Voidhawk - Redemption

by Jason Halstead

  He shook his head, seeking to protest. Rosh reached out, grabbing him by the shoulder and turning him to look at Volera. Volera smiled and pursed her lips as though she ached for a kiss. “Worse than death, she’d break more than your heart. She’d take your soul with her and leave your body empty and stinking. Look at her eyes, them’s got no bottom to ‘em and they’ll suck you all the way to hell in a heartbeat. She ain’t no lady. She ain’t no human. She’s a demon of the worst kind an a curse on me I ain’t knowing a way to get rid of.”

  Volera licked her lips, her teeth flashing as she did so and revealing particularly nasty looking fangs. The color faded from the man’s cheeks. Rosh turned him forcefully away, putting his own body between them. The man shook his head and his eyes cleared.

  “Sir…you— she — are you a wizard? You don’t have the look of a sorcerer.”

  Rosh snorted. “Finger wiggling maggots that like the soft touch of a boy. I told you, I’m cursed with her following me about, and she ain’t no lady. Now what do you know about these wilds?”

  The man nodded and looked behind them, towards the gate that led out of the border city. It wasn’t wilds in the truest sense, but the law of the land was that of force. “What? Oh! Yes, the wilds. It’s days of travel, a week or more, until you reach Ionys. The route is perilous, bandits and worse, goblinkin, haunt the hills.”

  “And you’re offering to be our guide?” Rosh guessed.

  He shook his head. “No good Sir, I think not! I’d not travel without a caravan, for there is strength in numbers. No, I offer you instead a talisman that will guide those that mean you harm away.” A simple wooden disk on a leather thing with a rune burned into it emerged from under his tunic. “My name is Micah and I am a simple man. They are not so easy to make, but this is how I earn my living and few are those who travel this way without protection.”

  “Master, he lies,” Volera said. She stepped around Rosh to stand beside him. “Its enchanted to act as a beacon for those who possess its mate.”

  The man’s jaw fell open to protest. He looked from Rosh to Volera and gasped. Rosh grabbed him before he could flee, his grip one of iron. Micah’s hand slipped behind his back and pulled forth the dagger with a speed that marked him as no simple man. Volera intercepted it with her hand, her fingers wrapping around his and her otherworldly strength halting the blow. Micah’s eyes went to stare at her, at first wide in amazement and then a moment later he melted into adoration and want.

  “That thing about killin’ people?”

  “Yes, Master?”

  “He earned it.”

  Volera took the statement as permission. Rosh saw a flicker of pain and fear pass across Micah’s face like the shadow from a storm cloud. He glanced down and saw Volera’s fingernails had grown longer and pressed deeply against the flesh of Micah’s hand, causing blood to well up around them. She stepped closer to the frozen man and licked her lips again, then pressed them against his. He responded, his own jaw stretching wide. A moment later Rosh watched him stiffen. The warrior glanced down and saw Volera’s tail had reappeared from beneath her skirts. He only saw enough of it to see that was wound around Micah’s leg. Where it went or what it was doing beyond that, Rosh shuddered to know.

  Rosh tried to turn away, but the spectacle before him held him captive. He even considered calling her off, fearing what she was doing was too great a punishment for any man. Before he could consider it any further, Micah moaned into her mouth and shuddered. Rosh saw Volera’s hand, her fingers shiny with his blood, raise up to caress his cheek. Rosh realized a moment later she wasn’t just caressing it, she was tracing some symbol on it with the man’s own blood. Below, thrust into Micah’s belly and held in place with his own hand, was the same knife the man had drawn against Rosh. A final sigh escaped the doomed man’s lips, then he sagged against Volera and faded away before them.

  “What in the void have you done!” Rosh gasped, taking a step back against the supernatural terror.

  Volera turned, licking the blood that was on her lips as though it were a delicious treat. She hesitated, upon seeing the expression on Rosh’s face. “Master? Did I err? You said he earned death.”

  Rosh glanced around, wondering if everyone else nearby was as shocked as he was. Or worse, if they were preparing to burn them alive. What he saw amazed him, no one paid them any attention. It was as though Rosh and Volera did not exist, other than as objects to avoid walking into.

  “Why ain’t none of them calling the guard or screaming?”

  She hung her head. “I have much to learn, My Lord, forgive me. I thought you would prefer no one to notice us, I slipped a cloak of apathy around us, only the most powerful and astute of mortals would be able to pierce it and watch us.”

  “You can do that?”

  She nodded, daring to look up at him. “It tires me greatly, but for a short time I can. That mortal’s soul filled me with much energy, restoring my strength.”

  Rosh ran his hand over his face and let out a deep breath. “Gods woman! What did you do to him?”

  “I gave him pleasure, Master. Pleasure so great he could not bear it. And with pleasure that great the difference between it and pain is non-existent. I—“

  Rosh held up a hand to stop her. “I seen what I seen, I meant is he dead or…”

  She smiled. “I possess his soul,” she stated. “Already I have taken all that I can from him, what remains I keep against a time that I might need to use it for barter.”

  “Does he know? I mean, he’s dead and all but is there more to it? Does he know you got him?”

  “He can feel and is somewhat aware. It is unpleasant but it is rare that memories and education remain once the body is gone.”

  Rosh shuddered. “How many others you got like that?”

  “Thousands, Master.”

  Rosh swore and looked away. He shivered again before shaking his head. “You said you got all you could from him, that how you stay alive…or whatever it is you is?”

  She nodded. “The emotions he feels feed me. His fear, his excitement, his hunger. The greatest is at the moment of death, the final burst as the soul leaves the body.”

  “Come on,” Rosh said, turning abruptly and heading for the gate. He did not need to turn to know Volera fell in a step behind him. He could smell and feel her presence now, she was always there. Always with him. It was his own fault, he had told her back in the wizard’s chamber to stay with him all the time. He could order her away, but there was no telling what she would be up to if he did that.

  “I don’t trust you,” he muttered.

  “Master, I am yours to command. If you do not trust me, then you do not trust yourself.”

  Rosh grunted. Not so long ago he’d have laughed in her face for saying that. Now, after seeing what she could do and even after what he himself had gained the ability to do while flying on the Voidhawk, Rosh suspected she might be right. Hell, he’d already accidentally sired a line of powerful rulers on a world the Voidhawk had been trapped in the past on.

  Outside of the gate he glanced at her and found her exactly where he had expected her to be. “If I told you that you wasn’t to collect no more souls. No more killin’, what would you do?”

  “I would obey, Master. Your will is my want.” Her face tilted down submissively. That or, Rosh wondered, perhaps she was hiding something.

  “You telling me straight?”

  She looked up at him and nodded. “I hunger, Master. Tasting the soul of that worm made me hunger for what I have been denied so long now. I must do as you bid me, but still I hunger.”

  “What happens if you don’t get, um…fed?”

  “I will grow weak and be of less use to you. I will not perish, but I will be a shadow of what you see and others may sense it and come to defeat me so they can take my place.”

  “Ain’t worried about you being useful, I do just fine.” He pulled up short and turned to face her. “What’s this about others? Take your place as my
, uh, whatever you are?”

  She shook her head, her gaze still on the earth before her. “No Master, not to serve you, to take my place as a Fury. There are only a few of us at any one time.”

  “I beat you, don’t that count?”

  “You’re a mortal, Master, not one of my kind.” Rosh snorted but said nothing. “Anything that came to do battle with me would have great strength, incredible numbers, or both.”

  “I ain’t worried about that.” Rosh shrugged it away. “Any other way for you to stay strong other than doing what you just done?”

  She looked up at him again, a twinkle in her eye. “Master, I collect souls for position and trade. The raw emotion and energy of living beings is what feeds me. Fear and passion are the greatest because of their power and hold over mortals. Love can be great as well, but it is rare one of my kind can harness it for it must be directed towards me. It is far easier to be feared, hated, and lusted after than it is to be loved.”

  Rosh stared at her, shocked by her blunt appreciation of her nature. “My mama warned me about girls like you.”

  Volera smirked. “Aye Master, she most likely did.”

  “I ain’t gonna say no killin’. Things happen around me. No more stealing souls though! You do what you need to do when the time’s right, but that’s all.”

  She bowed her head. “Yes Master, I hear and obey.”

  Rosh stared at her a moment longer than turned away. “The day ain’t getting no longer; we got ground that needs covering.”

  * * * *

  Rosh and Volera sat around a campfire that same night, a creature the size of a dog roasting on a spit. Rosh had spotted it in a tree and had spooked it with his thrown axe. It scampered higher into the tree to escape. Volera had disappeared in a puff of smoke, surprising the warrior almost as much as the sound of crashing above him and then the body of the sloth-like animal fell at his feet. Volera reappeared a moment later.

  Rosh spun the skinned creature on the pole, then reached in with a knife and stabbed into it. Clear juice dripped into the fire, sizzling and spitting as it hit. Rosh felt his own stomach rumble and had to swallow the saliva that threatened to run down his chin. He cut a chunk of flesh free and sampled it, judging it close enough to being done. He tore a greater chunk free, ignoring the heat in his hand, and turned to Volera.

  “You hungry?”

  “Always, Master, but food such as this does little to sate me.”

  “Suit yourself.” Rosh tore at the meat with his teeth, eating ravenously. He finished his portion and cut again at the roasting beast, not stopping until Volera stood beside him and distracted him. “What?” He asked her, juice dripping from his chin.

  “May I try some, Master? I feel your pleasure, it’s a simple thing but powerful.”

  Rosh grunted and gestured at it. She reached in, ignoring the heat, and pulled free a long fiber of flesh from a rib. She sampled it, nibbling so delicately Rosh was nearly forced to laugh at how unlikely it seemed. It fit her beauty and bearing, but it was not the behavior of someone such as she.

  She looked at him, juice from the meat gathered on her own chin. Her eyes were wide, looking amazed at what she was doing.

  “Simple things is the best some times. Nothing to get upset about. No worries. No confusion. Just simple and easy to enjoy,” he said.

  She nodded and ate more of it, not stopping until she had finished the piece. “Master, it does little for me, yet it warms my belly and tastes divine.”

  Rosh barked out a laugh. “Pretty bland, you should have tasted some of Jodyne’s stew. That woman could make wood chips and water taste good.”

  “Was she your lover?”

  Rosh jerked as he had started to twist away from her. He glared back, surprised. She had never inquired about him before, or at least about his past before her. “Jodyne was a dwarf. Cook on a ship I served on.”

  “So? Most of you mortals worry so much about foolish things. Race, gender, nonsense. Your lives are done in a blink of an eye, it is foolish to deny yourselves.”

  “The wisdom of a demon-bitch,” Rosh mused aloud. Volera dropped her gaze immediately, sending a twist through his stomach of remorse at his harshness. Confused and irritated, Rosh brushed it aside and added, “Jodyne was Kragor’s wife. He was the first mate.” He left unsaid Kragor’s fate and Jodyne’s long time spent alone.

  Her eyes remained downcast. Rosh reached to her and picked her chin up, then dared to stare into her depthless black eyes. Before Rosh knew it, he drew her to him or he himself was drawn to her. Regardless, the distance closed and he licked the juice from her chin, then crushed her lips against his.

  Volera responded, pushing against him and molding herself to him. Her arms wrapped around him, holding him to her. Rosh kissed deeper, feeling drawn in and wanting nothing so much as to quench the fire in his belly. His hunger for food was over, now another hunger replaced it. He pulled his mouth free of hers and devoured her neck, sparing no gentleness in his desire to taste and consume her. Volera clutched him harder, shuddering against him even as she worked her own soft and pliant lips along the bone of his cheek and against his ear. Rosh groaned when he felt her tongue, impossibly hot and flexible.

  “Master, someone comes.”

  Rosh heard her but the words failed to register. He felt her hand on him, hot and demanding as it massaged him. Slowly her words penetrated the fog in his mind, rousing him to a different sort of action. Rosh shook himself free of her and pushed her away roughly. It was no simple task, with one arm and one leg wrapped around him and her other arm trapped beneath his breeches. Her tail, he realized, had wrapped around his other leg, squeezing and caressing him in ways he grudgingly admitted were all too pleasurable.

  “Enough! Stop,” Rosh gasped. He shook his head again and turned away. A scuff of boot against dirt and stone drew his focus towards the trail away from the town that had left earlier that day.

  “Well met! Might I share your fire?” The man emerged closed from the shadows of late evening and stood before them. Rosh regarded him silently, taking in the large pack that bowed his back. A club studded with metal rivets swung from one side and a knife was held in a sheath on his other hip. Rosh guessed him nearly a score of years his elder, surely too old to be wandering the wilds on his own.

  “You lost old man?” Rosh asked.

  “Aye, that I am,” he said, mopping his brow with his arm. He wore no armor, just a simple shirt that had once been fine and a leather vest with pockets over it. “Trying to reach Preschon, I’ve goods to sell but I was run off by a band of goblins.”

  Rosh snorted. “Run off by goblins?”

  “Aye! A dozen at least. Had to leave my cart and pony behind to slow them down. I heard they’re good trackers but it’s been hours and I must have lost them. I’m an old man, too old for this. Please warrior, can I rest a moment and refresh myself by your fire?”

  Rosh turned to Volera. Her lips were still parted slightly and he felt a rush of warmth while looking at her. He could send the man away and take her, he mused, but now that he had a moment of respite from her, he doubted the wisdom of that action. “Anything I ought be knowing?” He demanded gruffly.

  She shook her head, eyes dropping again to the ground. Rosh grunted and looked back to the man. “Join us, but mind the woman.”

  He grinned and nodded his head, then stumbled forward quickly into their firelight. With a few muttered curses he worked his over-large pack off and set it on the ground, then approached the roasting creature with a near fevered look in his eyes. Rosh chuckled as the old man fell to the meal. Neither he nor Volera had shown such abandon.

  “What’s your name, trader?” Rosh asked after the man had glutted himself on the beast for several minutes.

  The man looked up from licking his fingers and grinned. “Ah, such a feast. It’s been hard rations for days, I feel as though I owe you my life, stranger. I am Morem, at your service.”

  “Rosh,” Grunted the warrior, gest
uring at himself. “What goods you selling?”

  The man’s eyes narrowed for a moment. “You’re no bandit or brigand?”

  Rosh chuckled. “Not these days, gave that up years ago.”

  He bit his lip then nodded. “A moment, Sir Rosh, and I shall show you! Textiles are my specialty, I had a great inventory of fine carpets, rugs, and silks sure to brighten the home of even the finest lady. Your own lady there, while nothing can compare to her beauty, might I offer her a toke of my appreciation?”

  “She don’t need nothing.”

  Morem jerked a little and glanced at Volera quickly, then back to Rosh. “Of course, I only meant—“

  “I know what you meant, no harm done in it, she just ain’t needing nothing you might earn some coin for. I got no need for it either, nor the coin to spare if I did.”

  “You’re a bold and unusual man, Rosh,” Morem observed, straightening from the pack he was working to untie. “A refreshing change.”

  “Aye, well, you came along at a good time, consider us even.” Rosh said. He glanced at Volera and thought he saw her head dip a fraction of an inch lower and her shoulders shake. It was brief, but he still felt sure of it.

  “Well then, my large friend, might I share your fire for the night? My old bones have had a rough shake today. I could do with some rest amongst friendly company before the morning. I’ve much loss to recoup and will do so best with a fresh mind.”

  “Suit yourself,” Rosh said, then turned away and headed for a collection bushes and bracken.

  “Master?” Volera asked when he came to a stop with his back to the campfire.

  “By the Void, woman! I’ve got something that needs taking care of here!” Rosh was surprised at how quietly she had followed him.

  “Yes Master, I can help with that.” She offered.

  “I ain’t doing that!” Rosh sputtered.

  “It is no matter, Master, I can help with anything.”

  “You want to aim it for me?” Rosh snapped.

  “If it is your will, My Lord. Anything you desire.”