Healing Wounds in Arabarb
By Charles Matthias
He woke slowly this time, huddled close against
the wall until he realized that he was cold but
dry. Lindsey's eyes flicked open and he pulled
gently on his chains. They rattled but his hands
were no looser than before. The skin was sore and
cut, but he wasn't bleeding anywhere that he could feel.
The boy had no idea how much time had passed, or
whether any time had passed at all. He knew only
that when the dawn came Calephas would return and
make him drink whatever potion he'd prepared.
It took him a long time to still his sobbing.
Part of him didn't want to stop. Why fight what
he couldn't fight? He was just a boy now. His
father was a prisoner. Gmork was after his
friends. And the Resistance had been betrayed and
would not have the men they needed to assault the
castle. What hope did he have really?
But Lindsey wasn't ready to give up just yet. To
calm his nerves, he tried to recall those who
he'd loved. How many happy times had he recalled
ever since returning to Arabarb? Lindsey set his
mind to work counting them and recounting them.
The home in which he'd lived, full of life as his
father Alfwig had dressed kills, his mother
sewing or preparing meat, while he and his
brother played in the fields with Pharcellus, or
learned the many woodland crafts they would need
from their parents. He dwelt on games, on songs,
on prayers, on stories, all of the things that
made his home a true home, that formed him into the man he'd become.
Alfwig was so strong and sure, doting on them but
teaching them where that strength came from, the
heart and not the sinew. Elizabaeg showing them
patience and that love comes through service.
Pharcellus being for them a playmate and
protector and an older brother he hadn't even
realized he had. Andrig wanting nothing more than
to get into mischief with his big sister. Lindsey
smiled as he thought on them all.
And with the memories came more measured breaths
and a weariness that could not be denied.
Lindsey was still a boy, but now he was being
dragged by the Lutins through the castle walls.
The cold stones bumped him and bruised him as he
tried to get his feet under him, stubbing his
toes and then tripping only to bounce on his
thighs and rump again and again. Where...
ooof... are you... ugh... taking me?
You quiet now, the Lutins, neither of whom were
the one who'd brought him to Calephas, laughed
and kicked him before continuing on their way. He
groaned and kept trying to get to his feet.
He managed it only a dozen paces before they
turned into the same room where he'd first met
Gmork. The monster was there, dressed in his fine
northern furs and standing almost in the pose of
a man. His nose was wide but mostly human, and
his lips concealed teeth only slightly too long.
His peppered black hair was drawn into a braid in
mockery of the men of Arabarb. Still his ears were pointed and tufted with fur.
Welcome Lindsey. Your family missed you. The
creature grinned and swept a clawed hand to his
left and Lindsey's eyes followed. He screamed and
tried to run to them but the Lutins yanked him back.
There, chained to the floor were his father
Alfwig, his mother Elizabaeg, and his younger
brother Andrig. Set before each one of them were
little baubles, all of them cold and dark. Father! Mother! Andrig! It's me!
Lindsey, there's nothing you can do, Alfwig
said softly in broken agony. They've defeated
us. Arabarb belongs to them now.
I don't believe it! Lindsey shouted as he
struggled against his bonds. The Lutins kicked
his legs out from under him and he fell to the ground, bruising his knees.
It's true, his mother side with a weeping sigh.
They have all of us now. There's no one left.
But, Pharcellus and the birds are out there! Thjey'll bring help!
Gmork laughed and leaned down over the bauble in
front of his brother Andrig. Oh, I think not. I
killed him before coming back here. He smiled
and drew a parcel wrapped in a leather satchel.
I made sure to bring back evidence of course, so
that you would know that you have no friends
left, Lindsey. He set it down in front of Andrig
who stared at it with fierce hate. Open it.
Never! his brother spat at the monster and
glared. I'll never do as you ask!
Gmork leaned over and put one finger on the
bauble, rolling it back and forth. Never? You
will do as I ask, boy. You can do nothing else.
A light flared inside the bauble and Lindsey
pulled at his chains again. Don't listen to him,
Andrig! Don't listen to him! He's stealing your mind!
Listen to me, boy, Gmork said, his words an
insistent growl as his face began to swell with
the suggestion of a snout. Listen to my words and my words only.
No! Lindsey cried, before one of the Lutins
jabbed him in the gut with his fist. He coughed
and gagged as the light inside the bauble flared brighter.
I don't... Andrig cried, face twisting in an
anguish as his hate began to be replaced by a
sick and vile love. I don't... I listen... I listen...
Good. You like listening to my voice, Gmork
crooned as the bauble flared brighter and
brighter. Lindsey gasped in horror as his younger
brother began to stare at the monster with
adoration. By the time the boy had regained his
breath, Andrig was obediently ripping the leather
pouch open. From within he drew out a very
familiar gray and red rimmed skull. A dragon's head Pharcellus.
Gmork left his brother and moved next to his
mother, reaching out with one fur-coated hand to
stroke her cheek. She pulled away, but his voice
whispered across a long, red tongue to tantalize
her ears and mesmerize her mind. Lindsey shouted
for it to stop, even as he wept over his older
brother's death. But the bauble before his mother
began to glow and glow brighter and brighter.
You love me, don't you? Gmork asked before
bathing his mother's face in long strokes with
his tongue as his definite snout brushed either
side of her face with thin whiskers.
I do my master! Elizabaeg gasped with almost sensual delight.
Gmork glanced back at Lindsey, as he draped one
arm over his mother's back. She buried her face
into his chest and peppered his fur with kisses.
She isn't your real mother, but I am sure you
would hate to see her give herself to me like a bitch begging for pups.
Alfwig rose form his torpor and lunged at Gmork,
but his chains drew him just short. Don't you dare touch her!
Gmork laughed. When I have finished with you,
man, you will beg me to rape your wife. And you
will beg me to rip out your son's throat while I'm doing it.
Lindsey tried to beat at th eLutins in his
struggle to stop Gmork, but they pummeled him
with their fists until his entire body felt like
one large bruise. Purple blotches dotted his
arms, chest, and legs as he lay there between
them, gasping and wheezing in pain as he watched
Gmork speak to his father. Alfwig's eyes burned
with defiance but that softened with each new
word, dwindling into confusion before finally
surrendering to obeisance and complete capitulation.
Now, Gmork said as he ran his paw-like hand
beneath Alfwig's chin, what do you wish me to do, my little pet?
Lindsey wailed as his father spoke words that
should never have come from his throat. But those
wails did resolve themselves into words,
objections, any thought that he could dredge from
his misery and onto his tongue. No, this cannot
be! Alfwig is immune to you, Gmork! Just like I
am! You can't make him your pet! You can't do that! I know you can't!
Gmork glanced back at him, the jaws of a wolf
spreading wide to reveal yellowed fangs and
hideous breath. But I have, little boy. I have.
With the dragon dead at my paws I have greater
power than before. And I will have you too as my
little pet, boy! He drew a fourth bauble from
his cloak and set it down on the flagstones in
front of Lindsey. And now you will listen to me too.
Lindsey shook his head. Nay! My friends from
Metamor! They promised to rescue me. Misha promised to send help!
Gmork's golden eyes widened in amusement. Oh,
you mean that axe-wielding fox? He did come. Oh, fox, come in here please!
Through the doorway stepped a completely naked
Misha, his eyes noticing nothing but Gmork. He
dropped down to his four paws, still almost human
in shape, but just low enough that he would keep
his head beneath that of Gmork's. What is it, my master?
Gmork ran his paw through the fur on Misha's
back, ruffling the deep red and and smiling as he
studied it. You have such beautiful fur. I would
like for my own. Do you wish me to skin you and take your pelt, my pet?
Misha gasped with hope and anxiety. Oh, let me tear it off for you!
Nay, my enthusiastic pet, let me do this. Stay
still now. Lindsey shouted Misha's name over and
over, but the fox never even flicked an ear to
listen to him. Gmork pressed his claw into the
back of Misha's neck until it started to bleed,
and then drew it straight down his spine until it
met his tail. Then he moved it over Misha's left
hip and down his leg until it was just above his
hocks. He returned to Misha's front and did the
same thing down his left arm. Blood welled along
the cuts but the fox's expression was one of angelic rapture.
Lindsey tried to look away, but one of the
Lutin's grasped his head and forced him to watch.
His family were breathless in their excitement.
Misha kept perfectly still as Gmork began to peel
back the folds of flesh from his back, revealing
the bright red muscle beneath. Everything was
sticky and foul. Blood pooled at their feet.
Gmork lifted Misha's limbs one by one and ripped
the flesh right off, tearing out each claw as he
went. Misha meekly set his ruined stumps back on
the stones and offered no complaint.
Lindsey vomited by the time that Gmork made
another incision across the fox's face before
lifting the last of his pelt free. His friend
stood a thing of pulsing tissue and dripping
scarlet, not a man at all but a simple animal
that should be hanging from a butcher's hook.
Gmork stroked the top of his head where the ears
had once been and growled a most satisfied sound. You may die now.
Misha yipped once and then collapsed on his side,
quivering from the agony for only a few moments
before falling completely still.
Lindsey wept at seeing his friend die and die
like that. Misha should have died with his axe in
his hands drenched in his enemies blood, not
skinned like a common beast. Gmork draped his new
fox fur over a tanning board next to the far wall
and stroked his paws through the lush fur. The beast sighed with a growl.
Sucking in his breath, and wrestling free of the
Lutin's vice-like grip, Lindsey shouted, There's
more friends than just him! They'll all come to
make sure you die and go burn in Hell!
I've been told that before, Gmork replied
laconically. He rubbed his face against the fox
pelt and wriggled his jowls in delight. Oh, this
is so very soft. I will enjoy wearing this. It will line my new cloak.
I have more friends, you monster!
Which ones? Gmork asked as he continued to rub
his head against Misha's pelt. Charles the rat
Sondecki? Or his rival, Rickkter the raccoon
Kankoran? Or perhaps the skunk, Kayla, who has
learned quite a number of interesting spells
during her journeys with you. And of course,
Jessica the hawk who is a master of many arcane
arts. Even that little stone mage Abafouq of the
Binoq. I've never met one of them before, but
they are close enough to your stock to respond so well to my voice.
They will defeat you!
They will come here and become my loyal and
devoted pups. I will cherish each of them and
teach them to hunger for the flesh of men. Gmork
pressed the fox pelt to his nose and inhaled
deeply before stepping back and looking at
Lindsey. And now you are going to listen to my voice and love it.
Lindsey screamed as the bauble resting in front
of him began to glow with a faint light.
----------
May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,
Charles Matthias
!DSPAM:4dcd8e7f194731795620989!
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