A Clatter of Chains

by A Van Wyck

  The flat of the blade ploughed into his hip, buckling his legs. His knees bit painfully into the dirt, jarring his spine. His head snapped down to catch a contemptuous, backhand slap going the other way. White light exploded behind his eyes and suddenly he was floating, weightless, all thoughts fled for an endless instant. Then the ground came up to hammer into his back. All the breath rushed out of him in a broken sob. His ruined sword rolled from his slack grip.

  “Actually,” a terrible voice said from somewhere far above him, “I don’t think I will spare you that fate. For all the trouble you’ve caused me human: live. Live a long, long life. Perhaps I shall adopt you, when my work is done. I’ve enjoyed playing with you.”

  And then he was alone. Finally, mercifully, peacefully alone. A strange melancholy settled on him then. He’d done all that he could. Strive for excellence in all that you do. He’d done that. He’d done better than most, he thought. And now, he could finally give up, unashamedly.

  Because the Luvid-thing was wrong – it had been too much. Too much for his frail body. He felt himself dying. And was at peace.

  Joke’s on you, denizen.

  “Holy Helia,” he choked, blood dribbling down his chin, “guardian mother,” he intoned but didn’t make it any further.

  * * *

  Leagues away, atop a tall tower in the Royal Renali Palace, the High Arcanist paused in the act of trimming his little toana tree. Minute shears stalled in motionless fingers. His mind was focused far away, eyes unseeing. A string he’d tied, what seemed a long time ago now, had just unraveled. He sighed heavily, seeming to deflate, and the diminutive scissors clicked onto the table. He clung to the polished surface for a moment, studying his gnarled, twisted hands where they lay. He bowed his old head sadly. With the careful gait of the aged, he walked over to the side cabinet and poured some of the rich amber spirits into an ornate crystal tumbler. Hobbling over to the plush couch, he sank down, breathing out through his nose. The old cushions welcomed him and he was grateful for the comfort. The tart liquor burned down his throat. With a flecked and spotted hand, he kneaded at his brow. He’d become isolated here in his high tower. He’d forgotten what it meant to be involved in the lives of those besides the royal family.

  “Master?” a hesitant voice asked from the high vaulted chamber’s door. “Master, are you alright?”

  He looked up at his apprentice. The pasty young man had ventured one careful foot into the atrium, unsure of his welcome. Thin arms were heaped high with books and scrolls. The youth’s brow was crinkled with concern.

  “Why is it,” he asked of no one in particular, his voice a wheeze, “that the young die young and the old but become older and more world weary?” He blinked, sadly. “Where is the justice in that?”

  There was a moment of shocked silence.

  “I… um…” the apprentice stammered, taken aback (and more than a little alarmed) by his master’s uncharacteristically morose mood. He squirmed from foot to foot.

  The arcanist smiled at him, reassuringly. “Take the rest of the day,” he told his apprentice, causing the young man’s eyes to widen in alarm. “Go out and enjoy the sunshine. Go visit your family. Go kiss a pretty girl. Do the things young people do.” He waved a long fingered hand at the young man. “Go and put a hook in life’s mouth.”

  “Um…” the apprentice, who would have had no idea what to do with a pretty girl if one fell on him, stood frozen. “I still have a lot of reading to do,” the young man hedged uncertainly, “and the alchemy table needs scrubbing and…”

  “Go,” he told the youth firmly. The apprentice ducked out hurriedly and the sound of slapping sandals dwindled down the corridor, amid the sound of more than one scroll hitting the floor.

  The arcanist pressed down on his closed lids. He was too old for crying. He leaned back in his favorite chair. He’d quite liked that empire priest, Justin. He only hoped he wouldn’t have to be the one to break the news to the man, if the priest ever showed up again.

  A month or two. Maybe less, he’d told the man once. Turns out it was less.

  The old arcanist took another sip of the strong liquor, feeling every year of his impressive age and cradling his old head in his palm.

  Why was it always less?

  CHAPTER 19 – AN END TO DREAMING

  Drip.

  Drip.

  He opened his eyes. Calm. Unsurprised.

  This was his dream. The one he could never remember. But it didn’t feel like his dream. It felt like the trance. He looked around. There was nothing of the red lit entrance. No bleeding stone. He glanced down. Bright wounds marred his naked flesh. Scissored cuts fanned from his chest and there was a gaping hole in his stomach. There was no pain. Bright blood ran down his arms and legs. He watched a drop slowly gather at the tip of one finger and fall to the ground.

  Drip.

  No spiraling staircase.

  He stood in the room of chains. In the prison chamber, bleeding onto its dusty floor. And the beast was in here with him. He could hear it. It was in a frenzy. Chains snapped against stone in a cacophony of violence and the thunderous snarling was punctuated by barks of bloodlust and howls of bloodcurdling desire.

  But the biggest change was within himself. He knew what he was here to do.

  The frenzied sounds stilled with his first footfall onto the floor of the chamber, replaced by an intense silence. He knew the beast’s eyes held him captive. He took another step and then another, measuring ten careful paces into the beast’s demesne. The darkness lightened with his every step, his bright blood painting the surroundings crimson. The floor of the chamber was scarred with a hatch-work of deep claw marks and stained dark in spatters of old blood. He was well within the boundaries of the chains now. He was inside the beast’s domain and if it chose not to let him leave, he knew instinctively, he would die here.

  But he was dying anyway. And the knowledge made him fearless.

  He stopped inside his own pool of light and waited. A single loop of chain was visible, stretching into the darkness.

  “Well?” He said into the gloom, his voice strong.

  The loop of chain shuddered and snaked into the blackness with a muted clatter. Other chains chimed and swung and he could feel the beast lever itself to its feet. It pushed the air before it as in neared and the acrid stench of something wild and evil wafted over him. He stood his ground.

  A clawed- and padded foot stepped into sight, hinting at the size of the beast. Yellow, thumb-length talons adorned every toe. The beast stepped into the light.

  It walked upright, like a man, or rather, like a bear. The build of the massively wide shoulders and the long, pendulous arms spoke eloquently of deadly speed on all fours. Its torso was overlong, seemingly having too many ribs and, even hunched as it was, it towered over him. With deadly grace it stepped right up to him, trailing its chains, so he had to crane his neck to look up at it. Thick ropes of muscle glided beneath the dark pelt. Up close, the thick mane stank.

  Slowly, unblinkingly, it brought its snouted head down to a level with his. He was looking into golden, amber-flecked eyes that recalled killing things that hadn’t existed for thousands of years. He read in them the unquenchable desire for his violent death. He held its stare and didn’t flinch. Not even when its lips peeled soundlessly from its teeth and he was staring into a row of finger long, needle fangs a hand’s breadth from his face. Its rotting breath rolled over him, making his eyes water. Its all-too-human hands twitched and he could imagine the yellowed talons raking through his ribs in the next instant. He steeled himself.

  The beast stilled completely, sensing his intention. He looked into the ancient, blood hungry eyes… and stretched out a hand. He reached beneath the beast’s chin, careful not to touch it directly. His fingers closed unerringly around the heavy iron collar, half-hidden beneath the filthy mane. The beast was motionless, its searing eyes held on him.

  “Just this once,” he told it, and squeezed. The collar splintered li
ke hammer-struck ice. A wave of animal glee flashed for a moment in the beast’s eyes. Then it threw back its head and howled its bloodlust. The sound hit him in the chest like a battering ram, picking him off his feet.

  Little white flowers basked beneath the open sky on a field of green.

  Marco opened his eyes, the howl of the beast reverberating in his bones. Without thinking, he was on his feet. He was back on the cliff. The bridge hung in tatters, its supports chopped away on the far side.

  He didn’t completely realize he was running until the ground dropped away beneath him and he was flying across the chasm, wind whistling past. He caught a flash of the white river, crashing through the rock far below. He cleared the far edge with a dozen paces to spare and the landing broke his sprinting stride not at all. And then he was racing through the trees, the molten blood of the beast burning in his veins as black boughs flashed past in a blur.

  He’d made a deal with it. He’d made a deal with his own denizen. He’d worry about the price later. The scent of his quarry wafted to him on the breeze – the heady smell of fresh blood, the anticipation of the kill. He threw back his head and howled.

  Luvid jogged back through the trees, coming up on the half a dozen soldiers he’d sent across the bridge. The idiots were resting, winded from carrying one frail old man. Fools. Weak, human fools. He trotted into their midst. He’d already started to suppress his true power but they still staggered back from his appearance. One went so far as to grab at a sword hilt. He’d have to kill them all, now. But that could wait. They had to get off this fucking mountain first and he wasn’t going to carry the drugged old man all the way to the bottom. He briefly considered pitching the useless fossil into the freezing river. But for now, he needed to play his part. That meant playing the loyal lackey. At least awhile longer.

  “Up!” he commanded the moronic soldiers, pleased to see them flinch under the whip of his voice. Which was, perhaps, still a mite too deep. “Up, you lazy sons-of-bitches, up! We need to get away from here before those empire swine can find another way around!”

  They were good soldiers, he had to admit. For humans. They responded to his commands even though their knees were suddenly knocking. They tried to stare anywhere but at him, sharing wide eyed glances as they levered the vaguely conscious old man upright.

  His eyes lingered on the hated priest, ancient enemy of his kind, even if the priest didn’t know it. How different the priests of this age were to the ones he’d known, all those millennia ago. Powerful figures, all fire, fury and madness. Look at them now, shadows of their former selves. How short human memory was!

  Still. The herbs they’d force-fed the man were wearing off and they had no more to give. They had to get their captive somewhere safe before he recovered enough to use his pitiful hedge-magic. The soldiers seemed to realize this as well. They quickly levered the priest to his senseless feet, slung by his arms between two of their number. Flanking the burdened pair, two in front, two behind, he led them out of the trees and across a clearing filled with dried yellow grasses. Trees hedged them on three sides, the forth dropping away into empty space.

  For now, they’d stick close to the cut of the river and follow its icy flow down to the lower plateau and out of the foothills. There were other places to cross the river. And they needed to find a new place to hide the priest. He’d much rather kill the old man. One hand would be all he’d need, even confined in this stinking body. One hand beneath that frail old neck, a single twist and it would be over.

  But he had to play along with the grand plan of his mistress. That meant keeping the priest alive long enough to be collected by the Heli agent they’d been awaiting up here in the mountains.

  Mistress. Hah! She was interesting enough, for a human. Devious, conniving, merciless and shrewd. And oblivious to how she was being used. Perhaps, when this was all over, he’d ask his Master if he could have her. There were plenty of other uses he could think–

  He skidded to a stop, head snapping around to stare into the woods they’d just left. The soldiers ground to a halt behind him, peering into the trees nervously.

  “What was that?” one quavered.

  They all listened intently.

  “A wolf, maybe?”

  “That weren’t no wolf,” another put in.

  He frowned at the trees, disbelieving.

  No. Not a wolf.

  Everything had taken on a strange, dream-like quality. If it weren’t for the pleasant burn of his muscles, the delightful rush of his blood and the mouthwatering scent in his nose, he might have believed himself asleep.

  At some point it had become easier to drop down and run on all fours. Now he practically flew through the woods, long strides eating up the littered forest floor. His breath came in great, easy bellows and he ran like he’d never run before, feeling alive for the very first time.

  He couldn’t contain the wild, dark glee in his heart. He threw back his head and voiced his joy to the wind.

  He was vaguely aware that something was very, very wrong. But he was slipping deeper and deeper into this wonderfully warm slumber and he couldn’t be bothered to think on it. He relaxed and felt himself slipping.

  Slipping…

  He was aware of his heartbeat speeding and he cursed this frail human shell he was forced to inhabit. He drew his weapons, staring at their back-trail. The soldiers did the same, shooting each other panicked glances.

  There was no mistaking that sound.

  But it wasn’t possible! There weren’t supposed to be any of them here! There weren’t supposed to be any of them left! He started to release the bonds that held his true power wrapped tight about his soul. His muscles swelled as his human shell responded.

  It was quiet now. Deadly quiet. Not a bird or insect stirred. He peered into the shadows beneath the forest canopy, twenty paces distant, and picked out movement.

  “There!” one of the soldiers pointed.

  It came hurtling out of the trees, skidding to a stop in the full sunlight. He was aware of gasps among the soldiers.

  “What the…”

  “No!” he growled.

  It launched itself towards them, streaking across the dry yellow grasses. It was appallingly fast, closing the distance in less than a beat. The nearest soldier yelled, flinching away from meeting that charge. The man exploded. There was no better word. Blood fountained in great arcs, gobbets of meat and intestines spattering the nearest three soldiers. They screamed in horror. One crumpled to the ground in a crackle of bones, his scream cut short as a great weight crushed him. Another stumbled and fell, trying to flee. He disappeared, dragged into the spray of blood that still hung in the air. Pitiful shrieks trailed him. His nearest companion, yelling at the top of his lungs, swung a sword blindly into the spreading red cloud. His sword arm simply vanished, jagged bone peering through the ripped flesh. The stunned man spun, wide eyed, fleeing mindlessly. His head tilted abruptly to one side with a loud snap, long, ragged claw marks across his torn throat. The forth soldier, blinking stupidly at the blood painting him, looked up in time to glimpse the huge, slavering jaws that clamped shut about his face. Bone crunched sickeningly as the man was thrown to the ground.

  The last two soldiers had dropped the priest. One, his sword held in quivering hands, backed towards Luvid. The other turned and ran, gibbering in terror as he fumbled at the straps of his slowing armor. The coward didn’t see his death speed after him, closing the distance as if he were standing still. Mid-step, his left leg sheared off just below the knee and he tumbled. Brief screams sounded as the thing savaged him, furious growls punctuating loud ripping noises. Finally the man was still and the thing lifted away from him, dripping gore.

  Yellow eyes turned to find Luvid. He felt the power inside him respond to that challenge. His leather armor split a seam down the middle.

  The thing padded towards him, the unblinking eyes a dire promise. The last soldier, oblivious to all but the creature before him, stumbled into Luvid.r />
  He grabbed ahold of the unfortunate man’s neck, lifting him from the ground.

  “You’re supposed to be extinct!” he raged at the krinjala, his true voice thundering around the clearing. He propelled the struggling soldier forward, right at the creature. The man shredded apart in mid-air, limbs flying. Yellow eyes emerged from the spray. Focused. Intent.

  He bared his teeth at it, releasing all of his power. His leather armor flew from him like tearing sails, exposing olive-green skin. His bones grew heavier, splitting and reforming with loud cracks to accommodate his natural double spine. He felt his second heart stir to life. He’d completely shed his shell. He’d have to find a new one when this was over.

  He hefted the puny human weapons in his hands and looked the krinjala in the eye.

  “Come and die,” he growled around his tusks.

  It sprang at him, too fast to get a blow in, and landed on his broad chest. Its talons dug in deep. He let go of his sword and grabbed at it, managing to get a grip around its muscled neck. But not before the fanged jaws had snapped shut and taken some flesh from his cheek. He tossed his knife as well and closed both hands around the krinjala’s neck, throttling it. He struggled to hang on to the thrashing shape. Its claws raked repeatedly, shredded his thick hide.

  He flung it away before it could pierce his vitals.

  It twisted, landing easily. He turned with it as it circled him on all fours, yellow eyes holding his. His flesh crawled as his wounds started to knit.

  It charged at him again and he lashed out with a foot. There was a hollow boom and it skidded away across the dead grass. That kick could have split one of the enormous trees surrounding them but the thing was already up and circling him again. Limping slightly. It coughed once, a hack that righted crushed cartilage.

  “Come closer,” he growled at it, “I’ll finish the job.”