Operation: Pacifica, Shame


 BlackBlood climbed the staircase, dragging the corpse of Rezon'El
  behind him by the leg like a spongin might do with a stuffed plushie.  His
  tremendous obsidian form was barely able to fit through narrow stairwell,
  obviously built with spongin and Lyrans in mind rather than Ferals.  Up and
  up he climbed, seeming to get nowhere yet leaving vast numbers of stairs
  behind him.



...




 At long last, BlackBlood emerged at the top of the stairwell.  He
  was hopelessly lost somewhere in the center of the fortress.  A wide
  corridor extended left and right.  He picked up the cadaver in one of his
  Clawed[tm] hands and gazed into its glassy eyes.  "Which way go we?  Been
  here before have you!"  He tipped its head vertical, and released it to tip
  over to its right.  "Okee, Right we go then!"



...




 Approaching a junction, BlackBlood thought he heard some muffled
  sounds... something like a dark laughter, yet not quite.  He paused, putting
  his back to the wall to wait.  "shhhhhh..." he motioned at the cadaver.
  Just as he looked away from his friend, a solemn figure rounded the corner,
  dark purple robes flowing elegantly around him.  The walls on either side of
  him shifted forms slightly, symbols and characters forming in their organic
  surfaces.  Looking more closely, it became obvious that the walls themselves
  were mocking the mage as he walked, his head hung in shame.


 BlackBlood stepped out in front of him and hurled the corpse at the
  Lyran.  Caught off guard, the sorceror was knocked to the floor with a thump
  hard enough to rattle his brains and knock the wind out of him.  He opened
  his eyes again and found them staring into an ashen gray face.  They focused
  quickly, and the face became recognizable as another of his kindred.  He
  stared at its lifeless eyes, bewilderment and fear seeping into his being.
  He moved to sit up, but was quickly forced back to the floor by a huge black
  foot.


 "A friend have you found!" grinned the Maenad, clacking his
  Claws[tm] together as he spoke.



...




 K'haak'il looked up at the Feral above him, unable to do much else.
  BlackBlood, he thought he remembered this one being called.  His eyes
  narrowed to slits, glaring at his attacker, as he started gathering the
  strength and concentration it would take to force him away from his neck.
  Suddenly, a piece of fabric caught his attention.  An indigo snatch of
  fabric clung to the remnants of a body atop him, spawning instant
  recognition.  This wasn't just any mage atop him; it was Rezon'El!  This
  Maenad had brutally slain one of Charn'El's apprentices, and not only that,
  but he'd shamed him by removing his wonderful mask first!


 Terror raked its icy fingers across K'haak'il's spine.  Here he
  was, held fast by the throat, his mask already removed.  Above him towered a
  being not only capable of killing him, but willing to do so.  The last drops
  of resolve he'd gathered flowed out of him like water cascading over steep
  falls.  Suddenly, hot pain flared across his cheeks in broad stripes.  He
  was certainly going to die!


 K'haak'il moaned almost inaudibly, and the pressure disappeared
  from his neck and body, freeing him to move.  He opened his eyes and looked
  around him.  There was no one in sight; he'd been left alone in the corridor
  with only the tattered remains of Rezon'El to accompany him. He reached for
  his face and wiped off the blood, chanting a healing spell as he did so.
  The physical pain waned, but the shame remained in the form of two jagged
  scars left by a Maenad that did not kill him.


 The walls of the corridor began to shift again, contorting their
  surfaces into horrible, insulting words and figures.


 Though he lived, K'haak'il truly wished that the Maenad had killed
  him.


...




 BlackBlood watched carefully as anger flared in the mage's eyes,
  then noticed their hesitant flicker across the sparse remains of Rezon'El's
  robes.  He could feel the horror seep into pinned figure and grinned
  broadly, reaching for the Lyran's face with the Claws[tm] on his right hand.
  He gouged a deep line into the cheeks, peeling skin and flesh away to leave
  brilliant lines of blood to flow down around the cheekbones.


 Having marked and shamed the Lyran, he stepped off his chest, and
  dissipated himself to become one with the shadows of this place.



...




 Samhain watched from the shadows as the Lyran mage picked up the
  remains of Rezon'El.  Eventually they would make their way back to Charn'El,
  but he doubted highly it would be very soon.  The wizard may have been
  shamed, but he wasn't going to be so foolish as to lead him right to his
  master, Charn'El.  So, as the tortured soul made his way one way down the
  corridor, Samhain moved in the other.


 Now, it was time to find his comrades.



...
"Shame"
Copyright 1997
David R. Hibbs