The Court of Souls? - Volume 1 Page 3

  An angry howl emerges from the darkness.

  “Damn! We have to fight! We simply can't outrun the things!” The overseer calls out and drops the slaves to assist his companion. “Get them and retreat behind the bars!” he screams towards us.

  What a seriously stupid command! I step forward and reach the lever just in time to hold it down while Zanders lets go of it to run down the tunnel.

  “Zanders!” Manticore follows him, Aswang and Legna on her heels.

  “Just great!” I wipe wetness from my forehead while they hurry to retrieve the other slaves. Two green lizard-like humanoids appear out of the darkness and attack the overseers who have nothing more than their sticks.

  One of the ways out of the sewers must have opened and let the creatures in. Everything down here is in such a bad shape. It's no big surprise. I keep holding down the loose lever and are doomed to watch while events unfold.

  Zanders rushes into the fight without caring for his own safety. Drawing the attention of the lizard-thing. No, the long, sharp teeth make them more like crocodiles! The monster rushes past the overseer who was fighting it and strikes at Zanders. The claws on the three fingered hand come away covered with blood, but I can't see much from my position. I have to fight the urge to let go of the lever and run. If one of those things gets on my side of the bars I am dead!

  There is no way to outrun it with our chubby feet. The overseers must have known that too and chose to defend their goods instead of losing at least five slaves.

  The second overseer is taken down by the other monster and falls into the water with the monster's jaws around his neck.

  Finally the overseer who got ignored uses the opportunity of Zander's distraction to stab his stick deep into the creature's back . Sparks fly as the lizard is cooked from within.

  Then he turns to face the monster which bit through his comrade's neck. My team reaches Zanders and the two unconscious boys to drag them away from the fight. While the remaining slaver and the monster fight each other they reach the door.

  Manticore pulls Zanders onto a dry section of the sewer-bed. He has a deep wound in his chest and blood is flowing out of his mouth. It doesn't look good for him. Our regenerative powers are good, but we need mana for them. If Zanders had enough mana for that wound he would have already healed up.

  Aswang lets go of the boy whom he pulled with him and tries to get to the lever, but I don't allow it. “Shut it!” he cries.

  “No, if he actually wins the fight,” my eyes wander to the overseer and the monster, “he will be pissed and we will get the fallout. If the thing wins and is able to get through the gate we can't outrun it anyway.”

  Aswang grits his teeth, but nods. Then he and Legna, who pulled the other boy, turn their attention to Zanders. Manticore is already trying to share her mana with him, but it doesn't seem to help.

  They try all they can think of while I hold down the lever and watch. The blood is pumping out of him with each heartbeat. It is slow, ugly and agonizing to watch, but finally Zanders's heaving chest stops moving and his eyes turn empty.

  The overseer is still fighting the creature, but my attention isn't on them. My third sense gives me a perfect view of their battle.

  My attention is on the green mist which emerges out of Zanders and disperses slowly into the surroundings. It doesn't seem like the others take any notice of it. Am I the only one who can see it?

  Finally they stop their attempts and accept that Zanders is gone. Their expressions turn grim as they watch the overseer finishing off the last creature by stabbing his stick down its maw and grilling it.

  I keep my eyes focused on Zanders while the man staggers back towards us. He has scratches all over his body and seems weakened, but it is nothing life threatening. His heart is as loud as a drum to my third sense.

  My comrades are still staring in anger at the overseer who stumbles towards us. The green mist around Zanders is now completely gone. Slowly I start working the lever left and right, testing its strength. If I use the little mana I have on my muscles...

  “You did well in holding the bars open.” The slaver approaches and lets his eyes wander over us, grinning. “I may notify the others of your obedience in a tight situation.” He dismisses me upon seeing that my eyes aren't on him, focusing on the others, and steps over the boundary.

  Snap!

  The bars of the gate fall shut.

  One bar impales him through his shoulder and left lung. Another scrapes off his right ear and enters his body close to the neck, exiting near his groin. His eyes widen and his mouth opens to scream. But it is hard to scream with two impaled lungs. Only an exaggerated breath comes out.

  His arms come up and flail around, but even that stops quite quickly while the movement causes him to slide down the bars and to his knees. Accusing eyes focus on me before his head drops and it is done.

  Aswang, Manticore and Legna slowly turn their heads to me. They watched the overseer's struggle with big, round eyes and in utter silence. Not a word came over their lips.

  I raise my hand and show them the broken lever. “Rusty. It broke at an unfortunate moment.”

  My attention wanders back to the slaver and I notice the green mist again. Don't they see it? “What's wrong with you?” they ask. Curious, I step closer and reach for the mist, feel it. Power seeps into me as the mist gathers into a green orb in my hand.

  Soul.

  Having an inspiration, or a memory, I close my hand around the orb and try to absorb it into my being. Johann couldn't do that. But Azir could. Who is Azir? Why does this knowledge keep popping into my head? I suddenly know how to capture a soul and I know the name of a person who can do that, but I don't remember about the person itself. Why is my mind that fucked up? I reach for my head and feel a stinging pain developing behind my eyes.

  A hand touches my shoulder and I turn around. Legna is there, looking at me with pain in her eyes. But there is also determination. “Let's go back. It was an accident,” she says.

  I smile wryly at her. “Of course it was an accident.”

  4. ~Sleeping Problem.~

  “In mythology, ogres are often depicted as inhumanly large and tall and having a disproportionately large head, abundant hair, unusually coloured skin, a voracious appetite, and a strong body. Ogres are closely linked with giants and with human cannibals in mythology.”

  The Journey to the Afterlife

  Dedessia, the Sea of Souls, Clan: Carissimi

  Elona, 6 years old

  “You are really good at painting pretty pictures.”

  Slash!

  I howl and drop the pencil to the ground. The rattle from the impact and my subdued scream echo through the vastly empty building. I look at the slowly disappearing red line on my hand. I may heal fast, but that doesn't mean that I feel no pain. And believe me, getting whipped on the back of your hand makes you scream. It doesn't matter how pain resistant you are. After three earnest whips everyone gives in.

  My gaze wanders back to Chloe who whipped me with her tail. Then I press out the tears, not even trying to hold them back. “Why, Mom? You said yourself that I am good at painting. I am tired, hungry and thirsty! I don't get what you want from me. I like Dad's lessons much better. And this stupid waxed paper is much too thin to paint properly. Look! I can see my hand through it!”

  Chloe's tail swings back and forth behind her while she looks down on me. I warily eye her weapon, expecting another attempt to subdue me. But it doesn't come.

  “All I am doing is for your own good. This world is unforgiving and there are times when even the sapling can't provide us with enough water. The clan will soon have to relocate to the desert's fringe. Otherwise we will suffer. Better for you to learn sooner than later what it means to do without most necessities. Shawn is much too nice for such lessons. He would always try to slip you some treat.” Chloe's expression turns soft and she pats my head. “You have it much better than most others. Believe me, you aren't in danger of dying.”<
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  But I am close if I don't get some water soon! “Then why the picture?” I croak.

  Chloe sighs and takes my picture from its holder. “Come.” She leads me back to the balcony from where we have a nice view over the city. The clan has a little less than five thousand members and most of them don't have their house attached to the world tree's bark. Though there are enough huts and sheds attached to the tree to house the entire clan, most people use the better stone buildings around the roots. They have more space and are still protected by the tree's shade spending leafs.

  “When I showed you this scenery I instructed you to paint it in detail.” Chloe holds out the picture for me to compare. “Apart from the main street and the most outstanding houses everything is wrong or at least a little off.”

  “But I just got one look and then you led me inside to paint!” I complain.

  “Of course. It's much too hot to stand out here. You will get a heatstroke within minutes.” Chloe turns back and returns into the cooler building with me following her.

  Once inside she picks up the pencil and attaches a new sheet over my painting. Then she starts drawing. “You will most likely become my mother's assistant once you get old enough. You already remembered a lot of basic knowledge. That's a good sign, but not enough. We have to make you as strong as possible.”

  I sneer. “What does a painting have to do with that?”

  “It's to train your mind. When you get a flashback with new knowledge or your identity, then you have to memorize all of it instantly. Every detail. What you see, what you hear, even what you feel. And you need to be able to call upon that knowledge whenever you want,” Chloe explains.

  I can't help but widen my eyes. “That's impossible! Utterly, completely impossible. I can't do that.”

  Chloe takes her sheet and gestures for me to follow her once more. Back at the balcony she scoops me up with her tail and lifts me to her eye-height. Then she places her picture in front of me so that I can see through the thin paper. I realize why we use the waxed paper. It's to be able to confirm my performance.

  Chloe's picture is just a fast and rough sketch. She didn't waste much time on it but everything is there. Streets, houses windows, even people are roughly indicated. If I interpose the sketch with the scenery in front of me it fits perfectly.

  “Nothing is impossible. This world holds every fantasy and horror you can imagine.” Chloe gestures at the town under us. “So try to open your mind and dismiss nothing too easily.” She sets me back on the ground and leaves me there. “I'll be back in the evening. In the meantime you do your best to get it right. And when you get the feeling that you can paint the town from your memories, you move on to another sight. The tiles on the ground or the tree's leaves are another good motif.”

  My eyes wander to the marble tiles on the floor with their myriads of fine lines and mosaics. Then I look up to the green treetop with its branches and millions of leafs. “What the... she is kidding! She has to be kidding!”

  It takes me another five hours to train my memory until I sign out with a throbbing headache. In absence of more detailed instructions I tried it with the brute force attempt. Take a look and burn as many details as possible into your mind, then run to the picture holder and paint as much as possible while it is still fresh in my mind.

  In the end Dad saves me from further painful mind-exercises in order to train my body. His attempt at awakening my memories is much more to my liking. He orders me to run in circles or to overcome an obstacle course in our training hall. Though it's only then that I realize that my mother's training and my father's don't work well together.

  “Good, you are doing fine. Another round!” Shawn spurts me on, but there is only so much I can give.

  I drop to my knees. “Water!” Who cares about memories. “Food!” Just do me in and let me have another life. “Kill me.” If I reincarnate right now it wouldn't bother me at all.

  “That's no good, dear. You have to remember.” Shawn steps next to me and holds out a glass of water. I snatch it greedily and drink. It's warm and musky, but who cares. The wetness running down my throat is bliss.

  Within seconds it's gone and I hold out the glass. “More!”

  Dad scratches his cheek. “No. Your mother will have my ass if I give you more. Don't tell her about that glass, okay?”

  I drop on my back, defeated. But Dad doesn't seem to be in the mood to let me have a break. “If you can't keep running, then let's have fighting practice!”

  A metal club appears above me and I twitch my head to the side, barely avoiding the blow. Hurriedly I crawl away from Dad. “What are you doing? That could have been lethal!”

  “So you don't want to die after all?” Shawn smiles and lifts the club from the broken tile. “And, no. It would just leave a big bruise. I would have stopped the blow in time. Besides, someone once told me that light hits on the back of the head increase the ability to think.”

  “That's just wrong!” Yeah, sure. He didn't deem it necessary to stop his blow for the tile though. I throw the glass at him, but he catches it without difficulty and follows me.

  Shawn jumps forward, lazily swinging his club and again I avoid by a hair's breadth. “Are you sure that you remember nothing? Those movements are very refined for a simple child. It's like your body knows what to do, but isn't able to execute the movement properly.”

  Movement my ass! I am trying to survive the attacks of an ogre! Even if Dad is going easy on me I am fearing for my life!

  I jump and duck as the attacks rain down on me. Shawn is slowly increasing the pace, but always holds back just enough to give me a small chance to escape. I am sure I would be flattened with one swing if he goes at it for real.

  Steadily the increasing pace pushes me off centre and then it happens. My left foot slips on the smooth marble tiles and the incoming club fills my vision. All I can do is close my eyes and brace for the pain.

  No! To be hurt by such a weak attack! As Celestial I would not even take notice of it. I push the mana in my core outwards and condense it in my skin. A very basic thing for someone who mastered her inner mana manipulation.

  “Kyaaa!”

  A metal clang rings through the room as the club kisses my face. I feel a sizeable part of my mana dissipating and exhaustion strikes me. The room spins around me and I land on the ground, it turns around a second time until I realize that I am the one who is spinning.

  Finally I stop spinning and reach for my face. The strike hurt, but it was more like a strong flick with a finger than anything else. I get to my feet while feeling for my neck, nose, lips, teeth... Nothing loose. Whew! My face wasn't damaged. I already feared a scar or worse.

  Dad is still standing in the middle of the room and gawking at me with big eyes. His club was flung out of his hand and lies two feet away from him.

  “Shawn! That was irresponsible! You could have damaged Elona's face! A succubus needs her beauty!” Chloe stomps towards us with red, glowing eyes. Apparently she arrived just in time to witness the accident. She must have been the one who screamed.

  Shawn raises his hands. “No! Something is wrong! I hit her fully, but it felt like striking metal!”

  She picks up the club and strikes his shin. Her movement is perfect, the pose a ten on the scale. If the club in her hands was a golf club it would have been a hole in one!

  But Shawn's knee is in the way. He goes down with a scream, clutching his leg. All I can see is that Dad's leg is bent the wrong way. It's not supposed to look that way.

  Then Chloe drops the club and rushes over to me. “He didn't hurt your cute face? You are so pale! Oh, Dear. Your nose is bleeding.” She pulls a handkerchief from her blue, one-piece dress and holds it under my nose to catch the blood.

  Is she actually concerned about me or my face? “It's fine, Mom. But what about Dad?” I try to look past her where Dad is trying to correct the orientation of his foot. But Chloe raises her wings to block my view.

  “Don't wo
rry. That stupid Ogre went far over the boundaries. He has to deal with his own problems.” Chloe returns her attention to Shawn and the red in her eyes flares up once more.

  Somehow I really want to avoid getting Mother's attention when she is like that.

  Finally Shawn gets a grip on his situation and snaps the leg into the correct position. I don't think that I would be able to do that with such an injury. Then I remember what I just did. “I think I just had a flashback.”

  Chloe reaches for my face to make me look at her. “What do you remember?”

  I furrow my forehead in thought. “Nothing much. That's the strange thing. Just the name Celestial and that she was an expert at inner mana manipulation. I know the skill, but remember only that name about myself. I am not even sure if it is actually my name.”

  “Show me,” instructs Chloe.

  I do as told and redirect some mana into my hand and index finger. Then I scratch the marble floor with my nail. “See?”

  Chloe and Shawn just look at each other. Shawn already recovered from his bad knee, though he isn't standing straight. After a short discussion they decide to take me to Doreen. Well, I call it a discussion, but the one who clearly had the last word was Chloe. Shawn's contribution was nothing more than voicing his opinion.

  My Mother grabs me, treating me like luggage, and off we go.

  Normally I would protest against being treated in such a manner, but visiting Doreen has something relaxing about it. I get to see the fury once or twice a month and she is a much better tutor than my parents. When I can visit her, she always tells me about the various animals and climate zones in Dedessia. It's interesting to simply listen to her and most importantly, not exhausting.

  It is the closest thing to what I think of as going to school. There are no schools in this clan. Everyone teaches their children themselves.

  Sadly I can't visit my grandmother on my own. The desert winds would blow me away like a leaf. Mother and Father are somehow able to fortify themselves, but my weak mana reserves don't allow for that.