Death: Genesis

Abby blazed across the sky as a streak of sunlight, and if she’d had a heart, it would have been beating out of control. Of all the people she might have expected to meet in battle, Talia Nightingale was not one of them. They had been separated upon ascension, and though Abby had often thought of the girl – and her undead curse – she’d resigned herself to never seeing Talia again.

Which was probably for the best, given what the girl thought of her.

Abby had thought she’d long since moved on, that she didn’t care about such judgement anymore. After all, she was secure in her reasoning, and she didn’t really think she’d done anything wrong. Micayne was a menace, and he’d needed to be stopped by any means necessary. She was a hero for killing him.

And yet, it had cost her everything.

Perhaps martyrdom was simply her fate. A test of her faith, of her dedication to duty. She would suffer so humanity could flourish. Was that what she wanted? Not at all. If she’d had her way, she would’ve still been with Zeke, going from one adventure to the next. She would have been happy with that. But fate had ruined that, and now, she had resigned herself to playing the role she’d been given.

She would suffer. She would do the things no one else wanted to do. And in the end, her people would thank her for it.

But still, seeing Talia again – and the hatred the girl still held for her – had definitely rattled Abby. That was why she had fled.

Or that was what she told herself. In the back of her mind, she knew the truth, though. Even now, after everything she’d been through, she had been outmatched. Whatever Talia had been doing since her ascension, it had granted her an incredible amount of power. It was almost enough to prompt a waver in Abby’s conviction that she was on the right path.

She had survived, though. That was because she’d put everything into her allegiance to the Sun Goddess, and it had granted her the power she deserved. If she’d been truly serious about the fight – or if they’d met one another in a more individual battle – she knew she would have won.

That thought comforted her as she streaked across the sky. After a few dozen miles, she plummeted to the ground, hitting with the force of a meteor. She was unharmed, but the same could not be said for the terrain. Or the creatures that were too stupid to get out of the way.

Once she had gathered her wits, Abby set off for the Radiant Host’s main camp. It was nearly a hundred miles away, but with her abilities, she covered that ground in only an hour. When she arrived, she immediately called for a meeting with her most senior advisors. They were all cringing sycophants, but they were a necessary evil if she wanted to get anything done.

“We must retreat,” she said, leaning forward with her hands on the table. “Our allies have been destroyed, and our position is untenable.”

“We can’t give up against these beasts!” cried one.

“It is unconscionable!”

“The Imperium will not be denied!”

“Hear, hear!” a woman shouted, slamming her hand on the camp table.

Abby listened as they all congratulated themselves on how inviolable the Radiant Host was. Idiots, the lot of them, but that kind of confidence in the cause was imperative. If the members of the host didn’t believe they were invincible, then what were they fighting for? More, would they charge into battle, sure of their own superiority if someone pointed out that even monsters could be far stronger than them? Of course not.

But there was such a thing as taking it too far. So, after a few moments, Abby slammed her own hand down, and the table collapsed beneath the blow. Her whole body glowed with the radiance of their goddess as she asked, “Do you question my orders?”

Predictably, the cowards all gasped and pulled away, all the while saying that they would never think to disobey. Abby wanted their input – sometimes, they offered insight that she might have missed – but she could not allow them to question her.

After that, the talk turned from reassurances of their own superiority to a more mundane – but necessary – discussion of the logistics involved in retreat. Thankfully, they were all competent enough at their particular jobs, so it wasn’t long before the wheels were set into motion.

For her part, Abby retreated to her own command tent, where she finally let down her guard. With shaking hands, she removed her armor, then the clothes beneath. Even when she settled into the bath she’d had drawn, she couldn’t bring herself to relax. Her whole world had been shaken, and not just by Talia’s presence.

There was also the metal monster to contend with. With a single attack, it had torn Serpentus’ juggernaut apart. The demon had been on the verge of reaching the peak, and while she knew it wasn’t as powerful as a human of the same level, the implications of its quick demise were enough to rattle her worldview.

Like that, she lay for over an hour, and as she did, she was thankful for the enchantment that kept the water scalding hot. She was also thankful for the nameless Servants of Light. Often, she forgot they were even there, and yet, it was their sacrifices that allowed the entire camp to run.

What would prompt someone to make such a choice, she wondered. For a moment, she tried to put herself into a frame of mind that would allow her to understand how someone would give up everything – even their identity – to serve their betters. Had they been manipulated, as she had been in the Crucible? Perhaps. But their dedication exceeded anything she’d ever encountered.

It was admirable.

And worthy of pity. Despite the heat of her bath, Abby shuddered at their fate. Then, she pushed such meaningless thoughts away. She wasn’t some winsome girl with a bleeding heart. Not anymore. The Servants of Light had, each and every one, chosen their paths. And she had her own road to travel. So, she focused on the upcoming journey, mentally preparing herself for the report she was going to have to give.

Not only had they lost the bulk of the army, but the demonic allies as well. And while mundane soldiers were replaceable, demons like Serpentus – or the horde he’d commanded – didn’t just grow on trees. Would Ignatius punish her?

“Mistress,” said one of the Servants of Light. Because of their shapeless robes and with their hairless head, it was difficult to determine whether they were male or female. Not that it mattered. They were a servant, and as such, their gender was wholly irrelevant. “The captain of one of the scouting parties wishes to give a report.”

Abby nodded, then said, “Inform them that I will see them in twenty minutes.”

“Yes, mistress.”

With that, Abby pushed herself from the water and stepped out of the gilded tub. It was one of her favorite possessions, though even she had to admit that it was a little ostentatious. In any event, she quickly turned her attention to her appearance, dressing in her uniform and donning her armor. Since the battle, it had had the opportunity to repair itself, so it gleamed like new.

Soon enough, she was inspecting herself in the mirror. Abby had never considered herself a vain person, but she had to admit that, in her golden armor, she cut a striking figure that even an elf would respect. How she was seen by her subordinates was important for morale. So, once she was satisfied with her appearance, Abby left her tent and informed one of her Servants to fetch the scout commander and bring them to the command tent.

All around, the signs that the army would soon be on the move were apparent. People hustled to and fro, gathering gear, packing supplies, and collapsing tents. It would take more than a day before everything was ready, but Abby was still impressed with the efficiency on display. It was comforting, especially after seeing so much go so wrong in the previous battle.

Finally, she planted herself on the far side of the tent, her hands on the table, and waited. It wasn’t long before a lean man swaggered in. His skin was swarthy, and he was still dirty from his long stay in the wilderness. As a scout, he forewent the normal uniform of the Radiant Host, and instead wore brown and green leathers that would blend into his surroundings. In addition, he carried a longbow, a thick machete, and a cocky grin.

“Commander,” he said, inclining his head slightly.

Scouts were known for their arrogance and for eschewing normal rules, and this man seemed to epitomize the attitude of his chosen profession. However, those men and women who could do that job were few and far between, and as such, they were given quite a lot of leeway. Some barely even considered them part of the Host.

“Captain,” she said. “You asked to speak with me?”

“I did. Good of you to cut your bath short for little old me,” he said.

“We all must make sacrifices in service of our lady, the Sun Goddess.”

“Indeed,” he agreed. “But some sacrifices are clearly weightier than others, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

“We serve as we are called to serve.”

“From each according to his ability. To each, according to his need.”

“You are an ascender?” Abby asked, recognizing the communist saying.

“I am,” he said. “Long time ago. So long that I haven’t thought about that in years. Not sure why I said that last bit.”

Ascenders were rare, Abby knew. It was a difficult process, and on top of that, most that climbed from one plane to the next died soon after reaching their destination. Something about the shock of going from the top of the heap to the very bottom caused the mortality rate to skyrocket.

It was a feat worthy of respect.

“What do you have to report?” she asked, pushing that out of mind.

“Undead,” he said. “We caught their trail about a week ago, been following them ever since. But it’s funny. Weird, even.”

“How so?”

“The trail is faint.”

“And that is abnormal?”

“Normally, when you run into undead, you find a wake of bodies,” the scout explained. “Not everything survives the turning, you see. Some just break down and eventually rot to nothing. Sure, they’re still dangerous if you stumble on them, but for the most part, they’re not going to do much except decay. It’s one of the signs we’re taught to look for. But this time, there aren’t any bodies. No pools of death-attuned water. No twisted trees or pockets of death.”

“So, how do you know there are undead out there?” Abby asked, thinking of Talia. She was certain that her old friend wouldn’t leave any such trail.

“I can smell them,” the scout said. “Call it a skill if you want, but I know my business. I can smell beasts and monsters, people, and especially undead. And mark my words, there’s undead out there. A few dozen of them, too.”

“Which way are they headed?”

“West, mostly.”

“And do you have any guesses as to where they might be headed?”

“They’re undead, Commander. They don’t head anywhere. They just wander until they find something to eat, and then when they’re done, they wander some more. Unless you think we’re dealing with those abominations from El’kireth, but as I hear it, they can’t leave their little kingdom.”

“That may well be true,” Abby said, but she didn’t believe her own statement. It was too much of a coincidence, that only the day before she’d run into Talia, and now her scouts were reporting the presence of undead. The only question was what Talia was doing out there.

“What do you want to do about it?” he asked.

“Follow them,” Abby said. “And keep me updated on their progress.”

“Aye, ma’am,” he said, giving her a lazy salute.

“And captain?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell no one,” she said. “This is for my ears only.”

“As you say.”

She dismissed the man, then settled into a camp chair to think. If the scouts could find Talia, she would likely lead them to something important. And that, in turn, could allow them to turn the tide of the war and win a victory for the Sun Goddess.