Too Cruel
Dancing With Death: Part Eight of Ten
Dancing With Death is the sixth in the Tales of The Lesser Evil and this is the eighth chapter.
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This is a fantasy series—not quite grimdark, but dark nevertheless—with complicated and believable characters doing their best to survive in a world simply indifferent to their existence.
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Too Cruel
‘How do you know my name? Help how?’ Flin asked the woman in front of her.
‘We need to stop it, we won’t get a better chance than this, not before it kills again, at any rate. We have a mutual friend, we can talk more later but, for now, I need your help.’
Flin nodded in reply, the lights at the corner of her vision moving up and down with her head, swirling and spinning. She still felt fear, but it had no control over her, merely a suggestion amongst many.
‘Did you see? It was flying!’
‘It was floating, levitating. Not flying. There’s a difference, believe me. Now, we need to track it. Will you help?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Flin said, a small voice at the back of her mind wondering why she so readily agreed. ‘What mutual friend?’
‘Later. It left through that doorway there, let’s go.’
‘What about Mart?’ she asked, looking at where he sat against the wall. One arm was clearly broken, the other holding his knife.
He waved her on.
‘Go. I am no use at the moment, I’ll be fine here,’ he called.
She nodded and Flin followed the woman through the doorway, pausing only to pick up her knife and remove a lantern from where it hung beneath the stairs.
The tunnel had a rough, dusty floor, and it was clear the creature was not flying—or floating—any longer. Instead, long drag marks marked its passage, the lantern light gleaming off sporadic drops of wet blood. After a while, the trail disappeared, as the ground became more rocky.
They walked silently, Flin’s thoughts flitting from subject to subject, thinking of the monster they followed, its utter rage and cruel almost-smile, then her mind jumped back to being led by the Tanuthian through similar dark tunnels, before she noticed she was wondering whether the cook at The End knew how to make the thin, small pancake wraps and, especially, one of the tangy sauces, a faint smile on her face at the memory of the food, her mouth watering. The sensation of her mind being free and scattered was not unpleasant, but a part of her did ponder whether it was appropriate, given the circumstances.
She almost collided with the back of the tall woman, failing to see she had stopped and was pointing ahead.
‘Look, the tunnel splits into three. I am going to take the middle passage, if you could take the left?’
‘Won’t it hear us talking, if it is close?’ Flin whispered.
‘Of course. And it will also see your lantern light,’ she replied, smiling, ‘And, as it can sense life even if in pitch darkness, there’s little point in hiding from it. It will find you if it wants to.’
Flin nodded in reply, that little voice silently asking why she was not terrified, why she was not running out of the Caverns as fast as she could. Clearly, something in the mushrooms made her feel less fear and she stored the information away, to ask Shint what they were and where she could get more. Shint was an incredible musician, they played so well together, each understanding the other. Her mind jumped to thoughts of his muscled body dancing, then to his slender hands on the neck of his instruments. She wondered what those hands would feel like on her own neck, maybe a gentle caress...
‘Flin? Flin!’ The woman called, loudly. ‘Are you listening? Are you drunk?’
‘Mushrooms and beer,’ she nodded in reply, then giggled, the sound making her smile, it was so incongruous with the situation.
‘Ah. Well that’s probably not a bad thing. If you are distracted from the fear, the creature loses a powerful weapon. Now, you go down there. If you find any trace of its passage, or see it, then call as loudly as you can. Have you got that?’
‘Call if I see it, or tracks. Got it.’ Flin answered, and immediately began walking down the tunnel, her thoughts already returning to what she might eat for breakfast.
She walked for some distance with no sign the monster or anyone else had passed along the tunnel in years, and had just started to wonder whether she would go dance some more once they had killed it when she realised the lantern light picked out a shape on the floor ahead.
It was another body, dressed in rags, limbs spread out at strange angles, laid on its back.
Flin walked closer and raised the lantern to see better, then found all her breath disappearing as she crashed into the ceiling, lantern dropping and smashing against the floor. Flames leapt up in front of her, but the heat and stench of oil was forgotten as the corpse rose in front of her.
She tried to be scared, but instead all she could think of was how difficult it would be to get the smell of burnt lantern oil out of her clothing, those fumes stayed long after the flames.
She was pushed back and down, to hang suspended in the tunnel, unable to move beyond gasping breaths, each more painful than the last, as the heat forced its way into her chest.
The flames died down to a flicker, as though the broken lantern had somehow been shuttered or turned low and the low light showed the corpse-pale creature rise in front of her, smiling that hideous smile once more.
Flin knew she should do something, that there was something she had to do, but she could not recall what. Was it to do with dancing? Or food? Maybe Shint and his hands?
She watched as the monster came closer, its stench now stronger than that of the burning spilt oil and, for the first time in what seemed an age, Flin felt the effects of a flicker of fear as she noticed something inside her, a tugging, a pulling, and saw a tiny bead of blood float away in front of her face, then another, and another.
She was being drained.
The beads became a faint mist, as though she had exhaled on a cold day, breath clouding in front of her.
Then she fell to the ground.
‘That’s enough,’ the tattooed woman’s voice from behind Flin was surprisingly gentle. ‘It’s time to sleep again.’
Flin coughed and spat, another flicker of fear as she wondered if her voice would somehow have been damaged. She coughed again and wiped a hand over her damp forehead.
‘What do you mean, sleep? How are you going to kill it?’ she asked, happy she could still talk, and pushing herself up to sit in front of the frozen monster. Only its eyes were moving, and they now looked terrified.
‘You remember me now, don’t you? Yes, you do. It needs to sleep Flin, it is impossible to kill it. That’s the problem, they’re always impossible to kill.’
‘It can’t be killed? Never?’
‘Not by any means we have ever tried. No.’
‘Can you not cut its head off? Or throw it into a shaft with molten rock? Or…’
‘Flin, we’ve tried every way possible. We’ve been doing this a long, long time.’ The woman softly interrupted, ‘The only thing we can do is seal it away.’
‘But, but what is it?’ Flin changed what she had been going to say, again studying the monster. It no longer looked powerful, merely sick and ancient and near-death.
‘It is something which has forgotten what it once was. It was once like you, human, but it found a way to,’ she gestured with one hand, the other held firm in front of her, palm flat, as though holding the monster still, ‘to alter, to manipulate the universe. It is something which is relatively common over the generations. Many people find this, they have tricks they can do, secret things, things which are not normal.’
‘Magic?’
‘Some call it that, yes. Of a sort. All magic is simply an exchange of power, a basic law of the universe. That’s it. But, sometimes, people do this too much, they strive for more, initially maybe for good reasons but, as they age, they find they do not want to die, do not want to give in to the passage of time. They find ways to prolong their lives, but the secret is staying sane.’
‘You speak as though there are many of these monsters,’ Flin coughed again. She had a headache and felt thirsty.
‘There are. As the mind loses control, what was once human becomes beast, or less than beast, animalistic, full of rage and hunger and little else. They forget what they were. It feels the need to take power, to convert it into longer life, and it is unable to stop doing so. The only way their damaged minds can cope is to create a fantasy. Some, like this,’ she gestured again, ‘think they need blood to survive. Others eat human flesh, perhaps a heart, or even a child. Still others collect trophies, maybe keeping skulls, or teeth. The human mind, even warped and lost, is a strange thing.’
Flin noticed the creature seemed less, somehow more withered, more corpse-like, cheek bones sharp, nose shrinking, eyes sinking.
‘What is happening to it?’
‘I am restoring balance, returning it to the state in which it will sleep deeper, more peacefully. All power can only ever come from another power, another source. A fire,’ she pointed to the smashed lantern, ‘needs fuel, it needs air, and it needs an ignition source. Remove one of these three and it will not burn. Another basic law of the universe. Energy is converted. But energy can also be stored. Look.’
Flin looked back at the monster. Its face was shrunken, like leather aged over decades, left to dry, its eyes were much smaller, but still darting from side to side, tight and panicked, angry and hungry, all at once.
The woman was pointing, and the creature’s arm raised in response. At first, Flin wondered if it was breaking free, but then she realised the tattooed woman was manipulating it. For the first time, she noticed the ring, slowly being twisted free from one bony finger.
‘I met her once before, and failed to take the ring. Sometimes, objects can be invested with the power, or be manipulated in other ways, such as absorbing potential damage, providing protection. They can be markers, beacons, for example. This ring is invested with power, it is a long, long process to fully charge it, to fill the reservoir. Time helps, simply absorbing background energy, and the sun helps, immensely—although I doubt she has seen the sun in a long, long time.’
‘Her? She?’ Flin turned back to the woman.
‘Yes. I met her when she was younger. A lot younger. She was a healer then.’ A look of pain and sadness crossed her face. ‘Flin, she was kind and gentle, and willing to put her own life at risk for the sake of others. In other times, other places, she would have been holy, a saint or deity of her own. The ring helped her escape this time. Usually it takes time to wake from a long slumber, perhaps hours or even days, depending on how long has passed. I suspect the ring had slowly been drawing energy from the volcano itself, and aided when she was found. Without the ring,’ she plucked it out of the air as it floated to her, ‘it will be safer.’
The creature, the vampire, had closed her eyes. Flin studied it and felt a dose of pity mixed in with the revulsion. To be someone dedicated to healing, then to turn into the opposite felt too cruel.
‘Now, I suggest you get up and walk back to where your companion is. I will be with you soon, I just have to seal her away.’
‘Will she feel pain?’
‘No. She sleeps now, a deep sleep. With luck, she will stay that way for many years. Maybe forever, but I somehow doubt that.’
Flin stood and moved away, behind the woman, looking back once more at the vampire, as it was slowly lowered to the ground. She walked slowly along the tunnel, one hand on the wall, taking careful steps in the gathering darkness.
Behind her, she heard a sharp crack and a sudden rush of air, then another.
She carried on walking, feeling a deep sadness she could not explain.
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