by Casey Eanes
Arakiel growled with rage and threw up his iron staff, but Abtren cut him off. “ENOUGH.” Her eyes filled with a collage of colors and her figure shone like the sun, full of terrible beauty. “Fighting between ourselves will get us nowhere.”
Nyx laughed and slanted her horrible eyes toward her fair sister. “So what would you suggest, Abtren? Find another worshiper to contest the High King?” She stood up and put her face an inch away from her sister’s. “In case you haven’t noticed, Candor has changed. Not many worship the Old Ones anymore. The smell of this place, the stink of those worshiping…”
“Don’t say his name.” Abtren cut her off, her eyes raging with fire. “You think I don’t see that, Nyx?” She glanced over to Seam. “Hosp is gone. Seam has learned how to push, mimicking even your power, Arakiel.”
Arakiel stood, his face a chiseled scowl, shaking his head with disbelief. Abtren looked at Nyx and Arakiel, her beautiful face full of fear. There was only one answer left for them.
“Only Bastion and Isphet remain.” She cut her eyes to Arakiel. “You say that Bastion is in Legion’s Teeth?”
Arakiel nodded, the scowl growing with each second. Abtren continued, “We must get Seam to free Bastion, but you must tell us, Arakiel. Where did they put Isphet?”
Arakiel shook his head with rage, his voice rumbling like an earthquake. “We will not release Isphet. We strove too hard to keep him checked.”
Nyx shoved her brother with all her might. “You are useless! What option do we have!? Your leadership has left us bound to this sniveling king.” She cut her eyes at Abtren and back to Arakiel. “Abtren’s right, Isphet is our only way to break this enslavement. He has grown in power, even as he has been locked in his mirror. He has found something. We must get Seam to unleash him as soon as Bastion is freed.”
Arakiel growled and paced around his sisters like a panther. “Have you forgotten, dear sisters, what Isphet will do to you? He does not care about power, control, or security! He does not care about empire or might! Have you forgotten that it was he who deceived us to go back to Aether in the first place? To collaborate with the betrayer and seek to overthrow…”
Abtren screamed, “Don’t say his name!”
“Aleph!” Arakiel screamed. “I will not let you forget his name. Isphet brought us all back to him. Even if Isphet does free us from Seam, what then? Would you have us go from one slave master to another? You have not thought about this. Seam is mortal. His body and soul will fail in time. No mortal can exist forever on this plane. It might be years, but once his body fails him, we will be free. Free to rule Candor again. Free from both Isphet and Aleph.”
Abtren and Nyx writhed under the name and bared their fangs at their brother. Arakiel’s countenance was like a storm, and the horizon rumbled with black clouds, masking his voice from Seam’s earshot. “We will free Bastion, and we will wait. Seam will fall in time, and then...then we will be free. Do not mention Isphet to me again.”
Arakiel left his sisters standing in the desert, retreating to the titan as thunderclouds rumbled on the desert’s horizon.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Nameless panted, gasping for air as he rowed with the other forgotten souls below the deck of The Hunt. Misery, pain, and the whip were his only companions in the shadows of that hold. The reek of the place was colossal. Hundreds of crude, dust-formed bodies were chained together in neat order to fill each narrow bench. The rows of ever-moving, never-resting oarsmen moaned through the endless night. There was no stopping, no breaks, and no reprieve. Nameless’ back and hands ached with exhaustion, not having stopped his labor since being chained. Time had no meaning below the deck of the cursed vessel, for moments felt like both seconds and eons, as if the entire universe was caught in the rhythm of the oars slapping the dark water.
Desperate, Nameless threw his eyes to his brothers and sisters in chains, seeking some glimmer of hope, some thread of connection, but none gave him notice. In the darkness, he could barely see them, even the prisoner next to him somehow felt distant, like a shadow on his periphery.
What little he could see were his fingers grasped on the oar and the yellow, horrible eyes of Rank who patrolled through the hold, whipping any who dared to pause. There was something strange about his hands. Nameless glanced, searching for Rank’s eyes, but he was gone. He let go of the oar and held his hands mere inches from his eyes. His flesh, if you could call it that, felt crude, worn, and dry. Crumbling. The word filled Nameless’ mind as he realized his body was the consistency of cracked clay. The powerful substance Rank and File put on him gave him a solid form, but it was horribly flawed and broken.
Pain threw across his back, and Nameless felt sharp talons gore his back. He screamed and his hands flew out for the oars.
“Take your hands off again, runt, and I’ll take out an eye. Make you look like Master File. I’ll let you in on a litt’l secret. You don’t need ‘em peepers to row.”
Rank leaned down and laughed over Nameless, his breath smelling like a shallow grave. “You looking for answers here in the dark, fresh catch? You’ll find none here. There are none to be had. The only way you’ll ever be free from us is if you row. So ROW!”
The crack of the whip sent Nameless into a frenzy of rowing, causing Rank to cackle, his yellow eyes glowing like embers in the darkness. “That’s more like it, Nameless. You can keep that eye, for now.”
Nameless thought about his situation, trying desperately to orient himself in his current hell. A horrible cloud of darkness fell over him as he felt completely trapped in the gloom.
Whatever debt I have to pay is too great. You will never be free. The thoughts raced through his mind and Nameless knew that they were true. The darkness, the stench of defecation and never-ending labor, the gnawing pain within his gut told him there was little hope of any change. So Nameless grew numb, conceding to the rhythm of the oars, and his mind disengaged and dimmed. He had almost given in to the dark completely when The Hunt’s hull shuddered with a thunderous crash.
File screamed from above, cursing. “RANK! Get up here now!” The yellow eyes of the whip bearer darted through the darkness as Rank threw the hatch back violently.
“What was that!? What was that!?”
Nameless blinked, his hands screaming as he lifted them off the splintered oar. He ran his hand on his face as another ear-splitting shudder ran through the ship, the timber moaning under strain.
A small trinket bounced on Nameless’ chest and he glanced down at it. The small rune was etched in the metal, just like the memory in the periphery of his mind. There was something special about the bauble he wore, as Master File had called it, but the significance was entirely lost. All he knew is that whatever it was that hung on his neck, it had caused both of his Masters to appear fearful, if even for only an instant.
Rank and File cursed above the deck, exchanging harried commands to one another.
“Run aground? How in all the hells could we run aground! In the Sea of Souls?”
Rank quipped, trying to be reassuring, “We can shove off, can’t we, File? Nothing stopping us from shoving off, is there?”
“GET DOWN THERE!” File hollered, his voice thundering over the hold’s hatch. “Get down there, now, and shove us off this rock!”
There was that, at least. Nameless knew that there was something in this world that the Masters feared. He had seen it when they had laid their terrible eyes on his amulet. He could hear it in their voices now. The Masters of The Hunt were afraid. There was something that they feared here in the dark waters. If that were true, then there was something more than this. It was a revelation for Nameless, a sudden spark of hope within that dark place.
A hollow thump across The Hunt’s bow announced that Rank had dropped off onto whatever object they had rammed. Through the splintered timbers, Nameless could hear the whip bearer moan as he pushed against the ship.
“HURRY, you dolt! We can’t stay here! We’ve got to keep moving!”
Rank screamed back at File, “You think I don’t know that, File?! I’m giving it all that I’ve got.” Another more forceful THUMP knocked through the ship’s hull, and Nameless felt the vessel bounce with new buoyancy.
He did it. We’ve shoved off. Nameless felt his heart sink. The rowing would begin again. The unexpected reprieve brought him much clarity, and his eyes filled with tears at the thought of losing his new revelation to the monotony of rowing.
They fear something. Don’t forget. They fear something that is here.
The hatch overhead flew back open and a dripping wet Rank slid through the door and gnashed his teeth as his eyes flew across the slaves.
“Row, you worms.” Rank’s whip cracked against the floor. “Like the Beast is upon you, ROW!”
Nameless flinched beneath the pain of his crumbling hands as he once again pushed and pulled the oar. The ship bobbed in the waves, and Nameless felt the ocean sliding below his feet. File kicked the hatch shut overhead and the crew was once again enveloped in darkness.
Nameless lost himself with each weary stroke in the shadowy depths of The Hunt. Despite those few moments of running aground, his existence was one continuous torment, crudely threaded together with the bite of the whip, as they churned the black water, their low moaning filling the hull.
After endless days of nothing but rowing, darkness and pain, something unexpected happened. The floor groaned beneath Nameless’ feet. The boat began to pitch forward, and the timbers groaned under some unseen pressure. An explosive force slammed into the ship, nearly sending the vessel over on itself. The hull of the boat shook under a rhythmic constriction, and Nameless’ mind filled with fear.
“RANK!” File’s voice was laced with panic.
The one-eyed sailor’s voice broke through the shadows as the hatch flew open overhead. The ruined face spoke in a shrill whisper, “Rank. He is here. Hurry now!”
The boards of the hull creaked as if the visitor File announced could squeeze around the entire vessel. The boards moaned and popped under what Nameless could only imagine was a massive weight. Whatever was doing this was huge, and Nameless stood, placing his hands over the coarse beams of the hull. In the dark, his fingers felt timber akin to a bow fully drawn, and he knew that in any instant the only home he knew in this cursed world would come crumbling down on top of him. The sea would gladly swallow him once again.
Rank sprinted toward the hatch, forgetting to shut it behind him. Nameless’ eyes adjusted to the murky green light that poured from above, penetrating the darkness. As his eyes adjusted, he listened, trying to decipher what had called his captors to attention.
He. It was a person of some sort, but who? A titanic voice bellowed out like a thunderclap, shaking the cabin, and Nameless had his question answered.
“Rank and File,” the beast growled showcasing no goodwill in its voice. “You half-blood crossbreeds have been left to your own devices for long enough. It is time you make good on your oaths.”
Rank blubbered, his sobs filling the silence between the beast’s monstrous words. File spoke, his voice the sound of a cockroach. “Magnificent one, only name your price and it is yours.”
Fear swallowed Nameless like a cloud of fog with the words. “I long to feed.” The voice; Nameless had heard the voice before. Images flashed in his mind of the moment before Rank and File pulled him from the depths. What had he seen in the depths? His mind scrambled for the answer as if recalling a distant dream. A colossal serpent. Piercing memories of the worm flashed in his mind. Rows of fangs and piercing, glowing eyes. The thought of the monster made him shake, fear constricting around him tighter than the chains that locked him to the oar. Down in the depths that thing had circled him, coiling around him in the dark, filling the void with questions. “Who are you?”
Nameless heard Rank and File squabble overhead, bickering to decide an appropriate sacrifice. “I will bring you our strongest oarsman,” stammered Rank.
File shot out, enraged. “No! That one is nearly wasted. Don’t insult the Magnificent One with that garbage,” spat Rank. “Bring him out someone fresh.”
The two continued to bicker and curse until the serpent’s voice rattled the ship, booming over the sea. “SILENCE. Bring me what is mine.”
The sound of Rank’s feet thumped overhead as he approached the chamber below. Nameless squinted in the darkness attempting to make out the faces of the fellow captives. Their faces lay blank like a slate; no fear or anxiety could be found. Each and every slave sat in a stupor that did not reflect the thundering panic within Nameless own chest. Perhaps they prayed to be sacrificed, allowing their torture to finally draw to a close.
As Rank’s footsteps got closer, Nameless gripped his oar and pulled with all his strength. His voice rang over all of the others, “ROW!”
The small ship creaked as his paddle splashed, slicing through the black waters. Nameless called again, unrelenting as Rank came down through the open hatch and locked his horrid, puss-colored eyes onto him. “I said row. ROW!”
The crumbling shell of a man sitting next to Nameless took hold of the long oar and joined in, rowing in unison with each stroke Nameless made. The other captives joined in, each pressing at their oar, pushing the boat forward.
Rank dropped into the cramped room and his whip flashed from side to side, ripping into his drivers’ backs. Nameless screamed as the gnarled whip dug into his flesh, but the punishment only made the oarsmen rally with newfound strength. They were rowing with a frenzied pace as Rank filled the hold with cursing. Each crack of his whip only sent the crew into a more tumultuous pace.
A massive blow slammed across the ship and nearly rolled it on its side. Another shot to the ship’s hull sent Rank tumbling into the wooden wall, yelping as he smashed his hollow face against its timbers. Rank’s yellow eyes cut to Nameless as he bore his dagger teeth and hissed. “You! I know it was you!”
As Rank lunged for Nameless, another deafening collision rocked the ship, knocking him back as the beast outside bellowed. “I WILL CRUSH YOU ALL. YOU CANNOT HIDE!”
Nameless plunged his oar deep within the murky waters and fought to push harder with each stroke. Just keep rowing! He threw himself into each stroke, but soon Rank was on top of him, his claws ripping into him, clamoring for the locks on his ankles and wrists.
Rank’s claws reached for Nameless’ arms and legs, unlocking his shackles before he was jolted into the air by another cascading blow from the outside, the ship nearly buckling from the force. Nameless was free from his chains but was helpless against Rank, who pinned him down before shouting out. “I have your sacrifice, mighty one!”
The other slaves continued to row, but the water tossing the boat from side to side was lost to the uneasy suspension of the serpent’s coils that gripped around the vessel, causing the ancient timbers to creak and groan under the pressure.
Rank’s jagged fingers plunged into Nameless’ flesh as he rushed him above deck, only to face the colossal horror above. The beast towered over the ship as the stench of hot death filled the open air. Nameless stooped to his knees, covering his mouth, desperate to relieve himself from the reeking smell. Despite the noxious odor, he was completely absorbed in the creature’s magnificence. Scales that had looked as black as midnight in the dark waters gleaned crimson in the open air, the color of blood covering the beast like a royal cloak. Burning yellow eyes pierced him, hammering Nameless down to the floorboards of the deck. The beast’s massive jowls moved, revealing a cavernous maw of fangs, a bed of knives that could skewer a city.
“Fresh catch, I see.” The beast’s eyes flitted back to Rank and File as its long black tongue flitted out in the air. “His essence is strong. Intact.”
“Yes…my lord. Freshest one on The Hunt. Hasn’t yet begun to fade. We’ve been saving him for you.”
The beast growled and flashed his yellow eyes toward File. “Lies. Don’t dare lie to me, File. I can see them before they leave your mouth.”
The
serpent’s mouth opened wide and a flow of hot, frothing saliva rolled out. The spew hit the deck and burned through the wood, causing a fog of smoke to fill the air.
“You are much more than a meal to me, little one. You are the proof that my cursed kin still have some worth after all. Now that most of them are free, I had expected much more, but you...you are the first that they have sent to me in a very long time. What was your name on the other side? My sisters...they won't tell me.”
Nameless’ heart slowly fell from his mouth and he whispered the only answer he knew. “I don’t remember.”
The dragon roared with laughter and flashed a cruel smile over the black chopping waters of the sea. “Of course you don’t, silly for me to forget how this works.” The beast cocked his head and muttered, “No matter, you’ll do just the same.”
The monster drew close to Nameless and inspected him again. He blew a puff of hot air from his nostrils as he jerked back. “Your charm is intriguing. I’ve never noticed an essence carrying any symbol before.” Nameless noticed a moment of hesitation cross the dragon’s face, as if he were pondering something grave. It spoke, its voice booming over the expanse, “I am Lord of this Realm and soon you will feed my power.”
The beast opened his monstrous jaws, revealing ten rows of dagger teeth lining the way to his cavernous throat. Trails of golden saliva dripped from the man-sized fangs. A crimson light swelled from the serpent’s belly and pushed from its mouth. The light moved like a vapor and swept toward Nameless.
Rank and File retreated from the ship’s deck as the radiant haze covered their vessel. Nameless was locked in place as the biting smog enveloped him. The crimson glow continued to swell into a blinding eclipse of red. The color of blood filled Nameless’ vision as an overwhelming pain crept over his skin. The feeling of thousands of stinging insects covered every inch of his being. Each tiny bite gave way to the intense pressure of exploding boils as Nameless crumpled to his knees beneath the searing agony.