by Jeff Gunzel
Human-like expressions pressed hard against the fog, as if its steamy, shapeless body were a translucent bag full of people pushing their faces against the rubbery surface, trying to escape. No two looked alike, either; a completely different face formed each time.
Dragot walked back into the room dragging by a leash a naked human male who whimpered as his eyes darted around the room wildly.
No doubt he had been watching. The timing was a little too perfect to be coincidence.
Dragot stood there for a moment, wearing that grotesque smile, his tusks elevated higher than usual. Yellow cat eyes the size of saucers rested on the living gray mist as the shifting expressions changed constantly. “Do you know who I am?” Dragot stated with even more calm than usual, holding out his hand towards the floating specter.
The mist just hovered there like a kite made of vapor. The shifting expressions seemed to slow down a bit.
“I see. Let me explain to you how this is going to work.” Dragot fearlessly marched right up to the mist, towing his reluctant pet along. “I offer the very thing you want most in this world,” he said while pulling lightly on the leashed man.
The kite-shaped being seemed to have caught a gust of wind for a moment, for the edges of the mist began to flutter with excitement.
“Now, in exchange for my gift, you will animate the bodies from your realm, and have them do exactly as I say,” said Dragot in a voice that sounded more like he was talking to a child than to an extremely dangerous life form. “You can start with this one,” he said, pulling hard on the leash.
The frightened human stumbled forward, falling down right in front of the mist. The man locked his hands behind his head and rolled up into a ball, trembling like a leaf on a windy day.
It was not really all that easy for a puppeteer to take a life force that didn’t want to be taken, but factors like having a weak mind to begin with, combined with being completely terrified, helped tremendously. As the man quivered on the ground like a frightened child, the gray mist methodically settled on top of the poor soul.
Addel watched uneasily, not sure what to expect. She wasn’t sure this was something she wanted to see.
As the mist closed in around the helpless man, he began to make gurgling noises, as if he were drowning. Then the vaporous mist slowly lifted from the man’s back, but a bit remained in the form of two transparent gray arms with ghostly hands that slid up his body. As the misty arms found their way to his shoulders, the man was lifted onto his feet, still whimpering but not appearing to be in any pain. When the misty arms slid off his shoulders, thin golden strings attached all over the man’s body remained. The arms floated away into the ceiling, still grasping the tiny golden threads. Suddenly the man’s head drooped deeply, as if he were trying to place his mouth on his own chest. Then it snapped back up violently, his eyes wide open. The disturbing sight was the stuff of nightmares. His eyes were now blank and completely white. Between that and the white foam bubbling from his mouth, he appeared dead.
Dragot howled triumphantly. It had worked exactly as he had planned. These humans would fall victim to the puppeteers rather easily. In turn, each one would be a nonstop killing machine that needed only the bare minimum of resources for survival.
Dragot had been planning this for years, and up until now he had had nothing but time. Now, looking in hindsight, he feared this might have aided in his becoming complacent. Now that the Gate Keeper had been found and seemed to be getting help, he needed to get everything in order as quickly as possible.
Addel stood there, stooped over with a horrified yet confused expression. She tried to contemplate the logic here, but it just didn’t add up. Dragot was thrilled that he would have full control of these humans, control with the aid of these...puppeteers. It was a dangerous gamble in its own right as far as she was concerned. She always knew this was part of his plan, but didn’t understand why. Why use the puppeteers at all, seeing as how these sheep were broken at best? They were the perfect clay to mold into an army, if that’s what he had intended all along. They had never known freedom or even any other sort of reality. There would have been no temptation to resist or rebel. Why go through this trouble?
“You don’t understand my motives, do you, witch?” Dragot asked with a sly grin.
Addel’s head shot up as she realized for the first time that she must have looked dumbfounded as these thoughts were occurring to her. She hated giving him the upper hand like that.
“Walk with me, witch, and bring our new pet as well,” the half-demon said with a slight hand gesture as he turned towards the door.
She walked beside him in silence, feeling uneasy as this unnatural thing limped along behind them. Its movements seemed forced and clumsy. Every single step appeared labored and difficult. She shivered at how synthetic and fake the human now seemed.
“Have you ever seen a human use a shovel to dig up ground, or swing a hammer, Addel?” Dragot asked without looking down at her. “Any form of labor at all,” he added.
She said nothing, wondering where all this was going.
“You see, once they’ve been doing it for a while, they begin to protest and complain. The weaklings cry, ‘my back hurts, I’m tired.’ But my personal favorite is, ‘I can’t do this any longer.’ Well, this isn’t really true, is it, Addel? They are not even close to a human’s physical limits—limits I’ve discovered through my extensive research!”
A flood of horror washed through the witch like a raging river as she stopped dead in her tracks. However, the human puppet did not, and that thing practically walked up her back. Feeling that imitation of life pressed against her did nothing to alleviate her horror.
“Are you starting to see the potential here?” Dragot asked, now looking right at her with that grotesque smile.
Addel’s breaths came in short bursts. They were going to be used as mindless tools? She knew their lives meant nothing to her demonic master, but this was cruel beyond comprehension.
The small group continued on until they reached the cellar. Briggits scampered away like little bugs as they entered.
The room was made of a coarse gray stone that felt rigid to the touch. Oak barrels and glass bottles stacked in wooden racks were scattered about. The bottles mostly contained wine, while a few with white labels held water. A musty damp scent hung in the air from the many mold spots around the room. Above the bottles of wine hung a lone picture that seemed oddly out of place, as a cellar rarely contained art of any kind. It was a pirate wearing an eyepatch, with a large colorful bird perched on his shoulder. He looked like a captain, with his proper blue coat covered with medals. However, the far wall had no pictures or racks, just bare gray stone.
“I will give you a final demonstration, Addel,” Dragot said with just a little too much joy in his voice.
She knew she did not want to see this, but what choice did she have? She tensed up for what would no doubt be a shockingly gruesome demonstration, one that he didn’t have to do to make a point but just wanted to.
Dragot turned to face the living puppet. “Run through that wall,” he said as he pointed across the room.
Addel wanted to turn away, to run from the room, but she didn’t dare.
The puppet ran right at the wall without any hesitation and collided with a sickening thud. The sound of a wet towel being smacked against a tree echoed through the room. The part that horrified Addel the most, surprised her even, was not just the sound, or even watching something that should have been incredibly painful have almost no effect on the pod—although those factors were real as well. It was the unnatural response to it.
Even if you were forced to do something like this, a person would still put their hands up at the last second to take some of the blow, or turn their head slightly so as not to take it head on. There should have been some kind of human flinch or automatic response that a normal person couldn’t control even if they wanted to. The puppet did none of these things. It was as if the order was just
to run, and he did not even know the wall was there, thus taking the brunt of it right in the face.
If she’d had chills before, the next sentence that came out of Dragot’s tusked face sent ice though her veins. “Keep running into the wall until you get through...or are dead!” His voice was sickeningly calm.
The shell of a man did, or tried to do, exactly what he’d been ordered.
Addel was not sure how long they were there or how many times the semblance of a human crashed into the wall, but she thought she would pass out by the third attempt. By the fifth, her stomach was empty, and convulsing hard to release more. It had to be the most horrifying experience of her life. She had never wished someone to die before, but she did now. Addel wanted this to end, but it didn’t.
Even with his eye hanging from the socket and the wall stained red, the sickening spectacle of the man running into the wall continued.
Through all the carnage the witch tried desperately to block from her mind, a clear thought came to her. She was repulsed by it, but there it was nonetheless: Dragot had been absolutely right! The pure endurance and physical limits of humans were unreal if you took out all other factors like conscious thought, common sense...pain.
Addel huddled in the corner with her eye shut and hands clasped tightly over her ears. Hearing it might have been worse than watching it. She couldn’t take it anymore!
Dragot finally went over and pulled her hands from her ears. “It’s over now,” he said in that bloody calm voice, smiling with those hideous features. “Tell me something. Do you think the bravest, most loyal warrior in the world would do that for his allegiance...his deity...his family?”
She looked at the bloody mess crumpled up on the floor, then sunk her head between her knees as she began to sob. His point was well taken.
Dragot beamed. “As I told you once before: the perfect soldiers.”
Chapter 9
The sky was pitch-black with dark, leathery creatures swirling through air. Yellow eyes gazed down on him, judging...mocking...laughing. He tried to get to his feet and run, but his legs wouldn’t work. Lying in the street flat on his back, all he could do was look up at the sky and watch them soar in a spinning circle. There was no way to tell if it was day or night, as wings, eyes, and wicked pointed tails covered every inch of visible sky. However, they didn’t attack. They simply pointed and laughed at him as he lay there, humiliated and unable to move.
The swarm divided in half, swirling faster and faster in the air until it looked like two living black tornadoes spinning next to each other. Suddenly, the tornadoes began to take shape. Each formed the outline of a human dressed in black. The black figures slashed away at each other with silver daggers while still elevated high in the sky. Steel on steel rang through the night as he lay there paralyzed, still hearing the laughing and taunting as they called out to him...Eric...Eric...
“Eric. Eric, wake up!” he heard the faraway voice somewhere off in the distance. “Come on, you’ve slept long enough. We have to move now!”
Groaning loudly, he could feel his body being rolled back and forth. The nightmares were fading as the real world began to seep into his consciousness. He was drenched with sweat and came to the quick conclusion that, although the nightmares were twisted and unsettling, they hurt far less. His head was throbbing like never before. He felt like he had been drinking ale for two weeks straight. After attempting to sit up, he got no further than lifting his head a few inches from the ground before a spinning nausea flooded through him. He slowly sank back into the ground.
“Look, I know you feel like you’re at death’s door, but we have to leave. Are you listening to me? Eric!” The voice had been mixed in with the nightmares, making it seem a far-off reality. It was only during that last clear sentence that he knew someone was really next to him. His eyes shot wide open and he tried to stand once more, but got only a little farther than the first attempt.
Jade put her hands on his shoulders lightly. “Look,” she said in a soft, reassuring voice, “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to help you, but I can’t explain everything right now.”
Eric was turning green. Every time he tried to speak, a quick dry heave proved to him it would be best not to try again.
It was morning now, and the sun was making things worse as it peeked through the treetops. Bright beams hit his face on and off as the leaves shifted in the light breeze.
“Look, I see you can’t even stand right now, so we’ll wait a bit, but we can’t wait long.” The girl sighed and hobbled over to a small bag placed near the campfire. Her movements proved she was clearly in pain. “I can make you something that will help your head,” she shouted over her shoulder as she dug through the bag. “I don’t know why she had the cure on her as well as the poison, but consider yourself lucky.”
“Aena?” he groaned, sitting up as the memory of last night started to come back to him. She had poisoned him and threatened to cut off his hands and feet. The memory of her betrayal was so painful now. He’d really thought he cared for her, but now he just felt stupid. But someone had stopped her. It…it was her! He remembered the fight now. This girl here with him had gotten there just in time to stop... Oh, my head! He saw lights flashing in front of his eyes as he lay back down, his head continuing to throb.
“Aena, huh?” Jade said sarcastically. “So that’s the name she gave you.” Jade just shook her head as she stirred a pot of water containing the brown herbs she had found on the girl. “I can’t say I know what she had in mind for you. I mean, knowing what you are and how important you are...well, I would have just killed you. Trying to take you alive was simply arrogant and risky.”
She kept stirring away, as if she were just talking about the weather. “But don’t get me wrong, we are all pretty lucky you are still in one piece. Lesson number one: Don’t trust anyone!” She poured the sweet-smelling brew into a tin cup and ran it over to Eric. When she tried to give it to him, he jerked his hand away as if she were handing him a snake. Impatiently, she forced his fingers around it before muttering something about forcing it down his throat as she limped back towards the fire.
However, after taking one swallow, Eric felt better almost instantly. He eagerly downed the rest. Sure, there was a voice inside his head sounding the alarm. He was drinking some strange liquid handed to him by a person he didn’t know, making jokes about how he should be dead. The strange thing was, he just didn’t care right now. He had never felt this sick in his life, and this stuff was making him feel better. For now, that was good enough.
With his head starting to clear and now able to stand, he did so and cautiously walked towards the girl. His eyes darted around as if he didn’t even trust the trees. He wouldn’t feel safe until he had a better idea of his surroundings, so that became priority.
The trees were thin here, and the road was not far off, only fifty feet or so.
“I’ve checked the whole area. We are alright for now, but we have to keep moving. Are you feeling better?” Jade asked, but did not seem interested in the answer, as she kept packing things into bags and loading them onto her horse.
Eric was getting sick and tired of nothing making any sense. This girl had just killed someone and was acting like nothing had even happened. Then a disturbing thought flashed through his head. “Hey, where is—” he swallowed hard, trying to say the name, “Aena’s body? What did you do with it?”
This time she finally spared him a look, although for only a second. “First off, I highly doubt that was her name—not that it matters anymore.” She rolled her eyes at what she seemed to think was trivial small talk. “Second of all, I searched her for any notes or instructions as to who sent her, then I buried her over there.” She gestured with her hand to a mound only twenty feet away.
Buried was an overstatement. “Barely covered with dirt and leaves” would have been more accurate.
Eric didn’t go over to have a closer look. That was not an image he needed to carry around with him. Wh
at was done was done, and besides, she had tried to kill him. Or more accurately, it seems, tried to take him prisoner? To whom? For what? So many questions… Then he remembered the answers he wanted could be found in Taron.
“My name is Jade, by the way,” his savior said in a lighthearted voice, but she winced a bit when she turned to face him.
Eric started to make a comment about her obvious pain, but she cut him off. “I’m fine. I’ve already stitched the wound that needed it. Look, we have to go now, alright?” she said, now clearly becoming impatient. “You can ride with me until we find you a—”
“I have to get to Taron!” Eric blurted out, cutting her off. She just looked at him evenly as she waited for him to finish. “My father,” just saying that word wounded him yet again, “my father said I need to go there as soon as possible. I need to show someone—”
It was her turn to cut him off. “The necklace, I know. I made sure you had it when you were unconscious. We will need to speak to the Queen, and—what do you mean, your father? You mean your mentor, right? Of course; I assume he has been playing the part of your father and—”
The look on Eric’s face betrayed his thoughts.
Jade was beginning to see what was going on here but had a hard time accepting it. “You have been living in Bryer all this time, have you not?” she said in a voice that grew in intensity with every word. “You have been training for years...have you not? You are ready to take your place in history and stop the— Do you even know what I’m talking about?” She was outright screaming now. “What have you been doing all this—” She grabbed her side as she collapsed on one knee, obviously more hurt than she had let on.
Eric ran to her side, putting his hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t touch me! I said I’m fine.” she spat out the words.
“Alright, listen to me,” Eric said in a slow, calm voice. “You’re right. I don’t know what you’re talking about, and you’re obviously upset about that, but we will get to the bottom of everything, I promise.” He wished he really believed that. “But right now you’re hurt, and it requires attention.”
