Chapter 3 Worthy #2
Not worthy, his old professor’s voice whispered in his mind. Almost in a tutting tone. Not a worthy scholar.
“You read the book. It taught you. But not enough,” Finley guessed. “Not in time.”
Not before the creature’s body had deteriorated to the point where maybe the magic didn’t work. Maybe there was only enough to keep it “alive” in this state but not to leave. It needed more blood? More flesh?
Careless. Reckless. Not worthy, his professor murmured again.
Was it really him? Or was it just his own mind conjuring those words? Those thoughts?
“Life,” the creature breathed.
Finley compared his living, supple skin against the creature’s.
The creature was looking down at his long, elegant hands.
His father said he had a surgeon’s hands or a fine pianist’s.
He had liked the idea of both things though he had sought to be neither.
Now those hands that he had hardly thought about in years looked so alive.
So filled with blood. So covered in flesh.
“Need… more,” the creature whispered. “Life.”
Finley needed to step back. He really needed to step back.
His eyes caught sight of the blade in the creature’s hand.
It had not lowered. Had it moved? Closer?
A few inches? Yes, it had. The thing was careful to stay within the confines of the half moon of blood.
It had the book and the dagger. He guessed that if either of them or the creature moved beyond that line of blood, the skeletons would be reanimated once more.
So to be safe, I need to be on this side of the line, he thought
But his hands were still on the creature’s side.
They were frozen where he’d clasped the dagger and book.
He hadn’t let them go. He hadn’t even realized that he’d kept hold of them.
These were what he’d come here for. Now this monstrous thing had them and wanted to use him to extend its already unnatural life span.
Finley went to step back, to withdraw, but the creature’s free hand clamped down on his left wrist.
“Can’t leave. Need you,” the creature said thickly.
“No!” Finley wrenched at his arm, the horror of being touched by this thing overcoming his rigid control. “Let me go!”
“Can’t. Only chance to get out. Only… life,” the creature’s guttural, moist voice went on.
“What are you…” The words died in Finley’s throat as the creature started to move that beautiful, glowing, terrible dagger towards his wrist.
“Life. Life. Life,” the creature repeated.
“No!” Finley pulled with all his might, the entirety of his body. “NO!”
Despite this thing being mostly dried flesh and bones, it was surprisingly strong.
It resisted Finley’s full on yanks. It shifted only slightly forward towards the edge of the ancient blood circle that had protected it from the skeletons for who knew how long.
In contrast to his frantic tugs, the creature moved with slowness, but inevitability.
Finley imagined that cold blade slicing through his skin, opening up his veins, spilling his blood everywhere.
That’s how it works. Blood. Life. That is what fuels this power. I’m right! But this creature is crude. It will take all of my life for something so simple as to get away from these skeletons.
Not worthy, his professor murmured sadly again. But you, Finley? You…
The blade was an inch away.
“Wait! Wait!” Finley cried.
The creature paused.
“I can help you. I want to help you. We’re both… we’ve both been without magic. We both know what it’s like to be powerless,” Finley babbled out.
He wasn’t sure where he was going with this. But he needed time. Time to think. Time to figure out this thing’s weaknesses. Time to exploit them.
“Power… is mine,” the creature growled.
That was a mistake. If it thought he wanted the book and the dagger then it would end him right away.
He had to convince it that he didn’t. Or…
no, it wouldn’t believe that. But it might believe that it was the master and he was the student.
A willing, pathetic student. Who would worship this creature.
Who believed it had the secrets that he wanted, needed, desired.
Unworthy. But you, Finley… The professor continued to whisper.
“Of course, it is! You earned it! You came here and snuck in and stole the book and dagger and… you’ve lived.
So long. So long. Extended your mortal life,” Finley agreed.
“It’s amazing! All you’ve accomplished. I’m so envious of you.
I–I wish I could learn at your feet. Could I? Just to be near you…”
It’s pathetic. You’re trapped here. You don’t deserve that book or dagger. You aren’t going to take my life, Finley thought even as he said the exact opposite outloud.
“Need you,” the creature repeated, but there was confusion in those blue-white orbs. It liked the idea of being worshipped. Of being looked up to. Of being the master this time. Not the weak mortal. He had to keep on in that vein. It was working.
“Yes! Yes! And I need you! But what if… if this doesn’t work?
My life is so… weak. I’m weak,” Finley told him.
His stomach clenched as he said it. This part was true.
He was weak. So damned weak. “How can you be sure I’ll be enough to get you out?
You might need more lives and I–I could bring you those.
But if you kill me then I can’t. You’ll still be stuck here. And no one is coming.”
He would never bring anyone to this thing even if it were possible for him to leave. Other than Vex, he wasn’t even sure if there was anyone else nearby. His friends might make it here, but he definitely would never expose them to this. He never wanted them to see this.
“The book… I know… will work,” the creature said, but there was a trace of doubt.
“It’s not the book that’s the problem. It’s…
me. Humans barely live a century. Only if we’re lucky.
And the last decades or so are filled with disease, pain and worse.
So you see, my life is not worth much. Maybe it will only get you to the stairs,” Finley suggested.
“But to the top? Surely, there are more traps up there?”
He looked up, his eyes following the winding staircase that wrapped around the outside of the circular pit.
Though he was lying to the thing, this part might actually be true.
He doubted that the skeletons were the only things between them and freedom.
The thing was looking up there too. He could see exhaustion written in its dessicated features.
“Book… shows… way to stop them,” it said.
“Oh, show me?” Finley asked. It stared at him. Had he put too much eagerness in his voice? “If you want to! I doubt I’ll be able to read let alone understand what it says! I just want to see… please?”
The creature still stared at him suspiciously, but it released him. He thought about backing away right then. But he didn’t.
“Only one can wield,” the creature said and chuckled darkly.
Only one?
“Only you can use the magic?” Finley clarified.
“Dagger… book… mine…” it hissed.
But if they were not yours… Finley let that thought hang there.
“Your life… mine,” it chuckled again. “Mine.”
“Yes, but… but if you let me live longer… I can help you,” Finley lied.
“Only one,” the creature repeated.
“Yes, you are the master. I am but the mere student,” Finley continued to lie almost gleefully.
Only so long as you have the dagger and the book, he thought internally.
Unworthy. But you, Finley… The professor chuckled darkly.
The creature fished the book out of its rotten trousers.
Finley swallowed shallowly as he saw that bits of dried flesh from the creature’s waist adhered to the black cover.
The creature slowly opened the yellowed pages, lowering the book so that he could see what was written upon them.
Finley’s heart tumbled into his feet. The book wasn’t in Katyr.
Not that he expected it to be exactly. But he thought it might be in an elvish dialect that he might be able to decipher.
But the letters were not the elvish alphabet let alone any human one.
They might as well have been squiggles on the page.
I thought I was lying when I told it I wouldn’t be able to read it, but I can’t! Why did I think I could? It doesn’t make sense that it would be in elvish if I’m right that this magic isn’t the kind that elves can use so…
The creature wasn’t done yet. It took the dagger and pricked its thumb.
It then started digging inside the thumb.
Searching for something. It grunted. Dug more.
It let out a low whine of fear. Finley almost felt bad for it until it started looking at him again.
With that hungry, speculative look. But why?
Then it occurred to him.
“Blood?” Finley asked, realizing what it was hoping to find.
The creature wheezed softly.
“You need blood?” Finley articulated more fully.
A nod.
“Give,” it demanded and thrust out a hand towards him.
“Give what?”
“Blood,” it hissed.
“How–how much?” Finley asked.
It growled. “Little. Drop. Drop. Little. Now. Give.”
The creature adjusted the dagger in its hand and looked at Finley’s hands.
Finley slowly lifted his right one up and extended it towards the creature.
. The creature grabbed it. Finley nearly jumped back, but the thing was too strong.
And then it pricked his thumb with the dagger.
The cut was tiny, but still it should have hurt.
But it didn’t. There was a bloom of cold followed by fiery heat.
Then the creature was squeezing his thumb for all it was worth.
“Hey! Do you have enough? You have enough!” Finley cried.
It grunted. Then it took its own now blood-smeared fingers and drew a line of blood between its eyes. The blue-white glow inside the eye sockets grew and grew and grew. It looked down at the book and started to mouth words.