Among Gods and Monsters

by S D Simper

  Flowridia obeyed, placing it on her shoulder, and marveled when all the dirt and sweat simply . . . fell off.

  Casvir nodded in approval and went to pack their camp.

  Demitri approached, his cold nose purposefully poking against her shoulder. I think he said you look like a mess.

  “Good. It reflects my mind.”

  Demitri bumped her with his nose. Stop ruining my jokes.

  She pushed aside his nose as she stepped past and knelt to roll up her bed. Within minutes, the entire camp was packed away, and Flowridia placed Ana into her pack before hoisting herself up onto her horse.

  They spent the day in relative silence, riding as Casvir navigated.

  * * *

  Every morning, she fought, her muscles growing accustomed to the ache of physical activity, even if her reflexes were still pitiful. Each night, she studied, she learned, and she felt herself become more attuned to the dark power residing all around them.

  The days grew colder, and one morning she awoke from dreams of a shrieking embrace only to realize her body truly was chilled. She sat up to find a canopy above them and a light blanket of snow all around.

  Weather made no difference to Casvir. They sparred among the frost, though he did offer her a coat when they had finished, suited to her size and taste.

  Late afternoon one day, they came upon a road, the clopping of hooves on frosty stone oddly grating to Flowridia’s senses. “Aren’t you worried about running into anyone?”

  “This is the safest path through the mountains,” Casvir replied, “and we are still in Nox’Karthan territory. What fear have I, as imperator, in greeting my people on the road?”

  Flowridia accepted that.

  No one crossed their path, and when evening fell they left the road and made camp just out of sight in a cropping of trees. Secluded, Flowridia felt far more comfortable by the enclosure of greenery.

  The first blanket of snow melted, but the weather remained uncomfortably chilled.

  She sat as near as she could to the warming crystal. Flowridia ate her dinner with Ana clawing at her leg, but also a small bastion of half-rotted squirrels circling her body. Demitri sat on his haunches, visibly wary of the display. But Flowridia offered a hand to one eerie servant, amused when the once-squirrel crawled into her hand. Not too horrifying; not with an understanding of anatomy to explain its rotted eye socket and matted fur. Flowridia knew she ought to be disturbed.

  But what harm was there in offering kindness to a creature now passed?

  “Have you always felt a connection to nature?”

  Flowridia set the squirrel down, amused as it followed her hand when she brushed along the cool grass and fallen leaves. “I’ve always loved it.”

  “Your ability to force your influence upon simple minds is impressive,” Casvir said. “Soon you will be ready to experiment with greater challenges.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Humanoid creatures have a stronger will than dead woodland critters.”

  Flowridia’s hand stopped, and the squirrel caught up. It stared expectantly, its dead eyes oddly expressive. But she couldn’t shake the image of the shambling dead outside of Mother’s cottage, phosphorescent fungi slowly consuming them. “Perhaps,” she said simply, knowing Casvir wouldn’t take well to her apprehension. “In the meantime, I don’t know what harm something small like this could do.”

  “By itself, very little.” His stare grew more scrutinizing. “Come,” he said, standing. He offered a hand, and she accepted. When Demitri and Ana followed, he stopped. “For his safety, Demitri may wish to remain here.”

  The small gathering of squirrels followed at her feet, and Ana bounced around them. Flowridia glanced apologetically at Demitri. “You know Casvir wouldn’t say that if he didn’t mean it.”

  I don’t like leaving you alone. A faint growl echoed in his throat. And certainly not with him.

  “What has he ever done to betray our trust?” she snapped. Flowridia left him.

  Several steps away, Casvir spoke. “Living creatures do not tolerate me. Even intelligent ones, such as Demitri, distrust me.”

  Flowridia remembered Ayla sharing similar sentiments, though the so-called ‘creatures of the night’ had remained the exception. “A pity,” she whispered, “that that’s the price of undeath.”

  Were it the path she chose for herself, would she be content? Would Demitri hate her if she became like Casvir?

  A question for another night. The last flickering of light disappeared behind the trees, the barest hints of stars coming to fill the void. “Have you ever tried to control the living?” Casvir asked.

  Flowridia shook her head. “Only plants, and only as far as to coax them to grow.”

  “I suspect you have more talent than you realize. What I want you to do is expand the reaches of your control as far and as strong as you can. Feel the limits. Summon all you are able.”

  Flowridia sat on the ground, already well attuned to the small army of rodents following in her footsteps. But chattering night creatures surrounded them, and beneath her the dead practically vibrated at the touch of her senses. It had become so easy a thing, to let her focus drift outside herself. Her influence brushed across the creatures around her, gliding past some and grasping onto others.

  “Bring them here.”

  Flowridia felt them all—the night creatures and dead alike. A slow, painstaking process, but she wormed her way into the minds of the weak-willed creatures around her. With each success, she felt the process speed, finding the ease at which she penetrated their minds steadying.

  And as she focused, she touched upon the dead beneath her. The ground shook as claws unearthed themselves, as larger corpses joined the throng of vermin. Bears and wolves, the predators of this forest rose at her command, some living and others dead.

  Her toes curled as tiny creatures skittered across her. Spiders crawled across her skin, utterly devoted to her command, rats, roaches—

  “Hold your focus,” Casvir’s calm voice said. “It would not do you well to lose them now.”

  Flowridia released a breath. She opened her eyes, nearly gasping at the hundreds of creatures who had come at her summon. Alive and dead, they watched every movement. A small circle of emptiness surrounded both Casvir and Ana, but she felt the tension grow strong around them.

  “Is this the limit of your power?”

  Flowridia felt her concentration strain, but she knew this was not it. Her influence directed upward to the sky, touching upon owls and sleeping birds. She covered her hair as something whooshed beside her. Screeching bats threatened to entangle themselves, threatened to deafen her ears and break her concentration. Owls landed beside her, and other winged creatures dragged along the ground, their dead, rotted bodies unfit for flight.

  Flowridia felt faint. So many consciousnesses, and the living still fought for control. Her head ached; sweat beaded from her pores.

  “Truly impressive,” she heard Casvir say, but then his words slurred, her vision growing dark. “To control both living and dead—”

  The dead did not fight, but the living suddenly broke free.

  They swarmed. Some ran away in fear; others turned on their counterparts, living and dead, and tore them apart.

  Flowridia cried, “Stop!” but the living gave no response.

  “Make them fight.”

  She obeyed.

  The dead consumed everything, tearing through the living creatures like fire through paper. Trees and plants fell to their wrath, to Flowridia’s wrath, she realized, but the carnage of blood and animal cries ripped through her soul, lacerating her heart. She shrieked, uncaring if her influence waned. She shut her eyes and covered her face.

  Silence settled upon the clearing. Flowridia felt a clawed hand grab her arm and force her to stand. “There is no shame in failure, as long as you learn from your mistake.” When Flowridia opened her eyes, the dark forest was stained with torn limbs and blood. The dead had fall
en back as they should, now with their once-living counterparts to join them. “But to cower is to show fear. Pathetic displays are—”

  Flowridia wrenched her arm away, furious at the tears welling in her eyes. “But I killed them, Casvir. They destroyed everything!”

  “Death magic has a price. I do not think you have accepted that yet.”

  Flowridia brought her sleeve up to wipe her tears, furious at his words. Perhaps because she knew he was right.

  “The living distrust the dead. Most are inclined to fight. In order to reach your full potential, you must learn to balance the costs.”

  “What use is there in reaching my full potential if I lose myself in the process?”

  Tension rose between them. A dangerous undertone laced Casvir’s quiet response. “I do not understand.”

  The smell of carnage slowly rose. Flowridia dared not step for fear of squishing her toes in gore. The silent screams of living creatures echoed through the night. “I hate this,” she replied, her very soul sickened at the display before her. “I didn’t choose my talents. If necromancy means only to destroy the world I love, perhaps I don’t want it.”

  “Wasted potential is just that—a waste.”

  The words boiled her blood. Glaring, she tore her gaze away from the death to face Casvir instead. “You don’t care for me at all. You’re trying to mold me to your selfish whims.”

  “Your entire life has been an investment. I do not have failed investments.”

  “So I’m a project to you,” she said, furious tears falling down her face. “A pawn. I never chose to be yours, Casvir!”

  “No, you did not. But where would your life be without my gift to you? Your mind is keen, and your methods are clever, but without a familiar you are nothing more than a peasant girl with a penchant for gardening.”

  Flowridia tried to object, but her words died on her tongue as Casvir’s own continued. “We rarely choose our own destinies, Flowridia. Instead, we grab opportunity, we work ourselves to the brink, and we embrace our potential. Otherwise, we stagnate.” He stepped forward; Flowridia cowered. “You will not stagnate. Just as I have given you a destiny, I can take it away.”

  Flowridia cowered, crumpling under the harsh words and unquestionable threat. Mother had stunted herself forever, yes, but at least she had forged her own future.

  “What do you want me to do?” she whimpered, and she hid her head in her arms, sheltered by the curtain of her hair.

  “I want you to rise above your weaknesses and take your throne. Whatever throne that may be is your choice.”

  Flowridia heard footsteps through the crushed leaves.

  When she finally lifted her head, Casvir had gone. Ana waited obediently beside her.

  Flowridia summoned every ounce of courage she held and rose to her feet. With careful steps, she stepped through the bloodstained forest, sickened at the ruined plants and desecrated bodies.

  Casvir had said she would soon be ready to raise humanoid creatures. Oh, the thought made her faint.

  At camp, Casvir was nowhere in sight. But Demitri bounded toward her, his fur bristling at the evidence of her tears. Say the word, and I’ll bite his face off.

  “That’s more dramatic than necessary.” She embraced him, resting her head against his thick fur. “But if he comes back, tell him I’m asleep.”

  What happened?

  She could feel Demitri’s muscles stiffen. Hurt washed over her tired body. “I forgot what he was. And I realize now that I’m a fool.”

  Whatever words Demitri tried to soothe her with went unheard, her mind a virulent storm.

  * * *

  The night seemed endless as she tossed and turned, Ayla’s grin lingering in her mind like the crescent moon. When she finally sat up, stars littered the sky, entire galaxies hers to witness. The celestial sight brought no comfort, however. And Casvir was nowhere to be seen.

  Flowridia stood, frowning at the empty seat across from the warming crystal. But far into the field, a flash of purple met her gaze. Stepping beyond the line of trees, she saw the faint silhouette of Imperator Casvir against the brilliant moonlight. An enormous mace, conceived from dark matter, ripped across the skyline as he stepped, intricate and precise. She had seen him fight, yes, and to see him perform was a spectacle, but watching him practice, to see him repeat his steps over and over in sync, was nothing less than mesmerizing.

  Flowridia drew closer, until she came near enough to see the glint of his black armor against the moon, the fine movements of his rippling musculature as he wielded his specialized weapon. Enormous and terrifying, yet Casvir moved with a grace betraying his stature. Not a dance, no; Ayla had danced, incapacitated her enemies with a refined elegance befitting her lithe form. Casvir crashed against his enemies like an ocean wave: smooth, unrelenting, and always emerging stronger than before.

  But he stopped, luminous red eyes settling on her as she quietly watched. His weapon faded. “Trouble sleeping?”

  “Don’t pretend nothing happened.” Her combative words drew a frown to his face. She withered, stepping back, as words tumbled from her lips. “Casvir, I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me. I know our relationship is under contract, but I’ve come to care about you. I’ve come to trust you. And I’ve grown so much under your patronage.” She bit her lip, unsure of how to articulate the uneasiness within her. Her vision fell to the dew-covered grass. “I think you’re the only person who sees me for what I am and doesn’t fear it. I accept that I’m a pawn to you. But I’m my own person, too. I have to do things my own way.”

  Casvir’s gaze had never left her. Relentless, like all he did. “It was my mistake to expect you to be like Odessa. She was impulsive and dangerous, her methods questionable if not outright deplorable. But you are thoughtful, your methods balanced, your patience granting you a finesse I have never seen matched. For you to wield the coin of light and dark in tandem means to bring structure to pure chaos. Today you failed to balance them. Next time you will not, because you learn from your errors.”

  The words should not have been so touching, but Flowridia fought a smile.

  “I chose you to be a pawn, yes,” Casvir said, his words even and thoughtful. “But I have come to find joy in your company. You are my project, but you are also my pupil. I want you to succeed. The world has tried to break you, but I know you are better. I want you to be better.”

  Flowridia did smile this time. With her hands clasped demurely, she blinked away tears. She was surprised when he continued speaking.

  “I would ask you a question, one I do not expect an answer for tonight: What do you want? You hold boundless potential, but why will you seek it?”

  Flowridia looked to the ground, the question prickling in her head. Truly, she did not know anymore. With Ayla’s death, she felt so lost, and with Ayla’s crimes so horrendously revealed, she felt jaded.

  “Think upon your answer. And once you know, pursue it relentlessly.”

  Flowridia shyly asked, “What is it that you want?”

  “I wish to be a god, Flowridia,” Casvir responded. “I will take up the mantle of the fallen God of Death, once I deem myself prepared to slay her in her underground tomb. Do you know why I founded Nox’Kartha?”

  “Only that you and Murishani founded a haven for De’Sindai.”

  “The price of citizenship is to pledge to me as a god. They may pledge to others as well, but I gain that power all the same. I provide for what is mine, and my people are cared for.”

  Flowridia had suspected as much, yet there remained a lingering curiosity she dared to push. “But, why? No one is born with the aspiration for godhood at birth.”

  “You are correct.” Utter stoicism steeled his features, despite the words trickling from his mouth. A gentle stream, never rushing, no, and never forced. Merely a delivery of facts. “I was born to nothing during the era of Solviran witch-burnings. My parents appeared as human as you, but that single drop of demon blood manifested acut
ely in my being. They ran from Solvira, only to be turned away from the Theocracy of Sol Kareena—and so my mother was burned at the stake for witchcraft, my father forced to leave her behind to save me. For five years we lived as nomads, until they caught us. They killed him and sought me next—but I had cried enough. In my calm, as the soldiers came to take me, the dead rose and slaughtered them all. Thereafter, they have followed wherever I have gone.

  “I experienced the world as a pariah, threatened and spat upon by acolytes of so-called divinity. It merely fueled me. And when I saw the brutality inflicted upon my own people, I saw . . . potential. The rest, the history books may tell you. That is why I have pursued this path; consider, now, why you would.”

  “I’ll think about it,” she promised.

  “And understand, Flowridia, I do respect your talents,” Casvir added, his voice as gentle as the night breeze. “Power requires sacrifice, but I do not wish to offend you. Give me time to rethink my lessons for you, and I can refine them more to your taste.”

  Casvir looked to the camp, to the faintly glowing crystal beyond. “You should sleep. The hour is late, and tomorrow we ride.”

  Flowridia stepped close to his side as he escorted her to the flickering light. His clawed hand settled at the small of her back.

  They met no travelers on the road. Instead, they came across a town. Snow fell in gentle, swirling wisps, settling onto the rooftops of the mountain village. Smoke from the chimneys bespoke warmth and comfort, and Flowridia saw evidence of people going about their day.

  She stopped her horse and called out to Casvir. “Should we go around?”

  “What use would that be?”

  She glanced at Demitri, then to Ana peeking out from her bag. “We’re hardly inconspicuous.”

  “Good,” he said, and his horse continued forward.

  Nervous, Flowridia said softly, “Stay close, Demitri.”