Chapter 3 ~ Blood of the Master

Impenetrable darkness gave way to brilliant blinding light gave way once more to the cold, quiet, gloom. A single moment of synchronicity, connecting past and present, day and night, death and life, stretched thin. What was nothing retreated back beyond awareness, once again becoming all that nothing was not.

Senses that had been dulled to the point of nonexistence awoke screaming with all the fury of a maelstrom, overwhelming, swallowing all else. Cold numbness vanished, only to be replaced with the familiar sensation of a thousand needles repeatedly pricking flesh. Shivers ran through him as they did when stepping from one extreme of temperature to another. Vision blurred, expanded, focused, and shook in rapid succession, as if his eyes were relearning how to function. Color exploded in his sight more vivid than anything he could remember seeing before. At the same time a cacophony of unfiltered noise assaulted him from all quarters; everything loud, too loud, as if all of existence were shrieking in agony. The rank miasma of sweat, mold, blood, dust, and a million other aroma’s vied for supremacy within his beleaguered mind’s intake of stimuli.

All was pandemonium.

However, though it stretched for one impossibly long moment, it too began to pass. Gradually each one of his senses eased down to something more tolerable. Color and sight dimmed from excruciating bright to the softness of overcast evening, while the innumerable scents and sounds faded into background noise. What was once tumultuous chaos crashing like a tsunami against the shores of his being calmed to a light, soothing, drizzle. After a short eternity, he was able to concentrate and take in the surroundings.

A dark room, rectangular and narrow, faded into the scope of his focusing vision. The walls, weathered and cracked, appeared made from stone and clay of some sort. Rotten wooden beams and mold infested thatch served as ceiling though it was missing patches in some parts. An earthen floor peaked out from beneath the thinnest layer of decaying straw. Though the strangeness of this new location was surprising it didn’t quite compare to the shock of catching sight of the room’s inhabits. 

Six figures stood at the back of the small room, all men judging by their size and bulk, and packed tightly together at that. Though not strange in and of itself, it was how they were dressed that shook him. Each man was armed and armored, not as a soldier of the Twenty-First Century in battle dress with guns, but in more ancient garb. The six wore chainmail armor, haubergeons judging by the length, and coifs. Several wielded flanged maces, while two had what appeared to be messers at their waists. A single individual in the back gripped a short spear in leather gauntlets. Each also had a light cloak clasped at the throat that seemed to be secured at the waist. Though there was some variation between them, it was clear all of these people were affiliated with one another.

What the f**k is going on here? He thought. These guys look straight out of a period film. Did I die and wake up at an SCA event?

Dim white light reflected off the faces of the men, who all seemed to be some form of caucasian, and varied in visible age. Their pinched and confused expressions, peering at him through the gray gloom, revealed that he could see better than them. Broken boxes and barrels in various states of age and decay lay scattered around them haphazardly as if tossed aside in a rush. Behind them, a shattered door hung loosely from its hinges. Due to the severity of the rot and wear it was hard to tell if that was recent. More figures, similarly armed, could be seen in the room beyond.

He himself hovered in the air just above an intricate and complex circle. The faint light illuminating the surroundings had its source in its lines and numerous symbols, resembling a mixture between cursive and hieroglyphics. Flecks of shine rose up like remnants from a dying sparkler. Reflected in a pair of mismatched eyes, one a deep violet and the other a light gray, was that same light. Heterochromia, he thought. They were set in the tanned face of the room’s only other occupant; a girl appearing around thirteen or so, with dirty hair down to her shoulders, who knelt just beyond the circle’s diameter. Judging by the soiled state of her clothing, a ragged brown smock and torn cloak, she was likely poor, homeless, or both. Her upturned head showed her gaze directed solely at him, though strangely, only one of her eyes appeared to see him. The purple one was filled with reverence and hope, while the other seemed to look…beyond.

Is she possibly…in that one eye?

A scent emanated from her left arm interrupting the sudden thought and drawing his attention away from her eyes. Blood trickled from an open wound exposed to air by the rolled up sleeve. Within the shadowed room lit only by the dying light of the odd circle below, that blood shone with a light all its own. Its coppery odor, terribly familiar, drifted forth carried by the labored breaths of the girl before him. As it wafted over him, his entire being jolted as if electricity were coursing through his body. Body, of course, was putting it generously. As he reflexively struggled against his reaction to the increasingly sweet aroma of blood, it was difficult not to notice that his body wasn’t solid. No, he was nothing more than a cloud of black mist.

I guess that’s a step up from being just a collection of thoughts and memories.

Before he could think any deeper about the situation or take any action the young girl spoke and, though her voice was a bit hoarse, it wasn’t unpleasant. However, he had no idea what she was saying. The language was completely foreign to him. It was unlike anything he’d heard before, and though he wasn’t fluent in many languages, he’d listened to music in dozens. This discovery was a sobering realization that, combined with his memory of death and recent events, he was somewhere that was not Earth.

Still, the blood called to him across the short distance of space, a siren song of its own, thrumming in time to a persistent beat. A sensation began to build within as he listened, one he vaguely recognized as hunger. The sound of the child’s beating heart was hypnotic, beckoning him closer to its source. In much the same way as he had moved in that now abandoned world of darkness, he drifted forward; an action that caused those behind her to flinch away. One even cried out, drawing a pendant from beneath his mail, before he began speaking in tremulous words brimming with undisguised fear.

Is he praying?

For her part though she was slight and small, too small for her apparent age, she remained seated just in front of the glowing circle. Her head and upper body tilted slightly to the right at the man’s outburst. Still her eyes, or rather eye, remained intent upon him.

In response, and drawn ever further by the enticement of her blood, he examined her. Despite a thick layer of grime he was able to pick out blonde highlights underneath all the dirt and dust on her unkempt hair. The dark circles beneath her eyes, sunken cheeks, and pallid skin painted a picture of one who’d suffered prolonged sleepless nights and a distinct lack of food. Freckles dusted the bridge of her nose and the shape of her face reminded him of…

He stilled. Aster? Their facial features were similar enough to each other that he almost mistook her for… No. Impossible. Still, the resemblance was unsettling. If this were Earth, and a part of him was still in denial that it wasn’t, they could certainly pass for cousins. Even if it was, she didn’t have any family, at least no blood relations that either of them had been aware of. Then how could this be?

The last time he’d seen Aster was as he was walking out their apartment door to buy the eggs they needed. She had given him a tight hug before kissing him long and deep. A wink of sky blue eyes, a wave, and smile was the usual way she sent him off. It was something so often done it had become ordinary, expected. A sharpness knifed through him where his heart was supposed to be, different from what was remembered, but identical all the same. Gazing into the face of this person who looked like his most precious one, he wanted nothing more than to scream for yearning.

“D****t,” he bit out, and was shocked that he was capable of speech.

The child and those behind her seemed even more surprised, however, as his voice was not a whisper or a sigh or even anything resembling normal. It was a hoarse and grating hiss that reverberated throughout the cramped space. Everyone flinched and reached for their ears. The young girl even clutched at her chest, as if her very body were under assault. He would have frowned but he lacked the ability. The dark cloud that was his presence merely shifted slightly in the illumination provided by the circle’s fading light.

“God this is so fucked,” he muttered, eliciting more cringing from those gathered.

What was he supposed to do now? Was he to exist in this strange place as nothing more than a sentient gas cloud, alone, cut off from everyone and everything he’d known and loved? What had been the point of leaving the endless, monotonous, dark just to appear here and in this state? He didn’t even have arms. These people could see and hear him but that was useless when his words caused them pain. He couldn’t understand a f*****g thing they said!

A frantic string of unintelligible words broke him from his spiral.

Refocusing on the girl, he noticed greater urgency in that small voice and her one eye held fear. When she glanced back at the armored men and he saw how her slender body trembled, it became apparent that it was not him she feared. It was them. These men frightened her. And they too were beginning to recover from their shock. Their voices, hushed, spoke in the same language she was using.

His gaze shifted between her and them as he tried to quickly make sense of the situation. Was she some sort of witch then? Was he a demon now? Was that why the smell of her blood seemed so damned good? It had to be. Glancing back down to where his feet should have been he saw the circle once more. The symbols and strange lettering were indecipherable, but there was one thing he could sense. It reeked of the same tempting aroma surrounding the girl. That’s it, he thought, shifting his attention once more to her. Nothing else makes sense. She brought me here. A thought struck him, wrapping it all neatly together. It was her voice I heard just beyond the light. This girl, who my fucked up heart is trying to convince me looks like Aster.

She was asking for his help.

But what could a cloud of mist do? He willed his form closer to her but suddenly found himself unable to do so, the flecks of white light suddenly flaring up to bar his way. It was the first time since waking in that prison of darkness that he’d felt anything remotely physical. “F**k!” He tried again but the result was no different. It just had to be now of all times. Like any demon or disembodied spirit he’d ever read about, the circle kept him sealed within its boundary. “F**k! F**k! F**k! How am I supposed to help you when I’m trapped like a f*****g rat!” Emotion fueled his strength and each time he forced himself against the barrier, the white light surged, growing in brightness with each impact.

His apparent helplessness served to embolden the men who’d previously been too stunned to do anything. Words, no longer hushed, were quickly exchanged between them. The girl’s eyes widened and she whipped around to see one of their number step forward. In less time than it took for her to scream, the man was in front of the girl, a gauntleted hand snatching her wrist.

“No!” He wasn’t completely sure what was happening but his entire being quivered with the knowledge that she was in danger. “Get away from her!” His voice lashed out and shook the walls around them, but even though everyone showed visible discomfort, they endured. “D****t! D****t!” Each utterance was punctuated by forcing his incorporeal mass against the edges of the circle as hard as he could. What am I supposed to do? He thought desperately, as the girl struggled to escape. I’m just a shadow right now. Am I supposed to make the darkness do something?

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he became aware of a sensation like that of the nothing he had left behind. It was within him and all around, permeating the room, clutching at the child and those he wished to stop. Somehow the shapeless body, his presence, was connected to the darkness that enveloped this cramped and enclosed space. It was as if it were clinging to him, or maybe he was clinging to it. Willing to try whatever might be helpful, he focused on that sensation and was momentarily surprised to feel a tether, no, countless tethers binding the shadows and himself together. Almost on instinct he reached out to it with thought and desire hoping for something, anything.

And the darkness responded…

Before he could marvel at his discovery, the young girl brought her other hand up, burying a knife no one had noticed into her captor’s side. Recoiling, the man bit out a word that could have only been a curse, followed by an angry shout. The girl’s assailant brought the flanged mace down towards her vulnerable head, twisting her arm upward in the same motion.

Her cry of pain made something snap inside of him.

With a roar, fear and rage intertwined with thought and will to crystallize into the image of the weapon he was most familiar with. In his living days, he had been an avid practitioner of swordsmanship, specifically those various schools of techniques taught under the umbrella of historical European martial arts; HEMA. And the weapon he needed most, the only thing he could think to use in that moment, was a blade. One that was long, sharp, and sturdy enough to intercept the falling mace; a b*****d sword. No sooner had he imagined and desired it than the darkness, the shadows of the room, leapt forward to realize his will. The ephemeral black cascading down the walls and creeping along the floors and ceiling drew together, coalescing into solid form.

A blade of opaque night sprung forth, arcing up between the girl and her attacker in two quick motions. Shadow intercepted steel and then rolled over, opening up the man’s throat as if the chain coif simply wasn’t there.

Bright red blood spurted from the severed artery as the black blade dissipated into nothing. Releasing the girl, her attacker clutched at his wound, mace slipping from his fingers. It landed with a dull thud. He stumbled back into his comrades arms, gasping for air even as his life escaped in a torrent of scarlet. Every one of his companions stood ramrod stiff, unable to do anything but look on in surprise and growing horror.

Even the girl was frozen for a moment after falling to the floor. Her gaze snapped from the dying man over to his smokey form, waiting just past the boundary of his new prison. Specks of blood spattering her face were now dripping down her cheeks. Something passed between them in that moment, an understanding that reached beyond the barrier that was language.

Her body crossed the circle.

At once, the scent of blood, her blood, washed over him. What tiny desire he’d felt before suddenly became an insurmountable yearning. He was at her side in an instant. As the darkness had mere moments ago, his shapeless mass was shaped, molded by thought and desire. He reached out to her wounded arm with a tendril of shadow that adopted the form of a human hand.

Though his dark figure loomed over her, she showed no fear or hesitation. Instead, as if sensing his need, the girl turned her bloodied face up to him and offered what he sought.

Instinct guiding him, he lowered himself and began lapping at her blood.

Reviews

[Dewella~Vintella]

This will be interesting to see where it goes from here. Obviously I get what's going on and the current concept but I can't wait to hear more of her story/journey and and how's and why of these two coming together. Can't wait to read more, as always amazing writing!

[Caradoc]

Thanks again for reading! I've been working on this one for a while now. I think of the two I've put more thought into her, though so far he's gotten a bit more screen time. With Ireae I'm developing a character a bit different from the female characters I've done before. Ireae is harsher, with less soft edges, and a stronger drive. She's a female lead with a mission and our male lead is a fish out of water who is pulled along by her journey. For now.