Xanesha's massive serpentine lower body lay coiled beneath her torso as she sat in silent meditation, eyes closed.
Karzoug wasn't answering her attempts to speak with him anymore. The longer he remained silent; the more uneasy Xanesha began to feel. They both knew that she had failed him, and
Karzoug the Claimer did not tolerate those who failed him. She had been surprised when Karzoug reached out to her after a band of misfit adventurers had disrupted her death cult. A death cult providing the souls necessary to free Karzoug. She had apologized, but he quickly turned the conversation to locating his sword. He seemed cold at the time, but he wasn't reprimanding or promising her death. Her relief blinded her to the glaring truth – her time was limited.
The lamia was not afraid of any minions Karzoug might send after her, and the
Runelord of Greed could not come after her himself... for now.
Mokmurian may have been a problem. Still, she knew the band of heroes that had thwarted her plans were now going after him. He would be too busy with his problems to worry about her. And if he did survive, he would have to come to Magnimar to find her. And Magnimar was her city. Many who lurked in the shadows were under her control, whether they knew it or not. In Magnimar, she was safe.
Until Karzoug was freed, then no one would be safe.
Xanesha opened her eyes. The waves crashing outside the old church concealed his footsteps, but the torch he carried gave him away. "Hello?"
Ottman Jalstin called out. He knocked on the door, the torchlight shining through every crack in the doorway. "Are you there?"
Xanesha remained silent. Maybe the fool would go away. He tested the door, and Xanesha smiled ever so slightly when the lock kept the door closed. The smile changed into a grimace when she heard Ottman mumble an incantation – a prayer, perhaps? - and the door opened with a clack.
Light, much brighter than a torch, shone through the doorway between the rotten pews and bathed Xanesha in its illumination. She did not flinch or try to get away. She rose, ever so slightly, to look Ottman in the eye as the former cleric of Abadar stepped into the building. "You are persistent," she said.
"I have some information that you might want to know," Ottman said, holding an orb of light in his hand.
"So you come here with a lighthouse strapped to your arm?" Xanesha said, raising her hand to shield her eyes from the approaching light. "You are quite the criminal, priest." Ottman's eyes turned cold. Xanesha's lips curled into a smirk. "You take offence? To which word? Criminal? Or priest?"
Ottman tossed the ball of light under one of the nearby pews. Xanesha heard a metallic clink like a coin bouncing against the stone floor. The partially concealed orb cast long shadows across the room. "Do you want the information or not?" Ottman snapped.
"Whatever you have to tell me," Xanesha teased, "I probably already know."
Ottman stared at her. "If you did, you wouldn't still be here."
"And what is the cost of this piece of vital information?" Xanesha asked.
The fallen priest's eyes looked down at the floor, barely able to hide his shame. "You know what I want," he said.
"You want the lie," Xanesha said, her smile melting from her lips.
His voice cracked as he repeated, "You know what I want."
The coils of Xanesha's serpentine form suddenly pushed her forward, and she lunged toward him. Ottman closed his eyes as the lamia closed in on him. He waited, his muscles tight, waiting for her to crash against him. Instead, he felt a breeze pass over him, and the faint scent of strawberries tickled his nose. A hand touched his chest, and Ottman slowly opened his eyes. "Kaylee," he said softly.
Kaylee Jalstin looked up at her husband and smiled. "My love," she said, her eyes welling up with tears. "I miss you so much."
Ottman cautiously reached out and gently touched her cheek. When it didn't fade or vanish, he pulled her into his embrace. "I miss you too," he said and kissed her forehead. "So very, very much."
Kaylee wrapped her arms around Ottman and held him close. She rested her cheek against his shoulder. "You said you had something important to say," she quietly asked.
"Yes," Ottman said in a whisper. He didn't want to speak, as if every word might shatter the moment.
Kaylee looked up and held a finger to his lips. "It can wait a little longer," she said, smiling through her tears.
Ottman blinked away his own tears. "Thank you," he said and cradled her face in his hands. "I know I shouldn't, but -"
A bolt of flame slammed into Kaylee, sending her staggering backwards. Her face twisted into a mask of pain and fear, and a second bolt struck her. And a third.
Ottman spun around. A tall, robed figure stood in the doorway of the church. He wore a silver mask adorned with ruby etchings. In his right hand, he held a beautiful golden scimitar. "You should have warned her about me sooner," said
Maximus Merilander. "Now you get to watch your sick love doll die."
Ottman turned back and saw that Kaylee had stumbled into the shadows. But he could still see parts of her blackened flesh, now cracked and bleeding. He couldn't see her entire face but saw eyes filled with shock and fear. Ottman had seen that look before when one looked into their impending death. Was this how she looked when she...
Kaylee's eyes turned from Maximus to Ottman. "Please," she cried in the dark.
"Failure does not go unpunished," Maximus held a barely visible orb in his hand. He opened his fingers, and the orb flew toward Kaylee.
Ottman found his faith one final time, praying he could be fast enough. As the figure in the shadow grew, Ottman dove in front of her. The orb, and the ones after it, slammed into his chest, head, and stomach with the force of a cannonball.
The eyes behind the mask closed, and Maximus took in the sound of flesh and bone being brutally destroyed by his magic. It was not subtle. It held no finesse. Death was a violent end, and Maximus Merilander was good at Death.
When he opened his eyes, he whispered an incantation. The interior of the church was once again bathed in light. Maximus stepped over the mangled corpse and knelt beside the blood smear on the floor near an open window overlooking the sea. Xanesha had escaped him temporarily.
Maximus smiled behind his mask. If Karzoug willed it, he would raze Magnimar to the ground. Perhaps the master would choose to do so himself soon enough. "No matter," Maximus said as the rain began to fall outside the church. He snapped his fingers, and the light vanished. A moment later, he vanished too.
