Chapter Thirteen #3
you been listening to our conversations? Is that how you know my name?”
A dozen
sighs bled from the swirling wall.
“I
offer no quarter!” Isaac yelled. “You imprisoned my father! You have sustained
your unnatural life upon thousands of bodies! The Diet of Nine commands your
death!”
Zaria
gripped his shoulder, leaning more weight against him.
“I—I—Issssaa—aaaaaacccc—”
More
stalks grew from the bones, budding outwards like the sprouts of fungi. They
were all capped with skulls, and the faces began to chatter around them,
growling and snarling, fighting their own anatomy. Words were coming from the
hissing voices, somewhere just beyond the point of understanding. The sorceress
was attempting to speak, but the bones did not comply, and the language seemed
as fleshless as the dead.
“What
game are you playing?” he asked. “Just kill us, if you’re going to.”
Zaria
gripped him very tightly.
The
skull stalks bent back, like they had been taken by surprise.
“I will
not be intimidated,” Isaac said. “You’ll have to do better than a wyrm if you
wish to scare me. I’ve fought many to get here, and I’ll fight whatever else
you may throw at me, as well.”
As if
in response, the bone wall slithered back.
Was she
retreating?
Was she
scared?
Isaac
stepped forward into the gap, dragging Zaria with him. “What do you want? There
must be some reason you’re sparing us.”
“Isaac,”
the skull stalks replied, swaying like a meadow of flowers.
“Do you
want my aid?” Isaac asked. “Is that why you’re sparing us? Did you summon the
wyrm just so we could help you slay the beast?”
The
skull stalks twisted and bent, tangling their vertebrae stems.
“That’s
it, isn’t it? You wanted our help.” He burned his light a little brighter. “The
sandwyrm was already going to attack. You just centered it on where we were.
And if it didn’t kill us, then you’d have our help killing it. Isn’t that
right?”
The
ocean of bones flexed around them, like the pull and expansion of a diaphragm.
“And,
now,” Isaac continued, “you’re not killing us because you still want our help.”
He glared at the skulls. “Let me guess. It’s the other sorcerer. The
puppeteer.”
The
skulls gasped.
“You’re
scared of this sorcerer. Scared enough to ask us for aid. That must mean you’re
desperate. You are, aren’t you?”
All
around him, the skulls began to nod, wobbling on their vertebrae stems.
“Who is
this sorcerer, then?” Isaac asked. “What do they want? How many thralls do they
have under their command?”
The
melted skull, the one Isaac had initially burned, leaned forward again, its
voice gurgling and raspy. All the other faces clattered around it, and he could
see dozens of others inside the ocean, briefly visible as they spun and
tumbled, each of them mouthing at a word. Isaac began to feel, very strongly,
that the sorceress was trying to communicate, but the anatomy of her
structure was preventing any speech, and she was unable to bridge the gap.
It was
odd.
What
was the point of all this?
“Simple
questions,” Zaria said, spitting blood from her mouth. “Just yes or no.”
“Are
you going to kill us?” Isaac asked.
The
stalks of heads shook from side to side.
“If we
find the other sorcerer, will they try to kill us?”
The
stalks nodded.
“Is
this your way of asking for an alliance?”
The
stalks hesitated. After a moment, they nodded again.
Isaac
clenched his jaw, staring into the rows of skulls. “Is my father still alive?
Have you tortured him all these years?”
The
stalks flexed toward the rib cage sky, as if begging it for strength.
“Answer
me!”
The
skulls looked down, shifting their stalks along the ocean of bones until they
were held in a tight circle above. He received the distinct impression of a
singular intelligence staring back at him, its gaze distributed across many
faces.
She did
not answer.
A
feeling of unease spread across his skin.
“Fine!”
Isaac shouted. He ended the light from his hand, using the now freed arm to
continue supporting Zaria. “You’ll have a truce! But it only lasts until the
other sorcerer is dead! Once that happens, you will be next! Do we understand
each other?”
For a
moment, the stalks did not move. Then, slowly, almost barely enough to notice,
they nodded.
“Good!
Now get out of my way!”
The sea
of bones began to part, cleaving a path down into
itself. By the end, there was a hallway extending through the corpses. Isaac reaffirmed
his grip on Zaria and walked through the parted wall. He felt the skulls watch
him intently as he passed. Soon, they slithered back into the central mass.
The two
of them held onto each other as they walked, roaming through the field of
debris left in the wake of the sandwyrm’s wrath. Beyond the shattered
courtyard, a huge swath of the necropolis lay in ruin. Isaac stared for a brief
moment, dwelling on all the history that might’ve been lost, before orienting
himself by the rig cage of the colossus. Somewhere down past the edges of the
city, the glowing cartilage ended, and the abdomen began.
This
was where they had to go.
Somewhere
by the feet of the giant creature, the necromancer would be waiting upon her
throne, sheltered with darkness and treasure.
Somewhere
closer, the other sorcerer marched his army ahead.
In that
moment, Isaac could almost feel the presence of his father, as if he were
closer than ever before. Behind him, he heard the sea of bones scattering into
swarms and slugs, tumbling their way through the field of debris. Soon, they
were gone.
Only
the silence of the city remained.
“Are
you okay?” Isaac asked, stumbling along.
Zaria
spat on the ground. “Nothing worse than what I had before.”
“You’re
lucky to be alive.”
She
spat again.
“What
happened to the pirates?” he asked.
“Ran
clear off.”
“Good
for them.”
“Oh,
maybe not. Can smell their piss from here.”
Isaac
had to catch his breath for a moment, both out of exhaustion and his own
surprise. “So . . . the plan worked?”
Zaria
gave a weak chuckle.
He
looked behind them. The pirates were gone, their supplies and fortifications
smashed beyond repair. Nothing remained in the palace grounds but shattered
skulls and the beached segmentation of a dead wyrm.
It
seemed like nothing could’ve walked away from such a calamity.
He took
another breath.
“We
were lucky,” Isaac said. “Very lucky.”
She
blew a raspberry.
“What?”
he asked. “We were.”
“Nah,”
she said, leaning her snout toward his ear. “Weren’t my luck at all. Had my
squire right here, all along. He’s the lucky charm.”
He
shook his head.
“Oh,
what a brave lad he is. Dashin’ right to a dragon’s maw, pecker all aflame. I
dare say, he’d chisel a mountain on my order. Arrest the heavens in their
path.”
“I will
toss you off me.”
“Gimme
a kiss.”
She
leaned in, her face covered in green sludge. He craned his neck away,
struggling to throw her bulk from his shoulder. Both of their feet squished
through the trails of blood and viscera.
“Please
stop,” Isaac said.
“Oh, what
a brave lad, my squire.”
“Zaria.”
“Gimme
a kiss.”
“I—you
just—” He struggled over himself. “Gods, you were just eaten! Alive! Are
you alright? Are you injured?”
“I just
wanna celebrate.”
“I
think you need medicine.”
“They
say love’s the best medicine.”
“Gods
above, fuck off!”
He gave
up on pushing her away. Instead, he squirmed out from beneath her arm, using
the dragon blood as lubricant. She wobbled on her own, wet and lurching.
“Squire!”
Zaria whined, reaching for him.
“You’re
fine, clearly.”
“Squiiiiirrrre!”
“Gods,
stop shouting!”
“Sssssquuuiiiirrrreeeee—”
She
grabbed for him, he dodged away, and a struggle immediately ensued, full of
reaching and moans and curses, and, even though the gore made it an utterly
revolting experience, Isaac was struggling not to smile. He wanted to smile
because whatever game this was between them was very dumb, and childish, and
inappropriate, and it made him feel good.
It made
him feel alive.
“C’mere,
you little shit,” Zaria said.
“Go
away.”
“I’m
gonna fuckin’—”
“You
can’t touch me!”
He
feinted to the side, dodging the other way when Zaria took the bluff. In
response, she scooped an oozing wad of blood from her chest, so thick it hung
like jelly from her hand. She flung it at his face. He tried to duck out of the
way, but a strand struck his mouth, feeling much like the tentacle of an
octopus, and he nearly gagged from the taste. Zaria gave a snickering laugh
when he returned fire with his own scooping of gore. They traded several
volleys together. And, despite the circumstances, despite all the dangers he’d
just faced, despite the perils he knew were still to come, Isaac found himself
laughing just as loud as her.
He
laughed because she was laughing.
He
laughed until he was choking for breath, and he laughed when she slung herself
on his shoulder again, and he kept chuckling as he was burdened with her
weight, because it all seemed so simple and pure.
He had
never felt more happy to be alive.
As
their laughter echoed through the ruins, Isaac noticed a human skull sitting on
the last of the courtyard walls, watching them as they passed.