“Hesitating will cost you more than confronting your Fears.” Roth’s voice rose alongside a rumble from deep in his chest. “You let your Fear shake you and you’ll be another meal like Storn. Oh, and before I forget,” Roth’s eyes flashed neon green once more as the fuzzy feeling vanished from Cole’s hands and feet. “You do this on your own. Go now. That’s the last time I’m going to tell you.”
Before he knew it Cole was shuffling down the steep hill, trepidation growing like wildfire with every step. Here he was, barefoot in tattered clothes, appearing as a large Underkin or very small Aenerian, and walking straight towards a crime in progress. What would he say to them? Should he say anything at all or just go for it? Before he could give his predicament another thought, one of the women noticed him blunder over a log hidden beneath a pool of dried leaves.
“Ha! Got it!” The woman with black frizzy hair lunged into a dive before wrestling to her knees with the soul fly trapped between her hands. “Milette, be a dear and fetch me that bucket. Milette?” The woman looked up with eyes sunken and dark. “What’s got you so spooked, love?”
Milette spoke from the side of her mouth, keeping her eyes on Cole: “We have a visitor.”
The woman grasping the soul fly stood to her full height, taking in Cole and gazing down her nose with an imperious expression. “Come forth, little one. Don’t fret, you are in safe hands now. This is a dangerous place for an Underkin to be wandering all on his own. Where did you come from, sweet child?” She then dropped her voice and whispered something to Milette. Cole silently augmented his hearing with Wisdom, picking up on the last few words. “…feed us both.”
Cole took one timid step after another, unsure what to say or do. He was close now. Close enough to notice some of the patterns on the women’s robes, which bore a striking resemblance to the marking of the priests from Costas. He stopped a few paces away, his Fear preventing him from taking another step. The soul fly didn’t appear to be doing much better. It flashed indigo and black, wriggling between iron fingers. Cole could almost smell the terror wafting from it as it trembled and squirmed to escape.
Seeing Cole’s eyes on her treasure, the woman recoiled, hiding the soul fly behind her back. “Silent as a statue aren’t we? No matter, you don’t have to talk to us if you don’t want to. My name is Traci, and this here is my lovely Milette. Are you hungry? You look like a starved cat in those tattered clothes.” Traci’s face scrunched into a patronizing sort of pout. “Oh and look at you, you haven’t even any shoes. Please Milette, take him inside and dress him. And see if you can’t find something to fill his belly.” Her voice was soft but the muscles on her forearms were tight and straining with effort. She carefully angled her body so Cole couldn’t see the soul fly.
“Come,” Milette said, taking two quick strides over to Cole. She was easily a few feet taller than him. Her hands engulfed his shoulders. “Come with me now.”
Before Cole could object, Milette firmly guided him towards the nearest rickety house. He was certain there was no food or footwear in there for him. As a matter of fact, he was quite sure he knew exactly what was waiting in there for him. Cole dug his heels into the grass and stopped. Memories of Storn poked through his clouds of Fear.
“What are you doing?” Milette asked, crushing her massive hands into Cole’s shoulders. “Answer me, Underkin.”
Cole checked the spark inside himself to make sure his Rage was ready. He steadied his breath, projecting his voice so it wouldn’t sound as scared as he felt. “What is Traci doing to that soul fly?”
Milette lifted Cole and turned him around so fast that his neck cracked. She kept one hand on his arm, squeezing so tightly that his hand began to fall asleep. “There are no such things as soul flies. Are you referring to Traci’s toy?”
“No, the soul fly. The one she’s hiding behind her back.” Cole winced as her fingers dug deeper into his arm.
Milette’s eyes hardened. “That is no soul fly. Milette is practicing a bit of magic that is far beyond your realm of understanding. How do you know what a soul fly is anyhow? Answer me!”
Cole felt blood trickling down his arm from Milette’s fingernails. He ignored the pain. It was nothing compared to even the easiest of Roth’s lessons, which Cole just remembered he currently was in the middle of. He leaned around so he could see Traci, who was still pretending as if holding her hands awkwardly behind her back was an everyday occurrence.
“I think that soul fly doesn’t like what you’re doing to it.” His voice was soft and shaky. “Why don’t you let it go so it can join its friends. The sun will rise soon and they need to go back to Allias before Aeneria moves on.”
“My my, aren’t we bold.” Traci sneered as she brought the frightened soul fly into plain sight. “And clever too. Too clever for an Underkin. Perhaps too clever for your own good.”
“He’s no Underkin,” said Milette, picking Cole up and inspecting his face. “He’s too big and he doesn’t look right. Come to think of it, he doesn’t look like much of anything I’ve ever seen. Boy, what manner of beast are you?”
Cole ignored Milette, looking over her shoulder at the soul fly. From Traci’s fingertips, inky snakes raced over the orb, causing the soul fly to emit a shrill chime as it wriggled desperately. The sound rang in Cole’s ears and mind, itching and pinging off horrible memories he didn’t remember having. He didn’t have much time.
“Let go of that soul fly. This is the last time I’m going to tell you,” he added, mimicking Roth’s words. They sounded much more intimidating coming from his Master.
Traci threw her head back with derisive laughter. “Such spirit! I look forward to seeing what fuels that fire in your heart. I can’t wait to peel you apart and see where you get your fervor. But I’m afraid my curiosity will have to wait.” She shook the soul fly at Cole as more of the dark coils wrapped around it. The chiming stopped suddenly. “Milette dear, put our gallant knight to bed would you? Don’t kill him of course. That would put me in a sour mood indeed.”
“Of course, mistress Traci,” Milette said in a menacing tone. She pulled Cole close to her face and shut her eyes and mouth. Her cheeks popped out round as she heaved, looking as though she were about to vomit. Cole turned his head and tried to raise his arms, but Milette had them pinned to his sides. She opened her mouth as a cloud of sickly mauve smoke poured into Cole’s face. He held his breath, but it didn’t help.
Fear. The noxious cloud was rife with it, stinging Cole’s throat and eyes as it worked its way into his mind. His heart quickened, galloping away from him. Chilling fires of terror lapped at his insides, holding him in place, crushing and snuffing him out. Cole fought for a means to escape as the debilitating clouds replaced his conscious thought. But how? He couldn’t remember. In order to escape he would surely need to fight. In order to fight he would need his Rage. That was it. His Rage was the counter to the Fear.
Milette’s scream tore through the ghostly dawn. She stumbled backwards, falling over herself as she landed in the dirt, blood spurting from what was left of her arms. The acrid smoke cleared, revealing Cole shrouded entirely in the black armor. Within each of his claws was one of Milette’s severed hands.
Cole regarded Milette for a single heartbeat. She writhed on the ground, scrabbling in an attempt to stem the crimson that gushed from her. Weak. Pitiful. Defeated. With a single, swift motion, Cole threw her hands over the tree tops on the other side of the village. He didn’t bother watching them as they sailed out of sight. He instead brought his fiery gaze upon the one still standing. Hopefully she would put up a fight. He yearned for the challenge. His Rage demanded it. He placed one clawed foot in front of the other, moving as slowly as he could. He wanted to savor every moment. The cowardice painted on her face aroused him.
Traci’s mouth popped open in horror as she took a step back. “What…what are you?”
Cole’s only answer was the sound of his steady footfalls and the clinking of his bladed hair.
Traci’s eyes darted back and forth from Milette to Cole. She tucked the soul fly under one arm and readied a spell with the other. She faltered as an idea lit her eyes. “You…you are powerful indeed. I would surely die if I faced you in combat. You are simply too strong, too fast. I’m no worthy opponent for you.” She began to talk faster as Cole closed the gap between them: “I can see the desire burning in your eyes, the desire for challenge, to pit yourself against something formidable. I assure you, I won’t be able to oblige those desires, at least not in that way. But there is a way, there is something that not even you can stand against.” Traci released a quiet sigh as Cole finally stopped two paces in front of her.
“Say it,” Cole ordered. He ground his teeth as his claws stretched longer by the second. He needed an outlet.
Traci relaxed, her voice soothing and intoxicating: “Your worthy adversary is of course…yourself. Your power feels good, yes?”
Cole growled, closing his eyes. It was taking all his effort not to drive his munisica through her. “Yes it is. And right now it wants me to kill you.”
“Exactly my point.” Traci reached down and ran her fingers over his shrouded cheek. “The power demands it. It feels good to satisfy it. You should give it what it wants. You’ve earned it.” Traci shifted her arms, presenting Cole with the soul fly. “Feel that? Isn’t it tremendous? Take it. Your power needs it.”
Cole stared into the creature held before his eyes. He knew it was important, but couldn’t remember why and didn’t much care. His Rage was boiling over, churning and changing into something he didn’t recognize. He reached out with a clawed hand and took the orb from her. Even through his munisica he could feel the energy pulsing from it. He brought the soul fly to his mouth, eager to add its power to his own.
“Take it, take the fire into yourself,” Traci whispered.
Cole opened his mouth and felt a sudden resistance on his head and arm. Two enormous clawed hands had clamped down on him, preventing him from taking his prize. Roth towered beside him, his booming voice lost in the blood that pounded in his ears. Traci scampered away, leaving Milette to die.
Cole still couldn’t hear what Roth said, nor did he want to. Right now the big oaf was the only thing standing between Cole and his meal. With his free hand, Cole gripped his Master’s wrist and squeezed. Had Roth’s arm not been shrouded, his hand would have come free just as Milette’s had. Rage building, Cole pulled Roth’s arm away from his head. He could feel the muscles strain and surrender to his Rage. Weak. Pitiful. Cole tightened his grip and twisted, indulging himself in the look of confusion on Roth’s face. There was a beautiful crack as both munisica released him.
Roth took a step back, his right arm bent at an odd angle. His eyes flashed with white Passion and Cole felt a memory rush to the front of his mind. Storn swam before his eyes, his final scream hanging in Cole’s ears. Just as quickly as he came, Storn was gone. Cole shook off the illusion and felt a sense of clarity through the Rage.
“Release the soul fly,” Roth said, his voice deep and calm. “Remember Storn.”
Cole had completely forgotten the creature he had clutched in his munisica. Appalled, his bladed fingers snapped open as the sad blue orb shot off out of sight. Fresh Rage suddenly replaced his shock. Cole threw his head back and roared, fury shaking him from head to toe. His burning gaze landed on Roth once more.
Roth took a step forward, placing his uninjured hand on Cole’s shoulder. “Don’t just stand there and curse the skies. Find her and make her pay for it.”
Without a word, Cole shot off after Traci. He found her soon enough. The Rage alone had enhanced his senses to a point where he could hear her breathing from inside one of the houses. Deciding that the stairs would take entirely too long, Cole smashed through a second-story window, landing next to a hysterical Traci. She pleaded, begging and groveling at his clawed feet. The Rage demanded that he rip her and the house into a heap of blood and splinters.
“No no no, please. I’ve done nothing wrong!” She screamed as she tore from the room, hiding in another down the hall. She screamed again when she saw Cole’s dark form waiting for her in there. “Monster you are! Beast!” Flicking her hands about her, she assaulted Cole with various flying objects from the room. It was a desperate, primitive use of Wisdom, none of which had any effect on Cole’s shrouded form. After breaking a heavy iron armoire over his head, Traci brought her hands together as a ball of heavy orange fire crackled to life within her fingers. The ball pulsed and grew until she could barely hold it.
“Take one more step and I’ll burn this whole house down.” She cast her eyes at the windows and doors, which proceeded to close and lock themselves. “I’ll kill us both. This is no ordinary fire. It’s Hatefire. It burns much quicker and hotter than any you’ve ever seen. There will be no escape, not even for a monster like you.”
Cole grimaced and ground his teeth. The Rage was still building, causing his munisica to twitch and grow painfully.
Traci smirked, laughing softly as Cole had appeared to have come to his senses. “That’s right little beasty, now let down that pretty black armor and have yourself a seat. Mistress Traci is going to have a look inside your head and see what…” Traci blinked, looking around the empty room. Cole was nowhere to be found. With trembling hands she readjusted her grip on the shaky ball of fire, only to realize that she was no longer holding it. The fire had dropped to the rotten wooden floor, rapidly jumping throughout the room. Traci hopped back, reaching for the door, only her legs wouldn’t move. She looked down, seeing the flames walking their way up her legs. Oddly enough, she couldn’t feel a thing, though she was burning just as surely as the room was. Amid the scent of charred wood and cloth, she smelled the meat of her lower legs succumbing to the flames. She couldn’t see them however, as the smoke was now too thick. She could see something odd sticking out from her breast, something thin and dark glinting in the flames. The thing should not have been there. Traci groped gently for the mysterious object, but lost interest. Her hands fell to her sides as the rushing void replaced the roaring flames in her ears.
Cole planted a foot on Traci’s backside and pulled his munisica from her back, kicking her limp body into the center of the blazing room. He could feel the intensity of the Hatefire through the shroud. To his surprise it pained him, but not unbearably so, as if the Hatred lacked conviction. Curious, he stepped into the hottest part of the fire. It hurt, but his Rage burned all the hotter for it. She was right about the speed of the fire, however. With only a minute to work, the fire had fully enveloped this room and, judging by the sounds from above, had already worked its way into the attic. Cole had the strangest urge to stay in the burning house until the entire thing collapsed, which would likely only be another few minutes. He decided against it after feeling himself lightheaded. There was no telling if he could keep the shroud up should he pass out. The smoke was now so dense that Cole couldn’t see his hands. Wading through the burning furniture, Cole slashed at the nearest wall. He followed the river of fire out of the resulting hole, landing clumsily in wild grass beside the house. Taking a deep breath, Cole found Roth standing beside him.
“I assume she took her last?” Roth asked, tilting his head curiously. As if in answer, the crooked house collapsed on itself in a gout of flames and smoke. “Yeah, she’s meat now.” He crossed his arms, both of which were whole and healed.
Without a word, Cole stood to his feet and took a step towards Roth.
Roth dropped his arms and planted a clawed foot behind him. “I’ll lock horns with you again if you wish, but you’re getting tossed this time.”
Cole ignored Roth and stepped around him, towards Milette. She was still lying on the ground, though she was no longer writhing or making any noise at all. The flames from the house began to spread to the tall grass that enveloped her prone form. Cole hooked one of his claws in the back of her jacket and dragged her over to a patch of plain dirt.
Milette moaned, opening her eye
s to find Cole standing above her, a shadow of dark fury in the morning light. Gasping, she crawled backwards, crying out in pain as the stumps that were her wrists plunged into the unforgiving earth.
Milette sat up, panting and biting her lip. She raised her head, sighing with resignation. Unlike Traci, she didn’t beg or plead. She accepted her fate and greeted Cole with open eyes.
“Do you know what a soul fly is?” Cole asked, his voice hard as steel.
“Yes,” Milette replied.
Cole growled, gnashing his claws and teeth together. “Do you know what she was about to do to that soul fly?” His munisica were still growing and hurting, demanding more.
“No.” Milette’s voice was steady, though a pallor began to spread across her face and neck.
“Are you lying?” Cole bit the inside of his armored mouth as hard as he could, trying to feel something besides the urge to kill. It was taking everything he had to bottle the violence.
Milette hesitated for half a breath, her face softening before responding, “Why would I lie? I will bleed to death in moments, unless you kill me first.” The blood pooling at her sides mixed with the dirt, creating a ruddy crimson mud puddle. “Death’s kiss carries the breath of truth.”
“NO!” Cole roared, dropping his head and hugging himself. He shuddered, the cool breeze tickling his bare skin as the shroud receded. He refused to let the Rage dictate his actions. If he would take another life it would be with sound mind. Traci deserved to die. She would have tortured and broken countless soul flies if he hadn’t taken her life. Milette probably deserved death as well, but it seemed wrong to kill her on an assumption. He would stow the magic for now, or at least try to.
He released as much of the Rage as he could, the shroud ebbing and flowing like a black tide. “What were you doing out here then? Look at me!”
Milette hesitantly brought her eyes back up to him, her pale cheeks flushing pink. “Traci saw the soul flies yesterday and suggested that we catch one. She learned some of Grotton’s arts from her aunt and said we could gain immense power if we caught one. She wouldn’t tell me exactly what the magic involved, but the promise was too sweet to pass up. Where is Traci now?”
Saving The Dark Side Book 2: The Harbingers Page 3
