Handsome

  The boy had some cheek.

  It was only a well-timed cast of Power Word [Amnesia] to make Handsome momentarily forget the boy's motives that had allowed him to speak on his behalf without lying.

  Luckily for the young man, his combination of traits, along with his competence in the clandestine arts, made him a near-perfect candidate for Handsome's ends. He did not have a specific role in mind just yet, but it would not take much work to find one within the ranks of the organization, he was sure.

  It was almost time to make his formal proposal. Ideally after Bedlam had secured the girl, so they had something to pressure him with. Based on what Handsome had heard about this Sam Darling, it seemed unlikely that she would willingly serve the organization, but she would still prove an excellent asset.

  And to think that Handsome had found his post in Sheerhome dreadfully boring, once upon a time.

  He walked alongside the lord and Will Greene, passively reading what little conversation flowed between the two men. He sensed Will's disgust of his sovereign—who could blame him, really?—but he sincerely hoped he could persuade the young man to back off from his efforts to see Brimstone killed.

  However useful the boy might one day become, his life would come to an abrupt and immediate end the moment his existence proved an impediment to the cause.

  Brimstone was more difficult to read, his emotions erratic and often contradictory. It had taken quite some time for Handsome to get the hang of teasing out the man's intentions, but by now he probably knew Brimstone better than the man knew himself.

  It was clear that he had some genuine affection for Will Greene, which was surprising given the boy’s profession. For one so wary to put his faith in an assassin, of all people…? There was something slightly comedic in that.

  Even funnier, of course, was that Will Greene was plotting the man's demise. It was the most obvious outcome you could possibly expect from inviting a hired killer into your inner circle; but if the lord saw it coming, he hid it very well.

  They made an interesting pair, the two of them. He hoped he could keep them both alive a while longer. Brimstone would need to die in the end, of course, but not for some time. Will Greene, for his part, might yet be spared, if he could only be made to see the light.

  * * *

  Will

  A ways down the road, Brimstone halted the party. "Master One-Eye and I will go on ahead," he declared. "The rest of you can stay here and busy yourselves however you like until our return."

  Griff's ugly mug fell slack. His mouth worked silently as though he wished to object; but then, he had already been reprimanded for that very thing, and so snapped it shut with what appeared to be a herculean effort. He glared at Handsome as though he expected the advisor to intervene, but he only sketched out a genteel bow in acknowledgement of the lord's command, and, finding himself at ease, moved off to the wayside to inspect a spray of colorful wildflowers.

  "Are you sure about this, my lord?" Will asked doubtfully, unsure if he should be feeling terrified or elated at the prospect of getting a moment along with Brimstone. "I thought we came out here to hunt a hydra?"

  "Only a lesser hydra," Brimstone intoned, licking what was left of his ruined top lip. "I'm sure the pair of us strapping young death-dealers can handle one of those on our own, don't you think?"

  "Probably." Will had spent a good deal of time after receiving the summons from Handsome researching lesser hydras at the library. Fighting one did not top his list of fun leisure-time activities.

  Brimstone laughed, clapped Will on the back, and set off north at a jaunty stride. Unable to refuse, Will sighed and went after. He did spare a glance back at Captain Griff, putting on his most insufferable grin. The man went even redder than usual and made a rude gesture, but did not dare voice his fury with daddy dearest within earshot.

  They continued down the path, passing a Farmer walking beside an ox-drawn cart who was bringing produce into the city. The man steered his cart somewhat to the side so they could comfortably pass and stood there gawking, patting the muscled back of his ox as though it was the animal that needed comforting.

  "Hello," Brimstone said with a languid wave, stirring the brown rags in which he was sheathed.

  "Heuh…" The Farmer cleared his throat. "Hello." Evidently, the honorific had entirely slipped his mind, and Brimstone did not ask for it, offering the large animal a pat of his own as he passed by.

  Will smiled at the man, but did not say anything. They moved on.

  "You seem to be in a good mood today, my lord," Will observed.

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  Brimstone threw him a quick glance, and his ruined lips peeled back in that terrible, gummy smile of his. "Please," he said. "It's bad enough that Handsome insists on all this 'lord' nonsense."

  Will pawed at his bad eye. "All right. Then, uh, sir?"

  "No, no. I want you to call me by my name. Aside from Handsome, you are the only friend I have left in this world. However high a man rises, he ought to have at least one person who doesn't mince his words around him."

  "If you insist. I don't actually know your name, though."

  Brimstone's smile widened, and a tear escaped one of his irritated eyes to run down his scar-slick face. "It's a little funny, actually," he said. "Would you believe it if I said we share the same name? I was called William once, too."

  "Huh. Then, you… want me to call you William?"

  "Please."

  "All right. But only if you stop calling me 'Misfortune' and 'One-Eye' and all that. I hate those names."

  "You do?"

  Will shrugged.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't know. You see, this is what happens when you have nobody telling you 'no'. In that case, you can call me William, and I'll you Will. It might become a little confusing otherwise."

  "Fair enough," Will said.

  Does he actually believe we're friends? He can't be that stupid, can he?

  Being alone with Brimstone in such a secluded place was an exercise in self-control. The man he hated with all his heart was walking less than an arm's length from him, guard lowered, no one around to stop Will from making his coup a very short affair indeed. One movement, that was all he needed. To unsheathe his sword and cut Brimstone's head off all in one motion.

  Nothing could be easier.

  It was too easy. Too perfect. Something told Will that this was the very reason Brimstone had brought the two of them out here, away from everyone else. Maybe he trusted Will less than he claimed—maybe he wanted to see what his 'friend' would do, if given half a chance to kill him.

  And if he was even the slightest bit on his guard, Will had no illusions that he could beat him. Level 15 to Level 23—24, now—was simply too great a difference to be made up with a fancy sword and a plucky attitude. Especially given Brimstone's reputation as an unrivaled dualist.

  And besides, he could not be the one to kill Brimstone. It had to be Buck, or at least someone powerful enough to claim the high chair. If Brimstone died now, without a clear candidate to assume power in his stead, Sheerhome would drown in blood before a new lord could climb to the top of the corpse pile.

  No. Now was not the time. He needed to be patient.

  "What happened to the lady-consort while I was gone?" Will asked. "Is she still alive?"

  "She is," Brimstone replied. For some reason, the dour topic did not appear to dampen his spirits. "I paid her a few visits myself in your absence—you were right, Will, that we need to learn whatever it is she knows. Still, she's told me nothing but lies. The new healer I've appointed has made sure that she's pulled through, though, so you may resume your work on her whenever you like. I saw the… marks you'd left. Very thorough."

  "I can't tell if that's supposed to be a compliment or not," Will said with a cautious chuckle. It seemed as though the lord wanted him to be less formal, and anything that could put him at ease was worth a shot, even if it meant being friendly with a man he spent every other night dreaming about violently murdering.

  Brimstone laughed too. "Honestly? I can't tell either." He turned his eyes to the horizon, toward a watchtower at the edge of the safe zone they were slowly closing in on. "This certainly is a cruel world we're living in—isn't it, Will?"

  "It is."

  Thinking about what Brimstone had just told him a second time, Will realized with a knotting of his guts that the lord had leveled up just after he began visiting Dawn in the dungeon. Most likely, he had leveled up from 'cooking' his own wife.

  A cruel world indeed.

  As they came closer to the lonely watchtower in the distance, Will found an odd amount of movement on the walkway surrounding the raised guardhouse. Not people walking around, he soon realized, but heads twisting, mouths gaping. The watchtower was like an apple eaten through by enormous pale worms, black eyes unblinking and necks thick as a man's torso contorting.

  Will had never seen a hydra before, lesser or otherwise—they were quite rare. Immediately upon seeing the monstrosity, he wished he could return to a state of blissful ignorance.

  The flora around the tower and maybe one hundred feet to either side looked all strange, tall grass twisted into coiling corkscrews, gone from green to a dark, purplish brown. The field appeared to move even when the mild breeze died down for a moment, the coiling grasses bobbing up and down, curtsying to the monster as though in obeisance.

  "A small worldstorm rolled through yesterday," Brimstone explained, a frown creasing his brow. "Hit the tower there, and turned everyone inside into… that. Not a pretty sight, is it?"

  Will stared for a moment at the writhing, fleshy tangle. "No. It sure isn't." He glanced at the lord. "A worldstorm, you said? This far south?"

  "Yes. They've been hitting closer and closer, lately. The Unmaking grows, and the storms it creates grow ever more powerful, last longer before dissipating."

  "Then, in light of that…"

  "I know." Brimstone gave a firm nod. "I have to kill the witch quickly. The Lords' Council will put someone more competent in charge of Stormfront, then an expedition can be mounted into the Unmaking to discern exactly what can be done to stop its spread."

  That wasn't exactly what Will had been planning to say, but he didn't see any point in arguing.

  It was a good thing that the hydra remained trapped inside the remains of that tower—he didn't want to think about how much damage a creature like that could have done to surrounding farms.

  As they drew closer, the mad tangle of disturbingly humanoid heads—eight of them, Will determined—wheeled about to face the intruders, gnashing gray, toothless gums.

  "Have you killed one of these before?" Will asked.

  "No," Brimstone replied.

  "I see…"

  According to his research, lesser hydras came with the ability Mutagenesis, allowing them to regenerate very quickly from any injury. A few rifle bullets probably wouldn't do enough tissue damage to affect it much—it needed to be destroyed quickly, all at once. That meant Anathema. That meant getting in range of those heads.

  "Want me to take care of it?" Will asked, a hand on the filigree handle of his saber.

  "It's all right, Will," Brimstone said, holding a hand over Will's chest to keep him back while stepping forward himself. "I'll get this one. Just be ready to intervene if things go badly."

  Will felt a small pang of relief. "Understood."