by G. P McKenna
Yeah right! I rolled my eyes with a scoff, “No offence, but you hardly seem pure souled yourself. I could smell the energy scent while you were showing off. It was faint, but it was there. That makes you an acquired warlock. You stole your energy reserves.”
“Of course, I did,” Pierous stated with a shrug, “not even the most powerful natural-born warlocks become as prolific as me without a few morally questionable decisions. I’ve waded through the blood of my enemies, killed and stolen to be the energetic masterpiece before you. But they all had it coming,” he looked at Pogue with a face of earnest, “that’s the difference between the Priest and I. I harm only those who deserve it, he allows his men to harm for sport. Deniliquin is a despicable soul, if he even has a soul at all.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Pogue said and rubbed his hands over his face, “you’re an enemy of Ascot. I can’t let you walk free.”
A moment of silence passed in which Pogue and Pierous simply stared at one another. Not a word was spoken, yet somehow everything was said. Pierous sighed and faced the fire once more, “then I’m afraid I must decline your request.”
“Seriously?” Pogue squeaked.
“Seriously,” Pierous confirmed and parked himself back in the throne. He cringed as his butt touched the stone, but simply threw his legs over the armrest, avoiding the solid spikes, “no freedom, no resurrection. That’s my first and final offer.”
Pogue’s face went pale, his fists clenching tightly. I touched his arm and faced Pierous, swallowing heavily, “surely there must be something else you want instead?”
“Afraid not,” he replied with a wet sniff.
The sound of metal being drawn broke the thick atmosphere, and Pogue ripped his arm from my grip. With the Casteel sword clutched tightly in his left hand, he marched over to Pierous and touched the tip against the Warlock’s neck. Pierous froze and looked up slowly but made no move to sit any straighter. Pogue pushed it even closer against the exposed skin, “Warlock,” he hissed through clenched teeth, “you will do what I ask, or I will slit your throat.”
Pierous tipped his head down towards the sword with a slight hum, “Now Shield, I enjoy a good threat of a bloody death as much as the next person, but it somewhat loses its charm when I know that you will not kill me.”
Pogue growled under his breath, “I’ve killed before.”
“You killed mages who were sleeping in their beds, like a coward,” Pierous said.
“Lucina wasn’t sleeping when I killed her,” Pogue said and adjusted his grip.
The blade cut into the skin just so, leaving the smallest pearl of blood to drip down the Warlock’s neck. Pierous dipped his head ever so slightly, “I will admit, that was impressive. You certainly succeeded in enraging the Priest, but still, you won’t kill me.”
“Why not?” Pogue shouted, “how are you so sure?”
“Because I’ve given you no reason,” Pierous said, and cautiously rose to his feet. Pogue’s eyes narrowed, and the growling became slightly louder, like that of a wolf, but he made no move to further harm the Warlock, “you have honour, Shield. Morals. The mages at the lake were poisoning the water. They were hurting people. Of course, you had to kill them, but I have given you no tangible reason to kill me.”
“You were poisoning the lake too!” Pogue pushed the sword closer.
“But I undid it,” Pierous said carefully and held up his hands, “I’ve atoned for my sins. You were witness to that. You cannot hold that against me, that’s for the Deities alone now. You know this, you know the only reason I am held prisoner down here is that your Princess fears my powers. As for Lucina, it was she who was responsible for slaughtering the Armourers, who facilitated this war. She sent your friend away, destroyed your life, everything you ever loved and knew. She was one of your armourers, your family, and she betrayed you. Anybody would’ve killed under such circumstances. I am giving you no reason.”
“You’re taking Ilya from me,” Pogue cried and lowered the blade to the Warlock’s heart.
“No,” Pierous said calmly as he dropped to his knees, “if this Ilya is already dead, it is not by my hand. It is the Deities taking him from you. I am not responsible. Your anger is irrational and misdirected but understandable. You’re the blessed Shield, the Deities are supposed-”
“SHUT UP,” Pogue roared.
Pierous tipped his head to the side, cold eyes meeting Pogue’s in amused contemplation, “yet if you were to attack me right now, I would be powerless to prevent it. It is only old age from which I’m immune, and while you would not typically kill me, anger is the most powerful motivator of all,” a smirk grew on the old man’s lips. He looked around the cage before turning back to the Shield with a click of his tongue, “so if my death is what you desire, what will make you sleep better at night, do it. Spill my blood. Eliminate the source of your anger, but understand that in doing so, you also eliminate the only possibility of reviving your friend. Tricky, tricky.”
Pogue’s eyes flashed, his teeth locked in a snarl, as he drew his left arm back. I stepped forward, putting myself between him and Pierous, “don’t,” I said, “we need him alive.”
“Get out of my way, Kilco.”
“No,” I said and glanced at Pierous, “there’s something else. I can see it in his eyes. Maybe it’s not a want, but a need. We just need to outwait him.”
For just a moment, the smirk on the Warlock’s face faulted, before being replaced with a brighter smile, “I’m afraid you’ve discovered that out too slowly, Princess.”
“What does that mean?” I tried to ask through the increased throaty growling. Typically, I found that an endearing trait of Pogue’s, but at that moment it was too dramatic, and I went to tell him so, only he wasn’t growling. Pogue glanced around with a confused look on his face as the growling increased in volume. There was a shuffling behind us, and I looked over my shoulder at Pierous who had risen to his feet to stare intently at the wall directly ahead. What was he…the pitch of the growling shifted into one of a low hum, so clear and nearby.
“What is that?” Pogue called over it.
“I warned you-”
The Ivory cage exploded.
Twenty Three
Trypophobia
Fear of clusters
It was the worst shower of my life. Even the chunks of ice that poured from the Infirmary bucket shower would’ve been preferable to the large splinters of wood and rubble that poured down around us. A large chunk of what appeared to be tile missed slicing my nose from my face by mere inches, and I stumbled backwards onto my butt, barely avoiding the branch that inevitably would have crushed me. Pierous seemed to have better luck than me. He danced around the falling debris more nimbly than a man whose age was in the three-digits should have and scooped me up under his arm like a sack of flour.
“Just as I suspected,” the old bastard declared with suspicious glee and skilfully dodged a falling plank, “your anger would be too tempting for it, Shield. Look at the size of that beauty.”
“Great,” Pogue growled as I tried to crane my neck to catch a glimpse of whatever was chasing behind us. The deep whale song was overwhelming like it was carving into my bones. I couldn’t see anything, my view blocked by Pierous’ shoulder. I aimed a punch towards it and found purchase, but the Warlock paused not for a second as he bolted into one the trunk hollows and dropped me, cackling maniacally all the while.
A jolt of pain shot up my leg as I fell heavily to the floor. Dust fell with me, clinging to the bandage around my thigh that was sticky with blood and dirt. That would need a good, deep clean later. Later. Groaning, I hobbled to where the two men stood blocking the outside world from view and pushed them aside, only to gasp.
It was the most heinous thing I’d ever had the misfortune of seeing with my own two eyes. As if the back-birthing blight of nature called toads weren’t disgusting enough already, some cruel hand of destiny had seen fit to cover this one with mouths. Big mouths, small mouths, mouths th
at drooled fountains of thick yellow bile that stuck to thin needle-like teeth in stringy ribbons. Even its beady eyes had those teeth dotted around them like cementum lashes. And just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, that enormous toad opened its equally enormous front mouth wider than should’ve been scientifically possible without dislocation. From within a thick purple tube emerged, bringing with it the stench of week-old rotted fish.
“Another one?” Pogue muttered.
“Another one?” I elbowed him in the ribs, “you mean you’ve fought that thing before?”
An arm snaked its way around my shoulder and shook me from side to side, “foul, isn’t it?” Pierous gleefully asked, “they typically feed off magical energy, just like the Casteel sword feeds off the Shields. I figured if I worked him up enough that he withdrew it, well, lets count our lucky stars that this big lady looks to have been gorging off a particularly nasty brand of energy as of late.”
I withdrew my elbow from Pogue’s ribs and jabbed the opposite one towards Pierous instead, “I’m sorry, but what exactly is that?”
“Scolopendra,” Pogue said while staring wide-eyed at the howling beast.
“That’s right,” Pierous said and elbowed me back with a grin, “a female one at that. Not the preferred gender to be fighting at any rate. Bigger, faster, hungrier, and dare I say it, she doesn’t appear too fond of you, Shield.”
Pogue swallowed and nodded slowly, “I think I killed its mum when I was a kid.”
“You still are a kid,” Pierous slapped Pogue’s back, “but yes, that will do it. Scolopendra have superb memories and murdering one’s mother? I hear that’s the worst of crimes.”
Of course, it was, and of course Pogue had. After all, it was me down there. The Deities just refused to give me a break. The Scolopendra clapped its hands on the platform, sending the murky water in the mote splashing up and down in waves leaving the acidic scent of rot and decay to suck all oxygen from the hollow.
All three of us coughed, and Pierous spat on the ground, “Deities calling, it burns-”
The rest of his whining was lost as the throaty whale call sang through the air once more. The Scolopendra had stopped its pawing as every one of its mouths seemed to pulse together in sync, yellow goo oozing unheeded from each to drip into the water. Pierous slung his arms around both Pogue and my shoulder, leaning in between us, “would now be a good time to remind you both that I currently have the defensive capabilities of a guinea pig?”
“Seriously?” I asked while ducking away from his touch.
“Afraid so,” he said and dropped his arms with a shrug, “stabby upstairs took immense pleasure in stripping me of all but the most necessary of energy. I’m, as the kids say, a sitting duck,” he glanced at Pogue with a hum, “you know, if the Sword knew our predicament…?”
“We’re not psychically connected,” Pogue barked.
“Never hurts to check,” Pogue said and grabbed my arm, “in that case, I suggest ducking.”
With undue strength, Pierous pulled me backwards with him deeper into the hollow, covering my body with his as the Scolopendra rolled directly into the hollow’s opening. It was too large to enter, but its immense size and weight were enough to send more heavy debris falling down atop us, and Pogue, if he had responded fast enough. If not…my heart sped up as I pushed Pierous away to look around, but Pogue wasn’t in the hollow. Where is he, where is-
Something splashed in the water, and the Scolopendra’s shadow disappeared from the entrance. I rushed to the opening and peeked outside, just in time to see Pogue withdraw the Casteel sword and swing it at the toad. It missed, the Scolopendra already having jumped away, its central mouth opening wide once more as a projectile stream of green liquid spewed forth. Pogue barely missed it, dodging back into the murky water as the wood he had stood upon began to steam.
My jaw clenched as his head popped out of the water and I called, “are you okay?”
“All good,” he called back, “don’t worry, I’ve killed one before, I can do it again.”
“Good attitude,” Pierous yelled as he attempted to pull me further into the tree as more acid goop landed a little too close for comfort. I pinched his wrist and returned to the opening.
I had thought the fight with Sedna would be the most intense scene I would ever witness, but this was worse. So much worse. Ilya and Sedna fought with logic, with technique and control, but the Scolopendra was an animal. A big juicy toad with one brain cell. There was nothing logical or predictable about its movements, it was like watching an orca playing with a seal before the kill, and had it been up against anybody else it would’ve been feasting in seconds. But Pogue was nothing if not wild. That fact offered little reprieve as he jumped and dodged over streams of burning bile without ever getting close enough to counter-attack, but the raw unpredictability kept him alive. And at that moment that had to be enough. Red-faced and sweaty, he rolled out of the way of yet another tagged attack of the toad’s shocking leaps and toxic vomit before squinting towards our hidey-hole, “feel free to jump in at any time.”
“A tempting offer, but I’m afraid we must decline,” Pierous called back. Speak for yourself. Withdrawing the Kaori dagger from my pack, I stepped beyond the line of the hollow, only to once again be pulled back by a frowning Pierous, “where do you think you’re off too, Princess?”
I tried to pull my arm free, but his grip only tightened. What a total scrotebag. What did he care where I was off to? I voiced that question, and the Warlock pursed his lips. His hold softened, before tightening once more as I tried to slip away, “are you skilled in combat?”
“Nope,” I replied and increased my wiggling. How hard could it be to slip out of a three-hundred-year-old man’s grip anyway? His bones must’ve been sawdust.
No brittle enough though, for his bony hand tightened to the point of pain, “Magic then?”
“No again,” I spat through gritted teeth. If only I could find a way to dislodge him.
“As suspected,” Pierous said with a hum, “you see, it’s not so much that I care whether you live or die, it’s that you are a liability to my survival. Running out there like a headless chook will only distract the Shield. A distracted Shield is a dead Shield, are you following me?”
Oh, I was following alright. I stamped his foot with the heel of my boot, “but he will die out there if we don’t help.”
“I don’t agree, he seems to be handling himself swimming-Duck Shield, Duck,” Pogue’s back was to the Scolopendra, his hands on his knees as he struggled to draw breath. Still, without a moment’s hesitation, he flung himself to the ground at the Warlocks’ call and rolled into the water with an overwhelming splash, narrowly avoiding the spray of bile that was spat his way. Pierous dropped my arm to massage his temple with a sigh, “so he may require a bit of assistance, but what do you expect me to do? I can barely manage this at the moment,” he clicked his fingers together, the tiniest orb of fire appearing between them, “and this wouldn’t even harm a fly?”
“Whatever you are doing, keep doing it,” Pogue called.
The Warlock’s face paled, but I paid him no heed and turned back towards the hollow. The Scolopendra was standing still on the central platform, its front hands not slapping the wood for the first time since the torturous game of cat and mouse had begun. Every single one of its mouths opened wide, looking like a bulbous cluster of pins, as the purple tubular tongue uncoiled itself, standing erect in the air and pulsating.
A hand found its way back to my shoulder as its owner grunted, “Hmm, fascinating.”
I nodded in agreement, because Deities, why couldn’t anything in that blessed tree have a normal tongue? It was oily and disgusting, like a hypnotized snake emerging from its basket, but at least it provided enough distraction for Pogue to sneak up along the toads’ side. A wolfish grin plastered across his face as he jumped. The Scolopendra roared a deafening song and reared as Pogue scrambled upon its back, using a smaller mouth as a step, bu
t the Shield was too quick, the blade of the Casteel sword finding purchase in the left eye before he was flung to the ground with a thud. He wasn’t quick enough. Barely had he risen to a knee before the toad was rounding on him, front hands pawing the ground in preparation to pounce.
No, not there. Not like that. Without thinking, I stepped outside the hollow. There was no plan, but I intended to make it up as I went along. Unpredictability was my game, after all. I didn’t get another foot before that insufferable hand was pulling me back inside, “you can’t go out there,” Pierous hissed in my ear, “it’s suicide.”
Yes, it was. Dropping to the ground like a sack, Pierous cried out as his hand was pulled down with me. I rolled out of the hollow, half falling into the murky water. It reeked like death and decay. It reeked like Sedna. Thrusting my leg down, my foot made contact with something that crunched under my weight. There they were. Asking the ancestors for forgiveness for what I was about to do, I sunk my hand into the water and wrapped it around something smooth and dense. It was only a tibia, but it would be enough. It had to be. With all the strength my measly arms could muster, I threw it.
The bone flew, and I pinched the bridge of my broken nose, trying to recall the importance of evenly spaced breaths until it met its target of the toad’s head. It stopped its pawing, the ground shaking slightly as it turned its enormous weight around and we were suddenly face to face. Voids of black stared into my blue, and in them I saw things I had never wanted to, intelligence, pain, hatred. The Scolopendra didn’t pounce, it simply stepped towards me, one hand after the other slapping the ground as my whole world violently shook. Shoving my hand back into the water, I found something hollow and held it against my chest. I wasn’t the first person who had died in that cage, and I certainly wouldn’t be the last, but I would be the only one revered for self-sacrifice, and that was enough. I looked over my left shoulder and smiled before closing my eyes.