by James Somers
I would have stopped my ears if I could have. This was like taking a holiday within an insane asylum. These poor creatures could not stop, and I could not stand to hear their cries anymore.
My heart sank within me. Then I heard a familiar voice begin to wail beside me. Uriah had come back to his senses just enough to feel the burning pain coursing through his entire nervous system. Had he possessed any strength in the rest of his body, my troll companion would have torn this stake from the ground and carried it upon his back rampaging through the forest trying to escape the pain.
But there was no escaping it. I wanted to console him, but my voice was unresponsive. Even had I been able, Uriah would not have heeded. He knew only burning within now.
Then a wave of sensation began to trickle through my body. It felt like ants marching across my skin—pin pricks by the hundreds. My breath came more sharply, and I could feel that something was on its way, welling up within me and out of my control.
Then the fire came. It spread from my head down through the rest of my body. The burning was cold at first, like the numbing bite of deep winter. Then, as it spread throughout, the heat began to overpower that numbing cold. Still, I maintained control, pushing back the pain with all of my will. These precious few seconds might be my only opportunity to communicate before it became too late.
I started to say something to Uriah, as my voice came back to me again. But my fear kept my mind on what was coming. The agony hit me seconds later. From then on, all I could hear were my own screams.
My eyes were wide open, then shut as tightly as I could manage, then open again. I had to move something, do something, release this pent up energy. These parts were all that could move, so I moved them.
As expected, it did not take long for the pixies to appear again in the clearing. They smiled with serrated teeth gleaming at us, promising what each prisoner with half a knowledge of pixies already feared. Our bones would be picked clean by these cannibals while we begged for death to take us.
Their King Og was at the forefront of the group meandering down the well worn path from their village. Pixies fanned out as they came into the killing field, setting their designs on what they presumed would be the tastiest specimens. Humans must have been considered especially delectable, since Og came directly to me.
He laughed in my face, taunting me while I continued screaming out my pain. The rest of my body still had no sensation but this agonizing fire. In my mind, though, I had already burst through my bonds and was strangling this squat pixie king—anything to loose the pent up pain, anything to get some relief from it.
“How do you like the burning, my tasty morsel?” Og asked. “If you were free, you might have the strength of ten men, but instead you have the agony of ten men fighting for release. We pixies are clever, no?”
He drew a knife from a sheath at his side, bringing it up before my face so that I would know what he was about to do. In the other hand I saw a long fork with three needle-sharp prongs. He poked me in the chest with the fork, bringing three spots of blood up. Compared to the burning within, I didn’t even feel it.
Then the burning began to subside. I was able to finally stop screaming. The relief that I felt was overwhelming, and tears of joy began to stream down my face. I didn’t understand what had happened. Some of the others were calming down as well. At least those whom the pixies had begun to cut on.
Unexpectedly, Og smiled more now. I couldn’t figure it out. I thought they liked the screaming. Then he poked me with his fork again, and I felt the pain.
He laughed as I squirmed. My body movements were returning as the burning subsided to almost nothing. He jabbed deep into my leg this time. I started to cry out, but managed to stop myself.
“The burning only lasts until your nervous system has to respond to real external pain,” he said. “The pixie dust wears off after that. Now, you’ll know true agony.”
He twisted the spines of his fork in my thigh. I couldn’t hold back this time. I cried out again, pushing with all my strength against the cables holding me fast. But it was all in vain. I didn’t have the strength. I wasn’t going anywhere.
Og’s knife slashed several times across my chest. The cuts were deep, but he was still toying with me. Other pixies were already taking away meat from the vampires they had chosen. As for me, I was a bloody mess, but my ability to use my power was still absent.
“The werewolf will be pleased that you died slowly,” Og said. “And trust me when I say, I can kill you over weeks.”
He raised his fork over my face, preparing to go to work there. I focused my thoughts on a final prayer while I could still think. My world would soon devolve into torture. While I looked into Og’s face, watching those sharp prongs coming at me, a black shaft drove into his chest with a sickening thunk.
The pixie king staggered backward, wearing a mystified expression. Then he collapsed onto his back with the arrow quivering in his wound. A second later, a hail of arrows came upon the field, striking every pixie and every vampire. Only Uriah and I remained alive in the killing field.
I laughed out loud, trying not to burst into tears. I couldn’t see who had come to our aid, but I knew the identity of that first black arrow. Within moments, our bonds were cut, and a battalion of elf warriors wearing coats of mail made from silver scales had descended upon us.
Tom was there, providing cover for our nakedness, while the elves supported our weak bodies. I still could not stand, and Uriah had been screaming so long that he had become unconscious. None of the pixies had touched him, so the burning had continued. As he roused to the pain again, one of the elves slapped him hard across the face. That stinging blow must have been enough to relieve the effects of the pixie dust. Uriah grew quiet again.
We were bundled into litters, and soldiers dragged us behind them. I felt a cool hand on my face and heard Sophia’s gentle voice consoling me. However, her words were muddled to me. I felt completely exhausted, and my wounds burned and ached.
The cries of battle continued around me, but I had had enough. Sweet sleep was coming for me, and there was nothing I could do about it. Swords clashed, arrows hissed through the air and pixies wailed through their last breaths, but it was all at a distance to me now. I was wrapped in gossamer, drifting on a cloud and thrilled in my soul to have been delivered from such terrible pain.
Infernal
Kron awoke within the belly of Hell itself. Everywhere there was fire and smoke and the cries of wounded and dying Lycan soldiers. The last thing he remembered was Tiberius and the vampires retreating and the victory cries of his men as they watched the blood suckers fleeing Lycan superiority. Then white light had filled his vision, and his hearing had turned to incessant ringing.
He tried to move, but something heavy was lying across his left arm and leg. He pulled, causing searing pain to erupt from both appendages. Smoke filled his lungs, choking him. He searched for his fellow soldiers among the burning debris, but he had difficulty distinguishing anything.
“Tarik!” he shouted.
No reply.
Kron could not figure out how, but he knew that Tiberius had done this. The building was completely demolished. From what he could see, he was lucky to still be alive.
“Tarik!” he cried again.
Now, he heard someone shuffling through debris toward him. “My lord?”
He heard Tarik calling to him from far away. Kron called out more earnestly. If he didn’t get help soon, he might still die from his injuries. And the last thing he wanted was for Tiberius to win this fight.
Kron was growing more concerned now. Rather than his pain intensifying, he was growing more numb by the second. He continued calling out to Tarik until his lieutenant finally found him. The soldier worked at lifting the debris, but could barely manage to budge it.
“Over here, we need help!” Tarik called.
More soldiers called back, scrambling through debris to obey their superior. Soon, there were half a dozen
Lycans in human form working to free Kron from the beams that had collapsed from the ceiling during the explosion. The debris shifted and then was raised off of him.
Kron saw his injuries by the firelight for the first time. His left arm and leg had been crushed. He could not feel any sensation from them at all now. However, as the pressure from the debris was relieved, blood began to flow again, pooling around him.
Tarik was at his side instantly. “Get me some cloth, immediately—anything!” he yelled. “He’s bleeding out!”
Kron felt like he was going to lose consciousness at any moment. He realized that his men would not be able to stop the bleeding here among the wreckage of this ruined palace. He was going to die.
“Tarik, get me to the wizard, Laish,” Kron said.
He thought he saw Lycean and Helios standing afar off, watching him—approving of his situation. Kron could not deny that he deserved what was happening to him. Still, he also could not bring himself to regret the decisions he had made, either. As he spun into the encroaching blackness and the voices of his men were drowned in silence, Kron held tightly to one final thought: I have done what was best for my people.
When I woke, I was surprised not to find my own bedroom. My sleep had been so comfortable. However, I quickly recognized the architecture of the elves in Xandrea and the overwhelming feeling of contentment clouding my worries. Recent traumas were distant and inconsequential, but I did remember the elves coming to my rescue.
None of my friends were present in the room, which was very white and possessed little in the way of ornamentation. A small table sat by the bedside, containing an orb that emitted soft light. Another table sat empty against the wall at the end of the bed. The sterile nature reminded me of a hospital, but it was impossible to find anything unpleasant within Xandrea’s walls.
Within moments of my waking, a young woman appeared. She smiled when she saw me awake. “How do you feel, Brody?”
“Fine,” I replied. “Do I know you?”
My thoughts were so muddled by the spell upon Xandrea that I wasn’t sure if I should remember her.
“No,” she replied. “I am one of the physicians caring for your injuries.”
“How long was I asleep?” I asked.
“Seven days,” she said.
I sat up in the bed, realizing for the first time that I was still naked under the blankets. “I didn’t think my injuries were that bad.”
“The healers were able to repair your wounds, but their method involves speeding up the body’s natural processes. It can leave a person quite exhausted, but the results are much better.”
I examined my chest. Where Og had cut me repeatedly with his dagger, only trace scars remained. The healers had done an amazing job. Had I not known better, I would have sworn these were received years ago.
“Your friends have been waiting to see you. May I tell them you are ready?”
“Yes, I’ll get dressed, and they can come in,” I replied.
“You will find clothing on the table next to your bed,” she said and then left the room.
I was a little surprised to look over and find a pair of breeches and a pull-over shirt lying on the little table. The light-emitting orb had moved over a little in order to accommodate the clothing—all done without me ever noticing. I continually marveled at the easy manner with which such things happened among the Descendant peoples. And with the elves it seemed more effortless than with most.
The clothing was of fine quality, but darker colors suited me better, so I left them on the bedside table. A thought given toward my own tastes and style, rendered me fully clothed by the time the covers were tossed aside. I got to my feet and examined myself in a gilded mirror I had also conjured. When I was satisfied with my appearance, the mirror faded and then disappeared completely.
I heard the voices of my friends approaching and decided to go to them instead of waiting here at my sickbed. After all, I was feeling fully rested, as good as ever, and, considering the situation, we had no time to lose.
Tom, Sophia and Charlotte were already coming through the far archway into the larger room adjoining mine when I came around the corner. There was sparse furniture in the anteroom, but I avoided it. Instead, I went directly to Sophia, remembering the ebony arrow that had saved me from King Og. She welcomed me with open arms, hugging me tightly.
“I’m so glad you’re safe,” she whispered into my ear.
I said nothing. I was just glad to see them all again. Donatus came in after, smiling as he saw me up and about.
“Good to see you doing well,” Donatus said.
“Thank you for sending your elf warriors to rescue us,” I offered.
All of their faces became downcast.
“What’s happened?” I asked.
Tom stepped toward me. “Uriah didn’t make it, Brody.”
I nearly choked on my next question. “But he was fine when you came for us. How did he die?”
“Once we had you both loaded in the litter, we came under attack,” Sophia explained. “Archers fired on us from the ridge. Many of the elf warriors were also killed in the attack. Uriah had enough strength, after the pixie dust wore off, to cover you with his own body. He saved you from several arrows that would have taken your life.”
I was stunned.
I had known that Uriah would do whatever was necessary to protect me. He had done the same for Oliver before me. But to actually have it happen was a crushing blow. I couldn’t speak.
Sophia embraced me again, trying to console me, but that wasn’t even possible. Despite our short knowledge of one another—barely one year—I had grown very fond of the burly troll. He had become a surrogate father to me, as much as Oliver, and for much longer now.
“I’m getting tired of losing people I care about,” I said as Sophia released me again.
Tom glanced at me.
I sighed. “You want to tell me that at least I got you back, right?”
Tom pretended to be shocked. “Make a joke during a time of mourning, me?”
Charlotte elbowed him in the arm. “Everybody knows you too well,” she said to Tom. Looking back at me she said, “At least he died as a warrior should—in battle.”
“Where is his body?” I asked.
“Redclaw came four days ago to retrieve him,” Sophia said. “I asked him to postpone the funeral, if possible, so that you might be there.”
“I would imagine it’s been too long for that,” I replied.
The others seemed to agree.
“What about Angel Fire?” I asked, realizing the weapon was nowhere in sight.
“We never recovered it,” Tom said. “There was too much opposition.”
“We were just glad to get you out of there in one piece,” Sophia added.
Donatus stepped forward. “Call Malak-esh to you,” he said. “The blood bond is very powerful magic.”
Tom nodded eagerly. “It got me out of Greystone, didn’t it?”
That was when it hit me. The blood bond had allowed me to find Tom, and for him to find me. The resulting portal was still open between the realm of the vampires and the mortal world. Oliver had mentioned the same thing, though. He had used his blood bond with Southresh to enter and find the fallen angel. And Oliver was my brother.
“I know how to find Oliver and get him out of Tartarus!”
Traumatic
As Donatus had suggested, I called for Malak-esh with my mind. Within seconds the ebony cane with the silver lion’s head appeared on the table before me. Despite just learning about Uriah’s sacrifice on my behalf, I couldn’t help but smile. My friend’s long-held hope had been that I would somehow be able to rescue Oliver from Tartarus. Now, I finally felt confident that it would be possible.
Nevertheless, Tom and the others were staring at me as though crabs were crawling out of my ears.
“Is that it?” Tom exclaimed sarcastically when the weapon appeared on the table.
I hefted the cane into the a
ir, willing it to transform. The mercurial blade unfolded from the ebony sheath, becoming a deadly, beautiful sword in my hand.
“The blood bond,” I said to Tom. “Oliver is my brother.”
“You can open a portal to his location,” Charlotte said, finishing my thought.
“Exactly!” I shouted, unable to contain my joy.
Smiles all around—they understood what this meant. And then Sophia’s expression changed dramatically.
“Surely, you don’t mean to go alone, Brody,” she said.
My smile faded. “I’m not sure that I have any choice in the matter.”
“A portal that works for you will also work for the rest of us,” Tom said. “All you have to do is be the one to open it. We can follow you through.”
I had not considered taking anyone else into Tartarus. The horrors I had seen there were beyond description. If anything happened—if anything went wrong and I lost one of them—I would have no way to find them. Not even the blood bond would work then. At least, not without making such a bond with each person as Tom had done with me.
“I cannot say what I have seen in that awful place,” I said. “I could never ask any of you to take the risk that I must now take. There is the possibility of becoming separated, that any survivors would never find you. And that’s only getting in and out of Tartarus. Once we are inside one of the realms that hold the Fallen, there’s no telling what can happen. Black will be there.”
“All the more reason why you should not go alone,” Sophia insisted.
“She’s right,” Tom added. “We may not have ever been there ourselves, but we understand the risks. I think we’re all prepared to give our lives to protect you and hopefully retrieve Oliver, as well.”
“That’s just it,” I said. “Death is the least of your worries in that place. I’m not trying to save Oliver from death, but from an abysmal madness that never ends.”