Harbinger (The Bleeding Worlds) (15 page)

In the movies, as warriors plunged into potential doom, they always made some sort of cheer, or declaration of their impending victory. Not Fuyuko. She moved like the mist; quick, low and quiet. She had almost striking distance before the creatures seemed to notice.

But notice, they did.

In a blur of motion, one of the beasts smashed Fuyuko in the side, sending her sprawling to the side of the hill. She made it to her feet before it could reach her.

The monster turned its head to snap at her midsection. Fuyuko slapped one hand down on the side of the creature and propelled herself up and over it. She landed on the other side, slicing a section the beast’s tail off.

The creature howled and spun in a wild snapping of jaws. Fuyuko moved beyond its grasp, rolling down the hill.

“Get up to the highest level of the climbers.” She yelled to Gwynn.

Fog clouded his thoughts. Everything moved too fast. Fuyuko slapped him, hard, as she passed. He snapped to and followed her.

Fuyuko never touched steps. She jumped from the ground, propelling herself to the next level.

The beasts were in pursuit—the heat of their breath on his neck as he stumbled up the climbers. The spear sliced the air just beside his ear, earning a howl in return. Fuyuko continued leaping to the highest level of the climbers. Gwynn didn’t chance a look behind him until he stood beside her.

The creatures were both wounded now and stalking around the climber.

“Wait until you see an opening, then run.” Fuyuko said.

“What are you going to do?”

Her eyes gleamed with violence. “Give you a chance.”

Fuyuko let out a slow stream of air that misted in the cold. She waved her hand through it, then spun and slapped at the mist. A multitude of icicles fired at the creatures, scraping their skin, gouging one in the eye, sending them thrashing as they sought cover. In the confusion, Fuyuko jumped from the climbers, her spear spinning in the air above her head. She fell from the sky, crashing the spear deep into the hide of one of the beasts. The creature bucked and tossed its head, trying to reach back and snap at Fuyuko. Instead, it got a fist encased in ice smashed into its face. Despite the monster’s wild movements, Fuyuko held firm to her spear, which remained embedded in the creature’s side.

Gwynn searched the playground for the second beast. Had the icicle attack had scared it off? No, he caught sight of it stalking toward Fuyuko and the other monster. He panicked and choked on his heart as it pounded into his throat. Did he yell a warning? If that broke her concentration, the creature she already fought with might get her. But without a warning, the second would certainly…

Humming. The melody. The world hung suspended, the tableaux of death held frozen in front of him.

“Adrastia.” Gwynn said as he turned to toward the girl.

“Hello Hidhaegg”

“What is that? Why do you call me that?”

The girl’s eyes had a catlike glow. “I call you that which you have been and will again become.”

Gwynn sighed. “Why does everyone speak to me in riddles?”

Adrastia ignored him and appraised the scene in front of them. Fuyuko dangled from her spear in the hide of the one monster. The other creature crept toward her and stood within a heartbeat of pouncing to finish her.

“Will you let her die?”

Gwynn sputtered. “No. I mean, I don’t want to.”

I don’t know what to do.

“You’re afraid.” She said.

I’m powerless. Just like with Sophia.

His fists clenched so tight his fingers threatened to snap.

He didn’t see her move. One moment she had stood away from him, the next, behind him, wrapping him in her arms. She smelled like spring. Her embrace made him feel taller, stronger.

Adrastia whispered in his ear. “The last time I tried to help, you weren’t ready. For that, I’m sorry. Trust me when I tell you this isn’t the same. What you need is already in your hand, already a part of who you are. You just need to Tear the Veil and seize it.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. You mustn’t run away.” Adrastia ran her right hand down his side and gripped his wrist. She raised his arm and pulled the sleeve back, just enough to reveal the symbols on his flesh. “She needs you. Will you fail her?”

No. I can’t. Not again. Not her too.

“Then let the song guide you.”

Adrastia sang. The strange mashing of vowels and consonants reached down into him, opening a floodgate in his chest that sent energy surging through his veins.

Gwynn closed his eyes and drew in a slow breath—the movement of the air traveling down his spine and pooling in the center of his being. The trembling in his body ceased. Yes, Adrastia had been right; he did know what to do.

Gwynn’s eyes snapped open. The wind gathered around him and propelled him up and away from the climbers.

He tore the Veil. The park didn’t seem dark anymore—the darkness resided within him. He brushed against his soul. Not happy memories of days lost, or days that may yet come. Instead, he found his misery and pain. Loss and grief spilled out between his fingertips, taking form. Just as an icy mist had brought forth Fuyuko’s spear, darkness and sorrow summoned what he needed.

Time started again. Fuyuko continued to wrestle the one beast while the other prepared for a killing strike.

Gwynn slammed into the creature before it could attack. The two of them sprawled away. A weight in his hand, a surge of knowing spreading through him. He’d never held a weapon before, but everything he needed to know about it seemed to spread from the hilt he now held through his arm and into every fiber of his being.

A sword with a blade of midnight that pulsed with life. Gwynn rolled on the grass away from the monster. He sprung to his feet and without hesitating charged back toward the creature.

First, he vanquished his fear. Now, he would slay the beast.

He wanted it.

He needed it.

Before the beast could regain its footing, the sword severed its head.

The other Taint continued to buck, trying to dislodge Fuyuko.

Gwynn flowed like a crashing wave. From the stroke of taking one beast’s head, he flowed toward the other, charging its opposite side. He dragged his sword along the beast’s flank, from tail to mouth, finishing by twisting to face the monster and making a smooth pass through its neck with the sword.

The creature’s body crashed to the ground.

Fuyuko cursed. She turned to where Gwynn stood and stopped—eyes wide, her mouth agape.

Gwynn felt her fear.

He liked it.

§

When Fuyuko first
arrived, she couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable. Having been an active member of Suture for three years, youngest person ever promoted, she’d worked as part of a team and taken part in monster hunts. Difficult, dangerous missions, but simple, straight ahead—find it and destroy it.

From the start, this mission was different. First, no one had given her an objective. Her orders were simple; watch Gwynn Dormath. No one discussed his importance, or what she should do while observing him. Second, they sent her alone. No one her age performed a distant mission alone. At least none that she recalled. Older specialists like Justinian performed solo fieldwork. The third thing, the most annoying thing, the kid wasn’t even there. It took a day or two of listening to gossip to establish some idea of what had happened. Her subject had been the aim of a Halloween joke. In the end, it turned deadly. Gwynn and another student had been involved in some sort of explosion that killed a homeless squatter.

Fuyuko had gone to investigate the site. The space still crackled with traces of the tear. While that explained Suture’s interest in the town, she still didn’t know what to do about the boy.

When Gwynn returned to school, he seemed sullen, withdrawn. No one appeared happy to see him. In truth, everyone kept their distance. He didn’t seem like anything worth the notice of Suture. Fuyuko had doubts about her mission.

Then he hit the boy, Eric, who had taunted him. Emotional stress. She had seen it before.

Within five minutes of Gwynn fleeing the cafeteria, her phone rang.

It took her a moment to recognize the sound. Her phone never rang. “Hello?”

“Fuyuko.”

The voice belonged to the man who’d been training her for years.

“Yes, sir?”

“You need to go see the Principal, explain to him how the other boy provoked Gwynn.”

“I’m sorry?” She searched the cafeteria for potential cameras, but saw none. “How did you…”

“Just do as you’re told Fuyuko. Consider this part of your mission.”

So she had gone to meet with Mr. Davis. She couldn’t understood what she was doing, or why, but it felt comforting to have a clear component of this mission. Gwynn waited outside Mr. Davis’ office as she left. He literally ran into her again at the crosswalk as she headed home. She couldn’t escape the feeling of dancing at the end of someone’s puppet strings.

Her doubts led to her meeting with Justinian. Now she stood in the dark, cold park, facing a very different Gwynn. She thought Justinian a fool before, but now she understood.

I saw a killer.

“Gwynn?”

The boy inspected the sword in his hand. His expression told her everything. He was an Anunnaki, and for the first time, had manifested a weapon from the Veil. If she believed the philosophy Suture taught, Gwynn held a weapon forged of his soul and the energies of creation—a weapon whose appearance stirred memory and dread in Fuyuko.

Giving a portion of the soul substance, often the darkest and most violent part, carried baggage. The energy and emotions it evoked could be foreign and corruptive. Without proper focus and training, it could become a mental cancer, carving out the Gwynn of old and turning him into something else. He had just slaughtered two monsters with little effort or remorse. She had to get him to let go of the sword.

“Listen to my voice Gwynn.” She’d never trained to talk someone down from this. She tried using a gentle voice. “You are the sword’s master. You do not have to let it change who you are.”

His eyes were hungry. Fuyuko tightened her grip on her spear.

At Suture, they taught them visualization techniques. By imagining the manipulation of energy as physical objects made it easier for the mind to handle and maintain control. Her mind was a filing system full of Suture’s lessons. She searched it for the series of images that helped her most when she learned to control her own weapon.

“Imagine you’ve opened a closet.” She focused on keeping her voice calm and soothing. “You reached in and pulled this sword out. It’s time to put it away. The sword isn’t solid; it’s just dust in your hand. Let it go and let the wind blow the dust into the closet. Once that’s done, shut the door. Focus Gwynn. Try to see it.”

His grip tightened on the hilt.

Shit, shit
. She was losing him.

Try something else.

What did Gwynn care about? What might he value enough to fight back against the dark seduction of his weapon?

“Think about your family Gwynn.”
Risky, Fuyuko. If someone said the same thing to you, you’d cut their head off
. “What about… What about Sophia?”

His eyes softened. “Sophia? My…family?”

“You went into that house after her, Gwynn.” Fuyuko grasped onto this thread, found hope in it. “I heard the story. No one else had the courage, or cared enough about her, to do it. But you did. You went in there because you had the courage, because you cared. Use that courage now, let the sword go before you stop being the boy who cares about Sophia.”

Gwynn’s gaze fell to the sword. His chest heaved. He slammed his eyes shut and held the sword out at arm’s length.

“That’s right Gwynn. The wind, feel it start to swirl around you. The sword is growing lighter, less solid in your hand.”

Gwynn’s arm wavered.

“The wind is a gale now. Just let go and the sword will turn to dust and blow through the door.”

Her heart beat in the back of her throat. If he pulled his arm back toward him without letting go, she would have to fight him. “Come on Gwynn, you need to go home.”

Home.

He threw his fingers wide. The sword shattered into a million particles and dissipated.

Fuyuko sighed. “Now, last thing, close the door. In your head, just walk up to it and shove it closed.”

A moment or two passed. Then, a slight loosening in her core—a tear closing.

Gwynn sank to his knees and gasped for air.

In her own mind, Fuyuko performed the same ritual she had just described to Gwynn. Her own spear dissipated, returning to the Veil.

Gwynn started to wretch.

Fuyuko turned her back and waited for the heaving to stop. When no more sound came she said, “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He gagged some more. “No… Uh, maybe.”

“Good enough.” She turned back and waited for him to find his feet. “Show me your right arm.”

“What?”

Fuyuko was finished with mysteries. She strode toward him and grabbed his right arm. She pushed his sleeve back and gasped. She ripped the glove from his hand, revealing the glyphs extending to his fingers. She trembled.

“You’re a Script?”

Gwynn shrugged. “I guess.”

“Fuck.” She spat the word out. Very unprofessional, but satisfying after weeks of frustration. “How long?”

“What?” Gwynn asked.

“How long since you first tore the Veil?” Her voice teetered between rage and hysterics.

“Almost two weeks.”

“Two weeks?”
That’s impossible
. “But you’re seventeen?”

“So?”

“So? So, no Anunnaki has ever awakened later than ten. Scripts are always earlier; six, five even.”

He sounded ashamed when he said, “I don’t know why.”

“Yet you know what a Script is?”

“A man met me at the hospital. He explained some things.” Pain filled Gwynn’s eyes. “Not enough, though.”

Fuyuko drew a long, slow breath. She imagined it flowing through her like liquid, smoothing the heaving in her chest. Being out of control wouldn’t solve anything. Besides, did this frightened boy deserve receiving the brunt of her own frustrations? For a moment, she tried to imagine awakening without someone for guidance. Maybe this was the mission?