Page 132 of Deadly Maiden

The armory is the first room I find. Bullets, yes, and chests, and a wall racked with spears, swords, every damn weapon a woman on a mission could wish for.

“Asher! Can you start to carry these outside. I want to arm the undead.”

Though I doubt he quite gets the full meaning, he begins to do this, making an awful clatter as he drops swords and spears on the way out. After gathering as much bullet ammunition as I can carry, I move deeper into these hidden rooms.

It is dark, yes. Unlike Rorsyd, I have no fear of ghosts. I am unsure what exactly I was afraid of down here. Nothing?

Yes, nothing.

I fear absolutelynothingdown here in the guts of Slaedorth. If anything dares to accost me, it will suffer.

The room marked as the storage room for etharum…the door swings open. I crack my knuckles and stride in.

“Yesss.”

Wall-to-wall crystals and ampoules. Most are strung together like a mammoth abacus, linked to the fortress’s lighting or power, I think? I imagine the spaghetti of metal wires is what that must be. I fill a bag, stocking up on everything. The next room contains the vats of darkthing matter. The walls of this room, and the previous one, are thinly iron-clad.

Which is why I failed to detect all of this.

Even so, the dark blue vats are big enough to swallow a goat or two. I still cannot feel the darkthing matter. And when I peer over the edge of the neck-high vat, there is nothing inside.

I sprint from one vat to the next. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Only the fourth vat contains a puddle of the stuff. Half a bucket at most.

“I did not need this news.” I clasp my head in my hands, rummaging up through my hair. “I have no time to create more.”

And this could be my most potent weapon. I’d need men with dead flesh, decaying wounds. I am not eating up the rest of Anathema. Never ever.

How then?

Tomorrow, Andacc will want to know my plans.

Asher returns many times and most of the armory is now spread before Slaedorth’s walls.

The undead mill about, as usual, ignoring the heaps of swords and spears. I think I can get them to take up arms? If not, they can club enforcers and Aos Sin soldiers to death with their ripped-off arms? Something like that.

I make myself eat lunch while I choose my next step. Everything is a rush. If only I could slow down, but the clock is ticking.

While packing the rucksacks, and repacking them, I decide I will do something I was already considering. Will this make me evil? I don’t know. It will probably scar me for life.

I negotiate the main corridor, barely seeing anything as I pace toward the rectangular glow of the front door where the hinges leak light. Is this worth trying? If I succeed, I could have an ally beside me in battle that no one else could have foreseen. This would also give Andacc more options.

I eye the enforcers where they sit, surrounded by my undead. Fear makes their faces pale and their hands tremble. Perhaps this is a merciful gesture?

No, it is evil, and it will scar me.

They speared Rorsyd, or their comrades did.Thatthat fires me up.

I make a sweeping gesture to command the undead and watch as they hold one of the men in place then smother his head until his screaming stops, his breathing becomes muffled gasping, and then all I can hear is this terrible sucking as he strives to drag in air. It goes on for a minute, two minutes, maybe three. Then…nothing.

His legs shake, and he stills. They release him and step away. The sound of him crumpling carries.

The birds roosting above have flown away. The very air has shivered.

The second man is down on his knees begging me not to hurt him.

I do not hear his words. I shut him out.

“Done,” I whisper. Sweat dribbles down my temples. I have two samples, only, to try this with. My one advantage—I know healing like my parents never did. This is my true excellence in necromancy.

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