Light of Epertase 01: Legends Reborn (3 page)

Rasi fought to open his eyes. His head throbbed like in an ever-tightening vise. His entire mouth ached like his teeth had suddenly rotted. He tried to focus. The stale rock walls around him were devastating in their solitude and coldness. Three torches burned with fresh wicks in discolored metal cages along the walls.

His nostrils burned with the stench of blood and feces and wet dog with each pull of air. Puffs of warm breath from his lungs met the chilled air and hovered like he’d taken a toke from a weed stick.

A salty wad of goop trickled down his throat, gagging him. Even more spilled onto his chin and he wiped its warmness from his stubble. The torch’s light revealed what he’d feared.
Blood.

He gagged and vomited a dark mass of coagulated blood that choked him with its thickness, making him gag even more.

Something’s not right
. He poked his finger into his throbbing mouth causing 10,000 raw nerves to scream for him to stop. He winced away from his own touch as a realization smashed him in the face like an axe. He prayed he was wrong. He tried to speak. “M ’ong!”

By the gods. Those bastards cut out my tongue …

He was stunned, unable to move for a moment. One of the torches rested above his head and once he finally gathered himself, he yanked it free. Though its heat was welcomed, he was more interested in its light. The floor was littered with skulls and ribcages and femurs, some with rotten chunks of meat and maggots still attached.

His fingers ached from the cold’s frigid bite. He sat up. He wasn’t at the castle anymore, that much he knew.

Some kind of cave. Or a cell.

Someone yelled from an opening high above, diverting his attention. “You have been tried and found guilty of the murder and rape of a young woman of Thasula. The great Prince Elijah has sentenced you to death by rashta.”

Rashta? How far from Thasula did they take me?

Rasi’s mind shot to his wife, terrified at what she must have heard.
I’m coming home, Edonea,
he silently vowed. Then he pictured the cold, dead eyes of the young girl he was too weak to save.
I’m coming for you, too, Elijah.

He collapsed to his rear, feeling like his guts had been ripped out. Something jammed against his back and he reached for it. His torch revealed a bone of some type. A femur. A man’s femur.

He struggled to his feet. A constant
rat-a-tat-tat
beat in his head and he realized it was his teeth clanging together. He gagged again and coughed up another glob of syrupy goop, which he spat to the dirt. The dark, coagulated blood dangled from his bottom lip like a string before splatting to the ground.

A deep, wall-shaking growl reverberated from the darkest recess of the cave. Rasi turned his head, fearing what awaited him. He’d heard of the rashta from legends, though had never seen one. He squatted, picked up the intact thighbone, and slammed it against the wall, snapping it into two splintered points. He slid one of them into his waistband.

Another roar rang out, this time closer and louder. Rasi swiped his forearm across his chin, leaving a trail of smeared gore on his cheek.
Show yourself, creature!

A blood-red tentacle slithered along the floor from the blackness. Then another one emerged, floating slightly above the first.

Rasi held his torch out with one hand and gripped the ball of his new boneshank with his other. The rashta leaped into the light with a hungry cry. Snot and spit sprayed from its dried-blood-caked, wolf-like snout. Rasi stood to the beast’s chest, staring up at it. Seven tentacles protruded from its back, dancing above the creature like snakes. With each of the beast’s movements, the tentacles snapped like whips and hissed in the air, alive and thirsty.

The creature lifted its massive front claws with another deafening roar.

I do not fear you, creature,
Rasi thought even as he nervously backed against the cave wall. The creature crouched but hesitated.

Maybe
, Rasi wondered,
just maybe it fears me. Maybe …

The rashta lunged. Rasi dove to the side and barely out of range. The creature’s teeth snapped past his head and he felt their wind on his ear. One of the tentacles grabbed his ankle and flung him along the cave floor.

His back collided with the merciless wall; his torch jarred from his hand. He rolled to his knees, taking in gulps of moldy air. Another meaty tentacle smashed against his cheek, bending him backward onto his own leg. His knee screamed and he squirmed to straighten it. Another tentacle hurled at him. He dropped to his back as it whiffed past his nose. He rolled to his hands and feet. Another attack shot at his head but he dove out of its path.

The creature sniffed the air and licked its lips. Its tentacles floated above their master, preparing to strike again. Rasi tried to catch his breath as he backed away.

He didn’t see the blow until the tentacle crashed against his chest. His body smacked against the stone wall and he crumbled to his knees.

Instinctively, he yanked the bonespike from his waistband as he fell to his back. The creature drove its mammoth claw downward. Rasi closed his eyes while thrusting his bonespike upward. The creature yelped; the weapon sunk into its foot. Rasi twisted his spike with both hands before yanking it free. The rashta, shrieking with pain, scurried back against the wall.

Rasi hadn’t time to savor the small triumph as one of the tentacles crashed against his side, hurling him across the cave. His weapon slipped from his hand and slid into the shadows. There was another torch above him. He fumbled above his head until his hand met it and he wrenched it from the wall.

The creature announced its anger with a howl. Rasi’s own anger built to rival it. With a deep breath, he sprinted toward the beast like a wild animal. One of the tentacles swiped at his legs but he leaped over it.

The rashta stumbled back, shocked at Rasi’s gall. This was the warrior’s chance. He dodged another tentacle attack as he barreled forward. And then another. The assaults were relentless until one of them cracked the side of his head, driving his face into the ground. He felt his skin tear across his cheek. He didn’t stop but instead crawled toward the retreating beast, torch still in hand.

The rashta raised its front legs again. Rasi shoved the torch against its gut, sending another piercing squeal through the cave. The creature’s scaly, pale skin crackled and blackened at the flame’s touch. It lunged for him.

Rasi ducked to the side but not nearly fast enough. His left shoulder exploded in pain as the creature’s hot breath beat against his neck. He tried not to give the monster satisfaction but a scream left his lungs just the same. The creature clenched its jaw, sinking its teeth deeper into Rasi’s flesh. Their razor tips scraped along his raw collarbone and shoulder blade. His grip weakened. The torch dropped to the ground. With his other hand, he pried at the creature’s locked jaw but its muscles were too strong, its teeth too deep.

The creature jerked Rasi from his feet and shook him like a dog would a small prey. The meat and skin of Rasi’s shoulder ripped away from his bone. His arm and chest dripped with red. His stomach turned. His left hand went numb.

For a moment he was weightless as the creature flung him through the air until his spine and wounded shoulder bashed against the stone wall. He crumbled onto his face.

It’s over. I’ve lost.

His shoulder burned with pain that radiated into the side of his neck. He pressed his hand against the wound but blood squirted from between his fingers. A tentacle coiled around his ankle. He had no strength to fight its grip while it dragged him back toward his snarling death.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his torch laying on a pile of bones. As the tentacle dragged him past it, he clutched it with his good arm.

The creature hoisted him feet-first into the air. The blood from his shoulder flowed like a waterfall, splashing against the stone and dirt floor. One of the tentacles looped around his neck like a noose and tightened. Rasi gasped, unable to feed his thirsty lungs. He focused the last of his strength on the torch dangling from his fingers. It was his last hope. With every bit of air in his lungs, he shoved the flame against the tentacle that was wrapped around his neck. The beast flinched. Rasi thudded to the ground as the tentacle released and retreated to its master. He heaved his torch at the monster’s chest and it shied backward.

Rasi struggled to lift his injured arm but it weighed a ton. He dug deep to painfully crawl away from the rashta. Two more tentacles curled around his waist. They squeezed out what little air he had left in his lungs. He was weak, no longer able to hold his head up. The tentacles dragged him along the floor like a piece of dead meat.

The orange blur of his torch antagonized him from just out of his reach. He wanted to give up. And that’s when he saw it, almost screaming, “I’m here for you.” Something better than any treasure he could ever imagine, better than the torch. It was his chance, his salvation – the bonespike. He outstretched his weary arm and touched the weapon’s rough surface with his fingertip. He wanted to smile but hadn’t the strength. The tentacles tightened around his waist as he clenched his fingers around his precious spike.

The creature lifted him into the air before lowering him toward its snapping razor teeth. Rasi shifted his weight, leaning away from the rotten stink of its breath. He grimaced and squeezed his weapon. He waited until he was at the creature’s lips. It opened its mouth for the killing blow.

Rasi thrust his weapon upward. The beast wailed. The tentacles released. And Rasi once again slammed to the ground.

He forced his head up just enough to see the head of his bonespike jutting from the roof of the rashta’s mouth. The beast stumbled back, shaking its head back and forth. One of its tentacles twisted around the exposed part of the weapon and yanked it free, spraying blood like a fountain from the gaping wound. The creature staggered, then crumbled onto its side. Its wail was so profound that it hurt Rasi’s ears. The tentacles flailed above as the rashta seized in a growing river of red.

Rasi, no longer strong enough to put pressure against his wounded shoulder, let the plasma pool around him and ooze into the dents and cracks along the floor.
You may have gotten me,
he thought,
but I took you as well, you bastard.

The world faded around him like a view through frosted glass.
Please let me stay awake long enough to watch this monster die,
he begged the gods. The creature gasped with full-blown spasms until the seizing slowed and the dying, agonal rise and fall of its chest ceased.

With the creature’s death all but assured, Rasi’s inevitable tomb was now silent. He chuckled to himself, struggling to keep his head awake.

Through blurry, blood-soaked eyes, he watched the creature’s tentacles continue to stir on their master’s carcass. One by one, they ripped from the creature’s scaly flesh and scurried along the cave floor toward him. He was too weak to fight, too weak to move, too weak to care. They swarmed his body until he was buried beneath their hot flesh. One of them twirled around his injured shoulder and tightened. He winced. Another dug into the muscle on his back, which he was sure would be the last pain he’d ever feel. He welcomed death. Another tentacle burrowed into his back while he lay helpless. He shivered from the cold, despite the tentacles’ radiating heat, while they ripped into the flesh on his back.

So cold.

Tired.

The pain seemed to let up a little, or he’d simply become used to it. He forced his swollen eyelids open. The light of the remaining torch on the wall burned through his blurry vision. His fallen foe appeared to move in the shadows, but as Rasi’s eyes cleared he saw it wasn’t the creature who moved but the bristling maggots infesting it.

Rasi’s shoulder itched deep into his bone. His back tickled with the sensation of thousands of insects crawling beneath his skin.

How long …?
he asked himself.
How long have I been out?

His stomach tightened and rumbled loud enough for him to fear another creature may hear. His every muscle ached like he’d been gnawed by a dragon with dull teeth. He forced himself to sit up but the skin on his back pulled like his flesh was glued to the wall. He fought against the tug, slowly making it to his feet.

Something darted past the corner of his eye and he spun around. One of the creature’s tentacles hovered near his knees. He glanced upward. Three more of the flat, red strap-like tentacles floated above him. He flinched and threw up his hands to defend his face, but the tentacles didn’t move or attack. He stepped backward. They stayed with him. The skin on his back tore against itself like a freshly sewn wound trying to heal. He peered over his wounded, yet no longer bleeding, shoulder and followed the straps of meat with his eyes to where they met his own back.

Oh, gods.

The straps were melded with his skin the same way his fingers were to his hands or his legs to his hips. He took a step and they floated with him. He counted: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, all equally a part of him.