There was a smell in the air, a rancid stench that reminded Cole of a public bathroom that had seen heavy abuse in the summer months. Judging by the pungent aroma, the Underkin had been at it for days, not leaving to defecate or bathe. The sight was the most desperate and repulsive thing Cole had ever seen. Having had enough, he turned away to find Habbad far away from the ledge, eyes clamped shut.
“I guess that’s something you only need to see once, huh? And the smell.” Cole buried his nose in his undershirt.
Habbad didn’t answer.
With a sudden jolt, Cole realized why Habbad didn’t look over the edge like everyone else. He wrapped an arm around him, giving him a brotherly shake. “We’re going to find her.”
Habbad opened his eyes, Fear painted over his little wrinkled face. He grabbed Cole and pulled him close, burying his head in Cole’s chest. He murmured something, but the words were lost in the thick cloth armor.
“What did you say, Bud?” Cole gave him another gentle shake.
Habbad’s head came back up, gazing into Cole’s eyes. He smiled, parting his lips to speak, but his face shifted to a pale shade of horror as his mouth fell open. One of the biting flies landed on the tip of his nose.
“Habbad, what’s wr-” Cole’s knees buckled as a deafening sound crashed into him. It was the bell tower. The bell gonged again, the sound bringing him to his knees. He turned. A figure cast in bloody torchlight stood at a platform atop the bell tower.
Kreed flicked a finger against the bell again, hammering the air. “Cole Carter, my friend!’’
Chapter 24
The End of Habbad
Kreed flicked the bell once more, grinning from ear to ear. The air vibrated with such force that Cole felt as if his bones might shatter. He tried to stand, but his limbs seemed to have forgotten how. His instincts told him he was in danger, that he must do something, but something else was growing louder by the second: Fear. With each heartbeat, his terror intensified, its chilled talons pinning him to the rooftop like a rabbit in a hawk’s embrace. Kreed’s face twisted with mania, ecstatic with deadly intent, his thin lips stretched over his perfect teeth. Cole looked to his unit expecting to see the flashing of munisica and palms blazing with magic, but they too seemed paralyzed by Fear. The same trepidation that crippled him painted each of their faces. They were lost. The game was already over. There was something about the way Kreed moved; his careless gait, the lazy kick that sent a coil of rope down, and the playful way he swung down the rope, jumping from side to side. There was no sense of urgency, no worry in the world. He already had them. They were his. There would be no chance to fight back. In the quiet of the moment the biting insects swarmed thicker, though no one moved to swat them.
Kreed fell the last few feet, landing clumsily on the roof of the dark stone building. He inspected his hands, frowning slightly as he brushed them against each other, picking off specks of dirt. He then meticulously readjusted his suit, careful to put each ivory strap back in its proper place. Satisfied, he gave his lapels a little tug and took a step forward. His foot plopped immediately into a puddle of blood from Storn’s newly healed wound. Kreed’s eyes went wide as his lips twitched between disgust and fury. He wiped the leather shoe on a clean part of Storn’s armor. He took a deep breath as if praying for patience before stepping around the puddle and directly to Cole.
“You’ve been a naughty little shit you know.” Kreed’s tone was light, as if he were merely scolding a child who’d stayed up past his bedtime. “Running off with no proper goodbye, traipsing through forbidden jungles, destroying an ancient magical barrier, and worst of all,” he bent down, lifting Eliza’s trembling chin with his little finger, “cavorting about with Dark Ones,” he spat, taking out a cloth from his jacket and wiping his finger. “I’ve been worried something awful about you, Cole Carter. So far from home, so far from everything you know, all while gorging on a gruel of lies from my enemies. Who knows what tales they’ve spun up for you, or worse yet, how they plan to use you for their own gain? I’d wager they didn’t even bother to tell you what you are, or why you’re so important to this war. No matter, you’re safe now. You are at least. You didn’t know any better.”
Kreed strolled around the group, weaving in between them, looking each of them in the eye for a moment. “So many new faces. I can’t tell you how pleasing that is. I have somewhat of an affinity for new faces. Ah, but here’s an old face. Young Habbad. So angry, so smart, and so…rebellious.” He said the final word through clenched teeth.
Habbad worked his lips as if he wanted to say something, but the words fell from his quivering lips. He looked how the rest of the unit looked, how Cole felt.
Kreed bent low and fixed a twisted piece of Habbad’s wrappings. “My heart is broken, Habbad. You made a fool of me. While you’ve been out working against me, I’ve been here looking after Lexy for you. I’ve even kept her from the decadence in the streets below. She’s far too young for that sort of nonsense anyway. Not that anything down there would be the most graphic thing she’s ever seen…” He laughed, gazing at the stars for a moment before shaking his head. “No, not by a long stretch. Wouldn’t you say?” He cupped his hand around the side of Habbad’s head, which was covered in flies.
Habbad worked his mouth again, but nothing came out. The insects were unbearable now, stinging and biting every exposed bit of flesh. Cole could feel them, but he couldn’t bring himself to swat them. What was the point? Kreed had them now. It was over. Soon they’d be climbing the tower, or dead if they were lucky.
“I will admit,” Kreed patted Habbad on the cheek, turning towards the rest of the group, “Your band of misfits made the greatest impact so far. There were others, little teams of seven or so. I don’t recall the exact number, I don’t trouble myself with those who aren’t worth killing myself. They were incredibly useful, however. They’re up on the towers now, at the very tops. Go on, behold them.”
Some of them looked up, though most didn’t bother. Their last bit of hope had shriveled and withered away. They were utterly alone now. Cole could barely make out the figures strapped to the top of the towers. There were dozens of them. He dropped his head, silent tears running down to the flies on his cheeks. Lexy would surely be punished now, and it would be his fault. He had failed to save her, just as he’d failed to save Joshy. It had all been for nothing. Kreed had turned Cole’s own hope against him, just as he had with Habbad. There was no hope now. No chance at all.
“What I find most disturbing is that your elders thought it appropriate to throw away so many young lives while they hide behind their trees.” Kreed rubbed his chin as he approached Storn from behind, careful to avoid the puddle this time. “The elders would have been far better suited to disrupt the Devotion, possibly successful even. I know I certainly wouldn’t have stood a chance against their combined might.” Surveying Storn, he removed his jacket and hung it on a loose nail on the wall of the bell tower. The manic look spread like fire on his face, giving him an appearance of an insane clown. He crouched behind Storn, wrapping his arms lovingly around his front, caressing the skin through the tear in his armor. “I’ll make a promise to you all, right here and now. None of your lives will go to waste.” He brought his lips to Storn’s ear, running his tongue up the length. “Especially yours. Come warrior, show me how you want to bleed tonight.”
Storn shuddered awake. Rage flaring at last, he exhaled through bared teeth as his hands slowly became the black knives of his munisica. He had found the will to fight. Storn kicked and pulled at Kreed’s arms.
Storn’s mumbling steadied into clear words: “Disgusting…traitor…kill…break you…”
Kreed pulled him closer, hugging him tight. “What a hot soul you have! Yes, bring out that fire. Give yourself to Rage, let it fill your warrior’s heart. Don’t hold back now.”
Storn’s struggling became coherent thrashing as he gained clarity and strength. He kicked out with both feet, sending Kreed sailing into the wal
l of the bell tower. Rage burned in Storn’s eyes as he rose to his feet. Kreed rose to his feet as well, his teeth bared in a jester’s grin as blood oozed from the claw marks on his arms.
A tortured howl shattered the air between them. From the ledge beside Kreed arose a bulky, robed figure scuttling its way onto the dark stone roof. Another ragged figure joined the first. Then three more. The tallest Corpulant opened its maw wide enough to swallow a man. Its purple lips cracked with thin wires of blood as it bellowed with the voice of a dozen old men begging for death.
Storn’s resolve wavered. He took a step back, his munisica receding slightly. Shaking his head, he threw his shoulders back and roared, sending shivers running up the back of Cole’s scalp. Perhaps the fight wasn’t over. Maybe they would have a chance to fight.
The Corpulant closed its mouth, scabbed purple lips meeting in a bullfrog’s frown. Its head snapped up as it brought a bundle of spindly fingers to a clasp on its chest. With a powerful jerk it tore its robes off, revealing a body crafted in the dank cellars of nightmares. Its skin was pruny and crinkled, as if stolen from a much larger corpse that had been at sea for days. The hairless skull travelled down the back of a long crested neck, settling between spired shoulder blades. Great flaps of spider-vein skin hung over the protruding ribs of its torso. Between winged hip bones dangled a wrinkled bag of skin larger than its whole body. Its legs were thick and muscular with knees that bent backwards like a grasshopper’s. The Corpulant shuffled forward, its solid black eyes on Storn as the sack of skin snagged and scraped over the tiled roof.
Storn’s munisica stretched bigger than ever as he threw his shoulders back and roared, his voice amplified with Rage. Cole stirred, emboldened by Storn’s fury. Warmth returned to his limbs as his own munisica inched their way out.
The Corpulant’s mouth twitched with contempt as it brought its thin fingers to the flaps on its chest. It pinched one, tenderly pulling it up and revealing ruby red flesh like a fish’s gill. An odor of fetid meat wafted over the roof. Insects writhed in the wound, teeming thousands taking flight as the Corpulant gave the flap a rattling shake. The cloud hung in the air before gathering and swarming over Storn.
Storn held his breath and shut his eyes, swiping at the insects with a tornado of claws, but to no effect. The bugs were on him, covering his face like a grey mask. His munisica disappeared entirely as he fell. Kreed appeared behind him in a flash, catching and cradling Storn’s head as he laid him down gently.
“That will do, that will do.” He waved a hand, shooing the flies away. “Not too much now. The boy needs to know what he’s about to do.” He set Storn’s head in his lap, running one hand through his hair as the other fingered the hole in his armor. “There warrior, that’s where the Domina got you, isn’t it?”
He pinched Storn’s chin, bringing his eyes up. Storn gave a solemn nod, his face welted from the insects. He gazed up at Kreed with the same defeated acceptance that Lexy displayed when she walked willingly to the Corpulant.
“That’s what I thought.” Kreed’s smile slackened into a snarl of pleasure as his eyes rolled back. He circled his finger over the exposed skin, dousing it with inky stains. His finger snapped erect as he tapped it over Storn’s mottled ribs. The blackened flesh rippled as if made of jelly. Kreed’s mouth opened, releasing a little squeal as he pushed his finger into Storn’s ribs. Storn groaned, unable to muster the strength for a proper scream. The skin and muscle beneath gave with the slightest prodding, as if the flesh had been rotting for weeks. Kreed worked a rib loose, snapping it off as it clattered to the tiled roof. Storn writhed, hands and eyes reaching out to nothing as he gasped for air.
“That’s good warrior, very good,” Kreed cooed into Storn’s ear. “But they went a little deeper than that, did they not?”
Storn paused in his writhing and hissed, “Yesss.”
There was a pop and a rush of air as Kreed’s finger worked a hole through Storn’s lung. He moaned with visceral pleasure as his hand wriggled deeper in search of profound agony. Kreed’s head turned, listening carefully to Storn’s labored breathing. With a smile, he found it.
Storn’s eyes snapped wide as he screamed at the stars. The sedative effects of the Fear would not deny him the intimacy of Kreed’s greedy fingers. Storn was alive and very aware. He bucked, smashing his fist on the roof, shattering the tiles.
Kreed’s eyes went wide, his face blank. “Fight it warrior, fight it! Rage against it. Don’t go willingly to the void. Burn for me.”
Kreed’s free hand locked into a crooked talon as he hovered it over Storn’s face. As Storn thrashed and screamed, a fiery light erupted from his mouth and eyes. His screams hung in the air even after his body went limp. The light shone brighter, beaming and blinding as it rushed out of his face and coalesced into Kreed’s waiting hand. The scream yielded to silence as the fire ceased flowing. Kreed removed his other hand from its fleshy glove and stood. Storn’s lifeless head clopped against the hard tile, his face no more than a torn paper mask.
Kreed shut his eyes and spread his arms wide as he greeted the stars. His right hand clutched a molten ball of Storn’s life force, flames licking up through his fingers. He slapped his gore-covered hand against his face, wiping the blood over his mouth and neck. Another squeak escaped his lips as he brought his glowing prize up to his mouth. He twirled the bloody fingers of his left hand over his right, summoning a long violet needle in midair. With a flick, he lanced the blazing orb. Liquid flames shot from between his fingers and into his open mouth. Kreed sucked it down, drawing the power into himself. The flaming orb collapsed, coating his hand in the dim light.
Kreed’s lips returned to their manic grin as he considered the rest of his guests. “Exquisite. He tasted better than I imagined. And the power, so raw and pure…I had almost forgotten what proper Rage felt like.” He held out his hands absentmindedly as a Corpulant went to each, lapping the gore and residual energy from his fingers. “Oh I’d love to see how the rest of you would taste, but I mustn’t get greedy. The Three won’t begrudge me one meal, but the rest of you will go to the towers. Except for you, Cole. You are special.”
Cole sat frozen, mired in the wake of his Fear. He couldn’t peel his eyes from what was left of Storn’s face. He was no stranger to death, but this was entirely different. This was malicious gluttony, the piggish gorging on the suffering of another. This was evil.
Cole sank into himself, unaware of the biting flies or the clammy hands of the Corpulants pulling him along. Waves of Despair smothered his conscious thoughts, fading him in and out. He couldn’t tell if the others fared any better, or if he even cared. He had no urge or desire to speak of. There were brief moments of clarity, breaks in the gloom which revealed his friends: Squabbling Underkin tearing the clothes from Eliza, eager to expose her flesh; Priests dragging Valen by his hair through muddy excrement; Lileth’s eyes calling out to him as Corpulants hauled her off to the shadows.
Cole found himself on a stage facing the Devotion Towers. He was immobile, buried to his chin in an urn full of hardened cement. There was no sight of the others.
“Look at you! You’ve got yourself a decent seat for the show now haven’t you?” Kreed stepped into Cole’s view. His snow-white suit bore no signs of Storn’s death, though his hand was still caked with dried gore. Kreed inspected him, heels bouncing with excitement. “Angle’s a bit off, but…” he grunted as he turned Cole’s urn. “There we go. Now you can see all three towers. This is important you know, just as you yourself are important. I am in your debt by the way, for bringing so many of your friends here. Each one has a soul brighter than the whole herd of Underkin. Here, let me siphon some of that off for you. You ought to be present for this.”
Nails scratched over Cole’s cheeks as Kreed drew his fingers repeatedly to Cole’s mouth. Flakes of dried blood crumbled from his gentle fingers, landing on the surface of the stone below Cole’s chin. Cole felt the Despair stirring in his mind and gut. The sensation swirled
too quickly, dizzying him. He heaved, vomiting dark pus into Kreed’s waiting hand. The spinning stopped and he felt a measure of coherence return to him. The Fear remained, stabbing him with freezing spikes, but the Despair had lifted enough to bring clarity to the scene.
“That’s much better.” Kreed flung the pus at a group just off the stage, laughing as the crowd of Underkin collapsed in keening wails. “Strong stuff. You must have quite the constitution. I prefer Decreath’s Fear, but Sorronis’s Despair is an incredible sight to behold. Look at them, they’re… yes, they’re all fainting. Your Despair was too much for their tiny hearts. You must be special indeed, Cole Carter.”
A priest in crimson robes approached Kreed, hands clasped behind her back. She was short with a face locked in stony determination. A group of white-robed priests trailed behind her, looking as though they’d rather be elsewhere.
The woman’s lip curled in disgust, as if she loathed Kreed from the bottom of her heart. She gestured to the group of fallen Underkin beside the stage. “Sir, it would be more prudent to not kill the Underkin. They are for our lords. All of our lords. Sorronis would be less than pleased to see such frivolous waste of his herds.”
Without looking at her, Kreed wiped the Despair from his hands. He sighed, sounding bored: “Those Underkin were Chosen by me personally. They cannot die. I’d also like to inform you that Sorronis holds no sway over Costas. I do. So you’ll forgive me if I don’t show much favoritism for his cattle. If you’re worried,” he shrugged a shoulder, jabbing a thumb casually behind his back, “send one of your little minions over to collect what is owed before the Corpulants clean them up.”
Saving The Dark Side: Book 1: The Devotion Page 42