The Gift of Volkeye

by Marque Strickland

  They pounced Maugrimm. The five monstrosities wove themselves in a web of leather tents as they frolicked around the dirt ground. People had gone even crazier, trying to evade the rolling mountain of flesh and muscle. One now had Maugrimm from behind, locking his arms, whilst its comrades pummeled his midsection. After taking several of these blows (from which Maugrimm spat up blood), he heaved all his weight on the creature behind and impaled it with his back-spikes. He then got up and snatched the creature from off his bloodstained back and swung him with all his might. With a single blow, Maugrimm knocked another before him dead. Its neck was broken as the other beast’s heel caught him in the back of the head.

  Mawg grit his teeth at the remaining two, who stood in an offensive stance, unfazed by their depleted number. As a tiny drop of blood fell from his mouth, he couldn’t help but crack a slight smile at them, impressed by their physical competence with the Art of Scrapping, as he called it. Eager to see what else they had in store, he addressed them.

  “Come on, you ball-jugglin’ Nancy boys…bring it!”

  He raised his fists, and the battle ensued. Maugrimm caught one punch in the jaw and another in his side, but landed his own blow square in the chest of the one before him. The creature lost his wind, staggering backwards, and Maugrimm took advantage. Ignoring the fact that he was being bludgeoned from behind, he rushed forward and rammed the point of his elbow into the beast’s face as hard as he could. The bones crushed and made a slightly concave indentation in his face. The creature fell backward with blood seeping heavily from the wound. He was no more.

  Maugrimm whirled around and saw that the other had found himself a weapon. A sharp metal post (used as a support for one of the tents they had demolished) was coming straight for him. With agility that seemed quite unnatural for a creature his size, Maugrimm quickly parried with his forearm and caught the spear in the middle, yanking it away from the beast. It went somersaulting into the distance.

  Disappointed, as he thought it would’ve been more of a fight, Maugrimm went over and impaled the creature. The beast attempted to pull the spear out of its stomach, but the gesture was pointless, as Maugrimm had secured him firmly to the ground, ramming the post in three feet deep. Just before he died, the creature noticed that the very first of them (he that Maugrimm knocked into the pottery table) was coming to. Maugrimm noticed as well, and he would’ve let him be did he not just have a vision of the young raped girl, Reena.

  Maugrimm went to the beast and lifted him overhead, carrying him to the tent spike. He then looked down into the near-lifeless eyes of the impaled creature.

  “Brought ya’ sum’ company,” he said, stabbing the other through the back.

  The beast stared with disbelief as he saw his body sliding down the steel spear, smearing it with blood. He marked Maugrimm with furious eyes as he touched down, feeling his comrade’s lifeless body beneath him. Wheezing and choking on blood, he struggled to free himself.

  “Oh no ya’ don’t, matey!”

  Maugrimm bent the spear, stabbing the other end into the earth, forming an awkward ‘U’ shape. Though he didn’t laugh at what he’d done, the view was quite comical, Mawg thought. It seemed as if these two had met their end playing a dangerous game of “Horseshoe,” mortally wounded by a shoe gone wrong!

  He looked around at the horrified people, gazing at him: the killer beast, that’d gone mad and started impaling people! Paying it no mind, he focused his attention on Phyllamon, who’d just escaped though a long slit in the side of the market tent.

  “Ah, ya’ little cowardly shit! You ain’t gettin’ away!”

  Maugrimm took off running.

  3

  “Oh no,” Zynathian whispered in horror as he looked down at a ghastly pale little girl.

  Her face was sweaty, and the rest of her skin had a cold and sticky feel to it, which was a terrible sign. My god, this is what a dead person feels like! he thought, observing the girl’s violent shiver. He knew she didn’t have long.

  “How long has she been this way?” Zynathian asked the rudimentary physician.

  “For over a week. However, her situation worsened within the last couple of days…that’s when the shiver started.” He sunk his head in remorse. “I don’t know what it means.”

  “It means she’s dying!” Zynathian roared.

  “So what can I do?”

  “Nothing…I’ll handle this,” Zynathian said, looking to the girl’s father. “Nigel, right? …I need you to let me take her home.”

  “Then I go as well,” Nigel answered with tears spilling down his face.”

  “Of course…but, on your honour, I need you to swear that you’ll keep me and all that you witness a secret,” Zynathian said.

  “You have my word…just save her. Reena is all I have.”

  Zynathian turned a knob on a nearby oil lamp, resting next to Reena’s mattress. Now that he had more light, he wanted to see the extent of the damage. Though he knew time was of the essence, Zynathian kept his manners.

  “Reena…I need to examine your body. I assure you I’m not here to violate you, but I must know what I’m dealing with, dear,” he whispered.

  Though she appeared to not be coherent at all, Zynathian noticed a slight flutter in her eyes, knowing that he’d been granted permission. Again, he was taken with fury as he pulled back the blanket covering her. Zynathian growled at what he saw.

  My god…she’s been split open! he thought, as he viewed Reena’s genitalia. There were long jagged rips around the opening, giving the impression that a bomb had gone off within. No human penis is capable of such damage! It had to be…

  He gasped in anger, knowing. As he caught the odour of Reena’s infected wounds, he thought of Phyllamon’s minions. Zynathian turned to face Ya Minj with his eyes in murderous squints.

  “I hope Maugrimm kills them!” he said to his crying fiancé, who was standing off to the side, silenced by the horrors before her.

  Zynathian threw the blanket back over Reena and scooped her up. “We leave now. There’s no time to pack…take only the most important things.”

  “Understood,” Nigel said and then added, “I need nothing but the clothes on my back, but if you need my assistance, Ya Minj, your wish is my command. I am in debt to you for being concerned for my daughter.”

  “I appreciate it, Nigel. Run to my tent, and you’ll see a strange metal…person…resting beneath my blankets. Her name is ‘Marcia.’ Tell her that, on my order, she is to come with you. She’ll know that you’re sincere, for only I could’ve told you her name. Grab my winter coat, and wrap her in it so that no one sees. Don’t bother with anything else, just hurry back!”

  Puzzled, Nigel put his confusion aside and rushed from the tent. Moments later he rejoined Ya Minj and Zynathian, carrying an expression of utter bewilderment.

  “I know…she’s amazing isn’t she?” Ya Minj said.

  “And she talks!” Nigel said, staring down at the bulky winter coat in his arms.

  A soft voice came from within. “Mistress, are we leaving this place?”

  “We’re leaving for good, but I need you to keep your voice down until we’re on route to Zynathian’s house.”

  “Oh my goodness, I’m rejoining my old master! And you’re coming as well? …What a glorious day this is!”

  “Shhh,” Ya Minj said, quieting her. She bounced in place, eager to be on the move.

  As they rushed from the tent, Zynathian tapped a buttoned instrument, wrapped around his wrist. He then turned to the others.

  “We have to find Maugrimm with haste!”

  “How are we leaving?” Nigel asked.

  “By ship,” he replied. “I just summoned it.”

  4

  Phyllamon looked over his shoulder, panicking. The murderous beast had followed him from the market.

  “I’m headed into the wild…I left my hover there! Get your asses here, or I’ll be dead soon!” he shrieked into a small, palm-sized device.

&nb
sp; He made it to Saint Marcleese Forest; a magnificent, ten-mile long maze of skyscraping trees, separating Castle Xyecah and its mines from the city of Mashyuvah, the Mashyuvian Forest, and all the neighbouring towns. Phyllamon ducked within the trees, racing to his hovercar. He hopped in, and a glass shield slid across the top, enclosing him.

  By the time Maugrimm reached the edge of the forest, he found Phyllamon rising into the air. Though he had no time to fully observe such trivialities, he could’ve sworn that he saw Phyllamon flash him a wicked smile of victory, thinking he’d lost. However, this gesture came all too soon.

  Putting on a burst of speed, Maugrimm leapt to one of the trees, smashing his body into it with all his might, uprooting it completely. Though this tree was tiny and deformed compared to those in the surroundings, it was still large enough to do irreparable damage to such a small ship.

  The tree smashed into the vehicle’s backside, pinning it to the ground. Disoriented from the jarring collision, Phyllamon regained his wits and turned around to inspect the damage. The rear of the hovercar had completed caved in, smashed flat like a slate stone. The glass shield around him had cracked all to hell (but not yet shattered), and the controls on both sides of the vehicle were also hindered useless. Phyllamon banged away trying to force his way out, but his efforts were futile, for he soon realized that he was safer inside. Maugrimm was coming straight at him.

  Ramming his shoulder into the head of the hover, not only did he dislodge the hood (which went flying several feet away), but he also put a jagged, concave dent in the face of the hover, which popped out the vehicle’s innards. The engine went through the shield and pinned Phyllamon to the seat.

  Except for those of Zynathian’s design, all vehicles of this age were made of mostly plastic or other extremely lightweight metals. Therefore collisions (or beasts with abnormal strength) easily damaged them. Maugrimm might as well have been folding a piece of paper as he lifted the front end of the hovercar, forcing it backwards to crush everything within, including Phyllamon.

  Snarling with spittle flying from his mouth, Maugrimm taunted him. “Rape is bad enough…but a twelve year ole’! No, no, no, you gotta’ die for that stunt, matey!”

  Phyllamon spit up blood as the engine cracked his sternum, pushing his bones slightly inward.

  My god, he means to crush me! Murderer! he thought with hypocrisy, nearly fainting as the weight became too much to bear.

  Suddenly it stopped. Though he was pinned into a position that blocked his view, Phyllamon knew that the beast had stopped at someone’s request. He could hear them talking.

  “No, Maugrimm. I’ll accept this responsibility. I’m the one who dealt with his father…now let me deal with him!” Zynathian said as he approached.

  They’d found Maugrimm easily, for there was a huge piece of the tent, just his size, ripped out where he’d exited. Zynathian had bolted after him with Ya Minj and Nigel (who was now carrying his daughter) following behind. They’d caught up to him now and kept quiet as Zynathian reasoned with Maugrimm.

  “Ya’ should let me finish ‘em, Zynathian, I’m tellin’ ya’! Phyllamon’s kind ‘r trouble till the end…always are!”

  “There’s been enough bloodshed today on this fool’s behalf…so I’m going to give him the chance that I did not give his father!”

  Maugrimm disagreed, but he backed off.

  Looking to the sky and finding the ship on approach, Zynathian rushed over to the hover. He found a bloody Phyllamon pinned down by the engine. “Help me get him out of here,” he asked Maugrimm.

  Reluctantly, Maugrimm came forward and pushed Phyllamon’s seat backwards as far as it could go, freeing him. Then he yanking him out by his collar and roughly slung him to the cold earth. As he lay there, wheezing in pain from a partially crushed chest, Zynathian knelt over him.

  “My name is Zynathian Volkeye, and I am he that put your father in his grave! I want you to commit my face to memory!” he said, grabbing Phyllamon’s chin, squeezing it so tightly that the opposite sides of his lips touched. “This is the face of the man who’ll be watching your every move from here on out. I swear on my soul, if I hear that you’ve so much as exhaled a gust of bad breath on an innocent person, I’ll fucking end you! Have I, in any way, been unclear?”

  Phyllamon kept quiet, shivering with rage at this man’s revelation. This was his enemy that he’d sworn to kill. However, he simply kept his mouth shut, as it wasn’t likely he could take vengeance under the present circumstances.

  Zynathian repeated himself. “HAVE I…IN ANY WAY…BEEN UNCLEAR?”

  He accepted Phyllamon’s silence as a ‘no.’

  “That’s a good boy,” he said, slapping Phyllamon’s face hard enough to redden the cheek area.

  An enormous ship swept down from above, and Zynathian rose from his knee. Phyllamon seethed with rage, knowing that Zynathian would be gone by the time a second set of his minions arrived from the castle.

  We’ll meet again one day, friend, and when we do the tables will have turned, I swear it! he thought, not knowing that it would be another twenty years before they met face-to-face again.

  Over those two decades, Zynathian would be as good as his word. He would, indeed, keep tabs on Phyllamon, not directly interfering with his life unless the tales of his wrongdoings got too outlandish (as they would in five years to come). That was the particular occasion when he’d get angry enough to empty Phyllamon’s mines during the night and leave little notes on location to taunt him. Those spankings, as Zynathian would come to think of them, were but a small taste of what he really wanted to do to Phyllamon presently. However, Zynathian gave him a chance, hoping the situation wouldn’t come to the same end as Drakys Xyecah did.

  As they boarded the ship, each of them was aware of a strange bond that had somehow welded them together. It was like a love spell from a fantasy story, unbreakable even with the troubled times that unknowingly lay ahead of them. Nigel and Reena, too, had been woven into the threads of their lives, though their purpose would not be revealed until much later. Zynathian silently chuckled at the idea of “free will,” knowing that everything that had occurred this day was nothing of the sort. God had hand picked these cards and dealt them Herself. None of it was an accident, he was certain.

  This strange sort of divine influence became ever more apparent to Zynathian over the next several weeks as he nursed a dying girl back to health. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that inviting complete strangers to his home led to him making the most profound discoveries of his life, such as the medicinal properties of Maugrimm’s waste and Khyetarah Vyx Mune’s blood. More magnificent than these findings, however, was love, the ever mystifying state of being which enhanced Zynathian’s mind and body to a level of spiritual bliss that neither he or Ya Minj knew existed. It was love that had led them to trust their emotions, though they barely knew each other. It was love that made Ya Minj prize her tin foil wedding ring over all other possessions until the day she met her end. And it was love that would give Zynathian the strength to survive the death of Ya Minj, who would mysteriously pass away whilst giving birth to Khyeryn, eight years from now.

  5

  “Vlajdimir, he walked over, started fondling me, then told me to come home with him!”

  “According to you! However, the information I have from several sources says that you cornered him and went for his privates, and then his personal guard had to fight you off! I take it that was when the battle took place. When you learned that you couldn’t ravage his body on your own, you enlisted the help of another!”

  “Hold on, she sought my help for protection, not because we were about to rape the imbecile!” Anup spoke up, temper rising.

  Though he’d heard stories about Vlajdimir, it was impossible to believe anyone could be so bullheaded and blind. Now he found that the tales weren’t exaggerations. Anup paced in circles, agitated at Vlajd’s obtuseness. From the moment they arrived in Rhylix (at the Ghurzblood Mansion), Anup and hi
s wife began to see that their justice system was more contrived than anything else. It was an idea but not a thing that actually existed. Upon realization, they started to feel like they would’ve been better off not pursuing Phyllamon’s arrest. However, it was too late now. The first stone had already been thrown.

  “...And, yes, I did go for his balls, Vlajdimir, but it wasn’t because I wanted to caress them. I tried to rip them off!”

  “So you admit to attacking him?”

  “Only to protect myself, you fool!” the woman spat.

  “Fool?” remarked Zephranie from a few paces away. “I’d watch my manners if I were you. You don’t want to insult the only person who can help you. After all, he is the highest authority in these parts, so it would be best not to make us…ahem…me angry!”

  “Bitch, is that a threat?!”

  Astounded that she was the one being made out to be the enemy, the pregnant woman finally lost her composure. She stalked over to Zephranie and struck her as hard as she could, bursting both lips. Zephranie fell back and smacked her head on a desk corner, instantly slipping into unconsciousness.

  “How dare you strike my wife, woman! You are obviously both irrational and quick tempered, and I have no doubt that Phyllamon Xyecah is innocent without question! Seize them!” Vlajdimir ordered.

  Due to current events, Phyllamon had sent several infantry beasts to stay with Vlajdimir (in case Zynathian or his comrades were to turn up anywhere in the vicinity). Here they were, armed to the teeth. However, the first of them didn’t even get a chance to draw his weapon before Anup blew a hole in his chest.

  “Get down!” he yelled to his wife.

  She dropped to the floor and crawled to a corner, covering her pregnant belly with her arms. Though protecting herself and her baby, she couldn’t do the same for her eyes, which were now being accosted with the most horrific battle she’d ever witnessed—a battle that was cutting her husband’s body to pieces.

  As each new piece of Anup fell to the floor, she’d look up, surprised to see him still standing. He killed one, then another, and before long Anup’s mutilated body stood before the last of Phyllamon’s regiment. The creature was covered in white fur, blackened at several spots in the shoulders and stomach area where Anup had burned holes through his body. The most severe of its wounds was a missing right arm, also courtesy of Anup’s marksmanship.