Текст книги "Темное, кривое зеркало. Том 3 : След на песке.(ЛП)"

Автор книги: Гарэт Д. Уильямс

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 38 страниц)

The city and the Court were on the edge of disaster. Nobles had been growing ever more suspicious of each other for months, and their slow gathering of near-armies for 'protection' would inevitably result in this paranoia. The Shadow Criers were spreading chaos and anarchy wherever they went…. yes, and death. Their recent 'murder' of Lord Dugari, coupled with the leak that a noble was supporting them, had only made a bad situation worse, and a horrible possibility a dreadful inevitability.

And Malachi had had to do so little. He had had nothing to do with the death of Lord Dugari, little to do with the gathering of private armies, and had orchestrated only the first few exilings from the Court. He was surprised, and terribly saddened, at just how easy it had been to bring matters to this state.

All it took to destroy an Empire was to kill a ruler, several nobles, subtly spread distrust and misinformation, and put in a little effort where required.

How truly sad.

It would happen tonight. Or if not tonight then within the next few days. The entire planet would be torn apart in fire and blood, and then…. from the ashes…. there would be….

Well, something, anyway.

Malachi had agents in many places. Like any good Centauri he believed in the power of information. His listening device planted in Lord Jarno's chambers had alerted him to Jarno's plan to attack Lord Kiro, and to the part Lady Mariel had played in that decision.

He was also aware of Carn Mollari's presence in the city, goading Lord Valo to ever more rash action.

He knew of the numerous disappearances that could be attributed to the hands of Lady Elrisia and Prince Cartagia. Too many of those who had…. disappeared…. were only peasants, and as such did not matter to many people. Dugari was the only noble they had…. killed. And the blame for his death had been deflected from the two of them with little effort.

He knew of Londo's actions in Selini, and his plans for Camulodo, Sphodria and Gallia. He almost smiled. Londo was the only one who deserved this world.

Malachi had known Londo since his childhood. He had watched the idealistic young politician grow into a bitter and angry man, angry with the world and the universe around him. He had witnessed Londo's seeming rebirth and the hope for the future of the people.

And he had seen it all fall apart.

He had decided. It would all happen tonight: the beginning of the end. Londo had to know. He moved to the viewscreen and sent the signal he had been readying all night.

The screen came to life with the image of, of all things, a Minbari.

"Tell Mini…. Governor Mollari that First Minister Malachi wishes to speak with him."

The Minbari nodded silently and left. A few minutes later Londo's face appeared on the screen.

"Malachi," he said, no hint of warmth in his voice. "What an unexpected surprise."

"Tell me, Londo. How would you like to come to the capital?"

* * *

Pain and darkness and light.

Kats surfaced into consciousness slowly, bright lights flashing at the edge of her vision. She could hear a voice speaking to her, but the words made no sense. All she saw was his face, and his voice.

Forgiveness, Satai Kats, is the most noble of virtues, do you not agree? But it must be asked for, it must be begged for, it must be recognised for what it is. You have sinned, against our people, against Minbar, against Valen himself. Acknowledge your sin, and beg for forgiveness, and you may yet be redeemed.

Forgive me. I have…. done wrong. Forgive me. For….

"…. give me!"

Her eyes opened as she sat upright, her breath coming in short gasps. For a moment she had been with Kalain again, trapped in his mockery of 'forgiveness' and 'redemption'.

She looked around slowly but could see little. She was lying on a thin cot in a darkened room. The only light came from above her head, an arrangement which made her extremely uncomfortable. There was someone next to her, but only when he spoke did she realise it was the acolyte, Ashan.

"You must rest," he said. "You have head injuries."

"What happened?"

"You collapsed. The physicians said it was caused by blood clots blocking out your head membranes. It was serious for a while."

"I…. remember…." She did not know. She had been with Administrator Callenn and Ashan, and then there had been a deafening burst of sound. Unable to hear anything, she had staggered forward and fallen, and…. either her head had hit something or something had fallen on her….

"Where is Shai Alyt Kozorr?" she asked. Something about this whole situation worried her.

"This way. He has been asking about you." Ashan rose to his feet and let her rise as well. Her head ached but she managed to maintain her balance. Ashan made a gesture she could not quite see. It was so dark. Too dark. It….

"Which way?" She turned to try to find him but his silhouette had vanished. There was no sound of his breathing, his movements…. nothing. "Ashan? Where are you?"

"It says that you are evil. I know that you are a worker, and therefore responsible for the doom of our people. It says however that you are evil. It says that you betrayed our people to the Soul Hunters. It says that Kalain tried to purify you, but he was prevented from doing so. It says I must continue where he failed.

"It says I must kill you."

"Who says?" she asked slowly, her heart pounding. Her head ached so much. She could barely move. She….

Her arm burst into pain and she felt the warmth as her blood spilled out. Clutching it, letting out a cry of agony, she fell. "Ashan," she pleaded. "What are you doing?"

There was silence for a long while. She struggled to rise. All she could see was the light above her. She could hear Kalain's voice roaring in her mind.

"It says you must die."

"Ashan?" Something whirled past her face and she recoiled in pain. Blood began to drip down into her eyes. "Why…?"

Forgiveness…. We will grant you forgiveness, Satai Kats, but it must be asked for. No, it must be begged for. Beg for my forgiveness, worker bitch! Beg!

"For…. give…." She tried to breathe, tried to focus. Something was pounding in her ears. She could not see anything. She could taste her own blood. She could feel her skin tingling with the memory of Kalain's tortures. She….

Forgiveness! BEG FOR MY FORGIVENESS!

Outside the door of one of the few buildings remaining intact in the main city of Tarolin 2, a Tak'cha readied himself to enter.

* * *

"They're coming."

Tu'Pari looked up, the only one seemingly interested in her now. G'Kar was lying at his feet, blood coming from places Donne had not even known existed. She had killed a great many people, but now she knew she was in the presence of a master. If only he had had telepathic powers he might well have been worthy of her respect, perhaps even her admiration.

"Who?"

"Someone come to see what is happening here. We will be ready for them. Do you want to tell me what this Machine is doing, G'Kar? Or should I perhaps use your new friends as leverage?"

"You…. will…. never…. control…. the Machine…." He made a strange noise, one which caused even Tu'Pari to start. It sounded like laughter. "Never…."

"You will tell me, or I will destroy everything that is yours. You will…." Her holographic form smiled. "Very well. I was getting bored here." She blinked, and with the work of a moment, it was done. "There. Now, G'Kar, your little dream house of paper and glue will be set alight. I wager you will be able to hear the screams even from here."

"Never…. win…." He fell silent again.

"Idiot. I have won. Come and get me, Captain Smith. You'll scream just as loud as the rest."

* * *

The skies around Babylon 4 and Epsilon 3 were filled with the inrush of energy as four jump points opened. Out swept the ships of the Resistance Government of Humanity, resplendent in their glory and certainty, convinced of the rightness of their position.

The following message was received by the Command and Control of Babylon 4:

"This is Captain Dexter Smith of the EAS Babylon. This station, this planet, this area of space and all peoples and objects and technologies herein are as of this moment placed under the control of the Resistance Government of Humanity. Stand down all weapons and prepare to be boarded. Any resistance will be met with deadly force.

"You have five minutes to comply."

Chapter 4

"This is Captain Dexter Smith of the EAS Babylon. This station, this planet, this area of space and all peoples and objects and technologies herein are as of this moment placed under the control of the Resistance Government of Humanity. Stand down all weapons and prepare to be boarded. Any resistance will be met with deadly force.

"You have five minutes to comply."

The four ships moved around the space station known as Babylon 4. Very few of them knew of the appropriateness of that name. Once, over seven years ago, Babylon 4 had been hailed as the greatest hope of the human race, a chance to fight back against the alien oppressors, an opportunity to regain power.

For various reasons the Babylon Project had fallen by the wayside and been forgotten. Official secrecy had been maintained, but to those who had been involved in its operation it was the greatest lost chance of the last decade.

But fortune favoured the bold, or so it was said. Humanity was now free and powerful again, a young colossus bestriding the galaxy once more. Babylon 4, the station that had been intended to redeem them, had been built by another for purposes unknown.

And humanity was now on the verge of another victory.

The Earth Alliance starships Babylon, Morningstar, Corinthianand Martenmoved into position, their respective captains trying not to reveal their anxieties. This mission had been planned meticulously, and thus far everything seemed to be going as planned. The two human ships working for the enemy – the Parmenionand the Ozymandias– had gone, lured away through false means by an ally. None of the four captains had relished the thought of opposing their own people, least of all the legendary Starkiller, Captain Sheridan.

Also gone was the strange vessel Cathedral, believed to be commanded by the Minbari war criminal Sinoval. No one knew the exact circumstances behind that disappearance, but the timing was put down to fortuitous coincidence.

The only defences now remaining were the three ships from the United Alliance of Worlds – two Drazi Sunhawks and a Brakiri heavy cruiser – all of which could easily be dealt with should that be necessary; the integral defences of the station itself; and the awesome power of the Great Machine on the planet below, which should already have been neutralised.

On board the Babylon, more grateful than anyone else that its former captain had gone, Dexter Smith leaned forward and re-opened channels.

"This is Captain Dexter Smith of the EAS Babylon. I repeat, you are to stand down and surrender the station and all persons and objects on board. Failure to do so will provoke an attack."

There was a crackle as a reply came over the channel. Obviously the inhabitants of the station were taking precautions to prevent any surreptitious tracking or decoding.

"This is Lethke, Minister for the Economy of the United Alliance of Worlds. This station has our full support and any attack on our ships or persons will be considered an act of war against the Alliance."

Smith resisted a sigh of relief. He had been briefed about this possibility. He had also been ordered to supervise all the communications while his fellows got themselves into position to prevent any escapes and set up jamming mechanisms.

"I assure you, minister, we have no quarrel with the Alliance at all. We do however, have rights over the station and the planet, rights of discovery and occupation under the Interstellar Territory Pacts of twenty-two thirty-five, twenty-two thirty-nine and twenty-two forty-two. All items and persons sworn to the Alliance will be permitted to leave, saving only those who are wanted for crimes against our Government."

There was a long silence, and Smith knew what would be going through the alien's mind. Those wanted for crimes against the Resistance Government…. that could only refer to Delenn, former Satai of the Minbari and current President of the Alliance (although she apparently disliked that term). She had been in humanity's hands once, but had managed to slip away. That would not happen again.

Finally, Lethke responded: "Are you suggesting therefore that we are to negotiate on this matter?"

"We will not initiate any acts of violence unless violence is offered to us. We merely wish to enforce our rights. Unfortunately however, any sign of opposition will have to be met with deadly force. Once they are sure there is no danger from this area, my Government will send in legal teams and diplomatic arbiters to resolve this matter. I assure you again, Minister, we intend no hostilities against the Alliance, unless we are acted against."

With a sense of inevitable resignation, the Brakiri stabilised the signal. "You are welcome to board, Captain. We stand down our arms."

* * *

A wave of Darkness swept over Centauri Prime that night. Seeresses and sensitives all over the planet awoke screaming, paralysed by the terrors of great evil touching them. Screams echoed through the streets and blood ran from the walls.

The number of suicides in that one night was more than double than of the last two months together. In the city of Sphodria, a major trading port and the site of an ancient military victory over the Xon, the Governor of the city spent three hours writing the words, "The Darkness is coming" all over the walls of his house. The words were written in the blood of his wife, his children and his servants. He then threw himself from the roof of the house.

In the powerful mountain city of Camulodo, renowned as a seat of great learning, the curator of the Great Imperial Museum burned the building to the ground. He remained inside it as it burned. He had already clawed out his eyes and was in the process of eating his fingers as he burned to death.

Gallia, a prominent market town, saw its Governor dragged from his bed in the middle of the night by a crazed mob led by three preaching Shadow Criers. Claiming to be heralding in the coming Darkness they threw the Governor into an ancient well and began to pile it full of stones. His feeble cries ended as the last stone was thrown on top of him.

There was no word, no communication, no sign of any kind from the capital.

And on the island of Selini, in the hill farms, in the coastal inlets and coves, and in the capital city of Remarin, home of a new rebellion, there was….

…. peace.

Everyone slept well, except for those suffering from indigestion, or who tended to sleepwalk. There were few bad dreams, no cries for mercy or vengeance, no blood shed in the streets.

In fact the whole island slept, save only for the guards, some of the military, and the inhabitants of the Governor's personal dwelling.

"The fires in Camulodo are rumoured to be getting out of control," reported the dry voice of Lord Durano, formerly of the Ministry of Intelligence. He had always been dispassionate and dedicated, but now it seemed more as if he were reciting the results of this week's moren-ball contests. "Apparently some of the fire service have tried dealing with the situation, but they are being hampered by the mob, and some of the firemen themselves have fallen prey to…. whatever is happening."

"So many dying," muttered Governor Londo Mollari. He could not remember the last time he had slept well, and he certainly wouldn't tonight. He had been on the verge of going to bed when Durano had arrived with Virini and Marrago. Their reports from agents and allies in the three nearest mainland cities had made for grim reading.

"Has the whole planet gone mad?" he asked. "What in the Emperor's Name is happening?"

"We cannot say," replied Durano. "Some sort of psionic backlash perhaps. It is my belief that only a fraction of those afflicted by this…. madness are actually experiencing anything abnormal. The others are in all probability merely responding to the charisma or madness of their leaders."

"But still…. all this…. and for there to be nothing here. There is no explanation of why we here are all unaffected?"

Durano spread his arms wide. "A more comprehensive study might reveal more information, but there could be any number of reasons."

"Well, then. It is time we used this immunity to our advantage. Marrago, how many soldiers do we have here on the island?"

The former Lord-General of the Centauri Republic's armies stood up, the figures instantly at his command. "The five-thousand-strong Selini Guard, which includes the five hundred of the Governor's Personal Guard." An anachronism these days, but one that had been maintained in the name of 'tradition'. Since Londo's rise to power, all those old and forgotten traditions had actually become very useful.

"We also have some seven thousand members of the regular army. These are men I have been gathering from my old regiments and commands, people who are generally unhappy with the way the war with the Narns is going. Some are victims of dispossession in the capital and the surrounding areas."

"Twelve thousand. Hmm…. it will have to be enough. Marrago, you are to gather the armies and take them to the mainland, as swiftly as possible. They are to restore calm and preserve the political order in Sphodria, Camulodo and Gallia."

"Of course, but is this not a little…. premature? And all three at once? The original plan was to take them one at a time."

"The original plan had not anticipated this…. insanity. If we do not save these cities now there will be nothing left of them to save. Durano, the regular military has made no attempt to take any action in these cities?"

"No. In fact the Sphodria barracks withdrew from the city a few hours ago. I believe they all travelled by airship to the main barracks at the capital. The bases at Camulodo and Gallia have been largely abandoned for months."

Londo looked at Marrago. His eyes felt as though they were burning. "You see, Marrago. If we do not help these people…. our people…. then no one else will. We are their only hope."

"We cannot take all three, Londo. Not tonight. There is simply not enough time, and not enough decent under-officers. I can supervise the…. preservation of one myself, and I believe there are enough decent officers to manage the protection of another, but a third…. our soldiers would only add to the problem."

"You have no one who could command the third army?" whispered Timov. She had been standing in the doorway, listening to the conversation with mounting horror. Londo turned to look at her, irrationally angry that she was being exposed to such tales of terror. She was still wearing her sleeping-gown, wrapped tightly around her. He sighed and bowed his head, not wanting even to look at her, to associate her with the decision he knew was coming.

"No, Lady Timov. I am sorry, but so few of the army's officers joined us, and of those who did, there were very few I could trust. I organised and managed our army almost entirely myself. Only the captain of the Selini Guard knows anything at all about our full plans, and not even he knows everything. Most of my under-officers do not even know how many soldiers we have in total." He shook his head with ironic sadness. "It was meant to be a security measure."

"Two," Londo said softly. "Then we will save two."

"Which two?" Timov asked, still in the doorway.

Londo looked up at his companions. Marrago looked at the ceiling and rubbed at his eyes. "We will need Sphodria if we are to mount any sort of extended campaign on the mainland. It would be a vital part of our supply centres. We always knew we would need to control Sphodria before we could even think of making for the capital."

"Gallia is an important centre for the mid-territories," spoke up Durano, looking at Marrago and nodding. "A great many of the Court nobles have estates near there, families based in the city, mansions and so forth. Unfortunately they will probably think of their mansions more than their friends when they hear the city is in danger."

"And protecting Gallia may win us their aid…. or at least quiet support?" Londo said. He felt tired, very tired. Durano nodded. "Well then. It seems our plans are set. Marrago, muster the army. Sphodria first. Take whatever steps are necessary to establish order and try to save as many of the local Parliament as you can. Then…. see to Gallia. Protect as many of the Court nobility's mansions as possible, but take no unnecessary risks. I cannot have my Lord-General cut down by an insane farmer with a scythe." Marrago managed an obligatory chuckle, but all of them knew he did not mean it.

"I was born in Camulodo," said Timov suddenly. Londo turned to look at her, and her expression nearly broke his hearts. "I was fostered there with my aunt for three years as a child. Those were the happiest times of my life."

There was silence. Londo rose to his feet and moved to his wife, saying her name softly. She turned and backed away, moving back into their bedroom. He stopped at the door and punched the wall lightly. Even that hurt his knuckles.

He started suddenly at the sound of movement. Looking up he saw Lennier enter the room, and he breathed out slowly. He must be even more tense than he had thought.

"Governor Mollari," the Minbari said, "Prime Minister Malachi is on the line and he wishes to speak with you."

"Malachi?" said Marrago, evidently surprised. "Some kind of trap, perhaps?"

"A trick to find out where we are," suggested Durano. "A tracking ploy."

"He already knows where we are, and he has known for months. No, he wants to talk, nothing more. Gentlemen…. you know what must be done. May the Gods speed you all on your way safely…. if the bastards even exist, which I am beginning to consider more seriously nowadays."

"Oh?" Durano said, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, if the Gods don't exist, someone up there is out to get me."

Londo moved to the viewscreen in the other room, aware of Lennier standing protectively at the door, pointedly not looking at the viewscreen or making any attempt to listen. He was a good man…. for a Minbari. Londo looked at the viewscreen, at the face of his old friend, of the wise old advisor who had taken in a young, idealistic politician with delusions of grandeur.

"Malachi," he said, no hint of warmth in his voice. "What an unexpected surprise."

Malachi looked so tired. So old. Londo wondered if he looked the same. "Tell me, Londo. How would you like to come to the capital?"

* * *

She began to move, heading in the direction of what she hoped was a door. She had no idea of where she was, or, more importantly perhaps, where he was.

"It says you must die. It shows me where you are. You cannot run from me."

Kats grimaced in pain and tried to keep moving. Blood was pounding in her ears. The voice – his voice – was so loud.

"It says you must….

"…. beg for my forgiveness! You have done wrong. You have sinned and you will be punished."

Kalain's voice. Her outstretched arm came up against a wall and she paused, breathing harshly. For a moment she tried to be quiet, remaining still and motionless, but then she remembered Ashan's words. Whatever it was that was telling him to kill her, it was directing him. He knew where she was.

"I can see you. It can see you. I…. I don't want…. to do this. But it says I must. It says the good of my people depends on this. You followed him, you see. You didn't have to. Nobody made you. It was a mistake, the wrong decision, and now you must be punished for it. It says that it's all your fault."

He was near her now. She could hear his footsteps. She could smell him now as well. He smelled…. wrong, almost as if he were dead and decomposing. His words were flat and toneless.

Gulping in air, touching the wall for balance, she tried to move. A sharp pain burst in her shoulder and she stumbled. Something rolled beneath her foot and she fell.

A rough hand grabbed the collar of her robe, hauling her upwards. She let herself go limp, trying to remember the lessons Sinoval had tried to teach her. He had warned her that one day she would need to know how to fight, and how to kill. She had replied with a gentle smile that she had no intention of ever killing anyone.

She wished she had listened. All she could think of was Sinoval's face when he learned that she was dead.

The point of the knife came to rest at the bottom of her ribcage. Ashan pushed it slightly.

"It…. says that…. It says…. Minbari do not kill Minbari. It says that I must…. No. I am…. Minbari do not…. It…."

The pressure on the knife began to increase. Her robe became damp and warm, and she knew the knife had drawn blood. Ashan's grip on it had become weaker, however. He seemed to be arguing with himself.

"You are Minbari," she said, trying to force the words through the pain. "Minbari do not…." She cried out as the knife was jogged slightly, cutting a deep gouge across her skin.

"Silence…. You are a worker. You…. do not…. matter…. It says that you…. It…. says…."

She twisted her body and slid aside, crying out as the knife sliced across her ribcage and her side. She could feel Ashan losing his balance and hear him falling. Scrambling to her feet, she did not head blindly in any direction, but began clawing desperately for the knife. Her right hand found it, and as she awkwardly pulled it up through bleeding fingers she felt his hand slam down on top of her own.

"Workers…. die…. You…. must…."

He forced her hand up, crushing her fingers on to the hilt. His foot lashed out against her knee and she gave way, crashing backwards to the floor, but still she maintained her hold on the knife. She could feel him rising over her, bending the knife downwards.

"Minbari do not kill Minbari," she whispered, a great dizziness sweeping over her. "Listen to me, Ashan. Please…. fight it…."

"I can't. It says…. It…. says…."

"Listen to yourself. Minbari do not kill…."

The knife slid downwards a little further. "I…. can't…. I…. I…."

He suddenly jerked his hands, forcing the knife upwards. Kats, unable to free her hand from the hilt, added unwitting momentum.

She felt the knife slide into his chest and heard a slight gurgle. His fingers fell stiff and she was able to wrench her hand from the hilt, but not before his blood poured over her fingers.

She rolled aside just in time to prevent his body falling on her.

For a moment there was a still nothingness, and then the pain from her injuries hit home in one shocking burst and she cried out under the onslaught. The full horror of what she had done engulfed her. "Ashan," she whispered. "Ashan. Are you…?" It was useless. He was dead.

"Killed another fine Minbari, worker slut!"bellowed Kalain in her mind. " Beg forgiveness!"

"I'm sorry," she breathed. "I'm…." She closed her eyes and rolled over, climbing to her hands and knees. "No. You're not here. I know you're not here." She crawled forward, wincing from the pain of the wounds on her arm and body.

"Z'ondar!" Light filled the room as a door was thrown open and a figure stood silhouetted in the doorway. It moved forward with a gait she had never seen before. It raised a weapon that looked very much like a fighting pike.

It hissed out words in a twisted, sibilant language she did not recognise. "Z'ondar," it then said again. The word was Minbari, but one which she did not know. "Z'ondar."

Shaking, she managed to climb to her feet. "Who are you?" she asked softly. "I am Kats, of the worker caste of the Minbari. I…. I mean you no harm."

It began clicking and a strange expression passed over its alien face. "Do you…. revere the Z'ondar?" it asked haltingly, in an erratic worker caste dialect. "Do you remember…. his ways?"

"Who is the Z'ondar?"

It hissed something in its own language and darted forward, raising its weapon. It looked angry, very angry. Kats tried to avoid its attack, but she was too weak. She fell backwards, landing on Ashan's body.

Something beneath her hissed.

The alien's charge suddenly stopped and it dropped its weapon. Black ichor spilling from its eyes, it fell face forward on to the ground, a sharp knife sticking from its back.

"My lady?" asked a voice from the door. "Are you all right? I…. I can't see you."

"Kozorr," she whispered. "I am here." She hoped she sounded stronger than she felt.

"My lady." He moved forward awkwardly, and his shape was soon lost in the darkness. "Talk to me, Kats."

"I am here. I…." She coughed. "What has happened? What is…?" She could hear once again the hissing sound from beneath her. A strange warmth began to rise beneath her neck. Breathing out sharply, she rolled aside, and was stopped by strong hands.

Kozorr helped her rise. "I heard that Ashan had brought you here, my lady. Some of the…. survivors managed to direct me."

"Survivors?" she said, clinging to him tightly. She did not feel capable of standing on her own. "What happened? I…. remember meeting with Callenn and Ashan and then…. something fell on me and I…. I woke up here. He said he was going to kill me."

"He is dead. It was a fine blow. Worthy of a warrior."

"I'm not a warrior, though! I never want to be one. That…. that was the first time I've ever killed anyone."

"You have a strong heart, Kats," he said, his voice almost breaking. "Come…. see what has happened."

He helped her out of the room, and she looked at the utter devastation around her.

She felt like weeping.

* * *

Ta'Lon felt for the presence of his sword, as he would check on the security of an old friend. This whole place felt wrong to him, and he was experiencing a growing fear for the life of the one man he had sworn to follow unto death.

He had been a soldier during the occupation. The sight of the casual torture and murder of his family and mate had driven him into a peculiar form of insanity and he had dedicated his life to the destruction of the Centauri. Disdaining any long-range or high-technology weapons, he had taken the katok his grandfather had forged and sworn to use it as his instrument of vengeance. He had fought for almost the entirety of his adult life with only his sword. It was both weapon and constant companion: his only friend.