View source for The Forging Of The Fulcrum Hammer/Part 4

'' '''The 4th Day of Ascendant Fire, 765 in the Year of Our Empress.''' ''

Ledaal Vira staggered across the Plain of Shards as fast as she could.  Dissent, who watched her pitilessly, shook his head at her pace.  She would never make it to the tiny Shadowland they'd stumbled through a few years ago before it closed.  

The Dragon-Blooded Monk limped along, leaving flecks of red in her wake.  That alone made tracking her laughably easy in the Underworld.  Nothing caught the eye like fresh living blood.  She'd been lucky so far that the Hungry Ghosts that rode the Southern storms hadn't scented her yet.

Dissent kept close to her, watching her slow progress across the ashy sand of the Underworld.  Her feet looked too lacerated by the loose shale to stand on, yet she pressed on with an endurance worthy of Pasiap.  The emaciated Monk looked determined beneath the exhaustion that wrapped her more tightly than her robes.  That clothing had held up fairly well but she had not.  

"Vira," Dissent whispered in the wind.

Ledaal Vira whipped about, hands raised in a master's 14th Stance.  Of course, she lacked the Essence to use its associated Charm.  Still, her reactions were good for a woman who would die soon.  Dissent examined her more minutely and nodded at his assessment.

She was near the end of her life now.  Amazingly, she still looked young.  Perhaps death was another few decades off in the world of the living, if that's where she'd been.  Instead, time and torment in the Thousand had stripped her slowly away.  Her clothing hung loosely on her since she'd lost almost half her weight.  Every month, there was less life in her eyes because of torment she had endured.  

"It won't be long now," Dissent whispered again, confident she could not see him beneath the shield of his Charms.

Tears rose in the corners of her eyes.  The Day Caste took a deep breath at the beauty of the sight.  A single drop fell from her cheek to the sand.  Such a waste of perfection.  

"Let me go," Vira said.  If he hadn't been so close, he would not have heard her.  

"You won't make it, my old teacher," Dissent growled quietly.  "You're too weak now.  And if you made it to Creation, what would you do?  Die in the sands there?  You must know you are too far away to ever be saved."

"Yes," the Monk said, swallowing hard.  "I would die in the sands.  I would die with the sun on my face once more, with the feel of the True Earth in my hands, against my feet."

"So useless," Dissent sighed.  A grating noise, like a rusty steel gate forced open, sounded as he popped his new knuckles.  They lacked the tactile feeling his old ones had but his soulsteel hands had a number of advantages over the original set.  He could stop a sword blade without Essence now, rip the Essence from the living and the dead alike, and his fingers were fearsomely strong.

For Dissent, the Abyssal who wore the face but not the name of the Heretic Mnemon Matthias, he hardly remembered what it had been like to lack them.

"To you," Vira said.  She groaned slightly as she turned around and began walking again.

"Creation is evil," he said calmly.  "Look at all the terrible things that go on in it.  How many peasant revolts have you witnessed, Vira?  How many times have you ever opened your eyes to see the sick injustices, the drunken orgies, the waste the Dragon-Blood perpetuate in the name of spiritual superiority,?  How many times did you close your eyes to it?"

"They do the best they can," she answered, limping along.  Dissent paced her without effort.  They both knew he could stop her as easily as he could hide from her.  It made their conversation that much more polite.

"For nothing," Dissent said.  "It can't last.  Nothing ever does.  You just begin again, over and over.  The wheel of reincarnation continues to turn and Heaven holds out the feeble promise of things getting better.  What a lie."

"Is it a lie, Matthias?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at the horizon.

"My name is Dissent!" he snarled.  The shadowy gloom of the Underworld parted for his fist and the soulsteel cracked into her back, hurling her to the sandy ash.  She lay there, trying to get back up, just trying to breathe.  

Dissent watched her coldly, contemptuously.  He'd broken two of her ribs with that punch.  He would have to be more careful to make her last.

"You didn't answer my question," Ledaal Vira panted.  Agony etched itself across her face as she drew herself up.

"Of course it's a lie.  It's been thousands of years yet poverty is still widespread, peasants are still a millionfold more common than the Dragon-Blooded.  Would you say that the mindlessly repetitive lives of piety the peasants live has failed to please Heaven?  I would.  More than that, our world can only exist on their backs, Vira.  What kind of a Realm would it be if there were no peasants?  Can you imagine it?"

"Yes," she said, once more on her feet.  She took a step forward, then another, and then kept going despite her pain.  "Eventually it will be, when all are enlightened and in union with the Dragons."

"It's a delusion, Vira.  Who would farm?  Who would grind their life away?  No, the secret crime of Heaven is that it keeps people from getting better, life to life.  It has to or it couldn't favor the few, the privileged.  Like you."   

"My life has ever been one of service," she said calmly.  The sky was starting to change color, just a little.  She was nowhere near that Shadowland yet she kept going.  Dissent shook his head in grudging admiration.  Once, he'd made a walk like that and for much the same reason.

"The Void offers an alternative," Dissent whispered to her from beneath his Charms.  "It would free you.  It wants to free the whole world from the ruin it's fallen to.  The death of the Neverborn broke this world and it can never be repaired.  You would find such peace, Vira, if you just let Them bring it down.  If you just stopped fighting."

"I value my soul too much to ever choose that," Vira said fiercely.

"Yet you would destroy any chance for my soul to ever reach ascension?"  Dissent's voice was rough with anger.  "You trapped me in this rotting pit for all time, Vira, to rot with it.  Maybe there is union with the Immaculate Dragons but I'll never see it.  Does it really surprise you that I'm on the side of Those who want to bring it down?  What else is there for me?"  He laughed at his old teacher.

"You're so lost, my old student," Vira said weakly.  Her skin was white as chalk, the bones of her face and hands showing clearly through enervated flesh.  Her last few years had been filled with every torment known and imagined.  Even if he brought her back to the Thousand, she would not survive the year.  

Dissent was sobered by the realization.  His old teacher, the last contact he had with his life was going to die.  Inexplicably, it bothered him.

"I know where I am," Dissent answered her.  "And you should know where you are, my old teacher.  Vira...it's time you accepted the truth.  The First and Forsaken Lion has you.  Whether it's by my hand or another's, there will be absolutely nothing else for you but suffering and torment from now until the day you die.  Your ghost will either be chained for use in the armies or will be fodder for new soulsteel.  Either way, you're more damned than I am.  This walk is useless."

"Unless you let me go," she said, her voice once again choked with emotion.  He walked by her side, unseen, and somberly observed her cry.

"Why did you come out here?"  Dissent shifted to her other side, keeping his voice changing, keeping her off balance.  She was too weak to be of any danger to him but it was good practice.  "Did you really escape the Thousand to die?"

"Oh yes," Ledaal Vira breathed, wincing as a misstep jostled her broken ribs.  

"All of this and still your spirit hasn't broken."  Dissent looked her up and down, thoughtfully.  "I can't believe you have the strength to do this.  You're choosing to die in a way as slow and painful as any I can imagine for you, teacher.  How wretched existence must be for you."  He smirked.  "How delightful."

"You're going to find one day that your own existence is worse than mine."  Her tears were a marked contrast to the fact that her feet weren't leaving blood trails anymore.  Not too long now.  "Everything I've suffered, even the way I die today...your life will end much worse than my own.  And it won't be because of my condemnation or that of the Order."

"What other kind could there be?" Dissent said through narrowed eyes.

"Your own."

Dissent laughed at her, even as he laughed at himself for feeling sorry for her.

"You will find I'm right, student," she sighed wearily, closing her eyes.  "All your life, you've made the same choices.  Mnemon Matthias wanted something good that he couldn't have.  So he railed against it, took it, even though he knew it was wrong.  He tried to do good with it and failed.  Now, Dissent wants to distance himself from what he was so he does things that would make poor Matthias curl up and die.  Either way, you are still torn between right and wrong and you know it.  It's the same choice, the same dichotomy.  You cannot commit good without evil but your evil will always be colored by your goodness."

"What are you talking about?"  Seriously, where was this coming from?  She'd hardly said a word in the years they'd held her.  Dissent had trained against her, honed his old martial skill into a peerless battlemastery surpassed only by the First and Forsaken Lion himself.  In all that time, she had never expressed these kinds of feelings.

"No matter who you are now, I remember the boy who loved Pasiap," Ledaal Vira said softly.  "It was true love, a feeling any worshipper might hope to find in their devotion to the Dragons.  You sinned, my old friend, but you tried to make something right out of that.  I recognize your lifetime of service, you see.  Your conscience puts a lie to your actions.  Matthias may be gone but his legacy lives on in you.  And it will poison every evil work you commit with his love."

"Shut up!  Damn you!"  Dissent seethed at the abused Monk, clenching his soulsteel hands so hard the metal twanged with strain.  Despite himself, he couldn't bring himself to strike her.  At this point, if he did, Vira would not survive it. 

"You are damned, student, but not by me.  Your conscience and your choices will forever war within you.  You will never know peace.  Be kind to yourself, for the sake of who you were."  Tears glimmered in Vira's eyes again.  "Die.  Your empty philosophy is correct in one respect; death is peaceful and through it your soul may be washed clean of memory.  Only then will you find any hope for happiness, if you even remember what that word means."

Black rage rose inside Dissent, twisting his reason aside beneath his desperate desire to silence her.  After all this time, he had thought his heart was imperishable to accusation but each word had struck home.  He did pity her and part of him did despise what he had become.

There could be only one outcome.

With tears in his eyes, Dissent kicked her to the ground.  She lay there, helpless before him, as he spoke terrible words.  Each syllable resonated through the overcast skies and the clouds cut loose with a howling storm of rain, blood and ash in response.  That was only a symptom of the singular Void Circle Necromancy he knew.  The black power that coursed out of his bones and skated across the soulsteel surface of his hands was meant for something far stronger than weather manipulation.

"Peace is a lie," he said, unexpectedly choked up with a sorrow he fought to ignore.  "There is only suffering and the Void.  In a year, you will agree with me.  In a century, you will beg for release but know this, Vira: You will never see the sun again.  Because  I...am...never going to let you go."

The power coiled in his fingers, begging for release.  The Necromancy was fearsomely strong and he had never intended to use it until just the right day, perhaps years from now.  But Vira wouldn't live that long, he could see it now, and he couldn't let himself be weakened by her anymore.  His hate kept him from the abiding sorrow in his heart but still it was there, contaminating him.  There was nothing else to do but kill the source.

His fingers caressed her face, pantomiming a lover's touch.

Ledaal Vira screamed as she'd never screamed before, helpless before the hideous Necromancy that bored into her.  She lay in the sand, twitching in torment, her eyes wide and expression pleading.  Dissent watched her pitilessly.

There was no hope against the Threefold Chaining of the Living.

With a wail of anguish, Vira seemed to seizure, though the truth was much darker.  Blood welled up out of her mouth, out of her eyes and ears.  Then, blood began welling everywhere across her body.  Her skin pulled tight and she bared her teeth, her mouth opening wide.

At any moment, Dissent could have stopped the Necromancy.  He wanted to.  That fact was why he forced himself to go through with it.  Malevolent laughter Whispered in his mind, blanketed his anguish.  He smiled.

Dissent gestured imperiously and Ledaal Vira, Immaculate Monk of Pasiap, died in a shower of gore as her own skeleton ripped its way free from the flesh that contained it.  

In a way imperceptible to mortal eyes, Dissent watched the trails of his Essence arching between the corpse and the skeleton before him.  With a second gesture, a monstrous roaring beast writhed free of the desecrated flesh.  Dissent stared Vira's Hungry Ghost down until the snarling thing bowed its head to him in obedience.

A third gesture and Vira herself came forth.  She looked as young as she ever had, even more beautiful than she'd been in life to his eyes.  Pale and washed out, she wiped tears from her face and looked at her skeleton and her Hungry Ghost.

"Do you feel it?" Dissent asked her.

"Master," she said, twisting her mouth as if it were a greatly unpleasant thing.  Vira sighed then and bowed her head.  "You have leashed me as thoroughly as any Oath-Binding Rod.  But I will never truly agree with you."

"Your skeleton shall be my slave, tending to my quarters and personal needs."  He ran a finger across a bloody length of bone and licked it off.  Disgusting.  Naturally, that's why he did it.  "Your Hungry Ghost will be a bodyguard, and what a magnificent thing it is.  It's had centuries to swell in power, Vira.  It could kill you without effort if I ordered it."

"Will you, Master?  What would you have of me?"  Ledaal Vira looked resigned.  That pleased him.  If only he could do something about that damnable spark of resistance in her eyes, that lurking sense of a truth he didn't grasp.

"Whatever I wish.  No doubt you will be another slave, perhaps a messenger or a seneschal when I am away.  For now, you will serve me best in my bed."

She looked revolted.  She wasn't the only one, either.  Raping a ghost forever enslaved to his will made him feel ill.  And that was why it was necessary that he do so.



Dissent passed the halls of the First and Forsaken Lion with the ease of long-familiarity.  He was unchallenged in his approach, for all in the Thousand knew of the Lion's First Abyssal.  Regrettably, his personal title came slowly.  Meticulous Owl had just earned his name and he'd been an Abyssal barely a year now.  Dissent only had He Who Holds in Thrall's pronouncement to name him.

Somewhere in the Labyrinth, Dissent's Monstance awaited.  It would wait a while longer, until the Lion gave him leave to finish what had begun.  Dissent was resigned to putting up with the lurking voice of his conscience until then, even when it threatened his commitment.  Perhaps that is why he walked with such speed and agitation now.

"I will see my Lord," Dissent demanded at the entrance to the throne room.  Even he could not pass the doors at a whim.  It was only a cursory pause, though, and the guards waved him through without making any effort to check with the First and Forsaken Lion.  So they had been instructed.

Behind him trailed the Threefold Chained Living, Ledaal Vira's skeleton, soul and spirit.  The woman herself was somber and sad, befitting what had happened to her.  The Hungry Ghost churned indistinctly and it always wound, as long as his Necromancy bound it.  The skeleton, of course, was just a skeleton.

"Abyssal," the First and Forsaken Lion said, acknowledging him as he entered.  "You finally did it, I see."  The Deathlord refused to call him Dissent, though the Lion hadn't begrudged anyone else who did so.  Dissent wondered if it was pride or something else.

"My Lord.  Ledaal Vira."

"You've impressed me."  The Lion's giant armored form shifted slightly on the throne, making a grating sound not unlike Dissent's own hands.  "I wondered if you would have the stomach to go through with it.  Threefold Chaining of the Living, too.  An especially painful and gruesome way to kill someone, especially the person most important to you.  Well done."

"Thank you, my Lord!" Dissent said, bowing low and crossing his arms respectfully.  The Deathlord praised sparingly.  

"You have earned the right to study Sorcery with the Princess Magnificent."  The Lion's rumbling chuckle echoed in the throne room ominously.  "Be diligent, Abyssal.  It is a more difficult discipline than Shadowland or Labyrinth Circle Necromancy.  It is essential that you do so, however.  Do not shirk the Void Circle either."

"My Lord...I would beg a question from you."  Dissent kept his head bowed in hopes of pacifying the tempestuous Deathlord.  He had known from the start that the metal-clad giant of a ghost was not a man to cross or even annoy.  This was the first time in years he had tried to inquire of the mighty warlord.

"Ask it."

"What is your purpose for me?"

Silence stretched across the vast space of the room.  Dissent remained in subjection, waiting for his Lord to decide what to tell him.  Certainly he had studied and mastered the doctrines of the Void, the philosophies of the dead, and had come to embrace them as the truth of existence.  He knew what the Abyssal were for.

But the First and Forsaken Lion had always had a plan for him.  That had been obvious from the first day they met.  It was more obvious when Dissent considered his own Exaltation.  Why a Day Caste?  The Dragon-Blooded he'd been had avoided the Wyld Hunt for over a decade on the Blessed Isle but that was hardly reason.  He had been a priest and a warrior.  Subterfuge did not come naturally to him.

"You will help me kill Creation."

Dissent waited, not moving a muscle.  

"I know practically nothing about the world of the living, Abyssal."  The Lion sighed heavily.  "You have been an immensely helpful resource in that regard, even if your tactical information was lacking."

"But there is one thing that has never changed.  The Manse of the Deliberative still stands.  From it, a single man could control the engines of destruction used to protect Creation.  Those same engines could be used against it."

Dissent couldn't help the involuntarily rush of air.  He was relieved that Ledaal Vira had gasped with him, even more shocked than he.  Only the necromantic leash on her will kept her from speaking out of turn.

"When you are ready, Day Caste, you will travel to Meru.  You will infiltrate the Realm's defenses, pass by their guardians and their protectors, and you will break into the Manse of the Deliberative.  You will kidnap the Scarlet Empress, force the Hearthstone from her, and then you will take control of Creation's defense network."

"My Lord!"  Dissent's eyes rose despite his best efforts at composure.  "But that would kill..."

"I would estimate 85% of the living population of Creation," the Lion answered him.  He sounded coldly thoughtful, calculating numbers rather than the sheer volume of life that represented.  "The fact that Creation is so much smaller than it used to be will help.  That is my plan for you, Abyssal.  You will take control of the Manse and kill as much of the world as you can with it.  The Legion Sanguinary will do the rest.  You will do this and serve me, He Who Holds in Thrall, and the Void."

"My Lord," Dissent managed.  It wasn't quite an agreement but it was the best he could do.

"Go.  Enjoy your new slave.  And remember to speak with the Princess Magnificent tonight."  The Lion dismissed him and Dissent left as quickly as was seemly.

Outside, he had a chance to gather his thoughts.  He walked with a brisk stride, eyes fixed ahead, inviting no conversation from the various guards, officials or Meticulous Owl on his way to see the Deathlord.  Behind him, the soft sobs of Ledaal Vira were quiet counterpoint to his own internal suffering.

The conscience he so ruthless subjugated had woken to full life inside of him.  Dissent knew what he was meant to do in the abstract, and certainly he'd committed his share of atrocities.  More than many, in fact, for he could not afford any weakness in his devotion to He Who Holds in Thrall or the Void.  But the Abyssal was as astonished as the man.

It was one thing to fight the living.  It was quite another to wield the Hearthstone that would end all life everywhere.  At least he knew why the Lion had made him an Day Caste now.

Dissent made it to his quarters.  He ordered the skeleton to tend to his room, ordered the Hungry Ghost to guard his door, and ordered Ledaal Vira to his bed.  He discarded his funerary robes of resplendent royalty and stood naked before his old teacher, clad only in the taut chains interlocked across his body and flesh.  He didn't bleed anymore but his skin was a mass of open wounds from the Enthralled Chains, a fact that had always horrified Vira.    

He stepped onto his bed and looked at the resigned ghost of his teacher.  She was hardly horrified now.  She was too shattered by the Lion's revelation to even acknowledge him.  He would have pressed the point...but he couldn't.

Slowly, Dissent sank to the sheets.  A trembling began in his muscles.  A tightening in his chest, an unbearable pressure, crushed his heart.  When he tried to breathe out, only an anguished moan came forth.  His tears were the only reason he realized he was sobbing.

The Fulcrum Hammer.  He was the Fulcrum Hammer.  He Who Holds in Thrall had planned this all along.

He really would kill the world.

And he didn't want to.

Dissent clenched his jaw so tightly he felt his teeth crack.  The blood that filled his mouth helped him concentrate.  With soulsteel fingers, he rent his own chest, tearing great wounds across his chain-latticed flesh.  At last the pain was enough.

He grinned and felt the rebellion in his soul die beneath his hate.  He was doing the world a favor.  Those snatched up by the Dragons could enjoy their reward.  The rest would suffer extinction, the same fate Heaven and Earth had proclaimed on him.  

The Void was inevitability.  Dissent concentrated on that truth, meditated upon it, breathed it in and out.  Gradually his composure came back, his tears dried and he was both master and slave again.

"Vira..." he growled.  With a thought, he forced her to look at him.  "If you thought the suffering you knew when you were alive was terrible...you have only an inkling of what I'm about to do to you."  He caught her up and bore her to the bed and there was no inch of kindness in any part of him.

Dissent coaxed new heights of volume from Vira's screams in new ways that night.  If he had paid attention to it, he would have realized he felt no pleasure from his actions, only revulsion and pity.  But, instead, Dissent paid total attention to doing what he had to do.

If he was going to break the world, then first he had to break himself.