The Gift of Volkeye (44 page)

“Oh my goodness, I’m rejoining my old master! And you’re coming as well? …What a glorious day this is!”

“Shhh,” Ya Minj said, quieting her. She bounced in place, eager to be on the move.

As they rushed from the tent, Zynathian tapped a buttoned instrument, wrapped around his wrist. He then turned to the others.

“We have to find Maugrimm with haste!”

“How are we leaving?” Nigel asked.

“By ship,” he replied. “I just summoned it.”

4

Phyllamon looked over his shoulder, panicking. The murderous beast had followed him from the market.

“I’m headed into the wild…I left my hover there! Get your asses here, or I’ll be dead soon!” he shrieked into a small, palm-sized device.

He made it to
Saint Marcleese Forest;
a magnificent, ten-mile long maze of skyscraping trees, separating Castle Xyecah and its mines from the city of Mashyuvah, the Mashyuvian Forest, and all the neighbouring towns. Phyllamon ducked within the trees, racing to his hovercar. He hopped in, and a glass shield slid across the top, enclosing him.

By the time Maugrimm reached the edge of the forest, he found Phyllamon rising into the air. Though he had no time to fully observe such trivialities, he could’ve sworn that he saw Phyllamon flash him a wicked smile of victory, thinking he’d lost. However, this gesture came all too soon.

Putting on a burst of speed, Maugrimm leapt to one of the trees, smashing his body into it with all his might, uprooting it completely. Though this tree was tiny and deformed compared to those in the surroundings, it was still large enough to do irreparable damage to such a small ship.

The tree smashed into the vehicle’s backside, pinning it to the ground. Disoriented from the jarring collision, Phyllamon regained his wits and turned around to inspect the damage. The rear of the hovercar had completed caved in, smashed flat like a slate stone. The glass shield around him had cracked all to hell (but not yet shattered), and the controls on both sides of the vehicle were also hindered useless. Phyllamon banged away trying to force his way out, but his efforts were futile, for he soon realized that he was safer inside. Maugrimm was coming straight at him.

Ramming his shoulder into the head of the hover, not only did he dislodge the hood (which went flying several feet away), but he also put a jagged, concave dent in the face of the hover, which popped out the vehicle’s innards. The engine went through the shield and pinned Phyllamon to the seat.

Except for those of Zynathian’s design, all vehicles of this age were made of mostly plastic or other extremely lightweight metals. Therefore collisions (or beasts with abnormal strength) easily damaged them. Maugrimm might as well have been folding a piece of paper as he lifted the front end of the hovercar, forcing it backwards to crush everything within, including Phyllamon.

Snarling with spittle flying from his mouth, Maugrimm taunted him. “Rape is bad enough…but a twelve year ole’! No, no, no, you gotta’ die for that stunt, matey!”

Phyllamon spit up blood as the engine cracked his sternum, pushing his bones slightly inward.

My god, he means to crush me! Murderer!
he thought with hypocrisy, nearly fainting as the weight became too much to bear.

Suddenly it stopped. Though he was pinned into a position that blocked his view, Phyllamon knew that the beast had stopped at someone’s request. He could hear them talking.

“No, Maugrimm. I’ll accept this responsibility. I’m the one who dealt with his father…now let me deal with him!” Zynathian said as he approached.

They’d found Maugrimm easily, for there was a huge piece of the tent, just his size, ripped out where he’d exited. Zynathian had bolted after him with Ya Minj and Nigel (who was now carrying his daughter) following behind. They’d caught up to him now and kept quiet as Zynathian reasoned with Maugrimm.

“Ya’ should let me finish ‘em, Zynathian, I’m tellin’ ya’! Phyllamon’s kind ‘r trouble till the end…always are!”

“There’s been enough bloodshed today on this fool’s behalf…so I’m going to give him the chance that I did
not
give his father!”

Maugrimm disagreed, but he backed off.

Looking to the sky and finding the ship on approach, Zynathian rushed over to the hover. He found a bloody Phyllamon pinned down by the engine. “Help me get him out of here,” he asked Maugrimm.

Reluctantly, Maugrimm came forward and pushed Phyllamon’s seat backwards as far as it could go, freeing him. Then he yanking him out by his collar and roughly slung him to the cold earth. As he lay there, wheezing in pain from a partially crushed chest, Zynathian knelt over him.

“My name is Zynathian Volkeye, and I am he that put your father in his grave! I want you to commit my face to memory!” he said, grabbing Phyllamon’s chin, squeezing it so tightly that the opposite sides of his lips touched. “This is the face of the man who’ll be watching your every move from here on out. I swear on my soul, if I hear that you’ve so much as exhaled a gust of bad breath on an innocent person, I’ll fucking
end
you! Have I, in any way, been unclear?”

Phyllamon kept quiet, shivering with rage at this man’s revelation. This was his enemy that he’d sworn to kill. However, he simply kept his mouth shut, as it wasn’t likely he could take vengeance under the present circumstances.

Zynathian repeated himself.
“HAVE I…IN ANY WAY…BEEN UNCLEAR?”

He accepted Phyllamon’s silence as a ‘no.’

“That’s a good boy,” he said, slapping Phyllamon’s face hard enough to redden the cheek area.

An enormous ship swept down from above, and Zynathian rose from his knee. Phyllamon seethed with rage, knowing that Zynathian would be gone by the time a second set of his minions arrived from the castle.

We’ll meet again one day, friend, and when we do the tables will have turned, I swear it!
he thought, not knowing that it would be another twenty years before they met face-to-face again.

Over those two decades, Zynathian would be as good as his word. He would, indeed, keep tabs on Phyllamon, not directly interfering with his life unless the tales of his wrongdoings got too outlandish (as they would in five years to come). That was the particular occasion when he’d get angry enough to empty Phyllamon’s mines during the night and leave little notes on location to taunt him. Those
spankings,
as Zynathian would come to think of them, were but a small taste of what he really wanted to do to Phyllamon presently. However, Zynathian gave him a chance, hoping the situation wouldn’t come to the same end as Drakys Xyecah did.

As they boarded the ship, each of them was aware of a strange bond that had somehow welded them together. It was like a love spell from a fantasy story, unbreakable even with the troubled times that unknowingly lay ahead of them. Nigel and Reena, too, had been woven into the threads of their lives, though their purpose would not be revealed until much later. Zynathian silently chuckled at the idea of “free will,” knowing that everything that had occurred this day was nothing of the sort. God had hand picked these cards and dealt them Herself. None of it was an accident, he was certain.

This strange sort of divine influence became ever more apparent to Zynathian over the next several weeks as he nursed a dying girl back to health. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that inviting complete strangers to his home led to him making the most profound discoveries of his life, such as the medicinal properties of Maugrimm’s waste and Khyetarah Vyx Mune’s blood. More magnificent than these findings, however, was love, the ever mystifying state of being which enhanced Zynathian’s mind and body to a level of spiritual bliss that neither he or Ya Minj knew existed. It was love that had led them to trust their emotions, though they barely knew each other. It was love that made Ya Minj prize her tin foil wedding ring over all other possessions until the day she met her end. And it was love that would give Zynathian the strength to survive the death of Ya Minj, who would mysteriously pass away whilst giving birth to Khyeryn, eight years from now.

5

“Vlajdimir, he walked over, started fondling me, then told me to come home with him!”

“According to
you!
However, the information I have from several sources says that you cornered him and went for his privates, and then his personal guard had to fight you off! I take it that was when the battle took place. When you learned that you couldn’t ravage his body on your own, you enlisted the help of another!”

“Hold on, she sought my help for protection, not because we were about to rape the imbecile!” Anup spoke up, temper rising.

Though he’d heard stories about Vlajdimir, it was impossible to believe anyone could be so bullheaded and blind. Now he found that the tales weren’t exaggerations. Anup paced in circles, agitated at Vlajd’s obtuseness. From the moment they arrived in Rhylix (at the Ghurzblood Mansion), Anup and his wife began to see that their justice system was more contrived than anything else. It was an idea but not a thing that actually existed. Upon realization, they started to feel like they would’ve been better off not pursuing Phyllamon’s arrest. However, it was too late now. The first stone had already been thrown.

“...And, yes, I did go for his balls, Vlajdimir, but it wasn’t because I wanted to caress them. I tried to rip them off!”

“So you admit to attacking him?”

“Only to protect myself, you fool!” the woman spat.

“Fool?”
remarked Zephranie from a few paces away. “I’d watch my manners if I were you. You don’t want to insult the only person who can help you. After all, he is the highest authority in these parts, so it would be best not to make us…
ahem
…
me
angry!”

“Bitch, is that a threat?!”

Astounded that she was the one being made out to be the enemy, the pregnant woman finally lost her composure. She stalked over to Zephranie and struck her as hard as she could, bursting both lips. Zephranie fell back and smacked her head on a desk corner, instantly slipping into unconsciousness.

“How dare you strike my wife, woman! You are obviously both irrational and quick tempered, and I have no doubt that Phyllamon Xyecah is innocent without question! Seize them!” Vlajdimir ordered.

Due to current events, Phyllamon had sent several infantry beasts to stay with Vlajdimir (in case Zynathian or his comrades were to turn up anywhere in the vicinity). Here they were, armed to the teeth. However, the first of them didn’t even get a chance to draw his weapon before Anup blew a hole in his chest.

“Get down!” he yelled to his wife.

She dropped to the floor and crawled to a corner, covering her pregnant belly with her arms. Though protecting herself and her baby, she couldn’t do the same for her eyes, which were now being accosted with the most horrific battle she’d ever witnessed—a battle that was cutting her husband’s body to pieces.

As each new piece of Anup fell to the floor, she’d look up, surprised to see him still standing. He killed one, then another, and before long Anup’s mutilated body stood before the last of Phyllamon’s regiment. The creature was covered in white fur, blackened at several spots in the shoulders and stomach area where Anup had burned holes through his body. The most severe of its wounds was a missing right arm, also courtesy of Anup’s marksmanship.

The standoff lasted a whole minute, during the time of which Anup and the creature accepted their fates, graciously allowing each other to reflect and come to terms with what they were about to do. There was a mutual respect between the two soldiers, and neither of them intended to step beyond the unspoken boundary until they knew it was time.

He must be the leader of this slaughtered group,
Anup thought to himself, nodding to the beast. It returned the gesture. The time had come.

Anup began whispering in an exhausted, wheezy drawl. “Take care...of our child. All that matters...is your survival. When this beast and I fall, you run as fast as you can from here,” he said giving her a last look. Anup would’ve smiled were he not in so much pain.

Turning to face his enemy, he whispered, “I love you,” knowing that somehow his message would reach her ears, even through the ensuing gunfire. Both shots were clean, unlike the other blasts, which had blown off pieces of each soldier. The burn holes in their chests were so narrow that one would’ve thought them not hit at all, were the wounds not smoking. The furry white creature was the first to take his resting position, quickly falling back into a nearby comforter like an elderly, obese man that sat down too fast.

Anup, on the other hand, found the strength to make it to the opposite wall, slumping to floor as he faced his wife. With his last breath, he forced a smile and died with his eyes open. Only then did his wife find her voice. She was wailing.

Of course, she didn’t do as Anup had asked. Instead of bolting away, she ran over to his lifeless body and (like many before her, who faced the loss of a loved one) wanted shaking, slapping, and tears of woe to magically revive him. Naturally, he didn’t stir, continuing to stare and smile at her with all the emotion of a plastic doll.

Behind, Vlajdimir had now climbed from the floor and made it over to his wife.

“Zephranie…Zephranie,” he called, lightly smacking her face and exhaling with relief as he felt her breathing. However, he wouldn’t know the extent of the damage until she was looked at.