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wraps. That part
of her eagerly devoured the rising scream of her body in protest
but something
else registered. This pain was not a simple by-product of a
careless healing.
It was purely intentional. Her eyes dragged up to meet his
finally. When he
had eye contact he cinched down harder till he saw her jaw tick
and then, just
as suddenly, he let go.
"Now that I have your attention.. Let me tell you one thing
more. Those
women, the ones who bore within them the growing products of the
Project, were
taken outside of Lyeaz grounds and supposedly executed. But that
was not the
last we heard of the subjects. Apparently there were two or
three that
survived having been left for dead. Most thought it was a rumor,
a cautionary
tale told to Lyeazic children to keep them wary. That is, until
we found you.
And now we know.
"Your mother somehow survived and fled into Mentavnia and
beyond. She was
strong enough to bear you; one touched by Zhellarons gifts long
before your
birth. In the eyes of the Regents, you have redeemed that
madmans work. And
now they see fit to take up the Project again."
She watched his face impassively as he unfolded the story.
The pain faded
and that part of her that ached for it filed itself away. It
left her mind
free enough to consider what she was hearing.
This was how she came to be. Created. Not by two who cared
for each
other, but the product of orchestrated rape. That did not
surprise her. She
always suspected that the circumstances of her origin were dark,
but to have
been engineered . . .
Even if it did make sense why should she believe him?
Because it fit her
life, such as it was: a living nightmare. This would be a
fitting beginning to
it all. To come full circle and arrive at the place of her
beginning as she
now faced her end.
For she knew there was no way from this place save for
death. The
Quickning would not come.. if they did they would be captured,
killed or
broken just like her. She tilted her head at that last thought.
She could
remember a time when that thought would have caused her stomach
to plummet and
her heart to ache unbearably. But it was all so far and distant
now. She was
not the same. The person who had lived that life was gone.
A section of her mind railed against the thought patterns
of defeated
compliance.
~ No. This defeat is not you either. We will survive this.
There will be
a way out ~
She turned her mind away from the voice. It annoyed her
with its
insistence and promise. She wondered why she gave it any
credence what so
ever.. How much longer would lies sustain her? Nothing had
changed. At least
the voice that spoke of the glory of pain was pure and constant.
It did not
require any vague concepts such as faith hope love to
speak its truth.
Recognizing that it had been turned off, the split entity of
the voice
went elsewhere. If it would not be heard then there was another
that might be
roused.
Her thoughts where interrupted when a magus of the
Xuillarun and his
escort stepped into the room without so much as a word
announcing their
presence. The Mongrel recognized them immediately from the Labs.
This was on
of the mages that often forced shift on her. She snarled and
pushed away
from the Warder, trying to get away. But the Warder was quicker
and stronger
and held her still as they moved closer. The magus escort moved
to her side
opposite of the Warder and helped hold her down. She thrashed in
their grasp
and cried out knowing all too well what was about to happen. The
magus stepped
up when he felt she was sufficiently restrained and reached out
to place his
hand on her brow. She cringed from his touch as if it would
burn.
The magus voice was quiet as the low words thrummed and
swelled in her
head and spread a deceptive warmth through her body. And then
suddenly, like
the crystallization of a liquid to a solid form, the white hot
pain of forced
shift eclipsed her sending an anguished scream tearing from her
throat. The
shrillness of her voicмЅeВquick efficient hand pulled the binding tight over bone
and raw
flesh. It wrapped it around quickly, keeping ahead of the blood
soaking into
the bandages. The Warders hands worked mechanically as he
spoke. They encased
her arm with all the efficiency of a spider spinning a silken
cocoon about
prey.
"
had allowed this mad scholar to bring his theories to
fruition in a
project named for himself. But both the Synod and the Conclave
declared that
the subjects of his studies could not be Lyeazic. And so in
order to further
his studies he had slaves stolen from outside Shikul Lyeaz and
brought to
him. The Synod did allow him one concession in that it would be
Lyeazic seed
that would bring forth this sub-race."
The Warder now finished the wrapping of her forearm tightly
with the
clean strips of cloth. A quick bind spell served to staunch the
blood flow
after he had to shear off the jagged tips of the slivered bones
that had
become exposed and utilized as weapons during the fight. Her arm
was so
damaged that he considered cutting it off at the elbow but that
would take
more time and the Synod were waiting. Yet he continued to tend
her the wound
as he told the story of the Zhellaron Project.
"Taking from the most accomplished of Adge Kruix warriors,
Zhellaron
demanded that the chosen few would be the ones that would
produce a new class
of warrior. The eminence of the Immaculate Reach allowed for
this use of the
Adge Kruix, or so declared the Regents."
She wasnt really listening. His words were being heard and
processed but
at that moment it was one of the facets of her splintered mind
that directed
her awareness. That part of her focused her attention on the
jerk and firm
tension of the bandages as the Warder attended her arm. It
opened her up wide
to the influx of pain and drank deeply. It savored the
different sources, the
various textures, volumes and myriad of color that her body
registered as
pain. It bathed in the waves sent by abused neurons and thirsted
for more.
When the Warder had brought the Bane blade down on her arm the
only outward
reaction was the involuntary twitch of sinew and bone being
severed. Except
for the dilation of pupils her face was perfectly calm. She
watched intently
the grueling process of mending her arm as the Warder continued
his recounting
of the past.
"Zhellarons focus was the unborn babes. He poured his
talents into
magically imbuing them with powers and strengths that would
serve us all, or
so he claimed. But interestingly enough, every womb that was
laden with
Lyeazic seed seemed to produce strange twisted creatures. Most
did not live
once born. Those that did were quickly killed. It wasnt long
before
Zhellarons theories were found out for what they were; the
drivel of a mad
man. The Project was terminated. And he was executed as a
heretic."
The Warder had noted her wavering attention and continued
to talk.
Partially to see if she would return and out of his need to
explain what he
was about to do to her. He wondered to himself why he felt this
compelling
urge to let her know. It would make no difference in the
outcome. She was now
property of the Xuillarun and the Zaidain, the Regents. She had
been called
to service like any Adge Kruix.
"Those few surviving infants were killed along with their
mothers and any
of those women that were impregnated as well. All were taken
outside of Shikul
Lyeaz, executed and left unburied in Mentavnias back yard. Left
for
scavengers to pick at their bones.. The Lyeazic wanted to put
this dark mar on
them behind and act as if it never happened. "
Suddenly he grasped the well bound stump in a claw like
grasp, digging
his fingertips into the raw area. She watched dark circles form
under his
fingertips as blood welled to thee changed in mid-scream as vocal cords
changed along
with the rest of her body.
The differences in the anatomy warred over the terrain of
the body. The
forced form winning out by the influence of the magic wielded
over her. Still
the original form resisted. It used the strength of its matter
to hold the
shape as long as possible until the greater force wrenched it
and wrought
itself into the commanded being. And like all those times before
at the lab
she could not endure the rending of herself and blacked out.
Internal and
external changes happened at the same time throwing her body
into convulsive
jerks. Her frame began to elongate and bones thickened. Muscles
stretched and
looped thicker, winding and roping around the larger skeletal
structure.
Quick twitch dissolved to slow tension. Curves gave way to
angles. Hearing
returned at about the same time that vision did. The Mongrel
looked down on
herself to find he was now in his male form.
With the fury of one realizing what he has become, Thorne
launched
himself at the magus who had already backed away, expecting
such a reaction.
The only thing that prevented the Mongrel from catching him was
the Warder
and the magus escort who still held him. The Warder acted
quickly and
locking Thornes injured arm behind him drove him back down to
the cot. By
pressing a knee into the small of Thornes back the Warder kept
him pinned.
The magus looked on him with a sneer of disdain. "Listen,
Mongrel. It is for
a good reason you are in your male form. You will better serve
us that way."
He then turned to the Warder "Finish this! There is much to-"
" The Mongrel is still my charge until I deliver... him. Allow
me to do my
work and you will have your.. tool." He had cut off the mage
without even
looking up.
The magus did not care to be addressed in such a way by a
member of the Adge
Kruix but he did not care to remain in his company either. It
was enough of a
disgrace that he was the Xuillarun charged with coming to the
Adge Kruix
quarters to execute this menial task, but it was not his to
question. He had
performed his task now he would leave. He glared at his escort
and motioned
him to follow as he moved to the door. "Make your work quick
then, Warder. The
Infusion must be administered now, I will send a couple of
escorts to
retrieve
him." And with that the magus and his escort were
gone.
The Warder let up on his hold and stepped back a pace. When the
Mongrel
showed no signs of attacking he begin to speak; calmly, quietly,
-as if
nothing had just happened.
"As you well know, the Adge Kruix fight hard for their
station and so to
be involved in something like the Zhellaron project repulsed the
chosen. The
Regents, being ready for this rejection, made sure their will
met only with
compliance. Zhellaron concocted an infusion that would send
them into
temporary madness."
He began to unwrap the cloth from a cylindrical case.
From the case
slid a long needle, a vial, a slender reed, among other things.
He held up the
vial to the light. The liquid appeared clear until he gave the
vial a shake.
Thick tendrils of smokiness swirled about and eventually turned
the liquid
gray and cloudy. He then assembled the various parts that came
in the case to
form a syringe.
"It was blended with the perfect amount of anger, violence and
carnality
that the chosen warriors, once left with the subdued slaves,
turned on these
woman and violated them.. forcing Lyeazic seed into a lesser or
impure race to
produce a hybrid that would eventually serve Shikul Lyeaz."
He turned to look on Thorne. He wasnt sure if he words were
registering. It
seemed the Mongrel was lost in dark thoughts once again. His
face was clouded
in a darkness and stared off into the middle distance. The
Warder was able to
take only one step before Thorne was on him.
The fight was over before it started. The Warder had
allowed himself to
be attacked. When Thorne closed his hand around the Warders
throat and began
to squeeze he felt the needle sink in to his belly. The
Warders words where
a bit pinched issuing from a constricted throat. There was a
cold calm
assuredness about them and a bitter smile stretched across his
lips.
"And so, just as it was the stronger of the Adge Kruix
that were chosen
as those to contribute to the Zhellaron experiments in the past,
it is a noted
member of the Adge Kruix chosen now to resume the project."
"
.Kill
You
" The Rage spoke through Thorne. He seethed
with the fire
of a newly awakened fury. That part of him that manifested
itself in a half
wolven creature was given voice, even if it was blocked from
manipulating the
Shift. ~~ THEY DARE ?! NEVER! Ill KILL. ILL DIE TEARING THEM
APART! LET ME
FREE!! ~~
That bitter smile turned to a sneer as the Warder bared his own
teeth and
reached a hand up to peel Thornes fingers away from his throat.
He spoke
matter-of-factly. "No. You will not kill me. You will not kill
yourself -or
anyone else. You will see this is nothing you can escape. Try to
fight it at
first
I did when it happened to me all those years ago."
Again a hollow warmth began to be felt within the recesses of
Thornes
being. The Rage turned to meet it and push it back, to burn it
away if
possible. The antigens that Thorne had introduced into his body
when he was
leader of the Shadow Manta had long since been filtered away by
the diet that
the Lyeazic had administered.
"As the infusion takes you, you will know
You will see
now your place.
You are nothing: A tool for the Regents. Nothing more."
The slow blossoming of an alien awareness began to crowd
the edges of
his mind. It did not wither off and flee in the face of the
Rage. Instead it
grew. Thorne tensed and groaned. He used what little defensive
mental powers
he head to push back the growing murkiness.
" I told you, you cant fight it. Your identity has been
taken and
replaced with their will. Not even in your nightmares would you
dream of doing
what you are about to do." The Warders voice split his attention
from the
physical plane and the battle that occurred within himself.
The Mongrel snarled and violently shoved the Warder away from
him. He no
longer wanted to hear the Warder and so shut him out. He
staggered blindly to
a farther part of the room. His vision nearly gone for the
effort to
concentrated and fight that which threatened to completely erase
him. He
gathered to himself the voices within and tried to hold them. As
split as they
were they were the last part of himself.
The outside went silent as a wave crashed upon him. The alien
twisted anger,
so much different from the Rage rose up now asserting its
dominance. It
attempted to infuse the Rage and warp it from something pure to
something vile
and tainted. It was a deepening spiral of self-hatred and anger
that built on
itself.
The Rage was vibrant, pure raw energy that only needed
release through
the shift form. If let loose it would tear out and burn enemies
with its
might. The corrupted version of it which now nearly suffused his
form was
wretched, dark and loathsome. It wanted only to take, to
corrupt, to twist and
devour. It sought to exert its might over its host and consume
it until
nothing was left but the dire urge to darken everything it
touched with its
power.
The two Rages battled but the Darker one was winning. The
Infusion had
given it control of the body. The Rage could only thrash in fury
and howl
bitterly at its loss in the hollow recesses that had become the
Mongrels mind.
In the sole void not touched by the Dark Infusion his
consciousness was left
in the form of the splintered voices to be helpless witness to
what the
sinister influence would make them do.
As quiet as it was, the Warders voice followed him. Its
tone was cut
with a bitterness and an unreadable edge. "Do you think I had a
choice when
the Infusion coursed through me? Do you think I willingly forced
myself on
your mother? I was nothing. That is what you are now. . .
Nothing."
In that moment the Rage coalesced to a bright red point and
gave one final
push outward. The Mongrel roared and lunged at the Warder.
A jarring stinging flash of non-pain hit Thorne mid-chest
before he could
close the distance. It threw him back so he hit the wall. The
bane blade still
hissed and sizzled in the Warders hand as he watched Thorne
stumble to the
ground. The escorts sent by the mage rushed in at hearing the
bolt and crash
but the Warder held them where they stood with a quick
out-thrust arm.
The flash of Rage was gone. It had used itself up. Something
that at one
time would have sustained itself for long after its rising had
diminished to a
dim smoldering. That spark was now lost to the greater dark.
Thorne slowly pushed himself to a sitting position. Using
the wall as
support, he pressed his back against it. Gradually the
realization began to
settle upon him like a yoke. The Infusion left his mind clear
enough to gather
this while it slowly consumed what was left of him.
It was like knowing you were going to die. That cold,
brutal
inevitability. Except that death would have been preferable.
There was nothing
he could do. Not escape. Not fight. Not hide.
Why did he fight so hard? Why did it matter so much? Once
there was
someone he lived for. Someone he had made a promise to. There
used to be
someplace he had to return, where others who cared waited for
him. But was
that a memory or a dream? Maybe just lies to sustain his
existence here. An
illusion crafted by his splitting mind. Illusions or not, in the
end
everything was betrayed. In the end, every action brought him to
this.
The Dark Infusion took a hold of that last thought and
introduced
itself formally into the forward consciousness: ~~ If every
action brings me
to this
So be it. Someone will pay ~~
The escorts stepped forward as they saw the Infusion
begin to manifest
itself. It had become apparent in watching the Mongrels
expression cloud over
with a dark blankness. As the Warder saw the change in the
Mongrels mentality
he moved, and reached Thorne first. He grabbed him and brought
him roughly to
his feet but did not immediately release him to the mage guards.
The Warder
stood such that the mage guards couldnt move close enough to
hear. The Warder
shook him hard to gain that fleeting bit of lucidity needed for
him to relay
what he felt he must. He held tightly to The Mongrel digging his
fingers into
his arm.
"Khyaris!"
When he saw that Thorne looked on him with recognition,
he leaned close
and hissed intently, locking his eyes of glacier ice with those
of gray-green.
"Listen to me. What you are about to do is not you. Your
will is not
your own. You are a tool of the Synod. . . .because you are
nothing. Remember
this.
"Remember that you are nothing. Because if you are
nothing, then
nothing can touch you
Nothing is left now. That one that was
once you is gone.
After this is over I will be here to help you remember who you
are
and
perhaps even who you were. But now, for what you are about to
do. . .
"You are nothing.
"You are nothing
"You are nothing!"
He had seen in Thornes tear-blurred eyes the look of one
crumbling
under the weight of helpless rage, betrayal and overwhelming
despair. That
anguished awareness was erased in an instant by a deadly
blankness. He
released his vise-like grasp for he knew Thorne no longer heard
him. When he
had let go of the Mongrel the escorts moved in to haul him up.
The Warder
stood and watched silently as Thorne struggled futilely in their
grasp as they
dragged him away.
Chaotic winds bearing cloying smoke and humid ash roiled
across the
desolate landscape of his mind. The thunder of the Infusion had
a voice. It
was his own.
~*** They will pay. They have taken everything from me.
Beaten me. Broken me. Burned me. Torn me. Split me.
All that was done to me . . . . every hurt will be returned...
Every betrayal . . . Every scar
-Ill-
Ill show them.
-There is-
The will see I have power . . . Power enough
-There will be-
Crush anything . . . Bring it all down...
Destroy it all. . . I will...
-I will-***~
He paced like a caged animal. His eyes burning holes
into the path
before him with searing hatred.
A movement caught the corner of his eye. He stopped and snapped
his eyes to
the one stirring on the floor near the corner of the room in
which he was
held.
The sluggish movements where of one somehow subdued.
His anger and hatred coalesced into focus with an undeniable
purpose when he
saw the helplessness of the woman on the ground. He rushed on
her and pulled
her up, pressing her against the wall. He snarled and to affirm
her weakness,
backhanded her soundly. He grinned viciously at hearing her
grunt. She slumped
momentarily but he held her up.
He needed a captive audience. He needed to see it in her eyes.
He would see
as he forced himself on her the fear, the submision, the defeat.
He would see
in her eyes the power of his strength over her as he took hers
from her.
When she gained enough to struggle against him, he slammed her
roughly
against the wall and pinned her body against it with his own.
She was saying
something but he didnt hear her. He cut her off. His strangled
voice was
laced with hatred and some vile desperation.
"Im not nothing! Im not- . . . Ill show- . . .Ill- . .
*YOU* are
nothing!!! Youll see- Ill see it in your eyes
Ill hear you
tell me- Ill
make you-" The promise bit off with a snarl. He knotted his
fist on her tunic
and began to jerk and tear at it. He desperately needed to
counter with action
the buzzing of insects in his head that threatened his hold on
this rising
power he felt building throughout him.
~~~ I am nothing. I am nothing. I am nothing. ~~~
The Dark Infusion was insistent on exercising its will that it
did not
recognize or need to. But within that small space where his
consciousness
still existed the fractured personas knew on sight. There was
only one thing
they could do as they watched in horror. The voices sounded
themselves in a
haunting harmony.
~~~ I am nothing. I am nothing. Iamnothing. Iamnothing.
IamnothingIamnothingIamnothing- ~~~
The mantra repeated itself -endlessly, imploringly. It was
precious little in
the face of knowing what he was going to do to his best friend,
Stormy.
~~~IamnothingIamnothingIamnothing. I am NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
~~~
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