“We’ve got more friends,” Tarness yelled from ahead, interrupting Aerella.
Angst sped up, both to avoid Aerella’s constant chastising and to see what Tarness had discovered. This woman-creature was a darker shade of purple, her mane of hair a brighter red. She still had a cat-like tail, but this woman also had three clawed protrusions for feet. Her eyes were even larger, and her naked purple breasts obscenely huge.
Next to her lay the body of what was once a man. His skin was dark gray, and his body muscular beyond comprehension. His torso and arms were twice the girth of his legs, and his feet shaped like horse hooves. The gray man’s hands had been unnaturally stretched, resembling a monkey’s paw with three fingers and sharp claws.
Aerella walked over to them, ready to cast her spell once more, but Angst gently grabbed her hand in mid-air.
“There’s nothing more we can learn from these fanatics,” he said with regret in his voice. She looked away as he plunged his sword into each of the victims, leaving behind the dark orange smoke.
“What do you mean by fanatics?” asked Rose, new worry on her face.
Dallow looked at her with surprise. “You don’t know? It’s the reason everyone is so wary of the Fulk’han. They’ve always been a fanatical people, choosing a new god to worship every decade or so. We’ve been fortunate that the last hundred years they’ve been worshipping agricultural gods created from their own imaginations, like a god of wheat or a god of milk, and not a god of war.”
“Haven’t you ever heard the joke, ‘we’re all safe until they worship a god of cannibalism’?” Tarness asked.
“I have, but ignored it. I thought it sounded stupid,” Rose replied.
“That joke is older than I am,” Aerella informed everyone. “I mean that they’ve been this way for thousands of years. Many wars have been lost to the Fulk’han. You don’t want to war with fanatics.”
“So, we keep following these footprints, and finding more bodies that look like they didn’t survive a swim in the Vex’kvette. What if the creature who owns these footprints is changing people? What does it mean if the Fulk’han start worshiping a walking Vex’kvette?” Rose asked, and nobody answered.
“Let’s keep moving. I want to get this over with so we can go home,” Angst said as he remounted.
They all remained quiet as dread and inevitability joined them on the trail to the capital. Discarded purple and gray remains of failed attempts to change people lay scattered along the path like breadcrumbs. Every half mile they found another man or woman, each a slight variation from the last. Each time, Angst dismounted and destroyed the bodies. While waiting, Dallow described the differences he noticed between each body they found, and Tarness nervously announced that the clover-shaped prints in the highway seemed to be getting larger.
It was late afternoon when the capital came into view. Usually, Fulk’han was a beautiful city set on a tall hill for all to see at a distance, known for its lanky spiraling towers painted dull yellow to match the surrounding limestone houses and shops. Everything in the city was tall and thin. The buildings surrounding the castle were at least three or four stories high, as though the city kept growing up rather than out.
Today, however, it was a fearsome sight. The city lay in the middle of a maelstrom. A dark orange and black storm brewed overhead, a slowly twisting hungry thing that seemed ready to consume everything it covered. Occasional bolts of lightning shot down from the storm, blasting pieces of ground or building into the air. They heard the echo of thunder and an occasional scream. Cobwebs of glowing orange Vex’kvette streamed from every edge of the city, pouring down the hill and spreading across the surrounding landscape.
They stopped a mile away to observe the chaos, in awe of the obvious power emanating from the place.
“That’s a new look for the city,” Hector said, taking a deep breath.
“I don’t feel welcome,” Dallow added.
Angst turned around to face everyone, his noisy mount clanking with every move. He petted a barely breathing Scar, who lay nearly lifeless in his lap. “Look, I really don’t think you all—”
“Can we just get this done?” Tarness asked, still warily eyeing the city.
Everyone nodded in agreement, though Aerella’s eyes pleaded with Angst, begging for him to become Al’eyrn.
Angst shook his head to deny her yet again and handed Scar over to Rose, who took the sick pup with a nod. He lifted Chryslaenor from his back and held it high. Turning his swifen about, Angst galloped forward in a rattling charge.
They rode the remainder of the highway with adrenaline pumping, looking to each other for encouragement and steeling themselves in preparation of the unknown.
“Angst, hold!” Hector yelled in warning and everyone slowed.
The purple woman standing alone at the edge of the city was alive, unlike the others they had found. Her bright red hair flowed along her back to her knees, and a furry cat-like tail twisted about her long legs. She watched them with her unnaturally large golden eyes, and smiled vapidly at their approach. Darker violet spots, like large freckles, covered the tops of her arms and front of her legs.
“So, what, is their Takarn a fifteen-year-old going through puberty?” Rose asked, looking the woman up and down with a sneer.
Angst dismounted and walked toward their greeter. She seemed unconcerned at his approach and merely swung out her curvy hip as she shifted her weight from one clawed foot to the other.
“Whoa, Angst. That might not be such a good idea,” Hector warned.
“Really, I’ve got this,” Angst said, turning to quickly wink at his friends. Rose closed her eyes and Dallow covered his face with his long fingers.
She was easily a head taller than Angst. Her breasts were enormous and unnaturally buoyant, dramatically disproportionate to her tiny waist. Angst’s cheeks and ears flushed as her cat tail wound in and out of his legs. Everything about her was uncomfortably erotic.
“Are you okay? Who did this to you?” Angst stuttered.
The woman’s thickly-lashed eyes blinked several times in apparent confusion. She looked at the group then turned her attention back to Angst.
“Hi,” Angst said with a grin, attempting a different approach. “I’m Angst.”
Her eyes opened wide, and she snapped her head back and yelled. Her high-pitched, trilling scream was quickly followed by thundering sounds and trembling earth. Angst was forcefully knocked to the ground before he saw them coming. He looked up and made eye contact with an angry creature towering over him.
The monster was as tall as Tarness and twice as wide. Its entire body was dark gray and covered with leathery protrusions like a turtle’s shell. Sharp, silvery eyes were hidden within the darkness of a diamond-shaped bone helm. Its enormous muscular arms were long enough to reach its knees, and it lifted Angst effortlessly. The monster either wore armor, or bones had grown outside its body to protect its chest and ribs.
Angst braved a quick look at his friends to find they’d all been caught unawares. Tarness had thrown one of the monsters aside and was grappling with three more. Hector ducked and rolled between two as they grabbed for him. Rose, Aerella, and Dallow were each being held but were otherwise unharmed.
“Everyone stand down,” Angst yelled.
“What?” Tarness and Hector snapped at the same time.
“They were expecting us, and I don’t care to fight hordes of these things to make our way through the city,” he explained.
The gray man set him down and nodded, as if it understood.
“Can you talk?” Angst asked.
The creature gave no response other than a shove to move Angst into a line with his friends. Rose picked up Scar on her way to join them while everyone else dismissed their swifen.
“I don’t think getting captured is your best idea,” Hector whispered behind Angst.
“I have a feeling we’re going to need to save our energy,” Angst replied, glancing one last time at the purple woma
n as they followed their “guides” into Fulk’han.
The city was ominously quiet, as though the dark storm overhead demanded obedience and silence. The only sounds came from their feet on the gravelly walk, or the occasional clap of thunder. They hiked through the city for fifteen minutes as they approached the center of the maelstrom.
“Any plans?” asked Tarness.
“I’m working on it,” Angst replied.
“As long as there aren’t any more purple women involved, maybe he won’t be so distracted,” Rose snapped.
“Right. With three weeks of adventuring experience under my belt, how could I possibly make any mistakes,” Angst retorted rolling his eyes at her.
There were more women, and men, thousands of them throughout the city. The men all looked identical—enormous, gray, covered in bone armor and turtle shell, and ready for action. Unlike the uniformly gray bone men, the women had skin tones in a variety of pink, purple and blue hues.
The grey men and colorful women stepped aside, making a path that led to a roughly-cut stadium, a crater carved deep into the center of Fulk’han. Hundreds of the bone men circled the makeshift stadium, shoulder to shoulder with their heads lowered. Along each step going down into the center, women rested on their knees and bowed deep in worship.
“I was here only months ago,” Hector remarked as they were led down long stairs into the center of the stadium. “As shoddy as everything is, I don’t understand how they could remove the capitol building and replace it with this so quickly.”
“I think that did it,” Aerella replied, fear quivering in her voice as she pointed at a twenty-foot-tall statue in the middle of the city.
“A statue did this?” Dallow questioned in disbelief as he took in the sight.
It was an ugly thing. From a distance, it seemed roughly human, carved from black stone and tightly wrapped in giant purple worms. Up close, the black stone glimmered, like there were stars trapped in that darkness. The purple worms were large tubular things that slithered around the body.
“Angst, the feet!” Tarness yelled, pointing at the statue’s feet. Three of the tubes had merged together in a cloverleaf shape at the base of its legs, exactly matching the footprints they’d tracked only hours before.
Just then the statue turned its head and rose from a coarsely-hewn obsidian throne. The grotesque purple tendrils were in constant motion around its body, as though fighting to contain the starry sky hidden within. It still had the general shape of a man—legs, feet, arms, hands with fingers, and a head. The creature’s face hovered in front of the head, like some horrific masquerade mask floating in the air. The head and face angled down to look at them, its eyes widening as the face sneered.
“Uh, hello? I’m Angst,” Angst called, with his hand cupped to the side of his mouth.
The creature leaned forward, placing its tendril-covered hands on its knees for support. The mask stopped within feet of Angst and spoke. “Hello, Angst,” it said, its deep booming voice reverberating through the stadium.
Up close, Angst could finally make out the face. “Ivan?” Angst asked in shock. “Ivan, what happened? Are you all right?”
The thing that used to be Ivan straightened and laughed. The sound rolled like thunder, and several bolts of lightning struck the ground around the stadium. “All right? I’ve never felt better, and I have you to thank.” His words dripped with a mocking tone.
“Me?” Angst asked bewildered. “How?”
“That night you sent me away, you drove me into the Vex’kvette.” Ivan looked down at his arms and hands. “Now I have power like you, Angst. You see, not everything that comes from the Vex’kvette is a monster.”
It was the wrong thing to say. All the anticipation, and fear, and concern that had built up in Angst burst out as laughter. This laughter was not the gentle guffaw that could be hidden with coughing, or a quickly-contained chuckle. This was an uncontrollable belly laugh that came from the depths of exhaustion.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Dallow warned Angst.
“Not a monster?” Angst asked, wiping his eyes.
Before Angst even had time to pull his hand from his face, Ivan’s arm swung down in a purple blur, backhanding Angst into the air and over nearby buildings.
“Here we go,” Hector yelled.
40
Tyrell didn’t enjoy killing, but he couldn’t help feeling relieved and justified as Aereon writhed at the end of his sword. The tall man struggled, gripping the blade with both hands, his eyes squeezed shut. Tyrell’s relief was soon replaced by concern when the writhing and noises continued for far too long. Aereon suddenly stopped moving, his eyes popped open, and a seedy grin crept across his face.
“You really have no idea what you’re dealing with.” Aereon’s chest transformed into smoke as he stepped to one side. Tyrell’s blade passed through, leaving no sign of impact or injury.
There was no time for shock. Aereon moved so fast Tyrell didn’t even see him unsheathe the rapier. Only years of experience let Tyrell block the thin sword mere inches from his face.
“Fancy,” Aereon taunted. “That would’ve killed most.”
Tyrell didn’t banter without purpose and took the opportunity to study his opponent. Aereon was no blademaster, but he was unnaturally fast, and accurate. The man’s overall nonchalant attitude had led Tyrell to dismiss him as a true threat, but that was a mistake, perhaps a deadly one. Aereon didn’t bother defending himself when Tyrell swung, and Tyrell’s sword passed through him easily as he switched forms at will.
“That isn’t magic I recognize,” Tyrell commented between short breaths.
“Who said it was magic?” Aereon answered with an evil, knowing grin.
Tyrell spun around to block another swing as he heard Aereon pop into form behind him. Aereon was too fast, appearing and disappearing randomly around Tyrell. Instinct, raw skill, and desperation kept Tyrell alive. Neither man could successfully land a blow, but only Tyrell seemed to be tiring. He continued fighting while inching toward the door, hoping to draw Aereon away from the queen.
Aereon suddenly appeared between Tyrell and the door, looking quite pleased with himself. “No escape for you. This is too much fun.” But as Aereon plunged with his rapier, the steel end of a large halberd struck him upside the head.
Victoria swung at Aereon again and again, each blow making painful contact with his head or torso. Tyrell took advantage of Aereon’s prolonged solidity and drove his sword into the man’s stomach. Aereon seemed momentarily disoriented as Victoria and Tyrell continued to attack together.
Aereon muttered something, and instantly a second rapier appeared in his hand. He spun wildly. Victoria dove to the ground and rolled away as gracefully as she could in her formal attire. Aereon’s blade found flesh, striking Tyrell in the arm again and again, blood pouring from each new wound.
After seeing Aereon attack the princess, the guards posted around the room rushed forward.
“That’s enough!” Aereon yelled, obviously no longer amused.
He raised his right hand, dramatically pointing outward and turning it in small circles. The princess and the guards flew against the throne room walls. The few guards still conscious hovered helplessly several feet over the floor.
Tyrell’s sword arm was useless. Blood trickled down the sleeve of his dark navy doublet. He transferred the sword to his other hand.
“I grow tired of this, Captain Guard.” Aereon stood in front of Tyrell and thrust the rapiers back and forth so quickly that his arms were only a blur of motion. He stopped to admire his work. “That should do it.”
Tyrell patted at his wet doublet. In a daze, he looked down to see dozens of holes in his chest, like large pinpricks, each dripping blood. He dropped to his knees, still holding onto his sword, feeling both surprised and confused.
Aereon leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “You are a fool. So worried about your queen inside that you didn’t even notice what was happeni
ng to your kingdom outside the castle walls.”
Aereon took the sword from Tyrell’s hand, lifted it high, and slashed down at the man’s neck.
It was an ordinary Monday morning for the capital of Unsel. In spite of the recent upheaval that had driven the magic wielders away or into prison, people still needed to eat, and commerce commenced. Kertac had always been a produce vendor in this market and drew comfort from the normalcy of his life. He didn’t understand nor care to acknowledge anything that didn’t fit into his daily routine. Kertac’s greatest concern was the weather.
After thirty years in the produce industry, he could gauge where to set that day’s prices based on temperature, humidity, and cloud cover. If weather was turning bad, he may not receive a shipment and could raise his prices. Perfect weather was the worst for business, most customers finding things to do other than shopping. He waited all year for days like today, cool enough to keep his produce healthy, but not cold enough to drive away customers. They were already starting to gather at the edge of the market, waiting for the vendors to open.
Kertac looked over at the prospective buyers and was grateful that people were so easily swayed by fear. Recent arrests and rumors of attacks by monsters had driven shoppers to buy more food than they normally would have. Fearing war and inevitable scarcity, people naturally began stockpiling resources, and that was good for business. He wrung his large hands hungrily. Maybe, in spite of the nice fall day, he could find another excuse to keep prices up. Kertac sought his excuse in the skies, hoping for a sign of rain or, even better, an early snow.
One particularly dark cloud loomed near the city, and his hopes swelled. “Looks like a rough storm,” he muttered to himself with a greedy smile. Kertac continued watching the cloud, startled by the speed of its approach.
He shook his head, rubbed his eyes, and inspected the produce displayed around his table. That odd cloud made him uneasy, and the increasing buzz of people around him reflected his worries. Though he really didn’t want to, Kertac looked into the sky again, in spite of himself. The cloud was growing, and now seemed mere minutes away. Others followed his gaze and looked up to watch in trepidation as the cloud slowed. Kertac looked away and started packing his goods, for once unconcerned about bruising the fruit. He stopped abruptly when he heard the first loud thud. Someone screamed, and there was a crash as one of his tables collapsed.
Angst Box Set 1 Page 31
