Litany of Wrath

by Levi Pfeiffer

  “Go? Where?” said Vern incredulously. His focus switched to Jessop, who was twitching, eyes fluttering.

  “He tells true, young un,’” said Jessop, eyes barely focusing on Vern between the blinks. “We’s be givin’ a brief break and a look forward. I knows. It’s awful important you follow what they say.”

  Vern watched as Jessop’s eyes closed again, and the body settled back into deep slumber. He was about to ask another question when Lucius stirred. Stiff arms rifled through his pockets and fished out a few discs of stone, barely a whisper of sound reached Vern as Lucius held out his hand, “Take this, you might need it for them. It will help.”

  “I ain’t no stone cracker, you sod,” Vern rumbled, highly agitated.

  “It won’t matter,” came the faint reply, “It’ll do what’s needed.” Lucius breathed, then he too went still.

  “Some help that was,” said Vern to the room in general, but he took the discs of stone from Lucius’s limp fingers. He looked at them, puzzled about what their purpose might be.

  “Some help indeed, you say, for whatever that’s worth,” said a voice. “Here, I wasn’t even mentioned. But, here I am anyway,” said Aigid.

  Vern sprung up, spar of wood clasped tight, “Who’re you?” he demanded.

  “Not up on current events, are we?” said Aigid. “Well, no matter. I’m not after fame, unlike some. I can take you to your friends, if you’ll come along.”

  “And why should I do that?” Vern growled.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t, given your temperament. But you have no other logical choice. You might not be accustomed to that, but I am. Don’t bother figuring it out right now. Here I am, and I’m willing to help. So what do you have to lose?”

  “Plenty,” said Vern, “I’ve heard talk like that before. It got me nowhere, but it sure helped others.”

  “You’d rather I leave?” said Aigid, with a semblance of a smile, “I admit, the suggestion is attractive. But here, there is such as thing as being too cautious. I know and you know, somewhere in that battered soul, that I mean you no harm. You called for aid, not me. Do you want help, or not?”

  Vern struggled with his emotions, but the truth of the visitor’s message was too potent to put aside, “What about these two, I says they need a rousing.”

  “I agree,” said Aigid, “But that is not my specialty. The most sure way forward here is to let me do what I do best. I can get you where you’re needed, then those that can really help can come alongside after, if you’re successful, of course.”

  Vern grimaced, “Alright, fine,” he grumbled.

  Aigid winked, “I like you, no matter what the others say.” She waved her hand, and a blue and white portal opened, “Step through, angry one, and help your friends. This only can I provide, the rest is up to you.”

  Vern frowned, “I’ll remember this, for good or ill.” Then he stepped forward into the portal, which closed with a snap after him.

  Aigid smiled, “What a bold one that one is.” She stroked the cheeks of the sleeping forms on the ground. “You’ve good friends,” she said softly, “May they be victorious.”

  * * *

  Reuben and Pim went briskly through the empty streets. The air was close, as if a thunderstorm was about to break. The square was empty. “I at least thought there would be some guards around,” said Pim.

  “If there are any left, look over there,” Reuben pointed to the crumpled forms further along the steps to the palace. They both moved forward, then slowed instinctively as thoughts of ambush entered their heads spontaneously. There was no cover on the steps, they would be vulnerable from any number of hidden spots where an enemy could fire upon them.

  “Well, what do you think?” Pim asked.

  “Pick a side, we’ll go up, I guess.” Reuben said as he moved ahead, heart beating loud in his ears, hoping each footfall would not be his last.

  Pim followed along too, with less enthusiasm. The bodies and the blood told her what Reuben was confirming, going around and checking each one. “They’re all gone,” Pim stated more than asked.

  Reuben sighed heavily, “Yeah, the poor bastards were butchered. Knife wounds, for the most part. Except that one, of course,” he said indicating the headless corpse.

  “I don’t see anything on this other, but that doesn’t mean much,” Pim said with a shrug. “People been weird lately, you think it was them?” Pim wondered aloud. Part of her didn’t want to think like that, but she’d been around too many normally nice people that, pushed that little bit too far, could do unspeakable things. A crowd of worried people were no different, they just had less of a breaking point and a swifter progression towards chaos.

  “No. I think we’re close on the trail of Eustace, or Arneph, or whatever he is. A bunch of angry people wouldn’t do it like this,” said Reuben, sadly, remembering how he’d seen crowds act before. “They’d be strung up, or publicly displayed, not quiet and fallen, left to the open air like they didn’t matter. A group of people can be wrong, their actions wrong, but they wouldn’t leave things like this.”

  “I agree, this has the stink of something worse,” Pim said.

  “We’ve got to get in there,” Reuben replied, “I know we ought to wait for Lucius and Vern, but there’s no time. Who knows what Arneph will do, especially if he can force the councilors into working for him.”

  “What can we do, even if we catch up?” Pim asked.

  “I don’t know,” Reuben said. “I’ve a feeling that we’re expected.”

  “That’s a comforting thought. Just full of cheerfulness, aren’t we?” said Pim.

  “That’s me,” said Reuben, “But I think we might have help.” As he spoke, little motes of golden light were condensing out the the atmosphere, dancing around like fireflies.

  “Let’s go,” said Pim.

  The lights followed slowly, like a cloud on a gentle breeze as Pim and Reuben headed forward. Everything was quiet and still, but the veiled threat was plain at each forward step. The sense of menace ahead weighed heavily on them, a great brooding malice that was both aware of their presence and resentful of it. All of the torches were out, which was odd, given that of all places the council hall should have been well lit. The silence spoke volumes to Reuben and Pim, weapons drawn and trudging forwards against the waves of enmity that threatened to push them aside as easily as an autumn breeze tosses aside a pile of leaves.

  They rested for a moment along one long grand hallway, panting with exertion. “It’s getting worse,” Reuben observed.

  “I hate it,” said Pim, remembering her time in the dark cave, “You can’t force it away, that only makes it worse. Sometimes, thinking of happier times made it better, but watch out, it will take those images and use them against you.”

  A thin, mocking laugh echoed through the room, “Yes, you remember, darling, don’t you?”

  “Arneph,” said Pim through gritted teeth. “We’ll find you, you can’t escape forever!” she yelled.

  “Escape,” said the voice, “Why ever would I want to do that? Escape is your problem, I am quite happy here. But this is rude of me, isn’t it? You’re my guests. I’m a little busy, so they’ll have to entertain you for now.”

  There was the noise like tearing silk and several portals opened around the large room they were standing in. From the gaping portals, imps flowed into the hall. Reuben and Pim stood up against the weight of the will that was trying to sap their strength, trying to break their resolve. The imps, seeing a foe, screeched and charged forward.

  The confrontation was swift. The imps were not expecting any real resistance from the cornered pair. They paid for their lack of caution with several of their members dispatched on the floor. Reuben fought like he had been trained, dispassionate, methodical. Each swing was a calculated risk and aimed with dedicated precision. Pim, untrained to follow such a disciplined pattern, was still the perfect compliment to Reuben’s fighting style. Her attacks were more sporadic, bursts of energy and une
xpected, risky angles. It assuredly did not consider such things as efficiency and stamina for sustained encounters, but in the hallways the sudden fury of action was more deadly. She fought with passion, but not heedlessly. Caution was ever needed and she had learned that over the years, but when the chance came to strike she did so without flinching and made every cut and slice as perilous to the target as possible.

  The whole scene was lit from the portals themselves, a savage red-gold streaked with black. Reuben and Pim were nearly overwhelmed, when a great light, down toward the way they had been headed, blinded all present in its searing brilliance. The deathly twirl and dance was brought to an abrupt end. The room darkened, like some great obscuring of the sun had occurred. The imps fled, screeching, from around them. Reuben took the opportunity to dispatch those that were too injured to make good their getaway.

  Pim looked around wildly, panting for breath after the exhausting encounter. “Look,” she said, pointing to the door that lead into the great council chamber hall. Reuben gazed on in fascination as the doors themselves turned from their once brilliant white to sludge colored brown and black. Their very substance was morphing in front of their eyes. Unable to hold themselves up by their own internal structure, the corrupted timbers fell to the ground like crumbs of mold, scattering an unhealthy haze of dusty spores that hung like grim fog before the entrance.

  “I guess we’re invited in,” Reuben said with a scowl, “We must be quite a nuisance.”

  They walked slowly into the council room, keeping their eyes shifting around waiting to see where the attack would come from. In the great chamber Reuben noticed that things had changed significantly since his last time there. The proud marble pillars were covered in slime and dark smudges that he guessed would prove to be blood. Patches of the floor had been the obvious site of struggle, scored and scratched. Dead bodies were thrown all over. Some pinned to the marble pillars and walls, others crumpled in heaps at their bases or thrown in the corner like discarded rags.

  “Watch my back,” Reuben said as they reached the great council table.

  Pim nodded and kept on scanning the area as Reuben inspected the unfortunate revelation. The council members were dead. They had died in a variety of ways. Some were slumped over the table, not obviously wounded, yet cold to the touch. Another leaned back in death, exposing for all to see the livid gash across a throat, blood pooling on the table beneath them. Several were on the ground, Vivian and Stentor Folson among them, mangled and broken. Pim was trying hard not to be sick as her eyes passed over quickly before returning to the vigilant search.

  “I hated these people sometimes for being so damned irritating,” said Reuben. “But for all their faults, they tried to do good by the city. They didn’t deserve this.”

  Rasping laughter and chuckling sounded around them and a voice from the darkness in the corners answered, “Did they not?” In the small bit of light that still illuminated the grisly scene at the table, they saw a leather clad figure step into view. It held loosely at its sides two blades, one long and thin, the other short and broad but jagged. Its dark leathers were streaked with wet lines. “Do you like my art?” It said with a gesture of a blade towards the council members. “All that deny fate shall fare the same. I’d like to think of it as my little masterpiece. A precursor, if you will, of the work that is to come.”

  “You’re horrible!” Pim yelled at Arneph.

  “Oh, I know,” retorted the figure. “It is so much more fun this way.”

  The cloud of lights that had followed Reuben and Pim was nearly at the entrance to the room.

  “Don’t fool yourself,” taunted the leather clad figure, “You haven’t the slightest chance. Why else do you think I let you in here?” He waved his hands, with a snap of stone accompanying it. The motes of light were halted by a yellow-black barrier that formed in the doorway entrance, sealing the pair within the room. “Meet your destiny,” said Arneph, pulling back his hood. The body of Eustace was smiling, eyes completely golden and shining. The whole head was covered in a crust of blood, even as the open sores oozed yet more filth over the encrusted cheeks. The hair was matted and caked with the unspeakable slime, and a chunk of the foul muck fell off at that moment, hitting the floor with a revolting squelch.

  With a cry Reuben surged forward, Arneph nimbly stepping sideways and back, kicking Reuben as he passed by. Reuben sprawled on the ground and swiftly scampered to his feet. He approached with caution this time, circling slowly. Arneph jumped forward in return and with precision caught Reuben’s attack with the small blade. Then, as Reuben tried again, blade almost at its mark, Arneph twisted at the last moment, using the pommel of his blade to knock Reuben on the head. Darkness closed over Reuben’s eyes for a moment as the pain radiated through his skull. He staggered but remained standing. Arneph twirled his blades, toying with his prey like a cat with a mouse.

  This gave Pim the opening that she needed, she had snuck behind Arneph and with a grunt of effort plunged her blade into his back.

  In any normal situation, this would have ended the fight terminally. Perhaps that is why she let her guard down momentarily as the adrenaline was flooding her system. So she was utterly shocked when the figure spun around and shoved her with such force that she was picked off her feet and hurled across the room into the wall. She screamed along with the agonizing crunch of her body hitting the stone which ended when she thudded to the ground.

  Reuben tried again to attack his foe but Arneph was too quick, taunting him, wearing him down. “Stand still and fight, you bastard!” screamed Reuben.

  “You first,” said Arneph. Then he mumbled something Reuben couldn’t hear and there was a small sharp snap. As Reuben saw the pieces fall away from his opponent’s hands he felt himself go stiff. Already tired and worn out, his limbs became leaden and unresponsive. “What a joke,” railed his opponent, “Miserable, pitiful worm!” he said, walking up to him nonchalantly and unconcerned. “You’ve not the slightest idea of my power. Here, watch.”

  Arneph halted a few steps away. Pulling out another stone wafer, he chanted a few more words and snapped the stone between his fingers then pointed to a section of the room above; a livid bolt of crackling energy stabbed upwards from the outstretched palm of the leather clad figure. Reuben watched as a large section of the ceiling rotted and crumbled away much like the door had. It let in light from the poisoned world above into the gruesome scene in the great hall.

  Arneph pushed Reuben over, who could do nothing to stop himself from striking the ground painfully. Arneph stepped over Reuben, “And now, what to do about you? Oh, I could kill you,” he said as he paced around Reuben tapping him here and there with his long blade. “Maybe I should. After all, you have been such a pain to deal with. I’ve waited so long to get my hands on you; Braldoan, Tekuda. Maybe I should act quickly before you escape again,” he laughed. “Or maybe,” he said with a thoughtful pause, “Maybe you’d like to join my service?” He pulled another stone from his pocket, “Yes, I think that might be just the right thing.”

  “Curse you,” spat Reuben.

  “Oh I don’t know about that. I don’t know about that at all,” said Arneph. “What does it feel like?”

  Reuben looked up into the golden eyes of the former magistrate, looming over him, “What does what feel like?” he said.

  “To be flawed, to be human. Does it not make you retch inside, does not your mind turn over endlessly in its futility? Do you not know, not feel in your bones your mortality, your futile struggle towards your demise? Every breath, each and every one, bringing you closer to the time you will not draw another. Does it torment you? Or, in the sullen and dusty corridors of your infinitesimally small minds, do you crawl along your daily chores like the maggots that you are? Blind and stupid.”

  Reuben was helpless as Arneph moved towards him. The Karthild stone held in front of him, Arneph sneered, “When next you wake, you’ll see things from a different perspective, a perfect one. The best p
art is, once you see with the sight I shall bestow you with, you’ll never chose to disobey your fate’s calling ever again.” The wafer was put into his mouth, firm hands clamping his jaw shut. It turned into a thick sludge, some of it pouring down his throat before he even realized what was happening. He coughed and sputtered, trying to keep the rest from entering him as the grip on his face hardened. “Join into the perfection of providence,” whispered Arneph into Reuben’s ear, “Your absolution is nigh, nestled within the bosom of the serendipity in your destiny.”

  The poisonous words trickled their way into Reuben’s mind. He let the pain of them flow past him. He was tired, spent; who cared any more about trying to win? He knew he could never overpower his foe, Arneph was too strong, fate could not be overcome. He could feel the ache in his muscles, the fatigue pouring over him in a dull unending cascade. How much easier it would be to stay down. How much relief to accept the end. His mind felt numb as the words poured over him, his thoughts like icebergs slowly scudding along. His eyes started to close, all was dark anyway, no point in staring into the night of oblivion. He could feel the darkness pouring into him, filling his vision, his thoughts.

  Reuben couldn’t breathe anymore, his nose held closed and his mouth held shut. He could feel the panic within the hopeless drowning sensation that was burgeoning within him. As the seconds stretched into an eternity, he couldn’t even hear what was being whispered into his ears anymore as Arneph leaned his full weight over him, crushing and pummeling his senses. His eyes would not focus, his hearing was dulled. Each heartbeat coursed painfully through his air-deprived body. Reuben scrambled in his mind, watching as his consciousness was slowly crumbling around him.

  A loud crackle of sound, and Arneph looked up in surprise. A blue white portal had opened nearby. He leapt up to face whatever had breached his barrier and was coming through.

  Vern stepped through the portal, swiftly taking in the scene of horror. In one not used to such sights, they might have paused and died in the moments that followed. Vern, however, was used to the work of his former master. It took only a fraction of a second for him to comprehend his danger, and he leapt to the side, avoiding the thrown blade that spun past him. The portal snapped shut, and the knife carried on, hitting the wall. Vern scrambled over, picking up the blade. It was a small dagger, oddly notched with a jagged edge, but the point was sharp. He turned to confront Arneph.