Ooops! Forgot to send a part on Easter! So you get two tonight!
Healing Wounds in Arabarb
By Charles Matthias
Gmork was in a good mood. And so he decided to make another visit
that evening to his soon-to-be fifth pup. He carried with him a much
smaller chunk of flesh, this time taken from a wild boar and denuded
of its hide. He doubted that his wayward son would be so quick to
devour it once told it was human, but it would give him another
chance to drive one more crack into the last of his closely guarded conscience.
He'd told his eldest pup to wait in the listening room in case any of
his pets had something to tell him, and bade his latest child to act
as a runner in case they learned something more about this assassin
come to kill Calephas. The other two were sent into the city in as
human a shape as they could manage now to strengthen his scrying and
defensive spells.
Four was such a small litter. But that had been the total number of
mages in Calephas's employ after the catastrophe that had become the
winter attack against Metamor. At Nasojassa there had always been a
number of mages who had mastered a few tricks and thought themselves
worthy to study under Nasoj but in reality were good for nothing more
than army fodder. Naosj had never seemed to complain when Gmork made
them his children, at least until the day he'd had every single one
of them killed.
That Gmork had even escaped with his life let alone his baubles was a
testament to his careful planning and preparations. Calephas was not
as capricious as Nasoj, but Gmork had no illusions that he would be
able to gather his family to such a strength either. At some point,
the Baron would do to him what Nasoj had done.
Which made his acquisition of new children all the more important.
He hunched over as his misshaped legs carried him down the narrow
twisting stairs to the dungeon and smiled with relish at the thought
of what his fifth pup would be able to do once he was ready. To
become a whelp of Gmork took away none of the magical skills they had
honed in their lives as humans. The other four had been conventional
wizards, each favoring the flashy over the subtle. This one possessed
a talent built off of one principle, but in feeling along that
magical whirligig inside of him, he could discern the numerous clever
ways in which it had been employed.
This pup would be his bodyguard and his assassin, and there was not a
soul in Arabarb that could contest him.
Gmork met the Lutin hunter serving as gaoler at the small room
serving as a guard house. Yellow eyes lifted from a game played with
knives to regard him with cold contempt. Judging by the array of
bone-knives, each curved and serrated to maximize how much blood they
could spill, Gmork knew that this Lutin was very clever and not to be
crossed. Around his neck was a leather band decorated with human
finger bones, all thumbs. Gmork counted ten of them and chuckled
under his breath.
His voice was harsh and irritated. "What you want? Yajgaj praying to elders."
Gmork allowed his arms to swell with beastly strength. He would never
admit it to anyone, but his powers to control wills did not extend
past humans. Should this Lutin decide to kill him he'd only have his
own prodigious physical strength and skills to aid him. Yet another
reason to hasten the conversion of his newest pup. "I am here to see
the prisoners. When I am done you may continue your prayers."
Yajgaj grunted, rose and sheathed four knives in his leather buckler
and produced a key from beneath his hides. "Come," he beckoned as he
started down the last set of stairs. Gmork followed at a casual distance.
Yajgaj unlocked the heavy iron doors and then both of them stepped
through to the dungeons. The Lutin waited by the door until Gmork had
passed. With a flick of one hand he willed a flame to life on the
nearby torches and walked straight toward his pup.
What had once been a man still retained mostly human features,
although he was beginning to look more and more like Gmork and his
other children. Two days ago his ears had been covered in fur, his
nose and lips were beastly, and his hands and feet were swollen. Now
he could see dark tear marks along his nose, swollen and stretched
feet, with obvious claws dotting the ends of only four toes. No tail
yet, but it was sure to come soon.
Eyes even more golden than before looked up at Gmork as he approached
and his body trembled, whether from delight or fear, Gmork wasn't
sure. "Hello my pup. How are you feeling?"
"Sore, Father." No hesitation this time in recognizing Gmork as his
father. Another sign of progress. "I want to move and run."
Gmork liked the sound of that. But it needed to be tested. "How do
you want to run?"
The once-man rolled onto his hands and knees and tried to put his
feet beneath him but his legs were too long for it. "Like this, Father."
Either he truly was giving in, or he was trying to tell Gmork what he
wanted to hear. That would be folly for all he had to do was touch
the pup's magical being to know the truth of what he said and willed.
Still, he was curious to see just how strong this will was if that is
what is was. Either he truly did wish to run as a beast and would
express it more openly as Gmork questioned him, or his resistance ran
even deeper than his father suspected. "One day soon you will, if you
are obedient to your father. Let me look you over."
The pup stayed still in his uncomfortable position while Gmork
crouched low and began rubbing his hands over his child's body to
feel where the changes had taken place. He started with his face,
pushing up on his lips and noting that the canines were decidedly
longer and his incisors had shrunk. Even his lips were becoming thin,
and stretching further back across his scarred cheeks. The scraggly
beard felt softer and less wiry than it had a week past when he'd
last inspected him. The ears were complete and a symbol of his pup's
complete acceptance of the truth of all things his father told him.
Gmork tousled the pup's hair and moved down to his shoulders. These
wouldn't change much most of the time, but they did feel as if they
had pressed forward some. Gmork then lifted one of his pup's arms and
stroked his stubby fingers across the flesh, poking it with his claws
several times. His pup made not a noise of complaint. The swollen
fingers were beginning to harden at the tips and in the palms, though
they were no shorter than before. The nails were thicker and harder
and would soon be more claw than nail.
Moving down his back, he felt nothing different, but grinned when he
felt a nub of a tail there starting to emerge. He turned his head and
let his tail swing clear of his hides. "You cannot run if you do not
have a tail."
His pup whined and lowered his head. "I want a tail, Father."
"If you want one, then why don't you have one?"
"I... I want one, Father!"
Gmork could feel the nub quivering under his touch. It would grow
more soon. Now his pup wanted it badly, or so he said. Either way,
he'd agreed with his father. That was all it truly ever took. Even if
he was trying to deceive him, the words of his tongue would convert him anyway.
"Then," Gmork said in a low growl. "Grow one. Please your father."
Of course nothing happened. It never did so suddenly. But the idea
was now planted firmly in his pup's mind. In another few days this
little nub would be longer by a few inches if not more. His pup
whined and professed his obedience while Gmork continued his examination.
The only thing left were his legs. Like the man's face and chest,
this too was marred by scratches the ran up and down the length of
his thighs and shins. The flesh felt tough and well muscled with the
first suggestions of fur in several patches, especially around his
knees and ankles. Gmork lifted one of the legs and watched the way it
bent and flexed. Still very human in design, but the upper leg did
appear to be shorter, with a thicker shank and shallower round. The
heel was still pronounced, but it had lost some of its toughness. The
bone there was receding.
Gmork set his legs down and crouched before his pup, studying him
with firm eye. His growling voice exuded command. "Are you a man?"
He tensed for a moment as if unsure how to answer. "I... I am, Father."
That settled it, Gmork decided. If he were trying to deceive him, he
wouldn't have admitted to being a man. It also meant there was a
great deal more work to do to convince him otherwise. Once he no
longer believed he was a man, everything would move more quickly and
he'd soon be able to leave the dungeons a trusted pup.
"Do men have tails? Do men have claws? Hmm?" He lifted one hand and
pressed the thick callus of one finger against his dark, wide nose.
"Do men have snouts?" And then he rubbed one of his ears between two
fingers, pressing firmly through the soft fur. "Do men have ears such as this?"
His pup whined again and tried to fold his ears back submissively as
he lowered his hindquarters into a crouch. "They... they... they do
at Metamor."
Gmork tensed and chided himself for his foolishness. This attack had
often worked in the past. But those who knew Metamorians would not
accept it so easily. They had seen men with tails, fur, and snouts.
They had seen men who looked like beasts. He had to distance him from
that as quickly as possible.
"But you are not touched by Metamor are you?"
He whined again and lowered his golden eyes. "No, Father."
"No, you aren't. You are not of Metamor. We are not men. You are my
son, and I am not a man. That means that you are not a man. Are you a man?"
He blinked and dragged the tough nails at the tip of each finger
across the stone floor beneath him. His tongue pressed against the
back of his lips as he breathed. "I... I think so... Father. I... I
don't understand."
"Because you cannot be a man as my pup," Gmork replied in a low
whispering growl. He could see the swirl of magical energies inside
of him cascading back and forth, torn between what he'd once been and
what Gmork was making him. There was still some core of him that
clutched tightly onto his humanity. That would have to be broken. It
was different for each mage, but given enough time Gmork would unlock
the secret.
"Your are a beast, my pup. Say it."
He swallowed and held his hands close together as he crouched. "I...
I am a beast, Father."
"Again."
"I am a beast, Father."
"Again!"
"I am a beast!"
"Again!"
"I am a beast!"
With each repetition his pup crouched lower and lower against
himself. Through the torn black garment, Gmork could see that his
skin was fading into hue as gray as the stones along his belly and
chest. What hair he had on his chest had thickened. Even his face was
altered some, his nose darkening further and the suggestion of a
snout stretching his lips and teeth.
Gmork put one hand on the satchel with the meat and said, "And beasts
are not men. Say it. Believe it."
"Beasts are not men, Father."
"Again!"
"Beasts are not men!"
He had him repeat that phrase five more times before he was satisfied
that his pup believed it without doubt. But it was one thing to make
him believe an abstract concept, quite another to make him realize
that it applied to himself as well. Unless he'd been extremely lucky,
his pup would believe he was both man and beast without being able to
reconcile the contradiction. Best to distract him before the
juxtaposition of conflicting ideas made him recognize that one of
them had to be false. Gmork had to teach him that and had to make
sure it was the right one.
"Very good, my pup. Now, I have something here for you to eat." He
set the satchel down and drew out the hunk of meat. Immediately his
pup began to pant and salivate with eager delight. The bone from his
last meal lay nearby gnawed and cracked. This one would soon share
its fate. He held it up before his pup. "Do you want this?"
He yipped in eager delight, all thought washed out of his mind. "Aye,
Father! I'm hungry! Let me eat!"
"You may eat this." Gmork set it down on the ground, and to his
relief his pup bent over and began tearing into it with his jaws. He
used his hands but only to hold the hank of red flesh in place. "My
good and dear pup."
He tore out chunks of flesh with his teeth and swallowed them after
chewing only a few times. Blood smeared his face and jowls. Gmork
stroked him down the back of the head and neck. Very softly, just
after his pup had taken a bite, he whispered, "It's from a man."
His pup tensed and began to tremble, nose and jowls wrinkling in
distaste, eyes filling with horror and fear. Before he could open his
jaws to spit out the latest piece, Gmork growled fiercely at him.
"Don't you dare spit that out! You bit it, now eat it. Eat it!"
His pup whined in anguish, but he chewed obediently and after what
seemed an endless series of whines and slow circles with his lower
jaw, he swallowed the morsel down.
Gmork smiled, revealing his long fangs. He picked up the meat and
tore a little chunk off for himself, letting his snout grow out much
longer than his pup's, before swallowing and licking his jowls clean
of blood. "Now, my pup. You are like your father. Did it taste any
different from deer, sheep, or boar?" Those were the animals whose
flesh he usually brought. That this was the flesh of wild boar was
irrelevant to his question.
With a cringing whimper his pup slowly shook his head. "No, Father."
"Do you like the taste of deer, of sheep, and of boar?"
"A... Aye, Father."
"Then, as this tastes no different from these, and you like the taste
of them, you must like the taste of man flesh."
He whimpered again but could not bring himself to say anything. Nor
could he draw himself any closer to the meat. Blood stained his
cheeks and dribbled onto the tattered remnants of his black cloak.
Gmork put the meat in front of him and then rose and with a scowl on
his face said, "This is all you will receive. When I return tomorrow,
my pup, there had better be no meat on this bone. You do not want me
to be upset with you." His pup whined and trembled in anguish. If
Gmork had judged him rightly, the bone would be stripped by the
morning. The thought of upsetting his father would be enough to
overcome the shards of his conscience.
Gmork needed him to enjoy man flesh. But first that meant he had to
believe he'd eaten some. Swallowing that one bite had been a start
but would not be enough. As he rose and backed away from his pup, he
decided to offer him an additional inducement. In words as sweet as
his earlier had been harsh, he added, "You will never grow a tail, my
little pup if you do not eat."
He did not linger to see what effect this had on the pup. Nor did he
waste his time looking at the other prisoner. The Lutin Yajgaj
appeared to be keeping a close eye on him. He did not wait for the
Lutin to realize he was finished before heading to the staircase and
extinguishing the torches on his way out.
----------
May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,
Charles Matthias
!DSPAM:4db6221c8491795620989!
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