As Sam extruded some limbs to rest his weight on since it seemed rude to simply float in the air while Old Man and Timmy had to use their limited human limbs to sit or stand, he took a closer look at Old Man. Sam’s kind didn’t age in the same way as humans or the other denizens of this world. They simply grew bigger and more powerful. Indeed, some of the Others were so huge that their true forms were spread across countless worlds in innumerable dimensions. Most old humans were frail and had to be cared for by younger humans. Old Man was more than capable of taking care of himself, and there was a hidden sharpness to him that few humans, young or old, possessed.
Old Man also saw more keenly than most humans. He’d known right away that Sam was no mindless beast, despite what so many of the ancient legends said about his kind. Just because he could make dozens of mouths filled with dagger-like teeth didn’t mean that food was the only thing on his mind. Admittedly, food was often on his mind but only because the food in this dimension was so much nicer than the food in his home dimension. Old Man also liked to share the fish he caught, and Sam had heard from Spot that the swordsman had a way of cooking the fish that truly brought out their flavour. Sam had never bothered to cook fish before. He’d simply devoured them whole. However, Spot had good taste, and Old Man had promised to cook Sam some fish for lunch.
“I wonder if the fish will bite today,” Old Man murmured. “My luck was far too good yesterday. I wouldn’t be surprised if I don’t catch a thing.”
Timmy chuckled as Sam signalled his concern by briefly flashing red and waving his tentacles in rhythmic fashion. “Don’t worry, Sam. Fishermen have a tendency to be superstitious. This lake is full of fish. I’m sure we’ll catch something.”
Sam changed the rhythm of his tentacle waving and turned first blue and then green. If the fish weren’t willing to bite, he’d simply go in after them. It wasn’t like he needed to breathe, and it wouldn’t take him more than a moment or two to alter his body for optimum effectiveness underwater. He flashed orange in amusement. Sometimes, he wondered how humans managed to get anything done when they had to make do with such limited bodies.
“Are you okay being this far from the castle?” Timmy asked. The necromancer moved his arms in a reasonable facsimile of concern although Sam did have to take into account his friend’s inability to change shape or colour.
Sam signalled that he was fine. It never ceased to amaze him how good a job Timmy did of using his language despite all of his physical limitations. Katie was also coming along nicely in that regard although her shadow magic did make things easier for her. It wasn’t hard for her to make tentacles out of her shadows, but she had yet to figure out if it was possible for her to change the colour of her shadows.
“Are you sure you don’t want to borrow a fishing rod?” Timmy asked. “I brought a spare one along, and I know Old Man did too.” He nodded at some of the rats that were doing some fishing of their own not far away. “We could also ask the rats to make you one.”
Sam quivered in amusement, flashing through several shades of pink and yellow and changing his shape from roughly spherical to something closer to an octahedron. Grinning at Timmy with some of his mouths, Sam extruded a much longer and slimmer tentacle and cast it out into the water.
“Not bad.” Timmy chuckled. “But aren’t you forgetting something?”
Sam turned his attention to the fishing rod that Old Man was preparing before he lifted his tentacle out of the water. He transformed the flesh at the end of his tentacle into a fish-like lure and then lowered it back into the lake.
Old Man’s eyes widened. “Well, that’s certainly handy.”
“He’s a show off,” Timmy said, drawing another display of amusement from Sam. “He won’t say it, but he thinks our bodies are hilariously limited.”
Sam gave what passed for a laugh amongst his kind. Timmy was right. Human bodies were hilarious limited. They had to make do with whatever limbs or organs they were born with, and their ability to regenerate was woefully inadequate. A human would even die if they lost a limb or were cut in half.
“Sam can do more than alter his body. He can control his presence too.” Timmy fiddled with his fishing rod. “If he wants to, he can keep himself hidden until he’s standing right next to you. That’s how you can tell the younger ones apart. The younger ones always make your hair stand on end, and they scare away all the animals too. Sam and the older ones are fine with animals.” Timmy snickered. “You should see him around the pets some of the servants have. They climb all over him.”
Sam turned a pleased shade of pink and purple. He’d always been fascinated by the idea of pets since his kind had never bothered to keep any. He was particularly fond of cats, and the maids had several that seemed to delight in climbing all over him and batting at his tentacles with their claws.
“He’s doing better than Spot then,” Old Man said. “One of the maids has a curious, little tabby. You should have seen the look on his face when he ran into Spot the other day. I’ve never seen a cat more terrified in my life.”
“He was probably worried that Spot was going to eat him.” Timmy chuckled. “Although I have told Spot not to eat any of the servants’ pets.”
Sam signalled his own opinion on the matter. He had a hard time imagining Spot going after a cat when there were cows and other much larger animals available for consumption. A moment later, it occurred to him that Old Man most likely had no idea what he was saying. In a way, Sam had been very fortunate. Both Timmy and Katie could understand his language, and they’d taught most of the servants the basics too since Sam was such a frequent visitor to the kitchen. He could create vocal chords and try speaking. He’d done it on several occasions, but it might not be a good idea. Apparently, the mere sound of his voice could give normal people nightmares or drive them insane. His tentacles shifted in a display of fond exasperation. Humans could have such fragile minds. It was why he had to be careful before using his kind’s version of telepathy. There was no point in asking one of the cooks to bake him a chocolate cake if he melted the poor fellow’s mind in the process.
Taking careful note of the sun’s position – it was supposed to be very warm today, or so Spot said – Sam swung one tentacle up and then transformed it into a makeshift umbrella to provide Timmy and Old Man some shade. He couldn’t get sunburn, but humans could, and it was supposed to be thoroughly unpleasant for them. Old Man and Timmy nodded their thanks, and the three of them exchanged small talk as they waited for the fish to bite.
“You know,” Timmy said, gesturing at the lake. “I wasn’t exactly pleased with the demolition rats when they blew a giant hole into the ground, but I think it’s worked out quite well.”
“It is nice having a lake nearby,” Old Man replied. “And you did well when you chose which species of fish and other animals to put into it.”
“If we’re going to have a lake, it might as well be a good one.”
Sam signalled his agreement as his mind drifted back to the first time he met Timmy. He hadn’t thought much of him at first, but time had a way of changing things even if a human lifetime was nothing more than a blink of an eye for someone like Sam.
* * *
Sam was not cruel. In fact, surprisingly few of his kind were cruel. Oh, they might seem cruel to humans, but that was simply a matter of perspective. When one of his kind devoured a human, it could be a truly horrific sight. They could tear the human limb from limb, they could gnash the human in their countless mouths, or they could simply envelop them and dissolve them in a variety of enzymes and acids. But none of that was done out of cruelty. That was simply how Sam and his kind ate. Likewise, their desire to usher in the apocalypse and plunge the world into a bedlam of murder, slaughter, and horror wasn’t born out of cruelty either. That was what their home dimension was like, so it made perfect sense to them to make other dimensions that way too. It was not unlike how humans changed their environment to make themselves more comfortable. The cities humans were so
proud of had not always existed. They had cut down forests, hollowed out quarries, and flattened hills to make them. What Sam and his kind wanted was exactly the same, only on a larger scale.
To Sam, cruelty was when someone went out of their way to cause suffering for no reason. Some of the Others – the oldest and mightiest of his kind who were as far beyond him as he was beyond a mere human – could be cruel. He’d seen them devour hatchlings simply because they could, which was why Sam always kept a close eye on the hatchlings and warned them to steer clear of the Others. If the Others were dragons, then hatchlings were less than ants. What chance did an ant have against a dragon? What courtesy did a dragon owe an ant?
Nevertheless, it puzzled him. There was no point to eating a hatchling. True, the hatchlings were weak, but they would grow stronger in time. Even the Others had been hatchlings once. It also served no nutritional purpose. The Others were beings of incomprehensible power. Flesh could not sustain them. Instead, they fed off the magic of the land and the limitless energies that filled the countless worlds and dimensions of Creation.
Eating the hatchlings also resulted in disunity. Contrary to common belief, Sam’s kind were not a true hive mind. Direct mind-to-mind communication was possible, but it was not always used. Each of them had a sense of self – an identity – and they had their own language. Consideration for others was thus necessary for their society to function. The Others were immeasurably powerful, but they still needed Sam and his ilk to serve as their tentacles while they slumbered beneath the castle. Even when they awakened, they would need help. The Others wished to transform this world and dimension, but left to their own devices, they would simply destroy them instead.
Yet as cruel as some of the Others could be, they were nothing compared to the current Lord of Black Tower Castle. Sam had met some of the previous lords, but none of them had been as cruel as this one. Malcolm Jared Grimm routinely abducted villagers to carry out experiments that served no purpose. Necromancers already had an excellent understanding of human anatomy. In time, it became clear that he simply enjoyed watching people suffer. Sam and his kind could sense emotions, and Malcolm revelled in cruelty. Yes, he radiated joy whenever he had a new victim to torture.
And Malcolm had grown wise enough and powerful enough to torture even Sam and his kind. There was magic that could bind them. There were few who remembered it, but it still existed. It was how the Others had been bound, all those years ago. They were intruders from another dimension, and their very existence was an aberration in this world, an error that reality itself sought to correct. Magic – the right magic – could harm them.
Humans had tried to harm them in the past, back when more had known the right kind of magic, but they had underestimated Sam and his kind. They had assumed that Sam and his kind were little more than savage beasts, driven only by their hunger and incapable of rational thought. But Sam and his kind were cunning. They had dealt with those humans, and now almost no trace of their magic remained. Unfortunately, Malcolm was cunning too, every bit as cunning as he was cruel.
Malcolm concealed his knowledge until he had learned enough to do more than merely hurt Sam. He had learned how to bind Sam and others of his kind, to leave them helpless while he drained them of their power. It was different from the spells used upon the Others. Their powers were too vast for them to notice anything. Not even the most demanding mage could take enough to wake them from their slumber. Sam’s powers were not nearly so vast. For him, it was torture, and Malcolm savoured it.
For years, Sam seethed in impotent rage. A single mistake would have cost Malcolm his life because Sam was no one’s slave. However, the necromancer’s magic was impeccable. All Sam could do was endure and hope that Malcolm grew arrogant and careless. It enraged him. Malcolm hadn’t even devised the magic he’d used. Instead, he’d stolen it from those who were wiser and far more skilled, using treachery and greed to his advantage. But one day, yes, one day, Malcolm would make a mistake. He was, after all, only human. When that day came, Sam would see him dead. All he had to do was wait.
And then the boy arrived.
Sam was still locked in a chamber under the castle, bound by magic that constantly drained him of power, when Malcolm came to taunt him again. This time, however, the necromancer was not alone. There was a boy with him. The boy didn’t look like much. He was thin and scruffy, and he had a black eye. Yet there was something about him. Although one of his eyes was almost swollen shut, the boy’s gaze was determined. It was the gaze of a survivor. Moreover, the boy did not seem afraid of Sam, so much as curious. Inwardly, Sam gave what passed for a smile amongst his kind.
He could work with curiosity.
Despite the boy’s obvious injury, Sam believed that Malcolm would be less harsh with him than his previous apprentices. None of them had lingered, and Sam was sure that most of them were dead or worse. Yet the opposite occurred. Malcolm was even crueller to the boy than he had been to the others. Every day, he heard whispers from those of his kind that skulked in the walls or walked through the shadows about how the boy was trained. There was no mercy, no softness, and no respite. If a lesson had to be taught, then death or serious injury was sure to be the consequence of failure. If the boy was too slow during sparring, he bruised or he bled. If he failed in any task, no matter how impossible, he would be berated and beaten.
The boy would probably die. Humans, especially young humans, were fragile. If he were smart and cunning, the boy would find a way to flee. At least one of Malcolm’s earlier apprentices had managed to escape, and Sam couldn’t blame him for leaving. The necromancer’s earlier apprentices had all been older than the boy too. They’d been bigger, stronger, faster, and tougher. But none of them had lasted long. What chance did the boy have?
Yet as the days turned into weeks, which turned into months, the boy remained. Sam heard new things from the others. The boy was doing more than surviving. He was thriving. He lacked the strength to fight his master head on, so he learned cunning and deception. The boy had come to the castle with little more than the clothes on his back, but he learned quickly, and he learned about everything he could. It was that thirst for knowledge – for a way to either escape his master or surpass him – that led the boy to Sam.
“Hello.” There was a fresh bruise on the boy’s cheek and a cut over his brow. He walked with a limp, and there was a faint hitch in his breathing. Sam gave a low trill. He could have healed such injuries in an instant or simply grown new limbs and organs. The boy was not so fortunate. “My master says that you’re nothing more than a monster, that the only thing you’re good for is giving him more power.”
Sam studied the boy intently. The door to his prison was always kept locked. The boy must have found a way to open it. Sam could not move because of Malcolm’s magic. The most he could do was brush against the boy’s mind. It would have driven most people insane – and Malcolm always wore a special charm to prevent it – but the boy survived. He almost passed out, and his nose, ears, and eyes bled, but he survived.
The boy gave Sam a savage smile and wiped the blood away. Sam had seen into the boy’s mind, and the boy had seen into his. “So… that’s how it is? We’re both stuck here.” His lips curled. “There’s a saying amongst humans: the enemy of my enemy is my friend. I don’t know how true it is, but you can’t be any worse than my master.” The boy sat down just beyond the glowing circle of magic that kept Sam bound. “They call me Timmy, but your name… my master showed it to me once. I doubt he got it right. I don’t think our language allows for a correct transcription. How about I call you… Sam?”
Sam? It was easier to say, and it was the first syllable of his name. Using a nickname would also allow him to avoid hearing yet another human butcher the pronunciation of his name.
“You know,” Timmy said as he groaned and clutched at his side. “My master won’t always rule this castle, certainly not if he keeps doing what he’s doing. He’s good, but he drinks too much. It’ll be the de
ath of him, not that I’d complain.” His expression grew sombre. “I only hope I’ve learned enough by then to hold on to this place. Once he’s gone, it won’t be long before people try to take it, and I’ve suffered too much to just let someone else have it.” He paused. “I know what you and the others do, Sam. If he keeps this up, it’s only a matter of time before he makes a mistake and wakes up the big ones, the ones who’ve been sleeping for who knows how long.” His voice grew almost gentle. “I won’t pretend that we’re going to become friends or anything, and I don’t expect you to trust me. We’re too different. But we could become allies. My master, arrogant as he is, assumed that I’d either be too afraid or too stupid to come here.”
Allies? If Sam had been human, he would have laughed. No human had ever proposed an alliance with him before. They always came to Sam and his kind in search of power. But this boy – it was a chance worth taking.
Timmy grinned. “Don’t worry. I don’t expect an answer right now, but I know you can understand me. I’ve got access to some of the library. You don’t want to know how much I suffered to earn even that much. I might learn enough to free you one day.” He shook his head. “It won’t be soon. I’m not strong enough to beat my master. But once I set you free, we can help each other. You know things about this castle that no one else does. I know there are secret passages and ways past my master’s security, but I can’t find them. With your help, I could.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “I’ll tell you what happens if we don’t help each other. You’ll end up stuck here, and I’ll end up dead. I’m sure you’d like to get out of here, and I happen to enjoy living.”
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