by Mark Tufo
“Perhaps that’s true, Orderg, but it was much more interesting, was it not? The old gods liked sticking their fingers into the affairs of us mere mortals. The new gods seem so haughty, too distant to bother with those of us that scurry beneath their feet.”
“I would rather scurry beneath a benevolent being than a malevolent one.”
“Benevolent? That would imply they knew of our existence.”
“Okay, then I would rather have a god ignorant of our plight than one learned of our existence. They are so removed from us, from our lives, Stonemar, that they cannot possibly know what, if anything, might make our situations better. Often times, when they deign to meddle, things are made a hundred-fold worse than if they had just turned a blind eye.”
“Old gods, new gods, I don’t care, I just want that animal in my stomach!”
The bison had looked up from its grazing to peer at the strange creature that was shouting. He wished they would move away. The smell of them made him nervous, though he had no reference. His instincts told him that it was most likely a predator, but it did not have the carrion smell of the wolf, nor the earthen scent of the grizzly. The worst were the fire scents of the two-legged humans; they were the most crafty of hunters, yet he knew that they very rarely traveled to these breeding grounds, certainly not in his lifetime. But those two animals that kept moving closer, they were also on two legs, though they looked nothing like Man. He was about to snort a warning to the rest of the herd that perhaps it was time to move on for the day, when the sun above him was shielded entirely. He looked up to see what could possibly do that, when his head was crushed. He instantly passed on to the realm of the White Buffalo.
“Direct hit!” Orderg said as the hammer crashed down and the beast collapsed.
Orderg ripped the front leg off the still-twitching beast and shoved more than half of it into his mouth, hoof first. “Rastes rummy,” he said as he bit into the bone.
“What kind of animal are you?” Stonemar asked his friend.
“Animal? I’m a demon,” Orderg said clearly enough once he pulled the leg out.
Stonemar scowled at the meat; he noticed that the animal’s hoof appeared to be covered in excrement. “Could we perhaps start a fire and cook the beast?”
“I don’t want to wait,” Orderg said.
“Fine. You keep gnawing on your shitty stick then,” Stonemar said.
Orderg looked at the leg he was eating. “When were you going to tell me?” He rubbed the hoof against the grass then stuck it in his mouth again. “Ruch retter.”
Stonemar clasped his hands together, then slowly pulled them apart. Lines of fire arced across his palms from fingertips to fingertips. He placed the fiery orb on the ground where it continued to burn.
“Going to take forever to cook something this big with that little flame.” Orderg was eyeing the other leg; at this pace there would shortly be nothing left to eat.
Stonemar concentrated on one end of the flame. He pinched the orb along one edge and slowly pulled it across the ground in a straight line; the mysterious flame stretched and followed.
“Big enough?”
“It’ll do.” Orderg grabbed the carcass and pulled it into the fire, the flames wrapped around it like a tight cocoon.
“The scent is unlike anything I have ever had the pleasure of smelling!” Stonemar’s mouth was salivating.
“How much longer? I am tempted to jump in alongside it.”
“I would not recommend that,” Stonemar said sternly. “Should be soon. My flame cooks from the inside out; see how the fur is just beginning to singe away and the skin to brown and crackle.”
“It is getting darker,” Orderg said as he stared at the setting sun. “I very much prefer this level of brightness.”
“Come. We will eat, discuss all that happened today, and all that we plan to do when we arise from this feast. If this place is not incinerated.”
“I do not know how much more I can eat,” Orderg said. He lay on the ground staring straight up into the sky. He felt some mild concern; the pinprick lights in the blackness far above him twinkled much like the ceiling in the cave. He wondered for a moment if perhaps they had not escaped but instead had been shrunken down to miniature versions of themselves. Whenever he got overly worried, he just grabbed another piece of meat and ate. It made him feel infinitely better, though his bulging stomach was telling him differently.
“If this darkness is absolute and it is truly the end of days, then I could not ask for a finer last meal nor finer company,” Stonemar said.
“It’s alright. I think the grubs were tastier.” Orderg belched then laughed.
“I’m going to sleep. If we are gone before I wake, just know that I am thankful for what you did. I may not have stated it clearly, but I am very appreciative of the freedom you found for me,” Stonemar said to deaf ears; Orderg was already asleep.
Stonemar awoke the next morning; the sun was coming up over the horizon. At some point during the night, Orderg had sidled up to Stonemar. He pushed the other awake before he stood.
“Why are you pushing me?” he asked.
“Why were you slumbering nearly on top of me?!”
“I was fearful of the dark,” Orderg said sheepishly. “Look! The giant ball is back!” His tone changed to excitement as he pointed east.
They sat and watched as the sun rose higher. “This must be the way of this world,” Stonemar observed. “Light follows dark then dark follows the light.”
“Which one do you think comes first?”
“It is a circle, Orderg; it doesn’t matter.”
“I think I would rather the dark came first, then I have the approach of light to look forward to.”
Stonemar could not find fault in those words.
“What do you wish to do now, Stonemar?” Orderg had finished picking through the carcass of the bison. “Should we find a place to call our own?”
Stonemar thought long and hard. “I don’t think so. We spent so much time at the gates, I think I would like to wander this world, to see what other wonders it may hold.”
“Splendid idea. Do you think everything else here is as tasty as this was?” He tossed the chewed spine to the ground.
“We can certainly hope so.”
Chapter 12
Eliza
Eliza had been walking for the better part of a day and had yet to see anything that wasn’t nature-made; she was becoming increasingly worried that the world she inhabited no longer contained Man. There was wildlife in abundance; in fact, she could surely sustain herself on a diet consisting solely of that, but it was men, women, and children that made her life worth living. Not only was the blood more appealing, but with it came fortified powers. Still, that was not the best part of it. It was the fear she placed in their hearts, the torment in their minds. A mountain goat’s kin wouldn’t care if one of their own was slaughtered in front of them so long as they themselves got away. No. She needed intelligent life. Eliza craved the joy she felt watching a child cry as she drained their parents. The pleas for mercy as she plunged fangs into neck, the cries of a loved one to “take me instead!” “Oh, I will. You must wait your turn,” she would reply. She smiled as she thought of these past encounters.
Angry at the thought that she might never again be able to destroy another life, she crushed the young rabbit in her hand before she’d even drank of it. She screamed as she hurled the broken thing away. Then a smile curved her lips as she saw plumes of smoke in the distance.
“Smoke means fire and fire is primarily a human enterprise. I was afraid this world was going to be so dreadfully boring.” It was late afternoon when she came across what she could only describe as an extremely small village. Four houses surrounded what she assumed was a central meeting place and church.
“How eighteen-twenties,” she said as she traipsed toward the settlement. She wondered perhaps in this world she found herself in, it was the early 1800s, made sense. The air was sweeter and there
was no evidence of the population explosion of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. She liked this, too. Fewer people made every feeding a more intimate affair. With seven billion people milling about the planet, no one cared too much when a few went missing. But now? Each and every one of them would count. It would be decades before they would forget about the family that was wiped out.
A little girl of about ten years of age came running out of the main building. She had long flowing hair the color of wheat; she was wearing a blue dress and carrying a large basket, loaded with good things, Eliza knew, by the way she was struggling. The girl’s smile faltered as she looked upon the stranger at the edge of town.
“Papa!” she cried out.
Papa was a tall man, broad of shoulder. He also came out from the central building. He was wearing a woven straw hat that had done little to protect his face from the ravages of long-term sun exposure.
“Get inside, Emily,” the man said as he looked at Eliza.
Eliza wondered if she should have played the part of the hapless wanderer, but that chance had passed. She looked every bit the predator she was as she stood there, eyes narrowed, sizing up the situation.
“I think it would be for the best if you left,” the man said as he pulled a knife from a sheath attached to his belt.
“Come, come! Is that how you greet guests?” Eliza said as she slowly made her way toward him.
“A guest is someone you have asked to visit. You are certainly not that…demon.”
Eliza stopped. “You know?” She was genuinely surprised.
“I am the religious leader in these parts; I have the ability to see whatever evil lies within all of our hearts. Yours is solid black, unlike your soul, which is non-existent.”
“Very good, preacher man! What other little tricks have you got up your sleeve?” Eliza circled wide.
“I know you came here believing you would have an easy time securing souls.” Two men and two women came out and flanked the man; they all drew the same type of knives.
Eliza’s steps faltered; this was not something she was used to. Very rarely did her food even turn around to gauge her pursuit, and never, except for Talbot, had it turned to fight.
“Who are you people?” she asked.
The man laughed. “I am Solomon Evans the Third, of the First Order of the Knights Templar. I think you might be attempting to bite off far more than you could ever chew.” His lips pulled into a smile that never touched his eyes.
“I’m always up for a challenge,” she smiled.
Solomon nodded. Eliza heard movement behind her; she slowly turned to see two men pointing crossbows at her.
“And now?”
“Why have you not had them fire their weapons?” Eliza asked.
“Curiosity, perhaps. I can see that you straddle two worlds. You are of spirit, yet you are not. There is a magic involved here I am not familiar with. You are no longer alive; I am sure that if I were to touch you I would feel naught but cold, soulless skin.”
“Come closer, my dear, and you can find out for sure,” Eliza answered.
Solomon nodded again. The bolt hit her high in the thigh. Eliza screamed out in pain as she pushed the razor-sharp, short arrow all the way through then pulled it free from her leg. The tip was dipped in silver.
“I’ll come closer when I am sure you are dead. Right now the poison is circling within your body; it won’t be long.”
Eliza was in pain. The wound throbbed even as it was knitting back up, but as of yet, she was not feeling any ill effects from the silver. They, however, did not know that. She staggered a step before falling to her knees. Now Solomon’s smile did crinkle his eyes. Eliza wondered if he had ever dared turn that unique skill of looking into a person’s heart on himself, for he was certainly enjoying what was happening to her. She doubted he was evil-free. Eliza feigned difficulty breathing, her face turning red from the effort.
“We will burn your body tonight, return you to the ashes from whence you came.” Solomon was slowly coming forward. “But first, I will remove your head from that body; it is the only way to be certain that you will not rise again, like the phoenix.”
Eliza’s head bowed down, her hair scraping against the earth like an ineffectual rake.
“Again,” Solomon said. As the bolt pierced her shoulder blade and the tip broke through to her chest, Eliza willed herself not to cry out, nor to move.
“You picked the wrong place to ply your witchery,” Solomon said taking a step closer, his boots visible from where Eliza sat slumped.
“Is she dead?” the woman to his right asked.
“Soon. The wickedness is strong in this one. She should better have avoided Righteousness!” he cried out. There were smattering calls of Hallemoolah! and Praise Jeener! “For we are the repentant who…”
Eliza gripped the top of the arrow sticking out of her chest and pulled it free as she stood. She then moved quickly to embed the point deeply into Solomon’s eye. “I don’t think I could find it in myself to listen to a sermon right now,” she hissed through gritted teeth as she held the man up and drove the shaft even farther into his skull. It finally pierced his brain, at which point he stood rigidly. She pulled him in closer and ripped a swath of his neck free; blood shot out and she drank like a school child at a water fountain.
“Load another bolt Maleki!” the archer next to him begged.
“Yes, Maleki, load another bolt.” Eliza pulled the one free from Solomon’s skull; his eyeball fell loose with it, making a wet popping sound as it burst. Eliza turned and headed towards the man who had dropped his bolt on the ground and was now hesitating with whether he should pick it up or make a run for it. “Fear is a funny thing, is it not? Your heart is beating so fast I can see the ripples it is causing in your shirt. You want to run but are fearful your legs will give out when you turn.” Eliza was smiling as she slowly walked his way, waving the bolted eyeball casually. “You are thinking that perhaps you still have enough time to bend over and fit that bolt in, but that won’t happen. You will fumble with the arrow, not able to stay steady enough to find its groove and get it notched. You should have run when you had the opportunity. I am going to kill you, Maleki. I am going to kill you all.”
“St…stay back!” he cried out, pointing the empty crossbow at her.
“Here, let me help you with that.” She placed her hand upon the top of the bow and gently pushed it down as she edged in closer to him. Like a cobra striking a snake, she drove the point of the bolt through his Adam’s apple. He tried to scream as blood filled his airway and ran down his throat and into his lungs.
“Ummm delicious,” she said as she licked the blood that had splattered all over her hand. Maleki fell to his knees, his hands wrapped around the short shaft. “I hate to see all this blood falling to the ground. Waste not want not.” Eliza smiled. “Oh, and I really want.” She tenderly stroked Maleki’s head before she wrapped her hand thoroughly into his hair then yanked him effortlessly to his feet. His eyes were already rolling back into his skull as shock set in. She tore into his throat and drank greedily; her eyelids closed slightly, in an almost sexual way.
“It has been so long!” she yelled as she dropped his empty husk to the ground. “What a fine vintage! But who can stop at just one?” she sang as she followed after the other bowman, who was running for the four knife wielders, who were heading into the primary structure in the center.
“You cannot enter here, you blasphemous creature! This is sacred ground!” the woman shouted as she pulled the doors shut. Eliza could hear the slide of the heavy wooden beam as it was slid into place.
“Blessed by a holy man, you mean?” Eliza feigned surprise. “Oh dear, whatever will I do?” She walked up the three steps that led to a small porch. She reared back and kicked; there was a loud splintering noise as the crossbeam shattered. Eliza pushed the door open. A crossbow bolt flew past her face and embedded itself in the wall to her left.
“You can’t be in h
ere!” the woman shouted.
“Should have used steel. It would have held a bit longer.” Eliza squared off to face the occupants. There were a total of nine, including two children, a teenage boy, and the girl that had warned her newly deceased papa.
“Curse you!” The woman came running at Eliza, knife held high above her head.
Eliza laughed as she grabbed the knife wielder’s arm in a vise-like grip, the woman struggled but could not move. “Cursed? I’ve had worse.”
“Mama!” The girl in the blue dress cried out and came from behind the protective stance of the adults.
“Emily, no!” the woman screamed.
“Oh,” Eliza placed her free hand to her throat, “how beautiful! A mother and daughter. There will be time enough later for you two to reunite…or not.” Eliza reached up, grabbed the knife by the blade and pulled it free from the woman. She smacked the heavy hilt down hard enough on the woman’s skull that she collapsed. The girl began to cry.
“Hush now, child! Take care of your mother; she’s all right for the moment,” Eliza said tenderly. She threw the knife at the man attempting to load another bolt; the blade hit him on his chin, broke through his teeth, pierced his tongue, and finally lodged into his neck. His eyes crossed and he fell face forward, driving the blade even further. His body convulsed as the wet, gurgling noise of blood-laced air leaked out all around his neck. The fight had gone out of the rest of the inhabitants. They were huddled in the far corner of the structure doing their best to meld into the walls.
“Nothing? You are giving up this easily?” The people winced as if Eliza had screamed and was turning over furniture. Her words simply had that type of effect. “I generally prefer a good fight. Gets the blood flowing, if you know what I mean.” Eliza smiled at her quip. “But I am not against having my food served up to me from time to time.” She rounded a table. “You wish to go so meekly into the night?” she asked the closest woman; tears were running down the parishioner’s face. Eliza tenderly stroked her cheek.
