Myths and Monsters
My name is Sulfur Sholl. I am 35 years old. I lay in my tent, unable to stop the shaking. Another sleepless night. Not that it matters anymore.
"Ma'am. Corporal, here to give my report."
His name was stupid, but I trusted him.
"Come in," I said.
I hobbled to my feet, using my cane to reach my armor. Each piece required an act of the Lady to don. I promised that the stone would be the last thing I would put on.
"The enemy's men have begun their march from Sandfalls Village."
"Hmm. Give the word. We are leaving in an hour."
Sandfalls. I wish I had never known this place. But the Master calls for what is to come. My mind began to drift, as the sand did. My hand, too, drifted to my bracelets—the things I can never take off.
"Ma'am!"
"Yes, what is it?"
"Your steed is ready."
I gave the Corporal a nod as I donned my stone. In an instant, I felt sensation in my legs again. It was warm all over. I could finally stand straight. I left my tent as their commander, leading my legion of ten thousand strong men who would burn this world to the ground for their loyalty and country.
The Corporal held the reins. My steed, my friend, hid himself under the white sands of the desert. All that could be seen were a few scales on his back where I would stand. I took my place and his reins.
I was about to set off, but the Corporal had one last thing for me.
"We found your sword in the wreckage of Kaman Village. It doesn't seem damaged, though."
He handed me a hilt with no blade. For anyone else in the universe, this would be a joke. But not for me. I wish they hadn't found this. I wish I didn't have to use this here.
I nodded at the Captain, strapping the hilt to my belt. Then, with two taps of my foot, we made our way to our ruin—to their war.
My Master is ancient, but his lessons are still sound. I will surround them and initiate a siege: starve them until the end. But the first thing I must do now is eradicate what stands in my way.
The rebel soldiers have never been well-equipped, but they have always had numbers. By our estimates, they may number 30,000. But all that means for my men is that each of them will get three kills apiece.
Unless I take them.
We saw their force crest the dunes nearby. Now for the part I hated the most: the part where I had to lie to my men.
"This Empire made me. This war broke me. And still I stand—with you. I've watched kings die and heroes fall. But none of them had what you have: My command. My blade. Now burn for me. Burn for her. And take this world by the throat."
Then I took up my sword. My heart beat to the drum of war and hate. I didn't want to win. I wanted it to end. The war had already claimed my parents, my future, my love. I would cut them down with my rage. The power was ever growing until it finally came to a head. My pain had nowhere to go but up. The magic—I sent it to my sword, and from it came my red blade. As soon as it was summoned, I charged fast into the battle ahead of me.
I dragged my blade through the sand. In its wake, I left glass blackened by my regret. As we gained speed, the dust my mount kicked up became torrential. They called it the Titan's Storm. As soon as we got close to the enemy, I tapped the back of one of his scales. He leapt out of the sea of sand. From afar, he might pass for a burrowing beast—just a scaly mole. But Marcus was no such thing. He was a dragon of the earth.
We bashed through their line. Marcus's fluidity through the sand made our momentum unstoppable.
And every man we passed, I cut them down. The red blade flew through them without any protest. In every dying eye, I saw the fear of every man, woman, and child I had to kill to get here. That fear didn't stop me—it only made me angrier. It was no longer just glass left in my wake, waves of molten glass that consumed my prey.
At least this way their faces would be blind to me, buried under the glass. The passion cut through the pain. The passion led me to one place. Catastrophe, but it wasn't mine. We did not lose one man. Only 19 were injured. With a force of greater numbers, it's best to break them up. That was my role. If I kill everything in a straight line ahead of me, everyone will run away perpendicular to that line. Add some artillery, and the rest was a foregone conclusion. But next came the siege. I surrounded the village that held the ghost of a city. They used the rubble of the old city to make their walls. Next, I need to destroy whatever resources they could get from the city. Everyone knows of the underground aquifers. But they don't know about the pool of lava that lays under it. The two pockets have never mixed as a thick layer of glass sits between the two. I thumped the ground, and so he came. Marcus crested out of the sand. Dwarfing the walls of the city.
"Marcus, we need these people to be desperate. Break the barrier between your lair and the water."
His eyes were terrible, but I could see his disappointment.
"You have changed," he rumbled.
"Oh, clearly, but that doesn't stop the mission."
"When did the mission stop you from doing what was right?"
"My master knows what is right. You know what these people did to you all those decades ago. And now you hesitate to take your revenge."
He lay onto his back, looking at the stars above.
"When you and Dra—"
"Don't say his name," I said.
I felt my legs go numb just at the mention of him. Damn it.
"When you and he saved me for this place, it gave me a path beyond the pain of the past. Now, I fear that you need such a path yourself."
"That path died with the graves of the heroes who are no longer with us. I know no one wanted just me. But I am all this world has anymore. And now my own mount calls into question my very last purpose in this world. Do the job, dragon, or piss off so I can do it myself."
"I will do this for you, Sulfur, but you must return to your lands in the north. Talk to your master, tell him you must rest. Tell him you must mourn."
There was nothing I could say. I just nodded. Marcus dove into the sand to dirty his hands on glass. There I was left alone, yet again. But I was only alone for a moment. I heard steps like the drifting sand and a voice blowing with the wind.
"It has been too long, strong woman."
I turned and it was him—the roach in the sand. Malg was his name.
"How are you still alive? You were old 20 years ago; now you must be…really old."
"My friends say I'm blessed with good skin, but I just say I'm lucky."
"Well, we live in times that don't make sense, woman. Now that I hear about a plan to waste a bunch of water in the desert."
"It will bring these rebels to their knees and claim this city."
"Oh, really? That would be a mighty plan, but for the fact that you imperials must have lost this city 50 times at this point, what's the point in the struggle?"
"The point is clear: to win the war."
"This war has brewed far longer than you've been alive, and it will be here after you are dead. There is no winning for you."
"Then what do you expect? Me to die having done nothing?"
"You would have lived with him. I know of that place you two made together, and I know what you left there."
"I did it because I was called."
"To a war you hate, to abandon a son you love."
"I DID NOT ABANDON HIM… he's in better hands. And I am protecting him."
"I wonder how you are doing that."
From where we stood, a sound of fire and progress roared about the land. Marcus had collapsed the water into the lava. The steam will burn them out of their hole. I went to turn back to the Malg, but he was already gone.
"Good riddance."
I walked back to camp and told my mages to send a volley of fire. This would be the end for them…and it was. The city fell before dawn. I sat with the commander of the enemy, a man I am sick to say I recognize.
"Moses."
"Sulfur." he replied.
"Some of my men may never hold a sword right because of your meaningless struggle."
"I wish I could have sent them all to hell where they belong, you bitch."
Corporal slapped the man, hard. Decorum between commanders was not something I held dear. So I wished to end this quickly. My rage was swift. My blade was sharp. Before all life left him, I whispered something to him. Something that I hope burns in him for his last moments.
At that moment, I realized that Malg was right and I hated that. After the subjugation was complete, I had my men hold the village as I set out to return to the capital. The journey was familiar. It forced me back to those times of the beginning of this path. It would lead me to power and knowledge. To love and friendship. But above all, it led me to tragedy. As soon as I hit the mountains, my heart began to grow weak. My master will not take well to a break. My master will not let me stop; he won't let me leave. Even as I tortured myself with these thoughts, I played with my bracelets, the ones I could never take off. But maybe I could talk to the Empress. The Lady has always had a soft spot for me. If I can pull on this lifeline, then maybe peace could be an option. As I arrived at the mighty walls of our capital, I saw a flash of a skinny girl who for the first time in her life was allowed to grow out her hair. I saw the parents that would burn for the safety of their child and I saw the man who will save the world by any means. It all was so long ago. But if I must, I will summon those memories. I will remember the hell of slavery, the trauma of death and blood. The joy of power. The fear of regret. If I can, I will steal some courage from the past. I need it.