A Monster Inside, page 37
part #1 of Undying Prince Series
Blood-drenched, Erik stood with a growl, red-dripping blade thrusting downward. Thunder deafened his eardrums, and he was launched into the sky. He whirled in the air, blue robe flapping like a beaten bed sheet, and, somehow, kept hold of his longsword. He glimpsed his attacker, the necklaced Dökk with his arm outstretched and then spun, losing sight of the creature.
Round and round we tumble, where we land only the madman knows. Asbjörn cackled in soft tones.
The rushing ground spurred Erik’s heart into a terrified gallop, slowing time to a standstill. He hung in the air like a puppet suspended from invisible strings, surrounded by bright, floating motes of dust, flanked by a cluster of small stones. Ever so slowly, he reoriented his feet downward and drifted toward the ground with the laziness of a falling leaf.
Eat, the Celestial Dragon whispered in the quiet of Erik’s head, almost begging.
He came to a sudden halt, inches from the dirt, gripped tight by the grasp of an invisible hand. His eyes widened at the realization of his own peril, and time snapped back into its usual groove.
“You're a fool,” Saxi said, moving forward amid the clamor of stomping feet. Each one of his steps was imbued with a pompous stiffness that matched his arrogant gait.
Men are like circles, closed to everything that stands outside themselves, Asbjörn whispered to the beating of Erik’s heart. But what if one person could join himself with others, would he not be more than himself, would he not be a god?
“Yes!” Erik shouted, and for a second he was not sure to whom he had responded. Saxi or Asbjörn, perhaps both. “Yes,” he said, calmer. “I’m a fool, others have been telling me this my whole life. But if you think you’re powerful enough to stop me, you’re the bigger fool than I ever was, than I am. There is no stopping what I am; return Hanna to me before you find out.”
Patrick clicked his tongue. Enough words, rip his fucking head off of his fucking shoulders! The Celestial Dragon roared in agreement, but Asbjörn just laughed, lost in his own inner reverie.
“Your woman is dead,” Saxi said with neither joy nor shame. He might as well have been saying the sky is blue for all the emotion that came through in his words.
Erik’s eyes burned like a low-banked fire, warming his cheeks with hot tears. He tightened his grip on his longsword until his knuckles cracked. Pain hummed along the nerve endings in his hand, a soothing counterpoint to his sudden heartache. He would not allow himself to believe. Saxi had to be lying.
“I impaled her on the tip of my spear, and smiled as she died in agony,” Saxi said. “Oh, how she begged for her torment to end; there is no sweeter sound. She even whispered your name in her final moments.” He twisted his voice into an uncanny imitation of Hanna’s own. “Erik, make it stop! It hurts so much! Please, Erik, make it stop!”
Erik’s blood seethed. He fought against his invisible bonds amid the sounds of his tearing muscles and the roar of his cracking bones. Beyond caring, past reason, he reached for one of the patterns that seemed to always glitter in the back of his mind. His body doubled and tripled in size, and only one thought rippled through his head: revenge. He would make Saxi pay. He would make them all pay. Colors faded, leaving a world that was shades of black and white, except for the heat that rose from the warm bodies.
Saxi dropped to his knees, trembling hand extended, seemingly struggling to keep Erik restrained even as the Prince grew into the form of an immense, blue-scaled serpent. Saxi groaned; Erik’s tail slammed into the earth, and the ground rumbled. Nearby Gray Skins stumbled and fell into disarray, voices rising in bewilderment.
Clothed in the Imugi’s flesh, Erik glared down at those who would oppose him and felt hatred hotter than the core of the earth pulse inside his scaled chest, powerful and murderous. He would see Saxi die! The necklaced Dökk rose its hand toward Erik, and the air rocked with a thunderclap. Hissing, Erik jerked back, and the earth heaved beneath him. He would see them all die.
“Hanna!” His voice sounded strange to his own ears, more inhuman, more serpentine, it slithered out of his throat.
Another thunderclap knocked Erik back, this time from the other direction. A part of him understood that he was being boxed in, but he did not care. His attention was focused on Saxi’s kneeling form and what the Gray Skin had said. Even now Erik did not want to believe Saxi. He held hope that everything the creature had said was a lie, but there was only one way to discover the truth.
I know what you're thinking, Patrick said, but please reconsider. There has to be another way. How long could it really take to travel down the tunnels on your own? There’s no need for this!
Saxi stood and closed his hand into a fist. “Die!”
Again, the invisible bonds wrapped around Erik like iron chains, struggling to contain his massive form. A spear longer than a man arched through the air toward Erik, then another, just as long, and more, countless streams of them. Sailing high, the first bounced off his blue scales harmlessly. The rest followed suit, clattering to the dirt. A pocket of air exploded with the roar of thunder, smashing the side of his head, flashing pain through his jaw. He shut his eyes, fighting against the rapid succession of explosions that stabbed at him like silver lightning from a cloudless sky.
Loops joining loops. Asbjörn whimpered.
Erik screamed in his head. He could barely hear his own mental voice in the roar. Yet, the pain from the attacks was nothing compared to the foul heartache flooding through him, howling with its sour taint. Tidal waves of sound crashed over him. Raging gales of wind ripped at his flesh, sliding off his scales like the spears that continued to rain down on him. He tried to launch his own offensive and crush the Dökk around him, but the force holding him in place refused to allow it. It was all he could do to not to scream out loud. The bombardments of air that continued to strike him caused blood to seep from his closed eyelids.
I’m Erik Ito, he told himself. A Prince. A god!
Something shifted inside him; he could feel his insides liquefying from the repeated blows. Groaning, he slammed his tail against the ground amid the thunderclaps. The earth exploded, sending man-sized chunks of debris into the milling mass of Dökk. Gray Skins erupted like smashed grapes when struck by wayward projectiles. They howled and screeched, falling back in something like terror as the dirt tilted around them.
The earth heaved back and forth like a seesaw, and an overwhelming sense of power bubbled within Erik. He threw himself against Saxi’s invisible grip with a single-mindedness that bordered on madness. Hanna was all that mattered, now. He had to break free!
Blood glimmered on Saxi’s fused teeth, and he swayed back and forth on his feet. He was hanging on by his fingernails. His eyes closed and the wobble in his knees increased.
“No! You can’t win! I am one of the Chosen!” Saxi shouted, bending over like a rotten piece of wood close to the point of snapping.
The force holding Erik in place collapsed, and he exploded forward with his jaw opened wide, swallowing Saxi whole in a single gulp before the Gray Skin had a chance to scream.
Chapter 45
Memory Fragment - Chosen Saxi
Beyond the warmth and the darkness, there was nothing.
The heat came from within, and sometimes from without, as soft points of contact that briefly moved across the darkness, warm, and painful. He had started using the pain to estimate the passing of time as his consciousness grew. The touches always came at the same interval, or at least they seemed to. It was hard to tell. His thoughts were fragmented and limited to the awareness of the warmth and the darkness.
Something began to change. It was subtle at first—a slight tightening at his center, soft notes of echoed sound drifting through the dark. Ever so slowly the tones grew into a powerful voice that shook his very being.
“You are one of my Chosen,” the voice said. “A jewel among jewels. A fist cocked in secret to smite the lands above.”
A cool feeling washed across the blackness the moment the first words were spoken. The soft, feather-like sensation carried with it the awareness of a hundred thousand minds like his, scattered through a labyrinth of twisting tunnels, breaching into chambers and dead ends. And at the heart of the hive-like array of minds sat one far greater than the rest. A consciousness that blazed hotter than the warmth ever had. A consciousness that shook his existence to its core.
“Grow strong, my child,” the voice said. “Grow strong.”
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Erik inhaled sharply through his nostrils, head ringing from the fading bombardment of phantom pictures, long, serpentine body writhing in confusion, chunks of earth and gallons of green liquid spewing into the air. He stilled his tremors, sick with the wet and sticky sensation of the crushed bodies spattered beneath his form. The feeling excited as much as it repulsed. He exhaled and gazed at the retreating tide of Dökk, making way for the two dozen Vatn Björns that rushed his way. The sudden change of tactic worried him more than the memories that receded from the shores of his mind or the blood and bones that adhered to his scales.
The torrent of images would be back. But, for the moment, he coiled his massive frame, ready to spring forth. He watched his enemies come, panting through circular mouths armed with barbarous teeth. Their pale, flesh-toned, barrel-shaped bodies glimmered with a layer of slime. He picked up the clamor of their eight-legged gait through his inner ears, sensed the vibrations of the earth through a bone in his jaw. Sounds were somehow more intimate while clothed in the Imugi’s form, as if they came from within as opposed to without.
“Run! Flee! It doesn’t matter!” Erik yelled. “I will see you all dead before the night is done!” His voice slithered with every flick of his forked tongue, booming back toward him after bouncing off the walls of the cavern.
Erik spoke not out of arrogance, but fear. He could sense Saxi’s memories rising up once again and could not let his enemies see how rattled he was. They could not know that, in a handful of seconds, he would be completely defenseless, unable to return a single one of their attacks. And still, the monstrosities charged, bathed in the scant light falling from the gems lodged in the ceiling overhead.
Hold on, Hanna, just a little while longer. But . . . what if she’s really dead? What then? No one answered, not even any of the voices in his head. For the first time in a long time, he felt alone, despite the pressure building at the back of his skull, despite being surrounded by an ocean of gray-skinned life forms.
Erik’s blood-stained eyelids flared. “I am your doom—”
A thunderous roar rocked Erik’s head back with a powerful burst of air. No! This was exactly what he was afraid of. He blinked away the black spots that tried to consume his vision and searched for the source of the attack. The first wave of Vatn Björns reached him, slamming into him with the force of an avalanche. The world spun.
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Memory Fragment - Chosen Saxi
Saxi stood quietly, along with ten other Chosen, watching Mrethren Örk speak. Her eyes were tense and calculating, like those of a predator observing prey from a place of concealment. She juggled a stone between the eight spider-like appendages that sprouted from her back with slow, deliberate throws. The small rock spun through the air once again and then stopped, caught tight among the clasps of three claws.
Behind the Mrethren lay piles of blackened rubble strewn artlessly throughout the underground chamber. The tangled heaps provided combatants with cover when they joined in mock combat, and from time to time creaked alarmingly from all the punishment they had suffered. A dangerous place to train. The perfect environment to hone the skills of a new generation of the Chosen.
“Your power comes from your mind and the minds of our Kvik,” Örk said in a soft, yet firm tone. Faint light fell from above, glittering off of the dark shard embedded in her forehead. The light grew brighter, reflecting into Saxi’s eyes, stirring his loins with desire. She looked at him, long, black hair framing her gray face alluringly.
Saxi dropped his gaze as his cheeks burned. He resented the show of weakness almost immediately; it should not be like that, he should not act this way. He numbered among the few and should represent the pride of the Chosen in every activity, even his lust. Tapping his hand against his thigh, he forced himself to look up. She held his eyes with her own, pink tongue flicking out to moisten her dry lip. So beautiful.
Chosen Saxi. Her voice rumbled in his head. Pay attention!
Saxi straightened, cheeks burning hotter, and gave the most arrogant nod he could muster. By the Great Mrethren, he was thirsty.
“Every time you use your power, you steal energy from the collective, the Kvik, weakening your brethren,” she said. “Move too far from your fellows, and you become powerless. This is the reason you must be careful not to get separated from your Maðurs when you lead missions above. As slow-witted as they may be, your survival and power depend on them.”
Saxi’s eyes drifted, losing focus as he tracked the stone Mrethren Örk juggled. It spun through the air and then stopped, caught tight among the clasps of three claws. He envisioned life as a Maður; they were an older version of Dökk, slightly shorter than the Chosen, who were savage fighters, lacking in higher intellect. Truthfully, they were little more than animals, fit for nothing but to serve. Unlike—
Örk hurled the rock in Saxi’s direction, and it slammed into his face. He stumbled back, face bright with pain.
■■■
Erik blinked, face stinging with the last vestige of remembered hurt, soon overtaken by the presence of the real thing. He rolled, entangled with a half a dozen Vatn Björns, clawing at his scaled body. The ground heaved as if struck by comets, billowing dirt and rock upwards in large plumes. The Vatn Björns’ shrieks mixed with Erik’s hisses of pain, the sound of ripped sinew, breaking bones, and the booms of the earth into a horrifying symphony. A macabre cacophony of war.
Wounded Vatn Björns fell away, and new ones took their place, all driving Erik in the same direction, relentlessly smashing their massive bodies into his. They were herding him! His heart pounded his chest, and the heat and smoke wafting against his back told him the reason why. They wanted him to burn!
It was getting hard to focus. They had torn openings into his side, and the leaking blood was the only thing keeping him from slipping away. The rents in his flesh were an impossibility, or at least they should have been. His scales were harder than steel. Yet, as he fought against the rising tide of foreign memories and struggled with the Vatn Björns trying to heave him back, it did not seem to matter. None of it did.
Mother, I’m too tired to go on.
Erik wanted to close his eyes; he never wanted something so much, but he could not. She would not let him—not his mother, but Hanna. The memory of her gave him strength. The image of her blood-splattered face peering down at him, a knife in her hand, tears lining her cheeks, a strain of blonde hair hanging out of her dark shawl.
“Hanna!” Erik yelled. The crushing weight of four Vatn Björns pressed down on him, and he tried to lift himself off of his stomach. The inferno raged right behind him but he pushed on, slowly inching his way upward. The ground gave way beneath him, and he slid into the lake of fire he had created, along with the eight-legged monsters lodged on his back.
He found torment. It was as if he had been thrown into a burning vat of acid, and then drawn the liquid horror into his very marrow. He screamed in agony, writhing while the world darkened.
HANNA!
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Memory Fragment - Chosen Saxi
The Great Mrethren’s laughter boomed through the chamber like the sound of rolling boulders, appearing to come from every direction at once, humming its way into flesh and bones. It shook Saxi to the core, making him want to howl with humiliation. Shame, like he had never known crawled up his spine with iron claws. His phallus burned.
Blood dripped through Saxi’s hands as he clutched at his manhood, eyes locked on Hanna’s smiling visage. Droplets of scarlet stained her pale face, seeming to add another level of depth to the blueness of her eyes. His hands shook, and her smile widened.
She would die. No. He would make her suffer first. Oh, how she would suffer. He would return the pain she had inflicted a hundredfold. No. A millionfold. The wound to his flesh was nothing compared to what she had done to his pride. And she would pay. How she would pay.
The Great Mrethren’s rumbles fell to a few chuckles. “You surprised me, human. I have not laughed like that in centuries.” The silver light provided by the giant insects, called Jós, buzzing overhead, illuminated a face of white, the size of a man’s dwelling. “You’re brave. I give you that, but I fear it will not save you.”
Saxi pushed his pain aside, and he did the same thing to the world, something he had done a thousand times before. Everything went dark, leaving nothing but the glowing minds of the Kvik, connected to each other by vibrant golden strings. At the center of this twisting network of a hundred thousand brains, sat the Great Mrethren, blazing with a radiance almost matched by the sun. Flushed with awe at what he beheld, as he always was, he reached out into the hallways and siphoned a little energy from the Dökk journeying past on tasks. He was careful not to take too much from any one person.
“You hate them more than me,” Hanna said, climbing to her feet with a slight wince of pain. Her hand flew to her side and then jumped away. “It’s true, isn’t it? You resent them, abhor them for their freedom. How long has it been since you’ve tasted fresh air? How many centuries have you been trapped in this room, giving birth to those you hate?”
