Carnival of the Soul

by Cebelius

  Terry turned to him, and Yuri looked him in the eye as he said, "You have been a hero since I have known you, but now you are more. You are a leader. Isthil told me that you defeated Baba Yaga's laughing curse, a curse that drove me beyond the brink of sanity. No mere mortal could do such a thing, but you did, and I know how. It was not only your strength that you relied on then, but ours. Your obligation gives you power entirely separate from the sexual bonds you have collected. You have done what needed to be done. My uncle would have said that you dipped your hands in blood for the sake of others. It is a heavy burden to bear."

  "I'm not sure the life I took was mine to take. What right do I have to pass judgement on others?" Terry asked, looking at him with quiet need. He had the sense that what Yuri was saying was important. He wanted, desperately, to have what he had done justified.

  "A leader derives his authority from those who follow and believe in him," Yuri said. "I shouldered that burden once when I set out to kill the Madsee. You have a people here, disparate as we are, and we needed you to return to us. Your obligation to your people gives you the authority to kill for us, just as our faith and trust give you the will to resist, and the authority to command. I know that if you believed the man you killed should have been spared, you would have spared him. This too is crucial to a leader. We place our trust in you because you have earned it, through your every word and deed. Be content."

  "You too?" Terry asked.

  Yuri nodded, glancing off into the dark. "Marcus as well. You have led us since you saved us in Monsoon, whether you realized this or not. I commanded in Sub-Cel and the Labyrinth, but I did not have that authority. I accepted it."

  Their eyes met again as the man turned back to him. "From you. Knowing that you did not have the experience to command, you passed responsibility to me, but it was always your authority that I relied upon to give orders that would be obeyed. Your women trusted me because you trusted me. When you chose to go another way with the Behemoth, I could not deny you. That should be all the proof you need."

  Reaching out, Yuri set a hand on Terry's shoulder. "You are my success, Terry Mack. I know now that Vlad was right, unholy bastard that he was. I am not fit to lead. I can command, but when I do so ... it will be in your name."

  30

  Stone Steppes

  They set out immediately, headed north toward the location of the tiger kin village.

  Given the trouble the group had with the carnival, Terry decided not to allow time for word of his return to circulate. When he'd asked about Prada and been told she was missing somewhere among the tauren, he'd spilled his blood and made a beacon spell for her similar to the one that had summoned Isthil, and she rejoined them within an hour, easily catching up in the form of a sizable dog.

  She had kissed him, folded herself into him, and he had surprised her by taking Halla's gift back from her, growing to his full height of fifteen feet. When she'd asked, he'd told her it was simply to make it easier for him to keep pace with the wagon. He'd also asked her to turn his skin blue, and give him a pair of horns fit for an oni.

  Halla was delighted, and as the two of them walked together she took his hand in hers. Terry could tell that it meant a lot to her that he was choosing to spend time with her on her terms, and resolved to do it whenever he could in the future.

  Shy and Mila rode two of the spare horses while Asturial rode Isthil, Laina rode shotgun next to Yuri on the bench of the wagon, and Euryale rode in the back with Baba Yaga, who'd woken just long enough to give Terry a cursory welcome. She congratulated him on killing Koschei, then went back to sleep, claiming she would need her rest if she was going to do her part with Stheno. Mila had lent her a spare robe that was both far too large to fit her well and somehow inappropriate for her in Terry's mind, but he said nothing of it. It was better than her being naked.

  Prada recounted for him events of the last few days from her point of view, and was surprised when she felt his approval of what she had done.

  'I thought you would be angry with me,' she thought.

  You protected the people I love the best way you knew how. Given I wasn't there to help or advise you, wouldn't it be kinda stupid of me to blame you for success?

  'Yes, it would, but doing and believing stupid things seems to be your style, or at least a dedicated hobby.'

  I missed you too, Wife.

  She flooded him with happiness, and he felt her sash squeeze his middle a bit.

  As they moved across the plains, Terry again practiced using both his tremor sense and magical sight at the same time. He scanned the horizon constantly. His original motive for taking his size back was simply to give him a higher vantage so that he could see farther and hopefully pick up threats before they got into range.

  The stars were fading with the light of pre-dawn when he spotted what looked like a lone dog far out on the plains. It was loping along in the same direction they were going, but he couldn't tell much else about it. It was far beyond the range of his tremor sense. He estimated it to be at least a quarter mile off, but once he noticed it, he kept an eye on it.

  The sun rose, and they continued to travel until it was well past the horizon before stopping at a small waterhole in the deepest fold of a series of low hills.

  After a moment's thought that involved dipping into Koschei's knowledge, he focused and spoke in English as he said, "By the power in my veins, concentrate my form."

  As he spoke the words, he focused on the height he wanted, and felt increasingly heavy as he shrank. As he now understood, spells that were open-ended in their phrasing required a concrete image of the result in the mind of the caster, and his size stabilized when he reached his usual height.

  Prada was unexpectedly forced out of him by the change and took her preferred shape as Charlie before giving him a reproachful look.

  "I can't inhabit you while you are like this, Husband. Your substance is too dense."

  "I'm sure you'll get over it, since you're going to be my bed tonight," he said with a grin. "Think I'm going to sleep on the ground now that I know how damned comfortable you are?"

  She blinked at him, then smiled and tilted her head as she curled an arm around his neck and leaned in to kiss him. "You don't mind?"

  "Not as long as Isthil is willing to help me sleep peacefully," he said glancing over at the Nightmare as he spoke.

  "Aye. Ye'll sleep like a wee bairn, my word upon it."

  His eyes flicked back to Prada as he added, "And you promise not to molest me."

  She sucked her teeth at him, but never lost her smile.

  "How's my mana?" he asked.

  "Your spell will last. Your reserves have been somewhat depleted, but as long as you renew one of your bonds either now or when you wake, you should be fine. Altering your bond gifts seems to take very little of your power. I suspect you have what amounts to an affinity for such manipulation — something that is probably unique to templates. Is now a good time to ask about the dark spot in your mind? I've sensed you dipping into it from time to time."

  "That's Koschei. His knowledge of magic is what I'm relying on right now for how to shape new spells."

  Prada nodded, then said, "Since you're being so open with me, hold still a moment."

  He did, and she closed her eyes. He could feel her rooting around inside his memories, searching him actively. After she was done, she said, "You have real affinities now, did you know?"

  "Which ones?"

  "Life, Chaos, and Evil. You also have a strange new perception that I can't quite define, and something else. A new potential of some kind. You have an ability, but I've never experienced it nor read of anything like it, so I have no idea what it is. I don't think it's quite ready to manifest."

  "Can you tell what came from where?" he asked.

  "No. Your bonds were all returned to you at once, and since you had both Asturial and Kalty before Baba Yaga, there is no knowing for certain who gave you what. I suspect the affinities are from Baba Yaga a
nd the perception is from Kalty. That would mean the potential is from Asturial, but that is only a guess."

  "Who's Kalty?"

  Terry glanced up and saw Mila had tended and hitched her horse on a long tether to the back of the wagon with the others, and was walking toward him. Remembering what Kalty had said about Shy, he glanced around to see that the dryad was already in her tree form at the edge of the waterhole.

  He thought about it, then shrugged and said, "A bunny girl I met. She traded sex for a soul token I needed. It's a long story."

  She blinked at him and her ears flattened to either side as she said, "A bunny girl? What is that?"

  "Well, you're a tiger girl. She was a bunny girl. Rabbit ears, puffy tail?"

  "I have never seen such a person," Mila said.

  "Kaltes-Ekwa is a goddess," Baba Yaga said through a yawn as she stretched, having apparently decided to join them. "Her spheres of influence are varied. Suffice it to say she's fun when she's around."

  "Is she ... going to be around?" Mila asked, glancing from the witch back to Terry.

  "Doubt it," he said, then added, "She's also not keen to be known, so the less said about her the better."

  "Secrets are my stock in trade," Baba Yaga said with a grin. "You going to whip up a guard or should I?"

  "I'll do it, I need the practice," Terry said as he stomped the grass flat in a circle about three feet in diameter. His increased density made it easy, and once the space was prepared he used a claw to draw blood and began inscribing a circle as Mila and Baba Yaga watched. Prada had moved off and was speaking with Asturial and Isthil, but whatever they were saying was too low for Terry to hear.

  Once he'd completed the circle, he began to draw a six-pointed star, its points intersecting the edges of his circle. That done, he touched the edge of the bloody diagram and said in careful English, "By the power of the blood I have spent, invite a winged eye with the promise of sight and succor."

  The blood diagram flared, and about a foot off the ground a haze developed. The haze grew and solidified until an eye about six inches across hovered, fluttering with a pair of bat-like wings that connected to the leathery black flesh that served as eyelids. It had no other features.

  Terry reached out, gently grasped the creature by the base of its wings. It stopped attempting to fly and hung limp as he turned it up and squeezed his fist. The cut he'd made dripped, and the little creature took the blood as eye drops. The liquid faded into the eye, and the white of it turned pink.

  Before he let it go, he continued to speak in English as he said, "Watch over the camp until we depart. Notify of any approach. Do well, and I will give you more before I send you home. If we are surprised, you will be extinguished."

  He loosened his grip, and the eye blinked, then flapped powerfully and flew up into the air, rapidly gaining altitude until it was all but invisible in the blue sky.

  Mila tilted her head as she looked at Terry, her expression speculative as she said, "Your mastery of magic is ... much improved. Demon summoning is not lightly done."

  "Chaos and Evil affinities mean that summoning demons is most efficient for me," he said quietly. "As for my mastery, that's Koschei."

  Baba Yaga smiled as she said, "Got my affinities, did you?"

  He did not smile in return as he met her gaze. "Some of them. I know you have more."

  She winked and her smile turned into a grin as she pointedly ignored his studied lack of emotion. "I suspect you're right. Well done, T-Mack, and good choice. I'll spend the day preparing the doll. By evening Goran will join us. It'll be good to finally set foot in my own home again, not to mention wear my own clothes."

  She practically skipped away, and Terry shook his head before glancing up at Mila as he asked, "Are you okay with this?"

  "Are you?"

  He thought about it, then nodded. "Yuri gave me the perspective I needed. You were right to have him talk to me. I'll do what needs to be done."

  "Some of the joy has gone out of you," she said. "Magic no longer amazes you as it once did."

  "Yeah. I'm fine though. I'll adjust."

  He smiled at her, but it was forced, and they both knew it.

  "How far to the village?" he asked.

  Mila turned her head, staring off to the north as she said, "Another eighty miles. We should be there the day after tomorrow."

  He nodded, then said, "We'll set out this afternoon and go through the night presuming we don't have any interruptions. Get some rest."

  She tilted her head, then asked, "Would you like to sleep with me?"

  He smiled as he said, "If it's just sleep, sure. I really don't think I'm up for entertaining. It'll be a bit though. I've got Laina to take care of first."

  "I do not think so. Asturial joined her a moment ago."

  He glanced toward the wagon, but there was nothing to see. The canvas had been closed. Worry flickered through his mind, but he just nodded again and turned away. Prada had already devolved into a sizable droplet of red nearby, and Isthil was kneeling next to her, eyes on him.

  "You don't mind sharing Prada with me?" he asked.

  Mila reached out, and he took her hand as she simply said, "No."

  Together they walked to Prada and sat on her. Terry sank significantly farther than Mila did, and she yelped in surprise as she fell on top of him. It made him smile, and he wrapped her up. She kissed him as Prada flowed up and over them both, shutting out the sounds and much of the light of the new morning. He closed his eyes as he felt Prada stripping his clothing off, and fell asleep with his tigress warm in his arms.

  The winged eye apprised Terry when he woke that it had seen the dog again, and its much better vision showed him a rangy, gray-furred animal with a heavy ruff and a hungry look, but since it had always been in sight yet never come any closer than a quarter mile to their camp it had chosen not to wake him.

  Its communication was terse and simplistic, but it had done its job well. Terry fed and dismissed it as promised. Before it faded, it gave its name so that Terry could summon it again. The name wasn't pronounceable in any mortal tongue, but he knew that having it in mind when he made his summons would be sufficient to pull the little creature back to him.

  He then had Prada take his orgasm to renew his strength. She was a bit petulant about not being allowed to take all the pleasure she wanted, but understood his needs and did not complain too much.

  They were on the move by evening. Goran — the chicken-legged hut — caught up to them within a half hour of their start, and Baba Yaga gleefully skipped out of the wagon and into its open door, which shut behind her with abrupt finality. The hut then dipped its front face as though bowing to Terry, and kept pace once they were on the move again.

  It was just past dawn when they saw the first of the statues.

  It was a minotress, and she was both faced and had a hand raised to point north/northeast, her expression one of fixed terror. Around her were the rotting remains of at least a dozen others that had been ripped limb from limb. Flies buzzed around the scene, and the smell was gut-churning.

  Terry's first instinct was to bury the pieces, but when he said as much Yuri shook his head and said, "From here, we will only encounter more. If we stop to offer proper burials to them all there is no telling how long we will be delayed."

  "It need not be a lengthy process," Shy said quietly, and dismounted. She stood just beyond the carnage a moment, then knelt, pressing a hand to the earth.

  Seconds later, vines and other plant life swarmed the scene, churning up the ground and pulling the remains down and out of sight. When it was done, only blood, flies, and the lingering smell remained.

  Rather than bury the statue, they left it undisturbed. It was obvious from the decay of the other bodies that too much time had passed for Euryale's alchemical solution to be of any use.

  It was not the last time they encountered the scene. At each grisly site there was at least one, and usually several, statues. All were faced north/north
east. All pointed.

  Terry looked in the direction they indicated, then to Shy, who nodded, understanding the unspoken question as she said, "They point the way to the Twilight Zone. The Dust Lord is challenging you to save these people."

  He nodded, but did not answer. A strange calm had come over him. Not long ago these scenes would have sickened him, but now they simply fed his resolve. The carnival had proven little different than Florence in the end. Wherever he went, his presence caused conflict, but that did not mean these were bad people. They were caught up in something larger than themselves, and it was not in Terry to turn his back on them. He would go to the Twilight Zone. He would challenge and kill Thomas. But he would not be rushed. He would not allow his emotions to get the better of him.

  When he went, he would be prepared, and he would win. All the bodies and the petrified people did was add to his determination.

  I didn't kill these people. Stheno did. Regardless of her reason, I am not to blame.

  Each time they came upon a new scene of carnage, Shy buried the bodies of the slain and they moved on. As evening approached, Yuri called a halt, and dismounted the wagon.

  "All right, bring it in," he said wearily, the day and night of constant travel having clearly taken a toll.

  Terry knelt, and Halla did likewise. Shy and Mila dismounted, and the others circled up.

  "The village is a little over two miles away," Yuri said quietly. "Given what we have been dealing with all day, I have no hope that we will find survivors. We may not even find Stheno."

  "You think she's gone?" Terry asked.

  Yuri's ears flattened to the sides as he looked up at Terry. "Did you get her message?"

  Nodding, Terry said grimly, "Yeah. Loud and clear."

  "That may be all she was sent here to do. I have been thinking on this. If her purpose was to confront and kill you, she would not have left so much evidence of her presence, or allowed the stories to spread. She would want the element of surprise. She would not want to risk your flight."