“I told ya them Shroomlings ain’t filling!” a gruff voice yelled from the bushes.
“Nope, these ain’t no Shroomlings – got ourselves some tasty flesh right here.” He smiled, revealing the remnants of three blackened teeth.
Brownie halted in his tracks mid-trot as the haggard man in rags stepped from the thick woodlands. “Whoa, boy,” said Juzo, pulling on the hog-leather reins. Walter put a hand on the horse, calming him, and then sent his lash slicing through the air with a crack.
“We don’t want any trouble, friend,” Walter said, lips drawn to snarl, eyes wide and doing his best to intimidate.
Chuck stumbled from the wood, standing at least three paces tall with a bulging paunch and hefting a heavy branch. His trousers had been cut off at the knee, highlighting a myriad of scars on his legs. “Oh, no, boys, you won’t be any trouble at all now, will you? Just go ahead and put that down now, and we won’t hurt you. We’re just looking for some new friends, ain’t we, Mar?” Mar and Chuck beamed at each other in amusement.
“The fun never stops, does it?” asked Juzo. Walter centered himself and slipped into Warrior’s Focus, detaching himself from the pain that still throbbed around his face and shoulder, and the fear paralyzing him seconds ago. The greens and blues of the surrounding trees became vivid and magnified with their individual shades. Chuck’s anxious breathing resonated in his mind, the clear sign of an impending assault.
“I suppose not,” Walter said distantly, as if in a dream.
“Are you OK, Walt?” Juzo whispered.
“Follow my lead,” he replied, dropping his satchel and lurching towards the unsightly pair. Juzo followed beside him on Brownie, still unable to walk.
“You boys look like you’ve had a tough time of it, haven’t ya?” asked Mar. Walter attacked, performing Eel Catching Fish, delivering five rapid lash strikes at Mar. The first strike slashed diagonally across his face, the second rapped his knuckles, causing him to drop the butcher’s knife, and the rest laced his body with red torment. He screamed and dashed into the hidden path from where he had materialized.
Chuck scuttled towards them, with a far too obvious overhead attack. He swung at Walter, who tactically rolled to his right, giving Juzo a clear target. Juzo capitalized on the opportunity and pounded Chuck’s face with a devastating lash crack. Blood sprang from Chuck’s forehead like a dropped egg, exposing a lateral fissure to the bone. He wiped his meaty hand across the fresh wound, and inserted a bloody sausage finger into his mouth. Juzo’s jaw hung open and eyes widened. “Mmm,” Chuck murmured, slurping blood from his finger.
Walter spun and sent a crushing heel kick into Chuck’s ribs, audibly breaking bones and fracturing Chuck’s blood-tasting reverie. Ribs are always a good target, easy to break on even large men. Noah’s words reverberated across his consciousness. This time, Chuck cried out.
Chuck slammed Walter with his shoulder, knocking him three paces through the air into the woods. Chuck’s eyes filled with blood, blinding him. “I’ll get you twos for that!” he yelled angrily. He stomped straight towards Brownie and Juzo. Brownie rapidly turned and smashed his chest with a double heel kick, tossing Juzo into a forward roll from the saddle. Chuck gagged and madly chortled as he lay asphyxiating on his blood. Brownie galloped and frantically whinnied, heading west back towards the Bearded Foothills.
“Brownie, no! Come back!” Juzo shouted from the ground to no avail.
Walter recovered while the bear of a man died, and scanned the environment using the enhanced peripheral vision that came when one was able to shut down the chatter of the mind. He detected the blowgun a millisecond too late, feeling the sharp sting of a yellow-feathered dart entering his neck.
“Juzo!” Walter shouted and pointed in the direction of the blowgun. He removed the dart and observed the tip. It was covered in a chunky, purple jam. Poison. “I don’t have much–” Walter said, crumpling in a heap of pine needles.
Juzo scowled after Walter collapsed. “Come out and fight! Bastard!” he yelled. The faint whistle of the blowgun scored the quiet air. A missile pierced his shoulder and Juzo groaned and sagged. “Is that all you have? Darts?” he turned, shouting, into the patch of trees Walter had pointed towards.
Another dart lanced through his cheek. Juzo groaned, and hastily removed it. He knew he didn’t have much time before whatever cocktail was on those would take him out. “Have to help Walt,” he moaned, and fell to his knees staring at Mar as he stepped from the Spiny Fellenwort Bush. Its snapping pink flowers contrasted with the overwhelming greens and whites of the foliage.
“Little bastards! Look at what you did!” Mar screamed, pointing at the thin rivulets of blood over his hands and face. He bounded like a gorilla to his butcher’s knife, kissing it and stowing it in his twine belt. “Women will never like me like this, I reckon, but you’ll do just fine!” He grinned widely, exposing a mouth oozing with blood and yellow-green sores. Juzo couldn’t help but laugh at the man’s absurdity, but it soon became terror as understanding crossed his drugged mind. Juzo fell with a thump, unable to keep his eyes open, but could still hear Mar’s victorious cackling.
“Oh yes, you very, very sweet!” Mar said.
Chapter 6 – New Discoveries
“I am the Terrible Death, the brother, the redeemer, master of broken dreams. I come to fetch you away from the valley of life to the infinity of death.” –from Necromancy and Wolves: The Veiled Darkness
Walter’s eyelids slowly parted. His vision focused and exposed heavily rusted iron bars an arm’s length from his face. He was in what could be a massive bird’s cage, with just enough room for a human to wriggle in. He feigned being unconscious from the poisoned dart. His head wound throbbed with every beat of his heart, magnified by the tranquilizer.
He observed Mar roasting what appeared to be a thick human leg, covered in scars, over a cook fire. He’s insane, thought Walter. What kind of man eats another man, his friend? Walter searched for Juzo, finding him bound in a standing position, chest-first, to a nearby tree with hemp rope. Maybe he’s not a man at all. Walter felt for his boot knives. Gone. He’s smarter than he seems.
Mar got up and paced in circles, scampering about the cook fire wearing a strange cloak. “Happy shall ye be who takes his child and smashes him against the rocks! Yarba!” he yelled, waving pale spindly arms in the air. “I will make them eat the flesh of their sons, and the flesh of their daughters… and all the flesh, it will be beautiful! Eat the flesh, and you shall be strong, stronger than–” His voice wavered and broke off as Juzo woke and fought against his tethers. Mar turned in his direction, mouth lined with blood.
“Ah, you are awake, sweet flesh,” he said, striding to Juzo. Upon closer inspection, in addition to blood, Mar’s lips and cheeks were smeared with bits of green leaves and the distinctive pale yellow star-shaped flowers of Fang Cress. Walter could finally identify what Mar was wearing. It was the flayed skin of Chuck, worn like a cloak about his shoulders. Walter widened his eyes and spat, fending off the urge to vomit.
“Leave him alone!” Walter growled, wiping spittle from his lips.
“Oh, shall we have you first?” Mar asked, looking to the sky. “No, no, this one’s the first, yes, they said this one’s the sweetest. Are you the sweetest?” He shuffled toward Juzo, wearing a beaming smile.
“Oh yes, I most certainly am the sweetest – just go ahead and release these ropes, and I’m all yours,” Juzo replied. He tested the rope again, flexing with all his strength. Walter prayed to the Phoenix that this gambit would work.
“Yes, you are all mine! Mine! Mine! I don’t have to share you at all now!” Mar squealed in delight, dropping his butcher’s knife. He reached for Juzo’s trousers and started working them off his hips, exposing his smallclothes.
“What are you doing! No! Stop! I’ll do anything, Mar! Please!” begged Juzo, his voice cracking and losing depth. Mar paused and greedily rubbed his hands in anticipation once Juzo’s trousers were at his kne
es. Mar seemed to enjoy watching him squirm, inhaling as Juzo petitioned for him to forgo what was to come next. “Very nice, yes, very,” Mar whispered.
Walter violently rattled his cage, and then started kicking the door as hard as he could, each stomp on the iron cage echoing through the camp clearing.
“You’re making a mistake, Mar! Don’t do this!” Walter yelled. Juzo’s eyes flitted to his, imploring aid. Hoof beats in the distance mixed with the clang of interlocking armor plates. An army! We’ll be saved! Is it the Midgaard Falcon? Are they going to Breden to fight the Cerumal? Walter thought. A far-flung and all-too-familiar roar caused his heart to skip a beat. The Cerumal! By the Dragon, we’re doomed.
Mar begrudgingly pulled his gaze from Juzo’s rear, and turned to the hidden path leading to the Helm’s East Road. “You boys don’t go havin’ too much fun without me!” he shouted, and moved in a way that loosely resembled a pirouette as he walked. Fang Cress certainly had unique effects on different men.
“You have to get to get me out of here,” Juzo whined, wriggling his fingers, trying to find purchase on the rope biting into his skin. “I can’t handle this, anything but this. This can’t happen, please no, by the Dragon, not this!” he said loud enough for Walter to hear, but soft enough that his voice didn’t travel to Mar’s ears. Never allow enemies to detect your fear, Noah had said. The cookfire crackled and sputtered on Chuck’s severed leg, reaching visceral fat.
“What can I do?” Walter asked, wracking his brain for a solution. He could always solve a puzzle with enough time. He scanned his restricted surroundings, finding nothing of use. “Can you move your body to slide the ropes down or up?”
“Don’t you think I would have tried that? These fucking ropes have me pinned like a Shroomling in a Shiv Fang’s jaws,” Juzo said, and exhaled sharply. He took a deep breath and fiercely grimaced, flexing his sinewy muscles against his bonds in a herculean effort to free himself. The ropes remained intact, silently resisting. Juzo finally exhaled the long-held breath while baring his teeth. He started lightly tapping his forehead against the tree as tears streamed from his eyes. He smashed his head harder, leaving a red dot on the tree’s bark. “When I’m free, I’ll skin him alive,” he growled through bared teeth.
A wail exploded from the main path where Mar had departed. “The Cerumal! They must have found him,” Walter blurted hoarsely. He seized the rusty cage door with both hands, panicking. He peered through the bars, attempting to catch a glance of any sign of life beyond the hidden path. Think, think – maybe they don’t know we’re here, he thought.
“No! No! No!” he whispered hurriedly, seeing a slate helm cresting the stout trees that surrounded the hidden path to the camp. This is a living nightmare. I’m in a nightmare. I must be sleeping. It’s not possible for this to be real.
“Is this real?” asked Walter quietly. He was reassured by the pain he felt, when scanning his body, that this indeed was real and he needed to act now to survive.
“Get it together, Walt! What? What do you see?” Juzo’s voice quavered. His back faced the path and he was unable to twist his body to look.
“They’re here, they found us,” Walter said bleakly. Walter’s training took over, slowing his breath as he instinctively slipped into Warrior’s Focus. Juzo started writhing as the clang of interlocking plate armor became palpable. Juzo’s empty threats washed over Walter incoherently. The world melted away until all there was were the bars on his oxidized prison, and then only swirling shadows. Walter inhaled, filling his lungs, dropping his diaphragm for maximum volume, and prepared for a strike against the cage door that would in all likelihood break his bones. Then something was different.
Within the darkness that engulfed his mind and vision, a flaming sphere spun into existence and burst alight. He marveled at its beauty and warmth. The flames didn’t move like those of a normal fire, but undulated and wobbled as though under the influence of the sea. He gently reached open palms towards the dancing orb, intuitively knowing it would not harm him. It felt like an eternity before he made contact, cupping it in his hands. When he finally touched it, the burning orb melted and encased his hands like hot wax, covering them in molten fire. He felt pure, unadulterated joy from its perfect warmth. The pain in his body washed away like caked-on mud after a hot bath. The terror he’d felt a heartbeat ago was no more. He reveled in how incredible he felt – no pain, no anguish, no fear.
He needed to remember something, something important. It was difficult to remember in this ecstasy. The thoughts Juzo, Mar, Cerumal, Death, flashed in his mind. I remember, he thought. Joy became infernal rage and the flames engulfing his hands magnified in strength, glowing brighter and more chaotic, appearing to thrive on the new dominant emotion. His eyes slammed open, returning him to stark reality.
He pounded the cage door with a double punch, blowing it off its hinges and sending it tumbling into the cookfire. He climbed from his prison, eyes glowing with Dragon fire. The Cerumal had just emerged from the hidden path into the clearing. It started to charge towards him, but uncharacteristically halted in its tracks, skidding on the dirt. It froze and grunted. Walter saw the twinge of fear forming in its eyes behind its spiked helm.
Walter thrust his right arm towards the beast like a cross punch. “Die!” he roared. The orb of molten flames seen in his vision erupted from his fist like a meteor. It found its target and punched a burning hole clean through its heavy armor, and transformed into a cone of flame as long as a man through the exit wound. The creature looked down at the gaping hole in its chest, and dropped its spear, collapsing with a heavy clank. The embers dissipated from Walter’s eyes, and he looked at his hands in awe, rotating them back and forth and curling his unharmed fingers. “Incredible,” he breathed.
Chapter 7 – Running
“Long imprisoned behind bars of bone, I yearned for freedom. Cast away fear, for in death you are free.” –from Necromancy and Wolves: The Veiled Darkness
Walter sliced through Juzo’s ropes using the rusty knife Mar had left. It was shockingly sharp for a blade so mistreated. Juzo recovered his trousers, and then shook out his body and stretched his legs. The hemp rope had cut deep lines and minor abrasions into his skin. “We have to get moving before they discover what happened,” Walter said, looking back towards the main road.
Juzo’s gaze paused on the wisps of black smoke rising from the armored Cerumal’s corpse. “What did happen?” asked Juzo, meeting Walter’s piercing green eyes, a rarity this side of Midgaard.
“I’m not sure,” Walter said, shaking his head. “I think I discovered how to use the power of the Dragon, like what Mom did…” He trailed off as the pain of sadness blended with the adrenaline surge he felt from inflicting flaming death. He retrieved his satchel and Juzo’s bag from the mess that surrounded Mar’s treasures that most would consider fit only for the trash heap.
“Well, thank you. Thank you so much, friend,” Juzo said with sincerity. He rubbed at his neck, where the ropes had caused the most damage. “So you can indeed use the Dragon? Were you going to tell me?” he asked, face pained.
“Yes, I think so,” Walter replied, cutting his eyes towards the hidden path’s location.
Juzo dropped his bag, rifling through it. “It’s gone, he burned them,” Walter said, nodding toward the fire. Within it lay two charred gauntlets with their lash attachments burned to small threads.
Juzo groaned, “That crazy bastard. Is he dead?”
“Safe to say so – time to go,” Walter commanded. They had no choice but to tread into the thicket. Juzo shuffled his way through, his thigh wound slowing their pace. Walter kept the sun to their backs to continue east. “Avoid snapping branches so they don’t find where we went,” he said.
“Right,” replied Juzo distantly. After they carefully worked their way through the thick birch forest for ten minutes, a deep horn sounded from the camp clearing. They shared grim expressions, understanding the significance of that sound. A rumbling roa
r followed, which soon merged into the harmonizing roars of many. “They’ve found the body,” Walter whispered. He held back the scream that boiled within, yearning for release.
Horses whinnied and the sounds of hooves could be faintly heard. Cracking branches and rustling leaves broke behind them. “They’re right behind us –how is that possible? Are you being reckless?” Juzo asked accusingly.
“No!” Walter mouthed, eyes protruding and nostrils flaring.
“We don’t have weapons, we can’t fight them,” Juzo said weakly, ducking to slip under a fallen tree. “Forget hiding our path, they know where we are,” he snarled.
“You’re right,” Walter replied, looking back. “OK, let’s move!” Walter swept Juzo off his feet, hoisting him on his back. “We’ll be faster this way,” he huffed.
“Leave me, we’ll both die like this,” Juzo said, voice breaking.
“Never,” Walter said.
Walter navigated the thicket in a laborious jog, legs burning like acid. Their pursuers grew closer, the crunch of twigs becoming more pronounced. “Keep an eye behind us, would you?” Walter asked.
“I’m on it,” Juzo replied, surveying their rear. A Cerumal loomed from their path without a helmet, its harsh unnaturally yellow eyes locked onto Juzo’s. The creature had ashen skin, the sharp maroon teeth of a carnivore, and the long horns of an Impala. The blood drained from Juzo’s face. “It found us, Walt!” he said, ferociously grasping at Walter’s once-white shirt.
It bellowed its terrible war cry and hurled a jagged spear as thick as a man’s arm in their direction. The spear ripped through a sapling a hand from Walter’s head. That weapon was designed to go in and never ever come out, Walter thought, glancing at the spear that had almost sent him to the Phoenix’s loving embrace.
Stormcaller (Book 1) Page 5
