My Black Beast

by Randall P. Fitzgerald

  Every pair of houses that passed by meant another street to cross and every street meant time spent in the open. The spire was growing closer which meant there were likely going to be people who would be actively unhappy about his presence. Beyond that, he needed to find Marka. It’d been more than a minute since they’d separated and that worried him endlessly. The concern kept nibbling away at his confidence as houses passed one after the other. Another street passed into the background and he stopped dead in the alley. He glanced backward, hoping for some kind of reassurance that he should keep going.

  There were four of them. Just the one had hurt her. Hurt her twice.

  He put his head down and charged toward the next street. As he came to the corner of the house, he made a sharp turn and kept moving. There was a curt scream and he saw the face of a terrified girl just before he collided with her and sent them both tumbling awkwardly to the ground.

  Shit. People. Or… or whatever you call them.

  “Sorry, sorry.”

  The apologies were wasted. It was screaming time. Lowell scrambled for his book and stood up to continue his run. The girl had not been alone on the street. A smattering of residents were out of their houses and looking on in terror as he passed by. Some shouted things at him, presumably mean things, but he wouldn’t know the difference. He decided to pretend they were cheering him on. This whole thing worked better if he was the hero, right? And no one was throwing fruit, which would be a dead giveaway.

  The population of the streets thinned as he ran, down to only a fair few. Most of those ran inside when they saw him approach. The roads and walks crossed and went off at all angles with no discernible pattern. The spire was the only landmark worth noting. There were taller buildings in the distance but they dipped behind the houses depending on how he turned and how opulent the houses in his immediate area were.

  The spire was close now and its true size was apparent in a way he couldn’t have understood at a distance. It was an immense thing and must have been huge at the base. He stopped to look at it and to listen. If the people had a way to alert the guards he could expect to see them soon.

  It wasn’t guards that he heard, however. The dull thud of heavy impact was what drew his ears. Almost directly to his side. Not in the direction of the spire, but he’d have to check it out.

  The run was shorter than he’d expected, a fact for which he was entirely thankful. A square littered with debris faced him at the end of his trip. Debris and a pair of bloodied children in strange cloaks. His eyes shot to Marka without hesitation. She looked no worse for the wear. The boy was not so lucky. He was bloodied almost beyond recognition. The others were on a rooftop overlooking the small plaza.

  Marka stood at the ready, but did not move an inch from her spot. The boy was beaten and that was the best offer of surrender he was likely to get. He did not accept. In a sluggish lurch, the boy’s dimly glowing arm came up and his body rolled forward toward Marka. It was slow enough that even Lowell would have had no trouble in dodging. Marka stepped aside, her leg flaring as it came up. It came down with the force of a storm and caught the boy in the lower back. There was a sickening crack from the blow and he fell, sliding on his chest toward the far side of the court.

  For her part, Marka stood where she had been. She did not pursue the boy and her stance stayed as defensive as ever. Lowell watched her. There was incredible grace and precision in her movements but her face was filled with a stony sadness. There were three others and she could not relax until the work was done.

  Lowell turned his view upward to see what moves they might make but they stayed still. Were they only watching? There was no chance they were friendly, not in Lowell’s mind anyway. As the possibilities worked their way past, an answer presented itself. A tiny, prepubescent grunt. The boy was still alive.

  The dim glow of his arm started to grow brighter and stronger as he willed himself to his feet. The hum grew deeper and louder and more terrible with every passing second. His arm became a sheath of purple light and the skin across his arm and face began to glow a bright red, like there was a flashlight growing in intensity under his skin.

  There was a sudden snap, like the sound of a giant metal cable rending itself in half and the purple light around his arm seemed to splinter the air. He moved forward a step, but the splinter of white-hot purple stayed where it had split off from him. Marka saw it and her eyes widened. Lowell knew fear when he saw it, but she wasn’t looking at the boy. She was looking past him. The tear started to widen, following along after its maker, when a light came from the other side of the square.

  Marka.

  Her leg was bright with energy. She moved at a speed that ought to have ripped the skin from her body. Her foot found the boy’s shoulder, just past the glow of his arm. In the blink of an eye, the glow was gone. The boy’s arm had vaporized and all that remained was a raw divot in his shoulder that began to ooze blood.

  Marka retreated from him and Lowell saw the slightest flash from under her cloak. The ring. She was wearing it. Brista collapsed, leaving a pool of deep red under his body. He was done.

  Another snap rang out and the tear widened. A dark void began to form in the growing fissure and a hot, terrible air seemed to pour out in tiny waves. Marka fell to one knee.

  More twanging snaps. This time from above, though. Lowell looked at the rooftop where the three Brant had been perched. Only two remained now, a glowing throat and a glowing leg. The air behind popped and groaned as if it was ready to devour them all.

  Marka looked up at them. There was nowhere she could run now. With the world tearing apart at the seams, she readied herself.

  Chapter 12

  The stone roof cracked as they took off, sending splinters of rock flying into the air. The girl with the leg tattoo landed just to Marka’s side, leaving a small crater under the force of her landing. She took a quick swipe with her leg, which Marka ducked before taking a hop back to put some distance between them.

  The boy with the neck tattoos was much slower and he made for Marka’s flank, trying to find a way around her. He planted himself firmly at her side and opened his mouth. His neck lit and the sound that came out was tremendous and horrible. A high warble like a million songbirds had been set on fire split the air and brought Lowell to his knees. Even Marka was stumbled by the sheer force of it, but she quickly adjusted her body.

  The other girl did not waste the opportunity the boy had bought her. She kicked off and closed on Marka almost instantly. There was no time to move so Marka brought her own leg up to receive the blow. The tattoos clashed and sputtered, sending bolts of black-purple light spiraling into the air around them. The flare made the rip that Brista had left groan and widen. The tears that had been left in the air around the roof of the house pulled toward each other and combined, the deep black void forming in the space that had been between them. The world seemed to lens around them now as if it were being sucked across to some other place.

  Even with the world pulling itself into pieces, the children paid it no mind. Marka pushed the girl away and again retreated. The square seemed utterly tiny now with the two of them bearing down on her. There was little room to move and she was boxed in. Marka pulled herself closer to a nearby wall in spite of the pair approaching her with less than friendly intent. They kept pace but remained at a distance, keeping Marka in a position that would force an awkward move.

  The wall was there now and Marka placed her tattooed leg against it. Magic flared and she hurtled across toward the other girl. A leg rose to receive the attack almost as though she had expected Marka’s charge. The leg rose and flared but there was no great clash. Instead Marka’s free foot cupped around the girl’s knee and she used the leverage to twist her body. In a blink, the hot glow of her leg was against the girl’s face. Marka pushed off, sending the girl spiraling to the ground and launching herself toward the boy. There was a sharp cut in the horrible sound and the sound of a deep, grinding crunch. The boy left his fe
et and drilled toward the wall behind, impacting against it and sending a deep, immediate split up the thick stone. He slumped and coughed, blood spattering onto his pale legs.

  Marka had not managed to be entirely clean in her approach and as the boy had pushed away from her she had little choice but to hit the ground in a graceless flop. She wearily climbed back to her feet and turned herself to face the girl that she’d used as a launch pad.

  Her enemy had landed awkwardly, so Marka let out as quickly as she could manage. She stopped just short to pivot and send her leg around with all the force she could manage. The swing was strong, but its target was quick to move. The girl let her legs fall out from under her and the kick swung over her. As her back hit the ground, her leg went bright and she swung upward. Marka pulled back deftly, but the chain that held her ring came untucked from her armor. A single toe caught the chain, but it was enough and the thin necklace was pulled free of its hiding place.

  The girl stopped a second to puzzle at the jewelry and her curiosity would cost her dearly. Marka’s eyes widened and her face twisted with a pure and immediate rage. Her leg was a blinding wash of magic light. The blows came with a speed and power that was inhumane. The girl crumpled as a flurry of strikes devastated every part of her. Sharp cracks as the impacts found her knees, then her ribs, then her neck. She dropped to the ground in a heap of purple and red, nothing left of the child that had been standing there the moment before.

  Marka quickly fell to her knees and clutched up the ring as her leg dimmed back to the pale color of skin. She stared at the ring, looking it over and over so intently that she didn’t notice the world around.

  Her fury had torn the sky beyond breaking. The black voids had opened wide and the hot, wet breath of whatever world was on the other side was forcing itself into the square. The scream of strange winds began to waver as though the space between worlds was clogging. A thick clump of mucus fell through the hole nearest Marka. Then another. The hole began to wheeze and crack and a form filled the space. Lowell knew the look of the skin. The monsters.

  It oozed through the hole in the sky and fell hard on the mucus, scattering it around. It made no noise when it saw Marka, only scrambled up and ran for her as quickly as it could manage.

  “MARKA!”

  She looked up at Lowell as if she’d been asleep for years. Her brow knit in confusion and then she heard the dull thumps of the beast behind her. She turned, but it was too late. The creature barreled into her and she was caught on its massive head. She struggled to move aside, but her cloak was trapped. The impact shattered the wall she’d used to launch her attack on the boy and she was lost in the rubble.

  The monster was shaken by the impact. They were stupid creatures, it had to be said. It stood and let go the terrible bellow Lowell had heard the night he’d met Marka. The tears above the roof line shattered and peeled open even more, sending cracks along the sky off into the distance in every direction. When it had let go its cry, the beast sniffed at the air. It saw the girl Marka had left there in the street and made its way toward her.

  Lowell took his chance and ran to the rubble. Marka was half buried inside the room of a lavishly decorated house. Though there were cushions and soft fabrics scattered all over, there was nothing comfortable about the situation. He began hefting stones away as Marka pushed ineffectually at the stones on her legs. She was pushing with only one arm, the other laid limp beside her. The sickening sound of the creature intruded on the effort to free her. There was little time. What seemed like an hour passed, but finally the light of her leg shone through. She was free enough to pull herself out. It was slow and looked painful but she managed it somehow. Lowell helped her to her feet. She was slow to move.

  He frowned. “You’re not okay, but I get it. We need to do whatever you needed to do. I’m going to help, okay?”

  She didn’t say anything or look up at him. He scooped her up, placed the book onto her stomach, and carried her out. The sight of the creature was unpleasant, bloody mucus falling from its face down onto the slurry of meat and bone that had been a girl a few minutes before. Lowell held back a gag and ran past, hoping the creature was sufficiently distracted. It looked up from its meal and let out a wet barking sound, but didn’t follow.

  Lowell commenced to thanking all the deities he could remember, but figured they probably hadn’t accounted for this sort of eventuality. His legs were done in, his ankle was a giant ball of angry nerves, and Marka was growing heavier by the second. Those weren’t so much the worst of his troubles, though. The spider web of narrow rips in the air were pulsing and threatening to grow larger every second.

  A great, screaming buzz filled the air and the fractures began to shimmer and vibrate. In the distance, where the fight had been, there was a massive groan. Lowell felt the earth shake as a great gust of hot wind overtook him. Before he had a chance to wonder what it might’ve been, a siren sounded. Not the siren from before, but a low, ominous tone, almost a buzz. It played in a steady rhythm and he felt Marka tense up in his arms. He started running again when he began to hear doors swinging open and the murmur of thousands of voices. At the sides of the street he was running down, doors came open and the hidden masses flooded out. Hundreds poured into the street, not even stopping to take a glance at either Lowell or Marka as they ran with their families in tow toward the spire.

  There was no way to move carrying Marka as he was. Lowell pushed to the side of the street and laid Marka down against the wall. He sat down beside her and leaned forward to rest on his knees.

  “Well, I don’t have any questions about where the monster came from anymore.”

  He huffed out half a laugh and then sighed.

  “Will your arm be okay?”

  Marka just looked at the ground in front of her, gripping the ring that she’d killed the girl for touching. Well, that may be an oversimplification. But certainly, it didn’t make the situation better. She reached over and held her good hand out to Lowell. He cupped his hand there and she let the ring fall into it.

  “Are you sure I…”

  She put her good arm over the broken one and he heard the hum of the magic at work and the too familiar scrape of bone moving and grinding inside. Marka’s face was wracked with pain but she didn’t make even the slightest of noises. A half minute and the work was done. She moved the mended limb back and forth to test it. Everything was in order. Lowell offered the ring back to her and she looked up at him for a moment before taking it.

  “Can you walk now or do you want to be carried?”

  By way of an answer, she stood, lifting the book from her lap, and walked to the edge of the street ahead of him. She stopped there and turned. Lowell stood to join her. As he came near, Marka reached out and took his hand. She would be in charge. Of course. He was silly to think otherwise.

  Chapter 13

  The air in the massive cave that housed the city had become a hellish swamp. The fissures were pumping their hot, wet breath in and the panic of the citizens did little to help keep things cool. There were no more alarms. The warnings had been sent.

  Marka did her best to lead Lowell through the crush of panicked citizens, but no one was going anywhere. There was a constant swell of panicked shouts and thundering booms from the far distance. The tear that had been above the house was larger now, stretching into the sky. The roads pulsed erratically with light, brightening and dimming in turn.

  Even with the slow pace it was clear that Marka was tired. Her grip was loose and she was less sure of her footing than she had always been, occasionally even stumbling a bit among the crowd. It was unlike her and Lowell was concerned. Sure, she could mend bones, but what about the rest of her? Was she truly alright? There wasn’t anything resembling a proper doctor within who knows how many dimensions of this place. Even if the cave was under the city, getting back up without her help was apt to be impossible. He didn’t even really know how he’d gotten down in the first place.

  Every time the fi
ssures sputtered the gathered people screamed and pressed forward. The mob was beginning to crush itself as the wave of panic stricken people thickened and it was becoming harder and harder to move at all. It seemed she’d had enough. Marka began tugging Lowell hastily toward the side street. If everyone was moving toward the spire, they would have to move toward it a different way.

  They found the edge of the crowd and pushed on into the tiny passageways that Marka had been so fond of before. Now, she looked wary, eyes darting up to a line of thin fissures that ran directly above them and then around the alleys as they passed and back up. She was waiting for something but the major tears were well behind them now. Or maybe it wasn’t the tears she was worried about.

  Their pace was steady and uninterrupted by any sort of traffic. Even with enough room in the alleyways for an adult to pass unimpeded, the people didn’t use the back alleys.

  Lowell could see the details of the tower now. It easily rivaled the largest buildings in Seattle for size, made of dull white rock spiraling up a deep, onyx core. The white plates didn’t touch the black core, but were three free standing structures that grew narrower as they climbed. Somehow the structure reminded him of an ice cream cone. The symmetrical patterns on the white plating even sort of made it look like a waffle cone. He was getting hungry, apparently. At least it was something pleasant to think about.