Nether

THE INNOCENT ABANDONED


They had spent another week within the grandiose city of St. Curtis. Another week of peddling what Heathcliff Sinclair had left over from the flower festival. Every so often Duster, Cliff’s fairy friend, would drop by and talk with Sammy before fluttering back off to Cliff and Miranda. Rhea would always groan at the idea of having to stay yet another day with the wagon while Kieri and Buwaro would keep trying to make the best of their time, either spending time conversing, Kieri would read a story to Buwaro on occasion, as well as the daily activities they seemed to enjoy together.

“Arrugh.” Rhea groaned for the tenth time that day. “How much longer do we have to stay here?”

Sammy stood upright, lifting her chin up from the table. “Uncle Cliff said to stay until he gets back.”

Rhea frowned slightly and glanced at the human girl. “So we get to stay here while you go running around with Toby?”

Sammy smiled in return, making Rhea sigh and rest her forehead against the table, nearly knocking over a bottle with her ear. Sammy had to sigh softly to herself, since she wasn’t a real fan of staying in one place all the time. It was something she had in common with her uncle, but unlike Cliff she liked to wander around away from him, which usually resulted in some slightly humorous happenings when she got back or when her aunt scolded Cliff for not keeping an eye on her.

The sun eventually shifted in the sky and Duster came fluttering back, this time carrying a folded note that was heavier than he was used to carrying. Of course, being a fairy, he never had to carry anything heavier than a flower petal or a few blades of grass. The moth-like fairy collapsed on the table, breathing hard on top of the note, cursing Cliff quietly while Sammy tenderly picked the little figure up so Rhea could pick up the note. At first, the jakkai had trouble reading the hastily scrawled handwriting, but with some effort she made sense of the script.

“Miranda having complications from child birth. Midwife needs medicine from apothecary. Go to Saul’s shop on east side of city, show him note.”

Sammy blinked as she read the note from over Rhea’s shoulder- fairly easy, given the jakkai’s small stature, and looked down at Duster who was lying still in her hands. “Aunt Miranda needs medicine?”

“It looks that way.” Rhea replied as she folded the note back up. “He didn’t say who was supposed to go though.”

Sammy wanted to volunteer, but she figured that Cliff would prefer that she stay with the wagon. That, and Toby the hybrid was already happening along, which meant that she wouldn’t be too bored with him around. She grabbed Toby and pulled him around behind the display table while calmly suggesting that Rhea, Buwaro and Kieri go for the medicine. Rhea gave Sammy a funny look, but the latter simply waved them off, Toby still held hostage with the human’s arm hooked around his neck.

It didn’t take too long to convince Kieri and Buwaro on the idea and one could soon see the unusual trio walking the streets of St. Curtis although not without the understandable glances that came with a demon walking hand-in-hand with an angel. Of course, after the incident involving an overzealous angel and Kieri’s little “episode”, they weren’t bothered. Rhea had to snicker to herself when one such angel immediately walked away when Kieri looked in his direction. Kieri looked positively crestfallen at the angel’s reaction while Buwaro did his best to cheer her up.

Unfortunately, his idea of cheering her up involved “Thadius’ acrobatic prowess”. Rhea was already wincing when Buwaro threw Thadius up into the air, and kept on wincing even after the obvious resulted. Kieri practically lost her mind- as she usually did- when Thadius impacted against Buwaro’s face, trying to staunch the demon’s bloody nose and lip with the sleeve of her garments. Rhea shook her head sadly, her tail coiling around and picking up Buwaro’s “pet” rock.

‘I wonder what Jay is doing right now…’ Rhea wondered quietly as she rubbed the bridge of her snout as Kieri continued to fuss over the lovable fool of a demon. ‘I hope he’s having more fun than I am.’

Once Buwaro’s nose had stopped bleeding, and Kieri had practically made the demon promise to stop throwing Thadius up into the air was when the trio was finally able to continue walking. Rhea didn’t want to think about it, but Duster- the same little pervert- had tagged along and was hiding on the tuft of fur on the end of her tail. It made a certain kind of sense that he chose her, since it was likely that Buwaro would get annoyed- as he had done with Jay- with Duster if he had perched himself on Kieri. Rhea wouldn’t have minded all that much, really, if it wasn’t for Duster trying to woo her with what was quite possibly the lamest one-liners she had ever heard of. Even Jay- back when he and she were younger- had better lines than this little fairy reject.

At least the apothecary’s shop was well within view now, so that meant that Rhea only had to put up with the little dust-huffer for a while longer. Kieri commented that the shop looked like a mausoleum of sorts, and Rhea had to agree. Buwaro simply asked “what’s a mausoleum”? Rhea didn’t answer and Kieri promised to tell him later as she gently pulled Buwaro along, following Rhea into the building. Almost immediately the stench of some unfathomable thing assaulted the visitors, almost making Rhea gag uncontrollably and even Kieri had to cover her mouth and nose.

“Jeez!” Rhea commented rather loudly. “What the hell is that smell!?”

Kieri was about to reply when she noticed the shop owner standing in plain view- or someone that she thought was the owner. Kieri kept her mouth shut while Rhea continued to complain and bemoan the smell until Kieri reached over, dug her fingers into the jakkai’s skull and twisted her head just enough for her to see the shop keeper standing behind a counter. THAT was enough to get Rhea to button her lip rather quickly, if only because of the ominous appearance that the owner had.

Rhea had read of a great plague, supposedly called “the divine sickness”, that had run rampant within Medius many, many years ago. The book- of human origin- had detailed how a particular sect of doctors had protected themselves from the miasma by wearing an iconic mask that greatly resembled a bird’s beak, clothed in leathery garments and a robe coated in wax to stave off illness. What had caught her was that the book seemed torn between highlighting the plague doctors as healers, while also condemning them as spreading the disease. She found herself wondering the same thing, looking at this same such being.

“May we help you?” the leather-clad figure asked, his voice low and ominous, devoid of any emotion.

Rhea blinked, almost stupidly before Kieri nudged her. The jakkai jerked as if she had been slapped before fumbling for the note that Cliff had written, propping herself up on her tail- nearly crushing Duster in the process- and handing it up to the doctor. Rhea couldn’t see the doctor’s eyes from behind the blue-tinted eyepieces of his mask, but she could have sworn that there was a purple-red pinpoint of light behind them, shifting and moving like an eye would.

“And what medicine can we acquire for you?” the doctor asked simply, turning his head to Rhea.

“C-Cliff didn’t write that down. He just said to give you the note, uh, Saul.” Rhea felt cold all over when the doctor looked at her.

Instead of speaking, the shop keeper glanced at the note before setting it on the counter and walking into the rear storeroom. Rhea sighed, now more adjusted to the smell of the shop before turning around and glancing at Buwaro and Kieri. The angel was looking at the decorative tapestries that lined a few of the walls while Buwaro was sniffing at a few alchemical ingredients that were left on display. Rhea did a double take when she noticed the demon sniffing at a plate of whitish-green powder, but Duster beat her to the freaked out scream that consisted of him howling “NO-O-O-O-O-O!”

Buwaro accidentally snorted some of the powder and promptly sneezed, flames licking out from his nostrils and mouth. That’s when something bizarre- and almost comedic- happened. The second the flames met the air within the shop everything went white and red as a small flash-fire erupted. As suddenly as it appeared, the flash subsided, leaving everything, including Rhea, Duster, Buwaro and Kieri covered in soot as well as leaving some of the other alchemical displays in a smoldering blaze of sorts. Rhea’s eye twitched slightly, silently asking herself “WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED!?”

To make matters worse, the doctor had returned from the storeroom and was looking at the group with what could have been shock. In one hand was an opaque bottle of some liquid and in the other was the crispy remains of Cliff’s note. Rhea’s head turned to look at the doctor, the joints and bones in her neck audibly creaking as her mind continued to run rampant, freaking out at what the doctor would do to them.

“We have your… medication.” The shop owner managed to say before finding the will to set the bottle on the counter before Rhea. “Cliff shall reimburse us at a later date.”

Rhea was still in shock but managed to kick her limbs into gear and carefully take the bottle while Kieri quickly ushered Buwaro outside- who had a small lingering flame perched on top of his hair- as Rhea almost stormed to the door to catch up. The doctor watched them from behind the counter up until the door closed. With nary a sound, his head turned to and fro, surveying the damage that the firestorm had caused. Any other shopkeeper would have raged like a volcano, spitting curses and anger at the devastation but this doctor simply looked and stayed still and silent.

***

Cliff Sinclair was furious. Duster had brought him the medication that Rhea, Buwaro and Kieri had received from the apothecary but it was far from that. This “medication” was, in fact, a potent poison that would have sealed Miranda’s fate, as well as that of their newborn child. He didn’t blame anyone but Saul and himself. He should have written down the remedy that the midwife had requested, but he had no reason to believe that Saul would try to pass this poison along as a cure. His jaw had remained locked and clenched ever since the midwife pointed out the mistake.

Now he was storming across St. Curtis to visit his “friend”, Saul. If that bastard hadn’t skipped town, he was going to be skipping the rest of his life by dying in a blazing hellfire of pain and suffering. It wasn’t long before he found Saul’s shop and his hand had just touched the door when Duster poked his head out from his breast pocket.

“Hey Cliffy.” The fairy piped up. “I don’t smell anything.”

Cliff glanced down at his friend, confused. “What? Smell?”

“Yeah. That place smelled bad, then Buwaro sneezed and then everything was on fire!” Duster looked at the door uneasily.

“Is that why you looked like you’d been tap-dancing on a barbeque again?” Cliff cracked a hollow smile.

Duster scowled at Cliff and flew up out of the latter’s pocket to rest on his shoulder. Cliff knew that Duster wouldn’t mention something like this unless the fairy was sure that it posed a danger of some kind, so Cliff simply tucked his glasses away and pushed the door open. He was going to give Saul a piece of his mind and if things escalated into a fight then he’d be ready beforehand. That idea almost completely disappeared when Cliff was assaulted by the same twisted, unholy stench that Duster had to endure. To Duster, it was a familiar slap to the nose while Cliff was almost completely floored by the miasma.

Cliff coughed and gagged violently, struggling to pull a handkerchief from his pocket, using it as a crude filter that only managed to filter out the majority of the stench. Duster took to the same tactic by pulling on Cliff’s shirt and using it as a mask of sorts. Cliff inhaled before pushing into the shop, dreading what he might find. Saul was a person who might become so engrossed by his work that he would miss a bath once in a while, but this was the worst that he had smelled. Not even Saul would let his hygine get this bad.

“Saul?” Cliff called out from behind his makeshift mask. “Saul! Are you in here!?”

There was no reply. Cliff noticed that plates on display, reserved for herbal samples and other such supplies held only ashes. If Duster was right, and they were burned when Buwaro sneezed, then Saul would have replaced them, right? Everything he saw pointed him to the conclusion that something bad had happened. He glanced at Duster, who took the cue and fluttered up and over the counter, looking around for the shopkeeper that he had seen before. Cliff moved forward as well, searching for his old accomplice but he found neither hide nor hair of the human.

“I got a bad feeling about this, Cliffy.” Duster whispered when he returned to his spot on Cliff’s shoulder.

“I do too.” Cliff replied as he looked towards the stairwell that led up to Cliff’s bedroom and personal study.

Neither one uttered a sound as Cliff inched towards and up the stairs, easing his weight down onto each step to avoid the tell-tale “creak-creak-creak” that stairs usually made. If something was wrong, and there was someone waiting for him, Cliff didn’t want to let the person know he was coming. The person Duster described didn’t bear the slightest resemblance to Saul, and that alone was enough to put the worldly human on alert.

The door to Saul’s personal quarters was shut tight, but the stench was even stronger here than it was downstairs. Cliff’s eyes burned slightly and Duster hand long since taken cover in Cliff’s pocket, still using his shirt as a filter. Cliff touched the rough-hewn wooden door and gently pushed against it, hearing the hinges groan loudly just as the miasma flooded through the growing gap. Cliff paused, looking through the doorway before taking a step forward, eyes wide and alert.

“Saul?” Cliff whispered as he looked from side to side, seeing Saul’s unkempt bed, his cluttered desk, even the alchemical utensils of his trade were scattered across the ground, some simply discarded while others were smashed and destroyed. Everything about this pointed more and more to what Cliff feared. It wasn’t until his eyes happened upon something on the floor that his fears were confirmed.

Saul’s broken, twisted, bloody body lay on the ground in a crumpled heap- literally. His skin, flesh and organs were all present- some were even in plain sight- but his bones and skeleton was gone, as if someone had opened him up and flayed him down to the core. Cliff felt his stomach roil in revolt while Duster had already started to dry-heave at the sight. Cliff’s mind refused to believe what his eyes told it, that THIS was Saul, that this was all that remained of his friend.

“We believe that the patient has expired.” A hollow, twisted voice wheezed from a darkened corner. “Have you come for the burial ceremony?”

Cliff whirled around, fists raised towards the direction of the voice. From the shadows, he first saw a pair of pale, violet-red orbs that glowed by their own power. As the figure walked forward, he found himself looking at a wry, lanky human-ish person dressed in a black robe and what looked like leather armor of a kind, interrupted by a pale, almost white mask that seemed unique in its own right.

“Who are you?” Cliff immediately demanded, his hands shrouded in a red and orange haze as he started to channel and ready magic for attack. “What have you done to Saul!?”

The figure simply stared at Cliff, unblinking- if the glassed orbs were any indication.

“Answer me!” Cliff shouted.

“We?” The “doctor” seemed to ask. “We are we.”

Cliff narrowed his eyes. “What did you do to Saul?”

“We attempted to cure the patient.” The leathery bastard wheezed, silvery-green mist seething from the “beak” of his mask. “Unfortunately, the patient expired before we could assist him.”

That was the only answer Cliff needed. Without thinking, he channeled enough magic energy into one of his hands and threw a raging ball of fire at the dark-clothed figure. The second the fireball left Cliff’s fingers it ignited the air and instantly another flashover ripped through the shop. Nothing was burned, since the easily-combustible items had already been consumed. Only Cliff’s eyebrows were scorched, while the rest of his body- and Duster, who had taken cover in his pocket- were covered in soot and ash.

Cliff rubbed at his eyes and looked to see that the sickly green “breath” of the figure was still billowing with wild flames in tune to the rise and fall of his chest and shoulders. The flames only ceased when the figure held it’s breath, cutting the supply of fuel. Cliff readied another fireball, clenching his fist tightly as Duster poked his head up to see what was going on.

“We believe that you are sick as well.” The figure rasped as it produced a syringe from its robes. Inside the glass and metal casing, a pale, thin yellow fluid- almost like snake’s venom- sloshed around. “Please relax, we are a doctor.”

Cliff took one step back, his other fist engulfed with a waiting flame as well. “Who are you!?” he yelled.

“We?” The figure’s eyes seemed to lighten and intensify from behind the hued eyepieces. “We are Legion.”

That’s when the figure lunged for Cliff only for the latter to lunge backwards. This turned out to be a bad idea, since instead of landing on his feet, Cliff had pushed himself down the stairs. Duster cried out as he held on for dear life as his longtime friend went tumbling down each step of the stairwell, tumbling and rolling until he landed flat on his back, groaning in pain.

“Get up!” Duster hollered as he grabbed Cliff’s collar and pulled on it as if he was trying to throttle the human. “GET UP!”

Cliff groaned and pushed himself to his feet, the sound of the doctor’s footfalls echoing from the curved stairwell. He looked up just in time to see the killer standing on at the top of the stairs before it turned sharply, syringe still in hand. Cliff gritted his teeth and willed his body to react, hands glowing with ruby and amber flames as he readied himself for a fight.

“We insist that you hold still.” The doctor’s ghastly voice wavered down to Cliff’s ears. “We do not wish to cause undue harm.”

“Go to hell!” Cliff called as he flipped both of his hands, throwing a pair of fiery projectiles at the demented bastard before him.

The balls of fire hit the figure dead-center, immediately immolating him with an intensity and ferocity that wouldn’t have occurred unless he had been covered with oil of some kind. Cliff raised a hand to shield his eyes and face as the figure’s clothes immediately began to combust and disintegrate from the heat. It managed to take one step down the stairs before collapsing into a heap of charred bones and leathery ashes while a dark vapor rose from the remains, dissipating into the air.

Cliff watched the fire continue to creep across the unburned portions of leather before Duster finally got his attention. It didn’t take him long to run out of what was left of Saul’s shop and outside, filling his lungs with fresh air. He didn’t stop to pause for anything, instead running through the streets back to the midwife and his wife, Miranda. It was a panicked decision; seeing something disappear like that, you automatically thought of a demon and with demons you made sure your loved ones were safe. Sammy would be safe with the angel and her friends, but Miranda and her baby only had the midwife to protect them.

His lungs burned and his body strained as he pushed himself further and further, running as fast as he could, nearly running into other people as well as angels and demons that lingered after the festival. He didn’t bother to apologize to any of them, instead focusing on what was important. He skidded as he tried to take a corner at a hard angle but he didn’t fall over on his side. From there it only took seconds for Cliff to reach the house that his wife and the midwife were residing within.

Miranda looked up smiled at him when he threw the door open but that smile soon disappeared when she noticed the look and ashes on his face, as well as the wary look that Duster had. “Cliff? What’s wrong?” she asked softly, still holding a small bundle near her chest.

It took him a moment to process the question but finally managed to answer “Nothing… I just didn’t want to waste time in coming back.”

“Why are you and Duster covered in soot?” Miranda asked, eyebrow arched.

“We ran into a blacksmith.” Duster piped up. “Guy was dirty.”

Cliff immediately nodded, confirming Duster’s excuse before retorting with his own question. “Are you ok?”

Miranda smiled. “I’m fine, thank you. The midwife happened to have a vial of medicine on hand. The baby will be ok.”

Cliff sighed and felt a relieved smile shift over his lips. “That’s… that’s fantastic.”

Duster pulled himself out of Cliff’s pocket and fluttered onto a nearby table as Cliff sat down next to his wife and their newborn child. He looked at the pair before reaching up and trying to clean his antennae off, pulling handfuls of soot and ash down onto the table. He paused for a moment, watching the pair before flying out of the window, intending to check up on Sammy and her friends. He knew that Cliff wouldn’t disapprove of the idea, so he flew as quickly as he could but at times he had to dive into a tree or garden to avoid a hungry bird who mistook him for an actual moth.

As it turned out, the wagon, Samantha, Rhea, Kieri and Buwaro were perfectly fine. Even the jakkai-human hybrid, Toby was fine although he seemed a bit unsure about the idea of Samantha “holding him hostage” until Cliff returned. Duster made sure to tell her that Cliff and Miranda were bound to return soon- hoping he was right- which was reason enough for Sammy to let Toby go.

“Did Cliff talk to that guy?” Rhea asked.

“Uh, yeah. He did.” Duster replied, trying to sound calm but in reality he was downright unnerved by what had happened in Saul’s shop. “I don’t think they’re going to be seeing each other again.”

“Guess that’ll teach him to label his bottles.” Rhea commented as she turned to look at Buwaro and Kieri playing with the hand puppets that they didn’t manage to sell. She couldn’t help but crack a smile when Death’s eye popped out yet again.