Dark Humanity

by Gwynn White

  “Oh, but I don’t blame you,” said Orm’rak, walking back over to the mangled human corpse. “Forgive my temper, Goru. Sometimes I lose myself when dealing with such incompetence.” He paused, as if waiting for some sort of response. “I understand,” he continued, answering the imaginary comment. “You were just a runner after all, and didn’t deserve such harsh treatment from the likes of me. So allow me to present you with a gift. Let’s just say this is my way of giving you...a second chance.”

  Orm’rak swiped his fingers across the bloody torso. Cracked ribs glistened beneath the skin, shimmering a silver light visible for only a second. The mangled body twitched once, twice, the remaining fragment of head swayed on the tip of its spinal column like a wagging tail. The bloody mass rose, pushing off the table with its one still-functioning arm. “There you are,” Orm’rak mused, admiring his own work. “You see, I’m not so bad after all.”

  Still glistening with fresh blood, the animated mound of flesh hobbled away, a severely broken leg clicking in and out of place with every other step. A length of intestine dragged behind, slithering across the floor while leaving a red trail. The imitation of life found its way into the hall, then limped away, broken bones shifting and clicking.

  Orm’rak let out a deep breath, enjoying the lingering aftereffects. Each time a human body was animated, a small trace of its life force was absorbed. Like sweet nectar with a touch of adrenaline, the afterglow pumped through his veins, the taste lingering on his tongue. The rush was always short-lived, but he savored it nonetheless.

  Realizing he could stall no longer, Orm’rak left the dining hall and headed for his private chambers. Now that the runner had made his report, he would have to go make his. The idea of reporting his failure didn’t sit well with the laberath leader. Mere humans had somehow defeated the force he sent. How was he supposed to explain this humiliation?

  Sure, Owen Dunwich was an elite warrior whose reputation seemed to grow by the day. There were even a few scatted reports claiming his apprentice might be the more deadly of the two. But still...they were just humans. How could they have caused this much trouble? And now it seemed they traveled with a third person who possessed a completely different skill set, complimenting their brute strength with arcane powers.

  Regardless of the hunter’s new ally, another failure was simply unacceptable. This time, I will lead them myself. Hunter, you turned down my offered riches only to embrace certain death? Fool! Then allow me to accommodate your wish.

  Servants dressed in tattered rags scattered as he marched down the hall. Word of his display of brutality had already spread. Even his fellow laberaths were nowhere to be seen, no doubt avoiding him, as well they should be. He stopped near a window and looked out across the underground city, admiring the view for a time. With its jagged rooftops giving off a soft fluorescent light, Kraindoel’s beauty matched that of any city of the surface world. But it wasn’t located in the surface world. It was buried so far underground, sometimes Orm’rak thought it felt more like a tomb than a city.

  “Why must we remain hidden beneath the rocks like common rodents?” he growled to himself, eyes sweeping across the buildings below. “We are a superior race, yet it is we who are forced to live underground.” A wicked smile spread across his face. “But not for much longer. Soon we shall rise and take what is rightfully ours. Enjoy your ball of fire creeping across the sky. May it burn your souls into dust! Soon, it will be you who crawls beneath the ground, skittering over cold rocks like insects.”

  He pushed away from the window and continued on his way. In his mind, he already knew why the laberaths remained underground. Although they were physically superior to most surface beings, they were woefully outnumbered. So outnumbered in fact, that many surface dwellers actually denied their existence at all. This push into relevancy would be a slow one, but it was inevitable.

  Their newly formed alliance with another superior race would see to that.

  Reaching his chambers, he pushed back an unassuming door made of splintered wood, its color faded away long ago. He pushed through the decorative room, colorful tapestries seeming to hang from every wall, heads of bizarre creatures displayed on dark lacquered plaques. Throwing back a beaded curtain, he stepped into the gloomy backroom, a dank stench hanging in the air. Before him was a purple stone pedestal, sanded smooth with two holes at its front. Taking in a final breath, Orm’rak slid his hands into the holes, back straight, his head held high.

  It hissed, steam rising all around. The once dark room pulsed with yellow light, throbbing on and off with a buzzing sound. The steam began to circle, spinning together to form a misty funnel of vapor. The twirling vapor slowed, a white cone spreading upward as it began to take shape. Orm’rak swallowed, suddenly gazing into the eyes of a pasty white face with large pink eyes. Its bald head almost looked dusty, a powdery dull white.

  “Orm’rak,” hissed the noseless, featureless white face. “Word of your failure has already reached my ears. I thought such a simple task would be easy for the laberaths, legends of the underworld. I see that I was wrong.”

  “The force I sent proved to be incompetent,” Orm’rak admitted, withering under the glare of those savage pink eyes. “I assure you it will not happen again.”

  “Their incompetence is a reflection of your own!” the white face shrieked. After a pause it calmed a bit, still glaring with judgment and hate. “Have you no desire to leave this murky underworld you call home?”

  “Of course we do,” Orm’rak replied. “But could I not ask you the same?” he asked boldly. “I don’t imagine being trapped in a world of fire is any more desirable than my sunless cage. Don’t forget, you need us just as badly as we need you.” The pasty white head funneled back into steam momentarily, twirling with irritation before reforming once more.

  “Find the girl!” it roared, pink eyes flaring with blazing light. “Once the ritual is complete, we, too, shall walk the surface world once more.”

  With a satisfied smirk, Orm’rak dipped into a shallow bow. “With pleasure,” he said. “This time, we shall not fail.”

  Chapter Eight

  Viola watched the trees roll past on either side. Clouds of dust funneled up from the churning wheels, spiraling away from her swinging feet. Each mile traveled carried her farther away from her former life. Already, Redwater felt like like a distant memory rolling around in the back of her mind like a dream from one’s childhood, so vague and faded it becomes difficult to recall. She was not necessarily safe, but she was free now.

  “Viola,” Liam summoned, peeking back from his high perch. “Would you mind sitting up here with me for a bit?” Reluctant at first, she hoisted her feet up from the edge and crawled to the front on her hands and knees. Taking her by the hand, Liam helped her up over the seat backing. “There we are,” he said, trying to smile at her. The forced grin looked more like a man trying to show off his teeth. She wasn’t buying it.

  The wagon wobbled as they rolled along in silence. She could see Owen up ahead, his thick mount zipping along with unnerving grace. Fluid and agile, it reminded her a bit of a lizard, its nimble body swaying from side to side to keep its built-up momentum. Xavier rode by his side, his elegant horse clopping along. It was easy to forget the beautiful beast was a full-blooded warhorse, ready to charge at a moment’s notice.

  “So what happened back there?”

  “Wha—” she stammered with surprise, realizing she was staring at Xavier again. In his flowing white cloak, to her he looked like a high-ranking noble, a stark contrast to the grizzly warrior riding at his side.

  “I understand that the old woman had some choice words for you,” said Liam, eyes straight ahead. “I think you’ll find that I’m a good listener. That is...if you care to talk about it.”

  Viola shifted uncomfortably. “There is nothing to tell,” she replied softly. “That woman’s only crime was being afraid of me. That’s all. Everyone is afraid of me.”

  “Not everyone,”
Liam assured, glancing down at her. “Besides, what does some old woman who has been trapped in a small town her whole life know of the world?”

  “Breda,” Viola replied.

  “What now, dear?”

  “Her name was Breda,” Viola repeated, a touch of venom in her tone. “And she wasn’t just some old woman. You don’t know her story any more than I do. Who knows what she’s accomplished during her time in this world? Perhaps she saved someone’s life, a small child from drowning or something like that.” She paused, listening to the wheels creaking down below. “Maybe she fell deeply in love and thought nothing could ever take that away from her. And in that moment, life couldn’t be more beautiful. Maybe she thought things would always be that way.”

  Liam sighed as he listened to the sound reasoning of one so sheltered, so innocent. But her morality and ability to empathize with others might do more harm than good. Such a good-hearted person might not be long for this cruel world.

  “But something did take it away,” she continued. “Something cruel and evil. And when she looked at my face, she saw that evil all over again... Her family was taken, along with everyone she’s ever known. I can’t blame her for hating me.” She looked up at Liam, waiting expectantly for him to look back at her. When he did, she ran a hand through her white hair, then traced a finger between her eyes and down across her black lips.

  “These features,” she said. “No matter where I go I’ll never outrun them. To others, they are a symbol of hate. The world is full of Bredas, each with her own tales of suffering at the hands of someone like me. No matter where we go, I’ll always be hated. I accept that. It’s something I can never change.”

  “Oh, my dear,” Liam said, sadness in his eyes as he gently stroked her hair. “I know it feels like that now, but I promise you that someday—” Her sudden fit of coughing cut him off. “Dear, are you all right?” he asked, aggressively patting her on the back, fearing she may be choking. It escalated quickly, her body convulsing, wracked with violent coughs. His concern rising to alarming levels, he pulled the wagon over and proceeded to slap her on the back.

  “Get...away,” she hissed, pushing on his chest to put distance between them.

  “What are you talking about? What’s wrong?!” he said, hand fighting with the suddenly very strong girl.

  “Get away from me! You have to run!” she blurted, her scattered, hissing voice assaulting Liam’s ears from all directions at once. He released her wrists, gazing into the eyes of a being he no longer recognized. Her coughing had stopped, and now she just glared at him, black veins pulsing beneath her pale skin. They spidered along her neck, creeping upward across her face. “Run,” she said weakly, her red eyes flaring wide open. It was clear she was quickly losing control.

  Liam shook his head. “It’s too late for that,” he said, a stoic look on his face. “Even if I ran right now, it would be impossible to put enough distance between us. The thirst is already upon you, and neither of us can stop it.”

  Chest clenching with tightness, she hugged herself as guttural, choking sounds bubbled up from her throat. “You have to kill me,” she said, her voice nothing but a raspy growl. “Do it now!”

  Liam slowly reached beneath his shirt and unsheathed his dagger. He looked at it a long while, turning it back and forth against his palm. “I can’t do that,” he said calmly, a kind of peaceful tranquility washing over him.

  “I’ll do it,” she gasped, grasping at the blade. “Give me the knife and look away. I don’t want you to see this!”

  He shook his head again, then dragged the blade’s edge across his wrist. Blood began to flow. It trickled down his forearm as he raised the wound near Viola’s face. “You must drink,” he said, voice as calm as she’d ever heard him. “We are out of options now. There is no other way.”

  “I can’t,” she said in a gurgling, strangled voice. “What if I can’t stop?”

  “I’m dead either way,” he said. “If you refuse my offer, then the thirst will only get worse. It will eat at your mind until you lose all control. Your body will react on its own, no different than when you killed that wolf. You’ll go into a raging bloodlust, most likely tearing me apart. As your body obeys its primal need to feed, you will be powerless to resist it. But still, you will be present of mind the entire time. You will be in the moment, looking into my eyes as I die. And worse, you will remember all of it. I say this not to frighten you, but to make you see the reality of the situation.” He held out his bleeding wrist once more. “I trust you, even if you don’t trust yourself.”

  Hands trembling, throat burning, she grasped the bloody offering. Clasping her lips around the open wound, she began to drink. Never had she tasted anything so sweet in her life. The nectar of a million berries burst in her mouth at once, its sweetness coating her tongue, rushing down the back of her throat. Years of chemical-induced alchemy had kept these primal urges in check. Now, released in full for the very first time, the sensation came like a tidal wave of satisfied desires. Like deaf ears hearing music for the first time, the blissful reaction was unexplainable.

  Lying naked in a grass field, her body tingled with hot energy. Breaking through the sparse clouds, the shining sun warmed her, filling her with life. A gentle breeze whistled through the nearby trees, rattling the leaves while cooling the beaded sweat on her body. She arched her back, knees melting apart as her legs spread. One hand reached back, fingers entangled in a fistful of her white hair, the other slipping across her stomach, sliding down between her legs.

  Her shivering body rattled with ecstasy, her wet tongue sliding across her dark lips. Her hips rose off the ground, slick moisture gathering between her fingers. Slipping one finger inside herself, she moaned, hips rising even higher. Her body grew hot, sweat trickling from her temples. How could she have been deprived of such joy for so long?

  Her whole hand already glistening with wetness, she worked her finger in and out. With panting breath, her other hand cupped her breast, rolling and pinching a hardening nipple. Her body was on fire, a strange combination of pleasure and scorching heat flooding through her veins. She opened her eyes momentarily, glancing up to see a white-haired figure gazing down on her. His lips moved in silence; only the sounds of rattling leaves touched her ears.

  “What?” said Viola, her mind suddenly spiraling with confusion and doubts. What was all this? How did she get here in the first place?

  The familiar old face moved closer to hers, coming into clear focus. “You’re killing me,” he rasped, eyes set deep, skin turning gray.

  “Liam!” she shrieked, a suddenly alert mind fighting to regain control.

  “No!” she screamed, tearing her lips away from Liam’s wrist. The effort it took to stop was gargantuan. Even now, her desperate eyes couldn’t stop staring at the open wound, her body craving to finish what it started. The old man fell back against the seat, wide-open eyes staring at the sky. “Liam! Liam, speak to me!” she wailed, shaking his shirt collar. “No. Oh please, no,” she cried, rolling her forehead back and forth across his chest. “I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you just kill me when I gave you the chance?” she sobbed, fists beating on his chest.

  “I’m not dead,” came his weak reply, glassy eyes beginning to blink. “But I will admit, I’ve seen better days.” With a squeal of joy she threw herself against his chest, arms wrapping the back of his neck. “Easy. Easy now,” he groaned, trying to push the excited girl away but failing on all fronts. “I said I’m not dead, but your jumping on me like this is pushing me ever closer to the grave.”

  She finally backed off, taking a good look at him for the first time. With heavy eyes and pale skin, he did certainly appear to be at death’s door. “Oh, Liam,” she said, flopping back against the seat. “I am so so—”

  “Don’t say it,” he cut her off. “Don’t you dare apologize to me. It was my idea after all, and all things considered, I’d say my idea worked quite well.” He winked, prompting a weak smile from the distressed
girl. “You regained control before it was too late, as I knew you would. I imagine that wasn’t easy, and commend your solid display of self-control.”

  “But I almost didn’t,” she replied in shame, eyes looking away.

  He reached out, lifting her chin with a curled knuckle, imploring her to look at him. “But you did,” he reminded. “And that is all that counts.” He placed his hand on the back of her wrist. “This time it was human blood. Unless I miss my guess, you should be sustained for much longer this time. But it will still happen again. Sooner or later we’ll need to address—”

  “What is going on here?” came Owen’s gruff voice. That beast of his certainly moved quietly when it wanted to. They looked up to see the hunter high on his mount seated only a few feet from the side of the wagon. “Is everything all right? Why did you stop?” Instinctively, Viola wiped at her mouth, not sure if any lingering blood remained. Liam rolled his hand, trying to conceal the wound as best as he could.

  “I’m afraid I’m not feeling well,” Liam said, only stretching the truth a tad. With his pale face and shallow breathing, he looked every bit the part of a very sick man. “Viola here is going to steer the wagon the rest of the way.” She flashed Liam an incredulous look before nodding at Owen.

  The hunter’s suspicious gaze bounced back and forth between them. “Then let’s get moving,” he said at length, turning his great beast around. “It’s not far now. You can rest once we find my companions.”

  “Very well,” Liam replied. “But I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  Owen glanced back, this time blatantly staring at Liam’s turned wrist. “Right...” he said, digging both heels into his lavics, sending it lumbering back up into the lead position.

  “He knows,” Viola gasped, nervously wringing the bottom of her shirt.

  “Does it matter?” Liam asked, allowing her to crawl over the top of him to trade seats. “You said yourself that we’re a family. To be honest, I shouldn’t have tried to hide it from him.” He placed the reins into her hands. “Now, do you know how this works?” he asked, hopeful.