The Great Hearts II: A Game of Gods

by David Oliver

  In retrospect that wasn’t the wisest decision. It did, however, prevent the personification of evil from turning his attention to Cassius again for some time. The strangest thing was that as I had done it, I could have sworn that there was something akin to compassion in that eye, just before my beautifully aimed glob of bloody saliva detonated like a miniature explosion of justice.

  Small things.

  Compassion or no I still ended up being tortured. With each new injury the monster asked me a question, the same as before, the same as he had asked whilst he tortured Ella. I found that the threat and action of him torturing me wasn't as unsettling as it had been whilst watching it happen to Ella. I was able, between episodes of blinding pain, to become almost numb to the fact that it was happening to me. Lethargic almost. Perhaps accepting of the fact that I was going to die and my only satisfaction would be to not give this piece of shit anything.

  The problem was, the torturer recognised this too. That is, after all, why he had Cassius still hanging there. Flesh wounded, eyes dull, happiness gone. And that is why after two hours of my own torture I was screaming harder than I had done during. Screaming as Cassius screamed. The air taught with his pain and fury. If pain was a physical force then that torturer would have been ripped asunder, unfortunately for us it was just wasted breath.

  “Calidan, he will die Calidan, won’t you do anything?”

  Shut up you piece of filth, just shut up!

  “Calidan, look, do you want his thumb? Here! I heard he was good at the sword...probably not anymore.”

  I’ll kill you; I’ll kill you; I’ll kill you!

  “Just tell me what I want to know Calidan and this stops. It all stops.”

  Stop the screaming, too much screaming, Cassius, Cassius, Cassius!

  “Tell me Calidan. What did you find at the desert site? Tell me!”

  Nononononononononononononononononononononono!

  “Talk Calidan. Talk and it stops. You’re only doing this to yourself.”

  You bastard, you monster, you vile, wretched piece of horseshit!

  “How about an eye? Shall I take an eye Calidan?”

  NoNoNoNONONONONONONONONO!”

  “No!” I screamed as the poker neared Cassius’s eye. “Skyren! ASH! seraph! I’ll talk! No more! I’ll talk!”

  The screaming stopped and silence fell. I opened a tear-filled eye and saw nothing but blackness. Nothing in front of me, no Cassius or Ella, or Sophia, Scythe, Rikol. What was going on?

  A blinding flash of light and I knew no more, a disembodied voice that sounded disconcertingly familiar echoing in my head as I passed out.

  “Everyone breaks Calidan. Everyone. Part two lies ahead. Pick up the pieces of yourself and reforge them. Hone yourself into what you need to be to survive…”

  Chapter 4

  Survival

  The wind rustled through the trees, causing goosebumps to rise on my skin as it blew past; a cold voice in the air.

  Wait, trees?

  My eyes shot open. White light seared my retina, but not the same light as before when I had passed out, a different light; natural. A bright sun sat overhead, offsetting somewhat the otherwise cold air. A few sparse fir trees jutted out of the ground nearby, their branches overfilled with snow. I was lying under another fir on a bed of old, dried leaves and branches in what seemed to be a gully.

  The wind blew again and I shivered, noticing for the first time that I was still naked. A closer inspection revealed that I bore no injuries from the torture seemingly seconds beforehand. I looked fit and healthy, with no scars and plenty of fingernails. What the hell just happened? Has someone healed me somehow? Even my enhanced healing from the bond with Seya would have left scars. I tried contacting her but there was nothing except for the faintest touch of her presence in my mind. And then it all came flooding in and it didn’t matter how cold it was. For a good twenty minutes I just sat and cried. Sobbing over and over again for my lost friends. Wanting to just curl up and die. But it was not to be. Something in my brain refused to just let me give up and accept death; a smouldering core of rage at my tormentor. The man who I had sworn to track down, no matter where he lived.

  Track down and extract vengeance.

  Shivering, I pushed myself to my feet and winced as splinters of wood dug into my soft soles. Survive. That is what that voice had said, and that is what I would do, regardless of the hollowness of my soul. First things first; shelter and fire. I risked a climb to the top of the gully, peering out to see what lay around me. It was not a satisfying scene. I was surrounded by white for as far as I could see. Snow swirled through a strong wind and the nearby ground was broken only by a few more rocky outcroppings, but whether or not they were similar gullies to what I was in I could not tell. The swirling snow made visibility poor but I thought that I could glimpse trees further down the slope. Something to discover once I had my priorities in order.

  Climbing carefully back down I returned to where I had awoken. A search of my sleeping place revealed nothing of value. Nothing that is, except for a single piece of broken glass. Perfect! Thanks to the fir trees there was plenty of dried wood available, certainly enough to keep a small fire going overnight. Another check revealed that sadly there wasn’t any kind of cave or hollow to provide further respite from the wind, meaning that I would have to build a shelter or risk freezing to death. Moving to one of the other fir trees I carefully dislodged the built-up snow and snapped off several large branches. Propping them up around the base of my fir tree provided a small amount of cover from the wind and allowed me to concentrate on building a fire before venturing out to reinforce the shelter.

  Making the fire proved annoyingly more difficult than I had hoped. Even with the many occasions I had done this when living on the mountainside with the Tracker, the shifting sun and scratched piece of glass made creating a flame frustratingly difficult. After far too much effort in which I could have sworn I could hear the Tracker’s mocking voice, I managed to spark a flame amongst the small pile of broken twigs and leaves I had gathered and basked momentarily in the success. Feeding the small flame with twigs and leaves before moving to larger branches soon ensured that I had a constant flickering flame that quickly made me feel warmed through. Before night completely fell I moved out to the other firs again, breaking more branches to further cover the small shelter and finding a particularly large branch to begin crafting into a spear. I didn’t know where I was or what was around and in that type of scenario it always paid best to be careful.

  Returning to the fire I covered the shelter with the collected branches, making a very basic green shack around the base of the fir tree with a fire at the entrance. Confident that I couldn’t do much more tonight, and hoping that the weather eased up the next day to allow for exploration I settled in for the night, using my time before sleep to trim away any extraneous protrusions from my intended spear, snapping them where viable and using a small stone with a broken edge to sharpen the end into a hopefully lethal point. Once done I planted my spear beside me, its point toward the entrance to my hovel and, placing my back against the tree, I closed my eyes and slept.

  “Tell him Calidan please!”

  Nononononononononononononononononononononono!

  I awoke with a start, uncertain as to what had triggered my wakefulness. It was still night but dawn was not far off. I extended my senses but couldn’t find anything out of place. I settled back, aiming to get a little more sleep before I heard it. A noise that sounded like the undying scream of a foul beast. It echoed around the hilltop, reverberating around the gully and making it hard to pin its location down. Whatever it was I had not heard anything like it before but I hoped that I didn’t have to meet it in the flesh. Whatever could make a noise that deep and loud was probably big. Very big.

  I listened intently but no more sound was forthcoming. Resolving myself to the fact that further sleep was not going to come I got up and revitalised the banked fire with some more small branches and
carefully aimed breath before breaking out into the wider world.

  It had snowed overnight, the ground was covered with fresh, unmarked powder. Well, unmarked aside from the small paw prints that ran along the side of the gully. Rabbit - my stomach growled at the thought. Instinctively I shifted into moving like the hunter, spear held low and loose, powder barely crunching as I slowly spread my weight through it. The cold soon became unnoticeable against my feet but I knew that I would have to find materials to make footwear soon. Frostbite was a very real concern.

  There! The tracks led into a small hole, almost hidden within the snow. Questing out with my senses I found three large rabbits huddled within the warren, and what's more there only seemed to be two other entrances. Silently I made my way back to the fire and taking two well-lit branches walked back to the warren. Making sure the sticks stayed lit I slowly placed them inside each entrance and swiftly made my way back to the third outlet, hands at the ready. Before long the rabbits started twitching, the scent of smoke and fire awakening an instinct of danger. Soon the first rabbit darted for the entrance and right into my waiting hands. A swift snap and it was laid aside, just in time for the other two.

  Three well fed rabbits made for a good meal with some food left over to be dried along with their hides whilst I made shoes out of bark. It was a trick that the Tracker had shown me long ago, and whilst a full hide shoe would be infinitely better the three rabbits wouldn’t provide enough fur to make them. Stripping the bark from the fir trees I was able to make a somewhat shambolic base and after some tricky interweaving of the bark, combined with a large amount of cursing, something resembling a shoe sat in front of me. Nothing compared to the completely functional and yet somehow aesthetically pleasing shoes that the Tracker had been able to make, and yet once wrapped in rabbit hide and filled with some fur they weren’t half bad.

  Alright, they were terrible. They rubbed my feet raw - even with the fur - and were downright uncomfortable to walk in, but they kept my feet relatively dry and warm and that was worth the inconvenience.

  It was on the second day of my stay when running low on decent firewood that I trekked out from the gully, armed only with spear and rabbit shoes. A funny sight if anyone had been around to see me, my genitals swinging freely as I trekked out into the snowy mountain side and probably looking very much like a pale, hairless ape.

  Unfortunately for me someone, or perhaps more accurately something, was indeed watching.

  At first I roamed around the various rocky outcroppings to see if there was anything of use. Sadly that was all they seemed to be, outcroppings. No more gullies, trees or firewood, just rock. With that dead end I moved out towards the forest at the base of the hill. It seemed a likely place to find food and shelter. Hopefully there were enough big animals, maybe a deer or two, that I could fashion some proper clothes from.

  I continuously held my senses out as I moved, looking for a new shelter and hunting at the same time. Despite my inability to contact her, the bond with Seya still seemed to be there, albeit on a reduced level. Where before I could likely have sensed the steps of a deer within a mile of my location I was now down to a fraction of that. Whilst Seya had mentioned that distance would reduce the effects of the bond, even deep within the desert my abilities had barely been impacted, so I either had to be extremely far away from Seya or something was forcibly impacting our bond.

  Or both.

  I could only hope that she was okay.

  Shaking my head to clear my thoughts I continued into the forest. There were more rabbits hidden at various points but I was hoping to bag bigger game before having to settle for rabbits. That said, I was worried about killing an animal and not having a fire ready to protect the kill from scavengers or bigger predators. Whilst I couldn’t sense anything nearby I didn’t want to take any chances.

  It was by complete accident that I stumbled across the cave. Walking past the exposed rock face I nearly didn’t notice the tiny slit until the whistling wind convinced me to have another look. Certain that there was nothing inside and that it widened further in, I committed to fitting through the gap, scratching my bare flesh on the harsh rock through the tight squeeze.

  Inside was...perfect.

  The cave was about fifteen feet in width, maybe twenty in length and had only one entrance - the tiny opening I had just consecrated my flesh on, with little sign of animal use. My decision of a campsite had practically been made for me. I could barely keep my excitement contained, a place out of the snow and wind! Cassius would have loved thi- Cassius. My heart clenched and I forced that image out of my head. With my burgeoning excitement gone I extracted myself from the cave and began the arduous task of collecting firewood and fitting it through the awkward cave entrance.

  That night I had a pleasant fire in the cave eating more charred rabbit. Sadly no bigger game had come into range of my senses, but I was confident that given time I could find some. With a good, sturdy and defensible shelter like this I felt confident about my immediate survival and could set about laying stores and building up my equipment before moving off in search of civilization.

  The creature called again in the night, a rampaging shout that echoed through the forest; silencing any wildlife that was braving the night-time air. Even in the cave I heard the undulating noise; seemingly reverberating through the rock. Clutching my spear close I sat in preparation, watching the entrance closely before sleep claimed me again and I sank back into my nightmares.

  Two days into my stay at the cave I made my first proper kill. A deer, unsuspecting of my approach, had been gently pulling at some snow-covered foliage. My spear took it in the chest, the strength born of somewhat diminished Great Heart still causing the hurled spear to pierce through to the other side of its torso, killing it instantly and partially ruining the hide that I had been after. Annoyed at myself and imagining the Tracker berating me over not controlling my power better, I hauled the deer over my shoulders and began the three-mile trek back to the cave. My annoyance at my strength vanished immediately as I knew most humans would struggle to drag the deer that far, more likely opting to skin and gut the deer at the location of the kill and consequently risking being vulnerable in an unknown location.

  On my fifth day I killed another deer, having roamed four miles to find it, and feeling warmer than ever thanks to the deer hide ‘jumper’ - if you could call it that - that I had fashioned for myself. In reality it was effectively the deer skin wrapped around me with holes for my arms, held together using stitches from the deer’s sinew and bone for needles. My time in the cave years before with Tracker and Cassius had given me plenty of opportunity to learn such things from the old man and both Cassius and I had learnt well. The wolfskin clothes that had served on our journey down the mountain and across the Endless Sea to Forgoth had been made by our own hands. For the time being my legs and crotch still went uncovered but with this second kill I would have a decent set of winter gear.

  One mile into the walk back to the cave as I dragged the deer carcass behind me I realised that I was being hunted. A four-legged shape slipped from tree to tree, its movement sinuous and fluid and completely unknowing that I had cottoned on to its hunt. When it had moved to within fifty feet of me I set the deer down and grabbed my spear before turning to face the lion. The mountain lion held a look of surprise on its face as I jumped in front of it and roared, my eyes wide and savage; the roar bestial. Or at least it should have been. If I had been at the Academy then the shout would have shaken the trees around me, my Great Heart enhanced lungs and throat making for a monstrous sound. It was certainly loud, but instead of immediately forcing the cat to cower like I had intended the roar had been within its levels of normality.

  Which meant I was still potential prey.

  The cat stepped forward, claws extending from the furred paw like gleaming razors. She was hungry and wanted the deer.

  I gripped the handle of my homemade spear more tightly and prepared for the inevitable. This kill
was mine and I was not giving it up.

  The lion took another pace and growled, the vibration low and menacing. In turn I bared my teeth and snarled, slightly bending a knee and bringing the point of my spear in line with the lion. It was then that my senses flared and I felt the second lion stalking in from behind me. With a roar I swivelled and swept outwards with the spear, the point passing just in front of the second creature’s face and causing it to leap backwards out of reach. Time was against me now. One mountain lion I was fairly sure I could take on, having been on the receiving end of attacks by a much more terrifying cat many times over the years, but two was a real threat. With my reduced speed and strength those claws and teeth could spell a messy end.

  The first lion sensed opportunity and ran for my back, hoping to make a quick kill. Another swing of the spear and it danced away at the last second, padding just out of reach with a rumbling growl. A shift of claw on stone and I flung an arm up, the teeth that were aimed at my neck raking at my elbow and the impact sending the both of us to the ground in a tumble. There was a loud snap and a juddering howl as the spear point dug into the lion’s underbelly, the haft breaking against the ground. Immediately the weight lifted and the cat limped away, backing into the undergrowth with a trail of blood.

  I didn’t even have a moment’s respite before the other cat was on me. Sharp claws raked down my arm, leaving bloody tracts in their wake and jaws clenched down onto the bone of my shoulder. I howled with pain and bucked, trying to throw the weight of the cat off me, but it clung on with clawed tenacity. I hit with my left and felt something break under my fist but the lion refused to let go, its jaws just clenching harder into my flesh.

  Wedged under its body, with panic rising in my chest and a complete lack of weapons at my disposal I did the only thing available to me and bit deep into the cat’s neck, clenching down hard and ignoring the foul taste of blood that trickled into my throat.