Lileth released his arm, spinning towards the towers. “Move your asses then.”
Her boots split and tore as the black daggers sprouted. She jumped most of the way up a three-story building before digging her claws in and showering the team with bits of brick and mortar. Sitra flew right behind her. Cole hesitated for a moment as he dug into his Rage and summoned his munisica. The stretching and hardening of his flesh still pained him, but it felt good in a way, as though fulfilling his need for violence. He felt Roth’s Rage boiling up from his bones, but he was careful not to use it. This was clearly not the time. He kicked off the remains of his boots and looked to Habbad, who was already floating up the side of the building, little eddies of jade light trailing under his hands and feet. Cole leapt as high as he could, reaching the top of the first window before slamming his claws into the brick. He felt like a cat as he scooted up the wall, catching up to Habbad. He wished he had Goran with him now.
Lileth and Sitra waited for them on the roof. They had a clear view of the towers from here. Habbad took the lead as they ran for the towers, hopping from roof to roof. Luckily the gaps weren’t too wide, though on more than one occasion Cole had to stretch his jump with Wisdom to make the distance. Hopefully there weren’t any Corpulants nearby to smell his Wisdom.
As they neared the towers more and more people could be seen in the streets below, both Underkin and Aenerians. They had to sheath their munisica. Their claws made entirely too much noise as they tore through the various materials of the rooftops.
Cole skidded to a stop, scraping his bare feet on a rooftop patio as he bumped into Sitra. Habbad ducked, motioning for them to go back, but it was too late. A door opened. Out came several Aenerians, including two priests wearing red robes.
At first the Aenerians looked pleasantly bemused, sipping their drinks and laughing merrily. A woman hanging off the arm of one of the priests was first to speak.
“Are these friends of yours, Rebuno?” she asked, sloshing her drink down the priest’s robes. “A haggard-looking bunch, but they’ll make a nice addition to our little party.” She paused, leaning down to better look at Habbad and Cole. “Shouldn’t the Underkin be down in the square?” She gasped, bubbling with excitement, “Oh Rebuno, they aren’t for us are they? I’ve been waiting for you to teach me how to feed!”
The priest on her arm cast a wary glance around the patio. “Still your tongue, woman.” He threw her off, sending her giggling and sprawling into the arms of another. “Who are you and what are you doing in my home? Answer me!”
Lileth raised her chin, fixing herself in a regal posture to match the priests. “These two,” she said, indicating Cole and Habbad, “wandered away from the festivities below. My associate and I followed them up here to ensure they weren’t trying to escape. As a fellow priest I’m sure-”
“That’s enough!” Rebuno spat, rolling his sleeves. The other priest took a step forward. Something dark began dripping from his fingertips. “Close your mouth before any more of that excrement falls out. You are no priest.” His lip curled as he regarded their bare feet. “It is of no consequence, however. After I’ve torn your secrets from you we’ll see what Father Kreed feels a fitting punishment. The towers could always use a few more souls.”
Lileth opened her palms to show she was no threat, taking a slow step towards the priest. “Please, inspect me first. I’m sure you’ll find nothing worth bothering Father Kreed over.”
“I told you shut your mouth, you lying harlot!” Rebuno slapped Lileth, splitting the skin under her eye. It was nothing compared to Roth’s training, but the insult sent tingles of Rage pounding up Cole’s spine. “Give me the Underkin first. I am most curious as to how…” his voice trailed off. Recognition flashed in his eyes. “That one, that’s the one Father Kreed is looking for. Habbad, that’s his name. And this one must be the hum-”
Rebuno’s words were cut short. Sitra was suddenly standing in front of him, as though she’d teleported there magically. She pulled her hand from his throat, her munisica scraping against the bones in his jaw on the way out. Blood gushed from the wound as Rebuno’s body heaved with an agonal hack, spraying the entire patio. Munisica flashing, Sitra and Lileth dove for the other Aenerians, dispatching them just as quickly. The other priest stumbled back, grabbing and tossing one of his friends into the whirling butchery before him. Lileth and Sitra finished the group within a few breaths before turning towards the remaining priest, whose hands were now dripping with what looked like purple mud.
The priest flung his hands out at Lileth and Sitra, the dark liquid spackling over fresh blood. As if struck by a sudden seizure, Lileth’s and Sitra’s legs crumpled beneath them. They trembled, vomit bubbling from their mouths as smoke rose from each of the dark droplets that peppered their faces. The priest pulled a wicked dagger from the folds of his robes, setting upon them with gruesome intent etched into his face. Sitra’s munisica receded as she moaned.
Still standing on shaky legs, Lileth raised a glowing hand. A flaming lance shot from her palm, sailing harmlessly over the priest’s shoulder and splashing over the brick wall behind him. She fired another. Her aim was true this time, striking him in the stomach, but the flames lacked conviction and withered before doing any real damage.
“So much fire! So much life!” the priest gushed. “It would be an appalling waste to kill you as quickly as you’ve done my comrades here. I do think I’ll indulge myself, just a tad.” One hand twitched longingly, dripping with foul magic. His other clutched the dagger, holding it like a dinner knife. Lileth moaned, choking on frothy vomit as she collapsed beside Sitra.
Cole felt tingling shoot up the back of his neck as a hammering began in his eardrums. He didn’t recall feeling them, but his munisica were out, larger than ever. He didn’t recall taking a step towards the priest, but he was moving faster than ever. He didn’t recall making the decision to kill the man, but his claws were whistling through the air, fueled by an insatiable need for the man’s blood. There was no shred of Passion or modicum of Wisdom within him, there was simply no room. He was Rage. He landed beside the priest, the claws on his back foot digging into the tiled patio for better leverage. He flattened his right hand into a single blade, driving it through the priest’s thigh, tearing through every major vessel, nerve, and bone on its way up to the base of his spine. He opened his bladed hand as wide as he could before jumping away, yanking out precious innards before the priest had even noticed.
Cole watched the priest’s face, savoring every detail. The fool’s eyes were still upon Lileth, intent on having her. He had yet to realize he was dying. As he began to fall, his face shifted from sickening glee to annoyed befuddlement. He scowled, confused as to why he was crumpling like a card castle. He hit the tiled patio in front of Lileth, smashing his face on the hard tile. Cole took savage pleasure in his clumsiness, his weakness. The priest picked his head up, blood and teeth spilling from broken lips pulled back in cold fury. He looked to his lifeless legs, then to Cole, who was already upon him, munisica raised for the final blow.
“Wait!” Habbad cried out.
Cole turned his ear, but not his eyes to Habbad. “Why?” He emptied his lungs on the single word, saturating it with his restrained Rage.
An invisible force yanked the priest’s dagger from his hand, sending it skittering across the tile. The priest didn’t notice, however. He fumbled over his flowing wound as he gave his legs a shake, as though trying to figure out why they weren’t working. Habbad stormed over to the priest and promptly kicked him in the jaw, knocking him out cold.
“I need to see what he hit them with.” Habbad pointed towards a writhing Lileth and Sitra. In his bloodlust Cole had forgotten they were even there. Habbad placed both his hands on the priest’s head, running his fingers under sheets of smooth hair. Habbad’s fingers shone a dull purple as he blinked rapidly. With a look of disgust, he pulled his hands free, wiping them on the priest’s robes.
“What is it?” Col
e asked, hiding his suspicion. Whatever purple magic Habbad used certainly wasn’t taught at The Sill. He sheathed his munisica.
Habbad turned his head dry heaved. “You don’t want to know. Turn them on their backs. Don’t touch the dark stuff.”
Cole flipped Lileth and Sitra onto their backs, turning their heads so they wouldn’t choke on their frothing vomit. Habbad straddled Lileth, sitting on her stomach. He touched each drop of the dark substance, the tip of his finger a shimmering emerald orb. The oily liquid evaporated as he passed over every drop. Deep holes remained where the fluid had touched her skin, exposing a thin layer of fat and glistening ruby muscle beneath. When the final glob had been cleaned off, Lileth coughed, shooting upright and throwing Habbad off her. She cleared her throat, wiping her face with her sleeve. Habbad wasted no time tending to Sitra.
“See if you can heal her wounds,” Habbad said as he worked. “I lack the Passion to do such things.”
Cole approached Lileth with caution. She was upright and breathing, but she looked as if she was not entirely there. When her eyes met his, she reached for him, pulling him into an embrace, shivering. Cole had never been able to heal so much as a scratch, but seeing Lileth in such a state had clicked something into place. It felt right. He hugged her tighter, feeling the healing energies fill his heart. His Passion was made for her and her alone, crafted by his emotions and memories. He now understood why she hadn’t been able to heal Valen or anyone else. The healing Passion required love for the injured person to work. Enamored, Cole poured his Passion into her. He savored the physical contact before focusing his power on the wounds. The sunken holes filled with a dim snowy glow as flesh mended, knitting itself back together.
“That’s twice now,” Lileth said, happy tears filling her eyes.
“So it is,” Cole said, with mock indifference. “How do you feel?”
She dropped her eyes. “Unwholesome and sick, but I will recover.” She snapped her head towards Sitra, hair whipping Cole in the face. Sitra had just woken. “Will you be able to heal her as well?”
Cole considered his feelings for Sitra. He was fond of her and cared for her as a friend, but it might not be enough. “I’ll have to try won’t I?”
Still humming with the lingering effects of healing Lileth, Cole approached Sitra. She wrestled a vicious cough as she clutched her stomach. She held an arm up, keeping Cole at bay. Cole brushed her arms aside and pulled her into a tight hug. Sitra didn’t have the strength to resist. Cole searched his emotions, trying to find anything that would connect him to her. It took longer, but their relationship was strong enough to reveal a wholesome love of friendship. A few moments passed and he released her.
“Thanks Cole.” Sitra rubbed her belly, groaning. “We should have killed the priests first. Their magic is so…crippling. My Rage wasn’t strong enough to fight it off. Whoa…” Her eyebrows went up as she beheld the remains of the priest Cole had maimed. “Someone did a good job on that one. Must have been you, Cole. Your arm’s still covered in guts. Here, let me fix that for you. You must have cut yourself on a bone.”
She twisted his arm gently, exposing a fresh wound on his wrist where the black shroud didn’t reach. With a flick of rosy light the wound vanished.
“There, now we’re even,” Sitra said with a smirk, standing up. “I feel like hot garbage, but I’m ready. Lil, you ready?”
“Yes. Hopefully we can avoid another encounter like this. If we had more time I would say we should hide the bodies.” Lileth stood as well, checking herself over for injuries.
Habbad walked over and placed both his hands flat on the door, closing it. The door flickered green as it groaned and creaked, swelling into the frame. “It’s not ideal, but it’s better than nothing. Let us be off.”
They moved more slowly, inspecting each roof before they jumped to it. They were close to the Devotion towers now. Each was almost as tall as the walls of The Sill. Before Valen’s team came into view, two slouched figures and one prone waited for them on the roof of the dark stone building next to a belfry. Eliza and Valen flinched as Cole’s team landed among them.
“I felt something amiss through our link,” Eliza said. She sat with Storn’s head in her lap, stroking his hair. “I’m glad to see you fared better than we did. Domina?” She pointed her chin at the bloody stains on Cole’s team.
“Two priests and their concubines,” Lileth replied, crouching down and inspecting Storn’s injuries. “They were easy enough to kill, but we were ill prepared to deal with their magic. Habbad, Cole, are these wounds similar to what you mended on Sitra and me?” She pointed to Storn’s prone form, slapping a bug on her outstretched arm.
Habbad’s nose scrunched at the acrid smell coming from the still smoking holes in Storn’s neck and face. “The chest no, but the poison I can neutralize. Before the priest died I ripped the knowledge from him. Feel free to inspect my thoughts as I do it. We will likely see this again, and the more of us that can deal with it, the better.”
The faces of the others slackened as they reached for Habbad’s mind. Cole didn’t bother. He had always failed miserably at tinkering with the thoughts and memories of others. The unit let out a collective hiss as Habbad worked each of the smoking holes littered over Storn.
“That is truly atrocious.” Eliza shook her head. “Why would anyone pursue such magic?”
“Because it is effective,” Valen remarked. He swatted at an insect buzzing around his face. “Are you through, Habbad? Can he be healed now?
Habbad nodded, stepping back, but Eliza was already at work. Her fingers became lavender embers as she waved them over the wounds. His rib snapped and pulled itself back into his chest as the sucking-hole shrank away.
Through his emotional link with her, Cole could sense Eliza’s love for Storn. The fraternal affection fed into Cole, and he was positive that if need be he could heal Storn as well. Pride filled Cole’s chest as he reflected on how far he’d come. He was no longer a helpless liability to the unit. He was a contributing member, a warrior, and now a healer. There was some guilt in between the layers of pride, however. He’d taken entirely too much pleasure in killing the priest. He could have been quicker and cleaner about it, but he’d enjoyed the idea of crippling him first. He felt ashamed of his Rage bringing this part out of him. He flexed his hands, bringing his munisica forth far too easily. He admired the way the starlight tinkled off his claws. He loved how menacing they looked, and to think they were indestructible! He dismissed the Rage before his urge for violence grew any stronger. He felt eyes upon him. Looking up, Cole saw approval written on Valen’s face.
“There, good as new. How do you feel?” Eliza brushed off a few biting flies from Storn’s forehead, leaving trails of blood across his face. She healed the tiny bites as well.
“Sick. Like I just ate a bowl of bog angel soup.” He tapped the newly healed wound on his chest, producing a healthy thump. “I’m whole though. Not too bad considering.”
“You better feel good.” Sitra kicked at him. Storn jumped to his feet. “You’ve missed all of the action. You probably got yourself knocked out on purpose so you wouldn’t have to do any of the real work.”
“Bah, the Domina got a lucky shot on me,” he said, clutching his chest. A belch gurgled up from deep within. “The Domina seem to choose different animals every time we see one. These were some brew of reptile and insect. You should have seen them, Sitra, they were fast. Real fast. Easy enough to break apart once you got ahold of them though.”
“Looks like you were easy enough to break apart too,” Cole said, tapping Storn’s chest through the hole in his armor. “I’ve never seen a lung before. Thanks for the visual.”
“Like I said, they were fast,” Storn shot back. “I killed a few of them before a priest flung that stuff on me. I only got this after his magic started working. You wouldn’t have lasted ten seconds.”
“Cole is more adept than you give him credit for,” Habbad interjected. “If not for his
quick application of Rage, a priest would have killed Lileth, and likely the rest of our group. It was…impressive to say the least.”
Cole was completely taken aback. Habbad had never complimented anyone before.
“Bout’ time you got yourself a kill. And a priest too!” He tapped Cole’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “All those slimy bastards could use a good ‘application of Rage’. Valen killed two with a fancy bit of Wisdom while Eliza lulled them with Passion. Just goes to show how useful our magics are against these freaks. It warms my warrior’s heart to see that violence is a perfectly good answer sometimes. How’d you kill the other one?”
“In a similar manner,” Lileth answered. “Though if we were more careful we wouldn’t have to kill anyone.” Her hand went up to her neck, smothering another biting insect. She peered over the edge, taking in the crowds below.
“We could all do with a little more caution,” Valen said. “This mission was supposed to be one of stealth. I think at this point we’d better take up our usual faculties of Wisdom and Passion. We’ll risk the Corpulants. Our presence will be apparent when we assault the towers anyway.”
“What about the other targets?” Storn asked, stepping to the edge of the roof. “Wow they’re really going at it down there.”
“They are no longer viable.” Valen moved next to Storn, inspecting the scene below. “You’ll be glad to know that this is a problem which requires violence to answer. Lots of violence. We will bring the towers down. Keep your other magics at the fore of your mind as we work. We are likely to rouse the interest of every priest in the city.”
Cole joined them at the edge of the roof. Habbad’s description of the celebrations did them no justice. Throngs of Underkin crawled about the base of the towers like a colony of ants. There were thousands of them. Most were unclothed, throwing their sweaty bodies at one another with wanton lust or squabbling viciously. Peppered throughout were crippled bodies dragging themselves through the mud. Kreed’s magic prevented them from dying, even the ones who were maimed beyond recognition. Carts of food and liquors rolled in from capillary alleyways, only to be overturned as the Underkin fought tooth and nail over their contents.
Saving The Dark Side: Book 1: The Devotion Page 41