False ~ Face

The Deceiver

         False-Face

         by ~ Reagana

         

         

Erillion stood on the ramparts in the dark of the night, her long raven hair whipping about her face in the breeze. The acrid stench of the besieging army carried its portent to her as she watched the twinkling of myriad campfires. There are more of them each day. Her heart sank as she contemplated the inevitable end of the siege. This mountain pass had protected the open plains from the savage tribes beyond it for generations. She cursed the mysterious Mage that had empowered these savages and organized them into a formidable army. Turning to her Lieutenant, Gerdin, who had been a huge support to her in the organization of the defense of the pass through the Western ramparts, she asked, “Any news?”

“None, my lady. We should have had a messenger back by now.”

“We shall wait, then.” Turning, Erillion walked to the open door and descended to the living quarters.

         

         *****

Pulling his gaze away from the gathering army, Gerdin trudged after her, hand on his sword, intent on convincing her to allow him to act. He feared his ability to do so, indicative of the distance growing between their steps. Where once, he believed himself to be invaluable to her, his heart told him this was no longer so.

         

         

         *****

Wearing the rictus grin that he is seen portraying more often than not, Anias turned away from his view of the distant rampart. Just as he knew she would, Erillion revealed her weakness; that of not knowing the how nor the why of the enemy camped at her doorstep. Rubbing his calloused hands and bony fingers together, he chuckled at the imminent success of his plan. Making way for his tent with haste, he failed to notice the alarm that registered on the faces of those he pushed without care from his path. More than one soldier found himself sprawled across the path that he was, only moments ago, patrolling with diligence.

Arriving at his tent, he thrust the flap aside and strode to the corner blanketed in the darkness of sorcery. Pulling from its recesses, Anias caressed the plain wooden box, held firm against his chest. Ah, the deception that one must employ to meet ones needs! Casting a furtive glance toward his tent entrance, ensuring that he was alone, he thrust his hand into the box.

Eyes unfocused, and mouth ajar, a thin stream of spittle trailed down Anias’ chin. So intent upon his reverie, he forgot himself…his whereabouts, his purpose…even his name. So controlling was the talisman before him that all rational thought fled into the silence and darkness surrounding him.

Moments later, pulling himself from his master’s embrace, he once more became aware of his role. Erillion will never suspect; the naïve child that she is. Oh, her power to command may be strong, but against my might, she will be consumed and destroyed. He placed his treasure back in its box, with utmost care. Anias lay it back in its hidden lair to await the moment of its revelation.

The fire receding from his eyes, Anias sought his blankets, the exhaustion overwhelming him, as it was wont to do after his master’s visitation. Falling fast into slumber, Anias dreamt that he stood before Erillion, with the promise of untold power at his command. A slow, wicked smile forming on his face, his body began to twitch with anticipation as his dreams led him to the victory he sought with desperation.

         

*****

         

“Commander, we must act now, before the savages charge the valley.” Gerdin swallowed the lump in his throat that formed not only from the fear of the size of the army before him, but the fear at overstepping his place in his rank. Standing beside Erillion on the rampart once more, he studied the cast of the sky, as the sun weakly broke the horizon.

Without turning, Erillion said, “We must know why the banner of our allies are seen mingling in the enemy’s camp before we attack. I shall abide by no action taken, as long as their banners fly.” Sighing, Erillion managed a weak smile for Gerdin, as he knew her too well to pretend belief in her brave facade. “We mustn’t despair, Gerdin. Have faith that the messenger has only been delayed and is even now on his way.”

Knowing that Erillion did not truly believe this, he squeezed her shoulder before turning away to seek solace in activity. He trudged with heavy steps to his company of dispirited soldiers. If only Erillion would see reason. What possible explanation could there be for Lucient’s banner to be seen waving in the stagnant air of the enemy? She must realize the betrayal, and is only seeking a moment to cast aside her disbelief at the treason. Gerdin feared that her moment was soon to be forfeit and the game lost if she did not give the command to act soon. Fearing for the morale of his officers, Gerdin set off to, somehow, give them the hope that they needed to face the mass accumulating in the valley before them. Would that I had the courage to give them.

*****

Choosing the less-worn path through the camp, skirting the latrines, Anias wasted no time in seeking his vantage point. Staggering to the crest of the ridge, he was brought up short by the lack of activity across the valley. From this point, he could use his sorcery to see not only the layout of the army, but the expression on Erillion’s face as well. Spitting vehement curses, Anias staggered back down his muck filled trail, stained cloak soaking up the latrine’s overflow.

Ripping his tent flap aside, Anias strode to his box, retrieving it with haste and little of the care he should have accorded it. Throwing open the lid; he thrust his hand in its confines. Red spots formed on his cheeks, the swollen vessels in his neck pulsing with every staccato beat of his heart. Shaking the talisman, Anias screamed, “Where has she gone? What plan has she laid that you failed to warn me of?” Spittle flew from his mouth, coating the object in his fist. An angry crimson glow began to emanate from between his closed fingers. Gasping in pain, Anias flung his palm open, sending the object sailing across his tent, to slide down the far wall and out of sight.

Its light diffused, leaving Anias panting in the darkness cloaking him. Feeling his skin crawl, he became aware of a power emanating and growing outward from the place in which the talisman should lie. Eyes widening in fear, Anias stumbled to retrieve it and appease it in some way, before it chose to annihilate not only the two armies, but himself as well.

Tripping over the dirtied hem of his cloak, Anias sprawled face-down before the wrath of his master. Before he could see the face that he had longed for, yet feared to see, with a swirling miasma of color and an overpowering odor of decay, a void opened before him, and his tent, he knew no longer.
         

         *****

         
Opening his eyes to the murky chamber, Anias lay before the feet of Erillion. Scuffling backward, on hands and feet, he sought to escape the discovery of his true master, seeking the refuge of his tent. Smirking down at Anias, Erillion said, “So, you thought to smote the castle with your wizard’s fire, seeking my power promised to you, along with the acquisitioned kingdom, yes? Forgive me if I misunderstood you motives, my friend. I only seek to comprehend your belief that I would deign to hand you my power.”

Eyes wide with fear and disbelief, Anias whispered, “You. A witch. How could this be?”

“My poor little plaything. You are such a fool. How can you betray, yet not expect betrayal in turn? You were only ever at my whim. With you tethered in chains, stripped and broken, your power shall belong to me. With ours combined, the kingdom shall be mine. You see, Anias, your flaw lay with your selfishness, in the eager plunge that you took to gain that which could never belong to you.”

Grasping for a shred of his remaining power, Anias tried to buy himself more time. “What will you do with two armies massed against you, for you must know they will once again unite? You stand no chance, even with all of the power that we hold together.”

“Ah, but this is where you are wrong, my pet. Just as I chose to have Lucient’s army cast its fate with yours, I can so choose to have it continue its path, and bloody the battlefield, leaving me to recruit the stronger army of the two. Or, I can choose to have them unite, as you say, and be the stronger for having both armies at my disposal.”

Erillion stood above him, laughing with victory. “I have not dallied here all these years, bearing the burden of having the fool, Gerdin, trailing my shadow, not to have learned a tactic here and there about ruling an army. Which is quite a bit more than I can say for what you have learned.”

Anias cringed with the truth of her words, not at the loss of the countless lives that would be lost, but at the knowledge that the destruction would not be born of his hands.

“I led Lucient into the palm of your hand, that you would believe yourself the victor. Dangling the prize of immeasurable power before your eyes, you deceived yourself into certain victory. Yet, here you lay, always and forever, at your master’s feet, “said Erillion.

Anias spat, “I shall never submit to you. I shall rot eternal in the afterlife before I give you my powers.” Pulling from within himself, he sought the culmination of his magic, the well of power that he always relied on. It failed to arise at his beckoning.

Laughing at his efforts, Erillion said, “I shall give you a tower chamber, that you can look upon your kingdom evermore. You shall watch a true kingdom, ruled by me, arise from the ashes of this pitiful land and its people. I have stood upon the rampart for many years, wearing the mask of commander, when I was, all along, a false-faced traitor to my king and kingdom. You could say that I was commander by choice and witch by trade, both of which have enabled me to now have you to help me achieve my dream…the one that you and I have fought for so long.”

Circling Anias’ pathetic and cringing form, Erillion dangled the jewel before his eyes. Waving her arms before her, she bound him in chains, leaving him ready to do her bidding.

Anias could do nothing but writhe beneath the witch’s glare, realizing that his greed had led him to his downfall. As his power drained, a tear led a dirty trail down his face. He became a simple man once more, one that cried and bled; felt the shame and humiliation of having believed himself more than he was. He sank deeper into despair, seeming to melt into the stone floor. With the fleeing of his power, his mortal body became frail and weak, whereas, Erillion’s eyes blazed brighter with the power infusing her.

Staring into her eyes, with his last ounce of strength, Anias realized that he was looking into the eyes of a being holding more hatred and contempt for others than he ever had. This knowledge was his last, as his vision dimmed, and his soul prepared itself to sit itself before the window, witnessing forevermore, the ensuing wrath of False-Face. His last mortal breath expelled, Anias watched the retreating figure of Erillion descend the stairs of the tower, set on beginning her reign of terror and bloodshed. Soon, all within the tower was in darkness, as outside the window, blinding, crimson light spread out from its base, seeking its victims