Tesem
Abduction: Day 58
He lifted his head as the trio returned. They were upwind, so he caught their smell first and saw their auras second. Sweat heated by pounding blood hit his nostrils. They were excited. Then came an intriguing mix of scents too varied and unique to parse from this distance. Underneath were old smells soaked into their clothes and hair and nails: animal grease, smoke, and the stain of human blood.
No ambiguity remained in Tesem’s mind. These black-cape mages were all murderers. Being near them made him sick. When they got close, he could smell their individual victims. Mostly young people, early twenties and thirties, some no older than himself. And he was sixteen.
Three huge screens projected the Wildling battle on repeat displaying events from the three mages’ perspectives. The audience of mages saw the kids fight, including their strengths and abilities. No one spoke as they studied how their comrades—in arms, not brotherhood—had been defeated and why.
The trio rode in on their beasts. The dumb animals smelled clean and natural; innocent tools with no blood on them yet.
Vlam hailed them. “You’re late!” she grumbled, but she was excited too. An impatient one with no ability to rein herself in. She’d paced, hovering on streams of flame the whole time they’d waited. The woman might have burned herself out if she weren’t so powerful. She was second in command.
“Aren’t you riled up for a bunch of First Realm children,” Ansbach fired back, “Oh right, we found a Son of Perses! One of the Thirteen!” Stumbling into a group of young Wildlings on a routine Harvest Mission was rare enough. One being a member of the Thirteen was a major windfall.
“You lost to them, not to mention you’re a First Realm yourself.” Vlam scowled derision at the scouting party, showing off her flame-spewing scarlet grieves.
Ansbach laughed. “Not for long.” He cuffed his Wolf mount’s head, “This mutt is my ticket to the top.” Tesem winced as the idiot disrespected an Elemental, like someone jumping on a ‘defective’ land mine. Ansbach pointed at the screen where the Wolf struck the Son of Perses and said, “Softened em’ up for you, Verglas.”
Tesem shivered at the name and turned his head ever so slightly to see the boss’s reaction to this mage’s nerve. Their Mission contract offset the risk of scouting by making any treasure found Finders Keepers—the Mani-Hunters Guild could check Shew Stone logs for evidence and force fairness onto Mission Leaders. These fools had their shot at the prey and failed. To claim he’d done his leader a favor was brazen.
The Ice mage wore an intricate set of white plate mail, every piece carved from Ice. Verglas didn’t freeze; the man was cold-blooded. He wore ebony skin and a devastatingly handsome face, a stolen face—when the Nephilim saw something they wanted, they took it.
When Verglas neither spoke nor moved, the viridian mage began to sweat. After watching the fight in real-time, Verglas had recalled the other scouts. Now all twelve mages plus Tesem were here. Finally, the Ice mage spoke. “You saw what attacked them as you left?” Ansbach paled. “Pray to whichever god you favor they survived.” Verglas left all his threats unspoken.
Vlam cackled with glee and said, “It’s fine, it’s fine. I’m sure they’re okay. They’d choke the beast on the way down. If anything, I bet they’re getting a head start on us. Saddle up all; we’re going hunting!”
Nearby, the third in command, a cobalt mage named Rasant, stood and drew his spear with a Cheshire grin. Verglas didn’t move except to smile—but it was the smile of a snake in a nest full of baby birds.
Vlam landed on the tortoise shell of a trunkless, earless elephant with oversized serrated tusks. Verglas leaned into his ice throne saddle atop a creature with a whale's size and blubber but a mole’s long claws and teeth. Rasant had a buzzard-winged overgrown monitor lizard with a scorpion tail for a mount. Those tusks and talons were soaked in blood; these beasts were battlefield veterans.
The other six group members were another Fire mage, two more Water mages, a Stone, a Lightning, and a Wind mage. Their mounts included a pillbug bull that could roll into a ball, two angel-fish crabs, a five-eyed spider-mouthed horse with a snake tail, a snake-scaled buck with handlebar antlers that revved like a motorcycle as it rose to a hover on buzzing insect wings, and a Bear.
The Bear and the Wolf were not like the others. The Wolf smelled of a billion wind currents blowing over a million worlds, snow and grass and berries and falling leaves and everything under the sun. Its transcendent smell transported Tesem to every corner of the Wilderness and beyond.
The Bear smelled of dirt and rock and caves and veins of metal and crystal that led into the depths and the core of things. Rather than being transported, the Bear’s scent was a meditation on soil strata, the hardness hierarchies of minerals, and what held the world together. Its claws were onyx, its teeth quartz, and its eyes glowed with the ochre light of the Stone Rune. It jingled while moving, every one of the hundreds of thousands of hairs on its body made of the finest crystal. At rest, it possessed a mountain’s self-assurance. And yet, Tesem knew, this was the least shadow of its true form.
Verglas cracked open his Ice chest to spill forth forty-six tiny floating orbs. Once in the air, they spewed Letters into complicated formations shining with colors solid as glass. There were violet blades, red shields, green spears, and yellow rings. The Mani embedded themselves in the sword or spear pommels and shield or ring grips. Each of the twelve mages received a set of four except Verglas and Rasant, who took a set of three. The Mani were tiny, but their imprinted patterns were decent quality workmanship—the mages provided the energy to power the weapons.
While reluctant to use the expensive equipment he’d purchased for scouting, Verglas equipped the unit from his armory when working as a group. The Mosaic Weapons he’d rented were beyond their comparatively meager means. As the one who’d taken the Mission, Verglas would take the lion’s share of profits.
Economics wasn’t fun, but they were crucial to Tesem. His life depended on them.
“To me,” Verglas called to the kneeling Taotie warrior at his side.
The bipedal birdlike creature’s right arm was a violet sword, a Second-Generation Mosaic Weapon. The opaque blade seemed forged from some unreal metal. This sword was a work of art with a curving and twisting blade whereas lesser weapons had simple shapes. The verdigris mask formed the sword’s handguard instead of covering the beast’s face.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
At the mage’s word, the weapon shrugged off the bestial body like a moist sweater, sliding from its accustomed place to levitate and float into the mage’s hand.
Verglas gave the lighter-than-air weapon an experimental swing. Though he remained seated on his mount, the blade’s deadly sharp aura cut through the husk of beast flesh and gouged the ground beneath. “Lovely.” He spoke with the flat tone of a man watching paint dry.
Tesem scanned the whole assembly. They weren’t so much a hunting pack as a war party. These mages were kitted to conquer countries. How could a pre-nuclear civilization stop them? Artillery fire might give them pause, but mages could fly over mines and shred bombers. Anything less would be throwing sticks at a tank.
:Do you know how much I paid for you?: Verglas asked Tesem in a private sending.
:No?: he replied. That wasn’t the sort of thing they told merchandise in the Auction House.
Verglas’s gaze encompassed his small army. :More than all this put together.:
Tesem saw the logic. Being a tracker might inflate his price to match one of the Thirteen. He also knew why Verglas spent so much. Ice mages focused on battlefield control and almost always won in attrition warfare. As a disruptive, neigh invulnerable melee fighter, Tesem synergized perfectly with that strategy. His tracking ability made for a magnificent bonus.
The mage’s next statement blindsided him anyway. :I took a loan out on you.:
Verglas left all his threats unspoken.
Being in debt to Verglas was one thing. The Bank owning his life was another. A Repo Mage made Verglas look like a happy camp counselor. If Tesem didn’t pay the loan plus interest, they’d both be ruined. When the Head-Hunters Guild put a bounty on them, Verglas would have no reason to keep the ‘merchandise’ in good condition… as long as Tesem was alive.
Tesem clenched his teeth. Verglas knew he intended to run and made it impossible. Maybe, as a Black Dog, he was among the City’s best trackers if he flattered himself… but he wasn’t the fastest and couldn’t hide for crap. They had his hair, nail clippings, and blood, allowing any tracker with the inclination to go after him. And the Bank gave plenty incentive.
There was always a bigger fish.
There was always a way Tesem’s situation could get worse.
The Shew Stone collar grew heavy on his neck. Tesem had to pay his debt with something equal or greater value to himself. That gave him an idea. He was technically part of the Mani-Hunters Guild for this trip—slavery didn’t officially exist in the City.
Everyone who used magic, even prisoners at the Auction House, was registered as a Citizen. Guild parties were made temporary members, forcing them to abide by guild rules or be fined for violations, deepening their debt and thus the length of their indentured servitude.
Citizens could pay their debts, and the contract he’d signed said, ‘Finders Keepers.’
A plan formed in Tesem’s head, a way to gain freedom from his captors and debt. If he subdued those kids—and nothing he’d seen in their fight intimidated him—Tesem could take the whole profit and stick it to Verglas.
Plus, those kids were doomed in the Wilderness. He’d be saving them. The Nephilim couldn’t use the Head Cases on his catch if he didn’t allow it. He’d ensure they were auctioned to one of the friendlier Factions in the City. Win/Win. When he was with these jerks, freedom with a twinge of guilt was the best he could ask for.
Verglas’s chilling mind whispered to him, :Show me what you’re worth.:
Oh, I will, Tesem promised himself. “Gimme a whiff,” he ordered Ansbach with a tone he hoped projected strength and confidence. This was part of the act. He had to seem eager to make charging ahead seem in character.
The Wind mage didn’t dare slow the proceedings as Verglas was far less patient than he seemed. Ansbach approached Tesem without comment, sauntering to save face.
Those foreign scents intensified as the mage approached. Enticing him. Tesem leaned in, and his humanoid features shifted. This was his dog head half form, fur black as obsidian, ears pointed as spears, his skull long and lean atop a muscular humanoid body.
He absorbed the smells, imprinted them on his brain, and matched them to faces. The most potent, overpowering, yet soft and alluring, was the Libra girl. How he wished for her hand to scratch his ear and to nuzzle her… no, that was exactly how they operated.
Must resist. Don’t wag tail!
Another strong scent; untouched wildflowers on a secluded mountainside—the cute one, the Caprid. Strange, a second smell clung to hers with the twang of ripe grapes. Beneath mud and brine wafted a robust cologne and the distinct aroma of a healthy young man, the Kaminoke. Again, an odd smell attached to this one, acrid and dangerous. Hmm.
Next came a subtle scent he might have missed with less caution. Rivers and lakes meant the frog girl who’d caught the mages unawares. Tesem wouldn’t make the same mistake. His nose twitched at the remnants of Dust, and he resisted the urge to sneeze. The Ruin boy was a threat, but not much of one without killing intent. Still, that non-odor disturbed him.
The candle boy’s smell reminded Tesem of an ancient temple.
That left the poor Chiropteran who’d had her wings torn. A mere whiff brought a jolt of surprise. Above the background scent of underground caverns came a wave of red. How could such a little thing have so much blood on her hands? Yet, she had no stench of death about her like the murderers around him.
Then the most mind-numbing scent of all hit him. It was so strong the bat girl must have steeped her hair and clothes and skin in it for years. The smell of fear-sweat. The stink of absolute terror. His greatest weakness. Tesem’s blood boiled, and his brain fogged.
Chase! No! Don’t lose control. Chase! He slipped into his full form, his body tingling and shaking with pent-up energy. Chase! Tesem doubled over to clutch at his guts as they rearranged themselves and then stared at his hands as they became paws. Chase!
Remember the plan! It took everything to hold onto his sense of self as the smell of fear buzzed in his brain like an overcaffeinated high. His pulse pounded. On all fours, his shirt and pants became black fur. Tesem stood transformed, full Therianthrope.
This can work… I’ll play off taking the kids on by myself as zeal in the heat of the moment.
Chase! Chase! Chase! Chase! Chase! Chase! Chase!
To the rhythm of the voice in his head, Tesem’s dimensions expanded in short bursts from mundane size to that of an elephant. Mist swirled about his legs.
There is nothing but the hunt! This is what you were born for!
Tesem threw back his head—Yes the hunt is my first and only love!—and howled. His voice sang over the hills and rang against the four corners of the world so everything could hear this declaration. I am coming for you!
The mages, proud and strong, caught themselves cowering at the sound and tried to feign indifference. Only the Wolf, the Bear, and Verglas did not flinch. Tesem laughed to himself. He didn’t have to act. No, he wished the fools luck trying to keep up.
He launched himself like a sprinter, vanishing from their sight in a cover of Mist. He was one with the cloud, running at the rolling head of a fog bank as it swept over the land. His four-legged gait beat in time to that Voice—No one escapes—No one escapes—No one escapes—No one escapes—as the space between him and the first node dwindled to nothing. He knew where to go. He had the scent.
> They have nowhere to hide, neither high nor low
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> No distance they fly you cannot follow!
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> Chase the hind across the stars
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> You will not tire no matter how far!
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> Drag the devils from their dens
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> Pull the angels down from heaven!
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> No one escapes the Black Dog!
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Verglas laughed in his mind, :Show me what you’re worth, son of Anubis and Laelaps.: