Chapter 5 : A Mother's Love

“A good mother is truly a sacred treasure of the highest order. For, was it not I who gave those maternal instincts to the woman? A gift it is, I tell you, and not a curse as you have made it out to be! Have you never witnessed the fury of a mother bear whose cubs are threatened? A mother’s love is a force unrivaled by anything else in the world! It will live, die or kill to ward its child, or go to the ends of Giliathor in its defense. So I, Truestar, have made it.”

-- From the Book of Life, as Spoken through the messenger Elora.


* * *


“Ah, the mighty Jirith,” Bey mused, looking upon the graven likeness of the man, standing behind the throne of the Thane. “Your great and venerable father, who left his only son to fend for himself among the unscrupulous courtiers of Serapis and the ruthless jackals of the advisory council,” he continued. The flash of his eyes acknowledged himself as one of those very same jackals.

Bey placed his hand gently upon the statue’s face, as if to recall the features of a dearly departed friend. “Of course, Jirith always did act like a wolf among the dogs. He gave us all something to aspire to, with his scheming and his double-dealing. Even when he was little more than a fourth tier noble, barely even allowed at court, he was grinding our faces in the dirt with influence no petty Baron could have possessed. He made sure we all knew who was the alpha wolf.

“For my part, I tolerated him, secure in the knowledge that old Heraldic would soon be dead, and without any heirs of the body to succeed him, the title of Thane would naturally fall to me, as the ranking nobleman. Imagine my surprise when the King named your father as the next Thane of Serapis. Imagine my great anger, Vasper. Your father stole the only thing I cared about, and hung his victory over my head like a carrot on a string. We all knew your father was party to dark powers, and perhaps under the blessings of a demon patron, or some such. But he was a slippery man, and we could never prove anything, much to our great consternation. "

Bey placed his other hand upon the statue and continued. “We all thought Thane Jirith was absolutely fireproof and destined to live to forever. And then what should happen, but he dies suddenly in his sleep! Of course I was devastated.” A sardonic grin painted the Count’s face as he gave the statue a mighty push with all of his weight behind. The statue rocked backwards and fell with a loud crash, breaking into several pieces on the dark stone floor. He looked back at Vasper’s battered visage, held tightly in check by Serdigal’s tightly muscled arms.

Then Bey moved to scrutinize another image, which had been standing beside the first, now alone. “And fair Lady Nisceia,” he murmured. “Your father did not deserve so lovely a wife, and yet he stole her also from me all the same. Though I will admit to being somewhat less gracious about it at the time, she must be forgiven for yielding to the allure of marrying a Thane.”

He caressed the statue’s face, lovingly. “She knew the blackness of your father’s heart, I suspect, though hers was white as the driven snow. Better than him, she was. Better than you.”

Vasper broke his own silence with mirthful cackle at Bey’s words. “Poor, poor Bey,” he spat, “can’t get his history straight! You do not know my mother as well as you suppose, my would-be usurper. Nor do you know my mother’s deeds! I, on the other hand, am all too familiar with yours, Torbal’s bane. How did that manservant gain access to the houses of all your relatives in order to murder them, I wonder.”

A wicked backhand took Vasper’s breath away and he was thrown to the floor at his ‘mother’s’ feet, where his torso’s many bruises were revisited again and again by Serdigal’s steel-plated boots.

“So tell me,” Bey commanded, standing over Vasper’s prone form, “about your mother.”


* * *


Nisceia laughed for the first time in what seemed like years, though the occasion eluded her. “I fear you have me at a disadvantage, my son! What is all of this for?” For all her questions, the Thane-Mother twirled no less animatedly in her wondrous new gown, nor radiated a smidgen less enthusiasm about the gorgeous diamond tiara that had been placed upon her head.

“It is for nothing in particular,” Vasper smirked, seemingly at his mother’s great surprise, “I only thought it was long since time that my dear mother had a day to enjoy! And it has been so long since I have had any time away from my duties to spend with you.”

“A day to remember? You mean there’s more?” Nisceia beamed.

“Indeed, mother, much more in fact. This is but preparation for the real adventure that awaits us!” Vasper seemed the picture of mirth and happiness.

Nisceia stopped to touch Vasper’s face and noticed the beginnings of a beard growing. She realized, regretfully, just how long it had been since she had had occasion to just look at her precious son.

“Is something the matter, mother?” Vasper asked, all concern.

“No, my son,” she answered, “only that it has been such a long time since I have seen you truly happy about anything. I do hope you will decide to tell me what it is before the day is over.”

Vasper laughed, “Truly, mother, you know me too well. Yes, I do have reason for happiness today, but perhaps I shall tell you more of that later. For now, today’s activities are all about you!”

“Very well, keep your secrets,” said Nisceia, wondering what lucky woman had enamoured the great Thane of Serapis, and happily envisioning wedding bells in her son’s future. Surely, only some great romance could have been responsible for such a dramatic change in his usually somber demeanor, she reasoned.

“Worry not, mother, you will find out everything soon enough,” Vasper replied.


Once the lady was dressed and coiffed to her satisfaction, Vasper clapped his hands to summon the valet waiting outside. “Prepare the grand coach, we travel to the city within the hour,” he commanded.

“You’re taking me to the city, my son? What have you been plotting?” Nisceia laughed happily and called for her favourite lady-servants. “If we’re going to be traveling about in Verdistat, I’d better keep some loyal attendants close by. After all, I couldn’t bear to carry all of the lovely merchandise I shall no doubt look favourably upon, all by myself. You know, it has been a year or more since I have found occasion to visit the world-renowned shoppes of our great city! What a beautiful day this is turning out to be!”

Vasper could tell that his mother was the happiest she had been in months, all due to his masterful planning. He had gone to a lot of trouble to pull everything together, but knowing how well she had earned her reward made his efforts all the more worthwhile.

The valet returned a few minutes later to announce that the coach was ready to depart and before long Thane, mother and servants were contentedly taking in the scenery as the Manor-Hill road swept past. The coach’s leisurely pace brought it to the Thane’s Arch an hour or so later. Much to Nisceia’s delight, the sturdy gates flew open at their approach, and on the other side a great fanfare was arrayed, playing a variety of merry-sounding musical instruments to the Thane-Mother’s favourite tunes.

Along with the pre-arranged greeting, scores of common citizens had also gathered to welcome their most beloved public figured into the spotlight. Nisceia had ever been a noblewoman of the people, and it was obvious just how much the people loved her for her care.

“Oh my son, this is all so very wonderful,” she bubbled, “I can’t believe you have done all of this for me! I will truly never forget this day, my son. No mother could ask for a better gift.”

Vasper smiled benevolently and caressed his mother’s face. “If anyone deserves all the labour I have gone through for this, it is you. And of course I am well assured of the many memories this day will bring – you have seen but the smallest portion of your special day!”

The coach rolled into the majestic Culoryk Square, clattering to a halt in front of the city’s government house which, along with being the official centre of political power in the province was also the most lavish and impressive building in all of Verdistat. In the middle of the square had been raised a great stage around which the multitudes were quickly gathering. The coach door opened, allowing Vasper to climb out. There he was escorted by a special honour guard to the top of the jovially decorated stage where he garnered the crowd’s attention by motioning excitedly with his arms.

“Great people of Verdistat!” he bellowed to great applause. “Citizens of the greatest city in all of Unver—no, all of Giliathor!” he shouted again, to an even bigger response. Hushing the masses with a commanding gesture, he continued. “I, your Thane, come before you today on business of the utmost import. Today we, together, gather to give praise and honour to a most deserving recipient – an angel amongst devils and a sheep among wolves!”

The people laughed uproariously at the Thane’s comical attempt at self-deprecation, then quieted down quickly as they strained to hear their leader’s every word. Though only yet a teenager, Vasper had already mastered the intricacies of working a crowd.

“Such a woman has the world never before seen, yet, of all the many peoples in Giliathor it was you, great citizens, whom the gods found worthy of such a blessing. And for good reason, for truly you are the best of peoples!” More applause and cheering. “And blessed are you all – are we all, to have her among us, for everywhere she goes she leaves a place better for having enjoyed her presence. Tirelessly has she toiled, fighting for the rights and freedoms of common people, like yourselves. People neither gifted with the privilege of station, nor cursed with the responsibilities of nobility. People whose thankless struggles have not gone thankless any longer, thanks to her.”

He stopped to look over the gathered people, who awaited the entrance of their lady with baited breath. “Please join me in honouring a woman that I truly feel I have known my entire life, a woman who truly deserves our praise, my mother, the Lady Nisceia!” If the crowd was a generous tremor before, now it was a mighty volcano, exploding into sound and motion as the diminutive Thane-Mother emerged from the coach to stroll down a red velvet carpet to the stage where Vasper now stood.

Nisceia walked, ladylike, up the stairs and stood beside her son, basking in the exultation of all her many admirers. The lady spoke briefly to the crowd, graciously thanking her loyal followers and friends and promising many more years devoted to improving the lives of one and all. Vasper watched the whole affair affably, almost believing that his mother truly meant her words, though the general state of disingenuousness that characterized his own words and actions made it difficult to accept the sincerity of others.

Once Nisceia’s laudable speech was over, she and Vasper were whisked away by an impressively large escort consisting of Serapis’ best warriors and led to Verdistat’s market square, which had been specially closed off and all its shoppes opened up for the lady’s perusal.
The square, which was actually several city squares converted in a vast array of shoppes and craft houses, was renowned through most of Giliathor for its wide variety of unique and beautiful merchandise. Vasper well knew just how long his mother had been waiting for such an opportunity and strolled cheerily along with her as she picked out all the best that the shoppes had to offer. As predicted, she loved every minute.

Several hours and a full wagon-load of purchases later, Nisceia’s market tour ended with a cluster of finely decorated stalls of the city’s best artisans, built specially for the occasion upon the palatial sprawling grounds of Morrwyd Castle, whose affluent lord had been quick to offer up his home for the building of the craftsmen’s booths as well as the holding of a great banquet in the Thane-Mother’s honour to close out the night.

Nisceia took her time viewing exquisite marble figures, beautifully crafted jewelry set with magnificent stones in a rainbow of different hues, musical instruments carved out of rare goralya wood, paintings, dresses and a cornucopia of various other one-of-a-kind pieces. After much indecisive browsing, she finally managed to choose her absolutely favourite things and declared that she was ready to proceed inside the castle, which, she had been told, was their next destination. At a word from Vasper, an honour guard of Serapis soldiers appeared, forming into two separate files which would escort the lady to her banquet.

At the very front of the procession stood their captain, a clean-cut man, well built despite his small height, who seemed too young for his station, yet capable beyond his years.
“What is your name, soldier?” Vasper asked, though he suspected he already knew the young man’s name.

“Captain Serdigal, my lord. Your humble servant,” replied the captain as he knelt. Vasper had heard the name before, along with more than a few stories. A mere two years Vasper’s senior, Serdigal was the youngest man in all of Unver to have attained such a rank. However, it was not his age that was the source of his quickly growing fame, but the deadly efficacy he displayed on the battlefield. Vasper could easily see that the all the talk was quite true, noting the absolute discipline and devotion Serdigal’s soldiers displayed and making a mental note to keep a close eye on the potentially useful ally.

“It’s all so beautiful!” Nisceia loudly declared, looking thoroughly surprised as she caught her first look at the great celebration. Beyond mere surprise, the lady was practically breathless at the spectacle. “Truly, you have outdone yourself, my son. This is magnificent, simply magnificent!”

As Thane and mother joined the party, Morrwyd’s host, one of the most influential and respected men in Serapis and the current Count of old Morrwyd’s ancient lineage, approached, looking far too pleased with himself for Vasper’s liking.

“Thane Vasper, my liege, and lady Nisceia,” said the Count, bowing low to the ground as protocol required, “it is my singular pleasure to welcome you both to my humble home, here in the house of my venerable ancestor Thane Morrwyd. May you find both the table and the company to your liking.”

Nisceia flashed her brightest smile at the man – genuine, as was everything she did. “Thank you, my old friend,” she replied. “This means more to me than you can know.”

In stark contrast to his mother’s open smile, Vasper’s face twisted momentarily into a contemptuous scowl, hastily replaced with a gracious smile before his mother or their host took notice. He bore a particular hatred for the man who had been his father’s bitterest rival, and knew well the tenor of the Count’s feelings for him as well. The Count made no attempt to hide his scorn, using his significant influence as Chief Advisory Councilor to thwart the Thane at every opportunity.

Vasper bowed, just low enough to maintain the appearance of respect, and offered greetings of his own. “Well met, worthy host. I see the hospitality of your house is no less admirable than it has ever been, Count Bey.”

“Indeed, Vasper,” said Bey, his face poised in mock reverence, despite the obvious smirk in his eyes. “You know Morrwyd’s doors are always open to my most honoured Thane.”

“Someday I shall hold you to that, my faithful servant,” Vasper replied, no less acidly. Bey nodded politely and moved to greet the other guests, a satisfied smile on his face. Enjoy these small victories while you can, thought Vasper, there will be other battles.

The silvery, almost-full moon had risen high in the clear night sky by the time Nisceia and son returned to the Thane’s estate, thoroughly stuffed with food and feeling quite jubilant as she reflected upon the wondrous day, now drawing to a close. The evening had turned chill despite the comforting warmth of the day’s sunshine. Nisceia could barely stand the suspense of waiting to hear her son’s news, whatever it may be, as the servantss set a roaring fire in her drawing room hearth.

“Now then,” she began, once the servants had left, shutting the door behind them, “tell me who the lucky lady is that has conquered the heart of so mighty a Thane!”

Vasper grinned, embarrassedly. “Mother dearest, how you do jump to conclusions! Yes, something incredible has occurred, but it is nothing to do with a lady, much as I hate to disappoint you.”

Nisceia was clearly taken aback. “Well, if not a lady, what then?” she asked, puzzled.

“Something infinitely more consequential than the meaningless wiles of infatuation and base desire, and a source of comfort that no woman could ever hope to match,” he replied, emotively. “What I have discovered brings meaning to my existence in a way that no simple romance ever could.”

Nisceia smiled back at her son, unsuccessfully masking a sudden nervous creeping into her expression. “I’m afraid you’ll have a hard time convincing me of that, my son.”

Despite his mother’s obvious misgivings, Vasper continued his enraptured ravings, “Oh, but mother, you cannot possibly know the joy of it! The complex emotions that give rise to the dizzying highs and lows of what is called ‘love’ would pale in comparison.”

“I know the power of those feelings better than you ever could!” Nisceia fired back, suddenly angered at her son’s casual dismissal of her most sacred values. “I am a mother, Vasper – your mother! I know what love is, and what it can inspire a person to do! If only you knew how I have shielded you, how low you might have fallen if I had not—“ she stopped herself abruptly, cutting off the words that followed as though they portended some long-foreseen doom, and replacing them with others less dangerous, “—if I had not put your needs above my own.”

She looked around uncomfortably for a moment, the heaving of her chest gradually slowing. “That is what love is, my son. And there is nothing in this world that can match it.”

Vasper looked into his mother’s eyes, a look of castigation on his face. “I am sorry to have upset you, mother. I know how you have struggled to look out for me since father died, and I appreciate all you have sacrificed for me, so that I might be strong as he was.” He reached to take his mother into his arms, “But you need worry no longer, for the legacy of Jirith shall live again. I have found the echo of his footsteps at long last!”

Nisceia smiled openly to cover up the deep fear that had suddenly gripped her to her core, though it did nothing to hide the sudden paleness of her normally rosy cheeks. “Your father’s footsteps? Whatever do you mean?”

Vasper smiled and gestured for his mother to come close in secrecy, “I cannot tell you the specifics, I fear, but I can put your mind at ease, at the very least,” he whispered. ”Some time ago, I was approached by a man who claimed to have had some involvement in father’s affairs. He said little that I understood, but told incredible stories of the power that father had wielded and the powerful circles he had run in. At first, I refused to believe him, but over time he produced such proofs as I could not refute.”

All the blood seemed to have drained from Nisceia’s face, by now, and her voice quavered tellingly. “Circles, you say?” she asked, “what kind of circles do you mean, Vasper?”

Vasper put a finger to his lips, as if to indicate that what he was going to say next was an especial secret. “All I will say is that it is a guild, of sorts, very old and very secretive. The oldest of the guilds, in fact, and it wields power unlike any I have ever known.” He paused to look about the room, suspiciously. “Surely you know of what I speak. Father would have had quite the challenge to hide such things from your scrying eyes.”

Nisceia realized with a start that she had forgotten to breathe, and took a breath. She nodded, solemnly in response. “Yes, my son, I knew of your father’s involvement in the secretive guild you speak of. He told me little, but I know enough.”

“Then you must know of the great power father wielded through it!” Vasper laughed, gleefully, yet guardedly.

She nodded again, “Yes, I knew of his power.”

Vasper grinned from ear to ear, like a giddy pauper who has suddenly struck it rich. “The guild has accepted me into its membership, with the full station of my father before me! I am every bit his equal, and I will be even greater than he was, I swear it to you, mother. I will look after you, and I will look after Serapis, better than father ever could have!”

The full force of Nisceia’s smile was back in place, no hint of discomfort now readily apparently on her face as she lovingly stroked her son’s cheek. “That is wonderful news, my son. You will be greater, indeed, than your father was. I should have known that would be your destiny.” She looked into the eyes of her beloved son for a further few seconds before a sober expression replaced the smile on her face. She yawned, suddenly exhausted. “I believe I will find my way to bed, my dear. The day has been long, though joyous, and I feel as though I could sleep for days! Sleep well, my son, and know that I love you.”

“You, also, mother,” Vasper replied as his mother walked out the door.

How much I love you, my son..

Nisceia strode silently, bare foot-falls making no sound against the expensive tiles of the luxuriously furnished room’s floor, walking as one walks in a dream. A dream with a purpose. The view around her was like a scene out of a nightmare she had had before, and never thought to have again. But here she was. Like before, her purpose was clear.

Six years it had been since she had last set foot in that room. Six years since she had called this room her own, yet she remembered every darkened nook like it was yesterday. Even in the black of night she could see the layout in her mind’s eye, adding to the images of her memories of days long past, when the great granite columns and the cold stone walls had not been so somber and muted, but merrily decked out with bright colours and cheery works of arts.

If she tried hard enough, she could recall a time when it had been a room of comfort and love. But then her love was stolen from her – wickedly stolen – and she was the wife of a Thane no longer. The Thane’s bedchamber, it was, and dark as its inhabitant’s heart had it become.

It was not a long walk to her destination from the chamber door, and yet it seemed a journey of a thousand steps, or a thousand years. It was over in the blink of an eye, and there she was, standing over her beloved son’s bed as the dark-haired form beneath the covers drew the peaceful breaths of a deep and untroubled sleep. Wherever his mind was presently wandering, it was free of worry. She could take solace in that.

“How much I love you, my son,” she whispered, “I gave all that I had to protect you, though you know it not. Only one thing I kept for myself, and I curse myself for that indulgence, for it has cost you more than I can bear. I must put things to right, now – I must give up the thing I treasure most – not for Serapis, nor for Unver, nor the world itself, but for you, my son.”

Nisceia reached a slender hand to the belt of her robe and slipped the dagger from its jeweled scabbard. “I make this sacrifice for you.” Through tear-stung eyes, she looked upon her son for what was to be the last time and plunged the dagger into his heart.

* * *

“She saw through you, didn’t she?” asked Bey, starting down a new line of questioning. “She planned to make you pay for your crimes – was that it?”

Vasper scowled.

“Is that why you hated her so, because she saw the monster you had become?” The interrogation continued.

“No.”

“What then? Was it something that she did? Something that hurt you deeply?”

Silence.

“No matter,” Bey shrugged, “Your reasons aren’t my concern, but be assured that you will be punished for your transgressions.” He gestured toward the ranks of nobles ringed by soldiers that had eagerly watched and participated in the proceedings up to this point. “Behold your judge and jury!”

“You dare to pass judgement upon me?” Vasper demanded.

“You are a monster!” Bey screamed, working up his onlookers. “A torturous, murdering beast whose deeds must be measured, counted and met with a punishment to match!” The crowd cheered, nobles and soldiers alike.

Soliders pulled Vasper to his feet and dragged him to the front of the dais, displaying him in front of the assembly. “Even you noble houses cannot pass judgment upon me without a trial!” Vasper shouted hoarsely to his accusers.

“Don’t be a fool, Vasper,” the Count yelled back as much for his followers as for his foe, “Your trial began the moment we walked into this hall! And now we will hear your testimony so that we may fully understand the magnitude of your evil and of all the lives you’ve destroyed before justice is carried out.”

“Ask your questions then,” Vasper laughed, “I have nothing to hide from the likes of you.”

Bey closed in face to face, practically pressing his nose against his prisoner’s. “What happened on the night of your mother’s feast?”

“My mother murdered her only son, that night, and left me in his place.” Vasper replied chillingly.

Bey’s eyes blazed at that, “What did you do to her, fiend?”

“I made an exchange of sorts,” said Vasper.

Bey pressed further, “What kind of exchange?”

“I traded what I no longer needed for that which would serve me better,” snapped the Thane. “Mercy for power, remorse for pleasure, forgiveness for…”

“Expediency?”

Vasper shook his head slowly and grinned.

“Vengeance.”


* * *


Nisceia knew that something was terribly, terribly wrong, besides the knife handle sticking up out of her son’s expensive blankets. The struggle had been brief enough, her victim’s eyes coming open with the sudden panic that accompanies the violent cessation of one’s heartbeat. He had managed only the barest gurgling cry before the dark complexion of the lately dead crept into his face, and the lifeless body fell back into the blood-soaked sheets.

Urged on by her mind-numbing grief, Nisceia bent over to embrace her dead son one last time before she had to flee to the safety of her own bedchambers to await news of her son’s murder. But therein lay the problem. The dark eyes that gazed blankly back at her were not the ones she had expected, but rather those of her favourite servant – favourite due to his striking resemblance to her son. She reeled backwards from the corpse, sitting hard on the floor in a daze, trying in vain to sort through what exactly had just occurred.

Where is my son?

Confusion was replaced by a cold terror that rippled its way down her spine, sparked by the gentle caress of a supple hand upon her cheek.

“Mother.” It was more an accusation than a greeting.

She spun to face her accuser, and there was Vasper, imbued with a dark immensity the likes of which the Thane-mother had only ever seen in her late husband during his final days. He was dressed as for a ritual of some dark nature, a blackly ornate robe covering him from chin to toe. Around his neck was a thick band of blackened iron, like a slave’s collar, complete with a ring for binding slave to master.

No!

Her eyes slipped to a short length of chain, perhaps the length of a finger, that hung from the binding ring. Swaying at the end of the chain was a symbol of power and of terror: three interlocking triangles forming the head and horns of a great beast.

“Vasper, please listen to me! You don’t understand!” Nisceia pleaded, futilely.

“On the contrary, I understand perfectly,” said an eerily icy voice from above the collar. “I lied when I told you I was father’s equal, you see. To be truthful, I have surpassed him in every way.”

Nisceia could barely hear her son’s words over the thunderous roaring in her head that accompanied the sobbing cries spilling out from deep within. “Oh my gods, no! Not you! Not my son! This was not supposed to be your fate – I did what I had to do… what they said I must do to save you from your father’s burden! This was his doing…his weakness…his fate! But never yours! Please understand, my son, I was trying to protect you—“

Vasper’s backhanded blow stole the words out of her mouth, and then his iron grip around her throat stole her breath along with them. “Protect me? As you protected my father before me? Your own husband?” He squeezed until Nisceia’s eyes bulged out of her head and the blackness encroached upon her vision. A moment later she felt herself sliding back onto the floor and realized with a sudden gasping breath that he had let go.

“If my father had a weakness,” whispered Vasper, standing over his mother’s crumpled body, “it was his love for you, and his trust. In that, also, I have surpassed him.”

Nisceia got to her feet quickly, emboldened by the duty that still pressed upon her though she could hardly stand. “Fine then,” she gasped, “you’ve made your point. I killed your father, and I meant to kill you. I’ve only meant to save you both from the damnation you would bring upon yourselves! But if you’re going to kill me, then do it now, and be done with it. If you are still my son, I don’t believe you’ll do it! I know him better than that!”

Vasper offered no immediate response, nor did he move to strike his mother down, seemingly given pause at her words. Then he smiled the evil smile of the fallen, signaling to someone, or something, behind her. “You are right; I am no longer the son you know. That son is dead. I have become something you could never understand, and my vengeance will not be met in your death, but in your final hours of life.”

A pair of black-hooded figures took Nisceia from behind, out of the darkness, dragging her toward the blood-bathed bed as another pair dragged the body of her victim from the evilly soiled sheets and onto the floor. Strength left her as she realized what Vasper intended, and she had not the strength to resist as his servants laid her down in the corpse’s place and bound her hands and feet to the bed frame.

Vasper looked down at his doppelganger’s corpse, an amused look on his face. “I wonder if poor Garvin had an inkling of the crucial role he would someday play in his Thane’s affairs. More than likely not, I suppose.”

Reaching down, he plucked the dagger from the corpse and turned to stand over the bed.

“You don’t have to do this, Vasper!” Nisceia desperately cried, “It’s not too late! You can turn away from the path of evil, but you must do it now! Think about what you’re doing!”

Vasper paused momentarily, “It is far beyond ‘too late’. Did you think I would not have thought about it, mother? It was too late for you six years ago, when you murdered your husband in his sleep.”

Fearful tears ran freely over Nisceia’s face as the blade moved toward her. “Vasper, no! You can’t do this! Think about the future, Vasper!” The blade slowed. “When you are all alone and scared, and there is no one in this world for you to turn to, to tell you everything will be alright? What will do you for comfort after you have killed all who would comfort you? How much will you regret this night?”

Vasper smirked, darkly. “What will I do?” He paused for a moment of thought and looked back upon his mother with a sinister gleam in him eyes. “In those dark and lonely times, when your memory forces its way into my mind, I will commemorate the final agonized moments of your life by recreating this night in the flesh of others, and pray to my dark gods that in whatever hell you find yourself, you will feel their pain.”

Nisceia fell silent, knowing that words could no longer make any difference, and watched the blade fall towards her, the first of many strokes.


* * *

Vasper’s thoughts were jolted back to the present as he lay still upon the dais stairs where he had been flung. Every bone in his body ached, by now, from the abuse, but especially his ribs, which had taken the brunt of the damage from the fall. A stabbing sensation when he inhaled confirmed his suspicions that several ribs had broken in the tumult, though he would never have admitted to such pain in the presence of even those he trusted, let alone his enemies.

“—murdering hellspawn!” a cry came from somewhere above.

His head throbbed mightily as well, and he made no attempt to respond to the jeering of a thousand voices, all calling for his blood. Instead, his eyes fluttered shut as he focused his attention inwardly to drown out the mayhem around him. His presence of mind as strong as ever, he reminded himself that this pain and humiliation were not things to be feared or avoided, but the final and crucial strands in a magnificent web-work that he had patiently weaved for a decade and more. His present suffering would soon be over; payment would soon be due.