Maal The First Skull- Shadows of the Mind

by Theodore Packwood

  “Who are you?” she demanded. “Why don’t your feet burn?”

  I remembered fire—or some part of me did. “Does it not burn? Is there not pain?”

  Apparently not. The huge man wiggled his toes and released a sigh. He tugged on the white, fur, flat-topped cap on his head, pulling it down lower despite the sweat on his brow. Three huge, fur cloaks, piled about his immense shoulders, exaggerated the size of his upper back as he sat hunched over. They were of a different fur than the boots or the Goor: long, shaggy grey fur. He gripped them tightly across his chest with one hand while the other lifted steaming liquid to his lips. I spotted a glint of steel on his forearm before he lowered his mug.

  “I am Tchurn. We Tror cannot be burned by the paltry fires of this place.” He snorted again, coughed a deep, raspy cough, and spat into the fire. He clenched his mug hard and shivered.

  “Tchurn.” It was awkward to enunciate. There was a heavy “Tch” at the beginning of his name. Nothing came from memory about him or the Tror: the gaps in this borrowed knowledge were aggravating.

  Rip open his skull and look for answers, Maal, said Viridian.

  I considered the idea; it seemed plausible. My ghostly fingers disagreed.

  “I don’t know of the Tror. Where do your people live?”

  His mouth turned down, and his frown deepened. “Nowhere,” he muttered.

  eXia waited, but he did not expound. “I won’t let you hurt her,” she said eventually.

  “She stole from me.”

  “Impossible.” She snorted dismissively. “She’s never unchained. How could she have done this?”

  “I was asleep until recently.”

  “I didn’t see you, and I have been working the tables all day.”

  He pointed at the fireplace with his mug.

  She chuckled in disbelief. “You were sleeping in the fireplace?”

  He merely nodded, then drained his cup.

  eXia huffed in frustration. “If you were in the fire, she couldn’t have reached you. Our chains prevent us from reaching the stone.” She reached out toward the stone wall to demonstrate. An ache blossomed on her face as she strained toward it, but she was a table-length and a long jump away. The silhouette of her desperation, the yearning arm, and the massive breast created a great envy in me. She let her hand fall.

  Do you wish she would lean toward you with the same ache? teased Magenta.

  “Yes!” I shouted, surprising myself with the volume of my retort.

  Such a Shame you can not, said Carmine.

  Hateful voices.

  “I left my sack on the table.” He gestured to a large sack, its make not of leather, but of a shiny material. Like the round, golden objects that spilled out of it, the sack also gleamed, but with a silver shine.

  She glanced down at Jil, then gestured at her. “Jil has no pockets to hide anything of yours in.”

  “Look inside her hand.”

  eXia leaned forward and opened Jil's left hand, which was empty. “Well?”

  “The black one.”

  She took Jil's right hand into her own and examined it. “It’s been badly burnt. Did she try to reach you while you slept?”

  “It is not burned.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Try to open her fist.”

  “No,” she said simply. “I won’t risk damaging her fingers.”

  “You can not.”

  “Hah!” eXia said, without a smile. “You don’t know the strength of the uXulu, stranger.”

  He looked at her, red eyes gleaming. “Even I could not open that fist.”

  eXia narrowed her sparkling, blue eyes at him. She knelt down and examined Jil's fist. She gently tried to pull Jil's thumb back from the fingers, then snatched a finger back with a wince. Blood oozed out of her fingertip, and she sucked on it as she contemplated what to do next.

  Her pursed lips, encompassing her finger, was enough to drive me mad.

  You are already mad, said Tawny, laughing.

  She covered the blackened fist with the wet rag and gave it another attempt. She tried harder, then harder still. Finally she put all her strength into pulling open the thumb, her teeth showing in the firelight. Muscle bulged in thigh and abdomen as she strained, enormous breasts trembled, and shoulders shook.

  A pitiable groan escaped me. Exquisite, is she not? asked Magenta.

  Nothing happened. She blew her breath out and stopped.

  “How did you know this?” she asked, huge breasts heaving.

  “I know what she took.”

  “Did you burn her hand for stealing?” she demanded, rising.

  “No,” he replied, staring into the fire.

  "Use more words! Why is her fist like this?”

  Tchurn snorted, spat again. The fire sizzled.

  “The object inside it marked her flesh.”

  “What is it?”

  "A sliver of black metal.”

  Such a nasty little hand, Maal, said Amber as I lowered toward it. Leave it alone!

  It was easy to stick an eye inside her black fist, but all was dark, as before. As I pulled back, I noticed detail in the char I had not noticed before. Each sliver of char was coated with spikes and serrated edges, tiny but wicked. This fist would not just scrape, it would rend.

  “She took this piece of metal from you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’ll kill her for stealing it?”

  He watched her, expressionless. “I will kill her before the evil in her fist makes her kill everyone else.”

  The rowdy sounds of the Goor offset the somber mood as eXia and Tchurn stared at each other.

  Looking over the frail, unconscious Jil, I doubted she could kill anyone. Yet I was intrigued by Tchurn’s words.

  You want to see if she can, asked Viridian. I did.

  eXia laughed then, a mellifluous sound that brought me a shiver of delight. “You are mad.”

  oXellona arrived with a pair of fur blankets, brought from the sleeping loft. eXia laid them over Jil, careful not to wake her. Her countenance became grim as she stood and pointed at Tchurn. “Don’t disturb her.”

  “She must be killed.”

  “Give me a chance to help her,” she said. “Perhaps...”

  “uXulu task: work!” a hairy Goor yelled from the nearest table. “uXulu task: bring drink!”

  “She is already lost,” Tchurn said.

  “Don’t hurt her! I will...”

  A hairy arm yanked on eXia’s chain, choking her and dragging her backward. She stumbled and fell on her butt. The Goor punched her hard in the face.

  Hate surged as I floated toward her, and my fingers tingled. “Do not touch her!” I snapped at the Goor. Of course, my words were lost. I was surprised by my abrupt and potent reaction...

  Should no one else touch your treasure, Maal? taunted Magenta.

  …and the sizzling on my fingertips. They were covered by writhing tendrils of black lightning.

  Now what is could this be? teased Tawny, as if she already knew. I could not think of what purpose it served, nor how to use it. The tendrils faded as I examined them, leaving behind a heavy scowl upon my brow.

  “uXulu Task: work,” the Goor threatened.

  eXia glared at the Goor, but got to her feet and snatched his mug. She headed for the bar, looking over her shoulder at Tchurn as she rubbed her cheek.

  Tchurn’s eyes glittered in the firelight as he watched Jil, unblinking.

  M A A L

  After all the Goor had been fed, bowls were delivered to Tchurn’s table. His appetite was apparently more important to him than Jil, for the arrival of three bowls of stew distracted him, and he focused on devouring them noisily. He did not even pay attention to the tall, voluptuous uXulu as they passed.

  His lack of appreciation for eXia’s figure allowed me to judge him objectively. Otherwise, my opinion would have been weighed by Hate. Still, I envied him. He exuded power and strength in a physique which outmatched all othe
rs in the bar. I wanted his body to be mine, if somehow I could usurp it. No information even bubbled at the idea, so I assumed it was impossible. Perhaps, then, he would serve me.

  There should be no doubt, said Indigo, angrily. He will serve me.

  “Yes. He will serve me.”

  A chorus of shouts came from another table, as a Goor raised his long arms high. The rest drank and shouted and grunted and laughed their hooting laugh. They were celebrating, but I could not determine why. Their behavior was as confusing as everything else. Nothing in this place was familiar, from its inhabitants to its scenery.

  “Why am I here?” The question confounded; I wandered around my small circle, lost in thought. This predicament and The Nail seemed unrelated in every way. Why then, did I end up here? How are the two connected?

  The endless hills of dismembered corpses, the giant monument, and the furious creatures had no correlation to anything in the bar. Had the creatures been placed there for no other purpose than to drive me through the window?

  The trap was sprung; I had dwelled too much on the oily warriors of The Nail.

  Fragments of violent memories came forth, assaulting me with incomplete brutality. I was punctured by needle-like blades, chased over mounds of corpses, forced to choke upon black, dissolving arms, held as I was crudely dismembered, hacked and ripped and pulled…

  Pain, pain, PAIN! I relived the echoes of agony, driving me to flinch and duck. I lashed out to ward off the images, involuntarily, making pathetic sounds. It was contemptible.

  No, Maal! cried Amber. Do not think of them!

  The ocean of insanity beckoned, its dark slumber an enticing comfort.

  Yes, said Viridian. Let the ocean take you.

  Something stirred with my gut, bringing nausea and a tremendous desire to vomit, yet there were no contents to expunge. I gagged several times, a revulsion to something I did not understand.

  “No!” I snapped my head back and forth. “Focus on something else, Maal!”

  My eyes fell upon Jil. She lay before me, still unconscious, oblivious to her surroundings but not immune to them. A groan came from her mouth and she twitched to a sudden, loud crash from behind the bar. I forced myself to concentrate upon her, attempting to ward off the images that threatened to resurface from the deep shadows of my mind.

  At a nearer distance, additional mistreatment was evident. A smear of dirt and oil sheltered within her hair, a clotted scratch beneath her eye hid within a bruise, and dried blood cowered inside a nostril. One small breast concealed a bite mark by the nipple, fingertip bruises lay camouflaged among larger bruises along her hips where Dur had also gripped her, and dark blotches flanked her pussy where she had resisted her rapists with her inner thighs.

  How long has she been prisoner to these Goor, Maal? asked Tawny.

  I feel very bad for her, said Amber.

  She is a slave, said Indigo. She has no purpose other than to serve.

  A Shame we missed all of her prior rapes, said Magenta.

  The callousness of the voices caught even me off guard. There was nothing to be gained from watching her be raped again and again. She was weak, and she suffered, which will always be true for the weak.

  Despite the abuse, she was pretty, I had to admit. Full lips framed her small mouth, inviting attention. Her cheeks, though sunken, were coated in soft, smooth skin. A dainty nose was sprinkled with freckles across the ridge. Yet she elicited none of the lust I felt toward eXiaxana.

  Still, she was naked beneath the furs, and lying on the floor.

  And unable to resist, said Magenta.

  What will he do with her, having no body? said Tawny.

  Of greater import, said Cerulean, why are you bound to her, Maal?

  It was the most important question. “Who are you?” She jerked as if she could hear me. I waited for several moments, but she did not wake. I slid my hand through her body, hoping for some reaction, purposely pausing at her crotch, fingers wiggling.

  It was as if I did not exist.

  Perhaps you have merely descended into a new stage of madness, Maal, offered Cerulean. It was a disturbing thought. Perhaps the ocean of insanity had not belched me forth. Perhaps it had dragged me deeper into its depths.

  I would not believe it. This was no stale, depressive landscape. The natives were not enthusiastically trying to kill me. There was no awful, griding punishment…

  Yes, there was. I could not touch.

  All of these strange, new things I wanted to touch! I wanted to scrape my hands along the rough stone walls, slide them against the wood grain of the tables, and rub them into the softness of the furs. I ached to discover the taste of the huge breasts of the uXulu, feel their strands of hair as I grabbed a fistful and yanked, delight in the sensation of plunging my cock into their warm, sensuous pussies. I wanted to sip the dark drink in the cups, and taste the stew on the nearby table. I could smell the meaty aroma it produced, watch Tchurn stir it with his spoon, and hear him slurp it into his mouth. But I could not touch.

  “I would rather be blind than unable to feel,” I muttered.

  With no information with which to puzzle out my ethereal state, I moved on to other limitations. I proved to myself, with certainty, that I was bound to Jil. Movement was restricted to a set distance from her in every direction, even down into the stone beneath the wood floor. That would have been fascinating if it were not also useless. I could see nothing inside the stone, just a grainy darkness, accompanied by heavily muted sounds.

  “Why am I tethered to you, Jil?” I said as I floated out of the ground.

  Jil screamed: a hoarse thing, half-ruined by strangulation.

  She was sitting upright, looking directly at me with wide, green eyes. Her Fear ripped through me, shredding my self-control. I fled, unable to dampen the terror, and sped about in circles as I fought for control.

  “Desist!” was the only word I could scream. My Hate was nothing to her Fear: a tiny flame within her roaring fire.

  “Jil! Jil, are you all right?” eXia asked as she hurried over.

  “What is that!” she cried, pointing at me just as I passed through Tchurn. Her terror now mine, I sped about her as fast as I could, my mind in complete panic.

  “That’s Tchurn. He’s a Tror. He won’t hurt you.” She glared at him as she emphasized “won’t”, and he glanced up to meet her eyes before returning to his food.

  “No, not him…” Jil began.

  “eXia task: work,” Rop threatened. “Or girl task: very bad.”

  Jil’s eyes snapped to Rop, and her Fear changed to a different flavor. Her reaction to me had been sheer terror, while this was trepidation. I regained control, seething at the weakness she had created within me.

  That was horrible! said Amber.

  Maal deserves worse, said Carmine.

  Merciless must be your retribution, said Indigo.

  Slice off her face and show it to her! said Viridian.

  “I must go, Jil. Try to be quiet.” eXia hurried off.

  Rop scowled at Jil for several moments before moving on.

  Her Fear subsided as she watched him leave. As her good hand subconsciously massaged her throat, her eyes went wide as she remembered me. She spun to look for me in all directions as a spike of Fear shot from her, but I had hidden below. Only the top of my head—eyes and forehead—remained above the dirty floor, and that beneath the shadow of Tchurn’s table. Yet even here I was vulnerable to her Fear; the spike from her had made made twitch, and I fought the compulsion to flee. Finally, her eyes rested on Tchurn, but she quickly looked away.

  Loud thumps stopped all movement and gathered all eyes. Rop was pounding on a table with both fists: once, twice, thrice. “All task: work mine!” he shouted.

  At once, the Goor left their tables to gather near the wooden door at the base of the vertical tree trunks. Rop pushed his way through the crowd and yanked open the door.

  The wind howled in, blasting away the heat and causing many to s
helter their eyes. Rop lowered his head and drove forward, disappearing through the gap. One by one the rest of the Goor followed, until only a dozen remained. They slammed the door, then took seats at the table furthest from Tchurn and the bar. They laid out weapons: long knives and spiked clubs.

  The large group of Goor had taken their noise with them; it became eerily quiet. Only the fireplaces complained with soft pops.

  I had floated out of the ground to witness the Goor depart, not realizing my mistake. I retreated behind Jil to hover inside the cliff wall, allowing only my face to protrude. She sat facing the central walkway; surely she would not look for half a face in the shadows next to the fireplace.

  The uXulu showed immediate relief: some collapsed at tables, others grabbed half-empty mugs and drained them. oXellona slumped to the ground and rested her head against a post, while eXiaxana picked up a bowl of stew and shoveled its contents into her mouth. I enjoyed watching her cram food between her lips, stuffing it so full she had trouble chewing.

  What else could be pushed into that mouth? teased Magenta. I shivered at the idea.

  Their respite was brief. After a short while, one of the Goor barked: “uXulu task: clean.” When the uXulu made no move to obey, three Goor stood. A few bangs on the table with a club and repeated commands drew groans from the large, earthy women, but they stood. Wearily they gathered mugs and bowls from the tables and carried them to the bar, where Jedd received the stacks and carried them through the swinging door.

  Jil stood up and tried to knot a fur blanket around her waist. eXia strode over, still eating, and put a hand on Jil’s back. eXia started humming, which made Jil confused. eXia realized her mistake, and added: “Rest.” It was all she could say without dropping food out of her mouth.

  “Yew shouldn’t have ta…”

  “Jil, this is trivial for us,” oXellona added as she walked by. “Please just rest.”