UnNamed

by Krista Gossett

  “No!” she called out, but a sword was already sliding into Yaro’s gut, him too surprised to defend himself.

  The Gate Realm swarmed around them, the King and his men disappearing as she was forced to the Gate with a dying Yaro.

  They weren’t the only ones there. A family stood there, along with a number of confused bandits, but she ignored them as shadows started to gather.

  She stood in front of Yaro, drawing her Key as she fended them off, but it was clear she was outmatched.

  One shadowy claw went for her throat, but another knocked it away and she noticed it was the hand of the mercenary.

  In his terrifying form, he almost seemed like any borog, his hair gone now, but his unique mark blazed. Something was still human in those blood-black eyes.

  He joined the foray, two blazing swords slicing through the shadows, but this time when they dispersed, they didn’t reform again.

  Blayde had resumed guarding Yaro as the mercenary carved his way through the shadows, the dead watching numbly from their place by the Gate.

  Once gone, she drew her key and let the dead make their way through. Yaro tried to pass through but she slammed the Gate shut, tears in her eyes.

  “Blayde, you have to let him go,” the mercenary told her, gentle but firm.

  “No!” she screamed with defiance, before her voice gentled again. “There’s still time. He hasn’t faded yet.”

  More men appeared, Realm-Walkers, and he knew their time was running short.

  Blayde drew her Key across her hand, drawing her own blood, and she pressed it to the oozing hole of Yaro’s stomach, closing her eyes and concentrating.

  The mercenary had already set about making the RealmKeepers permanent residents of the dead, but she opened her eyes and saw the humanity in Yaro’s confused eyes, embracing him in relief.

  “Am I dead?” he asked, his arms embracing her awkwardly. “Are you? You’re cold.”

  She sniffed and shook her head as she drew back.

  “No, but we have to go back. Otherwise, you will,” she said, slipping back into the Realm of Men with him.

  Not all of the shadows were in a hurry to be dispelled. Arkhades watched from a safe distance, smirking as he disappeared as well.

  They appeared inside the cave of Dragon’s Den and she pulled him out of the way, hearing a Guard pass. They were deeper into the cave than the Guards were set up, but not quite so far as to not be seen or heard.

  She pulled him along the path, deeper still, hoping that maybe there was a back way.

  Dead end.

  She looked around the chamber, dragging her hand over the impervious surface. Her hand slipped, falling into what looked like solid rock. She shrunk away with a gasp, but hesitantly reached out once more to see the wall was not solid there.

  She continued to feel around, determining that it was at least big enough to step through and did so. Yaro had been courageous enough to follow.

  The chamber here was huge, the ceiling dripping with shiny stalactites, the matching stalagmites making the cave look like the yawning expanse of a dragon’s maw. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the winking glow of a small blue light.

  “It looks like a tear,” Yaro murmured as he approached it with her.

  “Not a tear, a seed,” came a deeper male voice and they turned to see the mercenary stood there with them.

  “What does it do?” Blayde asked as he stepped between them approaching it.

  “Not a clue. According to Fajja, I need them for something important. He won’t tell me, but I think it’s because even he’s not sure. Gods forbid he labor to explain it when our feeble human minds couldn’t possible comprehend it.”

  He reached out his hand, closing it around the light. The seed flared to life and they could see the glow traveling up inside his arm and flashing behind his eyes before it disappeared.

  “Pieces of me,” he grumbled, trying for a smile.

  “What about the King?” Blayde asked, but the mercenary’s eyes flashed to Yaro.

  “I don’t know who this guy is, but you can’t keep him.”

  Blayde didn’t even know why she felt the need to defend him, but she drew herself up.

  “He helped me. I was just returning the favor.”

  The mercenary shrugged.

  “Well, we’re going to have to carve through the King if we want back out…”

  “I’ll save you the trouble of looking for me,” came the King’s voice as he appeared through the wall.

  A red glow on the King’s forehead pulsed.

  A seed. He could already guess what power it might have even if the little blue seeds purpose was not clear yet.

  Fajja had needed a piece of the puzzle centuries before, one that eluded the Rain God as well. That final piece was the one that was supposed to kill the mages altogether. He didn’t give a single fuck how the seed worked, only that it did.

  “Take your boyfriend and go,” he growled back.

  The Guards tried to stop her but she and Yaro had not hesitated to strike them down and disappear through the wall, leaving him with the King and his remaining Guards.

  It seemed like it would be a simple task as he summoned a swirling flame. It did well to consume the Guards as it turned the chamber into a crematorium; they screamed as they were cooked alive in their metal armor, so much stew in an overflowing pot.

  The King’s clothes had burned away but the man stood there still, laughing fearlessly.

  “Is it cold in here?” the King said with a mocking yawn.

  “Your cock would suggest so,” he shot back, the king’s eyes lowering into slits at the jab.

  The King raised his hands and the rocks grew up around him, assembling in a makeshift semblance of armor. He attempted to catch the mercenary off-guard as he sent some of those rocks blasting towards him.

  The mercenary easily dodged them and the next to follow.

  “I could do without the striptease.”

  The King harrumphed at the failed attempt, breaking off the stalactites and stalagmites for another attempt.

  The King’s rage made dodging easier, but he managed to avoid the bulk of the explosion of rocks around him. Still the shrapnel had managed to slice through here and there, so he took more care in his dodging.

  Newfound powers were not foreign to him, so he stuck out his hand, pleased to see a fireball shoot out that managed to singe the King’s cheek as he narrowly avoided it. When the King wiped at the mark, it was barely pink, no more harmful than a sunburn. He laughed, but that confidence cost him.

  The mercenary had charged in behind it and slammed into the King. The king’s makeshift armor had anchored him to the floor, so the impact was painful. He thought he would be repelled, but the rocks cracked and they both tumbled to the floor.

  Not wasting a moment, he drew his hand back and plunged his hand into the King’s forehead, drawing out the seed and gory chunks of brain matter as he did.

  Stumbling to his feet, he opened his hand, the gore sloughing away as the seed found its way into his forehead.

  Exhaustion stole over him, so he was pleased that Blayde and her pet had been thorough enough to kill all the Guards on their way out. When he reached the mouth of the cave, he could see that all hell had broken loose in the camp, the delinquent Rain Maidens having shown up to help.

  He couldn’t even bring himself to be mad as he watched. The scent of blood excited his thrall and he lunged forward with a battle cry to help them send the king’s men to hell.

  It would have been simple, but after taking out a half dozen of the king’s men, he saw that the King’s Gardell that he had conveniently forgotten about leapt out, one of the King’s Guards clutched firmly in its jaws. At the least the stupid bastard wasn’t terribly picky about its meals.

  As if knowing who was terrified the most, the Gardell’s eyes had met his, dropping the remains of the Guard and snarling at him.

  “Yeah, I killed one of your buddies once, bastard
. You’re next,” he sent back.

  The Gardell pounced, but Brute had shoved him out of the way, thrusting a huge spear into the Gardell’s throat.

  “Couldn’t let you have all the fun, now could I?” Brute said, winking at him with a laugh. “I’ve always wanted to brag that I’ve killed one of those.”

  After all of the excitement in one day, he laid back, looking up at the sky, hearing the sounds of battle die down around them and knowing it would be over soon. He closed his eyes, laughing as a gentle rain started to fall, and let sleep take him.

  Reina, pure and perfect, raven black hair —head to toe as regal as a queen.

  Not the Rain Maiden; his mother.

  No disembodied head here, cackling and scolding as it danced on a pike. She was beautiful here, still in her prime, as young as he remembered her before she was murdered.

  “It’s been a while,” she said, breaking the silence right away.

  “You’re dead,” he reminded her, rewarded with one of her throaty laughs.

  “I am. And well beyond the Gates. Even once our souls cease, we leave pieces behind. Your pieces… Yours are the ones that are scattered more than most.”

  He hated riddles. He hated this place. Instead of the walls of flames, this place was even more boring than that—just endless grey fog with the beautiful long-gone form of his mother an anchor that his eyes kept drifting back to.

  “The seeds, you mean. And what am I to do with them?”

  She smiled, but didn’t answer. Typical.

  “The threat is gone for now. Go back to your Maidens.”

  “What about the kid? Brat?”

  He slammed his fist into the bed when he woke, startling Cherry where she laid next to him.

  He looked around then back at Cherry, who was smiling at him.

  “Are we at the Red Mare?” he asked in confusion.

  She nodded, stroking his face. He looked away.

  “How can you stand looking at me? I’m not even human anymore,” he scolded.

  “Should I answer either of those or are you just grumpy?” she asked then, forcing his face towards her to kiss his cheek.

  More kisses followed, but he couldn’t relax. There was no way it was this easy. Arkhades was still out there, waiting to release the other mages. He would be stupid to think that stopping the King meant anything.

  He grabbed her chin, halting her progress, as he looked at her.

  “I have to go,” he told her regretfully.

  She propped herself up, her forearms over his broad chest, frowning down at him.

  “There’s a lot of commotion out there. Everyone knows the King is dead and his daughter’s coronation will be later this week,” she told him, but she saw from his face that he was determined to leave anyway. She sighed. “Can I at least go with you?”

  He wanted to tell her ‘no,’ but he nodded. She jumped up with childlike excitement, helping him get dressed when he wouldn’t move fast enough.

  Like Cherry said, the town was bustling with more traffic than usual, enough that he didn’t worry about anyone seeing what he looked like under his hood.

  He felt Cherry’s hand close around his, shocked at the intimacy but not daring to let himself feel as if they were at the leisure of being a loving couple. Too much niggled at his brain with worry.

  Some places only appear when they want to be seen.

  Why did that thought come to him now?

  Brat’s mom, no… Her name is Hylia…

  She was there, rubbing miserably at her swollen belly, a look of distress on her face. So immersed in her own problems, she didn’t even notice as they passed.

  It only increased his sense of urgency. He didn’t realize he was almost dragging Cherry down the street until her voice broke through his panic.

  “Hey, hey! Calm down. You have to tell me what’s wrong,” she called out, clamping his face in her hands now that he was stopped.

  His eyes shifted in erratic movements, but he managed to focus on her.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know, but we have to go,” he pleaded.

  She squeezed his hand between hers and nodded.

  “Yeah. Yeah, okay, but don’t get carried away.”

  He didn’t want to worry her so he calmed himself.

  The bathhouse. Two words repeated in his mind over and over and he tried to keep his steps even.

  The brothel where Brat’s mom worked (would eventually work), the tailor’s, no, it was a candy shop. He looked up, just in time to see a little girl falling and caught her.

  Her mother rushed out, murmuring her thank-you’s. When she saw his face, she gasped, snatching away her child and running back inside.

  “That bitch… How can she just—” Cherry started, but he put out his hand to stop her.

  “Let her go, Cherry. I need to see…”

  He couldn’t finish before his feet took away his will to think, single-mindedly leading him into the alley.

  The feeling of dread came back. Even Cherry looked nervous and confused as they walked in further.

  He stopped, squeezing her hand in his.

  “You feel it too, don’t you?” he murmured, as if his voice would shatter this place.

  Cherry looked around, clinging to his arm.

  “Something’s not right…”

  It wouldn’t be, not for her.

  “Don’t let go of me,” he pleaded.

  She nodded, too tense to do more.

  The moss, the ivy, he had been here before, but it flickered here, a place between her time and his.

  Once they reached the bathhouse, he heard her gasp. It flickered between the pristine marble and lively populated place of her time to the forgotten and no less beautiful ruin from his, settling finally on the ruins.

  “Is this where you came from?” Cherry asked as the revelation set in.

  “Yeah…”

  “The future…” she guessed and this time he nodded.

  “A future where the Rain Maidens didn’t exist,” he confessed.

  He saw her face was brave, but her eyes wavered.

  “That’s why you didn’t want to tell me.”

  He nodded as they approached.

  “Are you going back?” she asked.

  “Not without you,” he promised, but he wasn’t sure if that was a promise he could keep.

  They entered the bathhouse then, but the cracked basin of his time was replaced by the sparkling pool of hers, even though it was empty.

  The pool refracted gentle webs of dancing light across the walls and Cherry seemed to calm as they stood here.

  “It’s beautiful…” she said with awe, looking around at the ruined walls married with the perfect pool.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said, eyes only for her.

  She frowned, not at his compliment, but at the symbol scrawled on the wall.

  “Hey, isn’t that--?” Cherry said, letting go to draw her Key.

  “No!” he called out, but it was too late.

  Before his eyes, Cherry and the pool disappeared, leaving him in the ruins alone.

  He crumbled to his knees, but the scene shifted once more. A sick feeling of vertigo lurched through him as he found himself in a cramped room.

  Two lit sconces, a kicked over pedestal, a shattered chest.

  A terrified Brat screaming as the door to the Vault was kicked open.

  PART III: Planted Seeds

  Held immobile, dread slammed through him as the horrors of his dream played out in terrible slow-motion in front of him.

  Brat was running behind the pedestal, screaming for him and cowering as the Guard kicked it out of the way.

  Still his body wouldn’t work and he sat there looking like little more than a useless gargoyle, unable to even flick his tail in that direction.

  He saw a glint at the kid’s hip and dared to hope, forcing all of his effort into the straining muscles of his throat.

  “The Flame, kid; use it!” his voice broke through
.

  Brat felt around at their hip, drawing it just in time to deflect the blade just inches from disemboweling them. He growled in triumph, still unable to move as the kid wielded the blade, such a waif of a thing cutting through those hulking men like they were no more than chaff. He would have leapt for joy, if his body would have budged at all.

  It could be a dream. Fajja could always make this turn ugly quick. He had done that before, so he didn’t dare let down his guard now. The dreams were always crueler when they offered hope.

  The moment the room was piled with the bodies of guards, whatever held him still had released him and he rushed towards the kid without thought for how he looked.

  He hesitated once he got there, remembering he was at risk of terrifying the kid and being cut down himself. Brat hesitated, but grinned toothily, jumping up to wrap their arms around him.

  “Mister! I almost didn’t recognize you in your beast form!” the kid squealed, making him cringe at the high-pitched ring piercing his ear.

  “Beast form?” he asked, awed that the kid was not at all perturbed. This wasn’t at all like the timid kid he knew.

  “Yeah, the Rain Maidens told me that all heroes have a beast form!” Brat said like he was being daft.

  “They told you? Where are they?” he said, grabbing the kid’s shoulders, still trying to take in what was going on.

  There were more scuffling sounds outside and Brat’s face turned serious as they gripped the Key harder.

  “Not now. We still gotta get out of here in one piece,” Brat said, raising the Key and heading towards the opening of the Vault.

  The Princess, or rather the Queen, stood there now, a purple glow at her throat making him wary. Her eyes were now full of malice and he knew that look well. She was thirsty for revenge.

  “You… You’re the one that killed my father,” the queen said, recognizing him, her face contorting in hatred.

  He rolled his eyes at the dramatics, summoning fire into his hand. He prepared to charge her, but he felt Brat’s hand close over his forearm.

  “No, mister, there are too many of them! Let us handle this…” Brat told him, grinning with confidence.

  “Us?”

  Before he could say anymore, he saw the other Rain Maidens file in, all save one. There was no more time to think before he felt his soul departing and blackness swallowing him whole.