The Regent
J.J. Polson
(Five Parts. 6,000 Words)
One | Two | Three | Four | Five
One
Darvish found himself walking home alone. Only as his buzz began to fade did he realize that he had once again gambled away the week’s wages, that he wouldn’t be able to make his required payment, that consequences were certain to follow. His debt to the Bankers Guild had already surpassed what a man could reasonably pay in one lifetime. Furthermore, he had little desire to return to his cramped house, to the scolding that was assuredly on the tip of his cheating wife’s tongue.
But what other choice did he have?
Damned cards, Darvish thought bitterly. He had nearly brought home a small fortune. A prize that would have both satisfied the Bankers and earned him a pleasurable end to the night.
Alas. The result was always the same. No matter which tavern, no matter what game – Darvish always lost in the end.
Ahead, the town church loomed. A superfluous structure cornered by oversized towers and stuffed with colorful windows and golden altars. A place of false faith where fools simply gave their money away to miserly priests. The High Priestess was the worst of them all. A woman who was rumored to have the gods themselves wrapped around her gem-laden fingers.
Darvish spat in disgust and turned into the shadowy graveyard. The expansive site served as one last money grab from the greedy priests. A place close to the gods … a place where only nobles could be buried. Darvish decided to give the dead the honor they deserved.
While his piss splashed against an ornate gravestone, Darvish observed the undead knight. The nightmarish warrior had stood guard over the area’s most lavish tomb for longer than Darvish had been alive. His grandfather claimed the knight was an apparition summoned by the final breath of their town’s founder, the Regent.
The Regent was still revered in the ever-expanding settlement, as evidenced by her statue that stood outside the town hall. In her absence, the Bankers Guild and the Church had divided her once unquestioned power. Neither institution believed the legend that one day the Regent would solve the mystery of immortality and return to claim her throne.
Darvish frowned in thought. The Regent and her descendants were beyond rich. Certainly, the famous woman had been buried with a bounty of jewelry. The threat of the undead knight and public sentencing was enough to keep any rational man away from the grave … but Darvish was desperate. Without an influx of gold, he would soon be imprisoned, enslaved, or worse.
Taking a deep breath, Darvish tied his pants and stumbled toward the imposing knight. The voice of his grandfather entered his mind, reminding him that the knight could only act upon what it saw.
Darvish knew firsthand that the knight could move. As a child, he had seen embers flare within its blank eyes, its armored fingers tighten around the hilt of its great blade.
Better to die at its bony hand than those of the Bankers…
Darvish removed the ragged cloak from his shoulders and crept closer to the undead warrior, careful to stay out of its natural line of sight.
A pace away from the statuesque figure, the moon emerged from the clouds and brought the body of the undead knight into sharp focus. A suit of decaying armor. The hint of weathered bones just visible beneath the gaps in the rusting steel. Only its blade remained unfazed by the years, protected by a spell to ensure the Regent’s safety.
Darvish took another cautious step forward. Then, after judging the distance, he balled up his cloak and tossed the filthy garment through the air.
Chuckling to himself, Darvish strode past the now-hooded warrior and stopped before the ornate structure housing the remains of the Regent. As expected, the late Regent saw no need for a lock. Darvish glanced back to confirm the knight remained dormant, then proceeded inside.
Torchlight sprouted as he crossed the threshold, revealing the Regent’s simple metallic coffin. Darvish scanned the walls of the lonely chamber but found nothing worth his while. Pursing his lips, he stepped to the coffin and tested its worth.
To his surprise, the lid easily slid to one side.
Darvish recoiled in horror upon seeing the body within. The Regent was perfectly preserved. A headful of lush, raven hair gave way to smooth, olive skin. A white dress shielded her slender figure. Coins with her own image covered her eyes.
Not even gold coins! Darvish seethed. Certainly, there has to be more than this!
That was when he saw it. A glimmering bracelet rested atop the heart of the Regent, securely positioned beneath her crossed hands.
Darvish pulled the trinket free and examined it in the light. No jewels but certainly enchanted, he mused, running his finger along the item’s smooth edge. More than enough to get the Bankers off my back for a few weeks.
Slipping the bracelet over his wrist, Darvish sealed the coffin and crept back outside. The undead knight had yet to move. Darvish pulled shut the tomb door and approached the warrior, knowing he needed to retrieve his cloak to properly conceal his crime.
I’ll take it and run. Even if the demon realizes what I’ve done, it won’t be able to catch me.
Darvish grasped the end of the cloak and tugged it free.
Red light flared within the eyes of the knight.
Darvish found himself frozen, unable to move. Run, you fool! Run!
But he could not.
Darvish whimpered as the nightmarish warrior stepped forward. However, to his surprise, the knight fell to a knee and spoke to him in a deep voice.
“Greetings, Master.”
Two
For once, Darvish slept well.
He had discovered his failing home empty upon his return. Fortunately, his wife had taken time to explain the apparent robbery. The mustachioed merchant she entertained during the day had offered to spirit her away from the town, to allow her to see the world. Elated at the news, Darvish had gone to bed with a grin upon his haggard face.
The next morning, Darvish was prepared for the harsh knock of the Bankers’ Enforcer. For so pretentious an occupation, the members of the Guild gave no thought to the ears of those on the other side of the door or to the foundation of the unstable buildings their hired fists threatened to topple.
Darvish painted on a welcoming smile, pulled open the uneven door, and greeted the two well-dressed men standing on the stoop before him. He ignored the Enforcer, a brute garbed in a suit of steel armor, who lingered behind them. A sizable carriage pulled by two horses and manned by a veiled driver, presumably one indebted to the Guild, idled in the middle of the street.
Darvish did his best to contain his inner elation. The Bankers had done his work for him.
“Mr. Darvish,” the first of the Bankers said, his voice high and his every word pronounced. A sly smile curled his thin lips as he surveyed the ransacked living area. “Your payment is overdue.”
The second man gave an unnecessary nod of agreement. “Before arriving, we confirmed with your foreman the sum of your last three months of wages, of which the Guild has received none.”
“If that is indeed the case,” the first continued, “then we would have no other option but to declare your loan in default and demand immediate restitution of the entire sum to the Guild.”
Again, the second Banker nodded. “It is our sincerest hope that perhaps your payment has been misplaced or that you have held the required gold to ensure it is placed directly into the hands of the Guild. If that is the case, we will be happy to accept your payment with only a modest late fee.”
Darvish took the room’s lone seat and crossed one leg over the other. His fingers brushed against the bracelet hidden in the pocket of his ruined cloak. “There has been no mistake, gentlemen. I have made no payment, nor do I intend to.”
The two Bankers shared a wordless glance. Standing sentry at the door, the silent Enforcer moved a hand to the hilt of his blade in an unspoken threat.
“Mr. Darvish, you entered into a legally binding agreement with the Guild. To violate its terms will place you in indebted servitude to the Banker’s Guild,” the first Banker relayed. “The length of which will be determined by the Board.”
The second Banker gleefully continued, “Your signature was witnessed by an appropriately licensed party. There can be no doubt of either the validity or the details of the loan.”
“I do not intend to argue either point,” Darvish smirked. “Instead, I would like to offer you gentleman the chance to void the loan and leave this house alive.”
The Bankers collectively scoffed. The Enforcer took a measured step forward.
“You dare to threaten us with violence?” the first Banker questioned. “I will warn you that the Board rewards such uncivilized actions with stiff penalty. Even if you were to slay us both, the Guild would not relinquish its claim upon your possessions or void the loan. In fact, a contract would be placed on your head. Most targets are captured alive. If you should perish, your debt would fall upon your family.”
“Additionally, we are authorized to use force when necessary,” the second added. The stout Banker gestured to the Enforcer who had already drawn his blade.
Darvish stood, retrieved the enchanted bracelet from the folds of his cloak, and slid it over his right wrist. “A shame, gentlemen. I had hoped the Guild would see reason…”
*
Darvish emerged into the light of midday and straightened his new cloak. On his heels, came the imposing figure of the undead knight. Blood dripped from the blade of the skeletal warrior, creating a trail to where the Bankers’ carriage idled at the end of the dirt drive.
“No need to fear,” Darvish addressed the driver with a polite wave. Despite the veil over the servant’s face, it was obvious his eyes were fixed upon the terrifying knight. “In fact, you have cause to celebrate. I am freeing you from the service of the Guild and placing you in my own. Welcome aboard, Driver.”
The man managed an uncertain reply. “Is … that? Are … you?”
“Your eyes do not deceive you,” Darvish smiled. “I am indeed the Regent. Come back to life just as I promised to do.”
Driver bowed his head. “Where to?”
“The Hall of the Bankers.”
*
Inside the carriage, Darvish felt the dreadful gaze of the undead knight upon him. He toyed with the bracelet as Driver guided them through the outskirts of the town, attempting to evade the attention of his imposing companion. Regardless of his newfound power, Darvish still feared the nightmarish warrior. Magic was a notoriously fickle science.
“Can’t you look somewhere else?” he finally asked.
The knight diverted its demonic stare out the carriage window. Darvish thought he noted a bit of flesh beneath the man’s visor but dismissed it as a trick of the light.
“You claimed to be the Regent,” the knight stated presently.
“So, you now make observations? I thought your purpose was to obey my commands.”
“A simple inquiry, Master. I wondered if her soul had somehow taken over your body.”
Darvish exhaled. “No. I’m not the bloody Regent. Not yet anyway.”
“Not yet?”
“Don’t you know your own story?” Darvish questioned. “The Regent summoned you to stand guard over her tomb until such time that she could be restored to life. Upon obtaining her enchanted bracelet, it occurred to me that the fools of the town will believe I am the Regent if I have you following me around. I reason that becoming the Regent is the only way to escape my current financial predicament. Thus, I’ve decided to take on the mantle.”
A haunting chuckle filled the moving chamber. “Is that truly what you believe of me?”
“Not just me. Everyone in town.”
The undead knight did not respond for some time, taking the opportunity to study the world beyond the carriage. “The Regent did not summon me,” it said at last. “She was a woman obsessed with discovering immortality. She imprisoned me using the bracelet that you now wear in order to study my curse. It is a curse that could be perceived as eternal life.”
“Your curse?”
“Aye. I was once a man named Avinger,” the knight explained. “Long ago, my soul was cursed by a High Priest to forever inhabit this body, a body that would deteriorate like all other humans but could be restored to its original state by killing others. The Regent promised to free me from my curse … but I was tricked into servitude.”
“I know the feeling.” Darvish frowned, scratched at his unshaven face. He had not expected to pity the undead knight. Truthfully, he hadn’t thought much beyond killing the Bankers and clearing his name of debt. Turning the cursed man loose upon the Bankers in their lavish hall was the logical first step to claiming power.
However, there were certainly risks involved in using the undead knight. No one truly understood magic. Darvish’s frown deepened. Had it been too easy to rob the woman’s tomb? Had she wanted someone to take the bracelet? What if her spirit could somehow overtake his body?
“So, Avinger. What say we help each other? You assist me in becoming Regent, and I will give you the bracelet and your freedom.” Darvish quickly removed the suddenly-suspect item from his wrist. “What do you say? Partners?”
The knight hummed. “Agreed. However, I have no desire to own the trinket. We must find a way to destroy it before–”
Darvish cursed as the carriage slowed and came to a stop. “Driver? Why have we ceased moving? We can’t be there already!”
“Street is blocked, Sir. It seems that everyone in town has congregated at the church.”
Darvish pocketed the bracelet. “Well … inquire what the commotion is about!”
He tapped the velvet wall impatiently as Driver guided the horses at a slow trot through the oddly quiet crowd. Time was of the essence. Sooner or later, the two Bankers would be missed.
“Sir!” Driver called after some time. “They’re saying that the undead knight is gone … that the Regent has finally returned to life!”
Darvish quickly realized the opportunity at hand. “Get me as close as you can to the tomb, then come round and open the door.”
“Aye, Sir!”
Darvish turned his attention to the knight who continued to stare out the window. “You will exit the carriage first. That should get their attention. We will address them before the tomb.”
“What of the Bankers Guild?” Avinger asked.
Darvish ran a hand through his greasy hair. “We’ll deal with them soon enough. For now, it’s time to make a wager!”
*
From inside the tomb of the Regent, the High Priestess listened to the thief address the town. She had waited her entire life for another to take possession of the bracelet.
At long last, the time had come.
Three
It was exceedingly rare that Darvish won a wager. When he did, he had the bad habit of doubling down, of placing the entirety of his winnings on the next hand or roll or race in hopes of riding his luck to an endless life of leisure.
Winning the affection of the commonfolk was no different. To become Regent, he could not stop with an improvised speech at the graveyard. No. He needed to take firm command of the town, to reclaim the power of the late legend herself.
Besides, it wasn’t as if he had anything left to lose.
“Looks abandoned,” Darvish frowned, peering out the carriage window.
The greenery surrounding the manor of the former Regent was well tended, but there were no obvious signs of inhabitants. The house itself stood as it had for Darvish’s entire life, a massive structure of stone and glass. Statues of roaring lions were positioned to either side of the ivory-covered entrance gate which Driver opened without incident.
Darvish reluctantly turned his gaze to his undead companion. “I thought the Regent had children. Wasn’t there a son? A husband?”
“There was,” Avinger confirmed.
“Well … where are they? Why aren’t they challenging our entry?”
“Dead,” the knight stated flatly. “The Regent claimed their lives and dozens of others in her attempts to unlock immortality. Her methods left behind no graves, and few dared to question. Her servants were particularly expendable.”
Darvish groaned. “So, this house has been empty all this time? How has the Regent managed to pay for its upkeep from beyond the grave?” He paled upon realizing the answer. “She was in league with the Bankers’ Guild, wasn’t she? She really was a vile woman…”
Sure enough, a pair of eloquently dressed men exited the front door of the manor and stood on the painted wooden porch to await the arrival of the stolen carriage. Darvish cursed and reached for the bracelet concealed within his cloak … only to remember his previous concerns.
“Is our agreement still valid, Avinger?” he questioned. “I have no wish to wear the Regent’s charm to issue commands. Gods only know what curse she has placed upon it. I can’t take the risk that it is her pathway back to the realm of the living.”
The undead knight studied the two Bankers. “You desire them dead?”
“Obviously. Bankers are smarter than the average man. They acquired their power by twisting the minds of us commoners into accepting the feasibility of repaying their unjust and misleading loans,” Darvish explained. “They have seen Driver. They have seen the carriage. They will surmise what has occurred.”
“You could attempt to convince them that you are the Regent.”
Darvish shook his head. “If they’ve been caring for the manor all these years, it would stand to reason that they have some sort of arrangement should the Regent return to life. Perhaps a key phrase. A specific question and answer. They will seek to confirm my identity. If I can’t pass their test, there will be trouble. Best not leave it to chance.”
The undead knight shrugged beneath his heavy armor. “Then I will eliminate them.”
“Excellent. Since the Regent has no kin to dispose of, we will take care of these Bankers and then head to their Hall to subjugate the rest. If I understand correctly, a good killing streak will return you to your human form. My grandfather always told me to strike while the iron is hot.”
“What of the Church?”
“The Church?” Darvish repeated uncertainly. “What about the Church?”
“Killing the Bankers will create an imbalance in the power structure of this town. The Church will make a move. The High Priestess is dangerously ambitious.”
Darvish sighed. “Since when have you become the authority on town politics?”
“I stood guard over a solitary tomb for decades. What else did I have to do but listen and observe? You would be surprised how many sought the Regent’s advice from beyond the grave.”
“And yet only I was daring enough to elude you…”
Darvish hissed in frustration as the Bankers descended the manor stairs and walked with purpose toward the stalled carriage. Only as he looked out the veiled window did he realize that a group of townsfolk had followed them from the cemetery and observed the proceedings from the distant manor gate.
“Gods above. We can’t eliminate Bankers in front of so many witnesses. We’ll have to lure them back inside the house and kill them there,” Darvish said.
“And if they attack first?”
“Retaliation is self-defense! We just need to appear to be on the right side of the law. That’s how the Bankers and the Church have bent this town to their will after all.” Darvish attempted a calming breath. “Step outside the carriage to meet them, Avinger. Go now!”
Avinger obliged, opening the door with an armored hand and stepping into the sunlight accompanied by a chorus of creaking armor. Darvish allowed the knight to take another step forward before following. Instinctively, he reached inside his cloak and gripped the bracelet. He was not yet certain he could trust the undead knight.
The Bankers observed Avinger for a long moment in silence.
Well, since they haven’t called my bluff yet…
“Some welcome this is,” Darvish spat from behind the undead knight, knowing the Regent would take command of the situation. “Is this really the best your Guild could put together? It is not as if you haven’t had ample time to prepare for my return!”
The two Bankers stood their ground. As ever, their round faces were impossible to read.
At last, the taller gentleman smiled. “All is arranged as you requested, Regent.”
“Please. Join us inside the manor,” the second echoed in a haughty tone.
Perhaps they’re not so smart after all.
Darvish cleared his throat. “Lead the way.”
A step behind the undead knight, Darvish followed the two men up the wooden stairs, through the open door, and into the manor. Inside, the house opened into a grand hall filled with priceless paintings, treasurers … and Bankers.
Judging by the color of their faces, most were already a few drinks in.
Darvish grinned. He had given the fools far too much credit. “Alas, your celebration is for naught, gentlemen. Regent has, sadly, not returned.” He approached the undead knight and rapped a knuckle against steel. “Avinger, if you would do the honors…”
*
In the bowels of the great church, the High Priestess worked in silence. She wound spell-light with her deft fingers, encasing the preserved body of the Regent, matching the pattern which ensnared her own. The demon guarding the tomb, her greatest obstacle, had been removed. Finally, the gods would have a worthy vessel to carry out their will.
Once she obtained the bracelet, nothing could stop her.
Four
Sipping a glass of whiskey, Darvish perused the carnage within the manor.
Avinger had worked both quickly and effectively. The Bankers had barely managed to finish their expensive drinks before meeting their gruesome ends. Regardless of number, their Enforcers could not have made a difference. Darvish had already taken the opportunity to conscript the manor’s remaining ghost-faced servants into his growing retinue.
Darvish chuckled when he finally located the Banker who had authored his initial loan. The man had died with a look of horror upon his hideous face. Blood and shit soiled his silk clothing.
“How is that for repayment in full?” Darvish grinned. “To think that all this time, you Bankers were no better or smarter than me!”
Avinger arrived in a storm of clanking steel. The armor of the undead warrior was painted in blood, and the glowing eyes beneath his visor were far brighter than before. From his midsection protruded the shaft of a spear. A feathered arrow had taken him clean through one shoulder.
“Did that satisfy your thirst, my friend?” Darvish asked.
“Killing is something I no longer enjoy.”
Darvish exhaled. However, the nature of his brooding companions’ curse was eternally compelling. “Did this necessary act of violence restore you to a presentable state?”
“You tell me.”
Avinger lifted his helm to reveal a nightmarish face. A mixture of raw flesh and decaying bone centered by a crooked nose, a hairless brow, and demonic eyes. He had no lips of which to speak, resulting in a permanent and horrific smile.
“Not even close,” Darvish groaned, whirling about in attempt to preserve his sanity. “That face is not one a man can easily forget. How many necessary deaths will it take to restore you to your previous appearance?”
The undead knight shrugged. “We would likely need a war.”
“A shame our primary enemy is defeated then. I suppose the Church stands staunchly against my claim to the title of Regent. What say we traverse to the hallowed hall of the gods and part the head of the High Priestess from her shoulders?”
“Have you no fear of the divine?”
Darvish doubled over in laughter. “Even more of a sham than the Bankers!” He gestured with his glass to the corpses around them. “Where these gentlemen were backed by the fear of legal consequences which could actually be realized – the High Priestess advertises the fear of eternal damnation! I’d wager she’s never actually spoken to one of the so-called gods.”
An instant later, the door to the manor opened to admit Driver. Refusing to relinquish his subjugated nature, the veiled man bowed deeply to Darvish and Avinger, all but ignoring the fallen Bankers. Strangely, he appeared to be out of breath.
“Sir! Something is happening outside! An unnatural storm!”
“Let’s see it then,” Darvish smirked. “Perhaps we’ve summoned the wrath of the gods.”
From the porch, Darvish absorbed the poisoned sky in shock. A wicked, foul-smelling wind whipped across the property, nearly tipping over the carriage. Savage lightning struck with every heartbeat. Smoke rose from a dozen distant fires. It appeared the entire town was under siege.
“The storm is centered at the church,” Avinger remarked.
“Driver!” Darvish exclaimed. “We must make haste!”
*
Darvish groaned as the carriage slowed to crawl.
Hundreds fled from the direction of the church, racing through the cobbled streets like headless chickens, unmindful of the carriage’s occupants and their admittedly self-serving quest.
Lighting continued to strike at an absurd rate. Trees splintered. Houses succumbed to flame. Smoke slipped through the veiled window of the carriage and threatened to spoil Darvish’s drink.
“Driver! Keep moving!” Darvish shouted over the commotion. “Run these fools over if you have to. Can’t they see that we’re in a hurry!”
Avinger’s red eyes narrowed upon him.
“You know as well as I do that we are in a rush. You were the one who predicted the Church would attempt to take over after all.”
“Then let us walk,” the undead knight stated. “The storm has only grown worse.”
Darvish emptied his glass. “Fine.” There was no need to tell Driver to slow the carriage for it had long since come to a stop. The horrid smell of charred flesh dominated the air. As Darvish followed Avinger into the chaotic street, he wondered what poor soul had been–
“Shit,” Darvish gasped, looking upon the ruined figure of Driver. The servant’s veil had been melted to the face, yielding a morbidly fitting, phantom-like appearance. True to his nature, Driver still held the reins in his smoking hands.
Avinger drew his blade and freed the horses with a swift strike. “Shall we say a few words?”
“There’s no time!”
The undead knight looked upon the ruined figure of Driver as Darvish began to walk.” “May you find freedom in the next life…”
*
The presence of Avinger all but cleared the streets. Darvish kept his distance behind the tall, armored man, knowing the knight was sure to be a magnet for the unnatural lightning. Only as the church neared did Darvish realize that the lighting actively avoided Avinger. He quickly caught up to his companion and matched his lengthy gait.
“I fear there’s another possibility we have yet to consider,” Darvish said as they neared the graveyard. He clutched the enchanted bracelet in the pocket of his cloak. “Perhaps the Regent has found a way to return to life. Could this be her doing?”
“Is it likely that she made deals with both the Bankers and the Church,” Avinger replied.
“Damned woman. Why couldn’t she just accept death!”
“The Regent was not one to listen to others.”
“What sort of deal would she have made with the Church?”
The undead knight shrugged.
“Could you not at least entertain me with speculation? You did know her after all. Anything you learned could be useful in surviving this apparent apocalypse. I have no intention of dying this day!”
“I was her slave, not her lover.”
Darvish pushed back his grimy hair and exhaled. “Well, let’s approach this logically then. We will first check her tomb. If the Regent is still there, then this mess is solely the fault of the Church. If this is the fault of the Church, then putting an end to the High Priestess should restore order.”
“And if the Regent is not inside?”
“Then I assume there is a most unpleasant reason that we have not been assaulted by lightning.”
“Meaning?”
“She may not have loved you … but she certainly loved your curse.”
Five
As expected, the eye of the unnatural storm looked down upon the palatial church. In the distance, lightning erupted from the discolored clouds, continuing its assault of the defenseless town. The screams of the town’s residents had long since faded away.
At long last, Darvish and Avinger arrived at the Regent’s tomb.
“Immortals first,” Darvish said, gesturing to the simple structure.
Avinger lumbered forward, opened the door to the tomb, and disappeared within. Darvish glanced back at the distant church before crossing the threshold.
The tomb was empty.
Darvish cursed. “Is this all because I took the stupid bracelet?”
“Almost certainly,” Avinger replied.
With an exaggerated sigh, Darvish marched from the tomb, considering his next move. Unfortunately, he was denied the time to settle upon a proper strategy.
A short woman with dark hair and olive skin stood a dozen paces beyond the tomb’s entrance. At the sight of Darvish, her full lips curled into a warm smile.
“Mr. Darvish,” the Regent said. “You have my thanks for returning Avinger.” As the undead knight drew its blade, the woman chuckled. “Tell it to stand down, Mr. Darvish. Avinger will have no say in our negotiations.”
“Negotiations?” Darvish questioned.
“You will return possession of Avinger to me, its rightful owner.”
Darvish turned to his imposing companion and gripped the bracelet in the pocket of his coat. His mind raced. His heart thumped in his chest. Did the woman control the storm? Did he dare to find out? As previously stated, he had no intention of dying.
“You heard the Regent, Avinger. Stand down.”
The undead knight lowered his blade.
Darvish walked forward to meet the Regent. “How are you here?” he asked the woman, tightening his grip on the concealed bracelet. “You’ve been dead for half a century.”
The Regent maintained her eerie smile. “Death was not what I expected, Mr. Darvish. The spell I cast with my final breath forced Avinger to guard not only my body but my very soul. Only once you removed the bracelet from my grasp was I free to strike a deal with the gods.”
“A … deal with the gods?”
“Indeed. Like me, the gods have an interest in the unique curse placed upon Avinger. I have agreed to surrender Avinger to them in exchange for immortality. My body and soul were restored by the sacrifice of a willing servant, the High Priestess. I need only to gift the gods the bracelet to complete the agreement.”
“And should I refuse to part with it?” Darvish removed the bracelet from his cloak and raised it toward the eye of the foreboding storm. “Why should I not be able to make the same deal with the gods? Why should I not command Avinger to cut you down and achieve immortality myself?”
“It is not as simple as you believe it to be, Mr. Darvish. You have no knowledge of the curse placed upon Avinger, or of the spell placed upon the bracelet. You would be unable to provide the gods with that which they desire. Only I can satisfy their demands.”
“Ah, of course. I know nothing of magic.” Darvish exhaled. “Thus, the negotiations.”
“I offer that which you desire most, Mr. Darvish,” the Regent replied smoothly. “The reason you robbed my grave in the first place. Freedom.”
Darvish said nothing.
“First, I offer you freedom from financial burden. There is a cache of gold stored within the vault of my manor. The key resides inside my statue outside of townhall. All of it will be yours.”
Darvish licked his lips.
“Secondly, I offer you freedom of safe passage. I have razed this town using the power of the divine. You have only reached this point because I have allowed it. Ask your driver if you have doubt. Surrender the bracelet, and I will allow you safe passage.”
Darvish cringed at the memory of Driver.
“Lastly, I offer you the freedom of identity. My gold and possessions combined with the wardrobe of my late husband and official documents notarized by the Bankers Guild will allow you to shed your previous life and become the Lord you have always desired to be.”
Finally, Darvish spoke. “What makes your offer any different than that of the Bankers who promised to ease my financial burden, than that of the High Priestess who promised salvation for my unquestionably-damned soul?”
“My offer is backed by the divine themselves,” the Regent said. “They will shine nothing but good fortune upon your remaining life, which I have been assured will be a long and fulfilling one.”
Darvish examined the bracelet in his hand for some time. Finally, an opportunity to live the life he had always dreamed of. Hadn’t that been the point of stealing the bracelet? Darvish furrowed his brow as he considered everything that had brought him to this point.
“I don’t believe you,” he replied presently. “Your offer is far too good to be true. And I am far from the fool I once was.”
Darvish turned and tossed the bracelet toward Avinger. The undead knight swung his wicked blade through the air. The bracelet fell to the ground.
Broken.
The Regent howled. Lightning assailed the graveyard. “What have you done?”
Darvish laughed. “I’ve learned an important lesson today, dear Regent. No one is truly smarter than anyone else in this world. You are a prime example. In your effort to achieve immortality, you have almost certainly enslaved yourself to the divine. Failing to retrieve the bracelet is sure to have consequences.”
“Please!” she wailed. “You don’t understand what you’re doing. The gods will–”
Darvish retreated as light erupted from the figure of the Regent. Seconds later, a wave of gore crashed against the armor of the undead knight.
“Well, that was absolutely horrifying,” Darvish managed through deep breaths. To his delight, the storm overhead had already begun to dissipate. “I propose a drink before retrieving the Regent’s fortune. Certainly, there is an establishment somewhere that remains standing.”
“I … don’t know what to say,” Avinger replied slowly. “You’ve freed me.”
“Don’t say anything, my friend. All the Regent’s promises of freedom this and freedom that made me realize that there are thousands entrapped as we once were.”
“What do you mean?”
Darvish smiled. “I believe I have found you a justifiable war, Avinger. Against all the Bankers and all the Priests this world can offer. Perhaps somewhere along the way, we can even locate that wretched Priestess who cursed you in the first place.”
“Freedom,” the undead knight echoed.
Avinger extended an armored hand. One covered in the remnants of the Regent.
Darvish frowned in disgust as he shook the hand of the undead man. “Just promise not to take off your helmet until we lift your curse.”
THE END
