The Gift of Volkeye

by Marque Strickland

  With stunning accuracy for one falling from so far above, Lyn slew twelve Karnovs by the time she righted herself for a proper landing, crashing upon the back of one of the beasts. Having forced her feet down with the landing, she’d crippled it, and as it lay howling in pain, Lyn kicked it in its underside as hard as she could. Her boot tore through its chest, spewing blood, as the beast rose into the air, soaring dozens of feet into the distance.

  Meanwhile, Sing and Bahzee had set up. They stood shoulder to shoulder, aiming their weapons at the charging Karnovs. Bahzee, afraid that she might not get a second chance, let loose a flurry of shots that missed their mark entirely.

  “Goddammit!” Bahzee growled, knowing that she’d, once again, been too impatient—an act which her mother had warned her against many times.

  “Baz, forget the gun…do what you do best!”

  With this encouragement, Bahzee tore the pulse rifle’s strap from around her neck, aimed the weapon, and sent it hurling into the chest of the Karnov before her. The beast and its rider fell, and they didn’t even have a chance to breathe before Bahzee was upon them. The Karnov, though mortally wounded, was granted no sympathy as Bahzee crushed its neck with her boot. The beast’s counterpart, blind from the Karnov’s blood, wiped his eyes clean only to find his vision impaired by Bahzee’s open palm, grasping his face. The realization that he did not want to die was the last coherent thought to enter his mind as he felt all the bones in his head crush. He squealed in anguish as darkness enclosed around him.

  As Sing pulled the trigger, burning a hole through the stomach of the next to last soldier atop a Karnov, she was shot in the chest by the one riding next to him. Thank goodness for her armour, for this was the third time in two days that she’d been hit in this spot! This most recent, being at a much closer range, hurt all the worse. She could see the smoking burn mark on her suit where the laser had penetrated, colliding with her armour.

  Although she could hardly breathe at the moment, Sing knew that if she laid there a moment longer she’d be dead. Forcing herself up, she found the rider and his beast preparing to rip her in half. However, being a quick thinker, Sing resorted to more suitable methods for such close proximity. Out came her favourite weapon, and off went the Karnov’s right leg. Her assailants went colliding with the hard earth in a most awkward fashion.

  The leader was still tangled up in the leather straps of the saddle when Sing ran up from behind, yanked his head up by the hair and took retribution for her bruised chest. She cut his throat from ear to ear. The Karnov tried desperately to fight her off with its remaining three limbs, but being that it couldn’t stand, its efforts were futile. She took both its eyes out and then finished by ramming the blade as deep in the throat as possible.

  Blood pooled at her feet as she yanked her knife out. Upon wiping the blade on the sleeve of her suit, Sing felt a gust of hot breath blow off course, due to a massive object speeding past. She looked over and saw one of the beasts lying dead on its side with the enormous hammer protruding from its midsection. Sing turned to find Bahzee, some thirty feet away!

  Bloody hell, that woman’s got aim! she thought.

  It was true. As long as Bahzee wasn’t holding a gun, she was always spot on!

  Bahzee took up her hammer once again and the two of them looked for Lyn and found that a strange and unnatural whirlwind of dirt had formed in the distance. It was the most solid to the eye in its first twenty feet from the ground then gradually dissipated like smoke, beyond. Baffled by this spectacle, their weapons were at the ready as they advanced forward.

  The Karnovs were panicking, running about blindly in the vortex. They killed each other as they slashed and bit at the air, desperately trying to escape the wrath of their assailant.

  As a reader of more fiction than was probably normal (not to mention the fact that she’d recently slain dozens of intruders at the castle, so she was now getting used to murder), Lyn was learning to detach herself and assume another personality when fighting. It was this personality, which now ruled her.

  You dare try to match ‘the Magnificently Brilliant, Green-Eyed Queen of the Library...the Black Goddess of the Heavens and Slayer of Beasts?’ Fools! she thought, gritting her teeth in anger, as she let go of several flurries of laser fire, circling them with uncanny speed. She marveled at her talents and pushed them to the limit, reveling with victory each time she heard another of the Karnovs fall to their deaths.

  Finally, needing to see what she’d wrought, Lyn skid to a halt, brandishing her weapon about as the air cleared. The cyclone of dust vanished to reveal a pack of Karnovs that remained unscathed, for they’d lain on their bellies as they waited for the storm to pass. Except for one, all the remaining beasts (a number somewhere in the teens) bolted away from Lyn Sha. They believed her a witch of some sort.

  The last Karnov pounced upon Lyn Sha. Grunting in pain, while it nudged her wounded arm in awkward positions, Lyn was disgusted and taken with a fit of anger when a thick strand of the Karnov’s drool landed across her face and in her mouth.

  “Ugh, get off me!”

  She shivered and spit out the glue-like saliva, kicking the beast in its swinging genitalia. It sailed away from her into the brick wall of one of the cottages, leaving a deep impression that would possibly render the home sunken to the ground within several hours.

  She leapt over to it and found the creature whimpering in pain. Lyn remembered her father explaining to her that, with most male species, the reproductive organs were their most vulnerable point. The male Karnovs, she found, were no exception. Bleeding at its groin, what was once vicious and intimidating was now pathetic. Lyn couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit of pity for the beast.

  However, this gesture of warmth didn’t last long with her, because, in a desperate attempt at vengeance, the beast lashed out with its front legs. Were Zynathian’s body armour not so tough, its talons would’ve torn right through her chest, putting her in the same near-death predicament as Khyeryn had been. Lyn skipped back a few paces and cut its body to pieces, then turned to attend the others that had escaped her wrath.

  Amongst those who fled Lyn, only a few ran in the right direction, escaping altogether. However, the others found themselves in equal danger as they faced Bahzee and Sing. These two, also witches of uncanny power in their eyes, displayed spell-weaving prowess of frightening levels as they wrought havoc upon them. The Karnovs dashed to and fro, attempting to evade the bolts of heat lightening being fired from a small, shiny witch’s staff in the hand of one woman. It was a pointless gesture, as her aim was far too precise for them.

  One beast intended to flee like some of the others had, for he realized that they were no match for the sorcery of these women. He turned to find more of his brethren being slaughtered by the other, who swung a magykal hammer violently about. He watched in horror as she buried the hammer’s end in a comrade’s back. The witch swung again, hard and to her right, this time sending another through the wall of a nearby cottage. The house collapsed upon it shortly thereafter.

  A remaining beast took off running as the last of his brethren was slain. Despite a head start of at least one hundred feet, he knew he was doomed when the little black witch suddenly fell from the sky and landed in front of him, aiming her magykal staff right between his eyes. Her startling appearance was followed by another surprise, as the witch’s hammer, soared from behind and mashed every bone and muscle in his front left leg. This (along with the fact that his rear legs had just been lasered off, owing to the marksmanship of the eldest witch) rendered him immobile. All the speed and muscle strength that his master, Murlach, had bred his kind with was an impossible match for the sorcery of these three. Accepting his fate, the beast didn’t put up a fight as the young, black witch cursed him with a spell of white lightening, burning through his skull.

  The girls stood in silence a moment, shocked at the sight of this vast wasteland of carnage. A chill ran through each of them, contemplating how horrific t
he scene could’ve been had they not gotten the town’s people out! How many innocents would be here spread amongst the other corpses?

  As a whiff of the bloodstained air caught her attention, Sing broke the silence, looking to the building some hundreds of feet in the distance now.

  “Before we leave, there’s one more thing to do.”

  Lyn and Bahzee followed her dreamlike gaze, spotting the object of her detest. Yes, now that they’d achieved what they set out to do, there was time enough for an added bonus. The three of them turned to face it with an unblinking leer, eyes transfixed upon the domain of evil. There, hidden amongst a thick fog, stood the Ghurzblood Mansion.

  XXIII

  Twenty Years, Four Children, a Runaway Servant, and One Bushy Unibrow Ago

  1

  “Sir, really, you cannot monopolize my time, I’m working here!” the girl huffed, hands on her hips, unable to hide her smile.

  She was robust, not fat in the slightest but meaty and muscular, tall with curves and very wide shoulders. In combination with a pretty, yet stern face, strong with prominent cheekbones, this girl was normally quite intimidating to men. However, the one before her, confident beyond measure, was quite the odd ball, unfazed by her bluntness and overbearing femininity. He returned the smile.

  “How am I monopolizing your time when I am a paying customer? Unless I’m much mistaken, it’s your job to help me, is it not?” he said, dropping a huge canvas sack of Arhyz on the table before him.

  The man came prepared this time, having been shooed away from the girl’s table the previous weekend, due to the fact that he kept trying to talk to her but had forgotten his purse at home. The market security thought him an annoying beggar whilst he was, in fact, the richest man in the world. Oh, the irony!

  “Fine,” she said, pretending to be annoyed, while she was secretly marveling at the immense fortune that he’d just thrown on the table as if it was the most frivolous of items! What did this man do for a living?

  The week before when he’d been asked to leave for having no money, he gave her a gift and told her to try it out someplace private. She did exactly as he asked and, since, she couldn’t stop thinking about this strange man, wanting desperately to ask his name and to sit down and chat with him. Though she wasn’t the shy type, she still thought that such forwardness would’ve been improper and took care to not make herself look easy.

  The man looked about her table, marveling at the things he found. This girl’s set of items was, in his opinion, the most interesting in all of Beazul’s Market (shops set up in a huge arena of tents, ran by a band of wandering foreigners). Within the candlelit, dark maze of rough leather walls were: fraud witches, who claimed to possess the ability to stop time, read the future, and banish a person with one glare of the evil eye; artisans of many sorts, such as woodcarvers, ice sculptors, and architects; costume and clothing makers; bakers; men who used self-inflicted danger as means of entertaining spectators, such as those who swallowed swords or ate tiny flames then spit out gigantic fireballs; miracles of nature (though called “freaks” by many), such as elephants with three trunks and half-a-dozen tails, men with two sets of genitals, or children, whose arms grew where their legs were supposed to be and vice versa; as well as many others like they, who were spectacles to be ogled.

  In combination with all the visual treats were shops ran by talented (or in some cases, talentless) inventors, gardeners, grocers, and merchants, who sold peculiar items that could only be found in distant parts of the world or nowhere else at all, as the items may have been something one of a kind that they made themselves. The girl, here, was among the latter. She sold a startling array of exotic plants, whose stems and petals were violent shades of the brightest colours, giving them the surreal appearance of something out of a fantasy painting. (Though it escaped the man’s eye at present, one of the plants squirmed, slightly pulling away from him as if ticklish when he accidentally touched one of its stems.)

  Awestricken upon perusing the contents of the table, all plants of which even he’d never seen before, the man looked up at the girl.

  “These plants, you bred and cultivated these yourself, didn’t you?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “As I thought…I know the mark of an artist when I see one.” He rubbed his goatee, deep in thought. “I’ll take the lot,” he said, realizing how magnificently smitten he was with this woman. He’d always nursed an attraction to talented females but had never been with one yet, because he was just too busy being a genius.

  “All of it? Oh…okay…let me just count out the appropriate amount of Arhyz, here,” she said trying to keep calm. She didn’t know what she was more dazzled by—the flattering sale or the man’s charm.

  “Counting isn’t necessary.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Keep all the money,” he said, taking up her hand, placing it on his chest. “I have to get to know you...I must!”

  In the same fashion as her future son, the woman’s cheeks and ears went scarlet, for she’d never encountered a man so direct. Most times, if a male gathered the courage to approach her, they near pissed themselves by the time they said, “Hello, my name is such and such.”

  Zynathian continued. “You are as brilliant as you are beautiful, young lady. I must, in the least, get acquainted with you, if not make you my bride altogether.”

  “Oh, my goodness,” she replied, overwhelmed. “I don’t know…you seem quite a bit older than me…”

  “I’m thirty-two.”

  “I’m only twenty. Are you sure this is appropriate?” she teased, putting her reservations aside now, for she no longer saw a reason to be guarded while the man was so incredibly forward, himself.

  “You may be young, but you’re still a woman. What’s your name?”

  “Ya Minj.”

  “Ya Minj, I must have you in my life.”

  He laughed, realizing that his honesty borderlined on crassness. His natural arrogance, combined with dating inexperience, rendered him incapable of not being obnoxiously direct. Though he had no clue what he was doing, never having approached a woman like this before, he could still see that he was winning her over.

  Ya Minj continued to blush.

  “You could come to my home, be my wife…I, your devoted husband, and your talents, combined with my own, would grow by leaps and bounds. We’ll do some amazing work together!”

  Still holding her hand, he awaited a response.

  Ya Minj, desperately curious by now, had just come to the realization that the gift he gave her had to have been something he created himself. It was the only thing that made sense, for as widely traveled as she was, she’d never seen the like of it any place in the world. Also, he persistently bragged about his so-called talents, and this served as yet another hint at his intellectual prowess, for she’d already taken note that he was no liar. He meant everything he said, this man.

  Yes, she thought with certainty, he’s definitely an inventor of some sort! His intellect has obviously made him cocky, and he assumes that he can just walk up to a woman and take her home! Bah!

  “Okay, buster…you with your long wavy hair, good looks, and goatee…who told you this was an appropriate manner in which to address a girl? I bet you use these lines on all of the women, Mister Arrogant!”

  “I most certainly do not…I merely speak my mind. And since I already know the other question you want to ask but dare not utter, I’ll go ahead and answer for you: I’ve actually only been with one woman before, and it was a very short lived experience,” the man replied casually, already knowing that she wanted to get to know him. After all, how often did women meet men as amazing as he, walking about with canvas sacks filled with money?

  She’s right about one thing…I am arrogant! He smirked.

  “A man who runs from place to place, throwing bags of money about as if they were candy, and you’ve only been with one woman before? …Bah! Who do you think you’re fooling, bucko?”

&
nbsp; “It’s the truth!”

  “Oh, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeease! You and your charming lies…you’ve probably had a slew of women! And tell me this, buster, why would I go home with a stranger? You’ve talked about yourself so much already, but I still know nothing about you. I don’t even know your name!”

  “Zynathian Volkeye!” an overzealous voice boomed from behind. A large, inebriated man pulled Zynathian around to face him. “It’s been a long time, mate!”

  Zynathian did indeed remember his face, but he couldn’t recall a name or an incident. The man leered at him with accusatory eyes, giving him a moment to think and then he finally gave in.

  “Ya’ don’t remember me, eh? It’s Peenuhs!”

  “Penis?”

  “Yeah, Peenuhs Dickery, from up north, you remember? It’s been about eight years ago now…I was the one with the faulty plumbing!” he yelled, unafraid of embarrassing himself. His frothy glass of lager shook about, spilling some of the suds over the edge. Peenuhs licked the sides of his glass mug and gave a loud belch, beating on his chest.

  It took all of Zynathian’s willpower to not burst out laughing. He recalled the incident vividly now. He’d met Peenuhs at the annual Inventor’s Convention held some many thousands of miles north of Mashyuvah, far across the ocean. Zynathian went every year, parading about under a fake name, only to have a laugh at imbeciles that fancied themselves inventors, or to give a bit of advice to those whose abilities may not have been godlike but still showed promise. It was there, eight years ago, that he spotted a boisterous, drunken man wandering through the crowd, asking: