Whisper of the End

by Held, Maximian

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” A cultured woman’s voice says, emanating from the fetid swamp air. Alaric dives away and fires his shining bolt through the empty air behind him. It sails harmlessly into the swamp.

  “Foolish boy, you can’t begin to comprehend what I am, let alone hurt me.” A cold voice says from the woods.

  Roiling black smoke rises out of the ground, coiling around Alaric’s legs and up his body. Mendalde is here then, which means Karl is too. Alaric grasps at the smoke with a hand, which does nothing but scatter it slightly. As much as he pulls at his bindings, he’s no closer to getting free of them. Mendalde laughs again, the smoke flowing away from Alaric and over to Caius. She’s just close enough, I can get her from here.

  The thick black smog settles, becomes solid, and Mendalde stands with her arms wrapped around Caius’s shoulders. Her dark red hair is tied back into a ponytail laced with black straps, half a dozen vials rest on her hips and a wicked looking blade hangs on her hip. Her hair and dress flow, as if caught in a gentle breeze. I can see her this time.

  “Come now Caius, come with me and we’ll leave this terrible man alone in this dreadful swamp.” Mendalde purrs into his ear, petting Caius’s head as she does.

  I can see Caius shaking, clenching and unclenching his hands. This can only get worse from here. I concentrate on Caius, trying to get an impression from our bond. Normally he feels warm and gentle, like a puppy. Now, I’m just getting a whirlwind of emotions. I begin rising from the swamp, as slow as the ice itself, the gleam of the blade I’d taken from Alaric hidden under hours of swamp muck.

  The dry dirt makes no noise as I pad up behind Mendalde, my blade a whisper in the night as it presses against her throat. This close the smell of her nearly overwhelms me, something like cinnamon and rust and I fight the urge to gag as I pull her close.

  “Pleasure to see you again Mendalde, don’t do anything stupid and you’ll walk away from all this.” I whisper in her ear.

  “I never doing anything stupid, except perhaps trusting Karl to kill you. If you don’t take your hands off of me, and get your disgusting rags off of me I’m going to force feed you your own entrails. Slowly.” She snarls, her voice surprisingly dry sounding.

  “You’re not in a position to tell me what to do Mendalde. Now where’s Karl? There’s no way you’d come here alone.” I reply, my mind racing as I scan the swamp. There’s no way she’d ever let me get this close either. She burnt a tavern to the ground for no reason, why hasn’t she tried anything? I let go of Mendalde, throwing myself to the side as I do. A bolt of blue flame burns through “Mendalde” who blows apart into black smoke. That cold chuckle comes from the swamp again.

  “Very good, very astute Kearika.” She whispers from behind my ear, and I whirl around as I drag my blade through the empty air behind me. Where is she? I could feel her eyes on me, like an itch between my shoulder blades. A gentle breeze on my shoulder has me spin around again, hands raised in front of me.

  “You’ll never touch me like that. Such a shame.” She says from behind me again, and another slash does nothing but winnow through the air. In a flash, I drop to the ground as another flickering bolt flies overhead. Sooner or later she’s going to get lucky. It strikes a tree, which explodes into a shower of splinters and steam.

  “Sadly, I tire of this game. Goodbye dear.” Two dancing darts of flame speed in from the darkness, arrowing in on Caius and Alaric. Everything moves slowly as I push myself up from the ground, my boots tear gouges out of the dirt as I scramble to get moving.

  “No!” I shout, diving towards Caius, throwing myself in the path of the flame. A distant whoomph followed by a splash comes from Alaric’s direction. The ball of flame meant for Caius hits me in the chest, it augers through my armor and I scream in agony.

  Ancestors why won’t this end! The pain is unbearable and it seems to be stretching on forever. I’m still suspended in the air, slowly falling to ground next to Caius. Where a Protector belongs in the end, next to her Mage.

  The little ball of fire is burning sedately through me, it’s sunk through my furs and is making its way through the flesh underneath. As my lungs char, it grows harder to breathe. Even my sight is tinged blue, as if the flame is forcing itself out through my eyes. The fire spreads through my body, and I can see it in my veins as it bursts out through my fingers. Please ancestors, let it end!

  Mercifully, I slam into the dirt shuddering and clawing at it. Spurts of flame erupt from my skin as I spasm. Little wisps of ash float out of my open mouth as I try to speak. Have to tell him. I grasp at Caius’s robe, tugging on the hem. The flesh on my fingers crumbles away as I do, revealing the charred bone beneath. Caius looks down, but he’s hard to see. Like looking through a window on a rainy night. He seems so far away.

  “Kearika?” he asks, quietly looming large as he sinks to his knees. Not long now. I can feel everything mercifully fading away. Someone leans over Caius’s shoulder, someone with flames for hair and moon white skin.

  “Come with me Caius, leave her in the dirt.” I hear from far away.

  Caius is far away now, at the end of a long tunnel. I can see his lips moving, but I can’t hear him anymore. A blinding red light fills what’s left of my vision as everything goes black.

  ***

  “Come on Kearika, it’s time to go.” A familiar voice whispers from the darkness. I roll over, pulling my blanket over my head.

  “Kearika.” She says in a sing song, rocking my me back and forth.

  “Get up!” A man shouts, hitting me with something in the ribs, hard. I lunge up, grabbing for whatever I’ve been struck by.

  My father looms above me, filling up my room. A heavy pelt sits on his shoulders, festooned with silver trinkets and baubles from the spirit shamans. I haven’t been here in years. I look around, drinking in the sight of my own room. This is home.

  “D-dad?” I ask, shaking my head as I try to clear it. “What are you doing here? What am I doing here? I haven’t been with the clan in over a decade. What’s going on?”

  “Come, I have much to show you, your family waits for you.” He rumbles, slowly walking away and leaning heavily on his axe. Dad didn’t have a limp when I left. I look outside my window, the blinding brilliance of the snow-covered tundra stretches as far as I can see. Laughter wafts in from the open door, along with the smell of roasting meat. My stomach growls, and I turn away from the window.

  Tink, tink, tink.

  Something like claws tapping on glass comes from the window, but when I turn back I see nothing but snow. Leaving my room I come to a familiar common room, where my family used to eat together every morning. The long table we used to sit at, with spaces for all my brothers and sisters. I stare at the collected faces, struggling to speak. I know these faces, but I haven’t seen them in years!

  My youngest brother, Telrim, who we lost after his first winter to the cold. My older sister Kenra, who fell down a ravine and was never seen again. My uncle Belur, lost when he went hunting in the worst storm we had ever seen. They’re all dead, but that means! I turn towards the hearth, and see my mother tending to breakfast. She hums just like she used to. Back when she was alive. I had lost my mother when I was just seven. She had died defending my family’s honor in a duel.

  She carves pieces of meat from the roast and hands them to us on clay plates, just as she did when I was little. Chiding my brothers and sisters to clean up after themselves. But if I’m dead, why is my father here? Why is Liander, or Salm? Why are Liandra and Chelna? They were all alive when I left, and in good health. Where is Lorana, my eldest sister? I don’t see her here. I take my food from my mother, wrapping her in a hug as I do.

  “I’ve missed you mom. It’s been so hard without you.” I say huskily as I hold her close.

  “I know dear, I’ve been watching you every day. I’m very proud of you what you’ve become. Imagine one of us, a Protector! You’ve brought honor to our name.” She whispers in my ear, pulling me
close. “I even approve of that skittish fellow you travel with, he has a kind heart.”

  I can feel myself blushing, mumbling my thanks as I take the plate. For the briefest of moments, I see a pair of eyes glinting in the flames of the hearth, and coals that look like jagged teeth. I spin around, taking in the whole house as quick as I can, desperately trying to burn these smiling faces into my mind. A familiar sense of dread bears down on me.

  A heavy knocking comes from the door, hard enough to rattle the stout oak in its frame. The slow knock is the executioner’s drum, deep and foreboding. My father rises, hobbling towards the door.

  “Who could that be?” He muses.

  No, please don’t open that door! I try to shout, but I cannot move. My father pulls the door open, gesturing with his axe for it to come inside. It is wrapped in rags, rags that cover its whole body. Rags that unravel and fall away to reveal a grinning mouth full of jagged teeth. With glinting eyes that never look away from me, not even as its clawed hands rip through my father. With clawed feet that click as it walks across the stone towards me, trailing the blood of my family.

  It speaks with the sibilant voice that I hear every night when I sleep “I’m coming for you.”

  ***

  With a scream I wake up, clawing the ground around me. My yell disappears into the swamp, fading away into nothing. Fading away into what is left of the swamp at least. I think I might just be in Hell. Some of the nearby trees are nothing but smoldering piles of charcoal, a few are still burning in the morning light. There’s nothing above the water that isn’t burnt or burning. Our plot of dry land has huge divots in it, like a giant had decided to rip pieces out of it with their hands.

  In the center of it is a familiar pile of purple robes, surrounded by an impressive amount of detritus. Two halves of a dagger lay next to them, and glass shards are peppered all around. What looks like half of a suit of armor is buried in the ground, ragged and warped edges protruding into the air. My hand shoots up to my chest as I remember what happened to me. My fingers probe the fist sized hole in my clothing and armor.

  Okay, so there’s a hole. Why am I still breathing? Am I actually in Hell? The furs, and leather armor beneath them, have burnt completely away but the skin underneath feels soft and unharmed. Too soft, I have a scar from an Elrizit spear there.

  On our first outing together Caius and I had been called to stop a group of raiding Elrizit, amphibious reptiles that targeted villages along the coastline. One of their number had surprised me and stabbed me through the chest. I almost died that day too. A line of knotted scar tissue had been in the center of my chest, a reminder I had asked Caius to leave. To remind me to block.

  The pile of robes turns out to be Caius, who is fast asleep despite the devastation around him. I shake him gently as I try to rouse him, but to no avail. He’s dead asleep. I pace around the plot of dry land, trying to piece together what’s happened.

  Scraps of black cloth lay tattered in the dirt and I stoop to pick one up. With a hiss I drop it, as soon as I touched it my chest feels like it’s burning all over again. The cloth turns to formless smoke as it falls, dissipating as it hits the ground.

  Something glints at the water’s edge, something is buried in the mud. What could you be? I set to work freeing whatever it is, and after a short time I succeed. With a sucking sound another piece of armor comes free of the muck, a steel breastplate covered in winding script. All except the center, where it’s smooth as a mirror. I get the worst of the mud off it with the murky swamp water, rubbing away the rest with my furs. The smooth section is warm to the touch, and cold everywhere else. Well, I’m in the market for some armor. I hold it up to my chest, fiddling with the straps and testing the fit. It fits, after a fashion.

  I hear a muffled groan behind me. Caius is finally waking up. I walk over to him, rolling him over as I kneel down next to him.

  “Good morning Caius, how was your nap?” I ask, giving him a smile to let him know I’m teasing him. He stares up at me with wide eyes, slowly raising a hand to brush my knee.

  “You’re alive?” He croaks, a look of confusion creasing his brow.

  “Obviously. I’m too tough to kill.” I tell him, giving him a toothy grin. I lay a hand on top of his, and ask “Are you alright Caius? I know you don’t like to fight, but it looks like something serious went on here. What happened?”

  “I do not know. I remember seeing you fall, burning from the inside with Mendalde’s fire. All I remember after that is feeling like I was floating away on a cloud. Beyond that I remember thinking about how I joined the mages.” He says, rubbing his head as he does. “We should probably get going, we do not want to be here when whatever did this gets back.”

  “I agree, it’s time we got out of this ancestor forsaken swamp.” I say, offering my arm to Caius as I stand. With a grunt I pull him upright.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll get to the Tower.” I tell him. He gives me a small nod and a subdued smile.

  One way or another, we’ll make it.

  Chapter XI - Kearika

  Duras - The Town of Ba’tshish

  10th of Telod, 1873 MD

  It’s good to be out of that swamp, even a rathole of a city like Ba’tshish is an improvement. Ba’tshish is a major trade city, like Hurendale on the other side of the Haleb Basin. Unlike Hurendale, which has the great river Telyrides to move commerce, Ba’tshish has only roads. Roads means horses, which means horse shit everywhere. The whole city reeks of it, I may never get the smell out of my clothes.

  Caius and I are staying in one of the nicer inns, recent events having made it clear staying together is the only way to get through this. Caius is upstairs poring over some massive book about the aether or something like that. He needs to learn how to relax. I’m down in the common area, with a full table of food in front of me. A girl's gotta eat. As I finish off a meat pie soaked in gravy, with a side of roast potatoes, a wiry man slides into the seat across from me. He’s wearing a well-tailored grey suit coat, a clean white shirt underneath and pants with impressively sharp creases in them. Not my type.

  “Can I help you? I’m quite occupied at the moment.” I say around a mouthful of food, unhappy at being interrupted mid-meal. The man looks at me with distaste as I speak, his lips making a moue of disapproval. Too easy. I give him a wide grin, letting some crumbs fall from my mouth as I do. His lips peel back in disgust, and he moves back a bit from the table. I love civilization, and civilized men.

  “No...madam, it is I who can help you.” He says in a thin, reedy voice. He pulls a small handkerchief from a pocket, dusting off the table with it before setting his hands down on it.

  “I am here to tell you that you have until sunset to leave this town.” He says, a weasely grin splitting his face.

  “Or what?” I ask, raising an eyebrow in skepticism. He’s no threat to Caius, and certainly not to me.

  “Or, my associates and I will string you and your mage up. We’ll hang you from hooks like the animals you are.” He says, the smile never leaving his face. No one threatens me like that, and certainly not Caius. No one who's ever walked away in one piece at least.

  “I think, I think that you may have the wrong impression about us.” I say, steepling my fingers, doing my best to imitate my etiquette instructor from the academy. I hated that man, him and his dining rules. Food should be eaten, not courted!

  “If you don’t get up from my table, and pay for my meal for the discourtesy of interrupting it, I’m going to make sure you leave through that window. Speaking from personal experience, it’s not very pleasant.” I stare at him from behind my fingers, trying not to giggle. This man has never “hung anyone from hooks like an animal.” I doubt he’s even seen an animal that wasn’t already cooked and on his plate.

  Color rises to his cheeks and his mouth flaps open and closed for several seconds. The confident look in his eyes wavers, a small bead of sweat works its way down his brow. Someone’s not used to be told “no.” He gets
up in a rush, rocking the table slightly as he does. He hastily stuffs his handkerchief in a pocket. Just as quickly he draws a glove from the other and slaps me across the face with it. I sit there for a moment, staring at him in shock. Did...did he slap me with a glove?

  “Did you just slap me with your glove?” I ask him, amazed at the whole situation.

  “I will not be spoken to b-” He starts to say. I shoot to my feet, pushing the table away from me as I do.

  “I asked you if you hit me with your glove.” I say, stepping around the table towards him. Why can’t we visit normal towns, with normal people, where no one bothers me when I try to relax.

  “Yes, you lumpish cur-” He begins again as I lunge forward.

  I grab a handful of his hair and slam his head down into the table, knocking the plates to the floor. The sound of shattering pottery is awkwardly loud in the suddenly silent room. The sound of the stunned man hitting the floor a second later is even more awkward. Whoops. I look around, a sheepish grin on my face.