by O. J. Lowe
That made up his mind for him. All he really needed was contact and…
… Jaws clamped around his elbow, pressure cracking down, painpainpainpain…
… Go…
Normally claiming a spirit into a crystal could be a placid affair. The trick was to beat them down, not kill them, but render them helpless enough to not put up a fight. It took a bit of practice at first, like anything, but soon judging it became second nature. Of course, doing it when they weren’t helpless and massively pissed off…
Yeah… Mistake.
Initiating contact, it was like plunging his head into a boiling hot vat of water, the pain rushing through the very core of his being far crushed any physical pain he’d suffered, burned bad, fire in his skull, acid running through his blood. His bones felt like they’d been reduced to hot wax melting in an instant. He choked, felt the bile rising in his throat, he wanted to let it go, break out there. It’d destroy him if he didn’t, burn him all up in one sudden swoop…
He couldn’t. While he was struggling with the one-eyed wolf, it couldn’t kill him. He hadn’t been wrong in his count; one eye had been closed shut by a great crescent scar from ear to jaw. He could see that now, see it in all his glory as they took the battle from the physical level where the beast had the advantage, to the spiritual where he could level out the playing field. You didn’t survive in the wild without something. And he could feel it on the wolf. That force of nature, the will to survive, the power to dominate the pack… Huh, leader of the pack. That was fine, he was the leader of his own pack, a pack much tougher than a bunch of stupid wild dogs. He was Theobald fucking Jameson and an overgrown pup wasn’t doing for him.
This had to hurt it just as much as it was hurting him. All he had to do was hold out, if you couldn’t beat it, last the distance and out bear it. Theo struggled, tried to find something to get a metaphorical foothold into, something he could grab onto and not let go. There had to be a way, there was always a way, just a matter of finding it, beating down on it until something gave…
It broke, just as quickly as he’d forced the connection, he was rudely brought back to consciousness, found his jaw aching, body feeling like one massive bruise. The forest still echoed with the sound of his screams, yells of agony and anguish he hadn’t heard while under. Griz let out a proud roar, the one-eyed wolf collapsed in a heap at the base of a tree, beaten and bloody, one leg broken he could count, could see the bone protruding through torn flesh.
“Good, Griz,” he said, struggling up to his feet. He let out a wince, checked himself for any injuries. He’d get checked out next town he came to. For now, he’d have to continue. No point resting, the way he felt right now, sitting down meant he might not get back up. If they’d attacked once, it was a good bet they’d do it again given a chance. Passed out in the forest, they’d rip him to pieces. Time to walk quickly. But not before one thing. That bastard wolf had tried to kill him. He staggered over, moved to the still body and placed a hand on its neck.
“You’re mine now,” he grinned. His other hand brought out an empty container crystal; he placed it against One Eye’s fur and started to idly trace motions into it. Allowing himself to feel that moment of superiority over something that had been so strong a moment ago and was now so much weaker than him, it brought up mixed emotions, disgust mingling with his triumph. He shouldn’t enjoy this.
It only took a second to take the soul, to draw everything that made it what it was from the beast, but it felt like a lifetime. It wasn’t going to fight. It couldn’t. Simplest take he’d ever made. The body was probably already dying, wouldn’t take long.
He called Eight Eyes back, summoned the spirit into its crystal and made the gesture to Griz.
“I need a ride,” he said, looking the bear square on. He wouldn’t have minded it if it were in the eyes. He had to crane his neck back. “Drop. Now!”
To say the bear didn’t look impressed was an understatement, it eyed him the way it might once have looked at a salmon. It never would have attacked him. Spirits couldn’t seriously harm the person who controlled them. They could be directed to inflict suffering on other people, but not the person who’d claimed them, at least not directly. If they were poisonous and accidentally bit you… Well, it was always a good idea to carry around anti-venom.
“Drop!”
That wasn’t to say they couldn’t be stubborn shits when they wanted to. Any sign of weakness and they’d slack off. They still did have a mind of their own. And it was up to the caller to drill that out of them. Looks like Griz hadn’t quite been informed yet, despite their time together.
“Griz.” Calm, cold, commanding. “Drop!”
The bear bent down, sniffed at his face. He could smell the breath on his face, could see the teeth. The roar came, he didn’t even flinch. Theo raised an eyebrow. “You done yet? Because I don’t want to spend longer here than I have to!” He didn’t raise his voice, just put a more forceful tone into it. “Come on, down. We’re getting out of here.”
He’d ridden Griz before. Once. As the great beast dropped in front of him, he managed to hop onto his back, grimacing at the pain stabbing into his back as he settled as best he could. He grabbed handfuls of fur to serve as security against falling, patted Griz on the neck. It felt awkward doing it. Like he was acquiescing to the stubborn behaviour, rewarding the rebellion. He balled his hand into a fist, debated it. Doing it would be stupid. A spirit didn’t like to harm its own caller, they were subservient to them after all. Most of them did bear a modicum of self-preservation. It didn’t mean Griz wouldn’t bite his fist off if he punched the irate bear to prove a point. Besides, he had done a good job. Well, satisfactory, what had been demanded of him. To go for anything more would be overstating the point.
“Don’t make a habit of it,” he warned, not quite jabbing a finger into the bear’s neck but the point was made. “Let’s get out of here.”
Those damn wolves were still there in the trees, stalking him, seeking out any hint of an opening to attack. He could hear them, Griz could sense them. The growls rippling from the great throat in front of him sent vibrations through his entire body. Right now, that was keeping them at bay. They’d been beaten, he’d claimed their leader, they surely knew they couldn’t survive a head on confrontation with him. There weren’t many left, he didn’t want to wipe the entire pack out, but he would if he had to. Hatred wasn’t something he felt for them but at the same time, he wanted to keep living. Mercy wasn’t in his nature.
Couldn’t give them a chance then. The rain was starting to intensify, water sluiced his face and neck, running down his shirt. He could feel gooseflesh rising across his chest, forced down a shiver and urged Griz to hurry. The wind bit through the holes in his jacket and shirt, it felt like the bites on his back were bleeding again. The pain was sharp if he moved too quickly, something he made a vow to try and avoid as often as possible. He gritted his teeth together, ground them in attempt to ignore the discomfort. Not an easy task. Anything to stop them chattering. Griz wasn’t bothered. That big thick coat left him relatively comfortable.
Lucky bastard bear, he thought to himself.
That was when he saw it in the distance for the first time, a bright light in the darkness, permeating through the murk and the trees, shining brighter by the second. It hurt his eyes, made to shield them with his forearm.
What is that?! He almost said it aloud, shocked. Something wasn’t quite right there. Other people? Perhaps. It was about the only explanation that sprang to mind. Typical. Abandoned road, apparently not a soul for miles and he’d run into them. Maybe some sort of light spirit…
That made him pause for thought. You didn’t see those things every day. Rare bastards, they were. All sorts of strange and mysterious powers, the sort of which few had the ability to deal with. It would be remiss of him not to even investigate. Let it never be said he failed to grab a possible opportunity.
“Griz! Forward!” he barked, kicking his heels ag
ainst the bear’s side, his boots scuffing roughly against the shaggy fur. Griz let out a disgruntled growl, barely audible above the humming threat of thunder, and made like he wanted to rise onto his hind legs and dislodge his rider straight into the mud. “Don’t even think about it!”
Something in his voice, almost as cold as his skin, must have made the bear think better of it, he padded forward ponderously. Theo pulled his coat up further around his neck and tried to suppress down a shiver. It had started to rain again.
The closer he got, the more gradual the feeling started to build up in the pit of his stomach, a twitch of uncertainty niggling to him how just maybe this wasn’t the best idea. Something gnawed at him, something indescribable. He wasn’t used to acknowledging bad feeling and he didn’t like it. Maybe that was why he didn’t turn back. He wasn’t going to let it get the better of him. It’d be bad form for him to get used to backing away from bad feelings.
Even Griz looked affected. The normally bad-tempered bear was only plodding forward with reluctance, slowly sloping through the trees towards the light.
“Griz, faster,” he muttered. He hoped his own unease didn’t show in his voice. “Now!”
It didn’t do any good. If anything, the reverse. Griz barged through the next line of trees and came to a complete stop in the shadows of the light. Deep down, although he’d never vocalise it, Theo couldn’t blame the bear. He found himself too frozen to the spot to apportion blame about, the sight before him sending shivers down his spine.
Something huge and yellow, almost indecipherable in shape because of the sheer size of it hovered in front of him. How nobody else had ever seen it before, he didn’t know. It was bigger than some buildings he’d seen, looming in the darkness like something primal and vengeful. He felt miniscule compared to the mass of the being high above him, thousands of tiny sparks dancing about two giant wings where the rain spattered against them…
Holy mother of…
Was that a beak? It looked more like a sword, a golden sword the size of the average mag-rail train. The feathers were jagged, lightning shaped and like nothing he’d ever seen before. Wicked talons twisted from stunted feet, gouging at empty air. Then there were the eyes, fiery white with beady intent. It looked at him with interest, let out a squawk reminiscent of thunder ripping through the sky.
He took a step back, hands out in front of him as if they could protect him. He gulped, fought back the urge to let out a yell of fear, every ounce of control he had not to let that scream go. The terror rushed through him; he had no thought of fighting, just getting to the idea of fleeing. Fighting it would be suicide, running wouldn’t get him anywhere. If he ran, it’d get him. There was no way he could outrun it. He was dead. The thing had a pair of wings the size of speeders; it’d be nothing for it to catch him.
Holding the scream in finally proved too much of an effort, he let it go, a strangled yelp of fear. It’d be on him now, surely…
Except, it wasn’t. It wasn’t paying him any attention. As much as he didn’t like being ignored, it felt too much of a lucky break to turn down. Griz vanished, swept back into the crystal and he ran off into the trees.
True story, he’d never run so fast or for so long. By the time he’d stopped, the trees had thinned out and he could see the road again. The blessed road. For the first time, he glanced back into the forest, the way he’d come. Nothing. Whatever it was, it was long gone. He wasn’t ashamed to breathe a sigh of relief, hard to avoid feeling like he’d gotten lucky. There’d been a moment when escape hadn’t looked a possibility, he could have died out there. Not just from the bird, but the wolves.
Divines!
Lucky bastard, he thought, shaking his head.
It took him several hours to make the next town, a small sleepy place he wasn’t even going to try and find the name for. He didn’t care, all he wanted was what it could do for him. He’d had a hot meal, seen an emergency doctor about his back wounds, he’d been stitched up, given a tetanus and now his body ached something awful. His eyes felt heavy, knew he needed sleep, something he wanted more than anything. There’d be time to sleep later though, he had places to be and the aeroport awaited him. Carcaradis Island beckoned him, it wouldn’t hold on for him; he wasn’t going to miss out on it because he needed sleep. Even now he had the chance, he felt his mind drifting back to what he’d seen. That bird… Could it have been? Nah, surely not. Couldn’t be. The Divines didn’t exist. Whatever it was, it hadn’t been one of those. Surely a wild spirit. Maybe a thunderbird. Maybe he hadn’t been alone out there, another caller close by. Maybe. Too many guesses, not enough to be sure, just as sure as he knew his heart hammered in his chest at the memories.
He could see the building ahead of him; it’d be a short ride. Just a little longer and he could rest. Every footstep brought about fresh longing; he hid more than one yawn until finally he stepped into the aeroport. It wasn’t a large terminal, but it’d do. Next ship out to Vazara, half an hour away. Perfect timing.
He paid his ticket and walked across to where it sat motionless, not the only one in the queue. Maybe they were all going to the Quin-C as well. Maybe one day soon they’d tell their families about how they travelled out with the winner. He grinned, despite the pain in his body, the memories of the doctor warning him to be more careful. His grin fell as rapidly as it had appeared. That’d mean people stopping him in the street, autographs, challenges, having to be nice to fucktarded strangers…
Theo stared up at the transport longingly. That thought didn’t make a difference to what he wanted to do. Just how he might have to go about it. When he won, he’d buy a hat, glasses and change his hair colour, keep his identity blurred.
He removed his coat, immediately felt the chill stab into his skin. He folded it up, tossed it in the closest trashcan without hesitating. He wasn’t going to need it anymore; the back ruined under his new spirit’s teeth. Next time he was in colder climes; he’d get a new one. One eyed bastard!
Right now, he needed sleep more than anything. Already they were boarding, he presented his ticket to the stewardess and sloped into his seat. It wasn’t comfortable, he’d paid cheapest but it was a seat damnit, way more comfortable than standing. Fastening his belt together, he shifted to get comfortable, didn’t remember dropping off.
Chapter Five. The Great Statue.
“It’s more than a statue. It’s a symbol of hope. And I want people reminded wherever they go in this kingdom, hope will have a way of finding them, because without hope, we have nothing.”
Reiko Masuda, Head of the Burykian Divine Conclave.
The tenth day of Summerdawn.
So, this was Hoko… A place he’d never been before and more than likely probably never would again. Ah, he’d seen worse places. Smelling that fresh country air for a change was refreshing, a lingering scent in the breeze that could be described as pleasant if he was honest. Scott was a city boy at heart, being this close to nature always brought mixed emotions, some about the idea of freedom, some about being away from everything that was familiar.
Still, getting off the aeroship felt great. Roomy, they were not, the three of them had been cramped up together for hours, the air was a welcome exchange from having his nose rammed into Pete’s shoulder. Stretching his limbs felt great as he wandered down the stairs, his hands dropping to the cold metal of the rail, felt the loose flecks of paint underneath his palm. All that time and they were still only halfway there. Worse, it wasn’t like they’d done the stopover in any of the interesting areas of Burykia. The cities in this whole kingdom were vibrant sprawling metropolises in which you couldn’t throw a stone without hitting something to do. He’d been here months now and barely scratched the surface. For a small country, probably the smallest of the five kingdoms according to census, there was a stupid amount of stuff to do. That was probably true of everywhere but here it was really in your face, hard to avoid.
Out here on the surface of it, this place was an ass-end of nowhere. Jus
t a small town sleepwalking its way out of memory. The aeroship refuelling spot was about the only remarkable thing here and given how popular a method of travel it was, that just about said it all. By his guess, there were a few stores, an inn or two, a whole lot of those exotic looking Burykian huts made from stuff that looked like paper, and a statue. A big statue but too distant to make out from here. Didn’t even look like there’d be any indigenous wildlife he could make a play for. Still, with the tournament ahead, it wasn’t the best time to take on a new challenge.
Six hours to refuel, restock and move on. Six hours of nothing. Privately he was sure they didn’t need to take that long, but it was what it was. Six hours was what they’d been told, and six hours was what they were going to have to pass. Damnit though, he hated waiting.
“So,” Pete said. “Food?”
“Seems like the least we can do,” Jess said. She didn’t sound pleased about being stuck here either. For that, Scott felt a flicker of amusement, found it funny they felt the same way. Great minds alike and all that. Amusement was replaced with warm fuzziness, a sensation becoming more and more uncommon these days. They still thought alike. How awesome was that? Maybe things weren’t as bad as they looked. He had a beautiful girlfriend who loved him, that’s what she told him, shared a lot of the same interests and was coming with him to the biggest event of the year. Of any year, really. It sounded like a lie, even in his head, he didn’t know who he was trying to fool.
“Reckon we can get something from home?” he wondered. “Because I’m getting sick of the local stuff.”
“Wait until we hit Carcaradis Island,” Pete said. “You ever eat Vazaran food? Prepare to have your ass blown out the first time.” He made an expanding gesture with his hands as he spoke, a roguish grin on his face as he winked at Jesseka.
“Lovely,” Jess said sarcastically. “You know; I knew there was a reason I didn’t miss him travelling around with you.”
