by Jeff Gunzel
As the door closed, the room plunged into darkness. Jarlen writhed on the floor, his body twisting this way and that, desperately searching for relief that would never come. His back arched, hips rising up as his hand slapped the floor. Two days? He would be insane within the hour. Thrashing, his fingers tangled in his hair before ripping out a handful. Fire coursed through his veins. Had it even been a minute? He was already losing his mind!
“Wait!” he shrieked, crawling his way towards the door. “I’ll say anything you want! I’ll do anything you want. Just please, make it stop!” The door creaked inward and Milo and Diovok stepped back in. Obviously they had been waiting just outside, knowing he would crack almost immediately. That fact alone humiliated Jarlen to no end.
“Now you see how easy that was?” said the king, tapping Diovok on the arm. “Jarlen here can be a man of reason when he chooses to. However, I do believe an infant child could have held out longer.” He looked down at the broken creature, who had tears streaming down his face. “Did you really think we were going to leave you here for two days? I don’t have the time, nor the patience, for such games, no matter how entertaining that may have proven. I only wanted one thing from you.” He bent down to one knee, lifting Jarlen’s tear-streaked face with a finger under the chin. “I wanted the famed beast of Shadowfen to cry out, begging me for mercy. I shall cherish that pitiful cry for the rest of my days.” He stood, then motioned to Diovok. “Kill him.”
When Diovok lifted his hand, Jarlen’s whole body erupted with white-hot pain. It was worse than before, if that were even possible. With savage agony exploding through every pore, he was certain his eyes would fly free from their sockets. Mouth foaming with white spittle, body wracked with spasms, Jarlen wailed, using the last inch of his quickly fading alertness to assemble one final, desperate plea. Even to his own ears, the sentence was nothing but a garble of words.
As the pain slowly subsided, he gasped, drawing in an urgent breath. “What did you say?” asked the king, stepping forward. Jarlen realized then that his words must have been just coherent enough to draw the king’s interest.
Jarlen rose up on his hands and knees. With thick white strings of saliva hanging from his wide-open mouth, tears streaming down the sides of his face, he crawled towards the king. Humiliated, groveling, he wrapped his hand around the king’s ankle. “I said,” he took a deep breath, “that I have something you want. I can offer you something that no one else can.”
The king grinned an evil, triumphant smile as he bent down near the pathetic, broken creature. “I’m listening,” he whispered.
* * *
After deciding to explore on their own for the day, the group broke up into pairs and went their separate ways. Ultimately, Liam decided that if any ghatin spies were secretly roaming the city, they would be looking for a group that matched their descriptions collectively. Separating into groups of two may actually prove to attract less attention.
Being the odd man out, he decided to take advantage of his solo status by visiting the local inns and playing the curious-old-man bit. Information on the city itself was what he sought, and in this guise was the perfect way to obtain it.
Thatra and Owen decided to browse the local blacksmiths and shop their weapons and armor. Nothing they saw was even close to the quality of what Owen already carried. Orfi was a master blacksmith in his own right, and could forge exotic weapons of the finest quality. But an extra dagger or some other easily hidden weapon could always prove useful. It was certainly worth a look.
Xavier and Viola spent the early afternoon at the Blade & Hammer Tavern. As promised, they enjoyed a round of fine roasted pig and a local ale that was light, yet sweet. After she downed her third ale, Xavier decided to cut Viola off. She seemed to be enjoying the local brew a little too much.
Viola remained strangely quiet throughout the meal, prompting Xavier to ramble on in small talk just to break the silence. “Viola?” he said, taking her hand after finishing his third straight story about his life on the road. “Are you feeling all right? You seem a little distracted today. Is there anything on your mind?”
She forced a weak smile. “I’m just a little tired. Do you mind if we go back now?” With a smile, he pushed back his chair. After tossing three coins down on the table, they headed out into the street arm in arm. I can pretend he likes me. It feels good even if it’s not real. She watched the sky as they strolled along, estimating there were probably only a few hours of daylight left. This was it. It was time.
Passing an alleyway, she threw her shoulder against Xavier’s chest, sending them both stumbling into the dark corridor. Throwing herself against his chest, she pinned his shoulders to the wall, her face only an inch away from his. Just like the storybooks she had read as a youth, she brushed her lips against his. At first he just stood there, his lips stiff and unresponsive. She began wondering if she was doing it right.
But a second later his hands were roaming her body, his soft lips fitting perfectly with hers. Feeling his tongue brushing softly against hers, she melted into his arms. She wasn’t thinking anymore. Lost in the moment of passion, her whole body felt like it was on fire. His hand cupped her breast, the other gripping the back of her hair, pulling her in. Lost in their private world, she wanted to stay in his arms forever. Heart racing, hungry lips trying to devour his, it took all her strength to tear herself away. But she had to. It hurt so bad that it was like giving up air. Viola couldn’t recall ever desiring anything this badly, but she had to let go. It’s not real!
Breathless, she pushed away, her eyes filled with pain. In an instant, Xavier recognized that look. He knew what she was thinking. “No,” he whispered, taking a cautious step towards her. “No, you can’t. I won’t let you.”
She stepped back, glassy eyes pooling with unshed tears. “Goodbye, Xavier,” she whispered. Leaping straight up, her whirling black form spun up to the top of the alley. From her high perch, she glanced down at Xavier. She watched him frantically claw at the wall, attempting to scale its vertical surface. He looked desperate, crazed, calling her name again and again as he bloodied the tips of his fingers. I know it wasn’t real, but I still love you anyway.
She streaked away, wiping tears on her sleeve as she bounded from roof to roof. Not wanting to draw too much attention, after covering a fair distance she jumped down into a nearby alley and stepped out onto the main street. The street was crowded, and it wasn’t easy to make her way through. But with the gate just up ahead, she only had to make it a short distance. A commotion from behind began drawing attention. She turned back, wondering what was going on.
Calling her name, Xavier came running down the street. Recklessly bouncing off people as he ran, he collided with a woman carrying a basket on her head. Apples flew up in the air as she cursed, falling onto her backside. Picking himself up, he ran on while paying no attention to the woman he had just knocked down. How had he covered so much distance this quickly? He must have been sprinting the whole way. I don’t understand you. Give up already. Why don’t you just give up?
Viola pushed her way forward, provoking a few angry grumbles from those who didn’t appreciate being shoved. Just a little farther. She settled in between a small group of travelers; they flashed her a few uncertain looks, but said nothing. Head down, she moved along with the group as if she were with them.
Together, they passed through the gate without generating much interest from the guards. Thinking she was probably clear by now, she stepped out from between them, then glanced back to see if Xavier had followed. She could see him still inside the city gate, head swiveling as he looked this way and that.
She watched as he threw his hands up, then sat down right in the middle of the street. Onlookers passed him by, glancing down with only mild interest before going about their business. Face dropping down into his hands, hood drooped low over the front of his head, he just sat there still as a statue. Don’t trust the humans came her brother’s voice once again. Seeing him sit
there like that, a twinge of pain and guilt gripped her chest. She wanted to run to him, to tell him she was sorry. “I can’t trust the humans,” she whispered to herself. Unable to bear the sight any longer, she turned and ran, not daring to look back.
Once the many travelers on the main road had spread out some and she was certain no one would notice, she broke off and streaked across the sand. With a final glance over her shoulder just to be sure, she spun into her black whirling form and drifted up towards the tree line off in the distance. From here she could still see the city down below. This was the spot where Jarlen told her to go. Here, she would wait for her brother.
Sitting down on a pile of dry leaves, she rested her chin in her palms while gazing down at the city walls. Somewhere within those walls, her friends were probably looking for. If he hadn’t already, Xavier was going to tell the others that she left. Would they worry about her? Did they even care? They are not your friends. “I know, Brother,” she said aloud. “I trust your judgment. I will wait for you here just as I promised.”
“How good to see you again, Viola.” Her breathing ceased. Terror flooded every inch of her body like a rising river. That voice. She could live to be a thousand and never forget that voice. Hands trembling, she couldn’t even make herself turn around. Fear gripped her like a vise, rendering her powerless. “I’ve traveled a long way in search of you. At last, my journey has reached its end.” But you’re dead. I watched you die. This can’t be real!
As if the paralyzing web of terror had somehow been lifted, she surged to her feet and whirled around. A black streak blurred towards her, followed by a flash of white that sent her sprawling to the ground.
Orm’rak circled her fallen body, relaxing his fist and shaking out his tingling hand. Knocked senseless from the hard right-hand blow, Viola shook her head, trying to refocus her blurred vision. Blood running from her nose and mouth, she blinked incessantly, rolling over to her side.
“I would have marched to the edge of the planet for this moment,” he growled. “You’ve taken everything from me. But now it is your turn to know what that feels like.” A rustling came from the surrounding bushes, but not just those near her. All the shrubbery began to move as the forest seemed to come to life.
Animated corpses came limping into view, arms outstretched. Their lifeless eyes fixed on her as they moaned, stalking right towards her. Having mostly regained her senses, she propped up on her knees and lifted her hand. She had dealt with these kinds of beings before, and knew what to do. Reaching out with her mind, she could feel their life forces, a sort of sour energy that throbbed with bitterness. These were not like the others. When her mind touched their vile essence, she almost threw up. The taint was so foul that it made her head spin.
Orm’rak grinned a knowing smirk. “Unlike those you have seen before, these are my special pets,” he said. “Even your laberath blood has limits. I know that better than you do. You will not dispose of them so easily.” His smile faded as she rose to her feet. With her face twisted in rage, teeth bared like a wild animal, he suddenly didn’t recognize her anymore. As her eyes blazed with uncontrolled fury, her arms fired out in different directions. One flesh blade just missed Orm’rak’s ear as he barely dodged. The other impaled the face of an undead. Its head exploded, red pulp and gore spraying the leaves behind it.
Retracting her arms with a snap, she leapt straight into the air. In a whirl of cawing black birds, she funneled up into the trees. Reshaping to settle on a large branch, she looked down at the veritable army of mindless beings below. Unlike the typical undead, they didn’t seem distracted by every minor movement. All looking up at her, they seemed to be focused on a singular goal. She was their goal.
She stepped back as a second black funnel came whirling up. The moment the cone of liquid black took shape, steel flashed in Orm’rak’s hand. Viola ducked the high slash, stumbling back another step while nearly falling off the branch. His blade reversed direction, a looping strike that came down in a chop. Her arms fired out as crossed flesh blades caught his sword with a clang. His leg came up, knee driving right into her stomach. She wheezed, dropping to one knee as her lungs emptied in a rush. The pommel of his sword crashed down, striking her temple. Only half conscious, she felt air rushing up all around her while only partially aware of the free fall.
Soft piles of leaves did little to ease the jarring blow as she thudded against the ground. “Your laberath blood is weak, diluted with the feeble nectar of watered-down human,” Orm’rak taunted down from his perch. “Your weakness is what defines you now. It made you easy to find. You’re a walking flesh bag of useless emotions; fear, affection, and even love all calling to me at once. Those sickening human traits serve no purpose, yet you reek of them. I wouldn’t have been able to find a pureblooded laberath, but I find it fitting that the weakest link in your blood has sealed your end. And believe me, your end will not come quickly.”
With blood dripping from her mouth, she pushed herself back to her knees, lungs rasping. Her whole body was on fire. Undead were closing in around her, moaning as they moved in to methodically rip her apart. They were everywhere now, far more than she had originally thought. Orm’rak was right, her death would be slow and drawn out.
With a sharp coughing wheeze, blood speckled her hand. “You are correct, Orm’rak,” she rasped under her breath. Anger coursed through her in a way even she didn’t understand. Liam had warned her that her body seemed to have abilities that were mostly instinctual, survival traits more linked to emotion than conscious thought. “I am not a pureblooded laberath. I am more... Much, much more!”
Even with undead closing in, she calmly placed her hands on the ground. Time was hers; it obeyed her every whim. Her mind was a void, an eternal abyss empty of all emotion. Time had no meaning. Suspended, frozen, time waited on her command. Untouched, unfazed by the physical world, Viola drifted in a silent world of her own. It was but a spark of time, yet a loyal spark that existed only to serve her.
Although she didn’t know how, she could feel herself become one with the world. Beneath her palms, the planet’s energy flowed up through her. Her necromantic abilities morphed, became something unworldly, yet worked in harmony with nature. Not laberath, ghatin, or human, but a power combining all three, meshed into something alien.
These undead were perversions of life, distortions of the balance that had no natural place in the world. She could not release their life-forces as she had done before because there was nothing to free. Her innate abilities had no direct influence on such beings, but necromancy was a versatile power bound to no particular laws of nature. Despite its dark status as a dark art dealing exclusively with the dead, it also had the ability to create life.
With crackling strands of blue energy dancing between her fingers and the ground, she slammed her hands down. With a rumbling boom, her rolling burst of power raced outward in a ring of distorted energy. In an ever-expanding circle, the growing ring picked up dust and leaves as it rolled out in all directions. Drooling undead were swept up and thrown back. Those nearest to her were instantly airborne, flying back twenty feet or more. Others farther off were merely knocked to the ground. But those farthest away still continued their march.
Attempting to advance once more, a dead man with clouded eyes clicked his teeth before taking a step towards her. His foot held fast. Driven by a singular goal combined with no ability to reason, he tried to move his other foot. In a virtual explosion of rock and dirt, the undead’s body ripped straight down, disappearing into the ground.
Only a few feet away, another struggled to take a step. With only the most primal of instincts driving her, she glanced down at the curious problem. A bony green hand rising up from the ground held her fast by the ankle. Pulled by impossible strength, her whole body also blasted straight down into the ground. With a crack, her other leg folded upward, grotesquely contorted, her knee pressed firmly against her ear, toes facing straight back. Her descent slowed only an instant by he
r broken limb, her body soon disappeared below the surface in an eruption of dirt.
Up from the holes crawled two skeletal figures. Fluorescent green, their bones glowed with an unworldly energy. Unlike other undead, there wasn’t even a hint of old leathery flesh still clinging anywhere on these bodies. Pure, clean skeletons with nearly polished green bone, they looked to be of human descent except for two tiny horns that rose from the front of their skulls.
Two more crept up from the ground only a short distance away. Four in total, the skeletal warriors stood still, their glowing red eye sockets staring off at nothing. With a silent command in the form of a thought, Viola did nothing more than raise a finger, pointing to the swarm of undead enemies. Perfectly still a moment ago, the green skeletons burst into a clacking charge of clicking bones.
With strength and explosive movement that defied their rickety appearance, they ripped into the horde of undead, shredding and tearing anything that moved. Bony hands punched through expressionless faces, sending brain matter and blood splashing out the back side. Arms and heads of undead were ripped off like dry paper, sending thick lines of gooey, coagulated blood streaming through the air. Nimble, powerful, and aggressive, the green warriors proved to be the exact opposite of their adversaries. Dead flesh bodies, their stiff muscles severely slowed through rigor mortis, were no match for these necromantic beings.
Her creations doing what they were born to do, Viola’s eyes shifted up to the treetop. Orm’rak glared down at her in disbelief. Even he couldn’t understand what he had just witnessed. Baring bloodstained teeth, her black lips curled back in a snarl. “Are you still so you sure it is you who is hunting me?” she growled, her hissing voice scattering from everywhere at once.
