DeathWatch No. 161 – You Are My Blood

This is Issue #161 of DeathWatch, an ongoing Serial. Click that link to go find ‘DeathWatch’ then go to ‘#0 – A Beginning’ and read from there, or go find the issue # you remember, and catch up from there!

Happy Reading!

PREVIOUS

* * *

“What is this?” Garrett said, frustrated. “We cannot stay here. We are all injured, and–”

“Silence, Westlander,” Summus Nixus sighed. “I am transporting you north. There are horses north of us. I’m escorting you to the northern borderlands.”

“Why would you do something like that?” Garrett wondered, frowning.

“I would do anything my brother asked of me,” Summus Nixus said, matching Garrett’s frown, glaring at him. “He and I don’t always agree, but he is my blood. Family is of the utmost importance,” she said, looking back to Coryphaeus. Cory kept his eyes on Nixus, awed and grateful for her response, for her presence; after their brief reunion, she helped him up and said, “Come, brother. Let me take you to–”

“Them. You’re taking them. Full north, and then come back. The city… the city will be weak,” he explained, wincing as he let her touch the wound along his side. “It will need someone of your strength. The Guardian, if he lives, will need you,” he said quietly.

“It will live,” Garrett said darkly.

“You’ll live,” Nixus said to Coryphaeus. “Come,” she insisted. “Lets get to the horses,” she instructed him, trying to pull him along.

Squeezing her hand, Coryphaeus said “No, Nixus. Take them, and leave me.”

“Leave you?” Nixus repeated, looking incredulous. “Coryfrater, are you drunk on aetheris?”

“I have to do this, Nixus, please,” the Legatus said, looking pained.

“Whatever it is you’re doing, get on with it,” Garrett groused. “Time’s wasting, and everyone is still bleeding. I have contacts in the borderlands. If you can get us that far, we’ll be out of your hair.” He moved to pick up Sha, but Nixus rolled her eyes and did it, pulling the body up into her arms and then throwing it over her shoulder to carry it like a side of meat. He moved to pick up Kieron, more gentle about it, but ending up holding him in the same fashion.

“It’s her, hm? Your toy?” Nixus’s expression was piercing; she stared at Coryphaeus without flinching, holding Sha without complaint.

Coryphaeus kissed his sister on the cheek, saying, “You are my blood. I told you everything in my letter. Think of me what you will, but I swear I am doing all that I can to be honorable — to not bring shame upon our family.”

“She’ll ruin you,” Nixus said quietly. “She will ruin you, I fear.” She offered out a hand to help him up, even as she was holding Sha. “I can’t allow her to do such a thing, Coryfrater. Not for the sake of shame, but because you are my brother, and I will destroy anyone who tries to hurt you.”

“Let me have this,” Coryphaeus said softly, helped to stand. “As your brother, I am asking you to let me come to this in my own way. I must learn the best way to honor my promises, or I am nothing.”

Garrett watched them talk, feeling his impatience grow; he tamped it down the longer he held Kieron, knowing his own strength and reserves were suffering after the hard-fought battle in the hunting grounds. He looked from Coryphaeus to the woman he called Nixus and back again, and narrowed his eyes as he struggled to make sense of the details he was seeing.

Ego semper amo te,” Nixus said, reaching one hand to grab the back of Cory’s neck, pulling him forward, touching forehead to forehead. “Coryfrater,” she whispered. “Whatever happens with her, you are my brother. Come back to me, yes? Come home.”

“I will.”

Garrett looked at the perfect symmetry of their features, the dark curls, the full of their lips, and wondered if fraternal twins could look so alike as to be mirrors. It was only the most subtle lines and angles between the two that let him see their differences.

Coryphaeus turned to go, walking with a pained hunch, looking exhausted. He paused, on his leaving, to look over his shoulder and say, “Oh, and Nix?”

“Yes, Cory?”

“Don’t trust anyone from Tenebrae, soror?”

“Tenebrae?” Nixus said, snorting. “We who dwell in Ilona stay out of the shadows, Coryfrater.”

Coryphaeus laughed ever so faintly and limped away.

* * *

Kieron’s head throbbed; he rolled over with a groan, and the sound came out was broken, wretched. He planted his hands beneath him, and felt the solid, swaying presence of a ship’s deck under his fingertips. He licked his lips and opened his mouth to speak, but someone else beat him to it.

“Where is he? What happened?” Sha sounded groggy, lost.

“Stay down.” Kieron knew that was Garrett.

“Tell me where he is. Tell me what happened–”

“Stay down!”

There was a brief struggle, but Kieron sat up, clutching his head, his eyes wide as he took in the site of Garrett carefully pinning down Sha, who was bandaged, furious, staring up at him. “Let. Go. I don’t care how good of an assassin you are,” she growled.

“Captain–” Kieron began, looking concerned.

“Don’t, Brody. My head hurts. I ain’t in a listening mood, and this bastard won’t fucking tell me what I want to know,” she hissed.

“Sha–” Kieron tried again, feeling his heart climbing up into his throat. All he could picture was that one bloody hand, reaching up for him, Nathan’s face already lost in the shadow, in the mist. All he could see, over and over and over again, was the ledge, muddied and torn up from the fight, the grass pulled loose, the last patch of earth scored in five lines where five fingers clawed desperately to hold on — and then fell, anyway.

“Where is he?” Sha roared, arching her back, staring up at Garrett, seething. “WHERE IS NATHAN?”

“He fell!” Kieron sobbed. “I couldn’t catch him!”

“You couldn’t catch–” Sha began, looking to Kieron, wild-eyed and furious, confused. It registered, after a moment, what Kieron said, and she reacted as if struck, flinching back and laying down against the boards. She stared up at Garrett for a moment, then turned her head toward Kieron, looking him over.

Kieron, for his part, wrapped his arms around himself and wept — first, Jet, then Hana, then Djara, now Nathan. All of them, dead, all because of his stupid decisions and his inability to set things right. He clenched his jaw shut and choked back the sobs that threatened to overwhelm him, squeezing his eyes shut to keep the tears from coming. Don’t cry. You can’t cry. You’re a fucking soldier now, you stupid little boy. You don’t get to cry.

“Brody,” Sha called. “Brody, stop–” She moved to sit up, but Garrett was still holding her down. More than frustrated, she said, “Look. I can follow orders, if you’re commanding, but that’s my cadet you’re keeping me from, and unless you’ve got a brig to put me in–” And here, she paused, while Garrett leaned in, looking at her. “–LET ME GO!” she shouted, leaning up to crack her forehead against Garrett’s already broken nose.

He reeled back, cursing colorfully, clapping a hand to his face, and Sha rolled away, immediately moving to put her hands on Kieron’s cheeks. “Look at me!” she barked. “Cadet!”

Kieron flinched, hiccuping, but then his eyes went huge as someone else walked in to the room, ducking slightly, to get through the door.

“Alec,” boomed the large, blonde, bearded man, his expression wry. “This is not an effective manner of assisting your soldiers.”

* * *

NEXT

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Flesh

Body
Corpse
Prison
It’s all the same–
just rot there
while your head and heart disagree
while the world moves on around you
while you wait for something that cannot ever come
Yes
Yes
Yes, my —
Shhhh
It’s all right
I am the only one
who knows you
and will love you
the way you
need
(Just like I need)
Please
pick me?

Posted in Fiction | 4 Comments

Confession/Reconciliation

Bless me, Father,
for I have sinned.
It has been lifetimes
since my last confession.
I have an evil inside me,
a blackness,
a despair and misery
I cannot contain or control.
It lives, bubbling up, a wellspring,
an unending font.
It seeks to surround
all the things I know and love,
and drown them in darkness,
drown them in hatred,
drown them in loathing.
I have a sucking void
within the bottom of me.
I have an emptiness.
I have a nothing.
I have nothing.
I am nothing.
Liberate me, Father,
from my chains,
lift me from my darkness;
carry me into your heart,
into the light.
Whatever penance be,
I shall do it,
to ease this cold fire
that smothers my heart.

Posted in Poetry | 3 Comments

DeathWatch No. 160 – Won’t You Be Punished?

This is Issue #160 of DeathWatch, an ongoing Serial. Click that link to go find ‘DeathWatch’ then go to ‘#0 – A Beginning’ and read from there, or go find the issue # you remember, and catch up from there!

Happy Reading!

PREVIOUS

* * *

The wailing from the Princess’s chambers rose and fell; Lucida could not be soothed. To have lost both her brother and her husband — it was too much. Gemma tried to talk to her, but in the end, she was given both aetheris and sleeping draughts, and fell into a long and restless slumber. Guards stood watch, and Gemma stayed beside her, silent, praying.

Secta took Jules to a servant’s chambers, and gave her fresh clothing to wear, including headscarves to cover herself, so that she would not stand out.

While he was helping to dress her, Jules was silent; she watched him with wide eyes, sometimes curious, sometimes frightened.

Secta was kind and slow and gentle and careful; he didn’t touch Jules without warning her — “I’m going to wrap this around your waist,” or “I’m going to put my hand on your shoulder,” and once, even, “Can I lift your hair off your neck?”

She nodded, at that one, and flushed as she felt tears roll down her cheeks. The fact that he was so strangely kind was almost more painful than the wounds on her back.

When she was dressed; Secta gave her a bag with food and water, money and unguent for her burns. He offered his hand to her, kind and gentle all the while, and led her all the way to the palace gates. Once they were there, he released her and said, “You’re a hated person, here in this place. I cannot change that for you. But I can give you this much.”

Quare… Quare hoc facere? Why are you doing all this?” Jules wondered, flipping between Ilonan and her normal tongue. “Why would you help me?”

“I told you, little Krieg,” Secta said, looking pained as he took her out to the steps themselves, away from anyone who might overhear their brief conference. “We are not all monsters, here. I must behave that way, if I profess to believe that way. I love my city. I love my Guardian. But I do not love what has been done to you or your people.” As the palace was still in the midst of being locked down, there were citygoers and courtiers all over; guards were in the middle of organizing everything, trying to keep the area calm — but the city itself was already in an uproar.

“Won’t you be punished?” Jules wondered, looking worried. “For letting me go? For helping me?” she asked.

“Not likely. The Prince is dead. My Guardian may be, as well,” he said, his voice unsteady as he plainly spoke those facts. “You’ve escaped in the chaos, for all I know. You’re a resourceful one, certainly,” he said, his pale eyes holding to her, his lips nearly curved into a smile.

Gratias tibi,” Jules said, her expression earnest, her hand reaching to catch his once more, and squeeze it tightly. “I… I wish I could somehow repay you.”

“Hold in your heart the knowing that not every Ilonan is made of monstrous stuff. Would it not be wondrous if our two peoples could coexist?” Secta said, tears in his eyes. “Perhaps if you and I meet again one day, little Krieg, you will show me mercy.”

“Wondrous,” Jules repeated, nodding. “It would be wondrous indeed. And if we should meet again, Ilonan, and you are at my hand… I will not show you mercy–”

Secta did not flinch, but the corners of his mouth turned down a bit, in earnest sadness. He began to nod.

Jules continued, “–I will show you friendship.”

* * *

North of the city jungle’s wall, Coryphaeus and Garrett marched, carrying their burdens, still in a dense forest, trudging on silently. They went side by side when they could, or at times, Garrett led, and then Coryphaeus led. It was still dark, and it was still raining; the world seemed a wild, wide open place, and Garrett loathed the vulnerability of this escape.

It was not long before the trees thinned, and when the sound of hooves could be heard, Garrett hunched down, and moved to pull his gun, baring his teeth. In the dark, it was hard to tell friend from foe.

“Put it away,” Coryphaeus said dully, and carefully set down Kieron to wave down the horse and rider. “I knew I would be found out. I knew Immanis would send me to the Hunt. I had hoped I would be able to escape, but I knew I would be wounded, at best, and so I sent word to someone I hoped might still, after hearing news of my shame, wish to be loyal to me.”

The horse drew up, and the helmed rider reined it in. “Ave, Legatus!” the officer cried, giving a wave to the small, tattered grouping.

Ave,” Coryphaeus said exhaustedly.

Tibi appares sicut stercore,” the soldier said, swinging a leg over, and moved to get down.

Garrett still held his gun, not at all ready to relax. He stepped in front of Kieron, ready to protect his charge at all costs. He could feel his heart thundering in his chest, could still hear the distant roar of the waterfall, the sound of night birds, the sounds of a hundred thousand things that could be enemies. He was all tension, all nervous energy, all wound, a tight spring that might be loosed at any instant.

The soldier walked by him without looking his way, and approached Coryphaeus.

“I know I look like shit,” Coryphaeus grunted, hanging his head. He moved to carefully take a knee before the soldier, wincing in pain and effort.

Stulti,” the officer said. He shook his helmeted head, and moved to lay a gauntlet-covered hand atop the Legatus’s head.

“And I am a fool,” Coryphaeus admitted. “But you came.”

The officer nodded, quietly saying, “Veni. Propter Te.”

“Not for me,” Coryphaeus said, looking over at Garrett. “For them. Get them out of Ilona.”

Iam de Ilona,” the officer said, looking confused, gesturing at the gate.

“Please,” Coryphaeus said, lifting his face, looking up at the officer. “Placere, Summus.”

The officer stared down Coryphaeus for a long time, before finally removing the concealing helmet, and letting it fall to the side. She knelt, as well, pulling Coryphaeus into her arms and embraced him, saying, “Soror. Ego soror tua, Coryfrater.”

* * *

NEXT

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Tension

His teeth bit down against the gag; she loved to watch him work his jaw against it, as if his perfect teeth could chew through the reinforced leather. She loved the way it kept his mouth open, made his even breathing vocal and unsteady, raw. His breath came harder; he panted and squirmed, pulling at the restraints around his wrists and ankles. The sound of the chains rang against her ears. He struggled to breathe more fully, more peacefully, aching to sink into a glassy-eyed space of complete surrender.

Just as he’d reached it, the whip came down, a flurry of cracking, stinging blows that licked against his bared skin. The rhythm of it soon rocked his hips; he groaned against the gag, writhing, and turned his face into the cot, briefly, stifling his own cry. The tension winding slowly within him made the shackles bite into his wrists and ankles; he felt himself pulled, twisting, turning, struggling to find some relief from the agony that had grown from smoldering ember to full-on inferno.

She paused in the rhythm of the whipping; he clenched his fists, tense.

He knew what came next.

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