Maal The First Skull- Shadows of the Mind

by Theodore Packwood

  Jil tried to assist with the cleaning, but eXiaxana held her back with a firm hand. Shame flowed out of her, and she sat on the bench morosely.

  “You could have fought.” I doubted her assistance would have had any impact, but it was important to drill the lesson into her.

  Her assistance would have more impact than yours, Maal, said Carmine. Even if you had a body. If only clenching my jaw or fists could be felt, perhaps I would feel less impotent.

  She did not look at me. “Yes, Master,” she said quietly.

  “Why did you save Tchurn from having his throat cut? He insists on your demise.”

  She glanced at the giant, who was visiting the shithole. She whispered something.

  “Louder.”

  “I don’t know. It just…” She looked down at her hand. “It didn’t seem right ta let him die like that.”

  I snorted. There was little point in interrogating her motives if she did not understand them herself. There was an item more important to discuss.

  “Do you recognize your weakness, now?”

  She nodded.

  “Do you? Even the uXulu bully you.”

  Her head snapped up. “What?”

  “eXia gave you strict orders, and you obey them.”

  “When?”

  “She held you back from assisting Erigg. And now, to keep you from cleaning.”

  “But… she’s me friend.”

  “Even friends can sense weakness. It is why Erigg and eXia coddle you. They believe you are helpless. They believe you cannot function without constant direction, and cannot survive without protection.”

  Shame poured out of her, and she blushed.

  “Do you wish to be helpless?” She shook her head. “Do you wish to be ordered around, like a slave?”

  I shocked her again. “But I am a slave. To tha Goor.”

  “Yes. And to Erigg, and eXia.”

  She did not like that. She frowned.

  “And to your weakness.”

  There it was again, that spark of Hate. “I don’t want ta be weak any more,” she said, with no false determination. Excellent.

  “Then do not be. You are only a slave because you allow it! You are only weak because you allow it! Take back the power to make your own decisions, and you will begin your journey to strength.”

  Jil stood up, jaw set. She straightened her back and stomped up the wood platform to the large pile of furs, selected two, and returned to her bench. I could not help smiling at the comical nature of it, but kept quiet. eXia watched with a frown upon her face, but did not interfere. Soon Jil was slicing through the furs with her black hand, shearing them into long strips.

  It was a surprise that I recognized the emotion coming out of her: Courage, the antithesis of Fear. Not Hate, which was unfortunate. Still, it seemed she could use a tremendous amount of both.

  As could you, sneered Carmine.

  At first Jil tended to Erigg, dipping them into water and gently cleaning his face with her good hand. After leaving a wet fur on his head, she opened his vest, looking for signs of damage. Finding none, she pecked him on the cheek, and began watching for uXulu. As they went past her table, Jil intercepted them and placed a strip between their collars and sore necks. oXellona sighed in relief, rewarding Jil with a bright smile and a fierce hug, but aXarelle merely accepted it and walked away.

  It was a small victory, but an important one.

  No victory can be declared with such minuscule gains, said Indigo, annoyed.

  Especially with the weak teaching the weak, said Carmine. Several voices laughed.

  “Desist!” I barked. Jil tensed, but did not look at me. It was fortunate she could not sense my emotions, else she might have felt my Shame, just then. Which I quickly replaced with Hate.

  Or could she? I had not tested her ability to sense emotion, though she had proven capable of detecting anger in my voice. I filled myself with Hate, but she continued with her tearing. I moved further away from her, surprised to find myself able to move past the bar to stand by the massive barrels. This was at least double the previous distance! From here, I let my Hate swell, until my fingers were sparking. It was so easy to Hate, especially when drawing on this new source of energy.

  Jil’s trickle of Courage seemed unaffected by our separation: the intensity of her emotion did not grow or lessen with distance. And she did not react to my fueled Hate. The emotional feed was only one-way, then? That was baffling.

  Something else happened as I burned with Hate. I began to feel hollow inside, as if some reservoir within me was emptying. The drain was slow, but the sensation was clear. As the drain continued, I was pulled closer to Jil.

  I immediately let my Hate fade. I could not comprehend the connection between my emotion and the internal drain, but one thing was clear: it did not settle well.

  Perhaps someday he will remember it’s name, said Cerulean dryly.

  Not without our help! said Amber, happily.

  Then never, said Carmine.

  “Tell me its name!” I whispered loudly.

  He wants to have a private conversation with us! said Tawny.

  How foolish, said Indigo. As if Jil could make use of anything he says.

  “Choh-ah!” I swore at them, not knowing what I said.

  Does he know what it means? asked Tawny.

  Of course not, said Carmine. His own memories were lost in the ocean.

  Something stirred within me, as if my entire midsection were rearranging. The need to vomit was relentless, and I began gagging repetitively, despite not having a physical form. My spirit was trying to expel something, but there was no outlet.

  Obsidian! said Amber.

  Yes! yelled the others.

  Jedd stuck his head out of the door behind the bar, startling me into striking him with a backhand, which of course had no impact. It was enough of a distraction to avoid Obsidian’s resurface, because my midsection settled, as if some terrible creature returned to slumber. I will not say I would have wept with relief.

  Jedd carefully came out to the bar, then approached eXia, who made short gestures while she spoke, presumably describing what had happened. I was not interested in her version of the story, considering I had witnessed the event. Instead, I watched her breasts wiggle as she gestured, and caught Jedd’s eyes glancing at them as well. It was unfortunate they were at level with his eyes. Hate blossomed within me, though I could not say why.

  Maal is Jealous, said Magenta, with sing-song voice. Ah, yes. Jealousy: the pairing of Hate and Shame.

  What could he be Jealous of? eXia does not know he exists! Carmine cackled, and others joined in.

  “DESIST!” I screamed, but they just laughed. “You fucking voices! I shall rip you out of my head one day and shred you into pieces without mercy.”

  They continued to laugh and mock me. I ranted at them in return, until I saw Jil watching me. After that, all I could do was yell at them silently, in my head, which gained me nothing but further abuse.

  M A A L

  Eventually, Jedd arrived at Tchurn’s table. Jil glanced at me and her Fear rose as I floated closer. I scowled at her but said nothing. She had heard my diatribes to the voices, and there was nothing further I wished her to know about them.

  “How is he?” Jedd asked.

  I wanted to hurt him for staring at eXia’s breasts. With malevolent intent.

  “Not well,” Reze’ said, dispassionately. “If not for Tchurn, he might be dead.” She stared at the barkeeper.

  “Yew can judge me all yew like, lass. Yew weren’t here tha day these brutes came chargin’ into me Inn.”

  “What are they?” Reze’ asked. “There are none of these creatures where I come from, and the uXulu keep to themselves. I didn’t have a chance to ask Erigg about them.”

  “Them’s tha Goor. They’re one of tha tribes of creatures that live in tha high mountain forests ‘round here. They’re hunters, mostly. Hidin’ in trees, ambushin’ animals, robbin’ travelers
, and tha like. Would come here ta trade furs and meat with tha Clan every few months. Never caused trouble before. I don’t know what drove them ta invade me bar, but they showed up with a vengeance.

  “They poured in through tha door over there, murderin’ anyone they could catch. People I'd known me whole life lay dead, their bodies all ‘round me bar. Even wee little ones...” Jedd hesitated as his eyes grew wet on the rims. He sniffed and wiped his nose. “...had their brains bashed against them stone walls, or tossed down from tha rooms up above.”

  Tchurn’s facial muscles bulged, though I could not sense what emotion he felt. “They killed children?”

  Even Reze’ seemed disgusted, which I found confusing. Was it not prudent to kill the offspring of a people you have conquered? Else you must keep them as prisoners, and they would mature into your enemies. Kill them while they are weak and defenseless.

  Yes, said Indigo. This is what the best leaders understand.

  “I do not need your approval, Indigo.” Though, I was perhaps lying. It was the first statement from them that resembled any sort of compliment. I felt smug until:

  His statement does not indicate pride, said Carmine.

  Indeed, there is none, replied Indigo. You comprehend only the smallest fraction of what is needed to be a great leader.

  Tchurn repeated himself, his face a collage of bunched muscles. “They killed children?”

  Jedd took a step back. “Aye. Little ones up to me waist, up to me knee, even some babies. Didn’t matter ta them! They was tossing around poor Erren’s head as a game, and he had just started walkin’!” Jedd paused for a moment to wipe his eyes.

  I could not suppress a sound of disgust, which juxtaposed with Indigo’s. Am I more like Indigo than any of the others?

  “Don’t know how many people from our Clan managed ta flee to the cold outside, but they had no time ta grab supplies, and there’s no place ta live nearby. I worry fer them! I was trapped down here with me family, and the Goor let us live as long as we keep servin’ them drink, lettin’ them turn honest lasses into whores, and chargin’ them nothin’ ta boot. Jilii here is tha only young lass to have survived their fists and cocks this long. All her other friends died in them chains! Yew want ta take on all hundred of them, go ahead. But leave me and me family alone. Like as not they’ll be comin’ fer yew in tha mornin’, after what yew did to them four.”

  “They will all die then,” Tchurn said vehemently, but bent over from a severe cough.

  “Aye, sure, with yew bein’ so sick yew can barely stand. Erigg’s out cold because of yew flauntin’ yer fortune in front of them! That leaves tha purty lass to fight all hundred by herself.”

  Reze’ grinned. “Ohhh, that sounds delightful!”

  “Don’t underestimate her,” Tchurn said, clearing his throat and spitting. “I have seen her fight. Tiny as she is, she is deadlier than a cornered wulff.”

  “Why, Tchurn!” Reze’ said. “I had no idea.” She smirked at him from her reclined position on the bench nearby, and spread her legs. Tchurn only stared into her eyes with his burning gaze, and she looked away.

  “And them brutes is uncanny strong!”

  “Give him a safe place to rest,” Tchurn said. “Let us worry about your brutes tomorrow.”

  “They’ll kill me and me family!”

  “Will you assist him or not!” Tchurn boomed. His voice thundered between the walls, and I was shocked as I felt the force of it. Tables shook, plates and mugs rattled, and a bench toppled. Jedd and Reze’ were knocked back a step.

  Jedd paled, took another step back. He cleaned his hands on his apron, over and over, fretting. He looked around for reinforcement, and found none. The uXulu watched from a table across the walkway, eating leftovers from the Goor.

  Tchurn leaned down to pick Erigg up off the floor, gently setting him down on the nearby table. He shoved plates and cups out of the way, perhaps purposefully knocking a few on the floor. Two of them cracked, but most just thumped onto the wood planks.

  “Reze’, fetch him some furs,” Tchurn said. “Pray to Trorenok the Goor don’t return for him while we sleep.”

  “No!” Jedd said. He wrung his hands and grimaced. “All right! Bring him into tha back. I’ll need them furs, though.” He nodded at the large pile Erigg had deposited by the door when he first entered. “Best bring his backpack, too.”

  Tchurn lifted Erigg off the table with an absence of effort. Reze’ picked up Erigg’s antlers, and the three of them disappeared through the door to the kitchen. Loud voices carried from behind the wall, perhaps Jedd and his wife arguing. I cared not.

  The naked uXulu finished gathering the last of plates and mugs, then came together in between a pair of tables. eXia hummed as they all touched her chest, her glorious chest, and with their other hands reached out together toward the stone walls of the Inn, yearning evident on their faces. Afterward, they wearily climbed the ladder to the loft with the straw bedding, and a large mound of furs. They distributed them, then laid down, pressing together.

  eXiaxana did not join them, and instead returned to Jil.

  “You should sleep, Jil.”

  Jil got up to obey, but stopped. She looked up at me, and her Courage returned. She sat back down and said stiffly, “I’ll come ta bed when I feel like it.”

  eXia looked shocked. “Jil,” she began.

  “I’m fine! I don’t need yew ta baby me any more.” Small trickles of Hate and Courage were enough to give her strength. Jil would not meet eXia’s eyes, though.

  eXia looked sad, but said nothing further. She went to stand by the steps to the ladder, watching the door to the kitchen. Perhaps she waited for Tchurn to return, in order to threaten him against harming Jil. I was distracted by her heavy breasts and round ass, but even I could not miss her severe exhaustion. She soon gave up waiting and went up the ladder, with not even a glance at Jil.

  I turned to find Jil had fallen asleep in that short time, collapsed from exhaustion, cuddling the remains of the fur blanket she had torn. I had not noticed the sudden drop in emotion; I had been distracted by eXiaxana. Still, I enjoyed the respite from her emotional barrage, and chose to ignore how sweet she appeared while sleeping.

  I was alone.

  It was strange, to not have others nearby, even the Goor. It was unreasonably quiet, with only murmurs echoing out of the kitchen. Even the chatter from the fireplaces had settled down, becoming muted, as they, too, went to sleep.

  Dark, and quiet.

  I was not under constant emotional attack, or vigilant against speaking out loud. There was no threat of impending violence, nor bedlam from the Goor. In the darkness, with nothing to distract, I could not suppress thoughts of my former prison.

  The Nail.

  Will you return there if you fall asleep, Maal? asked Tawny teasingly.

  Is that the curse? To begin each day in that place with no memory, to fight and escape, only to return at night to be slaughtered again and again until I escape once more?

  The thought brought forth my Fear, not Jil’s, and it was potent and terrible. I wanted to scream, but refused to allow it. “You are not weak, Maal! The Nail cannot conquer you!”

  The Nail does not need to conquer you, Maal, said Carmine. It already has.

  I spun about, looking for distraction. I turned to the nearest fireplace, forcing my eyes to become saturated with the dark-bright of the embers, their red outlines glowing and fading, as if they were breathing. I watched them until the sight burned away all images of The Nail.

  Perhaps The Nail was just a nightmare, Maal, offered Cerulean.

  Your pallid Courage is deplorable, said Indigo.

  Tchurn returned—a distraction much desired—and tromped down the long hall to the quavering door beneath the tree trunks. He tossed one of the straps to Erigg’s large backpack over his shoulder before nabbing a dozen logs from the woodpile. As he walked back with his head bowed and a deep crease between his eyebrows, his silhouette drudged up some
thing from this new knowledge. Another memory that was new to me.

  A human, walking much as Tchurn did now. Trudging through the bar, his head was bowed similarly, his face fiercely morose.

  And again, I watched him walk, in the same fashion, at a different time.

  And again, and again. Then I knew his name: Yanell.

  Now a different image: A woman splayed about the base of a cairn, clutching its stones with white knuckles, wailing in abject Anguish. Many others had encircled the cairn, and torches fluttered in the wind. The wind blew from behind, over the cairn, into the darkness between mountains.

  A different woman stood between the half-circle of torches and the cairn. She began to sing, in a high-pitched voice, strained with Grief.

  The long walk that he takes

  Through his life as he makes

  The choices that scar and that burn

  So he hums for a time,

  Making poems and rhymes;

  For love, and for joy does he yearn

  Oh! What else can he try,

  When he is doomed to die

  Alone in a wasteland of mud

  As he trudges the road,

  He has burdened his load

  With failure and loss and despair

  So he falls to his knees,

  Begging softly for thee,

  His pain and his loss laid bare

  Oh! What tears will he cry,

  When he lays down to die

  Alone in a pool full of blood.

  The woman grasping the cairn stood up, and wobbled toward the edge of the cliff. A man intercepted her and caught her in his arms. She beat on his chest weakly and cried and cried and cried, as the rest of the Clan watched.

  “Yanell always had trouble with tha burden of life. He just couldn’t take it, is all.” The man was sniffling. “I’ll miss me brother, too.”

  The bitter tang of the song left me drained and unhappy. My own Anguish, not Jil’s. Someone else’s memory, filling me with emotion, was a dire concern. I wanted no other’s thoughts controlling me! There was enough challenge in sorting out my own mysteries; I did not need a stranger’s memories adding to the confusion.