You should have let me try. Even Ssserakis lacked the conviction of its words. We all knew just how soundly we were beaten.
"The only reason I am still here at all is as a courtesy to you," the Iron Legion said. He waved his hand and I found myself plucked from the earthen stool by a kinetic grasp, dangled upright before the man. Throughout it all, the Djinn waited nearby, silent and patient, simply waiting to see the outcome of our conflict. "I admit," the Iron Legion continued, "I have put you through some hardship. It was necessary. I needed to put you within a suitable environment, you see. There needed to be catalyst, which would trigger the changes I made and allow you to fulfil the Auguries. I understand that this was not pleasant for you."
"Pleasant?" The word burst from me along with an incredulous laugh.
"Quiet, child!" the Iron Legion hissed, and I found my jaw clenching of its own accord, locking up tight.
There is a horror in helplessness. One far worthier of fear than anything Ssserakis ever showed me. It is that same helplessness the ancient horror instilled within me the first time we met, down in the deepest dark. It is the same helplessness that Prig forced upon me down in the Pit. I detest feeling helpless. Even if I know I can't win, I will revel in the fight because there will always be a chance. But the Iron Legion crushed me with his invisible grip, held me so tight I couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't breathe. And I knew with a sobering certainty, there was nothing I could do should he choose to end it. There was nothing any of us could do. We were fucking beaten! Even Aerolis, a Djinn, a god, seemed powerless when measured against Loran Orran.
"I am not without mercy," the Iron Legion said. "But my patience has its limits. I am trying to fix the mistakes wrought upon this world by others. Of course, I understand it would always be a thankless goal. Most won't see the necessity for bringing them back…"
I will admit, I stopped listening. It was not out of disinterest, but out of fear and panic. I could not move my head, but my eyes slid sideways to where Hardt was held, encased in a golem of hardened sand. He couldn't pull himself free from that, and neither could he see or breathe. There is only so long a person can survive without air, and terrans are renowned for being the very worst of Ovaeris' peoples for holding their breath. Still, I couldn't help him. I couldn't help anyone. I couldn't save them. I couldn't do anything. I slid my gaze to where Aerolis waited, pleading. I hate pleading, begging for help where I cannot help myself. Even worse when that pleading falls on deaf ears… or I suppose eyes, in this case.
"Are you even listening, Helsene? I'm trying to explain why your hardship was necessary, so you'll understand the sacrifices I have had to make."
The iron grip on my jaw loosened and I drew in a deep breath. "Just go!" I shouted at the man who had once been my hero. We ignore so much as children, or perhaps we just see things so differently. I once saw the Iron Legion as strong and regal, radiating with power, and handsome in way I didn't even understand at the time. Through my younger self's eyes, he was a hero, everything I aspired to be. If only I had seen him then as I do now, through the eyes of an adult. I know I couldn't have changed anything, couldn't have stopped him. But the Iron Legion didn't deserve my adoration, and if I could turn back time and take it away, I would. A petty victory, maybe, but then that is certainly one of my traits.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Hardt's one free hand drop and hang limp by his side, his struggling ceased.
"I don't care why you did it." The lie came easily to my lips. They always have, where Hardt is involved. "You've won. Just leave us alone. Fuck off!"
The Iron Legion snorted and shook his head. "A wasted opportunity. I hoped you would come with me. Willingly. You may not be the chosen one, but I could still use you. Yenhelm will…"
"Go away!" I screamed. Anything to stop him talking. Anything to release his grip.
Another shake of his head. "I hope for your sake we never have cause to meet again, Helsene. So much wasted potential." A portal snapped open behind the Iron Legion and I saw a dark room with a couple of lit candles illuminating a desk and a nearby bookshelf. Josef stood near the desk, a panicked look on his face like child caught with a sweet pastry before dinner. "I'll be back for the hammer, Aerolis. When you realise the truth and beg me to help you." With that, the Iron Legion stepped through the portal, and it snapped shut behind him. The crushing grip that held me vanished and the golem engulfing Hardt crumbled around him. His body hit the floor and didn't move.
Chapter 3
Panic! The Djinn said something once the Iron Legion was gone, but I ignored the rumbling of the arena and lurched to my feet, stumbling towards Hardt's body. Imiko rushed to my aid and I pushed her away. I shouldn't have done that, but I was determined to move under my own power, and she had more important things to do.
"Check on Tamura," I hissed and kept limping on. Tamura lay nearby, a crumpled form. He looked so small, frail. Broken. We were all broken in one way or another, and I couldn't check on everyone at once. Imiko rushed away with a nod, perhaps the only one of us not hurt. No, that's not right. Imiko was certainly hurt, just not physically. I should never have let her come to Do'shan. My little sister was never quite the same afterwards.
Ishtar lay still, unmoving. Her foot was still encased in stone and blood leaked into her fur from a gash on her forehead. I shouted at her as I passed, and she groaned. I took that for a good sign and promised I would come back once I had seen to Hardt. The big man still hadn't moved, and I refused to accept what I already knew was truth.
Horralain was sitting in the sand, his head in his hands and was rocking back and forth. Whatever nightmare the Iron Legion had locked his mind into would not be easy to escape, and I couldn't risk what he might do to anyone who tried to bring him round. People in that state have a habit of lashing out, not seeing anything around them, only the terror that infects their mind. I could feel that fear flowing from him in pulsing waves. The pleasure of it made my head spin and I very nearly stopped. The desire to pull closer to Horralain and soak in his dread was overwhelming. And also not mine. At the time, I found it beyond difficult to separate myself from Ssserakis. The longer we spent together, the more the lines between us blurred. My own fear over Hardt was all that dragged me away, I think.
"He's alive," Imiko shouted, crouched over Tamura. "But not in a good way. His arm is broken and he's making less sense than usual."
Tamura was alive. I took solace in that, if nothing else. Guilt threatened to undo me. All this had happened because of me. Tamura had attacked to distract the Iron Legion and the others had reacted. So many hurt, maybe even worse, just to protect me and the horror I carried inside.
When finally, I reached Hardt, I collapsed down next to him, my left leg screaming in pain. I think perhaps I had twisted it when the Iron Legion dropped me. The big man was face down in a small mountain of loose sand. I had to lift his arm and put my back against it, bracing myself and pushing with every bit of strength I could muster, just to roll him onto his back. He wasn't breathing.
"Your bodies are so fragile," the Djinn said close by. I hadn't even noticed him drifting closer.