Murdering Her Light

by Michael Clement

  “That's the symbol of a Gray Walker ,” she said, pointing at the rune.

  Distracted, I was positive that I was going to melt in the sunshine.

  Strangely, I felt cooler than when I had put it on.

  Something about the outfit made me feel stronger. Smiling, I discovered that I was able to stand by myself.

  “Your strength is returning,” she noticed. “That's good. We have a long walk today.”

  Great, I thought. I hate walking.

  - 7 -

  I take it back... I don’t hate walking.

  I despise it.

  Americans don’t walk much anymore, at least the ones that I knew didn’t. We ride cars, motorcycles, bikes, planes, and boats.

  Walking for miles to get somewhere was a foreign concept to me, especially through a desert landscape devoid of any signs of humanity.

  “Won’t monsters find us?” I asked worriedly, as I chewed on more jerky.

  “No,” she said.

  After another mile, I asked. “Why not?”

  Sighing, Tori said. “Our matrices act like powerful magnets. Each one does something different. All Gray Walkers have the symbols that ward us from monsters. It creates a sort of bubble around us that repels them.”

  Then, she pinched her mouth shut and refused to talk anymore.

  Something was really bugging her.

  “What's wrong?” I asked after another silent mile.

  She chewed on that question for a while.

  Finally, she said. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

  “Why do you need to do anything?” I asked.

  Scowling, she replied. “You have the marks of a Walker, but no memory of how you got them. You have a companion, but no training. I can’t just leave you alone, it’s against my vows and training.”

  Throwing her hands up in the air, she said. “The rules say that I’m responsible for you, since your master is dead.”

  “I don’t need anyone…” but, then I stopped.

  I was in the middle of a fucking desert, with no supplies, training, or knowledge of where to go or how to get help. This obviously wasn’t my world. I had no money, and no other friends other than her.

  I needed help.

  “Fuck,” I cursed. I hated being dependent on someone else. I liked being self-sufficient.

  Tori looked both upset, frustrated, and pissed.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m used to being able to take care of myself.”

  “The real problem is that you need a teacher,” she said lowering her voice.

  “Can you teach me?” I asked.

  Tori blushed for the first time and looked away from me.

  “What did I say?” I said, worried that I had hurt her feelings again.

  Without looking at me, she said, “Whoever becomes your teacher -- your master -- is someone that you are going to end up sleeping with.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  Then, I added, “Why is that?”

  “When a master takes an apprentice, they spend lots of time together,” she began. “He, or she, will draw patterns on their student’s skin and then plunge magic into the matrices. When that happens, feelings and emotions become… exaggerated. A sense of togetherness erupts in a nearly overwhelming state.”

  When I didn’t chime in, she said, “Plus, their companions become close. That closeness draws the two humans into sex, most of the time. All that studying and working together naturally turns them into a couple.”

  “But, not all the time?” I asked.

  Tori nodded.

  “When doesn’t it?” I said.

  Tori was silent for a while. Finally, she said, “They don’t have sex if they are blood family. The companions don’t allow it. That's why out of a hundred masters, only one or two will take their own child as an apprentice.”

  “I see,” I said.

  We walked in silence for a long time. Finally, Tori said. “You don’t need to choose today. However, you do need to know one thing about the village that we are visiting.”

  “What's that?” I asked.

  “I don’t carry money because most villages use a bartering system instead,” she began. “I do work for them, they pay me in food, clothing, weapons, protection, etc. Whatever I want to trade for.”

  “What kind of work do you do for them?” I asked.

  “Healing, finding things, and a whole host of other magical activities,” she said. “But, there is one that is the most valuable to them.”

  “What is that?” I asked, as I climbed a small rise.

  “Sex,” she replied, in a matter-of-fact kind of voice.

  I stopped walking.

  “Sex?” I asked. “Like a prostitute.”

  Tori scowled, thought about my answer, and then shrugged.

  “More like a high-end escort,” she replied. “With specialized skills.”

  “Tori,” I blurted out. “How do you even know that term, living out here?”

  She laughed. “I have visited some of the more advanced cities in the north.”

  Turning, she began to walk onwards, letting me digest her words.

  Finally, I said, “Why?”

  “I was waiting for that question,” she said.

  She walked around a cactus and then answered.

  “You were attacked by monsters on your first day here,” she said.

  I nodded yes.

  “What would you pay for that not to happen?” she asked.

  I thought about it and said, “Quite a bit.”

  “That’s how the villagers feel also,” she replied. “Monsters cover this world.”

  Waving her right hand a bit in an offhand gesture, she said. “Remember how I told you that our matrices remind me of magnets. That they give off a field like a magnet does.”

  “Yes,” I replied, as I noticed what looked like smoke on the horizon.

  “Think of people without magnets as pieces of metal, of varying degree of purity,” she instructed.

  Then, she said, “What happens if you rub a piece of metal against a strong magnet.”

  “It becomes magnetic,” I said.

  She twirled her finger, like a teacher of mine once did, as she tried to get me to think thru the situation.

  “Are you saying sex with you... makes them monster repellent?” I said.

  Tori nodded.

  “For how long?” I asked.

  “Some people, only days, others weeks, months or even years,” she said. “It depends on the individual, just like some pieces of metal will remain magnetized longer, while others lose their magnetism rapidly.”

  “So, villagers will barter to have sex with you,” I guessed out loud.

  “Yes,” she replied. “Their leader will specifically pick out people that he, or she, feels will remain potent the longest. Then, they will barter with us.”

  “Us?” I blurted out.

  “Yes,” she replied. “Your companion is rapidly regaining its strength. Already today, I can feel its power from a few feet away. By tonight, it will be potent enough for it to pass on some protection.”

  I thought about that statement for a while.

  “Do apprentices barter themselves, or do their masters barter for them?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “It depends on the master, but most of the time, the master does the bartering with input from the student.”

  “How much is a night's romp worth?” I asked.

  “A lot,” she replied.

  “Give me an example,” I said.

  She thought for a second, “I have been offered many things, from food for a few weeks, all the way to real silk or chocolate.”

  “Chocolate?” I asked.

  “It is rare here,” she replied, pointing at the sun. “It melts too fast, and it isn’t produced in the south, at all.”

  “Once,” she mused. “I was even offered three slave girls in trade.”

  I raised my eyebrow, making Tori laugh.

 
“The point is,” she replied. “Sex with us is worth a lot to villages, depending on how long ago a Walker visited them. With enough potent villagers, the village is protected from attack.”

  Pointing, she said, “That smoke is from the village of Burning Tree. That is where we are going.”

  - 8 -

  The village was busy. It sat on a crushed rock road that looked maintained and cared for. Adobe walls built with stones surrounded the town, along with a deep moat filled with spikes. The city streets were dirt, but at least there wasn’t sewage running at the edges of it. Most of the homes were adobe as well.

  And, I didn’t see one speck of working technology. I saw lots of old cars that were being used for other purposes, but none of them were running.

  Another thing I noticed was the children. They seemed happy, running here and there playing games. I saw a soccer ball flying past my head, as eager youngsters chased it.

  The second thing was the non-humans.

  I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw the first. He was gigantic, at least seven foot tall, with black ebony skin and no hair. Instead, he had feathers that rose up in a plume above his head and then trailed down his back.

  And, he had a beak. A freaking beak! Like a parrot would have.

  I couldn’t believe it. He was standing there, and no one thought it was strange.

  Then, from around the corner, a creature that looked like a tiger, except it had black fur and blue highlights. And, instead of fur on its back, it had a coat of quills like a porcupine.

  “Wow,” I whispered.

  Tori laughed. “Follow me,” she insisted. “And, stop staring.”

  We wound our way through the town.

  Not a speck of technology anywhere.

  In the center, I discovered the strangest contraption.

  It looked like a crane holding a giant birdcage, poised over a huge rip in the earth. The contraption reminded me of something that you would see in the coal mines of Appalachia maybe in the early 1900s.

  Behind the pit was a large building with a wide porch. There were about seven steps that lead up into it, making the structure look like it was lording over the pit. A balcony covered the front of it and armed guards, with bows and arrows, walked back and forth, waiting for trouble.

  An old fat man dressed in garish, eye-popping colors, all in different shades of crimson, sat on a wicker chair watching us approach. His skin was a pasty white, as was his hair. Only sprinkles of black poked out of the uncombed rat’s nest of hair on top his head that poked out in every direction. Crows-feet lined his eyes and wrinkles covered his forehead.

  Strangely, his legs were covered in a red shawl that hid them from my view, making me wonder if his legs were injured.

  “Lord Boyd,” Tori said, bowing her head to him.

  “Call me Zebulon,” he whispered, holding out his ring-covered hand. Each of his pudgy fingers looked like they were being strangled by the turquoise on his rings. “I am the Sorceror of Burning Tree.”

  Something grabbed at my mind, trying to pull me into his gaze. It felt like a spider web of power that had been tossed out, like a fishing net, to see what it caught. I felt it sink into my mind, like a hook jabbing into a fish’s mouth.

  “My name is Truth,” I whispered, taking a step forward, as I reached up to adjust the cloth that was covering my body. Zebulon wanted to see more of me, I just knew it.

  “Fuck,” Tori cursed, stepping between us.

  “Get out of my way,” I yelled at her. There was no way that she was getting my man.

  How the fuck do you get these stupid clothes off, anyways ? I thought angrily. How could he fuck me if I was tied up in these stupid rags!

  Turning her back on Zebulon, Tori smashed a palm against my forehead.

  Lightning spat and I saw stars.

  Then, my mind shook with a resounding crash, as she forced the Sorceror's spell away out of my mind.

  “You fucker!” I cursed at him, realizing what he had done.

  Zebulon Boyd chuckled.

  “Your apprentice needs more spells of protection,” he instructed Tori. “That was too easy.”

  “Touch her again,” Tori announced, “and I will tear this town down around your ears.”

  Zebulon held up a jeweled finger.

  “Let’s not be hasty,” he said. “It was just a joke.”

  “I did not find it amusing,” Tori said. “You have attacked my ward, and I demand reparations.”

  Zebulon pouted, sticking out his thick lower lip.

  Then, he sighed. “You are correct. I offer you the Room of Ribbons for a week.”

  Tori shook her head.

  “The code dictates a higher payment for your infraction. Three weeks free usage of the Room of Ribbons, including food, drink, and entertainment of my choosing for myself and Truth. And, I may trade this offering as I choose.”

  Zebulon scowled, pinching the folds of flesh between his eyes together furiously.

  I wondered if he knew that I wasn’t her apprentice.

  Would that matter? I bet that it would.

  But, I surely wasn’t going to tell the fat fuck, after he tried to mind-rape me.

  “Let’s go inside to discuss negotiations for your services,” he said.

  Then, an amazing thing happened.

  Thick black spider legs with undertones of red shot out from of either side of the chair.

  With a lurch, Zebulon stood up, as the shawl fell to the ground. Turning around, he skittered into the building, leaving the chair behind in his wake. He had only been resting his arms on it. His body had been hidden inside of a recessed area.

  “Holy fuck,” I whispered.

  Zebulon looked like a fat human from the waist up.

  From the waist down, he had at least twelve spider legs and some sort of nasty black abdomen that jutted forward with a scorpions spike on the end of it under his body, instead of behind him like a spider. It looked like an exaggerated penis, about a foot and a half long. Long crimson hairs hung from the abdomen, like the hair on a man’s privates.

  Tori laughed when she saw my reaction. “I thought that would freak you out.”

  “What the fuck is he?” I asked when Zebulon was out of earshot.

  “A Shadar,” she replied.

  Then, she sauntered into the building like it was just another day.

  I definitely wasn’t on earth anymore, I realized in horror.

  - 9 -

  We followed Zebulon into his lair. It made me feel like the proverbial fly entering the spider’s parlor. After seeing his real body, I expected webs, tied up meals that were still twitching and lots of dead flies.

  But, instead, I found Xanadu.

  The interior room was full of palm trees, ferns, a bubbling fountain, and tons of pillows. A purple silk canopy covered the ceiling and sides of the room, making me feel like I was in the genie’s bottle. Expensive, hand-woven carpeting covered the floor.

  In the background, I even heard the screech of a parrot.

  The air felt moist and comfortable in stark contrast to the desert that surrounded the building.

  And, dozens of nearly naked women covered in jewels lounged on pillows, all around the room.

  They were everywhere. White, black, Asian, Native American, and other nationalities that I couldn’t even describe. They all were wearing silk bikinis and bottoms.

  Barely restrained bosoms bounced in every direction.

  And, every one of them was stoned.

  Rolled up joints filled most of their hands, as they lay sprawled out on the pillows around the central chair, that Zebulon was making himself comfortable on.

  At the edge of the tent, Tori removed her boots and set them to the side. I quickly followed her example and then followed her into the tent, inside the building.

  Two wicker chairs sat in front of his throne. They both had small legs, so that we would be seated below the man of the house.