The sword seethed and hissed, surface bubbling as though heated from within. Poratia could feel the will of the thing, a power trying to latch onto a soul and force it into submission.. But it was weak and stunted, kept starved for long centuries and now behind warding circles, what had once been a honed razor of power now blunt and feeble. A low groan echoed around the stone chamber, the blade rising up slightly, rattling the rune-forged chains that held it onto the altar.

She held a hand up, fingers bent at the precise angles required for the invocation, the gemstone between her fingers melting away into powder that hovered in the air, red dust turning black as it spiralled towards the blade.

One of the blisters of metal expanded and then popped, metallic dust falling out, a more solid lump tinkling onto the altar. The tip of the sword twisted, the chains clanking and keeping the thing contained. That it still retained the power to try and escape was impressive and worrisome – she was having to devote some of her power to keeping the thing under control, and it couldn’t be removed from this location without risk. If it were free, no doubt it would seek a champion to wield it, someone powerful enough to be useful, but weak-willed enough that it could dominate them into being a slave. And from there, found souls to feast on, to regain some measure of power after it’s long sleep.

It surged upwards, the chains snapping taut, tip of the blade just about able to scratch against the innermost barrier which sparked with light, fending off the intrusion. It made an ear-splitting whine as it tried to cut through before Poratia flicked her fingers, making the chains tighten and drag the thing back into place.

‘What will it take to break you, I wonder?’ Even though the thing couldn’t answer, she was sure that it could hear her, and that it could feel pain. She blew air towards it, the puff heating up until it distorted vision, a furnace-blast smashing into the metal, heating it even more. Another heat-blister popped open, more metallic dust falling to the floor.

She turned to look at Ophexia who made a sweeping gesture, using a spell to gather up the dust, carefully keeping it all together, along with the metal shard. Ophexia’s eyes flicked up to look at her, barely-disguised hatred flashing for a second before vanishing behind a mask of subservience. That would suffice – fear was a remarkable motivator, especially when combined with continual punishment. When she relaxed her vision to see the magical flows within her daughter’s body, beneath the protective aura of their enchanted robe, she could see a complicated network of dark lines, heaviest around one eye, where a needle-thin shard of the metal had been inserted. It throbbed with malefic power, in time with Ophexia’s heartbeat, ready to respond to Poratia’s call. Just a few small twists and turns had been enough to make Ophexia realise her position, and that just a few seconds of focus would result in that same needle piercing the eye, or digging deeper into the brain, crippling or killing her.

The dust was swept out of the magical circles and then into a small clay jar, already inscribed with runic wards.

‘A sufficient harvest for now, I think. Enough to create a few more useful pawns.’

Ophexia paused before responding, clearly unsure if it was a rhetorical question or not. ‘Yes, Grand Magus. Shamuth has acquired some fresh stock.’

‘Hmph. Mere meat, and often passive and unenthusiastic. It would be more advantageous to be using our resources to turn lords and ladies – those that rule and have power.’ She stared at Ophexia, taking pleasure in the way that she looked down and away, refusing to rise to the challenge. ‘A shame that you were not more careful of your appearance. It would be advantageous to have someone fair of form to serve as a lure. But now my forces are starting to mass, then that should serve some use, I expect.’

Another voice hissed out from the darkness, soft and wet. ‘Yes, that is one thing Janaxia would have been useful for. A pretty little lure, for those that like such things. And yet she is free, and even working with our enemies.’

Poratia twisted her fingers, chanelling more power into the protective wards, the sword yowling as it continued to blister. ‘Zarazonnia will provide power for the Blade when she is defeated, and her pride ripped away. And her invasion will create more chaos for us to exploit.’

‘And yet, you were defeated, and your daughter spurns you.’ The figure approached – Poratia hadn’t detected any magic that would indicate them transporting themselves in, but was also sure there had been no-one in here when she had entered the chamber. Perhaps it was time to start thinking of eliminating them, and see how much sustenance their soul would provide? Although she had little way to judge their skill – weak as a practitioner of magic, but their body had potent healing powers, and they continued to exhibit strange and unwelcome powers. ‘And you have not yet fully healed, have you?’

They approached more closely, their loose clothing rippling as the body beneath warped and shifted between different sizes and forms. Their face was half-covered behind a cloth mask, only jet-black eyes visible, set into a scarred face.

Poratia hissed, the dull throbbing down her chest seeming to flare up – that wretched shadow-girl had latched onto her, sharp teeth biting and ripping, leaving ugly, savage wounds, that resisted healing magic. Not enough to hinder her movement, but a continual throbbing of pain that refused to entirely fade or heal.

‘She learned her lesson and paid her price. A shame I was not able to do the same to Janaxia, but I will teach her terror and suffering soon enough. I think living the broken life of a flayed and broken piece of meat will be punishment enough for her.’

‘She marches with Zarazonnia, or so my agents tell me. While she may not be your equal, she is a potent wizard in her own right. And to think you missed her having the Book – had you but seized that years ago, then our work would be all but done.’

Poratia flicked a hand through the air, the chains screeching tightly against the bound sword, metal-on-metal, making it scream. Where had that foolish girl found such a thing? And how had she managed to avoid becoming it’s thrall?

‘If it cannot even possess such a one as her, then the Book must be weakened beyond measure. And she is foolish enough to mistake it for a run of the mill spellbook, ignorant of the power she could wield. But now that it’s location is known, our work becomes easier. But what of your quest for the Bell? To call forth a legion of demons, that would be true power.’

It was their turn to look away. ‘It appears to have gone to ground. Every lead my agents follow leads to nothing, save death and demons. It appears to be aware that it is hunted, and to be going to some lengths to hide itself. But it cannot hide forever – power calls to power, and there are few powers greater than it. Perhaps it may even come to the aid of its sibling?’ They turned to look at the Blade, an arm suddenly bulking up before fading away. ‘They worked together once, perhaps some familial bonds remain?’ They raised an arm, the tattered fabric falling back to reveal scarred and burned flesh, dark veins throbbing. The clay pot rattled, the lid slowly opening before Ophexia pushed it down and used a spell to seal it.

Poratia frowned. While only she had the power to bind the sword, and prevent it wrecking havoc and vengeance, could this shifter be trying to usurp her control? Or simply empower themselves? She quickly checked through her magical defences, making sure she was warded against attacks and magical spells, with appropriate contingency spells in place. A fight here, in her place of power, should be one-sided, but it was always best to be cautious.

‘Are your forces placed appropriately?’

‘Oh yes. A few pushes, a few knives in the dark, and kingdoms shall fall. When the ruler is out of the way, then it will be harder for the followers to rally themselves. And I see that your legions of the dead are making their way here? The locals appear amusing perturbed by it all.’

‘Indeed. An army, that needs no food nor water, and can march through the day and night, without stopping or pausing – an army that exists only to fight.’

‘I shall give the command to unleash chaos then. And then we can move on with our plans. Remember the pact we made, Poratia. It would be such a shame if we were to disagree, after all we have done together.’

They started looking at their hand, seemingly surprised by the changes moving over it, the fingers shifting into thin and elegant shapes, better suited to a piano player rather than a bloody-handed assassin.

‘Worry not – once the Uth Tremari dominion has been established, and I am truly immortal, then you shall have your price. And the Bell, Book and Blade together command power unimaginable to mortals – with that at our command, then none shall stand before us.’ If Poratia had anything to do with the matter, they would be dead long before then, their soul severed from their body and shoved into a gem for future questioning. How this freak knew about ancient secrets and mysteries Poratia had never been able to figure out – they gave no indication of having any past.

‘Per Tolith and the Iristari will be a problem. They seem skilled at ferreting out my agents, and have the organisation and the logistics to counter us in the field. Even your legions of the dead seem likely to fall against a more disciplined and skilled force of the living. While I don’t doubt your magical prowess, you lack Kinnevar’s prowess in the field.’

‘Numbers and sheer power will suffice. There are few that can withstand thousands of corpses swarming over their walls, coupled with magical devastation. Even the fabled Iristari discipline will fall in the face of such an onslaught.’

‘I hope that such will be true. Otherwise matters may get rather complicated. And I, at least, would rather this matter of conquest stays simple.’

Poratia couldn’t see their expression, but got the distinct idea they were smirking, shoulders relaxed. With anyone else, she would simply strike them down for their impertinence, leave them broken and blooded, but she wasn’t sure how many of her spells would even have an effect on them – a few enchantments she had tried had simply slid off, the thing’s form no longer human enough to accept such bindings, or they were wreathed in protective magic of their own.

‘We have planned for this. And Peresperan’s questing for the bound demons has been mostly successful, with their power now being stolen. A few missing or already destroyed, but more than enough remain to aid us.‘

‘He should be recalled in order to lead the armies. He has at least studied tactics.’

‘You do not give instructions here.’ Poratia made power crackle around her forehead, bright enough to illuminate the darkness for a moment. ‘Do not presume above your position. He will remain where he is, as I command him to.’

They made a mocking bow, the fabric over their back seething as random spines pushed at the material. ‘As you wish it. I shall leave you to your magics. Although perhaps consider ordering your legions of the dead to move soon? Some of them are beginning to sink into the swamp, and may be rather hard to remove.’

They turned around, their back a tempting target, open and exposed, their shape still not entirely consistent. But they were more useful alive, at least for now. Once they were gone, Poratia turned to Ophexia, slapping her across the cheek with the back of her hand, feeling her rings bite into flesh.

‘Go and see to the army. Ensure that all of them are functional.’

Blood trickled down Ophexia’s face from where the ring had broken her skin. A flash of anger was quickly supressed, Poratia readying a spell just in case.

‘Yes, Grand Magus. As you order, I obey.’

She left, her back held stiff with humiliation, leaving Poratia alone again, except for the blade.