Infinity Blade: Redemption

he’d lived thousands of years, but never taken the time to do anything purely fun? Could he have lived as a Deathless and never eaten everberry pie, or swung on a tire swing, or gone swimming in a warm summer lake?
    He held up the scout reports and forced himself to study the facts they showed. A crumbling empire, a Deathless who didn’t seem to care about ruling.
    He could play, he could eat, but he couldn’t let those activities only define him. He had work to do. So what was the Worker doing? What could Siris learn from his actions?
    On one hand, Siris was pleased to see the Worker so obviously distracted. It gave Siris’s rebellion a chance. They might be able to gain enough momentum, raise support among the people. Perhaps by the time the Worker realized what had happened, there would be no stopping them. Deathless were immortal, yes, but they still fell in combat. They could be pulled down by a half-dozen soldiers, forced to reincarnate. They could be bound, held captive. They could be defeated, even if they couldn’t be killed.
    They were not nearly as dominant as the people believed. Fear and tradition kept the people in check more than anything else.
    So Siris was happy to see this chance. But it also worried him. If the Worker of Secrets wasn’t focused on administering and ruling his empire, then what was he doing? And just how much should Siris fear it?
    Wait a moment . . . Siris hesitated on a page, which was a map stolen by one of the people who had fled the Deathless. Siris held it up, noting the list—written in old Deathless script—of what the facility contained. One item on the list struck him.
    He then flipped through the stack of papers, searching out a list of the God King’s strongholds that Lux had described. Underneath each one was a scout report on its particular defenses. Lux had planned to attack one of these next, to steal weapons, rings, equipment—but she had hesitated, worried about retaliation.
    The facility that Siris had noticed was isolated, infrequently supplied. It seemed to have been completely forgotten by the Worker. Could he really have left something so important unguarded?
    This facility . . . Siris thought, instantly understanding the implications. This is what we need.
    The Dark Self moved within him. Siris felt a chill. It wanted to go here. Wanted that facility, and badly .
    A knock came on the door. Siris lowered the papers quickly, startled, ashamed—though he doubted anyone else in the valley could read the symbols on this particular map.
    Isa stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. She still wore her leathers, as if for fighting, her arms folded, hair in a simple tail. She always seemed ready to take off in a moment, prepared—even anxious—to be on her way. Settling down here, taking charge, must have been very difficult for her.
    “Well?” she asked.
    “It’s a mess,” Siris said with a grimace, waving his hand over the piles of notes.
    “I meant the pie.”
    “Oh.” He looked at the empty plate. “Well, it all kind of . . . vanished.” He scratched at the side of his head. “I might need another one to really make a determination.”
    Isa snorted, strolling into the room, coming to look over his shoulder at the papers he’d been studying.
    “What you told me about the army is true,” he said with a sigh. “Our soldiers are a determined group, but we have a long way to go before we can become a realistic threat to the Deathless.”
    “Yeah,” she said, speaking softly.
    “If we’re going to grow this rebellion,” Siris said, “you and I will be doing a lot of the work. I’ll need you to infiltrate, gather information, pry secrets from Deathless hands.”
    “Good,” she said. “That’s a whole lot more appealing than acting as a nursemaid to this lot. They come to me asking about everything . Hell take me . . . if I have to listen to one more man whine about his bunkmate snoring, I’m seriously going to start stabbing something.”
    She settled down at the table to his right, crossing her arms on top of the stack of maps.
    “You really think we can do this?” he asked. “Lead a rebellion? Change the world?”
    “No,” she said. “But I think you can.”
    He settled back. “You’re not starting to believe your own stories, are you? Me slaying dragons, rescuing thousands of people, murdering Deathless while swinging on ropes from palace to palace . . .”
    She smiled. “No. But I’ve seen you