Collected
Chapter 2
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The Collector was unbelievably stealthy, his attire concealing him well enough in the shadows where the afternoon light couldn’t reach. He moved through deserted streets, making his escape from Virala town. Kamali unwillingly followed, wishing she could yell or do something to get another’s attention.
It wouldn’t help though. They’d flee on sight. Or die instantly at the Collector’s hands.
Her body was entirely transparent right now, Kamali wincing at the hand she knew was in front of her face, yet she couldn’t see. A quirk of being a dead spirit. She could levitate slightly off the ground too, though it felt too alien to her. She preferred keeping her feet on the ground. The babbling voices she shared a space with were probably the most irksome part, a buzz she had to tune out.
Drivel flowed out their ghostly mouths like water out of a fountain, their words often meaningless. Broken and clipped too — she’d probably join them in due time. “Why me?” Kamali asked.
“A little silence will do us both good, child,” the Collector told her.
But Kamali couldn’t help it, a boldness overcoming her. “Why take me?” she questioned, feeling the need to at least rebel in this small way, against her master’s wishes. To make sense of her predicament too. “Am I the only one you took here? You didn’t take the soul of the guy you killed.”
The Collector ducked into another alleyway before pausing. “He would sully us. I took meager sustenance from him, nothing more.”
“But me? Some little girl?”
“I may call you a child, Shaman, but you are not so young.” A laugh escaped the Collector as Kamali flinched. “Yes, Shaman. I can see it in your soul. A curious Role for a town girl.”
The Collector could see through her soul. It should’ve been obvious, but it still surprised her. Nobody had called her a Shaman in a long, long time—
“Is that so?”
Kamali stilled her thoughts, to the amusement of the Collector. “I hear all my subjects,” he said, “and I can peer into the depths of their beings. But I can sense nearby living souls too — I chanced upon yours that way. You do not utilize your Role much, do you?”
An explosion, ringing in the far distance. Kamali thought she smelled the smoke, felt the flames.
“Ah. My condolences then,” the Collector said, and it sounded close to being genuine. “I was hoping otherwise.”
Out of the alleyway they moved. The adjoining street had more of the big-mouthed purple hounds patrolling it, Kamali almost bolting on sight — before remembering she was invisible, and untouchable as a spirit anyway. A bloated purple man-creature in rags walked amongst the dogs, eyes crazed. The Collector’s spirits hissed at it.
Abomination!
Man twisted by man!
Goner.
Fallen.
Once someone’s brother.
“Beastmaster loves making his monsters,” muttered the Collector. The voices responded with a furious chorus.
It was then that her captor’s earlier words finally caught up to Kamali. “Hoping otherwise?” she said, feeling something akin to spirit bile coming up her throat. The Collector had run off already, and she sprinted after him. “What do you mean, hoping otherwise?”
The man creature’s head was torn off instantly. One of the many lights flickering within the Collector’s dark violet form leapt out, and before Kamali’s eyes, it shaped itself into an orange spirit clad in knight armor, with only his head exposed and a scar slashed across his left temple. Twin ghost blades in hand, he moved faster than Kamali could blink, severing the hounds’ necks all at once. But not before one managed a resounding howl, cutting through the screams and noise of the town.
The Collector tsked at this. He breathed in the man creature’s corpse, as if sucking in pieces of its soul, before spitting out. “I said apologies meant nothing, didn’t I?”
“You targeted me for my Shaman abilities?” pressed Kamali.
“I lacked a Shaman. You were dying.” The Collector’s head tilted to the side, a grumble leaving his throat, and he pulled out a yellow light from his body. It glimmered, shining over him, and the Collector shifted position. “No tarrying now, child. I fear we may have been noticed.”
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The light shone on Kamali as well, her feet lighter than light. When the Collector moved, he moved with unusual speed, Kamali finding herself moving just as swiftly as she ran alongside him. She had turned opaque again, for Kamali could see the way her phantom dress fluttered, as if stirred by a wind. The warrior spirit casually followed with his even quicker movement.
“I would’ve taken you regardless of your skill. That said,” the Collector said, “there is work to be done. Your Shaman Role should not be left idle like this. It is pitiful.”
The words incensed Kamali. “What?” she yelled.
“Lower your voice, child—”
“Do I look like I care about my Shaman side?” Kamali spoke over him. “I don’t want to be a Shaman! I-I never wanted—”
She had, once upon a time. The warrior had stepped close to her, blades unnervingly close, but Kamali’s whimper had nothing to do with the silent threat. “Y-you want to better channel your spirits, i-is that it?” she managed to say. “C-cause I won’t give that to you. Never.”
She didn’t know how gaining and refining Rules worked for dead spirits, but no way would she make use of her Shaman Role to gain new powers perfectly suited for a devourer of souls. He’d abuse those newfound Rules in an instant. The Collector would become even more powerful.
The monster was sighing. “You are mistaking my words. I can gather powers however I like, but—”
“I said no!” snapped Kamali. “It’ll never happen!”
“I am not interested in coercing you, child.”
“Then don’t, curse you! Go find another Shaman—”
Twin piercing howls reverberated through the air, the Collector and his warrior spirit stiffening. Kamali shrieked as a mass of purple mangy fur crashed in front of the narrow, curved road they’d been running down. It shifted, fangs bared from two wolfish heads connected to a massive, sinewy body held up by eight legs. A saddle adorned it, a cloaked figure cackling atop the fiendish creature.
“Enjoying the spoils, Collector?” came his raspy voice. “My, you’re even more interesting in person. How do the internals of your splendidly wonderful body work, pray tell?”
Literal shadows concealed his face, save for a murderous grin and glowing brown eyes. A feathered hat adorned his head, one glove holding onto its brim and the other resting against a purple leather whip tied to his belt. His air of authority, the self-satisfied pleasure on his face — the enraged chants some of the Collector’s spirits babbled at the mere sight of him — it gave Kamali goosebumps.
“Beastmaster.” The Collector cocked his head to the side, his warrior spirit tensing behind him. “Does my presence trouble you?”
“Hm? Oh, hardly, hardly! Have you been consuming my fellows’ souls? A waste of life, I confess, but I suppose I can understand the need for some indulgence!” Beastmaster let out a titter. “My pet Dupemaw here, however — how do you like them? It was tricky, turning two twin wolves into this a beaut of a beastie — they were riled up by your peculiar scent. I thought to humor them, and here we are. Quite a gorgeous mess we’ve made of this town, don’t you think?”
It was him, Kamali realized. This figure was the spearhead of the Fervent Indulgent raid. The one in charge.
A father of monsters and a depraved lieutenant. You have every right to hate him.
The voice that rang out was unusually crisp and clear, cutting through the din of whispering spirits. It astonished Kamali.
“It makes for an interesting kind of art.” The Collector gave a half-shrug. “Not my taste though. Wanton destruction doesn’t suit me, I’m afraid.”
“Ah, we all have our pleasures, my friend. Not my choice of a pastime either, I confess, I much prefer my beastly creations.” Beastmaster unholstered what Kamali thought was some kind of firearm, sleek yet oddly shaped. “Still, one can revel in other activities from time to time.”
He fired. Kamali jumped back, hands cupping her mouth as an elegant house exploded, flaming pieces of wood scattering. Beastmaster eyed her, and she shrank into herself.
“New soul for your collection?” he said with a chortle. “Why, Collector, you needn’t make her watch her home crumble, you sadist!” He tugged the reins of his twin-head mount, making them do a half-turn. “Maybe you’ve noticed, but I’m having my regiment do a little sweep of the countryside, and we’re hoping to ransack Elystra City itself. I’ve been itching to get my hands on their dear Lord Terrence — foppish fellow with lots of power, literally and metaphorically, you know the sort. Rules over a rather isolated piece of land his overseers won’t miss, I’m sure.”
If Kamali had a heart, she had a feeling it would’ve been racing right now. The screams and chaos of the town seemed infinitely louder to her ears. The Fervent Indulgent were a well-known evil, but nobody had expected them to travel all the way to Virala Town. For Beastmaster to be after the entire countryside? After Elystra City, their governing force?
“It’ll make for a good outpost. Maybe I’ll even convince my bosses to get this patch of land reinforced, turn it into a proper wasteland,” Beastmaster went on. “That won’t bother you, will it now, oh Collector? We’ll be tearing through Gordius Town on our way to Elystra City — consider that my invitation to come pick up the spoils we leave behind. Not like I need so many souls myself to replenish my horde, after all. Well?”
The Collector, to Kamali’s horror, was quick to nod. “Who am I to pass up a free harvest?” he said.
“Splendid! I knew I saw a kindred spirit in you.” Beastmaster tipped his hat. “Well, a legion of spirits, but let’s not get hung up on the wording. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve a raid to wrap up.” He kicked his mount, and the two-headed beast silently leapt onto a rooftop, shingles breaking off as it found purchase. It bounded off to the opposite side, out of sight.
Kamali stared for a while. Then slowly faced the Collector, who had dismissed his warrior spirit. “Cur,” he said, in the direction of Beastmaster.
“You agreed to follow him,” said Kamali.
“I need souls to survive, child. I refuse to kill innocents myself, but if that monster in human skin—”
“And you’re supposed to be better?” Kamali cut in. What was with her captor, trying to act all nice and understanding with her? “If you really hated him, why didn’t you stop him?”
“It isn’t as simple as you think.”
“How? You let him go! You’re letting him kill innocents—”
“Yes. Enough.”
Kamali’s lips sealed shut. She glowered.
“I thought a little time with me would be good for you. But perhaps it’s too early. Maybe my influence only worsens your state.” The Collector clutched his stone mask. “Dahlia? Perhaps your company will do her some good.”
His hand outstretched, and Kamali gasped as she felt herself curl up. The world spun, her body compressing into herself, and the Collector’s form encompassed her. A sea of violet light flared, and she fell in.