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Evolve

Page 10

by Derek Belfield


  Slate continued. "I know how I'm going to convince the other elves to follow me and most of it is good things for them and for you. We're going to dismantle the barrier, turn the Guardians in a protective force, and then we're going to free your people, body and spirit."

  That sounds too good to be true. Merus stated, and Slate shrugged. "Regardless, it is true." He responded simply. Slate decided not to comment on the change in Merus opinion of him. The elf would need some time to reconcile his new worldview. He decided to change the subject.

  "Four down, three to go. Where next?" Slate asked. Continue on the last Guardian's route. The next target is dead ahead. I'll guide you further once you get closer. Following the wood elf's instructions, Slate broke out into a jog again.

  Slate really wished there was some sort of magic ability for jogging because he seemed to be doing it more tonight than he ever had in his whole life. The only positive part of this experience was that run allowed him to calm down between fights. He didn't have to really worry about his surroundings because the forest was still protecting him and Merus was on watch for his next enemies. Soon, they found themselves approaching the next Guardian.

  Okay, slow down. It looks like she's right ahead of us. Merus warned.

  "She?" Slate muttered.

  Yeah, she. What's the problem? Slate had to think about what was bothering him. He should have realized that the Guardian's could be female too. In a world of magic, the same rules didn't really apply.

  In this world, female warriors could probably become just as strong as men. In fact, it would make sense in this world that women had a better aptitude for magic to make up for the fact that men would undoubtedly have a physical advantage on them. It wasn't that logically he had any problem killing a woman over a man. At the end of the day, they all fought and died the same. He recognized that in his world, he had simply never done it. Even during his time in Iraq and Afghanistan, he had never had to violate the principles that his world had unconsciously developed. Women had to be protected, they were noncombatants; not warriors.

  "I've never killed a woman." Slate said to Merus.

  What? How could you not? Merus asked. Even I have had to a couple times. They die no differently than men. Slate began to feel uncomfortable at Merus's implied critique.

  "It's not something that had ever come up." Slate said a touch defensively. "In my world, women are supposed to be protected." Merus sounded choked.

  I literally watched you put your tongue through a man's eyeball. Listen, the woman up ahead is named Vindicia Shadowheart. I've seen her use her nature magic to make a thorn bush grow from the inside of a man before he burst into a fleshy mess of blood and thorns. There wasn't a part large enough for him to bury.

  Slate's mouth turned dry. "Why did she do that?"

  Merus laughed. The man was a teacher and not a warrior. He had the temerity to ask for her hand in marriage. She's an impeccable warrior, easily the best in Woodhaven. Even the elders and Sumnu tread lightly around her. She cares about one thing and one thing only: strength.

  "Damn." Slate's mind tried to imagine the scene. "You almost sound like you respect her."

  I do. Merus replied. She, more than anyone, lives by the rule of nature. To her, that man didn't deserve her because he couldn't defeat her. She's been training her entire life since her parents died and she wasn't about to let anyone that couldn't beat her–claim her. As far as I know, she's never held a romantic relationship in her life. The other Guardians treat her with a mix of reverence and fear.

  Merus' synopsis of the woman made Slate curious. In his experience, people who had nothing to live for acted in such a way. He had seen the same in some of his Marines returning from combat. They pinned their entire identity to being a warrior so that when it was over, they couldn't handle the transition. Plenty of good warriors had died at home with a bottle in their hand and a gun in their mouth rather than on the battlefield. It was a tragedy. If Vindicia were one of his Marines, he would have been quietly informing her friends and family to keep a close eye on her. She was a flame that burned brightly but not for long.

  He smothered the feeling of empathy for the unknown warrior. Somehow, knowing that she lived her life in such a way made it easier for him to take it from her. A warrior of her caliber deserved to die on the battlefield; not alone in the quiet of her home. He would give her the honorable end that she was clearly working towards.

  Slate sighed. "You're right. Let's do this.”

  Chapter 7: Winning a Warrior

  Slate took a deep breath to ready himself for the upcoming battle. He crept forward carrying his tail at the ready. His target, Vindicia Shadowheart, was kneeling on the ground a few yards in front of him. She was faced away from him, and if he didn't know any better, he would say that she was in communion with the forest. He watched her for a few moments. There was something familiar about the energy in the air.

  He padded closer, taking care to remain absolutely silent. As he neared her knelt form, he began to feel the pressure in the air from gathered mana. He activated his mana vision to try and determine what she was doing. He hadn't had much experience figuring out spells from their mana resonance, but any hint would be better than ignorance.

  He was surprised at what he saw. Vindicia was forming the mana into a circlet around her brow. The shining circlet was the exact same that currently graced Slate's own. There was one slight difference. Whereas Slate's was a shimmering white, her's was a deep crimson color. It looked somewhat insidious in his vision.

  Well, that isn't good. Merus dryly noted.

  A flash of irritation spread in Slate. If he could have replied without getting his ass kicked by Vindicia, he would have a few cutting remarks for the elf in his head. Merus was cracking jokes instead of telling him what the fuck was going on with the Guardian in front of him.

  Vowing to murder Merus when he got the chance, he moved closer to his prey. He was more convinced than ever that he needed to kill her before she could remove his only tactical advantage in this fight. He didn't like the look of that crown, and he especially didn't like the fact that he knew nothing about it. A distant part of him noted that fact that it would be easier to slay her while she was facing away from him.

  It was a cowardly way to kill someone, but there was no such thing as honorable combat. There were only winners and the dead. At least Slate would have delivered the end she had been chasing for so long. He took a moment to center himself as he readied his blade to plunge into the woman's heart. A moment before his knife entered her back, Slate heard Vindicia laugh. He couldn't help but notice it sounded like the tinkling of wind chimes.

  "You finally decided to show yourself." The elf rose to her feet in one smooth motion and planted a palm glowing with verdant light on Slate's abdomen. While the blow was delivered with all of the force of a gentle breeze, the maneuver shocked him completely. He felt an intense burning in his gut, and then he was blown away from her like a tree in a hurricane. He was launched twenty feet in the air before crashing against the nearest tree in his trajectory and slumping to the ground. The breath had been entirely knocked out of him, and he lay there gasping for oxygen. Looking down, his abdomen was a complete mess.

  Green-black blood poured from the wound, and Slate could see the gray intestines beneath all of the ripped flesh and pumping blood. The sight made him feel nauseous. He had seen injuries such as these before. He had even treated some before a corpsman could take over. That was different than the absurdity of seeing one's insides on the outside. He could see sparks of emerald light skipping around the edges of the wound. Merus mournfully moaned in his head.

  Oh no. We're dead. She just infected us with her plant magic. It's going to grow from the wound as it drains us of all of our power.

  Contingencies raced through Slate's mind before stumbling onto a plan. He would need to allow Vindica to think she had incapacitated him, which wouldn't usually be far from the truth. However, Merus forgot an important p
art when he said, "we." Slate wasn't actually a part of Merus' body, he was his own separate entity. As grievous as the wound was, it had done nothing to harm Slate the parasite. It was merely his host who had gotten banged up. This wound was the equivalent of getting into a fender bender in a car. Sure, the front bumper was damaged, but the passengers were fine. Slate had complete control of this body, and it was a simple matter to turn off the sensation of pain being sent to his own mind.

  To keep appearances, he groaned as if he was indeed in agony. Vindicia sashayed her way to where Slate lay crumpled. She was entirely sure of her victory, and why wouldn't she? Merus had never been her equal physically or mystically. Others had compared the two Guardian's magical prowess, but Vindicia had never demonstrated her full talents for obvious reasons. A warrior needed to make sure they had a trick left to play when their enemies thought they had nothing left.

  Vindicia didn't mind playing with her food the way an actual predator would. She sat on her haunches in front of him and smiled gleefully. There was a gleam of madness in her eyes. To her, this was just one more Guardian that needed to be put down. She was thankful that he had already done most of her work for her on this especially important night. "Did you really think you could kill me, Merus?" She cooed. "I'll need to thank you for killing the others for me." She paused and looked him steadily in the eyes. "That was you, wasn't it?" She asked coyly.

  Instead of replying, Slate took the opportunity to study her. Her face was unearthly beautiful even by human standards. Slate noticed her toned arms and legs spoke to warrior training while her ample breasts and hips spoke to an entirely different part of him. She had long black hair that framed a heart-shaped face. Strong cheekbones gave her a noble and serious countenance while eyes the color of obsidian tempted Slate with their infinite depths and hidden secrets. He found himself desperately wanting to discover every one of those secrets.

  What the fuck? Slate thought to himself. Maybe the Merus' blood loss was affecting him more than he realized. He couldn't understand why he was checking out a woman instead of focusing on the battle. He didn't typically think with his genitals in the heat of combat. Maybe he cracked Merus' head harder than he thought. He had heard that stupidity was infectious, but this was ridiculous!

  Vindicia appeared visibly annoyed by what she perceived as Merus' lack of response. She craved the recognition as the penultimate warrior in Woodhaven. Instead, she saw the same hunger in his eyes that was mirrored in nearly every other male in their village. She became furious at Merus' lustful gaze. With a vexed wave of her hand, a tree root ascended from the ground and pierced through Slate's left knee like the tip of a spear. He screamed involuntarily as both elf and parasite had been surprised by the action. It was needlessly cruel.

  She grinned evilly at the sight of his lecherous thoughts being swept away. She hadn't let a single man touch her in her entire life. Many had tried, and many had died. She wasn't going to let this bookish weakling stare at her in such a way. She started to gloat as she watched his face turn white in pain.

  "I thought you were different from the rest of us, Merus." She tapped a finger to her chin while she purposefully pushed one of her hips out. The pose was both coy and intentionally sexy. Slate couldn't help but trace her form with his eyes. He knew he shouldn't, but something in his being was responding to her in ways he couldn't explain. It was a similar instinct to when he had taken over Merus' body. His parasitic nature was approving of her physicality.

  "You seemed like all you wanted to do was practice your magic and love your sweet, sweet Lucelynia." Her face turned wicked. "But now it seems you were willing to kill most of the Guardians to get what you truly wanted; power. I could almost respect you for that if I didn't have goals of my own. At first, I was displeased when I could feel the other Guardians dropping like flies. I wanted to kill them." Her grin widened further, and she sounded thoughtful. "I'm not even sure how you were able to access Silvys' power when I began to poison the perimeter trees a season ago."

  She had expected another response to this revelation. Her vanity demanded it. Instead, Slate remained quiet. Once again, he couldn't care less about the immortal that ruled over the Wyldwood or this woman's machinations. Instead, the serpentine parasite felt a burning in his heart. Instinct told him that he needed this woman. He could feel a cleansing burn in his gut. Despite what Merus thought, his parasite form wouldn't let another parasite infect his host. He could feel her magic sputtering away.

  Vindicia drew closer to Merus and stared him directly in the eyes. There was only inches between her lips and his. Slate took a deep breath, and her scent invaded his senses. She smelled like pine, smoke, and something floral. He found the combination intoxicating. She snarled, "Say something, weakling."

  Slate coughed on his words as blood speckled his lips. Vindicia made a pained expression and leaned even closer, presenting her ear closer to Slate's mouth. "What did you say?" She hissed.

  Slate whispered. "I said," he sputtered. "I'm not Merus." He plunged his tongue into the side of Vindicia’s neck. He immediately changed glands and pumped paralytic into her veins. Within seconds, her joints began to freeze. The toxin spread itself rapidly with the beating of the Guardian's powerful heart.

  She clumsily pushed herself away from Slate and tried to turn, but her knees failed her, and she crashed into the dirt. She panicked as she could feel even her magic collapse around her. She tried to scream, but even her throat betrayed her with its silence. She had never felt so vulnerable being trapped in her own skin with no way to escape.

  Slate stood up using one leg, from the tree and clutched a hand around his exposed organs as he steadied himself against the trunk of a tree. He wasn't thinking clearly. There was something in his parasite mind that was drawn to this woman. He had to have her. He had the presence of mind to realize that he couldn't accomplish anything so long as his host was bleeding out. He would need to consume something to keep Merus from shuffling off the mortal coil prematurely.

  He wasn't worried about infection, but the blood loss would soon kill him. His tail twitched angrily as he realized he would have to kill and eat something before coming back for Vindicia. He fell to his knees and then crawled towards her to keep his shattered knee from being damaged further. He leaned into her neck and pressed his lips to her skin. Her eyes widened in fear as his tongue plunged violently into her carotid to inject more paralytic. He began to lick up the blood that welled to the surface of her flesh habitually.

  Even this small amount of biomass started to accelerate his healing process. It wasn't nearly enough to make him mobile again. Pressed against Vindicia as he was, he saw tears building at the edges of her eyes. Strangely, the tears had no effect on him. He was consumed by the fiery need that his parasitic body and mind insisted he must sake.

  Slate's heartbeat was pounding in his ears as Merus tried to reason with him.

  What are you doing? He shouted, close to panic. Slate tried to express what he was feeling, but the effort seemed too much. A strange fugue had settled across his mind. He knew he needed to eat, but his survival instincts were blocking out everything else and leaving him with that single thought.

  He petitioned the spirit of the forest. He needed easy prey to heal himself, and he felt the forest acquiesce to his request. He crawled in the direction the forest guided him. He knew that he was near death and for some reason, the proximity to his own end brought him closer to Silvys. Slate felt that he and the spirit shared in his demise in some way.

  Soon he came across a sleeping doe. As he approached, the doe opened its eyes hazily. She didn't run. Instead, she lay there as he came closer, merely lifting her head tiredly at his approach. As he neared her prone form, he noticed that she had been attacked by a vine ascending from the earth. It had wrapped one of her legs with a thorny grasp. He could see bright blood where the vine had gripped it. Studying it, he saw that the plant was coated in a slimy, viscous substance that reflected the moonlight. He supposed
the vine must have disabled the doe similar to his own paralytic.

  He knelt down next to the doe and cradled its head in his lap. He sent a silent thanks to the Silvys for providing this sustenance. He felt peace in his heart that told him it was the right thing to do. Slate gently gripped the doe's head and wrenched it violently. He felt the bones in the animal's neck snap. It was the least painful and quickest way to kill the animal. He lifted its head to his mouth and began to eat noisily.

 

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