The Man Without Hands

by Eric Malikyte

  Tapping and chattering teeth filled the stale air around him. He panted, feeling fire spread over his chest for the first time in ages. Not since that fateful battle with Kiel over the cathedral of Yce Ralakar had he felt such pain.

  The creatures crawled and swarmed like goddamned cockroaches along what Kurt imagined was the pyramid’s inner wall. One by one, they dropped onto the bridge.. He had to end it quickly.

  “My name is Kyrties of the First City—” Kurt said, breathing heavily, gathering what remained of his power.

  The sword dissipated into the air. He braced his arm and held it forward, pooling almost all of his remaining power into the stump. He remembered seeing cannons in some old war documentary during his time at the asylum, and he latched onto that thought, creating a luminous ball of light at the end of his stump that made the creatures stop their ceaseless chattering and tapping of their legs as well as they advanced across the bridge.

  “—And—”

  The ball of light grew until it was nearly as wide as the bridge itself. It took all of his strength to hold it there, for it threatened to explode and take all of them with it.

  “—You. Are. Nothing!”

  He gritted his teeth, screamed, and the shock wave that rang through the air knocked him off his feet as the ball of light shot forward from the edge of his stump and barreled into the creatures, pushing them several feet before it finally exploded into a violent display of molten plasma that melted the far end of the bridge and caused it to buckle beneath his feet.

  Fear latched onto his heart like a vise grip, and he bounced to his feet.

  The door was opening ahead and Sal was crawling through it. He looked back at Linda, beckoning her with wild eyes to follow.

  As Kurt neared the door, more creatures scurried after him, screeching and clawing for his flesh. The bridge cracked at the edge of the door, and the taste of metal and stone dust filled his mouth as it threatened to break off and fall into the abyss before he reached the end.

  Linda was shouting at Sal from on the other side of the door. “SHUT THE FUCKING DOOR!”

  The vise grip on his heart tightened. He pumped his legs harder to spite that woman’s shrill, angry demands. The doors started to close, and at the last minute, Kurt turned around and fired a blast from his stumps that sent his body tumbling through the doorway.

  The doors closed with a loud metallic ring.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  SAGE

  Pressure. Like two mountains crashing together—grinding and pressing his mind and body into dust. That’s what his head felt like. His face was buried in snow when he woke, but still his sweat dripped, dripped, dripped into a tiny frozen pool beneath his head.

  The light of Aula’kar was gone, masked by the coming of a storm. Like in his nightmares.

  He struggled to move his arms, his legs, but his hands were bound and his legs felt weak. It took all of his strength to sit up, and even more not to throw up. His body felt like it was being simultaneously frozen solid and slowly roasted over a fire pit.

  It was the fever. He knew it. Although it had never been so bad before in his life. He couldn’t remember a single time when he’d ever felt like this.

  He screamed, grunted, forcing all of his focus, all of his power, into his legs. He managed to crawl. Reysha was a violet blur off to his left. He couldn’t focus on her. He had to move. Something deep inside of him told him he had to return to the city.

  Raking his bound hands across the snow, he pulled himself forward. The effort was excruciating, and all it got him was a foot of distance and loose snow in his boots. He tried again, uttering screams that scarcely felt like his own.

  Five or six feet he’d gained, and he couldn’t move his arms anymore. His head fell forward in the snow.

  He turns over and sees the ever-present crimson eye of the storm. It peers down on him with an indifference that makes him feel insignificant and small. The storm rages on above. Lightning crashes. And the silhouette that stabbed him walks away.

  “It is done,” he says to the eye of the storm. “Now give me back my mate.”

  Sage feels something break inside of him. Now everything runs red, and he thinks thoughts that aren’t his own. He stands up with a will and a strength that are alien to him.

  When he opened his eyes, he was surrounded by a cavern. He sat up. The pulsing fire that he felt roasting his skin had ebbed slightly. His head tilted from one side to the other, and even that movement was a trial to accomplish. Reysha was nowhere to be seen.

  Had he been moved in his sleep?

  He struggled to his feet and remembered the sight of the crimson eye.

  Was it possible...?

  It didn’t matter.

  His steps were clumsy with the chains limiting his movement. He limped his way up through the twisting caverns, moving as quickly as his body would allow.

  All he could think about was wrapping his hands around Suleniar’s hilt, feeling its power rip through his body, extinguishing the sickness that clung to his muscles like a smoldering fire.

  They’d probably kill him once he stepped back into the city, but at least his headache and fever would finally go away. Still, he felt his strength somewhat return the closer he got to the city—the way it had on so many other occasions.

  He’d lost track of the time spent walking. Had it really been the Shar that had attacked earlier? He shook his head. No. Not possible. It had to be something else. Maybe Geidra’s men had made enemies among the Masku? Anything would be more likely than myths suddenly coming to life.

  The path stretched on and turned and stretched and turned again. He was starting to notice the cold, how it sank deep into his bones, tiring his already weakened muscles.

  Crossing frozen lakes and crystalline caves, he felt he was getting closer. If only he could use his Sulen, he’d be able to close the distance in minutes, rather than hours.

  Somehow, through sheer stubborn resolve or willpower, he arrived at the rusted doors leading back to the city.

  The doors were open.

  There was a strange, pungent odor in the air. Even stranger, he couldn’t feel the Sulekiel living in the city; but that was probably just the abaniel shackles blocking his Sulen. And the mountain normally masked the distinct sensation anyway.

  He’d expected the doors to be closed, but they hadn’t been. Something twisted and writhed in the pit of his stomach.

  The city was dark ahead. Many of the torches had been snuffed out, giving way to scattered patches of dim golden light and faint silhouettes of the buildings and rocky cave formations he was so used to. He crossed the main bridge and noticed that one of the buildings had been knocked over. Then, he saw a curved silhouette in the distance that looked like it was covered in a lump of cloth. He limped over to it.

  Sage stumbled backward; his breath caught in his throat. It was a body. The face was twisted into an agonized scowl...and it was familiar. Taliki.

  Sage dropped to the floor, haphazardly glancing around the pitch-dark city. How many were dead? Were there still enemies in the city?

  He needed to get the shackles off and get to Suleniar quickly.

  Looking at Taliki’s terror-stricken face, he cursed himself for feeling sorry for him.

  He was going to watch me and Reysha die, Sage thought, holding his breath and squinting as he crawled toward the corpse and searched it; he felt a sticky wet spot on the corpse’s rib cage, probably the wound that had killed him, and then moved his hand down to his belt, searching his pockets. There, a ring of keys jingled at the tips of his fingers. He withdrew the keys and tested each one in his shackles till he found the right one, quickly freeing his wrists and ankles.

  The shackles clanked and smacked against stone. He cursed and kicked them into the rushing river. He’d rather die than be taken prisoner again.

  His Sulen filled his body up like a parched throat quenched by fresh water.

  And with that, his senses returned...

&nb
sp; Even with the shackles gone, he couldn’t feel Yce Ralakar at all. Normally he could feel the faint energies of every person living within the city, even while they slept. Now it just felt hollow. Somehow, that saddened him...

  And gave him pause. He needed to be careful. Suppress his

  Sulen down to nothing, just in case there were still enemies in the city.

  With his strength returning, he continued to take the path back into the main part of the city, where his home was.

  Used to be, he thought. They cast you out.

  The main tunnel was dim. The rocky tunnel usually looked golden in the torchlight, but now, with most of the light snuffed out, it was dull and brown. The tunnel twisted, turned, and opened up into the central hub of the city. The main cavern was dark as well. The cathedral was still alight, and from that light he could see what looked like more destruction in the distance.

  Sage was strong enough now to light his own path, but he remained cautious, grabbing one of the torches from the path he was on. He walked three paces forward and stopped. Blood covered the wooden bridges and walkways ahead, and...

  Sulekiel bodies.

  They were scattered everywhere; gasping expressions on corpses that had been burnt to a crisp, headless and impaled forms, hands left clutching their loved ones, frozen solid with death’s stiffening touch. The bodies were so disfigured that he couldn’t recognize any of them. And maybe that was a blessing?

  Did Takarus face a similar fate? Sage wondered. Tears burned his tired eyes, thinking of his former friend. Even after all of the drama...the thought of him being gone made his heart sink.

  And Wren...!

  Sage darted off the main path and scoured through the city. Cutting through the battered and broken market, through the caverns that led directly to the Urdys Quarter, he pushed his way through the copper doors that marked its entrance.

  It was completely empty. There was a corpse in front of the door...he knew her too.

  Argis’s face, much like everyone else’s, seemed permanently fixed in horror.

  Sage frantically searched the barracks, the library, scrambling down dusty bookshelves, shouting for Wren and Belyl, scanning the chambers, and finally collapsed on the floor before the table where just months ago he’d joked and laughed with his friends...

  They were gone. Just. Gone.

  He couldn’t help but think of that last embrace he and Wren had shared outside the Urdys Quarter, how she’d wished him luck in the Trials. If he had known that would be the last time he’d ever see her...

  The entire Urdys Quarter began to shake. The ceiling crumbled as his pain and his rage tore through the space around him. Flames exploded around his body, cracks forming in the foundation as his screams ran hoarse.

  He fell to his knees, shattering the stone floor around his fists.

  His friends didn’t deserve this. His people didn’t deserve any of this.

  Even if all but a select few had hated him without reason, Wren and Belyl had always been there for him. And now they were dead.

  Was it his father that had done this? Had he somehow escaped exile to exact his revenge?

  I’m going to find whoever did this and tear out their hearts! Sage stormed out of the crumbling library, tearing through the streets in a blind rage.

  But no matter where he went, the Temple of Ara’ka, the Hall of Trials, the Elders’ Quarter, or even the cathedral itself, he found no survivors, and no enemies to tear into. Whoever had done this was long gone...

  Staring at the broken and shattered statues of the once-great cathedral... It finally hit him.

  It’s my fault.

  Even if the Shar weren’t real, he might have given the location of the city away unintentionally. Maybe someone had followed him back, or...no. Tanar wouldn’t have betrayed him... Would he?

  Sage walked away from the cathedral, his anger and his shame shackling his heart. There was nothing left for him to do but get Suleniar and leave.

  He reached the thick domed protrusion in the cavern that marked his former home. The door was opened already. He paused briefly and walked inside. The orange light from his aura cast broken and shattered silhouettes around the room, illuminating chaos. The breakfast table was broken into three stone chunks, as if a body had been slammed on top of it. There was blood too. He walked up the uneven stone steps to his room, spread the curtains, and ripped the floorboards up. Suleniar’s grip felt good in his hands. The remains of his fever shattered, and he felt a new strength rise up from within him.

  “I always knew you had it.” An airy voice came calling from behind him. He turned to face his grandfather, lying battered on the floor, gasping and gripping at a large wound in his side. “Your father hid the amplifier blade somewhere he knew you’d find it.”

  “Grandfather,” Sage shouted, rushing to his side, still gripping Suleniar by the scabbard. “Who did this?”

  His grandfather’s tired, dim eyes focused on his. “You.”

  Sage was taken aback.

  “Don’t try to act innocent, you stupid bastard. I know all about your trial, I know that you were convicted of consorting with the Masku—” He was interrupted by a sudden coughing fit. Blood stained his crooked teeth. “You led the Shar to us. So it was you who killed us.”

  “The Shar?” Sage shook his head. “That’s madness. They are nothing more than a myth.”

  “Open your goddamned eyes, boy!” Blood seeped out of Malos’s cracked lips, streaming down his wrinkled and spotted chin. “There was a good reason why we had those laws...and you...you’re just like your father...”

  “Save your strength, I’ll—”

  “You’ll nothing!” His fading eyes were bloodshot and full of hate. “My mate is dead because of you. I hated you from the first moment we were ordered to take you into our home. I knew what the seed of treachery would bring our people, but Elder Geidra, and your fool of a grandmother, wouldn’t hear of killing a child. They believed you weren’t your father’s son. Your grandmother even cared for you as if you were her own son. And look how you repaid her.

  “I could always sense something evil inside of you. Something that lurked beneath the surface...like...like a tether...”

  Sage’s eyes fell away from his dying grandfather. He was right. It was his fault.

  “I remember thinking,” his grandfather said. “Why should my children die, and his get to live? Your traitor of a father took my daughter, your mother, from us when he turned her against us all, and then he took the rest of my children. And now, you’ve taken the rest of my people. I curse you, Sage, so named after a Masku, I curse you for all of your days. I curse your offspring, should you ever have them.” He chuckled then. The light was fading from his eyes. “But it is very unlikely that will happen now. We are all but extinct.”

  Sage stood up. No tears fell for his grandfather. Inside he had always known, but it was something else entirely to hear the truth spoken aloud. It was true that their relationship was adversarial, but Sage had always thought of it as a game that they’d played. Now he knew that this man with whom he shared a family bond had hated him so much that he had been willing to kill him as a child. Saved only by the mercy of his grandmother and the High Elder.

  How ironic.

  “I’ll find whoever did this,” Sage said, staring at Suleniar’s scabbard. “I’ll make it my sole duty to carry out—”

  “What does a child know about duty?” Another coughing fit, this time worse than the last. “Nothing. You know nothing. Like your father, you are rash, arrogant, and quick to disobey authority because of that arrogance. But there is one thing you still don’t know.”

  “Which is?”

  He chuckled. “I know your father’s secret. I saw it...I saw it in a vision...a final parting gift. You’ll know, too, when you understand Suleniar’s enigma. But, you’ll...by the time you realize what it is...it’ll be too late...”

  “I’m going to survive, Malos.”

  “Not for lon
g, I hope. And if you do, I hope you suffer.”

  Sage knelt down next to his grandfather, his eyebrows creasing together. “Grandfather, I—”

  The old man’s eyes opened wide. “To hell with you! Let me die in peace. I’m tired of seeing your father’s face when I look at you. Let me join my mate, my Ysilis...”

  The old man closed his eyes. Sage felt his Sulen fade. And as he watched the light fade from his gaze, part of him was glad the bastard was dead.

  What did that say about him?

  Sage stood up and strapped the sword to his belt.

  2

  He made his way to one of the caches where the rations were kept. If he was leaving, he’d need some supplies. There was an open sack on the table in the room. He snatched it up and started filling it with bread and fruit and fish. He tied the sack up and strapped it to his back.

  Reysha was still out there in the snow. His fingers played with the key ring in his pocket. Maybe they’d journey together for a while, like they talked about? A black cloak hung up on a rack in the corner of the room. He dusted it off, pulled it down, and put it on. It fit quite well. He tightened the clasp at his throat and covered his head with the hood.

  There was still one more thing he needed. He clenched his fist tight. Geidra said that she had purposefully held his training back. If that were true, and there were no more Valier to learn from—if they were to survive, he’d need all the knowledge and power of one and more.

  Using his aura to light the way, he headed in the direction of the library in the Urdys Quarter again. He scrambled through the rubble, digging and piling dusty tomes into his pack. He tossed history tomes to the side, grabbing as many technique manuals as he could.

  When he was satisfied, he left the Urdys Quarter, quietly saying goodbye to his friends...

  He sprinted through the market district, past the jail, and started for the path that would lead him back to Reysha. He only stopped once: before passing through the rusted doors, taking one last look at the city that had never wanted him.

  3

  The wind had worsened since he’d gone into the city. The snow was coming down in thick waves from the open spaces above the caverns. Hopefully he wasn’t too late.