“The Power of Justice? Seriously?”
Let me tell you a story. There once was a young man named…
***
The Grandmaster laughed. No longer dry with disuse, the laugh roiled form his lips, dark and rich. Plans within plans within plans played out across three separate levels of gameplay. His attention was diverted. It was a challenge. It was invigorating. It was a threat.
***
It was not a good day for the Black Pawn. Things were not going at all to plan. The stuck-up sorceress had thrown a fit and stormed off. Glag would have been willing to accept the loss and move on, but the barbarian was refusing to proceed without her.
“No worry,” Glag smiled brightly and entirely falsely up at the barbarian, “we find her.”
And when we do, I’ll kill the bytche myself…
***
“How, exactly, was that story supposed to help me find my nephew?” The calm in Vi’s voice was belied by the barely-leashed fury in her eyes. “As far as I can tell, all it’s done is wasted valuable time.”
Patience is a virtue—
“I don’t possess,” Vi snapped an impromptu end to the burgeoning proverb. “The nine hells with homilies, I want results and I want them now.”
As I was saying, the sword huffed, the separation of family is a great injustice. It is within the power of Justice to right wrongs and restore that which has been rent asunder to unity. As wielder of the blade of Justice, you can call upon your inner righteousness and restore order to the chaos of your life!
“I don’t follow,” Vi said impatiently.
I think I can help get you to your nephew.
***
It was dark. It was dank. Her hair was frizzing. Leigh was in seven of nine hells. What was worse, she was there alone.
“Drang! Where in the nine hells are you? Drang!”
Something moved in the darkness. Leigh froze. Slowly, she turned her head. It wasn’t Drang.
The resultant shriek echoed down the tunnel system and stunned the rat senseless. This was fortunate, as it saved him from being ionized by Leigh’s encore: a searing blast of white-hot light.
The rodent had the good sense to immediately retire back to the cozy little hole from whence it had crept.
***
“Well, then what are you waiting for? Do it! Do it now!”
It’s not that simple–
“How does it work?” Gavriel slid smoothly into the conversation.
I’m so glad you asked. The sword seemed to cough, slightly. As you may know, Blood holds a virtue that foul sorcery can neither subvert nor utterly destroy. Blood calls to blood and blood will tell. Those bound by tie of blood can be severed by no force in Creation. To do so would be a gross violation of Justice, the ruling force of this World.
Gavriel smiled sardonically, but merely nodded at the sword’s words.
“So you use Vi as a conduit, reach out magically, and sort of pull her to Valeral, along the line of their shared ancestry?”
Well, naturally it is far more complicated than that, but yes.
“How many times have you performed this little trick?”
Often enough, the sword huffed.
“How often is often enough?” Vi barged back into the conversation.
Oh for the love of Justi–
“How. Often.”
Fine! Once. I have accomplished this particular feat one time.
“What happened that time?” Gavriel quirked an inquisitive eyebrow.
Nothing out of the ordinary, the sword said evasively.
“A lack of forthrightness signifies a lack of Justice, don’t you think, Gavriel?” Vi’s voice was poisoned honey.
“Oh yes.” Gavriel grinned. “Dancing around a question is ever so unJust.”
Dancing? The sword sputtered. I’ve never danced a day in my life. Unless you count the Dueler’s Dance, or the Danse Macabre, or–
“Tell us what happened or I use you to roast dinner over an open fire,” Vi threatened.
Fine! If you must know, I…overshot the mark, somehow.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Vi demanded.
Somehow the entire family was drawn in. All of them. Children, spouses, even the families of some of the spouses. It was quite the family reunion. Very Just!
“I see.” Vi’s tone was grim. “And you think pulling my entire family down into this dungeon with us is an acceptable solution? An acceptable risk? Well, let me tell you–”
“I’m sure Neniel can control its power this time,” Gavriel forestalled Vi’s tirade, which, knowing her, could go on for days. It was her family they were talking about here. One birthday gift from her mother and she ranted for weeks.
Of course! That slight…miscalculation was hundreds of years ago. I am now in complete control of my powers, I assure you.
“You’d better be,” Vi growled. “If I end up face to face with my mother, or Swordlady help you, my sister, I’ll–”
This time Vi was interrupted by the stalking attack of a rather disgusting speidi. Gibbering and clawing, it leaped at the party, a pasty mass covered with tufts of disgusting flesh colored hair. It rather precluded exercising the finer points of verbal intimidation. Plus, Vi needed the sword to fight the beast. It wouldn’t be concentrating on proper contrition whilst covered with blood and gore.
***
The Black Acolyte and the White were nearing their objective. Only three obstacles stood in their way. There would be blood. There would be sorcery. There would be death and resurrection. It would be glorious.
***
The speidi had been summarily dispatched and was already phasing out of this reality and back into whatever hell had spawned it.
“I hate those things,” Gavriel said with distaste. “No matter where you go, you can’t get away from them. It’s like they crave the attention.”
“How did it even get in here?”
“I have no idea, but it does tell us one thing.”
“That there’s a way out.”
“Let’s see if we can find it, shall we?”
“Let’s. Neniel? Let’s do this thing.”
Very well. For Honor and for Justice!
***
The White Pawn watched. The human idiots would extract them from the trap and she would be free to pursue her mission once more. Justice would be served. Dhurka smiled. She was starting to sound like that thrice-bedamned sword.
***
Oh for the love of— Vi! You simply must relax.
“I am relaxed,” Vi exploded, “I’m perfectly relaxed. Just get us out of here.”
“Vi. Chill. Please.” Gavriel reached out and patted her on the shoulder.
The swordswoman took several deep breaths. Then she tossed her braid over her shoulder and glared at the sword.
That’s it. Breathe. Relax. I’ll show you how. Just open you mind and let me in.
“Ugh, fine,” the swordswoman rolled her eyes. “Make with the magic.”
Just follow my lead and I’ll show you how to invoke the power. Your right as wielder, but my energy reservoirs, your link to your nephew, but the magic of my forging. You will all need to be touching one another, or risk being left behind.
And, the sword said nothing for a short space, and don’t be surprised if you don’t hear from me for awhile afterwards. This could be a very exhausting experience.
Gavriel’s eyes narrowed, slightly, but he made no move to speak or interfere. Dhurka stared, eyes wide. It suddenly seemed very quiet in the small space.
Vi stood rock still. Moments crept by. Gavriel noticed that the air had taken on a vaguely metallic taste.
The first sign that something was happening was the eyes. Pinpoints of pure white light appeared in the depths, waxing until Vi’s eyes shone like twin moons. Slowly, her mouth opened and white light spilled forth from there as well. Her brass bra gleamed in the light, until it too began to glow.
“Take hold,” the voice that spoke was an odd admixture of Vi and Neniel. “We depart soon.”
Gavriel stepped up and took Vi’s arm with his own and reached down to hold Dhurka’s grubby little hand in his own.
“We’re ready,” he said firmly.
“We go,” came the whispered reply.
There was no vertigo, no sudden loss of orientation or surges of nausea. The world just faded out, a wash of white. When it faded back in, they were simply…elsewhere. The white light faded and vanished, lingering last in Vi’s eyes.
“Aunt Vi,” Valeral’s voice was incredulous, “where did you come from?”
Vi didn’t answer, instead, the swordswoman opted to roll her eyes up into the back of her head and collapse. Brass bra met stone and did not find the meet a pleasant one. Metal screeched and all around them heads turned.
Gavriel blinked.
“Huh, well how about that.”
To Be Continued…
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