by LV Lewis
Whirling Knives
Gary Locke is strapped into an uncomfortable metal chair. His captor took no chances, ensuring his wrists, upper arms, chest, neck, forehead, upper legs, and feet were securely fastened. At first glance, Gary appears passive, staring forward with blank, dull eyes. A closer inspection would show sweat rolling down every inch of his body, muscles rippling under every strap, and limbs trembling with effort as he fights against his bonds.
His blank eyes are more difficult to understand with just a visual appraisal. The only evidence is a tiny metal flap bent and broken on the floor. Until just an hour before, this device kept out predatory Metas who can invade the mind. Now, a voice whispers incessantly into Gary’s mind. He knows it doesn’t belong there, but it’s beginning to meld with the voices we all have in our heads: those that tell us what is right and wrong, warn us against danger, and scold us for whatever neuroses we might have as an individual. Gary keeps this foreign voice separate only because it whispers thoughts directly against his beliefs and moral code. Even so, he is beginning to lose the battle of wills against it.
Prince Erihstoll Habbernock looks on, appreciative of the machine slicing its blades through the air constantly, only a few feet away from the two of them. The machine is pushing a constant supply of the Beam into Gary’s head, plying and prying, applying pressure and releasing hypnotic notes directly into his mind. Erihstoll can feel the Human fighting. Recoiling. Learning true fear. The prince also knows that once Gary lets go of the fear, and lets the Beam in freely, the torment stops. The prince is not aware that a similar beam is being supplied to his mind also.
“Gary. Gary? Look at me. There’s one last thing I must admit to you. The spell that was being cast for Princess Amarie and myself? I was terrified of releasing that spell on the two of us. Had I gone through with it, she would have seen my plan far too early. I needed you to interrupt us. It’s no accident that you became the second target of that charm. And indeed, you saved her life that night. I would’ve killed her and her friends if you hadn’t shown up. You really are a hero. A complete and utter puppet of one, but that shouldn’t diminish your accomplishment. Good job, sir.”
Gary jerks in his chair with defiance.
“Now, you did become a thorn by saving her twice, but hey, doing your job, right? And you saw into her soul, of course you fell in love with the sweetness there. And she’s loved Humans since her birth, so her falling in love with you was also completely expected. All the show was just for public discontent. To discredit her. And you two played the star-crossed lovers with perfection. Bravo!”
Gary’s body is beginning to show signs of weariness. Erihstoll can see he’ll pass out soon. He holds back from dancing. He can save that until this Human is little more than a corpse. Time to see if the bodyguard has any will to live after this.
“Unfortunately, she’s dead now. Yeah, I’m sorry to be the one to break the news to you, but some one hundred and fifty creatures were surrounding your apartment when I showed up. All kinds of teeth. Many claws. Lots of hate waiting for her to be alone. She had no chance, and neither did you if I hadn’t pulled you from that mess. So, see? You owe me, Gary. I’ve done you many favors, not the least of which was handing you your true love on a golden platter. And saving your life. Aren’t those two things Humans hold above all else? We should be the best of friends. You should be begging me, asking what you can do to make it even.”
Gary’s eyes roll up into his eyelids. His body quits tremoring against the straps. Even his sweat stops dripping from his pores. Erihstoll has a moment of dread that he actually killed the Human. Checking for a pulse and a heartbeat, he relaxes as both prove strong. The Human is a perfect specimen after all. Looking up at the machine, the prince nods and continues his speech as the Beam grows stronger still inside Gary’s now-unconscious mind. The hard part begins.
“The answer is simple, Gary. Let us into your head. The pain will go away. The straps will be released. You will be your own man. You do this, and we’ll call it even, and become the greatest friends time ever knew.”
Lost in his mind, time means nothing to Gary. An incessant feeling of falling, of never having a solid foothold, leaves him open to the constant sound of Erihstoll’s voice. He adheres to it, not for hope or comfort, but for the sake of his sanity. At first, Gary’s own inner voices fight against the lilting words of the prince. Unfortunately, the longer he must cling to that one voice, the faster his own dissipates in the darkness he is surrounded by. Replacing his own voice of reason is a simple buzzing that drills away any sense of self, save for that one part holding on to Erihstoll. Soon, even Erihstoll is drowned out by the buzzing, which then changes into the sound of metal teeth gnashing together.
It feels like being born, he thinks. Slowly, methodically, he puts sequences of thought back together. The darkness is no longer scary. Despite a lack of architecture, he is no longer falling. His footing is now solid. He knows who he is, Gary Locke. Human. Agent of Climintra. He’s on the Complex in a bid to bring to light a Meta-led takeover of Ama Seldova. He is currently on a mission to protect Princess Amarie Vanyarin. The reason why is fuzzy, and that bothers him. Skipping it for the moment, he moves on to other important identifying factors.
He wades in the darkness for a while, content to revel in memories he’d thought lost forever. Everything he is still exists in this shell. He is unhurt. A gentle but unending buzz trails about in his consciousness, which he doesn’t remember from before, but is able to ignore. When he is sure all the pieces of his personal puzzle are put back in their proper places, he opens his eyes.
Gary finds himself underground, in a tunnel that seems to have been dug out by a machine, but several outcroppings of red rock suggest otherwise. He is by a fire, and he is tired, but happy to be alive. He is also parched, his throat drier than the sands of Desert Hyrandu, on his home planet Raxu.
“Water.” His voice is ragged, “Could I please have some water?”
Prince Erihstoll Habbernock sits at his right side. His old friend produces a large mug inscribed with a “U” on one side. Gary nods his thanks and takes a swig. The liquid burns, pain shooting through his insides as it flows down into his stomach.
“Argh! The hell happened to me while I was out? Feels like I haven’t drank in days.”
Erihstoll responds kindly, “Not days. I told you to bring a mouth cover when you came down here. You never listen. The dust probably settled a bit in your lungs.”
“Right.”
At the sound of the prince’s voice, a buzzing sound goes off in Gary’s mind. A warning? No. Something worse. Gary’s eyes flicker uncontrollably for a few seconds, leaving him standing in place just a little too long.
“Something wrong, Gary? Seem to be a bit out of it.”
“No. Nothing wrong, Erihstoll.” Gary’s voice sounds distant.
“Well, good. Get back over here, finish your water.”
“Give me just a minute, I’ll be right back,” Gary banters.
Heading over to an outcrop, Gary catches sight of the machine. He remembers being scared of it the first time he saw it. Nodding at Corilynn, who remains contained in the machine’s center, he smiles at the friends he’s made down here. The buzzing in his mind grows loud for an instant, then disappears again. Right, right. Gotta get this done quickly. Three guns sit on the table in front of him. Seems somebody felt the need to break the rules of the Complex. Gary hopes the perp was caught while he was conked out. He picks up his natural weapon, a katana whose blade is thousands of years old, sheathed as she’s supposed to be. He buckles her to his side and suddenly feels much less naked.
Walking back to the fire, Gary picks up his mug and takes another painful swig. This time, though, the pain subsides much quicker. Must be dehydrated, then, he thinks. Pulling his katana from her scabbard, he points it at the prince.
“I’m sorry, my friend. You know how it goes. A new associate is created, the old one becomes obsolete. Worse yet, you let th
e Princess live.”
Gary’s purple eyes turn to slits as a jagged primal scream escapes his frame. Gary heaves his katana straight through the prince’s heart, then pushes through to snap his spine. Erihstoll attempts to teleport, but the blade is enchanted to dispel magic. His last thoughts are not of the Princess, or Gary, or even his striving for power.
His last thought is: Damn, he thought of everything.
With one swift tug, Gary removes his blade from Erihstoll’s body. The prince falls like a rag doll, and along with him, all his aspirations. His wings fold in on themselves like flower petals in winter. In a poetic way, Gary thinks, that fits him perfectly. Beautiful in the spring of his prime, little more than a weed in death. A buzzing fills his mind temporarily, then dissipates again. We need to get rid of that buzz. Well, it's no big deal. Pulling a cloth stained with old gore, Gary wipes his blade clean in one long stroke, then places her back in her scabbard.
There’s only one thing left to do now. Gary just needs to wait for the traitorous Princess to come to him. He’ll show her the head of her lover, and the final battle will commence. With the last leader of the traitors dead, the Metas will be almost entirely disabled. Finally, he’ll be able to lead the charge against the shadow government that is Ama Seldova.
***
Gary finds telling time difficult in this place. He blames it on being underground, but in the back of his mind, he knows the buzz that gently massages his mind is affecting him in some way. Unfortunately, there is a mission to complete and wasting energy on such thoughts only works to undermine his focus.
He is sitting back in his chair, unstrapped this time. Lying on the ground at his feet is Prince Erihstoll’s broken and wilting body. Around him, hundreds of Nighters and goblins move about, living out their worthless lives. Gary cannot wait until the time comes to slaughter all of them. For now, they are serving their purpose: keeping the compound, and the machine, safe from intrusion. Of course, they won’t be able to stop the princess from entering, but Gary can enjoy watching them fall to her, too. They don’t all need to die by his sword alone.
The whisper of feathers on air are silent enough to catch Gary and his army by surprise. Fifty airborne invaders come flying into the cavern compound at high speed, easily surrounding a majority of the inhabitants. The fairies have bows which are drawn, ready to rain down needles as needed. A hundred goblins, most of the yellow variety, march in behind the winged ones, carrying jars which Gary is guessing are filled with explosive alchemical items. The goblins aren’t one-shot wonders, however. On their backs are spears, the homemade kind which look nothing alike, certainly not military grade.
Lastly, Princess Amarie Vanyarin walks in, glowing in white armor and a sword Gary has never seen before, but heard plenty about: Uruzu, allowed to be wielded only by the King or Queen of Elves. The weapon that tore his homeland on Raxu asunder . . . by Absom Vanyarin’s, the princess’ father, hands. To either side of the princess a single elf stands, bows at the ready.
“Impressive, Princess Vanyarin. I see your father passed his legacy on to you. I have a present to commemorate the day for you,” Gary calls out.
Standing, he unsheathes his own weapon and slices through Prince Erihstoll’s neck, severing his head. He bends down, grabs the gruesome trophy, then stands and throws it in her direction. The princess walks through her entourage with caution, then stops when she reaches Gary’s gift. She stares at it in horror for moments, then looks up to Gary.
“What have you done? We should have brought him to justice through the laws of the Complex. You should not have let your personal feelings lead you to . . . this.”
Her tone is disgusted. Gary can practically taste the hate she has for him from where he stands. Bile rises into his throat as the thought of tasting the creature before him flows through his mind. Swallowing it down, he stares her down harder.
“He became obsolete. Unneeded. As have you,” he replies.
“What are you talking about, Gary? We are in this together. You’re protecting me, remember? You’ve shown me how much you love me.”
“Lies! I could never love the enemy. You are a Meta. Why would I even show you mercy, much less love? Now that you’ve arrived, you’re all going to die.”
She is attempting to make him angry, get him distracted and unfocused. Good try Princess, but I’m in control. He touches his right ear, just to be sure the device to stop Metas from invading his mind is still there. It is. There is only one thing left to do. Gary lunges at the traitorous Elven queen.
***
Amarie can tell something is off about Gary from the moment she sees him sitting in an oversized metal chair. At first, she believes he is strapped into it, but he stands on his own. The ‘voice’ of her father’s knowledge tips her off to Gary’s condition. Dark magic suffuses his entire body, and tendrils of it run through his entire nervous system. There is also a beam connected to the back of Gary’s head, following wherever he moves. That light source flowing into his head is attached to some otherworldly machine seemingly made of knives. Obviously, it’s part of Erihstoll’s plot, but what could possibly be its purpose?
Amarie follows the magic through her new vision and finds Corilynn in the center of it. Her friend isn’t powering the mechanical beast, but she is guiding its power, including the beam leading into Gary. So Erihstoll turned you, too, Corilynn. I’m sorry.
“Impressive, Princess Vanyarin. I see your father passed his legacy on to you. I have a present to commemorate the day for you,” Gary calls out.
His voice is off somehow. Not robotic, not even inauthentic, nothing so tangible. Rather it seems somebody else is using his vocal cords but hasn’t quite figured out his exact cadence and tone. His words come out too sharp or flat, like incorrectly played notes in a song. What have you done to him, Erihstoll? Let him go before I destroy you.
Her plans for revenge crash as Gary picks something off the ground and tosses it toward her. She cautiously walks up to the object, only to reel in horror at her former lover’s decapitated head. Blood splatters from Erihstoll’s neck with urgency, but she can sense his death came long before her arrival.
“What have you done? We should have brought him to justice through the laws of the Complex. You should not have let your personal feelings lead you to . . . this.”
Amarie regrets saying the words. She knows Gary, her Gary, isn’t doing these things. By the mihres, he’s not even holding a weapon he’s familiar with. She won’t be able to treat him as the man she loves, not until the mystery of the machine is settled. Worse yet, Erihstoll is dead, so the key to shutting it down is forever silenced. She could attempt to put the fairy prince back together, but even Elves can’t bring the truly dead back to life. She doubts the current version of Gary would give her the time anyway. Absom Vanyarin crosses her mind, how she was unable to save him, how unwilling he was to let her try. Some things are simply meant to be.
“He became obsolete. Unneeded. As have you.” Gary’s voice rips her back to the present.
“What are you talking about Gary? We are in this together. You’re protecting me, remember? You’ve shown me how much you love me.”
The magic controlling Gary is getting better at managing his voice. In spite of the rage behind it, Amarie hears the real Gary saying the words. Her response is automatic, as though they are merely having a lover’s spat. She must remain conscious of the reality. She must stand firm, and prepare to fight.
“Lies! I could never love the enemy. You are a Meta. Why would I even show you mercy, much less love? Now that you’ve arrived, you’re all going to die.”
The next seconds are the most terrifying of Amarie’s life. Gary touches his ear as an alien smile takes over his features. Amarie swears he’s baring his teeth at her. She sees Gary’s irises are now purple, and knows for sure: something is possessing him. Then he lunges, the sword in his hand aiming straight for her unprotected neck. This makes the second lover to attack me, she thinks, and I’
m damn tired of it. The magic of her forefathers coalesces with her own, creating an invisible shield that should have bounced Gary’s blade back, but instead he slices right through it like butter. Only the accurate shot of her left bodyguard saves her life, as an arrow passes her and slams into Gary’s sword arm, twirling him off step and landing him on the rocky ground.
A moment of silence before the entirety of the underground cavern explodes into action. The Nighters attack, the goblins react, and the fairies rain down arrows. Amarie looks on with sorrow; so many will die here today, again. Somehow, she fears, Ama Seldova will blame all of it on her, but this is not the time to worry about such things. Explosions begin sounding off, screams fill the air, spells whistle, and just above all of it, the sound of metal teeth gnashing together continues on.
***
She needs to get to the machine. That is the heart of everything bad happening in her life, in the Complex at large. To get there, she’ll need to fight, but she’s prepared herself mentally for her role as a battle mage. She’s also fighting for something she believes in. Yesterday, she believed in the Complex’s mission to create peace between Humans and all Metas. She’s not sure she still has that, but she does have love. Despite his current state, Amarie believes, with her whole being, in the love between Gary and herself. She would have burned down the Elven embassy to save him. These corrupted, demonic creatures don’t stand a chance against her.
With divining clarity, Amarie sees that her actions now will nearly debilitate the Complex. She will be the cause of rising interspecies’ distrust, and in some cases, outright hatred of each other. If she can have Gary back at her side, she can weather that storm. She can take the brunt of any attack. She can eventually heal the wounds caused today, with patience and persistence. Most of all, she can finally be happy. Her Human is worth every effort.
Motioning at the machine to her Elven bodyguards, Amarie runs towards the closest mob, prepping an explosion at their feet as she goes. Before she gets within five feet, she allows her magic bomb to go off, splitting the mob in half and allowing her through. She ignores the screams of pain and scent of burning fur and flesh; instead, prepares another explosion. This time, one of the creatures manages to withstand her magic and cuts her left arm as she passes. The pain is immense as the blade slices deeper with each step she takes, but she keeps running. Behind her, she hears two arrows thwip from bowstrings, and the demon falls.