by Aaron Bunce
Something groaned out in the hallway and he heard what sounded like bare feet patter against stone. Roman scooped another spoonful into his mouth and chewed, desperation and fear driving him to eat so fast that he almost gagged himself. He would not have them present him with a hot meal, just to rip it away before he could eat it.
The footsteps approached, sounding just outside his door. Roman tipped the plate, shoveling the food in, slopping just as much on his face as in it.
The door clicked as he scraped the last bits of food into his mouth, his throat aching and stomach seizing from the effort. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve as the small door swung inward. A dark figure appeared. Dirty feet, tunic, and finally, a small oil lamp.
“Rat! I thought you were the guards,” Roman said.
The boy picked up the lamp and turned, his mousy face and wide eyes glowing in the light. He met Roman’s gaze, before his eyes dropped to the plate sitting on his lap. Rat ran forward, and with surprising speed, snatched the plate up in his hand.
“A plate of hot food. A rare treat,” Roman said, the cramping pain seizing his stomach.
I wish I hadn’t eaten so damned fast, he thought.
Rat lifted the plate to his nose and sniffed, his face scrunching up.
“It was rather good,” Roman said, clutching to his belly. The cramping intensified, stabbing up into his chest and squeezing the air out of his lungs.
“No, it’s not good,” Rat said quietly, letting the dish slip from his fingers and clatter to the stone at his feet.
“What do you…?” Roman tried to ask, but he couldn’t spit out the words. Something was wrong with him, something very wrong.
“I knew they feared you, but I never thought them capable of such a thing,” Rat said quietly.
Roman gasped, his insides on fire, he looked up and found Rat standing above him.
“Poison…in your food,” the boy said, wrapping his small fingers around Roman’s wrists.
“P-p-poison?” he stammered, the Ifrit suddenly awake and swirling inside him as well. It pushed against his will, expanding like a wild fire, threatening to spill out and consume him.
“Yes,” Rat said, nodding slowly. He pulled, extending Roman’s arms, urging him to stand.
“Can’t…” he resisted, but the boy pulled harder and lifted him off of the ground.
“The lord constable fears you, Roman, for the same reasons the Councilmen would. But Lord Desh doesn’t feel the need to share the news of your discovery. He would rather still your heart and have your body tossed into the tunnels, along with the rest of his castoffs. You don’t know it yet, but it is who you are, and what you would symbolize to their people,” Rat said.
“Who I am?” Roman gasped.
“I first saw you in a dream, as a faceless man rimmed in fire, half in this world, and half in the next. I could feel your power when you first stood in chains, the toxic beast slowly stirring within you, but you lacked the means to control it. With the darkness spreading across this land, I knew you were what I was looking for, what I needed, but I needed to know your heart. To make sure you were what I hoped, no, needed you to be, before coming before you,” Rat said, his dark eyes glimmering in the lamplight.
Roman’s heart hiccupped and his legs shook, but he did not crumbled to the ground. Rat held his arms, propping him up with surprising strength.
“You need to unleash the monster trapped deep inside you. Let its fire fill you and burn the poison from your body,” Rat said.
Roman shook his head, his entire body trembling violently. He couldn’t stand the thought of the Ifrit free, its violent and murderous will overtaking his own. He managed to contain it once. He wasn’t sure that he could find the strength to do it again. How many people in the fort would die before he could contain it once again? If he could at all.
“You must!” Rat growled, his fingers digging into Roman’s forearms.
“Can’t…control…it,” Roman gasped.
“I will give you a gift. But you must decide how to use it. Use the strength I give you to pull the Ifrit from your body and banish it. Push it back to its own wretched home. But I warn you, it will hunt you, seeking to push through you once again. Or, strip the beast of the flesh you gave it. Tear it down and take its power as your own,” Rat said, his dark eyes pulsing with a sudden burst of green light.
Roman’s confusion mounted. None of it made sense. How could it? The pain grew worse, seizing his heart. “If I die, it will just…bring me back,” he whispered, his breath escaping painfully. He tried to draw air in once again, but his lungs denied him.
“It didn’t save you before, Roman. The beast claimed you, riding your spirit into your body. I’m afraid it doesn’t need you anymore. It has been waiting patiently for its opportunity to claim your body for its own. I’m sorry for stripping choice from your hands, Roman, but you haven’t the time,” Rat said.
Roman felt the boy’s hands grow hot against his skin. He opened his eyes just as his fingers flexed and grew, snaking into his pale flesh like hungry worms. He moaned, but had no breath to cry out.
Rat’s eyes pulsed with a bright green light, burning into Roman’s vision and washing everything else away. He felt pain where the boy’s fingers broke his flesh, but he also felt a strange, tingling sensation seep into him. It crawled up his arms and into his chest, before reaching his heart and bursting out into the rest of his body.
Rat’s eyes burned brightly and then started to fade. The trickle of energy flowing into his arms slowed, until the boy’s eyes faded to their previous muddy brown.
Roman stumbled back against the wall as Rat fell away, large bleeding holes pocked in his forearms. Stars washed before his eyes as he struggled to breathe. He could feel the Ifrit now, perhaps more vividly than ever before. It circled inside him, like a hungry predator waiting for its wounded prey to succumb.
Roman understood the truth. Rat was right; it wouldn’t aid him. It was waiting for him to slip once again, so it could take his body for its own.
No! He thought and focused all of his will power towards the circling spirit. Roman felt the Ifrit react as his will wrapped around it, seizing it like massive, strangling hands. He had never felt so strong, or in control before.
An angry bellow resounded in his mind as the fire spirit unfurled, fighting against his control, but its strength paled in comparison to his own. Out…wretched beast, Roman thought, pushing against it with all of his might.
Roman’s skin started to glow and his insides grew hot. He felt the Ifrit seeping out of him, burning the poison from his body at the same time. A dark mist bubbled forth from his skin, enveloping his entire body in a cloud of putrid mist.
Air rushed into his lungs and his insides relaxed. For the first time in a long, long while, Roman felt normal. No, he felt, good.
“Make your choice,” Rat said, staggering back and falling onto the mattress in the corner. His body was changing, elongating and stretching.
Roman turned back as the dark cloud took form, the strange green trail of spectral energy once again appearing before him. The Ifrit materialized, its dark, soot-blackened form filling half the damp cell.
The beast hissed, its dark horns digging into the ceiling overhead. Chunks of stone and dust rained down upon it, flame and heat escaping where the rock cracked its flesh.
You are mine! The beast’s voice echoed in Roman’s mind.
I am my own person, Roman shot back defiantly, and stepped forward boldly.
“NO! Mine!” The Ifrit hissed, its eyes glowing like hot coals.
The spectral trail connecting him to the dark creature glowed green in the dim light of the lamp. It felt tangible to him now, as if it were a rope of pure energy he could grasp and manipulate. He could sense all of the creature’s dark and murderous thoughts trickling into him from the tether. But it wasn’t overwhelming anymore. Somehow, Rat had given him the means to take control.
The Ifrit looked around the small cell, its
dark, clawed hands searching the stone. It turned and discovered the door. Roman felt its excitement as bright fire filled the cell with light. The stout door cracked and turned to ash, falling before the angry creature in just a few short heartbeats.
The fire spirit forced its head out the doorway, its wide horns catching on the doorframe. Wood and stone crumbled and gave way, clattering all around.
Roman sensed the creature’s singular will driving it forward, its need to burn everything and everyone in the fort turning his stomach. Dennah was up there somewhere. He couldn’t allow it to hurt her, not after everything she went through.
“Stop!” he growled, blanketing the murderous creature with his will.
The Ifrit stopped abruptly, its body wedged half in, and half out the crumbling cell door. The fire spirit growled menacingly, its voice accosting his mind as well. It sought to wrestle control away from him.
“Face me,” Roman said, firmly. He wrenched the soot-scorched creature back through the door.
The Ifrit turned, its dark claws rending the air between them. He used his will alone to stop the creature before it could fall on him.
“How long have you poisoned me? Corrupted me?” Roman whispered.
The Ifrit hung above him, its long, strong arms and serpent-like tail poised to strike him down.
“My own!” The Ifrit hissed, wrenching against his will and trying to move forward, to blanket and smother him.
“No longer!” Roman snarled, tearing at the spirit’s flesh with his mind.
The Ifrit repelled, an invisible force shattering the blackened flesh of its left shoulder. Fire burst out, licking the air and splashing against the ceiling overhead.
“I will be my own person,” Roman said, stepping forward, battering the Ifrit once again. More dark flesh broke apart, shattering into dark mist. The mist drifted in a circle under the creature, growing so dense that it appeared as a hole in the stone.
“I won’t be weak anymore. I will be whole. I will protect those people I care about. I will be the person my parents wanted me to be,” he hissed, directing all of his energy right at the creature’s chest.
The Ifrit staggered back, the flesh of its torso blasted away. Its head tilted back, the black horns rending rock loose from above. The remaining black flesh crumbled off of the creature, falling into the pool of ashes.
Roman staggered forward, pressing through the waves of rage radiating off of the creature. Its head was all that retained form. The rest of its body had been reduced to dancing, arcing flame, and a dark, scorched heart at its core.
As he approached, he felt the dark pool of ash sitting below the Ifrit wrench on him. Beyond the darkness was the creature’s home, a plane of fire, ash, and shadow. He could easily will it through the darkness and banish it to its home, but how long before it hunted him down again? Were there other beings on its plane? Would he condemn them by casting it back through?
Roman considered every black, violent thought the creature forced upon him. It saved him from death, but not out of mercy. No, it sought only to cross over into his world, and see everything burned to ash.
Reclaim the flesh, and take its power, Roman thought, remembering Rat’s words. He had to decide.
Clenching his jaw, Roman pushed forward, desperate to be strong, but also to be free from the wretched creature. Flames danced and surged, buffeting against him with the force of a summer storm. They battered his mind and his body, but he dug his heel into the stone and refused to be pushed back.
Roman was surrounded by bright fire, the trail of spectral energy extending from his own body, before disappearing into the dark heart. He shielded his eyes with one hand and reached forward with the other, the cuffs pulling tight. He was almost out of chain, but he was almost there. The beast’s dark heart hung right before him.
With one final push, Roman’s fingers closed around it. He felt the spirit’s sweltering anger morph. Its thoughts swirled inside him, going cold with fear. For perhaps the first time in its existence, it was scared.
Roman pulled, feeling the heart expand and contract in his hands. It resisted as the Ifrit fought against him. He pulled again and the fire changed. It didn’t push him back, but swelled against his skin, the heat soaking in. He pulled a third time and felt the heart move. Fury and fire swarmed towards him, rushing into his body as the heart yanked free.
The Ifrit’s angry cry filled his mind, but then it was gone. The fire poured over him, rushing into his skin. Roman’s hand glowed as the beast’s heart melted away.
Power coursed throughout his body. It didn’t feel like anything he had experienced. It felt good, like he was charged with a host of new possibilities.
Roman turned back towards the mattress, where Rat sat in the darkness. The cuffs caught, the chains snagging under his feet. He raised his hands before him and focused. Energy snapped inside him at will, rushing from his chest and out through his arms. His hands started to glow and then his flesh came alive, dancing with lively, bright flames.
The fire crept up his wrists and onto his forearms, his skin changing under the flames. Pale flesh darkened and hardened, scaling over and taking a monstrous appearance.
Roman willed the fire on. The red iron shackles around his wrists reacted, swelling against his skin and growing hot. He felt the pinch as the metal constricted and strangled.
Hotter! He winced, and the flames wrapped around the shackles and glowed white-hot. A heartbeat later, the shackles drooped and slid from around his wrists, the metal dripping and pooling on the ground.
Roman watched the fire die down. His flesh softened, the hard ridges that had crested his hands and arms smoothing out. He rubbed his wrists, the reality sinking in. He was free.
“Very good,” Rat said from the dark corner. “Now there is but one thing standing between you and freedom.
Chapter 32
Embracing the darkness
Wraithman lunged. Julian pivoted off his good leg and spun sideways. The dagger came down hard, digging into the soft wood of the table behind him.
“This really is for the best,” Wraithman said, cutting at Julian’s belly in a wide arc. He hobbled backwards, just managing to get clear of the swinging blade.
Grasp him. I will do the rest, Pera instructed.
Julian didn’t respond, although the tingling in his hands told him that Pera didn’t need him to. He couldn’t afford to divide his attention. Wraithman was far too quick, and proficient with the short blade.
Wraithman lunged again, only this time Julian didn’t turn out of the way, he maneuvered and hooked his arm around his opponent’s arm. Wraithman tried to turn away but Julian wrapped his fingers around the trapper’s neck and squeezed.
“Gah!” Wraithman choked, Julian’s hand going hot against his flesh.
A burst of energy shot up his arm, flooding into his chest before coursing out into the rest of his body. Wraithman wrenched to the side, his fist slamming into Julian’s ribs, just below his right armpit.
They staggered together, but Wraithman’s fist swung back in, striking Julian in the side of the head. Everything pitched around him and he staggered into a barrel set against the wall. Armor, swords, and hand axes spilled out across the floor as the barrel upended.
“What is this?” Wraithman growled hoarsely, his hand wrapped around his throat.
We have weakened him, Pera said.
Julian glanced down at a rusty sword sitting a pace from his right boot. Wraithman followed his gaze, and came forward in a rush. Julian didn’t have time to grab for the sword, only duck the flashing dagger blade.
Wraithman cut and stabbed, setting his feet and moving with the fluidity of a dancer. Julian bobbed and weaved, matching his movements with practiced grace. He hadn’t even noticed that the pain in his leg was gone.
With more of that we can be gone from here and back to Tanea. Pera’s mention of Tanea stroked across Julian’s beleaguered mind like a splash of warm sunshine. He didn’t need reminding
though.
“Gah! Stand still,” Wraithman hissed in frustration, jabbing again and again.
A shout sounded from outside. Wraithman hesitated, looking to the bright outline of the door. Julian didn’t. He pushed off and jumped, closing the gap between them as fast as he could manage, and wrapped both hands around the startled trapper’s neck. Wraithman gave a startled yell and jerked.
“I’m sorry,” Julian winced, his hands growing hot and his fingers digging into the man’s flesh.
Wraithman’s eyes went wide, every blood vessel and vein in his face and neck expanding grotesquely. Lively, warm energy rushed up Julian’s arms, filling his tired, battered body with an overwhelming sense of euphoria. Every part of him felt warm and tingly, except his stomach.
Julian looked down and found the dagger buried up to the hilt in his belly. Wraithman grimaced, his mouth working silently, his arm twisting and driving the dagger yet deeper.
The doors rattled behind them, banging against the crate he’d used to wedge them closed. Ghadarzehi’s voice rang out, deep and angry.
Wraithman’s flesh started to shrink, cracking and breaking around his withering bones like old leather. A smell filled Julian’s nose. It was his mother’s apple tart, but then it changed and smelled like Tanea’s scented oil. He couldn’t rationalize it, or where it was coming from.
The trapper moaned as his ribcage collapsed, forcing the remaining air out of his lungs. Julian felt the flow of energy slow to a trickle, and then it stopped. Wraithman hung from Julian’s extended arms, his withered body swaying. It had no more weight or substance to it than a dried bramble.
Pera’s presence pushed into his mind, the pressure filling his head and almost toppling him from consciousness. Julian struggled against it, fear gripping him and seizing his chest. It felt just like before, when he was first saved from the pit, when the Nymradic was able to take control.
