​​​​27 The Twisted Twins

THE VIRAL MAGE rushed outside, shoving aside the tent flap. The guards were missing. Striding through the kobold camp were four tall figures, black fire wreathing their bodies. Dark flames shot out at random to envelop tents, mounts, and people. Instead of burning, whatever the flames touched ... changed. Flesh, fabric, wood, and metal, all took on an ethereal cast, blending as one into dark spirals, like smoke.

The kobolds hurled spears or fired arrows from their short bows. All of it joined the miasma. Others attacked with long blades, to no avail. The unwelcome visitors were heading straight for Threadfin.

As if, he thought, it could be any other way.

Kobolds died by the score, and he was powerless to stop it. In the distance on a hill, two figures stood observing. Manic and Mania. Yes, he was certain of it. ‘Should’ve known I’d see those two again,’ he muttered, before diving back inside.

He had no weapons, not even a knife. To get one would mean heading in the direction of the slaughter, finding a dead kobold, or a lost weapon on the ground. He’d never make it back. Besides, no blade was going to withstand those ... what had she called them? Torments. Nope, they didn’t sound like anyone he wanted to meet.

Bunching fingers into a fist, he struggled with his magic. The pustules on his hide held a trickle of life. He quested for more, and found it in several kobolds outside. He purposely ignored Lorn’s of course. Like squeezing blood from a rock, but he managed to pull something. Every bit would help. He doubted they’d notice, and besides they were as good as dead by the look of things. Yep, Todder, always with the optimism.

Wisps formed and evaporated. He dug deeper, though it was agony. Viralic sight, a by-product of his power, remained to him. He needed to break through whatever blocked his magic. A miasmic dagger appeared in his hand. It shuddered and sizzled, before vanishing. He tried again, compelling it into existence. The pain became intolerable and he let out a cry.

‘You’re a fool,’ Lorn cried. ‘Run while you can.’

‘Manic and Mania are out there,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘Why aren’t they helping?’

‘Because they’re not fools.’

Thanks. ‘Are they at war with the Grim?’

‘How many Torments are there?’

‘I counted four.’

‘No easy fight,’ she said, ‘even for those two. I imagine they’re a lot weaker than before. They will bide their time. Interfere when it suits. It’s what they do.’

The blade fought its way into being. This time it stayed, though his lifeless body felt the strain. The pain subsided a little. Hold it together, he thought, meaning more than the blade.

Crouching behind her, he cut at the thick ropes. They dissolved at a touch from the magic-wrought weapon.

Lorn groaned, rubbing her wrists. Hauling her upright, Threadfin used the blade to slash at the rear of the tent. It managed a sizable hole before it vanished.

With Lorn staggering behind him, he led her towards the opposite edge of camp. After about five minutes at a stumbling run, he spotted a familiar face. Podral Pole was pissing at a latrine two dozen paces beyond some tents. His friend was otherwise kitted out, ready to leave. Pole turned as they approached, fixing himself. His face bore purple bruises. Grudge was hitching on his breeches inside the flaps of a tent, giving everyone an eyeful. Vilt and the others had their swords out. Either Roper hadn’t bothered disarming them, or they’d found a way to retrieve their weapons. Where were they when I needed a bloody knife?

‘What took you so long?’ was all he asked his Darken as he rushed past, with Lorn in tow.

Pole, and the others hurried to catch up. Threadfin was making for the perimeter. Going on instinct, he thought. No idea what I’m doing. Nothing new there. Gotta get her out of here. Where could they go to though? He remembered Asher’s words. A pity the ghouls were on the wrong side of the encampment.

Grudge had taken up the rear. The scout looked beaten up with a blackened eye and swollen lip. A lumpier forehead than usual. Vilt moved with a limp.

‘Aren’t we going to stand and fight?’ called Nevet, with a pale-faced Tope trotting beside him.

‘Not if you plan on living,’ said Lorn over her shoulder.

‘Who in the Grim’s hairy butthole,’ asked Vilt, ‘are you supposed to be?’

Lorn nodded at Threadfin and laughed. ‘His girlfriend is who. Why, didn’t he tell you about me? Ah, Fin dearest, why didn’t you tell your friends about us? I’m hurt.’

They all stared at the undead mage, whose jaw had fallen open as he glanced back at her. He clamped it shut. No, he’d never explain his way out of this. She had to be joking. Right?

‘We need to know what’s going on, lad,’ said Pole.

‘End of the world scenario,’ said Threadfin, as he avoided looking at Lorn and forged ahead. They were passing by the last of the tents and latrines. All the kobolds had rushed to where the action was. Poor fools. He hoped there was no perimeter guard at this end. ‘They went over all of it with you at Darken school, right? How to save my bony ass, and so on?’ She’s messing with your head, he thought, risking a glance at her.

Lorn had the temerity to wink at him, which Vilt noticed.

Pole swore and spat, glancing back at the approaching danger.

They’d reached the far edge of camp, and a corral for several odd-looking mounts. No sydarags in this world. These, reptilian-type things, were all they had. Before they could untie the beasts, Roper, Asher, and twelve others emerged from the gloom. Roper gestured, and seven of the remaining kobolds left to join the defence.

‘Thought you’d try running,’ said Roper, holding a spear. ‘Seems friendship isn’t what it once was, eh Fin? And, you found your friends, I see.’

‘Huh,’ said Threadfin, hands on hips, trying to look like a mage. ‘Looks like you were the one about to do some running. Abandoning your people, Rope? Not nice.’

Vilt, Nevet and Tope surrounded the mage, weapons in hand. Grudge stood there scratching himself, but Threadfin knew the scout would become Roper’s worst nightmare if a fight started.

‘Listen, this is hardly the time for an argument,’ said Threadfin. ‘They’re here for her. If we fight, we all lose.’

‘They’re not having her,’ said his former friend. ‘Not until I get what I’m owed.’

Lorn spat at his feet. ‘You don’t understand who they are.’

‘I know exactly who they are.’

‘Do we kill him or not?’ Nevet demanded. He had a slash on the right side of his neck, though it seemed to be shallow.

‘Perhaps,’ said Asher who stood at Roper’s side, ‘we should listen to them.’

Roper turned on his companion. ‘You don’t think I know you warned him about his companions? Did you cut her free too? Look what I get for showing some humanity. Your time here is over, Asher. Take a ghoul and go, or I will kill you right here.’

‘They won’t allow you to harm me.’

‘I’ve had enough of those interfering twits. I no longer answer to them. I said, go!’

Asher gave Threadfin a meaningful stare, followed by a brief nod. He left, headed back towards the mayhem. The ghoul pens lay in that direction. Suicide, but maybe it was Roper’s intention. The bastard.

‘My Ma,’ said Grudge, scratching his forehead with the tip of his sword, ‘always said, “A knife in the guts answers every problem. What it don’t cure son, ain’t worth worryin’ over.”’

‘Shut up,’ said Pole. ‘Your Ma was a bloody murderin’ psychopath, and this isn’t the time.’

‘She made good apple tart, though. Never skimped on them apples, no she didn’t. Yep, good apple tart. My Da didn’t like apples.’

‘What is wrong with him?’ asked Roper, staring at the scout.

‘He’s fine,’ said Threadfin, earning a smile from the scout. ‘It’s you who has gone insane, Rope.’

The screams of dying kobolds were closer as the Torments waded through death.

‘Don’t you think we should get going?’ said Tope, jerking his head in the direction of the attackers. Thunderous echoes washed over them, and a strong gust of wind followed. Screams echoed in the wake of the explosions. Flame turned a reddish sky to blood, as the four annihilators drew slowly closer. Someone opposed them, and it wasn’t just the kobolds.

‘Roper,’ said the mage, ‘you can’t let them have her. You do, you lose. Make a decision.’

To Threadfin’s relief, his former friend nodded. Reaching the corral, they untied the creatures and mounted. Roper insisted Lorn ride with him. The mounts had short heads and necks, four splayed limbs, and stubby tails. Their hides were scales, soft to the touch.

‘No tricks, mage,’ Roper warned as they set off, the creatures loping into the darkness. They had gone half a mile at most when the ground erupted beneath them. The mounts bellowed. Threadfin leapt clear of his, landing hard and rolling.

He got to his feet, searching for sign of Lorn. Ten feet away, was the edge of a smoking crater. Whirling, he spotted someone approaching. Lit by the red-gold sky were Manic and Mania. Flames enveloped them glowing blue and white. Their attacks, however, they aimed behind them.

So, he thought, you decided to get your hands dirty after all. Threadfin’s rescue of Lorn and their subsequent flight must’ve forced their hand. What were they playing at?

He scrambled about the edge of the crater until he found her. She was bloodied, clothing ripped and smoking, but alive. Corporal Tope lay nearby, eyes wide, a smoking ruin from the waist down. His mount was in pieces. All five of Roper’s kobolds were dead. Nevet and Vilt, dishevelled and blackened, were just getting to their feet. Grudge was flat on his back. Was he snoring?

Roper crawled towards them, while a bloodied Pole was getting up. The Darken then stumbled and fell with a flurry of curses. Yep, he was fine.

‘Such distress,’ said Manic, as the shraed neared. ‘It pains my heart, weighs upon my soul.’

‘I doubt you two oddballs,’ said Threadfin, ‘possess either.’

‘Unnecessary,’ said Mania in a firm, no nonsense tone. ‘We gave you a gift and in return you give us insults. Unfortunately, we cannot help you leave this place. Not since we got you in the first time. The Grim has set traps for us. Getting ourselves in and out is a challenge in and of itself. You must find your own way out.’ She half turned and added, ‘Dear brother, do ensure we aren’t disturbed, will you?’

‘Wait,’ said Threadfin, ‘what gift?’

‘Why,’ she said, turning back, ‘were you not looking for this human female?’

A shimmering wall of what looked like water appeared, blocking the Torments’ path. Echoing, reverberating thumps of power hammered against the barrier.

Roper spat out blood and dirt, glaring up at the duo. ‘You lied to me!’

Mania glowered at Roper, her look murderous. ‘We did not give you permission to hunt her, to interrogate her, and to attempt to conceal your actions,’ said Mania in a low voice. ‘No, this was not part of our agreement. Did I not promise I would see your concerns met if you proved faithful? Restoring your original form wasn’t a simple matter but we kept our promise. You were absent from it for a long time, after all.’

‘You promise, and promise,’ said Roper, ‘and you do nothing. Why should I trust either of you? I took matters into my own hands, because I’m sick of waiting.’ He paused, staring at the shraeds. ‘Wait, what do you mean you kept your promise?’’

Threadfin believed he understood, but decided to remain silent. ‘I hate to interrupt, but shouldn’t we be getting out of here?’

Mania ignored Roper, and stepped to the crater’s edge. She stood three feet from Threadfin and Lorn, her glower transforming into a smile. ‘Such loyalty. A beautiful thing, is it not?’

Her brother had returned, though he appeared disinterested, glancing back at intervals to the barrier. ‘A shame we must do what is necessary,’ Mania added, a touch of coldness to her words. She looked deep into Threadfin, as she had once before. ‘Such anger and fear, buried beneath layers of self-doubt, but there is strength. I like this one. Perhaps we should keep him once we are finished. Another pet, dear brother? I do so like my pets. Ever since the last one disintegrated, I’ve been beside myself with grief.’

‘You do insist on experimenting with them, sister.’

‘Enhancements, brother.’

Manic groaned. ‘You possess a myriad of others. Another ...,’ he sighed, ‘well, if you must. Let us be done here. I grow weary of this night, and he is so unreasonable these days.’ Manic was looking behind as he spoke. From the concussive pounding vibrating from the earth into his bones, Threadfin didn’t think they had long. The barrier was constricting while lightning-like barbs stabbed at the furious Torments.

The smile vanished from Mania’s face as she concentrated on Lorn. ‘My dear, this has been an unwelcome diversion to our agreement.’

‘A disruption,’ said her brother.

‘An opportunity.’

‘What are you talking about?’ asked Lorn, her tone full of suspicion. When she received no answer, she said, ‘Oh, I see, when you learned he had me prisoner, you didn’t rescue me. No, why not make use of a new opportunity. Why not use me as bait.’ Her voice choked.

Threadfin stared at her. Lorn was a dangerous woman, and far too intelligent for those two. Why did she sound hurt?

‘I thought we had an understanding,’ Lorn added in a whisper.

‘A necessary evil,’ Mania said with a shrug.

‘A perfect ambush.’

‘A regrettable choice.’

‘Well, was it worth it?’ She nodded at Manic’s failing barrier. ‘You don’t seem to be having much success.’

‘Worth a try, my dear.’ Mania smiled. ‘They are relentless, after all.’

‘I will see the plan through, as agreed,’ said a tearful Lorn, ‘but not for you two. I want you both to stay away from me. Understood?’

Mania’s smile slipped, and her brother scowled, but for some reason Threadfin couldn’t understand, they held their peace. For her part, Lorn appeared genuinely upset. What had she expected from two shraeds? He wondered what manner of agreement they’d had with her.

He spotted his chance for escape and sought out life. He found it in two of their dying mounts. He still had to strain as he fought to touch Roper, Pole and Lorn. He gritted his teeth against the pain. He felt for Nevet and Grudge. However, he didn’t draw life from any of them. The barrier blocking him was too great. With his power hampered, he needed help for this new experiment.

He reached out further, testing the limits of his range, and found dozens of ghouls penned in. He heard their screeches reach across the distance, a quarter of a mile. He felt them reach out in kind, to him. The strain became unbearable. He gritted his teeth, forcing down a scream. A connection to his viral kin snapped into place.

‘What is this?’ Manic demanded, stepping closer. ‘What is he doing?’

Without the use of reflections, this was a dangerous risk. Threadfin became the reflection, his body fading. A work-around of the rules he’d tried before but with a twist. Oh, how he loved those, though they often led to unfortunate consequences. The ghouls had a bent of their own, and it was their power he stole. Always the thief, he thought wryly.

‘What must be done,’ said Mania with a sad smile for Lorn.

Still touching the life forces of the others, Threadfin extended the effect of the ghouls’ magic to them. This he’d never done, but he didn’t have a choice. When he touched Lorn, he felt her react, as she tried to interfere, using his power against him. It took a moment for him to realise she was dictating their destination. Fine, if she knew where they were going.

Reality warped as the memory fragment faded. Threadfin saw the barrier collapse, the four Torments damaged but striding towards them. The shraeds whirled to face the threat, and attacked.

With a grating sensation on his dry skin, Threadfin landed with a hard thump on ground covered in shale. The others yelled, cursed, or grunted as they landed close by.

Pole remained down, rolling over. In the pale expanse above, hung three spheres. One filled half the sky while pale shimmering rings surrounded another. The third was half visible above the horizon, a yellow reddish glow suggesting a setting sun. Twisting about he saw, rising above a line of dark hills, twin bronze moons.

The viral stared at the sky, unnerved and excited. He’d never seen anything so wonderful or terrifying. The memory fragments, which were pieces of this world, had been nothing compared to the real place. His power was gone; he felt for it, and found a true absence. For some reason, it didn’t bother him. ‘You know,’ he whispered, ‘I think I’m going to like it here.’

‘Guess this isn’t Adalalcas,’ said Vilt, on her feet as she scanned the area, ever the soldier. ‘Don’t suppose Eladaldor’s got moons like those? Or out east in Vegoia?’

‘My Ma—’

‘Shut up, Grudge,’ several of them snapped in unison. The scout’s eyes widened in surprise.

Pole remained on his back beside Threadfin. The Darken turned his head towards him. ‘Poor ol’ Tope,’ he said, face screwing up in pain. ‘Well, you’ve gone and done it again. I swear, I did not sign up for this. I bet no other Darken in the history of bloody fool Darkens had to put up with anything as bad.’

‘Sure, they did,’ said Threadfin. ‘Anyhow, this time it wasn’t all me. I was aiming for nice sandy beaches.’

‘We travel by day,’ said Lorn. Vilt offered her hand, and helped the Aidari to her feet. ‘Night here is too dangerous, so we need to find shelter. Day isn’t much better, but at least you can see what’s coming at you.’

Roper slowly got to his feet from where he’d landed twenty feet away. He stumbled towards them. ‘Where are we? What have you done?’ The man, well, wasn’t a man anymore. The illusion of his human form had vanished, and Threadfin knew he would not get it back.

‘Who is this?’ the sergeant asked, staring at Roper.

‘Returned to his original form,’ said Threadfin with a grin. ‘Am I right, Rope? They kept their promise.’

‘I don’t get it?’ she said. ‘This is the same bastard who captured us?’

Pole groaned.

‘Roper was never human to begin with. He was always a kobold. I’m guessing at this, but I think Manic and Mania placed his soul in a human body, to spy on me. The shraeds had an interest in me before I knew I was a mage. I thought he’d died, but now I believe they retrieved him. They must’ve drained some of his memory along with whatever information they needed.’

Roper had collapsed to his knees, and was examining his hands, touching his face. Poor fellow hadn’t even known. ‘What are you talking about?’ he stammered, before looking around him as though seeing everything for the first time. ‘Where are we?’

Lorn threw them all a savage grin. ‘Welcome to the Styx folks, or as some of us like to call it, the Grimstyx.’

‡

TWO DAYS LATER, THE Fetch watched the suns set, until a handful of stars bordered the dying infernos. Night shrouded the valley. Darkness wouldn’t save these mortals, nor daylight. This was its master’s world.

It crouched on a mottled-green spire. The ruins of the kobold city were high enough that from its perch it saw the cave in which its prey hid.

The Grim’s servant touched a face, which was not its face, and laughed. Did they not understand? The viral mage could not escape. He had trapped himself, the fool, for this face was a mirror. I own you, it thought, and knew the mage heard.

Enveloped in a writhing black shroud, the Grim’s servant studied the humans within. Rock was no barrier to its sight. Dusk’s dark glaze climbed the shattered towers, the once golden domes, and the white walls of the palatial compound. The kobolds had scurried about building their world, concerned with mortal thoughts. Unaware of how vast the Spectrum was, how delicate the balance. The Fetch knew, for the master had shown it. The master sought to save existence from the Darkness. Why did the fools resist? Did they not understand the master was their last hope? Once the Grim ruled over all, mortal life under his heel, Tartaros could not win.

They do not understand, because they are weak.

It hated weakness, despised it. In excising it, was it not serving existence? The prisoner, the reflection of whose body it had stolen, had strength. He formed part of the Fetch, and he was apart too. It had come to admire him, though. At times, the one named Ralan would surface, wrenching control back. Ralan’s domination lasted for seconds at most, but it was impressive.

Those aren’t my thoughts, a voice whispered in its head.

‘No,’ it answered with amusement. ‘They’re mine, and soon your thoughts will cease for we will be one, as will the viral mage and I. A triumvirate of power unchecked. It would prove easier if you cooperated, pleasurable even.’

Sunlight faded, and in the darkness above, unnatural clouds gathered. Rain turned to hail, and the Fetch lifted its distorted head to greet it.

The master would send it into the world of Threadfin Todder, to delicious slaughter. Before long, the humans in all worlds would bow before it.

These people are mine, shouted a voice in its head, you malignant bastard, do you hear me? I will not let you destroy them!

It gripped its misshapen skull, almost toppling from its perch. It was losing control, again. How could this Torment be so strong? Was he not bound, and at the master’s mercy? The Fetch was losing its grip ...