Shadowrun - Earthdawn - Poisoned Memories

by kubasik

  "All right," I said, and put my attention back on the glass beakers and tubes. I extended my hand, ready to take a tube and pull it out. I had decided to pull them out one after another, in quick succession, for I had no idea which should be removed first. If some of them were keeping Neden alive, I obviously could not stop those from flowing into his body for too long while the poisons continued to flow into his mind.

  I touched a tube. My vision flashed white. A solid hum raced up my arm, knocking me up off my feet, sending me crashing against the floor.

  "J'role!"

  Kyrethe was next to me when I opened my eyes. Dizzying so thick I could not find words to speak filled my head. She asked me what happened, and after a few moments my thoughts cleared and I told her. "We're going to need help," she said.

  Getting up, I said, "We don't have help." The shock had made me ornery, and I was more determined than ever to free Neden and get out.

  "That's strong Theran magic. It doesn't come lightly, and isn't broken lightly."

  "Me neither."

  She smiled. "All right. But what are you going to do?"

  "I've been stealing all my life. I've learned a few things along the way. This isn't the first time I've had to get past magical protection."

  The trick was, it was powerful magic I'd need to draw on. I had not meditated for a long while, and my focus on my talents had become weak. My intimacy with Kyrethe, my concern for Neden had pulled me away from the focus of my thief magic. "I'm going to need time to meditate," I said.

  "We don't have time."

  "We don't have a choice. We can't just smash the glass off him. We'll rip every vein in his body to shreds."

  She nodded. "I'm going to go outside. Mordom will probably stay with the dwarfs tonight—but we don't know."

  "Yes," I said. But I was already slipping away from her, becoming drawn into the loneliness and strength of my profession. She walked away, and I thought about loneliness. Focused on my need to rely on myself, commit myself to no one. That's how a thief adept draws his magical strength. Usually it takes about half an hour. I'd done it so many times all my life. But even as I started I knew this time was different. I couldn't find the loneliness. Even though I knew freeing Neden depended on my success, I didn't want to focus on being alone anymore. I'd had enough of it in my lifetime. In my first encounter with Neden I'd played all kinds of games to trick myself into helping him—

  thinking he might be a source of ransom. But now, as I looked at, the young boy on the stone slab, I only wanted to embrace him. I wanted to help and admit I wanted to help him. Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen.

  I couldn't do it. I still had my talents as a thief. But I could not find the focus to do the amazing—which is what was required.

  I set myself to the task of doing it once more. Ten minutes passed. All I could think of was trying to build a new life with Kyrethe.

  There seemed to be no point in trying anymore. Something had slipped. Who I had been was no more. Even if I needed to be that person.

  I walked up to the tubes. I might not be able to avoid the pain, but perhaps I'd be able to stand firm in the face of it. To accept it. Not enjoy it as proof of a bleak Universe. Nor withdraw into myself in an attempt to hide from it. Just confront it. Part of life, however unpleasant.

  Bracing myself, I extended my hand.

  "J'role!" Kyrethe shouted, nearly making me jump. "What!"

  My anger caught her off guard. She froze for a moment, then remembered her panic and raced over to me. "There are airships coming. Two of them."

  Excitement coursed through me. "Maybe the Throal forces have come for the traitors."

  “Or maybe Mordom has turned on the traitors and ambushed them."

  “Your mind takes wildly cynical turns."

  “I could be right."

  “You: could at that.”

  From the tunnel entrance came Mordom's voice. "HURRY!" he shouted, and the single word echoed down the cavern.

  I said, "We didn't hide the bodies."

  "No. But I did, when you were meditating."

  "We'd better hide ourselves."

  We tucked ourselves into a dim portion of the cavern, far from the torches. Kyrethe called Jade over and we all waited.

  Mordom appeared, along with several of his guards. Blood ran down the right side of his face. He seemed terribly, jostled, his overbearing manner diffused through fear. "Get those scrolls there," he shouted at one of the guards. He ran toward Neden, performed a series of hand gestures, and began removing tubes from the boy's body. He did it with great care, pulling the tubes out in a deliberate sequence. I was suddenly grateful I had not tried it.

  "We can get him now," Kyrethe said, her voice barely able to contain the lust for violence.

  I put a hand on her shoulder. "Just a moment more. Please."

  Mordom finished and shouted for two of the guards to help him. Only three had accompanied him into the cave. He might have left some out by the cave's entrance, but it seemed safe to assume that his numbers were not greatly reduced. The dwarf general rushed down the entrance tunnel now. "We need that dragon of yours now, magician!"

  Without looking up, Mordom said, "He's neither mine nor yours, General I don't think he'd be much interested in helping us in this matter. He's very peculiar. The airship is hidden outside. We just have to get the prince onto it, and get away."

  The general's agitation would not be assuaged. He ran up to Mordom and tugged on his robe. "They might catch up to us!"

  Mordom turned sharply, slapping the dwarf with his eyeless hand. "Are you such a coward? Are you afraid of being exposed before your people for your crimes? You're not worthy of either your people's respect or their derision. You are a sycophant who hides behind the strength of others."

  The dwarf began drawing his sword. Mordom, as if pulling out a handkerchief, casually touched the general’s forehead. Before the dwarf had even finished drawing his blade, he screamed. His flesh began peeling away, exposing muscle and fat. The loose skin started to twist wildly around the dwarf's body, coiling around itself. The dwarf dropped to his knees, clutching his bleeding face. Mordom turned back to Neden. The guards' attention was captivated by the terrible fate of the dwarf. Mordom shouted at them to help with Neden.

  "That's enough," Kyrethe said. "Jade," she commanded sternly. "Attack!"

  5

  As the group before us turned, the tiger sprang forward, leaping onto Mordom even as he attempted to ready a spell. The guards drew their weapons as Kyrethe also rushed forward. I, as surprised as the guards, followed her into the battle.

  Swords. Cuts. Parries. Thrusts. Screams and claws. With the aid of Jade, we managed to quickly dispatch the guards. However, my wounds from the Horrors and the battle on the hill were starting to weaken me, and soon I was down as well. Mordom was bleeding heavily from the chest, and staggered against Neden's slab. His breathing was terribly labored, and as he exhaled, blood gurgled up.

  He stared at us, I on the floor, Kyrethe standing a few yards away, Jade at her side. Her right arm bled, but she seemed calm enough confronting her brother. I don't think he understood why we didn't finish him off. Then, as he looked at his sister, recognition dawned in his eyes. He mouthed her name, but no sound issued.

  "Yes," she answered.

  He looked down at me, remembered I'd fallen off his airship near his sister's island. "How did you ... ?"

  "He did what you never thought of doing, Mordom. He loved me."

  His voice sounded like leaves cracked underfoot. “I'm so sorry."

  This softened her. I saw her shoulders relax. I tensed, waiting for Mordom to react. But the attack never came. He simply rested his weight more heavily against the slab. Perhaps it was the weight of memories long forced from his thoughts. From outside the cave came the sound of battle. Shouted orders.

  I brought myself to my feet. “The boy, Mordom. Will the boy be all right?"

  He turned to Neden. Looked down at him. Laughed
a strange little laugh. "No. That is, he'll be fine for the purposes that I—but for what you mean—" He turned back to his sister. "Kyrethe. I ... I'm so glad you managed to ... I didn't think it was possible to break Father's curse." she simply stared at him.

  "I want to kill you."

  He slumped even further. "Yes." Raised his eyeless hand to his face. "That would make sense."

  She looked at me. "But I don't think I will. Blood on the hands is difficult to remove."

  The clatter of feet approached. I turned toward the entrance and saw a horde of dwarfs arrive. At the head was—King Varulus! His beard was whiter than the last time I'd seen him some forty years earlier and his face more deeply lined. Yet he moved with the ferocity of a father out to protect his son. His soldiers quickly surrounded us. Some checked the bodies of the dead. We were all suspect, and they held their weapons toward all us.

  He rushed up to his son. Cried the boy's name. Tried to awaken him. As if dreaming, Mordom said, "You can't ... He isn't asleep ... He's nothing now. There's nothing to wake." His gaze never left his sister.

  Varulus whirled on Mordom. "Wake him. Put my son back together."

  "Some things are impossible to do. I can give him the illusion of life. But he will never truly have it."

  "I don't believe you. I don't know what your ambitions are, but you will get nothing from me. Undo your handiwork or die now."

  “My ambition," said Mordom, and then he sighed heavily. "My ambition—" He faltered again. It was incredible that the man who now stood before me, his presence shrinking by the moment, torn to shreds by the horrors of his own past, was the man who had haunted my nightmares all of my life. When next he spoke, it was obvious that his thoughts had wandered completely from the immediate situation. "My ambition is to finish my father's work. To live my father's ... To make sure things work correctly this time. No failures."

  Varulus ignored him, turned to Kyrethe.

  "I am Kyrethe. A recent prisoner on an island in Death's Sea."

  "There are no islands in that sea."

  "Things you cannot see still exist."

  He turned to me, annoyed with her sharp answer. "And you? Can you help my son?"

  "I am J'role." All the guards present took a half step back. Varulus, who knew from Releana that the mad clown he sought was the same boy he'd met in the hanging garden years ago, peered into my face. His bushy eyebrows raised up in surprise. "So you are. I really thought you'd died years ago, your legend, the work of many hands."

  "I got around. I stole a great deal."

  He stepped toward me. "You did this to my son?"

  My voice was now flat. There seemed little hope of explaining the truth, and my bland acceptance of a terrible Universe was slipping back into my thoughts. "No. I wanted to help him." I thought back to hearing Neden's cries in the jungle when Mordom was pursuing him. "I very much wanted to help him."

  Varulus looked at me suspiciously, but seemed content with my words for the moment.

  He turned back to Mordom. "There is nothing you can do for him. Truly?"

  "No. Not to reverse it."

  "And you are Mordom."

  "Oh, yes."

  "You have committed crimes in the land of Barsaive for sixty years now. You kidnapped my son, poisoned him with this plot to rule Throal through him ..."

  Mordom snapped out of his stupor. "How did you know? All my preparations ..."

  Varulus smiled. "I was told to ask if you thought I was dead."

  "Garlthik," Mordom sighed.

  "He told me you would guess. He'll be happy to hear you haven't forgotten him. I don't like dealing with his kind, but he cut me an offer I couldn't refuse when he heard I was after you." Varulus signaled to several soldiers. Suddenly they surrounded Mordom, forcing him to the ground. Varulus raised his sword and placed its tip at Mordom's neck.

  I stepped forward, an instinct, I suppose, trained by pain. Kyrethe placed her hand on my arms Stopped me. "I want you to know," continued Varulus, "that I know you've died several times. That you have a network that labors diligently to bring you back. I'm tracking those people down. This might be your final death."

  Varulus' words struck a memory in me. "King Varulus, I too have died and come back."

  My words surprised the dwarfs. I said, "There is something I wanted to ask Mordom about the realm of the dead."

  "Do you realize how impertinent you are being?"

  "Always."

  Varulus weighted my request. "Ask."

  "When you were there, Mordom, did you have to write your story again and again?"

  Mordom turned to me as if I were mad. "In the realm of the dead one is deprived of all senses, but is constantly aware of all the beautiful sights and food and smells and people that surround you. I spoke to Death once—she entered my thoughts and told me she wanted to understand why we don't notice things until we're about to lose them."

  As Death had said, "It's complicated."

  "Then I send you to a punishment you so terribly deserve." Mordom raised his eye-hand, pointing it toward Kyrethe. He tried to form a word of goodbye or apology. But the king drove his sword forward. Kyrethe took my hand, squeezed it tight. Looked away. A gush of blood sprang up from Mordom’s neck. With a sudden, short spasm, he died.

  King Varulus sighed a heavy sigh, as if content with a job well done but saddened by its lack of significance. He let the sword slip from his fingers and turned toward Neden.

  With a careful touch, he stroked his boy's face. "There must be something. Something."

  A soldier said, "Your Highness. We can get him to Throal. Our scholars can examine him there."

  "Yes, yes," Varulus said distantly. But in his heart he did not think anyone could bring his son back from the soulless state Mordom had imposed on him.

  From the dark recesses of the cave came a low, solid voice. "Your efforts will be in vain."

  We all turned toward the source of the voice. A slow slithering echoed through the cavern. The dwarfs raised their swords.

  The voice said, "But I can help. If someone is willing to take a risk."

  From the deep darkness at the back of the enormous cavern emerged a massive dragon.

  His head, edging into the light of the torches, floated sixty feet above the ground. His forepaws had talons the size of great swords. He came closer and we all stepped back.

  "What is this?" asked King Varulus softly.

  "Mountainshadow," I answered. "If anyone can help Neden, it's him."

  6

  Mountainshadow's head snaked toward us, floating in the thick firelight on the end of a long neck. His wings, moist and folded innumerable times, rested along his body. A long tail slid slowly back and forth. King Varulus, sword drawn, rushed forward. “You can help my son?"

  "I know how, but I cannot, do it." The dragon's voice was removed—not just by distance.

  He seemed somewhat amused by the circumstances. How long had he been waiting in the shadows? Mordom hadn't even bothered to tell him an attack was coming. Was he always back there, watching, contributing to the scene at his whim, but invisible for all practical purposes?

  Like me, as a thief. Present, but not participating.

  Varulus did not shake his sword wildly. He did not shout. With the same tones that he used to keep his people together for all the years of Throal's political turmoil, he said,

  "You will help my son." The words carried a threat, soft and subtle: "If not, you will die.

  If not now, later."

  "I will help. I am intrigued," said the dragon. Hot breath rolled out from his nostrils. I swallowed as the moisture in my mouth dried up.

  "Quickly then!" demanded Varulus.

  "Not so fast." The dragon smiled, the massive folds of his lips peeling back to reveal rows of terrible teeth. "I know how, but another will have to do the work."

  "Then tell me!"

  The dragon contemplated this. "No. Not you. I have searched all your minds, and you are the child's fat
her. Your interests are too obvious."

  Now the king did lose his patience. "What are you ... ? Of course my interests are obvious! Yes, I'm his father ..."

  I raised my hand toward the king. Something had fallen into place in my mind. Legends of dragons mixed with my conversation with Death. Although we so often treat our lives as completely useless, lacking all meaning and beauty, there are many other beings in the Universe charmed by us. Curious to the point of obsession. Jealous. "I think, your Highness, that Mountainshadow has his own agenda. First, for helping Mordom, and now for helping Neden."

  "By what right ...?" sputtered Varulus.