Amused faces turned to grim acceptance as a silence fell over the unit. Habbad looked to Cole, blatant dismay painted on his wrinkled face. Cole wished he had something encouraging to say, but felt as if he might vomit if he opened his mouth.
“You’ve got your task. I’ve even identified most of the challenges you’re about to tackle, which is more than any enemy would do for you. I’ll flatter myself and say that makes me a damn nice guy. Now get going.” Roth flicked a claw, sending a green bolt of light to the back of the container. A heavy iron door banged to the ground as the beasts came shuffling out.
Even with everything he’d seen on Aeneria so far, every beauty and horror, none of it gave Cole a hint as to why anyone would name these creatures angels. They looked as if someone had mated a frog with a deep-sea fish and fed it steroids and rotting meat until it was the size of a horse. Their stumpy legs could barely lift their girth from the ground, giving them a whale-out-of-water sort of wobble. They had two sets of eyes perched atop bobbing growths that stuck out at asymmetrical angles from their bulbous heads. Their skin was covered in weeping pimples that oozed a little more with each wobble. One particularly disheveled specimen tripped over its own legs, the pressure bursting several of the sores on its back, the resulting pus covering its flank in a fresh glean.
It was like watching a dumpster fire or a gruesome car wreck; Cole simply couldn’t tear his eyes away. The more he looked, the more the revolting, pained creatures tempted his morbid curiosity. Cole decided that the worst part had to be their mouths. Dozens of thin needles protruded from jaundiced lips that bled freely and skewered rotten clumps of their own puffy gums. Apparently whoever had designed these horrible things had forgotten to give them a place for their teeth to rest when they closed their mouths.
The bog angels shuffled on, snapping at the open air as their misshapen jaws produced a sickening, squishing sound, as ropes of blood and drool fell from the fresh wounds in their gums. The bog angels were the most repulsive things Cole had ever seen, and they were wobbling slowly and steadily for him.
Goran jumped to the ready, preparing to lunge at the new threat. Moving faster than Cole could see, Roth appeared in front of Goran, rocks cracking under his black-clawed feet. Goran puffed his chest and released a marvelous bellow, that Cole recognized from when he fell from the bridge. Roth slammed his forehead into Goran’s with a loud crack. The mirak set his shoulders lower and planted his feet, pushing with all his formidable strength. Roth deftly placed one foot behind him and Goran gained no ground as he pushed the earth away from under his paws. After a few seconds of struggling, Roth took a step forward, and then another, driving Goran’s head lower and lower until it was on the ground.
“You’ll stay right there,” Roth whispered to Goran, whose proud ruby eyes sagged with defeat.
Roth gave him one final shove and stood upright, walking over towards the barrel. He bent over and began mussing with the delicate controls. He paused, looking around at his enthralled audience. “What the hell are you all still doing here?” Without looking down he twisted something on the base of the barrel.
Cole felt the effects immediately. He dropped to one knee to support himself, feeling as though a sack of bricks had just dropped across his back. So that was the catch. A shuffling sound drew his eyes towards the wagon and to his horror the angels were within spitting distance, which he could tell by the flecks of mucus flying from their eager jaws. He righted himself and began a heavy run in the opposite direction. The rest of the unit was far ahead of him, appearing less affected by the increased gravity. Cole found his rhythm and made a good pace away from the hungry jaws. He ran until he felt his lungs might tear, then stopped and hid behind a cluster of ferns, listening between gasps for air. He was alone, though he didn’t remember separating from the others. As his panting relented he heard it. The shuffling, the dragging.
Calming his mind, he found his established ideas for reducing the pull of gravity on his body. He ignored the imminent threat as he willed his concepts into reality. The weight lifted slightly from his body, but increased tenfold on his mind as he started at a jog. He was running at his normal speed, but soon fell skidding to the forest floor, unable to focus on moving his legs and maintaining the spell. Severing the Wisdom, Fear pricked at his legs as the shuffling had grown alarmingly close. Spitting dirt from his mouth, he stood and set off into the darkness.
Roth did not wait long to test them further. Another layer of gravity piled atop the first, tugging his cheeks toward the ground. He scanned for an escape, wishing for anything that might help. He found one; a perfectly good climbing tree with branches that he didn’t have to jump for. He made for the tree, ignoring the wet dragging sound that came from the spot he was just lying in. He wrapped his hands around the lowest branch and heaved, stomach and arms screaming and tearing in protest. Months ago he wouldn’t have been able to hoist himself up even under normal gravity. It was a testament to Roth’s training that he was able to achieve the feat now. Cole straddled the branch and took a moment to catch his breath, regretting it immediately when he felt a fire in his right leg.
The bleeding jaws had snapped shut over his calf as something inside the beast’s mouth worked his boot loose. Two teeth pierced his leg, poking through the armor on the other side. Cole drew his dagger and drove it into the bog angel’s weeping gums. The blade found flesh easily enough, but did no more damage than the rest of the pale teeth. The bog angel tugged rapidly at his leg with greedy grunts, nearly unseating him. One tooth struck a nerve and sent a bolt of lightning up Cole’s leg. A hair’s breadth from falling, Cole made another attempt with the dagger, striking instead at the teeth themselves. One tooth shattered, leaving the length buried through Cole’s leg. The bog angel released his leg.
The angel fell back in an explosion of popping sores. A bubbling came from the paunch between its front legs as the jaw opened wide, hissing and exposing an ivory tongue that looked like a winged woman wearing a dress.
Cole waited to pull the tooth from his leg until he was a few branches higher, throwing it down at the bog angel as hard as he could. Frustration pulled just as hard as the gravity when he saw the hungry creature plop its girth upon the trunk and start to wobble its way up. How could it climb anything with such small, useless limbs? Passing branches tore at the growths on its skin releasing fresh, stinky pus over its hide. Cole wished he could summon fire like the others. If he could he would burn this tree to the ground along with this forsaken creature. Now was not the time to experiment, however. He climbed, hoping he could go high enough where the angel’s bulk couldn’t reach. He neared the top and was pleased to see the angel struggling as the branches grew closer together, blocking its path.
Cole climbed a bit higher just to be safe, but he was confident that the angel would eventually reach branches too slender for its weight. When he reached for the final limb, his feet fell from under him as the branch he stood on snapped off. He had miscalculated. The silvery potion made him far too heavy for the thin branches of the tree top. Hanging by one hand, he lunged with the other but it was too late. Cole hit every branch on his journey to the ground, before his head jarred against the ground. He pushed himself upright without assessing his injuries. The angel shuffled its way down the tree without hesitation, spit and broken pimples raining down over him.
Cole rose shakily to his feet, the variety of pain blending into one coherent sensation. He knew there was no way he would last much longer. He could feel himself bleeding on the inside as well as out. There was only one option at this point. He trudged off in the direction he’d come from, following the damp drag marks left by the angel. Just as he found a steady pace he could barely maintain, yet another layer of gravity broke across his back.
Before he knew it he was tasting the sweet froth left behind by the angel’s leaky sores. He pushed the ground away from him, but his arms buckled as the tainted mud splattered in his eyes. He lay there, choking in the wet soil. He was defe
ated now. He weighed so much that even the effort it took to breathe caused him to lose his breath. He resigned himself to the warped maw of his bonded angel. Through his weariness, thoughts of zoology class swam to the fore of his foggy mind. He remembered a video of a bison warding off a pack of grey wolves. The bison was massive and fought for hours, but eventually it just gave up. It probably had more fight left in it, but it just lay there on the tundra moss. The wolves just got on with it, starting at the bison’s hindquarters while the proud beast looked out onto the rolling mountains.
As Cole thought on it, the idea of him being eaten by such a failure of an animal became increasingly unacceptable. He’d imagined he might die in battle, but not like this. Not to such a revolting animal.
Ironclad defiance sharpened his senses, dulling his pain. He flat out refused to be laid low by something that should not exist in the first place. In the quiet of his mind, he felt it. He’d felt it before, when Mark Sullivan had thrown the banana at Joshy’s face, and once more when he’d nearly attacked Chiron on the beach.
Rage flared to life, its roaring torrent consuming him with every thump of his heart. Power he had never known surged through his limbs, fueling them with a need for action.
With single-minded determination, Cole found himself on his feet walking steadily towards Roth. The shuffling behind him grew louder, but that was of no concern to him now. He would deal with the angel if it was necessary. He found Roth still bent over the barrel, peering into its open lid. The Rage quieted all other thoughts in Cole’s mind, making it easy for him to levitate the smoking barrel towards him with Wisdom. Roth raised a clawed hand ready to snatch it back, but seemed to decide against it. Metallic liquid spilled into the soil as the barrel fell and rolled towards Cole. With a roar that came from his toes, Cole wound up and swung at the barrel, smashing it with an ebony dragon’s claw.
Chapter 20
Lore
The weight fell from his limbs, freeing him. Cole turned to face the bog angel, which was nearly upon him. It was now necessary to deal with the horrible creature, its lolling eyes and wheezing mouth begging to be put down. Cole planted an ebony bladed foot behind him, yearning for violence, but before he could unleash his need a blur of brindle thundered past him. Goran was upon the angel within a heartbeat. Within another heartbeat, the angel was broken, parts of it falling off as Goran’s boulder-like fists wove through its pulpy flesh. Cole watched in awe as the mirak displayed strength akin to a landslide, his assault unrelenting even after the angel stopped moving. A queasiness replaced Cole’s Rage. He watched his munisica fade back into his normal hands and feet. Tattered vestiges of his boots clung to his ankles.
“Didn’t take you long, did it?” Roth’s voice grated behind him. “Be proud. Never in all my cycles have I seen munisica sprout so soon from a student. Or a human.”
Cole would have appreciated the compliment, but with his Rage waning, his pain and weariness took over. Nausea bubbled in his gut as Goran chewed on something he pulled from the bog angel’s carcass.
Roth swept over to the body and slipped one of his bladed fingers along the remains. He held his hand out, offering a thin slice of pale flesh to Cole. “Your mirak has the right idea. Feast on the flesh of your enemy.”
There was a momentary pause in Cole’s movement that thankfully he passed off as exhaustion. He knew better than to hesitate. He took the hunk of stinky meat from Roth’s claw and tore a piece off with his teeth. He cut the roof of his mouth on a sharp, bony bit, mixing blood with the rubbery texture of the flesh, which was thankfully tasteless. He forced a swallow. The blood coated his mouth and made it easier.
Roth sharpened his claws against one another, a look of hard pride flashing momentarily. “I better tend to the rest of the herd. Might need to cut your friend out of the belly of his angel. His beast was twice the size of the others. Funny, ain’t it? The smallest one got the biggest angel, Ha!” Roth glanced down at Cole’s pierced calf, which could barely hold his weight. “If you can walk, get yourself to a healer, then turn in for the day. If you can’t, well then just wait here and I’ll carry your poisoned carcass over myself. The venom isn’t deadly, but it’s no stroll in the garden.”
Cole nodded as Roth pounded off towards the sound of a struggle from a nearby tree. Thankfully Goran sensed his need, hoisting him up on his broad shoulders and setting off at a trot.
Cole woke in his bed with no memory of how he got there. After the bout with his bog angel he could only recall a severe headache and overwhelming fit of disorienting panic. He checked his leg. Someone had mended it. The rest of his body seemed in good working order, though he had some lingering soreness throughout. Habbad was fast asleep across the room. Cole snatched his time piece and flicked on a mushroom. He still had several hours before the day ended. Part of him wanted to find Lileth and explore more of the Arts District, though a louder part wanted to simply lie in his bed and delve into a book. After a moment’s deliberation, he attempted to summon a book from his shelf with Wisdom. The book wobbled and fell to the floor.
After a couple hours Habbad finally stirred, tossing his blankets violently. When his thrashing subsided, he woke fully, taking a full minute to orient himself. “What happened to you? Roth wouldn’t tell us.”
Cole finished the page he was on before responding. “I had enough of Roth’s lesson, so I ended it.”
“What do you mean you ended it?” Habbad’s face screwed up in confusion as he hopped to the floor. “The weight of the spell had us all crawling about like infants. But then it just…vanished. Was that you?”
Cole snapped the book shut. “When you’ve had as much training as I have, certain things just come naturally.” Cole climbed out of his bed and replaced his book on the shelf. “I tricked the bog angel and made my way back to where we started. Then I ventured down the path of Rage for the first time and smashed that stupid machine with my claws.”
“You had munisica?” Habbad asked, his wrinkles widening with incredulity.
“Yep.” Cole went to his closet and pulled out the cleanest set of clothes he owned. “Put something decent on. We’re going out.”
Cole led Habbad out of the tree and towards the lights and music that had been tugging at his mind ever since his last visit. As they stepped off the ramp Cole shut his eyes and found Goran, who was busy feasting with someone. Upon closer inspection, he saw through Goran’s eyes a figure that could only be Roth. Together they had felled a large flying creature and were enjoying the spoils of their hunt. Confident that his friend would be happily occupied a while, he broke into a run. Habbad kept pace, even when Cole sporadically focused his Wisdom into lengthening his stride.
The silent walk made for a long trip. Cole attempted conversation, but Habbad never gave him more than a word or two in response. When they arrived they sought a few vendors peddling meats and stuffed fruits. With their bellies full, they wandered through the crowds and squares. Habbad’s stature made him almost invisible amongst the towering Aenerians. Cole had previously discounted the idea, but he thought he may have been a bit taller since their parting alongside the river. Either that, or Habbad was shrinking.
“Is this place dedicated to nothing but nonsense and revelry? I thought we were supposed to be training to fight in the war?” Habbad asked.
“This district is dedicated to the followers of Passion. The Three are going to use every type of dark magic against us, so we need to know every type of good magic to use against them. At least that’s what we’ve been told.” Cole stuck a finger in his mouth, working a strand of meat from between his teeth. “The Arts District is just a fun place you know? I feel alive in here, and I think it’s important to throw some revelry into the mix every now and then. I can’t wring myself out every day without soaking up something nice every once in a while.”
“I think I see what you mean. You require balance in your daily schedule. This place is an outlet for some of your other desires.” Habbad ducked in between the
legs of a dancing couple, shooting through unnoticed.
“Generally, yeah.” Cole suppressed a laugh. Habbad’s skin was visibly crawling with discomfort. He was not enjoying himself. “There’s a spot where they mix some Wisdom with the Passion. You might like that a bit better than this noise.”
“I have to admit, this is not entirely unpleasant. The music is…palpable.” Habbad’s face lifted slightly, for a moment looking as if he were not marching to the gallows. “I have no fondness for these throngs of giants, but the melody has a way of lifting the spirit. I have heard music before, but it was during my imprisonment within Kreed’s home. It was not like this, however. I feel more…aware. More present. More alive, as you said.”
Cole admired his friend for a moment. “That’s a good start. Wait till you see the theater, you’ll feel something for sure.”
Cole led Habbad past the ruby obelisk and up the walkway towards the amphitheater. Cole felt a pang of disappointment when they arrived. There was no shimmering golden haze or muffled sounds of other worlds, and the actors were nowhere to be found. Oddly enough, however, the seats were full of people waiting in hushed whispers for something to start.
Walking up to a couple sitting on the edge of the wall, Cole dropped his voice and whispered to a red-haired woman, “What’s going on here? What kind of show is this?”
The woman flinched as if a spider had crawled up next to her. Her partner gave her a stern look and an elbow. She shook her head, donning a polite smile. “Hello there. Please, pardon my rudeness. I was not expecting to see a pair of Underkin.”
“Really it’s fine,” Cole assured her. “It’s better than the looks we get at the markets. So what’s up with the show tonight?”
“The exalted orator Ka Reine is performing this evening.”
“Sorry, but who is Ka Reine?” Cole winced. Fortunately they were not offended.
Saving The Dark Side: Book 1: The Devotion Page 34