“How did you even know of Zynathian’s plan?” Vlajdimir asked, bracing himself on the wall as he touched down upon a slippery step.
“I didn’t have a clue until I got a frantic message from a sentry at one of my mines, telling me that it had been burglarized. Quick as possible, I gathered my minions to sweep the city of Mashyuvah and all of the southern towns. They had orders to capture and question anyone that they found and to kill those who resisted. My first group and I arrived in Mashyuvah, the downtown area, only to find the city in total chaos. People everywhere, just roused from their sleep, ran about, hopping in their hovers and racing into the sky. The people in Mashyuvah are wealthier than those in the surrounding towns, so most of them had transportation and fled as soon as they got word.”
“What word…from whom?” Zephranie asked.
“Zynathian’s word. Even with all the torture we’ve subjected our hostages to, we haven’t been able to discern the full message. However, it appears that those who got left behind only did so because they hadn’t received the coordinates of a rendezvous point he’d established for them. They were frantic, having no idea where to go and didn’t know whether or not to follow someone.”
“Ah, I can see that happening. Two weeks ago, when the ruckus from the center of town woke us, for a while I was too sleepy to know whether I was awake or dreaming. The only thing that startled me into lucidness was when I saw the women coming for the mansion. Dream or not, I was at least smart enough to know that I wanted no quarrel with them,” Vlajdimir claimed.
“It was much the same with these people. They may have been too drowsy to even think straight, but when they saw the Karnovs, they started fighting instantly. They killed a good number of my crew too. However, in the end, we prevailed. The last I counted, we had two hundred fifteen hostages at our disposal.”
Though Zephranie was tickled by his account, she wondered about its point. “And what do you hope to accomplish by this?”
“Well, it’s occurred to me that the easiest way to hurt Zynathian is to harm innocent people. He may be a god when compared to other humans, but unlike a god he can’t see all or be everywhere at once. If I need to use torture to even the scale and humble him, then so be it. Putting a gun to a child’s head, to me, is as trivial as spitting on the sidewalk…but if Zynathian were to witness something like that, he’d instantly be sent to his grave. That’s how precious life is to him.”
“Oh, I see. And when he learns the state of these people, he’ll be…”
“Crushed,” Phyllamon finished for her. “Can you imagine what that would be like for a humanist?”
“Two hundred plus dead bodies on your conscience…yes, I can see how that would be an effective weapon against him,” she said, grinning. “Phyllamon, it’s brilliant!”
“What of the rest of Mashyuvah? Did you only secure the downtown area?” Vlajdimir asked.
“Yes, that was all we could do. Of course, by the time we got around to searching the other sectors of the city, they were deserted.”
Phyllamon stopped right behind Murlach, at the bottom of the stairs. They’d arrived.
Far down the hall from them, hundreds of limbs protruded from within the caged cells, viciously waving about. Amongst all the growls and grunts, Murlach could hear the repetitive cracks of large bones contracting back and forth—the stomach growl of his most troublesome beast. He’d have to tend to the matter soon, for the tentacle creature’s hunger was no small matter.
“I’ll tend to your hunger immediately following this demonstration...I’ll be but a short while.” He turned to enter his lab but paused and looked down the adjacent corridor once more. “Do NOT start eating each other...am I clear?!”
Murlach now addressed the guests. “Here we are.”
He pulled the latch, and the door swung inward. What waited inside, neither Zephranie nor Vlajd had the stomach for. The stench of flesh and blood beat them over the head. They cowered behind, leaning on the wall, while Vlajdimir let go of his lunch, soiling his expensive slippers in vomit. Zephranie was a close second behind him, as her face was about the same shade of green as Helena’s breath. Murlach and Phyllamon, however, walked in as if this was the most pleasant of atmospheres!
As Vlajdimir and Zephranie stood wheezing, Jix sailed through the door, taking a seat upon a dust covered ledge, high in the upper right corner of the room. He continued recording.
Phyllamon looked back at Vlajdimir and Zephranie, sighing at their weak stomachs. “Oh come now, it’s just a bit of blood and body parts scattered about the place! And if I’m not much mistaken, Zephranie, it wasn’t so long ago that you caused twice the carnage just beyond these walls.”
“Yes, but outside there’s AIR! You have no ventilation in here, and you expect us to be comfortable breathing in the stench of death!” she retorted, dry hacking over the steps.
“Oh, you’re pathetic, the both of you! Fine…put these on, so you can breathe easier.” Phyllamon went and grabbed two of Murlach’s facemasks and handed them over. Once they had them on properly, they followed him.
Everywhere about a creature was having one of their arms sawed off by Murlach’s subjects. Vlajd glared at the spectacle. There must’ve been fifty different tables hosting some unfortunate howling creature, trying to withstand the pain. No sooner than their limbs hitting the floor, did their surgeons lay aside the cutting utensils and spread the blue paste of no name (another of Zynathian’s copied arts) over the wounds, instantly cauterizing them.
“Most of them are in the beginning stages of their transformation. However, what I’ve brought you all down to see is the final stages, which I hope won’t disappoint,” Murlach said.
They followed him to the far end of the room, coming to a slightly less than Maugrimm-sized beast with horned shoulders, resting on his knees. His arm sat atop a sturdy table and was covered with a dirty blanket that bulged outward in strange manners, as if the arm housed many deformities. The beast appeared to be passed out. Murlach tapped him lightly on the shoulder.
“All right there?” he asked.
The creature opened his eyes, and the others realized that he wasn’t unconscious, but merely resting.
“The pain, Master…it’s too much. More drugs, please!”
Murlach grabbed a syringe with a long thick needle that hung from his waist. He unsheathed the sharp end and thrust the needle through the creature’s seemingly impenetrable skin at the deltoid area. The beast winced as the painkillers were injected. About a minute later, his breathing eased, and he opened his eyes in incomplete relief.
“That’s a bit better, but I wish you had something strong enough to alleviate the pain altogether!”
“Sorry to disappoint, but I have no such thing. The pain will disappear in time. However, pain is something you must learn to deal with, because I suspect you all will be going to battle before it completely subsides.”
The creature took an expression of such anger that Vlajdimir would’ve wet himself had Murlach and Phyllamon not been in the room.
“Stop complaining. Surely a gigantic, muscular brute like you can stand a missing arm! Now, let me look at you,” Murlach said.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Phyllamon pacing with excitement. Murlach himself was more nervous than anything, because failure was a great possibility, as this was his first attempt at the most difficult of Zynathian’s creations. He’d begun to construct it the day he gave himself new fingers, following the instructions down to the last detail. Murlach didn’t sleep for several days when he first began the project, and the previous night he’d worked until the wee hours of the morning, making minor adjustments. Now had finally come the time to test his model. Murlach’s subject, Kruxum, had been in this same position for the last twelve hours, whilst he fit the bulky, artistically graceless piece to his arm.
“Rise, Kruxum,” Murlach said.
Squinting in pain, he stood, and the blanket slid from his arm, unveiling the wonder beneath. Kr
uxum ignored the sharp sting running through his arm and raised Murlach’s creation, inspecting it. It was damn ugly…an abomination, even. Kruxum growled irritably, knowing that such a thing couldn’t possibly work.
This is why I lost my arm?
Murlach seemed to read his mind. “Don’t mock my intelligence, Kruxum. Be patient,” he said, circling him, impressed with Kruxum’s ability to wield the heavy object despite the pain he was in.
Murlach addressed them all. “The moment of truth,” he said, walking to a distant corner and uncovering a crudely made cement sculpture. “Everyone, stand back…Kruxum, aim here.”
Murlach stepped out of the way.
Although he thought this a pointless gesture, Kruxum aimed at the structure and concentrated. Suddenly, he was startled. Beyond the pain, he could feel something. It was as if his hand was still there, acting on his commands. He ordered his imaginary finger to pull the trigger.
The room was showered with a continuous spell of flashing, red sparks, which finally disappeared like fireworks in the sky. Kruxum seemed to have forgotten his pain, as he roared with laughter at the mess of debris lying before him. He then destroyed a nearby table and also obliterated the wall behind the sculpture.
Murlach went to get a better look. The weapon’s precision was a complete embarrassment compared to Zynathian’s! It was much heavier as well, and even though it lacked the most impressive feature (being able to transform from weapon to arm again) it still worked. That was the key.
Murlach smiled with pride. “Master, I’ve done it!”
“Excellent! Tell me, is it possible to speed up the process and maybe build another hundred and fifty? And can you be ready in a month’s time?”
“Yes, now that I have a working model and know what I’m doing, it will definitely be a faster process. I can enlist the aid of some of my lessers to oversee the construction of the weapons in an empty chamber. However, I’m going to need every available piece of metal, Master. Without it, there’ll be no weapons for my subjects.”
“That’s fine, use whatever you can from the castle and melt it down to suit your needs.” Phyllamon rubbed his chin, thinking a moment. “Now that you know how to construct this particular weapon…can you make some that could be attached to some sort of stand?”
“Yes, Master, I don’t see why not.”
“Excellent. Within the next week I want at least two set up and manned, outdoors, just in case Zynathian attempts to be a hero and attack me here. I really do hope he tries it…I’ve got a little something for him if he does!”
“Not a problem,” Murlach answered. “One other thing…because we’re pressed for time, expect their less-than-healed bodies to be a factor when they’re fighting.”
“I can handle it,” Kruxum spoke up, still admiring his weapon.
“You see, Murlach, they’re tougher than you think. Don’t worry so much,” Phyllamon said, clasping his hands together.
Murlach grinned. “Master, can you imagine Zu with one of these weapons? My God, he’s going to be…”
“A terror!” Phyllamon said.
He saw the inquisitive look on Zephranie’s face and thought to explain.
“Not only is Zu our greatest warrior, but he can take a massive amount of damage and still be a threat. He appears to be blessed with good luck, too. He has more lives than a cat, that one does…nearly impossible to kill! I don’t know any other soldier that could be one-hundred-thousand miles in the sky, falling to his death in an incapacitated ship, only to escape and then be assaulted by a gigantic bird, which he also escaped…only to still be plummeting to his demise—equipped only with an injured back and a malfunctioning jetpack—and still live to tell the tale!”
Phyllamon let out a volley of jovial howls, humoured over Zu’s return home after the assault on Zynathian’s castle. Once Phyllamon finished his spell of laughter, he began pacing about, talking to himself.
“First, we’ll head to the Trio and burn all their homes to the ground…just in case the filthy traitors ever try to return. Then we can dispose of each hostage in Mashyuvah, one at a time, finally destroying the city brick by brick, spreading fear throughout the lands. Eventually, they’ll all bow down and join me in my quest for world domination!”
Phyllamon grinned. Ah, yes! In one month’s time…
“Zynathian Volkeye, your ass is mine!”
XXV
Temper Tantrum
1
Zynathian’s mug of tea smashed into the monitor.
“C’mon then, you bastard! I’ll rip every one of you, limb-from-limb!” he spoke to an oblivious Phyllamon on the screen.
Zynathian stormed about the room throwing books and kicking over chairs. Everyone stood aside, knowing his feelings were justified.
He hadn’t been in a good mood for two weeks, livid over the girl’s unnecessary heroic act. Because of Jix’s spying, he soon learned that the girls’ deed had placed over two hundred people in Phyllamon’s hands as hostages. (He’d only just begun to look his daughters in the eye, though not yet uttering a word to them.)
Also through Jix’s efforts, Zynathian learned that several volumes of his journals were stolen, and this ‘Murlach’ person was using his ideas to remarkable results! He’d prayed the dwarf wouldn’t be intelligent enough to create weapons from the journals, but lost hope when he saw his success with the new fingers. Zynathian knew this Murlach was to be feared, for his mind was a finely developed instrument. He decided that he must get the journals back at any cost, but knew it couldn’t be done easily.
The amount of work needed for the completion of Teshunua’s procedure should’ve made things all the more stressful, but, ironically enough, it was the only thing that had gone well for many days. Tesh’s finish went exactly as planned, granting him remarkable new talents. Not a trace of his injuries remained, and his hair had even come back with a bit of stubble above his lip and on his chin. Bahzee, however, hadn’t seen him yet, as Zynathian refused to speak to her, let alone comment on Teshunua’s progress. The only thing that kept her calm was the fact that Asha assured her that there was no need to worry, though she gave no details.
Zynathian kept Teshunua under for more than two days afterward, as to be sure he was well rested. He took him off the machine in the middle of the night, expecting him to wake on his own, this day. Although still worried about those people in Mashyuvah, with Teshunua’s successful completion, Zynathian’s spirits had risen. He even went as far as to flash a smile at Bahzee, Sing, and Lyn Sha this morning. But now, seeing that Murlach had concocted a weapon from his journal notes, he quickly relapsed into his previous state.
Asha attempted to console him, as he cut the monitor off.
“There had to have been forty or fifty of those experiments going on there…and the bastard wants one hundred and fifty more! How the hell are we going to fight two hundred of those things?”
Zynathian had succeeded in procuring dozens upon dozens of barrels full of Maugrimm’s waste, which would definitely suit certain warfare purposes. However, he hadn’t yet had the time to build or program any Mechs to aid them in battle. Zynathian and Asha realized their goals had been too lofty, for not only did they underestimate their massive workload between Teshunua, the castle, and the weapons they’d ordered the Mechs to construct, but Zynathian had also neglected the fact that Mech Building was amongst the slowest of his procedures. Efficient as the ones he owned were, he hadn’t built any in more than a decade and forgot that it sometimes took a year to build just a few dozen and program them properly. Since he knew another battle wasn’t too far in the future, they’d be forced to ask for aid from the refugees that fled to the Igloo…not all of whom were guaranteed to be warriors. Zynathian’s heart sank with this revelation.
“I’m almost certain that my people from Rhameeryla will help, that’s not an issue. Let us just hope that those from the Trio and Mashyuvah are up to the challenge as well,” Asha said.
Just as Zynathian wa
s about to respond, the monitor went bright again. A pale, freckled girl with red hair and rosy cheeks suddenly appeared.
“Hello,” she said, gazing through the screen.
The girl observed the concerned faces, four of which she didn’t recognize. There was a man, who she assumed was Lynnie’s father, Zynathian; a pretty mixed woman with dreadlocks; a boy; and a gigantic something of whose species she was unsure. The girl slightly jumped when she laid eyes on Maugrimm, as this was her first time seeing him, even though she’d spoken to Lyn through the screen several times already.
“Hey, Annie!” Lyn Sha said, coming out from behind Maugrimm.
“Hey, Lynnie…who tore up the room? What’s that stuff on the screen?”
“That’s my Daddy’s tea,” she replied, grinning. Lyn grabbed a rag and began to wipe the contents from the screen. “He was upset about Phyllamon.”
“Oh…that’s okay. He’s enough to make anyone have a fit,” Annie replied.
“Thank you for understanding…I’m sorry…it’s Annie?” Zynathian asked.
“Yes,” the girl replied.
“Nice to meet you. I’ve seen you and Lyn talking over the last couple of weeks, but we haven’t been properly introduced yet. I’m Zynathian.”
“Khyeryn.”
“Maugrimm.”
“Asha…her soon-to-be stepmom.”
“It’s wonderful to meet the rest of you,” Annie said. “Hey, you two!” she said with enthusiasm, waving at Sing and Bahzee.
Sing smiled. “Hey, hon, how’s it going?”
“How’s Sam?” Bahzee cut in.
“Mommy’s great…she’s still exploring a lot around this place. It’s huge!”
“We can’t wait to see it,” Bahzee said. “We should be down soon.”
“I hope so…we need you all. Everyone is worrying about people in Mashyuvah, because there are some here who claim to have relatives there, but they haven’t arrived yet. One man here showed up with a missing arm and had nearly bled to death…said it was bitten off by those same things that chased us out of Rhylix! I guess Phyllamon and those beasts attacked them, too. But what’s puzzling is the fact that it was the middle of the night! How did Phyllamon even know we were planning a mass exodus at that exact moment?”
The Gift of Volkeye Page 39
