“Yes, Briarheart. Let's.” Maeril leaned forward and reached out with a spidery hand. With a deft motion, he pulled the stopper off the crystal decanter that served as the table's centerpiece and poured an equal amount of dark amber liquid into two glasses. As he was about to place the stopper back on, he paused.
His movements were all so mechanical, so very stiff and practiced. For a moment, I wondered if he was undead and used to the procedure or alive and just in need of a good vacation.
“And you?” He glanced at Hyperion as if she were nothing more than a stray mutt cowering in a dingy alleyway.
Hype's reply came quick and terse. “Please and thank you.” Glowing eyes searched our host's face, her own thoughts unreadable as her gaze flickered about.
She was coiled, ready to strike out at the first thing in the room that moves. You wouldn't be able to tell if you didn't know her like I do; but the way she sat there, slightly slouched, her briar-knit hands planted firmly on her knees, her eyes locked firmly on Maeril rather than flickering around the entire room, taking in every curious detail. It might have marked the first time I had ever seen her truly upset.
I leaned forward, grabbing the freshly-poured liquor and handing my companion her glass while taking a drag out of my own. It was times like these that I wished horribly that I could get drunk. I had a feeling that I'd need a buzz to see me through the coming days in Trenycë.
“Let's get right to the point,” I said a little louder than necessary, cutting through the icy chill that grew between the Dread Lord and the briarbane. “I'm too tired and too old for bullshit and subterfuge, so I'm just going to come out and tell you why we are here.”
Maeril broke Hype's glare long enough to arch one of his perfect eyebrows at me. “And what would that be?”
“To find a cure for the plague that your old master used to wage war against Raiaera,” I said as a sly grin crept across my face.
If he could have stiffened in his seat any more, he would have. A few of his face muscles twitched, though; so that was a good sign that he was capable of emotion. Barely--but still able.
“And you will fail,” he spat. “Just like all who came before you and tried to test the might of Xem'Zund.”
Maeril stood up, drink in hand, the liquid inside trembling as his hand shook and his voice boomed. “Scores. Hundreds. Thousands of them. All tried to destroy his legacy; all met their fate at the hands of his enduring plague and the Death Lords under my command.”
Clearly, I had hit a nerve here. I raised a hand into the air, motioning for him to relax. “Settle down, dead man--”
The glass in his hand sailed across the room and shattered against the frame of the door. Bits of glass flew everywhere as alcohol dripped down the wall and began pooling on the floor.
“You will not walk into my domain and proceed to tell me that you will end the Necromancer's legacy and my own,” he roared, his flesh turning red with rage.
I slowly rose to my feet, ready for anything. “Just shut the fuck up for one second--”
“You will not purge him from this world! You will save nobody!”
Within a split second, a dark swirling energy enveloped Maeril Thyrrian's hands, and he leaped over the table at me. Before I could bring my arms up to guard from his strikes, Hyperion burst from her seat and buried her shoulder in the Dread Lord's midsection. She was able to plant him into the floor between the couches with a heavy thud, knocking the breath out of him for a brief moment.
She quickly scrambled to mount him and pin him down, but he was ungodly fast. A shrouded fist caught Hyperion as she was about to lunge for his neck with gnashing teeth, and she flew halfway across the room.
I moved faster than I had ever done before. I felt the warm embrace of Podë once more, her crimson bleeding into my arms as I put myself between Maeril and Hype. As the necromancer rose to his feet, I shoved a blood-red hand in front of his face. Sensing the incredible darkness of the magic that coursed through my vines, he dropped his guard ever-so-imperceptibly. Likewise, Hype came to a screeching halt as soon as she realized that I put myself in her way.
“Stop it, the both of you! Right now!” My screams echoed against the walls of the room while the three of us forcibly worked to calm ourselves.
I turned my attention to the briarbane. “Hype, it's okay, stand down.”
Her eyes flickered brightly as she pleaded with me. “But he was going to--”
“I said it's okay, Hype,” I snarled. It most definitely was not okay. Maeril would have killed me had she not intercepted him in the air like that.
She simply opened her mouth to speak, closed it, and opened it again before turning away and grunting in frustration.
I spun around and looked Maeril dead in his eyes. “And you didn't let me finish what I was saying!”
“I heard enough,” he growled. “And it was enough to help me decide that neither of you will leave this room alive.”
“Oh, you're gonna' kill me, is that it?” I stepped closer to Maeril, getting mere inches from his face. “So hung up on Xem'Zund's legacy that you choose to ignore your own, is that it?”
Maeril's eyes ignited with cold fury. “I am the heir to his legacy. His destiny is my own.”
“No, it isn't,” I snarled as I shoved my red-stained hands in front of his face. “I once thought the same thing. Sold my soul to the fading shadow of a dying legend desperate to cling to this world. I followed her every word in hopes that she would share everything with me. Instead, I lost everything.”
And everyone.
“So,” I continued, “I know exactly how you feel.”
“You know nothing, Briarheart.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Maeril Thyrrian, Dread Lord of Xem'Zund's eternal army. Maeril Thyrrian, who cowers in his fortress and refuses to make a move to continue his master's campaign. Maeril Thyrrian, whose name strikes mild concern in the hearts of Raiaerans instead of pants-shitting terror.”
That twitch under his dark eyes came back. I was getting under his skin again. But, at least this time he was listening.
I pressed on, steeling myself just in case he decided to lash out at me again. “You and I both are mere pretenders to the Forgotten One. We were enraptured by their promises of power, only to have our destinies snatched away from us. You and I both have been lost ever since, am I correct? Word is that you never leave this manor unless absolutely necessary, while those under your command hold what territories they can while you bury yourself in Xem'Zund's notes, desperate to make things work for you.”
His face softened somewhat as he considered the truth of my words. I backed away from him a foot, the pulsating crimson still present in the thick vines of my arms.
I held them up again for him to see. “Trust me, I did the same thing. It took me a long time to admit I had no idea what I was doing without her guidance.”
I took a deep breath and forced her magic from my body, locking it away in the shards of her soul once more. The red drained form my arms almost immediately.
“And I feel that, deep down, you believe the same thing about yourself. That you are lost without him. You're desperate and alone and trying so incredibly hard to carry on and continue his legacy, but it's slipping away and you feel like there's nothing you can do about it.”
A pregnant pause filled the room.
“Am I right?”
Maeril slowly turned and walked over to the windows. He peeled apart the curtains to get a good look at the dying legacy that was left to him.
“And you would take it all away from me anyway,” he muttered softly. The cracks in his stony facade were starting to show. I was getting closer, ever closer to what I wanted.
“I would, yes.” I slid up beside him and joined him in looking out over the ruined city. A city that had nothing left to give him, nothing keeping him here but his own deep-rooted fears and insecurities.
“And in return, I will give you a destiny of your own.”
He turned to face me, holding my glowing gaze for what seemed like an eternity.
“Continue,” he said softly.
I smiled.
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