“Jimian. Jimian. Jim, wake up.”
“Hmm? Janessa?”
“N-no. Who’s Janessa? Jimian, it’s me Lariette. I hear something. Wake up.”
She snapped into consciousness immediately, forgetting the images still circling through her minds eye, and the strange feeling surrounding her throat. She found one of her necklaces had fallen back over her shoulder, and was pressing into her neck. They were both silent as she listened, and sure enough, a strange sound was hissing from the dark space that had been a dead end last time they’d checked.
Silently, the two of them stood, and Jimian drew both her sword and knife. The strange hissing sound was rhythmic and raspy. As it grew closer, it was accompanied by soft plodding footsteps—not animal; human, though the breathing sounded anything but human.
One of Carriero’s men stepped into the glow of the mushrooms. Jimian felt dainty fingers grip onto her arm, squeezing tight enough to cause a hint of pain in her muscle.
“Jimian. Jimian what is wrong with him.”
Jimian didn’t know. The man stopped walking. His arms hung limp at his sides. He had no spear, no gun, no bow, no knife. At first, she thought he was all spattered in blood, until she realized that his eyes were black as an overcast night sky, like the way Vilk’s had flashed when Dusti possessed him, only permanent. She concluded that the liquid smeared all about his nose and mouth was not blood, but that residue created by powerful magic. His breathing sounded wrong, hollow, yet full of fluid. And he only stood there, watching.
“I don’t know. I honestly, do not know.”
“We should run.”
“No. Just hold on.” Jimian took a step forward. Was there the slightest chance someone had put together a possession spell in order to find them? “Hey. That you, Nax? Or Baltio? Aesdana?”
No response, just more hissing breath. And then he took a step forward. And another. Jimian felt as if cool water were dripping down her back, and she met Lariette’s eyes for half a heartbeat. “Now we run.”
They took off in the opposite direction, the puddles exploding and fungi squashing underneath their feet. Lariette’s breathing came in terrified gasps, and the man let out a horrible cry, something between the screech of a dying animal and a predator snarling to defend its kill. They ran harder, but when Jimian turned to see how close he was, his footsteps grew impossibly fast, and he toppled upon her with another awful scream. Her sword went flying from her hand when her wrist collided with a sharp rock, and the wind was knocked from her upon impact.
“Jimian!”
She lashed upwards with her knife while trying to fight off the onslaught of fingernails which had turned to claws. A hand wrangled itself in her hair, and all it took was one hit against the rocks to make the adrenaline in her veins surge, and pure survival instinct kick in. Jimian roared almost as terribly as the sick man, and warm blood rained down upon her as his knife caught the skin of his neck and tore him open. Though her wrist was throbbing, she snatched up a loose rock and wailed him so hard in the ear that she heard the crunch of skull.
He fell, rolling to the side, but still snarling and flailing. Jimian drove her blade into his chest once, twice, and then sliced off one of his hands. Her shoulder ached anew, and she ignored it as she cut his neck once again, and still, he kept fighting. He caught sight of Lariette with his dead eyes, seeming to notice her for the first time, and he lunged.
It was just the opportunity Jimian needed. She retrieved her sword in a motion so fast it was hardly human, and a sickening, wet thud filled the cave when the man’s head was severed and dropped to the floor. In an instant, his body collapsed, blood running from the stump like a spring river.
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All writing found at Ajdodgecreations is © AJ Dodge/Ariel Durkee 2016
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