The Great Beyond- the Vile Fate

by K M McGuire

  “Let me help you,” the stranger muttered gravely in his ear. He hoisted Rastz by his tattered clothes, and they whispered a soft ripping noise as a weak protest. The stranger twirled Rastz around and spun the blade in his hand, placing the tip under Rastz’s lopsided jaw. “Now,” the stranger announced, “let me explain what will happen. Let us go on our way, or I will slaughter each of you.” He spit at Rastz’s feet. “I would rather leave here peacefully, but I am not opposed to ridding you from this world.” He gave his attention to Rastz. “Anything you need say?”

  Rastz tried to mutter something, but all that came out were moans and the sound of clicking bones. He looked at the stranger and shook his head in disobedience.

  “Fine,” the stranger said coolly.

  His palm jammed the blade up, slicing through the tongue, crunching through Rastz’s soft palate, and finally resting beyond Rastz’s sinuses. Life extinguished from his eyes, gazing out to a distance he had never seen before. The stranger shoved the body, wrenching the knife from his jaw. The body spun, landing abruptly on its back, jerking at the pulse of blood ebbing from hemorrhaged brain and mouth, weaving a crimson scarf along the neck.

  The stranger wiped the blood from his knife and onto his gray trousers, while silence gripped the onlookers from moving. Voden looked away. Rastz’s eyes were so empty, he felt death calling from the fearful voids that shared no secret in that horrible, endless stare.

  Scelus began to open his mouth, but the stranger interrupted. “You better close that chasm of yours! I’m warning you! You will find yourself just like him! Leave now, for everyone’s sake!”

  Scelus stared with his mouth still open, but another villager who they had not met said, “You’ll be stew for this!”

  “Dammit,” cursed the stranger. The stranger dodged swings of clubs, throwing parries with his knife. One of the cannibals stumbled past the stranger, attempting to strike Andar, but the stranger spun a kick into his stomach, knocking him to the ground.

  “Get out of here!” the stranger yelled at Andar. He ducked under a furiously swinging club and pressed his knife into the cannibal’s chest. Another was already on top of him, so he forgot his weapon and ducked below the attack, swinging his heavy fist into the attacker’s temple. Voden accepted the moment to escape. He and Andar had no purpose trying to protect the man. They could hardly protect themselves. This was better for them all. At least, Voden tried to convince himself it was the best course of action.

  Andar led the way through the woods, and they ran as far away from the village as they could. Voden remembered their escape as only smears of brown and wavering green. He ran more to forget at this point. He no longer wanted to hold the memories. He just wanted to go home. He felt the sorrow flickering through his subconscious, trying to wake him from the nightmare. Their bags clattered with each painful step, the same question pounding within his heart no matter how much he felt he could escape it.

  A scream awoke the woods, but it was far off, just a muddied echo, eerily piercing through the canopy. They pressed on. All Voden focused on was their breath. They kept going until their lungs protested, their legs as flimsy as jelly, and they could convince themselves of safety. Andar gripped his knees, his chest exhaling rapidly as he tried to slow his heart.

  “I…I can’t,” he huffed, shaking the tears from his eyes, “I…can’t…do this.”

  Voden flopped himself on the mossy ground, glancing at his friend. He wished to find words, but he could not sift his mind to find any. It seemed the hell of it all syphoned the good from his mind. The echoes of the battle were gone, though Voden’s mind still rung with the terrible sounds. The birds and creaking trees seemed to mock him, living as though everything was sound.

  “What should we do?” Voden whispered in despair.

  Andar stared listlessly through the woods. “I don’t know,” he cried softly, traces of tears still hung on his face. “We just need to find some place safe. Anywhere! I just want to forget! I want to go home, but there’s too much at stake!” He placed his face in his hands.

  “I know a place,” came a gruff, gentle voice from behind them.

  Voden and Andar jumped at the voice. Their eyes met the sweating face of the stranger. Fear fell on Voden’s shoulders like a summer storm. His eyes looked at the splattered speckles drying on the man’s face, hiding the fresh bruise that now colored his left cheek. Voden knew at that moment they could never escape this man. Yet, he had not once moved to hurt them. Voden could not reconcile the fear and security that seemed to shroud this man. Andar stared in disbelief.

  “I know a place to go,” he repeated softly, raising his hands in the air, smirking with an odd kindness. “Unfortunately, you’ll have to trust me,”

  He extended his hand. Voden looked at Andar, hoping he had an answer. Andar only scrutinized the man. Voden couldn’t explain what he felt, but he acknowledged the strange security in this man’s presence. In truth, what choice did they really have? They hardly understood where they were, let alone what other sort of dangers lurked within the woods. They hardly knew how to defend themselves. The world and its dangers were much larger than he or Andar knew how to handle. They would not have made it this far without him, and again, he offered help. Voden finally took a long breath and reached out his hand.

  The man smiled brightly, gripping Voden’s hand. Andar held his pensive gaze as he watched the two exchange their formality.

  “The name’s Vec, by the way.”

  The cool evening air was split by the sound of tearing fur, interrupting the croaking acapella made by the creatures stirring for the evening’s dance. The mossy ground slowly began to match the phthalo-blue sky, adjusting to fit the palette of twilight. Voden and Andar had spent the afternoon setting up camp for the trio, while Vec scavenged the surrounding forest for any kind of game. He was successful, begrudgingly enough for Andar, who had made it obvious to Voden he had hoped Vec would get lost.

  To mixed emotions, Vec indeed returned with a few rabbits and a bird. It was, admittedly, a small amount, but for the time being, it seemed enough to appease Voden’s growling stomach. Vec was in fair spirits, his cheeks cheery as he sat with the boys and began to skin the conies. Voden averted his eyes, perturbed by the sharp tearing created by the knife and the skin. He was grateful Vec took on the job of removing the fur, though the raw color of flesh made it hard for him to watch.

  “Odd to see this makes you sick,” Vec teased, sliding his knife under the skin of the rabbit’s leg. “If you’re unwilling to do the work for what you eat, how do you justify eating it at all?”

  “I never really needed to,” muttered Voden, staring at his leather boots. “You don’t seem to have much thought about what you’re doing.”

  Vec laughed hollowly. “I could think a prison around you before you could grasp how much thinking I do. I don’t kill without reason. I’ve known plenty of people who do, but I can’t imagine acting thoughtlessly. The darkest barbarians are those who go through life without considering thought. I think we can agree we are much better than that.”

  He observed Voden, searching for his thoughts. Vec’s eyes were not cold. They were not warm either, yet curiosity danced within the reflections as he stared. Voden looked away, seeking some council from Andar. Andar had lain himself against a thick tree, tucked himself between the knotting roots. He studied the polygons wrapped around his arm, running his fingers along the grooves and shapes. He had been distant since Vec returned from his hunt.

  Vec refused a response, shrugged, and turned his attention back to the creature held tight in his hand. The dead felt tethered to the coat of the rabbit. Vec cursed, nicking the flesh as a bubble of blood soundlessly fell from the pink muscles, speckling the pearly white tendons.

  Voden weighed the cost of a life. To what end was one worth saving and another worth extinguishing? Vec separated the final bit of skin attached to the mammal, while Voden debated whether he should share his thoughts. Perhaps Vec was the wor
st to speak to.

  “What?” he inquired, catching Voden’s gaze.

  “I’m not sure,” muttered Voden, looking deeply at the flames. “Why did those people have to die? Why save us and not them?”

  Vec sat his blade carefully next to him, gripping the bare critter. He stared through the trees, biting his lip in thought, past the amber glow of fire that separated them from the dark, twinkling violet which spilled through the canopy of the woods.

  “I guess they didn’t have to,” Vec said, giving him a shrug. He fixed his attention on Voden. “But is it worth innocence dying over clearly corrupted beings? Would it have been worth letting them carry on, just so they could continue devouring ignorant travelers?” He placed his arms on his knees, searching for an answer from the boys. The fire distracted anyone from responding, fixating themselves rather on the flames song, accepting the pops and cracks as an excuse for surprises without answer.

  “I didn’t kill them all, you know,” Vec finally said. “I only wanted them to go away. I just hurt them enough to dissuade them from following us. I wasn’t going to let them hunt you down. I couldn’t do that.” He paused and gave them a concerned look. “I let most of them go. Some learn the hard way, while others learn nothing. If you’re not willing to learn, you might as well be dead.”

  The reason seemed fair enough, though it was no comfort to think there wasn’t a better way. He wished to shake and rinse the memories burned into his eyelids. Blood and death now covered his thoughts in a shroud he could not shed. His burden meant trudging through the bloody visions and carrying the weight of the memories for no apparent reason. The companions hid from each other in the silence they shared. Nature still sang; the croaking frogs groaned for a mate, and hungry owls blasted lonely, echoing warnings to silent prey.

  In this silence, Voden’s thoughts began to decompose, and all that remained was the struggle that would keep him from moving on.

  “So, ‘Sons of Thunder,’” Vec sighed heavily, starting to slit the stomach of the next rabbit. “It’s been quite some time since I’ve heard that term. Years, really.” He became quiet.

  Voden knew the term from the academy, when they taught Adetian history, though it wasn’t one used very often in Adetia. It was a term the Scarred King gave to his followers, and it seemed even beyond the city it was known. Perhaps it wasn’t the term that caused his tongue to root itself away from words, but for Vec to assume who they were when they had not even told him made Voden’s spine splinter with chills.

  “What of it?” Andar blurted, still curiously fondling the polygons. Voden was surprised by the sudden response, and it seemed Vec was as well. Andar looked up at the flames, flickering dense contrast across his face.

  “Just thinking out loud,” commented Vec. “Seems such an odd time to meet two. I should feel honored.”

  “That’s a good thing?” Voden asked, questioning Vec’s sarcastic tone.

  “It’s a matter of perspective,” responded Vec. “Most people use the term as an insult, you know; the people of such a marvelous city are too high and mighty to mingle with the commoner. Never expected to see any come into the real world. I guess it’s not more unusual than rumors of coming wars. Anything is possible.”

  “That’s a bit unfair!” Andar interjected, pulling himself closer to the fire.

  “Unfair? How detached are you from the rest of the world? It’s clearly evident since you both are dressed as if you’re going to some courtyard feast instead of voyaging through the woods. You two may be the first Sons of Thunder in centuries to actually experience what the rest of us face daily! Let me ask you: do you expect when you go home that they’ll understand what you’ve been through out here? When was the last time you met someone who was brought into the city? Do you know anyone who has left? Because if that be the case in either direction, it’s multiples above any I’ve heard.”

  His face was stern. Voden felt his heart hit with a tide of bitterness he didn’t quite understand. In reflection, Voden had nothing to argue, while Andar sat quietly thinking nearby.

  “We can’t force people in,” Andar said softly, “but at the same time, is it not worth protecting ourselves, trying to step away from the evil hiding in the world?”

  Vec spat in derision. “What kind of person is going to accept an invitation from a kingdom they feel is already halfway out of this world? To those looking from without, we already feel that it’s too far gone. It’s hard to understand, for someone who’s already complacent with the ‘proper way of life’, how to comfort those who know little in fixing the choice that went against it. Wasn’t one of your creeds established to help guide the world towards the better path? Seems a hard goal to reach when you no longer understand the struggles of those you were meant to deal with. Your detachment is so complete, no wonder the world will fall to the Seed. Most of you will fall with it.”

  “The ‘Seed?’” Voden questioned.

  A snorted laugh escaped Vec’s scruffy face, filling his eyes with disbelief. “How little you know! No wonder you can’t understand the unfair disadvantage that the world beyond you sits in! You are the furthest from grasping help! All evil spawns from the Seed! Every dark vision and aspiration—all the selfishness in the world draws eagerly from its roots. It is the seeking horror that wishes for only itself to be. It would consume us all. It is the well that dries out hope, the cancer that sets the world aflame. It’s exactly what the Sons of Thunder were called to destroy! I mean, come on! How do you not know of your so called ‘King?’ And a vagrant like me must be the one to tell you! It makes sense now. Why would you fight if you never knew you had to? Ha! Why not lead a complacent life knowing you would not be hurt otherwise?”

  “I had always considered it a metaphor; an example of things to stay away from,” Voden murmured.

  “It’s as real as anything else in this world,” confirmed Vec soberly. “Still, it’s strange finding you two, and it leaves me wondering why you left Adetia,”

  Andar had not looked up from the flames, arms squeezing his knees. “We’re trying to save our city,” Voden croaked finally. Vec’s face could not contain his desire to hear more, and Voden slowly sighed and continued. “There’s a well in our city, which is the reason for the dome surrounding it.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard the stories.” Vec smiled smugly. “The ‘great gift’ from the ‘Scarred King’. Go on then. Spill your tale of woe.”

  Voden ignored his insolence. “Our High Priest wants us to find the Lady of the Lake. She can give us an elixir that will heal the Well of the Will. Our priest hopes this mission will convince our people to go out into the world.”

  “Or force them deeper into fear,” Vec said, leaning back, resting his hands against the earth behind him. He shook his head, as though distracting himself with the stars. He glanced slyly towards Voden. “All roads have a means to an end. It’s funny how we trust the roads built by man more than the ones forged by earth. Those roads seem to have much more of a reason to end.”

  “How do you mean?” Voden pried.

  Again, Vec shook his head and smiled. “Just be mindful with whom you put your trust in.” He let the words sink in, though they did nothing for Voden. The darkness pulsed with creatures, snuggling close to the camp, beckoning for Voden’s trust, as Vec finished skinning their meal.

  “Best we get some food in us. We have a long day tomorrow,” Vec said distantly, tying the last of the game to a stick. He passed a rabbit to each of them and instructed them on what to look for when it was fully cooked. They focused diligently on the slowly altering color of the meat, hardly sharing a word, lost in their thoughts. They watched the story of flames caress their food. Finally, Vec pulled his meal out, inspecting it closely, satisfied with the results. They all began eating, growling ravenously as they tore into their dinner, trying to detach themselves from the atrocities of their memories.

  “You know,” Vec said, through a thoughtful bite, “neither of you brought up why I wish to ta
g along with you.”

  “Because you see us as ‘innocent?’” Andar muttered crossly.

  Vec shook his head. “You remember when we shared our first…moment?”

  “Vaguely,” Andar breathed coldly.

  Vec laughed. “You would enjoy yourself more if you could smile. My point is, I knew there was something unique about you. You had some brilliance to your headstrong sense of honor. A fool’s attempt, but I can’t deny what you are. At least you have something honest that this world desperately needs.”

  Andar fell silent, not expecting a compliment. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  “I’m glad you took a chance with me,” Vec mumbled, more to himself, it seemed, than to anyone else. “Such a small thing to have died to the world, forgiveness. Something so precious should have been held onto much tighter, especially now.” He stood up and stretched his arms to the heavens. He cried an exaggerated exhale, silencing everything around him, proclaiming his weariness. “Well, I guess it’s time I get some rest. Bad to sleep on an empty stomach. Worse to march on half a night’s sleep.”

  “Wait,” blurted Andar, throwing the bones of his meal into the fire. “You’re not going to tell us anymore about you? I think you at least owe us that much! It is, after all, the least you could do if you require trust from us.”

  Vec paused, furrowing his brow. His eyes dug deep in his thoughts, scrutinizing Andar, searching for a way to respond. “I will,” he breathed, sheathing his dagger gracefully, “but I will need another favor from you: be patient with me. Let me earn your trust, and I will share who I am.”