Maniaque
Following
Table of Contents
1 - An invitation 2 - The Investigator 3 - Tunnels and Voices 4 - Sethian Skin 5 - The Deal 6 - The Rules 7 - Gray Watch 8 - Thrice-Turned Coats 9 - Mask, Coat, Skin, Bone 10 - Eye, Scar, Face, Mask 11 - Pharaul 12 - Screaming Dawn 13 - A Tale Of... 14 - The Maniaque Feast 15 - From Oblivion's Throat 16 - Mythspinning 17 - Myth of a Warm Coat 18 - A Web of Bargains 19 - Questions (End of Book 1) Book 2: The Roil and the Rattling 20 - What Began in September 21 - On Going Home 22 - Mothers' Blessings 23 - Across the Warring Lands 24 - To Sell the Lie 25 - The Sound on the Stone 26 - Miss Correlon's Return 27 - Avie 28 - The Grim Confidant 29 - The Writhewife 30 - The Rattling 31 - Code Six Access 32 - The Secret Song 33 - The Broken Furnace 34 - You Can Fix Yourself, But... 35 - ...You Can't Fix the World 36 - In the Sickle-Sough Spirit 37 - We Will Never Have Any Memory of Dying 38 - Predators in the Seethe 39 - Though Broken, the Chain Holds 40 - Seven Strange Skulls 41 - None of Us Belong Here 42 - In an Angolhills Tenement 43 - The Guardian Lions 44 - Still Hanging on the Hooks 45 - Where Have We Been? Why? To What End? 46 - Ten Million Murders 47 - Breaking the Millenium's Addiction 48 - What Does it Mean, to Leave Alive? 49 - Whether You Meant it or Not 50 - Beneath the Shroud of Sapience 51 - Beneath the Shroud of Sapience 2 52 - Seven Days 53 - The Beacon on the Haze 54 - Sixteen Days 55 - The Day Before Their Dying Begins 56 - The Day Before Their Dying Begins 2 57 - Ghost in the Crags, Blood on the HIll 58 - What Ends in December 59 - What Ends in December 2 60 - What Ends in December 3 61 - The Betrayers 62 - Bend to Power 63 - How to Serve the Everliving 64 - A Turncoat's Deal32 - The Secret Song
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Indirk pulled the trigger twice in quick succession, one bullet burying itself deep in the serpent’s throat and the other bursting out the side of its head right behind its huge jaw. The thing screamed a strange, gurgling, hissing sound as it swung away. Cowering back from its pained movements, Indirk aimed again, firing another shot as the serpent surged out of its pain to bite once more. It would not be stopped by bullets this time, myriad dark eyes hot with anger and violent instinct.
A hand grabbed Indirk by her collar and pulled her away, throwing her into the firelight. Indirk briefly glimpsed the Writhewife in this moment, the pale hand on her jacket strengthened by the inky tendrils that wrapped her fingers. The Writhewife put herself in front of Indirk and offered one arm for the serpent to bit down on, and the serpent accepted. Its jaw closed over the Writhewife’s arm with such force that it tore the arm free in an instant. But as it pulled back with the captured limb, squid-like tendrils erupted from the dismembered arm and grabbed at the serpent’s head, wrapping its jaw tight with a sudden bramble of dark knots.
Indirk hit the ground in the firelight and rolled instinctively to her feet, finding herself surrounded by confused faces. She’d only gotten a quick glance at the room before, but it looked like a warden’s office in a prison: a few desks and cabinets on a nice rug surrounded by hard brick and dark tunnels leading in many directions. There were a half-dozen people in green jackets and a handful of Watch officers here, so at least Indirk didn’t look out of place surrounded by everyone else’s confusion.
The one-eyed spymaster eyed her like she was just one among the rest of them when he demanded, “What’s going on?”
And she was able to answer him honestly, “No idea,” before spinning on an old man in a green jacket to demand, “The fuck’s a giant snake doing down here?”
The serpent’s jaw was stronger than the tendrils that held it. When it managed to open its mouth, tearing apart the small, tentacled creature that held it, the Writhewife let out a pained shout and grabbed at her face, withering in response to some pain greater than that of her missing arm. As she staggered, the serpent snapped at her, its maw impacting her belly and its fangs piercing deep into her gut. It lifted her, and she was silent as it swung her around until its fangs tore out of her and she went tumbling across that carpet in a limp, bloody mess.
The old man in the jacket, the demanding bureaucrat, stumbled back from the gore, gasping, “Good gods!” He turned his gaze on the serpent, which had advanced into the firelight, and lifted in open hand toward it. “Anbash! I command you back to your-” but the serpent snapped forward, taking the man’s arm and shoulder in one great bite. What the serpent left was an old man’s shocked face upon a ruined body and a font of blood that toppled, gasping, first against a desk and then to sprawl on the carpet.
The one-eyed spymaster pushed Indirk toward one of the tunnels. “Go!” and gestured toward the others. “You people will answer for this later. Run!”
As the other people in green jackets fled the room, followed by most of the Watch officers except a few who stayed to help the one-eyed man, Indirk remembered one of the best lies she’d ever seen Amo tell. In imitation, Indirk threw the corpse of the Writhewife over her shoulders, ignoring all the blood and the tendrils that dangled out of the tears in the woman’s clothes. Hissing, “I’ll get us out of here,” Indirk got to her feet and ran after the others, hoping the poorly lit tunnel they’d run to would lead outside.
Only a few steps later, she noticed that the tendrils still squirmed. A few finger-thin squid arms hung darkly around Indirk, turning in the air as though in blind search. Indirk could feel them against her neck and shoulders where the Writhewife’s wounded body lay, as though the tendrils had spilled from the fatal wound. The tendrils gripped at Indirk’s jacket and curled in her hair. Maybe that should’ve been unsettling, but in that moment, it just felt like they were begging for help. Indirk hadn’t even considered that the Writhewife might still be alive until the moment that the woman whispered, “Turn ahead.”
Still following the flight of green jackets through the narrow tunnel, Indirk slowed. At her side hung the face she’d noticed earlier, the prominent lips and narrow eyes, now bloody and dark. But yellow-lit eyes watched her. Indirk said, “We’re getting out.”
“No.” The Writhewife took a breath and spoke as loud as her pain allowed. “Indirk Correlon. Stop. Listen.”
“I’m not stopping.”
“The song. The secret. Right turn ahead. I hear it. Need to know.”
Grating her teeth, Indirk carried on, but then there was a doorway to her right and she felt the tendrils around her shoulders tighten. That was a strange feeling, the pitiful gripping of some otherworldly hand. What was the Writhe communicating? Desperation? Anger? Whatever it was, Indirk found herself stopped in her tracks. This Writhewife was an enemy of the Rhyqir Valley Alliance, possessed by the otherworldly nemesis that had assailed Vont for a hundred generations. At least, this was someone Indirk was supposed to be willing to kill to uncover secrets just like this one. But for some reason she asked, “Are you sure?”
The Writhwife said, “Turn.”
And Indirk turned. Here was another dark hall. It led slightly down. Indirk hadn’t realized how loud the serpent had been, its hissing and clattering, until she left the hallway and the noise faded behind her. The air in this hall was hot and stale, but pungent in a way she didn’t know how to describe. It smelled like fire, but a sterile fire, like burning a freshly lit oil lamp. Indirk walked on until she could hear the echoes of her footsteps. Until that sound she’d heard earlier – the sound like a malfunctioning furnace – became as loud as a pursuer’s breath in her ears. Until the Writhewife became cold upon Indirk’s shoulders, though the tendrils still squirmed, and when Indirk said, “Are you alive?” there was no answer.
Then there was an iron door that radiated heat, and Indirk could tell the sound came from beyond the door, that burning air breathing from the gaps around it. What magic must be on the other side? She shouldered into the door and it swung open.
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by 3 Armored Kittens · Prodromos v.1.1 - World Anvil 0.9.15.043 © 2017-2024 [en] | Anvil Time: 12:59, Dec 23 2024