The Shivered Sky

by Matt Dinniman

  “Please,” Hitomi, said now. “No. Oh God, no.” But they were leaving; she could feel them drifting away, like the tides, finally leaving her alone again. The small demons were upon her immediately. They threw the rope net over her again, pulling her from the interrogation room.

  She wouldn't let herself cry. Not anymore. They dragged her down the dark hallway, back into the chamber where they kept her and the others.

  The clown's big cage was already lowered, the door open.

  “Thank you, oh thank you, friend.” He ran around in circles within the cage, squealing. He jumped up and down, his stomach roiling like a mad sea. His penis rose between his legs, thick and knotty like a tree branch, stiff as a cannon.

  Gramm screamed at the top of his lungs. “Don't you hurt her. You hear me? I'll fucking kill you myself! Don't you bloody touch her!”

  But his cries only seemed to heighten the clown's glee. “Oh, thanks to the great Wiggle! Praise him!”

  They dumped Hitomi on the ground in front of the cage. She had a sudden urge to run, run away. But there was nowhere to go. She was pushed inside, the door slammed behind her. The cage began to rise.

  She had never really gotten a good look at the fat man until now.

  He was filthy. The room had a natural dank odor, like clothes that had been hung out and rained upon, and it was now clear he was the source. His skin was lily white, occasionally flecked with dark patches, especially under his eyes, making him look like a raccoon. His distended stomach was so large, the stretch marks on his belly were like a relief map of rivers. He breathed in great heaves, like only one of his lungs worked properly.

  But most of all she couldn't remove her gaze from his gigantic penis and his bright red balls that hung down like the wattle of a chicken. He stroked it now, and it jumped like a serpent in his hands.

  “I'm gonna stick it in you,” he said, his voice suddenly throaty. “And not just in the wet places.”

  The cage returned to its usual height, but it was moved over, put in a place so everyone would have a better view. Behind her, she could hear the chitter of the tiny demons. There were hundreds in the room now. She backed up against the cage, suddenly too aware of her nakedness.

  Gramm screamed, as did many of the others, mostly the new ones who had been brought in just earlier. Those who had been there some time were silent. The demons, too, called for her blood. Hitomi thrust them out of her mind. It was just her and him. He stepped forward, babbling like a drunkard, his eyes in slits, a walking earthquake.

  “Wet place, wet place, wet place,” he said, each time louder, swinging the cage.

  Then, one of the Wuj entered the room. Its presence caused a collective groan across the cages, and all stopped screaming except Gramm.

  She no longer had her periscepter, but she did have her feet. She was small, but she was fast. And when her foot, still aching from the spike that had been through it, connected with the fat man's crotch, she was sure she felt something rupture.

  He fell so hard, she thought the cage would rip from the ceiling. He squealed like a baby dipped in water too hot.

  “Get him, keep kicking him,” Gramm yelled. “Before he gets up.”

  She hesitated. He rolled over, gasping and whimpering in pain. He penis had deflated like someone had popped a hole in it.

  “HELP ME WIGGLE,” he gasped. His raccoon eyes looked up into hers.

  But the round, disgusting face of the clown was no longer that of a terrible stranger. Not anymore.

  It was Nigel. Sweet, beautiful Nigel.

  She took a step back. It had to be a mistake. Nigel never looked like that. But it was him. It was. The sight of his face in pain was a kick to the stomach. A dark cloud of confusion swept over her. What was happening?

  “I ... I miss you,” she said.

  Nigel grinned. His single tooth flashed in the dark room. “I see how you play.”

  “What're you doing?” Gramm screamed. “Kick him again.”

  Nigel didn't look anything like this monster. She tried to picture him in her mind, and all she got was this thing. She felt ill, then. This face and body was all she knew. She was aware that the face was different, wrong, but it was what she had in her memory. The Wuj had done it to her. For sport.

  But worst of all, Nigel, her true Nigel, was gone from her memory. She pictured this fat beast on top of her, sweating and huffing and puffing away. His true face was gone. Completely and truly.

  “What fun we're going to have. You and me.”

  It's not Nigel, she told herself. Look at him. She kicked him again. His neck snapped back, but he started to get to his feet. She punched at him, her hand glancing off his fat stomach. But he only laughed. He put a meaty hand around her throat, and no matter how hard she kicked and screamed at him, he wouldn't let go. Then another hand circled around her. His stinking, white stomach pressed against her face, his now-flaccid penis against her chest, already stiffening again.

  Hitomi was blacking out. Dying.

  The cage suddenly jolted, and the man released her. She fell over, coughing.

  “I'm sorry, brother,” a familiar voice said, from inside the cage.

  “No,” the clown said, his voice shrill. “Get away. She's mine.”

  “No one owns another,” Rico said. A single smack, and the clown hit the floor beside her. He was out cold.

  “Rico,” Hitomi cried, pulling herself up, throwing herself into his arms. How could this be? The naked boy sounded like him, even looked like him, but he was much, much bigger, his muscles practically bursting through his arms. “How did you...”

  “Not now,” he said. “We gotta hurry.”

  A jolt of pain returned Hitomi to her knees. She was no longer in control of her movements, and every nerve in her body suddenly screamed. The Wuj.

  You will not move. This Rico of yours will not live past this moment.

  Around her, everyone screamed with renewed pain.

  “Your mind tricks will not work on me, demon,” Rico said. “Hold on, Hitomi. I'll be right back.”

  He disappeared from the cage. A blink and he was gone. More Wuj entered the room, each of them adding pressure. It quickly rose to beyond her level of tolerance. Past where they had her during her interrogation. She felt her mind start to break.

  Then, it just stopped. Like her brain had popped free of the vice.

  Behind her, the Wuj screamed. All of them, in a bizarre unison she knew she would never forget. The sound they made, like a dying pig as the blade was presented to it, was equaled only by the screams of a falling angel. Whatever the cause, they were suddenly in an intense pain.

  But the small ones were regrouping. They came forward hesitantly, as if they feared Rico.

  “What did you do?” a voice screamed. It was Gramm, a yell laced with a horror she had never heard from him. “Jesus, Rico, what did you do?”

  She turned then, and Rico was there a few cages over, in the one next to Gramm. At Rico's feet was the little girl, the bone doll still clutched in her tiny hand.

  “I'm sorry,” Rico said to the crumpled little girl. He looked up. “It was the only way. Hold on guys. This will hurt your heads a little.”

  The cage was gone. The advancing swarm of tiny demons was gone. The dark room a memory.

  It took her a moment to gauge her surroundings. They were now in a windowless room. The walls were yellowed brick, the ground a dark marble. More light here than before, but still dim. Gramm was there, as was Rico.

  He shoved a black robe in her hands. “Put this on.” He already had on his.

  “What is happening? What did you do?” Gramm asked, putting his robe on. “Rico, you killed that little girl.”

  Hitomi pulled the robe over her shoulders, wrapping it tightly around her waist. There were boots here, too. She put them on.

  “I missed you, too,” Rico said.

  “No, man. I ... I...” Gramm said. He put his hands to his head. “We thought you were dead. Shit, I don't
know what just happened.”

  Rico sighed, sitting down. “It's a long-ass story, my friend. I had to do it. But don't worry, she'll live. I blocked the Wujs’ attempts at entering my mind so forcefully, they each were using their full power to get at me. Then I just let them in, and it was kind of like letting go of the rope while playing tug of war. Once they fell in, they immediately sought out their clean mind, the girl. I made her feel pain while they were exposed. It hurt ‘em bad. If I hadn't done it, you'd both be dead.”

  Hitomi leaned up against the wall. All she could see was that first night with Nigel, but the memory was horrifying now. It was that fat beast inside of her. There was no pleasure in the memory. Just a ripping sting.

  “Christ, Rico,” Gramm said, shaking his head. Rico wrapped a cloth around the hole in Gramm's foot. The blood seeped slowly out, already starting to heal. But it was still painful, Hitomi knew. “It's bloody good to know you're alive.” They embraced, hard. “We thought you were dead.”

  “We're still in the Wuj sector,” Rico said. “We're just a few buildings over from the one you were in. But they still might find us. It took a lot of energy jumping around like that and withstanding their mind attacks. As soon as I can, I'm going to take us to someplace safe.”

  Rico pulled a periscepter out of his robes. Hitomi's heart leapt. “I can use it pretty good now, but I know you're still better. If you want, you can....” She instinctively grasped at it, defying her own will. She snatched it from his hand and put it to her chest.

  “Where's the other one you had?” she asked. Her heart thump-thumped. With the terrible weapon in her hand, she suddenly felt less hopeless, less weak. It filled a hole she hadn't even known was empty until now. I'm never going to let go of you again.

  “It's safe,” Rico said. “But not here.”

  “What the hell happened after you got taken?” Gramm asked.

  Rico sighed. “There's a whole lot to tell.”

  Gramm nodded. “Aye. We have tales, too. In fact, Hitomi hasn't heard mine, and I haven't heard hers. Give us time to rest, let my foot heal, and let's catch up.”

  “All right,” Rico said after a moment. “But not too long. As soon as I can do it, we're going.” He sat down on the marble floor, looking at each of them. Something in his eyes made her uneasy. “I want to tell you about a great man.”

  * * * *

  Once again Ungeo was summoned to stand before the prelate. As last time, apprehension filled her as she walked the long path to the meeting chamber. Ravi wasn't here now; only a silent acolyte led her down the lonely halls. With the juveniles mostly gone, the innards of the temple seemed eerily empty.

  She had been expending most of her energy speaking out against these dangerous times, desperately trying to find an ear that would agree with her contention that revolting against the Dominion could only end with a great defeat for Moloch's minions. She had no doubt this was why she was being summoned.

  “Come in,” the prelate called as she entered the giant room, the acolyte closing the door and leaving himself outside. The prelate had recently returned from yet another trip back to the Dahhak world. It was just Ungeo and the prelate and another Dahhak. Trukkac, the Dahhak chancellor. One of the twelve appointed leaders of the Dominion. She was alone with the two most powerful Dahhak in Cibola.

  Ungeo bowed. “Thank you for granting me your presence, your excellency.”

  The prelate waved his hand. “I've asked you here to request that you stop speaking out against Dahhak crusading. You have gained yourself inexplicable respect amongst the congregation, but you will lose what you have if you continue.”

  She clicked her beak. “I speak out because I think it's a damned effort.”

  Trukkac stepped forward. “You don't know everything,” he said. “There's more to this than just Moloch's will. Things are happening at the council, plots and schemes that make this more important than you realize. And your role in this has become significant, too. We need you to firmly speak out for us.”

  Ungeo looked back and forth between the two. “I don't understand what you mean.”

  The prelate and chancellor looked at each other. “We originally thought you to be a spy,” the chancellor said. “Despite your victory while dancing. The task we gave you to assassinate the Geyrun was a ruse. We wanted to see how far you'd go, but to the astonishment of all of us, you made a genuine attempt.”

  “But I failed. The Geyrun still lives. He even murdered the rector.”

  “Yes, unfortunate,” said the chancellor. “But I have read the report of the failed assassin's last hours. I know how well prepared he was. How if he hadn't been so inept, the Geyrun would be dead. That was his failure, not yours. We do indeed know you are truly in Moloch's grace, and that is a reason for great joy.”

  Ungeo felt her anger rising as she listened, but she held it back. They doubted her faith? She was beginning to doubt theirs.

  “We have a great number of followers smattered throughout the Flamen ranks. They have served us well, but now they are alarmed. They have revealed many things to us, information even your young informant has yet to learn.”

  “You must forgive me, chancellor. Though I understand my ... defection was a topic of interest, I don't understand how it can continue to hold significance with anyone other than perhaps the Geyrun himself. Especially with such bloodshed imminent.”

  “Almost a cycle ago, we at the council were approached by an envoy who claimed to have proof the Overseers were in the early stages of a planned revolution. One that would usurp the council altogether and place themselves as our leaders.”

  Ungeo snorted. “That doesn't surprise me at all.”

  Trukkac nodded. “It didn't surprise anyone. This envoy had documents and witness accounts proving his contentions. We were gravely concerned, so after much debate we decided to send a subtle message to the Overseers.”

  Ungeo nodded. “You had the Overseer of the gate sector killed and replaced with the Nidhogg.”

  “Yes. The same envoy who had provided us with the intelligence.” The chancellor stepped forward, his dark features emerging. The smell of importance rose from him, something only the highest ranking officers and officials dared emanate in front of others. Still not as aged as the prelate, he looked old beyond his cycles. Too old for work such as his. “We now have reason to believe this envoy and his group are actually trying to do the opposite. They're trying to incite the Overseers into action.”

  “Why?” Ungeo said, thinking hard. She prided herself on knowing everything that was going on around her, but she was over her head in this. Completely. “And what does any of this have to do with me?”

  The chancellor lowered his head and prayed for a moment, his second day prayer. Ungeo had done hers before she was summoned. The prelate didn't move. Once finished, the chancellor looked back up. “Ever since we became aware our world wasn't the only one, we've tried to destroy each other. It is our nature. Other demon nations are the same.

  “This Nidhogg, however, is not seeking dominance of his people. Just his cause. We believe he is an agent of the Broken Fist. They seek to eradicate the humans. Removing the Overseers from the Dominion removes a powerful pro-slavery voice.”

  “So you think the Dahhak must act preemptively?”

  Trukkac nodded. “The recent loss of the Overseers’ property terribly strained the already tenuous relationship between them and the council. They are demanding immediate payment for each of the escaped beasts. They want a ridiculous amount, almost ten million slaves per beast.”

  Ungeo laughed. Ten million?

  “It turns out the creatures are quite endangered on their world. Some of them were the last of their kind. Anyway, it was the suggestion of the Nidhogg envoy that the Sphere be destroyed in response. No more humans for anyone.”

  Ungeo shook her head. No one would agree to that. “But ... So many nations depend upon the humans for food, slaves. The Nemat require them just to survive.”

&
nbsp; “Exactly,” Trukkac said. “Without the humans, many nations would wither and die. We quickly rejected the idea. Nonetheless, the vote was alarmingly close. Broken Fist has more influence on the council than we ever suspected, and we believe they are going to attempt to destroy the Sphere anyway.”

  Ungeo tried to get a handle on this. “If they destroy the Sphere, the humans will stop coming. The Overseers will pull themselves from the Dominion.”

  “They'll do more than that,” the prelate said, talking for the first time since his greeting to Ungeo. “They'll attack their two closest neighbors in hopes of conquering as many human slaves as possible.”

  “The Dahhak and the Asag,” Ungeo said.

  “Yes,” Trukkac said. “And while we have great numbers, they have great strength. We may be able to hold back an assault on our world, but it would weaken us.”

  “But this is all speculation,” Ungeo said. “Even if they do destroy the Sphere, you don't know that's what will happen.”

  “Our spies suggest otherwise,” Trukkac said. “The Overseers are already gearing up on their world. And this is without knowledge of the danger to their precious human supply.” He took a long breath.

  She waited.

  “We're requesting two things of you,” the prelate said. “Now that you know some of the urgency of this, we pray you'll work in Moloch's favor. First, we request you make a speech at the next services speaking out for the upcoming revolution. Secondly, we are going to ask that you leave the temple.”

  “Leave?” Ungeo said, snapping a talon. It surprised her. She didn't want to leave. She enjoyed being here in the place of Moloch, where the others respected her.

  “We can't force you,” the prelate said, “as we've given you sanctuary. However, this is a task worthy of Moloch. Your departure will be widely broadcast, but your mission will not. It will be up to you to survive long enough to complete your task. And perhaps if you succeed, we will still be able to salvage the Dominion.”

  Ungeo looked back and forth between the two. They both watched her intently, and neither appeared sure of themselves. And with the prelate, there was something else. Desperation.