RE: Monarch-Chapter 294: ??? XV

RE: Monarch-Chapter 294: ??? XV

At the head of the room, away from the rest, sat a lone figure huddled over the only unoccupied koss board. The pieces on that board had been moved from their starting positions even when I'd walked in, left in what appeared to be the middle of a game.
Thoth sat there, her mouth twisted in annoyance, though something lurked deeper in her expression that was almost lost. She played both sides, red and white, moving the pieces in a rapid sequence before pausing, reversing the sequence to the seemingly scattered positions they'd started from and doing it all over again.
"Must you always haunt me, even in grief?" I muttered.
But she didn't seem to hear, or even acknowledge my presence. Aloud, she murmured as she moved the pieces. "Infantry takes warrior, lieutenant takes infantry, takes and takes and takes and takes—priest is blundered, which falls to queen and... what?" Her features tightened, and she reset the pieces again.
"We should leave this place." I stated, probably a bit more coldly than was wise, though I couldn't bring myself to care. The truth was, I didn't want her here, even if there was no one left alive for her to threaten.
Her very presence felt like desecration.
"White. It's red's gambit, obviously, they're down material." She glanced at red's considerably larger pile of discarded pieces. Then without looking up, she said. "Come now. You should know this."
I didn't have a clue what she was talking about. All I felt was a sudden surge of rage and the desire to flip the board.
A few breaths later, I realized the starting arrangement
did
look familiar. Eventually it clicked. Annette had arranged the pieces at a critical point in The Grand Exchange, a game between two high elves almost as ancient as Koss itself, a well-documented and frequently cited example of why forcing trades when one is winning can be a terrible mistake.
"Show me again." I moved to the side of the board, cringing inwardly at how much my words sounded like a command.
Thankfully Thoth didn't seem to notice. Her focus remained entirely transfixed on the board, moving the pieces in the exact order as before. This time she stopped in a different place, a few moves shy of where she'd ended the last time.
"Priest falls to queen," I moved the pieces methodically, straining to remember. "Remaining warrior moves up and threatens—far too late—queen shoots all the way across the board to take bastion on white's back line, decimating the remaining forces. Discendente."
"No." She murmured. "That's not right."
"I assure you, it is."
"It's meant to be a clever upset played by ancients as cunning as they were wise. There's nothing clever about such a stupid mistake, nor how it was capitalized upon."
I rolled my eyes. "Red won decisively from what should have been a losing position. And it was a long time ago. Strategy iterates upon itself. How would
you
play it differently?"
The pieces and checkered squares disappeared in a chaotic blur as her boot lashed out, sending the table sliding across the room with a terrible screech, toppling board and clattering pieces adding to the din.
She still stared at where the board had been. "I wouldn't. Because Koss is a fool's game with no bearing on reality."
"Glad we cleared that up."
A still-rolling piece collided with the ashen heel of one member of my regiment, small impact enough to render the man to ash. The seething roiled within me, threatening to escape.
Beneath the rage, the calculated part of me wondered if it was a symptom rather than a chance lapse of memory. Thoth hadn't been able to source whatever it was she'd been looking to pair with the mind-salving ingredients. She'd also lied about it. The simplest explanation was that she knew of some advanced method of staving off the mental slowness and hallucinations that came along with breathing the toxic air, and either refused to share it, either because the supply was quite limited or out of the simple cruelty of wanting to watch what happened to me without its benefits.
But now I was having second thoughts. It was possible there was more to this than it appeared.
"You kept me waiting." She said, still staring at the fallen board, oddly devoid of emotion.
"There were prior engagements."
"Nothing here but ghosts."
"They are
my
ghosts."
Thoth made a dismissive gesture. "Leave it to a Valen to prioritize the dead over the living."
"If the spare had told me the intent of your summons was to continue the airing of petty grievances, I would have hurried straight there."
"Yes, yes. Enjoy that glibness while it lasts." A cruel smile twisted her mouth.
Caution came over me. "I take it your search bore fruit?"
"Oh no," Thoth rose to her feet, stretching languidly in a motion that was vaguely feline. "It wouldn't do to spoil the surprise. But I believe I've found the answer to both our mysteries."
"Lead the way."
She gave the room one last look, then turned on her heel and left, calling over her shoulder. "Walk beside, not behind."
Annoyed, I picked up my pace. "But it will be so much harder to thrust the dagger between your ribs."
Her golden eye leered back at me. "By all means, feel free to try."
The once-red plush carpet that spanned from the wide, reinforced doors at the entrance to the throne room was charred and gray. Further in, the dais and throne, along with the rest of the elevated chairs for the king and other members of the royal family to sit, remained intact.
That was all that was left of the place I'd spent the most boring hours of my childhood.
In the center, a massive chasm swallowed up most of the room, tattered carpet hanging down from its edges like a rotting tongue.
I swallowed and leaned over the abyss. Somehow, it was still deeper than it was wide, ruptured rock and shale descending seemingly infinitely, void-like darkness sheathing the bottom—if there even was one—from sight. A familiar stinking scent I recognized immediately as originating from the sewers radiated upward, eliciting a gag.
Above, there was a hole nearly as wide in the roof, drawing ash from the skies above.
"It originated from here. Within the castle. That's why no one within seems to have even noticed anything was happening."
"They would have had seconds at most." Thoth tilted her head from side to side. "Still, the mages really should have felt it coming."
"The ley line you claim runs through Whitefall. This is where it failed?"
"Not likely." Thoth made a gesture encompassing the hole and the surrounding walls. "See how perfectly it's centered? Directly in the middle of the room, placed with a painter's brush. That
could
happen by chance. Especially if the castle is near its origin point. But if one finds themselves stacking dubious probability upon probability to explain how something might have happened—"
"—You're wasting your time ignoring the more obvious answer. It didn't fail, it was detonated." I felt sick.
"Or at the very least, encouraged to fail in this particular spot." It was disquieting that the revelation seemed to excite the arch-mage rather than horrify. Her eyes were wide, and her once-slumping energy now radiated barely suppressed glee.
"Is it so stimulating to learn that the world was ended by animus rather than chance?" I asked, unable to silence the question before it escaped my lips.
"It really truly is." Thoth paced side to side along the edge of the chasm, corners of her mouth turned perpetually upward. "There have been failures in the past. Miscalculations, jaded deities. But not like this. Not even close. What we're looking at is something that's
entirely
new. I have no explanation for it. Delightful."
One quick shove, and she'll scream all the way down.
There was little question what came next. Long coils of thick rope—the sort used in a ship's masting—descending from their anchor point, a surviving pillar near the chasm's circular edge. Their dark spirals descended until they too disappeared in the yawning black, gone from sight.
Icy fingers of fear tightened around my throat, and I stepped away from the edge, letting a sudden surge of disorientation fade.
I wasn't terrified of heights as severely as in my first life—experience, magic, and the ability to cushion a fall at any given moment had gone a long way to mitigate the phobia. But something about this hole, in particular, made me feel increasingly unwell. "Have you already looked?"
"Only partway." Thoth smiled slyly. "Enough to know we'll need
them
."
It is a testament to how truly horror-stricken the hole had left me, that I somehow had paid no mind to the bouquet of ghouls hanging by their ankles in the corner behind us. I'd simply seen them, noted the grotesque binding, and dismissed it as another of Thoth's unexplained oddities.
"...What for?"
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"It's a surprise." She hissed a laugh, darting towards the pillar buttressing the hole with ropes tied around it. "Help my attendant pass them down—mind the teeth." And with that, she looped the rope around her arm and descended into the dark, recklessly fast.
I leaned back to where I'd spotted motion earlier. The spare was towards the back, pretty much as far away from Thoth as the barrier of walls would allow her to be. She passed me, motioning toward the hanging dead. Now that I was close and could see what exactly held them, it looked like a piece of magically cobbled-together rigging, fused to the ground, complete with a pulley.
"Are we playing with living corpses now?" I muttered.
"Just undo the knot, and we can lower it down." The spare pointed up to the hook that held the writhing mess. "There is probably a point."
"Probably—she hasn't told you?" I asked.
"No. Simply to herd a half dozen and keep them contained."
I pitched my voice lower. "If she's going to use something down there to ambush me in some way, my having prior warning plays to both our benefit."
The spare shook her head, features forming together, completing an expression I'd never seen cross Thoth's visage.
Genuine worry.
"I don't know what this is, or what she's doing. As she said. It's new."
"Okay, fine. Why would someone need a living
bundle
of ghouls?"
"Why is anything ever taken alive?"
I glanced towards the hole uneasily. "Sacrifices?"
"Certainly not prisoners."
We lowered them down. Even with the severely limited range that went along with being packed in tightly, tied, and hung upside down, the ghouls had done a real number on each other. What little skin remained on their blood-blotted musculature did so in ribbons.
"We'll need to separate them."
"No. The pulley will offset the weight. We can handle the rest."
And, despite my skepticism, we did. The demonic power that flooded through me gave my left arm far more strength than my right, bordering on exponential. Even if Thoth was still continuing to augment herself, scarcity be damned, I doubted she'd be willing to go that far for the spare.
As we pulled, combined strength easily controlling the rope as the gruesome package descended, readily growing distant in sight, I found it disquieting to realize just how strong the spare was. Seemingly without augment. She maneuvered the rope with controlled ease, barely breaking a sweat when the descending ghouls thrashed and their tether swung, while by contrast it was all I could do to hold on for dear life.
It just didn't seem quite right. If she'd had more muscle to speak of it would have gone without notice. Her form was thin and lithe, limbs too long, a relatively fragile combination.
Yet her strength did not match.
"Did you always look this way?"
There was barely a reaction, as her focus remained on the rope. "No. I was a child once."
I pushed further. "And back then. Did you always have the skin of a high elf, an eye of gold, and the nails of an infernal?"
"Is our current task so boring it requires small talk?"
As if in answer, the ghouls squirming on the other side of the rope all seemed to rouse at once, angrily hissing and squabbling at each other, requiring us to hold and anchor until they grew still once more.
"Just a passing notion." I said, wrapping the rope around my left arm momentarily and wiping the sweat from my forehead. "Keep your secrets."
"There's no secret—stop there." The spare called, tying the rope to a nearby anchor and hovering above it as she rubbed discomfort from her hands. "I was always as I am now. And folk have never let me forget it." She shook her head with quiet disdain.
It was a delicate balance. I'd achieved a certain synchrony with her that I'd never come close to with the original. As it was now, the spare was likely willing to share things that Thoth never would, sheerly out of the rationality of continuance. Warnings. But I sensed a disquiet in her. The sickening malaise that settled over my shoulders in the worst nights, when the walls were closing in, and the ability to turn back time itself no longer seemed like enough.
It was strange that I didn't feel it now. Maybe it was because everything was too far gone to seriously entertain recovery.
Or maybe, it was simply because I knew—even through the haze of grief and devastation—that the other piece of me was still there, waiting on the other side, beyond the black veil.
I waited until the rope was unanchored, held with effort between the two of us, to speak again. "I'd say you're rather lucky."
"
What?
" The spare's gilded eye beheld me, inhabiting the cold rage of her counterpart fully for perhaps the first time.
I averted my gaze, focusing on the rope, and gathered my courage. "A person of linear breeding, be they elf, dwarf, or infernal, would have far more trouble aligning the non-humans to a common cause."
"It is not difficult to align those who have suffered greatly against the object of their torment."
"In an ideal world that might be true. But people are fickle, their memories long. Spite will always be a stronger motivator than love or unity. Humanity did not always inhabit this continent. There was a long history of conflict and bloodshed long before we ever broached these shores."
"So you and your ilk should simply be forgiven for those transgressions?"
"No. Yet my point remains. A well-connected, charismatic Elven leader imbued with the power of iterations would likely find the path of unifying their own people easily enough only to face great difficulty pitching an alliance to the dwarves. An infernal or dwarf would face similar problems, placed in the same unifying role."
"What I am is no boon." She hissed, her voice low. "When the next iteration begins, were I—the original—to simply disregard this undertaking for the fool's errand that it is, and gallivant off to an Infernal enclave or Elven village, intent on living out the remaining years peacefully? They would treat me with suspicion and disdain at best. Split origins do not suddenly open the way between two worlds. They are far more likely to close them."
I thought of Persephone, Tamara, and my own sister.
There was truth in her words.
But it wasn't the whole truth.
"Without power perhaps. But we are not speaking of textbook diplomacy. You are a force of nature and handle affairs accordingly. And when they watch you rain fire and blood down on their enemies, I imagine they are far less likely to entertain how you are different. When the dust settles, and some of the fear flees with it, I'd wager their focus shifts, to the many ways in which you are the same."
"If your intention was to provoke while my hands were busied, let this be clear. I do not need them to kill you." The spare said, iron in her voice. "Enough."
It felt like I was on the precipice of something crucial. I cycled through potential responses, any avenue of drawing more water from the stone. But the longer I considered, the more obvious it was that I'd already pushed things to the point of fracture. Perhaps foolishly so.
"It was a passing notion. Nothing more."
The conversation died long before the task ended, creating an uncomfortable silence filled with nothing but the hollow sound of wind whipping through the gaping rooftop, and the repetitive whine of the pulley.
Gods, how much farther is it?
Leaning down over the edge revealed little beyond that the ghouls had disappeared from view, the long span of rope vanishing into the gaping maw. Staring down into it gave me the same lingering sense of disorientation, lending a burgeoning sense of horror that grew ever stronger.
There were three considerable tugs on the rope that rattled the pulley, too spaced out and uniform to be the ghouls. A halt was called, and we anchored the rope securely.
"It would be wise to keep further speculation on this matter entirely to yourself." The spare suddenly said, her tone neutral. "Exceedingly so."
"I've stumbled onto a topic she would not entertain."
"Oh, it would be endlessly amusing. But not in a way you'd like."
"Thank you for the counsel—" I wavered, mildly horrified that I'd expressed gratitude to someone who was, essentially, Thoth. The spare looked similarly surprised. "... I'll mind my step."
"See that you do." The spare stepped forward, towards the edge of the platform and reached out, testing it for tension now that some minutes had passed. It swung towards her freely, absent weight. When she retreated to where I was and passed the slack to me, her expression was troubled. As if she was deciding whether to say something and hadn't come to an answer.
"My turn?" I asked, trying to ignore the way my hands were shaking.
"Take some sort of light."
Obviously.
It was so easy to forget, after years of magic being readily available, that brightening the dark was no longer a matter solved as easily as snapping my fingers. I retrieved the small lantern hung on the rigging and looped it through my belt.
"The descent is long enough that it will be tempting to slide longer and longer distances. I'd strongly advise to the contrary. Without sight of the destination it is deceptively easy to overshoot and find yourself absent a tether."
I nodded and secured myself best I could. Descents were generally easier than climbs, but sustained efforts over considerable distances sapped the body in a way that could easily sneak up on a person.
Between the rank water and wheezing in my lungs, fatigue already weighed heavy. If I flagged before I reached the destination, my limbs would weaken, grip loosening along with it.
And I would fall.
My teeth chattered as I clung to the rope tightly, even now. "What are the chances she's just... waiting to feed me to the ghouls?"
The spare smiled an eerie smile. "You are as safe as you can be. For now. She's still engaging with interest, testing your reactions. Even reminiscing. That would likely not be enough to hold interest on its own, but this iteration
has
been atypical, and there's always excitement to spare when a deviation is discovered." Her smile faded some. "It will grow dangerous once the discoveries go dry. When there is nothing more to glean from them, and interest fades. Then she will seek her exit. Beginning with yours."
"So... I just have to keep her interested."
"Easier said than done."
"Perhaps." Still addled with fear, I managed a small smile. "As infuriating as it is to admit... I am in your debt." I tested the rope and found it solid, though a glimpse down the abyss brought little comfort. "Is there anything I can do to help ensure your continuance, as you have mine?"
"Don't acknowledge me as a person. Don't treat me in any way different from the manner in which you engage with her, especially showing favor, or in any way implying we are aligned." The tenets came rapid fire, stated easily without consideration.
Realizing I'd essentially been doing
exactly
that, I felt a degree of guilt. Which was a mind-fuck on its own. "Should be simple enough. We aren't aligned."
"Exactly." Her eyes slid to the wall behind me. "And..."
"Yes?"
"If I am once again tasked with a nigh-impossible errand, I may ask for you to accompany me."
"Why?" I raised an eyebrow, then added belatedly, "Not that I'm unwilling. Anything that puts distance between me and her is a point in my favor. Two sets of eyes is likely better than one. But if we cannot accomplish the unreasonable, would that not put us both in greater jeopardy? She despises me."
"It isn't a question of hate. It's a question of trust."
"Trust? There were not two souls in the world before it ended who shared less trust than her and I."
"Yes." The spare agreed. "But she comprehends you perfectly. Limitations and strengths. There is no loyalty lost between you, but she absolutely trusts you to continue to be exactly who you always have been. If blame for failure is shared between the two of us, she may realize the blame is displaced."
It was perilously difficult to follow the reasoning. The visage she shared only made me more wary. Yet, what it broke down to was a relatively small ask. Something I probably would have done anyway.
But something about it bothered me, and it took a second to put my finger on why.
"She trusts me to be predictable. That... doesn't extend to you?"
"You cannot place trust in that which you have never cared for." The reply was immediate, whispered so quietly I could barely hear it.
"Then—"
"—Stop." The spare stared downward, white hair shadowing her face, malevolent eye covered. In the darkness her visage looked tired and worn.
"Right. I'm—uh—doing it again. Asking after troubling topics. I'll just... get going."
Gripping the rope, I stepped off the platform. As I descended, heart still racing from the threat of fathomless height, an odd omen befell me. An unshakeable feeling that somehow, despite the discussion and stated intentions, that in this life, at least, I would never see the spare again.
I stole a few glances as the verticality extended. The soft orange glow of the lamp formed a bubble, insulating me from the darkness.
All I could make out, beyond the pale skin that framed her face, was the sightless eye that stared back at me.
Cold and grey.

.
!
Chapter 294: ??? XV