “Whatever happens, I will be there for you. And so will the others.”

*****

I paused at the top of the stairs leading down into the dungeons. Even in-game, I avoided the lower levels of the castle, but I had to face what I had wrought.

Emile brought a torch to bear, lighting the darkness ahead, and I followed him down. The steps were uneven, and as we descended the odor of damp stone and unwashed bodies mingled into a wretched miasma.

“Some of the prisoners managed to kill themselves before we could react,” Emile explained. His steps were sure and swift, a counterpoint to my hesitancy.

“How?”

“They chewed out their tongues,” he said. “We are not sure why. They are capable of speech, but their language is unfamiliar. I suspect the only way to gain anything of value from the remaining prisoners is mental magic.”

We reached the first floor of the dungeon a moment later. Cells lined either wall, and the narrow walkway that ran down the center was wet with something sticky and foul smelling. Muffled groans came from behind several of the thick oak doors, and a quick glance showed they were occupied with huddled, furry bodies.

“I had someone come ahead of us and prepare a prisoner for interrogation,” Emile said. “We have the beast isolated in the Questioner’s Hall.”

My gut twisted, but I ignored the sensation. I have to do this.

“Lead the way,” I said.

Five minutes later, Emile and I sat at a table in the Questioner’s Hall, across from one of the creatures. The room was cramped, dark, and stank of sweat and blood. I had designed the room, much like the rest of the dungeons, as an afterthought—it was mere role playing in the game, dungeons were meant to be depressing.

Our subject was chained to the table by its wrists. Thin fur covered most of the strange creature, except for its rat-like face and tail. It was hard to discern emotions on the unfamiliar face, but the beast shivered in obvious fear, and spoke in a squeaky foreign language.

“I would perform the magic myself, alas I am not adept at mental magic,” Emile said. “I apologize, Your Excellency.”

“Pay it no mind,” I waved him off, and fixed my eyes on the creature before me.

Black, ethereal smoke leaked off my skin as I tapped into my mana. I probed forward with the power I held, and found the telltale resistance of a sentient mind. With a gentle push, I pushed past the surface of its mind, until I could see its memories flashing across my mind’s eye.

I explored its thoughts with a careful touch. Anything deeper risked driving the thing mad, something I hoped to avoid unless unavoidable. The first thing I learned was what they called themselves. The Vanas.

Images of a city filled my mind. It was rudimentary, carved into the stony hills at the foot of the mountains not far from Gran, but the citizens were organized into strict social hierarchies. They communed over meals, raised their young, and engaged in trade with other Vanas settlements nestled among the peaks.

Then came the stomach churning visions. The Vanas slaughtered human settlements, ate the flesh from their kills, stole the grain and gold and cattle. I severed the connection, and closed my eyes, trying to suppress the memories. Fury boiled in my chest.

“I know now why there are no human settlements nearby,” I said. “These things, these Vanas as they call themselves, kill and eat people.”

Emile sucked a breath through his teeth, then let it out slowly. “What shall we do with them?”

For once, I did not hesitate. “Kill them.”

“All of them? We might be able to get more information if we—“

“Do as I say. Then summon the inner council to the war room. We have important matters to discuss.”

*****

“If the information we found is accurate, there are still thousands of these things out there in the hills,” Emile said to the gathered members of my inner council.

“What are the chances they rally more troops?” Gerard asked.

“We shan’t allow them the opportunity,” Margaret said. “Let us raze their vile sanctuary to the ground.”

“Do we have the forces to engage in an offensive campaign?” Freyja asked. Everyone looked toward her, and she raised her hands in appeasement. “I am not suggesting we do nothing, but—“

“She makes a valid point,” Gerard said. “This city of theirs is miles from Gran. If we ride out, we risk leaving the city guard undermanned.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Margaret retorted. “We don’t have the food stores necessary to idle about. Starvation is a genuine concern.”

“We take it to a vote, then,” I said. “Those in favor of a counteroffensive, raise your hands.”

Margaret and Gerard raised their hands, though the latter hesitated for a moment.

“Three to two, then,” I said.

“No, I abstain,” Tremaine said. “It will not be my people on the frontlines, I don’t feel I have the right to a vote.” He gave a wolfish grin.

“Then I suppose I am the tiebreaker,” I said, and took a deep breath. “We took no losses in the last battle—in fact, it went better than I expected. But we must remain wary. The Vanas are inherently violent and supremacist, and they’re unlike anything we’ve encountered before.” I continued. “I don’t want anyone exposed to them if at all possible, but we still need information—have the Pack scout out this city of theirs. I want hard numbers on their forces, defenses, everything.”

“Understood,” Emile said.

We parted ways, and I headed toward the Grand Hall, Margaret and Demna in tow. “If coexistence is impossible, it would be wise to eliminate them entirely,” Margaret said.

“I agree,” Demna added. “We cannot move the city, and if they will not coexist then we have little choice.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” I said. “We just need more information, first.”

“Do not let it slip your mind, my husband, that you need to address the citizenry.”

It had slipped my mind, in fact, and I groaned. “Dammit, there is too much on my plate.”

“I could write a speech for you, if you like,” Demna offered. I considered it for a moment, and then nodded.

“Do it. I will speak with them tomorrow morning. Margaret, please set it up for me.”

“As you command,” she said, and bowed.