Sevanouir: Rebirth (The Strange Tales of the Malefic Book 1)

by D'Artagnan Anderle

  “I’m still limping, Sy.”

  “It’ll heal, right? One of our little tricks.” Sy assured him, “We move quicker, we’re more durable, our stamina lasts longer, and our wounds heal faster. Ether seems to make a person harder, better, faster, and stronger.”

  “Some are better at individual aspects than others,” Roux expressed.

  “No kidding, come to think of it. Kind of hypocritical of you to be so pissy about me stabbing you, when you were hurling boulders and trying to hit me with punches that can hammer through metal,” Sy challenged, causing Bo to lean back and look away.

  “You wanted the practice. Not like the guys we’re going up against are gonna pull their punches either,” he stated. He pointed to Izzy, “If we’re assigning blame, she tried taking your head off.” Izzy scratched the back of her head and sipped on her wine.

  “Yeah, about that. Your little purple sparkles don’t seem real, but they leave the scars to prove they are,” Sy agreed as he held the shoulder that was gouged dodging the attack Bo was referring to. “Between what both of you can do, there doesn’t seem to be that much difference between malefics and focuses.”

  The three scoffed, and Roux dramatically cracked his knuckles as a red light glowed around his hand where his woven glove then appeared.

  “First off, focuses can’t do the disappearing act, since they are physical while our malefic are tied to us and can follow us around as Ether until called back. Secondly, a focus can only channel Ether, not grant unique abilities. It can be used to enhance a person’s characteristics; some people can use it to run even faster or become even stronger, like Bo here. Izzy is a special case and she can explain it.”

  Izzy opened her mouth to begin, but Roux cut her off.

  “After I’m done. Thirdly, and most importantly, focuses run out of steam pretty quick. Did you notice that Big Bear and Princess Bubbly here were breathing rather hard during your fights? Focuses gather and, as the name implies, focus Ether, but the user still only has a natural reserve of energy. We Maleficuses and our weapons, however, generally have more Ether than normal, and our malefics channel it better, meaning we can go for a lot longer.”

  Roux glanced at Izzy to see if she was going to make a snarky comment. She just rotated a finger in the air, telling him to wrap it up.

  “The less Ether we have, the more fatigued we become. Like all those extra goodies we get finally catch up to us and bite us right on the ass. Some people have actually died from using too much Ether, or having their focus destroyed and having the Ether go haywire in response. Poor bastards,” he finished.

  Izzy nodded, putting her elbows on the table and laying her head atop her arms. “Like the babbling tomato hinted, I’m a little different than most. I’m what they call a Cabalist. I’m a natural at manipulating Ether, but my focus helps push my abilities further. I can actually take the raw Ether within me and shape it. Took me awhile to make it useful; before, I just used it for parlor tricks and to create little lights for my cats to chase.”

  Sylas smirked at the thought and asked, “Bo mentioned that you also have a malefic. Why do you need a focus?” Izzy reached up and took off her violet-tinted shades, revealing faded lavender eyes underneath.

  “Unlike Valen’s little fashion statement, my glasses are my malefic. They allow me to see Ether and Quintessence in its natural state and inside people. They let me identify Cimmerians and Ether-users from laypeople. I can also track them if I get a bead on their Ethermark—a sort of fingerprint everyone has—even if they have abilities like turning invisible or teleporting. Except if they go to, like, to the other side of the world, which has happened.”

  She laughed, interrupting herself. “The dumbass either didn’t know or wasn’t thinking when he did that, though. Another team eventually found him; he’d warped into a cave that he had been using as a hiding spot, but it had collapsed while he was gone. When he rematerialized, his body got mixed up with the rubble and he died instantly.”

  “You can be kinda scary sometimes, Izzy,” Roux confessed.

  “You have to find the humor in these things, Valen, otherwise you go insane.”

  “Or you already have gone insane and it’s showing,” he countered, causing her to giggle again.

  “Certainly possible,” she admitted.

  Sylas leaned back and folded his arms, “So…what about mine? I’ve trained with it a bit but all I can make it do is fly around and glow with a white light. Don’t tell me its power is being a hovering nightlight.” He grumbled.

  Izzy laughed again before shaking her head, “No, not at all. Control of one’s Malefic is innate, the more you grow accustomed to it, the more it becomes a part of you. Those parlor tricks are just small benefits of that.” She finished off her wine before placing her head on the palm of her hand, “Sevanouir has the ability to counter other forms of Ether and Quintessence. You probably noticed how you were the only one to really damage that doppel back in the forest and when Valen briefly lost control of his strings when you cut them. But it’s even more than that.”

  Bo nodded, “Your dad was actually able to make copies of the saber and of himself out of pure ether, but that will take some time. It seems to have something to do with the mirror-like material of the blade. It causes the user’s Ether to course back and forth between itself and when it connects with another’s energy it briefly severs the connection. This can be enough to destroy lesser Cimmerians and novice Maleficus. As for the whole duplication thing, I can only speculate. Raines said the first time he did it he was young and in a desperate situation, fighting some guy who he just couldn’t seem to hit.”

  He took another sip of beer and rolled the bottle in his hands as he reminisced, “He said he was another sword-user, parried and dodged all his attacks. He was alone, no back-up, wanted to do a mission alone and prove himself or some crap like that. At some point the enemy had nearly exhausted him and he had his back against the wall. He said that he began to visualize his attack, trying to find the perfect point of opportunity to get through him and stab him right in the heart. When he thought he had it he made one last attack, he heard the swords clash and cursed himself for missing, until he felt blood. When he finally focused, he could see a sword of light piercing the guy right in the heart just like he imagined, a low strike through the bottom right of the heart. Said he was damn lucky that day that Sevanouir was listening to him like that. But, when he was able to do that at will…didn’t seem like just luck to me.”

  The saber’s new master nodded, “I see…pretty incredible what he and it could do, huh?”

  Roux smiled, “Hopefully what you can be do after some time. I gotta hand it to you, being able to wield it like you do already is pretty impressive. Plus you can actually wield it for awhile. I’ve seen some scrubs tire out after only using theirs for a few minutes. In the beginning it can be a bit of a chore, also the tithes can sometimes make it a right pain in the ass.”

  Sylas closed his eyes in contemplation before asking, “I guess this could be considered rude, but I’m curious. You mention the tithes that Maleficus have to pay when they first get their Malefics, so what did you guys have to pay?”

  Izzy pointed to her eyes, “Kinda obvious, but I actually went physically blind. The glasses sort of counter that, sure, but once they’re off, I can’t see a damn thing.”

  Roux leaned back and looked at Sylas. “You remember that time just before you went to boarding school when I left to go live with relatives for a while?”

  Sylas nodded, “Your mom said you could get a better education in New York.”

  Roux shook his head with a melancholy grin. “I lost my motor functions; couldn’t use my arms or legs. I had to go recover and learn about my abilities at a Twixt Institute. Although I guess that counts towards education.”

  Sylas was shocked for a moment before asking, “How long did it take you to move again?”

  Roux shrugged, “Not too long, actually. Though technically I still ca
n’t. I use my malefic to move my body.”

  “Do what?” Sylas asked, incredulous.

  “My malefic is actually two gloves of string that I can manipulate and morph into thick strands, sharp strands, or, in this case, really thin strands. I only use one glove, because the entirety of the other is inside me, moving me around. It’s actually quite efficient. At least now—there was a lot of stumbling and flailing initially.”

  Sylas, a little shaken by this, pondered for a moment, “I never asked you this, Roux. You either, Bo, but how long have you known about all this?”

  “Well, my mom is actually head of a division in Twixt, so it’s a family thing. I guess I was around seven or eight? After dad left, she became committed to the job and I kinda got dragged along. She took the opposite approach to your dad’s and made me very aware of what was going on. But she never forced me to take up the gig. I was a teenager. Adventure, money, the forces of evil, the supernatural, possible treasure—all that was very appealing. Although I ended up in recon and research for the most part; turns out they consider all skills, not just the fact that you’ve got a malefic.”

  Bo finished a third beer he had gotten in the interim. “Like your family, Sylas, mine has been a part of this world for generations. We are vanguards: the soldiers, the core of combat. We’ve gotten quite good at it,” he said proudly.

  “I saved up my money from bounties and tasks to purchase my bar here in Ombre Falls to be a haven for others in Twixt, or just the odd Maleficus loner who may need a place to rest. Ombre Falls has seen its share of curiosities and oddities. It seems to attract the beasts and darker aspects of this life, one way or the other.”

  “Funny, for all my digging and journeys into supposedly haunted places around here, I never found a damn thing,” Sylas observed.

  Bo nodded, “Your dad kind of set you up to fail there. It was well intended, though. That medallion he gave you held a Curio; a trinket of Ego that causes most lesser beings of Ether and Quintessence to avoid you. Or rather, to think you’re not there in the first place.”

  Sylas’ head almost smacked onto the table. All his childhood he had believed that he was simply chasing fantasy, despite how hard he wanted to believe beings from another world existed. He grew up and turned that cynicism to profit, but the reality was that the very item that he had treasured all his life had stopped him from ever seeing anything interesting.

  It’s the thought that counts, I suppose.

  “All right, fine, what’s ‘Ego’ now?” Sylas grumbled.

  “Magic…kind of,” Roux blurted out, getting a tired look from Bo.

  “It’s a rare form of energy that can be manipulated by certain people and objects. They are given a command and follow it to the best of their ability. Yours was ‘protect,’ for example,” Bo explained.

  “It’s actually said to be the genesis for both Ether and Quintessence. At some point, a great collection of Ego was given the command ‘live,’ and thus Ether was infused into living beings. Another time, another vast amount of Ego was given the command ‘haunt,’ and morphed into Quintessence, a dark form of Ether that creates Cimmerians and other monsters.”

  “The Black Death is the most popular example. Some of our scholars think it was Quintessence infused on an already spreading virus. Either that, or some dumbass got hold of a really powerful malefic and damn near killed most of Europe,” Roux added.

  “That’ll be something you’ll hear a lot. Most big bad things that happen in this world somehow trace themselves back to quint or a deadly malefic. It’s kinda why we exist in the first place,” Izzy added.

  “But those are folktales for most people, really. No point wondering where all this stuff came from if we’re too busy trying to fix everything its currently doing, but it’s food for thought,” Bo concluded, getting up from his seat. “Speaking of food, let me get us something to settle down our alcohol-filled bellies.”

  “Your bellies,” Roux said with a smile. “Though Izzy seems to be the only one who needs it.”

  “I’m fine!” she bellowed, with a grand sweep of her arm, knocking over the bottle and spilling the rest of her wine.

  “Point made thrice, unless you want to chalk that up to your natural clumsiness,” Roux said with delight as she glared daggers at him while wiping up the mess.

  Sylas smiled and with a hearty, happy sigh yelled out to Bo, “I’ll take another couple shots, Bo! I’m guessing we’re going to be here for a while.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A cabin deep in the Eventide Forest stood unlit but not uninhabited. Within, Leda sat on the floor gazing at the cube given to her by her master. The dark fog inside seemed to frantically swirl around as if looking for a way out.

  She was hesitant. For the first time since she discovered her abilities, since he discovered her, she was unsure of herself. The words of her master continued to repeat menacingly within her mind. Every time she thought back to them they sounded more and more mocking to her.

  She stood up angrily. For a moment there was no reaction: no sound, no feeling of presence. Then, with an anguished cry, the room shook. Boxes, jars, and cases filled with specimens and reagents crashed to the floor. Books of research flew from their spots, slamming into the walls of the cabin or being flung onto the floor. She huffed as she heard the shattering of glass, the creaking of the walls, and the cracking of her fist as she clenched it.

  In a moment of rage, she had unwittingly released a small portion of her power. To her standards, it was nothing more than a small tantrum. The damage was far less than she knew she was capable of, unwittingly or not.

  She could hardly ever control the Ether within her. It had been a source of strife in her youth. It was what drove her away from her family, even as her parents tried to teach her how to control it. She considered many options during her moments of introspection. What would become of her if this continued? Should she even let it continue? These dark thoughts, however, drove her with both madness and intensity. She refused to simply bow down to fate and fade away because of these cosmic machinations. She would learn to control them and use them how she saw fit. She would prosper!

  Unfortunately, not all plans followed the path we set out for them. They sometimes diverged and sent us right off the cliffs overlooking a raging sea that we unknowingly fell into. Leda had learned this when the choice had been taken from her.

  When she was young, she’d dreamt of creatures with ashen skin like bark. Spiked vines crossed their chests, moving along their bodies and winding around their appendages. Pure black eyes gazed at her. Though there were no pupils to focus on, she could feel their gazes looking over her, through her. They were joined by smaller creatures that looked like skinless snakes crawling. Each appeared to have eight tentacles dragging behind that left a black trail across the floor. They moved towards her with uncanny smiles that showed a grim delight.

  Finally, down the faded corridor of her dream, she saw what appeared to be two people walking behind these creatures. Her parents’ faces were neutral as they walked past the other monsters and stopped in front of her. She cried out to them, but no sound left her mouth. As their features disappeared, she felt the frantic desire to scream.

  Her parents’ skin fell to the ground and turned to dust, and their hair twisted into dry, cracked horns on their heads. Their eyes turned black, but unlike the other beasts, they had white irises. All of the creatures advanced on her, and her world turned dark.

  She awoke sweating and trembling. She leapt from her bed and searched for her parents; she needed their comfort. She turned and walked down the stairs of her home, only to be stopped cold by what awaited her.

  The monsters from her dream appeared to be very real. The ashen ones were hunkered down over some object in her living room. The snakes were everywhere, hanging from the ceiling, slithering across the walls and hallway. She felt the odd sensation of coarse skin rubbing against her hand and turned to see one of them moving over it, looking up at her
with its unsettling smile. With a yell, she threw it off and heard a hissing sound from behind her.

  One of the monsters with bark skin and thorns was behind her at the top of the stairs. For a moment she froze, but as it began to descend on all fours, she went into a panic and flew down the rest of the steps and out her front door.

  She found herself deep in the valleys of Dundalk, racing across them as she felt her lungs beginning to burn and pain welling up in her legs. Her fear drove her to keep moving until she felt a sharp pain in her chest. It was enough to stop her and she tumbled into the grass, rolling for a few feet before coming to rest.

  She looked up and saw her arm had a strange purple mark running across it in a long pattern that tailed into eight where that monster had been crawling across her. She sat up and looked back; the beasts had followed. Two ashen creatures towered over her, blood dripping from their fangs and claws. They had a few of the snakes wrapped around them, uncoiling and gliding down their bodies.

  Another pulse of pain racked her body and she looked down at her arm. The mark was spreading, and now seemed to run up to her shoulder. That creature did something to her; poison perhaps. She felt she couldn’t hold on for long. One of the ashen creatures leaned down, moving its face close to hers; she heard it make a gurgling noise, sickening and deep.

  “Go…go away,” she muttered, too fatigued to muster up anything more than a whisper. The monster seemed to fidget as if trying move, but it was being pushed back. The other creatures growled and moved closer. She shut her eyes.

  Then all went silent. She slowly opened her eyes and saw that the monsters were gone. She felt someone or something hold her up and pour something into her mouth. She was too weak to fight back as the liquid burned her throat. She felt her body grow hot, and her vision went blurry before fading to nothing.

  She awoke in a room unfamiliar to her; its wooden walls had only two paintings as decoration. She sat up in a bed with white sheets and a large red blanket. She saw an empty glass with a container of water on the nightstand next to her.