Maal The First Skull- Shadows of the Mind

by Theodore Packwood

  “Do they not work you until you drop from exhaustion? Beat your uXulu friends?” I forced out.

  She looked at me in horror, still shaking her head.

  “Is it not unfair that you should suffer while these murderers celebrate in the same Inn where your loved ones screamed and bled and died!” I yelled, though a pathetic waver still embedded itself into my voice.

  Her eyes were wide, and she listened with a desperate intensity.

  “These horrid creatures own you! And the uXulu!” I said, my voice growing more powerful as her Anguish diminished. “They are vicious, and brutal, and they will kill you! Do you wish to be another dried pool of blood on the floor? Or do you wish to ensure these white monsters will never harm your friends and family again!”

  And there it was. A spark of Hate, amidst a swirling mess of Shame, Anguish, and Fear.

  Her mouth was set, and I witnessed the first glare I had ever seen upon her face.

  “Hold on to that Hate. Remember the images of those you love, dying around you.”

  Her Anguish surged, and the spark vanished. Yes, yes, sad-sad-sad. Enough!

  “Now look at the Goor.”

  She turned around to look at the room. The Goor—rowdy and sloppy and loud—were enjoying their meal, and the end of the blueday. A pair rose to punch eXia, and she had to be pulled away as more Goor seemed eager to join in. A group was swinging from the timbers, playing some sort of last-man-hanging game by kicking the others off. Everywhere were the lips-pulled-back grins of the Goor.

  “Are those not the benches your loved ones used? Are those not the mugs they drank with, and bowls they ate with?” I paused, but it was not enough to bring about her anger. “Did the Goor not slaughter your entire Clan here?” I yelled.

  As I watched her watch the Goor, I saw her good hand close in a fist.

  I had blown on her spark of Hate, and with the fuel of my words, the spark grew to a small flame. She turned to look at me, and her face was grim. “I want ta fight them, Master. But I don’t know how.”

  I could not have been more pleased.

  “Now that you know Hate, I can teach you.”

  L

  Erigg and Reze’ were on their way back, but I celebrated my success. Jil wanted something from me, wanted it enough to follow my direction. I delivered a few short instructions, and she argued with none of them. oXellona delivered more bowls and mugs, with a smile and a pat on the head.

  It is the first hook that is the hardest to land, said Cerulean.

  Yet you took your time with it, said Carmine.

  Add more hooks, said Viridian. She may yet do violence for us.

  A paltry victory, said Indigo. A weak master can bring none to serve him.

  I fought to keep silent. Jil would think me mad.

  She would be correct, would she not? asked Tawny, giggling.

  Yes, I begrudging admitted. It brought to mind the other concerned and confused looks Jil had received for speaking with me. Therefore, to Jil I said: “You must keep discussions with me unobtrusive. The others think you unstable.”

  “Yes, Master?” she said, confused. Her limited grasp of her own language was irritating.

  “Be quiet when you respond, and you need not call me Master unless we are alone,” I offered. The look of surprise upon her face informed me how little she expected generosity. From me, or from everyone? Perhaps then, the approach to controlling her should be that of benevolence, rather than intimidation.

  Whatever is most effective at producing servility, said Indigo.

  You have no capability for kindness, Maal, said Carmine.

  Yes, he does! said Amber.

  Aside from comforting words, what else could he offer? asked Tawny. A hug?

  They laughed at me again. “Why? Why must you torture me?” I yelled.

  Jil almost rose off her bench again, but caught herself. She looked at me, chagrined, caught between a reply or silence. “Master?” she tried.

  “Not you, foolish girl!” I turned away from her, flinging obscenities at the voices, which only made them laugh further.

  Erigg and Reze’ returned, still chatting. He had brought some sort of spooled line and a pouch with him. “Oh, good!” Erigg said, spying the food and drink upon the table. He laid his antlers down and hopped onto his spot on the bench. “I need ta eat, lasses, else I’ll be lookin’ like Tchurn in no time.” Erigg took to shoveling food into his mouth, while Reze’ checked her daggers. They were yet bubbling in the liquid: she rubbed her arms, looking around at the Goor.

  “Ask them about the shard.”

  Jil hesitated. “Do yew know anything about black metal?” she asked timidly.

  “Tha Kemiss have black metal,” Erigg said with his mouth full. “But ‘tis just regular metal painted black.”

  Reze’ frowned. “There is a dark stone where I come from, but it isn’t metal. It is hard, but shatters easily.” She claimed a bowl and fished out the meat chunks.

  “Obsiid, right?” Erigg asked. Reze’ nodded. “The Tror call it ‘Trorenok’s scabs’.”

  “The Tror are a ridiculous people,” Reze’ said, snorting. All three of them paused, expecting Tchurn to respond, but there was only snoring. “Our river of lava doesn’t “bleed” into my homeland, yet we have the same stone there.”

  Jil looked at me, then sat up straight. She tried to ask with confidence: “What is your homeland like?” Her voice was not as well bolstered, however.

  “It’s a vast underground desert, heat rising from beneath in a way no one has discovered.”

  “Take yew a bluemonth or more ta walk from one end to the other,” Erigg interjected.

  “If you get lost and wander in a giant circle, it might seem like you crossed it,” Reze’ said, with a mouth that smirked. Erigg grunted and continued eating. “The sands are constantly shifting from the wind, but we can navigate them. It would take far more than a bluemonth to cross.”

  “Yew have wind?” Jil asked, her slouch already upon her.

  “Yes, but no light. It is always dark in the desert.”

  “So yew didn’t know about bluedays, or snow, or anything?”

  “It is always hot and dry in the sands. There are terrible dust storms,” she said, to which Erigg nodded vigorously. “But we told time only by earthquakes and hourglasses. Of course, we had stories from merchants who would travel to the surface, but many of us found the idea of freezing winds terrifying. I would never have gone to the surface if I hadn’t been forced to. These cold winds are far worse than than the tales, more evil than any nightmarish spirit.” she muttered.

  Erigg chuckled. “She hates tha cold with a passion more dangerous than her jealousy.” He took another bowl and started on it, but yelped when a brown finger jabbed him in the armpit.

  “What about tha spirits?” Jil avoided my stare as she asked the question.

  “Tales told to our children to prevent them from wandering into the sands.”

  “No real spirits?”

  “Why?” Reze’ asked, catching Jil’s desperation. “There are many stories of evil spirits told by travelers, both above and below ground, but I have never seen one. A person suddenly missing is more often the result of a wicked hand, or a nasty creature.”

  “Inquire about your fist.”

  Jil looked at me, and her Fear slid upwards. “Did yew ever hear of anyone gettin’ hurt like this?” She held up her fist. Erigg stopped eating to look at it.

  “I was wonderin’ what happened to yew,” he said. He almost poked one of the spikes of char with a finger when Jil snatched it away, spilling the remainder of her stew onto the floor. He raised his eyebrows at her and her Shame spiked. “’Tis really sharp,” she said, apologetically.

  “Yew’ve been burned bad, lass,” he said. “Did Tchurn…?” Jil shook her head. “It must hurt somethin’ terrible. Yew need some salve,” he said, checking his small waist-pack. “Must still be in me backpack. When did it happen?” He began to struggle to t
urn around on the bench.

  “It was only a blueday ago,” Reze’ said. “She grabbed…”

  “When did yew two meet?” Jil interrupted, too loudly.

  Erigg looked at Reze’, apparently waiting for her to answer. She finished her spoonful, then said, “After I was thrown out of my father’s house.” She stared at Jil intently, and Jil looked down. “I was only a bit older than you are now. The rest of my household was forbidden to speak or even look at me. I was without clothes or money, not unlike your current condition.”

  It was not difficult to imagine her naked, considering her attire, but I could not picture her helpless. If indeed she had been transformed from a helpless girl to a dangerous woman by Erigg, I had underestimated him.

  “How did yew survive?” A tone of desperation tainted her words.

  “I didn’t. I was too proud to beg, and refused to sell my body. As time passed, hunger forced me to surrender my pride, and I fell to stealing and exchanging oral favors for money.” Jil responded with a surge of Shame. “My father found out his daughter had become a street whore and had me captured by his guard. He didn’t even present himself when I was banished from Zelenthek, the grandest city in the desert.” She took another spoonful of stew. “It wasn’t enough for him that I was forbidden to return. He sold me to a topside merchant, with instructions to take me to the cold mountains.” She bared her teeth, and a hiss escaped. “He insisted that the merchant spoil me, make me undesirable to any man. So he did, and then discarded me at a frigid Inn when he grew bored with me.” She looked at Erigg, and her face softened. “Until Erigg rescued me.”

  Erigg’s eyes were sad. “She was barely a twig, and half-dead from cold and starvation. Found her curled up beneath me table at the Inn I stopped at. The Innkeep offered ta pay me money to throw her out o’ tha building, since she weren’t strong enough ta do it herself.”

  Reze’ smiled up at him. “But you didn’t.”

  “No chance o’ that.” He smiled back.

  “Erigg spent weeks feeding and caring for me,” Reze’ said, staring at him. “After I had recuperated, we traveled together for a time. He taught me how to fight, so that I could protect myself.”

  “Why did yew two part ways?”

  “I care little of this. Ask again about the shard.”

  The look they shared dissolved. “Just had different places ta go,” he said, clearly lying. His smile became as hollow as the empty bowl in front of him. He pushed it, but it stuck on the uneven wood. He sighed and shook his head.

  Reze’ removed her hand, and her gaze became unfocused.

  Memory, teased Tawny. If only you could find your own…

  At her faraway stare, I felt an impulse to reach out. Some instinct guided my hands up to cradle her head.

  What are you doing, Maal? cried Amber.

  I chose not to fight it. My shadowy hands slid through her skull as easily as the table, the fingertips probing. She did not react as my fingers continued to migrate through her brain. Fragments of images splattered across my vision, vanishing instantly. Whatever I was doing, my fingers were only partially successful as I moved them. Something was wrong; my conscious efforts to control my finger movement was impeding progress.

  I allowed my fingers to work of their own accord, each finger moving individually. The fragments of images became coupled with sounds, lasting longer. Once a pair of fingertips had found a blurry image, those two stopped moving. The other digits began to move, one at a time, so minutely I could almost not perceive the change. The image grew stronger as each fingertip found its correct placement.

  With the last finger in place, the vision took over, superseding all of my senses.

  M A A L

  I twirled the daggers overhead, delighting the way the blades sprinkled my naked body with reflections of candlelight. My green underscale shimmered beneath my skin from the light. Despite all I had suffered, I was still proud of my tinting. Emerald-green underscale was rare and highly desired by my people. I let the tips of the daggers trail across my belly. It was a gentle pain, and it excited me. I pushed a bit more, drawing blood, and the sharper pain made me wet. I licked the tip of the dagger and thought to finger myself, but decided to wait for Erigg.

  The bed was uncomfortable, but I was tired. I had been up all night procuring these weapons.

  It had been worthwhile. So very worthwhile.

  I heard Erigg on the stairs, his step recognizable even when it was a weary tromp, as it was now. I hid the daggers beneath my butt, wanting to surprise him. The fur covers, adjusted this way, would let him see me fully naked. I stretched my arms above my head and made it appear as if I’d been sleeping.

  I closed my eyes. The Inn was just waking, its early sounds reaching me through the gaps in the floorboards. The fat Innkeep, Ezeln—the cunt who had wanted Erigg to toss me out of her inn—snapped at her hapless workers. Soon, the cold logs hissed at being heated, the boards thunked at the chopping of knives, and an animal squealed as it died.

  The door to the tiny room flung open, the planks that held it together rattling as they smacked against the log wall.

  “Reze’,” Erigg said, closing the door, and his tone was threatening. My eyes snapped open in alarm. His face was full of anger, and I’d never seen anger upon him that was directed at me. I could not help but recoil. Suddenly the room seemed smaller, the log walls and planked ceiling a dangerous prison.

  I sat up and squashed into the corner of the room, still on the bed, holding the furs between us like a shield. My heart was racing, and all I could think of was Father.

  Father’s coming for me.

  Suddenly I was fighting off Father, beating his hands away in the darkness, crying out.

  “Reze’, Reze’, Reze’, ‘tis me! ‘Tis Erigg!”

  Erigg was holding my wrists, calling my name. It was only Erigg.

  My relief was tremendous, and I flung my arms around his neck. “Why are you angry with me?” I whispered in his ear, trembling.

  “Reze’,” he said, pushing me back. “Where were yew last night.”

  I looked into his steel blue eyes, his face less angry than before, but still grim. Could I deny I had left? No, he didn’t ask if I had left. He already knew.

  “I just went downstairs to hear the piper,” I lied.

  “No, yew didn’t. I went down into tha crowd after yew left, ta check on yew, but yew weren’t in tha Inn.”

  “I went for a walk at one point.”

  “Yew’ve never left this room once after bluefall! Not once, since yew got better. Yew wouldn’t even leave it during tha day unless I was by your side!”

  “I was trying to be brave.”

  “Don’t lie ta me!” He said, shaking me. “Tha smith was found dead this mornin’, cut up so bad they wasn’t even sure ‘twas him. And someone saw yew leavin’!”

  “It wasn’t me,” I lied pointlessly. If only I could cry; Erigg had a weakness for girls in tears. But, my people couldn’t cry.

  “They saw a lass with long, black hair, wearin’ a cloak so covered in blood ‘twas almost black. There’s no lasses in this town with black hair except yew. Where’s me cloak, Reze’?”

  I hid my head in-between my knees, hoping to appear vulnerable. But he shook me again.

  “Where’s me cloak?” he yelled.

  I grew still. “I couldn’t afford them, Erigg. Even discounted, his price was too much. He offered to sell them for even cheaper, if I would only follow him into the back of his store.”

  “Yew knew what he was askin’, and yew went anyway?” He was furious.

  I should be meek and regretful; that always worked with him. But I was so proud of what I had done, I couldn’t force myself to be timid.

  “Of course I did. I let him try, and I said no. He tried to force me, and the daggers were on the nearby shelf.”

  “What daggers?”

  I pulled them out from under the furs, gleeful and exited.

  “My fangs,” I
said.

  M A A L

  Reze’ turned her head to look at Erigg, breaking the connection. I was in Jedd’s bar again, with the Goor and uXulu.

  That was not my memory. Was it Reze’s? It must have been; it had felt more real than anything else I had experienced since arriving at the bar. In her memory, I had sensed a flexibility in her that I had not felt in my own body at The Nail. As she had stretched in bed, it felt as if the bones in her limbs and spine had additional segments, allowing her to extend them further than I had expected. There was an additional sensitivity to her skin, giving the furs an unusually soft texture as they rubbed against her naked skin. Small vibrations of movement had allowed her to pinpoint the location of individuals through the floor, without being able to see them. In the darkness, she had been able to sense Erigg’s heat from the other side of the room. To her, he had looked as if his exposed skin glowed with a dark-light red, like Tchurn’s lava. It had been a bizarre experience.

  And I could still remember it. The voices were silent: for once I knew something they did not! “Ha!” I barked, startling Jil.

  Nothing I knew could illuminate what I had done. There was no name for the skill, no surreptitious knowledge that appeared in my mind. I attempted to reach into her skull again, but she was not still. Every time a new image was discovered with one of my fingers, she moved her head, and even a tiny movement abolished my finger placement. I soon withdrew my hands. Perhaps when she slept I would try again.

  Or have Jil murder her in her sleep, Viridian said. Then the weepy one will have daggers to keep.

  It was an interesting thought, but Reze’s hostility toward Jil had lessened since her arrival. There seemed no need.

  These others are distractions to Jil, said Carmine.

  You must eliminate them if you wish any hope of controlling her, said Indigo.

  Not Erigg, whined Amber. He is kindhearted.

  His entrails would be nice to dance upon, said Viridian. Squish, squish, squish!

  There was an uncomfortable silence—both within and without my head—during which the pair finished off a bowl of stew and then some. Jil watched the Stonewalkers work, with small pokes of Shame and Fear when she caught Goor watching her.