by Gregory Loui
It wasn’t that, Gore growled to herself. Debbie didn’t understand. She didn’t, couldn’t know the suspicions creeping through the folds of Gore’s brain, nibbling at the edge of her thoughts, chipping away at her ebbing self-esteem, gnawing away at the foundations of her mind.
Though her thoughts churned within her, Gore set her face into stone and nodded. She opened her mouth to respond.
But Fin burst out of the hospital room, jerking off his mask as he gasped, “Gore, um… Tawny wants to talk to you. Well, she’s been wanting to talk to you for a while now but we’ve finally managed to stabilize her.”
“Oh, thank the Forge Master,” gasped Debbie while Gore breathed a long sigh of relief.
Her legs wobbling beneath her, her throat dry, her heart thumping against her chest, Gore growled, “Why the jagd would she want to see me?”
“I… I don’t know,” shrugged Fin, looking at Debbie, who shrugged as well.
Gore shook her head. It was her fault Tawny was in there now… she shouldn’t be the one who—
Debbie placed a hand on Gore’s shoulder, whispering, “You know what it’s like to get burned. You gotta—”
Gore sighed and growled, “Fine.”
“Um… yeah, actually, um… you just need to put on a mask and we’ll disinfect you,” muttered Fin as he pulled out a mask from a nearby container and offered it to Gore. Then he sighed and muttered, “Damn it… I’m not cut out for this stuff.”
“You’re doing great,” murmured Debbie, stepping forward to pat her cousin on the back while Gore put on her mask. “The hospital needs all the help they can get.”
“If they’re willing to let med students help…” muttered the Dean as he shook his head. Gore frowned and tried to ignore the dozens of other students and staff burned in the fire. Blight… Gore squeezed her eyes shut and tried to repeat Agnis’s breathing technique. Tried.
Breath in…
The fires flashed in front of Gore’s eyes.
Hold…
The dragon’s roar, the roar of fury incarnate, echoed in her veins as the ground shook around her.
Count to five…
“You ready?” asked Fin.
Release… Gore opened her eyes and nodded, following the halfling into the sterile hospital room.
Blue ropes of magic wrapped around Gore as she entered the room, lifting away the dirt and ash from her flesh and clothes. She flinched, closing her eyes for a moment. Then she stepped forward, stepping up to the side of the bed.
Through the cocoon of magic shrouding the elf, a sobering sight awaited Gore. Tawny, the once-beautiful elf, with flawless alabaster skin and gold-silver hair, the apple of half the college’s eye, had transformed into a mass of angry red burns and melted flesh. The doctors had shorn away her hair, revealing a lattice of sharp slices that consumed Tawny’s entire skull and half of her face. The elf breathed through a mess of tubes and wires woven in and out of her body, connected to a massive machine in the back of her bed. The drip of an IV echoed in the silence alongside Gore’s footsteps.
Gore gulped, pausing, looking at Debbie and the Dean, for some reassurance that she could help. They both nodded. Gore sighed and continued her journey.
At Gore’s approach, Tawny’s right eye flickered open and the elf smiled. She reached out a hand, now a three-digitated claw, fumbling in the air. Gore stopped in her tracks, her mind numb.
“Hi,” said Tawny.
“Hi,” said Gore.
A pregnant pause filled the air as both looked away. Gore glanced out the window. Debbie and the Dean mimed with exaggerated movements for Gore to grab Tawny’s hand.
No. Gore shook her head. She wasn’t going to comfort a damn elf. But then, Gore caught a glimpse of the elf’s ruined face. Gore’s eyes flashed black. The ghosts in the ruined immigrant district stared back at Gore. What a horrible way to go, no matter if one was elf or orc. Gore sighed. After all, they were all people.
Gnashing her tusks together, Gore reached out to take Tawny’s hand, careful not to crush the frail elf.
“Ouch,” whispered Tawny.
“Sorry,” growled Gore. Then everything started breaking down inside her, tears blurring her vision for a moment as she knelt by Tawny’s bed, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I—”
“What are you sorry for, s-s-silly?” asked Tawny, before coughing and heaving. One of the nurses cursed and reached forward to press a hand full of magic against Tawny’s forehead. The elf smiled and closed her eye. “Ahh… that feels better.” Then Tawny turned back to Gore. “What do you have to be sorry about? You saved my life.”
“Not soon enough. Not before… this happened,” growled Gore, her throat tight as her darkest suspicion gnawed once more at the edge of her thoughts. She forced her eyes to steel.
“Hey, I’m just glad I’m still alive. Even if I’m gonna look like a monster from now on,” hissed Tawny through gritted teeth as she looked to the side, frowning as she focused on Gore. “The outside’s gonna match the inside.”
“Looks aren’t everything,” growled Gore, gesturing to her own face. The face of a beast. “I mean look at me.”
“Hehehe… when’d you get a sense of humor?”
“About the same time I lost my tribal tattoos and orc hat,” coughed Gore as she shuffled and leaned against the bed, facing away from Tawny.
“That’s an image I’d pay to see,” laughed Tawny before she snarled and clutched her chest. “Damn. It hurts to laugh. Hurts to breath… hurts…”
Then Tawny began to cry, tears leaking down her face.
Gore turned around again. She paused. As she looked at Debbie and the Dean. Both mimed speaking but all Gore could do was shake her head.
Then she sighed.
“Hey, hey, hey. You’re gonna make it through this. After all, you got something resembling a brain knocking around in that big skull of yours,” growled Gore, squeezing Tawny’s hand tight. Tear by tear, the elf’s sobs petered out.
“Damn,” growled Tawny, shaking her head and wiping her eyes. She sniffed. “Damn… I’m sorry. I got a little too emotional there.”
“I know. Been there. Coming out of trauma like that… Trust me, I know,” murmured Gore as she reached over to grab a tissue. She offered the whole box to Tawny. “Take all the time you need…”
The elf shook her head and waved away the tissues as she murmured, “You know… you’re good, Gore. You’re a good person. Damn, it just took saving my life to admit that. Jagd. I can’t believe I got swept up by…”
“Jagd,” coughed Gore, her eyes shimmering black. “Don’t get sentimental on me. I was only doing what any sane, remotely empathic person would do.”
Tawny shook her head. “You’ve got a high opinion of the everyday person if you think they’d run into a flaming building with dragons—”
“Well, I couldn’t give up the chance to fight those bastards,” growled Gore even though she shuddered at the thought of facing down one of those monstrosities again.
Laughing and snorting, Tawny rolled her eyes and muttered, “I wish I hadn’t been so… viscous toward you. I wish… I hadn’t almost gotten you expelled.”
Blinking, her entire body going numb even though the fires ignited within her once more, Gore said nothing. She needed to let Tawny explain herself. Though Gore had a fair idea of what Tawny would say.
“It’s just… you were so amazing but I couldn’t deal with that, couldn’t see you as a person,” murmured Tawny, causing Gore’s eyes to open wide.
Gore snapped her gaze around to look Tawny dead in the eye, asking, “What sort of drugs did they put you on? Pixie dust?”
But Tawny raised a finger, smiling as she said, “Let the burn victim finish, please… look, I’m not gonna hide anything. This is definitely not because of the drugs. Definitely not… I hated the idea of some orc coming into our school through a government program, taking what I thought I earned. Plenty of my friends who were just a little worse than me in the tests
couldn’t get in because of people like you…”
Gore growled.
“I’m not going to excuse those actions,” murmured Tawny, shaking her head. “That was a shitty mindset. But… in truth, I didn’t hate you because I thought you took the place of my friends. I hated you because I was jealous. And… and… somehow, thinking that you weren’t another person with your own struggles helped and… Wow, what did they give me?”
Tawny glanced at the IV.
Jealous of her? Gore shook her head and stared at Tawny. Gore snarled to herself, how could anyone who’d walked in her shoes possibly desire to live Gore’s life? Inconceivable. Even Gore didn’t want to be Gore.
“I was jealous of your strength. Rising up from the slums through your own power. That primal ferocity, that indomitable will I saw whenever I stumbled and struggled with homework and school and the pressure. You never gave up. You never gave in.” Gore had to blink away tears as Tawny continued, “I was so jealous of how bright you grew, how high you rose. I wanted, needed to knock you down a peg. And, well… you know the rest of that story…”
“Yeah…” murmured Gore, shaking her head. Then she opened her mouth. Only to close her mouth before she could make a fatal mistake. No. She couldn’t voice her suspicion now. Not until she knew the truth… instead Gore focused on a different truth and murmured, “Though you aren’t the only one to blame. I got emotional as well. I fell into your traps.”
That strength Tawny had seen… that indomitable will… it was only rage. Rage at the world and at herself. In the end, Gore was also to blame for their little feud. She had let hatred blind her. She had let herself think that Tawny wasn’t a real person. Let the world divide them into opposing tribes. But Gore couldn’t force the words out of her mouth.
“How petty it seems now,” whispered Tawny, closing her eyes and laying back against her pillows. “So many hours of our lives, years wasted on a grudge when we could have been working together.”
“Yeah… I wish we could have… I tried…” Gore closed her eyes for a moment and envisioned a world where she’d worked together with Tawny. With Tawny’s design skills and Gore’s mechanical expertise… and of course, Debbie’s raw vigor… damn it all, Gore cursed. It could have been great. Like so many of Gore’s relationships. Gore’s mind turned back to Bones.
Tears spilled out from Gore’s eyes.
Everything she touched turned to shit.
The teardrops fell onto Tawny’s flesh, causing the elf’s eye to snap open. A glimmer took the elf’s eyes. Gore blinked.
“I’m sorry. For everything,” murmured Tawny with unusual fever, her hand squeezing tight. Gore gulped. The elf, delirious from the drugs and pain, misunderstood her tears. “I’m sorry for everything I did to you. I was such a fool, who couldn’t see beyond my own little world, swept up by something I didn’t understand…”
“It’s not too late,” growled Gore, squeezing Tawny’s hand back. Then she smiled and growled, “Though I kind of liked it better when you were a bitch. At least you had a quad then.”
“Shut up, asshole.”
“Bitch.”
Both women smiled and chuckled. They might not have healed the rift between them. Gore doubted they would ever be friends. But they weren’t at war. Maybe there was a chance. Gore opened her mouth to speak.
Only for one of the machines to let out a low-pitched screech.
The nurses bolted into actions each, taking places by Tawny’s side.
Blight… Was Tawny going to be all right? As she squeezed Tawny’s hand tighter and tighter until bones flexed under melted flesh, Gore opened her mouth to ask her question. She needed to know. Blight. She needed to know.
“Gore,” murmured Fin, hand wrapping around Gore’s shoulder. Though the halfling was too weak to even budge Gore, the orc let him steer her away from the bed.“We’re gonna have to ask you to leave for a little bit while we put Tawny into a regenerative cocoon. We can’t have any disturbances.”
“I…” Gore closed her mouth with a sigh.
Blight…
Then, Fin pushing her out with a great shove, Gore exited the hospital room, just in time to catch Howard hobbling down the hospital room. The flames had almost completely singed off the dwarf’s beard. Even the eyebrows. It might have been comical, if not for the circumstances.
“Is Tawny…” began Howard, almost eyes locking with Gore.
Her own eyes flashing white, Gore looked away. She couldn’t answer him.
“Shit,” cursed Howard as he punched himself in the face. Then the dwarf sat down on a nearby bench and sighed, “Shit. This is all my fault… all my fault… if only…”
“What are you rambling about, cousin?” asked Debbie, sitting down next to Howard and wrapping her arm around his shoulder. She managed a smile. “How could this be your fault? You didn’t burn down the ballroom, did you? Last I checked, you gave up arson ten years ago when you lit Aunt Sonya’s skirt on fire. She beat the—”
Shaking off Debbie’s arms, Howard hissed, “Debbie, this is no time for your jokes. I know I didn’t start the fire intentionally but my hand laid the groundwork for this… this mess. It was the replicator. It caused the explosion.”
Eyes burning black, Gore sucked in a deep breath. She steadied herself against a wall.
“What caused the explosion?” asked the Dean, leaning in close, his voice harsh. The words sliced into Gore’s heart like a thousand blades, cutting and cutting until there was nothing left. Even though the Dean didn’t aim the words at Gore.
Fists squeezing tight, Gore shook her head. She knew the answer, why the replicator exploded. She glanced down at her hands. All of a sudden, crimson stained the green skin.
Howard shook his head as he rubbed his temples and growled, “There was a flaw in the crystal. When the energies of the replicator rushed through the focusing crystal, a fraction of the energies built up in the flaw until… well, boom.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Lashing out
The world blurring around her, sounds surrendering to her own screaming thoughts, Gore’s head spun around as she turned away and staggered down the hallway. Her breath caught in her locked throat. Her heart threatened to jump out of her chest. She couldn’t breath, couldn’t think.
Darkness swirled around her.
Gore continued walking until she burst onto the roof of the hospital. She walked up to the railing, wrapping her hands around the rusted iron. Her claws sunk into the railing as she stared out across the rooftops. In the distance, the smoke still churned out of the school. Her stomach, threatening to rebel, churned within her, mirroring the smoke. Her heart mirrored the burnt remains of Elvenheim’s ballroom.
Blight… the fire could have engulfed the entire school. Could have. Gore was beyond fortunate that the fire hadn’t spread beyond the ballroom.
Gore cursed herself. After all, at this point, who else was to blame? Not the school for their policies. Not Tawny for driving Gore into Bones’s arms. Not Bones for dragging the rest of his problems into Gore’s life.
Only herself. No one else to blame but herself. No one else could ruin Gore’s life as much as her. She couldn’t attack anyone else anymore.
Gore’s stomach made good on its threat.
The bile splattered against the cold pavement below Gore in silence.
Dark whispers that always murmured at the edge of Gore’s thoughts swelled into a crescendo as Gore contemplated the ground below. Her life was over. If the Dean found out the truth, if he learned Gore had caused the explosion, there wouldn’t be a second chance. She wouldn’t get to meet Agnis again. She would go to jail like the rest of her kind, left to rot…
“Once you fall, it’s hard to get back up,” murmured Bones at the back of Gore’s mind.
All her dreams would be shattered forever.
She closed her eyes.
Was this all a nightmare? Was this all just a bad dream? The questions, once lurking in the dark, leapt to con
sume Gore’s mind.
Sometimes, in this darkest moments, when world collapsed around, Gore wondered if her entire life after the Wildfires was the fever dream of a dying child unable to comprehend the horror of her world collapsing around her. Sometimes she wondered if at any moment, Gore would wake up in her mother’s arms, a child once more. Most of the time, Gore hoped she would.
After all she’d done… it would be for the best…
“Gore?” Debbie’s voice echoed through the rain. Gore glanced around to see Debbie burst out from the hospital. “What are you doing up here… wait, what the jagd are you doing? Get the jagd away from the edge, right now! Right now, damn it!”
Blinking, raising an eyebrow, Gore turned back around and then hissed as she realized what a coward she’d almost become. Gore jumped back over the railing and collapsed onto the ground in front of Debbie.
“Shit!” No. That wasn’t her. She needed to find a outlet for all this anger. She needed to…
“Shiratoko mushroom indeed,” agreed Debbie even though her voice verged on breaking, shaking her head as she paced around the orc. Gore closed her eyes and hung her head. “What in the Forge Master’s name is going on today? First Bones, then the ballroom fire, now you’re… shit, please. Don’t ever do that on me again. Don’t ever pull that crap on me. I already lost too many people to suicide. I can’t lose another person I care about.”
Gore chuckled, grim laughter bursting from her lips as she shook her head. How could someone so bright, so beautiful, so good care for a monster like Gore? “If only you knew what I am…”
A monster.
“What?”
Heart skipping a beat, Gore half-cursed and half-chuckled, “Shit. I said that out loud.”
Tears poured out from Gore’s eyes.
“What are you talking about, Gore?” asked Debbie, her hand pressing down on Gore’s back, rubbing, a small warmth in the rain. Her voice quavering.