Chapter 9. The Purple Hand

THE SPIDER'S MARK

The Spider's mark is another of the twelve Marks. The House of the Spider was assimilated into the Cranswell territories toward the start of Manus' campaign, and has since been awarded to every "Purple Hand '' within Manus' personal guard. The Purple Hand serves as a special operative, granted a near-limitless amount of discretion and freedom from any conventional military chains of command.

The Spider's Mark itself is well-suited to acts of espionage. Its primary capability is to produce threads similar to spider silk, of varying thickness and strength. These can be laid along surfaces to pick up on air vibrations or changes in pressure, allowing the Marked to listen in on conversations remotely.

Another use of these threads is as lethal weapons, as they can be made sharper than most conventional blades, and stronger than steel chains, letting the Marked use them in close combat in place of, or to complement their own weapon, either as a binding weapon or a cutting one.

In addition, these threads can be set in place ahead of time, and contracted at will to lay traps for unsuspecting opponents. This particular use of the threads is the best-known trait of the Mark.

Of course, blunter, thicker threads can also be produced for use as ropes, bindings or any other similar purpose.

The current Purple Hand was once known as Rhodri the Bear. His past was one spent in and out of trouble with the law, and the military was seen by his family as a way of channeling his strength into a worthwhile cause. This imposing man rose to his current rank through immense struggle, being passed over for promotion on numerous occasions in favour of his high-born counterparts. This did, however, result in the common-born Manus taking notice of him, and promoting him personally to the rank of Purple Hand.

As soon as the door was shut, Dolorem bolted the door. He turned to face the window, seeing the Purple Hand sitting in the frame, no weapon drawn, his bulky frame casting a harsh silhouette into the room. "There's no need for this to end in bloodshed, Dolorem" his deep voice rang out, cleaving apart the silence. "We can both resolve this matter peacefully."

Dolorem's hand went to his waist, realising he was unarmed. "I'm afraid that peaceful resolution went out the window when your Lord murdered my family and imprisoned my wife."

"Dolorem, you must understand, Manus regrets the current state of affairs as much as you do. It was Solomon that gave the order. The rest was self defence. You did attack one of his garrisons, and murder one of his vassals, unprovoked. You are not the victim."

"I killed a tyrant, and ended an invasion, the world is healthier for the loss."

"You've only held back the inevitable. Once the southern colonists regroup, we'll retake Black Iron, and restore order. What you consider freedom is wasted potential, lands capable of feeding thousands feeding hundreds, the finest ores and metals, fit for royalty, squandered to forge plough-blades. Our empire will turn this land into a prosperous, wealthy one, where the sacrifices of the forebears will pave the way for a generation who will never know hunger, nor war. Is that not what you want? Do you not understand that great miracles demand little sacrifice?"

"What you call peace, is oppression. The people will decide the fate of their own domain. I did murder Johan, just as he murdered the people of Black Iron. It's the nature of justice, those who abuse power must be punished. My actions are just by the people. "

"So be it, Dolorem. You call your actions just, as I do mine. If you come to call these acts of terrorisim justice, I can only respond to it with further violence. You are the one that perpetuates this cycle. Can't you see that?"

The Purple Hand descended from his perch, like mercury. The Spider's Mark glowed violet on his hand, a sorrowful look on his face. From a scabbard on his back he drew a short, thick falchion, the steel gently humming with innate magic.

Dolorem felt scales forming across his body. He doubted they'd do much against the magically fortified weapon. The Purple Hand had an unusually narrow stance, feet almost together. He seemed to fall to one side, before dashing toward Dolorem. His sword came up at a steep angle, aimed to pierce Dolorem's throat. Dolorem evaded it narrowly. He felt cold resolve flooding his mind, eliminating superfluous thought. The Purple hand was preparing another assault.

Another venomous slash, another near miss. The dance continued. His opponent was unpredictable, erratic. His movements were reminiscent of drunken fighting, a style Dolorem knew frighteningly little about. He could barely keep up, landing a strike could wait. Dolorem threw a few strikes of his own, warding rather than offensive. The blows were barely having an effect, being absorbed by well made armour, backed by padded cloth.

The Orochi made himself known. "I can manifest my vipers again, but it'd be destructive, and those threads he has can sever them."

"Helpful!" Dolorem thought angrily dancing amid a flurry of swipes, one nicking his arm, another biting into his cheek. The blade could cleave apart his scales with little resistance.

The purple hand snapped his fingers. The intricate dance he had finished was multipurpose. While he struck with one hand, he wove his threads about the room with the other. Now, the trap was set. The lethally sharp thread's closed in on Dolorem, cutting him like wire through clay, yet still Dolorem stood, the seams where his body had been torn apart were sealed with an onyx void, with gently glowing white edges.

His face had changed, not physically, but it had warped into a manic look of excitement. "Oh? What's this?" He said. His voice was the same, yet different. The wounds were already healing.

The Purple Hand swung for Dolorem, but the falchion stopped barely an inch from his neck, completely halted by an invisible force. Dolorem put a hand on Rhodri's shoulder, a bizarre arrogance exuding from him. "Well, I'll give credit where it's due, you have good form."

Dolorem backhanded The Purple Hand into the jaw, and punched him in the gut before grabbing his throat and holding him aloft, crushing his windpipe. Squeezing ever tighter, crushing the very life from his body.

Then Dolorem stopped, eyes widening in horror and shock. He dropped The Purple Hand immediately, whole body shaking, he felt drained, and frightened by his loss of control.

He collapsed on top of the Purple Hand, who was barely conscious. Dolorem was breathing heavily. He dragged himself off his battered adversary, standing up. "Why did you stop, Dolorem?" The Orochi asked.

"Our ideologies differ, as do our reasons, but his conviction is for a just cause. The fear I put in him will serve us well. He'll tell others, and they'll warp the tale beyond recognition. No need to bereave a family. Besides, that… wasn't me."

"You killed Johan without a second thought, what's the difference?"

"Johan was a tyrant, and had no sense of respect or responsibility."

"And you saw fit to bereave his family? Does that permit their suffering?"

"I suppose it was a necessary evil, yes."

"I see. Mortals are… unusual. Besides, that is you, they're your actions whether or not you like them."

"Not quite."

Dolorem checked the Purple Hand's pulse, and flipped him over. He was conscious, but not capable of speech, breathing would hurt for hours, but he'd live.

"Listen, I have a message for Manus, for Priscilla, and especially for Solomon. This is my declaration of war. I'll keep moving forward, no matter how many mercenaries you send," He hissed.

"If I cross your path again, let it be peacefully," he added, leaving the room. Dolorem made his way out of the inn. He stepped out into the street, his heart feeling like it was filled with cold sand. The world seemed grayer, somehow. He felt a constriction on his ribcage, a weight bound to him. Regardless he carried on. Lilith would be waiting.

Deep within the walls of the Archduke's fortress in Cinnodus, a meeting was being held. Deep within the suffocating labyrinth of stone the innermost members of the circle had gathered to discuss the "expansion of territories' ' Manus and Priscilla headed the table, casting a long shadow over proceedings. The flickering candle lights accentuated the cruel contours of Manus' face, and highlighted the intelligence in Priscilla's eyes. New to the group was Solomon, looking distinctly tired, his face drawn, the Mark of Mist clearly taking its toll on his fragile constitution.

Behind Manus and Priscilla stood an unspeaking adherent, in veiled helmet and full armour. Little could be discerned about him save for the power he seemed to radiate. Wolfcoat Godfrey.

Solomon rapped his fingers on the table as the rest of the group took their seats. He held a higher social rank than most of them there. He was the ruler of a Marked House. Once the meeting commenced, he spoke. "Let's not… " someone put a hand on his forearm, pointing toward Manus' grave face. "Of course, go ahead, your excellency." Solomon felt the sudden crushing pressure of Manus' presence. Priscilla spoke, breaking the tension.

"Esteemed guests, friends and valued allies, I believe we all know why we're here. Our expansion is currently being hindered by a rogue shinobi, and one Lilith of the Adjudicators. Both are believed to be within the Black Iron Prefecture, or a nearby province. Our latest intelligence suggests they are moving further south, however confirmation is pending. Five Seals-Dolorem is to be considered a terrorist, and guilty of treason. He also possesses numerous high-grade magical abilities, and reports indicate an unknown transmutive or summoning capability has manifested since he had his Mark claimed by Solomon."

"And what of the Adjudicator?" A voice called out from further down the table. Godfrey's head turned to face the interruption, eyes bearing down on him from behind the veil. The man shrank into his chair under Godfrey's gaze, his aura of fear.

"If you can allow me to finish…" Priscilla continued unperturbed, "Lilith of the Adjudicators remains an unknown quantity to a large extent. Her people are fiercely defensive of their territories, and what we do know is a mix of myth and hearsay. Solomon's account, and that of his personal guard states that Lilith has proficiency in martial arts, as well as war magic.

She is also believed to have her house's full backing in political affairs and links to numerous independent states. As it stands, her political ability is her greatest asset. Do you have anything to add, Solomon?" She finished, voice sharpened by indignance.

Solomon stood up "Yes," he composed himself, feeling the multitude of eyes watching him. "I have contracted Venari to track down the two of them, using funds from my own treasury. The Venari is specifically equipped to hunt and kill shinobi, and has been paired with the Purple Hand, courtesy of Manus to track them. I have no doubt you will all be pleased by the fruits of this decision." He sat down, met by a silent room.

"And we are to trust Solomon, why?" One voice called out. A chorus of murmurs ensued.

"He's betrayed his own once, why not us?" cried another.

A vague rumbling filled the room, and the voices subsided. The source was Manus, his eyes flashing gold. "Let me put your concerns to rest, gentlemen. I guarantee Solomon's full loyalty to my honour. Not only does he believe the righteousness of my cause, knowing first hand the pain of losing those dear to him."

Dead silence. The assembled crowd all knew Manus' honour was mutable, and invoked on a whim. To say so was sacrilege, and at worst, suicide. Manus was a monster wrapped in heavenly linens, nothing would change that.

"Of course, he knows that should he try to betray me, he'll end up joining those he so dearly misses."

Another long silence. Nobody dared even breathe for fear Manus' anger would be provoked.

"This meeting is adjourned," Manus said, seemingly fully aware of the power he commanded. "Thank you all for your time."

***

In the northern outskirts of Black Iron, hunched in a rundown hamlet, Venari looked at the Purple Hand with disgust. "Negotiation?" She spat. "You aren't being paid to make friends! From now on I'm deciding who goes where!"

The Purple Hand lay on a stretcher, breathing labored. "And I'm not paid per ounce of blood spilled, Venari." The Purple Hand drew in a ragged, long breath. "Why do you hate others, your allies, your targets, why?"

"What are you, a fucking priest? I have a job, I do it, I get paid, simple as that."

"You say that, but there's something behind it, Venari. You want violence, not results, you just proved that much"

"Just stop. I have my method, you have yours. No more. No less." She threw on her vermillion cloak. "Can you walk?"

"Aye, I'll be fine."

"Then do so," Venari snapped, pulling out a divination stone. "We have a hostage to take."

***

Dolorem made his way south, with little idea of how to find Lilith. Tracking humans on well traveled, paved roads was nigh pointless in dry weather, and once one went off the trail, the entirety of the Southern Rift Plain stretched before you. He took a seat on a nearby bank of grass to think.

"Orochi?" Dolorem thought. "Yes?" It replied. "Any ideas?" He asked. "Yes, but I'd rather you did this yourself. You cannot rely on me completely, should you lose my power." It said,

"What do you mean?" Dolorem asked, incredulous. "They're rare, but there are methods by which vessel and patron can be split. If Solomon or Manus were to find them, things would likely become very difficult." A tense silence hung in the air. "That said, they are convoluted, obscure rites."

"But they exist"

"Yes"

Dolorem thought hard. No jutsu he knew could locate a specific person at any distance. Sending a fireball into the sky was common practice, but not advisable in the current situation. Then it hit him. He could use his Earth seal to send tremors through the ground. Perceptible by all, and mild earthquakes being common, he'd time the tremors to copy elvish syllables, and use that to pass on his location.

He knew little elvish, but he had enough to say what he wanted to. He also had learned several swear words, as one did. Those wouldn't be needed today. He wove the appropriate seals, placing his hands to the ground. Subtle rumbling echoed within the earth, its very bones shaken, if only slightly. Pulses, I, am, here. In elvish. The waves spread from Dolorem's location, surging outward. Now all Dolorem could do was wait.

Lilith did feel the tremors, as she walked the road on her own. She had a basic idea of where he was now. She reckoned it would take an hour, maybe forty minutes to reach him. She didn't know any earth-tremor related spells, such things being suicide in the caverns and tunnels of her homeland, rock shaping, certainly, but to shake the brittle rock on a large scale would invaribly result in a collapse.

She headed off-road in the general direction of Dolorem night wouldn't fall for a good while, and Dolorem wasn't the type to get worked up over having to wait an hour or two so long as she arrived in one piece.

***

Not far from Lilith, Venari was preparing the divination ritual. "You have the focus?" The Purple Hand offered a strand of white hair. Venari snatched it, "You're sure this is hers?"

"Aye, took it from their pillow. The five-seals has black hair." Venari gave a grunt of what could be mistaken as thanks. She laid the hair over the divination stone, and recited the spell. Above it, wisps of silvery smoke formed and condensed to give an image of Lilith, on her way across the drumlins of Black Iron. "That her?"

"Yeah, looks to be. I'd be wary of her though, don't take any risks you don't need to. The Purple Hand offered meekly.

"Don't tell me what to do!" Venari growled at him. "I'll be back for your crippled hide once I'm done."

With that she pulled her cloak over one shoulder, disappearing in a whirlwind of vermillion cloth. Teleportation spells were rare, and items infused with them prohibitively expensive. For Venari to have one was a sure sign she was valuable, if unorthodox. The Purple Hand sat in mild shock. Truthfully, he had little respect for Venari, but now it was warranted, despite her attitude. Silently, he prayed for Lilith to be brought back alive.

***

Lilith saw the gathering gyre of red and immediately stopped in her tracks.

Venari appeared, malicious light burning in her eyes. Lilith widened her stance cautiously. "Can I help you?" She asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. Venari's eyes narrowed with annoyance. "Just shut up and come with me." She growled.

"At least take me out to dinner first," Lilith retorted, shrouding herself in magic.

Venari didn't respond, she simply drew her rapier and lunged. Lilith managed to sidestep with relative ease. Letting Venari's momentum carry her away. Venari's movements were uniquely animalistic, and therefore unpredictable. She threw her rapier in an arc, a chain tethering weapon and wielder. The swing was intercepted by Lilith's magically-protected forearm. The blade itself was perhaps two feet long, unusually broad with a subtly leaflike blade. It had a leather-wrapped footlong handle, capped off by a ringlike pommel to which the chain hung.

Lilith ran in to deliver a number of bone-crushing strikes to Venari's torso, before throwing her to the ground. Venari threw her head back and laughed, before once again throwing her sword at Lilith. Lilith dodged, delivering a palm-heel strike to the back of Venari's extended elbow. A sound of tearing followed.

Venari's reply was a savage kick to the front of the knee that knocked Lilith from her stance. It hadn't broken anything, but she was in a compromised position. Venari's savage thrust narrowly missed Lilith's nape, instead grazing her cheek. Lilith flipped over, landing a solid kick on Venari's jaw. The blow sent her assailant reeling.

Venari stood up, and burst into another fit manic laughter. From within her cloak she drew a syringe of some sort. "I had my doubts, Lilith, but this… this is a real fight!" She plunged the needle deep into her own leg, the contents filling her bloodstream. Venari's eyes rolled back, and her speed seemed to double. She pounced at Lilith, blade poised to strike. Lilith narrowly wove, struck and dodged again. Blocking, grabbing, parrying, hoping for a decisive opening, some hamartia in her onslaught. Weave, weave, strike. Chip away at her opponent. Just as her mother had taught her. Venari staggered back following a strike to the jaw that produced an audible crack, before flowing like mercury into another brutal thrust.

This time, Lilith could only grab the blade, blood seeping from her fingers, in spite of the magical barrier. She tried to wrench the weapon from her, but Venari's enhanced strength held firm. Lilith settled for a push kick to put distance between the two. She backed up several steps, buying herself time to cast one of her own jutsu.

Possibilities, tactics crowded her mind, competing for attention. She settled on a metal transmutation, she'd shatter Venari's weapon, and limit her reach. She made the hand signs,and a tether of raw force surged forth from her hand, the blade caught in its ethereal grasp.

Once she had the weapon secured, even in spite of Venari's feral struggling, Lilith made one last sign, sundering the metal into glittering chunks of scrap.

Once that was done, Lilith had intended to cast a second jutsu to immobilize Venari, but was given little time to prepare one, as her opponent dashed in, barehanded, seemingly only further enraged.

Lilith managed to parry and block Venari's punches and kicks, for, as venomous as they were, lacked clarity, she attacked by instinct without a weapon, a trait Lilith could exploit.

Lilith ducked, weaved and parried, throwing jabs, knees, little by little winning a battle of attrition, once Venari's balance was off, Lilith grappled her arm, forcing her momentum against her and pinning it behind her back. She wrestled the berserking woman to the ground, hoping a long enough struggle would deplete her stamina.

Venari, however, had other plans, in her free hand she held another syringe, and without hesitation drove it into her leg, so deep it scored bone. Fiendish vigor flowed through her, allowing her to break Lilith's grip, and knock her to the ground, then immediately followed with a chokehold. She removed her hairpin, which in fact was a shipbuilding nail, made of some kind of black metal, and plunged it deep into Lilith's right eye.

Venari raised her arm once again, but was swiftly intercepted by a stake of metal erupting from the ground, impaling her from below the ribcage. She didn't falter, only briefly stiffened, then set about taking Lilith's other eye. The Purple Hand stopped her, she didn't even look at him, and showed no surprise that he had managed to find her.

"Let me go."

"Do you want to bleed out?"

"Let me go."

The Purple Hand hauled Venari off Lilith, and put his falchion to her throat. He barked at Lilith "Go!"

Lilith followed the order, blood welling between her fingers in the crater where her eye once was. She didn't question it, just ran. Just made her way in the direction of her goal, just got away.

The Purple Hand turned to Venari, eyes burning violet. "What is WRONG with you?" He growled.

Venari didn't answer, in fact, she didn't even seem to notice. Her pupils were dilated, and her breathing was far faster than could possibly be safe. She made faint gurgling noises, before collapsing, the Purple Hand caught her before she hit the ground, laying her out.

"Why did you do this to yourself?" He asked aloud.