by Paul Centeno
“We’ll see about that,” Shirakaya retorted, pulling her arm back.
As they were free to go, the mercenaries continued following Jandu through the other half of the interior turret. Myris put her mask back on and hovered higher to look out of a window, where she could see multicolored clouds alongside the battlement. At the end of the turret stood a sealed door. When they arrived, a servant attired in a robe opened it.
Fluffy curtains decorated the stained-glass windows while dimly lit sconces brought life to the fairly dark chamber. Beside the bed sat a red-haired woman in garbs of velour. Yet what Shirakaya and her comrades fixed their eyes on was the scrawny, unconscious boy covered in blankets.
“Good evening, Countess,” Jandu said, saluting her. “I bring you Shirakaya of Aarda and her noble mercenaries.”
The soldier couldn’t help but stare at Myris, wanting to announce her presence.
“Leave us,” the woman said in a forlorn tone, holding her son’s gaunt hand. She waited for them to leave, including the servant who closed the door on his way out. “I thank you for coming. I am Margia Ve’Sar, Countess of Omav.”
“It is an honor,” Shirakaya said, bowing.
“Is it?” she said bitterly. “Let us not create false pretenses, Shirakaya of Aarda. You and I both know how my people feel about the blasphemy of magic.”
“And yet here we stand. It’s evident you realize magic is a necessity to saving him.”
Countess Ve’Sar snorted. “My son has been ill for a fortnight. He grows weaker by the day. He’s certainly worse than yesterday and has fallen into some sort of coma. I fear that his life is dwindling by the second. I need you to do whatever it takes to cure him.”
“We’ll begin immediately,” the freelancer said. “Oracle...”
Myris nodded, hovering toward the bed opposite the countess. She waved her hand over the pale boy’s chest. A slight aura radiated around him. The boy remained in a comatose state, unresponsive. With an intrigued expression, Myris drew three symbols in the air above the boy: one by his forehead, another near his torso, and the last by his feet.
The runes glowed bright, but they dissipated as quickly as they had appeared. An eerie breeze swept past the mercenaries despite the windows and curtains remaining shut. The boy rose half-way up in the bed, his blood-red eyes open and fixed on the oracle. He snarled and waved his hand in the air, hurling the oracle against a wall.
“Don’t fuck with me, bitch!”
Horrified by the insidious voice, the countess shrieked and backed away. Even the other mercenaries were taken aback, Shirakaya included. Myris, unshaken, waved her hand in the air with defiance, forcing the boy to lie back down. The boy struggled, screaming at the top of his lungs; it was the high-pieced roar of a monstrosity. The bloodcurdling nature of the sound caused Jandu to reenter with his knights.
“What in the world is going on?” he demanded.
“In the name of the divine Goddess,” the oracle started, “begone from this innocent boy and return to the dark trenches of the void, demon!”
“De-demon?” the countess said, stuttering.
“Mercs!” Shirakaya shouted in an uneasy tone, unsheathing her enchanted blade. “Be on your guard!”
“No!” the countess cried out.
The benetarians ignored the superstitious ramblings of the oracle and raised their guns and swords, aiming them at the mercenaries; at least until they heard another inhumyn roar from the boy. Scratch marks burned into the boy’s skin as his body twisted. He roared again, the bed rising and slamming down on its own.
“We’re not equipped for this paranormal shit,” Dojin said.
“I can handle this!” Myris said, noticing Yarasuro take a step forward with his enchanted swords.
She conjured additional runes above the boy. Curtains swayed. Lights flickered as many of the flames were randomly doused. The room darkened. Another roar shook the chamber. The wardrobe toppled. Tiles cracked. Then a divan at the foot of the bed abruptly flew up, smashing through a stained-glass window.
“Vokken!” Shirakaya called out, wincing as pieces of shattered glass dispersed. “Where the hell is Eladoris?”
“I’m afraid she’s not interested in helping at the moment.”
“Fuck the necromancer! We need a damn exorcist for this!” Dojin said.
The benetarians stood frozen, their mouths agape while Myris muttered a telekinetic spell that kept the possessed boy grounded. There was a great deal of resistance. The mask she wore concealed her pale face but could do little to hide the sweat dripping down her forehead. Etching more runes in the air, she approached the drained boy who groaned loudly in response.
Furniture lifted and slammed back onto the ground, splintering on impact. The floor trembled. With the exception of the oracle, everyone briefly lost their footing. They heard a deafening shriek, the noise clawing at the very edges of their sanity. Shirakaya was about to signal her men to attack when the shaking and screaming abruptly stopped.
“What just happened?” she asked.
“It seems to be retracting,” Myris said. “I still sense its presence, but it’s not strong. Wait. I think it’s gone…for now. It’s as if someone or something brought that entity to possess the boy on purpose. I’m just not sure. Wait!” She closed her eyes. “I feel water. It’s dark and dank inside. We’re in a pitch-black passage. They lurk therein, where the flame burns.”
“Have you gone mad, kid?” Dojin blurted.
Shirakaya sheathed her sword and crossed her arms. “Are you insinuating that whatever demonic presence this is may have been summoned from the place in your vision?”
“I don’t know,” Myris said, sounding queasy. “Maybe.”
The freelancer furrowed her brow. “Countess, where was the last place your son was before he succumbed to this swoon?”
“The same location where you landed: Hy’alu Beach. Why?”
“Maybe something happened there. We’ll need to thoroughly investigate the area. Oracle, stay with the boy in case something else stirs. Rah’tera, search the village for potential cultists.” At his nod, she went on, “I’ll return to the shore. The rest of you can reconnoiter beyond the village walls.”
V
Echoes of Pain
Returning to the colony’s outskirts, the mercenaries searched the wild, forested environs for possible clues. Even though Shirakaya’s intention was to make her way back to the shore, she temporarily stayed with Dojin, Xorvaj, and Yarasuro who scouted around the jungle. Weapons raised, the quartet strode east with caution as they passed a flock of jintars—two-legged steeds with a single eye that stretches across their skimpy foreheads. Hooves stomping without grace, the animals encircled Shirakaya and her companions.
“Any chance we can tame these one-eyed freaks?” Dojin asked.
Yarasuro shook his head. “Best we keep our distance from such beasts. Goddess knows how deadly they may be.”
“I agree,” Shirakaya said. “Leave them be.”
“Hmph,” the ghensoth uttered, cleaving one that drew too close to him.
When the jintar fell, its pack stopped circling them and instead attempted to trample on the mercenaries who dodged their movements. Xorvaj cut through another beast, slicing it in half. Using his plasma shotgun, Dojin blasted two of them. The freelancer sulked, annoyed at feeling forced into shooting one of them. As another turned to flee, Yarasuro rolled toward it and sliced its stomach open when it tried jumping out of harm’s way.
Only four remained. They stopped galloping, slowing down in a panic. Snatching the chance, Dojin ported a laser-powered chain via KLD and grabbed one by its fur, swooping on to its back. As he wrapped the chain around its throat, it let out a bawl. The more it resisted, the more he tightened his grip. Fear took over and the beast relented, allowing him to remain on its back. Shirakaya and Yarasuro saw it submit and copied Dojin’s actions. Xorvaj grumbled, approaching one of them. It took a step back, afraid of him. When he growled, howeve
r, the jintar lowered itself for him to mount.
“That’s more like it,” he said.
“I must admit,” Yarasuro began while gripping his jintar, “I’m impressed with how you improvise, Dojin.”
The renegade gave him a sly grin. “Where to?”
“That would be up to Shira.”
Shirakaya gave her bodyguard a look of respect. “I want the three of you to meet up with Rah’tera and investigate the vicinity of the village. There’s little we know and a lot at stake. We need to get serious and ask questions.”
“Can’t we just kill them all?” the ghensoth asked.
Shirakaya laughed, convincing herself that his words were nothing more than a demented joke. Jintars at their command, they galloped their separate ways: the mercenary brutes rode to the village while Shirakaya went on to Hy’alu Beach. With the jintar galloping at such a fast pace, the freelancer reached the water in no time. Riding onward, she passed Marauder and cantered along the coastline where the waves crashed against the shore.
After traveling for a while, she saw an open passage with fewer rocks. Shirakaya followed the footpath, which led her to a beach. At this point, the starship was far behind her. It barely remained visible, blanketed by a thick mist. She looked back only once and continued farther down the beach that was littered with an array of colorful seashells.
Spotting a wide mound ahead, Shirakaya approached. She soon noticed the beach’s end, a wilderness of scattered trees taking its place and stretching off into the distance. Just before reaching the mound, Shirakaya heard a familiar voice shout out her name. She turned and fixed her eyes on Lady Niksa who was seated on her hover-bike.
“Don’t think for a second that you’re a better freelancer than me,” she said, wielding a laser rifle. “I will have my revenge.”
Shirakaya dismounted her jintar, knowing it couldn’t outrun the vehicle. “So, you’re a stalker?”
“How did you do it?” Niksa said, scowling. “Hypnotism? Magic? Yes, of course it was magic. There’s no logical explanation as to why the benetarian princess would follow the likes of you.”
“No one is obligated to follow me. We believe in each other and work as a team. Only by working together will we defeat the koth’vurians.”
“Liar!” Niksa shouted, maintaining a steady aim as she approached her target. “You somehow put a hex on the princess. As for these people, they would never willingly hire scum like you!”
“You can’t be that ignorant and naive. Myris’ own people abandoned her. My crew and I accepted her with open arms.”
“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” Niksa cried out.
Maintaining her guard, she reached her target. At close range, she dropped her gun and reached out for Shirakaya. No longer being held at gunpoint, Shirakaya felt strangely relieved, even more so as she felt the other freelancer’s soft lips against hers. They embraced one another, dropped to the sand, and rapidly removed each other’s clothes.
“You can’t leave me,” Niksa whispered, using her tongue to please her lover below the waist. “I own you.”
“Nobody owns me,” Shirakaya managed to utter, her body tingling.
“You’re mine. And I am yours. We need each other.”
Shirakaya moaned, letting her would-be competitor pleasure her. Legs spread, she lay on the ground and surrendered her body to Lady Niksa who behaved as though she was possessed by a spirit of lust—if such an entity actually existed. Shirakaya closed her eyes, expecting a lot more pleasure when, instead, she unwillingly heard a faint voice of what seemed to be the prince weeping.
“Stop,” Shirakaya uttered, finding it difficult to push away. “Please stop. I hear something…”
“What?”
Turning around, Shirakaya gazed at an ark-shaped seashell. Though she hesitated at first, she grabbed the shell and pressed it against her ear, surprised to hear the countess’s son crying from within. The same sobbing repeated, at which point Shirakaya switched shells. However, she heard nothing in the others around her.
“Listen to this.”
Niksa reluctantly complied, picking up the first seashell her lover had examined. “I’ll be damned, an echoic igsus. Not many left.”
“I thought all of them were igsuses.”
“No,” Niksa said flatly. “An igsus takes refuge in a shell like this. But most of them eventually get eaten by frincraws—nasty little critters that live in the sand and come out when the tide rises. Looks like you got lucky. Really lucky.”
“Something’s not right. It sounded as though the boy was here recently and yet he’s in the bedchamber with the countess as we speak. Where else is there to search?”
“Hmmm…Brye Ves’Kor Island?”
“This is really bothering me,” Shirakaya said, activating her KLD. “Vokken, release the ZX-9000 and notify everyone except Myris to rendezvous by the tank.” “Affirmative.”
“Wait a minute,” Niksa said, frowning. “You’re leaving? Again? We may be freelancers, but there’s more to life than completing a mission. Don’t I mean anything to you?”
Shirakaya sighed. “You know what’s at stake. The countess’s son is in danger. You’re more than welcome to join me. After all, the Guild Master assigned you to the same mission. With or without you, I need to investigate.”
“I am my own leader. I’ll do as I please. Go check your precious lead. I have my own to follow-up on, and it’s far more solid than the stupid sounds of an echoic igsus.”
Shirakaya shook her head. She swooped back on her jintar and galloped off.
VI
Necropolis
The mercenaries met up with their leader in front of Marauder, where the ZX-9000 was parked. They entered the heavy tank, Xorvaj activating it. In the meantime, Shirakaya explained to them how she had found an echoic igsus by accident. However, she decided to skip the details of being intimate with Lady Niksa.
“So, you decided to go on a midnight stroll along the beach by yourself and happened to stumble upon an echoic…whatever the fuck it’s called?”
Unable to contain his amused expression, Yarasuro hid his face from the group.
The freelancer, on the contrary, glared at the renegade. “Why do you have to be such an asshole all the time?”
Dojin smirked. “But that’s why you can’t resist me.”
“I heard the boy crying. An echoic igsus won’t mimic lamenting sounds for more than a couple of hours. He must be here somewhere. I say we investigate that island to the north. It’s the only other nearby place we’ve yet to search.”
Transforming the tank into a hovercraft, Xorvaj drove it across the ocean and made his way north toward the isle of Brye Ves’Kor. Trees sprang from the ocean, their crystallized branches littered with fungi. Water cascaded from several trees whose bark contained natural holes. Xorvaj avoided them with ease until reaching a dense water forest.
With caution, he glided past the cluster of water trees. The mercenaries eventually came across purple- and black-striped, gelatinous lifeforms that were wrapped around the boughs of the water forest. One in particular clung to an arched branch, its long neck drooping down in an attempt to sniff the tank. Xorvaj unexpectedly submerged the tank for a brief moment instead of shooting it.
“Are you getting soft on me, Xorvaj?” Shirakaya asked.
The ghensoth snorted. “Don’t hold your breath. Sensors show chemicals in their bodies that could cause explosions if shot with the wrong firepower.”
“Good catch,” Yarasuro said.
“Yeah,” the renegade agreed. “I would’ve definitely blown us up.”
Passing the oceanic forest, Shadow Mercs reached the island’s coast. Xorvaj decelerated, driving the hover tank onto the myrtle-colored sand. Just before leaving the shoreline behind, he landed. Without delay, the mercenaries exited the ZX-9000 and made their way through a jungle where an outcrop of rocks stood on either side.
“Be on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary,” Shirakaya said.
The mercenaries nodded. As they progressed, a chorus of insects filled their ears. An array of colorful plants surrounded them, interspersed with multiple trees and vines. At times, Yarasuro sliced through toxic-looking flora that blocked their path. Although the jungle was dense, Shirakaya and her comrades remained vigilant.
Moving ahead, the mutant heard faint voices. He stopped and listened intently. After a few seconds, he decided to pursue the sounds. Walking southwest, Yarasuro noticed an unusual cluster of vines and gestured the others to follow him. Upon further inspection, they found what appeared to be a grotto nestled into the rocks behind a multitude of faux vines.
“Sands of Balvon, how did you spot this?” Rah’tera inquired.
“Dude, look at his eyes. Let alone his face,” Dojin responded.
“Point taken.”
Considering how benetarians reacted to magic and superstition, Yarasuro didn’t feel bad kicking a bed of candles aside. He then gripped a religious-looking female statue that had twelve arms, toppling it in the process. Nothing but a wall of rocks greeted the mercenaries. The mutant snorted, extending an arm towards the ghensoth who took the hint and rammed himself through the cracked boulders that crumbled into dust on impact.
“Bitchin’,” the renegade said.
Shirakaya cleared her throat. “Nice work, gentlemen,” she said, unsheathing her ghanis blade. “You know the deal, mercs: weapons out and charged.”
With anticipation lodged in their guts, the quintet followed the torch-lit footpath that curved and brought them downward. As they descended through the spiral passage, they heard whispers in another tongue. Anxiety festering in his pounding heart, Dojin sprinted down the flickering cavity and opened fire.
“Party’s over, assholes!”
To his surprise, his plasma shells had zero effect on the sextet. Only an open sarcophagus was damaged, revealing a screaming boy. Fury on her face, Shirakaya rushed down and assisted the reckless renegade, along with her other comrades. A barrage of beams flew across the chamber, followed by a salvo of fireballs and bolts of lightning that had been conjured by the female cultists.
