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Undermind Book 5, Chapter 7: Reurumion (Rough)
🕑 Added 2020-11-07 17:00:50 +0000 UTC---------
Author's note: It's 4 am in my part of the world as I finish writing this, so apologies in advance for any mistakes my sleep-deprived brain might have missed.
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Padhra was surprisingly lively for a dead woman. One might expect someone who had just slithered out of a cocoon naked and covered in slime, in front of an audience of four overly curious demons, to curl up into a foetal position, squeeze her eyes shut, and try to wake up from this ridiculous nightmare.
Padhra didn’t do that. She leapt to her feet, eyes blazing with unrestrained fury. Now she was garbed in the gaudy colours of the Lingya people, covering a layer of high-tech composite body armour. In her hands spun the many-tailed whip-blades of a pair of urumi, forming a deadly barrier of of razor-sharp steel around her.
The urumi was not a weapon for the faint-hearted. In untrained hands, those slender whip-blades were as much a danger to the wielder as their opponent. But Padhra had mastered it—and then some.
Torv, Drugal and Gorblarg backed hurriedly away from the storm of steel, while Lilene eyed the whirling whip-blades in fascination—and something more. “What are those bendy metal playthings?” asked the succubus. “I want some!”
Saskia rolled her metaphorical eyes at the demon. Trust a succubus to see those monstrosities as toys rather than weapons. Before things could get out of hand, she hurriedly tried to calm her old friend. “Stand down, Padhra. It’s me. These are my…uh, guests.”
Padhra halted mid-swing, glancing about wildly. With her attention diverted, the whip-blades hung suspended in the air, forming into elegant spirals of shining steel. “Old One?” she gasped. “Where are you?”
“I’m kinda everywhere in this place,” said Saskia. “You’re…well, inside me.” Lilene snickered. Ignoring the succubus, Saskia pressed on. “This is a sort of soul-space. It’s not physically real.”
“I…died,” said Padhra with a slight shudder.
“Yeah,” said Saskia. “I’m so sorry. You gave your life defending me.”
In life, her loyal friend and bodyguard had displayed an almost supernatural level of skill in martial arts—which had only gone up with the help of Saskia’s oracle interface—but all the same, she was only human. Not even Padhra could survive a high-calibre bullet to the chest.
“This is…my reward,” said Padhra, sounding less than certain. “To serve you forever. I am honoured, Old One.”
“No!” said Saskia. While in Nepal, she’d tolerated being worshipped as a goddess by Padhra’s people, but this was too much. “You’re my friend, not my servant. You already gave your life for me. You owe me nothing. If anything, I should be serving you.”
“You do not wish me to serve you?” asked Padhra. “Then why am I here?”
“You can serve me,” suggested Lilene, waggling her hips. “I will make you beg to serve me.”
“Ignore her, Padhra,” said Saskia. “No-one’s serving anyone.”
“She is not easy to ignore,” said Padhra, eyeing the succubus warily.
Saskia let out a sigh. Yeah, she could sigh even here. “I value your company, but as a friend, not a servant. And only if you wish to be here. Hang on a minute—I didn’t plan for this to happen. Are you saying you didn’t choose to come here?”
“I…I do not remember,” said Padhra, her spectral brow furrowed in confusion. “We were fighting off the invaders beneath your temple, and then…”
“That was months ago,” said Saskia. “On Earth. Oh, by the way, we’re not on Earth now. Outside my soul-space, I mean. I thought…I thought I’d never see you again.” Though she wasn’t speaking with her physical mouth, there was a traitorous quaver in her voice.
“You honour me beyond words,” said Padhra. “If a choice was required, I must have chosen this. I do wish to be here, even if I must share this place with these…” She shot a pointed glance towards the demons. “…people.”
Saskia chuckled. “Gimme a sec. I’ll hook you up to my eyes so you can see out into the real world.”
“You can do this?” said Lilene incredulously. “Why have you not done this for us?”
“Because…well, because I still don’t completely trust you,” admitted Saskia. “Some of you are still fixated on that whole ‘kill all humans’ thing. It’s kind of a dealbreaker.”
“Not all humans,” said Lilene. “Just the annoying ones. And the tasty ones.”
“Tasty tasty tasteheheheh!” cackled Gorblarg.
“I would kill all humans,” said Drugal.
“Gothgorad’s hairy balls, brother!” growled Torv. “When will you learn to keep your mouth shut?”
“These are…demons?” asked Padhra.
“What gave it away?” asked Saskia. “Was it the horns and tail? The spiky armour? The grouchy dispositions?”
“The sexy, sexy booty?” added Lilene.
Doing her best to ignore said booty, Saskia manoeuvred a branch tendril into place at the back of Padhra’s neck. “Hold still. This may feel a bit weird.”
Padhra shuddered as the tendril connected with her spectral nervous system, then drew in a sharp breath as she began to see through Saskia’s eyes in the real world. When Saskia cast her eyes about her room at the inn, Padhra exclaimed, “This is a world of giants!”
“What?” Saskia glanced back at Ruhildi. “Oh, you mean her. No, Ruhildi isn’t a giant. She’s a normal human. Well, not normal. And not really human. And a teensy bit dead. But normal human-sized.”
“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” said Ruhildi dryly.
“I’m…confused,” said Padhra.
“Och I ken that feeling,” said Ruhildi. “My life has been non-stop befuddlement since I met Sashki.”
Saskia wondered what her friend thought of the unexpected reunion. Ruhildi had never met Padhra as a person, but she had inhabited Padhra’s deceased body on Earth in the moments after the latter died—just as she’d done here with Elyendra. Probably best not to bring that up right now.
“What I mean is…” Saskia turned her gaze down over her own body. “…she’s not big. I’m small. Oh, and a demon, in case you haven’t noticed.”
Padhra was silent for a long moment while she processed the insanity of her situation. Finally, she asked, “Why would you choose such a tiny vessel, Old One?”
“It wasn’t exactly a choice,” said Saskia. “Not by this part of me, anyhow. You know on another world, I was a troll, right?”
“Yes, though I did not know how literally to take your words.”
“I was being quite literal, believe me,” said Saskia. “Three and a half metres tall, long, sharp claws, pointy teeth, the ability to regrow severed limbs—it doesn’t get much trollier than that. Different worlds, different species—for me, at least. My undermind seems to like variety. Maybe another me will be a dinosaur. Or a cactus. Or a cactosaur.”
“And what of Ogunteng, our enemy? Did you slay him?”
“I…don’t know,” said Saskia. “My memories from Earth are a few weeks out of date. A lot could have changed for Earth-Saskia since then. But I have had a few…flashes.”
“Flashes?”
“Visions. Maybe. Or maybe they’re just the byproduct of an overactive imagination. I won’t know for certain until I get a fresh set of complete memories from Earth-Saskia.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s complicated,” said Saskia. Now wasn’t the time to explain the complexities of memory transfer between mouthlets. “The important thing is, those visions of Earth featured a certain someone named Yona.”
“Yona…” whispered Padhra.
“Yeah, that Yona. My great-great-something-grandmother—the real Old One.”
“You are the real Old One, Old One.”
Saskia heaved a sigh. “You’re never gonna stop calling me that, are you?”
“Why would I call you anything else, Old One?”
“I like her,” said Ruhildi.
“I’m afraid we’re stuck in a room without a view right now,” said Saskia. “The humans of this town wouldn’t take kindly to an imp, so I shouldn’t go poking my head outside until we’re ready to leave. Tomorrow, hopefully.” She glanced pointedly at Ruhildi.
“Aye, I just want to stop by the local blacksmith’s shop, then I’ll be done here,” said her friend. “There’ll be plenty of time to see the sights after that.”
Feeling the events of the day finally catch up to her, Saskia settled in to sleep while Ruhildi kept watch by the door. As Saskia latched onto the rafters with the talons of her feet and swung upside-down, Padhra made a sound suspiciously close to a laugh. “What are you doing?”
“Yeah, I sleep like a bat. And yeah, I also purr sometimes. Just getting it out there right now, to pre-empt the inevitable comment from Ruhildi.”
“She’s adorable,” said Ruhildi.
“And if I hear one more word about it, I’m gonna…be a wee bit miffed.”
“Och, tough words.”
Saskia must have fallen asleep almost immediately, because the next thing she knew, it was morning and Ruhildi was shaking her awake. As Saskia unfolded her wings, her friend addressed her in urgent tones. “We may have a problem. Blightguards have come to Vintonjorg.”
Saskia blearily tried to shrug off the fog of sleep. “Vintonwhat?”
Ruhildi growled. “This town we’re in, Sashki! ’Tis named Vintonjorg.”
“Oh. Crap.” Now she was fully awake. “So we might have to make a quick getaway then.”
“Escape is not our only problem,” said Ruhildi. “The Blightguards have demanded that the townsfolk present themselves for inspection. The locals are not all cooperating. ’Tis going to get bloody, I’m certain.”
Casting her oracle sight out to the town square, Saskia came upon the scene of the locals lining up before a sizeable regiment of armoured thugs. A woman with a lazy eye and an almost comical sneer directed her minions towards several of the nearby houses. The thugs battered down the doors, and emerged shortly thereafter with the occupants at the points of their blades. Some of the captured townsfolk carried fresh bruises and expressions of sullen defiance. Others simply looked weary and downtrodden as the Blightguards shoved them forwards. Men, women and children; they were rounding them all up.
It was the children they were after. Saskia remembered Ruhildi’s conversation with the tavernkeeper last night. They’d take the most gifted children and then…what? She didn’t know, but she was pretty sure she wouldn’t like the answer.
“I’m going to intervene,” she announced. “Are you with me?”
“Wait, Sashki,” said Ruhildi. “I’ll go first. Methinks I can do this without revealing our presence.”
“How?” asked Saskia.
“You’ll see,” said Ruhildi as she dashed out the door.
Back in the town square, the lazy-eyed woman was going to each child in turn, grabbing them by the chin and looking intently at them—or perhaps into them. Everything about this woman made Saskia’s hackles rise. Most of the children, she rejected with a dismissive gesture, whereupon they rejoined their relieved parents. There was one, however, that seemed to attract greater interest. She peered at the little boy—barely more than a toddler—for several minutes, while one of the Blightguards held a blade to his father’s throat, and his mother wept uncontrollably.
“He will do,” said the lazy-eyed woman finally.
Suddenly, a man stepped up to the Blightguard holding the boy’s father hostage. He sunk a slender blade into the thug’s armpit, slipping between the armour plates. The Blightguard dropped to his knees, gurgling and spitting blood, while the boy’s father snatched up his sword and finished the job.
The remaining thugs converged on the two men like a pack of angry wolves. Within moments, there were two more corpses, and the boy was fatherless. The man who had stabbed the Blightguard was Parbrand, the rude guy from the tavern last night. Saskia felt a tinge of regret at the sight of him bleeding out across the stonework. Sure, he’d been a bit of a donkhole, but he’d stood up to these demonstrably bigger donkholes, and paid for it with his life.
“What are you doing, Old One?” asked Padhra as Saskia shimmied out the window.
“I don’t know, but I’m not going to just twiddle my thumbs in here while all this is going on,” said Saskia.
Saskia launched herself into the air, hoping she’d be mistaken for a bird if someone thought to look up. Not that anyone would be doing that right now. The situation on the ground was escalating. Dill the tavernkeeper was facing off against the Blightguards, backed up by a large band of angry men.
“Haven’t you done enough already?” he growled. “You’ve already killed the boy’s father, and Parbrand, the poor fool. Let the boy go. No-one else needs to get hurt.”
“Back off, citizens,” said the lazy-eyed woman. “By our right under the Starlift Accord, we lay claim to this child. Interfere, and your lives are forfeit!”
With blades and boots, the Blightguards forced the crowd to take a step back. One of the men was too slow, and took a slash across the face, stumbling back into the arms of his fellows, who shouted and shook fists and blades at the intruders. Though they outnumbered the thugs, their simple weapons were no match for the heavy arms and armour they faced.
Saskia settled in to land in a nearby tree. She had to do something to defuse the situation, but what?
She was still wracking her brain for a satisfactory answer when the tree she’d perched in abruptly began to shudder and sway. And not just the tree—the ground beneath it. Within seconds, townsfolk and Blightguards alike were falling, or clutching at their fellows for support as the ground bucked beneath them.
“This is not a natural quake!” the lazy-eyed woman cried over the cacophony of displaced earth. “They have a soulbinder!”
Actually, we have a Ruhildi, thought Saskia. Close enough, though.
A scream arose from the mother of the boy they were trying to kidnap. In the spot where he’d been standing, now there was just a hole in the ground, rapidly closing. A moment later, the mother vanished into another split in the earth, as Ruhildi’s magic pulled her down into a hastily hollowed-out tunnel to be reunited with her little boy.
“Follow me,” Ruhildi told the terrified pair. “I’ll get you two to safety.”
Saskia followed the rescue through her friend’s eyes and ears. And it seemed she wasn’t the only one who could see what was going on beneath the ground. As Ruhildi led the woman and her son back through her tunnel, the lazy-eyed woman stared directly at them, her gaze tracking their movements closely.
This woman—this soulbinder—was…not an oracle, exactly—that magic came from an entirely different world, with different rules of magic—but there appeared to be some similarities between her abilities and those of an oracle. This soulbinder could see things beyond the reach of mortal eyes. So for now, Saskia would call her a seer.
The earthquake began to ease with Ruhildi’s departure, and the people picked themselves up off the ground, looking equally disturbed by what had just transpired. They were no longer at each other’s throats, so mission accomplished. Kinda.
But the seer was about to send her minions in pursuit of Ruhildi. She knew exactly where they were—something Ruhildi hadn’t anticipated. With the Blightguards pursuing them relentlessly, this could only end badly.
Time for Saskia to step in, do her part, and serve up a distraction.
She whistled loudly from atop her tree. “Hey you! Blightguards! How about you pick on someone your own size!”
Saskia pushed through the veil of leaves and fluttered out into full view.
“Demon!” shouted the seer, pointing gnarled, quivering fingers at Saskia.
“It’s just an imp,” said one of the Blightguards. “Barely worth our time.”
“Did you not hear what happened at Blightfort? Get her, you dolt!”
“Oh alright. Still think it’s a waste of effort, but if it’ll get you off my back…”
And that was when Saskia felt it: a tugging on her ankles; an invisible rope, reeling her in towards the town square.
Except the thing that had her wasn’t entirely invisible—not to her oracle interface, which showed a line of force extending from her to the Blightguard. Unlike the seer, this guy didn’t especially stand out from his fellows. He wore a similar style of armour, and carried the same weapons. But like her, and unlike his fellows, this guy was a soulbinder.
Saskia’s wings beat furiously as she fought to escape the soulbinder’s magic, but its pull was relentless. She pawed at the invisible line, but her hands passed through empty air. To combat magic, she was going to need magic of her own.
“Old One, allow me,” said Padhra.
“Allow you what?” gasped Saskia, thrashing furiously as she drew towards the grinning Blightguard.
“Forgive me, Old One. There is no time to explain.”
Saskia felt a sudden, familiar surge of warmth from within. Essence.
Then she was holding…oh wow, an urumi. It felt quite tangible in her hand, but the shimmering whip-blades were not entirely physical.
She flicked the blades with a practised ease that was clearly not her own. They cleaved through the invisible rope without resistance—but unlike her claws, the effect was immediate and profound. The pressure around her ankles vanished, and she shot high into the sky, exultant in her freedom.
Back in the town square, the dwindling form of the soulbinder curled up on the cobblestones, cradling the severed stumps of his wrists.
