Outside Influences

Clark leaned back to examine his work and frowned as he considered it.

“You are not my best work,” he stated, “but I have been in an unfortunate rush.”

The figure in front of him blinked slowly, but didn’t respond. That was expected since he had removed the vocal chords to make room for some organs that would be more useful in combat. He gestured at a nearby boulder, shaken loose from the mountain during his fight with the leader of the outsiders.

“Destroy that,” he commanded.

His creation pivoted towards the target and lurched into action. Clark grimaced at the slow movement – the corpse that he had scavenged had quite a few interesting traits, but speed wasn’t one of them. Still, the large, fingernail-like scales that lined the woman’s body had been an excellent place to inscribe a few hundred spells. In life, the woman had been some kind of artificer, and even in death her body was still attuned to the craft.

Nearly two beats of his heart passed before his creation attacked. Its right arm had a second forearm grafted onto it, a clever bit of fleshwork allowing him to attach Bethany’s forearm without compromising the utility of the original. Clark was quite pleased with the result. The body folded back its original arm and struck with Beth’s, using an aura of darkness to gouge into the thick rock. Its other arm, still possessing only a single hand and forearm, sadly, swung a wand forward and stabbed it into the opening. A burst of power exited the weapon and blasted into the rock with the force of a hundred miner’s picks.

Clark nodded with satisfaction as the boulder blew into tiny pieces, scattering debris across the mountainside.

“Playing with your toys again?”

Clark wanted to scowl, but he mastered his expression into one of bland distaste as he slowly turned towards the speaker. “Messenger.”

The tall man laughed, flashing his perfect, white teeth. “I have a name, you know.”

“I do not care to learn it. Deliver my lord’s words and be gone.”

The man arched an eyebrow. “You know, he’s my lord too. Or do–”

“Yes, yes,” Clark interrupted, “you are an integral part to Technis’ plans as well, and I should remember as much. Or course. But you have not been granted the gift of immortality, and I need only wait a few years for you to pass into nothing more than memory.”

Clark gestured for his flesh automata to come back to him so he could give it a final inspection. “You fail to grasp that you are more like this creation, Messenger, than you are alike to myself. I see no need to engage with you in idle prattle.”

“Idle prattle?” the man repeated, insulted. “If you want Technis’ people to be prepared for the upcoming invasion then you should be listening to me, yeah?”

“Other people,” Clark rebuked, “the ones who can’t read reports. Just get on with it.”

The man – Clark truly hadn’t bothered committing his name to memory – huffed.

“We’ve finished our investigation into the death of Inquisitor Sopher and the escape of Lempo’s child and the Earth boy – oh, and of your grandchild – through the Barrier.”

The man paused to see if Clark would react, but the Inquisitor didn’t give him the satisfaction.

“We concluded that they didn’t really penetrate the Barrier,” he continued. “Instead, they brought something in from the outside that allowed them to pass back through. Their actual ingress point was through the Pillars that passes through the shell of the Barrier. The outsiders likely followed instructions from their leader, the demigod who calls himself the Dark Ravager.”

The man waved his hand dismissively. “A bit over the top, but luckily we won’t need to discuss him since he’s already dead.”

Clark’s eyes narrowed as the man’s words gained his full attention. “Dead? The demigod?”

“Yup. A real god used some kind of loophole to descend from the heavens and smite him. We don’t know the details since this all happened outside of the Barrier, but the fireworks were probably visible from orbit.”

Clark grunted with irritation at the man’s confusing expressions. More of his attempts to show off his otherworldly knowledge, no doubt.

“Then we will be moving to fortify our borders in case the child of Lempo returns?”

The man grinned. “What, scared that some real god is going to come and do the same to Technis?”

Clark considered removing the man’s head from his shoulders, but managed to calm himself before he struck. The man is a tool, Clark repeated to himself, and only a fool would get angry at a hinge because it squeaks. He glanced at his automata, wondering if he could remove the man’s vocal chords without compromising his duties.

“I tire of this,” Clark announced. “What are my Lord’s commands?”

The messenger shrugged. “We’re accelerating our timeline. Forget about Satrap’s Barrier and come back to the capital. Everything else is now considered a distraction.”

The messenger grinned again. “All resources will be committed to accelerating our return to Earth. I’m looking forward to going home.”

Clark’s lips pulled back with distaste. He looked at his new creation to hide his expression and pondered what to do with it. He tapped it on the shoulder and looked into its eyes. “Descend the Pillar the same way you originally entered Satrap. If you find your former colleagues or any enemies of Technis, kill them.”

The automata nodded her head and turned to wander off.

“What’s that about?” the messenger questioned. “Didn’t you hear what I just said?”

Clark could have explained that it had a limited lifetime or that he wanted the satisfaction of knowing that something was going to hunt down his wayward relative, but that would involve speaking to the messenger more than was necessary. If getting angry at a squeaky hinge was absurd then speaking with it was ludicrous. The inquisitor turned on his heel and headed directly towards Satrap.