Infinity Blade 02 - Redemption

He didn’t remember running to it. It was her. Oh . . . it was her. Enough remained of her face for him to make it out.
    Raidriar walked up, armor clinking.
    Siris hissed, the Dark Self squirming free. He dropped Isa and scrambled for Raidriar, picking up a blackened stone in his hand, the only weapon he could find.
    Raidriar leveled the Infinity Blade, which he’d been carrying behind his back. “You dropped something.”
    Siris stopped short. Even the Dark Self cowered.
    Raidriar held its point to Siris’s chest for a moment, then lowered it. “I am going to go and kill him,” Raidriar said, voice cold. “The Worker goes too far. This wholesale slaughter of my people . . . the indifference he shows for rule. I will cut his heart from him with the Weapon he himself forged.”
    “I get first chance at him,” Siris hissed.
    “Have you ever fought the Worker?”
    “Does it matter?” Siris demanded, stepping forward, clutching his rock.
    “Get hold of yourself, Ausar,” Raidriar spat.
    “Why didn’t you tell me she was . . .” Siris gasped in breath. “You held off. To bring me pain.”
    Raidriar glanced at Isa’s corpse. “I held off to get information. I didn’t want you running off until I knew what had happened. Now . . . forgetting to tell you that she was Deathless . . . that I did to bring you pain.”
    “Deathless?” Siris stammered. He spun on Isa’s body.
    “She stepped into the Pinnacle of Sanctification before we came here,” Raidriar said. “Her body is new to being Deathless, however. It will take more time than usual to recover. The first times are hard, as you may remember—but no, of course. You do not.”
    Siris knelt again beside Isa. Could it be true? Was Raidriar lying?
    If Isa was Deathless . . .
    Siris looked up, coming back to himself. The Dark Self retreated—it wasn’t pushed down, it merely retreated to smolder like the burning buildings around him. To plot.
    Oh, how I hate you, he thought, looking at Raidriar.
    Now in control of himself, the Dark Self and his own self working together, he remembered the little precaution he’d put into place. He tapped his finger against his palm and activated the teleportation ring.
    The Infinity Blade vanished from Raidriar’s hand, instead appearing in Siris’s own grip.
    “Ah, clever,” Raidriar said. “I should have inspected it for a teleportation ring.” He nodded. “This is good. If I should fall while fighting the Worker, you can summon the Weapon back to you, so he cannot have it. It might even save my life, depriving him of the Blade, should the duel turn against me.”
    “You really think I’m just going to let you leave with it?” Siris snapped.
    “Do you remember fighting him?” Raidriar challenged. “Do you know his favored blows, his techniques? He is a master duelist. He is a master at everything . Have you fought him, Ausar? Do you know how to defeat him?”
    Siris hesitated.
    “I have,” Raidriar said, soft, dangerous. “I have bested him in sparring matches, on occasion. You will give me that weapon for the same reason that I sent you to fight my Soulless—because in this case, I have the better chance of winning. And we cannot risk losing.”
    “We could go together,” Siris said.
    “With one Infinity Blade? It would be pointless. I will go. It is my place. And you . . . you should take that one back to the hideout and place her in the rebirthing chamber. She has no buds yet to return to, and the chamber will ease the difficulty of her first recovery. Her Q.I.P. remains in a fragile state. She will need you near her when she wakes.”
    Siris took a deep breath. All around him burned the tattered remnants of Isa’s rebellion. If she still lived . . .
    The Dark Self had an idea.
    With a sigh, Siris rammed the Infinity Blade into the smoldering earth, then gestured.
    Raidriar snatched it up eagerly. “It is well you brought the information you did. We know where to find the Worker, now. I will strike as soon as my arm is regrown.” He raised the Blade. “It feels so right in my hand . . .” He started to walk away.
    Then he hesitated, turning back in the night. “Our ship is at the hidden dock in the southern cove. Use it. See to your woman. I . . . I will see the Worker dead. I will chop off his head and set it up on a pole, for all to revile. This has been a long time coming, for me, Ausar. Farewell. Try not to let anyone kill you while we are apart. I prefer to think of that as my