Unbound-Chapter Nine Hundred And Eighty Seven – 987

Vile woman. Ar’Vahn squeezed his knees, forcing his Stonethews forward with a grinding half-step. “I heard that you died, Marzul.”

“The winds whisper many untruths,” she murmured. Her voice carried to him, clear as a bell, and that smile never dimmed. “You have the advantage over me, Lord Dwarf. You know my name, but I do not know yours.”

“You stand before the Sixth Imperator of the Khadan Imperium, Dav Ar’Vahn,” his First Corpus announced with no little heat.

“Peace,” Ar’Vahn said, magnanimous as all officers should be to their most loyal men.

“Sixth? Your Corpus does you credit,” Marzul said, though her smile had thinned. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

She gave a precise bow, no more than a tip of her head—the exact sort of greeting an empress would give to one far below her station.

“Yes, Sixth Imperator. Commander of the Northern Tombs and subservient only to six others in the Imperium. Five Imperators and the Empress herself. Yet you deign to greet me thus?” Ar’Vahn couldn’t help but sneer. “You insult me, Marzul.”

This time her smile vanished entirely as she shifted her stance, the shadows of the jungle suddenly hanging heavy across her face and chest. “I see.”

“You are no longer Empress. You have no armies nor Authority to call upon. You stand alone before the assembled might of a true empire and offer brazen disrespect. How bold.” He smiled, a wolf angling forward. “How foolish."

"Perhaps.” Marzul simply watched him from those emerald shadows, her eyes bright in the dark. Ar’Vahn licked his lips. The woman had seen better days. Her clothing was in tatters around the remnants of silvered armor, ripped from what looked like a headlong journey across the Continent. Blood matted her hair, and scratches and thick bandages crisscrossed her chest where her breastplate had been shattered. "Are you threatening me, Dav Ar’Vahn?”

“You stand upon the precipice of our Territory, disposed and stripped of Authority. I would not threaten such an unfortunate soul.” He smirked and offered his hand from the back of his Elemental mount. “I am offering to take you into the bosom of the Dead Empress herself.”

“Our Territory,” she repeated. “Curious. The Shifting Sands are unclaimed.”

Ar’Vahn gestured and his Spiritus flared their Wills. The deep iron of crafted Seals flared with silvered light, and sigils spread through the dunes. “No longer.”

You Stand On Unclaimed Territory!

Authority Recognized, Sixth Imperator!

The Sacred Necropolis Speaks Through You.

The sands are mine.

Acknowledged.

Iron Seals Resonate With Local Authority.

Authority Accepted.

You Have Laid Claim To The Shifting Sands!

Due To Lack Of Opposing Authority, Your Claim Is Accepted!

Congratulations!

You Have Claimed Territory For The Dead Empress!

Her Authority Has Increased!

Ar’Vahn’s first duty was to scout the status of the fallen Hierocracy. His second duty, and just as important as the first, was to expand the Imperium. The constructed Seals were a method of expansion often used in border skirmishes between empires, and it served his purpose here and now.

“Tch. Is this all you’re able to muster?” Marzul gestured to the sands, where the last lingering vestiges of golden light faded beneath the new silver sigaldry. “My boundary and Authority have lapsed, my Will is disconnected from this land, and all you can manage is a temporary claim?”

Ar’Vahn’s smirk melted. “Temporary only until my liege’s true forces sweep north.”

“Does her Dead Majesty have the time? Between feeding her people and locking down your slaves, I imagine she’s quite busy.”

“Watch your tongue!”

Marzul toyed with tendrils of draping moss. “That is not a denial. Quite interesting.”

Ar’Vahn squared his shoulders. “If you wish to see the state of the Sacred Necropolis, then you have but to surrender yourself to my care.”

“And submit myself before your Empress.”

“Just so.”

“No.” Marzul gave the long line of his army a lingering glance. “All these troubles, caused by one man. Do you seek recompense?”

Ar’Vahn guided his Stonethews forward another step. “We seek expansion… and the head of Felix Nevarre.”

Marzul giggled, but her throat seized in a phlegmy cough. She spat something dark onto the earth. “You will die.”

“You intend to stop us.”

She didn’t answer. Didn’t move.

“You are in no condition to fight, Paragon."

"Perhaps," she said again, maddeningly calm. Marzul smiled, but it wasn't the smile of a cowed woman.

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She won’t admit her defeat. Infuriating. Delightful. Ar’Vahn barked a laugh. "Rude or not, I appreciate your Spirit, Paragon. That you are not broken after being deposed by an unknown upstart is admirable. I would not have such strength.”

The flash of annoyance was clear, even through to the Territorial boundary and the strange magics swirling inside the jungle. Ar'Vahn would have had to be blind to not make out that much anger. It percolated from her, bubbling at the edges. The woman's Spirit was unbalanced.

He held out his hand again. “I offer you this one last time: join with us. The Dead Empress would see you reinstated upon your throne. The Imperium would much rather deal with you than an unproven lordling.”

The woman shifted her stance. Not backing away so much as hunching her back, as if she were attempting not to wretch. “The monstrosity Nevarre will be dealt with as soon as I have rebuilt my forces.”

“Rebuilt—? So even your vaunted Orders are gone. Such news will be a revelation to the Empress.” Ar’Vahn tried, unsuccessfully, to keep his pleasure masked. To confirm that the Orders of the Pathless were destroyed or at the very least disbanded was a boon to his efforts. Dead god or no, the Paladins and Inquisitors each had potent Skills that were difficult to fight, even with a phalanx of Master Tier Spiritus. “How could that be?”

Marzul’s mouth thinned into a flat line. “Nevarre.”

“The Fiend. I see. And the great object that fell from the heavens?”

“I thought you were so well informed, Imperator. That was his work as well.” She shuddered. “Noctis has fallen.”

No. It was his worst fear realized. A wave of fear and dismay rolled through his army, the same one that rippled out of his Spirit. The Elementals shifted, the gold around them flickering, but still holding strong. Noctis could not have fallen. Our power is still here. She lies.

Ar’Vahn sliced the flat of his palm through the air and his First Corpus barked an order. Immediately the other Corpus clamped down their Wills, stifling the Spirits of his soldiers in a mighty heave. The magi and warriors reeled as if slapped, and the Elementals settled back onto their haunches.

"You lie," he said. He hoped.

"Do I? Then where is her moon?” He couldn’t answer that, and she bulldozed ahead. “I shall tell you: it landed on my capital city. Amaranth is no more. It was shattered by Noctis’ defeat.”

“That—a fallen moon does not mean Noctis has perished!”

"That is true.” Ocalla pulled her hands across the bark of a tree, scoring deep scars in its trunk. “The moons are just their prisons.”

"Prisons?" This was unknown to the Imperator. He traded a glance with his First Corpus, but the man looked just as stunned. “Explain.”

Marzul’s eyes flashed. “Where did you think the Divine were all this time?”

“The legends speak of exile. Of flight beyond the Void—”

“They were imprisoned. Chained to their moons for breaking the laws of the System.”

“Laws? What could imprison the gods? Who could be so powerful?”

Marzul leaned forward, and her hands crushed more bark. The trees to her sides groaned. "I tire of this line of questioning, Imperator. Tell me, how many have you brought to the edge of my lands?"

"They are no longer your lands, woman."

"A temporary ailment, I assure you. With your aid, I can easily take it all back."

"Oh, truly, is that what you believe? Why would we aid you?"

"I was not asking for permission, Imperator. I was merely stating my Intent."

“You—”the woman infuriated him. “Paragon or not, you are wounded and weakened. You stand no chance against a fledgling upstart let alone my array of Imperium trained warriors.”

“You think so highly of them. Good. It makes me desire them all the more.”

Ar’Vahn seized the hammer from his waist and it ignited with a ghostly flame. The same flame that burned across the edges of his armor and through the deepest inscriptions of his Stonethews. “Then come, Ocalla Marzul, fallen empress of a fallen empire!" He spread his arms wide from atop his mount. "Come and take this army from me, if you dare!"

"Very well. I appreciate the invitation."

Too late, the Imperator realized what he'd done. The words of the Sixth Imperator of the Khadan Imperium were powerful—more so than the arrays that swirled beneath their feet and the temporary benefits the Shifting Sands had gained from the Imperium.

“Spiritus!” he cried out. “Lay waste to the Paragon!”

Skills burst from his magi, a sweeping swell of flame, poison, and blinding sand that angled toward a single point.

The jungle exploded.

He had given a lone woman permission to enter their new, sovereign state. He was not facing an enemy muzzled by the benefits of empire and Territorial Seals. Instead, they faced Ocalla Marzul, feared Paragon, directly.

“Do not let up!”

The woman stepped forward, and a dark blemish stained the sands. The Skills around her vanished, dismantled into violent clouds of harmless Mana vapor. Marzul took a second step and her Spirit slammed into his men. Thousands dropped to their knees.

“All Elementals! Kill her!” Ar'Vahn commanded. Those of his people still standing rushed forward in their wake, Skills igniting as the slaved Elementals leaped to action.

A thousand Major Elementals of earth charged forward, tearing across the sands. They were not alone, however: five hundred more air, water, and fire Elementals—all of them Major—joined the avalanche. A conflagration of power descended on the lone woman. Paragon or not, she was weakened. She was hurt.

She would fall.

Steam, stone, and raging winds struck the jungle’s edge…and was met by darkness.

Not…light?

Shadow erupted from the woman, sweeping over his Elementals and people alike. Ar’Vahn threw up an arm, his hammer radiating ghostfire, but it was swallowed and he with it. Night descended upon his army.

Near blind, the Imperator thrust his Will at the dark, but it was like moving a mountain. He reeled backward, thrown from the saddle as a deep lowing was followed by a wet gurgle. His Stonethews fell, its head sliced clean from its shoulders by…nothing.

He was alone.

Ar’Vahn spun, hammer held defensively, but could spot nothing else. The sand beneath his feet was stiff as stone, and his steps crackled. “Ice?”

Shadow pressed at him again, a foreign Will assaulting his own. He fought back, but it was like a parent lifting a child; he did nothing more than flail before he was caught. It pressed at him, crumpling his Will and nearly dropping him to his knees.

“C–corpselight!” His Skill whispered from him, drawing motes of blackened green light into the air, turning the near blackout into dusk. He could see his people, but they’d been spread out somehow. “First Corpus! Stand. Marshal our troops, pull them—”

Too late, he realized his First Corpus wasn’t moving. The man was stuck, head back in a rictus of pain, while his body was stock still. A thin layer of hoarfrost covered his armor and skin, not nearly enough to freeze a Dwarf solid, but a symptom of something else entirely. He turned, saw his people beyond. Thousands, all of them unmoving as if the pace of battle had been seized and stopped.

“I hold them all in my Will, Sixth Imperator.”

Eyes of deep gold opened in the dark. They blazed like campfires, thirty paces above the head of a woman that walked calmly through his frozen forces. Bloody, dirt smeared, and limping ever so slightly, Ocalla Marzul strode up to the Imperator, and he was powerless to stop her.

"W-what?” he chattered through blue lips. “This is not the power of a Paragon."

"No," she said, and her smile was beatific. "No, it is not."

She reached out, and the last thing he felt before oblivion was her bloody, cold touch.