by Jeff Gunzel
Boulders whizzed past, and a flash of blue caught his eye as he zipped past a lake. The terrain was becoming familiar now. Again, the streaking laberath was forced to stop to catch his breath and conserve his remaining energy. Orm’rak had lost a considerable amount of blood, and his body was beginning to feel cold. Anger and adrenaline alone were no longer enough to sustain him.
A squirrel chattered in a nearby tree, squawking in protest at the intruder who had gotten too close to its stash of food. With a surge, Orm’rak streaked towards the tree, using his momentum to run right up the trunk. Snatching the pest in one hand, he sank his teeth right into the back of its neck. Draining its blood almost instantly, he tossed the deflated carcass aside and began to cough. The blood of animals was sour, particularly that of lowly rodents which barely even counted as a source of food. But it would have to do.
Leaping down from the tree, Orm’rak managed to land on slightly sturdier legs. The rancid nectar had helped a little, and his wounds were scabbing over. With a growl, he blurred on with reckless speed. They would not get away with this. His legacy would not end with him draining woodland creatures for sustenance.
A short time later, the cave entrance came into sight. Dashing through the entrance, his blurred form streaked down the multiple corridors. When the buildings of Kraindoel came at him in a rush, he skidded to a halt to gaze out across the underground city. Polished stone walls glistened in the dull fluorescent purple light. Jagged veins of quartz embedded on the walls marked a jagged path downward from the rooftops, each one sparkling with tiny bursts of color when the light hit their impurities just right. Built thousands of years ago, the city was structured for a much larger population, and for centuries their numbers had been dropping steadily. Although still beautiful and elegant, the city was now practically a ghost town.
From this vantage point he could see two laberaths fighting over a meal in the streets, each pulling back and forth on the arms of a female human. She was obviously dead, and who knew how fresh her blood was at this stage, but that didn’t matter to the two desperate creatures. Aside from those two, there was little activity to be seen. Most laberaths had either died in the surface battle, or abandoned the city altogether. It might as well be a foreign wasteland.
Orm’rak tried to push the discouraging thoughts from his mind. It was too late for regrets. What was done was done. Although exceptionally gifted physically, the laberaths were little more than animals when it came to basic adaptation and survival. They were primitive, irrational, and reckless. He knew what was left of his race was doomed without some manner of organized leadership. Within a month, Orm’rak may very well be the only laberath in existence.
Determined not to join his brothers and sisters in their dire fate, he sped towards his empty home. As expected, the halls were empty. With no one to keep an eye on them, the servants had fled to the surface world. Even the runners were long gone, no doubt begging local blacksmiths to remove the metal collars from around their necks. Word of the laberaths’ fall would spread, even to those who didn’t know they existed in the first place. There was no denying it was the end of an era...
Visibly limping, he headed down the main hall towards the large iron door bordered with golden serpents. Upon placing his hands against the door, the serpents writhed and squirmed, flowing around the door’s edge until the unit slid back, disappearing into the wall with a grinding sound. His wounds burning, he stalked into the chamber and pulled the first lever he saw. There came a hissing sound, steam rising about as the scent of sulfur filled the air.
A woman high on the rack drifted down to ground level. Displaying none of his usual patience, Orm’rak ripped the clear mask from her face. Liquid spewed from her mouth as the tube wrenched free. She groaned and coughed, eyes fluttering open. “You shall have the honor of being my first and only meal from this sorry batch of human meat!” Orm’rak growled. He ripped into her neck with a savage urgency, gorging so fast that she never even had the time to fully awaken.
Body twitching, her eyes rolled back as her face turned white. Draining her in under a minute, he tore the worthless husk from the rack and tossed it aside. It would no longer work for what he had in mind. Even he never really understood why a bloodless husk was useless where his other talents were concerned. But no matter, there were plenty of other warm bodies here for “that” particular purpose.
Already feeling his energy level rising, he stepped over to the next rack and pulled the lever, sending down a middle-aged man. Orm’rak yanked his mask free as well, then plunged his fingers into the human’s neck before he ever regained consciousness.
“You, as well as these other lost souls, shall serve a different purpose,” Orm’rak growled, blood flowing between his fingers. He ripped a substantial piece of flesh from the already dead human’s throat and threw the slippery chunk aside with a wet smack. He licked his sticky fingers, beginning to regret not feeding on this one as well.
The laberath softly swiped his fingertips across the human’s body. Ribs shimmered visibly beneath the human’s skin, a glittery silver shine. The fresh corpse twitched a few times before opening its eyes, teeth beginning to click like a wooden puppet’s. Fully animated, the dead corpse moaned, hands instinctively reaching out towards nothing.
Orm’rak took in a deep breath, savoring the lingering sensation that accompanied the act of animating a human corpse. The short-lived taste danced on the tip of his tongue before fading away. Shivering with pleasure, he stepped up to the moaning corpse. “I have granted you the highest of honors,” he whispered, the backs of his fingernails running along the side of the dead man’s face. “You are the first of many created soldiers I shall use to find that bitch, and tear her organs out through her nose one at a time.”
Orm’rak turned around, his eyes sweeping the virtually endless rows of hanging humans suspended in living death. “The first of many,” he repeated, cackling madly as his laughter echoed throughout the chamber.
* * *
Owen circled his finger in the air, signaling for the party to halt. The area here was reasonably clear and the ground seemed level enough—as good a place as any to stop for the night. As usual, Xavier sprung into action setting up camp while the others gathered wood. It wasn’t long before the bedrolls were laid out, and the warm glow of a soft fire warmed their bones.
Sitting quietly near the fire, Viola snapped her fingers when she remembered the bag Assirra had stuffed into her leather satchel. After worrying about trying to not fall off her horse all day, she had completely forgotten about it. Dashing over to her satchel, she tugged at the leather strap. When it finally pulled free, she dug around inside, eventually retrieving the second bag.
The familiar square bulges were a dead giveaway, and she knew it was filled with books before even opening it. “Heirs of the Throne, Enemy of Diplomacy, The King’s Silent Hand,” she read out loud, laying them on the ground one at a time. There were other books in the bag, as well as a dark wig and a small black case, but she set the bag aside for the moment. Curiously, she gazed at the three she had pulled out, wondering why Assirra had been so insistent on giving her these books.
At some point you must start learning the way of things. Being a stranger in your own world leaves you at a constant disadvantage. The more you learn, the stronger you will become. Assirra’s words echoed in the back of her mind as she ran her fingers along the sturdy spines of the books.
“And what have here?” asked Liam, startling her when he came up from behind. Instinctively, she leaned across them with her arms spread, as if not wanting him to see. Liam reached down and slid one of the thick books from beneath her arm. “Enemy of Diplomacy,” he read, glancing at her with raised eyebrows. “Interesting choice of literature. Where did you get these?” he asked, suspicious.
“Assirra gave them to me,” she mumbled, her soft voice quiet as ever. She really wasn’t sure if anyone was supposed to see them, or if Assirra had wanted to keep this a secret. Eithe
r way, it didn’t matter now. “They were a gift. Please don’t take them from me!”
Liam felt a twinge of pain in his heart. Was she so used to having things taken away that she didn’t really believe she was allowed to own anything, especially a gift given to her by a friend?
“Viola, I would never—” said Liam, swallowing his last words as a lump swelled in his throat. He placed the book back down in front of her. “I just wanted to see them, that’s all. I would never take your books away, or anything else that belonged to you.”
She smiled gratefully, then began thumbing through the pages.
“To be honest, I wasn’t even sure you could read,” he admitted. “Given how crazy things have been these last few weeks, the question seemed rather unimportant.”
“I can,” she replied, happily flipping through the pages. “Ethan taught me.” Her fingers stopped on a page, her expression darkening as her suddenly vacant eyes gazed back into her thoughts. “Perhaps that is the only thing he ever taught me that I am grateful for. I would spend hours upon hours in front of the window, reading. It was my escape from reality, a chance to be swept away to another world. Whether it was only for a minute or an hour, I relished that time before...before—” Her face grew even darker. “Before he would summon me to his bedroom.”
With red eyes, Liam kneeled down beside her. “I’m so sorry,” was all he could say.
“Of course, I had no choice,” she continued. “I would fold the page and close the book. It was all right because I knew it would be waiting for me when I came back. I know it sounds stupid, but that kept me going. I really think having something to look forward to kept me from going mad. It was all I had, but it was enough.” In her deep train of thought, she didn’t even realize she was clinging to her book, holding it close to her chest.
“I understand,” Liam said softly. “Go on and enjoy yourself. I promise you no one is going to take anything away from you.” He rose from his seat with a shiver and went to join the others by the fire. It was easy to forget that Viola was all but immune to the cold, whereas it actually bothered his old bones quite a bit. The rest of the group lay scattered about, roasting strips of meat over the fire. When Liam sat down, Owen passed him a poker with a rather charred piece smoldering on the end of it.
“Just how ye like it?” asked Owen, the scarred warrior raising his eyebrows in an attempt to look innocent.
“Um...yes, it’s fine. Thank you,” Liam replied, staring long and hard at the smoking piece.
“Good,” Owen added quickly. “Cause ye wouldn’t see me crunching on that black lump!”
Liam glared back at him from the corner of his eye. The others started laughing, prompting Liam to snap the poker like a whip, sending the blackened piece tumbling into the bush behind him. Amused, he joined in the laughter, but was also quite relieved when Thatra handed him a second poker with a more reasonably cooked strip on the end.
“What’s Viola doing way over there?” asked Thatra, wiping a tear from her eye. “Isn’t she cold? Why doesn’t she come join us by the fire?”
Liam glanced over his shoulder, seeing that she had indeed moved a bit closer to make use of the extra light, but remained far enough away so as not to be disturbed. She sat with her legs crossed, the book cracked open on her lap.
“Viola isn’t sensitive to cold,” Liam explained. “So there is no reason to worry about that. As far as what she’s doing over there, apparently Assirra has gifted her a few books to read. I see she’s already enjoying them, although I admit I’m a bit stunned.”
“Why would you say that?” Xavier asked, glancing at her sitting on the grass. “She seems rather captivated by them, if you ask me.”
“Precisely my point,” Liam agreed. “Heirs of the Throne, Enemy of Diplomacy, to name a few. I am quite familiar with that literature, and I assure you that no one as young as her should find those dry books interesting. In short, they’re a detailed account of Ayrith’s political systems. Law, monarchy, fundamental rules of engagement, and how the authoritative systems all work together, depending on which region you reside in.”
“Fun,” mocked Owen, twirling a finger in the air before tearing into another slice of meat.
“For once we agree,” said Liam, rubbing his chin as he watched her reading intently. Shrugging, he turned back to the fire and continued eating. “But who am I to question anyone’s taste in literature?”
After finishing their meals in silence Xavier stomped out the fire.
“How far would ye say the nezzerians’ village is from here?” Owen asked, already crawling beneath his bedroll.
“Three or four days’ ride, assuming we don’t run into any trouble,” Assirra replied.
Owen grunted something indecipherable then rolled to his side.
“Best we all get some rest so we can get an early start,” she suggested.
Xavier and Liam crawled into their bedrolls, more than ready to call it a night.
“Viola,” said Liam, watching her strain her eyes in the moonlight, her face only inches from the book. “How can you even see the pages? Enough of that, time to go to sleep.”
“Just a little long—”
“No,” he said firmly. “Now go to bed.” Pouting, she closed the book with a hard thump and went to go stash it in the sack with the others. Smiling at her mild but innocent tantrum, Liam simply rolled his eyes and nestled deeper into his bedroll. “She’ll be the death of me,” he whispered to himself before nodding off.
When sunlight first peeked between the leaves above, Viola was the first to open her eyes. She glanced about to see if anyone else was awake yet. Other than Owen snoring like a bear, the camp was silent. Quietly, she slipped from her bedroll and tiptoed across the crunchy dead grass towards her satchel, trying to make as little noise as possible.
“Isn’t it a little early for that?” she heard Xavier whisper from across the camp. She grinned, refusing to turn around. She couldn’t help but smile whenever he spoke to her, but she didn’t really want him to see. Nervously, she fiddled with the buckle on her satchel without actually opening it. “I just thought I might read a few pages before we eat,” she said. A gentle breeze on the back of her neck alerted her to Xavier’s presence. She knew he was right behind her. Still not turning around, she bounced nervously on her toes. Her face felt hot again. Why did that always seem to happen when he was near?
“I have a better idea,” he said softly. There was nothing in this young man’s tender voice to indicate he was such a killer. If she hadn’t seen what he was capable of with her own eyes, she never would have believed it. She could feel the heat from his body, the light puffs of air on the back of her neck with each gentle word.
“Follow me, I want to show you something,” he said. His fingers twined with hers as he grabbed her hand. She tensed, self-conscious about her own icy touch, a sharp contrast to the heat building up in her face. But if her cold hand bothered Xavier, he showed no indication as he led her away. Using his blade, he cut through the bushes and shrubs, kicking down small stumps in the ground so Viola could follow easily.
“It doesn’t seem like anyone has been this way in a long time,” Viola remarked, dodging a large leaf as it snapped back past her ear. “Where are we going? What is it you think you saw?”
“I haven’t seen anything yet,” Xavier admitted, hacking through several branches in the way. “But can’t you smell that?”
Viola sniffed the air, taking in the sweet, pollen-like fragrance. “Flowers?” she asked, a little surprised she hadn’t noticed it earlier.
“Not exactly,” Xavier replied. “But the scent is so strong now that I can tell we’re getting close.” Due to the density of the forest and the time it took to hack down the brush, they really hadn’t gone all that far. With a final whack, he took down one last protruding branch before leading Viola into a small clearing. Stepping around from behind him, she gasped, mouth hanging wide open.
“This is what I wanted you to s
ee,” he whispered.
There stood by far the most exotic-looking plants Viola had ever seen. Each bloom resembled a transparent jellyfish, seeming to hover in the air with long tentacles waving about. Clear liquid trickled off the highest one, splashing down before flowing onto the others in a constant flowing waterfall. The strange plants moved in unison, each wiggling as the never-ending supply of water seemed to flow forever, sounding much like a babbling brook. The air smelled so sweet that it made Viola think of flowers and fruit.
“It’s beautiful,” she gasped, barely able to speak.
“There’s more,” said Xavier, reaching inside his inner pocket. He pulled out a small device that looked to be several small bamboo shoots strung together. He brought the crude little instrument up to his lips and blew lightly, producing a single drawn-out note. Reacting to the tone, the clear pods leaned to the right as the flowing water took on a fluorescent, bluish hue. Their flowing tentacles danced and waved about as if they were enjoying the sound.
Viola squealed with delight, then quickly clasped a hand over her mouth, concerned she might disrupt the magic with her voice. Xavier blew on a second pipe, producing a higher-pitched sound. The clear mushroom caps quivered briefly before leaning to the left, the flowing water now changing to a light yellow color. Even the air smelled different, changing from a flowery scent to a tangy, lemony fragrance.
Spellbound, Viola couldn’t say a word. Never had she seen anything like it. “They’re called lartrous vines,” Xavier explained. “I knew they were nearby because I could smell them. In a way, they’re no different than most living things in the way they respond to music. What do you think? Are you glad we came to see—” When he turned to look at Viola, he was silenced by her stare. Biting her lower lip, she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him. “Viola?” he said softly, gazing back into her eyes.
