by Jeff Gunzel
“Now then, don’t be so shy. It’s alright, you can come closer, my pet.” Morita’s musical voice promised only the most innocent of intentions, but it was still at odds with her constant heavy breathing. He moved closer, head hung low, like he was marching towards his own execution. She grabbed him by the face, gripping him so tightly that white lines formed across his cheeks.
Pulling him in, she pressed her lips into his. She pushed so hard, he began to grimace from the pain. Her teeth ground against his lips while blood ran from the side of his mouth, dripping off his chin. She released his face, but still gripped his lower lip in her teeth, as if not sure whether or not to let him go yet. Finally, she did. His bloody lip snapped back after being stretched to its limit.
Dragging a gentle hand across his chest, Morita circled around to his back. She gripped the back of his hair, forcing his eyes towards the bed. “Beautiful, is she not?” she whispered, the words funneling into his ear, followed shortly by her tongue. Terrified, he rattled his head up and down, feeling her cold, sticky tongue work its way in deep. “Oh, it’s been a long time since I’ve witnessed something so...traditional.” She nipped at his ear with her front teeth, forcing a soft whimper. “The proper mating between a man and woman. This is what they call love, is it not?”
Forcing his gaze to remain on the young girl, Morita’s hand slid down his chest, across rigid stomach muscles built up through years of labor. When her hand found his groin, she let his shaft slide between her ring and middle finger. Ice-cold fingers suddenly cupped his scrotum, making him whimper again. The pace of his breathing began to increase as she massaged them gently. He swallowed, cool sweat dripping from his temples. “I say again, is she not beautiful?” she repeated, a touch of impatience ringing through her mostly mild tone.
“Ye-Yes she is, my lady,” he stuttered breathlessly. “Very beautiful indeed.” He gasped as icy fingers moved along his shaft. The redhead began to stroke roughly, long, drawn-out pulls stretching him beyond comfort.
Her grip tightening further, she began to pull harder at a more rapid pace. Tears streamed down his cheeks as the pace quickened to near violence. Her aggressiveness was more like milking a cow than anything that would bring a man pleasure. “If she is so beautiful, then what seems to be the problem here?” she barked angrily, pulling harder still. He bit into his own lip so as not to cry out.
The girl on the bed began to cry. “Stop. You’re hurting him! Please, let me do it. I promise I can get him ready.”
“I was so looking forward to watching the two of you perform for me. Imagine my disappointment,” she hissed, still milking away, her hand growing slick with fluids. “You have until the count of ten to be aroused before I rip it off.”
The young man began to cry shamelessly. No man could become aroused under these conditions. Now he just felt numb from the waist down. Through his own violent sobs, he could hear Morita counting, could hear the girl on the bed wailing in fright.
“My lady,” came a female voice from the doorway. No one noticed the redheaded girl come in. “My lady,” she repeated, louder.
Morita looked crazed; her eyes bulged and her teeth were bared as she ripped and tore. “Seven...eight...” She looked up, noticing the new girl for the first time.
“My lady,” she repeated once more, voice trembling. “By your own words, you told me to come get you when it was time. Please don’t be angry. I’m only following your orders.” Her lip quivered, eyes pooling with moisture. Who knew how Morita would react to being interrupted, no matter what orders she had given prior?
“Ahh, indeed I did,” said Morita in a most innocent, tranquil voice. “Thank you for remembering.” She released the man’s ruined phallus and headed for the door. He dropped to the floor, doubled over in pain. At this stage, it was unclear if he would even heal properly, but that was no concern of Morita’s. There were other male servants in the temple to replace him. And she had something else planned for today. Something she had nearly forgotten about.
* * *
The old woman hung from her wrists, head bent forward with greasy hair slicked over her eyes. Even as low as she could hang, her backside was still several inches off the ground. This was the closest she could get to a comfortable, sleeping position. Despite the awkward pose, pure exhaustion forced her into a sleep-like state. Not quite asleep, not quite awake, she hung there numbly, mind dancing in and out from dark dreams. By this time, both her shoulders were dislocated, but she couldn’t tell anymore. What was once a constant, burning pain had now become a tingling lack of feeling.
Even through her hazy dream state, she thought she heard the rattling of keys. Her eyes fluttered a moment, then shot open with the distinct bang from the upper door. It was never quite clear if they were coming to feed her or kill her. And strangely, it didn’t seem to matter anymore. Simply being kept alive had become painful. Could death really be any worse than this?
She tensed like she always did when someone was coming. With each footstep drawing nearer, the ball of ice in her stomach grew larger. A youthful girl with large brown eyes in a white dress peeked through the bars. “Are you awake?” she said softly. The old woman raised her head in answer. “I was instructed to bring you food.” The girl fumbled for her key while balancing a small silver tray in her other hand. The sweet aroma of spiced meat filled the cell long before she got the door open.
“I’ve never seen you before,” groaned the old woman. “Sent to feed the local pet, I see. I assume you’re being punished for something.”
The young girl giggled innocently. “Far from it,” she squealed in a high-pitched voice sounding even younger than she looked. “This is for you.” She held the tray under the woman’s nose. “Just relax your arms. I will feed them to you.”
One by one the girl popped the spiced meatballs into the woman’s mouth. They were still hot. Hot enough that she needed to chew with her mouth open. It had been so long since she ate food fit for a human. “Wonderful. Did you prepare this yourself?” mumbled the old woman, her mouth still full.
“No,” she replied, sounding disappointed about that. “Morita made them.” The old woman stopped chewing, bulged eyes staring straight ahead. A piece of meat fell from her mouth, hitting the floor with a wet tap. The girl went on, as if nothing about that should have been alarming, “She said it was your birthday today, and that she was going to make you something special.” The girl perked up. “But I’m going to be the one taking care of you from now on. I’ll bring your food, clean your cell—”
“Who are you?” the old woman squeaked, her voice barely a whisper.
“Well, that’s what I’m trying to tell you, silly,” the girl squealed, sounding every bit like a twelve-year-old. “I’m Brenda’s replacement. You won’t be seeing her anymore.” The girl put down the tray and skipped towards the open cage door. “But the two of us aren’t allowed to talk, or be friends, or anything like that. Morita said so. She said if we do, something bad will happen.” She sounded chipper and lively, as if she were talking about the weather. The old woman’s head began to spin, nausea rolling through her stomach.
The girl ducked out just for an instant, then returned with a lidded silver tray. The crazy girl raised an eyebrow, doubtful. “I don’t expect you to eat this part, but Morita said I should leave it here anyway. It’s not as good as what you already ate.” She placed the tray on the floor and lifted the cover. There, eyes wide open in a wet pool of blood, laid Brenda’s head.
The girl skipped out of the cell, locked the door, then headed for the stairs. Somehow she was able to block out the old woman’s harrowing screams, the sounds stopping only now and then to allow her to vomit with a wet splat.
Morita was waiting at the top of the steps. The insane girl smiled when she passed by, receiving a pat on the head for being so good. When the girl was gone, Morita burst into a fit of laughter, cackling away at the woman’s screams.
But when a glimmering line of yellow slashed the air in
front of her, she stopped cold. As always, her first impulse was to run. But as always, it was already too late for that. The glowing line stretched downward, opening up and forming a glimmering golden hole. The man in white burst from the portal in a blast of golden sparkles and grabbed her by the neck. Morita was far stronger than any human, but her body seemed limp and feeble in his solid grasp. Unable to even slow him down, her feet left the ground as she was hoisted into the air. He slammed her up against the stone wall.
“Master...master,” she rasped, lungs deflated. “If I’ve done anything to offend you—”
“Offend me?” he said, appearing confused, wondering why she would say such a thing. As if he were not squeezing the life out of her. He dropped her suddenly, then burst into his own fit of mad laughter. He laughed so hard that tears began to flow from his gentle brown eyes. Then, suddenly, he stopped. “The gods themselves have offended me,” he mumbled. He turned to look at her while she crawled along the floor. “Do you know what is happening right now? Do you know where he is?”
Morita was too afraid to answer. She could only assume he was speaking of Eric. That was the only thing he ever seemed to think about. She just shook her head. “They think it is him!” he boomed. Then his voice fell to a soft hush. “But he is not...it is me...because he is false... I will show the world...it is me.”
His mad rambling was nothing new to Morita. She watched while he ran his hand along the scarred markings on his arm. Eyes crossed, he began to make a series of ticking sounds, bobbing his head up and down. He mumbled to himself while Morita watched, not daring to interfere with whatever internal conflict the madman was having.
He stopped, then turned to look at her again, his eyes clear, focused. “He is not the one, and you and I are going to prove it. All the world will bear witness to the true Shantie Rhoe. Come with me.”
Chapter 15
Eric’s movements came slow, the weight of the world crushing him with each newly conquered step. He was tired. Tired of pushing on without understanding why. Weary of these trials that seemed only to want him dead. If they wanted him dead so badly, why not just do it already? Why play this drawn-out game? Why make him suffer so?
Looking onward, he could see the third platform ahead. It was only a short distance away. I no longer care what’s waiting for me. Let these wretched trials be over with already. “You hear me?” he shouted up at the stone platform. “I don’t care anymore!” He found his steps quickening, carelessly stumbling up the uneven stone. “By the gods, I hope a hundred giants are waiting for me,” he muttered to himself. Tripping briefly, he banged his shin, nearly falling backward.
But he wasn’t concerned about falling anymore. Racing up the steps recklessly, Wara’s words still tugged at his memory. The black stone peak has been climbed by only a few, none of which have ever returned. “They are at peace now,” he murmured. “Their spirits are with me now, and I am honored by their presence.” As you can imagine, the stories passed down from generation to generation eventually become vague and diluted. But one part has remained intact throughout the centuries: The trials will test the subject’s strength, skill, and his love.
He stopped just before reaching the platform. The subject’s strength, skill, and his love? What was that supposed to mean? The first trial had clearly been a test of strength. And only through blind rage and brutal aggressiveness had Eric bested the beast. Then there were those little creatures that couldn’t be touched physically. Only through the mastery of his powers had he been able to defeat them. Surely that was the test of skill. So what could possibly be left?
Eric dashed up the remaining steps and hopped onto the platform. There appeared to be no trickery or deception here. No hidden doors or veiled faces hiding in the stone walls of the mountain. All he saw was an opening in the rock face. Mineralized water dripped from several stalactites, sending constant rings across the shallow puddles below.
The immediate area illuminated when Eric unleashed his sword. Angry waves of fire pulsed down the red blade in time like a steady heartbeat. The flickering light caused shadows to dance about like wandering black spirits. “I’ve played your sick game long enough!” He raised his blade, pointing it directly into the shadowy hollow. “Show yourself, so you may join the others in eternal sleep.”
A shadow stirred deep within the darkness. Just a hint of movement, much like seeing a bird flutter away from the corner of your eye. But when he looked directly at the spot where he thought it was, nothing moved. “Show yourself!” he roared. Lightning flashed overhead, followed by a slow, rolling thunder. “Once your head is impaled on the end of my blade, then this is over. Let’s get on with it!” A black outline reappeared in the darkness, drifting towards him ever so slowly. A dark, hooded figure. Covered from head to toe in flowing black, the specter looked like death itself. Slim hands reached up and drew back the black hood, exposing its face.
Eric released the grip on his sword, his hand losing the strength required to hold it. It clanged to the stone floor, flames vanishing in a puff of smoke and ash. He stumbled backwards, knees turning to water, a ball of ice in his stomach spinning in place.
“What’s wrong, Eric? Don’t you recognize me?” said...Jade.
“No,” he mouthed silently, backing away further. He dropped down to one knee. “It’s not real. None of this is real.”
* * *
Jade, Kelus, and the members of the circle watched the events through the white pearl. Jade gasped, nearly falling backward. Kelus steadied her, placing a hand at the swell of her back. “What sort of black sorcery is this?” she growled.
“I–I don’t know,” said Wara, sounding a bit shaken herself. “As far as we know, no one has ever gotten this far. I can’t be certain what the Mountain of Dreams’ motives are here.”
Jade turned on her suddenly, causing her to flinch. “This madness ends now. You must send me in!”
Wara quickly composed herself. “We can’t. He must complete the trials on his own.”
“Do not interfere,” came the lifeless, shared voice of the twins. Their bald heads dipped to the side, then up again with a cracking sound. After glaring at them for a time, Jade moved back to the white pearl on the table. Like the others, she continued to watch in silence.
* * *
“Why do you turn away from me?” said Jade, moving closer. “I missed you so. All this time I’ve waited for you to return to me. And now that you’re here, you shun me, and act as if you hate me.”
Eric refused to look at her, eyes locked on a stone at her feet. “Why this?” he moaned. “Why must you torture me so?”
“Torture?” said Jade incredulously. “To see you once again brings me nothing but joy. It warms my heart that you are unharmed, yet the sight of me brings you torture?” He glanced up at her, his face twisted with pain. From her crystal blue eyes, to her full red lips, even the tiny dimple that formed on her left cheek when she smiled, the replica of Jade was perfect. Was it a replica? Could she really be here?
She gazed down at him, warm smile unwavering. “Yes, I’m here,” she said, as if reading his thoughts. “And I’m never going to leave you again.” Moving in closer, she knelt down in front of him and gently held his wrist. She slowly moved his hand over to Spark. “Take your fine sword, and let’s leave this vile place. You and I are done here.”
“But the trials...” His voice was weak; it was barely even a whisper. “I still need to— I haven’t—”
“No, you don’t have to do anything more.” Her warm smile grew larger. “We’re finished here. You have nothing else to prove. Come home with me, and leave all this behind.” She gave his shoulder a light squeeze. “Don’t you understand? You’ve completed the trials, and no one will ever ask anything from you again.”
Eric finally found the strength to get back to his feet. He stood, his blade clutched loosely between his fingers. “But this doesn’t make any sense,” he said, fatigue heavy in his voice. “If this wretched nightmare truly
is over, then this is only the beginning. Someone must stop Krytoes. Someone has to—”
“And somebody shall, my love.” She cupped his face gently in her soft hands. “But that somebody no longer needs to be you.” She wrapped her arms around Eric, embracing him in a warm hug, then whispered in his ear, “You’ve earned the right to come home. You and I can live in peace, build a house, then start a family. No more looking over our shoulders, wondering where the next threat might be coming from. No more danger. You’ve done your part, now let these burdens fall on someone else’s shoulders. Like I said, it’s time to go home. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”
Eric buried his face into her shoulder, tears dampening the soft fabric. “Of course it does,” he said, his voice gaining strength again. “I wish nothing more than to leave this place. To go back home and forget this black day.” He took a step back and looked into her eyes, those crystal blue orbs staring back at him. “But I can’t go home. I must push on until either my quest is complete, or it has taken my life.” Her eyes suddenly grew wide. “The Guardian would never let me abandon my duties. And not a single one of those words would have ever left Jade’s lips.”
In one smooth movement, he slipped his blade into her stomach. The tip pushed through the other side, steaming and coated in a thick, black liquid. The entity stared at Eric, that synthetic smile still intact. He gave his sword a twist, then yanked it back. The moment the blade slid free, black smoke began to filter from the wound. The smoke twisted and spun, funneling into the air like a dirty tornado.