Blade and Soul

by C. M. Estopare

  And it plunged, penetrating skin, muscle. Biting through bone as seamlessly as rain cuts through the ocean.

  Red hot pain spiked through her skull, erupting from the center of her forehead, as the knife tip plunged. Deeper and deeper, slowly. The djinn ignoring the spout of blood erupting from the incision. Scarlet stained his fingers, crept along the creases of his arm and dripped from his elbow. Staining the carpet as his face scrunched up in pain. Deep lines stretching from his mouth to his collarbone.

  Marceline's lips clamped closed, though a scream fought. The spell kept her mouth shut, her clenched fists at her sides. It kept her quiet and still, though her limbs trembled.

  Her eyes snapped to the ceiling as blood trickled from the incision. Painting her face. Running down her cheeks and onto her shoulders.

  The knife tip kept going. Twisting slowly. Cutting through her like a needle.

  Her eyes widened at the pain. Fingernails biting through her skin as she gritted her teeth, her gaze still on the ceiling. Eying the darkness in the cracks of the wooden boards above. The breath in her chest labored. Pained.

  Before blackness pervaded her vision, the color dripping through the floorboards. Blotting everything else out. The knife faded away. The pain. Her skin cool and clammy as the djinn's magic left her, let her body fall to the ground and lie there.

  Wind picked up around her. A dry breeze that lifted from the black floor below, picking up dust that bit at her skin. Bits of glass and pebbles scratching at her.

  With a grunt, she picked herself up. Shook on all fours.

  As inky shades lifted themselves up from the black ground as well. Apparitions born from the dust and wind surrounding her in a perfect circle.

  Forms surrounded her. Walked slowly. Circling her like wolves.

  Who is this?

  Mortal. Human. Girl.

  Two voices sprung from the void. Dry and haggard. Heavy as they hit her ears. Forcing her back to the ground, positioned on hands and knees.

  The Advocate has sent it.

  Why?

  Marceline slapped her hands to her head, eyes wide. Pained.

  Because it is a meddler.

  The words pierced through her skull—worse than the knife. Worse than any other pain she had ever felt before. Marceline's forehead fell to the floor as she cried out—wishing for silence. Praying for it.

  The voices surged around her. Swallowing her up. They became a murmuring sea, forever rising and crashing. Slamming into her skull.

  Thoughts swirled in her throbbing head, where had the djinn sent her?

  She was no longer in the chateau—she couldn't have been.

  Fear crawled on her skin like ants, causing gooseflesh to rise and pimple her arms. The hairs on the back of her neck stood tall, a light wind brushing them back. A breath.

  Marceline's breath hitched in her throat as her eyes shot open.

  The figures still surrounded her. Still moved in a midnight haze.

  Swallowing at the lump in her throat, Marceline pressed her palms to the ground.

  She stood.

  They surged faster now. Reacting to her sudden courage.

  Mortal. Human. Girl.

  An orphan. This is a creature with nothing on its soul...

  ...but blackness.

  They spoke of her family, she knew. Whoever these creatures were, they knew she had been abandoned as a child.

  Who are you to interfere with our combined Will?

  Who are you?

  She took in a breath, “Who are you?” she called back, fingernails digging into the skin of her palms.

  Shadow seemed to touch her. Fondle her and breathe across her shoulder. Marceline turned at the feeling, spun on her heels ready to fight but saw nothing there.

  It happened again. Something pulled at her this time. Tugged and yanked. Threw her off balance.

  She spun.

  The spirits surrounded her. Black as night. Cold as a mountain wind.

  The djinn says you oppose us.

  Is this true?

  “I don't know who you are!”

  They stopped swirling, dancing. Touching her and throwing her away. Six of them surrounded her. Watched her with steady black eyes.

  One stepped forward from the swarm.

  It has no faith.

  No faith...

  Marceline's eyes widened.

  Could she be in the realm of the Fates?

  Could the djinn have transported her here to do away with her?

  How? Why?

  She didn't even believe in the Fates. Half the realm believed they were just a child's tale. Lesser gods created by the Celestial that eventually died away.

  Could they truly...?

  A cold hand fell to her, its palm slimy. Clammy like a creature fished from the bottom of a river.

  She shrugged the hand away—turning—

  Only for the fingers to dig deeper, attaching to the tendons of her shoulder.

  Marceline threw the creature a sidelong gaze.

  She met eyes as blue as the ocean on a cloudless day, its skin velvet ice. Inhuman.

  Rapture, you are too fond of it.

  You are a fool.

  Marceline knew that name. Rapture. The name of the Siren. One of the six Fates.

  Myrine's gods. They're real?

  The blue eyes hardened, “The dead rise as beasts, mortal.” she spoke slowly. Softly. Her voice smooth as silk, yet smoldering. Burning Marceline's ears like fire.

  As it has been for all time.

  It is a curse. A punishment.

  Rapture's grip hardened, ice growing from her blue fingertips, “The living shall change as well. What the dead have is a sickness.”

  Marceline couldn't bring herself to speak. Only look. Listen.

  A sickness?

  A warcry sounded before her, a fierce grunt that tore her from Rapture's grip and shook her violently. Forced her to her knees as another Fate wrestled for her attention. This one shrouded in shadow and darkness, obsidian armor covering its entire body. A helmet of twisted metal covering the features of its face.

  This creature's body was grotesque, armor grew from its skin like a fungus. While one arm pointed strictly at her, the other was encompassed wholly in twisted black metal shaped into a sharp pike. It made Marceline's stomach lurch as she slammed her forehead into the ground.

  A glow came to life behind the slits of its helmet. Fire flashed in its eyes, “Safrana will burn.” its voice rang in her ears and she cowered. Clapping her hands to her head, she pressed her forehead harder against the ground and whimpered. Cried out at the painful ringing in her head as the voice echoed in the black.

  “And you will no longer interfere.”

  The feeling was immediate. Vexing. It pulled her to her knees and kept her there, her chest rising, air waning. Escaping from her lungs as if it were being pulled. As if every part of her was being ripped at. Pulled in different directions.

  A ghostly white surged from the center of her chest. Danced.

  Was it taking her soul?

  She could only watch. The pain deafening. Blinding.

  Rapture stood behind her. Brought cold fingers to her shoulders, “You can't do this!”

  This one stands to interfere—

  “You fear mortals, now?” Rapture shouted, her voice ebbing and flowing as if she were swallowed by the ocean, “You?”

  The Advocate is not as strong as he once was.

  Safrana needs to burn—and this one—this one—

  Marceline?

  Her eyes widened. Her lips moved, though no sound came.

  The grotesque creature dropped her to the ground. Marceline sucked in breath, back arching.

  Marceline—come back!

  “The Pytha.” Rapture murmured.

  Damn him.

  And Marceline came to gasping. Sputtering. Her limbs flailing as Reine's room came into view once more. Her eyes stared up at the ceiling. She counted the floorboards, found she couldn't con
centrate as she coughed. As two pairs of eyes looked down on her, concern painting the expression of one. Disgust souring the expression of another.

  Reine.

  Beneath her, Lucius sighed.

  Marceline searched for his eyes. Found them. Opened her mouth to speak—to tell him what she saw—but couldn't. Stared up at him steadily. His gaze softened.

  Something told her to keep quiet. To keep what she saw to herself.

  Unable to speak, she turned. Climbed him and hugged his arm. Curled herself into a ball.

  She let tears fall. Cried.

  At the back of the room, thousands of screaming people raced up the hallway. Dashed. Followed by a horde of screaming undead.

  Smoke burned her nostrils. Made her eyes open.

  She snapped out of it.

  “Quick.” she choked. Standing. Eying a thick oaken dresser, she positioned herself at its side. Readied to push it.

  Kiran came to her aid. The two moved it, scratching it across the floor. The thing moaned, protesting as they forced it against the door. Barricading themselves inside.

  Outside, an eruption of screams sounded. People pleaded to the Fates—to each other—as the undead surged on them. Unbending. Unyielding. Knowing nothing of mercy, every ounce of humanity gone from them. Leaving soulless eyes and a thirst for blood.

  Marceline listened to them fight. Listened as hundreds were cut down. Men, women, and children.

  This was not her battle.

  “We can't stay here.” Kiran said, shaking his head.

  “Well we can't go out there.” Lucius snapped, eyes hard. Face lined with worry.

  Behind them, the door shook. Moans sounded from outside. Groans, as bodies were thrown against the door.

  “They can smell us.” Marceline whispered.

  The three exchanged glances.

  What can we do?

  Marceline found herself looking to Reine. She had seen the woman cut down—her head thrown to the other side of a scaffold drenched in lavender blood.

  How has she survived?

  Reine seemed colder. Quieter. Her eyes were flat. Icy.

  Kiran and Lucius argued, ignoring Marceline. As more bodies smacked against the door, they added more furniture to the barricade. Their arguing evolving into outright screaming.

  Without her guidance, they were lost.

  For a moment, they quieted. Turned both of their gazes to Marceline.

  “Marcy?” Lucius called.

  Reine walked from the room. Pushing glass doors open, she glided out onto the balcony.

  Marceline had no words. No plan.

  They would probably die here.

  With a breath, she walked away. Followed Reine out.

  The night air hit her like a mallet. Outside, orange erupted from every corner of the city. The citadel was in a frenzy. The undead were everywhere. Pouring into every crack and crevice.

  Safrana was a war zone. A doomed one.

  Reine seemed unnaturally calm as she placed her palms to the white balustrade and looked to the crowded sky. Her lips moved silently, as if she were speaking to a moon that wasn't there.

  “I'm turning to you now.” Marceline told her. Blurted, “I have nothing left.”

  Reine lowered her face. Smiled, “So, you have seen them.”

  The Fates? “Just as you have.”

  Reine faced her, “I can save you.”

  Inside the room, wood splintered. The ravenous call of the undead pierced her core as it thundered in the room beyond.

  They've broken through.

  Marceline forced herself to concentrate on Reine, “Then do it! Save us!”

  “After this, everything will be set in motion, Marceline. Before I do this—promise me that once everything is done you will put Him out of his misery. And, above all, that you will kill me.”

  Marceline's breath left her as she shook her head. Words escaping as glass cracked behind them. Breaking into a million silver pieces.

  “Promise me.” Reine repeated, her voice hurried. Pleading.

  Why?

  She had no words.

  She had no time.

  Inside, Lucius Changed. Became a fox beast as Kiran released arrows from his bow. One after another. Taking down three undead as he backed himself into a wall.

  You have no time.

  Lie. Promise her. Promise her nothing.

  Marceline nodded.

  “You need to say it.”

  “I promise!”

  Raising her face to the sky, she sang. Chanted as the clouds pulled apart, gossamer drapes unfurling to reveal the moon. White light fell.

  A colossal shadow engulfed them, then. Swallowing the pearly walls of the chateau as a monster took hold of Marceline's shoulders and forced her to turn. To spin.

  She spun. Snatched a dagger from her belt and broke the monster's skin. Freeing coagulated blood from the twisted throat of an undead.

  It fell immediately.

  They were being overrun.

  Below them, a fire ate away at the chateau's foundation. Black smoke climbing the rising white spire like a giant's hand.

  Reine opened up her arms. Breathed in the night air.

  And a roar sent a chill racing up Marceline's spine.

  A raging screech speared through the night sky, causing even the undead to fall silent and pause.

  As, high overhead, gargantuan wings beat.

  And embers rained as hellfire.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Marceline

  Reine raised her chin as the highscale dove, clouds peeling away from its colossal body as it swirled in midair. Veined wings adorning it like a sprawling cape.

  It dove, head first. Swung its body around and stared from afar, looking at them steadily with glowing red eyes.

  The length of its scaled throat lit up. Fire roaring in its deep gullet.

  Reine's eyes snapped open, “Go.”

  Marceline froze. Staring.

  As the dragon snapped open its gargantuan jaw and screeched.

  The hairs on Marceline's arms rose.

  “Get inside!” Reine screamed. Turning on her heels before sprinting.

  Marceline followed, the creature piercing through the air like an arrowhead. Veined wings stretched out fully, its shadow engulfing the entire chateau.

  They tumbled into Reine's chambers. Smacked their backs to the walls and watched as undead continued to pour in through the broken barricade.

  Outside, the dragon roared. The warcry deafening. Air exploding from its jowls, breaking glass, splintering the walls. Kiran blanched as he flattened himself near Reine. Smashing his fox body into Marceline's legs and hips, Lucius pressed himself against her as the world seemed to pause. Slow.

  A terrifying screech ripped through their ears as the dragon reared back its massive head and spewed fire. Flame burst through the broken balcony doors, orange and yellow mixing as it blasted through the chamber and charred the surging sea of undead climbing their way in.

  And within seconds, the beast was gone. The fire waning. Dying easily. A cold wind exploding through the chamber, breaking fire, in the creature's wake.

  “He'll clear a path for us.” Reine said.

  Charred remains littered the ground, twitching limbs and mangled heads.

  Drenched in sweat, they tore themselves from the walls and followed Reine out. Sprinting.

  “We can't just ride it?” Kiran snapped, pulling up the rear.

  “No.” Reine sneered, “We can't.”

  Bodies littered the cedar-wood floors of the chateau's second story. A smattering of undead converged on them in ones and twos. Outright ignoring the group as they ran for their lives, racing along a curve in the hallway as they made their way to the stairwell.

  Smoke wafted up from below. Fire.

  “Merde!” Reine cursed as they skidded to a stop before the mouth of the stairwell.

  Marceline shook her head as behind her, Kiran and Lucius panted.

  Hundreds of undead
rallied on a single body. A bloated corpse with its belly clawed open.

  They couldn't make it through a horde of this size. And if they tried—they'd end up just like the corpse.

  Marceline turned to Reine, “Are you sure?” she whispered, “Sure we can't just ride him?”

  They backed away slowly.

  “Yes!” Reine hissed, “Merde—,” she closed her eyes, murmuring.

  As an undead poked its head up. Milky eyes fixed on them.

  It pointed. Groaning a strangled warcry.

  They turned to sprint.

  As the walls of the chateau moaned. Wood and stone collapsing around the mouth of the stairwell as a massive scaled hand crashed through, blackened talons ripping through the raging horde. It mangled them. Ripping them to nothing but meaty ribbons of flesh.

  They gasped as Reine slightly inclined her head. Pulling its fist from the hole it created, the dragon sailed away. Screaming.

  Marceline was the first to run. Dashing through the blood and gore, racing towards the stairwell as the acrid smell of smoke became thicker. The heat from below smoldering as sweat broke on her brow. As the smoke became heavier, she slowed her pace.

  Kiran and Lucius followed Marceline's lead, taking the stairs slowly as Reine raced down into the blaze below.

  On the final stair, she clasped her hands together before her chest and lifted up her face.

  A massive snort came from below, followed by an explosion of air as the flame was sucked away. Smoke wafting in a haze of gray and black. Reine nodded her head.

  And was off.

  The three followed at a mad dash, zigzagging through the desolated vestibule and out into the chateau's outer gardens. Pushing through its broken gate, they met the citadel's main street at a breakneck pace.

  The place was a warzone.

  Moonlight fixated upon blood. Upon roving hordes of undead and strange blackened creatures scuttling around on all fours like monstrous spiders. They stalked the mindless hordes from the rear, sprinting through the slow moving groups at human targets.

  Marceline paused as she watched the things sprint, the dragon circling overhead. Their guardian clearing the way with a burst of flame and breath.

  A trio of nightwatchmen fought for their lives as the strange spider-like creatures sprinted for them like rabid dogs. They were humanoid, Marceline noted, but furry like enlarged insects. Blind with milky gray eyes.