The Wielder: Sworn Vengeance (The Wielder Series) (17 page)

Znuul elaborated on
the end of the world statement as we make our way to the Dubai bunker. He explained that the nuke’s detonation and the retaliations that would follow would as he put it, “shred” the balance of good and evil.  Somehow that could lead to Znuul’s home dimension more easily entering ours.

Our
plan is to get to the bunker, rest up and figure our next move. Along the way, we have a body to dispose of and Znuul had thought ahead there too.  Jalal’s coffin is a fifty gallon waste drum. It’s a good thing that Silithes isn’t with us, because that drum takes up space in the van. That is until we stop in the middle of nowhere and Znuul chucks it well out into the wilderness.

The drive
is long, but driving keeps us better off of airport security cameras.  And it is mostly quiet except for two diminutive females who won’t not stop talking about Sil.  One was Shey, wanting me to be crystal clear about what Silithes did to Maldgorath, what she could do to me and basically how she is an incarnate, evil creature.  The other was Kitten who was bending Znuul’s ear constantly making the argument that he should cut her a break and let her back in the house.

“If someone tried to get between me and you – I’
d sure try to kill them,” was the crux of her argument.

Both themes
were repeated continually. And Znuul was always made center of it.   Shey would call out to Znuul to tell me about Sil’s sisterhood thingy.  And of course, Kitten’s pleas were to the man… err, being himself. 

And Znuul was not p
leased to have to address them.

Eventually Kitte
n wore him down and he conceded - I think it was just as much so he could listen to the radio.

After all, should there be a devastating nuclear blast in Israel, the news would be all over it.  I found myself focused on it as well.

I took over driving for Kitten after about twelve hours – she was putting up the good fight, but the tired was wining. Ten hours later and no news over the radio. We pull up to a cookie-cutter, identical version of the Znuul bunker in Kentucky.

Znuul unfolds from the van once in the garage. “Can’t promise you it’s totally furnished, don’t know exactly how well things work here.” He checks the two deep freezers in the garage and gives a sleepy eyed Kitten a thumbs up.

I take advantage of the time to summon up my hound, who’s been away too long.  Shey and Vets are stretching and commenting to each other how nice a bed will be.

Once inside, I see it’s exactly the same.  Even the furniture is approximately the same.

Pffif and Vets waste no time claiming their rooms and disappearing into them.  It has been a long haul…

“How many of these are you having built?”

“Six up and ready with another six on the books.”  With that reply, Znuul strides to the kitchen area and opens up the freezer, pulling out a bottle of Stoli with a smile. “Kitten, keep the freezer stocked for me, I’ll be on media watch for the next day or so.”

That gets a doe-eyed “
okay,” from Kitten.  Kitten turns to me next, "Bring Silithes back!"

I look over to Znuul
who nods and says, “just have her keep her distance.”

Kitten is bouncing in anticipation
.  I trace Sil’s sigil and call her forth. The air ripples and there she is.

Sil meets my eyes for just the briefest of moments and then looks down subserviently. “Thank you for releasing me, master.” 
Kitten crushes her in a hug, which is mostly unmet.

Znuul from the kitchen bellow
s out, “Keep your distance, you and I are not good.”

“I will.”
She glances up briefly at me, then back down. “Which will be your room?”

I let out sigh, some things never change.
  “I guess I’ll just take the same one.”

“Good enough.”  With that she turns,
and walks over to the bank of rooms along the whole other wall.  A flex of the legs and a whoosh of the wings and she’s on the second floor walkway. Then she disappears into her room – one as far away from mine as can be in this place.

Some things do change. I’m a little surprised.

“She knows she’s been busted,” says Shey hugging up to me.

Kitten announces
, “I’m going to go check on her,” giving Shey a stern look, then walks over to the stairs to get to her room.

My attention turns as Znuul
bellows “Arthur! Join me in the office.  We have a bomb to look out for and plans to discuss. Grab a bottle and come on.”  Znuul leaves out of the kitchen to the office.

There’s a tug on my belt and I look down at Shey.
She whispers, “You can’t trust him. You can’t trust any of their kind. They’re monsters.”

I put my hand on her shoulder and tell her I’ll try to be careful.  Then I make my way to the office and let myself in.

All the TV’s are on with several set up in quadrants with four channels on them.  The TV sound is off and Znuul has AC/DC playing through the speakers.

“I figure if we don’t hear anything
over the news in the next eighteen hours, it’s been handled.”  Znuul looks me over. “What… no bottle?  Go grab yourself one.  Tell the leprechaun to help himself too.”

I take a seat
in one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Pffif will figure it out. Me, I don’t drink a whole lot. Especially when millions of lives are hanging in the balance.”

So much for good intentions.  After about three hours of media watch Znuul came back with a bottle for me when he left to refresh his.  He even brought me a soda to wash it back with.

We had passed the time talking small talk, agreeing that neither of us had a clue how to find Maldgorath and commenting on how vapid the news seems. And it is repetitive too, with religious extremists of all sides doing unspeakable things.  The world is in chaos.

When he hand
s me the bottle and soda Znuul makes an interesting proposition.  “Ask me anything. I’ll answer honestly.  I know you have questions about me, my kind, the world I come from, the balance and its importance.  Stay and drink with me. This bomb thing has me quite bothered. I’d rather have company.”

I respond by cracking the seal on the bottle and taking a short pull.  The familiar burning sensation
is nice.  I used to drink – a lot. That was before I was gifted with my summonling crew and for whatever reason, my life came into focus. Maybe it is the fact that I’d been up for well over twenty four hours, maybe it is just because. But when that Stoli crept into me it felt pretty dammed good.

We t
ake the next hours or so as we had, just bantering and commenting on the madness engulfing the world.  I know better than to try to go drink for drink with Znuul.  First, he’s huge – second he’s not human.  But then, I guess I’m not entirely human anymore either.  My spirit fueled metabolism heals me incredibly fast, keeps me young and works alcohol out of my system pretty darn quick too.  Still, the hours pass nicely.

“Need to reload
,” Znuul says holding up his empty. Mine isn’t even quarter of a way – and that’s OK.  “Gimme a sec,” Znuul closes his eyes and appears to focus.  A few moments later Kitten appears frosty bottle in hand, and skips over to Znuul.

“Do you guys need snacks? I c
an make some.  We have wings and stuff.”

Snacks sound
real good, so my vote is a resounding “YES!”

Kitten nods to that then stops.  “Your Sil
ithes is acting very strange. You should check on her, I don’t think she’s doing okay.”

She’s freaking busted and knows it I’m thinking, but to be courteous I tell
Ms. Kitten “thanks,” as she heads out of the room happy to be on her mission of snacks.

“You haven’t asked me anything, Arthur
. Why is that?”

I look over to Znuul and realize he’s right.
“Tired, worried, not wanting to ask something that makes me look like a pinhead?”

That gets a great big laugh from Z.

“So what’s your first question?”  It’s truth or dare without the dare.

I take a
larger pull of my bottle, wash it down with soda and consider that challenge. I take in the burn and I pose a question that I hope isn’t totally stupid.

“Why care? I mean
there’s that one true law thing. So why care about anyone else, much less a bunch of lowly human things you don’t even know. This bomb thing has you bugged. Why care?”

Znuul responds with
a pull of his own bottle and a wry smile.  “Well that’ll teach me. Do you mind if I get comfortable before I answer that particularly soul-baring question?”

“Your house, my brother
,” I say and I hold the bottle up to him in toast.

With that, he pulls his tee-shirt up over his head, tears it at the back and lets it slip back on.  Then he stands and drops
his trousers, leaving the boxers.  I know what’s next… the sounds of his expanding into his more natural demonic form.  After that display, he stretches lazily and pops his neck. “Much better.”

“Ok
ay, Dzemond whisperer, here’s the thing,” he says. “To understand my point of view now you have to have some understanding of my circumstances. So, this will be somewhat long winded.  You sure you want to hear all this?”

I take a swig of my bottle, wash it down and say “After that build up?
Come on…”

Znuul responds with a
bigger swig of his own.  “OK, history.  I came to this realm with the worst of intentions. The people that brought me over did so thinking to use me as a weapon. My intention was to crush and dominate all.  After I won their war, I was tricked and locked into a demon trap. You knew all that, right?”

I nod in the affirmative.

“I was in that trap for over 5,000 years.  The hunger was only really bad for the first sixty days or so, then starvation kicks in and it becomes kind of okay. Of course I had summonlings that I could snack on. And like an idiot, I did - the devouring is a bit of a compulsion I have. Devouring them just prolonged the hungers and left me with nobody to share time with. The first couple hundred years without company are more or less bearable, you can count them down.  Then you kind of lose track of the count.  I can’t really know when I lost it, you can’t reach out, nothing can reach in – totally alone.  I’d like to think it was after a few millennia?” He chuckles at that.

“
But Arthur, make no mistake, at some point I lost my mind. I broke. I became delusional; hallucinations – the whole thing.  It was not good, because there would always be those times where I’d have a moment of clarity and realize what was happening.”

Znuul is downplaying the
mental torture. But I get it. “Shit Z, that… that’s harsh.”

“Yea
,” he says offhandedly. “Anyway story forward.  An archeological team finds the tomb, I’m uncovered and I’m thinking “I’ll just stay real still and once they’ll break the trap threshold I’ll be free. But, no.  Not happening.  I am greeted by this grey haired magus type, who basically calls me out. I try to intimidate him into releasing me and his response is that if I want out I must be bound to his will.  You think I want to be leashed to another human? Oh no. I let him know what will befall him for crossing me.  He tells me they’ll be sealing up the area, and doing so in the way they would - that it won’t be opened forever.  You know what I did?”

“Obviously you negotiated.”

“You are too kind Arthur. I caved. I experienced complete panic. I could not imagine an eternity in that place.  I allowed my will to be bound… as I was – which was a clever swerve, to this magus and awaited the gradual return of my power so I could overwhelm him.  So, we went to the chateau and I went about trying to be my fearsome self.  When I got too fearsome, he would send me to this dammed closet, which was hell – a tiny dark little enclosed space. 

Anyway I did as
you would expect and tried to manipulate him. I told him that he and I could own this world, he just needed to let me exert myself.  You know what that man told me – that he was fairly happy with his life and didn’t need to rule the world. Then he asked me what would make me happy, outside of ruling the world, flipping open the gates to Helterzen, etc.”

He takes a pull off the bottle.  “I could not answer that question.
Not honestly anyway. I guess I wasn’t ready. I remained my own vile self and for whatever reason nobody really wished to be around me.” That came with a wink a smile.

“
Grey was the only exception, he would take time with me.  After some times in and out of the closet, I began to realize that what I craved was company.  Yet the more I asserted myself, the more alone I became. Finally Grey brought it into focus for me: nobody wants to be an inferior and I was demanding that everyone around me realize their inferior nature.  I was creating my own loneliness. I had a decision to make, either my ego or my need for company.”

“Damn Z
,” is all I could think to say to that.

“Ye
s damn indeed Arthur,” Znuul tips the bottle again. “So, the real answer to your question is that I am broken, defective, and readily admit I not only enjoy, but crave the company of others. Self before all?  My well being is so tied into the need to be in the company of others. It doesn’t matter if it's Hunter, or whomever.  I have fear now Arthur. Fear of small enclosed spaces, fear of being alone.  The fear of being alone is the worst.  And that is why I care. I care because if I don’t care…  I will be alone – that is unacceptable to me.”

What do you say to something like that?   The only thing I could think to say is
, “You got a friend in me, Ahtsag Znuul.”

Looking at the huge, purple/black beast across from me I felt a kinship I hadn’t before. This being hadn’t just given me an answer to
a question, he bared his inner demons. 

The door opens and Kitten has a
platter of yummy smelling goodies.  Not only has sleep been lacking but so has food.  She lays the tray on the desk between us and goes over to Znuul, sitting on his lap.  That snack was going to turn into my meal.

“What’s wrong master?”

Huge dark fingers work their way through her hair, “Just going over memories.”

“Well go over the good ones then!”
Kitten proclaims.

Good
idea.  Good food too.