Amicus: 13 Years Old

“715! Don't forget, you die tomorrow!”

The man's laughter rang down a dim, cramped corridor into her even more cramped little cell. She pulled her knees tighter to her chest, arms trembling as she listened.

She couldn't help listening. There was nowhere to run, not even in her head. 

No one to help. 

Her insides felt like they were burning as she struggled to breathe. The part of her that had been so determined to live was fighting with a growing panic and despair.

“We're finally seeing daylight tomorrow, 715,” the man's voice echoed. “No one will stop me from taking your head then. Do you think it'll hurt? I think I'll make you scream first. I'll take off your pretty little arm and then a leg before your head. Can you hear the crowd cheering? I'll be the hero of the hour!"

His laughter made her shudder, and tears ran nonstop and silently into her knees. 

He was right. 

She had no hope. Even if she beat him tomorrow, there were other desperate people she had to face. All of them wanted to live. All of them silently listened to the taunts as they, too, dwelled in their nightmares.

Kathryn! Tom! Tanya’s god, please.

Please!

It felt like her whole soul poured into her silent cries, a pressure in her chest and gut trying to force its way out of her body anywhere it could.

But they didn't hear.

They hadn't heard the entire three years she'd been in this miserable, terrifying place.

They weren't coming. 

She knew that, yet she still repeated the plea. Anyone.

Please.

As though, at long last, something in the ether had finally heard, she felt something snap inside her chest.

She gasped, sitting up quickly and pressing both hands to her collar. Did I break my lungs? Can lungs break like bones?

No.

Her lungs expanded, bigger and fuller than she’d managed for the last hour. At the same time, a strange mixture of smells speared her nose… Was it her nose? It was confusing. The scents were more like a memory of scents than real scents, so she wasn’t sure she was actually smelling them.

What’s more…

She glanced toward the front of her cell and through the bars, at the light that pooled just outside. It didn’t waver, as magical lights usually don’t. She couldn’t see the lamp, but she knew, she knew, that the strange, tangy scent was coming from it.

What in all tears is going on?

There was more.

As she focused on the bewildering phenomenon, she felt it pulsating in the ground, the walls, the ceiling. It, that something, that stuff, seemed to flow in circles, never escaping but constantly moving.

The unfamiliar sensations made her dizzy, and she had to roll to her knees, trying to reach her slop bucket before she gagged. She leaned over it, the putrid smells coming from it almost drowning out the other ghost-like smells.

The man's laughter became louder, half insane.

“715, is that you?! Do you hear that, everyone? I finally made that scrawny little brat break.”

She’d had enough. More than enough. 

Pressing her hands over her ears, still leaning over the bucket, she shouted as loudly as she could, “Shut up!”

Unconsciously—by blind, unintended instinct—something in her chest reached for the stuff, the smell of the lamp, outside of her cell. Not just that lamp, but the vibrating something in all the lamps down the corridor, and even the pulsating waves of something that hummed in the ceiling.

The lights flared brilliantly, causing a chorus of voices to yell in surprise and fear before the lamps abruptly went out. 

Darkness.

She gasped and wheezed, surrounded by stunned silence. No one spoke again, not even the taunter in his cell down the aisle.

Slowly, she lay down, too dizzy to stay upright.

Overhead, she felt the strange something return.

Unlike the lights, whatever was happening in the walls didn’t have a name she knew. But it felt the same—the same kind of something that made the lamps work. It only hiccuped for a moment before settling back into place.

Power, that’s what it felt like. And this power smelled like… the nearly forgotten scent of grass.

Exhausted, she closed her eyes and blissfully passed out from sheer emotional and physical exhaustion.

***

Present: 20 Years Old

There was a commotion in the alley below, just as the first howls of canine fiends began to shake the pregnant stillness from a distance.

Somewhere on the outskirts of the sprawling city, the imperial-sanctioned demon dogs had been released.

She'd been listening for those howls, watching for her monthly nemesises to begin their prowl of the streets—contemplating if it was cowardice or just laziness that kept her from letting the beasts take her.

Once a month, the demons were sent out by the city to cleanse the streets of unwanted people, particularly the homeless. Usually these people were then taken to facilities where they could be claimed, with a fee, by loved ones. If they were not claimed, they were sold or disposed of, depending on their ability to work. 

However, every four months or so, the creatures had to eat, else their summoning would end.

It was an ideal night for a person to give up on life. If only she cared either way, maybe she could make a decision.

The commotion below was distracting her from her thoughts.

Impassively, the Amicus looked down from her perch on the edge of a wall. This part of the city was a hodgepodge of private homes surrounded by walls and tall buildings pressed close together. They formed a maze of alleys she'd been wandering on a nightly basis for just over a year. 

Where she sat, she was up high enough that the group below was unlikely to see her, even if she wasn't rapidly becoming another shadow in the darkening day.

She idly wondered what they'd fear more. Her? Or the dogs?

Five people, some of whom she recognized if she squinted, were pushing along a sixth person.

The sixth person was tied, wrists behind his back and blindfolded.

An execution, she interpreted, her interest finally stirring. Despite herself, she leaned forward, holding the edge of the wall’s simple parapet to keep from falling off.

The group wisely didn't go far from their safety door, pushing Six onto the cobblestones hard enough to bruise him. 

Meanwhile, the howls were becoming insistent as it grew darker, the creatures eager to begin their work for the night. Obviously, the execution group was keenly aware that tonight’s objective wasn't just to scrape human scum off the cobbles. Unlike most Cleansing nights, the people captured by the fiends would not be reclaimed or sold.

She couldn't hear what they were saying as they pummeled Six with kicks.

As though Tanya's god, Providence, were interceding, a lamp on the wall came to life, triggered by the growing dark. Immediately, the Amicus reached for the power inside it and pulled, taking the mana and reforming it to temporarily enhance her hearing.

In response, the lamp went out.

“... last words, Blake?”

“Traitors don't get last words,” spat a woman's voice.

“Spies do,” countered a man with a nasal problem. The Amicus had no problem recognizing that voice. What was his name again? “Tell us who sent you and where you put the documents. If you do, we might leave you in a shed instead.”

Six snorted. “Wrongblood dog.” His tone was too cheerful for the situation. “If your mama weren't so big, I'd toss her.”

That earned him a kick in the ribs. He groaned, and the watching Amicus shook her head.

What a spill brain.

The howls were becoming bone-chilling now, and the group as a whole was beginning to shift uncomfortably, shooting looks toward the wall door they'd left open.

“Boss, we need to go.”

The leader with the nasal problem gritted his teeth and kicked Six again. Then, without looking back, he led the way in a dash to the door.

It closed with a clunk and the hurried clangs of a bolt being thrown.

For a second, the Amicus stared down at the squirming prisoner, who was almost all shadow now. She didn't need to see him to know what he was doing. With the approaching fiends on a feeding night, he was desperately trying to free himself.

Spill brain, she thought again with a sigh, letting go of the spell that amplified her hearing.

Without thinking about it, she dropped off the side of the wall.

More lights went out, and the building’s magical security stuttered as she drew mana from it and forced it to switch to other mana reserves. Meanwhile, the Amicus, using the new mana draw from both sources, slowed her descent and landed lightly on the cobbles.

It was dark enough now that she didn't have to worry about him seeing her face.

Unsheathing a knife strapped to her thigh, she didn't say a word as she grabbed the man's wrists and began sawing through the rope.

Not even when he yelped in surprise.

“Who's there?!”

Fortunately, spill brain or not, he was quick enough to realize there was no time for chatter and didn't press for an answer.

As soon as his wrists were free, he yanked the blindfold off and scrambled to his feet.

“This way,” the Amicus said curtly and began to run.

The howls were so loud now that she expected to see one of the beasts at any second. She'd deal with it if needed, but she'd prefer not to. Unfortunately, just as they turned the corner, she saw the wisps of greater darkness at the end of the street.

“Door on the right, should be unlocked,” she snapped over her shoulder, drawing a second knife from her other thigh band.

The fiend howled and turned the corner up ahead, where a lamp was still bravely glowing on the street beyond.

It looked like a wispy shadow dog, almost as tall as the Amicus and leaking fluttery ink mists as it moved. When it locked on her, she could almost feel its murderous intention sharpen in its glowing red eyes.

Ah. So it's one she's met before.

Too bad it wasn't one that she'd returned to its home existence before the master forbade her from doing that.

Well, in a way that was good. It meant it would have no interest in Six.

It howled, a sound instantly answered by others in the vicinity, and charged at her. Well, that wasn't good.

She ran right past the door.

“What are you doing?!” the man shouted behind her.

“Get to the shed,” was her clipped reply.

She heard him swearing as she clashed with the first fiend. Its darkness flowed around her, blinding her, trying to suck her into its hungry depths. She pushed back, both with her slashing weapons in synchronistic arcs and mentally with mana pulls, yanking at its ethereal body like it was a spell. The mana pulls flooded her nose with a gritty, dirt scent. Not unpleasant, just strong.

It howled in pain and rage, answered again by other fiendish cries. She needed to end this before the others came, otherwise she might not—

Abruptly, the fiend leapt away in a rush, yelping in whimpered agony. At the same time, the Amicus smelled and felt the flash of cinnamon-flavored mana that attacked the dog-beast.

“You're a dirty mage?!”

“Less talk, more running.”

Six actually grabbed her arm and yanked her toward the wall door.

They were through, but not fast enough to both close the door and dive into a shed just inside the door. Opting to focus on the shed, they got inside and Six immediately tripped but deftly turned as he fell, kicking the door closed as the Amicus stumbled through.