Chapter Three
Max Two
The skal entered a frenzy of activity over the remaining two weeks, until there was just two days until the ships arrive. The small creatures work themselves to the bone becoming so exhausted that after a few days their productivity is halved, adding six more to their number of dead. Helping as much as he can, Max keeps the same schedule as the creatures. While physically he does not feel the strain, mentally even after his years of brutal training even he becomes sloppy and makes mistakes. Max thanks the Mother and Father every night before going to bed, that none of his mistakes have cost the lives of his new companions.
All the hard manual work continues to have the hints of enjoyment for Max, it continued to remind him of his younger days. He had been trained in a similar brutal manner, only being able to survive from determination and his brothers at his side, helping one another to keep strong. While the skal were far from his noble and rowdy brothers, they had the same drive and determination to complete their tasks which quickly morphed into a camaraderie overtime, even with their trouble at having conversations.
Lacking the ability to make the squawks, Max could not speak their language, however he had come to understand a small rhythm within it. The sound itself was not the language, so much as the tone within and the duration they held the notes for. He learned that emotions were connected to the different versions of the squawk they could create. When the sounds resembled a swan, whatever was being said was angry and violent almost as if raising their voice. When the sound was like a robin, it was sadness and fear they were conveying as if they were whispering. Their standard tone was still unlike any bird Max could place, however it reminded him mostly of a proud pigeon.
His companions slowly worked on their imperial, however found it difficult to produce the sounds. After much difficulty, Max asked if they spoke any other languages, learning it was very rare for any in their kind to fluently speak any other language. They struggled to produce the sounds the other races made, often finding the sounds did not make sense, as there is no singing or beauty to other races speech. Supposedly to their ears, all other tongues were brutish and simple.
He found himself taking on the job of leading one of the work groups, showing them how to transport large stones more easily from the destroyed buildings. If the mules could not pull them, Max would shatter them with a pickaxe. The buildings were made of stone and a strange white chalk that Max had not seen before. It was not elvan made structures; they were always made from living trees and plants. The houses seemed more haphazard, like they were made from whatever was available.
The young child, who had given him the spyglass, had taken up stalking Max wherever he was working. He was very poor at hiding, giving off a noise akin to a giggle whenever Max looked his way. He learned the boy was called Rod, a name that confused Max however his companions, through much difficulty, explained. Skal did not use names, relying on scent to identify one another and seeing themselves as a collective, not individuals. The different elf Houses had different reactions to this, some gave their skal hives collective names, some no names at all. House Sorbus, Darius’s kin, had insisted they each have names like civilized folk. They had then given them a list of names that was supposed to bring honour, forcing them to use them. Max did not have the heart to tell them Rod meant rodent in the old tongue, something Minion must have known.
When Max slept his mind travelled, he dreamed of his home in Kindled Wake. He saw the clear open skies, where few birds dared to fly as the phoenixes ruled there. He saw the waterfall of lake Compendance, the same one he met his master at most mornings. Almost half the edge was overlooked by a stone roof, the crystal blue water mirroring the rocks above, that dripped droplets into the surrounding pool that tasted incredible. He missed Kindled Wake, how he longed to return and once more belong.
During the days, when he was not distracted by work, he found himself wondering about the warband, unsure what the letter expected of him. The skal claimed to have not seen any warbands since arriving, and the note simply stated he would find the warband there. The question of the author was often on his mind, the thought of it being a trap or perhaps an old friend reaching out to him being at the hight of his assumptions.
Knowing the town would soon be flooded with inhabitants, Max could no longer linger, so prepared himself to leave the next afternoon. When he looked at the work they had accomplished, he felt the traces of anger rising, struggling to force them back down. Minion had decided to finish the work they had already begun. They had managed to clear a path connecting the three gates of the town, along with the harbour, as well as clearing many of the civilian housing around the port. They had also managed to put up the beginnings of defences, mostly being debris that would keep any predators out. They had not however, even with all their hours, been able to clear the manor house that had been thrust upon them, nor had they been able to connect the wealthy district with the main roads. Max had pointed out there would be repercussions for this, however Minion claimed Darius’s brother was a good Autem and would understand. He had insisted Darius was unlikely to check before he arrived, but Max was trained to feel unease with the word ‘unlikely’.
Getting his bag once more packed with his meagre possessions, he added to it a small cloth bundle that contained some dried meat Minion had given him. Max had also lucked into a violin he found amidst the rubble, he couldn’t help but take it for his own. He also decided to bring the axe he had been using when on tree removal, still adamant not to use the blade hidden in his pack. When he was about to close the pack, he saw the small pouch that was carefully nestled at the bottom, lingering on it and the promise he had made.
He prepared to leave that night, knowing he could no longer wait for a sign, deciding he would simply march into the Northern Waste and find the warband the hard way. The skal surprised him with a small celebration, or at least the best they could do. They gave him the biggest piece of unknown meat in the entire room and gave him water that he could almost make out his reflection in. The small creatures patted him on the back of his leg and most shook his hand, something he found odd as he had not seen any do a gesture like that. Later he found himself sitting alongside Minion, who revealed he had taught them the human gesture hoping to gain a smile.
Max couldn't help but grin at his friend, for that was what Minion had become, the two of them were an unlikely pair. Over the almost two weeks of knowing each other, they found themselves each night talking and sharing food alongside one another. They refrained from bringing up what both had on their minds, deciding not to have arguments about a difference in culture and opinion that neither was willing to back down on. Instead, they spoke of other things such as the difference in their upbringing or how best to deal with whatever issue the day had given them. Max spoke often about what it was like being trained from the day he was born to serve in the military, reframing from telling him that he had been trained so hard as he was one of the Black Legion. No doubt the creature had been told all kinds of horror stories about the Legion. Minion spoke of his childhood, saying from an early age his above average intelligence had him quickly pushed up the ranks, as even those already leading saw his quick mind and stood down graciously.
“Is that why you're so good at languages then?”
“Oh no, although that probably helped me learn faster, I was in charge of the main foundry beneath the Midnight City, I believe you call her the Midnight City? At least, I was in charge of the slave forces, training the new slaves and coordinating the efforts. With so many different races including both slaves and free creatures, I was forced to slowly pick up the different languages otherwise nothing was ever going to get done. If there is a creature on Scarvo, I almost definitely can have at the very least a civil conversation with them. Most however were not very talkative, as I think they did not like being spoken down to and given orders by one so small. The humans were quite talkative, hence why I have such good knowledge of the language.” Minion explained impressing Max further.
“So how many did you know? You speak as though it was your old tongue, you must have had quite a few humans around?” Max was not sure if he wanted to know the answer, yet could not help but ask.
“Many, too many to count… I am ninety-six years old, I was born and raised during the height of the Immortal War. There was a constant influx in human prisoners, especially in the early years of my childhood, before the humans begun outplaying the elves so effectively.” Minion explained, surprising Max. It was common knowledge that many of the old races were practically immortal, living as old as their souls allowed. Those who had an unnatural drive and resilience within them could live over a thousand years, some even longer. Some humans had a variation of this gift, many of Max’s brothers having looked young till the day they died, even if that was fifty or a hundred years later. Human immortality was very fickle, seemingly connected to certain bloodlines or magics from what Max had heard. The oldest man Max had seen was over three hundred years old, the Second Sword of the Legion, the Old Man.
“You might be surprised to know how old I am, most are. I am one hundred and forty, give or take a few years if I am not mistaken.” Max teased seeing the surprise look upon Minion’s face. Minion’s surprise made him smile as often even humans could not believe Max was so old, as he had the appearance of someone in his mid-twenties to early thirties at most. Max almost told him how he was staying young but decided to leave him thinking he was one of the lucky humans.
“You are just full of surprises aren't you, an old man in the body of a young one, a great warrior and expert tree cutter. You keep this up, you might be seen as a prophet of Kai.” Minion said with a laugh that Max quickly reciprocated.
“Trust me, there is nothing holy about me, I'm simply a man who made some very stupid decisions and survived through luck alone.” He responded thinking back to the countless times he almost died but was saved through luck or one of his brothers at his back.
“Maybe I should start calling you Kai’s champion, I'm sure I could find you a big pointy hat and flaming sword?” Minion said jokingly, however Max worried he perhaps was considering it.
“Don't call me that, if you make me the prophet of that dick, I swear my first order will be for you to go fuck yourself.” Max replied dully shaking his head.
“Whatever you say your holiness.” Minion replied giving him a bow, causing Max to throw the bone he had picked clean at his friend’s head while they both laughed. “So do you have any other skills, something less manly?” Minion tease once more causing Max to grin. Nervously, Max’s face turned red for one of the few times in his life as he replied.
“I can play the violin.” His words once more shocked Minion whose eyes flung open. Max couldn’t look him in the eye from the sheer embarrassment of being a tough warrior who played an instrument like some bard.
“I must hear you play; I can only imagine it would be the highlight of my year.” The creature replied making Max consider throwing something bigger than a bone this time. “How did such a tough warrior like you learn to play an instrument, especially one as delicate as a violin?”
“You might be surprised to learn but part of my training included learning an instrument. It's ridiculous but it's supposed to help teach us commitment to a task, as well as improve our finer movements with our hands.” Max replied remembering back to when he had picked the violin while most of his brothers, including Chris, had gone for more loud and obnoxious instruments. Max grins remembering back to Chris slamming away at the drum like an ape, receiving a smack round the head from the Old Man instead of him always hitting Max. “I'm actually quite good at it, the only issue is my singing, it sounds like a drowning cat, so I always had to have one of my brothers sing whatever song I was playing.”
“You always call them brothers and never say their names… Perhaps I am wrong, but are you a man of the Black Legion?” Minion almost froze as he looked over Max inquisitively. Max gave a simple short nod, unsure how his friend would react. “I have heard thousands of stories about the Black Legion, never once did I hear anything about them being musicians. Butchers however…”
“We are a very old group, there is so many tales and songs about us, honestly I don't even know how much if it is true. I'm no longer one of them so it's not really my place to reveal their secrets, I can promise you we were not mindless butchers though, we are men who are trying to protect our people, regardless of the cost. Or perhaps I should say they are, instead of we.” Max pictured the Legion in all their glory, people in the tens of thousands rushed to see them whenever they appeared out of fascination. They are the oldest bastions of humanity, having stood at the front of humanity destroying everything that came before it. It was not commonly spoken about, but the Emperor's bloodline came from the homeland of the Black Legion in Kindled Wake. Still to this day, the Ironhearts breed with the Legion’s women, sharing the powerful blood of the Ironhearts throughout the Legion, meaning it was possible Max was even related to the Emperor.
“Is it true the Black Legion is descended from phoenixes?” Minion asked with utter curiosity across his face.
“No, at least not as I am aware. The phoenixes however do have one of their few nests in our land and as it is on our banners, many of us even see them as more holy than the Gods. We have been accused of sleeping with them, however seeing how hot they burn I can't imagine putting my dick anywhere near one.” Max said chuckling as he remembered the incredibly beautiful birds that were not just the symbol of the Black Legion but of the Empire itself.
“Where do you live then? Or should I say, where did you live?”
“A place called Kindled Wake, a vast region surrounded by mountains with only two passages and a small river leading in. The region was magnificent, the south and north filled with trees and wildlife beyond imagining, while the centre was vast rolling hills. It was a practise of my ancestors to take creatures that they saw while on conquest, they would bring them home and release them into the region. Often, they would simply die to the other creatures already living there, as they were not suited for the environment. However, others would thrive and wipe out indigenous creatures, becoming the new powerful beast that my people would hunt and train ourselves against. There are more mysteries in that region then I could even begin to comprehend. The Pale Men who roam the woods, never speaking to us and disappearing whenever we approached. Rumours that the lake of Compendance, the lake that covers a vast area of the southern region, is home to a creature that emerges and claims those it deems unworthy, before sinking into the depths. Or my favourite, that should you walk alone without your brothers to protect you, a Smiling Man will appear and corrupt you. He will twist you into fulfilling the most depraved and twisted actions, for believing yourself strong enough to walk alone in this world.”
Minion listens as Max continued to speak, fascinated by these tales of a distant land that he knew he would never see.
“It was a brutal land Minion; I once thanked the mother and father daily that I survived, however as I grew older, I realised there was no one helping me and my brothers to survive. It was our training; it was years of only allowing the most powerful and skilled among us to breed with the women, producing not men but weapons of war. It was those tireless training sessions with blades and fist, where they would beat you bloody, training with sharpened steel, fully ready to watch children slice one another apart. It was those hours of sitting there listening to veterans tell us old stories and strategies that had not been seen for thousands of years, even while we almost passed out from days without sleep. It was all these things combined that made us what we are, as well as that land and all the danger and beauty held within. Everything from the freezing winters to the boiling summers, it was like the land itself was training us alongside our masters. Even though we filled that land with creatures with some of the most vile and destructive abilities you can imagine, we made them fear us.”
“You almost speak like you loved it, but it sounds awful. I don't understand it. That place sounds worse than anywhere I've ever lived, and yet you have a smile on your face while you talk about it, like it was awesome game that you enjoyed every moment of.”
“You're right, I love that place with all my heart and those bad things meant nothing. There I had a purpose; I knew what I was and where I belonged. In Kindled Wake it was us against the world, while there were disagreements, we are all united under the understanding that we were all one. None of us had parents, taken from birth, thrown together with only men until we had joined the Legion. For twenty-one years, I spent almost every day around my brothers, fighting side by side in non-stop training. The brotherhood we formed knowing that we had only each other made us powerful. Surely you must understand this on some level? You mentioned it yourself, the feeling of working to complete a goal as part of a group knowing you are one of them. You belong there, nothing else in the world matters if you have them around you, watching your back and working with you to accomplish your shared goal. Nothing else mattered, all the brutal training and torture they put us through was simple because as long as I had my brothers, I was unstoppable and there was nothing they could do to break me.”
Max stops talking, leaving it unsaid that now he had no brothers, so he had nothing. He spent over nighty years feeling as though he belonged, now it was washed away, he was left alone out in the cold. Minion could see it on his face and did not say it. Max wondered if the Smiling Man would come for him now, he was alone after all.
Rod appeared later and gave another gift to Max, this time a golden coin with a phoenix with green eyes, that matched his own, on one side. The other side had six smaller symbols resembling the great families that ruled under the Emperor back home. Max could not believe the boy had found something like this in Scarvo, where these coins would be seen as heresy. They were the most valuable of the coins called a boon, only Lords traded with them. Max smiled and thanked the boy; it comforted his heart to have a piece of his home. He then reached into his bag and gave the boy a gift, deciding the boy should have something that wasn't plundered from ruins. He pulled from the bag a small copper ball, that even at its small size had a solid weight to it. The ball had strange patterns engraved into it, on their own appearing to be random, however when Max rested it on the table and spun it, a picture begun to form. It was off a small bird amid flight, flapping its wings with little flames gliding behind it.
Rod was fascinated, examining the ball as it repeated. It had been constructed by a friend who could use minor magic, as a gift and to show off to Max. Max picked it up and handed it to the boy, giving him a smile as he eagerly ran off to play and show his friends his new toy.
“What will you do?” Minion asked smiling as he saw the boy rushing off, a grin faintly showing from his beak.
“In truth, I don't know. I was given a vague destination and a task, although both I am unsure about. For now, I will head north into the Waste, it has the fewest elves so I should be able to walk freely, after that… Part of me wants vengeance, a bloody vengeance at that. Another part of me simply wants to keep a promise I made to my brother; a promise I am not sure I am strong enough to keep. Too many options for a mere man to decide. Part of me simply just wants to die, however I am far too stubborn to let myself die without a fight.” Max replied honestly while watching Rod playing, keeping his voice steady and emotionless. He did not reveal that stubbornness was not the only thing to stay his hand, the promise of a new purpose, even one he was unsure off, was.
“I will not pry into your affairs; however, I do recommend something other than attempting to slaughter an entire race. The war is over Max, you are the only one still fighting it, you need to let it go and return to your home where you belong. They are your brothers; they will take you back, I am sure.” Minion pleaded as Max’s eyes finally rested upon Minion’s, a fiery rage dancing behind his glowing green eyes.
“Whether I take revenge or not, the war will not be over as long as I stand.” The way he spoke was haunting and sinister, causing Minion to visibly shiver as the rage hiding just beneath the surface threatened to level the room around them. “And I am not alone.”
The celebration did not last long as there was still work to be done. While his small friends returned to work, or to get what little sleep they could before their next shift started, Max made his way to leave. He did not say goodbye, preferring to instead leave things unsaid. He packed his bags, then made his way to leave the sewer and the town forever. As he neared the entrance, raised voices sounded from where the small eating area had been set up. As Max neared, he could make out the old tongue, making his blood boil.
“You have overstepped, Leon came to inspect your work and found the manor I told you to clear unfinished. Do you know what he found when he searched the two? None of you working! He came to this shithole to find you here celebrating with a human, singing and partying like fools as if he was one of you!” Darius yelled, holding the perfectly sharpened edge of his sword against Minion’s throat with three more of his kin behind him, their weapons also drawn watching the crowd. Max hid behind the wall, only slightly peering around the corner, his instincts driving him to act and cut these elves down. Yet, he had sworn to let Minion handle his own business.
“I swear Master; we did not know he was human, he tricked us and then left! He ran south, if you are quick...” Minion lied before receiving a kick to his chest, launching him into a stack of books being used as a table. Darius stepped over him, bringing his foot down upon the creature’s throat and applying pressure.
As Max watched the guilt stabbed at his heart. He had caused this or at the very least he was partly to blame. They were celebrating his leaving; this was his fault for not insisting they fix the manor house first, he had known this would happen if they did not. His vision turned bloody, the axe at his side sang to him a melody of death, whispering in its beautiful voice that it would be so easy. The average elf versus the average human, the elf would always win. It is said it takes five humans to kill one elf, however this is a lie. Max knew all too well, he and his brothers were a match for even the hardiest of the elves, as during the Immortal War they carved through them like they were children. He knew confidently that he could disembowel them without even trying, using their arrogance and confidence that they are faster and stronger to his advantage. He stopped himself once more though, he had sworn he would let Minion deal with this himself. And if he killed them what then? They would be hunted down and slaughtered or simply starve at the edge of the world. ‘This was not his decision, this was not his decision, this was not his decision!’ He screamed in his mind, trying his hardest to fight the rage but feeling it bubble closer and closer to the surface, along with red veins running across his arms. A voice started to rise within his mind, one he knew all too well, the voice spoke like a demon of death demanding blood.
“Consume them, make them yours, take their souls as your prize!” A tidal wave of bloodlust caused Max's entire body to shake. Finally, he could not take it anymore, he felt like he was going to be sick or combust into flame like a phoenix, leaving nothing but ash. He dug the axe head into his leg, slicing open a large wound that sprayed blood and released the pressure on his mind, letting him breathe once more. He was barely holding it together as Darius continued.
“You worthless creature, you know all too well what a human is, and you fed and drank with one like it was a comrade in arms! They stole everything from not only us, but you as well, and yet you would aid them! I am sick to even look at you, when I am done with you and this pathetic excuse for a hive, you will remember your place! Clearly burning your children did not get the point across! Maybe this time I will flay your children alive, leaving them at your feet squirming for life! Maybe that will...” Darius shouted, however he was cut off when Max gave a growl that echoed throughout the sewer. He rounded the corner snarling like a beast, foam dripping down his chin like a feral animal wanting nothing more than to devour its prey.
The room went silent, the elves removed their grins, eyeing the newcomer with horror. Fear combined with a desire for blood raised in their hearts, attempting to match Max’s. No words were said for a long moment, broken when Darius and his three elves slowly began moving to form a loose semi-circle surrounding the entrance.
“Finel herm!” Darius snarled in the old tongue, saying ‘gut him’. His three companions moved forwards as one, moving in a swift and beautiful simultaneous motion. Time slowed as Max gave in to the rhythm, his eyes closing for a moment as his mind entered the trance. When his eyes opened, his body was no longer his own, but was a weapon perfectly designed to be the peak of human skill and determination. While the rage was fuelling him, he did not let it control him, turning it into a weapon to empower the action his instincts required.
Immediately realising he could not fight off three swordsmen with a small hatchet, he threw the weapon towards the right guard. He quickly sliced it from the air, knocking it off to the side without slowing. The other two continued their advance, hungry for blood. Stepping backwards into the hallway, forcing them to attack him single file through the one entrance, the middle elf followed him first, a confident smile on his lips. He stabbed forward so quickly that no normal human could dare to even see it, however Max was no normal human.
So quickly, even the elves superior vision could barely keep up, Max moved to the right and grabbed the elf’s sword arm, squeezing it so tight the bone snapped and shattered beneath his grip. His left hand clutched the handle of the blade tearing it from the elves grip before slicing it across his face. The strike did not kill him, as the elf stumbled back, but it left a deep and bloody wound, forcing him to his knees where he clutched at the tear to keep his face together. The left elf jumped over his companion, bringing down his sword in what would have been a beautiful show of swordsmanship, hoping to use his superior strength to overpower Max. However, with Max’s superior height and being far stronger than the elf could have anticipated, he raised his sword up to block the downwards attack. He stopped the attack dead, before forcing the elf's blade into the roof of the sewer, burying it deep within the stones. He grabbed the shocked elf with his left hand by his throat, crushing his windpipe. Leaving him choking and wheezing, as he collapsed to the floor screaming no doubt to a God with his wordless cries.
The third elf entered to take his turn, however seeing how easily his allies had fallen, his arrogance sunk from his face. He watched warily, waiting for Max to act first, a challenge he accepted. Max began slicing forward, matching blow for blow with the elf who parried carefully. Seemingly they were in a stalemate, as both were far too quick and precise with their movements to allow an opening. Max however, simply dug into his bottomless bag of tricks. He clashed his blade into the elf, locking the two together before using his strength to throw the elf back, where he tripped over his companions and stumble to the floor. Even with his superior speed, he could not stand quick enough. He squealed as a blade pierced through the front of his mouth, sticking from the other side of his head, before being pulled free and having the top half of his head slice clean through for good measure.
Max raised his left hand, gripping the blade still stuck in the ceiling before pulling it free. He jammed both swords into the still squirming elves at his feet, piercing both within the heart, burying the blades with enough force they dug through the stone floor into the ground. Tensing his muscles, he pulled both swords free of the bodies and the earth, before re-entering the room and staring at Darius.
“Do you remember me?” Max asked in the old tongue, his eyes fixed on Darius. Veins of fire danced across Max’s skin as he swung his two new swords cleanly around his hands, testing the weight as he had no doubts this pompous pointy had been thoroughly trained in swordsmanship.
“No… you can’t be, they promised they destroyed you?” Darius asked as he stared into Max’s green eyes, instantly knowing him for what he used to be. “The Wraith of the West?”
“I used to be, now I am just a man, here to take your ear, then your life.” Max taunts, however, he was not entirely set on his decision. His eyes moved to Minion, as he stared into the creature’s eyes before speaking in imperial, hoping a young Autem Midnight elf would not wish to sully himself learning such a vile language. “You were right, I'm a broken man consumed by vengeance, but I gave you my word and I intend to keep it. So, it is time for you to decide.”
Minion’s eyes go wide, however Max ignores him as he rushes forward and begins battling the elf. Darius was a joke and Max felt stupid for considering him a threat, he had clearly been trained but had no experience in true battle. He leaves himself open with simple an easy to take advantage of moves, as well as swinging wide showing where he intended to attack. Max does not kill him however and continues slashing away at the poor defences, getting in small cuts and wounds where he can, while struggling to not kill the elf as he waits for Minion to decide.
Max was a bitter warrior who should have died on the battlefield and yet here he stands, if he lived this day, he would simply bring more death and destruction in search of his promised purpose. This was his moment to die and join his brothers in the afterlife. However, he wanted to give Minion a chance to make a decision for himself. He could not kill the elf as that would break the promise he made, to not kill Darius unless Minion agreed. His honour as a warrior stopped him from simply allowing himself to lose. He would fight until Minion either decided to help him or to attack him, either way, someone would die at Minions call.
As the fight raged on, Max had to try harder and harder not to tear Darius apart as his rage fuelled him to fulfil his training. Finally, a voice called.
“Do it, you have my permission.” Minion’s voice was calm, showing no signs of hesitation. Max however could not believe what he was hearing. He could not comprehend what Minion was thinking, however his rage had passed beyond toying with the elf, the curse within him drove him to finally act. He spun his body, dodging a thrust and bringing down both swords upon the elf's hand, severing it. He then threw his swords aside, grabbing the elves left hand as it came up to punch him. He gripped it with his left hand before punching down with his right, shattering Darius’s wrist, making the elf stumbled to the floor, panicking and wheezing from the pain. Max grabbed Darius by the throat in his right hand, lifting him to eye level before grabbing his ear with his other hand and tearing it from his head, as well as a large chunk of flesh and skin. The wound sprayed blood out of him as he squealed like a pig.
“Tell Lady Death, the Wraith sends his regards!” Max spat as he tightened his grip further, crushing away the bones around the elf's throat causing him to squeal and flinch and throw his body in a failed attempt to escape before finally succumbing. His face turned from the pale white into the frozen blue as the life was squeezed from him, before being thrown to the floor, like the worthless piece of filth he was to Max. As Darius died, Max felt an unseen energy radiating from his body. As it raised from Darius, along with his three companions, their souls floated into Max like a swarm of moths to light. As their souls merged into Maxs body, he felt them combined with his own soul, causing it to grow larger.
A silence set over the room as Max stared down at the bloody form beneath him, refusing to look up at the horrified faces surrounding him. The red behind his eyes lessened and finally he could breathe once more, the pressure on his heart no longer driving him. The desire for death his soul had begged for since the end of the war lessoned, as the power Max once knew all too well rose in his heart. When Max looked up, not able to stare at his work any longer, he noticed the eyes stared at him not in horror but with admiration. It reminded Max of the way his people looked at Emperor Liam IronHeart the Third, they stared like children eagerly waiting a command.
“Why didn't you fucking kill me?” Max said, his voice level as he turned towards Minion who stared at him with the same look as the others.
“I don't know, I should have done and now there will be suffering because I did not. I have set in motion the same death and destruction Slug did.” Minion replied, tilting his head and walking closer to Max still with a look of fascination.
“It's not too late, put me in chains and take me to the elves, say you captured me after I killed Darius, it won't be as good as my original plan, but it will work, I am sure.” Max says, hating the idea of being in chains in front of the elves, however he hated the idea of forcing the skal to suffer for him.
“I don't know where we go from here, but I am not handing you over to be tortured and killed.” Minion insisted as his eyes tear up and he clenched his claws. “You worked with us, you ate with us and now you killed for us. What are we if we turn on you? We are the pathetic scum he saw us as. I would rather die than bring my people that low.”
Minion turns towards the others in the room, before squawking, using many words Max did not understand. Whatever was said there was little debate, as any who squawked back, were immediately jumped on by Minion and a few others before they too fell silent. When he finished, they begun rushing around searching the bodies Max had made, stealing everything of value from them. The others rushed outside as though their lives depended on it. “We can decide what to do later but right now we need action. The rest of the elves will be in their encampment near the southern entrance to the city, we must deal with them as quickly as possible. We need to alert the rest of the hive and attack together, hopefully our numbers will be enough to win the fight.”
“No, I won’t have you rushing in to die for me.” Max insists, unwilling to relent on this, however Minion fixes him with a glare.
“I made a decision to back you and if we're going to do it, we need to do so with all our hearts. You said so yourself, ‘size doesn't matter when there is a dagger in your throat.’ We need to eliminate them as quickly as possible. Then, we will collect our dead and theirs and burn them on a large pyre, make it look like there was an attack and we were all killed. That should stop us from being hunted down and killed, as they will hopefully just assume we will all slaughtered by some unknown enemy.” Minion says in a cold and detached tone. Max starts to argue with the plan however he realises that it could work. He gives a firm nod, however he is unwilling to back down on them fighting.
“I will deal with them myself; you and the rest of the hive get everything of value and get the pyre made. We will simply have to use the bodies of the workers who died, hopefully that will be enough to convince them that you're all dead or have been enslaved. Once you've got everything worth taking from the city, load it into the horses and carts and meet me at the south entrance. We will loot their camp of its valuables, then decide where to go after that.” Max says falling back into his role as a General, leading his men into battle.
“You cannot take on an entire camp of elves on your own, they know a human is here and will be on guard, you could be the greatest warrior in the world and it's still too much. All they need to do is get lucky with one strike and you're gone.” Minion insists as the armour and weapons from the dead elves are slowly piled on the floor, while several skal look over them unsure of themselves.
“I told you before, ‘I am not alone,’ do as I say and leave the elves to me.” Max stared at Minion and for the briefest moment, Minion pushes back as though he's going to fight Max's decision. However, the confidence Max exudes was unquestionable, causing Minion to back down.
“Will you at least tell me where your reinforcements are? We don't have much time so if they are more than a few hours away it would be faster if we simply attack with you?” Minion asks out of curiosity and no longer with the commanding tone.
“There right here, try to remain calm, I will explain when we are away from here.” Max says attempting to prepare Minion as he raises his left hand, and the ground begins flooding with energy. Around him, the ground darkens as five large shapes begin forming. Hands, alive with fire, burst from the stone floor, their fingers digging into the earth as they claw themselves from below the earth. As they pull, more of their bodies come into view, alive with fire and snapping at the air. When finally they stand atop the stones, leaving no trace they clawed their way out of the dirt, Darius and his three elven guards, stand naked in the room. They stare towards Minion and Max, a single naked human standing amongst them, all with hunger in their eyes.
