Call of the Watch Crow, Part-8

Recap: Seeking escape from the V’Lusian world, Mercenary-Slave Kall-Ku journeyed across the toxic swamp, escaping vile Piranha Women, and monstrous creatures of the swamp. He was later captured by a heinous Skin-jacker, seeking to line his coffers by selling the flesh of stragglers.

After defeating his captor, he liberated a magnificent War-Shuck (a genetically engineered organism referred to as a genie); the large, black dog had been created by the battlelords of V’Lusia for the bloody field. He and the War-Shuck were forced to evacuate the skin-jacker’s hover sled, and escaped to an abandoned tower, moments before a acid storm struck.

The tower was an abandoned temple of Taranis, the War Ape, a story told to slaves to keep them in line.

Deep recesses, and stone-layered mounds festooned the crumbling architecture. Careful to move lightly and stay alert, the mercenary-slave imagined predators silently admiring his meaty form. Soft hisses, gurgles, and growls played just beyond his senses. He grimaced inwardly.

Kall-Ku imagined the infection transforming his blood and muscle to filthy ichor. He sought for a way off the world. He glowered, swinging his head slowly to the left and right, hissing and grumbling.

[I DID NOT UNDERSTAND YOUR REQUEST. COULD YOU PLEASE REPEAT IT, OR AT LEAST ORDER YOUR THOUGHTS IN A MORE LOGICAL WAY] questioned the subdermal chip.

“I did not make a request.” He hissed back in frustration. He glanced down at the War-Shuck which seemed to share his consternation.

“So long as I am in this place I am as close to death as any man has ever been,” he thought. It was the temple home of Tiranis, the Storm Ape, a great, three-eyed beast god. Kall-Ku choked back bile as he remembered. The Mercenary-Slave’s stomach churned with dread. He was barely a teen when brought here, to this place, by cruel, V’Lusian Lash-Lords—many young slaves made the journey. He winced, and continued to search through the uneven darkness. They taught them to obey their masters and the consequences a difficult slave could expect.

Fear held them and cemented their compliance; terrible roars and growls haunted the nights between the lessons of Battle and Obedience, punctuating the severity of the trials. They were told that it was the temple of a beast god and that howling they heard was its terrible appetite for meat and marrow. Kall-Ku never believed the stories feeling they were only stories to keep them in their barracks, too scared to strike out on their own. One night, he snuck out past the Lash-Lords. Before going far, he froze, seeing the Storm Ape roaming the darkened halls, casual devouring another slave who also failed to comply. He made it back to the barracks, careful not to attract its attention.

Kall-Ku bit down on his lip—hard, recalling the beatings he suffered at the hands of his angry masters. As he lay in the infirmary recovering from the deep wounds of the harsh lesson, he could hear the Storm Ape moving down the darkened corridors. There were fewer and fewer slaves as the days wenr on; it seemed another disappeared each night Tiranis howled. Fear kept them all in line, as it was meant to.

Wiser now, Kall-Ku believed that the Storm Ape was a genie, no different that War-Shuck that prowled at his side—not some primordial deity but rather a manufactured god. The War-Shuck growled uneasily.

[IF YOU DON’T FIND CLEAN WATER SOON, IT IS HIGHLY UNLIKLY YOU WILL SURVIVE YOUR WOUNDS.] the subdermal implant persisted. [I SENSE YOUR MIND WANDERING. THIS COULD CAUSE YOU SLIP BACK INTO A STATE OF FANTASMAGORIA, IF YOU ARE NOT CAREFUL. I URGE YOU TO FOCUS.]

Kall-Ku pushed the back of his wrist against his brow and forehead. A misstep or distraction now could be tragic. He could not afford mistakes. Looking down at the ever alert War-Shuck, he marvelled at its focus; he could take a lesson from his battle brother.

Licking his lips Kall-Ku remembered theree was a well here, It had clean water. After he received his tattoos, spring water from the well soothed the inflamed flesh and was instrumental in the Anointing Ceremony, where the Lash-Lords recognized and welcomed new mervenay-slaves. The well couldn’t be far. It was here.

 With gritted teeth, Kall-Ku searched through the ruins of the tower; searing pain inwardly tortured his shoulder, as if it may soon boil out through the weakened flesh. At least there was pain—that was something. He had been taught in the book of Battle and Obedience that a wound that was alive with pain was, at least, still alive, and could be treated. When the wound went dead, it was beyond triage.

Taking a deep breath, he looked towards the irregular shadows of the wall. A smell wafted out of the darkness—spicy and fragrant—incense. He moved with deliberate prudence and haste to a deep crack in the tower wall; there debris obfuscated an arched doorway; a set of stairs descended into the mirky black.

Down the stairs there used to be a shrine. Phantoms of  memory seemed to materialize, it was as if he were there again. He stood there with the other graduates of the slave academy. The Lash-Lords walked up and down their line, examining them, rapaciously seeking for their strengths and , appraising them as one does horse flesh. At the end of the ceremony, the Storm Ape emerged from a dark passage. It beat its chest and roared with bestial rage. Spittle and bile blew against the line of slaves. Those cadets who showed signs of fear were taken from the line and moved quickly out of the chamber by the Lash Lords. Whatever happened to them was never revealed but they likely ended up as meat for ravens—a feast of flesh.

Kall-Ku shuddered. Even now a terrible fear of the ape roiled deep inside his gut.  After the fearful were separated and taken away to the cowards’ pens, he and the others were told to display their tattoos and not to react to anything, no matter what happened. He held his tattooed wrists forward and held them there, not sure what to expect.

Taranis leapt across the room, its terrible power on full display. The stones seemed to crack under the weight of the thing’s landing. It moved up and down the line of slaves, snarling, drooling, and beating its chest. When it came to Kall-Ku it ducked its head and sniffed his wrists. Its drool fell on Kall-Ku’s skin as its awesome jaws stood poised only inches from the young Mercenary-Slave’s bare skin. After examining all of the young slaves it retreated in a snarling frenzy back into the foreboding darkness, and down a hidden tunnel, its roars growing more distant with every heartbeat.

He remembered exactly what the Storm Ape smelled like—its hot breath was a feral vapor that belied meat and flesh and blood. He wondered what he would smell like being breathed out of the thing’s gut.

[I HAVE OPTOMIZED YOUR RECALL CONCERNING THIS PLACE. YOUR MEMORIES WERE INTACT, JUST DEGRADED, AND FRAGMENTED. YOUR RECALL IS NOW OVER 86% IMPROVED ON THIS MATTER.]

Kall-Ku’s tattoos began to glow with an internal light as he descended into the darkness. The slave markings were created with nano-ink and had a few different battlefield uses; at this moment—light. He felt a new wave of dizziness. The nanotech required energy to power it’s functions and drew that energy from the warrior who brandished the tattoos. Most of his natural energy was laboring to fight the infection that was killing him. This simple utility light would only speed him to the grave.

[KALL-KU, I AM DETECTING A SIGNAL. IT IS CLOSE. IT IS ELANA’S SIGNAL BEACON.]

[End of part eight…look for part nine, next week]