Twelfth Passing

Morgan Lemure was alone in his carriage. He had not been himself for weeks. There was no one left to take care of him. He had been given a tube by the wide shouty one and left for dead. Once between sleeps someone wearing a mask of The Wyrm would appear to check on him, and switch his tube out as needed. It felt like an execution delivered piecemeal. Every time he woke there was a new hole in his brain.

Sucking on a tube of meat, he muttered to himself about the invaders, the endless Deluge. Within the food matter he sucked down his gullet, he saw the faces of the people he betrayed. It did him great pleasures to guzzle them up.

Momentarily distracted by the constant buzzing that lingered in his brain, he did not hear the door open. A man came into view. Dark skin, unknown skin. Messy hair, stranger’s hair.

His clothes were in a bizarre style, purple and coiffed, far too noble for his taste. Morgan preferred harsh armor and laughing death masks. And what was that the man wore over his eyes, a silk bandanna of the same color? The man turned to Morgan and smiled wide.

“What a shame, looks like Quertra forgot to put anyone on guard duty.” He wiped a bloody hand on his trousers, then folded his arms and inspected the room. “It’s understandable. Half of the Constants gone, one dead. In the chaos anyone would forget about the senile old master.”

Quertra… his nurse. His monster. The one who gave him the needles that made him fall deep within himself, made the Wyrm take over. He could feel it even now, poking holes in his brain, making it impossible to talk other than to moan or scream. Yet he had to speak, he had to ask.

“What has my empire become?” Each word was harder to get out than the last, but he managed. The Wyrm drove a spike through the brain for his troubles.

The man gestured fondly at the fleshy list before them. It would have fared better as a posting of obituaries. So many numbers were dead or unaccounted for, none of the names or faces he recognized. The Wyrm had been eating his people. He spit and spat, trying his hardest to express his ire.

“Simmer down a bit, King Berenger the First, don’t shoot the messenger. Lets ignore the leaderboard for now, how about we look at who’s waiting in the wings,” He fiddled with a module on the side, and the board changed to show a new, healthier list of 200 or so names, all alive. This excited Morgan greatly, and he rocked back and forth with glee. He realized now this was his 41, less androgynous, less disapproving. Either a transformation has taken place or the old one had been overthrown. He didn’t care which.

“Makes you excited for the future, huh? Like Campbell passing the torch to Moorcock. I’m simplifying of course, Moorcock did his thing with the Brits while Campbell sputtered and went senile, the only thing they exchanged was hate mail. Ol’ John kept promoting a dead scene right up until he was buried.” His 41 was speaking in riddles but such was expected of a 41, all The Wyrms nonsense was filtered down to him so that Morgan could speak pure reason. A noble role.

41 leaned the carriage towards himself, despite the blindfold it was like he could see Morgan clearly. “Here’s the issue though. I see the way you eye me. I’m not 41, not yet, and I need your permission to promote these people. I’m happy to play the Ellison to your Merril, but England Swings 2 is in need of some submissions. And to do that… I need to be 41.”

It made perfect sense to him. This was his 41, a new one, nothing like that old one. He rose to make it official, but the words turned to razors in his throat. He doubled over in pain. The comforting hand of 41 was there to soothe him. He lowered a hand to pat his back, but the cape had other ideas, and bit back.

“I see what the issue is.” 41 took out two syringes. One white and milky, a familiar and uncomfortable sight, and the other black and porous, new and inviting. “The New Wave met a lot of resistance. People wanted to dilute it, or destroy it entirely.”

He threw the white one away. That was a good lieutenant.

“All in vain, ideas are like parasites, they can lay dormant for years, changing and morphing, learning how to synthesize the median, but never losing their potency.” He lowered the black syringe to Lemure’s neck, pockmarked with sores and needle marks. “This will get rid of that nasty thing controlling your cloak, but only temporarily, I’ll need your permission to-“

Lemure grabbed the needle and forced it into his neck. Enthusiastic consent.

His pupils dilated, his strength returned, his cloak shivered and went limp. It made him angry how easy it was to dull The Wyrm. For the first time in years, he spoke without strain.

“Thank you, 41. I will now make it official that you are the new-“ He stopped, not because he was hesitant, but because his voice did not sound at all like he expected.

“Is something wrong?” 41 asked, right to be impatient.

His voice… sounded weak. How much had The Wyrm taken from him? His eyes were wet.

“You don’t have to speak,” He took out a device Morgan didn’t recognize. “Just put your hand in here.”

Morgan did, ignoring how his fingers bled.

…

All over Gutworth, people heard a voice. Speakers that hadn’t been used in months were suddenly screaming.

“Citizens of Gutworth, this is your new 41. Two hundred of you are reserve members of Lemures Legacy. They’re the ones this message is for.”

Norman Certain was running some errands and arguing on his watch about what exactly constituted a “batch” of dream dust. His neck went weird, something long dormant was now a second heart beat. He looked up.

The rest of you can continue eating rocks or whatever you do with your time. But for you reserve members, I know how you work. You spend every waking moment wishing for a chance to be called up to the big leagues. Well, that is about to change.

A statuesque woman in a mask of her own make stared up at the speaker and laughed uproariously. History was rewarding her with interesting times.

As of this moment, you are unmarked but approved members of the Legacy. A place in the Legacy, but with no number. And to people who are already members?

A Legacy member wearing his uniform felt his neck go limp. The number in the late 20s dissapeared and became black sludge pressed up against his skin.

You will find that you are also unmarked. Sorry, we want things to be fair here. None of you are approved, you’re all equal in the eyes of your one true god, Lemure. How to become approved? Simple. Kill the other unmarked, see the way their smart veins bulge uselessly and use that as your target.

A crowd surrounded the now numberless Legacy member. He tried to take out his Remark but someone bit him in the wrist. Two more jumped him and he fell into a trough, what was left of him would be used as crawlcow feed.

Kill your friends, they won’t expect it. Do not delay, kill before you yourself are killed! This will continue indefinitely. Thank you”

Death was sated that night. Some even said they saw her, dancing among the ruins. Her silhouette contorted from the bonfire of bodies. As large as the sun, thrice as hot.

Thirteenth Passing

“What’s your plan here, exactly?” Hailien asked.

“I’m getting my reps in of course!” Devon said cheerfully, her now scarred hands slowly but surely lifting Hailien’s massive blade up, only to let it fall back down until it teetered on being deadly, right above her neck. Then, small biceps bulging, she repeated the process, finding it uniquely satisfying to find a hold on the razor thin glass that she could work with.

“You never fail to amuse me.” Hailien said, sporting an expression that you would be mad to categorize as a smile.

“What about you?” Devon said smugly. Her back was to the ground, only her hands stopping the blade from cleaving straight through her. “What are you doing?”

“Staying alive.” Hailien said, in that flat affect that always heralded excessive violence. Sure enough, she lifted her sword from Devon’s palms, leaving her hands outstretched. She cut through them, and Devon screamed. She would never get used to the feeling of dying.

Then that snap, both comforting and annoying. She was still on the ground, hands back in place, no fresh injuries. Hailien was back in place in front of the stairs as well.

With an annoyed groan Devon got up and flashed a two minute sign at Hailien, wandering over to the small stool that passed as a break room.

“We need to start preparing for that.” Adam said in her brain. He slipped out of her hand and floated in front of her. He had the habit of doing that whenever he wanted to talk, it made it easier. “you’re putting yourself in positions that make it easy for her to use her trick.”

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“I may be testing something.” Devon said, only a half lie. She wiped the sweat off her brow. The damage was reversed, the exertion wasn’t.

Beneath all the scratches Adam’s glass body reflected enough to serve as a mirror, Taut, wiry, with very little fat that helped show off her abs, though there wasn’t much fat on her body to begin with. Consistently being on the verge of starvation would do that to you. For some reason, it felt like this build fit her face better.

”I sense that you’re experimenting, but the reasoning is lost. Please elaborate.”

Feeling confident that Hailien wasn’t listening or wouldn’t care, she filled him in, “So, when she snaps her finger, I stay in the same place, while she always teleports back to where she was, right?”

Adam did his best approximation of a nod, tilting the front of his body down and then up like a ship going through choppy waters.

It took her an embarrassingly long time to realize that was his response. “Um, so anyway” she continued, “I think thats how we get out of here.”

“Interesting plan, if I’m understanding it correctly. I guess this means you’ll finally let me control your body again.”

She sighed, here we go. “Nope! I’m not ready for that yet.”

“You have not used me outside of healing and recovery afterwards, if you had, we would not be here now, we would be halfway past Luminescia.” Adam had grown impatient recently, it was like her own urgency had been a rapidly depleting faucet that had to go somewhere. Sometimes he could be almost childish, it was charming, and she liked him more as an equal than a mentor.

“I know, and I wouldn’t as fucking cool as I am now without your help.” She put her legs up on nothing and leaned back, Adam dutifully positioning himself on the back of the stool to prevent her from falling over. “It’s just… important to me that I do this as by myself as possible. Obviously I need you to help me heal and… just in general as a friend, but this is my body, my arms and legs, least I can do is operate them myself, and feel proud that their strength is my strength. You know, like the Yucian fight but, even more so.”

“That’s fine by me.” Adam said, sounding surprisingly enthusiastic. “I think I’m still getting used to our much more peaceful existence here. This is as long as I’ve gone without seriously fighting someone for as long as I can remember.”

“Well it’s not that peaceful!” Devon objected, “I still get decapitated like, once a day!”

“True, but in a controlled environment. You’ll never actually get hurt here.” He made the mental equivalent of a frown in her brain. “I’ll be honest, while I enjoy the peace, it doesn’t seem right. Something about imitating violence without the consequences, it’s ghoulish.”

Devon shrugged, while she didn’t exactly like being chopped up, it seemed a bit much to moralize about it. “It’s training!”

“Are you ready yet?” Hailien asked, taking guard ten feet from the staircase. “I’d like to wrap up for the day soon, but I think you deserve at least one more good spar.”

Devon got to her feet. “This is gonna be the one.” She said confidently.

“It is absolutely not going to be the one. As your friend and companion, I advise you to stop saying that.”

“I say it only when I’m confident that this is gonna be the one, and it is.” This was the 75th time she had declared that this fight was going to be the one.

“Okay, but you know that, even if your plan goes off without a hitch, there’s no guarantee she won’t just pull something else out, and then we’re back to square one.”

“I’m aware but I highly doubt that.” She said in a smug tone, knowing it annoyed Hailien to be privy to a one sided conversation. “We’ve exhausted her resources, she’s as tired as we are. This will be the one, look, she’s particularly begging for us to end this. We’ve wasted more than a quarter of a year to this shit, do you really think she’s gonna be angry if we actually win this time?”

As expected, she had tried Hailien’s patience and the large woman ran at her with her Remark held high. Hailien was a stronger fighter, but also quite predictable.

They engaged in a bout of dodging and slash as slash can. Quite mundane for both of them. They could do this for hours, even days.

“Hey, did you forget something?” Devon said, pointing at Hailien’s fingers, yet to snap. And then she drove Adam in for a risky slash at her chest.

Hailien swore, snapped her finger, and retaliated with a plunge of her Remark that could have been fatal

If Devon hadn’t expected it. She dodgerolled out of the way, barely feeling winded.

The hatch up to the surface was wide open and unguarded, and she ran like her life depended on it. Meanwhile, Adam slipped away from Devon’s hand lazily, like a float rat without direction. It was like he had suddenly decided he didn’t much care for the fight. Whether or not this had distracted Hailien well enough to slow her down Devon didn’t know. Anything behind was a mystery, all she cared about was getting to that staircase.

WHAM. In a now familiar move, Hailien threw her sword at the staircase, shattering the railing, making it fall to one side. Partially collapsed, but still usable.

“Oooh, you’re paying for that.” Devon said cheekily to Hailien, who was now right next to her, leering down. Hailien gripped Devon and shoved her to the broken staircase, pierced by a bit of the railing in her midsection. It hurt like hell, but wasn’t lethal, and wasn’t trying to be. She thought she knew why, and was banking on the assumption.

She jumped on the stairs and positioned herself above Devon, Remark out, readying herself to push the girl back up with the other hand. The giant sword of a Remark dangled casually above her.

“Now!” Devon shouted. Hailien lazily turned to Adam, at the other side of the room. He was simply floating, not trying to interfere or attack. A perfect distraction for Devon, who gripped the harsh metal of Hailien’s remark, screaming as she pushed herself up from the railing, and pulled the already close sword straight into her chest. It hurt like hell, it always did, but for the first time, it was a hurt Devon had wanted. She knew that she had already won.

“Shit, shit!” Hailien yelled, the way her eyes went large made it clear that this was fucking bad. Devon only had minutes to live, maybe seconds. Hailien snapped her fingers.

And a fully healed Devon was alone on the now fixed staircase, feeling better than she had ever felt.

Adam snapped dutily to her hand. “Alright.” he admitted, “This is the one.”

Hearing the booming sound of Hailien’s footsteps, Devon wasted no time in running up the stairs, opening the hatch, and-

For the first time in four months, she saw the sky. While a scarce commodity in Gutworth, they were lucky enough to be next to the aquatic conifer tree, it’s immense size to the large hole of sky that was directly above it.

Blurred and lightened by the distance, Devon could still make out the scarlet light of dawn. The way the sunbeams probed the sea with shining clarity was beautiful. She closed her eyes and felt a heat that was often so absent before today she thought it was a myth.

When she opened her eyes the sailor with the red glasses was in front of her, looking gobsmacked. “By the Grand, she did it. She fucking did it.” He turned, cupping his hands to his mouth “Hey assholes, she’s out!”

The others soon joined him, stopping what they were doing (nothing of much importance) to huddle around her. They had not seen her since their first meeting, and conversation quickly shifted to how much muscle she had put on.

“My god, it looked like she ate the Captain.” The one with the blond pigtails said, checking the hatch. Hailien’s head poked out, struggling to get her much larger frame out of the small opening.

“Why are you guys so surprised?” Devon said with a smile. “It’s only been a few days.”

“Uh…” The large one she had beaten in the fight before took the bait. “It’s been like… 4 months?”

Devon overdid her faux surprise, gaping her mouth open in shock. “No. It can’t be…” This prank was something she had been preparing for weeks and through mental repetition it had become considerably heightened. “I left my poor crywolf Triskele all alone, with nary a bowl of food or any water. She must be starving!”

“Oh no, did you leave the door open at least? They can be resourceful animals.” The one with the neck covered said, seeming to believe her.

“No, I keep it locked. But… there is a window she could have broken through…” She gasped, bringing her hand up to her head like she was about to faint. “But there’s so many pits in my backyard! It’s awful! Why, she’s never experienced a pit filled environment before, she would fall in almost immediately, no one’s taught her the dangers of chasms!!!”

“Oh no.” Pigtails said, eyes going wide. “Oh no, oh no!”

The large one was panicking, totally believing this. “We gotta turn this ship around and feed her wolf!!!”

“Ah, it’s fine” Devon said, suddenly bored with the bit. “I’m sure she’s found a pack of other strays, I’m sure I’m not the only neglectful pet owner. Yucian’s dead, so she can’t make a coat out of my poor little Triskele either way. You know, there’s actually-“

“Who’s that?” They all turned to Hailien, staring and pointing at something beyond Devon and the crowd of sailors.

She was pointing at a woman leaning on the railing of the ship, keeping herself to the periphery of this scene. She was dressed similar to the other sailors, but Devon had never seen her before. Greasy black hair, tall nimble build, a bit of muscle, and a smile that suggested secrets. Something about her reminded Devon of herself.

”Stumble, you know the orders in regards to passengers.”

“Apologies captain, she came to us in the night about a, uh, month ago, we couldn’t say no.” Stumble said, “She’s another refugee, like Devon. Things have gotten bad in Gutworth, and she’s been helping us out for a while now. We meant to tell you but-“

“Please, let me speak for myself Stumble, I do owe her an explanation.” The woman said, pushing Stumble aside in a manner strangely gentle. She seemed to have a pull among the crew, they all gave her space, none of them objecting to the way she had commandeered the conversation.

Instead of addressing Hailien, she turned to Devon, as if she was the only one that mattered. “Hello there Devon Near, happy to make your acquaintance. My name is Tremble Neverworthy. I used to know Adam, the one whose remark you hold.” She did a curtsy, followed by a giant step forward straight into Devon’s personal space.

”Gah!” Devon said, involuntarily. Tremble touched Devon’s hand, Adam hot in her grip. She hummed to herself, weirdly pleased to be so close to him (to them?) “We were very close friends, me and him. Inseparable even.”

In her head, Adam used a phrase she had never heard him use before. “Crawl Shit.”