Facets of the Nether

by William C. Tracy

  “And you?” Enos asked. The question popped out of her mouth while the rest of her furiously tried to find an escape route. The rough wall dug into her back. She had retreated without meaning to. It was only a matter of time before they tried to eat, or absorb, her. Without the Symphony…

  “We are only moderately reasonless,” said Putra, in all seriousness, taking one step forward.

  Enos blinked again. She had been too focused on the big threatening one. Putra and Zhaddi weren’t any less dangerous, for all their gregariousness. She was struggling to keep up. Her chest tightened as she processed another piece of information. “Your other instances? You…you absorbed them?” That was why she couldn’t get a feel for the Aridori’s gender, or even personality. It was as if different parts rose to the surface as they spoke. Each instance was a unique path of existence, but one could not take both paths at once. That was the whole point. One self, divided in two. No wonder these Aridori were confined.

  The others shared knowing smiles, and then Putra’s face shifted from black scales to green, their snout shortening, their eyes changing this time to yellow, with red slit pupils. Sathssn. “We’ve all absorbed our other instances, young one. It is part of becoming an assassin for the Sathssn. It is required.”

  “It is also the thing the Sathssn masters hate the most about us,” Zhaddi continued. “The more effective we become, the more we are an offense to the Sathssn’s Holy Form. We have another version of ourselves. What is worse than having two forms? Which is the ideal?” The Aridori sniffed. “That was why they sent your other instance to lure you here.”

  “Lure?” Enos said. “I had to fight to save him from Dunarn. So that’s why they would meet with me. They wanted one of us to absorb the other.” Her lip rolled up in a sneer at the thought, but she remembered Inas holding her, his skin trying to crawl into hers, to soak her in. He never would have done so if he had control of his faculties, would he?

  No, she could not doubt Inas. Anyone, even Sam, but not Inas. He was her other instance. Her other self. She would not allow herself to think ill of him.

  “What did you do to him, to make him try to absorb me?” She was shouting, but she didn’t care.

  But the Aridori didn’t react, or at least not as she expected them to. One in the back nudged another, a knowing grin on their face.

  “And here we thought his training was doomed,” Putra said, their smile far too wide for their face. “Just goes to show if you keep one of us penned up with no shape for long enough, you can get us to do anything.”

  Zhaddi nodded along, but the big Aridori grumbled “I still wanted to take him. I would have if the Snakes hadn’t stopped me.”

  “How…dare you!” Enos’ teeth clenched, and she came forward from the wall, but Zhaddi only laughed in her face.

  “And now you will have the thrill of the hunt!” they cried. Their eyes flashed—actually flashed, like an angry Benish.

  “I will not hunt my brother!” Enos protested. She specifically did not call him an ‘instance.’ These Aridori were without sense.

  “He was defective,” the big Aridori said. They still had too many teeth, and smiled whenever Enos looked at them. “The Accretion infected him, and has started to devour your other instance from the inside out. His path was defective, and should make way for yours. I would have relieved his suffering, but better you take him if you do not want the Accretion to come for you once they have finished converting him.”

  Enos’ chest felt as if iron bands bound it. Inas’ hand had been stiff and cold when they carried him away from Gloomlight prison, and it had gotten no better before Nakan captured him. “Inas helped them—the Accretion—to die. They couldn’t have done anything to him. They were too weak.”

  Putra scoffed. “Too weak? The Accretion? They were the strongest shifter in the past thousand cycles. They could assume another’s shape in less than a minute, then kill them and dispose of the body so no one would know the difference. They did so, on several occasions, even in the upper ranks of the Great Assembly.”

  “Before they were quite so unstable, they successfully impersonated a Speaker for over three cycles, back in eight-forty-two,” Zhaddi added. “They will take over your other instance, though it may take many cycles for them to convert enough mass. Best you strike before they have the chance.”

  Enos wanted to fight them over it, to defend her brother, but she knew why they were urging her on. She could feel they were correct. Inas was warm, generous, a solid presence able to hold up any other person. But though a stone was strong, it did not change events. She was the river to his rock. She won all their arguments as children.

  I should have fought Dunarn harder. But how could I have known?

  “How…what happened to him, while he was here? It was almost two months.”

  Zhaddi was by her side in an instant, reaching for her hands. She stepped back, but the other Aridori didn’t press, simply stood with their hands out—tiny green and purple scales iridescent in the majus lights in the little room. Despite herself, she had to know. If Zhaddi meant to attack, they could have done so before now. Enos stepped forward and took their hands.

  There was a tingle, as if she had shocked herself on metal, except the feeling went on, roaming up and down her arms.

  “Your other instance became much better at the ancient ways while we had him here,” Zhaddi said. “We all exercised with him, as we do with each other. It helps us keep in practice. It hones our killing instinct and lets us judge our standing with each other. The Snakes who imprison us are the ones who devised the torture of the formless box. Even we would not do that to one of our own.” Zhaddi rolled their eyes at the big one. “Despite what that one says, if he hadn’t improved, one of us would have absorbed him in days.”

  Zhaddi did nothing to exclude themself from that list, and stared hungrily into Enos’ eyes as they held her hand. Enos wanted to pull back, but that would show weakness. That was death in this room.

  Zhaddi’s gaze was riveting, and Enos could feel an aspect unlocking inside her—a side she had never explored, a side her parents and other family had forbidden from conversation.

  “You will learn, as he did, or you will be absorbed to fuel one of our bodies. We Aridori do not live forever on our own.” Zhaddi smiled, and now they had too many teeth, just like the other one. It was infectious. The other Aridori were grinning at her like sea killers after a guppy.

  “Tell her of the other part,” Putra urged. “She will have to know, and if she refuses, then it will be easier to absorb her. I like her, but we can’t be biased against the newest.”

  “What are they talking about?” Enos asked. She looked down at her hands. Zhaddi was still holding them—no, worse than that. Their hands were meshed together, fingers seeping into wrists, tiny scales becoming Methiemum skin. Enos’ heart jumped into her throat.

  Is Zhaddi trying to absorb me?

  As if they could hear her, Zhaddi was nodding vigorously. Their teeth spiraled outward, forming lips of sharp incisors. Yet they spoke clearly.

  “We will not hunt him—that will be your job. Your other instance will be the first you absorb, if you are strong enough.”

  “No,” Enos whispered. She could feel Zhaddi’s fingers creeping up her arm, lengthening, burrowing into her flesh. They nodded again.

  “You will.” Zhaddi said. “Your bond is powerful. I can feel snatches of him through you, so that connection is already open. Surprising when you know nothing else. This is good. Your combination will be even stronger. You will unlock your true potential.”

  The link between us. Majus Ayama helped me open it with her work on the portal.

  “He refused, time and again to hunt for you,” Putra added. “The Snakey masters were getting annoyed at him, so they put him in the box.” Putra thought for a moment. “We argued for him—Aridori are not so easy to find. And better to keep his body around for parts than have our masters dispose of him.” Putra came forward, hun
ched in as if they had a secret, and now Enos was pulling against Zhaddi’s weight, every muscle tense, but she was connected firmly to the unhinged Aridori. Her breath rushed through her nose, but she didn’t break eye contact. That would be fatal.

  “They do not understand, the Sathssn,” Putra continued, as if nothing was happening. “They are fleeting lives, and we are passed from master to master, told to go out in the world and create chaos. Their group’s name has changed over the centuries, but never do they truly understand us. They merely contain us.”

  They will kill me, right now. The thought burned through Enos.

  Or maybe not kill, but keep my mind nestled deep inside one of them, constantly crying to get out.

  She remembered the chorus of voices that accompanied the Accretion’s pronouncements. How many spoke through its mouth?

  She had to keep them away.

  Be better. Shift now. Make them see I am useful.

  The feeling, the memory, welled up inside her. She could be another person, down to the very last piece hidden inside. She had done it before. All Aridori were capable of it. Every time she touched another, she took their imprint, saving it for later.

  The last person she had become surfaced. The face had been Hathssas, the new Councilor for the House of Power, but that was a mask. The body came from a Sathssn merchant her family dealt with many cycles ago. She felt the pricking of scales pushing up and through her skin. Hair retracted, becoming wispy, finding its way out between scales on her scalp. Inside, organs were shifting, and several new ones grew like grapes on a vine, thrusting into opening spaces inside her. It would take time, but she could show them. She would stand here for a lightening or more—as long as it took to change.

  Zhaddi laughed, and suddenly their hands were off her arms, and she was stumbling forward, free.

  “Bold, isn’t she?” they said. Putra nodded, as did the others, without names.

  “But so slow,” Putra added, cocking their head. “Were we that slow, in the beginning? It has been so long.” They came close, running one hand down Enos’ face. “I think I like you, young one. Your other instance took more than a ten-day before he committed to change for us. You take action. You lead, out of your two instances. It was the same for all of us.” They spread a hand, taking in the rest of the room. “That is why we survive. We were the strong versions. We adapted.”

  “Come, learn from us,” Zhaddi invited. “We are all hungry to know you better, to see your defenses.” When Enos did not immediately come, Zhaddi laughed, their lips-of-teeth scratching against each other. “We all know each other’s’ defenses. It is how we know our rank. We are each proficient enough to keep another from absorbing us, yet none so strong we could stand against two at once.”

  “We would never do that, though,” said one who had not yet spoken. They had taken the form of a Lobath while Enos was there, but they had too many head-tentacles, and their fingers writhed as if they had no bones. “Alliances are a thing of the Pillars, not of the Blessed.”

  Enos noted the emphasis on the words, as if they were names of clans, or factions, but did not ask. There was too much else she needed to pay attention to, mental and physical. She wished the Symphony was available, but it was faint and far away. Whatever the Life Coalition was using was even more powerful than the System that kept her and Sam from escaping last time.

  * * *

  The rest of the day passed in a flash. Enos learned from all six of the Aridori. Each would take a turn to show her a way to shift, or a fresh form to explore. Each time, Enos felt her heart race in anticipation. She enjoyed shifting. The emotion built in her until it was a roaring beast, ready to lash out. She became more observant, more focused, as the tide of feelings built in her. Enos could feel them vying against each other. There was a reason all six trained with her. She was learning from them, but they were also learning her strengths and weaknesses so they could absorb her. It was exhilarating. It was terrifying.

  When she attacked the smallest of the six Aridori for getting too close, the others only laughed—including the one she had scythed with the claws she had instead of fingernails. The wound in the other Aridori’s chest bubbled with pale blood, but as they changed from the form of a Pixie with stringy hair—which Pixies did not have—the wound closed, leaving only a thin scar parting the fur of a short, fat Festuour.

  Enos stayed in the Aridori’s room that night, or what the others decided was night. She could see the brown, orange, and blue auras around the glowing majus lights high on the walls, even if the Symphony was an indistinguishable buzzing. She glanced toward her collar and manacles, forgotten by the door, next to the pile of collars for the rest. Well, she had other tools than the Symphony.

  Nakan never came back to check on her. Enos didn’t know if he had forgotten her, or if this was where she was supposed to stay. She wasn’t hungry, either. Was that an effect of shifting? Or maybe because her stomach hadn’t stayed in the same shape or place all day and wasn’t sending the right signals, even though she had resumed her normal Methiemum shape.

  “You have done well today,” Putra told her, putting an arm around her shoulder and squeezing her too close. Enos forced herself not to tense or show the anger building up at the fear of the more experienced Aridori’s presence. But Putra inhaled as if she smelled bread rising in an oven. “Even Aridori need sleep. We do not go on forever, though you will find you have more stamina after you take your other instance into yourself. Less need for sustenance. Keep the best parts, eh?” Putra squeezed again, then released her, and patted her arm. “Now find a comfy spot on the floor. Sleep well, and don’t let the others nibble on you while you rest.” They winked one purple eye.

  Enos shivered and found a corner far away from the others as the majus lights dimmed, casting the room into utter darkness. The room was stagnant, as the tiny grate in the door only let in a small amount of air, but the lack did not bother her as it normally would. Two of the nameless ones slept in a pile, limbs tangled. The others found patches of stony floor in the cavern.

  Enos twisted and turned, trying to find a comfortable place, but she was too keyed up, her heart still beating like a System Beast at full speed. Her thoughts turned back to the Nether. Were Sam and Inas not looking for her? How many days had she been trapped? She hadn’t thought about Sam all day, and Inas only in terms of how she might best him in strength or cunning. Had they even told Majus Ayama she was taken? She clenched a fist against the cold floor as the rage built up in her stomach.

  Those ungrateful two, fixated on each other. Sam was probably nestled against Inas, sleeping. The thought made Enos’ lip curl. She would rip them both to shreds when she got free and found them. She would pull chunks from Sam, and take her other, ungrateful, instance into herself to make a better version. Inas was useless without her anyway. He had always been weak—a silent figure behind her. Why she could…

  Enos shook her head so violently it smacked on the rock of the floor.

  What am I thinking?

  This had happened the last time she shifted, but this time was much worse. The anger surged up in her, wanting to claw and rend. She balled her hands into fists to keep from growing razor-sharp talons.

  Is this why we never shift? The uncontrollable emotions?

  Her parents had mentioned it, but Enos had never believed there was an impulse so strong she couldn’t control.

  I would tear them apart for lying to me, if they were not already dead. I should…

  No. She shouldn’t. She must be at peace. She needed to sleep, or tomorrow she would be weak, and the others would see it and circle her like carrion birds until she collapsed. They were not her friends, even Putra and Zhaddi. The others—

  The others were not all asleep. She could see the outline of one, by a faint residual glow from one of the majus lights, and a sliver of light through the grate in the door. If she changed the Symphony of Healing, she could tweak her biology without depending on the rage-inducing method of
the Aridori. She grasped at the faint notes of the music, but pushing through the barrier the Life Coalition had installed was practically impossible.

  Enos gave in to the urge to let her eyes adjust as she’d practiced earlier. The light grew from a hint to a warm glow.

  The one creeping toward her was the big nameless one—the one who had first threatened her. They must hope for an easy kill, to disrupt the balance in their group. They would take the place of the Accretion if they had the chance. Enos waited, patiently. Her anger was a fire in her belly, making her reckless.

  But the other Aridori had spent lifetimes honing their skills. Enos must have twitched, because the other sprang across the remaining distance too quick for her to follow. In a second, they had pinned her arms and legs and pressed her into the floor. The malleable flesh of the Aridori dug into her, trying to take her over.

  She would have screamed, but another limb—she couldn’t tell if it was an arm, leg, or tentacle—pushed across her face and into her mouth. It filled the opening, sealing it completely.

  Enos desperately sucked in air through her nose, her anger lessening.

  I really know nothing.

  How stupid was she to think she could hold off another Aridori with centuries of practice, after one day?

  She struggled, but the other held her fast, silently, curling around her like a tree snake, compressing and transforming. Her left hand suddenly went numb, as if it no longer belonged to her.

  It didn’t. The big Aridori was absorbing her into them. And she could do nothing.

  No! Not nothing. Even if I have little experience with being an Aridori, I am an apprentice majus.

  Enos made herself relax, to release the anger that vied for her attention. The other Aridori flowed over her and she only resisted enough to keep them from enveloping her whole. She should have done this to begin with. There was only one advantage she had over them. But to succeed, she needed almost all of her attention. There was no other choice.

  Please, let this work.