Chapter Eighteen
Coming back into her own body--though infinitely better than being in the sickened, torn mind--was not a pleasant experience. She found Traedon was holding her up while Borreal was lifting an unconscious Lenoi off the ground.
“Get her help,” she rasped, “the faster the better. Leave me, I’ll be alright.”
Traedon hesitated for a split second before discipline to her as a captain won out over his concern for her. He accepted Lenoi’s faint body from Borreal and took off for the infirmary.
Dahlia let herself sink to her knees and breathe, fighting her nausea. The screaming had stopped which meant that either the scythe had killed the other men or Borreal had ordered them slain to show mercy. She decided she didn’t need to know. To die like that was a fate she wouldn’t visit on anyone.
When she trusted herself to speak she reported the man’s state to Borreal, “He’s stable now but severely and permanently damaged.”
Borreal looked shaken, something she’d never seen before. But then again, she’d never seen a scythe rip through a dozen minds before either.
“What was it?”
“A psychic construct. A giant scythe that ripped and sickened everything it touched which in turn sickened and devoured everything else.”
The color drained from his face. “Why? Why that method? Surely it wasn’t necessary.”
“A guess? To kill them all in a spectacular fashion rather than allowing them to give up information. Bonus intimidation factor.”
“Why now?”
“A trigger. Either it was set on a timer or it was related to something someone said.”
“Perhaps I was getting close. I asked about the relationship between Ahriman’s journal and the research member.”
“Possibly. Also possible that they had been expected to return by now. Or even the mention of Ahriman’s name. Had you mentioned it before?”
“We must have,” he thought, “we’d been circling around that all morning.”
“Well if I were to set something with a trigger based on the subject of a question I would have it destroy any thought or memory connected to that subject first. You may be out of luck, there was a lot of damage.”
He hesitated then, “Could you create something like that?”
“Yes, now that I’ve seen it I could replicate it in a fashion. It had just never occurred to me. Besides the fact that I found the manner of execution vile. I would have killed them cleanly.”
“Your mention of intimidation makes sense though.” Borreal said calmly, placing firm reigns back on his emotions.
“Yes, if you don’t mind the men under your command screaming in agony from a death I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.”
He looked sad. “It’s a tragic fact that some commanders don’t.”
She bowed her head lower, “It is indeed.”
“What about the man over there? The archer? Was he not affected?”
“It seems he was not though whether it was because his mind is elsewhere and thus cannot hear your questions or if he’s been able to avoid the scythe by being inside my maze I’m not sure. It was intended to keep separate minds away from each other. The scythe might be treated as a separate mind.”
“After what you’ve done I regret to ask this of you but I’m afraid I must. Can you extract his mind and either save it from the scythe or dismantle it before I question him?”
“Yes. If it hasn’t been triggered I can remove it in the maze. If it has been then hopefully I can just leave it in the maze. Either way I can extract him now and dismantle the scythe when I’ve recovered. The other option would be for you to join me and question him there. As it is my construct I may be able to manipulate him and the surroundings to help get us truthful answers faster.”
He nodded, only asking, “And the scythe?”
“If it’s roaming the maze I can quarantine it. If it’s still inside him I can extract it and quarantine it.”
“Alright, let’s go.”