Chapter Eight
Borin wasn't dead yet. He was slumped against a tree, wheezing for air.
Yona whistled as she rifled through his pockets, ignoring his groans. She pulled out a heavy coin purse and tossed it to Siurad.
"Silver," she noted. "Not bad for a lieutenant."
She dug deeper into his belt pouch and pulled out a crumpled, stained piece of parchment. She unfolded it, her eyes scanning the scrawl. Her grin faded.
"Well," Yona said, her voice losing its playful edge. "This isn't a treasure map. It's a receipt."
"Receipt?" Siurad asked, stepping closer.
"From Scrap Iron Kel," she read. "The boss of this outfit. It says: 'Deliver the tracker payment. Return to the Main Camp by sunset. Must depart for Silverspire tomorrow to deliver the cargo.'"
"Cargo?" Siurad asked.
Yona looked at the pitiful husk of a man. She grabbed his chin and forced his head up.
"Borin," she said, her voice dangerously sweet. "What cargo? You guys poaching timber? Rare pelts?"
Borin spat blood at her boots. "Rot in hell, witch."
Siurad stepped forward. He didn't shout. He didn't threaten. He just let the Ring pulse. The temperature in the clearing dropped twenty degrees. A spike materializing mere inches from the man's face.
Borin screamed.
"The cargo," Siurad repeated, his voice vibrating with Obi’s cold authority.
"Kids!" Borin shrieked. "It's kids! Orphans! We rounded them up for the Lord! They're in the cages at the Main Camp!"
Silence fell over the clearing. The birds stopped singing.
Siurad felt a cold, hard knot form in his stomach. He looked at the paper. Buyer arrives tomorrow.
'...A FLAW,' Obi’s voice cut through his mind. It wasn't the arrogant voice of a god demanding worship. It was the cold, lethal voice of a judge passing sentence.
'...THE STRONG PREYING ON THE WEAK SYSTEMIC CHAOS.'
'...THEY ARE BROKEN COMPONENTS,' Obi continued, his will pressing against Siurad’s mind. '...DO NOT LEAVE VARIABLES. CORRECT THEM. ALL OF THEM.'
Siurad looked at Borin. Then he looked at the four bandits Yona had frozen in the bushes. They were still alive, trapped in the ice, their eyes wide with terror.
"Slavers," Yona spat, wiping her hand on her pants. "I thought they were just bandits. I don't work with slavers."
She looked at Siurad. She saw the look in his eyes. It wasn't the look of an adventurer. It was the look of an executioner.
"We're going to the Main Camp," Siurad said, his voice hollow. "We're canceling that delivery."
"Agreed," Yona said, her hand resting on her sword. "But what about the trash?"
She gestured to Borin and the frozen men.
Siurad drew his black steel sword.
'...FINISH THE WORK,' Obi goaded. '...MERCY TO THE GUILTY IS TREASON TO THE INNOCENT.'
"We correct the flaw," Siurad whispered.
He stepped up to Borin.
"Please!" Borin begged. "I was just following orders! Kel runs the show! I can take you to him!"
"We have a map," Siurad said coldly.
Thunk.
The black blade severed Borin’s head in a single, clean stroke.
Siurad didn't stop. He walked over to the brush where the four frozen bandits were trapped. They couldn't move. They could only watch him approach, the dark steel dripping.
The first bandit lay shivering inside his icy prison. Siurad hesitated for a fraction of a second, a brief flicker of recognition passing behind his eyes.
'...THE SEED HAS BLOOMED.'
Siurad didn't answer. He just brought the blade down.
Thrust.
He moved methodically. Efficiently.
Thrust.
Thrust.
Thrust.
He didn't make it painful. He just made it final.
When he was done, he wiped the blade on the grass and sheathed it.
Yona watched him, her expression unreadable. She wasn't horrified; she lived in a brutal world, but she was respectful. He hadn't hesitated.
"Remind me never to piss you off," Yona muttered.
"Let's go," Siurad said, turning toward the north. "We have a camp to burn."
For a brief moment he thought of Zeus, sitting in the Boars Den with two cups of non rain water ale. Then he walked though the tree line.
The sun was beginning to dip below the tree line, casting long, bruised shadows across the path to the north.
Siurad walked in silence. He wasn't looking at the map. He was looking at his hands. They were clean; he had wiped the blood off, but they felt heavy. Numb.
Yona walked beside him, her manic energy dialed down to a thoughtful hum. She glanced at him every few steps, chewing on a piece of dried fruit.
"You're quiet," Yona said finally.
Siurad didn't answer immediately. He adjusted the strap of his pack, the weight of the looted coin pressing against his hip.
"It was too easy," Siurad whispered.
"The fight?" Yona shrugged. "You caught them off guard. And you have a magic ring. Of course it was easy."
"No," Siurad said, stopping in the middle of the trail. He looked at her, his eyes dark and troubled. "Not the fight. The... the end."
He gestured back toward the clearing where he had executed four helpless men.
"I didn't feel anything, Yona. No revulsion. No hesitation. I just... deleted them. Like I was clicking a button. Delete Trash. Empty Recycle Bin."
He rubbed his face, his voice trembling slightly.
"I'm from a place where... you don't just kill people. Even bad people. There are laws. There's a process. But back there? I looked at Borin, and I didn't see a man. I saw a variable. A flaw. And fixing it felt... satisfying."
He looked at the Ring.
"I don't know if that's me," he admitted, his voice hollow. "Or if I'm losing myself to Him."
'...YOU ARE BECOMING EFFICIENT,' Obi’s voice pulsed in his mind. It wasn't mocking. It was calm. '...EMOTION IS LATENCY. YOU REMOVED THE LATENCY.'
"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," Siurad muttered to the Ring.
Yona watched him for a long moment. She stopped chewing. The playful mask slipped, revealing the tired, dangerous woman underneath.
"Look, Siurad," she said softly. "I'm not a philosopher. I'm not a good person either. But I do know beast."
She stepped closer, poking him in the chest.
"A beast kills because it's hungry. A monster kills because it likes it. You? You killed them because they were going to sell children to a monster."
She looked him in the eye.
"You're scared you liked it. I get that. But I watched you. You didn't smile. You didn't laugh. You did it, and you hated that you had to do it. That's the difference between what you call a correction and a murder."
She turned back to the path, adjusting her sword belt.
"As long as you're asking the question, am I a monster?, you aren't one yet. The moment you stop asking... then I'll worry. And then I'll stab you."
Siurad let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
"Thanks," he said. “I think.”
"Don't mention it," Yona smirked, the levity returning. "Now, pick up the pace. We have a delivery to cancel, and I don't want to miss the look on Kel's face when you correct him."
Siurad nodded. He was still afraid of the cold logic growing in his heart. But Yona was right. The children were waiting.
"Right," Siurad said, his stride lengthening. "Let's go."
'...SHE IS PRAGMATIC,' Obi noted, sounding almost impressed. '...FOR A CHAOS AGENT.'
Shut up, Obi, Siurad thought, but there was no venom in it this time. Just... shut up.
The forest was quiet again, save for the low hum of Yona.
Siurad watched her move as they walked. Now that he wasn't fighting for his life, he noticed the subtle wrongness of her movement, too fluid, too light.
'...THE KITSUNE IS TIRED.'
"You move quiet," Siurad said. "For a Kitsune."
Yona froze. Her hand, halfway to her dagger.
She turned slowly. The playful, manic grin was gone. Her eyes were slits of cold, dangerous amber.
"What did you call me?"
"A Kitsune," Siurad said, coming to a stop. "Fox woman. Obi spotted it the moment you sat down."
Yona stared at him. "Nobody in these backwoods knows what a Kitsune is. They call us beast-kin or live stock. You knowing that word... that's specific. That's odd."
She watched him, her eyes flicking from his face to the black ring on his finger.
"I thought you were just a treasure hunter looking for ruins. But then I watched you pin a man to a tree with a spike of solid night."
She took a step closer, the air around her crackling with ozone.
"That's not magic, Siurad. That's something else. The Obsidian Authority, what is it?"
The question hung in the air, cold and sharp.
"You... you're not just looking for it, are you?" she asked. "That shadow spike... that ring... Gods... you're part of it, aren't you?"
Siurad’s mind raced. He had no idea how to answer her.
Match wits? With her? he thought. That sounds like a terrible idea.
Be totally upfront and honest? 'Yeah, I'm the boogeyman's new intern, how's it going?' Just as ridiculous.
He had one asset. He deferred. Obi... ole buddy... what should we do here?
The entity's reply was immediate and cold. '...WE' ... TELL HER NOTHING. SHE CANNOT BE TRUSTED. SHE IS A UNKNOWN VARIABLE. SILENCE HER.'
Siurad recoiled internally. Woah. A bit much there, buddy.
This was a problem. Obi's solution was insane. It was paranoid. It was... flawed.
He looked at Yona, who was still watching him with that terrifyingly serious, unblinking stare. She was dangerous, yes. But she was also one of the few people who hadn't tried to kill him on sight.
So he trusted his gut. And he decided to tell the truth.
Siurad took a deep breath, the cold, disapproving silence from Obi screaming in his mind. He ignored it. He had made his choice.
He looked Yona in the eye and unloaded his proverbial guts.
"Okay. Look. This... this is gonna sound insane," he started, the words tumbling out. "So…. I'm not from here. Like, at all. I woke up in those woods a few days ago, in different clothes, with this ring on my finger."
He held up his hand. The obsidian ring seemed to drink the light, pulsing with a cold, silent fury that only he could feel.
'...VESSEL!' Obi’s voice thundered in his skull, laced with a paranoia that bordered on panic. '...I COMMAND YOU TO CEASE! YOU ARE COMPROMISING THE MISSION! THIS IS 'BETRAYAL!'
Too late, buddy, Siurad thought back, his resolve hardening. You wanted a partner, you got one. My gut says this is the way.
He turned his focus back to Yona, who was listening with a new, sharp intensity.
"The ring... it talks. In my head," Siurad continued. "He's... well, he's kind of a jerk, but he's... a cosmic entity. A god, maybe. The Will of the Obsidian Authority. I call him Obi."
Yona’s eyes flicked from Siurad's earnest, panicked face to the ring, and then back. She was connecting the dots.
"He's the thing you feel," Siurad said, his voice dropping. "He created the whole thing. And someone, or something, betrayed him thousands of years ago. Destroyed the Authority, and trapped him in this ring. He's been... asleep, or just waiting... for a long time. He's furious. And he's paranoid."
"So... we're on a quest," he finished, feeling breathless. "He wants to find out what happened. We're looking for... God knows what. From his old architect, a guy named Lysander. We need to find him..or his….notes so we can figure out who betrayed him, how he was trapped, and... how to release him."
Siurad finally ran out of air. He stood there, exposed, having just confessed to being the vessel for boogeyman. He fully expected Yona to draw her sword, or just turn and sprint in the other direction.
For a long, tense moment, she said nothing. She just stared at him, her face unreadable.
Then, a slow, dangerous, absolutely joyful grin spread across her face.
"So," she said, her voice low. "Let me get this straight."
She started to pace in a small, tight circle, like a wolf sizing up its... partner.
"You're not from this world. You're bonded to a trapped, boogeyman god. You execute people with shadow magic. And your plan is to walk around places literally blind, and go looking for the secret notes of a dead, magical architect."
She stopped pacing and looked at him, her eyes glittering with a wild, manic light.
"This is," she said, her voice trembling with pure, unadulterated excitement, "the stupidest, most suicidal, greatest goddamn plan I have ever heard in my entire life."
She lunged forward and clapped him on the shoulder, hard enough to make him stumble.
"I'm in!" she shouted, laughing. "A hundred percent! This is so much better than tracking bandits for chump change. We're either going to be legends or we're going to be paste, and I honestly don't care which!"
She was still beaming, high on the sheer adrenaline of the concept. "So, 'Obi'!" she called out, tapping the ring on Siurad's finger with her own. "You in there, you paranoid old ghost? Are youyou listening to this? You as crazy as he is?"
The ring did not pulse. It did not throb. It just grew impossibly, terribly cold. A wave of pure, concentrated fury and contempt rolled off it, so potent that even Yona felt the temperature drop.
"Ooh," she said, pulling her hand back, her grin widening. "He doesn't like me."
"Uh... yeah," Siurad managed. "He's here. And he's... he's really not thrilled with this conversation."
"Perfect!" Yona beamed. "He's got taste. I like him already. Now, partner... which way to the impossible, suicidal, boogeyman-god-quest? I'm bored."
Siurad could feel Obi bristling, retreating into a sulk of cosmic proportions. He figured he had time to smooth that out later.
"Look, Yona," Siurad pressed on, needing to solidify this madness. "Whether you think it's a fairy tale or not, I need to know where the old Obsidian Authority ruins would be. I believe that's my best chance of finding any information to help Obi. Anything you know that could help? Anywhere we could go that wouldn't instantly get us murdered would be nice."
He paused, the next part feeling awkward. "Also... if this is gonna work, Yona, I have to know I can trust you. I'm sure it won't come overnight, but I hope with time we can prove to each other that we're... ride or die."
Yona’s manic smirk returned. "Ride or die?"
"Yeah, it's a... it's a term," Siurad fumbled. "It basically means when shit hits the fan, we... we..." He thought for a moment. Did they even have fans in this world? Fuck.
"What I'm trying to say is," he powered through, "we fight together or we die together."
Once the words left his mouth, he winced, realizing how incredibly culty they sounded.
Yona, for her part, started laughing again, a genuine, sharp bark. When she finally finished, she wiped a tear from her eye. "I get it, 'big guy.' I get it."
She slung her wineskin to her front and took a pull. "Here's the deal. I'm not sure exactly where we can find this... boogeyman research... without ending up on everyone's radar. But I'm sure we could start at a few libraries, and I... may have a few... less-than-reputable people I can ask."
She gestured north, toward the Deadwoods.
"But first," she said, her eyes turning cold as she thought about the ledger. "We have a delivery to cancel. Let's go liberate some cargo. If we survive that... we can worry about finding your ghost's diary."