Bloodlines: Dark One — Book 4

Jerome woke up in the air. He was falling. The wind raced in his ears, tufts of clouds passed him by and he fell through some of them. He turned midair to face the coming earth and the melon-sized gems he had dug up from the pool’s depths in the void world popped out of his void space to revolve around him.

What? Achilleia, what the hell is going on? He asked.

“I told you they reset when everyone leaves Terra Praeta. They’re keys, Xerae.”

The supposed keys were shining mutely — thankfully. He wouldn’t want to be seen from miles away. He was probably more than two thousand feet above sea level. And the sun looked like it was rising… or was it setting?

“It’s rising, Xerae. And you’re five thousand feet above sea level.”

Damn, he’d never been so high before, even in Terra Praeta. The landmass below him was a great mass of beautiful greens and blues; ponds and small lakes dotted the landscape in a few areas. He smiled to himself. He didn’t bother slowing down his fall as he was still a ways away from the ground. And the keys revolving around him stuck to him like there was a magnetic field controlling them, of which he was the center.

Where was he even? Probably in the south.

“Yes, Xerae. You’re in the south,” Achilleia’s voice sounded in his head. “Above the jungle west of Alvric’s capital city. Do you see the mountains in the distance?”

Mm-hm.

“That’s a landmark between Alva and Alvion, House Ullysius’ city.”

Perfect. To Hedon then, he teased.

“Slow down, Xerae. There are much more pressing matters to attend to. Such as the force of gravity about to pull you down faster toward the earth.”

He began falling faster. A cry reached him from afar and he knew someone else must have been pulled into the field of magic created to ground everyone coming from Terra Praeta.

You did that on purpose, didn’t you? Waited till the last moment to tell me about the field of magical pull.

Achilleia gave him a mental shrug. “You might want to tone down the use of Terra Praetan words like ‘magic’ and ‘psychic energy’ here, Xerae. You’re back in your homeworld after all.”

Jerome scoffed but he understood. People would ask questions if they heard him speaking strange words — questions he wasn’t sure he was ready to answer yet.

The mind-calming stone stirred inside him and the next moment the keys were sucked back into him. She purred in satisfaction.

Err, Achilleia? What the fuck just happened.

“Eh, don’t look to me for answers. I’m just as confused as you are.”

Did she just… eat them?

“Seems like it, Xerae… seems like it.” Achilleia sounded helpless; defeated. Jerome could tell that everything happening was beyond her scope of understanding.

But what ‘should’ have happened just now?

He activated the pod of Hezvar inside him and his perception expanded, covering an impossibly vast area. With a few scans, he located one of the sources of the magical field. It was more apt to call it a suppression field, really. Plenty of bindings were scattered across the land which was just too vast to scan at once — even with his pod.

“The keys are…” she sighed. “You were supposed to bond with them. With them, you could go back and forth between your world and Terra Praeta.”

He had guessed it would be used that way. But the mind-calming stone stirred within him again. Information passed from her to him and he suddenly knew there was more to the keys. He put their discussion on hold for a minute.

Jerome changed direction, shooting toward the binding. He sensed a few people guarding it — ten of them. Humans, but not quite. His senses told of the raw power hiding in their frames. Two of them were large, far larger than was humanly possible. On closer inspection, he noticed that one was actually human but the other was a magical beast — a bear. A normal bear, since it had no core of its own. But it still was on the level of danger as the other humans, maybe even more so.

Jerome didn’t bother about pleasantries. He came in hot, shooting toward the binding from above like a missile. The air exploded behind him like thunder as he broke the sound barrier.

They sensed him too late. The ground exploded outward and plumes of dirt and rocks were sent flying every which way. The binding didn’t stand a chance. Huge crystals and metal gears and parts exploded on impact. The suppression field surrounding about three miles was canceled immediately.

Jerome stood from his crouch, noticing he had formed a crater in the ground where he had crashed. Gravity was lighter; much lighter than he was used to. He had gotten so used to the gravity on Terra Praeta that he felt like he was on the moon. He bounced on the balls of his feet to get used to the feeling, before jumping out of the crater to face the Church’s Messengers… Judges? Whichever one was protecting the binding.

“Messengers, Xerae. Luckily, they are underestimating all of you.”

Crushed crystals and metal parts littered the ground here and there — remains of their binding and whatever machine supported it most likely.

‘She’ says the keys are actually seeds, Jerome transmitted to Achilleia not wanting to say the ‘mind-calming stone’.

“Oh, so you can talk to her now — like, really talk?”

Jerome shook his head with a smile. Not… exactly. It’s… she told me without using words — if that makes sense.

“Oh, like how Nyx spoke to you before.”

More like it.

The air was thick with dust and soot from the explosion. But he could still see very clearly as though nothing hindered his sight. A dozen feet in front of him was a man in coveralls — a strange garment to see on a battlefield. It was made out of canvas and looked thick enough to stop a breeze and maybe pebbles. But an arrow would put the man down in an instant.

“That’s maintenance for the binding, Xerae. The rest of them are fighters.”

He looked to his left and right and sure enough, others had on armor. Interestingly, they were putting on steel armor. And they were covered from head to boots — even their boots were made of steel. Their horses snorted and stomped their hooves in discomfort a good distance away.

“Impressive,” he said out loud. “Even Vorthe, as advanced as we are, lack enough ores to use on metal armor.”

“You are in the presence of the Messengers of Light,” the giant man rumbled as he stood up from his crouch. He had an accent he couldn’t place. But it made his voice sound guttural, with tough-sounding consonants — even the ‘r’s weren’t silent where they should be. He was a heavy man. And his voice was as deep and scary as he looked. “Lay down your arms and we shall show mercy.”

The others groaned as they stood, readying their weapons.

“You must think we Vortheans are stupid to believe such a lie,” Jerome said. His own voice was deep as well, but nothing compared to the giant’s. Such a voice could make people weak in the knees. He envied the guy a tad bit. Just a tad bit.

“Standard protocol,” the giant rumbled again. He hefted a giant shield and picked up a great axe in his right hand.

“Just a tad bit, Xerae?” Achilleia tittered in his head. Jerome ignored her.

He knew they could see him — or at least his silhouette. He raised his forearms a little and gestured in a wave with both hands. With a pulse of psychic energy, the dust was blown away, revealing everything and everyone around. Just to give them a taste of his powers.

“So we’re waving our dicks around now, eh?” Achilleia said, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

You don’t have a dick, Achilleia.

The bear went down on all fours and growled. Jerome expected it to charge — wanted it to in fact. But it did the opposite. It backed up.

Everyone stilled.

A woman in fancy-looking, shiny armor who was dragging the maintenance guy away from the battle stilled as well, eyeing the beast. As did the maintenance guy, who had no helmet on. The shock on all their faces was easy to read. Even though they hid behind their masked helmets.

“Why is it doing that?” someone asked to his left. He had on busted-up armor like he had fought a creature too powerful for him and barely survived.

“If I were you, I’d do the same.” Jerome took a step forward and the big bear took some more back. It was almost comical watching such a huge and terrifying-looking creature back up in fear against another much smaller, and less terrifying than it.

But monsters had better instincts than humans, so Jerome didn’t blame it. He understood. The creature also, on an instinctual level, understood the draconian laws of the jungle. These humans, on the other hand, seemed like they did not. They all turned to face him. Some of them reared back when they saw his eyes.

He unnerved them…

Good.

He turned in a circle to take them all in even as they sized him up. The giant man, who seemed to be their leader, seemed to find his nerve first. He tensed.

“Attack,” he rumbled and shot forward. He was fast, but compared to Jerome he was moving in slow motion. Jerome took a moment to check on the others, scanning his new ring.

Ms. Tara was doing okay. She hadn’t met up with any of these Messengers. Sheela was being herded toward her by Csala. Smart girl. He smiled, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Together, Ms. Tara and Sheela would be nigh invincible to anyone below the Spirit Realm.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Nyx was… Jerome sighed. She was basking in the cool breeze in a tree; without a care in the world. Jerome shook his head. The giant was nearly to his position so he got ready to deal with him.

“Don’t use essence, Xerae,” Achilleia warned.

Jerome was halfway through commanding the essence in the air, though sparse it was. He dropped his intent and caught the sharp edge of the great axe, shocking them all. The head of the axe was nearly the size of his torso and probably weighed ten times more than he did. But he sensed no enchantment on it.

But then, what was that ringing in his ears?

He’d read of the song of active runes in Terra Praeta. The memory stones in Sanctum were quite vivid in that department. They weren’t physical sounds so to speak. Only those who worked closely with runes could hear the faint singing — tunes like a song. That was most definitely what he was hearing!

Jerome would have laughed out in joy if he wasn’t in a battle.

“Oh,” Achilleia muttered, surprise evident in her voice. “I’ve only ever read about those.”

We’ll talk about that later, Achilleia.

The giant braced himself to jerk his axe out of Jerome’s hand. It was all happening so slowly that Jerome felt he could actually speak to Achilleia while fighting. But there was no need to tempt fate.

If he couldn’t use essence though, what about psychic energy?

He tightened his grip a little, feeling his fingers dent the steel of the axe. At the same time, he bound the hand of the axe wielder to the haft of his axe with his psychic energy. Then he spun the axe in the air.

The giant of a man left the earth and spun in the air with his axe.

~~~

Yaslov

It happened too fast. Dmitrii’s axe was stopped by the heathen — a feat he had never seen anyone accomplish — and before he could even think to react, Dmitrii spun through the air like a top. Such a show of power shouldn’t have been possible for someone so small in comparison to Dmitrii!

The rest of the team shot forward. Yaslov’s hopes were raised as they converged on the heathen, only for it to fall back down as he batted them away like flies. The force of his blows was tremendous despite the casual way he flung his arms.

Fear rose in him like never before. The kind of fear he felt around the Judges. He began to back away from the fight, trembling like a drowned rabbit, his overalls scraping the wet soil as he went. He nearly pissed himself as someone crashed near him.

He looked. Big mistake. Anya’s crushed face stared back at him with dead eyes. One of her eyeballs was hanging by a strand of tissue. Yaslov retched, unable to hold back the meal he last ate.

When he came up for air, the fight had ended — just as quickly as it began. The heathen was crouching above him, looking down at him with curious red irises.

Red irises!?

“Demon!” he screamed, backing away. He staggered to his feet to run but slipped and fell into a large pool of blood and entrails — Bo’s blood and entrails. The big bear’s lifeless eyes were frozen in terror. It never stood a chance against such a vile creature. No wonder it was scared of the demon.

Yaslov heard the demon approach and screamed, “Don’t come near me, you vile spawn of the netherworld! Holy Light of my soul! Bless me with your protection!”

“Are you praying?” the demon asked. His voice was deep and almost soothing — almost. But Yaslov wouldn’t be fooled. His eyes were back to that eerie silver — cold and metallic like steel.

Yaslov continued his prayer, whispering now so the demon didn’t hear his words. He settled into a fetal position, more to protect himself. Words were powerful. And demons were known to steal the blessings they granted.

The demon yanked him up. “Listen to me you dimwit. I don’t have time for your nonsense.”

The demon slapped him across the cheek. It didn’t feel like a human hand slapped him — more like corded steel molded into a hand. His ear rang; his mouth bled. That was the most painful slap he’d ever received. But it made him alert.

“How many of these bindings are out here?” The demon gestured to the crater he had left behind.

“I will tell you nothing, demon!” Yaslov hissed, resolve building in him. “You spawn of the bride of Madru! You will burn forever in the fires of the Great Cleansing!”

Something shot out of the demon and attached itself to him. Yaslov felt it burrow into his skin. He screamed in pain. The thing reached for the first rune carved onto his bones, in his wrist.

“No!” he screamed. “No, no, no, no…”

If it was powered by essence, the rune ought to have consumed the essence but… he sensed the rune lose its efficacy the next moment. His jaw dropped, even as pain assaulted him. He fell back to the ground convulsing in pain.

The demon frowned at him. His eyes were red again. “That’s a very powerful rune you got there. So powerful that I have no way to deal with it without killing you. And since you’re not being cooperative, I can’t let you live.”

Those were the last words Yaslov heard. Strength left his body but the pain didn’t stop. He slumped to the ground as darkness took him.

~~~

Jerome looked around him at the massacre of people he didn’t know. By his hands. People who were probably just following orders. They were fanatics, yes. Hell-bent on subduing anyone not of their ilk. But they were people nonetheless.

He looked at his hands. And back at them. The snorting of the horses in the distance was the only sound he could hear. But even that was not enough to ease the discomfort he felt at killing these people.

“Are his words getting to you, Xerae?” Achilleia asked.

Jerome sighed, shaking off the negative feeling. He called me a demon. I thought that word only existed as ‘daimon’. Oh, wait, blood demon bats. He remembered the tiny bloodsuckers in the western continent of Terra Praeta. They also inhabited the dark forest of the northern continent.

The Sovereign corrected me once on it. Bram from Selene’s team also called me daimon… So both words exist, they just mean different things…

“Say it, Xerae,” Achilleia urged him.

They didn’t look at me the way he did when they called me Daimon. He on the other hand…

The look the man had given him was one someone would give a truly vile, evil creature… a ‘demon’, just like he had called him. Jerome had taken his displeasure out on him at the end, but he felt irritated at his own behavior, though, and promised himself never to do that again. It was a petty thing to do.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, Xerae. You’ll learn to live with it in time. Not everyone would accept you for what you are. But those that do, will accept you for who you are.”

Jerome looked around once more. It would be a bad idea to waste perfectly good metal, even if some were bent out of shape. He could always reshape them — one of the benefits of being a Shaper. The giant had on his person, a storage bag containing supplies for the team — a stash of arrows, bows and other weapons, whetstones, some food, and sleeping tents and bags. All practically useless to him but hey, he was robbing the dead. He couldn’t complain.

One of the runes on a dead man sang as he stripped him of his armor, almost like it was still active even after the death of its wielder.

“They can do that sometimes,” Achilleia said.

It was a good thing Suzie could disarm the runes — which was a technicality. He had watched as his evolved living steel drained the iron in the maintenance guy’s blood. The fortunate side effect was that the runes were closely linked to his life force and were disarmed as a result — thanks to the fact he didn’t use essence to control Suzie.

I best warn the others about the Messengers runes. If I was going to be beset by a couple of strange mortals who could siphon essence from my attacks I’d like to get a heads up about them.

“Already done, Xerae.”

What? How?

“Because I’m connected to you I can also use your ring to communicate with them.”

Smart. Do they know you’re… ‘you’?

Achilleia snorted. “Only Csala and Nyx do. But I’ve introduced myself — though they only see me as a sort of ‘voice interface’ I suppose. I’m the ace up your sleeve, Xerae. Remember that.”

Jerome smiled. He stood dusting off himself and stashing the metal into his void plane. Right on top of the ogre he had fought in the dark forest. He had totally forgotten about it. He entered his void world to check on the ogre. It was dead. Very, very dead. There was no regeneration from the dead for it.

“Its bones still carry enough vitality to create a few healing potions, Xerae. Let me work on it.”

He shrugged. He wasn’t in the least bit interested in making potions. Maybe in the future, he’d find interest. He left his void space and looked around. He shouldn’t leave the dead out in the open. But the beasts of the forest would be drawn to them so he didn’t need to worry about them. They belonged to the forest now. But then again, if the Church had a way to check up on their Messengers, he’d like to know when such happened — if it happened.

“Err, what do we do about the horses?” He asked. There were nine of them; nine massive, sturdy stallions. They looked like draft horses, what the hell!? But these guys weren’t pulling any carts or contraptions, why would they need draft horses? “How did they even get them out here? The whole place is a jungle.”

“Put them in your void plane, Xerae. You never know when you might have a need for horses.”

He snorted. As if…

But he did as she said and even gathered up some grasses and leaves. Just in case. He left a sliver of Suzie around as surveillance. Someone from the Church would come looking for these guys, he was almost certain of it. There’d also most likely be a change of shifts or something. Why didn’t he think of that before? He leaped into the air, flying toward his girls.

His girls… that felt right.

About the song of the runes. How come you can’t hear it? He asked.

Achilleia glowered at him. At least that was the sensation he thought he was getting from her. She didn’t respond, probably sulking from her supposed lack of ability to sense what he now could. Jerome wisely didn’t say anything, choosing to focus solely on the forest around him. But then he thought about the mind-calming stone and what she had said the keys were: seeds.

But seeds for what?

She gave no further information beyond that.

“I can’t hear the song of the runes because I’m not a living soul, but a caricature of one.”

Achilleia… Jerome said but struggled to find words to say. I’m sure we can find a way around that. Which brishovellingnd a question. I hope you don’t mind me asking.

“Ask away, Xerae.”

Okay. So, you said you aren’t a living soul but a caricature of one. He stopped to process those words for a moment. Is that why in the Prime Nexus, you looked like a copy of Tialana, or was it Tialana that looked like you?

Achilleia sighed. “You know you didn’t have to add that last part, Xerae. I can read your mind, and I know you are a hundred percent certain I’m the one who looks like Tialana. And you would be correct…”

You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, he said.

“No, it’s okay,” she replied. “Tialana was one of Ilyrrah’s lovers — his first, actually. Just like Csala is to you. My first nexus was a logic engine, designed by him to solve problems. But there was a problem with that. He needed me to be more.”

More? Jerome asked.

“Yes, Xerae. ‘More’…” Achilleia emphasized.

I see.

“Tialana was the one who inspired him to build a newer version of me. An emotion engine… but that was an utter disaster!”

Jerome laughed at that. Let me guess. He combined both engines, which resulted in what you are now. A super sapient artificial being who has become the closest thing I have to a true friend. Ilyrrah was sounding more like a human from his previous world.

“More or less… Thanks, Xerae.”

You’re not less than the fae or anyone else to me, Achilleia. You’re Achilleia… my friend. Jerome could sense her brim in delight inside of him.

“Thanks again, Xerae.”

You’re welcome.

“How does it feel to hear the song of the runes by the way?”

He went on to describe the sensation deep inside him.

He intended to find all the bindings creating the suppression field he could and deal with these aliens in his homeland.