The Demon Army, as one might expect from a loose affiliation of numerous ‘evil’ races had more than its share of shady dealers. Monstrous creatures had a tendency to spawn monstrous societies. Those societies had a tendency to have particularly dark corners that bred remarkably dangerous individuals.

When the original Lenore had been going through a particularly rebellious phase, she’d sought out such a corner and found her way to the Sisterhood. The title had been a bit of a falsehood, there was no gender requirements placed on the membership. It was merely the title that had been passed on for generations as the organization gained strength and connections.

They were assassins. Didn’t matter who you wanted dead, so long as you were willing to sign the contract and pay the price, they’d kill for you, then they’d take their payment. The greater the challenge, the greater the cost. Want someone powerful enough dead, you had to be willing to offer up your own life. Want to escape a miserable existence with a family you detested? Join the ranks and pass their tests.

Lenore hadn’t passed those tests, but she hadn’t died to them either. Frankly, the whole experience had been a lot less miserable than either Proving. She’d been measured, found wanting, and sent on her way with no particular malice. Sure, it had been a crushing blow to her confidence that had seen her rushing the next challenge with such foolhardy speed that she’d ended up downright screwed over, but the failure itself? That hadn’t been so bad.

Still, the drills that she’d been forced to practice, and the movements of the ones teaching them to her. Those she remembered. It was something to the balance on the balls of the feet that she hadn’t seen emulated anywhere else. The way their attacks whipped through the air, almost whispering as they went. These two either had been or were still of the Sisterhood. And that meant that there was no way that Larry and Valkar could handle them alone.

“Oh, this is a bad idea,” she muttered under her breath. “Hey Pitch, talk with me for a minute.”

The world around her froze in an instant. The shadowy presence instantly made itself known in front of her, a smarmy oozing of self-satisfaction. It hovered around her, enveloping her before settling back at arm’s length from her.

“So she can still be bothered to speak to me when she feels like it.”

“Oh please, do NOT expect me to pretend that you have feelings to hurt. I don’t have the time or the bandwidth.”

“I humored you, now you must humor me, Namethief. And you most certainly have the time, if little else.”

“I’m about to do something stupid, and I need to know if it’s even possible.”

“Of course, Namethief. Happy to be of service, Namethief. Eager to leap at your instruction, Namethief.”

“Christ, you’re petulant today. Was it really that large a challenge to do without your daily harassment of me for one goddamn day?”

“You ignore my counsel at your own peril, and yet you insist on shoving me aside at every opportunity. This is hardly an effective partnership.”

“It’s not a partnership, Pitch. It’s fucked up, it’s miserable, and it’s costly. But it’s not a partnership. I may not understand what you’re actually getting out of this, but you’re definitely getting something that you’re not sharing with me. You really want me to start taking you seriously, tell me what you get out of all this. And don’t try any crap about how this is all just entertainment to you.”

“Another time, perhaps, Namethief,” said Pitch in a curious tone. “I’ll grant you one answer, best not waste the question.”

Len paused, considering. It was always a game or test with Pitch. There was some outcome it craved, but asking for it directly was either against its morals or against its whims. Either way, it wouldn’t be swaying from that. It meant that she only had time to get the answer to one of her concerns here.

“Am I able to tie more people into this ‘Flagellation’ thing of yours without risking them or myself.”

“Really, Namethief? That’s your question. I expected something grander. Something bolder. This? It’s barely worth wasting breath on.”

“It’s the answer I need right now, mate. Sorry if it didn’t live up to your expectations.”

“You realize that you could just drop the ability and recast it, of course.”

“Maybe, but those two are barely staying in this fight as it is. I can’t risk what might happen if they were unprotected even for a moment. I need to add those two to this while it’s still active.”

“That is not traditionally the way it is intended to be used. The consequences can be severe for the untrained. Put simply: it could kill you.”

She’d been hoping to hear better news than that.

“But it could work, too?”

“Oh, aye. There’s certainly the potential for it. If your will is strong enough. If theirs is. You already are getting a feel for what it’s like to link two different races. Now you’ll be linking three? And with more bodies than you’ve ever linked on top of everything else? I don’t think I like your chances, Namethief. Perhaps I could offer you something else. The power to wipe these fools from the face of creation with a gesture. I could give you power to rival even the Demon Lord or the Celestial Host if you wished it.”

“Stop that,” Len snapped. “You don’t actually want me to make that deal, so stop pretending you do. It’s a waste of both our times. I get the feeling that we’ll both know perfectly well when you’re REALLY trying to tempt me. This isn’t that.”

“Fine. You’re no fun. I will let you in on a little secret, though. You’re not using Flagellation to its fullest ability. You should look into that.”

And then the creature was gone, vanishing back into the shadows and allowing time to resume its normal flow. Gritting her teeth for what was inevitably going to suck worse than what she was already going through, Len closed her eyes and focused intensely in the sensation of her link to Larry and Valkar. She felt the tendrils of power connecting her will to theirs and did feel something more to it. She didn’t have time to consider that further, though, and instead imagined herself reaching inside her very core and drawing out two more of the wispy tendrils. Brand new and ever more intense waves of fire tore through her nervous system, further damaging her already frayed concentration but not breaking it.

Painstakingly, she snaked those tendrils out, guiding them to where Moe and Keseryn both sat, terrified at the battle between the hunters and their intended victims. Len hated this. Hated the pain, hated the feeling of dependence on Pitch, and most of all, hated the fact that she was about to use a 14-year-old girl to help in the fight against a pair of trained assassins. It wasn’t fair to the girl, it wasn’t fair to Len. The whole scenario was about the most horrible thing she could imagine.

It was also absolutely necessary. Len’s eyes flew open as she made the connection with the two. The pain flared up even more intensely, but was also laced with something different. Maybe it was just the suggestion from Pitch that there was more to be done with the connection, or maybe it had done something more active to unlock it, but this time, as she stared at the fight, it was almost like she was staring at it from five separate angles.

The exact sensation was difficult to put to words, and it didn’t negate the pain, but it did… tinge things. After a fashion, it helped her disassociate herself from the pain and focus more of her attention on the battle itself. Turning her gaze to Moe and Keseryn, she barked a command.

“You two, I’m sorry, but I need you. Help out.”

They both jerked slightly, then rose to their feet. For a terrible second, Len had a fear that she was somehow forcing her control on them, but it seemed more that they were both just coming to terms with the fact that they’d been linked up with her. Moe, of course, was mostly used to the sensation, and adapted. Keseryn, though, looked to be struggling between fear and excitement at the power coursing through her.

Moe drew his dagger and charged forward, joining Larry in battle with Tess. Keseryn took a second to scan the area, locate a discarded pitchfork, and join Valkar against Venar. The Orc guard was starting to stumble. He wasn’t beaten yet but he was losing ground and, connected as they were, Len could feel something flowing through him, burning him from the inside. Poison.

Now that Larry had a familiar comrade fighting beside him, his energy was renewed. Tess hadn’t managed to land a blow on him yet, and was clearly getting frustrated by that fact. Her swings began to get more frantic as Moe and Larry began to methodically tear through her guard. A shallow cut here, a deeper gash there, bit by bit they scored wounds on her that started adding up. Before she realized it, she had blood leaking out of over a dozen serious injuries, and had a dozen lighter ones besides that.

“Venar, you incompetent oaf, help me out with these little monsters!”

Her comrade tried to move to assist her, but Valkar stopped him with a shattering overhead blow.

“We’re not finished, you and I. Don’t you dare make the mistake of believing that we are.”

The old Orc was hurting, but his pride wouldn’t let him be ignored. Len could feel every bit of his suffering as if it were hers. Each ancient ache, each burning gash from the hatchet. It tore at him, but he wouldn’t yield.

Suddenly, he found aid from a source he hadn’t seen coming. Screaming with a rage that Len knew she’d been barely holding back, Keseryn vaulted into the air over the guard and plunged the pitchfork downward, piercing Venar’s right shoulder and driving it almost to the base of the fork. The Orc howled in pain, and reeled back, grasping at Kes’ leg. Too late he saw the glint in Valkar’s eyes and the sword blade ramming through his chest.

Losing his grip on Keseryn, Venar staggered backwards, blood oozing from his lips and out the new hole in his torso. His lips moved, trying to form words, but nothing came out. He reached weakly towards Tess, then fell over. Howling in rage, she redoubled her attacks on the goblins as the battle decidedly turned against her.