Tenoch reeled as the hateful sound intensified, racking his entire body with such pain that he felt as if his skin was being peeled away inch by inch. He staggered back and nearly fell, but he steadied himself with the staff and managed to lurch away from the shrieking demon. The insectoid things blocking his way were caught by surprise and he pushed past them before they could catch him with their hooked claws.
He ran clumsily through the cavern, stumbling over the naked bodies of the creatures’ victims. Although he suspected that they were chasing after him, Tenoch dared not break stride to look behind him. As he approached the wall of the cavern, he spotted an opening that was just large enough for a man. Pulling his sister off his shoulder, he tucked her slender body under his arm and squeezed into the narrow tunnel.
The passage was not wide enough for him to run, but he pushed ahead as quickly as he could manage, occasionally banging into the walls whenever he lost his footing on the slick, inclined floor. Although every step took him farther away from the source of the awful shrieking, the noise continued to reverberate through the tunnel, pursuing him more doggedly than any of the creatures in the cavern behind him.
It was not until Tenoch emerged from the passage and found himself back in the chamber with the burning pool that the sound diminished noticeably. He paused for a moment to catch his breath and it quickly it became clear that none of the wretched beasts below had followed after him. Hefting his sister’s body back onto his shoulder, he rushed towards the opening that he knew led out of the vile temple.
Just before he reached it, however, something slammed against his legs and nearly dragged him to the ground. He spun around to find a familiar figure clutching at his right leg.
Koyotl.
In his weakened state, however, the priest could not hope to drag the much stronger warrior to the ground. Tenoch jerked his free leg forward and slammed his knee into Koyotl’s face. Something snapped upon impact and the priest slumped to the ground with a cry that could only barely be heard.
He looked up at Tenoch, blood streaming from his broken nose.
“No!” he shouted, his voice just loud enough to carry over the noise. “You cannot take her! She has been chosen!”
Tenoch wanted to batter Koyotl until his skull shattered, but he feared that a swarming legion of hook-clawed demons might pour out of the chamber’s passages at any moment. He merely sneered at the priest’s claim and turned back towards the gaping corridor that led out of that hideous place.
The fetid air of the marsh tasted purer than a springtime field compared to the vile interior of the temple. Tenoch breathed in deeply as he cleared the looming entrance and made for the steep stairs carved into the side of the black pyramid. Although still painful, the shrieking was no longer as head splitting as it had been inside the walls.
Izel’s body shuddered when the moonlight feel upon her exposed skin.
She screamed, her shrill voice slicing through the temple’s continuous cry.
Tenoch quickly set her down on the ground and looked to see if she was injured. There were no obvious wounds save for a narrow scab on the skin just below her navel. He bent closer to examine the mark, but she suddenly went into convulsions. Her skin prickled and her back arched as every muscle in her body seemed to tighten.
He tried to calm and restrain her, but her flailing limbs seemed to have strengthened and it was all Tenoch could do to keep her from rolling over the edge of the stairs. Frantic, he called out to her.
Her eyes snapped open at the sound of his voice. They were as black as the glassy walls of the pyramid. She opened her mouth and Tenoch saw the jagged tips of mandibles tearing through the inside of her cheeks.
“No!”
Hundreds of tiny spikes ripped through her flesh as her bones reshaped themselves before Tenoch’s eyes. Her skin pulled taunt under the strain before splitting open to reveal hard segments of chitin sprouting from the exposed muscle.
Blood filled her mouth and choked out her screams as she broke away from her brother’s grasp and knocked him backwards. Caught off balance by her suddenly prodigious strength, Tenoch tried to brace his fall with the bearer’s staff, but he was too close to the edge of the staircase. The tip of the staff plunged into empty air until it caught one of the steps. Tenoch’s body twisted awkwardly; the shift in weight caused the staff to come out from under him and he tumbled down the long staircase.
He struck the stone stairs hard and he felt bones snapping like dry branches with each impact as his rolling body picked up speed. By the time he smashed onto the causeway at the end of the staircase, he was barely conscious and most of his body had gone numb.
Delirious, he tried to crane his head around to look up at the top of the staircase. Although is vision was cloudy, he could see that something was moving down the steps towards him. As the figure drew closer, he saw the extra set of limbs and the sharp spikes protruding through the bleeding skin. Its face was familiar, but he refused to allow his mind to recognize it.
The thing scooped his broken body from the ground and carried him back up the steps, back towards that awful noise that still carried through the wet, night air. It took up the staff with one of its free hands, the stone box at the end of it still glowing brightly and leaving a trail of smoke behind them. Tenoch tried to pass out, to will himself to die from his injuries, but his spirit was too strong to simply give up.
Koyotl had pulled himself over to one of the chamber’s walls by the time the creature carried Tenoch inside the temple. The priest laughed as he watched it deposit his erstwhile captor on the ground.
“You understand now, don’t you?” Koyotl said. “You see why the chosen can never return to the weak flesh of their past. They have been called to become something else, something greater that we mortals can ever hope to achieve!”
Tenoch only barely heard the madman’s delusional cries. His thoughts were too consumed with hatred for the inhabitants of that foul temple and the shriveled things like Koyotl that saw fit to worship defilement as a path to divinity.
The creature that had once been Tenoch’s sister set the staff down next to him and then stalked over to the flame-scarred body of staff’s original bearer, which was still lying next to the pool of flame. It prodded the body with its hooked fingers until the burned thing stirred to life. Once it regained consciousness, it sniffed at the air until it located the staff, its mandibles clattering excitedly when it did.
Weakly, it reached towards Tenoch and began to crawl towards him. As it moved closer, the other creature returned to his side and ripped away clothing and armor to expose his naked flesh.
“What are you doing?” Koyotl asked.
The burned creature’s body trembled with pained effort as it hauled itself on top of Tenoch. Despite the numbness gripping his body, he felt something pointed probe against his midsection.
“No!” Koyotl shouted. “He is not worthy to bear the flame!”
A loud popping sound ricocheted through Tenoch’s eardrums as the creature plunged its concealed stinger into his stomach. Intense heat flooded through his body and he felt every muscle tighten so powerfully that they seemed ready to rip free from the bone. He wanted desperately to scream, but he had lost control of his voice and the lungs that gave it breath. Helpless, his mind retreated inward, trying to hide in a black void bereft of all thought or sensation. But there was no escaping the terrible shrieking that echoed through every inch of the temple. The sound ruthlessly dragged his consciousness back to the horror of the present, pressing in on him with cruel insistence.
And then, suddenly, there was a change in the dreadful noise. The droning cry took on greater complexity, the shrillness giving way to varied tones that constituted a carefully fashioned order. There was purpose to the sound, a higher meaning.
Slowly, Tenoch began to understand that meaning.
Koyotl continued his screaming, but the crude utterances forced from his lungs were far too simplistic to be processed by Tenoch�
�s senses. They were pushed aside by the lilting, hypnotic song that fluttered through the winding corridors of the temple. Pain fled from his body, replaced by the sensation of being restrained, as if he were bound too tightly in clothing from head to toe.
Muscle, bone, and sinew throbbed as they slowly began to reshape themselves.
Soon, they would break free of the bonds of the older, weaker flesh.
Feeling returned to Tenoch’s hand and he grasped for the staff.
The bearer of the flame would need its light to guide their way home.
Sins of the Father
Originally published in Divergent Fates Anthology (independently published, 2016)
When I was still with Curiosity Quills Press, I got to know sci-fi/fantasy author Matthew Cox, who had released several books with them. Incredibly prolific, Matthew could (and still does) crank out books at a rate that seemed superhuman to me. He’d edited some of my work previously, so when he planned to release an anthology of stories set in his cyberpunk Divergent Fates setting, he invited me to contribute. It was a bit honor, but I was nervous about it because I’d never written a story set in someone else’s world before. Luckily, Matthew sent me plenty of resources to get started, including the draft of a Divergent Fates RPG he’d never gotten around to releasing (time to get on that one, Matthew!). It was a good experience, and I’m still very proud of the story I ended up writing. From top to bottom, I think it’s one of my very best. Unfortunately, in what would be a warning sign of things to come, the publisher yanked the anthology out from under Matthew after he’d spent about a year working on soliciting and editing stories. The story does have a happy ending, though, as he eventually decided to self-publish the volume. Learning how to navigate the logistics of self-publishing set him on a path that would ultimately end with him breaking with the publisher and releasing his work independently, where he’s enjoyed much more success.
Moscow, Russia: December 4, 2415
“Citizenship is more than a privilege, greater than a responsibility.”
Dmitri let the statement sink in for a moment before he continued. He scanned the two hundred and thirty one faces staring back at him from the auditorium’s seating area, watching for any signs of wavering interest.
“It operates on a higher level than the old bonds between the state and its mindless multitudes. In centuries past, citizenship served to constrain liberty, shackling men and women the world over to a great, bloated leviathan that understood no language save tyranny and ruthless exploitation. Without the freedom of contract, that most natural and fundamental of human freedoms, the prosperous and the industrious were compelled by threat of violence to serve and sustain the idle and the indigent.”
He waited for a hand to go up, maybe even an indignant voice raised in protest. Occasionally, he got a thinker. Not every time, but often enough to keep his mind limber. Most had the good sense to keep their mouths shut, at least until Dmitri launched into this particular soliloquy.
No thinkers here today, apparently.
He continued: “A monstrous ideology held an iron grip over liberty, like the calcified religious dogmas of ancient times. Theirs was the gospel of theft, a doctrine of illegitimate takings by which the world’s great minds and brilliant luminaries surrendered the fruits of their genius to an undeserving and ungrateful world even as it scorned their industriousness and went on demanding ‘more, more, more’.”
A few smiles. Half-engaged nods.
They were listening, at least.
Did any of them hear?
“Until one day our brave founders resolved to endure these indignities no longer. They would be slaves no more, and in so doing they would forge a model for a new kind of citizenship, a new kind of freedom. And when they stood up as one to declare ‘No more!’, the despots of the bloated, parasitic state took up arms to compel them with violence. But our founders chose to protect their liberty. In defiance of tyranny, they stood together to form the Allied Corporate Council and ushered in a new birth of freedom with the War of Dissolution.”
A full quarter of the class vanished before he finished his last sentence.
Dmitri glanced at the clock on the auditorium’s back wall.
1530. Time to go.
Must be running slow today.
“That will be all for now.” Another fifty or so students disappeared en masse as he spoke. “Be sure to review the vid file I’ve highlighted for an overview of the Dissolution. There will be questions on military and public relations strategy throughout the war. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that attendance is mandatory?”
Most of the students had logged out by the time he finished. The fifteen who remained stared at him with seemingly genuine interest as their avatars continued pantomiming recording the lecture he was no longer giving.
“Forgot to set the timers, did we?”
Programming a false avatar to attend class was one thing; being careless enough to get caught was quite another. Dmitri waved his hand to bring up a display with a short list of names. He flagged each name, which caused cone-shaped hats labeled “DUNCE” to appear on the remaining students’ heads.
One of the students vanished.
Dmitri smiled.
Too late.
He clapped his hands and the auditorium’s walls lifted into the sky one by one to reveal a massive, pleasantly manicured courtyard. Lomonosov University’s main building stood on the far side of the grounds, its starred peak towering several hundred feet over the rest of the campus. The rest of the university’s famous structures occupied positions along the great courtyard’s perimeter. Dmitri took in the sight, inspecting each building in turn before looking to the next.
The real thing must have been something to see.
A bell sounded, followed by a flashing circle that appeared in the upper right hand corner of his field of vision. He reached up to tap the circle, causing it to expand and reveal a block of text.
What’s taking so long? Katerina’s asking for you.
The message was from Inga, his wife. She never messaged him unless it was urgent.
Dmitri flicked his wrist to summon a glowing holo-pad. A few swift keystrokes caused the university grounds to dissolve into blackness. He floated in the dark for several seconds before weight and sensation returned to his body. The chair beneath him made his lower back ache, and the senshelmet’s triodes chafed against his temples and forehead. After taking ten deep breaths to let his brain adjust to its surroundings, he removed the senshelmet.
The room he called his study was little more than a closet. He barely had enough space for his SetunTech Trinity deck and senshelmet rig, but it was the only area in the flat where he could have a measure of privacy. After shutting down his equipment, Dmitri unlocked the door and stepped out into the main hallway.
“About time you finished up,” Inga said, poking her head through the doorway leading to the living room.
Dmitri shrugged. “I keep waiting for one of them to surprise me. Maybe next semester.”
“Well, Katerina’s been asking to see you all day.”
“I know. I got your message. How is she?”
“Her headache came back this morning. She said it’s even worse this time. I gave her something for the pain, but it didn’t seem to make any difference.”
That made four days out of the last five their daughter couldn’t get out of bed long enough to leave the house. Dmitri wondered if her school might start asking questions.
“We really should look into taking her to a doctor, don’t you think?” Inga asked.
“Let’s give her another day. She’s been under a lot of stress this year. Might clear up with a bit more rest.”
Inga scowled, but didn’t press him on the matter. Not yet at, least. She knew that even a cursory trip to a clinic would cost the family the equivalent of a month’s pay. If the doctor prescribed medication, and they always prescribed medication, the cost might well double.
Paying
the doctor was the least of Dmitri’s worries, however. He was more concerned about the nature of Katerina’s recurring headaches.
“I’ll look in on her.” He turned away from Inga to walk down the hall. Katerina’s bedroom door stood slightly ajar, so he pushed it open and stepped inside. Horizontal strips of light filtered in through the metal blinds over the window, just bright enough to illuminate the tiny space. Although Katerina’s fourteenth birthday was only a few weeks away, her room still looked like it had been decorated for a ten-year-old. A puppy dog motif adorned the walls and the dresser tops, and the shaggy rug covering the hard ceramic floor featured a husky with brilliant, sky blue eyes. The glowing lights woven into the fabric of those eyes hadn’t worked for at least a year or two.
She always wanted a dog when she was little. Dmitri still remembered the way her slender body trembled when he explained that they couldn’t possibly afford such an expense, even a cheaper synthetic animal.
“Papa?”
He jumped at the sound. Katerina lay beneath a mound of blankets on her narrow bed, but her voice carried across the room strong and clear. Dmitri sat next to her and placed his hand on her shoulder.
“How are you feeling, Katti?”
The girl shifted, rolling over to look up at him. She rubbed at her eyes clumsily.
“Papa?”
Her voice was labored this time, groggy.
She’d been asleep when he touched her.
“Your mother said your headache’s returned.”
Distant Worlds Volume 2 Page 21