Karuuk’ul watched as Jolon slipped away from the tent. Jolon was slow, unsure on his feet, not wanting to faint again. It had taken Karuuk’ul many minutes to wake Jolon the first time. When Jolon did come too he was in no condition to be of any use, almost fainting again when he opened his eyes to see Karuuk’ul looking over him. Then he started sobbing, whimpering about how sorry he was for everything while he curled himself into the fetal position and begged for mercy as if he thought he was dying and was trying to repent for his sins. It took several more minutes of persuading before Jolon was calm enough to take instruction and even when Karuuk’ul had convinced Jolon that he wasn't dying; he stared at Karuuk’ul with wide fearful eyes and flinched every time Karuuk’ul looked directly at him. Karuuk’ul remained in his preferred ethereal state. He could have fully formed into this reality but didn't as he felt trapped and confined when he was in human form, which was horrifying to even the most hardened humans he had encountered.
Even as Karuuk’ul watched Jolon walk back toward the main Greejon encampment, he still wasn't sure if he had reached him or if Jolon was going to return with a squad of armed men. It would be foolish for him to do so. It would only result in all their deaths and Karuuk’ul had bigger plans right now.
When Jolon was no longer in sight, Karuuk’ul let the flap to the tent close and he turned back to the interior. There he was, the human that destroyed his prison. The pitiful human that had somehow defeated all the shadow guardians that had been left behind to ensure Karuuk’ul's incarceration remained intact. How long he had been stuck behind the barrier he did not know. The dress of the time was different from when he had last walked this earth but everything else seemed similar. That was all he needed to know. The rest he didn't care about. Karuuk’ul had grown even more powerful during his imprisonment and had a long time to think about whom and how he wanted to exact revenge. It was a consequence of trying to house so much evil in one place. One could only become more evil and his hatred had had long to fester and darken his already black soul. Those that had been sent to join him, he ruled. They would be at his command and when he called them, they would do his bidding. They would obey him for they were his now and every bit as dark and evil as he was. He would enjoy letting them out of Tâ Oandimn, the realm they had been confined to and they would help him conquer this one.
There was one that Karuuk’ul singled out though; one that he savored getting his hands upon more than anybody else. It was the one that had sealed him in that filthy realm for eternity. He would be making sure to avenge himself upon him to the fullest.
First Karuuk’ul had to set the stage properly so revenge would have to wait. As much as he hated to do it, Karuuk’ul knew that he would need a disguise to travel this earth, his own human form too horrific to be able to move about. Again he regarded the body lying on the ground. The pool of blood had stopped growing but Karuuk’ul didn't need to see that to know that Draax lived. He could feel the steady beat of his heart. He could see the trace of Draax's aura, streaked with black, still clinging to his body.
Karuuk’ul knew Draax. Karuuk’ul was familiar with all the evil doers of this earthly realm through their actions. Every time they committed atrocities, no matter how slight, it was felt in Tâ Oandimn and he had come to know every sin they committed. Most sins he would just savor in the moment they existed, like a child with candy. Other acts were so exquisitely evil that Karuuk’ul would draw from them their delicious dark energy to add to his own being.
Even though all sinful acts were different, when they were perpetrated by the same person they had the same signature to them. They would have the same feel and emotional intensity behind them. Karuuk’ul had grown to know the different perpetrators by their signature.
Of course there were the ‘one offs’ as he liked to call them; the people who went too far when they couldn’t control their anger, the people who acted out of noble cause that were just trying to feed their family or protect a loved one. They were of little concern to Karuuk’ul. Their acts harbored very little of the dark energy he craved. It was those who were truly evil, acting out of some insatiable lust to dominate that would repeatedly commit the horrible deeds that Karuuk’ul paid attention to. It was he who tainted their aura with black. For when they committed hedonistic acts, their souls were accessible to him for a fraction of time. With a swipe like a painter at an easel he added the darkness to their souls; a little piece of himself as a souvenir. The black never faded or came off, no matter how hard they tried to make things right. The black always stayed with them no matter what, like a marker of how nasty they were and Draax was near the top of the list.
Karuuk’ul drifted over to Draax and touched a shadowy hand to his back and held it there until Draax began to stir, then removed his hand. Draax rolled over with a long, painful groan.
Karuuk’ul waited as Draax rolled onto his back. He wanted Draax to see who he was. He wanted to see the fear in Draax’s eyes when he realized the end had come for him. The party was over and it was time to pay.
Draax's eyes locked on Karuuk’ul and he stopped groaning with the abruptness of someone wrenching the needle from a record. His eyes grew wide with terror but he couldn't look away; couldn't scream out as the impact of was about to happen hit him with crushing force. He could only lay there and wait for the end like some domesticated pet that needed to be put down.
"Yes Draax, you remember me don't you?" Karuuk’ul chided, making sure to assume the dreadful form that Draax would recognize.
Draax did nothing to acknowledge him, his eyes vacant and waiting, trying to send his mind somewhere else and away from the devouring horror.
"Well, well. I must say, I’m disappointed. And after all the fun times we enjoyed together. Tsk, tsk Draax. Not to worry though. We can fix that.” Karuuk’ul relished the dread he could feel emanating from Draax’s body. “I certainly remember you. You had to know that sooner or later we would meet. There’s no way you weren't going to pay for your 'sins'." Karuuk’ul waved an ethereal hand in a slow, teasing circle over Draax's chest.
Draax still did nothing. He was paralyzed with fear, thoughts and images pouring through his mind. The murders, the rapes, the stealing; their totality crushing him like a bug. He could feel a swirling in his chest like his skin was spinning under Karuuk’ul's hand. He forced his eyes to look down and could see a green vortex, like a cloudy tornado, turning under Karuuk’ul's deliberate orchestration. The vortex was spinning up, reaching toward Karuuk’ul's hand like a flower reached toward the spring sun, spiking and then withdrawing at Karuuk’ul’s whim. Draax tried to look away but the best he could do was look at the ceiling of the tent, hoping that it would be over quickly.
"Yes, I think we are going to get to know each other very well in a moment Draax." Karuuk’ul’s already dry voice laced with a wicked tone.
The green vortex spinning on Draax’s chest reached up and encompassed Karuuk’ul's hand and Draax stiffened. He could feel something as the two entities connected. It wasn't painful but it sent an evil tingling sensation in a slow ripple around his entire body. Draax knew it wasn't good and tried again to do something but his limbs wouldn't respond.
The protruding vortex started to recede, sinking back to its original position on his chest. To Draax’s horror, Karuuk’ul's hand followed, like they were connected now; bonded forever in some twisted nightmare. Draax realized the vortex was pulling Karuuk’ul into his body, which reacted with violent spasms.
Karuuk’ul looked Draax directly in the eye. This was his favorite part of the ritual. The moment when his victim realized what was happening and knew there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was taking over their body. It was inevitable.
Karuuk’ul's hand continued to disappear into the green vortex; past the wrist and continuing up the arm. As more of Karuuk’ul entered the vortex, more of whatever made Draax was pushed aside; squashed to the sides of the body, pushed outward from the heart and the brain toward the skin as Karuuk??
?ul's energy forced its way inside.
"You’re not going to need this body where you’re going anyway Draax so just let go." Karuuk’ul was gleeful as his being continued conquering Draax’s flesh. “It’ll be easier that way.”
As Karuuk’ul said that, Draax could feel the last vestiges of his spirit forced out from the beneath the skin of his body like beads of sweat. His soul set free from the mortal flesh and sent along a dark strand of energy toward a blackness he could not fathom. A dark so complete he had no words to describe it. For a brief moment Draax was of two worlds; the earthly world of humanity and whatever the darkness was that he was hurtling toward. Nobody had to tell him that the darkness was pure evil. More evil than any of the deeds he had committed and Draax realized that he would never leave. He would live an eternity of pain and suffering, atoning for his life.
Outside of his body now Draax realized he was free to move and move he did. He fought with everything he could muster to claw his way back along the dark strand connecting his mortal body with the pit of evil that lay ahead. Inch by inch, amid the increasing appearance of beings along the energy strand that were clawing and pulling at him, Draax was able to slow his descent toward the darkness that was eagerly awaiting him. Time had no meaning now so Draax didn’t know how long he struggled but he managed to get back to his body. He pushed and shoved and barged his way along the strand of energy hand over hand and was able to gain temporary purchase of his body. He could see the tent now through one bleary eye and buoyed with renewed hope, he struggled for more.
Karuuk’ul had seen it before. They all tried to fight their way back in once they saw what was waiting for them. They should have thought about that when they were still alive he would snidely remind himself. They had every opportunity to choose a different path but they still chose the path of evil and that path exacts a heavy toll. Not right away of course. You get to enjoy the spoils of your ways for a mortal life but when that had run its course, you were Karuuk’ul’s forever. Normally he wouldn't even allow them the small amount of hope he had given Draax but he had been caught off guard. Of all the souls he had claimed, he was sure Draax would accept his fate like the hardened man he had been in life and he was surprised to see Draax fighting so hard to get back in to his body. Karuuk’ul had seen enough however. No point in getting Draax's hopes up too much. "You have to go now Draax. Your time is up and I have use for this body."
Draax was shoved out of his body for a second time with the finality of a slamming door and he knew it was over. He had done all he could. As he returned to the dark energy strand he looked back and could see his body pushing itself up from the floor and lurching to a steady stance like a baby learning how to walk. A single tear rolled from the eye he had reanimated.
Braulor looked over his shoulder. “We’re getting close now.”
Tagan was relieved. It’d been starting to feel like they would never stop running. Braulor had set a heavy pace trying to distance themselves from the pursuing Citadel guards. Even from the heights they had been, they hadn't seen anyone trailing them and didn’t hear anymore barking. Tagan assumed that the patrol they were trying to elude had fallen behind. With any hope they had given up altogether but Braulor wasn't confident that the patrol had given up and he kept them moving at a brisk pace.
The visible path they started out on was no more and Tagan wondered if there was even a path to begin with. Braulor seemed to be taking them through a mishmash of clear land that never followed any logical direction. They walked hurriedly along trails and through ravines. Along high cliff passes and through dense forest, running where they could, and had the energy to, grabbing short rests along the way. At several points Braulor had to stop and climb a tree to get a better look and assess where the sun was in the sky in relation to where they were heading. The result was often another change in direction.
Tagan had never covered this much distance before and was amazed that he had pulled it off. He had no choice really. If he had become separated from Braulor for some reason, there was no way he would’ve found his way out. He would have been caught by the patrol they were trying to escape or he would have collapsed and died out in the middle of nowhere. Both were good motivators to keep up no matter how much his body complained.
Braulor was gazing ahead through the trees, eyes squinting, as he tried to focus on some unseen target. Tagan eased up beside him. "What do you see?"
"Nothing." Braulor sounded concerned but did not take his gaze away from where he was looking.
"That's good isn't it?"
"We’re close enough to the Greejon camp, there should be guards posted but I don't see anything. It's strange."
Tagan traced Braulor's gaze out into the forest but could see nothing but trees.
Braulor put his hand to his face, cupping them around his mouth, and issued a series of yips and yelps, then waited.
Tagan shifted his gaze from Braulor to the forest and back again. They were both as still as the trees they were among, waiting for a reply. He listened so hard, the forest seemed to come alive with sound. Tagan could hear flies and bees buzzing around their heads mixed together with birds chirping, leaves rustling nervously, but no answering call came.
"This isn’t right Tagan. There should be posted guards to answer that call." Braulor looked at Tagan, his face grave.
"Maybe they didn't post guards this time."
"We always post guards. It's standard security."
“Well, maybe they didn't hear it. Why don't you try again?"
Braulor raised his eyebrows at Tagan, frowning, but he cupped his hands around his mouth anyway and issued the same series of noises, this time an octave louder.
Again they waited. Tagan was listening so hard he could hear the thud of his own heartbeat and the swoosh of blood as it circulated his body.
Still no reply came.
Braulor's look of concern deepened and his lips compressed into a tight line while he thought. "We need to find out what’s going on.”
Tagan nodded.
"Stay close to me. The guards may have been instructed to maintain silence for some reason and they could surround us at any time." Braulor moved ahead, picking a careful path.
Tagan nodded again and followed but he could hear the doubt in Braulor’s voice.
Their path merged with another trail and following it back with his eyes Tagan could see this new trail originated from perilous looking heights. Braulor glanced uneasily back up this new trail but didn't elaborate.
The path widened little by little as they walked, becoming easier to navigate and allowing them to pick up the pace once again. Braulor was tense as he walked and Tagan followed suit even though he was feeling more relaxed to be out of the deep woods.
Braulor kept slowing and looking at the ground, nodding to himself as he did so like he was ticking off a mental checklist.
They emerged from the forest into a large clearing that fronted itself on the river edge. There were paths worn in intricate detail around small plots of land, indicating that something used to occupy those spaces.
"Is this the camp?" Tagan was losing hope of having a comfortable place to rest ever again.
Braulor stood, gaping at the scene, trying to comprehend what was happening. He only nodded in response, mouth open, eyes screwed up like if he squinted the right way everything would come into view.
Tagan swept the area again. It seemed like there had been people recently but they had vacated.
"I don't understand." Braulor stepped forward a few yards and stopped.
Tagan didn't know what to say and continued looking at the abandoned camp. He had been looking forward to a nice warm meal and a safe place to get some rest. Now he didn't know what was happening and he dreaded the thought of more running.
Braulor walked like he was in a trance around the closest of the trails looking for any sort of clues.
"Something must have made them pack up early." Tagan didn’t know what could’ve caused that t
o happen and wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
Braulor didn't answer right away and made his way back to Tagan "Yes, but what?"
Tagan opened his mouth to try and formulate some sort of answer when a groan caught their attention. They spun in the direction it came from, nerves jangling, but could see nothing.
Another groan, this time a little louder, drifted to their ears.
They looked at one another and Braulor put his finger to lips indicating to be quiet and walked as stealthy as a cat in the direction the noise came from with Tagan falling in step behind him.
The ground was flat, with no obstacles to cause concern and they came to the edge of the tree line where there was a little path leading beyond, deeper into the forest. They stopped and listened once more.
A third groan, this one louder than the others.
The trail led them to a small clearing, perhaps big enough for one tent. The clearing was surrounded by trees except for another path that led out the back and into the bush.
"Help me." The ragged voice was coming from beyond the clearing.
Braulor and Tagan went toward the voice with caution, aware of the possibility they were walking into a trap. They stopped inside the treeline, pausing so their eyes could adjust to the darkness, before continuing on.
Several yards inside the forest they found the source. A man was lying on his side, arms and legs askew as if someone threw him there like a piece of garbage.
Braulor ran to the man and rolled him onto his back.
Tagan joined him; knife held out in front of him and was almost sick. The man's face was caked in blood and dirt. His skull was misshapen like someone had taken a hammer to it in spots. Tagan wanted to look away but found he couldn't.
"Water." The man’s voice was raspy and hoarse. Without opening his eyes he fumbled around with his hands and grasped Braulor's arm with surprising strength and said again. "Water."
"Tagan, your flask." Braulor leaned in to get a closer look at the man’s mangled face.
Tagan sheathed his knife and knelt beside Braulor. He opened his flask and poured a generous amount of water in the man’s mouth.
The man gulped at the liquid, his tongue lolling out, lapping in blood and dirt at the same time. Then slumped the ground as if he had expended all his energy taking the drink.
"What happened here?"
The man opened his eyes and rolled his head toward them, looking at Tagan and then Braulor. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy. "I'm not sure. I was following a trail down from the mountain pass when I was ambushed by some guards. They captured me and brought me back to this camp."
"It looks like camp was abandoned in a hurry. Why?" Braulor glanced back at the vacant site.
"The beady eyed one, he was interrogating me in his tent when a guard came running in saying the camp was under attack."
“Jolon.” Braulor didn’t need more description as he envisioned Jolon’s most recognizable feature. He was beginning to regret sending Tyran back alone and he wondered what had become of his brother.
"Yes. That was his name, Jolon. He left with the guard, ran right out of the tent and left me there. I could hear lots of fighting and then everything got quiet. Jolon came barging back in, dragged me out of the tent and left me here. Not before he vented some of his anger on me.” The man indicated the welts and bruises on his body. “I lay here and watched as everything was packed up and they all left." With that, the man let his head roll back to the ground and closed his eyes.
Braulor stared at the man. He didn't know what to believe. It certainly appeared that there had been a hasty bug out from camp but he was finding this all too hard to digest. For all the time they had been returning here there had never been a problem before. Why now? Who was it that attacked them? They were on friendly terms with other clans in the area. It could have been some group of mercenaries that banded together for an attack to grab supplies Braulor surmised. That seemed more feasible than anything else but shouldn't have been enough to make everybody pack up and leave. They were more than well-equipped and trained enough to deal with a mercenary gang.
Braulor looked back to the man lying on the ground in front of him. Tagan was delivering more water to him and Braulor took the opportunity to scrutinize him. His wounds were consistent with being interrogated, albeit, not in any manner that he had trained anyone from the Greejon clan. The blood that covered most of the man’s face looked like its source was somewhere in his hairline. The bruising on his cheeks and around his eyes looked like he had been punched or kicked more than once. Even through all the dirt and blood and swelling, there was something about the man that Braulor found familiar. He didn’t know where or when but he had a feeling that they knew each other.
The man stopped drinking and lay still once more.
"What was your name again?" Braulor knew full well that the man hadn’t offered his name.
The man seemed startled by the question, flinching as if he thought he was alone and was surprised that someone was there. "Oh. My name is… uhh." Karuuk’ul hadn't been ready for this question. In fact he had found his way into this spot as Braulor and Tagan came the edge of the abandoned camp. Only moments before, he had been putting the finishing touches to his face. He wanted to make sure he was convincing as a tortured prisoner so he had to apply a few marks to his face to play the part properly. Smacking his face on a nearby rock did the trick and it only took a couple of blows. It didn't hurt him. He could sense pain coming from the body but it wasn't his body so the pain was easily ignored and shunted aside. "My name is Grawton. Yes Grawton." It was the only name that sprang to mind when he was casting about for an answer to Braulor’s question.
Grawton was one of the first souls Karuuk’ul encountered after he had been banished to Tâ Oandimn. He had tortured Grawton for what seemed like forever and Grawton never broke. Never once begged for mercy or pleaded for leniency. In his mortal life Grawton had been a grotesque murderer and fiend of the rarest kind. There were others that Karuuk’ul encountered that had been just as cruel and vicious but Grawton had that extra element that made him truly evil; that certain something that made him feared by all others. He had been so impressed with Grawton that as the souls had begun to accumulate and he discovered that he needed assistance with them all; it was Grawton he turned to. As Karuuk’ul had grown to rule his realm, Grawton had grown alongside him. But Grawton didn't want power; he only wanted to continue to hurt others for his own enjoyment so it was no big step for him to appoint Grawton as his second in command. Sometimes he wondered how Grawton had become the way he was but Grawton would never divulge the deed that had created him so he let it be.
"Grawton, huh." Braulor was hesitant to believe. “What clan are you from?"
Grawton tried to sit up but couldn't manage it and lay there rubbing his arms and legs, trying to promote circulation. "I’m not from any clans around here. I came from the other side of the mountains." He was proud of his quick bit of thinking. His recollection of the area was that there were other tribes and towns beyond the mountain ridges that he could see. He only had to hope that Braulor would stop asking him questions and be content with his answers.
Braulor looked at Grawton. He had dealt with clans from the other territories before and it was always a small group of representatives or a lone man from the respective tribe that had come on to the Greejon to facilitate barter and trade. In that respect Grawton’s story seemed plausible. As a matter of protocol, the trades always stuck to business and little to no other information was exchanged leaving Braulor unfamiliar with groups outside of Brankin Huoh’s territory. Grawton could have told him any name and Braulor wouldn’t know if he was lying or not. He wanted to keep probing Grawton with more questions but he didn’t want to hang around the deserted camp any longer than he had to. There was still a Citadel patrol out there looking for them. "Can you walk Grawton?"
"I think so." After a couple of feeble attempts to get up, Grawton managed to rise on a wobbly pai
r of legs. A few moments of swaying and then he looked at Braulor and nodded.
Braulor and Tagan both stood. "Good. We have a long way to go and we can't be carrying you. Try to keep up."
"I'll do my best." Grawton tried to veil the contempt he was feeling for both of them.
They wandered back to where the main encampment was and scoured the area for any supplies they could find.
Tagan found a large hide they could use for a shelter.
Braulor, familiar with camp details, found a stash of food and water, already in packs along with some warmer clothes. There was enough for everybody and Grawton accepted what was offered without thanks.
Braulor led Grawton down to the river bank so he could clean up and tend to his wounds while he and Tagan hung back, chatting as they watched Grawton clean himself.
"What do you think?" Tagan motioned in Grawton's direction with a nod of his head.
"I don't know what to make of his story. If he had told me the same story a few weeks ago I would never have believed it possible but with everything that's happened since then, I can't say he's lying. It feels like everything I thought I knew is upside down."
"Do you know people from other territories?"
"Very few and when I met them they didn't share a lot of details. We would go about our business and then go our separate ways. So it makes sense from that angle. Grawton could have been coming to organize a trade."
"But?"
"But, I'm not sold on the idea.” Braulor paused as he shook his head. “There is something about him that seems familiar to me, like I have met him somewhere. I’m pretty good at remembering people I have dealt with before but I can’t quite place Grawton."
Grawton was returning from the river side. He was rubbing his face with a small piece of cloth but not in the way one would when it was bruised. It was like he was scrubbing a copper pot.
Braulor and Tagan watched with big eyes then turned to face each other in shared revulsion.
Grawton stopped in front of them, his lumpy face in a twisted, bruised smile. "Well, that feels better."
As Grawton looked up, for the briefest of moments, he changed. Not change as much as it looked like something detached from his body, like a shadow that came loose. It was a flash of darkness and then he was normal again but Braulor caught sight of it.
Braulor stared at Grawton in amazement, too shocked to say anything. He wasn’t even sure he saw what he thought. It didn’t seem possible.
Chapter 20