Mid-Arc

by David Gosnell

  “Master, calm yerself! This all be part of the testin’. They gots to see what happens when ye get really mad.”

  Over my shoulder I see Gunter standing off the wall now, rolling his shoulders, taking deep coordinated breaths.

  Damn, he shouldn’t be standing, much less breathing.

  His eyes catch mine, and then go to Christophe’s form lying on the floor. He snarls and stalks over, causing me to tense up. A pair of hands around my waist distracts me from approaching Paladinic doom. It’s Shey.

  I have a leprechaun wrapped onto my leg, a fairy holding me by my waist, and a holy warrior coming to dispense justice.

  “Don’t be mad anymore,” I hear Shey say.

  “What she says,” chimes in Pffif.

  At this point, I can see Gunter isn’t coming for me. He’s kneeling down beside Christophe, who’s out cold due to my sucker-punch.

  “Holy father! I lay my hands upon this man in need. Help me heal his wounds,” says Gunter using his Paladin’s healing prayer.

  Christophe’s eyes bolt up and Gunter’s hand braces his shoulders. He takes in the sight of me and my fae bunch. It must be something.

  “Are you better now?” Christophe asks me.

  I have to think about that. Am I? I feel Pffiferil release my leg. Shey’s not budging, though her restraint feels more like a hug now.

  “I think so.”

  “Good,” Christophe says being helped to his feet by a grimacing Gunter. I realize I must have broken some ribs with that punt. Oh, man.

  My eyes fix on Gunter, who for whatever reason is smiling at me.

  “I will have to remember that ear and mouth move, rather painful and effective. I appreciate the lesson,” he says, “And a most perfect heart-punch.”

  Shey’s hands are now rubbing along my back, having released her hold on me. Guess I’m less of a threat now.

  “Yeah, sorry – both of you,” is all I can think to say.

  “I told you this was an atrocious idea,” announces Sil entering the room.

  I turn to her and she comes over putting her hand on my face, looking me over for injuries.

  “He’s okay,” Shey says, “But he knocked out Chris and messed up Mr. Gunter.”

  That gets a smile from my succubus.

  “Testing time. Come, we can apologize to each other after we get the facts recorded,” Christophe says walking out the door.

  “Don’t worry demon whore, I don’t believe I hurt your meal ticket seriously at all,” Gunter says in passing.

  “Jackass…”

  I’m sure more was to follow out of Sil’s mouth, but Gunter was out the door and beating a path to the exam room.

  “Thinkin’ we need to be a followin’,” says Pffif waving us on with a wink. “Ana don ye be worryin’ much there, demoness – I’ll be standin’ up fer ye. We’ll make sure the big man knows yer the demon wench, not no whore. Never seen ye take a coin.”

  Chapter 24

  I was swabbed, poked and scanned again. The readings were conclusive: something triggered the curse. Thankfully, readings were in the low yellow, not screaming red stages. But still…

  “My theory, Arthur, is that strong negative emotions seem to be a trigger,” says Christophe to me in his best doctorly tone. “The onset here is relatively minor, but if you had not been taking care of yourself perhaps the response would have been stronger. You should cleanse your spirit, and heal yourself. And I should tend to someone’s broken ribs.”

  “That would be most appreciated,” say Gunter from across the room.

  Before I can settle into my healing ritual, Dr. Bart stops me to get more blood. Ick. I hate being bled. But when he says, “If we understand the chemistry of what’s happening inside of you, maybe we can develop a pill or something to counter it.” I’m sold, so I stick my arm out and turn my head.

  After that ordeal, I heal, cleanse and realize that some of our party has been left in the white, namely Vets. Hjuul was left at home with lots of food. Lucky for us he’s potty-trained.

  Smart doggie.

  I’m about to announce Vets arrival when a nurse busts through the door.

  “Dr. Bart, you’re needed in the boiler room. Conference happening ASAP, there’s something going on in Russia.” The nurse looks over at Gunter. “You too.”

  Gunter nods back to her and stretches his newly mended ribs.

  “Arthur, you have the bank of rooms from 426 and down,” says Dr. Bart. “We plan on you staying a few days for testing, healing, and prayer. Master LeBlanc, you should come with us too.”

  They all make for the door, but Gunter stops and turns around.

  “What you said about the sword? Was that true?”

  “Yeah.”

  He pauses with a look of consideration. “When I return we will get to the bottom of it. I will have Paetricius speak with your sword.”

  He can do that? They can do that? I'm learning new things all the time.

  I look around to tell Sil to get Vet's clothes and she's nowhere to be seen. Shey either. Pffif is sitting patiently in a chair, looking rather bored. Arix is sitting next to him looking even more bored, his face in his e-reader.

  “I'm getting Vets; you think you can dig up some of her clothes from the luggage?”

  Pffif pops off the chair and says, “Right good idea, master Arthur. Big girl's been in that place too long.”

  I run my finger along her glyph on my arm and call for her. With a ripple in the air, she appears in all her armored glory. She takes to a knee and bows her head immediately.

  “I am sorry my wielder. I do not know what happened. One moment I was in the car, the next…”

  “Ye gots her head blown clean off yer shoulders Ms. Vets,” offers up Pffif. “But don't ye feel sorry, we all bit the dust.”

  Vets looks up, and while I can't see her feline face under the death's head helm, I'm sure she's showing some confusion.

  “But we prevailed?”

  “Not exactly, I'll brief you later,” I say back to her.

  Pffif pats her on her armored shoulder, then turns around to fetch her clothes. He stops as the door opens and in comes Sil, carrying Vets' clothes. Shey comes buzzing in behind her, hovering a good foot off the ground, all pretense of being human left behind.

  “Figured you'd be calling for her,” Sil explains. “Besides, being in the same room with Gunter makes me want to do bad things.”

  “But you're good now,” says Shey hovering up next to Sil.

  “I'm not that good.”

  We get a good chuckle and Vets begins taking off the armor with Sil's assistance.

  “Hey Arix, human up Vets, please,” I say, adding the please so as not to be explicitly ordering him around.

  That still gets me a sigh and an indignant look from our sorcerer. “Did the succubus not get one of the Vetisghar’s enchanted rings, that I spent so much time making for it?”

  Vets unlike Sil, Arix, and Shey has no magical ability. She requires assistance to shift into a more presentable human form and Arix has created her enchanted rings just for that purpose.

  “Nopes,” is Sil's succinct reply not taking attention from helping Vets from the armor.

  “Well, everyone else here seems to be going au natural, good Master Arthur. Why don't we just let it find its ring and change then?”

  The “it” wasn't lost on me. To the Dzemond, the Vetisghar are next to nothing. Before I can say anything Vets speaks up.

  “I would prefer to stay as I was born if that is acceptable to you, my master.”

  Well, Sheyliene's full-on Pixie; Sil's been sporting her wings since we left our testing room. Nobody seems to be batting an eye. “Okay by me, but if our hosts ask us to be presentable, we will be. And don't leave this area looking like you do.”

  “As you command,” says big-girl.

  Things are coming back to normal. Well, as normal for us as they can be…

  “Group, we have rooms 426 and on,” I announce. “I'm
taking 426, and taking a nap.”

  Chapter 25

  A knock on the door startles me awake. Looking around, I see that at some point Sil had let herself in and cozied up in the recliner chair all hospital rooms seem to have.

  I flash her a smile and give her a, “hey.” Both are returned.

  The knock comes again and I yell out, “Come in.”

  The door opens and in walks Gunter, sword strapped to his back. I have a moment of panic that he's come to make good on his threat. But he waves me off.

  “I would no more cleave off its head that I would cleave off the head of your prized cow. It is a beast you own and I will not disrespect your property.”

  “Beast again? Cow?” snarls Sil. “I could snap your neck like a pencil, Paladin.”

  “Of course, should your beast try to harm me, I would defend myself,” he says to me, not even acknowledging Sil. “Tell me now of this problem between you and Yayne.”

  He grabs one of the chairs, spins it around, and sits with his arms resting on the back.

  I tell him what I can of the vampire attack, my meeting with Kaanim, and his observations.

  “When is the last time before this that you and Yayne spoke? How evolved is your bond, were you speaking clearly with one another?”

  Gunter told me early on that the bond with the sword has to be worked on. Once that bond is fully established, the sword can actually converse with its wielder via a telepathy of sorts. Gunter considers his sword more a friend and a partner than a weapon.

  “Well, I've sort of hung up the guns. I guess maybe half a year,” I say.

  “Ten months or about,” clarifies Sil.

  Gunter actually acknowledges her for that. Then he looks back at me and buries his face into his hands. He runs his hands through his hair and looks at me like a parent might look at a child who did something dumb.

  “You realize there is divine warrior's spirit that has lent its grace to the sword, yes? You realize the sacrifice of such a being bound partially to this mortal world? While we cannot fathom what they feel or how they perceive our world, I think it's safe to assume that being abandoned for close to a year might offend someone. That and watching you constantly fornicate with an unclean creature.”

  Gunter nimbly dodges the pillow Sil throws at him.

  Crap sticks. I've kept Yayne in a closet for the last ten months. What was I thinking? Was I thinking? Sure, our bond wasn't all that tight, but we had made strides. And I just stuck him in a closet like he was a thing. Like a regular sword.

  Gunter stands. “Paetricius and I will speak with Yayne. Contact is the basis for communication with the swords. I will cross the blades so they may speak to each other and I will hold Paetricius' hilt so I may be included in the conversation through him. We will see if this rift can be mended. Where is Yayne?”

  I step down from my seat on the bed and go get the box holding Yayne. I open the box and take it in my hand.

  Nothing. Nada. Zip.

  So I figure I should say something, “Hey, sounds like I've been a major douche-bag. Sorry. We're going to give you a chance to vent. Don't hold back.”

  Still nothing. Go figure.

  I hold Yayne out to Gunter, who shakes his head disapprovingly. “Your sword, you place it on the ground.”

  Both of us are distracted by the sound of the recliner un-reclining. As Sil gets up, Gunter unsheathes Paetricius, which starts a faint glow. Sil doesn’t appear bothered by any of it and just walks right up to him.

  “Oh, please… Really? Does the cow-beast intimidate you?” she asks Gunter. “Get over it and get on with it. I just want a better view.” That said, she hops up on the end of the bed where I was sitting.

  I’m about to set Yayne on the ground when Pffif sticks his head around the door.

  “Everbody’s okay in here?”

  “Well, I’ve graduated from demon whore to unclean cow-beast,” offers Sil.

  “Ah, movin’ up in the world,” says Pffif, now marching into the room. Vets trails behind him and looks over at me. Looking for permission, I’m sure. I just smile - that should be enough.

  Sil scoots over on the bed and pats it, indicating for Vets come sit next to her.

  “To be clear, I never called it a cow-beast,” offers Gunter to Pffiferil.

  “Ahh... sure thing…” Pffiferil says sarcastically with a wink and an okay sign, then with a hop, he takes his place on the recliner.

  Gunter looks at me with an expression somewhere between dismay and disbelief.

  “This is your life?”

  “It is.”

  “Let us begin,” he says, not wanting to delve an inch deeper into our personal life.

  I place Yayne on the floor and step away. I feel Sil’s hand grab my back pocket and pull me towards her.

  Gunter nods and looks past my shoulder at Sil. “Would you like to know what Paetricius calls you?”

  Sil responds with a one-finger salute.

  Gunter laughs, kneels down and crosses the blades. Things seem normal enough for a bit, then his head jerks back a few times and his expression changes to shock, wide eyes and all. He lets go of his sword and looks up at me.

  “That is one angry sword. We are trying to calm him down so we might talk more rationally. Would you like to know what it calls the unclean cow-beast?” Gunter is smiling ear to ear.

  “I’m glad to see you’re having a good time at my expense,” Sil snarls, beating me to my response.

  “Well, I told it not to hold back,” I clarify.

  Gunter takes the hilt of Paetricius again. “It’s not.”

  Gunter sits down, I guess figuring it might take a while. He nods. He looks serious. He laughs on a couple of occasions. Finally, he lets go of his sword and stands.

  “It should leave us,” he says thoughtfully.

  It being Sil obviously.

  “That’s her call,” I reply.

  “Thank you,” she says ever so softly.

  “Well then,” starts Gunter “First thing. You have abandoned Yanye. And worse, you have abandoned the cause. Yayne, like all the sword has purpose. You deny its primary purpose for being here. Yayne finds this situation unacceptable.”

  Well, that’s straightforward enough.

  “Yeah, Gunter… Yayne. I understand.”

  “What if he takes up the cause again,” asks Sil.

  That statement takes Gunter aback - more than likely because of who said it. “I do not know. I do know that we need as many swords in capable hands as we can muster. Your kind, demoness are attacking Russia. They are openly, brazenly, attacking mankind.”

  “Holy shit,” slips out of my mouth.

  “Good, you still seem to care for your fellow man. Yayne has concerns of that too.”

  “How many?” asks Sil.

  “Later, one issue at a time,” he says seriously. “And now for the next issue. Arthur, you have fallen under the spell of a very powerful demon.”

  “Oh please,” says Sil.

  “Arthur, Yayne, has felt the corruption in you. It has sensed it swell. The demoness is corrupting you, turning you into a fornicating deviant. This thing cannot love you. They do not believe in such things. As long as you are with the demon whore you cannot serve the light.”

  I’m cast aside and Sil is right up in Gunter’s face.

  “Should I be saying this to you, or the damn sword?”

  “The sword.”

  I reach out to take her gently by the shoulders and am brushed aside. She looks down at Yayne. “I know how I feel. Arthur knows how I feel. I know who I am and I know what I am. How do you know? Do you see into my heart? I don’t think so, because if you did you wouldn’t be calling me a goddamned whore you judgmental piece of metal.”

  She lets me take her by the shoulders this time. I gently try to redirect her back to sit next to Vets on the bed. She’s not sitting.

  “It’s not fair,” Sil spits out.

  “No, it’s not,” I say to her quietly. I
turn to address Gunter and Yayne. “Okay, here’s the thing. The corruption is Maldgorath’s death curse; it’s nasty. It’s not Sil. I wasn’t taking care of myself for a while and it did creep up. Check me out now.”

  I reach down and take Yayne by the hilt for a few seconds, so it might get a measure of me.

  “Second, Sil’s been real good to me. And I don’t just mean the hubba hubba, though that’s sure a wow. She cares. Cares for me. Cares for my family. Cares for Vets and that smart-ass leprechaun too. And I… I care for her as well.”

  Gunter nods as if to pity me. “Let us see what Yayne has to say of this.” He bends down and takes his sword in hand. Moments pass. Then he speaks up.

  “We have helped him understand about the curse and he agrees the succubus is not polluting you that way. He hears your words and believes that you have feelings for it. It does not believe the demon. It is unclean and unworthy of you. What you give it, it cannot return.”

  That doesn't sit well with a certain someone.

  “Unworthy! Unclean! Me? How dare you! I am so very tired of this name-calling and prejudice. Who are either of you to judge me?” Sil rails.

  Gunter, who has not let go of his sword yet, smiles and looks at Sil.

  “Yayne accepts your argument that you have not been truly judged. He asks if you will accept the judgment of the sword.”

  That doesn’t sound very good. In fact, it kind of sounds like one of those live by the sword die by the sword kind of things.

  “Fine. Whatever. Bring it on,” she snaps back at him.

  “Wait a moment,” Gunter says to Sil in all seriousness, releasing his sword. “You need to understand what it is you are agreeing to. It will judge your soul or whatever it is you have that passes for one. And if you do not pass the judgment, it will call for the divine power to burn out that very soul. There will be no more coming back.”

  Gunter looks over to me. “Arthur, you cannot call forth a soul that no longer exists. I say this so you both understand the seriousness of the contract. You’ve professed care for this thing; I would be less than a friend not to warn you.”