Deathless

Deathless Chapter Forty-One: Collapse

Chapter Forty-One: Collapse

"I am known by many names. One of them is Emperor Ashmur."

The words rang through the heads of the dubious threesome as they stared at this pale, sunken creature. They did not dare question him, for a single wrong word could carve their death in stone.

But this figure could not be Emperor Ashmur. Ashmur was proud and strong, full of charisma and passion. This creature was but a withered shell of a man, reeking of falsehoods.

The creature scoffed at their confusion. He spread his arms, and his appearance shifted. From the pale, rotting creature sprung anew the vibrant, soil-coloured skin of Emperor Ashmur, proud and dignified in his shining armour. The trio stepped back in incredulity.

"It's unbelievable, I know," he said in that same voice like a knife grinding across stone. "But it is true. I am Ashmur. Or I'm just about as close as you can get. I have played his part for the last eight years, and Arlenia has believed me."

"For what else is it that makes a man than how those around him perceive him to be? You wear a guise for so long and at some point, that mask becomes all you are," he continued. His image shimmered, and Ashmur disappeared, reverting to that pale, sunken form.

"What are you?" Sirya asked in a trembling voice.

"I am nobody. And I am everybody," the creature replied without hesitation. "I am the monster that lives under your bed, the beast that festers in the hearts of every man. I am the very embodiment of vengeance, and on this day, I will have my revenge."

"Stop playing games with us, Ashmur or whatever you are," Lindale said, his voice defiant, but Vanya could see his bravery falter, and fear seep into his expression. "Who the fuck are you, and what are you doing here?"

The creature laughed, its voice ringing out like fingernails clawing against stone, like chained wrists ringed with blood lashing out at empty air.

"I suppose I have played enough games with you," the figure said carefully, in a voice almost like a whisper. "I am the exiled prince of Morsar. I am Axan, son of Alvarin, the Last Mage Lord."

"Axan?" Lindale said in disbelief. "But you were killed? During the Sack of Morsar?"

"I assure you, Lindale, that I am certainly not dead. The Axan that was slain on that day was merely a familiar. I survived, in whatever despicable form I might be in today.

"I watched as my own people were butchered by the merciless blades of the greedy Arlenians, unwilling to accept our differences and instead chose to smite us from the land. I watched as they burned, pillaged, and raped the city of my birth. I watched as Arseph the Mageslayer thrust his sword through my father's heart and shattered his staff."

"And for forty years, I have entertained thoughts of revenge against all of Arlenia. Today those thoughts will be realised, and all of Arlenia will grovel at my feet."

"You... you survived?" Lindale said, stepping back. And then truth dawned on his face when he realised what Axan had done. "How do you know my name?"

Axan laughed again, this time his guffaw ringing clearer and higher-pitched.

"Because I have been watching you, since that day you set foot in the City of Roses. Where do you think the hurricane on the Archipel Islands came from? The rebel ships that pursued you to the Island of the Spires? The rebel cavalry that slew your three companions south of the Peaks?"

"That was you? Every single time?" Vanya asked.

"I have dogged you every step of your journey. I have eyes in every tree, every blade of grass, every seagull, falcon, and eagle in Arlenia."