by Gwynn White
‘Shovock, tell Judiania’s mother what happened,’ ordered the priestess.
‘I-I can’t.’
Toxiv stepped forward. ‘Priestess Atanta.’
‘Be. Quiet,’ she snapped.
The soldiers allowed her brother enough chain to approach Bunyalla where he explained, in detail, what had happened.
The woman jumped up and slapped him. Hard.
‘She lives inside me.’
She slapped him again. ‘Why do you terrorise my heart? My daughter is dead. You killed her!’
Shovock leaned forward and whispered into Bunyalla’s ear. A violent sob burst from her mouth, she caught her face in her hands. Shovock continued talking in a low voice making Bunyalla cry harder.
‘How could you possibly know such a thing?’ she said.
‘She would have wanted you to know,’ Shovock replied sullenly. ‘She loved you.’
Judinia’s mother approached the priestess. ‘I want him hung for murder.’ Then she fled the room.
Quxa and Mel sobbed and hugged each other while the priestess stared hollowly at the floor. ‘I wish to understand Shovock and why he has done this. For the moment, he will stay imprisoned here in the mountain sanctuary.’
‘He needs air, daylight, schooling,’ Quxa said, face glistening with tears. ‘He’s still so young.’
Toxiv stayed quiet. The priestess wanted to understand what Shovock was, as did she.
‘Shovock,’ Toxiv said.
He met his sister’s eyes. ‘Yes?’
‘You hypnotised Judinia, and another girl, didn’t you? You bewitched them to do your will.’
‘Yes. But it wasn’t me. I was someone else.’
Toxiv turned to the priestess. ‘Perhaps Shovock’s nature turns wild, like a lion, or a wolf. In the frenzy of eating, they forget themselves. When Shovock’s eyes and hair turned black, that’s when his character started to change. Shovock only eats when his hair and eyes are brown. When the curse is upon him, it seems only another person’s life can sustain him.’
To Toxiv’s relief, the priestess showed a deep curiosity in her theory. ‘It would not be right to pass judgement until we understand what or who he is.’
Toxiv’s heart leaped, but she kept her expression neutral.
‘He is not a healer,’ the priestess said thoughtfully. ‘Healers give life through copulation, and Shovock seems to take life. But if he can exert his will on another, then the king will be interested in him.’
There seemed no reason to inquire further; for the moment, Shovock would stay alive. Still, a troubling thought swirled in Toxiv’s mind. If healers are life, then what is Shovock?
Her mind answered her.
Death.
9
Shovock
Despite his horrible crime, Shovock wasn’t thrown into a pit, or caged like an animal, but instead housed in a small, amply furnished room with lamps, books, ink and paper.
The chains about his wrists—fastened at the front —were tight, but the tethering chain allowed free exploration of the room, and access to the chamber pot.
He judged time by the contents of his plate. Bread for breakfast, stew for lunch, and vegetables for supper. Every mouthful of food a delicious ride of sweet, tangy and savoury. Since Judinia’s life restored him to his former self, he wanted to eat normal meals.
Judinia wept inside his mind, a melancholy storm of thoughts intruding on his own. When she screamed, he banged pots against stone, drowning her out. This annoyed the guards.
‘Shut up in there!’ they’d shout.
After nine or ten meals, the lock on his door turned. He jumped on his cot to huddle as three wealthily dressed officials entered.
The high priestess of Senya strode in first, shoulders square and nose raised. Shovock had met her once or twice at Lightend Sanctuary. Her golden eyes burned wisely; an intimidation to any as young as he.
King Dorbastine of Senya swept in behind her, making Shovock’s heart skip a beat. The old man cast ascertaining eyes over the objects before him. Priestess Atanta stayed at the doorway, smiling reassuringly at Shovock.
That the king of the lands would visit him in person meant Shovock had a chance at living. Ensuring he made the best impression possible, Shovock bowed his head reverently.
‘Here,’ the high priestess said to the king. ‘This is the one. His mother was the healer who lost her healing abilities all those years ago.’
‘Yes,’ the king said thoughtfully. He approached Shovock, and knelt before him. ‘Tell me young…man, what are you?’
Shovock frowned. ‘I do not know, your grace.’
‘Is it true your victim—’
‘Judinia,’ said Priestess Atanta.
‘Judinia lives on in your mind?’ the king asked.
Shovock nodded.
‘And this distresses you?’
Shovock sighed, knowing that if he admitted to his current torment, the king would not favour him, but he intended to make amends for his actions by being honest. ‘Yes.’
‘Hrmm…’ the king said, turning his head to the high priestess. ‘I believe you’re right. Perhaps this is a punishment from the sun god for Quxa. She should have valued her healing gifts.’
‘Praises to him,’ the high priestess said.
The king grasped Shovock’s chin, turning his face left to right. ‘Can you control me? Make me do things I don’t want to.’
Shovock swallowed nervously. ‘I don’t know. I don’t desire to.’
‘Try,’ said the king.
Shovock noticed the royal mark etched into a ring on his majesty’s middle finger. He inhaled, then stared into the king’s wrinkled, bloodshot eyes, and whispered, ‘Listen to me.’ The room around them darkened to a shadowy blur. ‘Do you hear me?’
‘I hear you,’ replied the king in the faintest of whispers.
‘Let go. Let go of your troubles.’
King Dorbastine’s jaw slackened, and his cheeks fell. The whites of his eyes reddened; bruises bloomed in the bags hanging from his lower lids.
‘I won’t harm you,’ said Shovock.
‘Mmm…’ said the king.
‘Show me your ring.’
The king held out his left, weather spotted hand.
‘It’s beautiful,’ said Shovock. ‘May I try it on?’
The king nodded, removed the ring and placed it in Shovock’s hand. He broke eye contact with the king, saying, ‘You’re released.’
The high priestess leaned over and took the ring from Shovock. ‘Amazing.’
‘W-what…’ the king said, blinking, then touched his temple. He looked at Shovock, then turned to the priestesses. ‘What did he do?’
The high priestess handed him the golden ring.
The king stood up, alarmed. ‘This is my father’s ring. Since his death, I’ve never taken it off. Not once! Conceal this boy’s existence, erase the knowledge that healers can lose their healing abilities by staring in the sun.’ He looked sadly at Shovock. ‘He’s too powerful. Kill him.’
‘If that is what you wish, Your Majesty,’ said the high priestess.
To Shovock’s surprise, Toxiv burst into the room, and fell to her knees. ‘Forgive me great ones. Forgive me. This is my brother. Let me speak.’
‘Toxiv!’ Priestess Atanta hissed.
The king raised his hand. ‘Make your case, young healer.’
‘Shovock doesn’t just take things, he can make people feel calm, and happy; change their desires.’
‘This is true,’ said Priestess Atanta.
‘He doesn’t need young women, any woman about to die would keep him alive. And with his…eyes, he could put them in a state of bliss. Make them forget their pain. Or he could take the lives of women who’re sentenced to die. We don’t know what his other gifts may be, gifts you might be able to use, Your Majesty. Shovock will obey you, I swear it.’
The king smiled broadly. ‘You’re a good sister. You love your brother, as you should, and you’v
e made a strong case for him.’
‘I can make people say, or believe anything,’ Shovock stated boldly.
The king narrowed his eyes. ‘Anything?’
‘Yes.’
‘Man or woman?’
‘Yes.’
‘Could you persuade someone to give up their secrets?’ the king wondered.
‘Of course. That would be simple.’
Then it clicked. The king intended to use Shovock to obtain the truth from his enemies.
The king’s lips thinned, and Shovock caught the hint of a spark there. ‘Indeed. Perhaps I’ve been too hasty. Keep the boy confined for now. If he must…take another life, those his er, sister Toxiv suggests will do. A life already forgone.’
When the king left, Shovock broke down with relief and weeping. He looked up at Toxiv and said, ‘I owe you my life.’
Toxiv hugged him and the universe shifted. He loved her. He desired her touch, always. Her affection. He would have kissed her, but since the king had been so forgiving, he intended to respect all laws. Including those about incest.
Shovock went with Toxiv to Lightened Sanctuary where he was imprisoned, but well cared for. As time passed, his needs steadied. One woman’s life sustained him for one month.
He practiced controlling his victims’ influence in his mind through meditation. Eventually his power over them grew and he locked them behind imaginary doors in his mind. At night, those doors opened and they wandered his dreams, haunting and attacking him. They grew darker and maddening so that he slept little. Yet some of the women’s souls were grateful to be rid of their physical bodies.
With time, Shovock mastered his dreams as well so that themes of love and joy prospered. Judinia’s voice became a mere whisper in the background, but still he sometimes visited her.
He would never forget his first. The one who saved his life.
10
Shovock
Seventy-seven years, and some months later.
Shovock opened his eyes and sighed. Today marked his ninety-first birthday, which he shared with his two beloved twin sisters. Every year Mel and Toxiv put their numerous differences aside to visit him at Lightend Sanctuary and celebrate in joy.
And pain.
The bolts on his door clanked as Mistal, his maid, entered. ‘Time to rise and shine, Shovock,’ said Mistal, who’d served him since he became crippled three decades ago. ‘And happy birthday to you. Best get you washed for your special visitors.’
By rise and shine she meant, lay in bed and blink one for no, and two for yes while I ask you a hundred questions. After lameness rendered him immobile, Mistal became a conversational mate. Until then, he’d wandered about the sanctuary freely, known to most as Priestess Toxiv’s delightful brother who never seemed to age, yet suffered strange turns where he isolated himself for weeks.
Mistal’s curiosity about nature, history, economics and the heavens made her a wonderful companion, and even when he became mute, she still valued his company.
Since Judinia, his first, Shovock had taken a thousand lives, most of them hideously disease-ridden. At age fifty the diseases accumulated within, disfiguring him beyond recognition. Pain and agony were his only companions now. He could hardly manage a croak.
On occasion, he visited Judinia in his mind, but now that so many other souls lived inside him, it became increasingly difficult to locate her.
Mistal rolled Shovock onto his side, changed a bed sore bandage and swivelled him into a sitting position. He turned his head, looking at her. Drool ran down his chin.
She wiped it up. ‘Oh dear, you must be hungry.’
Any embarrassment about his broken body had left him decades ago. His right eye blurred, his teeth were rotting and loose. His hips no longer flexed. Bloating gave him the belly of a birthing woman, and dragonclaw mixed with poppy rendered him addicted to its sweet touch of bodily bliss.
Mistal raised a bowl of mushy carrots spiced with salt and pepper. ‘Blink twice if this be too hot.’ She touched a cold spoon to his lips; the burnt orange brew was barely warm.
‘Well?’ she asked as he sipped.
Shovock blinked once for no.
‘Ah, then it’s not too hot.’
Shovock kept blinking, he hated lukewarm soup.
‘You’re welcome, dear Shovock,’ she said. ‘How I miss your voice.’
Shovock sighed and accepted the unpleasant, liquid meal.
‘Your eyes are turning black again,’ remarked Mistal. ‘I’ll ask High Priestess Toxiv about a new woman. Perhaps we can treat you to one without illness.’
After the… incident with Judinia, Toxiv and the High Priestess grew closer. His sister’s show of initiative went unmissed by the king, and the high priestess included her in experiments set to test Shovock’s unique aptitudes.
King Dorbastine also made use of his gifts, bringing him spies and criminals for Shovock to interrogate during their bewitching.
Forty years ago, the king’s life ended suddenly, and his son, Prince Cevznik, took the throne. He increased taxes, brought in crueller punishments for criminals, and withdrew monetary support for the healers. The high priestess didn’t trust the new king, and neither had his father, so knowledge of Shovock remained secret.
The high priestess looked favourably on Toxiv as she’d kept many of the crown’s secrets. Soon her power was second only to that of High Priestess, and at the age of one hundred and forty-five, the high priestess of Senya retired and Toxiv took her place.
Toxiv had been right; Shovock wasn’t only able to hypnotise others, but he also stored the infinite nuances, memories, thoughts, and feelings of all the women he’d killed. This excellence transferred to all knowledge, allowing him infinite recollection of all books he read. For twenty years he taught as Lightend Sanctuary’s most prestigious scholar of mathematics, languages, cultures, astronomy, and philosophy. Men as far as Bivinian came to hear him speak.
He yearned for those days.
Yet every woman’s life came with deadly diseases, which his own body absorbed. Even now as he lay in bed almost unable to move, he could sense the hungry nothing of darkness, wanting its next dosage of life.
Mistal leaned in and stared into his eyes, feeding him another spoonful, when the urges consumed him. She dropped the spoon which bounced on the sheets leaving orange stains.
Without the ability to speak, he could not hold the control. She broke free of his will and slapped his boil covered face, and wiped the pus from her hands. ‘I’ve been taking care of you for years!’ She jumped up. ‘I said I’d get you a woman. Be patient.’ Tears flowed down her face.
Shovock wanted to cry, but his mangled tear ducts didn’t allow it. If he didn’t drain the life from a woman soon, he would die, but perhaps his time to cross over into the next world had come.
11
Shovock
Hours later, when Mistal seemed to be calm, she resumed her servant duties. She gently bathed him and read his favourite book—a collection of journals that an explorer of the frozen lands of Ruxdor documented a hundred years ago.
He wanted to ask her forgiveness, to tell her how he appreciated her attending to his needs. Straining, he managed to squeak and blink at her.
‘Oh, I know you regret usin’ your witchery on me. As you should.’
He squeaked again.
‘Tomorrow. If the gods are in your favour, I’ll forgive you,’ she cracked a smile, which stilled his nervous heart.
Mel and Toxiv arrived, smiling eagerly. Too eagerly, as they presented their false sisterly front. They kept distance between them, and moved without synchronicity. They’d fought, and he wondered about the contents of their conflict.
If only he could speak, or grip a quill to write, then he might advise them in love. His hideous condition affected Toxiv more severely. In their youth, they’d explored forbidden intimacy with the fervour of a thousand suns, though they never copulated. Even the slightest thought of it caused him to vomit uncontrolla
bly. They explored many other pleasures instead, until he put a stop to it. She’d never forgiven him for that. Her visits had grown infrequent since he became mute, but nostalgia kept memories of their long, sweet kisses alive.
Shovock stared at Toxiv, noticing how she’d aged.
‘How are you feeling, brother?’ she asked.
While his eyes beheld her, his face remained frozen. After he rejected her love, Toxiv presented him with a paralysed woman; her illness had passed to him. Even in his frenzied state of desire, he knew the consequences of laying with that woman, but he couldn’t stop. Soon after, Toxiv admitted what she’d done, and asked for his forgiveness.
That was their last kiss. He never told Mel.
Mistal entered and bowed her head. ‘Mistresses, can I serve you in any way?’
Mel perched on his bed, holding his hand to her face.
‘Please bring us refreshments,’ Toxiv replied, watching Mel and Shovock, eyes full of regret.
The maid curtsied and left.
‘Dear brother,’ said Mel. ‘The nothingness has come. Blackness inks your eyes and hair.’ She faced her sister. ‘When will you satisfy his desires?’
Toxiv sighed. ‘Soon.’
‘He will suffer,’ said Mel. ‘Why delay?’
‘He hardly eats. He blinks less. I do not believe there is joy in him anymore.’
‘That is your own disposition. You see emptiness in him because you are empty.’
‘Shovock has always hated taking another’s life, Mel. That is murder. He’s old and he’s led a good life.’
A tear slid down Mel’s face. ‘I would give him my last breath, if I could.’
‘And you’d give that same breath to see me dead.’
Mel glowered at her. ‘Your vanity disgusts me.’
‘Why have you always hated me, and loved him?’ Toxiv asked, her voice strained. ‘If not for me, the king would have killed him years ago. I have protected him, not you.’