A Monster Inside, page 27
part #1 of Undying Prince Series
“Ypse told you this?” Asbjörn whispered then scowled.
The iceberg lurched sideways, and Asbjörn fell forward. Erik caught Asbjörn and took stock of his surroundings. Something had struck the iceberg from beneath. All around them, the surface of the lake boiled and stirred.
“Get behind me!” Asbjörn rushed past Erik and picked up his swords. Droplets flew like hail, soaking his scarlet robe.
Erik climbed to his feet, standing back to back with Asbjörn. He wanted to howl in frustration. I want just one moment of respite. Is that too much to ask for? Why must everything be such a struggle? The world exploded in water.
Startled, Erik and Asbjörn twisted to find an enormous serpentine beast rising up from the lake. A rush of water ran down its pale-blue scaled body, gleaming strangely over the red crossbands stretching down the length of its belly. It was wider than Erik was tall, and its head was more massive and bulky than the rest of its body.
Erik gawked. This had to be an Imugi, and it was everything he had been told, everything and more. The monster made him and Asbjörn look like toy soldiers. Its large orbs blazed, blazed like flames made of blue ice.
The Imugi opened its mouth, revealing fixed fangs. “Menn. Ég hata menn.” Its voice was thin and slithering as one would expect to come from the throat of a serpent-like creature.
Asbjörn stepped into the air. “Erik, swim to shore. I’ll distract it until you’re safe.”
“No, I’m not letting you fight it alone,” Erik said, keeping his eyes locked on the Imugi. He did not understand what it had said, but he was sure it had spoken in the Old Tongue. Who knew my language teacher was right? I should have paid more attention.
It said, ‘Humans. I hate humans.’ Or something to that effect, Patrick said. Unlike you, my language teacher lashed me if I didn’t learn properly.
Asbjörn turned to glare down at Erik. “We don’t have time for this. You’re not strong enough.”
“I am,” Erik said. “You haven’t seen half of what I can do yet.” To prove his point, he transformed both of his arms into large dragon claws. “I ran out of prana, but I’m anything but helpless.”
“Menn verða að allir deyja,” the Imugi said in the same haunting tone.
“Together then.” Asbjörn sighed.
Erik smiled up at the Cultivator. “Together.” As father and son. “Like old times.”
Dimly, Erik was aware of something white churning inside the Imugi’s throat. Its mouth swelled open wider, and a massive jet of water flew toward Erik. Absentmindedly, Asbjörn waved his swords and the air shimmered in a circle around them. The raging torrent struck Asbjörn’s invisible shield with an extraordinary amount of water pressure. Erik stumbled as the iceberg tilted away from the monster. Hundreds of gallons of foaming liquid billowed into the sky.
Asbjörn grunted, turning deadly serious. “It’s strong.” He grunted again. “Really strong.”
Even surrounded by the shield, Erik felt the pressure. When I get home, I will sleep for a month straight. He widened his stance to better keep his balance. Water flew as from a powerful geyser. “It can’t keep this up forever. When it stops, I’ll keep it distracted, and you do what you do,” Erik told Asbjörn.
Asbjörn snarled. “Trust me, son, you don’t want to be anywhere near this thing when I attack it.” He mumbled something under his breath. “It’s starting to piss me off. It’s really starting to piss me off!” He shouted and swung his blades.
The shield expanded in every direction but down, slamming into the monster’s face, bringing its attack to an abrupt end. Howling, the Imugi jerked back, and Asbjörn twirled his blades, running his shortsword along his longsword. A lightning bolt, twice as big as the one that had struck the Prince, leaped from the tip of the longsword with a thundering boom. Erik blinked, and his eyes adapted to the blinding light. The bolt pounded into the Imugi’s stomach with a crackling sound and the smell of ozone. It was flung back, howls turning into shrieks.
Asbjörn’s two attacks had been lightning quick. Even Erik had not had time to more than blink. Watching the Imugi fall back toward the lake, he yelled at the Celestial Dragon, Time to feed. He dashed toward the foul beast. There was no other way. The power of the Abyss was beyond him. His only chance lay in the Devourer of World’s untapped potential.
The Celestial Dragon roared, and a deluge of power suffused Erik’s tired limbs, reenergizing bruised muscles to their peak. He felt as if he had swallowed the sun. His hearts throbbed, and with every pulse, Erik grew stronger and more fully healed. The droplet of water falling toward the iceberg slowed then stopped, as if they had been fixed in place. Once again, Erik’s pace had increased to where moving things looked like stationary objects.
A smile bloomed on his face, no longer wilted, no longer burnt.
Once again, you’re rushing into battle without even a hint of a plan. Patrick sighed as if frustrated by the behavior of a wayward pupil.
Kill it. That’s the plan. Erik hurled himself up from the mist-covered ice, throwing his arms out, reaching for the immobile monster. Time crawled forward a little faster, and he soared. He was slower in the air than he had been running across the iceberg. The Imugi reared slowly, falling back toward the surface of the lake. Dragon claws met snake-like scales and could not find purchase. Eyes narrowing, Erik tried to keep himself from tumbling away. He threw his arms open, trying to hug a creature that was wider than he was tall. His arms lengthened to comical portions, wrapping around the Imugi, bringing his descent to an abrupt end.
Imugis are rated as a Level Four Hazard, you realize that right? Patrick said. Their scales are stronger than stacks of iron plates. And I’ve never heard of one this large. It must be over a thousand years old. It . . . might even be a Level Five. Do you know what that means?
The Imugi slammed into the water, and the lake roiled like a storm. It turned, diving deeper, and the iceberg trembled. Ripples ran along its frame in waves of rushing water, breaking as it swam, shattering over Erik. Staggering, he turned his head. The force of the water struck his arms like bristling spearpoints, swelling to dislodge him.
The Prince held on for dear life. At over a hundred meters long, his enemy was much larger than he had first thought. Its massive body stirred like a whipped pennant, moving in an S pattern. He watched, mouth agape, as the Imugi’s lateral-moving tail struck the bottom of the iceberg. A churning mass of water and frozen rubble erupted into the air. Asbjörn!
Erik screamed louder. “Asbjörn! Asbjörn!” The water shook with the distorted sounds of shattering ice, and air escaped his mouth in a rush of bubbles. What was left floating was nothing more than broken pieces of a once-mighty iceberg, drifting away from the Imugi’s tail.
He felt something, a monstrous hate. He saw it too, though he knew it was not possible. An ember of glowing incandescence inside himself, golden like the earth’s inner core seen through the purest diamond, heavier than the Rin Mountains, lighter than a roc’s feather, connecting him to something beyond knowing. Not understanding how, he reached out and grasped it, and the Celestial Dragon’s want filled him until it sang in his blood, hummed in his bones, called to his very soul. He fought back a growl. The sensation was intoxicating. Only a small corner remained for himself, but it would be enough. It had to be enough.
Massive vibrations ripped through Erik, and his flesh roiled in a chaotic mess. Underneath it all, an incredible and yet familiar sensation surged up his spine until large, bat-like wings exploded out of his back. The rest of him transformed, swelling in size, morphing into the Celestial Dragon’s colossal form. He could sense the Devourer of Worlds merging with his consciousness in a way it never had before. They became one, but he was sure he was still in control. He was sure.
I have to be!
Fire roared through his veins, a fire hotter than the burning heat of the sun. The Imugi struggled to free itself between his claws. It reminded him of a worm caught on a hook. A puny flesh thing. With the sound of tearing iron, his elongated jaw ripped flesh from the Imugi’s side and came away with a mouth full of bloody meat.
Panic flared through Erik like the terror of a flash flood. He had not chosen to attack, it had just happened. He had moved by instinct or maybe by another’s design. Before he could give much more thought to that conundrum, the contents in his maw oozed down his throat.
Pleasure built in Erik, the pleasure of completion, the euphoria of completion, bursting, the awful frenzied joy of a genetic imperative met. His mind soared. This was what he was meant for. He was born to devour the weak things that trembled beneath his claws.
Sound beat at Erik, beat at him with the distorted howls of underwater noises. From the depths of the lake, he ascended into the air with the Imugi squirming in his iron grip. The wind roared beneath his featherless wings, howled with every flap, whipping air across the churning water.
Asbjörn stood at the center of a clear sky, swords swinging, blood pouring out of a wound on his forehead. From his blades lightning came, each bolt massive and sharp, each bolt bright enough to blind. They flashed toward Erik and the Imugi, falling among them indiscriminately. The Imugi’s cries became shrieks of pain as the bolts struck its form.
The electrostatic discharge. The terrible electrostatic discharge of burning lightning.
Erik roared as it coursed through him as well. His claws opened, and the Imugi fell back toward the surface of the lake. He caught it again just behind its head and flew toward the shore with half of the Imugi’s body dragging through the water. Blood pulsed out of the wound he had left on the monster’s side. Bright and vivid. Bright and beautiful.
Somehow, the Imugi twisted its body, sending its tail whipping around Erik and smashing into his wing. They fell toward the shore in a jumble of dragon flesh and Imugi scales, panting and grunting as water and dirt billowed into the sky. Over the din, tree branches waved in the dust-filled air, and Asbjörn ran toward the place of impact, blades swinging, feet moving across the heavens as if it were the earth.
Erik clashed with the Imugi, rolling, ripping soft flesh with his powerful jaws. Mighty scales tore with each one of his bites. The Imugi thrashed, struggling to break free from him, but he would not allow it to. It was only an insect. Less than an insect. It could not harm him.
Flower petals made of searing flames rained down on them from above, and they separated. The Imugi squealed, spewing a jet of water to combat the fire trying to consume it. Erik’s heart soared with joy; these weak flames could not burn him. He inhaled, sucking a torrent of air into his large lungs. An inferno pulsed inside him, an inferno that bounced up his throat and out of his open jaw. Fire turned the jet of water into steam and leaped into the Imugi’s waiting mouth.
Terrible blistering heat charred the Imugi’s skull from the inside, and eyeballs and brains exploded from the creature’s orifices. Erik lunged at the still-twitching mass, body unfolding into tendrils and petals. Strength filled him, the burning strength of the blazing sun. The Imugi slowly sank into him until it had become a part of him.
He stood, once again in human form, surprised by the lack of an overwhelming rush of foreign memories. His whole body crackled with power. Terrible power.
“Asbjörn,” Erik shouted.
The Mainlander was longer standing in the sky above him. For a sad moment, he spun and searched for his adopted father, ignoring the fire that was ravaging nearby trees. He found Asbjörn kneeling in the lake with his head bowed and shoulders shaking as if he were weeping.
Erik ran forward. “Asbjörn, are you hurt? Asbjörn—”
Asbjörn lifted his head, and Erik’s stomach dropped. The man’s eyes glowed a deep crimson. Asbjörn was not crying. He was laughing sinisterly.
Chapter 33
Fiendlord, Patrick murmured.
Emotions flooded through Erik in ever-rising waves, waves of towering fear and anger, swells of heart-wrenching sadness and disgust, breaking over him as if trying to shatter his soul. Asbjörn! ASBJÖRN! Tears streamed down his pale eyelids. Mother, please no. Don’t do this to me. I’m begging you. Please!
“You came.” Asbjörn’s face contorted into a tired half smile, and in spite of themselves, Erik’s hearts brightened. It was such an Asbjörn thing to say. And so lucid. For a moment, Erik could almost pretend that Asbjörn’s eyes were not glowing scarlet. That he had not been overtaken by the taint of the Abyss. Almost.
Attack before it’s too late! Patrick yelled.
Dust and black smoke swirled around Erik, hiding then revealing Asbjörn. I can’t. He clenched his hands into fists and opened them with a sob. His body shook with uncontrollable tremors.
You must, Patrick said. He’s too dangerous. Fiendlords subsist on carnage. You have to! He would want you to. You know that!
I know. I know! Erik dropped to his knees. But I can’t. I . . . I. . . .
“I wanted so much to shelter you from the world’s treacheries, my son,” Asbjörn said, ripping out his swords from the lake. “A seed grows best in blood. Thoughts become things! I so much wanted you to survive them. Treacherous thoughts. Treacherous things.” He shut his eyes and allowed the wind to caress his cheeks. “I see all of it with my eyes closed. The only way to save myself is to kill them all.”
Don’t be stupid, Erik, Patrick said. For once don’t let your emotions control you. He is no longer the man you knew; he’s now altogether something different.
Erik choked back another sob. There had to be a way to save Asbjörn. He would not allow himself to fall into despair. The script had yet to be written; as long as they both lived, there was still a chance. It did not matter that no Cultivator had ever been brought back from the depths of madness. He would find a way. What son could do any less for his father? I just have to find the right words to get through to him. There’s hope. . . . Mother, don’t do this to me!
Patrick snarled. You're delusional! You must know there is no cure for this. A quick death is all you can give him. Do it now before it’s too late. Do it NOW!
“How did you ever put up with me for so long?” Erik asked Asbjörn. “Looking back, I was such a petulant little shit.” He gave a small laugh. “I still am. I never deserved your. . . . Sometimes I hate me. There so much I want to tell you, but even now I can’t. I feel like one of those automatons they build in Jörðin, a working of gears and chaos stones. Not real, just an imitation of a living thing.”
Asbjörn’s eyes snapped open. “My son. My son.” He smiled, then his eyes roared with the fury of two blazing furnaces. “You’re in danger. Terrible danger. Run. Run!”
Erik shifted, glancing past Asbjörn, unable to take the madness swimming in his adopted father’s eyes. Beyond the opposite lakeshore, shadows grew long, hindered only by the orange radiance of the dying sun. An eternal battle was playing out before his eyes. The light resisted admirably, but all the same, he understood it would be night soon. It was just a matter of time.
“No,” Erik said, fixing Asbjörn with a gaze that was tragic, despite its firmness. “I’m not running.” The fire still raged behind Erik, bathing him with the warmth of distant flames and stuffing his nostrils with the bitter stench of burnt wood.
Asbjörn snickered like a capricious child. Globs of water rose from the surface of the lake and floated around him, turning in slow circles. The globs transformed into faces, twisted with jubilation one moment and terror the next. All of which wept soundlessly at the din of their creator’s mirth.
“I envy women and the way they’re able to share their feelings with each other,” Erik said. “If men did the same, maybe—I don’t know what I mean.” He shook his head. “That’s a lie. I’m trying to find the words to tell you I love you.” Brilliant yellow flames appeared in the eyes of the twisted water faces, adding a demonic tilt to their already hideous visages.
“Love will not save you,” Asbjörn whispered, cutting his snickering short. “Hate will not save you. You must all die. All of you.” Tears glistened within his red eyes. “Even you, my beautiful son. The world calls out for it. She weeps. She weeps! Can you not hear her? Only your deaths will end her daily torments.”
Asbjörn threw his arms wide, and the lake ignited behind him. Tens of thousands of gallons of water were sucked into the air, forming three giant funnels of twisting water. Snowflakes shrieked into the sky from the top of the waterspouts, which screamed and roared with the sound of rushing wind and water. A chill seeped into Erik’s blood and up his spine. The blizzard descended around him.
He leaped to his feet. “Don’t do this, Asbjörn! I know you’re in there somewhere. Fight it! I believe in you. You’re the strongest person I know. If it can be done, you can do it!”
“Shut up! Shut up!” Asbjörn yelled. “You’re just a voice in my head. You’re not real. None of this is. You murdered my son! I know it was you! I know. My beautiful son.” He stomped on the ground, and the earth groaned. The impact blasted a small crater at his feet, sending waves of water and dirt surging out in all directions.
By the time the waves reached Erik, the water had heated into steam and the shower of soil had been transformed into glowing molten droplets. Erik threw up his arm in a vain attempt to shield his eyes, and rolled away from the oncoming onslaught. Fiery sparks lanced through his arm and chest, and blistering steam boiled his exposed flesh. Fighting back a wail, he came to a stop meters from where he began.
You’re running out of time. He will only keep getting stronger. Patrick’s voice contorted in agony. He’s a Duke-ranked Fiendlord, Erik! I can’t even begin to imagine the kind of wholesale destruction he is capable of. That has to be the closest thing we still have to a god.
Snow filled the air, a solid blanket of it. Asbjörn floated like a flower petal surrounded by weeping globs of water, howling at the heavens, the fluctuations from the Abyss crashing into his bones. The snow became whiter; somehow each flake glowed brighter than the morning sun. They hung in the air, refusing to fall to the ground. Erik squinted to protect himself from the glare.
