by Adrian Juhl
Chapter Seven
“Can you see them?” cried Sito, as Olim clawed his way up the wet limestone cliff.
“You’re the passenger!” he shouted back.
“Oh dear. I think they’re gone. The wave got them.”
Olim turned his head in time to see a large fin break the surface of the water. “We can’t do anything about that now. It’s all up to Lugah.”
Olim struggled against the slippery surface of the limestone. He scratched and clawed as he plunged his fingers into the cliff face. Blood dripped from torn fingernails as he crested the cliff.
Sito leapt from Olim’s back and reached out his small hand. Olim smiled up at Sito. “What am I going to do with that?”
With a final heave, Olim pulled himself onto solid ground. He rolled onto his back gasping for breath.
Sito watched the water consume the desert below. “No!” he cried. A small shadow flickered in a flash of light and disappeared. He reached into his pocket and gripped the small red marbles in his hand.
The two companions never heard the swing of the workers’ clubs.
The drones flew above the large hive. Some of them split away and delivered the lost workers to the waiting guards.
Olim stirred under the humming of the drone’s wings. “Where are we?” He reached for his weapons, but they were gone.
“It seems we were bait after all,” Sito replied. Part of his body blended in with the drone’s legs as he failed to control his changing nature.
“We’ll be all right. Lugah will catch up. Didn’t he say the drones would take us home?”
“Oh dear. Lugah’s gone. He used a door.”
“A door? But he was underwater.”
“Yes, yes. Deep underwater. It shattered.”
“How do you know?”
“The light. Too bright, too bright.” Sito’s voice trailed.
The drones flew above the shifting landscape to a large mountain peak. They hovered above a small encampment.
“Sito, look!”
Sito looked at the group of Methuselans gathered around a large fire. A tall, black-furred Feral with a white stripe looked up at them.
“Who’s that?” Sito asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe a slave to those Methuselans?”
The drones descended and released their captives. Olim landed on his feet, while Sito disappeared before he hit the ground.
A voice called out from behind Olim as the drones flew away.
“Just one? I thought there were four of you,” said the Emirate.
“Perhaps you miscounted, what with all the werewolves and giant, killer annelids.”
The Emirate frowned. “I do not find your humor very tasteful.”
“Humor? That was an honest reply.”
“Shall I tell you what I do enjoy?”
“Mass colonization and the razing of villages?” Olim replied.
The Emirate pointed at Olim and smiled. “Her grace must be delivered to all. Even the lowest of her creations.”
“Well, I’m sure there are more annelids where the last one came from. You just have to head due east.” Olim paused, thinking. “Or was it south?”
He buckled over, surprised and winded, as the Feral struck him in the stomach.
“Thank you, Defh. I really don’t like rats.”
Defh dragged one claw down Olim’s stomach, drawing blood. He picked up a cup and held it under the cut.
Olim winced in pain and sniffed at a familiar scent in the air.
“You will deliver a message, rat,” the Emirate declared.
“A message? For whom?” Olim snarled.
“Your village.”
A movement behind him made Olim turn. His eyes widened in terror at the Apothecaries that lined the path.
“I’m sure there is no need to send a message. Perhaps we could discuss the location of a new ore vein we discovered.”
Defh punched Olim again. The blood had made Olim’s fur slippery and the blow glanced harmlessly off his stomach. Defh followed with a short jab to the face.
“Run, rat. Deliver my message to Bishop Belle in time…or face the consequences.”
Olim raised himself up. “Tell me the message.”
The Emirate grinned. “Give her this coin and tell her...” He paused.
“Yes?” Olim pleaded.
With a sly grin, the Emirate leant closer to Olim and whispered, “Stop.”
Wasting no time, Olim sprinted down the mountain path, torn between finding Sito and saving the village.
Sito looked at Defh, and the humans that surrounded him. He crept up to one of the humans and inhaled deeply. The familiar smell sent him into a panic.
The Emirate watched as Olim disappeared. Lifting his hand, he struck Defh with his gauntlet.
Defh didn’t flinch as the Emirate shouted at him. “Fool! You were supposed to capture all of them! Do you realize how hard I worked to force the queen to sacrifice her workers? Do you?”
The Ministers stood beside the Emirate, uneasy, as he struck Defh again. The Rabid stood there, seemingly unaffected by the assault.
“Her Eminence has commanded that all should hear the truth of her words, and you fail me! I could have ended this tonight. But instead, here I stand, beside a flea-ridden Rabid that pretends to be intelligent.”
The Emirate raised his hand to strike again. Defh’s eyes glowed deep red. The Apothecaries trembled as Defh’s deep growl echoed across the mountaintop.
The Emirate turned and shouted, “What’s wrong with you men?”
To his horror, the magical black armor of the Apothecaries crumbled into black dust. Their bodies twisted and contorted as Defh’s growl transformed them into werecats.
Sito scurried up a tall tree that loomed over the mountain edge, hoping his scent would not betray him. The tree shook with his fear.
Fear coursed through the Emirate, yet his words remained calm. “I am Ophidia’s hand. She who delivered your father unto you. She who brought you from your exile on Whetu. She—”
The Emirate spluttered as the Feral grabbed him around the throat. Defh lifted him into the air and stared into his eyes.
“A human that doesn’t fear death. I guess that changes things a little,” he growled, the words barely intelligible.
The ground behind Defh crumbled to reveal a deep tunnel. A large Feral armadillo pulled himself out. His gray bands of armor reflected the moon light. Its black-ringed tail beat the ground three times, creating a small dust cloud. Defh turned and acknowledged his silent master, dropping the Emirate to the ground.
As he towered above the Emirate, he extended a single claw. Without flinching, he cut his own palm and drained the blood into another small cup.
“Bring him the cups,” the armadillo commanded in a deep voice.
“What are you going to do with those?” the Emirate demanded.
Defh wiped the blood from his hand. “Not much really. This cup holds venom. This cup,” he taunted, “holds the blood of a certain golden Apothecary.”
Defh paused, allowing the Emirate to consider his words.
“There are no golden Apothecaries,” the Emirate scoffed.
“Of course there aren’t. That is why this sample was drawn from the wooden decks of the Oleander before it was scuttled.”
“Lies!” hissed the Emirate.
Defh licked the blood from his claw. “Do you know how hard it was to get?”
The Emirate shook his head.
“Not very hard at all. The master simply sent a few bats at night.” Defh laughed. “Such a precious thing blood. And they never suspected a thing. They were too busy preparing for some festival. You’re so lucky.” Defh waved the venom in front of the Emirate. “I’m going to take this venom and mix it with a drop of my blood.”
The Emirate’s eyes searched frantically for an escape as Defh continued. “You see, a Rabid’s blood takes away the change. Some would call it a cure. I call it shortsighted.”
The Emirate interrupted. “It gives it a new form.”
Defh grinned. “Correct. Therefore, I take this rat blood and add it to the mix. Tell me, Emirate, what do we have?”
“Wererat venom?” he asked.
Defh nodded. His eyes narrowed on the Emirate. “Your Ophidia doesn’t like the golden Apothecaries much.”
The Emirate nodded. “They are an abomination. A relic of past failures.”
“Of course.” Defh poured the final cup containing the Apothecary blood into the venom. The liquid hissed as the venom reacted.
“Hold him,” Defh commanded.
A werecat grabbed the Emirate and forced his mouth open. Defh poured the venom in. The Emirate sputtered for breath as the poison flowed into his stomach.
“What have you done?” the Emirate shouted.
“I just welcomed you to the family,” Defh laughed. “You can call me daddy.”
The Emirate felt the wererat venom take hold. Defh grabbed the Emirate again by the throat. This time he cried out in satisfaction, “There it is. Fear! From now on, whenever you are near Ophidia, she will smell your imperfection. The tainted Apothecary blood will arouse her native snake hunger. Her instinct for the hunt. Her rabid side.”
Defh drew the choking Emirate in close to him and whispered, “And do you know what snakes like to hunt the most?”
Sito leapt from the tree and ran to the path, terrified, as the Emirate screamed in agony. He stopped and glanced behind. The werecats caterwauled as the Emirate’s shadow shifted from human to rat. He looked up to see Defh staring straight back at him. Defh grinned, raised a single finger to his lips, and then dragged it across his throat. Sito wasted no time as he fled in terror from the cat that now had his scent.
