Malik the Bard

by Moore, Scott

  “It does not matter,” Malik said, without much conviction.

  Malik figured Sweet Tongue would turn back to Mollie and Egg now. His game with Malik was over. He would see the defeat building in Malik’s eyes.

  “I will tell you one little thing about your friend.” Sweet Tongue stepped closer to Malik, sword tip still pointing out before him.

  Malik could almost feel the tip of the sharp blade. He knew what it felt like to be cut with a blade that sharp. Minus had shown him not too long ago. Malik still had the wound on his throat to remind him.

  “After I tell you, I doubt you will call him friend for much longer. Maybe you can get the notion of helping him out of your little head.” Sweet Tongue licked his lips with his darting tongue. “Once upon a time, Abrie was not just a simple traveling bard. The music he played was to a different tune,” Sweet Tongue flipped the blade in his hand.

  Malik followed the rounding sword until it fell back into Sweet Tongue’s hand. Sweet Tongue had taken the opportunity to get in real close to Malik.

  “Abrieyour friendwas a killer just like me,” Sweet Tongue was breathing almost directly into Malik’s ear. “He may have had you fooled, but he never found you on the road. He did not save you, boy.” Sweet Tongue leaned in so close that his lips grazed Malik’s ear. Malik was too afraid to move. “He is the reason you needed saving at all,” Sweet Tongue whispered.

  Then just like that Sweet Tongue jumped backward from Malik. Malik had no time to think about his reaction. He had no time to assess the situation. Before Malik could tell himself to stop, his legs, pained and screaming, pushed off from their rooted spot on the cave floor. Malik did not have far to cover before reaching Sweet Tongue. If Sweet Tongue had not underestimated him, or if he had even thought it a possibility, then Malik would have been dead already. Sweet Tongue could not have guessed what Malik was going to do, because Malik would have never been able to guess he could do it.

  Sweet Tongue stumbled back, dropping Mollie’s sword. Malik grew red with exertion, wrapping his hands around the throat of Sweet Tongue. Sweet Tongue’s eyes bulged, not from the pressure, but from shock. Malik heard the sword clatter to the ground and squeezed harder. This was his one shot to end everything here and now. This was the one shot he had to make up for every time he had ever paused. Sweet Tongue’s hands grasped Malik’s wrist. Malik could feel the undeniable strength behind those fingers. Sweet Tongue pulled Malik’s hands and took large gasping breaths. Malik would not be able to hold, and he knew this. There was no way for him to out fight Sweet Tongue, he would lose his grip in a matter of moments and Sweet Tongue would get up, killing them all one by one.

  Sweet Tongue pressed, with his thumb, into the wrist of Malik. Malik felt the sudden urge to open his hands. No longer choking, Sweet Tongue bucked his hips, throwing Malik over him and into the floor. Malik felt the white-hot flash of pain as his body smacked into the rock. Before he could open his eyes, he heard another grunt and then something fell on top of him. Malik groaned at the pain and opened his eyes. Draping across him, very much unconscious, was Sweet Tongue. Standing over him was Mollie now holding her father’s sword. In her hands it was glowing bright.

  “You kill him?” Malik asked with some effort.

  Mollie shook her head no. “I told you I am not killing anyone ever again,” she replied.

  Malik looked at Sweet Tongue and wished she would reconsider that opinion just this once. Everything he had told him about Abrie, everything he had done to the world, Sweet Tongue deserved to die.

  “Let’s get out of here before he wakes up, or before something else comes for us,” Khris said.

  He was grabbing Mollie by the hand and turning her as he spoke. Malik pushed Sweet Tongue from his chest. He could still kill him before they left. He had never made such a bargain that he would not kill anyone. Would that make him any different though? If he killed Sweet Tongue would he be any better than the man? Maybe he would. If he killed Sweet Tongue now, then Sweet Tongue would never be able to kill anyone else again. He would be saving the world with a single life taken. Malik felt the fingers of Mollie under his arm.

  “Come on, Malik,” she said.

  Malik’s resolve broke. She was right, they had to get out of this cave. They had what they had come for. They would bring the relic to the old man and then maybe Malik could fade off into the sunset.

  Malik pushed himself to his feet with Mollie’s help. Embre stepped to the other side of him, but he waved her away with a thanks.

  “What do we do now?” Embre asked.

  Malik had made up his mind about what he would be doing next. He was going to get the relic to the old man, like they had promised, and then he was going to return to being a simple bard. What the others did was up to them, but it was no longer his problem after this.

  Malik took the first step back the way they had come. He did not take a second glance at Sweet Tongue. Hopefully the man would never wake up. Maybe he would rot here in this cave for eternity. It was more than he deserved.

  How much of what Sweet Tongue had said was true? How much of it really mattered? Malik told himself that he did not care. Either way, he was going to get out of this mess. Abrie was gone. If what Sweet Tongue said was true, then it was for the best.

  Malik winced, but not from the pain in his body. Thinking of Abrie being gone did hurt, even if he tried to convince himself that it did not. If Abrie was dead, then that meant Malik was truly alone. If Abrie was not dead, then that meant Malik could still ask him face to face.

  “Are you okay?” Mollie asked, grabbing Malik by the shoulder.

  Malik shook his head, clearing his thoughts. “Let’s just get out of here,” Malik said.

  Everyone looked more than willing to oblige that request. There was nothing left for any of them in this place.

  Chapter 36

  The Crystal Dragon Again

  Malik made the first few steps in a stumble. He wasted more of his energy attacking Sweet Tongue than he had initially realized. The more he thought about what he had done, the more shocked he grew at the brash reaction. The words from Sweet Tongue’s mouth had created a fire inside Malik that Malik was unable to quench. He heard the screams of his mother and father with every step toward the cave’s entrance. Had he even heard his mother or father during that night? All the screams sounded the same. There would have been no way to discern whose screams were whose. He could not remember the faces of the villagers or the men who had killed them. He could only remember the screams and the fire that grew as the bodies and homes fed it.

  Malik pushed the thoughts of his past to the back of his head. Whatever or whoever had caused the pain and death did not matter at this moment. At this moment, all that mattered was finding the entrance to the cave. Then they would have to trek all the way back across the rocks, the plains, and find the old man again. Could they ever locate him again? Malik was not sure he knew where the old man’s home had been. He was even less sure that it would still be there when they arrived.

  Malik took another weak step. Would he even be able to make it from the cave? If he crumpled here, alongside Sweet Tongue, then he would not have to worry about Abrie, the relic, or finding the old man. He could fall into the long sleep and never worry again. The screams of his loved ones would fade into oblivion. He could rest there on the cave floor. There would be nothing left to disturb him, and his friends had the relic. They could move on without him. They would probably be better off without him. All he was going to do now was slow them down. His eyes were open, and he was staring at the wall, but all he could see was Abrie’s snarling face before him. Abrie’s drawn lips exposing pointed teeth. Malik knew that this image of Abrie was nothing like the real Abrie, but he could not shake the image. The screams pounded his ear drums, although he knew they could not be there. He was in the cave. There was no way he could hear the screams of his parents. There was no way Abrie was standing in front of him. Still, he could not shake them. The images
and the sounds felt more real than they ever had before. He could see his burning village. The tavern his mother worked in was alight with the orange of flames. He could hear a woman screaming inside the building, was it his mother? Had he tried to run to her that night? Had he tried to save any of them? How had he ended up on the road for Abrie to find him at all? He remembered the smell of smoke, or maybe it was there with him now. He watched the eaves of the tavern’s roof fall. Abrie jumped in front of him again. This time Abrie was brandishing a short sword, covered in the red of blood. Had that been his father’s blood? Had Abrie drove through him without a second thought? Was one of the screams his fathers’ dying breaths? Had Abrie killed Malik’s family? Was Abrie the reason the Tempre were in his village at all? Sweet Tongue had said that Abrie showed him the way or made him who had had become. Sweet Tongue had said he would still be like Malik if he had not met Abrie when he had. Did that mean Sweet Tongue had only been a young coward? Had Sweet Tongue run away from his dying family? Had he abandoned his burning village? Did Sweet Tongue still hear the screams of those he loved? Did Sweet Tongue even love?

  Malik felt hands grasping him. Something was shaking him, but there was only one person in front of him. It was the ghost of the child he had once been. He was no longer staring out into the burning village. He was hovering over the child that had to have been him. The matted, brown hair hung down into his eyes. The too small top hugged at his chest. His pants were up to his shins, exposing the dirty skin below. Had this been Malik? Had he really been this poor boy?

  He was shaking. The little boy below him was in no shape to help anyone. How old had he even been? Abrie could not tell him that, not even now. He could not remember if he had been three or four, maybe even five. It had been such a long time ago and most of his memories before then had faded. What he did know was that he had been afraid. He was frozen to the spot now. He could still hear the screams, but over them he heard voices. One voice above all he heard calling to him from somewhere else, somewhere that was not his village. The shaking grew fiercer and the voice grew louder.

  “Malik!” said the voice.

  He could feel his body being gripped and rocked back and forth. There was something pulling at him. The screams began to fade and overlapping them was the voice of a woman. It took a few more moments, but Malik recognized the voice. He was not that little boy anymore. He was a young man. He was not in his village. He was in a cave far from wherever that village had been.

  Abrie was no longer standing in front of him with madness in his eyes. Abrie’s face had been replaced by Mollie’s. She looked worried. Her fingernails were digging into the tops of Malik’s shoulders, but he could barely process them.

  “Are you okay?” Mollie asked.

  Behind her Khris and Embre were motionless staring at Malik. Malik closed his eyes tight. He could no longer hear his parents or the other villagers, he could no longer see the faces of the Tempre; he willed his eyes back open.

  “I am fine,” he lied.

  There was no reason to tell any of them what he had seen. They could not help him with his past or his future. He would have to do it on his own. This time there would be no one there to save him.

  “Then let’s get out of here,” Khris said, looking around the blacked out room.

  Malik took another step forward. Khris was at least right about that. They had no more reason to be here. Egg was holding the box, Sweet Tongue was out of the way, and he had done them the favor of taking out the dragon.

  Malik had to take three or four steps before his legs regained feeling. When they did, he wished they would have stayed numb. It felt like a thousand tiny pinpricks were spiking through his legs. With each footfall his face scrunched, his eyes winced, and he bit his lip to keep from hollering out in pain.

  “Are you sure you are okay?” Mollie asked him again.

  This time she was standing closer so that the others could not hear her. Malik gave her a stained, half lipped smile. “I will be great when we get out of here,” he said.

  Mollie obviously did not like that answer, but she did not pressure him. She knew that their time was limited. Even without the dragon or Sweet Tongue, this cave did not feel like a place that should be lingered in.

  Malik pushed himself through the painted mural rooms and back out into the hallway that they had left Sweet Tongue and his crew in to fight the dragon. The walls felt closer this time as they walked back toward the grated entrance. Malik felt like it was harder to breathe. Almost like something had taken the oxygen from the room. Many of the lights had fallen from their brackets, but they had not gone out. Their angle did create new shadows and illusions to behold. Some of the shadows against the wall reminded Malik of reaching hands. Hands that would cup them and keep them inside the cave for the rest of their days. Others seemed to run along the walls ahead of them to tell the others they were coming. Were the shadows setting up a trap for them to fall into before they could escape? Malik shook his head. He was being paranoid. There was nothing left in the cave to stop them. The dragon had killed the mercenaries, Sweet Tongue killed the dragon, and Mollie had knocked Sweet Tongue out. There was nothing left but Malik’s aches and pains to slow him down.

  They rounded the last curve of the hallway before the metal grate and Malik witnessed firsthand the destruction that the dragon brought. Bodies of mercenaries were scattered limb and torso across the ground. There was no identifiable way for Malik to tell whose arm belong to who and what leg attached to which body. The only thing to tell for certain was that there would be no recovering from the damage done. Each one of these mercenaries was well and truly dead beyond repair.

  Malik did not see any sign of the dragon amongst the littered floor. A creature the size of the dragon should have stuck out like a beacon, but there was nothing to point to a dragon having ever been here. Malik was not about to go looking for it. If Sweet Tongue had killed it somewhere else, then so be it. It did not matter what the corpse of the dragon looked like, so long as it was dead and out of the way.

  Malik stepped over the torso of a woman, or what had previously been a woman. He could feel the sticky blood under the heel of his boot as he placed it back down. He tried not to think of it. He just needed to keep moving. He would move through the treasure rooms and then toward the entrance and be done with this place. There would be no reason to mourn those who had died here. They would not have mourned him if Sweet Tongue had killed him. Malik stepped over another body. This body had large chunks taken from his shoulder and neck as if ripped away by teeth and claws. Malik did not envy any of the mercenaries’ deaths.

  A few more bodies were piled up by the doorway into the treasure rooms that they had left behind. Malik was glad to see them. Even if he could not hold the treasure, it was worth so much to him. It meant that they were close to the end of this place.

  Before Malik could reach the arching entrance, he heard Embre fall behind him. He had been lost in his own thoughts and had not even been watching to make sure the others were following him. Now he could see Khris still stuck by the grates. He could see Embre sprawled on the ground and he did not see Mollie anywhere near them.

  “Mollie!” he called out for her.

  She did not answer him, and he called for here again. “Where did you go?” Malik asked.

  Mollie again did not answer. Malik sighed; he would have to backtrack. Even if he did not want to backtrack and even if he did not have the energy to do so, he would have to backtrack to find Mollie. Malik stepped over the corpses again, this time going the opposite and wrong way.

  “Mollie!” he called out again.

  Still there was no call back. Malik looked around for any sign of Egg. There was nothing indicating that the little monster had come this way. That was at least good to know. That meant that Mollie was probably not alone.

  “Have you seen Mollie?” Malik asked, helping Embre back to her feet.

  Embre glanced around as if she had just realized there were oth
er people in the cave with her.

  “She was behind us, or in front of us, I don’t remember,” Embre said.

  Mollie had not gone ahead, had she? Malik doubted that Mollie would leave them behind. That was not like her. He resolved that she had to be behind them somewhere. Malik pulled Embre along. There would be no use separating and losing someone else.

  “Khris,” Malik called out.

  Khris stepped over another body coming toward them.

  “This is a disaster,” Khris said, as Malik and Embre reached him.

  Malik could not deny that. There was nothing good about this mess beneath their feet. He could hate the people all he wanted, but there was no way he could enjoy that carnage that the dragon had left behind. No matter how bad these people had been in life, they did not deserve to go out this way.

  “We can’t worry about that right now.” Malik looked around again, hoping to see Mollie coming around the corner. “Did Mollie come out of the hallway?” he asked.

  Khris shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t really remember,” he replied.

  Had anyone really been paying any attention to where they were going? Malik could barely remember the trip from the mural painted room to this room, but he knew he had made the journey. He was still trapped inside his own thoughts and fighting against the words of Sweet Tongue. Somewhere he had allowed that to distract him from what he was supposed to be doing.

  “We have to go back and find her,” Malik said.

  “Are we sure she did not go on without us? Maybe she is already at the entrance and is wondering where we got off to,” Embre said.

  Malik did not blame her for not wanting to go back. There was no telling what they would come across.

  “You and Khris can go check the entrance if you want,” Malik said.