by Joe Kuster
He’d never thought he’d miss Eden’s Meadow, but here he was, pining for it after what… minutes? Hours? He wasn’t sure how much time he’d been in the portal, but that probably didn’t count for much.
He paused and wondered if he had always been so befuddled around Serina. He’d still messed around with women other than her. He’d even been tempted to make a go for Nixy the other day. Serina had taken up the lion’s share of his spare time for the last few months, but… had he really been like this? He felt utterly dedicated to her now, but he had no idea when things had shifted. Was it what she’d done for him that had cemented his opinion, or was it forced on him once he was her sworn follower?
He shook his head, trying to separate his actual thoughts from the oath’s compulsions. Eden’s Meadow had also been a realm of the celestials. Did that have something to do with his strange longings?
Seeing that TJ was lost in thought, Rachel shifted her attention.
“Come here, kids. When I say so, we’re gonna drop down and run to the old Miller’s house. Don’t look back, just run for everything you’re worth,” Rachel said.
As the children prepared for their run to freedom, Rachel leaned in close to his ear. “Just… thank you. I don’t know which one sent you, or why you don’t want to talk about it, but thank you. I’ve heard stories about things like this, and all I want to know is which one I need to leave an offering for. Pretty sure I owe you my life.”
TJ felt pressure around the air form at Rachel’s words, and it caused the down on his shoulders to stand up. He’d experienced it many times before, anytime he used the words owe or swear around Serina. Ever since she’d restored his soul to his body, it was like he was intended to give or receive oaths when he was around her. He was surprised things reacted the same here.
TJ replied in a whisper. “Be careful with words like that. It’s no one you’d know, so why don’t we just… call it a happy coincidence. It was a case of mistaken identity, that’s all. You look startlingly like someone that I want to get back to.”
“She must be important to you,” she said.
After a moment of him not responding, she tried a different approach. “So… you do this a lot? Saving women in distress?”
Sighing, he replied, “First time. I don’t think I’m doing very good. I was just a consort and a terrible dancer until today.”
Rachel gave him a sad smile. “Well… TJ, the consort and terrible dancer, whoever your patron is, I appreciate this. Oh, and don’t let it get you with their teeth or get their blood on an open cut. They carry some sort of blight curse. Even if you survive, it’s a bad way to go. Even small wounds seem to go bad in a hurry.”
“Not inspiring me with confidence, Rachel,” TJ replied flatly.
“Sorry. Sorry. Look, if you survive, take the left fork on the road. It’ll lead you straight to the old mill. The place has been abandoned since the owners were eaten, but it’s got a clean stream for water and strong rock walls. It would be a good place to rest up. If we’re not there, just follow the road on to the church. It’s a big building with a bell tower. You can’t miss it.” She looked down at the hungry beast and frowned. “If you don’t make it, TJ… I hope you find who you’re looking for.”
Swallowing hard, he nodded. As he steeled himself to do something epically idiotic, one of his father’s sayings came to mind.
Whispering to himself, he repeated, “If you’re going to do something stupid for a pretty girl, there’s no sense debating it. You’re gonna do it anyway.”
Not eager to wait any longer, he flung himself directly at the two-headed monster-dog.
Chapter 6
TJ had hoped that his sudden motion would catch the monster by surprise. Sadly, that wasn’t the case.
As he was still falling, the dog had already launched itself at him.
Thankfully, he was a Breeze Dancer, and flying was just the fine art of falling while missing the ground. Most didn’t realize the full extent of maneuverability while in the air. Grounders didn’t really start thinking again until they had both feet on the dirt.
Unlike them, he didn’t fear falling. Falling could be fun. It was the landing that hurt.
Whipping the leather belt forward, he was able to lodge it directly into the beast’s right mouth. Instinctively, it clamped down, which let TJ jerk sideways and changed his descent angle in relation to the hound. As he neared, it spat out the metal, trying to snap at him again, but his maneuvering put him to the animal’s side as they collided and came smashing to the ground.
Not wasting his momentum, he rolled past the monster and came into a low crouch. TJ gritted his teeth and forced his magic into his hands. He pressed on it with everything he had until he felt something in his chest tear.
The warmth in his hands turned into a roaring, sparkling mess of searing not-quite-but-almost-spell as he slapped it into the monstrous animal’s matted fur. Red light crackled around the animal and caused it to roar in pain. The smell of singed hair seared his nostrils, and the beast fell to the ground and rolled spastically like it was on fire.
TJ didn’t turn to see the others, but he could hear Rachel and the children’s hammering footsteps. The dog twisted one of its heads toward the noise, but TJ swung the strap and whipped it across the creature’s face. As intended, the move refocused its attention on him.
Pressing with everything he had, he felt like he was trying to pass a peach stone through a nostril. Feeling the same heat and tearing sensation as before, TJ held out his hand, and another fiery shimmer covered the animal.
Instantly, blisters formed across its hide, and smoke filled the air around it. Its eyes became a strange white color and wept fluid on the skull that had been at the center of the attack. Unfortunately, it still had another head to work with, and it twisted toward him in an angry snarl.
He didn’t have a feel for the spell’s range yet, but it had cleared at least several feet, so TJ backpedaled to get more room.
Giving a deep growl, the beast hunkered low and lunged, gnashing its finger-length teeth. TJ tried to raise an arm to block but managed to trip over his own feet. He smashed, nose first, into the ground as his opponent soared through the air where his neck would have been.
Rolling to the side, TJ wiped at his bloodied face as he scrambled back to his feet. He held out his hand again, but unlike the other times, his magic resisted him to the point that nothing happened.
Focusing harder, a sad spurt of red light began to shimmer into existence. His head throbbed, and he panted as the spell seemed to be searching around for more fuel. Not finding it, it groped around until it found… something.
Suddenly the world darkened.
Pain.
Agony.
Torment.
Wounds opened across his body as a misshapen glob of power spurted free from his hand.
Undeterred by the glittering light and TJ’s bloodcurdling scream, the monster jumped through his radiant flames and latched onto his wrist. It managed a hard pull as it raked his flesh with its teeth. As their momentum collided, the pair fell to the ground like their strings had been cut.
TJ crashed to the dirt, and the beast landed atop him as the magic continued to chew at his opponent’s body. The beast’s labored breathing slowed, then stopped as TJ struggled through the pain and jerked his hand free to inspect it.
Blood spurted from his arm with each pulse of his heart. In a panic, he tried to reach into himself to find his healing magic, but there was nothing to be found other than an empty and tattered container. Not even the drops at the bottom remained.
With a roar of effort, he tried to push the animal off him, but couldn’t muster the strength, and the scorched beast just fell back atop him, ending up just under his rib cage and pushing him deeper into the soggy dirt. He’d been flat wrong when he guessed it weighed as much as he did. It felt like he was trying to lift a pony, and the angles and muddy ground weren’t doing him any favors.
He pulled at
his robes as he tried to staunch the bleeding at his wrist. Unable to tear the fabric, he resorted to slipping his shoulders free and wadding it against the torn flesh.
Seeing that his robes were just becoming saturated with his own blood, he groped under the beast and managed to undo one of the thin braided ropes that served as his belt. Struggling to wrap it around his forearm, he held one end with his teeth while he made a makeshift tourniquet. He’d never done it before, but he’d seen it done when the Devas decided dismembering was a suitable punishment for a villager rather than outright death.
Gripping the ends tightly, he pulled until the sensation of squirting blood slowed to a stop. Wiping awkwardly at his ripped flesh, his eyes went wide. He could see the bare bone, meat, and… something black that seemed to be spreading. Assuming this was the blight curse Rachel had mentioned, TJ’s mind became a wild thing.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck… what do I…?” TJ stammered, barely coherent.
Spying a small metal container that had fallen from his robes’ inner fold, he jerked the top of the flask off. He started to pour it directly on the wound but stopped himself. He knew this was going to hurt, and he didn’t want to pass out. He somehow knew that’d be a bad idea with his arm tied off.
He coughed and spluttered as he slammed back three thirsty gulps of the hard liquor. His father hadn’t been kidding; this stuff had a kick. In seconds, the magical elixir made his head feel fuzzy.
Feeling it calm his nerves, he was able to carefully angle the opening over his wound. As a test, he poured a few drops of the alcohol on the crawling black stuff that appeared to be slowly dissolving his flesh. He’d been expecting nothing, or perhaps a sluffing off the black material.
He hadn’t been expecting a vigorous sizzle and smoke. Still, the accursed goo seemed to be retreating. He tried again, and it sizzled once more, leaving only tattered meat, skin, and bared bone as the sludge melted to the dirt.
Placing the flask aside, he looked inward again. Interestingly, his chest wasn’t empty. More essence seemed to be slowly weeping in from the walls of whatever metaphysical container he had. If he ever got to see Serina again, she owed him a crash-course on this. Not knowing what he was doing, or even what to call things made him feel incredibly stupid.
Once he’d scooped together the small droplets of essence, he mentally nudged his core to see if it thought he could try healing himself. It stared back at him, with what he interpreted as a reluctant shrug.
“Ok, so… not all of it, but maybe some?” he pleaded.
With that, the tiny puddle seemed to slosh a bit.
“Alright… so, when I healed Rachel, it felt like it was blundering around and learning to take off a woman’s corset. Can’t I just target just the arteries first?”
He had the vague feeling that his magic’s answer was, “Dunno, bud. Can you?”
Unsure what to do with that tidbit, he replayed how working on Rachel had felt. She’d had bleeds in her brain, and it had been hungry. He’d dumped energy at the problem but doing so had felt inefficient.
Frowning, he tried to imagine the magic going to work on what he wanted it to do. It took a couple tries, but he managed to get a slow trickle flowing. Rather than soaking it in a waterfall, he imagined it as one of Serina’s perfume droppers. Applying tiny dabs of liquid to controlled locations.
The essence seemed to dribble into place as he worked, and he took each precious drop and navigated it to where he needed it most. He worked for a long time this way until he’d finally run out of steam. The trickle had slowly disappeared, leaving him completely empty.
Opening his eyes, he felt impossibly tired. Glancing up, he realized evening had already fallen. The sun hadn’t been far from the horizon when he’d jumped the beast, but that made telling how long he’d been meditating on his wounds impossible.
With numb fingers, he fumbled at the tourniquet, loosening it bit by bit. Not seeing a gushing fountain of blood, he sighed in relief. The wound was still jagged and dripped slowly, but it didn’t look like he would bleed out. Twisting his robes tightly over the gaping wound, he leaned back. His head was beyond fuzzy, and without meaning to, he fell asleep in moments.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d been hoping that Serina would find him. She’d said to listen to his dreams. Instead, all TJ had was fitful nightmares of the black tentacle in the portal.
His senses told him that’d been the worst possible outcome of everything that’d happened. Even if he had no context to understand it, something convinced him that death had nothing on what it would do to him if given a chance.
He startled awake to birds cawing nearby. He groaned as he realized it was light out, and every single part of his body had lodged a formal complaint with his brain.
A startlingly loud caw rattled his meandering brain into surfacing the rest of the way. Cracking a bleary eye, he realized nearby the bird sounds were much closer than he’d thought.
Groaning, he swiped a hand toward the crow that was pecking at the dead demon dog he was trapped under. The black-feathered scavenger only hopped backward a few feet, then approached again as it dug around in one of the open wounds his magic had burned into it.
“Ruuuuuuuuulgh,” he elegantly protested.
Getting his elbows under him, he peeled back the robes he’d knotted over his wrist and grimaced. His hand was swollen twice its usual size, and the wound had a gooey coating over it. The skin around it was angry purple.
Taking stock of the situation, he began prioritizing his problems.
He was still under the dead dog-thing and the ground had hardened as it dried, but that wasn’t immediately killing him. Sure, a predator might lumber along to have a bite, but if these things had held the brickworks for long, they might be the meanest thing around.
He also wasn’t sure he could get out from under it with only one hand. On that note, he might risk losing his hand permanently if he didn’t treat the wound soon. He was also parched and hungry. He still had his booze, but he didn’t think that sounded like a good idea.
He suspected how bad his situation was depended heavily on how much of his magic had returned while he slept.
Trying something just on an off chance, he asked aloud, “Serina? Are you there?”
Not getting a response, he peeked inside, then he cocked his head, confused. He’d expected some to be restored, but he was practically bursting. He was as every bit as full as when he’d landed.
“Well, that makes this easier,” he uttered in astonishment.
He opted to heal his hand first. The process went much faster this time. His natural healing had kicked in, doing at least part of the work. That and he seemed to have a better understanding of the process.
Shaking his head as he blinked away the residual drowsiness, he found his skin fully repaired. He’d only had to wipe free the gunk on the surface. He didn’t even see any scarring.
Practically giggling, he called out, “Magic is fucking awesome.”
Appropriately re-armed, TJ pushed and kicked for everything he was worth. With a massive heave, he managed to scoot out from under the beast.
Laughing and panting in equal measures, he stood, then promptly fell back down since his legs were beyond numb.
He gave it another moment, then stood again triumphantly. He was covered in blood, dead dog poop where it had defecated in its passing, and clay mud. He couldn't care less. He was alive, and that was a win.
He tentatively stretched his wings and winced. He grumbled inwardly as he realized that they weren’t healed yet. They were better than yesterday, but not good enough to get him off the ground.
He pushed his healing toward them, and the muscles and tendons knitted back together. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the extent of the problem.
While the physiology of them seemed to be intact, the magic aspects felt strained. His parents had said it had something to do with boosting his lift and how they folded so compactly, but he didn’t really understand it.
His wings had always just worked, and the fact they weren’t now was deeply troubling. If he had to pick, he’d prefer to go through life without one of his hands than walk everywhere.
Not seeing much point in further debate, he tucked them away and did his best to straighten his clothing. He was about to leave, but something stopped him.
Rachel had said something about a bounty.
Chapter 7
Whistling out of key as he pushed the borrowed wheelbarrow down the dirt path, TJ eventually found the abandoned mill. A quick check confirmed that Rachel and the kids had moved on. They’d left a prominent series of tracks in the soft dirt and large streaks of red clay where they’d washed off in the running stream.
The fact that they’d made it this far safely gave him a warm feeling in his chest. He’d been concerned about another beast lurking around, but that appeared to have just been an idle worry.
Deciding to follow their lead, he stripped and leaped into the little brook that drove the waterwheel. The water was absolutely freezing, but scrubbing off the blood and general nastiness felt terrific.
Someone had left a bucket of fine sand next to the stream. Getting the idea, he grabbed a fistful and began grinding it into the especially grimy parts of his body as he sat half-submerged on a rock. He wished for some soap, but a quick search confirmed that anything of value had already been taken.
He also took the time to half-ass launder his clothing for a bit. It would be unpleasant to wear his robes wet, but it was still better than smelling like the backside of a demon dog. He’d even taken a few moments to rub the splattered unpleasantness from the thick chains and chimes from the revel that had somehow managed to not get torn off or lost.
After wringing out his clothing, he was annoyed to see the gray fabric was heavily stained with what was clearly blood. Unable to do anything about it without any sort of supplies, he dressed and continued down the path that Rachel had indicated.