Dirt glanced at the door and decided his best chance lay in preventing harm by resisting it, not escaping. There was no telling what had compelled the door to close, or how hard it would be to open. Indeed, the blocked window might be a better point of escape. He had only enough time to glance around the room a few times before the man came into view, ascending the stairs with eager steps.
The moving corpse looked very much alive, although his skin was perhaps too pale to be convincing. Other than that, his black hair was smooth with a bit of oil and combed neatly, as were his pointed beard and mustache, under which the visible part of his lips looked rather blue. He wore a long black-and-silver tunic that reached to his knees, with a buttoned collar and embroidery down the middle. His pants were tight cloth that hugged the shape of his calves, and his shoes were handsome leather with pointed toes.
“A child?” he said, turning his face back down the stairs to address Servant. “Wherever did you find one?”
The homunculus simply replied, “He is your guest.”
“Ah well,” said the corpse, looking back to Dirt, with a charming smile that stopped short of revealing his teeth. “Pardon my manners. Welcome to my home, little one. Did you come alone?”
The intervening years had changed the man’s face so much that only the eyes looked familiar. He had been overweight before and was thin as a twig now. The jaw was larger, his cheeks sunken and his blue lips tight and thin instead of full. Even the body language had changed.
But the eyes, those were familiar. If this really was dear old Caeso, then the knowledge he held would be invaluable. He had been here for the breaking and knew what Avitus was doing. Perhaps even how, and where it went wrong. That was knowledge Dirt might badly need if he ever wanted to try fixing things. Still, it might be best not to introduce himself right way, in case the corpse reacted as Prisca had. Perhaps not ever.
“Caeso?” asked Dirt.
The man arched his eyebrows in surprise and paused. “Hm? How by the gods could you… Ah, you have been reading my notes, you naughty boy. Although one wonders where you learned to read?”
“Answer my question first. Are you Caeso? Caesius Sornatius Vala?” said Dirt. He inhaled mana, holding his mind sharp and ready to react as soon as the corpse made its move.
“I am indeed. The very man. What a surprise! You read, and you speak the ancient tongue. Tell me, little boy, where did you come from?” said the corpse. He took an easy step forward, not quite to the center of the room, and stood with his hands behind his back in a deceptively unthreatening posture.
Dirt said, “Turicum, I suppose.” He frowned in pity, more and more certain that this was indeed his friend. A lost friend, but a beloved one, all those years ago. Now, perhaps all that was left of the love between them was the duty to put down an abominable corpse.
“I doubt that very much,” said Caeso. He tilted his head slightly to the side, regarding Dirt in a way that looked rather like a curious wolf. Dirt’s lights, through no intention of his own, flickered and took on a reddish hue, which reflected on all the brass work and polished stone to give the room a stuffy, warm appearance despite the chill air. “I answered your question freely, and now you will answer mine. I ask you again. Did you come alone?”
“No, my friends Socks and Antelmu are nearby,” said Dirt.
“Socks? Is your friend a cat?” asked Caeso, eyes sparkling with a hint of amusement.
“No, he’s a wolf. And that makes two answers for you, and one for me. My next question is, how did you become like this?”
The corpse froze, his eyes fixed on Dirt, unwavering. Dirt wished he could see the man’s thoughts, but dead things had no minds. Dirt wasn’t sure where to put the most mana. Where would the attack come, since it surely would? The throat? The stomach? The eyes?
“Became like what, exactly? No, wait; that is not another question. I received the brand. That is your answer,” said Caeso. His tone of voice was measured and careful. “Now it is your turn. I find myself very curious about you, little boy. But I don’t want to waste a precious question on your mere name. It will probably be something like Scruffy or Runt.”
“Dirt. I’ll give you that one for free.”
“Of course it is,” said Caeso, doubting.
“My name really is Dirt. That’s not a lie, or evasive.”
Caeso stepped forward and to the side, just a bit closer, but circling. He viewed Dirt from an angle now. “Is that a praenomen or a cognomen?”
“A cognomen. No family.”
“I see.”
The longer Dirt watched, the more unsettling it was. Dirt might have known there was something off about Caeso even if he didn’t know the man was dead. The way he stared, the way he walked. Dirt had spent enough time around predators to recognize one. The two didn’t quite know what to make of each other, and Dirt supposed that only being interesting was keeping Caeso from attacking him already.
“How do you speak the ancient tongue? That is my next question.”
“Why do you ask?” said Dirt.
“Because there are very few left who can and I was sure I knew them all. Now answer!” said Caeso. He didn’t quite shout, but raising his voice had the effect of making the room seem to flex and bend.
“I think my parents probably taught me, just like everyone else. I don’t remember them, though. They’re long gone,” said Dirt, shying back. Should he get up from his chair, just to be more mobile? Or would that make it too obvious?
“How long gone?” said Caeso, insistently.
“Is that another question?” asked Dirt. He met the corpse’s gaze, although it was largely to watch for sudden motion.
The corpse stared, considering, then said, “I think I already know. No, I am certain. Your accent is perfect, and you have knowledge of our ways. I listened to the ancient tongue change and decay and vanish over thousands of years. It is gone now. I watched it myself!”
Dirt’s hand crept to his knife, but not all the way. Caeso’s eyes flicked downward when he noticed, and Dirt stopped. The moment he touched the handle would be the end of the conversation.
Caeso took a step forward, seeming to grow larger, looming as he drew closer. “Then, how? How did you retain the blush of life all this time?”
“Your thinking is too narrow, I’m afraid. I haven’t been alive for three thousand years,” said Dirt.
“How do you know that number? And my name; you know me. What are you?” shouted Caeso. The more animated he grew, the less human he looked. His eyes widened but they looked flat and dead, like a fresh corpse’s. His lips drew back to reveal sharp teeth set in withdrawn, pale gums. His skin tightened around his face, like there wasn’t quite enough of it.
“Is that a question? Isn’t it my turn?” said Dirt. He stood, rather than let the corpse get any closer and pin him down. He circled slowly. They both knew where this conversation would end.
With seeming great difficulty, Caeso calmed back down somewhat, although he didn’t close his mouth all the way. Dirt could still see him hungrily running his dry tongue across his teeth. “It is your turn. Ask your next question.”
“I saw another name in your notes. Someone named Avitus. What do you think of him?” said Dirt. He held his breath, hoping against reason for a positive answer.
Again, the question froze Caeso in place. But not for very long, as his lips curled into a sneer. He scowled down at Dirt, only a few steps away now.
“You ask the most curious questions, little boy,” spat Caeso. Dirt could watch the man waver between striking and continuing the conversation. His curiosity, so far, was weightier than his hunger. “Why are you pretending not to know who he was?”
“I didn’t say whether I knew him. I just asked what you thought of him,” said Dirt.
“Do not speak like a lawyer with me! Who or what sent you?” shouted Caeso.
“Why would you think someone did?” said Dirt. “Just tell me what you think of Avitus!”
“Why would I think someone sent you? Do you take me for a simpleton? You wandered into the Turris Solis speaking the ancient tongue and asked me about the days of the Empire. You hardly spoke a word before you began giving yourself away. You even summoned magical lights instead of bringing a lamp! How many still live who can do that?” said Caeso loudly. The walls shuddered to help emphasize his words. “The only question is why. Why! Why! Are you a gift? Or a trap?”
“I’m a trap,” said Dirt. “I want to leave.”
“No, you will tell me!” said Caeso as he lunged forward, but Dirt was ready. He drew the knife and gave a mana-infused leap to the side in the same motion, landing on the far end of the room between a small table and a red chair.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Caeso snarled, his face growing monstrous again. He dove toward Dirt, fingers out like claws to grab him. The corpse moved faster than any human Dirt had ever seen, crossing from one end of the room to the other in an instant. Dirt jumped to the side to dodge again, but Caeso changed the angle of his run and caught Dirt’s wrist. He shook it and squeezed to get him to drop the knife.
Dirt resisted with mana, which sparked and buzzed as Caeso’s incredible strength tried to crush the bones. He pulled to get away, but couldn’t. He pushed more mana into his arm and pulled again.
Caeso stepped back and used his leverage to yank Dirt off his feet and slam him against the wall. He pressed his hand into Dirt’s throat, pinning him there. He opened his mouth to speak again, thinking he’d won, but Dirt raised his knee and gave the corpse a solid shove right in the chest, infused with enough mana to jump right over Socks.
The corpse was flung back, sliding on the polished floor until he hit a carpet and stopped. Dirt threw the knife and Caeso only had to dodge a finger’s width to evade it.
Caeso stepped forward, face stretched and pained with ferocity. Dirt snatched the knife with his mind and yanked it, point first, into the back of the corpse’s neck. The blade went right through without the slightest sound and stuck out from the bump in his throat.
“Whoever sent you prepared you poorly,” said Caeso, his voice ruined by the blade, raspy and weak. He left the knife where it was and didn’t bleed. Not a drop.
The corpse shot forward, fist like it had been flung by a sling, right into Dirt’s stomach. Only being prepared with mana saved him, but the force was tremendous and sent him hurtling into a chair, which shattered beneath him.
Dirt rose, dusting himself off, and looked up at a very surprised Caeso, fist still held forward. Dirt ran forward and punched his reply, but the corpse lightly pushed the back of his wrist and guided the punch into empty air. Then he elbowed Dirt in the side of the face and followed it up with a kick to the ribs. Dirt toppled and bounced twice before he slid, right into another chair at the other end of the room, near the stairs.
“You must tell me, boy. What are you? Who sent you?” said Caeso, sounding impressed. He even gave a respectful nod when Dirt got back up and inhaled a fresh charge of mana to replace his stores, which had diminished precipitously.
“I just wanted to see what was in here,” said Dirt. “Nothing more.” He yanked the knife out of Caeso’s neck with his mind, but before he could strike again, the corpse spun and snatched in from the air and Dirt lost his mental grip. The wound in his neck closed on its own and his voice returned to normal.
Caeso paced with smooth and deliberate steps, ready to react in an instant. He held the blade up, where he could look at it and still see Dirt. “Just a tourist, with one of these. And where did a clueless little boy get a Precursor blade?” He threw the knife and Dirt dodged away. It buried itself to the hilt in the stone, right between where Dirt’s feet had been.
“Pick it up,” commanded the corpse. “I like it better when there’s some spark in your blood.”
Dirt snatched it with a mental yank, and brought it back to his hand. He raced forward, arm high with a slice. Caeso stepped easily to the side and gave Dirt the gentlest of nudges on the shoulder, throwing him completely off balance.
Swing after wild swing, and each time the corpse dodged or deflected with a single hand. Dirt tried tripping him with his mind, but the corpse kicked through it and sent the force rebounding into Dirt’s stomach, which felt like a goblin punch and knocked the wind out of him.
Caeso picked Dirt up by the collar, spun in a complete circle, and threw Dirt against the wall. Dirt turned at the last instant to take the blow with his back instead of his head, but even so, the mana inside him flared hard as it struggled to protect his bones and innards.
He inhaled more just as Caeso stepped over and grabbed him by the back of the collar again, lifted him overhead, and smashed him down into the ground head first. The mana flared so hard keeping his brains in that Dirt was sure it was visible in the room. He scrambled back, panting, inhaling mana as fast as he could.
“You are truly the worst fighter I have ever seen,” said Caeso. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you fight like a child.”
Dirt frowned and yanked the rocks out of the window with his mind. He flung them one by one at Caeso, who simply caught them and set them down. The man’s arms moved faster than Dirt could follow with his eyes. Indeed, Dirt might be able to move that fast with mana, but not so consistently. Mana didn’t make his mind go faster, after all.
“I’ll tell you what I am if you tell me what you are,” said Dirt. The mana protecting him was doing its job imperfectly. He was able to keep himself from being seriously damaged, but his guts still felt shaken and he was sore. His mana lights wavered, their light thinning until he brightened them again. He couldn’t keep this up forever.
Caeso ignored that, but must have seen that Dirt was showing signs of weakening. He grinned eagerly, hungrily, and held his hands up. His fingertips stretched and grew into sharp points, giving him knife-edge claws, pale as bone in contrast with his black tunic. “You’re sturdier than expected. Let’s try cutting.”
“Socks!” shouted Dirt in his mind, but no answer came. And now that he looked, his mental sight found nothing at all, not a single mind. Not even Antelmu. How far had he gone?
The corpse stepped forward, displaying his claws, as Dirt scooted backward until he hit the wall. He held the knife forward in both hands, trying to be ready.
Caeso laughed and kept coming. He kept his hands away from Dirt’s wild swings, and when Dirt rolled and tried a mana-infused jump to get away, he snatched Dirt by the ankle, right out of midair, and flung him across the room into the far wall again, opposite the window.
Dirt braced himself for impact and managed to avoid getting hurt, but the corpse was already across the room. He caught Dirt by the wrist with the knife in it and held him up. Dirt kept his grip on the knife, but felt the little bones slide apart and send as much mana as he could.
Caeso pulled his other arm back, making sure Dirt saw it all, and pointed one knife-like finger at Dirt’s open palm. Then he thrust so fast Dirt shrieked and punched right through the skin. The mana Dirt had sent there kept the point from going all the way through, but it broke the skin and a line of blood dripped down, red on white. Caeso licked it with his dry, leathery tongue.
Dirt struggled and squirmed as Caeso sucked at the wound, licking it with his cold tongue, which grew slick and slimy and turned Dirt’s stomach. It felt nothing like being licked by Socks.
For the first time, Dirt began to consider seriously that he was about to die. So much for being the strongest human. Somehow, it didn’t all seem quite real, and the terror he should be feeling hadn’t quite lodged itself in his heart yet.
With a contented sigh, the corpse pulled his head back and smiled widely. His teeth were all red with Dirt’s blood, and when he inhaled to speak, his breath smelled wet and rotten. It’d had no scent at all before.
“You never told me what you thought of Avitus,” said Dirt.
“Oh, is that your dying wish? Or are you stalling to wait for rescue? None will come, child. Nothing can enter here,” said Caeso. Flecks of Dirt’s blood flew from the corpse’s lips as he spoke and landed on Dirt’s face. Strangely, not a drop had collected in his beard. Dirt supposed it was too precious to waste.
“Just tell me.”
“Why do you want to know that, of all things? Is the creature that sent you a historian? Was that your task? To research the breaking of the world and the banishment of the gods?”
“They were banished? Is that what happened?”
“You are truly a perplexing little creature, Dirt, or whatever your true name is. I know now you are indeed a mere boy, but your blood doesn’t have as much fear in it as I expected. Are there more like you? If so, I have been resting for too long,” said Caeso. He leaned in and slurped the pooling blood, then licked Dirt’s palm greedily to clean it. Dirt almost retched.
“Only me,” said Dirt.
“Do all little boys learn magic these days?”
“Only me,” said Dirt.
“It has been a very, very long time since I tasted mana-infused blood. I am starting to think I’ll want to keep you alive for a while. What do you think of that?”
Dirt reminded himself once more that this abominable corpse had been his friend, once. One he’d kept in touch with right until the end. Pity had its place in Dirt’s heart and kept the terror at bay. Poor old Caeso, become something so wretched.
Caeso must have seen something in Dirt’s gaze that didn’t please him. The room visibly shrank and Dirt’s lights all winked out, save one. The knife in Dirt’s hands turned to sand and sifted through his surprised fingers.
“What…?” muttered Dirt. Fear struck him then, genuine fear. He hastily gazed at his mana body, hoping to detect some working of magic that he could understand or undo. Caeso had a presence in the world of magic, one which was beginning to fill with power. There were hints of something going on, but it was too subtle for Dirt to make out, and might have just been a reflection, not a cause.
“This is my domain, child. In this place, I am a god. Ah, yes! There it is! The scent of fear. You are growing more delicious.” Caeso stared deeply into Dirt’s eyes, and Dirt watched in growing horror as the rictus skin of his face grew more supple, as the dead eyes filled with life and moisture.
Dirt’s single light winked out, even though he felt the tiny mana connection still active. Despite the darkness, he found he could see. Caeso’s eyes, unwavering, penetrating, demanded his attention, and behind the corpse’s head, the room continued to change. Bloody spikes creaked out of the walls as it all closed in further. The red furniture was moist now, dripping, soaking with blood. It dripped from everything and pooled on the floor, where it bubbled and swirled. Unknowable things swam in it, lumpy shapes.
The only light was above them. A pale one, flickering, but white. White enough to make everything redder. But whatever else was happening, Dirt couldn’t look away from Caeso’s eyes.
Fear was inflicted on him. It came not only from inside himself, but from outside, like it was forced down his throat. He was too scared to even scream, too petrified with fear to move. And there was nothing to see but the corpse’s eyes, flashing now with lightning, dripping with blood in place of tears. Beneath those eyes, a vicious smile of teeth too long and sharp to be real, but Dirt couldn’t look away.
Only the tiniest portion of Dirt’s wits remained, just enough to wonder where his lights went. They were all still there, shining nowhere in a shrinking, blackening room. How could any of this be real? Was it? Or was it all a dream?
That one thought, that it was a dream, snagged somehow on Dirt’s mind, like a leaf floating on a stream that caught on a branch and stayed in place. It all felt unreal, except what was inside himself. The fear was real, and the cut on his palm was real. But the rest?
“Apkallu? Apkallu?” muttered Dirt, in a different tone of voice each time. Was the fae man involved here somehow? “Apkallu?”
The fairy appeared in the room, right behind Caeso. The corpse felt his presence and shook slightly in startlement, then turned to see what it was.
“Interesting!” said Apkallu. “Our worlds are much closer here. Why do you call to me, Avitus?”
“Can you help me?” asked Dirt. “He’s going to kill me.”
Apkallu sighed sadly. “I’m sorry, my dear friend Avitus. This creature is too close to us and I cannot break this seeming for you. You’ll have to wake yourself.”
Caeso said, “What are you doing here? Be gone!”
The fae man ignored the dead one and added, “But I am pleased you called for me. This happens many times during your life. It is why we are friends.”
And with that, he vanished again and the space closed in around him, completing Caeso’s cursed dwelling once more.
Dirt struggled to force himself awake, but Caeso fixed his eye on him again and the pressure was too much to swim against. Perhaps if this had happened a few moments earlier, Caeso might pause and ask questions, but not now. He was too intent on his target, on subduing Dirt and filling him with unrestrained fear.
Resisting only got Dirt so far. In the waking world, he might perhaps beat anyone in a pure test of wills, but not in a dream-tainted one. Not against a being with such experience. He felt his blood boil inside him, so much fear it manifested as pain. Caeso’s grin grew wider.
Dirt took mental hold of one of his lights, still unseeable, and turned it into a flame. He poured all the mana into it that he was using to protect his legs, trying to grow it as large as he could.
A flicker of dismay crossed Caeso’s vision, and Dirt knew it was working. He just didn’t know exactly where the fire was. So what should he do with it?
The answer was obvious. He drew it toward himself until he felt the heat on his face, smelled how it singed long strands of his own stray hair. Dirt braced himself and pulled the fire against his cheek. His face erupted in pain. He screamed. The corpse’s enchantment fell apart around him.
-DIRT!- shouted Socks for the fiftieth time.