Tallah [Book 3 Complete]

What was oddest of all, was the twin absences of dwarf and Vergil. Tallah had expected to see at least one of the two. There wasn't even a scent of a trace.

If he's done something to Vergil…

The hairs on the back of her neck distantly prickled and her pulse quickened.

"I'm listening," she said through gritted teeth, stalling for time as she tried to figure what the thing in front of her wanted.

Really, demanding the death of a god?! Even if that was in her plans, it wasn't going to happen in service of someone's designs. Her revenge was hers alone and she needed nothing from more meddlers.

"Say your piece, Ryder."

Those fangs flashed again as the man grinned at her, his confidence setting her anger alight. "Capital," he said. "I have so much to teach you."

The creature behind him squirmed on the wall, a low moan escaping it.

"Mas—" it began, but Ryder raised a finger and the sound died with a strangled croak.

The only thing permeating the space around them was the stench of fear. It wasn't coming from her ghosts, nor from Vergil. The daemon was terrified of its maker.

"First, let me explain something to you, sorceress." Ryder approached her, hands in his pockets, as if the world stood still outside Vergil's mind and they had all the time in the world to get to know one another. "Let me teach you what your gods are. That way, you will understand what you must do and why."

Tallah fought the urge to retreat from his advance even as her heart hammered her ribs. Instead, she set her jaw and met his electrifying gaze. Every bit of her tensed. No matter how much she tried to dismiss the fear, it clung on.

"Go on."

"I'll start by saying I am not a god, Tallah Amni, if that's what worries you. But, then again, neither are all those creatures fashioning themselves as such. They are, to put it bluntly, scavengers left over to fill in the void of the true gentry's… passing. They feed on the souls of the living, the scraps you all shed on death, before the Prison takes you." He walked as he talked, circling around Christina's kneeling form. "In some ways, they are all my brethren, though I am not quite as limited as they are. Though you will not find any records naming us as such, we are Firstborn. It is both a title, and a rather accurate description."

Was he lying? She'd been in the presence of Ort and knew the power that flowed through that one. Ryder felt nothing like it. If anything, his presence was rank, the power he was flaunting tasting much like the illum trapped in Grefe. Blood, gore, violence, anger, and hate, like an ancient reservoir of bile that had just kept festering.

Distantly, her back tightened in pain. Christina's binding heated up, then calmed. Anna was a dull ache, constantly drawing power. But everything the ghost pulled in felt as if it was discharging into the very air, disappearing without a trace.

The ghosts were present, but quiet. She could smell a plan being executed.

"I fail to see what that's got to do with me," she said. "If you're all a big, happy family, what place do I have in your disputes?"

Ryder chuckled grimly. "What indeed. I hate using mortals to do my dirty work. I really do. Some of you might be more capable than you should be, but you're all so temperamental and fragile. I was against using this whelp originally, but I operate under a rather severe time constraint. Unfortunately Ort's built himself quite a seat of power on this world, and I'm barred from intervening directly. It's all quite frustrating, if I'm honest."

"I don't care about your frustration. Firstborn? That doesn't mean anything to me."

Tallah tracked him as he walked over to Anna. If she were to guess, he was probing the ghosts. Tendrils of power flicked off him. She could taste them on the air as they quested and prodded. Absolute confidence, it seemed, was not quite so absolute. Tension eased from her muscles.

As Vergil said, even gods could bleed. And they could be wary of her.

"Oh, but you should care," Ryder went on, oblivious to his own slip. "You see, Ort has something that I need in his realm. Over there, in his heart of hearts, he is nigh untouchable. To get my prize from his clutches, I must strike at him here, on the world where he comes to feed."

Tallah felt a shudder at that, emanating from Christina's binding. That had just been an echo of the ghost's own theory: the gods came to Edana in order to pilfer illum in the form of souls.

Christina had died once in a freak dray attack on Hoarfrost. She had been caught unawares for the first time in her life—a detail she refused to share—and had found her throat ripped off by one of the pack leaders. She had died that night, but been revived by Isadora, as per the goddess's standing contract with Hoarfrost.

Christina had learned of the price of revival that day. Something had been taken from her, ripped away just as her soul was being stuffed back inside the meat. It sparked off all her interest in soul magic, and a deep hatred of all that was divine.

Ryder had just confirmed her theories to the letter.

"If you're as powerful as you claim, why aren't you facing him?" Tallah asked, trying to pry more information.

"Because bringing my might to bear on this world would see it ruined." He shrugged apologetically. "I see Edana as a good resource to have in pocket. I don't want your world put to the flame."

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Tallah bristled at that. "And yet you've helped bring daemons onto us. Your creatures have killed hundreds. And your pet claimed you've given our world to it. You lie as you breathe."

Ryder's eyebrows climbed up his forehead. "My pet? You mean Mol'Ach?" He laughed. "Oh, I wish I'd see her face if you ever call her that. No, Tallah, Mol'Ach is merely a good tool with a set purpose. But her owning this world or you humans or those tight-arsed aelir makes little difference to me. Were I to set foot on here, in the flesh as you say, what I'd bring would be complete destruction, the kind that would see this pebble turned to a ball of glass. The Radiance are quite single-minded in their hatred of me."

Again, that mention. Panacea had said something about those. Something must've shown on her face because Ryder smiled nastily. "Don't put your hopes on them. Your machine ghost wants to draw their attention here, maybe hoping she could negotiate with them. She has no idea what manner of creatures she's courting. If the Radiance arrive, you will all cease to be. I give you my word on that."

"Seems to me you're afraid," Tallah tried.

The marks on her back burned both. Something happened, or was happening as they spoke. The power channelled somewhere, but she couldn't follow it. And most of all, she tried not to let Ryder see this happening.

"I can handle my brethren, I assure you," Ryder snapped. "If I must, I will. I've had a thousand lifetimes to get very good at surviving them. But I'd rather play my cards with you first. After all, I've been watching you for a long time."

"Why?"

"Because you grafted a soul." It must've shown on her face that she was surprised, because Ryder laughed. "Oh, you don't even know this? You and yours know so little about the power you're tempting. When you graft a soul, the echoes of that binding reach far from your world. I heard your twin screams all the way on Marestra. You understand nothing, and yet you commit the sin so easily."

"I don't—"

"Fortunately, all realms scream all the time. It was only because I was watching this ball of dirt that I took note of you and your potential."

"Why me? Why not Catharina?"

Ryder chuckled. "Now we get to the good part. Your enemies are quite wrong about you." He tutted, like a teacher disappointed nobody else but one student got the right answer. "They think you're rash. Always too quick to anger. My Onda was quite convinced we've wasted our time on you."

She could only glare at his words.

"Ort has made your little empress into his instrument. Well, before she betrayed him that is. She is, unwillingly maybe, his anchor on this world. It is a symbiotic relationship of sort: she keeps him on this world, and he hides what she has become. As long as he has her, he is almost entirely protected from any force that may seek to strike at him. Almost. Nowadays, I hear their relationship has gone sour."

Now that was interesting. Tallah tried not to let her interest show, though so many questions had just arisen. Catharina had always served Ort. Her empire had been built around worshipping that god. Tallah had seen its incarnation walking through Aztroa Magnor, always trailed by those immortal bastards of his.

What was this dross about the Catharina and Ort having fallen out? And what did Ryder mean that she was the god's anchor? What was an anchor in this context?

Granted, Ort had offered Tallah the power to destroy Catharina, but she'd assumed that a cruel test. She'd been too angry then to really think through the words.

"You'll need to give me more than cryptic nonsense," she said. "I've had enough of that from Panacea."

A tide of power swam under her feet, so subtle that it was almost imperceptible. She wouldn't even have noticed if not for the connection she shared with Christina.

'Keep him talking. Be ready. He's doing something to Vergil.' The words appeared into her mind unbidden. Cold sweat drenched her back. In the dead silence of the space, she had assumed Vergil was safe.

Before she could demand he explained what he did to Vergil, Ryder went on unbidden.

"You lack the understanding of the greater world," he said in the same unhurried, unconcerned tone. "How did those spiders put it? Ah, yes. You need Knowing." He raised a finger and a spark of illum danced atop it. He pointed at Tallah's forehead, the distance between them maybe a couple of paces. "Would you like me to give you the information? It might pack quite a punch."

"You're eager to teach. Use your words." She fought the urge to cross her arms just then, unwilling to show weakness.

Worst of all? She was tempted to a ccept. Whatever else Ryder was, she could feel no lie on him. Whatever his goals, if hce was malicious he hid it well.

"This is an interstitial world. Did you know? You exist between realms, a lost pebble that can't be claimed by any one god as its own. They do try, but they'll never succeed. As the realms move and shift, so do the gods' influence wax and wane. Catharina tethers Ort here. Isadora has a similar pawn too, some aelir whelp that you don't need to care about. But here is where our goals align: I need Catharina dead so Mol'Ach can strike at Ort and fling him off this world's teat. Ultimately, you and I want the same thing. There's no reason for us to be enemies."

"Except that you've killed hundreds at the Twins and are now hurting Vergil." The feeling of things moving intensified. She levelled an accusatory finger at him. "You've given nothing to earn my trust. I will not be a plaything in whatever game you and yours play."

Ryder shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "There is no game, Tallah. I have a mission that I need to achieve. My goals have nothing to do with you. Once Ort is dealt with, I doubt we'll ever meet again."

"Tell that to all the ghosts of the Twins," she snarled. "You admitted yourself that you Mol'Ach is your tool."

"Mol'Ach leads her people off an illum-starved realm that can no longer sustain them. They come here seeking survival, same as all of you did. Edana doesn't belong to one race. The aelir are aliens here. So are the elend, the dwarves, the bastil and all the others." His brow creased, the first sign of frustration overtaking his demeanour. "You are settlers and none meant to be here. I have only given the same chance to the white ones. Their death, in the corpse of their god, would have been an injustice."

"So you brought them to kill us off? Hardly benevolent."

"I don't claim benevolence. Merely alignment," Ryder countered, growing visibly irritated. "I don't want to be your enemy, but I can be your ally."

"Until I no longer serve your purposes?" She smiled nastily. "Like Mol'Ach?"

"My business with her is concluded. I have given her a new chance. She must achieve her own end of the bargain." He came one step closer. If Tallah wanted, she could reach out and punch him in his smug face. "Mol'Ach knows better than to make an enemy of me. I may not be able to come personally, but my agents travel quite freely."

A shape coalesced out of the darkness behind Ryder, between him and the bound daemon. It was little more than smoke, just a shade lighter than the darkness surrounding it.

Tallah leaned forward and grinned.

"Do you bleed?" she asked just as the axe slammed into the side of Ryder's throat.

The smile did not leave his lips.