by Jeff Gunzel
*
Panting heavily, the thin, bearded man ran as fast as he could. Shoeless, and wearing little more than a tattered pair of pants, his calloused feet smacked against the cold stone with every step. Covered in soot and grim, his every panting breath was visible as his burning lungs produced wisps of steam. The temperature was near freezing, but a healthy layer of soot and natural body oils kept the chill from his bones. That, and the fact that he had simply grown used to the frigid climate.
Jagged to the touch, cold as ice, stone walls blurred past his vision as he ran. Day and night meshed together into twenty-four hours of darkness, a world of eternal midnight.
Save for the occasional stalagmite with an odd shape or color, each tunnel looked identical to the last. No matter, he knew these caves like the back of his hand. Long ago his eyes had adjusted to the nearly lightless world. Still, the low light of the occasional oil lamp flickering on a peg embedded in the stone was a welcome sight. Such a luxury occurred every three hundred feet or so.
With little warning, the mouth of the cave sprung open before him, emptying into a giant chasm. Leathery feet bleeding from the rough terrain, he skidded to a halt, taking in the view he’d seen hundreds of times before, yet would never get used to.
The underground city sprawled out before him was as breathtaking as it was unsettling. Tall buildings with jagged forked roofs spidered up towards the chasm ceiling, each glowing faintly in a dull, fluorescent shade of purple. The walls looked to be polished stone, but the spiky, jagged roofs had the look of crystal. Beautiful it was, a stark contrast to the vile beings who lived there.
So used to the near pitch-black he was that the modest city light looked radiant at first. From here, a narrow path led down into the heart of Kraindoel. Resisting the urge to rest, he sped on, making his way towards the lost city. He carried with him urgent news.
Orm’rak was not one to be kept waiting...
*
Terrified, the girl forced herself to take another step, followed by another, then another. Each reluctant movement came as a product of sheer will, her true instinct being to flee the other direction. Her dingy dress was worn to nearly nothing, a single frayed strap clinging to one shoulder, her left breast fully exposed. The lower half consisted of tattered ribbons of cloth, once white, now a dingy yellowed tan. Whimpering in fear, her shaking hands gripped the lidded silver tray. It rattled from her trembling, wobbling from side to side.
She almost threw it in the air when a hand touched the back of her shoulder, giving her a start. “It’s only me, Naomi,” the girl said, stepping around to face her. “You’re drawing too much attention to yourself. Just go in with your head down, serve the tray, then leave. Nothing will happen.”
“I-I can’t go in there, Talis,” the girl cried, eyes beginning to water. “What if they want something else? What if they—”
“Stop it!” Talis demanded. “Don’t talk like that. You are not to be used for that. You are a servant, and servants are not to be used for—” She swallowed hard, unable to finish her own sentence. “That is not our purpose,” she finished, rewording her poorly chosen sentence. “Listen, I’ve been here four years now. I’ve already accepted that escape is impossible, so survival is the only hope I dare cling to. The key is to keep your head down, and don’t make eye contact with them. Just do your job and leave.” Lip quivering, the other girl shook her head from side to side. “You’ve already kept them waiting too long. I’ll be by your side the whole time. We have to go right now.” Holding a porcelain pitcher, Talis shook it around with a sloshing sound for emphasis.
Reluctantly, the other girl followed her down the hall. Standing before a set of red double doors, Talis held her breath and backed through. Naomi followed, head down as instructed, gripping the tray firmly to control her shaking.
All at once, the soulless creatures sitting at the table turned their heads eagerly. Forcing her head down as she always did, Talis rounded the table, filling glasses with red drink. Red eyes stared at her as she poured, those pale white faces always reminding her of death. She ignored them, concentrating on the task at hand.
Ghostly in appearance, their lips were black and most had no hair. Their eyes sat low on their faces, making their foreheads seem long by comparison. Their ears were long and pointed at the top.
Mustering all of her courage, Naomi leaned in, placing her silver tray at the center of the table. Boldly, the creature to her right gave her body a long sniff, pressing his cold wet nose against her side. Panic swelled up in her chest, the pace of her breathing increasing tenfold. Wisps of steam rose from her lips, making it seem like the already frigid temperature had dropped several degrees. Anxious to get away, she fumbled around with the lid, that cold nose still sniffing her side like a curious dog.
Trembling fingers finally taking hold, she removed the lid too quickly, knocking over the goblet of the sniffing creature. Red drink doused his front, the goblet rolling onto his lap. She froze, petrified eyes dashing between the angered creature, and the now exposed main dish on the tray. A human head sat upright, eyeless sockets staring directly at her. An assortment of fingers and toes bordered the edge of the tray, a sort of garnish that added a decorative touch to the gruesome snack.
Naomi’s heart leapt into her throat. “I’m-I’m so sorry,” she gasped, nearly on the edge of fainting.
Talis watched in horror as the scene unfolded. Just walk away. You’re making things worse! Just. Walk. Away. Over the years she had gained a strong understanding of their thought process. Humans were either food or workers, and not much else. Humans meant so little to them, that they were almost always forgotten once they were out of sight. It was a strange advantage to be viewed as something lower than a pet. Once you understood that, becoming invisible was relatively easy. Just turn and go! The thoughts screamed through her head, but she didn’t dare say a word.
Naomi snatched a nearby cloth, sending his fork and knife tumbling to the other side of the table. Desperately dabbing away at his chest, she ignored the primal rumbling coming from his throat. He hissed, a bright red tongue flickering like a lizard’s. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, now urgently wiping his chest. “I’ll get this all cleaned up. I’ll—”
With impossible speed, the enraged creature snatched her by the arm and flipped her onto the table. Winded from the jarring blow at first, she quickly found her voice, producing a glass-shattering shriek as he bit into her wrist. Like wild animals, others lashed out, gripping limbs and hair, ripping towards them what they felt was their deserved portion of fresh meat.
Talis turned away and started walking towards the hall. Naomi’s shrieks were short lived. All she could hear now was the snapping of bone and sinew as limbs ripped free from her torso. Human blood was the bulk of their sustenance, but they would indulge in flesh on occasion, given it was fresh enough.
Talis dared a glance back over her shoulder, regretting it instantly. Hands and feet were being held over goblets, as every drop of the precious nectar was drained. Strips of skin were being wringed like wet towels, the useless innards chucked into a pile on the floor. She covered her mouth, fearful she would throw up on the floor, hence drawing attention to herself as well.
She darted out the door and into the hallway, cheeks puffed with her hand still clamped over her mouth. With an effort, she swallowed the bitter mixture that was threatening to escape, then hurried away. Not drawing attention was the key to surviving in the underground city of Kraindoel, a lesson that had been wasted on Naomi. She would be replaced soon enough. They always were.
The laberaths were resourceful like that. Whether they were nourishment or labor, humans were mostly ignored, but managed to serve a purpose one way or another.
*
“I sense his approach,” the laberath grunted, shoving the winded man down to the floor. “Deliver your message, then be gone from our sight.” In walked a second laberath, an unmistakable grace to his steps. Unlike the others, he boasted a full h
ead of black hair, long and slicked back across the top of his head. His long robe was of the finest quality, dark purple with white ruffles around the neck and wrists. His eyes were proportionate to his nose, making his facial features appear quite human. In fact, if not for his oddly colored eyes and skin, he would have been considered handsome by any human standards.
“Orm’rak!” said the filthy human male, scrambling across the floor on his hands and knees. “Orm’rak, our surface contacts have reported back to me. I bring word of—”
With a raised hand, the tall laberath silenced him. “You’ve traveled so far already. Surely this can wait a bit longer,” he said, easily lifting the man off the floor as if he were weightless. “Join me for a walk. Stretch your legs before we talk.” His voice was soft and musical, large red eyes inviting, almost hypnotic. Well spoken and charming when he wanted to be, he was nothing like the others.
“You may leave us,” Orm’rak said, making a subtle hand gesture to no one in particular. Suddenly, the air to each side of him seemed to rip open, two massive klashtons stepping into view where there was nothing a moment ago. Stunned, the human scrambled back on all fours, trying to put distance between himself and the rocky creatures. Amused at the startled human’s reaction, Orm’rak let out a hearty laugh, far deeper than his usual voice.
“Did they frighten you?” he asked, amused. “They will only harm you if I allow it.” The klashtons reached down to their feet, scooping up what appeared to be liquid portions of the floor. It soon became obvious that those skins they just slipped out of adjusted to their surroundings, rendering them invisible at all times. They must have been standing there the whole time. Holding the crumpled body suits under their arms, they looked as if they had holes in their sides. They turned and thumped away.
“What is your name, runner?” Orm’rak asked, talking softly and slowly, as if speaking to a child.
“Kane,” the man replied, eyes to the floor.
“Kane,” he repeated, clicking his tongue as if he liked the way that name sounded. “Come with me, Kane. I will show you something I rarely show to the other humans. I hope you can appreciate that.”
“I-I do, Orm’rak,” the man said, following the laberath from the large chamber. The halls were exceptionally tall, most likely to accommodate the two klashtons he apparently had in service. It was hard to believe such brutish creatures could be tamed enough to be used as personal bodyguards.
Kane felt reasonably safe in the presence of Orm’rak. Unlike the others, he wasn’t driven by emotion or a slave to an insatiable hunger. Kane was a runner, whose status was viewed at least on par with a servant’s, but with more freedom involved. He was permitted to journey near the surface world to meet with their contacts in order to gather information. Runners were useful, and were rarely harmed without reason.
Runners and servants alike passed them in that hall, heads low as they scurried past. Any human who had been forced to live here long enough understood that staying invisible was always the key.
Kane tugged at the thin iron collar around his neck. Even after his years of being a runner, he still wasn’t sure if he was relieved to wear the mark, or if he viewed it as a sign of hopelessness. The collar proved his status as a runner, ensuring he could never be mistaken for anything else. But at the same time, it guaranteed he could never escape to the surface world. Too many eyes and ears working for the laberaths were aware of what that collar represented. He would be identified, then brought back as a deserter. Those who were branded as such could only pray for a swift death, a desire that was rarely granted. He shuddered at the thought, realizing his life here could certainly be much worse.
They approached a large iron door, bordered with a series of gold serpents intertwined with one another like twisting snakes. When Orm’rak placed his ice-cold hands on the door, the serpents began to writhe, seeming to come to life as they squirmed and twisted around the door’s edge. Light broke around the door as it sank in, then slid directly into the side wall.
The room seemed bright in comparison to the dark hallway, forcing Kane to blink incessantly. Once inside, his eyes quickly adapted to the light. He gazed around briefly, then violently vomited on the floor. Instantly, he regretted ever opening his eyes in the first place.
As far as he could see, naked men, women, and even children hung in the air from metal racks, their feet crossed and arms spread wide. Clear masks covered their faces, each connected to long tubes flowing with dark liquid. Air bubbles crept through the tubes, giving a visional indication of how slowly the fluid was pumping between bodies.
Fixed beneath the hanging bodies were long wooden troughs used to catch their falling waste. It was only upon seeing this that a further horror invaded Kane’s mind. They’re still alive, suspended in some sort of living death! His empty stomach had nothing left to offer, yet made a valiant effort anyhow. Mouth wide open, he gagged and belched, stomach contracting with nothing but bile and air.
Orm’rak patted the feeble human on the back like a friend attempting to provide comfort. He drifted over to one of the racks and pulled a lever near its side. There was a hissing sound, and what looked to be steam dispersing all around. The strong scent of sulfur filled the air as the rack containing a male body slowly lowered to ground level.
Orm’rak gripped the clear mask on his face, wrenching it back and forth. As it wiggled free, it became clear it was not the mask itself resisting, but the tube running down the man’s throat. Given its length, it clearly ran all the way down to his stomach. At last the end popped free with a wet splash of dark fluid. The man’s eyes began to flutter, followed by a violent fit of coughing.
“You see, the fluid contains a sleep inducer, as well as a nourishing agent,” said Orm’rak, attempting to educate the runner. His scientific calmness on the vile subject was chilling. “As you can see, the moment the tube is removed, the subject wakes up rather quickly.” Indeed, the man had already regained consciousness. Suspended helplessly, panic flooded his eyes as he gazed at the laberath before him.
From a peg on the side, Orm’rak grabbed a large needle with a flexible tube attached, then jammed it deep in the man’s inner thigh. “Ah! No!” he cried out, confused panic quickly becoming outright terror. “Don’t! Please don’t!”
The laberath lifted the end of the tube to his lips, blood beginning to creep through the tube. The man continued to scream, thrashing as much as the restraints would allow. Orm’rak stopped a moment, and turned back to the runner, who was down on his knees, hands over his ears to muffle the bloodcurdling cries.
“Do you know why I prefer to feed while they’re still alive?” Orm’rak asked. “Because I can taste the adrenalin as it builds. It sweetens the blood, making the feed just that much more enjoyable.” Kane’s head went straight to the floor, face down in his own vomit, hands still covering his ears.
“I’ll tell you something else,” Orm’rak continued casually. “Before his blood is completely drained, his face will go white like mine. His lips will even darken in color. Don’t you find that ironic? Before this human expires, he will strongly resemble a laberath.”
He tossed the tube aside and strolled back to the trembling runner. “I want you to remember what I shared with you today. Tell the other runners what will happen if any of you ever decides to try to betray my trust in any way. If even one of you tries to escape, I will put three of you up on these racks. Do you understand?”
“Yes! Yes, Orm’rak,” the runner whimpered, refusing to lift his head. “I swear I would never betray you!”
Orm’rak placed his cold hand on the man’s head. “I believe you, Kane,” he said, his voice returning to its calm, musical tone once again. “Now before I let you go, I believe you had something to report to me. Correct?”
Shaken to his core at what he’d just witnessed, the man could hardly pull himself together. He had completely forgotten all about the report. It seemed so unimportant now. “Y-Yes sir,” he stammered, now just eager
to get far away from here. Each scream from the poor man on the rack made his shoulders twitch. “The hunter. He has retrieved the girl, and they are on the move as we speak.”
Orm’rak’s lips curled back in a fiendish smile, revealing bloodstained teeth. “Good,” he whispered. “So the human came through after all. I’ll assemble a team to meet with him immediately.” He glanced down at the runner, as if he’d forgotten he was even there. “You may go now,” he said, gesturing towards the open doorway.
Nearly crippled with fright a minute ago, the runner suddenly found his legs easily enough. He bolted away, the slowly dying man’s screams echoing behind him.
Chapter 5
The sun dipped down below the horizon, the last of its orange glow lingering just above the western mountain range. Glancing up to the sky, Viola could see the stars breaking through the sparse cloud cover. Gusts of wind lifted her white hair, wrapping it around her face. The tickling sensation made her giggle. Smiling, she brushed it back until the next gust did the same.
Never before had she been outdoors for so long, an entire day spent riding in the back of a wagon. After spending so many years hidden from the world, the freedom felt exhilarating. Having Liam along made her feel safe. It seemed so very foolish to trust someone she had only known for such a short amount of time, but there was a kindness in his eyes that made her feel at ease.
The creaking wheels began to slow, the rocking wagon now veering off to the side of the road. “We’re stopping for tonight, Viola,” said Liam, dropping the reins and shaking out his hands.
“Where are we going, anyway?” she asked.
He twisted back in his seat, peeking under the canopy. “An excellent question, young lady,” he said, flashing her a smile. “One I intend to have answered shortly.”
