Shades of Death

by Ramy Vance

  It was difficult to put into words. Abby felt simultaneously like she was rooted to herself and like she was floating someplace far away. If she thought about it for too long, the world around her would grow shaky and thin. She figured it would go away as Martin continued to make improvements.

  The nanobots shimmered over Abby, making a version of the uniform that Anabelle and Terra wore. Abby noticed that the bots covered her up much faster than usual. There might now be even more in her blood than Martin had said.

  Abby went to the mess hall to grab some food. She wasn’t hungry; she hadn’t been for some time. Hunger was another trade-off for having the nanobots. They were working behind the scenes, optimizing the way her body worked. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been thirsty or hungry. That wasn’t keeping her from eating, though. Food was just as enjoyable as it had been before. The only difference was, she wasn’t fatigued when she skipped meals.

  Humanity was a fading concept to Abby. She had only thought about it briefly, during moments when the stress of her day-to-day work wasn’t affecting her. All of which felt less human. She was eating less, pissing less, blinking less, amongst many other things she didn’t want to think about. The idea was frightening if she allowed her mind to focus on it for too long. Fortunately, she had other things to think about.

  Today she would start her first rounds of experiments on Persephone. Abby wished she weren’t heading the project, but no one else was capable. It was all Abby’s creation, and someone else might mess it up.

  That was something to think about—figuring out what was going on with Persephone since she’d been exposed to the Black Melody, and if Abby could do anything to reverse it.

  Abby headed toward the medbay. Persephone had been given her own room for the experiments. But Abby had to make a stop before she met the drow.

  Myrddin was still bed-ridden. His vitals remained stable, but the wizard hadn’t woken up yet.

  Abby sat beside the old man and watched him breathing. He was looking better than he had for a long while. His skin was less transparent, and his eyes were moving behind his lids as though he were dreaming.

  “You’re going to get over this,” Abby said softly. “This ain’t how you’re dying.”

  Martin’s voice interrupted Abby’s moment. “Persephone is ready for you.”

  Abby stood, annoyed at the AI for disrupting one of the few instances of being alone with her thoughts she’d had for some time. “Don’t have to make it sound so clinical.”

  Martin cleared his throat and said, “Your crush is waiting for you to ravage her body.”

  “You know sometimes, you’re a real dick.”

  “Not my fault I’m programmed this way.”

  Abby kissed Myrddin’s forehead and left for Persephone’s room. She was worried about today’s experiments. Persephone had agreed readily enough, but Abby still wasn’t sure this was a good idea.

  Persephone and Creon were waiting in the room for Abby. The medbay had undergone a few minor conversions. There was a body scan machine, which resembled an MRI machine. The main difference was that this machine did more than just scan; it was capable of many other things.

  Abby wanted to hug Persephone as soon as she saw her, but she felt uncomfortable in front of Creon. Everyone already knew about her and Persephone, so there wasn’t anything to feel awkward about. Maybe it was just being affectionate in front of someone else. All the time Abby and Persephone had spent with each other had been in private.

  Thankfully, Persephone didn’t seem to care about those kinds of things. She walked right up to Abby and gave her a hug and a kiss.

  What exactly are we? Abby thought. Is she my girlfriend? I guess we’re dating. Kinda. Can you date if you’re in the middle of a war? Maybe it doesn’t have to matter.

  When Persephone let go of Abby, a frightening thought crossed her mind. She barely knew Persephone. Where had all these feelings come from? And why had they hit her so fast? They didn’t seem to be based on anything. Would they last, or was this just one of those high school puppy-love things? What if that was how Persephone felt?

  Abby pushed her thoughts to the back of her mind. She had more important and immediate concerns. Besides, she’d been overthinking everything recently. It was probably just her mind looking for problems to solve.

  Persephone went to the scanner and brushed her hair out of her face as she sat on the bed. “So, how are we going to do this?”

  Abby went to Creon’s console. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?” she asked Persephone. “I’m still not sure what’s going to happen. Or if we’ll even be able to remove the Dark Melody.”

  The drow nodded. “I didn’t choose to have this…thing in me. And I want it out. I don’t want to hear the song anymore. I want it all out. And if it’ll help destroy the Dark One, it’s the least I can do to help.”

  “All right. Go ahead and lie down.”

  Persephone obeyed and lay on the mattress. The bed slid under the scanner, and Persephone disappeared.

  Abby sat beside Creon. “Thanks for helping me with this. I don’t want anything to happen to Persephone.”

  Creon passed Abby a cup of coffee and smiled sweetly. “Neither do I. Come on, let’s get started.”

  The scanner flashed brightly as it began to move over Persephone’s body. Data scrolled on the computer screen, and Abby studied it, trying to make sense of it. “So…first off, we have only one set of vital signs. Whatever is within her doesn’t register as being alive. Not conventionally, at least. I assumed it would have a bio-signature. Similar to a symbiote,” Creon mused.

  “It’s not a thing. It’s an Old One.”

  Creon raised a scaly eyebrow. “You think so? Just because it’s made from the same gunk as an old one’s blood doesn’t mean it’s actually one.”

  “Can’t be completely certain, but I wouldn’t say it’s like a virus. Viruses don’t communicate with whoever they’re making sick. They just do their thing. If it can talk to her, it’s gotta be alive. Maybe not an old one like the one summoned by Rasputina. But something like it.”

  “Okay. Well, it’s got to reside in her body someplace, even if it doesn’t have an individual bio-signature. Let’s try another scan.”

  The scanner flashed again as it fired up. This time, Persephone screamed.

  Abby grabbed the microphone beside the computer. “Persephone, are you okay?”

  Persephone’s voice came through the computer. “Yeah, yeah. There was just…a sharp pain in the back of my head.”

  Creon and Abby exchanged glances. “Maybe whatever is in her was reacting to the scan,” he muttered. “We should concentrate on the back of her skull. Spine too.”

  Abby nodded as she typed a new command into the computer. “Pers, we’re going to do the same kind of scan again this time. Brace yourself. It might hurt a little.”

  “Do it,” Persephone said.

  The scanner flashed once again and Persephone yelped, but not as loudly as the last time.

  An image of Persephone’s brain and spinal column appeared on the computer screen. “There we are,” Creon said. “The cerebellar cortex. It’s enlarged. Much larger than it should be for a drow. Also, it’s showing an excess of fluid there. Her spine as well.”

  Abby studied the scan, cross-referencing it with images of drow physiology that Martin was projecting into her right field of vision. “Same with the nerves.” Abby pointed at the screen. “They’re all bulging. Especially the one in her arm with the tentacles. That must be why.”

  “Looks like the Melody affects its host on a neural level. Not the blood, but the brain and everything it’s connected to. Could be why she says it’s like listening to another primal, speechless voice in her head.”

  “What now?”

  “Well, the point is to remove it, isn’t it?”

  Abby looked at Creon dubiously. “How exactly are we gonna remove something from her nerves and brain stem? Didn’t know y
ou were capable of brain surgery.”

  Creon leaned back in his chair, and he twirled his goatee. “Not me. The system is all automated. We’ve performed more than our fair share of brain surgeries here.” He grabbed the microphone beside his computer. “Persephone, we’re going to try and remove the Melody now. I’m giving you a sedative, okay? Are you ready?”

  “Ready,” Persephone replied quietly.

  A syringe whipped out of the scanner and injected Persephone with the sedative.

  The computer screen showed her heart rate and brain activity decreasing. “Should be out by now. Begin the procedure.”

  Abby watched the computer screen detail exactly what it was doing. First, a small incision in the back of Persephone’s head. Next, a miniscule needle pushed its way through the skin, burrowing into the drow’s skull. The needle would make contact with the Melody in a moment.

  Persephone started screaming. Her body jerked wildly, her feet flailing as she struggled to pull her head up against the strap holding her down.

  Abby jumped to her feet. “I thought you said she was sedated!”

  Creon, somehow managing to keep his cool, peered at the computer. “She is sedated. Something else is operating her body.”

  “Stop it. You’re hurting her!”

  Creon shook his head. “No, I’m not. Her vital signs aren’t showing any indication of stress. Persephone is fine. The Melody is what’s scared.”

  Persephone’s body continued to thrash, and Abby felt her heart rise in her chest. She couldn’t bear the sound of her screams. She had to remind herself that this wasn’t Persephone, it was something inside of her.

  Persephone’s arm split down the center, hulking tentacles ripping out of her flesh and grabbing the scanner. They were even larger and more numerous than the last time Abby had seen them, as if an entire Old One were crammed in Persephone’s arm.

  The tentacles began to tear the scanner apart. It happened quickly before Abby or Creon could do anything. Once the scanner ceased whirring and went down, the tentacles snapped back up into Persephone’s arm.

  Creon muttered something under his breath as he looked at the data on the screen.

  Abby gripped Creon frantically, tearing his attention away from the computer screen. “Is she okay?”

  Creon removed Abby’s hands with the calmness of a doctor. “Yes, she is. And so is the Melody. But I have some very interesting results. The Melody reacted very similarly to another invasive bodily specimen that I’ve seen.”

  Abby already knew where Creon was going with this. “My nanobots.”

  “Bingo. That gives me an idea. I’ll have to do some more research before I’m certain. Persephone should be coming to in a little bit. I’ll leave you two alone.”

  Creon stood and walked past Abby, leaving her alone with Persephone.

  Abby went over to the scanner and pulled up a seat. She took Persephone’s cursed hand in her own and waited for her to wake up.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Anabelle would have expected to wake up in a small cell, something filthy, filled with bones and rotten food. That was what she believed an orcish prison would look like.

  She was surprised to find herself in a throne room almost the size of the general’s in the defense tower. The differences between the two rooms were plentiful, though.

  This room had no decorations. It was bare, save two chairs, one of which Anabelle was chained to.

  Anabelle struggled and tried to pull herself out of the chair. The chains were too strong, though. She drew her mana into her wrists, where the chains sat heavily, and released it in a burst of energy.

  Her powers had no effect on the chains. They must have been spelled or made with some extremely advanced tech. Whatever it was, it was cutting off her magic. She couldn’t mist…she couldn’t do anything. Guess this is where I’m spending the night.

  The elf closed her eyes, forcing herself to meditate. That was all she could do. Her situation seemed obvious enough. She’d been captured. But why? Grok had made it evident that all she wanted to do was kill Anabelle. The orc didn’t care if it was part of the Dark One’s plans or not. So why the hell didn’t Grok kill her on the battlefield?

  Behind Anabelle, the door to the throne room opened. The elf could hear footsteps approaching.

  Grok rested her hand on Anabelle’s shoulder as she walked around the elf. “Good to see you’re awake,” Grok growled. She brought the other chair over to Anabelle, setting it in front of her so they sat only a few inches away from each other.

  “What do you want?”

  Grok smiled grimly. “You don’t want to gloat? Not even a little bit?”

  Anabelle was taken aback by the question. In her opinion, she had nothing to gloat about. “What are you talking about?”

  Grok’s smile didn’t falter. “Your little stunt at the defense tower. That was a marvel of planning. The Dark One didn’t see it coming. And your continued attacks throughout the planet. The Gnome World is all but lost to the Dark One. In less than forty-eight hours, you managed to topple decades of work. I can’t imagine that you wouldn’t be a little proud.”

  Anabelle made a show of scanning the throne room. “Well, I’m pretty sure you might have noticed, but I’m chained to a chair in a dungeon. Not exactly the best place to get breaking news.”

  “That’s why I thought I should tell you. It would be a shame for you to miss out on your victory.”

  “What’s the next step, then?”

  Grok leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs, a movement that caught Anabelle by surprise; it was oddly feminine. “We could take back the gnomish world, but that would require resources. And the gnomes are dug in deeper than we had expected. We underestimated the little fuckers. They’ll have what’s left of their planet back soon enough.”

  “I’m assuming releasing me wouldn’t be on the table.”

  Grok’s smile did fade this time. “If I had my way, I would have killed you when I had the chance. It would have been better for you that way—a true warrior’s death. My brothers and sisters who still have their minds would have respected such a thing. But the Dark One has other plans for you.”

  Anabelle thought back to one of the times she’d fought Grok. She remembered the orc clearly stating that she didn’t care what the Dark One wanted. “I thought you were in this for yourself. Did the Dark One manage to slip a microchip into you while you were sleeping?”

  Grok pulled out a dagger and cleaned the dirt from under her nail. “No. There were conversations, though. I do want to kill you, knife-ears. That hasn’t changed. But I’ve been asked to wait. And that is something I can do. You give me an excuse to let myself go. But you still don’t give me a real challenge. Maybe I need to give you an incentive first. Either way, me and the Dark One can still have what we both want.”

  “And what is that?”

  “I want you dead. He wants you and all of your friends dead. And we both know that they’ll come for you. You’re all too sentimental for this kind of war. The smart thing to do would be to let you rot here or die. That’s not what any of them will do, though. They’re going to launch a rescue mission and put all their lives at risk because they think they’re heroes, and what they’re fighting for is so important. And because of that, they’re going to die.”

  Anabelle wanted to argue with Grok. She was pissed the orc was being so casual about the whole affair. But Grok was right in a lot of ways. Anabelle knew that if any of the DGA were captured, she’d be mounting a rescue mission immediately. Any of the Angels would have. Sarah was probably the only one with enough sense to cut the loss and move on.

  Grok leaned in close to Anabelle, looking deep into the elf’s eyes. “A rescue mission isn’t something a Traveler would do either. Maybe you. But you’re only a pale shadow of what they used to be.”

  Anabelle lunged and snapped at Grok, and the orc jumped back. “Did I hit a nerve? I didn’t mean to make you go feral.”

 
“You don’t know one thing about what it takes to be a Traveler.”

  “True. But I do know a thing or two about why they disappeared.”

  Anabelle couldn’t believe what Grok was saying. Even when Anabelle had been in training, the number of Travelers had been reduced to three or four, and that was counting herself. Anabelle’s attention had been piqued.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  Grok threw her knife at Anabelle’s foot. The knife landed on the edge of her big toe, but she didn’t flinch. “The final path…the path of the lost, the one you’re taught to avoid at all costs. There was a Traveler who focused only on that path and walked it to its end. And he broke away from the other Travelers. His curiosity and strength were rewarded the only way elves know how to react to change. With violence.”

  Anabelle had never heard of a Traveler who only walked the Path of the Lost. She hadn’t remembered anything like that through her meditation. “Heresy amongst Travelers is dangerous. It causes—”

  “What about it is dangerous? You don’t have any beliefs on the way the realms work or anything like that. It’s a fighting style, that’s all, one that had grown myopic in its own uselessness. But this Traveler of the Lost, he fled the attacks of his former brothers and sisters. And he forged his own way. Taught his own students the Path of the Lost and took it further than ever. He taught a small group of orcs. And the Travelers and the Lost largely wiped each other out. Only a few remained, dwindling until there was only one student of each path—you and me.”

  Grok stood. “I don’t want to kill you, not really. That’s the bloodlust talking. I want to break you. To show you what the Travelers were always afraid of becoming.” She pressed her hands to the side of Anabelle’s face.

  Pain shot through Anabelle’s head. Her veins were on fire, and her eyes felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets. She screamed and tried to pull away, but Grok held her in place.

  Memory after memory flashed before Anabelle’s eyes, too fast for her to focus on. A blur of hundreds of years of repressed information.