The Wielder: Sworn Vengeance (The Wielder Series)

by Gosnell, David

  Pffif is next. He of course, is a bit shocked at the revelation of who our host is, but after explaining he now has a drinking buddy, he relaxes a bit. Znuul holds out the bottle of vodka to him and that gets a smile from the little guy, who steps over to take the offered bottle and a gulp that makes Znuul’s look small. He hands the bottle back and turns to me with a burp, “Right good hospitality.” Then he jumps up on the sofa to take a seat next to Znuul and Kitten. “So, ye be havin an imposter do ye?”

  Znuul smiles at him and toasts him with the bottle, takes a pull and hands it over to the little guy again. Good politic on Z’s part.

  I bring out Vets next and there is no fanfare, she just looks at me from behind her death’s head skull helmet and says, “I presume we are safe?” After telling her "yes" - we get a “good” from her and she stands over to the side. That’s my Vets.

  Silithes follows. She appears and her eyes glance over Znuul, Kitten and the rapidly becoming inebriated Pffiferil. Then she turns to me, “Good, you’re okay.” She looks back to Znuul, “You rescued us?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who’s the cutey?”

  Znuul introduces Kitten to Sil and Kitten excitedly proclaims her pettness. That gets a big smile from Sil who glides over to them and gives Kitten a big hug and lingering kiss on the cheek. She tells her “I think you must be the best pet ever.”

  "Thank you!” says Kitten followed by proclaiming, "I like her." I guess there’s nothing like validation. Sil slinks back by me to the other sofa, stopping to whisper at me, “You have a pet too.”

  Znuul leans in. “He’s still not giving you what you need, is he dear?”

  Sil shakes her head “no” with a sarcastic smirk.

  Big Z’s eye trains back on me again and I know what’s coming. I take a deep breath and mutter “okay, let’s hear it.”

  That gets a brief laugh out of Znuul, “You really need to think about giving that poor succubus what she needs.”

  “She has what she needs, Z, just not what she wants.”

  “You see what I have to deal with,” is Sil’s contribution to the subject complete with a rolling of her green alligator like eyes as she sits in the plush leather sofa across from Znuul.

  Znuul cracks a huge smile, takes another swig off the now almost empty bottle, hands it to Pffif, wraps a huge arm around kitten’s tiny waist and readdresses the subject “Brother, you have no idea what you are missing out on. That wonderful creature there can do things the pixie could only fantasize about doing. You know…”

  “Shut up!” Shey’s off the sofa and is standing between Znuul and me in a flash. “Arthur doesn’t need a skanky succubus. He loves me! We’re getting married and adopting babies.”

  My face goes blank in shock – I’m what? The room goes silent. Pffif drops the bottle - and that never happens. Even Ahtsag Znuul himself is silent for a moment. I can only imagine the look on Sil’s face.

  This silence is broken by Pffif’s scurry for the bottle and a muttering of, “Toads and snakes.”

  Znuul’s composure now regained, he looks away from Sheyliene to me. “Congratulations Arthur, it’s a great thing, you making an honest girl out of her – I’m invited to the wedding, right?” He looks back at Sheyliene, “A Spring wedding would be most beautiful wouldn’t it?”

  I’ve heard enough and Znuul egging her on isn’t helping. “There’s no wedding and we are not adopting babies.”

  This statement gets Shey’s attention. She spins around with a look on her face that says shock. “But I thought...”

  “You thought wrong. I mean, I have love for you – you know that. But I am not re-marrying. And adopting?” I sit there with my jaws slack and head shaking “no”.

  Shey stands there with a wounded look on her face; her eyes blinking in reflection processing the information just given to her. I turn my head towards Sil and she’s just shaking her head in disbelief. She catches my glance and gives me a shrug.

  “Little bit, you need to do a better job of separating your fantasy world from the real world," Sil says. "Come sit back down before you embarrass yourself more.” Sil pats the sofa invitingly next to her.

  Shey is caught in paralysis, looking at me and then at the sofa. “Maybe you need to sit down,” I offer. She takes my advice, but makes sure to sit on the opposite end of the sofa from Sil.

  “That leaves one more” I announce. I touch the glyph for Arix and call him forth. With the customary ripple in the air, he appears. He opens his third eye, scanning the room, stopping on me with his know it all smile. “Ah, either we’ve defected to the other side, or the Devourer of Souls and Destroyer of Hope has an imposter.”

  Znuul casually ushers Kitten off his lap and stands. Arix regards him, that know-it-all grin still on his face. Znuul returns the grin and takes a large casual stride towards him. With a suddenness not expected for one of his size he palms Arix’s head, lifting him from the ground. Znuul’s fingers and hand begin to turn their “normal” color of dark purple as they dig into Arix’s pale white flesh. Arix, in panic is flailing about. Then just as suddenly as he grabbed him, Znuul crushes Arix’s head. Arix stops flailing about and begins liquefying and turning to steam the way my summonlings do when they are killed.

  Znuul stands there for a brief moment then turns back to look me in the eyes.

  “That one is not welcome in my house.”

  Chapter 31

  I very carefully extricate myself from Shey, who is snuggled up next to me still asleep. Despite my telling her that we need to take some time apart after finding out that we’re engaged and adopting babies, I caved in to her pleading of “I neeeeed you,” and crying eyes.

  What a sucker.

  We’ve been Znuul’s “guest” for five days now. It hasn’t been too bad except for the fact that this will make the fifth day that I’m wearing these clothes. They are beginning to take on a life of their own; especially the tee-shirt and underwear. I may have to go commando. It makes me wish for a doppelganger sighting soon.

  After slipping on my pants and dress shirt as quietly as I can, I silently slip out the door. It’s very early, but breakfast is needed and at least Znuul keeps the bunker very well stocked. In addition to the large refrigerator in the kitchen, there’s another one along with a pair of deep freezers in the garage. Bunker indeed, I think our host is a doomsday prepper; but at least he keeps civilized rations. Smoked salmon and bagels are calling loudly and asking that their friend Mr. Coffee join the party.

  I get past the island bar area of the kitchen and the oversized red door down the hall leading to Znuul’s bedroom opens. Out slinks Sil wearing a tent that I am guessing would be one of Znuul’s tee shirts. She literally freezes in place upon seeing me, standing there with eyes wide and some kind of alien expression. After a second or two I break the awkward silence with a cheery “Good morning!” and then make tracks into the kitchen for my breakfast.

  First stop for me is coffee. I grab a coffee bag and put it in the maker and am about to press the brew button when I hear Sil declare, “Princess was a little loud last night.” I hit the button and turn around. Sil isn’t waiting for a reply - she’s just making a bee-line towards her room.

  “Guess so,” I reply quietly to her back as she moves on. Upon a little reflection, Shey was a little more exuberant than usual. And that look on Sil’s face, like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Since when did she give a flip about anything that anyone thought? I dismiss all of it as the wanderings of a mind that needs coffee.

  And boy do I.

  I grab a mug out of the cabinet, fill it before the pot is fully brewed, putting the cup under the stream. Next up, bagel.

  “Good man, making the coffee,” comes Znuul’s deep voice from the hall. I’m not the only early riser in the bunker, apparently. I grab another large mug and fill it. When he rounds the corner I hand it to him, which gleans a smile from his beastly face – I guess the need to appear human has passed.

 
; “Such service.”

  “Right place, right time brother Znuul”

  He takes his coffee and walks around the kitchen bar so not to crowd me while I prepare my much needed breakfast. "A bagel for you too sir?" I ask to be courteous.

  “Surely," he replies.

  “So much for taking a break, eh? I hear your pixie put on quite the show last night.” Even though my back was turned to him working on breakfast I could still imagine the lascivious wink that went along with it.

  “Yes, I caved in.”

  “So, the wedding’s back on?”

  My shoulders sag at that and I turn around to face my brother in revenge. “No wedding. No adoptions. You want capers on your bagel?”

  He tells me, “yes please.”

  I turn and finish preparing our breakfast. I slide his over the island to him, grab the coffee pot, set it down on a hand towel and settle into my own breakfast. It is quite a comment on my life that eating a civilized breakfast with a huge, purple-black winged and horned demon creature seems ordinary.

  Hunter leaps up on the chair next to Znuul and puts his front paws on the kitchen bar. Znuul tears of a piece of smoked salmon and tosses it in front of him. Hunter looks over at me and I pay salmon tribute to him too. It is his bunker after all… After hunter scarfs up his treats, Znuul gives him a scratch and then turns his gaze back to me with a smirk.

  “So, what did you do to that succubus to have her even a little bit concerned about being seen leaving my quarters?”

  That puts a puzzled look on my face – she was what? “Nothing,” is all I can think to say.

  Znuul nods back at me knowingly, then cracks that car dealer smile. “Ah, maybe that means you should be doing something. Just ask Kitten, Silithes did a real number on her last night. I doubt she’ll be up for a while in between the two of us…”

  “Enough already,” I say interrupting and holding up a hand. “I don’t care for details other than knowing your pet is going to be okay.”

  “Sil played nice. Kitten is quite alright and was happy when she drifted off. Back to point, you should bed that succubus. You have no idea what she could do for you, not to mention what you you’d do to her as her wielder.”

  I could argue, goodness knows it would be something to do instead of watching TV while waiting for Z’s doppelganger to show. Instead I just give him the dead eye stare I use to get Sil to back off.

  Funny, doesn’t work as well on him - he just laughs and mocks my stare back at me.

  We share a laugh and agree to disagree. Znuul refreshes his coffee and heads off to his office to see if there were any sightings on the DVRs or newsfeeds. His office is rather cool, it reminds me of Edgar’s – multiple televisions on the walls, a hefty computer rig, huge desk and glass meeting table.

  I consider following him, but a little quiet is a good thing too, so I take my mug to the cavern sized living area and plop down on a sofa. Over the course of the last five days, Znuul’s shared a good deal of information with me – apparently he has put together a rather potent intelligence network in a relatively short time. Impressive. We’ve shared some conjecture about the mole in the Protectorate. Znuul’s opinion is that Alistair is dirty and can’t be trusted.

  Apparently that was Grey’s point of view too. Or so Znuul tells me.

  I enjoy the solitude and coffee. The quiet is nice, but not long lasting. I hear Znuul’s office door open, I look over towards that hallway at the other side of the kitchen. I’m not disappointed. Znuul has his grin on.

  “Round up the troops Mac, we weren’t the only ones having fun last night.”

  Chapter 32

  I knock on all the doors and yell "Get to the office for news!" Hjuul is roaming the big open space of the garage. I open the door and find him waiting patiently. Dog hearing - obviously. He trots in and makes his way towards the office. I follow my hound.

  I figure the best place to sit is one of the two chairs in front of Znuul’s desk. You have to figure that those are the hot-seats. They are large, comfy and swivel. I’ve come to appreciate our host’s taste in furniture. Hjuul plops down in the middle of the floor

  I lean into Znuul’s desk, “So, where did you appear this time?” That comment gets me a toothful grin.

  “You are so impatient. Wait, the others are coming.”

  We are joined by a groggy Pffiferil who takes the other seat in front of Znuul’s glass desk.

  “I take it we donna have to be cooped up no more?”

  “Maybe,” is Znuul’s teasingly resonant reply punctuated by his trademark oversized grin.

  Vets arrives and Sheyliene is right behind her. Neither sit down. Vets, because she’s at attention, arms clasped behind her back and Shey, because she doesn’t want to sit in a room with Znuul.

  “Good enough” Znuul announces. He picks up a pad and punches it, actions being reflected on the screen. The various televisions spring to life, some with different feeds broken into quadrants. All of them are reporting the attack at Akshardham, in Delhi India.

  The carnage is unspeakable. Though the news commentators seem to prove that wrong, describing every detail they can with zeal. Reporting on tragedy, after all, is the business of news and as of lately, business is good.

  Znuul punches the pad and the screens go blank. He stands up.

  “So, do any of you still have doubts about my lack of involvement in these matters?”

  Nobody has anything to say – except Shey. “Well maybe you weren’t there. But you are still General Znuul and you can’t be trusted.”

  Znuul’s face scrunches. “Anyone else?” he asks as he looks around the room.

  None of us respond, so Znuul puts his hand on the wall and mutters a phrase that results in a cascade of red glyphs appearing about the walls. “You all are free to come and go as you please. I know new clothes are needed.”

  The look he throws at me lets me know I am every bit as ripe as I thought I was.

  Heads turn as Sil almost enters the room. She makes it as far as the doorway. Cradling a large mug of coffee and still wearing Znuul’s huge tee-shirt, knotted at the collar to keep it from falling off, she says “We’re free now?”

  “You are,” is Znuul’s resonant response.

  “Good, I’m tired of that damned corset.” With that Sil saunters over to me and holds out her hand. Translation: credit card, please.

  I go for my wallet but am stopped by Znuul’s calm, deep voice.

  “You’re dead and need to stay that way Arthur. Purchases will put you on the grid. All shopping is on me.”

  Sil turns her attention to Znuul and arches an eyebrow. “Good enough. When do we go?”

  “When Kitten is ready.”

  That gets a “hhmph” from her succubusness as she turns to leaves us all as we were.

  “I have to chuckle, but my chuckle is interrupted by Znuul’s proclamation “Now we speak of serious things.”

  That statement gets everyone’s attention.

  As he punches on the pad, Znuul brings up a map of the world and looks at me. “You may have heard of the walker – a gentleman that appeared around the Mideast proclaiming that the gates of hell would be opened and all the non-believers would be cast down. Here’s what we know of where this guy appeared.”

  The map begins to spring yellow dots where the walker appeared. He certainly covered some territory.

  “Now, what’s funny is that Jalal - 'The Lion' Bahar, a known terrorist and instigator seems to follow our friend the walker.” Znuul touches the pad and all the yellow dots disappear. “Now, watch this... yellow is the watcher and red is Jalal.”

  He punches the pad and a yellow dot appears. He punches it again and a red appears in the same area. He keeps punching and the same pattern continues.

  “Within one week, Jalal is there after the walker fanning the flames of conflict. Almost without fail. And always, like I said, stirring up trouble.”

  Vets speaks up. “The human Jalal is our target then?�
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  That gets a huge grin from our host. “Yes, lady Vets - you are correct. We acquire him, interrogate him and find out where the walker can be found. Because the walker is most likely none other than old Maldy himself.”

  “Damn!” I shout out. It all makes sense. “What are we waiting for?”

  “Confirmation of Jalal’s current location.”

  That makes sense too. “How long until we can find him?”

  That gets a shrug from the big purple-black beast and I understand now we will have to wait for intelligence.

  “Glad to see you’re excited at the prospects though Artie. You know, we do have a real lead. Why Alistair and The Protectorate don’t choose to act on this is beyond me”

  He punctures that with a knowing smirk.

  And I get it, finally. The Protectorate has the same information – Znuul's source must be from inside the Protectorate. Someone wants attention pointed elsewhere and Ahtsag is the perfect foil.

  Damn.

  And I’ve been sent to die twice – by none other than Alistair himself.

  Quacks like a duck. Waddles like a duck. Maybe it’s a duck. Maybe Alistair is dirty? And if he is… oh shit, my head reels. There’s a deep resonant chuckle and the clapping of very large hands and I look up to our host.

  “Someone just figured out what the old man figured out a quarter of a century ago.”

  “Crap sticks Z.”

  Znuul looks around the room to Vets, Pffif, Shey, and Hjuul. "I need everyone to leave but Sheyliene of T’uel Faeden and of course, you Arthur," says Znuul. "We have private matters to tend to."

  Vets nods and makes her way out, followed by Hjuul. Pffiferil however holds his seat with eyes trained on Znuul. “I see ye be using the formal language ana that little bit donna be lost on me. I not be leavin’ if the pixie be in peril.”

  “No peril, just serious matters that could affect both me and your wielder. Better a trouble averted, no?”