Fantasy The Emperor of Destruction

Zebrah grew up isolated from all other Alkemi. Sometimes Mother would take her down into the Hidden Valley covered up in a cloak. She would see other children her age, but she felt isolated. Different.

As different as she felt now.

There was a resistance movement forming against the Empire. The Emperor didn't yet know who was behind it, if indeed anyone was leading it, but it seemed the population wasn't all in love with their new Emperor and/or the Compassionate One who he had brought along with him. Zebrah, on patrol with General Cloaka and a platoon of Royal Imperial Guards, encountered one of these groups and fought a pitched battle with them.

Zebrah didn't know who she held in greater contempt, the rebels, or her fellow soldiers. The rebels were poorly armed, most with quarterstaffs or short swords, and most were obviously farmers or other peasants. The soldiers were a mixture of men who Cunha had brought with him from the Unknown Lands and soldiers who had stayed on after the change of administration. But the soldiers, like everything else Cunha came into contact with, quickly became corrupted. Overnight they seemed to lose all the professionalism and training they had had under Emperor William. Now they were nearly as cruel as the rest of Cloaka's men.

After they finished butchering the rebels, Cloaka spent a moment looking at their bodies and then picked one and removed his pants. Then he set the body face down on the ground and removed his own pants. And then, without a hint of embarrassment, he stuck his candelabra in the dead man's Forbidden Exit.

The first time Cloaka had done that, Zebrah had simply watched him. The man seemed to be completely without shame. She was used to it, now, but she still stared at him with hard eyes. As Cloaka plowed into the dead man's Pride cheeks, he looked around, saw her watching, and smiled. "You should try it," he chuckled. "Oh, wait, I forget, you're not a man. It is so hard to keep that in mind," Cloaka grinned.

Someone else laughed. Four or five other men had followed Cloaka's example, and were also inserting themselves into bodies of their enemies. More and more of the men were falling afoul of Cloaka's corruption. As the men plowed roughly, Zebrah reflected that it didn't seem to be a sexual act so much as an act of dominance, an act which said, "Not only have I killed you, but I am also bangsticking your corpse in its Forbidden Exit."

"Real soldiers do not desecrate the dead," said Zebrah.

Some of the men, the newer men, flinched. No one talked to the War Haft like that.

But Cloaka merely laughed. He knew Zebrah was untouchable. She was the Captain of Cunha's personal guard. Now, if she fell in battle, that would be another matter....

"Who said anything about real soldiers?" said Cloaka. "We are divine messengers of the Compassionate One. Our message is to spread the love." The men laughed as he grunted, and gave one last thrust so hard that the corpse underneath him jerked forward. "Aaaaahhhh," Cloaka cried, as the dead man's Forbidden Exit was filled with hot wax from his foul candle.

"They disgust me too," Dog Man told Zebrah, in a low voice. He didn't agree with Zebrah much, and he still had dreams of her vorpal blade stabbing him, but there was something about the woman which attracted him. Not sexually, although as a good Dog, he would spelunk any Gorge which presented an opening to him. Primarily, though, it was her fortitude, her determination which attracted him. He found himself being drawn to the woman who would eventually be the death of him. Or would she? Dreams were not the same as foretelling, it was said. Still every time he dreamed of that silvery glittery blade striking his-

"You are a dog; how can this disgust you?" Zebrah asked, as Cloaka got up, and, with a smile on his face, raised his pants.

"Even a dog will only go so low, Quad," said Dog Man.

"A dog will go as low as his candelabra will let him," said Zebrah, abruptly turning away.

Dog Man stared at her Pride cheeks, well sculpted legs, and long silvery boots, and stuck out his tongue and smiled.

Cunha, Selvanna, Zaragoth and the children Karibdis and Tripoli were wearing casual clothes in the recreation chamber when Peine the wizard entered.

"What are you doing here?" Cunha asked.

Peine noticed Zebrah and Dog Man standing against the wall, as well as Simcha, one of the serving wenches.

"I am here to deliver your lesson in the use of the Power, Excellency," said Peine.

"Ardis is supposed to give us our magic lesson."

Peine winced at the use of the word. Magic was something charlatans used to pull rabbits out of hats. He also didn't like being called a wizard; properly speaking there were no such things as wizards. There were only people who could use the Power, and people who could not. Learned people who could use the power were called Wise Men. Or Emperors.

"Ardis asked me to lead your instruction today."

"Why?" Eyes narrowed.

"He... he was occupied with more important matters."

"More important than meeting with his Emperor?" Cunha frowned.

"That I cannot say," said Peine. What he could say was that Ardis was lost inside an endless box, a manatas Peine had thoughtfully brought to him for examination, and he would stay that way until someone discovered his predicament.

"Very well. Let us begin."

There were a series of wooden targets on the far side of the room. Cunha took a deep breath and drew on his jizz. Then he blasted out with his hand and send a beam of Power which decimated the target opposite him.

Selvanna was next, summoning her ahmen, feeling it tingling in her Phong and in her Wise Ones, and then shooting out with her palm, blasted her target.

And then Zaragoth did much the same.

When they were done, Selvanna was pleased by the results. Cunha had destroyed the greatest portion of his target, but Selvanna had blasted far more of her own than Zaragoth had done. Nearly half of Zaragoth's target was still intact. Zaragoth had always been the weak one.

"Were you aiming for the target, Sister?" Selvanna asked. "It looks like you missed."

"I always get what I aim for, Sister. You of all people should know that," said Zaragoth sweetly, an obvious reference to Cunha. "While I may not have as much destructive power as you, I have a certain nuance with the Power, a skill others have learned to appreciate." She stuck out her tongue and licked her lips, just a bit. "Sometimes a lighter touch gets a better result than others. Have you ever considered that?"

Selvanna remembered Urethera's Telling, that she would stand over Zaragoth's dead body. At that moment, she hoped it was true.

Peine the wizard went over to the targets and placed a box on each. Then he returned to them. Cunha started to raise his palm, when Peine stopped him. "No, Majesty."

"No?" said Cunha, as if he had never heard the word before.

"Destruction is only one aspect of the Power, as Zaragoth rightly states," said Peine. "The Roots of the Earth contain enormous powers. These powers can be used not only to project force, but to discern the true nature of the world around us."

"What are you saying?"

"Can you tell me what is in those boxes?"

"Inside the boxes? That's impossible," said Zaragoth.

"I can do it," said Peine. "Can any of you?"

"Nothing is impossible for the Loving Emperor," said Cunha. He closed his eyes and concentrated. So did the others.

A moment later he opened them. "A stone." He said.

Selvanna said, "A stick."

All eyes went to Zaragoth.

"I... I do not know. This is a silly game," she snapped.

They all watched as Peine slowly walked to the boxes and collected them and returned. "This was Zaragoth's," he said, opening it up, to show a flower. Zaragoth snorted.

"This was Selvanna's," said Peine, opening her box. It had a small parchment in it. Selvanna looked outraged.

"And this was His Majesties'." He opened his box, and it had... a stone.

"Incredible," said Cunha. He looked at Peine with admiration. "Ardis never taught us that."

"Perhaps there are some small things I can teach you which Ardis overlooked."

"Yes, perhaps there is-" Cunha began. His expression fell as a guardsman entered the room. "What is it?"

"Majesty, Sanjay wishes to see you in the Throne Room, immediately."

There was only one person in Aridor who could summon the Emperor. And that person was calling him now.

"Very well," he sighed. He turned to the others. "Continue your lessons."

"I'll come with you," said Zaragoth, taking one arm.

"And I will too," said Selvanna, taking the other.

Cunha made a face and nodded.

"What about us? We never got our chance!" This from Karibdis. He and Tripoli had been standing sullenly by a wall, waiting for their turn.

"Peine... Peine can instruct you," said Cunha.

"Thank you Majesty."

"But we hate Peine!" Karibdis cried.

"Karibdis, what did I tell you about saying you hated someone to their face?" Cunha asked.

Karibdis sighed.

"Karibdis?"

Karibdis looked down. "To only say you hated them if you were prepared to kill them."

"Well, are you?"

"Yes!" said Karibdis, with a smile.

"No," said Cunha. He turned to Peine. "Instruct them. You also have my permission not to let them kill you."

Peine bowed grandly. "A thousand thanks, Your Majesty."

After Cunha and his entourage left, Peine was left with the children. Both had the Power, but of course, as children, they only exercised a fraction of their true potential.

"I'm bored!" Tripoli announced, even before they began. He was the younger brother, barely ten harvests old. Karibdis was 13.

"Well, we can't have that," said Peine. "Why don't you practice against those wooden targets?" He headed to the door.

"Where are you going?" Karibdis asked.

"I have an urgent matter to attend to," said Peine.

"Father told you to teach us."

"You are bright lads," said Peine. "I am sure you can learn for yourselves. Isn't that true?"

"I suppose," said Karibdis.

Peine smiled, and in moments he was gone.

Karibdis and Tripoli started blasting targets.

"I'm bored!" Tripoli announced again, after firing a while at his second target. He didn't have the strength yet to destroy them, of course, but he could see his feeble beam of energy hitting it, when he bothered to aim. He turned to Simcha, the serving wench. "Let's use her as a target."

Simcha suddenly realized she was alone in the room with the Emperor's children. She started edging towards the door.

"Don't move," said Karibdis. In moments, they were using her for target practice. Their goal was to hit right next to her, but their aim was off. Fortunately their blasts carried only a sting, but Simcha didn't enjoy the welts she was starting to accumulate. And she didn't like Tripoli's evil grin.

"What have you got under there?" he demanded.

"What do you mean?" Simcha stammered.

"Mom says other girls aren't built like her," said Tripoli. "She says... they're not as wise."

"Yeah, not as wise," said Karibdis. He glared at her. "You don't look so wise to me." Phrased like that, it was practically an accusation.

"It's hard to tell with that baggy dress," Tripoli complained. "Take off that dress and show us how smart you are."

"My prince! I cannot!" said Simcha!

Karibdis took a step forward. Determination shone in his eye. "Your prince has given you an order. Do you dare disobey?"

Simcha, whimpering, started to lift her gown up over her shoulders....

"It is time to begin the next phase," Sanjay announced.

"We are bringing the Compassionate One along as fast as we can," said Cunha.

"That is only part of what you must do," said Sanjay. "It is time to begin work on the Inversion as well. It is not enough to bring the Compassionate One into our world; we must also bring his world into ours."

Cunha nodded. "How can we do this?"

"With Monoguments," said Sanjay.

"Monoguments?" said Cunha.

"Giant statues," said Selvanna. "Made of Black Gold, if I recall correctly."

"You do," said Sanjay, his eyes gleaming. "The Monoguments, properly constructed, can be used to bring about the Inversion. Seven of them must be constructed. Each must be seventy feet tall."

Cunha gave a bitter laugh. "Where are we going to get so much Black Gold? My father told me that the mines were tapped out years ago."

"Not tapped out," said Sanjay. "Simply that easily reached deposits have already been recovered."

"So?"

"So, you must reach the less easy to find deposits."

"Those mines were closed for a reason. They dug so far down that there were constant collapses. Miners were being killed."

"And more will die, but this time for the greater glory of the Compassionate One. Can you think of anything more important than bringing the Compassionate One's realm into our own?"

"No," said Cunha, lowering his head.

"Then let the work begin."

An example was to be made of Narkafas.

This was a tiny village that several of the rebels had come from. The Emperor was enraged that more and more peasants were joining the rebels, and he wanted to make an example of some of them.

So an example was to be made of Narkafas.

Zebrah didn't relish what she was about to do. She was made to kill enemy soldiers. She didn't enjoy killing poorly armed and even more poorly trained rebels. She certainly didn't enjoy killing unarmed peasants. But that was what she was about to do.

She had no choice. The Emperor himself had come to Narkafas, along with a company of his best Royal Guards.

Dog sensed it too. "This is going to be messy work. You might want to stay close to the Emperor."

But Zebrah was not given a choice. They were met at the edge of town by the flimsiest of barricades, two carts that were set to block the road. Almost a dozen villagers carrying picks and hoes with scared expressions on their faces confronted them.

General Cloaka approached them. "In the name of the Emperor, I order you to withdraw."

"No," said one of them. "We mean you no harm, but you are not welcome here."

Cunha, the Loving Emperor himself, stood straight on his horse. "Who dares to say the Emperor is not welcome here?"

The man eyes grew wide as he realized who he was facing. "Emperor? I-"

Cunha snapped his fingers and pointed. Zebrah sprang forward, her vorpal blade Thrasher already drawn. It glittered prettily in the morning sun as she chopped the man's head off.

The rest of men were run down and killed as they tried to flee.

"The road is secure, Highness," said Zebrah expressionlessly, as she held her bloodied blade. Splashes of blood stained her glittery silver armor and the exposed tops of her double set of Wisdoms.

"Good," said Cunha. "All of you. Go into this village, and see to it."

"Highness?" said Zebrah, squinting mightily.

"What is it that I've said which confuses you, Zebrah?" Cunha asked. He spoke in a very slow voice meant for retarded people. "Kill them."

"Highness," said Zebrah, spinning around so fast that her miniskirt lifted into the air. The other soldiers were already running ahead of her.

It was a bloodbath. The soldiers went from farm to farm. They showed no mercy. Men, women, children, it didn't matter. Dog put an arm on Zebrah, to try and hold her back, but she pulled away. She ran ahead, to a farm the soldiers hadn't yet reached, and kicked in the front door. A man, a woman, and a child stood there. The man had a club. He charged Zebrah, yelling something.

His yell was cut off in midstream as Zebrah impaled him with Thrasher.

"Harold!" The woman cried. She picked up a frying pan and charged Zebrah. Zebrah pulled her sword out of the dead man in one quick move and slashed at the woman. She gave a gurgling almost-cry, clutched at the blood coming out of her throat, and collapsed.

All that was left was a boy. He looked down before him. "You killed them!" he cried. He picked up his father's fallen club, and charged Zebrah. She automatically parried his blows, one by one, but did little else. Her mind was numb. She let the boy launch a number of attacks, all of which she easily blocked.

She heard laughter behind her, and suddenly the Emperor was at her side. "A little entertainment! Very good," said Cunha. "But time is passing. Finish it."

Finish it.

Zebrah gave him a long look, and nodded. She raised Thrasher and swung, knocking the sword out of the boy's hands. Then she stepped forward and punched the boy in the face. He fell like a sack of potatoes.

Zebrah bent down and picked the boy up and put him over her shoulder.

"What are you doing?" said Cunha. Zebrah didn't think she had ever seen him look so surprised before.

"You told me to finish it," said Zebrah, carrying the boy outside to her horse. "I did."

Cunha looked angry, then confused, and then he laughed. But it was a sour laugh.

Dog's eyes widened. "What are you doing?" he whispered. "The Emperor will never permit this."

Zebrah glared at him as she put the boy on her horse. "We shall see."

Finish it.

Those had been the words of Arcamenna, the leader of the patrol which found their homestead in the hills. Rumors had been circulating for years about the rogue Alkemi who had given birth to a White savage, but the Arbiter of Justice had only been able to put a location to these rumors recently, when a good friend of Anathea turned out not to be such a good friend after all.

Zebrah had only seen seven harvests when the patrol arrived. First they killed Samuels, even as he was fixing a fence at the edge of the farm. Then they came for Amathea.

She ran out in a rage, her sword gleaming in the morning light, as she saw Larcolepsi pull the blade out of Samuel's gut.

"Samuels!" she yelled. But she had no time to mourn as Larcolepsi and the others raised their blades.

"Halt!" said Arcamenna. Everyone froze. "You do not have to die, Amathea. We have come for the child. As for you, you will also face judgment."

"Judgment," Amathea laughed. "And what kind of judgment can I expect?"

Arcamenna hesitated. "If you plead insanity, perhaps you might be... trimmed."

"So that's all I have to do," said Amathea. "Let you kill my child and cut off my Wisdoms, is that it?"

"The alternative is even worse," said Arcamenna.

"For you, perhaps," said Amathea. She lunged forward towards Arcamenna, raising her sword. But Larcolepsi was quicker, getting in her way, and so they dueled.

The two quad Wisdomed Alkemi battled in the morning sun, evenly matched, it seemed, until Amathea slipped on some pig dung; and as she stumbled, Amathea skewered her.

Larcolepsi looked down at Amathea with a face of stone. As she pulled the blade out of her, Amathea gasped, "Her name is Zebrah," as she died.

The patrol walked calmly to the house. Inside they found a little girl, clutching a frying pan. She looked past them, to the body on the path. "Mommy!" she cried. "You killed my Mommy!" She tried to hit Larcolepsi with the frying pan; Larcolepsi dodged her blows slowly, and wearily, it seemed. Finally Arcamenna grimaced and said, "Finish this."

Larcolepsi looked down at the child, the white freak, who was gasping from exhaustion. She nodded, lifted her sword, and sheathed it. Then she punched the child in the face, sending it sprawling; then she lifted it up, over her shoulders.

"What are you doing?" Arcamenna demanded.

"I finished it," said Larcolepsi.

"This is not permitted! This is in all violation of the miscegenation laws! Larcolepsi, the child is White!"

"Thank you, I hadn't noticed," said Larcolepsi. "I have violated no laws. I did not bake or disgorge this meat pie. All I did was exercise the Victor's Rights to the spoils, which is clearly established under our laws. You may challenge me for it, if you wish to fight for the child. Do you?"

Larcolepsi was a second sword with the Wind Swords. Arcamenna paused a moment, then slowly shook her head.

Wyatt awoke with a start. He was on a mat on the floor. His head hurt. Then it all came back to him. Ma, Pa, they were all dead. That woman... that freakish white woman with the double pair of Wisdoms who killed them....

The same freakish white woman with the double pair of Wisdoms who was lying in bed just a few feet away from him.

It was early morning, and a hint of sunlight entered the room, Wyatt looked around. There was a bed, a dresser, and a table, with a plate, a fork... and a knife. He got up as silently as he could, and grabbed the knife.

He took one step towards the woman. She was completely nude, lying on her back. In the dim light Wyatt saw she had round things, a lot of them, on her chest. Four of them! His eyes went wide. She was so beautiful. And yet, she was the one who had kill Ma and Pa. Could he kill her in return?

Yes, he could.

Wyatt looked at her sleeping form. He lifted the knife, aiming for right between the higher set of Wisdoms, and struck downwards with all his might.

He was surprised to find his arm parried, the knife knocked out of his hands, and he was thrown against the wall.

Zebrah slowly and luxuriantly rose from her bed. Her Wisdoms pouted downwards a little, but not too much. "You breathe louder than I walk," she said calmly.

Wyatt looked at her. And then he looked at the blade, which had spun only a foot from his hand.

"Go ahead, pick it up," said Zebrah. "I'll give you three chances to kill me."

"Three chances?" said Wyatt.

Three chances.

Zebrah rubbed the sore spot on her cheek.

"Three chances. And you've already used your first one," said Larcolepsi calmly. Zebrah thought she had taken Larcolepsi by surprise while she was bathing; Zebrah had been wrong about that.

"You killed my Ma!" said Zebrah.

"That I did," said Larcolepsi. "But I also saved you."

"Why? Why did you do that?"

"Why does anyone do anything?" Larcolepsi asked. She sighed; it was wrong of her to ask a child as young as this such a question. "I will raise you and teach you to defend yourself, if you will have it."

"I want you dead!" said Zebrah.

"You've already used your first chance," said Larcolepsi. "You have two more."

"You've already used your first chance," said Zebrah. "I'll give you two more."

"And then?"

"And then... I will kill you," said Zebrah. She stared at the boy.

"You killed my Ma and Pa!" said Wyatt. He looked ready to cry.

"I did what I had to do," said Zebrah. "In life, most times, we are not given a choice. But once in a while, once in a very long while, we are allowed to exercise free will. And in one of these very, very rare circumstances, I did less than I could have done."

"And what was that?"

"Killing you," said Zebrah calmly. She looked at him. "Are you going to try again right now?"

The boy looked at her, and the blade, just inches away from feet. He shook his head.

"Good. I'll get breakfast ready." She turned to the small dinette. "Do you have a name?"

Wyatt considered. He didn't want to tell her his name. "No...."

"No." Zebrah actually gave a smile. "I like it. Concise. No, you will obey all my commands, and do exactly what I say at all times. Do you understand?"

The boy was sullen. "And what if I don't?"

"Then you will not get a second or third chance to kill me."

The boy ate breakfast quietly. When they were done, Zebrah gave him his first task, to clean her quarters until it was spotless. "No, if you fail, I will beat you. If you try and run away, I will beat you... if you are lucky," she said, adjusting her armor as she made for the door.

"And what if I'm unlucky?" Wyatt asked.

"The others will find you first."

Zebrah attended the Emperor while he ate a grander and more leisurely breakfast. Selvanna and Zaragoth were also there, as well as Karibdis and Tripoli. Dog Man stood behind Selvanna, just as Zebrah stood behind the Emperor.

The Emperor sniggered at something Zaragoth said and casually turned to Zebrah. "Have you been enjoying that souvenir you brought back with you?"

Zebrah felt Dog Man's eyes on her, full of concern. "Yes, Your Highness."

"I can't imagine what it is that you are doing with him," said Zaragoth. "You do not have the... tools to bangstick him, do you?"

"No," said Zebrah. If anyone else had said that, she would have killed them for mocking her.

"Alkemi aren't like that," said Selvanna patronizingly. "Those kind of girls only like... those kinds of girls. Isn't that right, Zebrah?"

Zebrah felt some of Selvanna's scorn. Both Zaragoth and Selvanna hated her, but for totally different reasons. Zaragoth hated her for being white, and for having more and larger Wise Ones than her. Selvanna hated Zebrah for being loyal to Cunha, not her.

"My sister asked you a question, Quad," said Zaragoth, with a mean sparkle in her eye.

Zebrah turned to the Emperor, who was pretending not to pay attention as he took a bite of toast.

"No," said Zebrah. "You are incorrect. In my culture, women do not only lay with women. In order to propagate ourselves, it is also necessary to make the use of thralls."

"Thralls?" said Zaragoth.

"Slaves, she means. Men they enslave," said Selvanna, smiling cruelly.

"Women enslave men? Where is this place? I want to move there at once!" Zaragoth laughed.

Dog Man gave Zebrah a sympathetic look.

"You could not live there. The Hidden Valley only allows whole women to live there," said Zebrah.

"You mean freaks like you, who have double sets of Wisdoms," said Zaragoth spitefully.

Zebrah felt her grip on the pommel of her sword tightening.

"But of course, there are no freaks as freakish as you, are there? You not only have a redundant set of Wisdoms, but you're White. Tell me, Zebrah, how many Alkemi are there with skins as White as yours?"

"Only one," said Zebrah, her voice tight.

Zaragoth laughed.

"Are you enjoying the boy?" the Emperor asked.

"Yes," said Zebrah.

"I can't imagine what you're doing with him," said the Emperor again, with unusual emphasis. "But... very well."

Zebrah returned to her quarters right before the lunch hour. For some reason she felt in a fury. She found Wyatt, sitting on her bed, looking bored. She took one look at the floors and the countertops. "This is not clean."

"I did my best," said the boy sullenly.

"I will inspire you to do better," said Zebrah. She methodically beat the boy, bruising him from top to bottom. The boy screamed, more out of surprise and shame, and when Zebrah was done, he ached all over. "I will return by dinner. Make sure you do better."

Wyatt did do better by dinner, putting in some real effort. But the room still was not clean enough. "Look at this," said Zebrah, holding up a finger filled with dust.

"I don't see anything!" Wyatt cried.

"Here, I will help you see better," said Zebrah. She proceeded to beat him again.

This started a pattern over several days. Zebrah beat Wyatt for failing to comply with her orders, for giving sullen responses, or for failing to comply fast enough. She beat him for calling her a White; she beat him for calling her a Quad; she beat him for bringing buckets of water for her bath too slowly; and she beat him for not working hard enough. She told herself she was doing this to help the boy stay alive; if he was going to survive in Rockrod, he had to learn to obey her orders implicitly.

One time when Zebrah was lying in the bath, Wyatt saw a knife on the countertop. Zebrah's back was to him. He picked up the knife, and slowly walked towards her. She would never see it coming. He aimed directly at the center of her back, raised his knife hand--and Zebrah, whirling and rising, knocked the knife out of his hand, got out of the tub, and gave him a lesson he would not soon forget.

"Why!" Wyatt cried, as she pummeled him with open slaps. "You said I could try to kill you three times!" His arms were black and blue, and throbbing.

"I did," said Zebrah, standing there naked and dripping wet above him. "But I didn't say what I would do." Droplets of water dripped off two sets of enormous Wise Ones. Wyatt's eyes widened in horror as four wet red circles stared at him accusingly. "Now set the table for dinner," she said, as if nothing unusual had happened.

The following day, Wyatt found another opportunity. Zebrah came home drunk. Wyatt smelled the whiskey on her breath. She staggered into the room with a playful grin. "No! There you are! No, no, nonono," she said, giving him a rare smile. She took off her armor slowly, smiling at him in a drunken stupor. Wyatt said nothing. He watched her collapse on the bed. In moments she was snoring, lying face down on her bed.

Surely she was in a deep sleep. Surely she wouldn't hear him coming.

Wyatt picked up the knife.

He tiptoed over to her bed. She looked dead to the world.

He raised the knife over her bare back. One quick, easy stroke, and it would be done. Zebrah had killed Ma and Pa. He had seen it with his own eyes. He wanted her dead. And yet...

Could this be another trap? The last two times, she had seemed totally unaware.

But she was snoring!

She could be faking it. This was his last chance to kill her. If he failed, he would die.

Despite all the pain and suffering he had endured, Wyatt wanted to live. He was young, and didn't want to die. He wanted to kill Zebrah, but was afraid.

Moving softly, he put the knife back on the counter, and went back to his mat on the floor.

He slept very uneasily that night, thinking of lost opportunities.​