The Book of Deacon: Book 02 - The Great Convergence (29 page)

"No. I'm sorry. I didn't want to get out. I
know I'm not supposed to get out. Look, I will go back. I'm sorry,
I'm sorry," the creature stammered.

She edged around the dragon and ran into the
darkness.

"No! Wait!" Myranda called.

She strengthened the light, hoping to catch a
glimpse of where the creature was running to. There was no need.
She had stopped in the middle of the room, crouching in the center
of the ring of ruined bars.

"I didn't break them. The monster did. I'm
sorry. I'm sorry. I don't know where the chains are, or I would be
wearing them. Please don't punish me," she pleaded.

"No. No. Stand up," Myranda said.

The creature quickly snapped up straight,
holding her hands rigidly at her sides. Myn had grown curious
again, approaching and sniffing at her. She began to tremble
visibly at the dragon's approach, but concentrated on remaining
standing perfectly straight.

"Calm down. This is Myn. She won't hurt you.
Here, give me your hand," Myranda said.

The terrified creature swiftly obeyed, as
though she were afraid that she would be chastised if she didn't.
Myranda reached into her sack and retrieved a potato for Myn and
placed it in her hand.

"Now offer it to her," Myranda said.

The creature held down the vegetable, shut
her eyes tight, and tried her best to keep the rest of her body as
far as she could from her fingers. Myn sniffed the treat, and
swiftly snatched it up. She then licked at the fingers that had
offered it. The malthrope couldn't help but smile and a giggle at
the odd sensation.

"There, see? She likes you. Now calm down.
What is your name?" Myranda asked.

"You . . . you didn't tell me yet," she
said.

"What do you mean?" Myranda asked.

"I didn't have to learn that yet," she said,
tears beginning to flow again. "I swear, if the others had told me
I would remember."

"What others?" Myranda asked.

"The people . . . the teachers who were here
before the monster came," she said. "Aren't you the new
teacher?"

"No," Myranda said.

"Then you have to leave! You have to leave
now! Only the teachers can be here. And the people who they bring.
Did they bring you?" she asked.

"No," she said.

"Then leave. Leave now! Before they come
back! They are . . . " she stopped suddenly, looking cautiously
about and lowering her voice to a whisper. "They are bad people.
They make you learn things. Even if you don't want to, they . . .
they
make
you.
They
make you
!"

She began sobbing again. Ether climbed to
Myranda's shoulder.

"Well, will you accept now that there was
nothing here worth finding?" she asked.

The weeping creature gasped.

"Who said that? They are here!" she
panicked.

"No, no, no, it is just Ether, here, see! She
is a friend," Myranda rushed to explain.

She grabbed the creature from her shoulder
and held it out to the terrified one in front of her.

"If you do not release me this instant, I
will incinerate you," Ether said with stifled anger.

The frightened creature's eyes widened in
terror at the bizarre sight. She quickly ran to the slab of ceiling
and crawled underneath it, screaming all the way.

"That thing talks like one of them! And it
shouldn't talk at all!" she cried from her hiding place.

Myranda apologized to both Ether and the
terrified creature. She shook her head at how quickly she had come
to dismiss the new form of the shape shifter as perfectly
normal.

"I should have warned you. She is a shape
shifter," Myranda explained.

"I don't know what that is. Go away! I don't
have to listen to you, you aren't my teacher," she cried in
reply.

"Please. I just want to talk to you," Myranda
said.

Something had apparently caught Ether's
attention, as she scurried to one of the blackened stains on the
floor.

"You probably haven't eaten in days," Myranda
said, pulling some of the meager and practically frozen provisions
from her bag.

"Go away. Go . . . you have food?" she asked,
venturing a peek from her hiding spot.

"It isn't much, but . . . " Myranda began.
Before she could finish, the creature had sprinted out and snatched
the piece of salted meat from her hands.

She turned it and sniffed it, tentatively
sampling it with her tongue. Suddenly she tore it to pieces with
her sharp teeth, sloppily speaking as she wolfed it down.

"This isn't (gulp) food. This is much better.
Food is nasty wet stuff. It comes in a bowl and it has no taste.
Also, there is (gulp) never this much of it," she said, making
short work of the meat.

When she was through she stared longingly at
the bag the food came from.

"Do you want more?" Myranda asked.

"N . . . Yes?" she attempted, nervous of
reprisal.

"Here," Myranda said, offering another
piece.

Without a word she snatched it away and
swallowed it down. Myranda offered her canteen, which was emptied
in an equally desperate manner. When the creature was through she
sighed and smiled, licking her lips and sitting down on the
ground.

"I like you. You are much better than the
teachers," she said.

"I like you too. Now, can you tell me your
name? What did the teachers call you?" Myranda asked, joining her
on the ground.

"They called me very bad things. Things I
don't want to say. There was a tag that they made me wear. What did
it say? I . . . V . . . Ivy?" she said uncertainly.

"Well, Ivy, my name is Myranda," Myranda
said.

"Myranda . . . " Ivy repeated thoughtfully.
"I think they talked about you."

"The teachers?" Myranda asked.

"Yes. I don't remember, though. I hardly
remember anything they teach me. That's why they're so mad all of
the time," she said, shuddering.

"What is this place? How long have you been
here?" Myranda asked.

"I don't know. I have been here forever,
though. Longer than I can remember," she said.

"What did they do here?" Myranda asked.

"They kept me behind those bars and tried to
teach me things. All sorts of things. They tried to teach me about
places, and people, and things like that. And they tried to teach
me how to fight. They did that a lot. I didn't want to. Then they
brought in this man. He had a glowing stick like yours, only
pointier, and he would put his hand on my head and
make
me
know things," she said, shuddering again.

Dark memories of the soul searing time she
spent with Epidime flickered in Myranda's mind. In her simple way,
Ivy may have been describing his torturous ability to manipulate
the mind.

"This man, the one who forced thoughts into
your head, what did he look like?" Myranda asked.

"He looked like a man. I don't know. He was
big. I don't want to think about it," she said, shaking her head as
if she could shake his image out of it.

"Ivy, what about the staff? What did it look
like?" Myranda asked. "It is very important."

"It was . . . it was . . . a two handed,
casting type, hook-and-spike pole-ax, a style of halberd, best
suited for battle mages and paladins," she said definitively, as
though the words had been read from a text.

Myranda was surprised by the precise answer,
and it showed on her face.

"Well, I didn't forget
everything
they
taught me," Ivy explained.

"That man. Did you hear the name Epidime when
he was about?" Myranda asked.

"Yes, but not just that. It was always
General
Epidime. There were other Generals I think . . . one
was named Teht," she said.

Myranda remembered it as one of the names
that Desmeres had mentioned.

"What did she look like?" Myranda asked.

"That," she said, pointing.

Myranda turned swiftly, staff held
defensively. There was no need. The form she indicated was slumped
in the far corner of the room. She, for all outward appearance, was
human, but the thick black liquid that should have been blood
betrayed her true nature. Myranda had heard of nearmen who were
different. This must have been an old one. Whatever had killed her
had been massive. She had more injuries than could be counted,
though from the looks of it they all came from the collision with
the wall and single blow that had hurled her into it.

"I should be sad that she's dead. I'm not.
She was horrible. They all were. I'm glad I can't remember half of
what they did to me. I'm glad the monster came," she said.

"The monster. Tell me about the monster. What
did this?" Myranda asked.

"I don't know. I didn't see. They were
teaching me something and yelling at me and then there was this
shaking and this light. After that all I remember is screaming. I
was screaming, they were screaming. And there was the light.
Terrible light," Ivy replied, trembling.

"I have heard enough of this. Human, kill the
beast," Ether ordered.

"What? No!" Myranda said.

Ivy was startled by the out of place voice
and ran behind Myranda for protection.

"Do not disobey me, human. Do as you are
told," the tiny creature warned sternly.

"I will not kill her!" Myranda declared.

"Human, if I am to tolerate your presence by
my side during this quest then I expect nothing short of blind
obedience. Now do as I say!" the shape shifter fumed.

"I will not kill her and neither will you!"
Myranda said.

"I have no intention of killing her. I have
ordered
you
to do so," Ether said.

"No. If this was truly important then you
certainly wouldn't trust me to do it. What is this? A test of
loyalty?" Myranda asked.

"Open your eyes. This place reeks of the
D'karon. Their tainted influence permeates the air. That thing that
you are shielding is no different. We are surrounded by death and
destruction, yet that beast is unharmed. She speaks some absurd
tale of a monster that rendered a fort and all those within to
rubble, and yet spared her. It is a trick, a ploy, and you have
been fooled by it. There is a stain on the floor there. It is
Lain's blood. Months old. End that menace before it is too late. I
will not touch that thing. You believe that you have a place in
this prophesy? Well, this is it. Bring a moment of meaning into
your useless and wasted life. Perform one valuable act before your
frail, impermanent body succumbs to the ravages of time and the
elements," the shape shifter raged.

As the creature continued, her words were
ever more hateful and venomous. Myranda weathered them as she had a
dozen times before. Myn was not so patient. She had learned the
language well, and was quite aware of the vicious tone. She would
not hear such words aimed at her companion. Before Myranda could
stop her, Myn puffed up her chest and blasted a column of flames at
the tiny form.

"Myn, what have you done?!" Myranda cried. A
fear that had been growing in the pit of her stomach as the
argument had progressed suddenly surged. Behind her the trembling
malthrope whimpered, crouched into a ball and hugging her
knees.

The flames lingered for a few moments before
intensifying and taking a familiar form. The shape shifter had
recovered enough to make use of them, it would seem. A few moments
later her human form stood before them.

"Even in anger your beast proves more useful
than you," she said. "Now, kill the whimpering animal behind you or
I will kill you."

"Tell me why!" Myranda demanded, standing
firm despite the fear that grew inexplicably stronger inside of
her.

She cast a glance at Myn, who had stepped
forward to defend her friend only to droop her head and slink
backward again. Myranda hadn't seen the creature show such fear
since that day in the cave when the water caught up with them.

"If I were to do her harm, I would be
chastised for it," she said.

"You certainly would!" Myranda agreed.

"Not by you. What possible repentance could
something as frail as you force upon me? I would be chastised by
the only beings capable of such a feat. The gods themselves," she
stated.

"How?" Myranda asked.

"The mark! Why do you suppose we who are
Chosen must bear it? The mark is a link to our divine origins. It
is intended to ensure loyalty by punishing any act that shows
allegiance to the enemy. The burning of the mark purifies the body
and soul of misdeed. There are some misdeeds too great to survive.
Murder of another Chosen is foremost among them," Ether said.

"That is the purpose of the mark?" Myranda
said.

"Of course it is. I suppose you thought it
little more than a label to indicate one's status. If a Chosen
One's superiority is not immediately apparent then he or she is
hardly deserving of the distinction," she said.

"Well then why would you be punished for
hurting Ivy? Unless . . . ," Myranda realized, turning swiftly to
the slowly calming creature. "Ivy, have you a mark, anywhere on
your body, that looks like this?"

Myranda showed her left palm. The creature
looked at it through teary eyes and tugged the neck of her ragged
shirt. There, just over her heart, was the mark. The fur was black
instead of white. It was clearly present since birth.

"She is a Chosen! She is a Chosen and you
wanted me to kill her!" Myranda screamed. "Why!?"

"She is clearly a ploy of the enemy. If we
allow her to join us it will mean our end," Ether stated
simply.

"How could she be a ploy? You said it
yourself! If she were loyal to the enemy the mark would have
destroyed her," Myranda said.

"The penitence is meted out by the soul. A
being as naive or foolish as she may just be ignorant of its own
treachery until the moment he or she takes specific action against
a truly pure warrior," Ether said.