Chapter 3 Worthy #3
That’s how it is translating it. The dagger and the blood… together they make magic.
Finley looked down at his still bleeding finger.
With a moment’s hesitation, he drew the same line between his own eyes.
He looked down at the book’s open pages.
At first, they appeared as incomprehensible as before, but then his vision blurred.
He blinked rapidly. The words suddenly were quite clear and in English!
There were even diagrams! Step by step instructions on how to control dead creatures!
That’s how you get past this trap! You stop the skeletons by controlling them. It’s so simple. And it only needs a few drops of blood. But this creature cut itself to pieces!
Unworthy, the professor murmured.
You’re right. It is unworthy. It’s ridiculous.
Stupid. Blind. Finley felt a flash of rage that this thing had the book and had done nothing with it for millennia.
It was such a waste. It was so obscene to think that this book had been in the hands of someone who could never understand or wield it properly. Can I?
The creature was studying the pages, making awkward movements with the knife through the air.
Trying to draw the rune, but it isn’t doing it right. Counterclockwise. Not clockwise! Magic is precise! You cannot just wing it!
Well, maybe there was a touch of that. But there would be untold consequences.
Unworthy.
It doesn’t deserve the book or the dagger. It’ll never know how to truly use it. It would kill me just the same as look at me, Finley thought frantically. But what about me? Am I worthy?
Unworthy. But you, Finley…
What about me? I’m not strong. I have no weapons. Am I worthy?
You, Finley? Find out.
“I can show you how it's done,” Finley said.
The creature’s head shot up to look at him. It saw the line of blood between his eyes. It had been so busy looking at the book that it had not noticed what he’d done. Now, its mouth opened and an angry snarl emerged.
“Mine! MINE!” it cried and clutched the book to its chest.
“Yes, yes, yours, of course,” Finley soothed. “I just saw… I’m quite good at scholarship. Following instructions. It’s something I’m quite… I can help you. If you let me show you.”
Finley extended a hand towards the dagger. He was going to grasp the creature’s wrist and help it draw the rune with the blood.
“Help? Yes, yes, help…” it said as he drew nearer.
“Let me just guide your hand–”
But he got no further. The thing grabbed his wrist and pulled him against it. His mouth was filled with the taste of rot. His nose was stuffed with the horrific scent. He gagged, but that only had him drawing in more of the filth as he took a gasping breath. The dagger was against his throat.
“Life,” it moaned. “Life… Will take your life. Blood and flesh and soul. Will take it all. All. All.”
Are you worthy, Finley? Or will you die here? The professor asked softly.
“Unworthy,” Finley breathed.
The creature stilled.
Finley smiled then he moved his throat against the dagger.
He felt the cold then the heat as the blade cut his skin.
It was a very shallow cut. But it gave him all the blood he needed.
Blood ran down the dagger’s length. With his free hand he grabbed the dagger but he didn’t try to wrench it from the creature’s hand.
Oh, no, he just used it as if it was his own hand.
With it he drew the rune with the blood and the dagger in the air.
It glowed white hot. There was a flash of light.
The skeletons stood up straight. At attention.
The creature slammed itself against the wall, taking Finley with it. Cowering behind the half moon of blood. Its only protection. It snarled at Finley.
“Kill you… kill you… life… life… give me!” the creature roared.
The skeletons were back. They made that ragged, creaking sound of old sinews rubbing together.
They didn’t attack. That could be because they were behind the half moon of blood or…
Finley looked down at the blood mark on the ground.
His feet had moved through it. Scuffed it.
Erased part of it. The protection was broken. Finley smiled.
Am I worthy? Finley asked. Whether he was asking himself or the professor, he wasn’t sure.
Find out, was the answer.
“I’m sorry,” Finley said, “but you’ve really given me no choice. Protect me.”
“Protect you? No, your life is mine! Mine…” The creature stopped.
The skeletons were moving. The archers were raising their weapons.
Arrows flew through the air. One struck the wrist of the hand that held the dagger, pinning it to the wall.
The hand convulsed and the dagger fell from nerveless fingers.
Finley caught it. It felt right in his hand.
The hilt was so perfectly balanced. It fit against his palm like it was always meant to be there.
“Kill you! Kill you! Kill you!” It wailed. “Bleed you dry! Carve your flesh! Eat your soul!”
The skeletons came and pried Finley out of the creature’s remaining hand. But gently. The book, too, fell on the ground. One of the skeletons picked it up and handed it to Finley. He dusted it off and tenderly tucked it under one arm.
The creature struggled in the skeleton’s arms. Finley regarded it calmly.
He felt so very calm. The dagger in his hand felt very anchoring.
He knew that some part of him was looking on with horror and disgust and fear.
But another part of him–the part the dagger brought forward–understood that this had to happen.
That there was a price to be paid for magic.
And really, this creature would have killed him and countless others if given a chance.
I only protected myself. Nothing more. Nothing less.
“No! NO! Only one!” the creature shouted.
“Yes, only one,” Finley agreed. “And that one is me.”
The skeletons began to pull the creature apart.
Limb by limb. It shrieked and babbled. Promising revenge.
He’d have to burn the body. Whatever was left of it anyways when his skeletal protectors were done.
Just to be sure. After all, he couldn’t have this thing coming after him and his friends.
This was the first monster he had destroyed with his magic.
His magic.
Worthy, his professor said with quiet satisfaction. Worthy.