“Look at him! By the Queen’s tits must I tell you everything?”
Faster than he ever thought possible, Kharisi had enough time to see the guard launch himself in his direction, a massive ham-handed fist aimed for his face. He had no time to duck and took the solid blow on his chin, the force of which knocked him into the bars. He slumped to the ground, dazed and sure his jaw was broken. The guard snickered and turned his attention to Jeremiah.
As he bent over to look at the boy, it was the guard’s turn to be taken by surprise. Jeremiah’s fists shot up like a cannonball, landing directly on the guard’s nose, breaking it instantly and moving it half an inch to the left. He screamed in pain, clutching his face while Jeremiah stood up and kicked the bent over guard on the side of the head as hard as he could. The guard crumpled to the ground as if he were a wilting flower, as blood continued to pour from his nose. Jeremiah gave Kharisi a hand up, took the keys from the guard, as well as his sword, then locked him in as they made their escape.
“Can’t believe that worked,” Kharisi said, motioning Jeremiah to stick to the shadows as they made their escape.
“Did you hear the crunch his nose made as I broke it?” Jeremiah said with fierce pride, “that was something else!” Kharisi laughed and patted the boy on the back.
“You were amazing, truly you were.”
Jeremiah beamed at the compliment, his face bright enough to light the room. They were approaching an intersection when they began to hear shouts from where they had come from. He grabbed Kharisi’s arm and pulled him to the left, leading him into a dead end. Kharisi was about to say something when Jeremiah shushed him, pushed a brick on the wall, and a hidden door slowly opened. He slipped into the opening grabbing Kharisi’s arm and dragged him in. As the door closed, the muffled sound of footsteps echoing off the walls stopped as their pursuers stood in the four-way intersection wondering which way to go.
“We’ll be safe here and make an easier escape too.”
Kharisi was about to ask where they were, but as he turned around and took in the surroundings, he knew or thought he knew. “By the Queen’s tits,” he said with equal parts wonder and revulsion. In the middle of the room was a very familiar cauldron sitting atop a very familiar fire that gave off no heat. Laying on the ground in front of it was the decaying body of the crone Kharisi and Petram had killed long ago.
“How did you know about this place?”
“Pure chance, I was running from one of the guards who wanted to cut off my balls and see what they tasted like. I ran as fast as I could, and when I made a turn down some corridor, I saw a huge spider.”
“Yolanda,” Kharisi said, that night coming back to him as if it had been only yesterday. He could still smell the shit in his pants that was let loose when he first saw the blasted thing. And Petram, much as he hated spiders had the courage to climb atop it and kill the damned thing.
“How did you know her name?” Jeremiah asked.
“It was the pet of a crone Petram and I had a... disagreement with.”
Jeremiah gasped, and his eyes widened as far as a whore’s legs could spread. “You! You’re the one who killed’em!”
“You never told me this story,” Saerus said.
Kharisi ignored him for the moment and kept his attention on the boy who had fat tears welling in his eyes.
“Only because she was trying to kill us,” Kharisi said attempting to explain himself and doing a poor job. “And really it was Petram who did her in, as well as the spider.” Kharisi paused for a moment thinking back. Had the dwarf killed both of them? He remembered Petram killing the spider for sure, as he was fond of reminding Kharisi of that from time to time., I was stunned with cold, he thought, couldn’t move. Not that it mattered to Jeremiah evidently as the tears still came.
“She’d never have hurt anyone,” he said, snorting up a wad of snot and wiping away the wetness from his eyes. “All she wanted was to be left alone.”
“Then she should have left us alone,” Kharisi said tersely. Jeremiah shrunk back as if he’d been struck which wounded the elf, enough so that he got down on one knee, grabbed the boy’s shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. “Neither I nor Petram, or anyone else loyal to King Saerus, or those who hold his beloved Mother in the highest regard, would ever kill without cause. That crone meant us harm, as did that spider.”
“What were you doing down there?” Jeremiah asked, wiping away even more tears and snot.
“Yes, what were you doing down there?” Saerus echoed. Hearing his voice startled Kharisi for a moment, as he had all but forgotten that Saerus was there, he’d been so quiet.
Kharisi said nothing to Saerus and instead pictured the conversation in his mind he’d had with the Queen about the necklace. Saerus gasped, unprepared to see his mother. He wept from Kharisi’s eyes and then had to turn away from Jeremiah so he didn’t see them, though he wasn’t fast enough.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I wasn’t expecting to see my mother in one of his memories.” Saerus’ voice said.
“That’s very creepy,” Jeremiah said backing away just a fraction. “What was the memory?”
“The Queen had asked Petram and me to go into the sewers and find a necklace.”
“Why?” he asked with genuine curiosity.
“The Queen tells you what to do, never why.” Kharisi retorted which caused Jeremiah to snort with derisive laughter.
“Maybe we should get it?”
Kharisi shook his head vigorously. “No, we need to move and leave here. We’ve dilly-dallied too long already.”
Saerus remembered hiding the necklace and wondering what it was for then, and like Jeremiah wondered if it could help them somehow. Kharisi saw this as well and started shaking his head again. “We can retrieve it later if we need to once we have Petram with us. Much as I hate to say it, his presence will carry a lot of weight with the guards, regardless of their feelings. They respect him.” Saerus could feel the bittersweet emotion in how Kharisi emphasized him.
“Nonsense, they respect you too.”
“Really? Do you think they would have put Petram in a dungeon?”
Saerus gave this some thought and said, “I suppose not. Still, you are liked. Or tolerated at least.”
Jeremiah looked at him with a mix of confusion and wariness, it was a look that puzzled Kharisi. “What?” he asked.
“Were you talking to King Saerus just now?” Kharisi nodded.
“How’d you know that?”
“You went funny-like, your face went soft and I could have sworn I saw his face in yours, like underneath the surface.”
“I had no idea,” Kharisi said, “but that sounds frightful. I mean blemishing my stunning looks with his. Unheard of!” This got Jeremiah laughing, and his mind off of the list of awful things that happened already. His girlish giggles caused Kharisi to giggle as well, and soon Saerus joined in. It was a relief they all needed, Once they started to taper off and calm down, Jeremiah took the lead, and pointed towards the floor cross the room.
“There’s a trapdoor over there, or should be at least, and it goes down into the caverns, we can escape from there.”
“I’ll be damned, I never knew that existed.”
“Of course not, the Crone made it. She’s the only one who knew about it, well until she told me.”
“Why would she tell you?”
“So I had an escape route if one of the guards, well you know...” he looked at the ground and then hurried over to where the door should have been, and to his relief it was still there. Kharisi bent down, opened it and a strong gust of wind rushed into his face. Jeremiah went down first, then Kharisi who pulled the door shut and instantly it melted into the ground, disappearing like a thin cloud.
As they touched the ground with their feet, Kharisi could see a dim light ahead of them. As they went towards it, Kharisi stopped in his tracks. “By the King’s two cocks, no.”
Blocking the cavern ent
rance was a dragon.
23: False Gods
Offa stormed into his personal quarters and sulked. He had wanted to make Isaiah’s death slow, painful and most of all, enjoyable for himself. He’d even thought about touching himself down there while doing so. Anger surged and burned through him as he lay on his bed, thinking of what could have been.
Even in the midst of his fantasizing, Offa heard footsteps headed towards his door, and he grabbed his dagger to defend himself if need be. Sure as he heard the footsteps, there was a quick succession of knocks in a code only he and the guards knew. Still, Offa thought better to be safe and sorry.
“Who’s there?”
“Hermannn sir, acting lead guard, I have urgent news.”
“Enter, and be quick, it grows late, and I grow ever more tired.”
Hermannn entered, shut the door behind him and walked to the King’s bedside. “The elf, Kharisi he’s escaped and has the stable boy with him.” Offa’s back arched as he sat up straight, spine flush with the headboard. His hands had clenched into fists, and they began twitching and shaking involuntarily. “How is that possible?”
“I know not, I was told the jailer was found unconscious in the cell and they had vanished. Some guards on duty had followed them, but they just disappeared. Somehow, somewhere.”
“I want that jailer killed. This is his fault, and I want you to find them. Do I have to even speak of what awaits you should you not find them?”
Hermannn shook his head, trying not to let his fear show. “No sir, I understand.” Without another word, he left the King’s room, to start his pursuit of Kharisi.
“Think you can give me the slip, do you?” Offa said to himself. “You underestimate me.”
A voice from far in his head laughed and said, “I think you overestimate yourself.”
Offa launched himself from the bed in a rage, knocking over the table and chairs, tearing down the curtains, destroying anything in his path as he roared and cursed and sputtered.
“Pathetic, truly pathetic. You’ll never catch me,” the far-away voice said.
Offa roared, and looked out the open window into the night sky, cursing his brother for all of time. There was another knock on the door.
“Your Highness, is everything okay?”
“Yes, everything is fine, now fuck off and do your job!” Offa turned from the window, bent down and picked up the looking glass that had cracked and splintered from his outburst. The image he saw was the perfect portrait of how he felt. Fractured, unwhole.
Tainted. Yes, that was the perfect word. Offa felt tainted. So long as Saerus was alive in whatever form he took, he would never be whole, never all himself. Offa also felt certain that so long as his body was alive his essence would remain so as well. Only when the transformation was finished, would he finally be rid of Saerus once and for all. Then he could finally concentrate on taking over the world one city at a time. All the world would fall under his spell before long, and it was that thought which sent his hands wandering down his body. Power had a way of raising him that a big-bosomed gash never could.
Offa took a piece of the torn velvet from the curtain and used that to rub against himself. Almost immediately his knees began to buckle, and he had only enough time to make it to the bed before his body spasmed and he loosed a torrent of seed into the dark blue cloth. Offa cried out as he orgasmed and then fell onto the bed and slept deeply.
His slumber was deep indeed, but not so fathomless that dreams didn’t belabor his mind. While his body remained still as a dead weight, his mind was a host of monkeys flitting from gnarled tree to gnarled tree. Offa, naked and alone was walking through a forest, one he had no recollection of ever seeing yet still seemed all too familiar. Desiccated leaves crunched underneath his feet, making small cuts in the soles. As he tread on them, he paid no attention. He’d felt worse. Much worse.
His skin rippled with goose flesh though there was no wind and the air was comfortable if a bit sticky, the way it gets before a storm. Offa looked to his left and to his right and could see nothing but the outlines of misshapen trees all of which had bodies, or what remained of them swinging from stout branches. He could see no faces, and for that he was grateful. Some were no more than a head through a noose attached to their spine, the end wriggling like a maggot. Others were missing limbs, and all, Offa knew were missing their eyes, pecked out by the black-winged birds that hovered around graveyards.
The trees and body went as far as he could see, and after a while, he sensed a pattern to them as if they were guiding him to where he needed to go.
There was no path to speak of, though one seemed to open up for every step he took, only for it to disappear once it was taken. A thin coating of sweat oiled his body, even his hands and feet felt damp and clammy. On he continued, unsure of what he would find, and strange as it seemed to him, Offa didn’t feel worried. He felt the path headed on a slight incline and his breathing became a bit more labored. There was little to no light to speak of but he walked without faltering all the same.
“Offa,” a voice called. “Come it is almost time.” Offa picked up his pace, even as the incline grew, turning his breathing ragged, and the halted breaths burning in his chest. His head was soaked, the sweat flowing down his face, plastering his hair to his fair complected skin. He looked down and saw his two pricks bouncing up and down like lovers in a haystack. Offa looked away and concentrated on what was ahead of him, and an opening began to reveal itself with a slowness and teasing that even the best whores couldn’t manage. He stopped a moment when his breathing became too difficult and it felt like dozens of knives were piercing his lungs.
Standing at the edge to the clearing, Offa saw a figure in the center and knew instinctively it was his true self. After gulping air to relax his chest as much as he could, Offa shuffled into the opening to face the figure.
The one shrouded in darkness snapped his fingers and brought forth illumination. Offa averted his eyes at first, unprepared for the burst of light, and only dared to look when his vision had acclimated. When he did, he was as close to swooning as he’d ever come. Not from the figure’s looks, though he was certainly worthy of worship for that alone. No, it was the power he emanated, the confidence that seemed to leak from every pore on his too perfect form.
His voice when he spoke was smooth as glass, sweet as honey and deep as a canyon. His smile was warm and wide, the kind that made you feel safe almost immediately. “Welcome, Offa, you know who I am,” he said.
Offa nodded. “Yes, I believe so, you’re me. The true me.”
“The one you are trying to transform into and not doing a very good job.”
Offa hung his head in shame, stung by the rebuke and sharpness of the words. “It’s not something I’ve had experience with,” he said.
“That much is clear. You allowed him to devour you in the womb, and now you’re determined to let him do it once more.”
“No!” Offa went on the defensive, something that felt very uncomfortable for him. “Whatever you can do to help I will appreciate.”
Offa’s true self reached out with both hands and placed them on his temples. Offa’s eyes rolled up in the back of his head at the touch as his body trembled and froth began leaking from the corners of his mouth. The crushing pain in his head became unbearable, as he could hear his eardrums pop, feel bones break, and crack, the jagged ends grinding into one another. Offa tried to scream but couldn’t. His jaw cracked, teeth pushed from his mouth like enamel abscesses oozing pus. His vision turned to black as his eyes ran with blood down his face, while his nose cracked, sending another torrent of blood and snot avalanching down. His mind tumbled down, free-falling as the onset of unconsciousness became imminent. The further he fell the greater the pain as his other limbs succumbed to the being’s power. Fingers snapped back, legs broken into multiple places, bending into shapes that were impossible. Offa felt his spine snap as he hit the ground, and all feeling ceased.
Slumber within s
lumber came to him and with that deeper slumber, a new place. An unknown land in a forbidden realm. Saerus’ presence was overwhelming, almost too much to bear, making Offa wish for the intense pain of the broken bones and crushed skull. Offa tried moving but was constricted, held in place by something unseen as well as wet. Though blinded, Offa was able to differentiate light and dark, not that it made much difference.
“Brother,” Saerus said, voice gurgling, lungs filled with fluid. “There’s no room for you in here.”
A shadow fell across Offa, then the feeling of tiny sharp teeth sinking into his undeveloped, embryonic self. Offa could hear the sound of Saerus eating him, could feel bits of him missing. As Saerus chewed through the neck and separated the head from the body, Offa’s last thought was why.
24: Subtraction
Once the reunion between Petram and Kiandra had concluded, and Da’Nel no longer felt awkward about saying anything, he put his book down and returned to the fire.
“I’m glad you’re back, truly,” he told Kiandra. She in turn blushed and smiled, something Da’Nel never thought he’d see.
“I’m sorry fer runnin’ off like that, won’t happen again,” her voice was demure and submissive, something else Da’Nel never thought he’d experience. Judging by his expression, Petram felt the same way.
“Who are you and what’ve you done with Kiandra?” he said, choking back some laughter. Kiandra grabbed his ear and twisted it with her remaining hand.
“Did you say something?” she asked, twisting it a little more but not enough to actually hurt him.
Errors of the Flesh Page 15