by Martin, CJ
He was quiet, thinking.
“Sam,” she said in a final plea, “Let’s try this. Come with me now and if you don’t think there is hope, I’ll go with you to the old man and suggest releasing him immediately.”
Sam sighed, threw up his hands, and then motioned for her to lead the way.
Hikari heard the door crack open. For a moment, he felt a surge of joy. He quickly buried his bubbling emotions but kept his head up and did not scurry away to the safety of the far corner.
“Lady!”
But then he saw Sam. He didn’t know if it was mild jealousy due to him being male or the fact he was friends with that hard man, Ian. Whatever the reason, Hikari did not like Sam. Hikari fled to the corner and buried his head in his cloak.
“Hikari, do not be frightened. I’ve brought Sam to meet you—the real you. I would like it very much if we were not thought of as enemies.” She pivoted her head slightly in Sam’s direction. “That goes for you too, Sam.”
Hikari blinked several times rapidly while focusing on the man. He liked the idea of pretending to want to join the Temporal when around the woman. He had started to worry that he wasn’t pretending to be happy to see her, that he really was happy to see her. Her kind words and warm touch disarmed him, made him feel like he could trust her. But seeing the man there brought back the hate and the distrust. With a single glance, he had been healed of his malady.
“Yess, lady. Not enemy...friendss.” Hikari had lowered his voice to a whisper. He embellished the words with a slight snarl through bared, rotten teeth.
“Yes, friends,” said Sam, echoing. “Listen, friend…”
“Hikari,” interrupted Suteko.
“Listen, Hikari, trust needs to be earned. We have some...we have other friends who are under attack by your boss. Any information you can give us to save their lives would add a notch to the old trust-o-meter.”
The creature lowered his head as if lost in thought. Fidgety hands ran over and behind his head, unsettling what little hair remained. Hikari tilted his head to allow a single eyeball to scout the area behind the two Temporal.
The door was open. Without the woman’s touch, the light would be painful, but he could manage...This was it. The male Temporal had lost its patience and would now torture him. The female had been sent to weaken him. She had succeeded.
“What do you say?”
Sam’s voice startled Hikari, sending him farther into the corner and abandoning his plan of escape. His arms crossed tightly over his knees and chest.
“Is there anything you can give us to make keeping you here worth our time?”
Sam heard whispers and saw the back of his head shaking as if answering in the negative a question he had posed himself.
Suteko ended a long pause by saying, “Hikari, it’s okay…”
“No, it’s not okay,” said Sam, interrupting. Sam moved over to Hikari who was now motionless and quiet.
Suteko did not intervene but watched with concerned eyes when Sam quickly inserted his hands under the creature’s armpits and lifted.
Hikari felt motion faster than he had ever experienced—even faster than the motion when underground and maneuvering through rich, moist soil. Realizing what had happened, he allowed his legs to fall. Once they touched the floor, he strengthened them enough to support his weight.
When the creature was standing on his own, Sam removed his hands. Holding up that creature had felt strange. Ian had recoiled in disgust when touching one of them, but for Sam, while disturbing, it incited more pity than disgust. On the other side of the cloth, there was a sensation of something hard—undoubtedly exposed bone—and something soft—rotting or deeply bruised flesh. But unlike regular skin, the softness shifted when rubbed against the hard bone. The movements of the flesh made Sam uneasy, but he did not let go until the creature could stand on his own.
Sam stood and appraised his prisoner. The creature’s hood had fallen back against his neck, exposing his face, neck, and some of his chest. There was still a smell that Sam noticed, but it wasn’t as bad as before. Through the dim lighting from the hallway, he also noticed the creature’s facial features seemed more complete. The mouth, that had been so distorted, was now covered completely by skin. However thin or discolored, it was new skin.
Sam suppressed his curiosity and continued with the issue at hand. “What do you say, sport...Hikari? Will you help us?”
Hikari lifted his head enough to meet Sam’s eyes. He stood only a foot or two away. If he had a knife, he could slash the Temporal’s throat. But that flash of violent thought quickly changed into something else. He noticed that Sam’s face wasn’t at all hateful. It wasn’t the face of a killer or of a sadistic man. This was not the hard man. Sam’s eyes were tired and filled with concern. Hikari had the sudden realization that the High Lady had lied to him.
“Shee wants yoou, Saam. Shee’s always wanted yoou.” The words came out before his mind had time to stop them.
Sam dropped to one knee to be slightly below eye level with Hikari. Hikari would have been much taller, but he slouched over heavily when standing. With each breath, his hunchback rose and fell in exaggerated fashion.
“Why? Why does she want me?”
Hikari looked up to Suteko. She nodded and placed a warm hand on Hikari’s shoulder.
“Shee will kill me.”
“We will protect you,” Sam said, looking up at Suteko.
“No, shee will find me and kill me. But I am at peace.”
“Wait,” Suteko said, interrupting. “Hikari, this is the first time you’ve spoken of yourself in the first person. You said ‘I’ and ‘me.’”
Hikari lowered his face in shame as if he had just realized a terrible mistake and that he was responsible. He had secretly thought of himself as an individual, but this was the first time to voice this heresy. His arms hung awkwardly at his sides, shaking.
Suteko’s fingers lifted Hikari’s chin. “Hikari, little one, this is a wonderful thing. You are your own person. You are no longer under her spell. You can forge your own fate.”
Sam nodded in agreement and said, “Yes, Hikari. This is good. And I know you are telling the truth. Can you tell me why she wants me? She has the list, doesn’t she?”
“Yesss.” Hikari nodded in the affirmative and then let out a deep sigh. The words came out slowly and with great heaviness. “I…” He paused and then spoke louder, with a greater intensity. “I saw her thoughts once. She grabbed me in hatred and haste. She kissed me. For a brief moment, her guard was down and I saw all her thoughts. I...would have been kiilled if it hadn’t...If it hadn’t…”
“Hikari…” Suteko was doing all she could to comfort Hikari with her touch. She felt energy flow out of her like a river, but her peace just wasn’t enough to still his swelling tide of fear.
“If it hadn’t been for the three. Isn’t that right, Hikari?” Sam had probed Hikari’s thoughts. Hikari was no longer blocking them. The Nephloc had given up, chosen a better path. Sam saw his thoughts and emotions so clearly, he was certain that Hikari had not only dropped his barriers, but had actually invited Sam’s probes.
“Yesss. Please continue.”
“You went back to Kaileen after escaping here,” Sam said.
“Yesss.” His voice was whisper.
Sam saw a solitary tear streak from Hikari’s eye that still had flesh around it. Newly formed skin, thicker and more natural, appeared behind it, following its path. Sam had thought it before, but he could see it now. Hikari was healing. He was becoming human again.
“You told her the other three were captured. And she was about to kill you when the three came back.”
“Yesss.”
“And...and she killed them instead of you.”
Hikari kept his head up, looking at Sam, but from his eyes flowed streams of tears. His mouth quivered. He was experiencing much emotional pain and guilt, but he never failed to keep his head up.
Suteko placed both of her hands on
the sobbing creature. “It wasn’t your fault.”
He continued sobbing and letting loose tears, but looking up at Suteko, he said, “But it was. Even if I didn’t kill them, I was happy. I wanted them dead! Even if I was to die anyway. I wanted them dead.”
“But you no longer do,” said Sam. “That is what counts. For redemption, it is not what was, but what is that matters. It’s about what you believe now and what you will do from here on.” Sam stood. He had examined Hikari’s mind. He knew the creature was seeking forgiveness and penitence. “Suteko. Forgive me for doubting Hikari’s ability to be redeemed. Hikari, I will protect you to my death if you choose to stay with us.”
Hikari immediately dropped to his knees and buried his head into the ground. The back of his head bobbed violently in various directions as he cried.
“There isss something else…” Hikari’s words managed to get out even through sobbing. “You were right, Sssam. I was a spy.”
Sam and Suteko looked at each and then turned their attention to the back of Hikari’s head.
“I had this.” The sobbing slowed and Hikari lifted himself to a seated position. His chest still heaved and contorted as his right hand reached inside his cloak to pull out a small box about the size of a matchbox. After handing it to Sam, he reached back in to pull out a tiny watch battery. “This is how I contacted heerr.”
“But...how? We searched you thoroughly!” Sam was more than slightly concerned. How much did Hikari the spy tell their enemy?
“Not inside me, you didn’t.” Hikari pulled back the arm of his cloak with his left hand. His right arm was badly bruised and lacked most of its skin. What little skin there was had a fresh wound covering a cavity just large enough to house the communications device. “She hid it here.”
“What did you tell her? How many times did you make contact?” Sam asked painfully. He kept back the anger he felt bubbling. He had to remember what he had just told Hikari, that redemption was of the present and required forgiveness of the past.
“Only twice. I said very little of importance. But she knows how many Temporal are here. There is one more thing.”
Hikari shot looks in every direction as if suspicious that they weren’t alone.
“Shee has a factory.”
“A factory?”
“Yesss.”
Suteko looked at Sam. She could see patience running out of his eyes. She said, “What kind of factory?”
“Nephloc factory...Many new brothers. A training camp. Horribilis et terribilis est. We must stop it, stop her.”
“Hikari, what goes on in this factory?”
He shuddered and lowered his head, refusing to speak.
Suteko placed her hand back on his shoulder. He felt the warmth flow through. For a moment, he felt he could tell her anything, do anything for her. As he began to lift his head, he remembered the other her, the High Lady, and returned to his solitary huddle.
“Dear Hikari, do not be afraid. The evil that wants to hurt you—wants to hurt us all—cannot touch your soul if you do not let it. Tell us about this factory and how we can stop it.” She gracefully sat directly in front of the black shuddering mass and added, “Please.”
The creature, sitting, crossed its legs and said, “Perazim.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
It had been chosen.
Two red-robed Perazim entered the sleeping quarters of Delta Enclave. Out of the three hundred Nephloc within its halls, it had been chosen.
Once the Red Ones entered, all fell silent. It was not out of respect or due to any law or custom. It was simple fear. Even as the chosen one was taken, all remained silent. This was also not out of compassion for the one leaving, but fear that the Red Ones may return and choose another.
The chosen had already been carried six wards and was entering the seventh before hazarding the simple question. “Is it the ceremony?”
There was no response and it would have been very surprised had it received one. Other than the death grip on the chosen one’s wrist, the Perazim moved as if the creature they were escorting didn’t even exist.
The Nephloc knew it had to be the ceremony. It would have already been dead had it been anything else. It did not resist—in fact it welcomed the chance to prove its worth—but neither did it give any aid to the red-robed Perazim guards leading it. Its slow steps seemed to aggravate the Perazim’s tight grips. Lesser Nephloc would have cowered in fear. It felt no fear. It had been a prideful man; that trait had served him well in its past life and it was by the power of that virtue one foot continued to move ahead of the other.
All Perazim had once been Nephloc, Nephloc that had survived the crucible of the ceremony. The initiation process was painful, but like childbirth or the kind of death that ushers in a new life within a cocoon, the result was beautiful.
It was being taken to be tried, and if it survived, it would become one of them. If it survived, it would gain a name. It would have the honor of wearing the first year white robe.
As the last portions of flesh rotted off, all Nephloc were judged. Some such as this one were chosen for other reasons. This Nephloc was young and still had much flesh left on its bones.
A panel of decorated Perazim decided the fate of the initiate. Their unspoken judgment decided how the scale at the top of the steps would tilt. Very few make it even to the steps.
Without warning, one of the Red Ones carelessly grabbed it by the neck and hurled it in a double set of wooden doors. Its head caused the doors to slightly bulge but not actually open. The other side, it knew, awaited its judgment. The guards positioned themselves in a way to prevent any possible escape. The Nephloc picked itself up as the doors opened of their own accord.
The Nephloc smiled; it had been the door hammer announcing its own presence.
“Walk, slave.”
As the chosen Nephloc entered the Hall of Perazim, it was greeted by a barrage of jeers. It shielded its eyes from the spittle and various objects hurled in its direction. It would have to endure a hundred paces of curses before reaching the steps which led to the ultimate test. The sound of twenty-eight Perazim shouting within the small enclosure was impressive. It was intended to be overwhelming; it was the first test and the one in which most failed.
Each step forward was one step closer to its transformation. A step backward or lingering too long in place would result in death by the closest Perazim. It would be a sanctioned death—something Perazim relished as a duty of the highest honor.
While the Perazim were otherwise not allowed to directly harm the initiate, they were encouraged to hinder it. This too was part of the judgment. The twenty-eight Perazim lined up fourteen to each side, creating a two-foot walkway between the flanks. The fire had been lit over a year before but, despite daily ceremonies, the ranks of Perazim were still fewer than forty, most initiates failing well before this point.
Each Perazim wore ceremonial armor, draped with a black robe. Their arms were up, touching the fists of the Perazim across the row. The Red Ones stood at the door, waiting with swords in hand hoping the initiate would attempt to escape.
The Nephloc took a step forward in the space provided by the two columns of Perazim. As it approached, the dark guards dropped their arms to shoot straight out into the aisle in front of the chosen. The action would seem to be a salute of honor, but this was yet another obstacle that the Nephloc must overcome.
As the initiate clawed its way forward and passed a Perazim, that Perazim fell silent. This was the only portion of the ceremony that could be called encouragement; the deafening sounds of curses become less powerful as the target moved closer. All Perazim behind became silent. Only the ones in front of it still shouted. Every bone in its body wanted to turn and run, run toward the quiet death behind it. But miraculously, its legs kept moving forward.
Minutes later, it reached the steps that led up to that tall altar. Its eyes were halfway covered by the hood, but as it lifted its gaze up, it saw that it still had to climb
a flight of stairs several times its height. Its only consolation now was there were no curses; it had passed the last Perazim and all shouting had ceased.
Once it quieted the inner disturbances, the outside room became a morgue—silent, cold, and filled with death. Many brothers had died in this very room. Many. There were no more curses; no more shouts, but it no longer saw that as real encouragement—it was a lonely and total silence. The slap of its feet against each cold stone step startled it and caused it to let loose an out-of-sync breath. That also startled it, but the breath reminded it that it was still alive. And yet, this thought brought a dry sneer. In mere moments, its life would be forfeit. It would either die in failure or die and become Perazim!
Another two steps and it could see just beyond the altar. She, the High Lady, was standing there. It had been expecting her. Her eyes were down, staring and drilling into the Nephloc’s eyes. The Nephloc quickly averted its glance and dropped his focus back to the steps before it.
It had never witnessed the ceremony nor did it know any protocol—no Nephloc that participated returned to instruct others. But it knew the next few moments would not be pleasant. The High Lady’s presence always precipitated a painful experience.
A few steps more and it looked up again. She was wearing the White Robe, the sacrificial robe. It was still called the White Robe even though little of the original white remained. Splatter from countless sacrifices were left to remind all of past ceremonies.
Its foot faltered, the bones of its right hand caught a side railing. It resisted the urge to turn around and fly. One step backward and any one of the dark guards would have permission—would have the duty—to kill the failed candidate. It heard the metallic clinging of armor behind; it knew it was loitering too long and one of the Perazim was preparing to strike.
Another step up toward the alter.
It no longer dared to look up, only sneaking stolen glances upon her majestic face. It thought it saw a smile creep over the High Lady’s face. A second glance revealed only her stern, flat lips.
