by Rob Bayliss
***
Tuan felt the vibration of the Sun Shard on his chest. It was resonating with a similar vibration to what he had felt back at the Fortress of Tiers. It was becoming more pronounced the closer he got to the front ranks. His companions had cut their way through the plague and, satisfied that that danger had been suppressed, he had hurried to join the Khan commanding the front of the column.
Khan Chenkish was shouting himself hoarse, his beard flecked with spittle as he waved his silver engraved war axe as a man possessed. He urged those firing the cannon to reload quicker, for the harquebus and archers to concentrate their fire. Beside the Khan stood his guards Stavor and Rufen. Where they usually exuded cold menace, now both looked fearful. As ever, as their vows demanded, they were willing to lay down their lives in defence of their Khan, but what use such sacrifice was now seemed questionable, as the unstoppable colossus of the Hivemother drew closer. By the Khan stood a warrior, ceramic jars of oil strapped around him.
The desperate fear was spreading like winter’s cold, as volley after volley failed to make an impression on the shambling monster. The conjoined mammoths that formed its bulk gargled and trumpeted, while on its back shapes like men and bears formed, writhed and sank as if trapped in quicksand. It became too much for one huscarl. Roaring in defiance, he pushed past his fellows and ran, between volleys of harquebus, swinging his bardiche. Upon reaching the abomination, he carved his blade deeply into a green shaggy leg. The cut flesh sagged to droop onto the floor. A mammoth’s head, its tusks dripping with mosses and weed lunged at the warrior. He ducked and the deadly ivory passed harmlessly over his head. Warriors in the shield wall cheered and roared encouragement to their brave comrade. Standing tall once more the warrior’s blade struck again, cutting deep and true, amputating the foot. The warrior backed away from the Hivemother, beyond the range of the sweeping tusks, as the leg, with its exposed bone and strange flesh dripped its black blood, hung uselessly.
The mammoth’s head faced the warrior, screaming its annoyance at the irritation that was the huscarl, its trunk fully extended. The huscarl went to swing at the trunk when it suddenly split, the splitting continued along its length until the mammoths head opened like a foul red flower, rimmed by petals that were a swarm of snaking tendrils, writhing and hissing, reaching towards the man. He turned to run, but as he did so the tendrils found and caught him. They cut into his flesh, worming through his body under his skin. He screamed, but only once. The devilish roots burst out of the man’s skull through his eyes, nose and mouth. His remains, dangling like a grotesque puppet, were dragged back to the centre of the flower to disappear as the mammoth’s head reformed around him. Already the stump of the leg was starting to grow anew.
Tuan pushed his way through the fearful ranks. “Lord Khan, you cannot defeat this thing.”
Khan Chenkish, his eyes wild, snapped back. “I can and I will. I will not lose my army here. I will return my son to his mother’s side, dead or alive!”
The Khan turned to the man beside him, the one with the oil jars hung around his body. “Are you willing, Cranicov?”
The man was middle aged. Tuan noticed the smell of oil and the stains on the man’s clothes. Cranicov nodded. “I am, my Khan.”
“Then go now, brave Cranicov,” instructed the Khan. “Your name shall be remembered and honoured.”
The man pushed to the front, to emerge from the shield wall. “Make ready archers, on my word,” the Khan bellowed, raising his axe.
“Lord Khan, what are you …?” But Tuan never got to finish his question.
Cranicov ran towards the beast, screaming a prayer to the Goddess of the Vines, as he avoided the swinging tusks and stamping feet to skid to a halt underneath it.
“Lose!” the Khan commanded, his axe falling.
A swarm of fire arrows shot from the ranks to pierce Cranicov’s body. He screamed in pain as the arrows struck, mercifully killing him before the flames took hold of his oil-soaked clothing. The jars exploded in a fireball and the beast screamed and trumpeted as it was burnt. It tried to draw away, but the heat was enough to set the shaggy undersides ablaze. It stood as tall as it could. The harquebus and cannon roared again, a storm of metal tearing into the Hivemother. Its weird flesh quivered, and then sank to the ground, hissing and steaming. For a second the Khan wore a triumphant smile. The huscarls cheered, convinced that the Khan, together with Cranicov’s sacrifice, had brought them victory against their foe. But the cheer died in their throats.
With a gurgling trumpeting the Hivemother arose, the burnt and smouldering plague flesh falling away from its body in a cloud of orange embers. Underneath it, the extinguished, shrivelled and blackened corpse of Cranicov lay. Already the monster was repairing itself, as tendrils grew over its wound and its flesh spread and reformed.
Those who had cheered now cried out in horror and alarm. They looked to the Khan, the Watcher, he who had ruled his people so successfully; surely he had a plan, a way to defeat this horror? Yet Khan Chenkish stood, his head shaking in denial, his mind a writhing snake’s nest of doubts.
Thegn Govchen ran to the Khan’s side. His face was white with fear but his expression set and grim. “Lord Khan, let some volunteers and I hold this monster, for as long as we can. Take the bulk of the army and break out through the rear.”
The Khan played nervously with the ring on his finger. Tears streamed down his face and into his beard. “My son …” he said as the horror filled the ravine ahead.
Govchen looked at Stavor and Rufen. “The Khan cannot be lost this day. You are sworn to him, as I am. Save your Lord, at all costs.” Without waiting for an answer the thegn turned, before his fear took hold of him, resigned as he was to his doom.
Stavor and Rufen looked at each other and nodded. They gently took hold of the Khan’s arms. “Come, my Lord, lead your men to victory against the enemy at our rear, we can advance no more,” Rufen pleaded, as he urged the Khan away.
“May the darkness fucking take you,” the Khan swore. “I will not yield, I will not ….”
There was an intense burst of light, a kaleidoscope of colours that wheeled and turned against the moss-covered rocks of the ravine walls, dazzling those that saw it, yet dissolving fear for a moment.
Tuan Blackstone walked through the ranks of the huscarls with the crystal held aloft. Those that had moments before foresaw only death now smiled as the Sun Shard was revealed. The harquebus ceased firing. Gunners, their cannons loaded, withheld their lit fuses from the priming vents.
He walked through the shield wall and crossed the ever-decreasing distance towards the Hivemother. The light played on its grotesque looking skin; it seemed to quail from the light of it. Still Tuan walked forwards. The monster’s flesh parted, opening as a mouth, as the Sun Shard shone. Into the mouth he walked, until behind him he felt it close. To those beyond, the sweet light was extinguished and only the Hivemother could be seen, its flesh wet and pulsating.
***
All around filaments tried to worm their way into his flesh; in anticipation he had put the brilliantly shining Sun Shard back around his neck. There it pulsed and vibrated in synchronisation with the beating of his heart. He felt the Hivemother attempt to possess him, to copy him, rewrite him, but his pattern he withheld. There was a rushing in his ears. The psychotropic essence of the creature had entered him, he knew, recognising his body’s response, his heartbeat speeding up; his mouth again felt cloyingly dry. He sensed but fought the rising sense of panic that threatened him, as it had before. His sight looked within and without, the tendrils around him a swirling intricate knot work. The light of the Sun Shard lost nothing of its intensity, an explosion of colours indescribable and unnamed, beyond the eyes of the living. But this time he knew, this time he was ready. Bloodshadow he was, and he forgot it not ….
Once more he was amid the swirling stars. Countless suns and planets spun in a dance of the infinite. It appeared as a perfect clockwork motor; tick, tock. The eons passe
d, stars were born and died, fertilising the void with the elements of the divine alchemy. And here was this life that men called the plague, existing for so long, it was one and many at the same time. Under the turning stars and the numberless dawns and twilights, forever growing anew, linked by soil, water and root. All is one … all is one.
Through the long ages it had lived, as close as any truly living thing has ever come to immortality. It was wise yet unthinking, adapting yet unchanged, sentient yet incurious, evolving yet eternally inert; for so long had it been here, in the world between life and death, the world between plant and beast. Life it was, by another name and another form. He had understood this. He had walked in its dawn-time garden that it had shared with monstrous insects, when the world was young. He strove to understand, to listen, to meld his mind with this alien sentient.
Again it tried to possess him, as the tendrils sought to worm into his capillaries to consume his flesh, its survival instinct deeply ingrained. But he denied it. His flesh was his, and his alone. I mean you no harm. Cease this, I wish to converse with you. His whole body vibrated at a level akin with the pulsing Sun Shard. His skin was as crystal: hard and unyielding, impervious to the tiny hair-like mycelia that sought entry into him.
He concentrated and vibrated at a higher level but for a moment. The tiny would-be invaders were liquefied on contact. It drew back from him, unsure now. He opened his palms in peace and slowly relaxed the vibration. I mean you no harm. Cease this, I wish to speak. And finally the plague understood.
It formed a vision, the mists swirled. Upon a moss-covered knoll, amid the cold mountain mists, in a space formed by standing stones, where men and creation convened. Tuan found himself standing between the blue-grey stones. He reached out and touched them with his palms. They vibrated at a neutral tone. Here was a place for parlay then. He climbed atop the knoll and waited. Through the far grey mists he saw the figure approaching. The figure staggered, it stumbled, as if relearning to walk. Tuan remembered the plague-ridden shield wall that had attacked the column’s rear guard. The figure climbed the knoll awkwardly, clad in ornate, yet wet and rusting, ring mail, a spangenhelm atop his head, which was already tarnished and pitted. The closer he got, the surer Tuan was that he knew him somehow. When he came to a halt before Tuan, he was certain. Despite the greying skin, the mould and onset of decay, he recognised the features. The man’s face echoed that of his father and bore a similarity with the sweet features of his sister.
“Greetings, Lord Kreshan, atheling of the Khanate.” Tuan bowed.
Kreshan’s face was impassive. He mumbled and grunted at first, as his tongue learned to form words, to find the language of men. “You may use that name,” he rasped. “This form was known as that once, but my name now is beyond your speech, written in the drip of water, the slow erosion of stone by root and cycle of the seasons. You seek parlay? Know that I seek your death and all those who have invaded my domain.”
“Why do you seek our deaths?”
“Your deaths give me life, light wielder; you are merely food to nourish me in your decay and puppets to command, until the eternal shadowed night falls, as it surely will.”
“You will get no nourishment from me. I am impervious to you,” Tuan said, fascinated by the sight of barely discernable tendrils reach down from the figure’s legs to drink moisture from the sodden moss.
“Oh, but I will, eventually. Once your harsh light dies, your husk shall be empty. I will claim it for my own to use, as I wish. Your soul I will leave for another ….”
“You know of this other?”
“Yes, light wielder, you know of whom I speak. The Corpse Lord your kind calls him, the rightful god of this world.”
“The Messiah of Shadows is your god then, Kreshan?”
“I have no god. I am my own beginning and end. I do not serve the Shadowed One. I am an ally, for I am death and mouldering decay and he promises me the corpses of all.”
“You are allies? You are a living being, but you stand with the Shadowed One? You have dwelt in this world for countless years. Were you not here before the Corpse Lord cast his long shadow of deceit on the world?”
Kreshan looked around. “Why would I not? I can bear the shadow whereas the harsh light burns and dries me. You, two-legged ones; you call me the plague, strive to eradicate me, take parts from me, to be used in spells of fire, so now I will take your lives and forms. This one’s father I will save until the end that he may see his designs fall to ruin. All life will be given to me, that I may be nourished in the cool, damp dark.”
“You threaten them, Kreshan. You infect them, their animals, and the wild beasts in these mountains. You take their lives and use their bodies in your games of grotesque puppetry. Why would they not fear you? You kill them and remake them. Is it any wonder they strive to eradicate you from these lands with their fires?”
“What of the harvesting, Light Wielder? I can feel myself now, so near, held captive in a box of iron. I am then taken far over deep salt waters and burnt as the fire god fights his pointless war against the Corpse Lord.”
“Why are you used in the war between Fire and Shadow?” Tuan asked. He remembered the infected bodies placed in the steel box, the secrecy that surrounded it.
“I told you, Light Wielder, I can bear shadows. My form can carry the god of this world’s essence, as I too am immortal. He once joined with me and taught me of my enemies, gave me nourishment as he fed on the souls we released together. I grew great and strong.”
“So it was he who made you an enemy of the living Kreshan, he possessed you, as you now possess others,” Tuan said, shaking his head sadly. “You are part of this world and you have been from the very beginning. I have walked the primeval forests of moss where you were born. You were no agent of death and decay but a part of the whole. All is one.”
Kreshan looked at Tuan incredulously. “How is it that you know this?”
“I am Bloodshadow, I took in your delirium and walked in your memories.” Tuan smiled but his eyes betrayed his deep sadness. “All is one. You know the words, but have forgotten the meaning. There is no shadow without light, as there is no life without death. If you succeed in the Corpse Lord’s war against life, where does that leave you? You will feast, for a time, but then you will be left hungry in the dark. As an immortal will you starve eternally, or will you then truly die? And what of your soul, your ancient soul? Think of the memories, all that you know and have felt. The Corpse Lord will feed on you. The last and sweetest morsel for him you shall be, before he returns to the darkness between stars to inflict his pain on another world.”
The knoll began to shake, the blue grey stones rocked back and forth, threatening to topple over. Kreshan’s face cracked in a snarl. “You lie!”
“Why would I lie to you Kreshan?” Tuan held his palms outward once more. “I am the Bloodshadow, I wield the Sun Shard. Know that now I am within you, I could destroy you utterly. I could turn you into gruel, if I wished. My light could be sheer and harsh, if I so willed it.” As he spoke, his hand gripped the Sun Shard. The light shone red through his flesh.
Kreshan’s dead face showed fear, if the dead ever know it. “This is parlay, Bloodshadow. This is neutral ground, remember!”
“I have not forgotten. This I can do, but I choose not to.” The light of the Sun Shard faded once more. “You are one of the first ones on this world and are thus precious to me. I mean you no harm. Perhaps I can help Kreshan? Perhaps I can stop the harvesting? Were you happy in your ancient garden, Kreshan?”
“I was without care. Nothing harvested me. I never knew war.” As he spoke Kreshan’s face smiled in the memory.
“I need your help, Kreshan. Like you, I live in the world of life and death, of day and night. Brothers we are, sharing a kinship in this world.” As Tuan spoke, the Sun Shard cast soft lights in every colour that melted into one another in the dreamlike mists. “A balance is needed, old one. The shadows cannot be allowed to prevail beyond their d
ark realms of death. I ask both for this, and for tokens of our understanding. In return I can give you back the peace you had at the world’s dawn. I will stop the harvest of you. Will you stand with me when I summon you?”
“What tokens do you require, Bloodshadow?” Kreshan asked, remembering seeing the world through ancient eyes, when the world was young.
***
The companions had rushed towards the front ranks. They had seen Tuan walk towards the Hivemother and be enveloped by the monster. All the guns had fallen silent. All peered curiously at the beast. It had stopped its advance and now stood still. They stopped close to the Khan; he had shaken off Stavor and Rufen, as all just stared at the monster. Suddenly the abomination shook, its shaggy flesh changed from green to an angry red. The mammoths trumpeted angrily.
“Ready cannon, load harquebus!” screamed Thegn Govchen.
Tamzine screamed at the Khan, her knuckles white, gripping her falcatas that she still had drawn. “Don’t shoot, Tuan is inside that thing!”
Stavor stepped between his Khan and the irate Razoress, his hand clasping the handle of his great sword. “He is lost to us, consumed by the monster. Step away from my Lord Khan, or I will send you into the darkness, Gewichas bitch.”
Tamzine looked disdainfully at the Khan’s bodyguard. “Which part of you do you want to keep attached to your dead corpse? Let me know now before I carve you like the ugly swine you are.”
“Aim!” commanded the thegn.
Stavor chuckled as he drew his great sword from its scabbard with a long rasping sound.
“Sword Girl, look!” Klesh urgently said.
Khan Chenkish suddenly roused himself from his inertia. “Hold your fire! I am your Khan, hold your fire!”
The Hivemother quivered and pulsated; it raised itself to its full height, the mammoth heads reaching their trunks as high as they could. Then, the whole creature began to melt, its flesh drooping like wax to dissolve into a black spoor that floated on the mountain air, disappearing into the rocks all around. The flesh fell from the mammoths, revealing great skeletons that collapsed into heaps of ancient, bleached bones. But in the midst a figure could be seen, through the clouds of black spore.
