Ebudae

by Carroll, John H.

  Frath wanted to run right back out of the district the same way he had come. Sure, he was brave, strong, deadly with a sword and all that, but it wouldn’t do him any good against a cranky wizard defending his tower. To make matters worse, there were puddles of iridescent pollution in the gutters. Touching one of them could bring on a disease that turned people into the Deformed. Breathing the supernatural fog could also do it to a person if exposed for years without protection.

  The crow cawed at him again. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. You want me to go in.” The crow and the shadows all nodded eagerly. “Right.” Frath let out a slow breath and relaxed his shoulders. He stretched his arms and legs before walking up the three stone steps to the door. His hand was on the hilt of his sword, ready for any trouble.

  The first and second knocks didn’t bring a response. The third time, he banged hard with the pommel of his longknife. Finally, a wooden cover slid open from a peephole in the door. It would have been face high on most people, but Frath had to duck to see the bloodshot eye looking out. “Yeah? What d’ya want?” The voice was a woman’s and judging from the tone, an ugly one. It also sounded like she was drunk.

  “Umm . . . I’d like to come in.” Frath realized it was lame, but he had been pressured into knocking on the door without time to think of a good reason.

  “Mistress Troinka don’t accept visitors. You knock again and you’ll get poofed by lightning, or fire, or acid, ice, fog with nightmares, carnivorous fairies, or . . . whatever. It’s a fact, so go away and don’t ever come back.” The cover slid shut with a thud.

  Frath had no idea if the threat was real, but in that part of the district, it was foolish to test it. He walked back down the steps. “Well you hear her. Mistress Troinka don’t accept visitors,” he told the crow.

  A shadow off to the left gestured for him to go that way. The other shadows became excited, as did the crow. Frath shrugged and followed until he reached the edge of the building and saw a thin alley between it and the next. The shadows encouraged him to go that way.

  He drew his longknife again and made his way sideways through the alley. A moment later, Frath stood in a tiny courtyard between four towers. Three alleys led into it and there in the middle was a small, dead tree sticking up out of a dirt circle. The crow flew in from above, landed on a scraggly branch and cawed at him.

  Three of the buildings had back doors, including the one the shadows wanted him to enter. He went up and reached out to open it, but held off just before doing so. Frath put away the knife and pulled gloves out of his belt. Forensic wizards had found ways to record finger wrinkles and discovered that each one was unique. Few people knew about it, but it was best not to leave evidence when breaking into a house.

  The door was locked, much to his dismay. He could pick simple locks, but wasn’t good at it and didn’t like to. The shadows gathered around the lock and it clicked. Frath stared in surprise as the door opened inward. He reached for his sword before remembering that it would leave a specific mark that could also be seen by the forensic wizards. It was great when they were on his side, not so much when he wanted to break the law.

  A mat was on the floor inside and he wiped his feet off to reduce the chance of bootprints. Magical torches flickering with bright pink flames lined a long hallway. Frath did not want to sneak around in a wizard’s house, but the shadows beckoned. He observed that they always seemed more substantial when cast by magical light.

  Doors lined the hallway, but he ignored them as he moved forward. They probably opened to storage rooms, bedrooms, or whatever other sorts of rooms wizards have, Frath thought to himself. A few hundred feet down the hall, he came to a circular stairwell leading both up and down.

  The shadows guided him downward, but stopped him with gestures a few steps later. Frath saw a half of a step move and heard a clicking sound echo against the stone walls. Then the shadows let him pass again. He was really beginning to appreciate having shadows for friends.

  Twenty steps later, they pushed him against the inner edge of the wall and he carefully moved down a few steps. He assumed they had guided him past another trap. The shadows had been visible to him since being God-Touched by Distra, but never to this degree where they guided his every action and even touched him physically, a difficult task for shadows, or so he guessed.

  At the bottom, was another short hall with ironbound, wood doors to either side. Slimy moisture coated the walls and ceiling. The shadows guided him to the door on the left and then had him pause.

  The latch clicked and the door opened, revealing a large wizard’s workroom. Frath slid inside. He had his hands ready to grab either the sword, longknife or one of a few runeballs he had for emergencies.

  The voice of a wizardess hissed through the room. “Who lurks in the shadowssss?” The tall woman turned, showing a face made sinister by dim, pink torchlight in the room. Long dark hair flowed down the pink, robe-covered back. Frath surmised that the woman was powerful by the quality of the robe, the multiple runes drawn in silvery liquid on every surface of the room and because of every other object in the room that screamed to him of power. The fact that so many things were pink didn’t lessen that feeling.

  She began casting a potent spell. Words of power echoed against the walls and the supernatural wind of magical castings blew her hair back.

  Even Frath’s sword might not pierce the robes, his longknife was useless, and he didn’t have a clue which runeball might work. It didn’t help that the shadows cowered in fear. Frath had never seen a shadow frightened. Sad, always; frightened, never.

  So he did the most desperate thing possible. Frath lunged forward and reached the wizardess within before she could finish the casting. It was incredibly stupid to touch a person in the middle of casting a spell. Her eyes shone with fear at the very last moment.

  Frath grabbed her hair with his left hand and her chin with his right. A powerful twist snapped her neck like a dry twig.

  It was a terrible mistake. As soon as he touched her, the spell began to collapse within itself and the incantation came screaming back into her mouth. As they fell to the ground, a loud sucking sound filled the room, releasing an odor of lemons and monkey poo. Frath didn’t have time to consider how odd that was because the universe exploded in all the colors of the rainbow, along with a few he had never seen before. He flew backward through the air to crash against the wall near the ceiling. At that point, gravity resumed and he fell to the ground with a loud thud and a snap.

  Frath thought he yelled out in pain, but the explosion had deafened him, so he couldn’t be certain. He felt a few of his ribs break from the impact into the wall and his left arm snap below the elbow when he landed.

  Everything spun and his vision became clouded, but there was no way he was going to fall unconscious in a wizard’s workroom. Frath hated that sneaking into someone’s house had ended in murder. Distra was going to have to explain herself.

  The shadows tried to help him stand, but when they grabbed his broken arm, he screamed and fell on his face. The smell of lemons and monkey poo refused to go away, adding to the nausea he felt from all the pain.

  The nightmarish effects of the backlash mutilated the wizardess’s body. The shadows urged him to go to it. Frath grunted at them and began crawling, taking minutes to get there. One of the shadows pointed at a metallic necklace on the charred body. Frath saw that there was an undamaged key on the necklace, indicating that it had powerful enchantments.

  He gave the chain a weak yank, causing the head to fall off the neck and roll to the side. Frath might have thrown up, but he had seen worse and didn’t think his ribs would appreciate the reaction.

  The shadows changed their focus and gestured for him to go to an iron door on the opposite side of the room. Frath grunted again. “I’m not going to crawl all the way over there.” Gathering deep reserves of strength, he forced himself to his feet, only to sway as dizziness swam through his head. The ever-helpful shadows steadied him until he was able
to trudge over to the door.

  Runes were inscribed into the metal. The shadows did something to it, causing the runes to flash and disappear one at a time. One of the shadows screamed silently and turned into powdery dust. It shocked Frath more than anything else that had happened so far. Whatever was behind it must be of incredible importance to Distra for her to sacrifice one of her minions.

  The door opened and Frath peeked inside. “Ungh. More stairs. I hurt too much,” he whined. The shadows showed no sympathy, motioning vigorously. Frath limped down the stairs, groaning with each step. The pain became everything in his universe until he reached a room at the bottom.

  Frath gradually became aware of his surroundings. The tools of suffering displayed on the walls and tables were crueler than any he had seen. The shadows pointed to a tortured man curled up in a cage. Lacerations covered his body, and bones protruded at odd angles underneath his skin. The poor victim’s chest rose and fell in haggard breaths.

  Frath dragged himself over to the cage, which sprung open as he approached. He was beginning to wonder what the key’s use was. When he saw the bright silver shackles on the wrists and ankles, he understood. Kneeling down gingerly at the door to the cage, he tapped the man’s leg. “Hey . . . hey. Can you hear me? Are you alive?” There was no response.

  On the outside of the man’s left thigh from hip to knee was a tattoo of a slightly curved sword. It was the most intricate, detailed tattoo Frath had ever seen, almost as if it was real. No cuts from the torture marred the ink. One of the shadows caressed it lovingly, causing the man to whimper.

  The key was still in Frath’s hand with the chain hanging down from it. He used it to unlock the shackles, pulling them away and tossing them in the corner of the cage. The man opened his eyes halfway and moaned.

  “I’m rescuing you,” Frath told him. “I don’t have a clue why I’m rescuing you, but that’s what I’m doing.” He didn’t know whether the man understood him because the eyes closed again. “Great. I can see I’m going to have to do everything myself.” He stood up and looked around the room. Sound was beginning to come back, but it was an unpleasant buzzing in his skull.

  The shadows gathered around a backpack underneath a table in a corner. They wanted Frath to get it. “Really? I’m not doing enough here? Whatever,” he growled. He dragged the pack out by the strap and settled it so that it didn’t put pressure on his broken arm.

  It didn’t look like the man would be able to walk or even move. Frath couldn’t see a way to pick him up without hurting the tortured body. The shadows didn’t have any helpful advice either. Frath carefully wrapped his good arm around the man’s waist and then struggled to pull him up onto his shoulder. The man opened his eyes and screamed a primal sound of torment that chilled Frath’s blood.

  Once settled on Frath’s shoulder, the man lost consciousness again. Frath had to take a moment to channel enough strength to his legs in order to handle the burden. The shadows gathered in the far corner of the room where bricks began moving, revealing a secret passage. He went towards it, taking one of the magical torches set into the wall. His good arm was going to give out before long with how much it had to compensate for the rest of his body. The searing pain that hammered his chest with every breath wasn’t helping.

  Frath was delighted to see a hallway instead of stairs, but after a hundred feet, he realized there were more stairs going down. “Really?” was all he said before making his way down. By the end, he was sweating and his jaw clenched from the pain.

  The dark and damp passage turned soon and then turned back. When they reached an intersection, the shadows guided him down another passage. Time started to fade into a haze within his mind as he stumbled down passage after passage with his unconscious baggage. There were times when he wanted to give up, but the shadows were always there, guiding him on. They refused to let him stop or rest.

  Dralin was built above the ruins of cities long gone and it was still possible to travel in some sections of them. A sliver of fear shot down his spine when Frath realized he was walking through the dark streets of those ruins. There was no way in his current condition that he would be able to fend off the horrifying creatures that dwelled in the crumbling buildings. He concentrated on forcing one foot in front of the other and hoped the shadows would protect him.

  Frath didn’t know how much time had passed when he tripped on a step and fell to his knees. The pain brought him out of the fog for a moment as he yelled. His eyes focused on purple-flamed candles lining the sides of the steps. Etched into each step was the familiar image of a crow, letting Frath knew he was at his destination.

  Somehow finding strength, Frath began up the steps. It seemed like an eternity before he reached the basement of the church. Shadows dancing in the candlelight guided him to a pile of cloths. Frath tried his best to set the body down gently on them, but did so roughly, eliciting a weak cry of suffering from the man.

  “Well, at least you’re still alive.” Frath pulled the pack off his shoulder and dropped it down by the sheets. Then he stood and staggered to the side from disorientation. The shadows braced him as he stumbled a few steps. He went to the stairwell heading up to the church and forced his feet to climb.

  He was at the cowled statue of Distra, not remembering the rest of the walk up the steps to get there. “I hope he’s important,” Frath told her as he fell to his knees from exhaustion, not worship.

  The cowled head lifted and the eyes began to glow purple. “He is,” the goddess whispered. Purple candles guttered as a chill breeze flowed through the church with the words. Distra entered Frath’s mind and he felt the pain begin to disappear as she stroked his skin from the inside out. Shadows lowered him to the ground as he lost consciousness.

  Chapter 4

  The late afternoon sun had wilted the two young women. They were vainly trying to find shade in between the crowded tents after having sat in the sun for the last two hours while watching a play.

  “You pretty ladies need shade?” a giant man asked, looming over them from behind. He was so large that he provided shade for both of them.

  Ebudae hid behind Pelya, suddenly afraid. “No thank you.” The fact that she could blast him with a variety of spells left her mind as she stared at the seven-foot giant. Not only was he tall, but muscles bulged from every part of his body, even his chiseled face.

  “Hello. What’s your name?” Pelya asked the giant man.

  “Pelya,” Ebudae hissed. “Don’t talk to him.”

  “Lizor is my name.” He flexed his muscles. There was no shirt to cover his shaven chest and he wore leather shorts that showed off more muscles in his enormous thighs. His mouth had lopsided teeth and green eyes gazed lovingly at a bicep. He had a falsetto voice that didn’t fit his body. “You don’t want shade?”

  “We do want shade, Lizor, but this is a dangerous place for girls like us. How do we know you’re not going to kidnap us?” Pelya asked, placing a hand on the man’s other arm. Her boldness shocked Ebudae.

  “Lizor isn’t going to kidnap you. Lizor is going to keep pretty ladies safe.” He flexed the muscles in his chest, making them do a dance. “Come join us. The tent is nice and cool.”

  “What tent, Lizor and who else is there?” Pelya asked cautiously. Ebudae approved of the caution.

  “It’s our tent. Me, Aphry, Glav and Juggles. We perform almost every day, but not today. Come sit in the cool tent. It’s shady.” He stared at the bicep again and made the muscle bounce up and down.

  To Ebudae’s surprise and dismay, Pelya agreed. “That sounds wonderful. We need to get out of the sun before we melt.” She held onto Lizor’s arm and let the big man lead. Ebudae froze where she stood for a moment before scurrying after them so as not to be alone while surrounded by so many people.

  The day had started out wonderfully. She and Pelya bought sweet treats, watched a dramatic performance about wizardry that Ebudae had loved, had exotic foods from other lands, and wandered around Carnival to watc
h performers of all types.

  Problems began when people bumped into Ebudae repeatedly. It was easy to be brave all alone in her room surrounded by books, but with so many people shifting back and forth chaotically, it was impossible to concentrate. She had a desperate urge to lash out with magical fire to get them to back off.

  Her head hurt from the cacophony of noise created by people in constant motion. The odors of unwashed bodies and the scents of food were made heavier by the heat, weighing on Ebudae’s shoulders until she felt low to the ground. She began hanging more and more onto Pelya for support.

  As they walked forward with the scary giant, she grabbed her friend’s belt and followed timidly behind. Ebudae was at the point where she wanted to go home and never leave again. Crowds were the worst thing she had ever experienced.

  “So what sort of performance do you do, Lizor?” Pelya asked. She knew Ebudae was holding onto her belt and had already said it didn’t bother her. Pelya had the ability to handle masses of people bumping into her, so she did her best to protect Ebudae.

  “Lizor lifts and bashes things because Lizor is the strongest man in the world!” He smacked his fist into his chest to emphasize the point. The good news was that people were giving him as wide a berth as possible.

  “I can see that!” Pelya said in tones that matched his. Ebudae had been noticing that her friend adjusted her speech to become similar to whomever she was speaking to. “What do the others do?”

  “Aphry is the boss. She’s pretty and everybody loves when she dances. Glav plays instruments, sings and talks to the audience. He’s funny and everybody listens to him because he knows everything. Juggles juggles.” Lizor grinned happily. “They’re my best friends and we take care of each other. Our tent is nice and cool too,” he said, in case they had missed the first few times he said it.

  “Will they be upset if we show up?” Pelya asked