by John Mangold
“Pick up Volo. We can’t leave without him!” Maluem yelled.
“Don’t worry about me!” Volo yelled back from somewhere behind her. “Just get that heap out of here before those fiends get bored of pounding each other!”
The thunderous roar and piercing squealing returned once more as the B.B. lurched forward. Maluem could not manage the energy to argue the point. She could only hold on as she struggled to maintain consciousness. Nothing made sense to her. How did Delilah find her? How did she gain so much power so quickly? Who were those creatures that butted in, and why did one of them seem so familiar?
“None of this makes any sense!” Maluem yelled, holding onto Shelia as best she could.
“Ain’t that the truth!” Torrez agreed as he swerved the vehicle around an unseen obstacle. “How is Shelia? She’s going to be alright, isn’t she?”
Maluem felt Shelia’s unconscious form for signs of life. She was breathing, but her gasps were growing very shallow. After some delicate probing, Maluem found that the blood was oozing from a wound in her side. However, her tattered clothes blocked any view of the damage.
“I think so,” Maluem lied. “But she will need healing soon. How is Nia?”
“Not good, but I think she can walk,” Torrez yelled back. “She is out for now. Let me put a little distance behind us, and I will find us a hiding spot! Maluem, I hope you know a healing spell or two. Otherwise, we are going to be in real trouble!”
“Yes, I think we already are,” Maluem muttered under her breath as she looked at Shelia’s blood-streaked face.
After a bumping, lurching eternity, Torrez brought the B.B. to a sudden stop inside some rickety structure. From where Maluem lay, she could see poorly spaced boards overhead that must have formed a loft of some sort, from the bits of hay protruding through the gaps. Before she could collect her thoughts, Torrez had her arms in his hands as he pulled her up to a sitting position.
“Maluem, get up! Nia needs you. Come on, get your head straight!”
Maluem swung herself out of the carriage, her feet landing heavily on the building's soft floor. If not for Torrez’s solid grip on her shoulder, her body would have followed. With more than a little force, Torrez led her around to the vehicle's passenger side, where Nia sat. The Doctor’s right arm was horribly wounded, having taken the brunt of the explosion. The elbow was bending the wrong way, and blood was oozing from the joint. Maluem could not imagine the agony the woman had to be in, yet Nia’s eyes were lucid and centered on her. Maluem could not help but wonder if these were the effects of what they called ‘shock.’
“Maluem,” Nia managed through gritted teeth. “You are going to have to heal me.”
“Nia, I do not know any-” Maluem began.
“No arguments!” Nia cut in with a grunt. “Shelia can’t wait, and you can’t heal her. I don’t even know if I can. Our only hope is for you to mend me first. I can teach you how, but you must listen to me. You will need to recite my words verbatim, working in perfect unison with me for the process to work.”
Maluem started to move her hands towards the most grievous wound as the Doctor spoke, but as her fingers got close to her skin, her stomach began its protests.
“Nia, I don’t know if I can do this…I…perhaps I could gift you some energy so -”
“Thrash it, Maluem, listen to what I am telling you,” Nia nearly yelled, her words fueled by pain. “Put your hands on my elbow, now!”
Anger burned in Maluem, causing her to lunge forward and grab Nia’s arm with both hands. Spite had fueled her rash response, but she immediately regretted her actions as inevitable nausea swept in. What her body was now demanding she perform would achieve little except inspire others to follow suit.
“Alright, alright! Now what?” Maluem demanded, choking out the words as she repressed the urge to empty her stomach on the spot.
“Repeat what I tell you and use what energy you have left. This will severely tax you, but you will survive, I promise. Now, begin with…” Nia said, flowing into a stream of arcane chants.
Maluem repeated as instructed, noticing the air growing cold around her as her dwindling energy stores dipped yet lower. Nia picked up her cadence, matching each incantation syllable for syllable. As their voices meshed into one, Maluem sensed something the likes of which she had never felt before, nor ever wished to. Something that made all other physical brush with another human pale in comparison, quickly sweeping past the point of being intolerable.
Maluem could feel her psyche open and connect with that of Nia’s on a near elemental level. In an instant, their minds interlaced, all physical sensations of the two women blending seamlessly into one reality. Maluem felt the severity of Nia’s wounds fill every corner of her mind, forcing her to concentrate on the injuries. They would have to move swiftly before excessive blood loss claimed the Doctor’s mind, shattering their link.
First was the elbow. A concentrated application of force, a twist of the joint, and the elbow popped back to its proper position, sending a lance of agony through both women. As though from a great distance, Maluem could hear the sound of two women screaming in unison. Was one of those voices her own? That horrific thought was nearly enough to sever the healing link, but Maluem could feel Nia’s returning energy hold her fast in place. Bolstered as she was by the Doctor’s determination, Maluem centered her mind once more on the remaining work.
With the healing process progressing quickly, Maluem became more aware of the nature of Nia’s spirit. She could not read her thoughts accurately, but she began to feel impressions of the woman’s soul, perceiving shadows of the Doctor’s past. She could sense terrible loss, memories of deep betrayal by one who was trusted, the taint that Maluem knew remained from killing a fellow mortal. The mystery of Nia’s assistance became clear. Their souls were near-identical to one another. Their scars, their desires, almost mirror images of each other. On a psychic level, they could be sisters.
The connection was cut with no warning, leaving Maluem back in her ‘normal’ state of mind, looking once more at Nia. Releasing her grip, Maluem saw that Nia’s arm was once more whole, bending as naturally as before. Drying blood still slicked the skin and soaked her blouse’s sleeve, but there was not even a scar to tell the tale.
Maluem looked up to see Nia was smiling weakly at her.
“You did very well, Maluem, particularly for a first-time healer. You are now open to a new world of magic, congratulations. I should be fine in a minute or two, and then I will help Shelia. You can rest now.”
Maluem felt relief flow through her, followed swiftly by a tidal wave of overpowering nausea, causing her to vomit on the spot. As she staggered back from Nia’s side, the full weight of her exhaustion set upon her. The last image she held was Nia’s concerned expression as Torrez rushed forward to catch Maluem’s collapsing body. Then the darkness rushed forward, escorting her into the comforting expanse of the void.
***
“You had her! You had her in our grasp!” Sasha’s shrieking tone filled Delilah’s head. “One more blow, and she would have been dead! Just one more…”
The harsh words in her head only made the pain in her body flare up all that more relentlessly. She had escaped the two horrors that had attacked so unexpectedly, but not without paying a heavy price. Blood had already soaked through her blouse, and she dreaded finding its source. Some childish part of her mind believed that the wound did not actually exist if she did not confirm its presence.
“I am aware of what her death would have required,” Delilah managed through gritted teeth. “I fail to see how berating me with that fact will help in the least.”
“Her death was so close,” Sasha continued to moan undaunted. “Her soul was calling to me in its sweet anguish. I could almost taste it! If only-”
“If only that skrite hadn’t frozen every drop of water in the square,” Delilah finished for her. “Not to mention, those infernal demons! Where in Azbel did they come from?”
<
br /> As Delilah pondered this, she staggered further down the dark alley she had found herself in not five minutes before. How she had gotten there, she was not quite sure. She could only assume that Sasha had guided her. Right now, her sole intent was on a rain barrel tucked neatly under a downspout some twenty paces ahead. With the recent deluge, the rotund vessel was filled to overflowing. In her drained and wounded state, the water flowing over its rim looked like the very nectar of the spirits.
“Those were no demons,” Sasha corrected. “Those were humans.”
“Humans?” Delilah scoffed. “You’ve gone insane, or in your case, more so! One was a mass of gears and iron, while the other was a furry nightmare of claws, fangs, and wings. Both fiends were blindfolded, for Azbel’s sake, yet they had the flawless accuracy of marksmen! The wealthiest Freak Show in all Camilos couldn’t match specimens as twisted as that pair. If they were humans, I am a Mortog!”
Delilah stumbled just short of her intended goal, falling to her knees as though she had been struck hard in the stomach by an unseen assailant. With a gasp, she felt her already dwindling energy cut in half. Consciousness began to slither from her grasp as her body began shutting down. She could almost perceive her skin drawing tight over her bones, as though the ravages of famine had suddenly fallen upon her. Her body twisted as she tried to vomit, discovering there was little within her to make the convulsions worthwhile. As the world began to come back into focus once more, Delilah’s lips parted to sketch out a whisper.
“I’m sorry, mm…mmm…master.”
“That is a better-suited tone,” Sasha cooed. “It is best that you remember the tenants of our agreement. I am the one with the knowledge you need, the power you so desire. If you wish my continued assistance, you will heed my wisdom without question. You have led me to a land far richer in souls than the one I left. As such, my options are now far greater than yours. It is only through our agreement that I am bound to you and, should you prove unworthy, I will drain you to a husk and leave you with the refuse in the nearest gutter. Am I understood?”
“Y…Yes, ma…mast…master,” Delilah stammered.
“Now, as I was saying, the scent of their souls betrayed them for what they were, humans. At the very least, they were human up to some time ago. Someone has modified them for some greater purpose, changed their forms to fit their new roles. They are powerful, to be certain, but someone is holding their reigns quite tightly. The real question is, who and to what end?”
“Master, p…please… If I could only have a drink…” Delilah stammered once more, looking to the water barrel just beyond her reach. The world began to swim before her eyes once more as raw hunger gnawed at her innards. Reaching out, she sought to pull energy from the waiting pool, but the being within her choked her abilities from her.
“You are a slow learner, so I believe another lesson is in order,” Sasha replied. “That liquid is no longer the sole source of power for you. You need not rely on the lowly sustenance of humans but on a meal far more enriching. One so boundless in its potency, so rich in its forbidden flavors, few mortal lips have savored it. If only one of our Acolytes had survived, we could slake your thirst quickly enough.
“No matter, a vessel of nourishment should find us at any moment. We need only wait. That performance of ours has drawn many inquisitive fools from their shelters. I have led you here so that we might limit the quarry in our net. We could scarcely handle more than one in our current condition, but our strength shall soon be renewed. Then our ranks shall swell once more.”
As Sasha spoke, a voice rang out at the end of the alley.
“I think I saw someone duck down the back alley,” A rough voice bellowed. “Wait out front while I flush them out! If you don’t hear from me in five ticks, let the dogs loose!”
Delilah curled herself up beside the water barrel. The shadows of the alley covered her form completely as she settled down onto the moist pavement. Delilah was the personification of a wretched victim, given the alleyway's dim light and her haggard appearance. Looking towards the voices' sound, she could see a large man's silhouette blot out the illumination from the street lanterns beyond. As the shape loomed closer, Delilah let a small whimper escape her lips, just loud enough to be heard at a short distance.
“Who’s there?” the rough voice called out. A harsh light sprang from the man’s outstretched hand, blinding Delilah. “What’s this? Awe, for the love of- What are you doing back here? I thought I got rid of you lot last week. Did you see anyone run through here? Answer me!”
The man punctuated his last statement with a kick to her ribs when she failed to answer.
“Do you got ‘em?” A second voice called from the other end of the dark passage.
“Nah, just some vagrant back here,” The large man replied. “Go ahead and check the next street. I’ll get this tramp on her way, and I’ll be right with you.”
Delilah barely heard any of the conversation shared by the two ruffians. Like a ravenous hound, she drank in the delicious vapors flowing around her. The aroma was repulsive and alluring all at once. It was like nothing she had ever sensed before, yet hauntingly familiar as well. It was the scent of a human soul. Her mouth began to water at its forbidden texture, her lips curling back as she readied for a meal never intended for her lips.
“Eh! What are you doing! Dak, your type makes me sick,” The man said, towering over her now, the electric torch in his hand illuminating his features in sharp relief. “If we had any decent police in this town, you worthless choats would have been run off years ago. Come on, out with ya!”
The oaf grabbed Delilah harshly about the neck, wrenching her up from the ground. She felt a sharp stab in her arm that she recognized as pain, yet it felt very distant now, as though inflicted on another person. Her clawed hand clamped hard around the oaf’s muscle-bound arm, revealing his exceptional condition. He was going to be a feast, indeed!
Delilah could feel saliva dribble from her lips as she swung her free arm around to grasp the back of the man’s neck. Lunging forward, Delilah sank her jagged teeth deep into his unguarded jugular veins. His life’s blood flowed down her throat, filling her with the sweetest poison, salvation, and damnation combined, cursing her soul eternally even as her mortal frame thrived.
18.
Taelir
Maluem soared across a vast body of water towards the isolated island from her previous vision. She could not pause to explore the terrain this time or visit the blighted ruins' skeletal guardian. Her spirit was drawn directly to the lone structure standing at its center. In a pulse, she was through its floor and falling down a long shaft into an immense chasm below.
As her vision adjusted to the darkness, she could make out the familiar glow of the white orb floating above its macabre island of bone. Remembering the lessons of her previous vision, Maluem kept a safe distance from the dire object, but she had to approach if she wanted to learn more. She had to detect what her vision intended to teach.
Slowly approaching, Maluem became aware of the creature trapped within the device. She sensed that, if she inched much closer, the malevolent spirit would be able to drag her in, as it had before.
Never again, Maluem swore to herself as she strained to take in all she could.
From her distant perch, she could perceive the orb’s inner surface movements and study the flow of the ever-changing runes within. Yet, even with her background in so many languages, she could not decipher any of them. Their script was so magnificently intertwined, they defied comparison with any text she had ever seen. Still, she knew her time here was fleeting, and she wanted to memorize as much of the text flow as possible, hoping to track down their translations later.
In time, she began to perceive a voice whispering in the void, vibrating within her. Its essence felt sickly, inhuman, as though it were from a source so alien, it was never meant for mortal ears. The voice repeated a single mantra over and over at a maddening pace. It was a simple, pleading message
that filled her with an odd mixture of terror and pity.
“Free Me.”
With each repetition, the world around her shifted slightly, as if the words themselves warped reality in upon itself. The result was a horrible sensation of vertigo. Maluem struggled to fight off its effects, but she soon found it impossible to concentrate on where she was or even to separate her own thoughts from those of the entity around her.
“What do you mean?” Maluem managed, fighting to suppress her disorientation.
“Free Me,” The voice responded, the world twisting back upon her once more.
“Free you from what? What are you?”
“I am not meant to be here. This existence is not Taelir’s. Taelir cannot taste the wind. Taelir cannot feel the voices of his world. Taelir’s thirst cannot be quenched by your kind. Free Taelir before Master returns. Free Taelir and gain mercy.”
“Is Taelir your name?”
“Taelir is I.”
“What are you, Taelir? Are you human or demon?”
“Taelir is Taelir. Taelir is not of this existence. Taelir is of a foreign existence, a different perception, an alien form. Taelir must be free of his Master to return. Taelir must be free!”
For a moment, Maluem perceived hopeless, unintelligible gibbering, her mind filled with unfathomable despair. She struggled once more to keep herself from being drawn in. Maluem could feel his strength double, keeping pace with his increasing desperation.
“Taelir, who is your master? Is it Dorjakt?”
“Taelir knows not the name of his Master. Taelir knows him deeper than that. He will return to Taelir, yoke his strength, use his being for his petty purposes. Taelir has fulfilled his pact. Taelir will be free from this cage.”
“If Dorjakt is your master, then you need not worry. He has been dead for thousands of years. Whatever contract you had with him is at an end.”
