by Jeff Gunzel
Xavier looked up at the diving demon. Their eyes met. Teeth and eyes bore down on him like a hawk seeking its prey. For an instant, the whole world stood still. Mere inches away, the demon’s body burst. Smoldering fire instantly turned into dust as black powder sprinkled across Xavier’s body. It a flash it was gone. Xavier coughed and spit, his face and body covered with black soot. Mixing with the sweat, the dust had formed a sort of paste that now clung to him. Xylia stopped chanting and fell to the ground. The other elders rushed over to help the old woman.
Chest heaving, Xavier just stared up at the empty sky. What was that? He heard a ripping sound and felt one strap give and his arm go limp. He looked up to see Briana standing off to the side holding a knife. He was still out of breath, and his body felt scorched. “What happened? Did it work?” he asked. Moving over to his other arm, she sliced the next strap, then reached down and touched his shoulder.
“I don’t believe it did,” she admitted, eyeing her soot-covered fingers. This black dust was all that remained of the being. Something must have gone wrong.
* * *
“I don’t understand,” Xylia said. Most of the townsfolk had gone back to their homes. Back on her feet but weary, the woman looked even older now, if that was even possible. The ritual had taken its toll, and she was exhausted. Still, she was determined to figure out what had gone wrong. “It was as if you were covered by some sort of invisible barrier. I would try again, except...”
“I don’t have a century to wait,” Xavier replied, forcing a smile despite his fatigue. If how he felt was any indication of how Xylia might be feeling, it was a wonder she was even conscious, let alone up on her feet. The dizziness hit him as he tried to stand, but he declined Briana’s help when she offered him a hand. After a second attempt he managed to get back on his feet. “It might have had something to do with the fact that I’m an outsider. Perhaps it’s not only time that moves differently here, but other things might be affected too.” Xylia nodded. She hadn’t thought of that until now. “Look, I can’t stay here any longer.”
“You can’t go now,” Briana objected. “You’re—”
“Well enough to ride, Briana. No need to worry. And thank you for all you have done for me.” For a woman who was most certainly several hundred years older than him, he couldn’t help but notice how quick she was to blush. He turned to Xylia, who was leaning against another elder for support. “I will need a horse and a few supplies, if you don’t mind.”
“Take what you need,” she said in a hoarse voice. “I am sorry I could not be of further help. In my arrogance, I did not consider that I might fail.”
Xavier waved off the apology. His mind was already elsewhere. There was no time for such trivial things as apologies. He needed to find Viola. “I leave within the hour.”
Chapter 9
Frowning down at his desk, Narkural eyed the scattered pieces of parchment. With his long white hair draped down over his multicolored eyes, his deep scowl could set tinder aflame. Eyes narrowed, his glare focused inward on his own dark thoughts, his lips curled back in a snarl. His snarl deepened to the point where the golden rings piercing his lips together began to pull against skin. If he scowled any harder, he might just rip them out completely. How can this be? he wondered.
“How?!” he roared out loud, slamming his large fist down on the desk. The parchments scattered, several rolling off the desk. How could this be, indeed. He flicked another parchment, causing the blasphemous note to smack against the far wall. Ever since one of his men had intercepted the first message, it had become the nezzerians’ duty to figure out what was going on.
There had been sightings. Many of his men had been sent out to different regions to try and verify these ramped rumors. Most of these messages on his desk were from his men checking back in. Messenger birds were showing up every few hours or so, mostly to inform that they had not discovered anything yet. But a few of these notes had been intercepted from an unknown source, someone or something calling to these creatures, beckoning them to come to the northern mountains. Were these messages real? Were lerwicks really being summoned to the north? He had already met one lerwick, seen her with his own eyes! This...Viola. This...perversion of nature that should not exist. But she was all too real.
With the help of those delusional humans, she had managed to escape his clutches once already. But why would they help her? Couldn’t they see that what they were doing was wrong? Ignorance was no excuse. The balance of nature was at stake, and that mutant creature’s very existence threatened the balance! How could they not see that? But as bad as that was, it suddenly seemed rather trivial when compared to what might be. There might be even more of these abominations. Many more, potentially. If that turned out to be true...
Centuries. Many, many centuries had passed since these creatures had last been seen. Narkural knew of their existence because it was his job to know. All nezzerians served the balance in one way or another. Their every waking breath was dedicated to it. But this! If these rumors were true, the threat to the balance could be catastrophic.
“How can this be?” Narkural repeated, unable to accept even the possibility. And if it was true, how had it happened? The lerwicks had gone extinct centuries ago. Their existence had been so secret, so brief, that even the history books hadn’t recorded it. As far as documented history was concerned, they were just stories. Who could have awakened them? So many questions.
A gray bird landed on the stone base of the window, a small capped cylinder strapped to one leg. Narkural stood and hurried over to the bird, his long legs reaching the window in two easy steps. Snapping the twine carefully with his sausage-sized fingers, he turned the cylinder over in his palm and retrieved the rolled parchment.
Nothing to report, it read, just like all the others.
Narkural crumpled it in his palm and flung it over to the table with the others. He had instructed his men to send constant updates, no matter if they found anything or not. He was now beginning to regret that decision. This fruitless chase was growing tiresome. Had he really been so easily tricked? Were all these rumors just nonsense after all? Perhaps a new strategy was in order. Perhaps...
“Narkural, sir,” came a rumbling voice from the doorway.
“Report,” Narkural said, already sensing the urgency in the nezzerian’s voice.
“We’ve intercepted one.” Narkural raised his eyebrows. “She’s in captivity as we speak.”
* * *
Hands tied behind her back, feet chained and shackled, the girl sobbed as two nezzerians shoved her along. She had not been easy to capture. These lerwicks knew more than a few slippery tricks to avoid being caught, and this one had made them work for it. But once their hands were bound, they could no longer convert into their secondary form, hence preventing them from getting away easily.
“Bring her here!” a man ordered, calling them over. They herded her into a bamboo cage and locked her inside. Meant for animals and such, it was too small for her to stand up in. Seated, hands covering her head, she cried as others came over to stare at her. Nezzerians believed themselves to be strongly connected to all living things. They were the-self proclaimed guardians of the balance, after all. All living things had their place in the world. There was no good, no evil, just a balance between the energies of the two. But this was different. This mutation was neither good nor evil. It was little more than a mockery of life, a stain on the balance that needed to be eliminated.
She cowered in the corner, curling up in a ball as they stared. They were as much a mystery to her as she was to them. They were shockingly tall with large noses and wiry hair that flared out like broom bristles. Like many of her kind, she had spent her life hiding among the humans and was reasonably familiar with them. Never had she seen beings like this before.
They began to step aside as someone made their way through from the back. When he came into view, her terror increased tenfold as the giant approached her cage. Nearly eight feet tall,
the hulking beast’s presence sent ice water flowing through her veins. One of his eyes was gold yet the other was green. He had strange golden rings strung across his lips that gave the illusion that his mouth was sewn shut. Trembling with terror, unable to control her functions, she relived herself right where she sat.
“So it is true,” Narkural rumbled, his deep, rolling voice sounding like distant thunder.
“She was carrying these.” The man to his right handed Narkural two rolled parchments. Keeping a watchful eye on the trembling creature, he slowly unrolled one of the parchments. When he finally tore his intimidating gaze away from her, he looked down and saw exactly what he expected to. Another of these notes urging the lerwicks to meet in the north. The larger parchment was a hastily sketched map. Crumpling them in his palm, his renewed glare fell back on the terrified girl. She could feel the raw hate rolling off him like black energy.
“Does it have a name?” Narkural asked. It wasn’t exactly clear who he was speaking to.
“Ganita,” the lerwick answered, her quiet voice little more than a terrified chirp.
“Ganita,” Narkural repeated with disgust, spitting the name as if it burned his tongue. “And why does it have a name?” She opened her mouth then closed it. Confused, she did not understand the question. “Pets and even slaves have names to give them separation and identity from one another. But even they are still part of the pattern. The balance recognizes their existence and has a place for them. Yet that does not explain why you have a name. You are not part of the balance. You are not part of anything. You should not exist.”
“Please let me go,” the lerwick cried, her red eyes pleading for compassion.
“Go?” Narkural said. “Where would you go? You are not a part of this world. It rejects you, just as I reject you.” His deep voice was surprisingly calm, but those eyes held a burning hate for this creature. “No, I’m afraid that is impossible. You’re an infestation. A plague. You can’t possibly be released back into the world.”
“Please,” she squeaked, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You’re wrong. I’m not any of those things. I just want to go home.”
“Who awakened the lerwicks?” Narkural demanded, stepping closer to the cage, ignoring her constant sobs. He had no more pity for this creature than he would for a stone or a blade of grass. She wasn’t real. All he sought now was information. “Who brought you back?”
“I don’t know!” she shrieked, her voice taking on an unworldly tone. The hissing screech echoed about, seeming to come from everywhere at once. Nezzerians jerked their heads about, alarmed by the eerie sound surrounding them.
“Liar!” Narkural roared, flinging open the cage door. Snatching a handful of her white hair, he dragged her out onto the grass. Even if she weren’t tied up, physically, she was no match for the nezzerian leader. Enraged, Narkural pinned her down with a knee to her chest, then reached beneath his vest to produce a vial of green liquid. He had no time for this. Her life was meaningless in the grand scheme of things, but he needed to find out what she knew. She’d better start talking.
Knee pressed to her chest, head pinned down by her hair, he tauntingly rolled the vial above her face. “Who awakened the lerwicks?” he demanded.
“I don’t know.”
“How many of you are there?!” He popped the cap off with his thumb.
“I don’t know!”
Glaring down at her, his expression of anger changed to one of disgust. Her blood-red eyes were wide with terror, lungs struggling for air as he pushed his crushing weight down on her chest. “Abomination!” he roared. “How dare you even look at me?” He tipped the vial, dribbling a trickle across her eyes.
Her red eyes blacked instantly. The skin around them steamed and curled as the whole upper portion of her face began to distort. The sweet scent of searing skin filled the air. Her blood-curdling shriek was deafening, like a hundred bells all chiming at once. It was if the sound was coming from both the ground and sky all at the same time. Even Narkural flinched at the unworldly wail. How could any pair of lungs produce such a powerful sound? She simply was not of this world.
Leaving her to roll about in the grass, clawing desperately at her smoking eyes, Narkural shifted over to one of the watching nezzerians. “I need her to answer my questions,” he said, handing him the vial. “Find out everything she knows.”
“Shall I slay the abomination once we’ve extracted the information?” he asked casually.
Narkural raised his eyebrows. “Of course,” he grunted, as if that should have been obvious. The only reason she was still alive now was because he needed information. There was no other reason to keep this “thing” alive. The nezzerian shrugged and turned to go about the odious task.
“Begin by removing body parts and work your way up from there,” Narkural added with a disinterested flick of his hand. “Toes, fingers—we don’t want her dying before she’s talked.”
Ignoring her continuing screams of pain, the nezzerian went to work while Narkural headed back to his quarters. He had much to think about.
* * *
Over two hours had passed, but Narkural had long ago blocked out the lerwick’s ground-shaking shrieks. He was deep in thought; her wails were little more than a minor distraction. His fears had been realized, and the problem just might be worse than he ever imagined. What to do now?
“Sir?” Narkural spun back in his chair to see the nezzerian he left in charge standing in the doorway. His hands were still wet, glistening with blood. “She’s dead, sir. Her body gave out.”
“And?” Narkural said, impatiently twirling his hand in the air. He didn’t care about that. He wanted answers.
“And she gave us nothing.”
“Impossible,” Narkural hissed, his eyes narrowing dangerously.
“Impossible indeed,” he said, agreeing with Narkural’s statement. “I did exactly as you asked, yet she still resisted our efforts right up until the end.”
“How can that be?” Narkural asked, skeptical.
“I know, sir. It’s not possible.”
“Perhaps she knew she was going to die whether she talked or not, so she somehow summoned the strength to hang on until the end,” Narkural guessed, not sounding all that confident in his assessment.
“Perhaps,” the nezzerian admitted, contemplating Narkural’s words. After a moment he shook his head. “But doubtful. I know little of what drives these abominations or how they think, but I am quite familiar with the will to live. She begged me to stop again and again. If there was even the slightest chance she might save her own life by telling us what she knew, she would have. I’m sorry, sir, but I think the answer is obvious. She really didn’t know anything,” he confirmed with a shrug. “She did not know where she came from. She did not know how many more of her kind there were. To be honest, it was like questioning a toddler. Innocent, yet stupid.”
With a sigh, Narkural leaned back in his chair. Unfortunately, he had suspected as much, but held out hope that this latest discovery of lerwicks might be different somehow. Lerwicks generally had no memory of their pasts, because they had no pasts to speak of. “Send word to our contacts in the north,” he said. “Tell them to scout this area here.” He thumped a large finger down on the map the girl was carrying. “If there really is something there, we need to know.”
“And what if there is, sir?” the nezzerian dared to ask. “We’ve now seen two of them, and the city of Shadowfen has long bragged about their champion held in captivity. That’s three that we know of. What if these few are not an anomaly and there are in fact many more? What if the lerwicks truly have risen from the ashes?”
“Then may the gods show us mercy,” Narkural whispered, mostly speaking to himself. “Now go!”
* * *
“—and then after I picked all the vegetables from the garden out back, the good master would even let me have some in the evening,” Lucilla said, grinning ear to ear as if speaking of her fondest memory. Riding on the
back of her horse, Jarlen groaned, unsure of how much longer he could take these stories. “I got to sleep in the barn and I had a soft clean pile of hay all to myself!”
“Oh? You mean you didn’t have to share it with the pigs and goats?” Jarlen replied.
“No, I didn’t,” she said excitedly, completely oblivious to his sarcasm. “She was so nice to me and— Ow… Jarlen you’re hurting me.” She wilted forward as his fingernails dug into the back of her shoulders. He muttered a halfhearted apology before softening his grip.
“It’s just a little hard for me to keep listening to you gush love and praise for a master who did nothing more than keep you under lock and key like some deranged animal,” he said.
“But it’s not like that at all,” Alaric chimed in. His lighthearted tone and the gleam in his eye were testing Jarlen’s patience yet again. “Yes, the humans can be cruel sometimes times. I don’t trust many at all, to be honest. But there are some who are willing to take us in and care for us.”
“Like pets,” Jarlen grunted.
“This is why we must find more of our own kind,” Alaric continued, ignoring the cynical remark. “Once we get ourselves organized, we can reach out to the humans and show them that we are not so different after all. You know how humans can be. They fear anything they do not understand. Imagine what we could achieve if we were to all simply put our differences aside and work together. Peace, harmony, that is what I wish for.”
“Fool!” Jarlen roared, unable to contain his rage another second. He leapt off the back of Lucilla’s horse, his whirling black form levitating upward. Angry black birds cawed as the twirling black tornado drifted up and over, then settled back down on the path before them. Liquid black melted together as he reassumed his human form. Watching from their mounts, the confused lerwicks glanced at one another. This strange lerwick seemed to have such a temper. So quick to anger he was.