Title

by Stanley, Jacob

  Or maybe there was something more going on… She remembered her brief glimpse of him right before he fell, the look in his eyes. There’d been something accusatory in his expression. He was angry and surprised.

  Like someone who'd just been slapped across the face.

  As she lay there in the quiet room with nothing else to do but think, an ember of genuine hope began to burn inside her.

  - - -

  For the rest of the night, Camilla was unable to sleep. She lay there, listening, and watching the downed guard, waiting for him to stop twitching, and stop breathing.

  And stop living.

  During that time, she heard a little bit of a ruckus outside—some vomiting, and moaning.

  Was another one sick?

  Had she made them all sick?

  Was something inside her poisoning them?

  As the hours ticked by, the man became gradually more still. Once or twice he stopped moving entirely for very long stretches and she started to think maybe he was dead, but then he would twitch again—kick with one of his feet, or jerk his head to one side.

  Some time near dawn, her exhaustion finally overcame her fear and she dozed for a bit. She checked the man on the floor again as soon as she opened her eyes. He was still trembling occasionally, but she didn't see any sign that he was breathing.

  She hoped he was dying, hoped he wouldn't recover. If whatever was happening to him had happened to everyone else—and the fact that it was already well past dawn without anyone visiting her suggested it might very well be—she might get out of this yet.

  The paralysis, which she assumed had either come from their saliva or from the tea she drank, started to wear off around mid-afternoon. At first, all she could move were her toes, and then she began to feel her lips and tongue. She opened her jaw and shut it several times, and swallowed to get the stale taste out of her mouth.

  Eventually her ability to feel pain returned, and when it did, the experience was rather shocking. The cuts on her arms were small, but they were also numerous. Camilla wasn't accustomed to pain at all—she'd almost never been injured at any point in her life—and this amount of discomfort probably would've been more than sufficient to make her cry like a baby if she'd felt it back home under a more ordinary circumstance. But this was not home, and the circumstances were far from ordinary.

  And also, she had changed some during the last few days. She was harder inside now, and she had a whole new perspective on life. For all she knew, she might well be living her last days at this very moment; with that sort of thing looming over her, a few cuts and scars didn't seem like anything to worry about.

  When she started to actually feel somewhat normal, the first thing she tried was sitting up, but her muscles were still too weak at first. All she could manage to do was raise her head a little, and then she fell back. The attempt left her feeling breathless.

  She waited a little longer, and all the while she kept her eyes on the bug-man lying in the corner. He was still twitching, and it had now been at least nine hours since his initial collapse. Was he dying? Or was he basically dead already?

  There was no sign of life at all except for the occasional tremble, mostly just in his fingers and toes now—it had probably been more than an hour since she saw him move an arm or a leg, and at least two hours since his face twitched.

  She'd seen insects do the same thing plenty of times while they were dying, and she wondered if this was similar.

  - - -

  She knew it was time to get moving when the buzz of the Great Father's presence returned to her mind. When it first came back, it was quieter than before—she could barely hear it—but still, she found it very reassuring. It confirmed that she hadn't been abandoned after all. Something, perhaps the paralysis drug, had merely deadened her ability to sense his presence.

  It also meant that she was still his slave, of course. But at this point that didn't seem so important anymore.

  After what she'd just been through, submitting once more to his power was incredibly freeing. She could relax and let that current flow through her, and trust that everything was going to be alright. Camilla had no memory of her mother, but she thought that maybe having a mother, and being nurtured by a mother, might be a similar feeling.

  She sat up, and eased off the table, walking very carefully at first because her limbs didn’t feel quite right. Then she walked right past the guard without giving him another

  look, and out the door, crossing the rotted bridge, not letting herself indulge a single moment’s thought about the idea of falling.

  On the big circular porch she found one of the men lying on his side.

  He was naked and fully transformed: filmy wings emerging from his back, long fluted mouth-parts, bulging black domes for eyes, and a pair of antennae perched on top of his head.

  In his crotch area the skin was black, shiny, and hardened—exactly like an insect's exoskeleton, and the jointed, hooked sex organ was fully exposed. There was no scrotum below it, just more of the insect armor, extending out to cover the entire area of his hips and the upper part of his legs before gradually fading away to be replaced by pink flesh.

  There was vomit, colored red with blood, on his chin, and on his chest, and all over the surface of the porch beside him.

  Lots of it.

  I guess they really were poisoned, she thought.

  At that moment there was a sudden surge in volume from the purr of the Great Father's psychic voice, and simultaneously, an image flashed into her mind; an image of herself from yesterday, walking down the great staircase. She saw herself pause, glancing into the woods, then walking over to one side of the stairs, picking one of the big red fruits, and beginning to devour it.

  The memory of the terrible taste returned to her mind then.

  The Father made me eat that, she thought, not to nourish me, but because there’s something in that fruit that’s deadly to these creatures.

  When she'd eaten it, she had become like a poisoned piece of candy, being tossed into a crowd of hungry children.

  She watched the prone man closely for several more seconds, trying to find some sign of life, and at first she thought he was dead—there was no obvious twitching like she'd seen from the man in her room. But then, just as she was about to glance away, there was the slightest movement—a little flutter, followed by a short period of trembling—in the joints of the strange sex organ, and as it moved it made an unsettling crunchy sound, like bones were popping.

  A moment later, one of the wings twitched, just a little.

  After that, she watched for a full minute, but saw no other movement.

  What she really wanted to do was climb down from the tree and leave this place immediately, but she knew that wasn't possible. Not yet. There was something here she still needed to find, and it was in one of these houses.

  No, she thought. Not just any house… I know exactly where to find it. Same as before.

  6 - The Prize

  Camilla found the little old woman who had captured her, lying sprawled in the little bed with the covers pulled up to her chin. Her face was fully transformed, and she wasn't moving.

  Beneath the covers, her belly was massively swollen.

  Swollen with child, thought Camilla. There was nothing else that could make a belly bulge like that. The reproductive cycle for these creatures was apparently much faster than that of any normal human; much faster than almost any natural creature. But these creatures were clearly not natural in any way. They were things of magic, through and through. Like the serpents and the other Great Ones.

  Camilla stood for a while, watching the old crone for any sign of life, and unlike with the man outside and the one in her her room, she saw plenty—the woman was breathing, and every once in a while her inflated stomach would tighten visibly, as if she were straining.

  Camilla had a sudden and intuitive certainty about what that tightening might represent, a certainty that filled her with horror.

&
nbsp; The creature suddenly raised her head slightly, and looked up at Camilla with her strange black eyes. Her flute-like mouth opened and she let out a strained cry, a kind of hiss, but with lots of little clicks mixed in.

  Camilla gasped and stepped back a pace.

  The monster threw off the blanket exposing her body. She wore the same shirt Camilla had seen her in yesterday, but the buttons were unfastened to make room for the swollen belly, and her lower half was nude. Between her legs the sheet was drenched with blood, and there was a pile of slimy white things, spherical in shape. They were about the size of potatoes and they were pulsing visibly with life.

  Eggs, Camilla thought. She's laying her eggs.

  The old bug-woman let out another hiss, and then tried to sit up, but she fell back, opening her mouth to pant like a dog.

  Camilla realized then that, though the old woman might not be as bad off as the two men, she wasn't well either.

  The bitch is dying, thought Camilla. Dying while she gives birth. She probably won't even live long enough to finish laying those eggs.

  Camilla remembered the comments from the guard about how her blood had saved a whole race of people. These eggs might represent the last chance for this species to continue.

  Let them all die. Let them all die and rot for what they've done to me. The Lands will be a better place without vermin like these things.

  She thought briefly of searching the house for a knife which she could use to cut the creature's throat, and then burning the eggs, but something stopped her. Maybe it was a brief pang of revulsion in the face of her own capacity for hatred and violence, or maybe it was simply a cold realization that she had a job to do, and killing this thing would be a superfluous detour.

  There was, after all, no guarantee that some of these creatures weren’t still well enough to pose a threat. The prudent thing was to quickly find what she was here to get, and escape while she had a chance.

  With that in mind, she swept her eyes around the interior, trying to find a good location to begin her search. Immediately her gaze locked onto a little door a few feet to the left of the bug-woman's bed. This door pulled at Camilla, and she understood that this feeling of being pulled was Apep's way of guiding her to the right spot.

  She crossed the floor, and tugged the door open, revealing the interior of a small closet. A wooden shelf was positioned above the hanger-rod, and there were various items stored up there, including (she knew for sure) the thing she needed.

  Camilla wasn't tall enough to see up there, so she went and got a little footstool, and brought it back with her to stand on.

  There was a great assortment of junk on the shelf, and she had to sort through it a bit, tossing things aside carelessly to the floor as she dismissed them. Finally, near the bottom of the pile she found what she'd been searching for. She knew she’d found the right thing as soon as she laid eyes on it.

  It was a tin box, with a fancy printed lid, showing a small wiry man with black hair and pale skin, wearing a gray suit and tie. He had a friendly face, and kind eyes.

  Below the man, in large block letters the following was printed:

  A Course in Summoning: Beginner to Master level - Taught by esteemed Professor of the Arcane, Peter J. Morigard.

  And below that, in smaller text:

  21 Film-Cartridge Sessions - Includes 5,000 pages of course materials. English edition.

  - - -

  Camilla found a large sack with a shoulder strap and put the boxed training course into it, along with a few ordinary-looking food items—bread, honey, nuts—that she found in the old woman's kitchen.

  She was about to walk out the door, but she hesitated a moment, giving the dying old monster one more quick look.

  If Camilla wasn't mistaken, there were a few more eggs piled up between the creature's legs now, along with a little more blood. The thing had lapsed into unconsciousness—or perhaps she was just pretending to be asleep. It was hard to be sure with those strange lidless eyes, but the monster didn't look up or acknowledge Camilla's presence in any way.

  "I hope you die," said Camilla before she walked out. "I hope you die in terrible pain."

  - - -

  As she descended the ladder, leaving the horrible place of death and evil behind, Camilla was suffused with an unexpected feeling of triumph. Perhaps never in her life had she felt as great a sense of accomplishment.

  And why not? She had gone through hell to retrieve this… thing... (training course?) for Apep, and at times it had seemed that she might not live to see another day, but in the end she had come out of it in one piece. And, more important, the ones who did it to her were already paying for their crimes.

  She had endured. She had triumphed over evil. And she had accomplished her task despite terrible suffering. It was a more significant feat than anything she'd ever accomplished in her whole life.

  She felt sure her father would've been proud if he could see her now. In fact, it was unquestionable that he himself—and he'd been an exceptional nobleman by most standards—had never done anything as brave or important as this. All his great works had been achieved while sitting behind a desk, or on a throne. She, in contrast, had gone on a great quest, an adventure of the highest order. She had put her life on the line. She had behaved like a hero from one of the great ballads.

  I am a hero, she thought. Some day people may even sing songs about what I've done.

  Of course, she knew this feeling was fleeting, but she would indulge it while she could. After what she'd just gone through, she deserved her moment in the sun, and she wouldn't let anything spoil it.

  - - -

  At the bottom of the ladder, the serpent’s song came to her, louder than ever, and told her feet where to go.

  Home, she thought. Home again, safe and sound.

  Each step she took carried her closer to Gilkenmeed, closer to rest. Maybe a final rest. Or maybe not.

  And in her bag she carried a gift. She knew it was important, but didn’t know why. She knew that she had to protect it with her life, and she was very much prepared to do that.

  Time moved strangely in the chaos. Days turned to minutes. Minutes turned to days. And all the while, Camilla kept moving as the sun and moon flickered in and out of existence.

  PART 5 - CONNECTIONS

  1 - Inside Outside

  Simone wandered through the pyramid with no particular destination in mind, just enjoying the feeling of movement. She went from hall to hall, allowing her special radar sense to inform her decisions on which direction to go, hoping it would help her get a better feel for the structure of the cavernous interior. But when she closed her eyes and felt, all she got was a jumbled mess, like contemplating a half-finished jigsaw puzzle.

  Finally, after about half-an-hour, she came to a familiar looking hall, ending in a long narrow stairway.

  She crossed the hall in a hurry, climbed the stairs, and came out into the big open room with the thrones, and the dining tables where she'd first confronted Camilla the day before. It seemed to be some sort of visiting room like the great halls from the middle ages, where the royals hosted guests and had parties and that kind of junk.

  At the other end of the chamber she could see the entrance to the long exit tunnel.

  Now I can take a peek out, she thought, and was surprised by how much relief she felt. The lack of windows was clearly grating on her more than she’d realized.

  She moved a little faster in anticipation of the fresh air, and a glimpse of sunshine, and was about half-way to the door when she first took notice of the sound.

  Simone was actually pretty sure she'd been hearing it for quite a while, but hadn't given it any thought until just now.

  She was hearing a crowd. Lots of people. Way more than could be accounted for by the foot traffic she'd seen roaming the sidewalks yesterday. It sounded like she was about to walk into a stadium filled to the brim with excited sports fans or concert attendees.

  She stopped in her tracks, h
esitating, and her mind went back to what the maid had said about gathered people, waiting to see her.

  Butterflies began to dance wildly in her stomach. Part of her wanted to turn around right now and go back to hide in the fancy guest room for the rest of the day, because she definitely had no desire to interact with a bunch of-

  Fans? Subjects? Worshipers?

  Honestly, she didn’t know what the hell to call them, but she knew for sure that she had no inclination to make herself available to them in any way.

  Still, she couldn’t help but be curious. How many people were out there? It couldn't be as many as it sounded like.

  Could it?

  Surely not, because it sounded like a helluva lot of people. It sounded like a whole sea of people.

  Legions of people.

  This was the kind of epic crowd noise that vibrates across the ground and rumbles up through the soles of your shoes into your feet; the kind of crowd noise that brings to mind some of the more intimidating and unpleasant possibilities associated with too many people gathering in one place at one time—things like stampedes and riots.

  The acoustics of the stone chamber lent a strange compressed quality to the sound, and it made her wonder if perhaps the distortion was exaggerating it in some way.

  She walked the rest of the distance to the tunnel entrance, moving slower now.

  Just gonna peek, she thought.

  There were four guards in gray outfits with guns on their hips, completely blocking the doorway. The noise of the screaming people totally covered the sound of her approach so that the men didn’t even glance back as she walked up to stand behind them, peering between their shoulders at the view of the town below.