Author's Note: For anyone not familiar with the Watershed Trilogy setting, Duloth-Trol is the name for the land created by Dassadec and Agath-Trol is the name for its mountain fortress. Duloth-Trol makes up one third of the world of the Watershed - the lands Dalethica and Faerine each make up one of the other two thirds.

Chapter 1: Compulsions

Once you have reached the summit, even the birds cannot share in the true beauty of the view, for all they had to do to reach it was to spread their wings and fly.

-Creed of the Climber

Reaper lounged coiled around his throne, dissatisfied. An unlucky kroak walked too close by, and he swiftly decapitated it in one bite. He instantly regretted doing so. If he had killed the minion more slowly, it might have eased his agitation somewhat better. Even so, the Talon had been unable to gain thorough enjoyment from torturing minions lately. The truth of it was, Reaper was bored. With the Heart of Darkblood destroyed, he was the new Master of Duloth-Trol. He controlled the lives of thousands on thousands of brutox, kroaks, and stalkers, as well as the terrions. But he had always been above the lesser minions, and they were still the only inhabitants of Duloth-Trol that had to answer to him. He hissed his displeasure, spreading his wings, and a passing brutox threw itself prostrate on the floor, trembling. When Reaper did not address it for several seconds, it crawled away on its belly, continuing on its original course.

Reaper ignored it. He had grown weary of tormenting mere minions. He longed to toy with someone accustomed to more power; someone who would feel humiliation as well as pain and fear. But the other two Lord Minions had been killed in the war, and Reaper did not yet have the strength to take on the combined might of Dalethica and Faerine. Then a dark memory tickled at the back of Reaper's mind - one that had annoyed him at the time, but brought with it such potential now. He felt himself relaxing as he relished the feeling of a cruel idea forming in his mind. Perhaps he could exercize his power over someone other than a mere wallowing slave.

You are wanted in the throne room.

Nicodareus trembled in barely suppressed rage. Had he sunk so low in his Master's eyes that Dassadec would allow his fellow Lord Minion, Reaper, to summon him instead of issuing the command himself?

Wings beating powerfully behind him, Nicodareus stalked, as he had countless times before, into the great throne chamber where Dassadec summoned his Lord Minions when he wished to make his will known to them. Reaper was already curled around his throne, as Nicodareus had known he would be. Red orbs glowing fiercely, he glared at Reaper and crossed the great room in several paces, gliding partway, and climbed onto his own throne.

"Down from there, unworthy one!" Reaper hissed loudly.

Nicodareus found himself, to his surprise and dismay, tumbling back down to grovel on the floor. He awaited his punishment, but Dassadec still refused to so much as make his presence felt. "Master!" he cried. "Tell me your bidding! What do you want me to do, so that I may rejoin Reaper in your service?" Despite his plea, his only answer was silence.

Reaper seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. "Dassadec is no more."

Nicodareus turned his eyes to the smugly leering Talon, unwilling to comprehend at first. Then, memories flashed through his mind. The hated Iceman... His wench... Lordsmiter... and the horn of the Deep Guardian, sticking out through the front of his chest. "The Heart of Darkblood!" he realized, feeling more struck than he ever had by mortal or Faerine weapon. "I failed to protect it! And now..."

"Now," Reaper echoed, relishing the moment, "Because it was my power that revived you, now you serve me."

Nicodareus felt the horrible truth of those words, had felt it already when he learned that the Heart had been destroyed. "Yes, my Lord Reaper," Nicodareus said, the meek fawning in his voice bruising his own ears. Deprived of his own free will, he now served a master he had previously been equal to - even favored over! He wished desperately for endless punishment from Dassadec over this. Even his most terrible and recent punishment had not been as bad as this. He roared his fury, knowing even as he did so that he was only allowed to because it pleased Reaper to hear him suffer.

For weeks, Reaper contented himself with the attempt to break Nicodareus's spirit by confining him to the floor of the great throne room and displaying his own unchallenged rulership over Duloth-Trol. He had the minions perform skits before them both recounting Nicodareus's defeat, the destruction of the Heart of Darkblood, and Reaper's triumph in such ways as to paint Nicodareus as the useless fool.

Eventually, though, Reaper began to realize that though Nicodareus burned with rage, his pride and freedom of spirit remained annoyingly intact. Then Reaper began to draw on a memory of having seen his brother look beaten down and worn, after his punishment from Dassadec. Although Dassadec himself had never told Reaper or Phalthak what that punishment had been, Reaper had heard the stupid, gossiping tongues of the lesser minions on more than one occasion. Yes, Reaper reflected with a vicious grin, he knew how Nicodareus had been punished and abased by their god.

"My slave," Reaper condescendingly addressed his brother. "I grow weary of this. It amuses me now to watch you serve others. Some kroaks, perhaps?" Reaper suggested, as if idly. To his great delight, he saw Nicodareus's head snap up, his eyes filled with horror. "But then," Reaper continued coldly, "I understand you are used to that activity. Again, you shall do whatever tasks they demand of you." If it had been possible for Reaper's serpentine head to leer suggestively, he would have done so then, but his voice dripped with the vulgarness of his meaning. He looked forward to seeing Nicodareus grovel before the lowly minions, doing any sort of menial chore - or worse - that they could think of for him to do. And this time, Reaper had no intention of destroying the witnesses. He did not share that information with Nicodareus, however.

"How dare you?" Nicodareus flared, eyes blazing with hate. "You have no right-"

With a soft hiss, Reaper silenced his brother, making him obediently bow his head.

"My apologies, master," Nicodareus choked the words out as Reaper forced them from him. "I beg your forgiveness."

His voice filled with cruel laughter, Reaper summoned hordes of inferior and misshapen kroaks. As the slaves lumbered into the great room, Reaper saw to his enormous glee that Nicodareus had begun shaking.

This was the same wallowing torture that he had been subjected to by Dassadec for his tremendous failures, and now Reaper wanted him to repeat his humiliation only to play the jester for Reaper's petty amusement.

No! Nicodareus thought in absolute refusal. Never again! With a maddened roar that sent the terrified kroaks scurrying out of the throne room in every direction, Nicodareus ripped himself free of Reaper's control. Rage and power surging through every vein and fiber of his body, Nicodareus transformed himself into the same mighty dragon form he had used in his first meeting with Garamis. It was a form that almost always inspired immediate fear, if not reverence, and now even Reaper seemed surprised and uneasy. Launching himself from the smooth, mirror-black stone floor, Nicodareus flew to Reaper in a few powerful wingbeats. He knocked his brother from his undeserved throne, and the two Lord Minions writhed and tumbled on the floor together.

Reaper lashed out with tooth and claw as he thrashed about, desperate to regain his position of superiority and power, but Nicodareus could barely feel the resulting wounds in his flesh. His mind was filled with one thought only - the thought of avenging Dassadec against this traitor. He sank his own rows of needle-sharp teeth into Reaper's scaled, serpentine body, tearing easily at the vulnerable underbelly tissue. With a frantic shriek of anger and pain, Reaper managed to twist free of his brother's grasp.

Wounded, Reaper leaped away from Nicodareus and sank his claws into the rock wall of Dassadec's mighty throne room. As Nicodareus watched in shock, Reaper tore chunks away from the rock with his teeth and claws, opening the enormous cavern to the fiery orange-red light of the outside sky. Nicodareus was horrified to see Reaper using the same tools to damage the mountain fortress that Nicodareus himself had spent twelve weeks molding to his god's desire in an attempt to trick and confuse the hated Iceman and his woman.

With an animalistic scream of rage, Nicodareus threw himself at Reaper, jaws wide and claws extended, sending them both shattering through the rough exit Reaper had made and onto the outside slopes of the black mountain. He clenched his teeth down hard around the side of Reaper's face as he tore at his traitorous brother's body with his massive claws. Agath-Trol is not yours to destroy as you please! he thought fiercely to Reaper.

Yes, it is, Reaper thought back defiantly, and so are you!

No, Nicodareus replied grimly, ignoring the crushing pain as Reaper retaliated against his latest attack by winding his serpentine body sinuously around Nicodareus, twisting and squeezing. It is you, Reaper, who will be destroyed. TRAITOR!

With raw fury beating in his heart, Nicodareus jerked his head sharply first to one side, then the other, and finally back again, snapping Reaper's neck in several places. Only when he felt Reaper's coils loosening their grip and sliding limply off of his body did Nicodareus finally open his jaws and allow what used to be Reaper to slide down the rocky mountainside. The body tumbled like so much dirty rags until it finally sank into the moat of Darkblood at the mountain's very base. Unaware how similar his thoughts and feelings were to those once had by the Iceman he loathed so much, Nicodareus only wished he could have done more to avenge his god. However, he was satisfied that Reaper had paid sufficiently for his treachery.

Having broken free of his enslavement to Reaper, Nicodareus broke free of the ground as he burst into the air from the heights of Agath-Trol.