by M. D. Massey
“How am I supposed to declare a victor if I can’t even tell what’s going on?” I mumbled.
Click’s voice replied from somewhere nearby. “The one that’s left standing—that’s the one you pick.” A quick glance revealed him to be standing at my right elbow. He took a large and rather loud bite from an apple, chewing and swallowing before continuing. “Bet you’re wondering why I’m here. Seeing two master fampir duel to the death, well—that’s hardly something I could pass up. Plus, I have wager with their illusionist that Luther bites it.”
“You bet against Luther? Seriously?” Click opened his mouth to reply, but I cut him off. “You know what? I don’t want to hear it.” I turned my attention back to the ring. “Gah! I still can’t see anything.”
Click crunched on his apple, spitting flecks of pulp as he spoke. “Hang on.” He snapped his fingers in front of my face, and suddenly the action slowed considerably—but only inside the ring. Everything else seemed to be moving at normal speed.
I watched the duel unfold. “Neat trick. You’re a chronomage, aren’t you? I thought that branch of magic was outlawed by the Circle centuries ago.”
He took another bite of his apple, tossing the core away. It bounced off a vampire’s head, and the vamp looked around in vain for the culprit. “Don’t worry—they can’t see me, except for the illusionist. Although people might be wondering why you’re talking to yourself. That is, if anyone is watching anything right now but the duel.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” I replied.
“Yes, well, trickster magic has always been off-limits to human mages. They can’t understand it, and that’s why they fear it.” He tapped a finger on the side of my skull. “But you, young man, you’re a bard who croons to another tune entirely. In fact, you might actually be able to grasp the basic principles of chronourgy. I could even see you achieving a small measure of skill in the art… sometime far in the future, that is.”
I glanced sideways at him. “Oh yeah?”
“Sure.” He winked at me. “Just don’t ever get caught using it.”
We turned my attention back to the duel. Thus far, the fight had followed the same pattern. Cornelius would fly at Luther at supersonic speeds, and Luther would turn himself into shadow and smoke, reappearing on the other side of the ring unharmed. I had a feeling that Luther was trying to wear Cornelius out, but based on Luther’s expression, things weren’t going to plan. Not only was Cornelius not becoming fatigued, but he actually seemed to be getting faster as the duel continued.
All vampires had limited stores of energy based on how recently they’d fed, their age, their pedigree, and their natural abilities. Luther had once mentioned that his maker had been a very powerful and ancient vampire, so he could probably keep using his powers longer than most. But eventually he would tire, and if Cornelius had somehow found a way to circumvent that issue then Luther was royally fucked.
“Click, what do you know about the rules for these vampire duels?”
He shrugged. “Rules are simple. Stay in the ring, use any weapon or power you have on you when you enter, and don’t die or else you lose. Old rules, created for simpler times. Ah, but how I miss those days.”
At that moment, Cornelius flew across the ring at Luther for the umpteenth time. However, this time Luther did his smoke and shadow teleport thing just a little too late. He caught a vicious blow to his ribcage just as he was dematerializing, which elicited a small squeal of delight from Click. When the coven leader appeared on the other side of the ring, his stance was a little off. It wasn’t much of a tell, but it was there.
Luther couldn’t keep this up much longer.
I switched my vision back to the magical spectrum, because I needed to understand what was going on if I meant to save Luther. I searched Cornelius for some magical talisman or device, one that might be fueling his increased stamina. As far as I could tell, he had nothing of the sort on him. Shit.
Then, I spotted something. Just the faintest wisp of aether tethering him to his pet, who was currently wrapped around the arm of Cornelius’ second outside the ring. When I focused on the tether, I determined the serpent was feeding Cornelius through that wisp of aether, much like a mother sustaining her child through an umbilical cord.
Cornelius was cheating via magical means. Fuck me.
As soon as he realized what I was looking at, Click’s face fell. “Finally saw that, did you? I was hoping you wouldn’t, being as I have money on the cheating bastard.”
“You’re incorrigible,” I muttered as I stormed toward the twin vamps who’d arrived with Cornelius. I pointed my sword at the one holding the serpent. “Turn it off. Now.”
The little fucker tried to play coy with me, giving me a smug grin as he replied. “Turn what off, human? I have no idea what you’re talking about. Do you, Gaius?”
His twin shook his head as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “No, Lucius, I haven’t the foggiest.”
“Fine,” I seethed. I looked directly at the serpent, who displayed more intelligence in its eyes than both twins combined. I pointed the sword directly at its head, willing it to burst into flames. “Whatever you’re doing to help Cornelius, stop it now, or I lop off your head and Lucius here loses a hand. Your call!”
Besides flicking its tongue at me with a hiss, the serpent failed to respond to my demands. A gasp from the crowd caught my attention, and I looked over my shoulder in time to see Luther fly across the ring, propelled by a wicked backhand strike from his opponent. He landed on his feet, but I could tell he was hurt.
From that moment forward, it was on between the two vamps. Click’s time differential spell was still in full effect, so I was able to see everything that was happening inside that ring. Cornelius fought like an Irish traveler, boxing bareknuckle in a manner that was both brutal and efficient. He threw combination after combination at Luther, launching blow after blow without pause.
Luther, on the other hand, fought more like a classic French savateur. Boxe française savate was the kickboxing art of the French, more commonly known simply as savate. Originally created by French sailors who’d held onto the rails and ropes of their ships to kick at their opponents while balancing on one leg, savate had evolved into a complete striking art over time. Savate was both beautiful and deadly, and Luther displayed true mastery of the art as he fought off Cornelius’ attacks.
For every few punches Cornelius threw at Luther, Luther avoided most of them. As for the ones he missed, he’d take those on his arms and shoulders, covering and shelling up to prevent taking a punch on the jaw or temple. In response, Luther would return a dazzling combination of kicks that came from all angles, striking at multiple targets.
Yet Luther was already injured and quite exhausted while his opponent was still fresh, so Cornelius easily slipped, dodged, and blocked Luther’s kicks. And while Luther was obviously the more skilled and savvy fighter, currently Cornelius possessed an advantage that Luther simply could not contend with. From experience, I knew that all those punches Luther was taking on his arms and shoulders were having an effect. Eventually they’d weaken him and slow him down. Then, one of Cornelius’ jackhammer punches would land and it would be over.
I spun back on the serpent, menacing it with my sword. “You heard what I said, snake. Stop whatever you’re doing to help Cornelius, or things are going to get ugly between us and fast!”
As I raised the sword to strike, I heard a thickly-accented voice inside my head.
I, Kulkulkan, have made a pact with Camazotz’s offspring, the one who calls himself Cornelius. Know you now that the gods do not break their bond at the whim of mortals. Begone, lest I reveal my true form so I might crush you where you stand.
I racked my brain, trying to remember where I’d heard that name before. I knew it was a deity of some sort, because they were the only ones who spoke with that much pretention. Then I remembered: Kulkulkan was a winged serpent deity to the Mayan people. It was also the name
of a powerful Mayan priest who’d lived several centuries ago, a man who was more than likely a mortal avatar of the deity. Chances were good that the creature before me was that guy, and not the deity itself. Or so I hoped.
“I’ve killed a god before,” I said, stretching the truth a bit. Actually, I’d killed a Norse deity’s son, a demigod. I’d also just barely fought off Whiro, the Maori god of death, but I almost didn’t survive that encounter. Still, this Kulkulkan entity didn’t need to know that. “You should know, it’s no skin off my nose to kill another.”
Do your worst, little pale skin. No matter how you struggle, I promise that your bones will litter my nest tonight.
By this time, a few bystanders were starting to pay attention to what was going on between the twins and me. I also noticed that Click was speaking to the fae illusionist in hushed tones. The fae girl nodded, then the two shook hands—I could only guess as to whether Click had bet on me, or the Mayan serpent deity. A quick look at the duel told me Luther wouldn’t hold out much longer, and if I kept arguing with the twins someone was bound to step in on their behalf, which could complicate matters considerably.
Well, I guess I’d better light this candle or call it a day.
“Your funeral, serpent,” I said as I swung the flaming sword at the snake.
Although I moved at full speed, I had a sneaking suspicion that the snake would evade the cut, and I was right. The serpent disappeared in a puff of smoke, just as my blade was about to strike. Lucius, however, wasn’t so skilled or lucky. The flaming sword sliced his hand off cleanly mid-forearm. As the severed appendage flopped to the lawn, the pretty blonde vampire screamed like Miss Muffet in a tarantula store.
“My arm, father, my arm! The human has cut off my arm!”
“Oh please, it’s just your hand,” Click shouted.
I swiveled my head frantically, more to search for Kulkulkan than to anticipate an attack by Cornelius or Gaius. I wasn’t worried about the vamps; it was the snake deity that concerned me. Even so, Cornelius stopped fighting with Luther—who was losing, incidentally—to speed to the edge of the dueling ring.
Lucius clutched his arm, whimpering while his brother seethed at me. I shook my head at Gaius, serving him notice that I wasn’t having it.
“I’ll kill you!” Cornelius screamed behind me.
I turned on him, pointing the flaming sword in his direction. “Ah-ah-ah! You leave that ring and you forfeit the match.”
Cornelius stayed put, while Luther caught his breath on the other side of the ring. I sensed movement from the twins so I spun around, just in time to catch Gaius preparing to pounce.
“Don’t try it, pretty boy,” I said, “or they’re going to be calling you two Stumpy and Hook from here on out.”
Gaius froze mid-step as he reconsidered his options, and I kept a close eye on him for a moment just to be safe. Suddenly, his eyes grew wide and he pointed over my shoulder, backpedaling away from me and dragging his brother along with him.
I laughed. “Oh, like I’m going to fall for that old trick—nice try.” Then, I noticed Click waving his arms frantically and pointing behind me from across the lawn. I looked at Gaius and Lucius, who were nearly falling all over themselves to create as much space between us as possible.
“There’s a giant winged serpent behind me, isn’t there?” I asked them. The twins responded with almost simultaneous nods. “Shit.”
Vampires and humans scattered in all directions—some screaming, others cursing, and still others calmly stepping back to observe what would happen next. I supposed that when you were semi-immortal, anything out of the ordinary was a welcome distraction, even if being an innocent bystander might get you killed. I dove and rolled out of the way, narrowly missing being snapped up in a giant serpent’s jaws.
I came to my feet quickly, pivoting to face the threat. Whether he was the deity’s avatar or the real McCoy, Kulkulkan was a sight to behold. Fully thirty feet long from nose to tail, he sported deep green iridescent scales on his back and a lighter greenish-tan coloring on the underside of his torso. A huge set of wings had sprouted just behind his head, with bright, multi-colored plumage reminiscent of a macaw’s feathers. As he towered over me, he spread his jaws wide, displaying a set of foot-long fangs that dripped with venom.
“See my true form,” Kulkulkan roared at me, “and tremble!”
“Oh, fuck this,” I replied, tossing my sword into my Craneskin Bag and throwing the Bag across the lawn to Click. “I’m going to want that back!” I yelled.
Click bobbled the Bag in his hands, finally ending up holding it suspended away from him with the strap pinched between his finger and thumb. His expression soured with distaste as he yelled back at me. “Be quick in dispatching the serpent, druid—this thing has never liked me!”
“Noted!” I said as I shifted into my Formorian form, screaming in pain and relief as the transformation commenced.
As my Hyde-side emerged, my bones grew and shifted, my skin split and reformed, and I gained at least a few hundred pounds of mass and a good eighteen inches in height. My clothes, of course, were shredded instantly, and they hung off in tatters—all except my Jockeys, that is. I’d learned the hard way to wear lycra underwear, just in case I needed to shift. Nothing was worse than fighting in public in your shifted form with your dangly bits flopping all over the place.
I felt my bones and skin thicken, my forehead protrude, my knuckles enlarge, and my muscles swell. My right arm grew until it had much more girth than my left. I flexed my right hand, squeezing it into a fist that resembled a mace on the end of a tree trunk. My left hand curled into a claw-like appendage instead, more suited for ripping and tearing than it was for pummeling. Finally, my back hunched slightly and my left eye bulged nearly out of its socket, giving me a sinister, Quasimodo-like appearance.
And when the transformation was complete, I felt it—that tug inside me, urging me to commit mayhem and violence on an epic scale.
I roared my fury to the skies. “Now, serpent—let us see what kind of god you are!”
The thing about snakes is, they’re very, very fast. As I leapt at the giant serpent he struck, latching his jaws on my right shoulder and sinking his fangs into my flesh. Then, he began wrapping himself around me, stacking coil after coil that squeezed the breath from my lungs and caused my joints to creak.
“Oof!” I groaned, forcefully exhaling to avoid being popped like a grape.
Kulkulkan hissed, releasing me from his jaws to gloat. “Never before have I seen your like, creature. But despite your size and strength, none can withstand the fury of Kulkulkan!”
In response, I smiled. And in this form, I knew that smile wasn’t pretty.
Opening his jaws was Kulkulkan’s first mistake. As he reared his head back to crow about his impending victory, I managed to squirm my right arm out of his coils. Soon, I was hammering at his anguiform body, and despite my lack of leverage I was still hitting the serpent hard enough to crush its ribs.
Kulkulkan roared like a jungle cat, then he struck at me again. This time I was ready for him. I snapped my hand out, snagging the serpent around the throat with my massive, deformed hand. Then, I squeezed.
“Do you see? Two can play this game, worm,” I croaked.
While Kulkulkan was crushing the life from me, I was squeezing hard enough to cut off his air, and perhaps to even snap his spine if I was lucky. He squirmed and squeezed even tighter, but I held onto his neck for dear life. Then, I began pulling him in toward me.
Kulkulkan’s eyes bulged, his vertical pupils going wide. With one final yank, I drew his neck to my face and bit down, hard. Cool black blood gushed into my mouth, the taste stoking my thirst for gore and death.
The great serpent thrashed violently as he realized the tactical error he had made. Soon he released his hold on me to try and escape, whipping his tail left and right, up and down, slamming it against the ground and beating his wings in a frantic attempt to dislodge me from his n
eck.
But instead of letting go, I simply reached around the serpent with both arms, pulling him closer as I bit him again, and again, and again. Thick dark wetness gushed into my mouth, choking me as it clotted, but I didn’t care. The Formorian, monstrous, bestial side of me was in full control, and it hungered. Before I knew it, the serpent had stopped struggling, and I was crunching on his spine. Seconds later, his head plopped to the ground, splashing thick black blood in all directions.
Having vanquished one foe, I looked around for others. As my gaze swept across the crowd, vampires fled in all directions.
“Fight me, cowards!” I roared. None took me up on the invitation.
I searched nearby for a worthy opponent, until I spotted a tall dark-skinned man across the lawn beating a pudgy blonde-haired man’s head into the ground. His arms moved with superhuman speed, and his fists landed like jackhammers, pulverizing the other man’s skull into bloody grey and white gibbets.
There lies a battle worth fighting, I thought as I dropped the serpent’s lifeless body to the ground.
As I took a step toward the dark-skinned man, a booming voice exploded inside my skull.
-Colin, no.-
I recognized that voice. It was the Eye, a destructive force even greater than my own. Now I remembered. I had lusted after that power, craved it like that weak fool Balor. He’d been slain by Lugh for his ambitions, but I would not fall so easily. I would tame the Eye, conquer it by will alone, and together we would destroy and kill and burn the world to ash.
-No, I’m afraid that is not my purpose. My apologies for this.-
A searing heat exploded inside my head, like a nuclear bomb going off in my brain. And with it came a pain like a mountain crushing my skull, agony so intense that it brought me to my knees. I clutched my head and screamed loud enough to make the ground tremble.
Then a darkness fell over me, and I remembered nothing more.