Will

  Brimstone stepped toward the writhing monstrosity, humming softly to himself. Will drew his sword and watched closely, waiting, poised to drive his blade through the lord's back if half an opportunity presented itself.

  A clutch of black-eyed heads curled in on the lone human like the fingers of a giant hand. Brimstone halted in the strange, purple grass, raised his hand as though to wave, and waited with a supreme lack of concern as gaping mouths dove at him on all sides.

  Then there was fire and heat and light, followed closely by a shockwave that sent Will stumbling back three steps. Smoking flesh and smoldering wood went flying in a wide arc over the field, alighting to the ground like a meteor shower in miniature. Only a few ragged poles were left of the watchtower that had stood there a moment prior, tangled bits of pale, bloodless monster flesh sliding down them.

  "I think that did the trick," Brimstone said, turning back toward Will with a tight smile. He worked a reddened fist already bubbling with fresh burn blisters, his own body not entirely exempt from the power he wielded.

  "Seems that way," Will replied numbly. "Would you like me to clean up, m—... William?"

  Brimstone nodded. "That would be excellent. Thank you, Will."

  Luckily, the worldstorm-affected flora did not appear very flammable, the stuff in close proximity to the burning wreckage only giving off a thin, malodorous vapor, but Will did not take any chances as he picked his way through the field, convincing his sword with some difficulty to Absorb the flames into itself, pausing occasionally to let the heat disperse when the metal became nearly too hot to touch.

  He gave extra care whenever he passed one of the hydra's heads that remained intact enough to be recognizable, giving each one a firm kick or two to ensure that it was quite dead. Several were still alive and in the process of regenerating, prompting him to finish them off with a few good cuts and a scooping out of slimy gray matter.

  Once fire and hydra were both firmly snuffed out, he rejoined Lord Brimstone, who had seated himself in a patch of healthy greenery some distance off and was blinking up at the sky, hands folded in his lap with the good one cradling the freshly burned one.

  "My lord," Will said. "William, that is. The job is done—would you like us to go and meet back up with the others?"

  "Here, sit," Brimstone replied as though Will had not spoken, motioning to a spot in the wildflowers beside him

  Reluctantly, Will did as he was bid, sheathing his sword and plopping down in the grass, swatting away a bumblebee that drifted annoyingly close to his face. Any inclination toward taking in the idyllic environs were soundly dashed by his present company, as well as the pungent stench of sulfurous plant matter and burnt flesh wafting from behind.

  With a glance down at Brimstone's left arm, Will noted that the lord had only used 5 AP to produce an explosion hefty enough to completely wipe away both watchtower and hydra. That meant he either had multiple ranks in Amplify, a high Awareness score coupled with a good effort modifier—further increased by his level modifier—or both.

  He showed no sign, however, of the incredible AP regeneration that Will had heard of, which meant that it wasn't due to a passive—not a constant-type passive, anyhow. Good to know. At this point, any scrap of information on Brimstone's build was invaluable.

  "Do you ever think about the future?" Brimstone asked, studying the cerulean sky with its cottony clouds, no sign of the life-warping storm that had apparently raged in this very spot just a day past.

  "Sometimes," Will replied.

  "I think about it constantly. My own future, of course, but mostly that of the city for which I am responsible. I hold so many lives in my hand. If I take a wrong step, they all suffer. It can be debilitating, sometimes, knowing that."

  "I can imagine."

  "Some people think I am cruel—that I enjoy hurting others. In reality, it makes me weep inside. I was very soft as a boy, you know. I'd cry if I saw a bird with a broken wing or stray cat left out in the rain. I've had to burn that kind of weakness out of me—after all, a bleeding heart does not a competent ruler make."

  Will had some serious objections to the assertion that the specifics of Brimstone's rule was meant to benefit anyone but himself, but kept that to himself.

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  The burned man sat for some time considering the world around him, his roughspun robe tugged lightly by the summer wind. Then, quite suddenly, he said in his dry rasp: "My mother was a very troubled woman."

  Will was not sure how he was supposed to respond to that. In the end, all he worked out was: "I see."

  The lord glanced in Will's direction, smiling blandly, then turned his attention back to his environs. "She had some sort of sickness in her head, I think. Of a hysterical nature. Sweet as sugar one minute, all snarling fury the next. It was a terrible thing, living with her. I wanted to leave, of course, but there was no one else to care for her. Everyone else in her life had already abandoned her. So I stayed."

  He picked the head off a dandelion and rolled it delicately between fingers made stiff and clumsy by layers of scar tissue. "She saw too much of herself in me, I think," he continued. "Used to say I had demons crawling around on me, burrowing into my skin like mites. Scared the shit out of me." He barked out a joyless laugh. "She'd try to beat them out of me. Far as I can tell, it didn't take."

  Will rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. "That's… I'm sorry that happened to you."

  "It's all right, Will. It's all right." He flicked the dandelion head away, watched it disappear among the thick grass stalks. "She killed me in the end, you know. Day after my eighteenth birthday. It's hard to remember exactly what happened, but I think she took a knife to me in my sleep. By the time I woke up, I was already bleeding out, stuck through all over.

  "It didn't hurt very much, so that's something. I still remember her face, though. The fear and the anger and the… confusion, almost. Like she wasn't completely sure what she was doing or why. Still haunts me, that face.

  "I used to think I died for nothing. Used to be angry with my mother for what she did. I've realized the meaning behind it, though. Took some time, but I did it. It was a lesson, you see. Whatever happens, however hard life gets, I have to make sure I don't end up like her."

  Will had to hold back an indiscrete noise at that. Whatever his mother had done to him, he had surely crossed that moral threshold a long, long time ago. He'd had no idea the man's delusions went this deep.

  He fished the last cigarette out of the pack in his pocket and went to get a match to light it, but Brimstone offered out a flaming finger instead. Will put his smoke against the sliver of fire and puffed the cigarette awake, leaned back while dragging on it. Then he held it out to the lord. "It's not poisoned," he said, smiling.

  Brimstone hesitated for a moment, then gave a smile of his own as he accepted the cigarette. He puffed thoughtfully on it, like it was a ritual unfamiliar to him, but nodded his enjoyment of it. They passed the cigarette back and forth, smoking together like they were the best of friends even though Will had to fight every fiber of his body not to part the other man's head from his shoulders then and there.

  "Do you think I'm a good person, Will?" Brimstone asked suddenly as he looked over, exhaling smoke through his nostrils.

  "No," Will replied before his rational side could talk him out of it. "You wouldn't be here if you were, would you?"

  The burned man nodded gravely. "True enough. As always, my friend, I appreciate your candor. There's not many who would say that sort of thing to my face these days."

  "In that case, I'll be sure to insult you more often."

  Brimstone laughed, then quickly grew serious again. "I'm sorry to put you to work so quickly after the ordeal you've been through, but there's someone I need killed."

  Will was thrown by the sudden shift in conversation. "Oh?"

  "Three people, actually."

  "That's quite the crop. Names?"

  "Fletcher of the Sheerhome academy, Father Christopher of the local resurrectionist chapter, and the man they call Captain, formerly of the Sheerhome militia." Noting the frown forming on Will's brow, he continued: "All three are high-level individuals who have refused to lend their direct aid to me—and by extension, this city—in the conflict against Lady Winter. I can't afford that kind of dissent at the moment. Hopefully, their deaths will act as a reminder to others regarding the importance of unity in these trying times."

  As was often the case with Lord Brimstone, Will found himself at a loss for words. "William… What you're asking is not an easy thing. All three of these men are a higher level than me." Not to mention that Fletcher was a personal friend.

  "I'm aware. However, I'm afraid that you are the only man I trust for this task. Additionally, neither the librarian nor the priest are especially combat-oriented, as far as I know, and the so-called 'firefighter' is past his prime. Resourceful as you are, I believe you will find a way to manage."

  "Possibly, but…"

  "I won't place any restraints on you like I did with the witch's spy. Kill the men as you see fit—blade or poison, I care not which."

  "Well, I…" Will ground his teeth, knowing full-well that he could not refuse, but wanting to think of any possible reason to weasel out of the task.

  Brimstone put a hand on his shoulder, the sudden touch nearly making him jump. "I know I'm asking a lot of you," he said, gaze tender and earnest. "But it must be done. For the good of the city."

  Will fought with himself. "Fine," he worked out at last, the word coming out as more of a hiss than he would have liked. "It would be best to carry out all three killings in the same night, so that the targets don't catch wind of any danger."

  Brimstone nodded along. "Sensible, yes."

  "It will take longer than usual to gather information on the targets and draw up a viable plan."

  "I understand, and I trust that you will act with all possible haste." Brimstone stood up, giving a contented sigh as though having offloaded some great worry. "Well, I suppose we should get back before Captain Griff starts worrying that we've fallen down dead in a ditch somewhere."

  Will took a last drag off the cigarette and crushed it against his boot heel. "Oh, I would just hate to upset him in any way."