Gemini Warrior

by J D Cowan

  “So you have done this before.”

  “Breaking into places?” Matthew replied with an acidic edge. “Not one of my proudest moments, but yes, I have. The important thing here is to find a spot that gives you a better vantage point than those who might stumble upon you. Wide open areas are a no-no.”

  “It’s not that I want to fight those guys, you know. The last thing I want to do is get Alain even madder at me.”

  “He’s probably mad enough that he’s not here with us. Get over here. We’re going in.”

  Jason merged with Matthew. Light footsteps slowly pressed against dirt in the green light behind them. Thieves would be upon them soon. Matthew moved to the door.

  He became a puddle and slid through the jamb. The steps stomped further and further away until they disappeared. When he was certain they were gone Matthew solidified into a human again.

  The dark mansion overwhelmed his senses. Eyes focusing in the dark, he got word of where he was from Jason before he could see anything. Matthew rubbed his brow to focus.

  “This is worse than outside. We shouldn’t be here.”

  “Because it smells like death?”

  It certainly did stink of corpses and ash, but the stench of alcohol and an unrecognizable aridic fragrance also lingered.

  “Not just that. Look over there.”

  Matthew bumped into a small table and fought off a swear. At the end of a scuffed up and dusty red carpet, he spotted a limp figure lying against the stone wall. The green fog from the window sent a tint across the inside. It shone across a chalk white object that looked like a bone.

  “You know what that is, right?”

  Matthew swallowed his nerves. The round object gained an extra dimension in the shadows as he leaned closer. He crouched down, dust attacking his nerves and tickling his nose. His fingers ran along the dark figure, and his spine tingled. He pushed it back, and a head rolled back against the wall. Dead eyes stared past him into infinity.

  “A body,” Matthew whispered.

  Somewhere on the floor above him, boots scuffled on wood. They weren’t alone in the house.

  Chapter 15

  Phantom Stab

  Jason winced when he heard the movement from upstairs. Jason left Matthew’s head and kept his fingers near his scabbard.

  He wanted to split up, but Matthew shot that idea down.

  “Not yet,” he whispered. “It’s easier to hide if there’s one of us, and I’m the better one at it. Sit silent here until you see something. For now, we just need to look for a clue.”

  An unspoken tension lingered in the room even with the revelation that they weren’t alone. The corpse at Matthew’s feet disturbed Jason more. Its face stretched out and gasping for air that would not come, and hands gripped like claws along the cold stone floor where scratches remained. The corpse had greying hair with a long face and beard, and underweight. His dress of finer silk and jewels betrayed any sense of belonging to this town. One single stab wound pierced the victim’s throat, but he could see no blood on the floor around the body. A black, solid mass like dried blood remained inside the puncture. Jason paid special attention to the empty eyes, the only clue that this shell had once been a real person. Whatever lay upstairs killed him.

  “There’s no time for this, Jason. He’s dead. Sticking around here isn’t going to help us.”

  “It’s hard to explain to someone that should have a better sixth sense than I do, but this body is giving me a bad feeling. I’m going to wait here for you.”

  “Of course I’m getting a bad feeling, but I’ve gotten that since getting into this town. The whole place is wrong.”

  “Just go upstairs. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Matthew sighed and rotated his shoulder. “Then I guess I should find that idiot’s room. If he has maps like he said then hopefully one will lead to Ordopha.”

  The stairs to the left of them were made of a solid stone that spiraled upwards. Despite outside appearances, the inside of this place didn’t look like any mansion Jason had ever seen. It had been left to crumble, just like everything else in this town.

  Matthew slowly ascended the stairs with his sword drawn at his side and his steps light. He soon disappeared from sight, leaving Jason on his own.

  Jason’s skin stood on end in that place. He watched the corners of the cavernous rooms adorned with tapestries, candles, and paintings. It took a few seconds for him to realize the shape of the place reminded him of modern Earth. The ground floor specifically had an open concept floor plan with oddly placed thin pillars and a smaller table with chairs sitting around it ahead of him. The carpet placement, as well as the modern fireplace, made this look like an apartment.

  Jason had never been in a mansion. And even at that, he hadn’t been in one in a dog’s age. Not since . . . well, he didn’t need to think about it now. He wouldn’t be going back there again. Now he had powers, and he would become someone else—a hero. Jason McCrae was dead: now he was a whole new man. When he got back to Serenity City, everything would be different.

  As he stood there in the dark remembering old times, an intense heat grew in his chest. It prickled like heartburn. His mind turned and knew it was the Kharis Seed before he understood it himself. An outside force connected through him and to the seed itself. The seed wanted to go somewhere—somewhere close. For a second he saw the face of the girl from his dreams. Was she nearby?

  Before he could react, a dark light reflected off the dead man’s eye. Jason leaned in closer, the Kharis Seed burning against him. He closed the eyes of the corpse, and a shock surged in him. The world in his eyes warped out of shape like a bad camera lens and then refocused again.

  Thick carpets of mist flowed out of the hole in the corpse’s throat like black soot in a chimney. A vague floating darkness wafted inside of the dead man. Jason placed his palm out instinctively and the black heat danced. Smoke swirled into his hand as if magnetized.

  He blinked and the world cleared. The corpse at his feet crumbled into dust. At the same moment, a scene played in his head.

  Matthew was in danger.

  So far the going had been good for Matthew. The tight hall on the second floor led him beyond small empty stone rooms. Inside the spaces he caught tiny beds and tables decorating the otherwise bare places. But he met no one. Perhaps a book fell from a desk to make the earlier noise.

  Eventually, he reached a larger room which opened up from the hall. Dusty shelves and parchment strewn about the tall surfaces awaited him. Moldy tables braced against walls, and broken chairs littered the room. Judging by the way he acted at the tavern, there was doubt that Rantan had ever even looked at any of the tomes or used any of the ink left lying about. This room looked as if it had not been lived in for years.

  Matthew ran his hand along the book spines. They were ancient, despite not being treated as such. Slashed covers, torn pages, and stained ink littered the shelves. Insults had been scrawled inside covers and on loose parchment, probably by Rantan himself.

  Moonlight made it easier to scan the spines against the dark backdrop, but it didn’t help lead him towards anything. Random ramblings and mystic junk filled the pages. He still needed that one hint.

  But he soon spotted one book that caught his attention. Other than being covered by dust, it lay undisturbed. The title was The Book of Aster, a rather thin volume that hadn’t been vandalized. Perhaps Rantan hid one of his maps inside. He flipped through it with the moonlight shining on his back.

  Aster spoke of awakening in the plains of Trafarenka and recounted his journey from the wilderness. He mentioned the battle the Great Sorcerer King had with a being of pure light in the sky. The resulting chaos set sparks and lightning off across the land, creating canyons and gorges with their blasts. Every Earthwalker had woken to explosions of light. While the battle raged on, the Earthwalkers fled in confusion. Many had visions of a world far off from theirs—a place of those not so different from Tyndarus. A world run by what were
known as Humans where those like Nieto could never defile.

  Matthew read through stories, visions, and historical accounts before reaching the back cover. In the rear was a folded parchment that had only a few words. An arrow led from a crude drawing of Rantan’s mansion which traced down a path through the village toward the deeper forest. Twists and turns ended in a giant circle with no defined shape in the scribbles. At the target were two words: The End.

  This was it. Matthew had found it.

  But was it a trap, or was Rantan just that easy to read? Perhaps he thought Aster’s predictions and stories led to whatever was in the forest, or maybe he enjoyed this one book over the others. It was also possible more than just the Abbot took this Earthwalker religion thing seriously. Either way, it was the only real clue. He couldn’t spend all day searching for other ones.

  A tingle danced down his spine. Matthew perked up. Was something coming?

  “Matthew!”

  He twisted at Jason’s voice. The boy ran into the room, frantically pointing at the wall behind Matthew. Matthew pocketed the parchment and threw the book on the nearby table.

  “What are you doing up here? I thought you wanted to stay downstairs?”

  “That thing killed the guy downstairs!”

  “You saw it?” Matthew scanned the circumference of the room. “Is he here?”

  “It’s a long story, but yes.”

  “Stand back to back with me.”

  Jason ran up behind Matthew, and faced the opposite wall. They both took their swords from their scabbards. The creeping silence brought sweat down Matthew’s back.

  “Who is the killer?”

  “The dead guy was a caretaker. But he kept pilfering little things from this place. He came here when Rantan left on a mission weeks back, and a shadow attacked him. I think Rantan found him out.”

  “I’d ask how you know this, but I’m going to guess it’s that seed again.”

  “Earthwalker corpses don’t rot, they crumble.” That would explain the ceremony for burying Case. “But only when the soul leaves the body. Sir Orach told me that was why they said Intactilis—to free them from the bodies Nieto made for them. It’s the only way they can ascend. The thing that killed him poisons and locks their souls to the mortal plain for eternity.”

  Shivers slipped up Matthew’s spine. “Did this corpse tell you himself?”

  “Yes, actually. When I touched the body, light shone, and he broke free. I think that was the Kharis Seed. I saw what offed him before his remains disappeared.”

  “Okay, but where is this enemy? What is it exactly?”

  “It comes from behind and stabs the neck of the victim with the sharp edges in its palms. I don’t know what it looks like because he didn’t see it before it got him. If we keep back to back like this until we get out, we should be fine.”

  “Can we kill it?”

  “Matthew, I don’t even know what it is! If we get out of this house, we won’t have to worry about that. Did you get what you came for?”

  “Yes.” He edged forward. Jason followed at his back, bumping into him. “This isn’t going to work.”

  “We can’t risk a fight, Matthew. You said it yourself.”

  “I’m not saying it because I want to fight. I’m saying it because we have no way of knowing what this thing is. Does it hunt the prey until it leaves this house or when the victim dies? Is it a monster or a magical being? Is it a Prime? Will it follow us out of here? We can’t risk that.”

  “How do we trick it out then?”

  “Merge,” Matthew replied. “Watch my back from inside. When it comes out, let me know, and I’ll attack.”

  “The old man had a sword, you know. It still got him.”

  “The old man didn’t have Castor. Hurry it up.”

  Jason backed up and fell into Matthew. Instantly, a heavy shift in the atmosphere punched down on the room. The humidity grew heavier. But Matthew didn’t see anything, and Jason said nothing.

  The mansion creaked and settled as his eyes darted through the darkness. Outside the chirps of crickets and an owl broke the air, but his heavy breathing filled the empty spaces inside. Would the shadow make the first move?

  “Nothing, Matthew.”

  Matthew edged toward the hall. Maybe he could bait it out.

  “There it is!”

  A rough boot step broke out behind him. Matthew twisted and cut the air at his back—and air was all he cut. The darkness remained undisturbed. Nobody was there.

  “What the—”

  “Behind you, Matthew!”

  Matthew ducked. A heavy and hot breeze blew over his helmet and cloak. He sprang forward into a roll. When he landed he turned around. There was still nothing behind him.

  “You saw it, right? Tell me what it was.”

  “I wish I could! I only saw the outline of a grey shadow. It looked about as big as you, but it had something on its palms that looked like pincers.”

  “Do you see it now?”

  “It’s gone.”

  Matthew tightened the hold on his sword. Of all the things that could have happened in this thief town, fighting a phantom was not something he expected. Its presence made no sense. Rantan had been here mere weeks ago. This mansion wasn’t abandoned. So then, he owned this stray monster. The headache pounding in his skull slightly lifted when he realized it.

  This was Rantan’s guard. Why else would he have no fears about leaving the place unguarded in a thief town? The psychotic must have loved the idea of people breaking in and getting themselves killed. He probably stayed away on purpose on the off chance that someone would come and do just this. Why else didn’t he speak about it in the tavern?

  “Behind!”

  Matthew stayed perfectly still. He stabbed his blade backwards along his side. No sound erupted when it hit its mark. But he trembled with the strike. It was like hitting stone. The rear force continued to push forward. He bent and brought his stance backwards. However, there was nothing to strike—the enemy had vanished again.

  Instantly, Matthew turned to mist. He fell downward and drifted through the floorboards and stone. He came through the ceiling and landed in a wide open room. The layout looked conspicuously like an apartment in Serenity City. Matthew reformed and scanned the strange sights.

  “Did I hit it?”

  “Your hit didn’t go through. Actually, that’s not true. It went through, but the thing solidified, and it pushed the sword out like the thing was rubber.”

  “It felt like rock.”

  “For all I know, that’s what it is.”

  Not good enough. Matthew remembered what it was like when he transformed into mist and water and reformed. This shadow was like that: just like him. If this thing could fade away and reform as easily as he could, then he would outdo it at its own game.

  “Let me know when it’s about to grab me,” he whispered.

  “What? Why would I do that?”

  “Just do it. I have one move left.”

  The moon shone through the emptiness. After a few moments, Jason whispered what he’d been waiting for.

  “It’s here.”

  “Let me know when it’s close.”

  Jason paused.

  Matthew’s heart plunged into his throat. Sweat ran down his neck into his arms under his armor. There would only be one shot at this. He had to hit it just right, or they were dead.

  “Now!”

  Blurred ethereal arms drifted before Matthew’s eyes, nearly invisible. Faded grey palms closed in on his face. He wouldn’t be able to dodge. The shadow brushed his neck before hitting skin.

  Matthew activated Castor as he fell back. The large grey body fell forward as its arms enclosed over nothing. Matthew let his airy form fall inside the phantom’s inexplicable figure.

  The shadow’s faded grey skin and lack facial features caused him to retch. Its wiry limbs jutted out at angles no normal human skeleton could allow. Overlong spider length arms and legs and eyeless ova
l face completed the picture. Matthew sunk into its hardening form. He guessed correctly at how it worked. It was typically intangible before hardening when it struck. But it didn’t count on Castor. The monster turned on its thin heel back to the wall when the thing realized Matthew was inside of it.

  Now to act before it turned back.

  Matthew became normal again. Just as in the mountains, his skin and muscles became rock hard for the first few moments of transforming.

  Instantly, the enemy snapped apart. The phantom’s physical form cracked open and dashed bloodlessly along the walls. The limbs and parts puffed into ash as they slapped down. The atmosphere changed as it faded. It wouldn’t be coming back.

  He leaned against a table and caught his breath.

  The mansion settled and the outside crickets returned to capture his attention. The peaceful night reigned once more.

  “Is it dead?”

  “I don’t even know if it was alive to begin with. But no, it’s not coming back.”

  “You sure?”

  “I think my sixth sense is. There might be another one on standby for all we know. I’m not sticking around to find out.”

  “Slow down, Matthew. Take a breath.”

  “Not worth the risk.”

  Matthew’s lungs burned, and his heart pounded. Rest could wait until they were out of this town. Jason left their merged state and followed after him.

  “See,” Jason said. “The body’s gone.”

  And it was. No trace of the earlier corpse remained.

  Matthew grimaced. “What did the Kharis Seed do to him?”

  “I think it freed him from his prison.”

  Matthew led the boy back out into the fogged night of the thief town the same way they came in. No one was around: that crowd following them had long since vanished, and only the hoot of a distant owl haunted him. His fists trembled at his side. He took a breath to calm his nerves.

  All he wanted to do was get that mansion out of his mind and out of sight. He removed the map from his pocket and carefully traced his path into the night.