Maal The First Skull- Shadows of the Mind

by Theodore Packwood

  I was filled with relief. A terrible revelation awaited me if she perished: either I would return to The Nail, vanish into nothingness, or float here alone, with no connection to the physical world. All were terrible fates, yet I still did not know what to do. I was terrified of her death, and it was unavoidable now. Fear was filling me, almost ready to burst.

  “Jil? Can yew hear me, lass?” Erigg asked softly.

  She did not respond.

  “She lives?” Tchurn jammed his sword into the wood floor. He knelt on one knee, his bulk dwarfing Erigg. He studied her back, and the blood underneath her before adding: “It is better this way, Erigg.”

  “Better for who?” he said loudly. His face was red and his eyes were pouring tears. “She didn’t deserve this! Why didn’t yew stop Hak from stabbin’ her?” he cried.

  Tchurn looked at Erigg intently. “You know why.”

  “Yew don’t know she’ll become a monster!”

  Tchurn knelt down on one knee, facing Jil. She was sweating, her teeth were bared.

  “I can end your pain,” Tchurn offered, leaning on an arm. His red gaze seemed to bear no sympathy or compassion; he was unreadable. Yet he leaned down to brush her hair out of her face, a gesture so gentle it shocked me.

  Jil opened her eyes a minuscule amount. I spied the black pools between her lids. She looked at Tchurn as she took intermittent, shallow breaths.

  “Tell me... about this... first.” Jil held up her blacked fist. Blackened forearm, now. The char had grown up to her elbow, with dark tendrils seeking advances onto her shoulder.

  Tchurn stared at her. Erigg glanced up at him and his face softened. Tchurn’s face seemed stoic at first, but there was pain there—tremendous pain.

  “‘Tis ok, lad. I’ll tell her.”

  Tchurn’s eyes shifted slightly, and became distant. I moved behind him and attempted to skrull him.

  “No! I don’t want to remember!” Tchurn cried in an awful voice, shaking his head vigorously. It broke my connection to him. His eyes were dry but he wrapped his head in his hands and squeezed.

  “Enough!” Tchurn yelled, fury causing the muscular bulges on his face to swell. He stood and hoisted his sword. “I must finish this!” With the light of the fireplaces caressing his face, his bulges were highlighted, causing his creases and eye sockets to appear darker, more menacing. He was terrifying, and Jealousy danced within my gut.

  “Master,” Jil said.

  “What?” Erigg replied.

  Jil squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head with a minuscule movement. “May I... have time... by meself?” she said between gasps.

  “For what?” Tchurn demanded.

  Erigg stood up, and grabbed Tchurn’s arm. Tchurn refused to move but Erigg dragged him away with words: “Would yew not want a moment ta talk to Trorenok?” I heard him start with.

  “Master,” Jil said quietly as I slid down into the floor, bringing my face level with hers. She panted against the pain, breathing and talking through clenched teeth. “I have done... as you... asked.”

  “Indeed you have.” There was sadness in my voice that I could not explain.

  “Shall I... let him... kill me?” she asked plainly. There was no fear in her voice. Her eyes were oily black.

  “No!” I said instantly.

  Why not? asked Tawny.

  Perhaps the shard will come free, said Cerulean.

  And thus could be bound to a more suitable servant, said Indigo.

  Perhaps one with a flawless figure, suggested Magenta.

  Perhaps even Tchurn, said Amber. He makes me feel safe.

  None of these are worthy servants for a pathetic master, said Carmine. Jil is the only one left who could serve. Unworthy masters deserve unworthy servants.

  “Desist!” I barked.

  Jil looked puzzled. “Who… do yew… speak to?”

  The voices raised an intriguing idea. It was a great risk, however. Tchurn would certainly retrieve the shard without touching it. He might throw it into some crevasse where no one could follow. Or I might not... bond... with whomever claimed it next. All under the assumption that the shard only needed to be touched to embed itself.

  “No,” I decided easily. “I have need of you further.”

  Is there an emotional need as well? Tawny teased.

  Maal has grown fond of her! said Amber.

  I scowled at myself. Such thoughts are for the weak.

  “Thank yew... Master. But... I fear I... might die... anyway.”

  “Perhaps there is something I can do.”

  “You best... hurry... Master. He returns.”

  Tchurn was indeed coming back, Erigg grasping at him. The enormous sword over his shoulder was an impending guillotine blade.

  I tried to summon forth the sparks, pushing my Pith as I had done before.

  Nothing! The small pond of Pith within me felt full; there was no shortage. A nervous glance over my shoulder revealed I had garnered more time; Erigg had tripped over the corpse of one of the Goor. Tchurn had stopped to say something to him.

  I tried again to push my Pith out, into Jil, like I had done when I rewarded her with an orgasm. I thought of healing her body, making it whole. Again, nothing!

  The pair approached. Tchurn looked down upon her with all the compassion of an executioner. Erigg’s shoulders were slumped.

  I pushed. I raged. I waved my arms about. I yelled incoherently. No sparks came forth.

  Maal’s Fear cripples him yet again, said Carmine with a sneer.

  “You will just... let him?” Jil pleaded.

  Erigg showed her a face of sad sympathy. “Yew won’t make it, lass.” He looked away. “And he wouldn’t lie ta me about his homeland. He knows what’s right. I cannot say me stoppin’ him is best; I've not seen what Tchurn has seen.” He looked at her black fist. “Yer arm, lass. ‘Tis not right. ‘Twasn’t even that bad when I got here, just yesterday.”

  “And she took the full force of my sword without being injured.”

  Erigg looked about to say something, then closed his eyes and shook his head. “This way yew won’t suffer no longer.”

  Tchurn readied his sword.

  “Can you... do... one last thing... for me?” Jil asked between gasps.

  I looked at my shadowy hands, feeling impotent. Why will they do nothing!

  “Can you... set me free... before... you kill me?”

  I looked at the blood pouring out of Jil's stomach. “I would if I knew how to,” I said, but did not even know if it was a lie.

  Tchurn hesitated, then hefted his sword high.

  I jammed my hands into Jil’s body out of fear. Inside, I could feel nothing. Out of the corner of my eye, the blade flashed.

  “No!” I screamed, Fear bringing forth a surge of Pith to my fingertips. I was too slow.

  Tchurn's blade thunked into the wood floor and split Jil’s chain.

  Jil sighed, and whispered: “Thank you.”

  Tchurn yanked his sword out of the floor.

  Fear! Fear had pulled it forth! There was a deep lake within me, holding only a small pond's worth of dark Pith. I could sense it. I could feel it. I did not have the power to heal because.... because... I strained, trying to understand. There was a snap in my brain that made it suddenly clear. Healing was not the kind of Pith I was endowed with.

  You have only the power to destroy, said a faceless voice from memory. My memory. But Jil had healed from a drain of Pith before; could it do so again? I was desperate and could think of nothing else in time.

  Tchurn raised his sword high above. “Be at peace, Jil,” he said.

  Pith burst through my fingers like flame, sizzling inside of her body, cauterizing as it ravaged her. She shrieked and twisted, arching her back. She flopped, her screams terrified and maniacal. Tchurn hesitated.

  “Tchurn, no!” eXia yelled. I could hear her coming.

  I poured Pith into Jil. My lake was bubbling and seething as I consumed it. Jil screamed as loud as she
could, her pitch rising into the most obscene heights of hearing.

  “It must be!” Tchurn cried, grief in his voice. Erigg looked away, tears in his eyes.

  Down the sword came.

  Tchurn’s sword thunked into the floor, decapitating a hunk of Jil’s blond hair. She had rolled away, avoiding death with the finest of margins.

  Her movement took her away from my grasp. I felt drained, my Pith nearly empty. I could no longer see my hands. I had put too much into her. I looked around. Were those white hills of death I just saw?

  Tawny giggled, without a word.

  Jil crawled away and stood up in front of the fireplace before turning around. Despite her short stature she cast a deep shadow, and her face could not be seen. Black smoke trickled off her skin in the firelight. Blood trickled down the inside of her thigh, as if she had just lost her virginity. Perhaps, in a way, she had.

  She pressed her black fist against the collar, causing it to sputter. She held it there, and a bubbling sound reached me as black smoke poured off her neck to be carried into the darkness of the upper heights of the bar. I could not tell if she was looking at anyone. Reaching up with her left hand, she pulled on it for several moments before it snapped off. She held it up to examine it. Her black fist had eroded the thick metal collar after merely touching it for several, long moments.

  Jil tossed it and its remaining chain onto the ground with a clunk. When she spoke, her voice had changed. It was much lower, grating, and vicious.

  “Don’t ever do that again,” she said. “Or I will destroy you.”

  I was not sure if she was talking to Tchurn, or me.

  A long stretch of silence followed. eXia, Tchurn and Erigg were dumbfounded by what they had just witnessed.

  “How?” Erigg cried. “Yew were stabbed in tha gut! Cut down yer back!”

  Jil did not respond. She held her abdomen and muttered incoherently.

  “Jil?” eXia asked, taking a step toward her.

  Her head came up. Her eyes widened to become large, black pools. Her hand clenched and she leaned forward, all her muscles taut. Her mouth opened and an inhuman screech burst from it, an echo of the indescribable pain she had just suffered.

  The three flinched away from her, Fear and concern on Erigg and eXia’s faces.

  “She becomes more the monster,” said Tchurn. He yanked his sword out of the floor, stared at Jil for a time, perhaps considering whether to try to attack her. He walked away instead.

  Jil refused to answer their questions, and did little but twitch and mutter to herself. Erigg tried again to provide her with furs to wear, but she screamed at him so violently that he fell over backwards, allowing eXia to drag him away.

  No one dared approach her after that.

  I was not foolish enough to disturb her. I did not understand what state she was in, and it was obvious she was unstable. No emotion came from her, and I was glad for the respite, for there was no solace for me.

  Partial images of the hills of The Nail appeared and vanished, like ghosts. An onyx helmet floated by, absent of gnashing teeth. A needle-bearing hand stabbed at the wooden floor, making no sound nor damage. The stale smell of humid, fetid air wafted past. The Nail was close, and my Fear mounted as I worried of being transported back to that vile place. Thus was I rewarded: torment and terror for saving Jil.

  The voices were vicious.

  M A A L

  In the aftermath of the massacre, there was no celebration. Tchurn and the surviving uXulu began to toss the bodies of the Goor–and their severed limbs–into fireplaces. There were so many of them that all six fireplaces were soon stuffed with corpses, and no place to put the rest. The uXulu took severed limbs and heads and tossed them in the shithole instead, while Tchurn made a pile of torsos next to each fireplace, dismembering those that still had limbs attached.

  With all their fur, they lit quickly, but their burning flesh created a cloudy haze in the bar. The uXulu put rags over their mouths, choking and gagging on the fumes. I caught Tchurn breathing into a fur cloak more often than not. The bite of the fog, coupled with potent reek of blood and shit, created a foul smell that I had no way to reduce. It was different from the wet, gagging stench of The Nail; the innards of these beasts were dissimilar from the pale corpses that formed the hills of death.

  Still, that did not stop the uXulu. They attacked the wood floor with malice, yanking up the floorboards to expose the stone underneath. With little effort, the stone-encased women snapped the thick, bloody planks over their knees to create firewood, ripped out the nails, and tossed them into a pile. I avoided those harmless pieces of iron, though I will not say it was from Fear.

  Soon none of the wood planks remained, leaving behind a smooth, stone floor with streaks of blood marking it where the dark liquid had seeped between the cracks. With the stone floor exposed, noises carried more, adding to the echo of the room. A soft screech, abruptly cut-off, reminded me to see Jil.

  She had wandered into the dark corner of broken furniture, now nearly full from the casualties incurred upon the other tables and benches. Hak’s corpse hung nearby, but I could not decide if it was a monument of victory over enslavement, or a warning to those who dared mettle with Jil. She still mumbled to herself. I could not understand her words, though I did speak her name once. She stopped talking but did not turn. Instead, her body began to shake and tremble, as if being still was putting a monumental strain on it. When the shakes grew too violent, she began mumbling again.

  “With your current state, you are useless to me. Assert control over your mind so that we may speak.” She did not respond.

  She is broken, and must be discarded, said Indigo.

  But I like her, said Amber.

  She is a cancerous growth that must be excised, Indigo added. No amount of familiarity can accommodate excess weight.

  Maal is engorged with excess weight, Carmine said.

  It was difficult to agree or argue with them. Carmine’s constant assault upon my self-esteem made an intellectual dialogism with the other voices impossible. It was foolish to assume they would provide me with any information, after their penchant for disapproval and mockery.

  Erigg helped with corpse removal, though his assistance was limited to carrying a single arm or leg due to his limp. When most of the Goor bodies had been cleared, he yelled: “Reze’!”

  The serpentine woman was laying atop the remaining corpses, smearing intestines across her body. She was plastered with gore and blood, writhing in ecstasy as she masturbated with the fingers of severed arms.

  Erigg stormed over and dragged her off the pile of bodies by a foot, ripped away the arm she had been using and tossed it aside. He threw her over his shoulder and carried her away as she busied herself with licking her fingers clean of blood. The look of disgust on his face was delicious.

  Jedd finally made an appearance after the clamor had ceased, and he was appropriately appalled. He managed to blockade Erigg as he tried to get through the door behind the bar with Reze’. She bounced her feet up in the air, content to be carried, and her lips were painted with a smirk of delight and blood.

  “Did yew kill all o’ them?” he asked nervously.

  “No,” Erigg said. “But not too many escaped.”

  “It only takes one ta sneak down here in tha night and slit our throats!”

  Erigg’s foul mood was not tolerant of the accusation. “Then yew should’ve been out here fightin’ them!”

  Jedd wrung his hands on his apron. “I thought yew’d all be killed,” he admitted, eyes on the floor.

  “Yew used ta have backbone, Jedd. Now get outta me way. This here sick lass,” he said, slapping Reze’s bloody behind on his shoulder, “needs a bath. As do I.” Reze’ squeaked and wiggled her butt.

  “Can’t yew take one out there?” His pointing finger dropped as he took notice of the destruction Tchurn had wrought. Timbers had been cleaved in twain, tables had been crushed, and benches shattered. “Are there any tables
left?” he cried.

  Erigg glared at him with such vehemence that Jedd moved out of the way.

  As they had hauled Goor bodies, the uXulu had acted as if still chained, stopping a long step away from the walls. After the corpses had been removed, one of the uXulu pointed out they were no longer chained. Now able to walk freely about the bar, they spent some time pressing their voluptuous figures against the stone cliffs. Their skin shifted to the same color as the walls as they exhaled loud sighs of contentment.

  It was later–and with much reluctance–that they pulled themselves off the wall. They engaged in a strange burial ritual that involved loud humming, after which they pushed the bodies of the two dead uXulu into the cliff walls. I was stranded near Jil—who was still unresponsive—and thus could not view how it was done. The Stonewalkers crouched and rubbed their hands against the stone, humming synchronously as some sort of ritual began. My view was blocked by their nude asses of the survivors, but when they stood, the bodies of oXellona and the other uXulu had vanished. A few touched eXia on the back as they walked away, but eXia remained at the stone wall for a long time, her hand upon the cliff wall, her head bowed.

  Their mood was somber afterward, and they did not celebrate, nor bother with clothing. Instead, they struggled to find some way to remove their collars, with no success.

  I can not say I was unhappy they chose to remain nude. It was strange, however, seeing them bald. eXia most of all looked so different that I could not attune to her new appearance. Oh, her figure was yet infallible, and the way her breasts jiggled as she moved about still tortured and delighted me. Yet her face needed a mane of hair about it, and I found I disliked this bald look. I would have to enslave them as the Goor did, with metal collars or shackles, in order control their access to stone, and thereby ensure their black hair’s regrowth.

  Enslaved uXulu would be a delicacy, said Magenta.

  “Yes, it would. The Goor have provided me with quite the plan.”

  Because you cannot think of one on your own, chided Carmine.