Chương 30: Omnimancer 25: To Trap a Stormcrow

It was only after Taren followed Bidzi out of the dark room and into the well-lit corridor beyond that Taren dared to breathe. He felt as though he'd been holding it the entire time. That was, until Bidzi stopped abruptly in the hallway and turned, planting a heavy hand onto the stone wall beside Taren's head, cornering him. The amber light lit the Bear's face with harsh shadows, making him look more monster than man.

Taren was not a small man, but before the Bear like this, he may as well have been a rat caught by its tail.

"Say, Taren," Bidzi rumbled, trying and failing to sound casual, "how did you think that meeting went?"

"Well, I… I agree with your plan of action, Commander," Taren replied, saying the only thing he possibly could in this situation, heart pounding madly in his chest.

"Far better to stay cautious."

"You think so, do you?" Bidzi's smile was all teeth and no warmth.

"Come to think of it, you've run upon some rough times recently, haven't you?"

"Yes, I suppose I have, sir," Taren said, averting his eyes. This was it. The real reason he'd been called. Stupid of him to think he'd get away without facing the consequences. To hope for even a moment that the Bear might forget.

"Yes, Squad Captain," Bidzi said, stressing the lowly rank.

"Squad Captain now. You ought to be grateful you still hold even that, you know? Truly, losing so many villagers to the nightswarm. Villagers under our protection! Disgusting, such incompetency. You're aware of the threads I pulled to keep you from being dismissed entirely, yes?" It was a lie. The directive to round up hordes and 'save' villages after setting them loose came from none other than the Bear. But none dared admit that, last of all Taren.

No, he could only smile and nod at the commander's words, and Bidzi knew it.

"Sir, I'm deeply in your debt," Taren said, bowing his head. The words were like acid in his mouth.

"I understand," Bidzi said, showing a warm smile that made Taren's skin crawl.

"Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone feels the wrath of the great cycle. But you… you must feel so ashamed. I imagine you've been consumed with thoughts of redemption, yes?" It was no lie. As much as he wished to deny it, Taren had cursed himself many times over his failings on that fateful day. If only he'd acted sooner… If only that Heretic in yellow hadn't appeared. If only… Maybe, if he'd laid the blame elsewhere, perhaps things could have gone differently. Sacrificed a subordinate to save his own reputation.

But Taren was better than that. He wouldn't condemn his men to sweep his own shortcomings under a rug. Though these days, he truly wondered if that nobility was worth the cost.

"Good," Bidzi said, reading the shame on Taren's face.

"Good." His smile widened into something more vicious, giving Taren a full view of his collection of golden teeth.

"Well, then you will be overjoyed to know I'm giving you an opportunity to redeem yourself. Succeed, and you'll be restored to your previous rank. Nightshit, I'll even give you a promotion! Brigadier Stormcrow. What do you think?" Brigadier!? Taren's head went light. A promotion like that would set him up for life! More than that, it'd restore his reputation. He'd be in the Bear's inner circle. A confidante.

"What… what must I do?" Taren asked, a heavy cold settling into the pit of his stomach.

"It's quite simple, really," Bidzi said, popping open the cover of gold-etched scroll case. A case used for only the most important of documents. Sure enough, the crisp white material he unfurled was not parchment but paper, and fine paper at that.

"A drop of your blood here will do."

"A blood oath!?" Taren shrieked, freezing up.

"Y-you can't be serious!"

"Oh, it's nothing so worrisome," Bidzi said. He was grinning now, fully aware that Taren couldn't refuse, no matter the terms.

"Just ensuring you don't leak anything of my involvement. I'm sure you can understand why…"

"But what do I need to do?" Taren asked, though he could take a good guess.

"Sign the blood oath, and I will tell you."

"A-and if I don't?" Taren asked despite himself. The Bear shrugged.

"Then I suppose I'll find someone else." Taren almost laughed. The glint in his eyes said it all. Refuse and you die. Cursing, Taren drew his knife and pricked his finger, smearing the blood upon the page. Taren felt the magic manifest. Shackles snapped around his soul, binding him irrevocably to Bidzi and the contract. Enforced by the Goddess herself, once entered, Soul oaths could not be broken. To do so guaranteed a swift death. At least it will be painless… Taren thought forlornly.

"Good," Bidzi said, rolling up the scroll and depositing it back into its case.

"You'll take a group of your men and attack this newcomer's base. Assemble a team from outside the Brotherhood, I'll provide the coin. Hire thugs, wanderers, veterans… I care not, but they cannot lead back to us, understand? See what these people are made of." Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

"But… you advocated for caution," Taren wheezed.

"Well of course, I did," Bidzi chuckled.

"If you are compromised, who in the Goddess' name do you think they'll blame first? The voice of reason? Or that Naksha shaman who wanted us to attack?" Sweat began to run down Taren's brow despite the cool corridor as the truth of Bidzi's plan dawned upon him. How cunning. How terrifying… Everything he'd said had been a bluff.

"And…" Taren gulped.

"If it does turn out to be Moonfire?"

"Moonfire?" Bidzi asked, frowning.

"Nightshit, you're worried about Moonfire?" Taren took a moment to get his meaning and when he did, his heart very nearly stopped and his face went pale.

"You believe it's the Fallen Emissary!"

"Me? Goddess, no. The chances of that are… well, nearly nothing."

"But not nothing," Taren said, understanding his meaning. Bidzi shrugged.

"Your so-called Emissary flies off in Takora's direction, and all of a sudden the Dead Hands fall? I knew Hakan. He would've lit a beacon. Sent word of an attack. That he didn't meant he was wiped out before he could. Does seem awful strange, doesn't it?"

"But… why?" Taren blurted.

"If it is the Fallen Emissary, why risk their ire? The stories are rife with his cruelty." The Bear grinned.

"Because on the off chance it does end up being them, it'll be worth knowing, don't you think? And besides, why fear heckling the Wendigo if it's not gonna be my problem?" Taren understood then. Understood that the plan he'd briefly considered and rejected, as had everyone in that assembly. A plan one would have to be insane to commit to.

"The Owl… If this is the Fallen Emissary, the blame falls upon Nakai, and the responsibility will fall upon the Owl. If the Fallen Emissary retaliates, it will be the Owl who fights them." And loses, in all honesty, Taren thought.

"Well now. Wouldn't that be interesting?" Bidzi replied, and there was a madness in his eyes.

"Win or lose, you benefit," Taren muttered incredulously.

"Nakai, your opponent, will fall either way, and if the owl loses, you stand to gain Takora itself!" The genius of his plan sent shivers down Taren's spine. He'd always known Bidzi was ambitious, but this? This was unfathomable. How did his mind work to spin such an elaborate plot?

"I'm a simple man," the Bear said, holding a hand to his heart.

"I just want what everyone wants. The opportunity to make a name for myself. Is that so much to ask?"

"You're condemning us to death!" Taren blurted in panic.

"Even if it's 'only' Moonfire, we stand nearly no chance!" He already known. Had known it from the moment Bidzi suggested the Blood Oath. The Bear shrugged.

"Then die well. We'll hold a warrior's cremation for you, and your family will be cared for." The casual way he said it, as if Taren's death was hardly an inconvenience. As if he'd already been written off.

"But that's not what you should think about. You should think of how, if I'm wrong, you'll kill every last sack of nightshit there. Of how you'll return a real hero. How the whole damned city will know your name again, but this time for the right reasons. So tell me, do you accept? Taren Stormcrow? Or will you run away like a coward until the Oath takes you? Besides, you said it yourself, didn't you?

'Nearly' none ain't nothing." He wasn't wrong, though there was no real victory here. Even in the unlikely case Bidzi truly was wrong on both accounts and he did succeed, he'd be nothing but a lapdog for the rest of his days. A beggar and nothing more. As much as he hated that idea… as much as he wished to tell his commander to fuck right off… Taren was a coward. Because at least life as a dog meant living. At least this way, he could restore his honor, if only in the eyes of the public.

"I'll see it done, Commander," Taren said, bowing low, accepting his fate.

"Good. Good." Bidzi grinned, revealing too many teeth, finally removing his hand from the wall.

"I have great expectations of you, Stormcrow. Do not fail me a second time." The unsaid threat was obvious. Bidzi strode away, his footsteps echoing off the stone, leaving Taren alone in the corridor. Slumping against the cold stone wall, he first closed his eyes and tried to calm his racing heart. Sometimes a city must be destroyed before it can be made better. Taren supposed the words applied to men as well as they did to countries. Was that what this was? An opportunity for rebirth?

A necessary sacrifice he needed to undergo so he emerged better? Reforged? Or was he just a fool being led to slaughter by men who saw him as nothing more than a convenient pawn? The latter was unquestionably true, but that didn't mean the former couldn't be as well. He only knew that in three days' time, he would lead his men against an unknown enemy, and quite possibly die doing it. For Takora. For redemption. For a future the Owl promised would be beautiful.

He barked a bitter laugh that echoed through the stone halls. Gods help him, but he hoped the Owl was right. Because if not, Taren Stormcrow would die for nothing. And wouldn't that be a fitting end for one such as he? — — — Long after the meeting had concluded and long after the sun had given way to darkness, a figure sat alone on the floor of a room so dark it would be impossible for anyone to find their way around it.

One who saw beyond most mortals, however, hardly needed anything so mundane as candles or magical light. No, few would ever behold the world as completely as the Owl, and it was but one of his many regrets in his long and tired life. There was a time, once, when he marveled at the beauty of the world and the life that filled it. Time and experience had steadily whittled away those delusions, however. Few mysteries held any weight against a being whose sight pierced through lies, subterfuge, and walls.

"Let us see what Takora is up to today…" he whispered. The whites of his eyes went inky black and yellow slits opened. [True Sight] activated, and the world's secrets unraveled before him.

"Oh, Bidzi…" the Owl croaked.

"Bidzi, Bidzi. Whatever will we do with you? You poor shortsighted thing." The Bear hoped to probe the enemy, no doubt hoping whatever they were would somehow spark the downfall of the Owl. The Bear's ambition was undeniable. Admirable, even. Yet as the Owl knew from the corpses of ambitious souls he'd known through his life, unbridled ambition was an excellent way to get one's self killed. And then there was the Dead Hands' den. Moonfire, as they claimed to be. The Owl had his doubts.

Not for the first time, he trained his sight upon the den, only to find… nothing. No Soulfire with which to see. Simply Mancers of the First Tier. Far too weak to make out anything of import. Worse—some unknown force seemed to be actively shielding the entire area from his sight, making a bad situation even worse. It was not frustration the Owl felt, however. Not even close. For the first time in recent memory, the Owl found himself fascinated. Genuinely excited by the world.

In all his centuries bearing this power, ever since he'd ceased being human, such a thing had never happened. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to want something. The faint flicker of anticipation. The novelty of discovery. Yes, he would enjoy flaying this mystery bare. He would enjoy it very much.