Shadow Slave

Lying there without motion, Effie extended her senses inward and explored her body.

The mystical cord bound her hands tightly, and she felt like she wouldn't be able to rend it even if her strength returned. However, it was not enchanted to drain her, so her essence was trickling back little by little.

She was still in the negative, suffering from the symptoms of essence exhaustion, but that would change soon. Then, she would be able to use her Aspect again. Much more importantly, even before that, her flesh would be infused with essence once more, becoming stronger and more resilient.

That meant that she would be able to resist the plague better. That also meant that she would be able to recover from the wounds Azarax had dealt her, both internal and external, faster.

Effie's goal was to be able to stand by the time the Steel Horde returned from its assault on the Stone Castle. Then, even if she died, she would not have to die on her knees, at least.

Something so simple seemed like an insurmountable challenge now.

She sighed and concentrated on guiding her essence.

Time flowed, permeated by pain and anticipation.

After a while, drifting in the haze of half-consciousness, Effie heard screams and chilling wails rising like a wave from somewhere in the camp. She wondered what was happening, but couldn't quite bring herself to care.

Some time later, she thought she heard an echo of a distant, deafening roar penetrating the walls of the tent. She also heard the sounds of powerful explosions, and could smell a hint of smoke.

The air tasted like ash.

She didn't know the source of that smell, either.

Then, she was suddenly terribly cold.

By then, she still didn't have enough essence to summon even a single Memory. Her body was greedily drinking her essence, absorbing more and more of it — it was still far from being saturated, though. On the bright side, as a result, her wounds were healing faster.

Effie concentrated on controlling the flow of her essence, guiding it through the mangled channels permeating her body to the areas she wanted to be mended first. The essence veins themselves were being healed and straightened at the same time, too.

‘A little bit more... just a little bit more...’

She was still healing by the time the dim twilight of dusk swallowed the world, and Azarax entered the tent, smelling of blood and ash.

As he did, Effie caught a glimpse of the battered, shell-shocked soldiers. She heard a bit of their conversations, as well.

She had to suppress a laugh.

‘So that's why...’

Kai had indeed realized the importance of today's assault. Under his lead, the defenders of the Stone Castle — Nightwalker, Morgan, Seishan, and the rest of them — showed the Steel Horde hell.

Even better, Jet had not missed the chance to act. She was probably observing the situation with the help of her crow Echo, after all... only, this time, she did not choose to attack a supply caravan.

She wasn't somewhere far away, terrorizing the Steel Empire, either.

Instead, once Azarax and his warriors engaged the defenders of the castle inside the city, she infiltrated the encampment of the Steel Horde and attacked its supply stores directly, destroying what little provisions there were left.

So, now, the Steel Horde had failed to take the Stone Castle, was without food, and suffering from a swiftly spreading plague on top of that.

Azarax's expression was ugly.

He stared at Effie with a terrifying gaze, then reached down and pulled her roughly to her feet.

She could see it then, in his eyes, hidden behind murderous rage.

Azarax the Mighty, the Plague of Steel, the King of Kings... was rattled for the first time since she met him.

Staring at her furiously, he shook her violently and hissed:

“Was that your plan all along?!"

Powerless in his iron grip, all Effie could do was smile.

“It was a good plan, wasn't it?"

For a moment, there was astonishment in his eyes.

Then, he responded the only way he knew how — by slapping her with ferocious might.

Effie saw stars, her mind buzzing dazedly. However, Azarax was dazed more than she was.

Because, as she reeled from the blow, he was staring at his hand in shock.

His hand, which had struck her so roughly, was trembling.

Black blood was seeping from under his fingernails.

Slowly raising his gaze, Azarax looked at Effie and hissed:

“What did you do? What did you do, witch?!"

Effie felt that a few of her teeth were dislodged, and her tongue was cut by the sharp shards.

Nevertheless, she tried to give him as brilliant a smile as she could muster.

Her answer was simple.

"I killed you."

Azara looked utterly stunned for a moment. Then, something in his eyes unraveled, and he seemed to be completely consumed by fury.

He lowered his trembling hand, unsheathed a long dagger from his belt, and drove it into Effie's abdomen in one swift motion. As dark blood washed over his hand, she doubled over, blinded by pain.

A strange whine escaped from her lips, then gradually grew louder.

It seemed like she was groaning at first, but as Effie raised her head again, it became clear that she was laughing.

She was laughing out loud, her whole weak, mangled body trembling from laughter. Hearing her laugh seemed to daze Azarax all over again. He froze for a moment, then growled and stabbed her again, and again, and again...

He stabbed her until the sound of her laughter grew quiet.

Finally dropping the priestess to the floor, Azarax turned and staggered out of the tent.

Out there, in front of him, his warriors were returning to the camp, falling to the ground to rest after a strenuous, bitter assault. They looked tired, weak, hungry, sick...

Defeated.

Azarax's face paled.

Behind him, meanwhile...

The bound hands of the priestess moved, rising slowly and wrapping around the hilt of the dagger still protruding from her chest.

She pulled it out of her body slowly and then turned its blade around, bringing its sharp edge to rest against the leather cord that bound her wrists.