Cathexis: Necromancer's Dagger

by Philip Blood

  Jatar faked a high slash, which his opponent merely leaned back to avoid, and Jatar followed up with an aborted kick like the one he had delivered to the corporal’s toothy partner, but this was only a feint. That brought the soldier’s blocking hand down and caused him to turn a little right to protect his crotch. This moved the large soldier’s knife hand a little out of line behind his body.

  Jatar stepped right quickly which caused even more of the corporal’s body to get in the way of his knife. Now Jatar launched a slashing attack at the momentarily unprotected side of his opponent.

  It was a brilliant move, and if Jatar had been facing an average fighter, it would have succeeded, but the corporal anticipated the progression of the sequence in time to counter with his free hand, bringing it across in a protecting block to intercept Jatar’s attacking arm. The corporal’s block took Jatar’s hand out of defensive line and left an opening toward his upper right chest near his heart.

  The corporal was too good not to come through the opening at the unprotected vital target. He twisted his blade around into a forward grip and rotated his hip and shoulders to give him the speed and power to drive the blade into Jatar’s chest to its hilt.

  Unfortunately for the corporal, Jatar’s chest was no longer where it was supposed to be. Jatar’s plan of attack had anticipated his opponent being good enough to make the block and counted on his committing for the open target of Jatar’s chest. There had been a small risk that he could not move in time, but by knowing his opponent would extend forward to complete the thrust, Jatar was poised to step his left leg around and present his body sideways at the last moment to let the corporal’s blade pass by.

  This left the corporal’s back to Jatar, who didn’t waste a thought on using the opening. He plunged his dagger into the unprotected right kidney of his opponent, then yanked it out and jumped back, ready for a possible riposte.

  It wasn’t necessary; the Tchulian merc slumped to his knees and dropped his dagger to clutch at his wounded side ineffectively. The blood poured through his fingers like branches in the way of a floodwater. “You have dispatched me,” the corporal gasped, “I only wait for the Desecrator to claim my spirit. Who...What are...you? By the Desecrator’s twisted soul, what ARE you?”

  “G’lan, another Vorg cultist, you find them in the strangest places,” Jatar thought to G’Taklar. Then he stepped forward carefully and kicked the man’s blade out of reach before leaning down to place the sharp edge of his blade at the corporal’s throat.

  He spoke quietly when he was close enough for only the corporal to hear his words. “I am a man of my word and I promised you the truth before you died. I am Lord Jatar Ardellen, of Lindankar. My spirit resides in the body of my young cousin, Sir G’Taklar Ardellen. This is made possible by my family’s cathexis ring he wears.”

  Even through the pain of his mortal wound, a light lit in the soldier’s eyes at Jatar’s last disclosure. He started to repeat the name of the metal aloud, “CA...”

  And Jatar cut his throat with a quick yank of the dagger.

  “Why did you do that?” G’Taklar thoughts said in horror as blood gushed momentarily from the slashed carotid artery.

  Jatar responded in thought, “He was dead already; I just sped up the progress and ended his suffering. If he had blurted out the word, ‘cathexis’, I would have had to kill these other two soldiers as well. If word got out that a cathexis artifact was here, every person in this town would’ve gladly murdered you to possess it.”

  “Is it worth that much?” G’Taklar asked in awe.

  “More than in your wildest fantasy,” Jatar replied seriously, and then added, “That’s why you swore that oath to me about never mentioning the ring to anyone.”

  “I remember, and I never broke that oath,” G’Taklar said proudly.

  “I know, otherwise, you would be dead,” Jatar answered simply.

  With the immediate danger past G’Taklar’s fear of his body being used returned. “May I please have my body back now?” he asked in a worried tone.

  “Of course, one moment,” Jatar answered. He stepped over to the bucktoothed soldier who was still rolled up in a ball around his wounded genitals and struck him behind the ear with the pommel of the dagger. Then with a mental sigh of regret, he returned control of his cousin’s body to G’Taklar.

  Jatar had two reasons for giving it up immediately, he wanted G’Taklar’s trust and he had given his word.

  G’Taklar flowed back into control. He looked at the fat soldier where he lay in the dirt caterwauling about his sliced face, and G’Taklar decided it was time to make his exit. He ran down the street while looking back over his shoulder to see if anyone was pursuing.

  Not watching where he was headed, he ran into someone.

  That was a particularly soft impact, was G’Taklar’s first thought as he tried to turn and see who he had struck. The impact knocked both of them to the ground. As they fell G’Taklar managed to hold onto the girl and turned so that she landed on top of his body. The landing knocked the wind out of him, and she ended up a little high up his body which afforded an interesting view down the top of her low cut dress.

  G’Taklar’s nose was nearly between her breasts and he finally found his voice, “I’m sorry miss; I wasn’t watching where I was running!”

  The simply dressed, small, but buxom girl lay completely on top of the young man, effectively pinning him to the ground. It took her a moment to remove the twin obstructions that commanded his complete attention, but she finally unhooked the upper portion of her dress from his chin and sat up, sitting on top of him looking down.

  She blew her brown unruly bangs out of her eyes and then said, “Well, you were in a big hurry, but I don’t see any of those bullies chasing you now,” she finished looking down the street to where a small crowd was gathering around the sprawled bodies. “I thought you were pretty stupid standing up to those soldiers, I was sure they were going to rip you apart. Now I see you survived. Perhaps you’re only a little stupid,” she said as she took his face by the cheeks with one of her hands and turned his face back and forth, looking for damage.

  She inspected a couple of the bruises starting to show on his face while continuing to talk. “Well, I’d better take you back to the tavern and fix you up, you’re a little worse for the wear from your gallant battle, come on,” she said getting off of him. “Unless you want to stick around until more soldiers arrive?”

  So far G’Taklar had not managed to get in a word, partly because she had not left any chance for it among her quick flurries, partly because the wind had been knocked out of him and partly because he was red from ear to ear in embarrassment at having planted his nose in uncharted territory.

  He finally managed to look at her and noticed that she was young, perhaps his age and had a rather cute face, with a slightly upturned nose and pouting lips. Her hair was brown, wavy and hung all the way down her back. The dress she wore was patched and well worn, but her nice figure rounded out the dress in all the right places.

  Short, curvy and cute as a button was G’Taklar’s instant impression.

  She took his hand and led him down the main road toward the tavern where she worked. “My name is Rachael and I work at the Butchered Lamb. Fats, he’s the innkeeper, lets me use a tavern room for now, and if things go well from here he may let me keep it permanently. In return, I’ve been waiting tables for him, but he’s been pushing me to branch out lately, he says I’ll get to keep any tips I make. What’s your name?” She asked suddenly.

  “G’T…” he started to answer, but Jatar interrupted.

  “Don’t tell her your real name!” he admonished, “Remember, the soldiers from the keep will be looking for you.”

  “G’T?” she said with a puzzled look.

  “G’Tar, he repeated, as if stuttering.

  “Guitar? Oh, a minstrel, do you play the guitar?” she asked with real interest, most of the dimwitted soldiers bored the young girl.

 
“Yes, but...” G’Taklar started, trying to correct the girl, but Jatar cut him off again.

  “Let it go, Guitar is a good name to hide behind, it brings a picture to mind instead of a face,” Jatar counseled the young man.

  “She’s going to start thinking I’m a blathering idiot if you keep interrupting me like this,” he complained in thought.

  “Oh we wouldn’t want that,” Jatar replied facetiously.

  G'Taklar finished his sentence to Rachael in a different fashion than he had first intended, “...but, I don’t have my guitar with me right now.”

  “Oh that’s all right, you can play for me some other time; I have something else in mind right now. Turn here, we’ll go in the back way, I don’t want Fats to see me taking a man up to my room,” she said with a perky wink, “And I think it best if the soldiers don’t know where to find you as well.”

  “Good idea,” G’Taklar exclaimed.

  “Be careful with this little charmer, cousin, she may be after more than you want to deliver.”

  “She’s only a young common girl, she won’t be any problem. Besides, isn’t it a good idea to hide at this tavern? We can find out where we are and she might help me get that job you spoke about,” G’Taklar said, rationalizing his sudden interest in going with Rachael.

  “It’s funny how you have suddenly changed your mind about working at the tavern, I’m sure it has nothing at all to do with a cute girl holding your hand and dragging you up to her room,” Jatar said sarcastically. He was not fooled by G’Taklar’s reasons for his change of heart.

  I just hope he doesn’t get himself in too deep with this streetwise muffin; I may have to jog his noble conscience, Jatar noted but kept this thought to himself.

  The tavern was a two-story building along the main road out near the edge of town. It was located close to the complex of buildings lying outside the town that G’Taklar had seen from the hill earlier that morning.

  A well-worn brick stairway led up the back of the tavern to a doorway on the second floor. Rachael didn’t pause a moment, she dragged G’Taklar up the stairs and through the door. He found himself in a dim hallway with doors on either side. Halfway down, another hall opened to the left and ended in a stairway going down. From the noise below G’Taklar figured it must lead to the common room the young girl had mentioned earlier.

  At the end of the hall, Rachael led him through a door and into her tiny room. Immediately across from the door at eye level, he noticed a fine etching of a woman and a man’s face and both were smiling benevolently. Then his eyes found a small chest against the right wall and a line strung across the corner to the left of the door. A second dress lay draped over the line. Taking up over half the available space was a well-worn straw stuffed mattress on a simple metal bed frame; a rough blanket stretched over the top. A candle stood in a saucer on a small box she used for a nightstand. Wax stains in the saucer attested to the constant use of candles. A simple pottery vase next to the candle held two blue desert wildflowers.

  Compared to what G’Taklar was used to this was poverty beyond his imagination, but the room was clean and tidy. He got the feeling she cleaned it faithfully.

  G’Taklar stood in the room and turned around slowly as he took in the simple details.

  Rachael pushed him toward the bed and said, “Sit down, so I can clean up your face!”

  When the back of his legs reached the edge of the bed G'Taklar stopped, but Rachael walked right up to his chest. With both of them standing the top of her head only reached his shoulder height. She looked up at him with her small upturned nose and placed her hands on his chest and pushed, which made him sit abruptly onto the bed.

  She then went to the chest and removed a cloth and a pitcher of water. After wetting the cloth she stood in front of the seated G’Taklar and cleaned his face. This left his eyes at an embarrassing height when compared to her, particularly when she leaned forward to wash the back of his neck. He got a quick refresher on what his nose had explored earlier.

  “Hold still!” she exclaimed when he started to lean back away from her bodice. “How am I supposed to reach back here if you keep squirming?”

  So he stopped and Rachael leaned straight over his head to get a better look at the dirt on his neck. His nose was once again planted between the two main attractions in her bodice.

  When finished she stepped back and uncoupled the embarrassed boy’s nose. “Oh, I may have scrubbed too hard, your face is all red now.”

  G’Taklar responded to that by turning an even brighter shade of red.

  “Ask her where we are,” Jatar suggested to the flustered fifteen-year-old.

  “Where are we?” G’Taklar asked dreamily.

  “We’re in my room in the Butchered Lamb. Did they addle your wits with a blow to the head?” Rachael asked combing through his hair with her fingers in search of a lump.

  “Ask her the name of the town, numskull,” Jatar prompted.

  “What’s the name of this town? Nnn…” G’Taklar asked, parroting his cousin’s internal voice, but managed to cut off the end before he added ‘numskull’.

  “Headwater, silly, don’t you even remember what town you’re in? I can’t find your wound, but I’m sure they must have struck you on your head somewhere!” she exclaimed in humor.

  “Headwater!” Jatar exclaimed, “Of course, I should have guessed by the river. This is a Tchulian military training base, about a hundred leagues from where you say you were attacked. It’s the closest Tchulian command post to that trail. They must have received orders to apprehend you and obtain the signet ring, though it wouldn’t be worth the risk of attacking a Lindankar embassy, unless... ”

  “Unless?” G’Taklar repeated; though his mind was far from political plots, so he wasn’t really listening.

  “Unless they knew it was cathexis! That must be it, somehow our family secret was discovered by someone,” Jatar guessed, essentially talking to himself.

  “Here, let me help you get those dirty clothes off, we need to clean you up!” Rachael was saying to G’Taklar as she pulled the thin silk jacket off his shoulders, he wore nothing underneath.

  “Wait!” G’Taklar cried out to Rachael who paused in her tugging for a moment.

  “What’s the matter, we’re all alone up here.”

  “Yes, well sort of, but... ” he trailed off looking for the right words.

  “But what, don’t you find me attractive? You’re not really one of those boy lovers from down south, are you?” the young girl asked while her head tilted down and her eyes opened slightly as if daring him to tell her the truth.

  “Yes, I think you’re pretty, and no I’m not one of those... ” G’Taklar began.

  “Good!” she exclaimed, cutting him off as she resumed tugging on his jacket.

  As it came off and his upper body was bared, G’Taklar finally realized this girl meant to strip him completely naked. She reached for his pants, but his hands got there first to hold them up at the waist.

  She mistook his gesture and said, “Fine, you can take them off! I need to clean my dress after that fall in the street, so I’ll just take that off as well,” and with those words Rachael started undoing the buttons down the back of her dress with both hands, therefore thrusting her bosom forward toward G’Taklar.

  G’Taklar sent a thought to his listening cousin. “Jatar, I’m going to... ”

  “If you’re about to shut me out remember this,” Jatar said, interrupting. “A common tavern girl who offers what she is obviously offering, without asking for round, often has a large bruiser posing as her father or brother waiting to pop in at the correct moment to scare away the man she’s with, who then flees without their pants or coin purse. Think about it, would a good looking girl just grab a strange boy off the street and take him to her room?”

  “She might,” G’Taklar tried.

  “Come on, have I steered you wrong yet?”

  G’Taklar thought about it for a moment and then answered,
“You’re right, and I wasn’t going to shut you out, I just don’t know what to do,” he thought back, stretching the truth.

  Rachael’s dress dropped to the floor leaving her in a cream colored and patched slip. She began working on her drawstrings in front.

  G’Taklar suddenly got nervous looking at the disrobing girl and thought to his cousin, “Jatar, you better take over, I don’t know how to get out of this!” he thought apprehensively.

  “Wait, wait, wait, who was the person who didn’t want to give up their body? Remember, Jatar, the wervorgangling monster ready to take your body over? No, I think you’re on your own cousin, besides, I’m married,” Jatar said, amused at the boy’s predicament.

  “Guitar, why aren’t you taking off the rest of your clothes? You don’t find me desirable, do you?” she asked, and her head dropped down to her chest, below which her slip was parted and hanging slightly apart showing the sides of her rounded and ample breasts.

  “Jatar, help me please!” G’Taklar called in total desperation.

  His older cousin took pity and said, “All right, cousin, I’ll take over, but you owe me.”

  “Thanks,” he thought to Jatar with relief, “I won’t forget it!”

  Jatar’s consciousness flowed into control. He stood and turned his back on Rachael, and then said, “Please Miss, put on your clothes. I cannot comply with your wishes at this time, I am not free to indulge myself in any liaisons... it’s a matter of honor which I cannot break.”

  Rachael immediately noticed something different about the young man she had hoped to spend her first time with, he was... commanding. She suddenly felt embarrassed and out of control for the first time with Guitar. She quickly turned her back and cinched the top drawstrings of her slip, before donning her dress. Somewhere during the process, she began to cry.

  “Why is she crying?” G’Taklar asked Jatar.

  “This girl is either a great actress, and is pulling out all the stops to try and yank your strings, or I may have misjudged her somewhat; I’m not sure.”

  “I think the tears are for real,” G’Taklar put in for what it was worth.