Path of Ruin

by Tim Paulson

  Emily lay on her back in front of his shop, blood streaming from her mouth. A horror lay collapsed on top of the lower half of her body. It had hurt her terribly, but something had happened to it, black and red oozed from hundreds of holes in its head and body, like it had been stabbed by an entire army of spears. Henri fell to his knees next to Adem, who sat on the ground beside her, wrapping his arms around his son.

  “I'm... sorry,” Emily whispered as the last life faded from her eyes.

  “Me too,” Henri said, still gasping for breath.

  “The monster got miss Emily!” Adem said.

  “I... I came too late,” Henri said. This was his fault. He should never have left them alone.

  Then Adem shrieked like he'd been stabbed and wrenched from Henri's arms.

  “What are you doing?” Henri said.

  Adem didn't answer, instead he let out a blood curdling howl. Little hands groped for the skin of his face as if it were on fire. The boy's eyes were wild, looking everywhere but at nothing.

  Recognition hit Henri like a hammer.

  “NOOOO!!!” he screamed, reaching for his son, but it was too late.

  Adem bucked back and forth as if he was being hit with a mallet over and over again from every side. This was the moment Henri had dreaded for years, ever since he'd realized what his son was.

  He'd hoped to go somewhere they didn't use veil for heating the water and cooking food, but even out here they hadn't been safe. The veil had found them. Now Adem would become a horror. The promise he'd made had been broken.

  “No! No! No!” Henri said, taking his beautiful golden haired boy in his arms, feeling the flesh heat unnaturally as the boy's eyes rolled and his body shook and foamed at the mouth like a rabid dog.

  The skin was beginning to swell. Henri could feel it. There were only seconds left before his child would be borne aloft by the demon that had taken up residence within him. His skin would tear away and his flesh would steam as he was consumed, transformed.

  Henri's eyes filled with tears as he looked around for his sword. He would do it himself. He had to and quickly.

  He couldn't bear to see his beautiful little boy, The boy who had Anne's eyes, Anne's hair, who was all that was left of their family, become one of those... things.

  As he looked for his weapon he saw a woman limping toward them. She was lean and dark haired and wore the blue lined uniform of house Halett but stained with dirt and blood. Most importantly she wore veil goggles like those issued to goliath knights. She saw him looking at her and grimaced.

  She raised an empty collection cube. “I was trying to catch him. I didn't want this to happen! That boy,” she said, her head looking around in all directions. “He's attracting them from all over.”

  “God damn you!” Why did you bring them here!?” Henri spat at her as he stood and collected his two handed sword from where it lay half submerged in the mud.

  “There were people here! You've killed them all with your damned war machines. You've killed my son!”

  The young woman said nothing, pitying him probably. He didn't need her pity. He had enough of his own.

  He raised the blade above his head, trying not to think about the fact that he'd be cutting his own son's body in half. His poor little boy.

  A cold bony hand gripped his right wrist.

  “No,” said a low gravelly voice. “He can be saved.”

  It was the old woman from before, the one who'd seemed far too interested in Adem. Some puritan fanatic out to cleanse his son with fire?

  “Get away from me witch hunter. I won't let you burn my son!” he said.

  A horror had appeared in the alley next to the inn across the street. It noticed them and began to charge. The limping Halett soldier drew a veil rapier with a pale blue glow from her waist.

  “Don't worry about this one,” she said as she stepped toward the oncoming beast.

  “You have the wrong idea blacksmith. I'm not much a fan of fire all told,” said the old woman. “We must go inside your shop, before it's too late.” Fingers clawed at his arm.

  “There's nothing that can be done! Don't you think I know that?” Henri said. Adem's convulsions had slowed, the final transformation was about to begin. He raised his arms higher, rearing back.

  “No!” said the old woman.

  Henri felt as if unseen hands took hold of his body. They jerked him into the air and tossed him aside like a child's toy.

  The force of it wrenched the sword from his hands. It dropped, embedding itself in the mud at an acute angle. He slammed to the ground, sliding in the muck, his lungs sucking for the breath stolen by the impact.

  A short distance away the female soldier with dark hair could be seen expertly sidestepping each swipe of the horror's claws. In a single smooth motion she jammed the blade into the center of its head and twisted. When she withdrew, the monster dropped like a stone.

  Adem!

  Henry tried to turn around, to see what had become of his boy. He was forced to splay all his arms and legs in the mud in order to get enough purchase to rise. His head lifted just in time to see the old woman walking calmly through a gaping splintered hole that had once been the door to his forge.

  “Inside! Both of you! Now!” said the old woman just before she disappeared beyond the threshold. Adem hung limply under one of her thin arms.

  Henri fought his way to his feet. Then he yanked his sword from the ground and charged toward the front of the shop. Once inside he ground to a halt, shocked.

  Splinters of the shredded door lay everywhere, tables had been overturned and the oozing corpse of a horror that looked like it had exploded, lay motionless on the floor. Yet what held his mind in thrall was the vision of Adem suspended in the air above the work table, face up, eyes closed, arms and legs hanging limply.

  Only inches away the old woman's hands flicked in patterns like the shuttle of an insane loom. There was an audible crack and a flash of light flickered in the air around Adem before disappearing like it had never been.

  “That should hold him for the moment,” the woman said as she turned around. “Ah good,” she pointed two fingers toward the female soldier.

  “Hey!” the woman said as the green goggles she wore and the veil cube in her left hand were pulled from her to the old woman.

  “I need these. You won't be getting them back,” she said as she placed the stolen items on the work table below Adem.

  “Look at them all,” said the soldier, stepping forward, her eyes fixed on Adem.

  Henri too approached cautiously, immediately he understood her words. Writhing forms were extruding themselves from various parts of Adem's body. Most of the forms were red and sharp like little ribbons of blood and diamonds while others were a pale blue and softer seeming. One of the blues in particular appeared to point toward the woman to Henri's right.

  “Zeus,” she breathed.

  “Yes,” said the old woman. “And eighteen others.”

  “What? How? How can we see them?” Henri said, jaw slack, sword lowering to the floor.

  “Big battle nearby. You people use them to power your toys. Just as I expected, they all came to him as soon as they could sense him. You can see them because I let you,” said the old woman just before she smashed the cube on the work bench.

  “I need that!” the soldier said.

  “No, you don't,” said the old woman. “Now be quiet. This is delicate business.” Her gnarled hands rifled through the pile of debris on the table, pulling out all the translucent veil crystals.

  “Do you have any amulets?” she asked, gesturing around the shop with one wizened finger.

  “What?”

  “Necklaces, charms, you understand now?” she said.

  Henri thought of the chain around his neck and the locket at its end. “Is it for Adem?”

  The old woman gnashed her teeth in annoyance. “Of course!”

  Henri removed his necklace, pausing only for a second to glance upon the ti
ny cameo of Anne, then he handed it over.

  “It's a trifle small,” she said, “but it will do.”

  Henri wanted to watch what she was doing to the last image he had of his wife but found it hard not to gaze at Adem. The boy hung in the air so peacefully. Despite curly golden hair matted with clumps of mud and speckled with flecks of what must be Emily's blood, his arms and legs hung slack, his expression serene.

  As relaxed in his slumber as Adem appeared, the creatures walled within him were doing everything they could to escape their prison. They were spinning and biting and butting against the invisible walls with increasing frequency and ferocity.

  “I think those things are trying to get out of whatever you did,” the soldier noted.

  “They're trying to break the block I've set. Once they do, they'll consume him,” said the old woman, still working feverishly on whatever it was she was doing at the table. “Come here smith.”

  Henri obeyed, stepping closer to the table despite some trepidation. According to everything he'd learned about veil what this old woman was trying to do was impossible. Yet she seemed so confident. He only hoped it was not in vain.

  The old woman pointed at the soldier. “You, come to the other side of the table.”

  “My name is Mia,” she said. “And I've work to do elsewhere. If Zeus is lost that's all I need to know. I'll take my leave.”

  “I wouldn't do that if I were you,” said the old woman with a sly smile. A snarl from behind drew both Henri and Mia's attention. A horror stood in the doorway with another behind it.

  “They're... They're just standing there,” Mia said.

  “They can't come in,” said the old woman.

  “How is that possible?” Henri asked as he watched steaming drool flow from the open maw of the closest monster.

  The old woman ignored his question. “Come girl, sit here, sheath your blade. Your mission can wait for a moment. I need both of you,” she said as she handed Henri what had once been his necklace.

  Dark veil crystals were arrayed smoothly around its edge in an arcane pattern. The work was not haphazard, rather it looked like it had always been that way.

  “I'm sorry, but I have to leave. I must get back I-” Mia said, but the old woman raised a single hand, pointing a finger at the girl's forehead.

  “It can wait, now you will help us.”

  “Yes... I can do that,” Mia said.

  Henri's eyes narrowed. What was going on here?

  “Reach inside the circle and put the amulet on him. Both of you must hold his arms and legs. He'll struggle for a while.”

  “What are you going to do?” Mia said, her dark brows knitted together, the need to leave apparently forgotten.

  “I'm going to watch.”

  Henri sighed, shaking his head. He didn't care if the old hag was odd, what mattered was that there might be a chance for Adem to live.

  “On his neck smith, now.” A finger like a knotty twig indicated his son.

  Henri swallowed and reached forward with both hands. The feeling of the air near Adem was warm but there was no resistance. The veil demons swirling like angry snakes inside clearly did not like the amulet for they parted, avoiding it and his hands, at all costs. He slipped the chain over Adem's head and laid the cameo turned amulet on his son's chest.

  Then the thrashing began.

  Though his eyes were closed and his body still suspended above the table, Adem's arms and legs started beating at the air furiously. The girl grabbed the arm and leg on her side and Henri grabbed those closest to him. They held him as he flailed madly, frantically, for what seemed like an eternity.

  Finally the thrashing slowed to a shudder and the creatures faded. Adem's body began to drift down until he touched the table, eyes closed, apparently asleep.

  “Stand aside. I will show you how to drain him,” said the old woman.

  “Drain what?” Henri asked.

  “Nothing now, he's too new, but those nineteen demons will feed upon his flesh, they have nothing else. The amulet contains them, yet still they will feed. As they feed they grow strong, they fill his blood with their power. That power is poison to your boy. Do you understand?” The hag spoke very quickly, Henri was having trouble keeping up.

  “I...” But how would he get something out of Adem's blood?

  “Pay attention smith! I don't have much time. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, his blood will fill with poison.”

  “Exactly and he must be drained of that poison.”

  “How do you know all this?” asked Mia, eyes narrowed.

  The old woman ignored her. “For this great a number it will probably be two or even three times a day. The number is not important you must watch the boy, he will become listless and clumsy, perhaps irritable. When that happens he is full and you must drain him. Bring your big ugly sword over here and place it on the table next to the boy, I'll show you.”

  Henri did as he was told. He snatched up the two handed blade and placed it gingerly on the work table.

  The hag produced an ornate pin from the folds of a shawl and pricked Adem's finger with it. The boy did not wake or even stir, were it not for the normal color of his skin and the even pattern of his breath Henri would have thought him dead.

  “You must draw his blood, just the barest amount and place a veil item nearby.”

  As the crimson bead of blood formed on the boy's finger Henri's sword began to glow dull golden yellow, a color he hadn't seen in years.

  “Yellow?” Mia asked, “Where is that from?”

  Henri ignored her. He had no interest in discussing his past with the local baron's soldiers.

  “So you see? Very simple. You must do this, as I said likely many times each day. If you don't they will become strong and he will become like those,” the old woman said indicating the horrors drooling in the doorway with one long bony finger. ”Only for this boy it would be far worse, do you understand?”

  “Yes,” Henri nodded.

  “Why is everyone ignoring me?” Mia said.

  “Take care to use a clean needle. Pass it through a fire, strong spirits, or boiled water, or he may become ill. He'll be more prone to fevers now, that can't be helped.”

  “I see,” Henri said.

  “Can either of you even see me? I won't be ignored!” Mia slammed a fist on the work table causing the sleeping Adem to startle but not quite awaken.

  “That's enough!” The old woman flicked a finger in Mia's direction.

  Mia froze in mid motion, caught in some invisible web. The old woman's bony fingers made a quick series of motions as if drawing something Henri couldn't see. Then there was a muted flash of blue green near the old woman's hands and Mia dropped to the floor, limp.

  “What are you?” Henri asked the old woman, though he already knew what the priests and nuns of his youth would have said: a witch.

  This was supposed to be a new enlightened age he lived in. Henri had decided long ago to put his trust in the repeatable testable world of science and technology. He'd rejected superstitions and rituals as childish foolishness from people who simply didn't know any better. Now, watching this woman, for the first time in his life he wasn't sure.

  “Don't worry about this one,” said the shawl covered hag as she knelt down beside Mia, touching a thumb to her forehead. “She won't remember any of this. I've overwrote her bond to connect her to the boy. She'll stay with you and protect him at all costs.”

  “Forever? I don't want a slave!”

  “She's not for you, she's for the boy. Also, do not mention what I've done for this boy to anyone. Do you understand me Smith?”

  “Completely.”

  “No one must see you drain the boy. Except for this one,” she said indicating the crumpled Mia. “As long as her runes hold up she won't notice any of it nor will she tell anyone.”

  “Runes? How long will that last... and how long will Adem's amulet work?”

  “Don't worry about the girl,
she's not your concern. For the boy, if you don't forget to drain the poison and the amulet is not removed or damaged... a while.”

  “A while? What does that mean? And the demons... can they be removed?”

  The old woman shuddered then as if shaken by some unseen force. She nearly collapsed, placing one hand to the ground to steady herself. There was a flicker as well and her form seemed to change for a split second to something else, something darker.

  “It's time for me to go.”

  “The demons inside my son! Can they be cured?”

  The old woman shrugged. “Perhaps.”

  “Where do I have to go? I will do anything for my son!”

  “You may have to.”

  Chapter 7

  "The line between modern technology and witchery is shrouded in ignorance and superstition but when illuminated, surprisingly mobile."

  -From a talk at the Sarbonne in Pallus by Wilhelmina Von Blauen, Veil company technician, 1593

  The sparrow from the baron's quarters swooped out the window, down two stories, over and around two castle parapets and into the window outlet of Aaron and Giselle's private rooms. Inside Giselle lay on her bed, sheets and blankets drawn up to her neck.

  Aaron stood at the foot of their bed, hands on his hips, thin brows knitted together like bits of felt in the most stern expression he could manage.

  “Come, you should get out of bed. Children I don't know keep finding me in the halls and asking where you are and if there will be stories today.”

  Giselle narrowed her eyes but said nothing. He could have stood up for her but he hadn't. She'd been scolded like a child for making up stories, even with Celia backing her. Though that wasn't a complete surprise, nobody really trusted Celia, not even Giselle, not really.

  Aaron sighed. “I'm sorry.”

  “For what?” She wouldn't be letting him off that easily.

  “For making you unhappy.”

  Giselle sat up like a shot. “What!? You should be sorry for not believing me!” She would not allow him to play word games.

  Aaron grimaced. “I... Look, I know life in the castle isn't as exciting as your stories. I promise once the iron works has been finished we'll take a trip, perhaps to Pallus or Miran. You'd like that wouldn't you?”