​​​​38 A Blue-Skinned Guide

THREADFIN COLLAPSED TO his knees in the reddish-grey mud of the street. The blackened buildings loomed silent and glaring.

‘He looks depressed,’ said a voice behind him. Threadfin leapt to his feet, and stumbled to one side as he turned.

‘Defeated,’ said the second of two, ‘and perhaps intoxicated. Humans are known for such things, but the immortal undead? This is a step too far.’

‘No,’ said the first, ‘he is but helpless.’

The rain, having long since lost its bite, lessened to a drizzle. The haze lifted to reveal Manic and Mania. Clothed as before, though Mania’s diaphanous dress was violet, the man’s white cloak and woollens embroidered with silver and jade, not gold. They were both dry.

Threadfin groaned. ‘I’m in no mood for riddles from you jackanapes. Go away and let me be. Grim-hooded shraeds,’ he then muttered.

‘What did he say?’ asked Manic, his tone threatening.

‘I know what you are so no point denying it. Destroy me, or leave me be.’

‘Dull-witted,’ suggested Manic, turning to his sister, ‘likely due to his inebriation.’

‘Stubborn,’ corrected Mania. ‘This one cannot be forced, just guided.’

‘Tricked, which is I believe, easier when they are drunk.’

‘Just so.’

Threadfin groaned. ‘I’m not drunk you dim-witted freaks. Viral’s don’t get drunk ... I think.’ He sure wished he could. To blissfully drown his pain, to forget his name. Some breather customs weren’t half bad when he thought about it.

‘You still maintain he is the one? I’d prefer another. You never let me choose.’

Instead of answering, Mania spoke to Threadfin. ‘You have lost something, my dear.’

Threadfin gave her his best scowl. ‘I’m not your dear, and not something, but someone.’

‘Something is someone, and someone is something,’ said Mania in a voice that suggested it made perfect sense. ‘You’re tired of riddles, but we always spoke plain. It is not our fault if you do not have ears to hear.’

‘Clotted with maggots,’ suggested her brother, ‘which are also likely drunk.’

‘A mind clouded with guilt.’

‘Alcohol.’

Threadfin got to his feet, warily regarding the duo. ‘In the name of all that exists in the Spectrum above and below, what is it you two want of me? Are you here to torment me for eternity? Is this how you both get your entertainment? Is frazzling my half-eaten brains with your gibberish all you have to do today?’

Brother and sister glanced at one another, before Manic shrugged, as though conceding some point. ‘Do you know,’ asked Mania after a moment, ‘what follows you?’

Threadfin felt too weary to answer. He wasn’t certain he cared, but no doubt she would tell him.

‘The Torments will not quit until they have her. They blame her you see, or well most of them do, for their current manifestations. For now, only one is on her trail, but this will change.’

‘Just one,’ said Manic.

‘The worst one.’

‘Except for the unaligned one. I never did like the number eleven. Too symmetrical and yet, odd.’

‘A palindrome, dear.’

‘Exactly.’

‘The Torments are so-named,’ said Mania, ‘because their existence is a torment, one which is eternal. Although, perhaps it is a torment of the spirit rather than the flesh. They have not learned that pain is pleasure and pleasure is pain.’

‘Endless agony and torturous nightmares,’ added her brother, ‘even their memories are full of horrors. I do not understand what they have to complain about.’

‘A delicious existence.’

‘An exquisite plight.’

Threadfin almost laughed, but managed to force it down. Not out of humour but futility. Here he was, stuck in this odd world alone, except for two shraeds who wanted to riddle or bore him to full-death. ‘Wait, you mentioned her. You’re talking about Lorn.’

‘Oh?’ said Manic cocking an eyebrow. ‘Did we, sister? I don’t recall.’

‘The Fetch,’ said Threadfin, not feeling in the mood for games, ‘where has he taken her? Is she alive?’ One way or another, he would get it out of them. If he had to strangle both to do it.

‘Excitable,’ suggested Manic, ‘and a tad murderous. Look into those eyes, sister. Perhaps, I should change my evaluation.’

‘In love,’ suggested Mania.

‘Ugh, such a disgusting primitive concept.’ Manic shuddered. ‘No wonder mortals lead such dreary existences, but a viral in love? I liked him better when he was drunk.’

Threadfin uttered a growl and said, ‘The Grim damn you both, tell me where she is.’

Manic glared at him. ‘In this place, of all places, such a curse is rude at best. Isn’t it, sister? That festering blight at the centre of this world is anathema to us, as is its occupant. You have yet to learn the power of words.’

‘Perhaps,’ Threadfin said, taking a step towards the shraed, who raised a thin eyebrow in surprise, ‘I don’t care.’

Mania’s face filled with compassion, something he hadn’t expected. ‘Didn’t we tell you? Don’t you remember our words? Go North. All paths lead to—’

‘The centre of this world,’ Threadfin finished for her. ‘It is taking her there. It will bring her to Nalrost. Then, I’m too late.’

Mania shrugged. ‘Follow the path to the centre, but before you find it, you will encounter a fortress. Balax.’

‘Ours, once,’ said Manic, folding his arms and scowling. ‘Before he drove us out. The others don’t care if we must dwell in squalor.’

‘It will take her there for its own pleasure,’ Mania went on, ‘for Balax belongs to it now. Then it will bring her to the Grim, via a Darklight Stone.’

‘To Hell’s Teeth,’ Threadfin whispered.

‘As mortals know it, yes. If she reaches it, she is lost. If an army of shraeds cannot assail it, you will not. Our brethren are in a state of war with the aforementioned. You will not reach Hell’s Teeth, not without being torn apart first, which as it happens, does not suit our plans. If you wish to reach her, it must be at Balax.’

Threadfin was about to leave, determined to reach the fortress as fast as possible, but instead he paused. He regarded both shraeds with suspicion. ‘Why are you helping me? It can’t be the Shathra Stone. Yes, yes, I know you want it so don’t deny it. Everybody wants it, including me. I mean, why should I trust you?’

‘There is nothing to deny,’ said Manic. ‘We owe you no explanations, viral. We owe you nothing, but you will owe us everything.’

‘Huh?’

‘We have mutual interests,’ said Mania. ‘Our goals are yours, until they are not. However, despite your ingratitude, we have a gift.’ She gestured at a building. Its red bricks had melted from the heat of the fires.

The remaining blackened walls shimmered, and a creature emerged. Its skin was dark-blue, and it had huge black-feathered wings, long pointed ears, and a thick brow. Its body looked emaciated, ribs protruding, the stomach a hole. The fingers of its hands were shaped like talons. Wafts of ethereal darkness emanated from it, at times concealing its form.

‘This,’ said Manic with a sneer, ‘is a gift beyond your ability to comprehend. This is, shall we say, a distant relative of ours. One who earned our disfavour and will serve us until trust is restored.’

‘In other words,’ Threadfin laughed, ‘a shraed exactly like you two? Let me guess, he gets his looks from your mother’s side?’

‘This is Karun,’ Manic snapped.

‘He will serve you as long as we bid him to,’ said Mania, with a pacifying gesture towards her brother.

‘He will guide you,’ said Manic, after which he muttered, ‘over a ridiculously tall cliff if we are lucky.’

‘Not before he achieves his purpose,’ said Mania.

‘No, not before, but after.’

‘He will help you in any way you require.’

‘So long as it is in line with our desires,’ Manic said. ‘Do not insult us further. My patience with you is near an end.’

Threadfin watched Karun approach. It looked like a monster from children’s tales. He’d thought ghouls bad enough. Breathers fear the likes of me, he thought, but I look practically normal beside this. ‘Is this what you two look like when you remove all your makeup at night?’

Brother and sister glanced at one another. ‘He does not appreciate our generosity, sister. I will tolerate no more.’

‘He does not understand.’

‘We are truly alone.’

‘Abandoned.’

‘Forgotten.’

‘Alright, alright,’ Threadfin muttered. ‘He’d better be of use. I want to get her back, alive, and whole. I know you two are up to something, and I’d bet your cousins wouldn’t approve.’ The thought occurred he might be making a pact with the Grim, but instead it was with something worse to defeat the Grim. Well, he thought, I never did do things by half measures.

‘Whether you can save her or not,’ said Mania, ‘you must destroy the Fetch.’

‘Exactly what I was planning to do.’ He would save her, but he’d had enough of that smirking reflection of his.

With a dismissive wave, the viral mage turned and began his journey north. Karun, the blue-skinned shraed, kept pace on his right. It had an unsteady gait as though walking was new to it. Perhaps it’s drunk, he thought, remembering Manic’s claims. If I looked like that, I’d be drunk a lot too.

When the mage glanced back, both brother and sister were gone.