🚀 go-pugleaf

[Continued From Part One]

     A half hour after disembarking, the rag-tag pack sat in a semi-circle,
discussing their plan and making preparations for the fight ahead. The
nervousness which each felt was keenly echoed in the next, and they sat
close enough to touch throughout, drawing comfort from the knowledge that
no matter what was to come, they were there for each other at that moment.
     "I wish I had my Walkman with me," said Grant, absorbing sharp notes
sung by Shyrose. Presently she grimaced and rushed to the river for water,
her throat aching.
     "You wish you had your Walkman?" she asked, soothing her sore larynx
with a cool drink. "_You_ wish that you had your Walkman?"
     "How are you?" asked Sabrina, with concern, half standing to walk over
to Shyrose. "'Rose? Is your throat okay?"
     "Not really," replied Shyrose, returning to the group and sitting back
down. Gingerly, she rubbed her neck with a hand. "Never had to sing that
high or that loud for that long before. But if it'll help us win this
thing, it's worth it."
     "Yeah, you're absolutely right," replied Sabrina, smiling at Dianna,
who smiled faintly back. A tension seemed to drain off from the group at
the exchange. "Now, I think we've got absolutely everything worked out.
Hm... except for Kayle."
     "Kayle stays out of this," declared Grant, his body-wave rippling with
the sonic energy imparted to him by Shyrose. He glanced at Kayle
momentarily before turning his attention back to the others. "Pure and
simple."
     "Kayle might also develop something useful in battle," countered
Shyrose hoarsely, matching Grant's stare. Sabrina shook her head in
response, sighing slightly.
     "Kayle might not, either. We can't risk him being hurt because we
gambled on him getting a power, and lost."
     "Kayle may as well not be here, the way people are talking about him
in front of his face," quipped Kayle. "But Kayle will persevere, because
someone told Kayle that these were his friends and Kayle still hasn't clued
in that they're all actually FBI alien visitors out to crush his ego."
     "Cut out the self pity, Kayle," commanded Grant, his waveform
reverberating with annoyance. He drew close, challenging but not
threatening, while Kayle nearly reeled with surprise at how little
reverence his friend commanded over him. He stopped for a moment to wonder
if he had simply gotten used to the effect, before Grant continued talking.
"We don't want you to get hurt, Kayle! That's what's important here. If,
and I mean _if_ you did get to fight, what would you do when it happened?"
     "Help out as I could," replied Kayle, turning from Grant to address
the group as a whole. "Guys... I appreciate this concern, but you're really
forgetting something: I'm like you all. I'm going to change soon and I know
it. I've even started to accept it. So let my change mean something, okay?"
     "Guys?" asked Dianna, her voice subdued, but drawing all eyes to her.
"I'll take responsibility for keeping Kayle safe, okay? Is that okay,
Kayle? If I don't let you get hurt?"
     "That's... fine," replied Kayle, smiling a bit. He relaxed, relieved
that his friends weren't rushing off to suicide alone. "This won't distract
you, will it?"
     "No, not at all," replied Dianna, wearing a pixie smile. "In fact, I
can cast the spell right now. I think... I know how it goes..." The
necromancer considered for a moment, feeling her natural affinity for magic
of the dead flow through her mind, body and soul. Throwing back her arms,
Dianna summoned forces from beyond the mortal pale to rush to her aid.
Kayle's breath caught in his throat as he saw his friend made great and
terrible for a moment in her power. He nearly flinched away from her as she
lightly touched an index finger to his forehead. "Catch him, someone," she
said, as Kayle's consciousness was submerged into a restful, dreamless
sleep. Sabrina reached out quickly and caught her friend as he fell.
     "What did you do?" she asked, gently laying Kayle on the ground before
looking up in concern. Dianna giggled a bit.
     "He _said_ I could keep him safe," she replied, looking down at
Kayle's supine form. "He didn't say how."
     "What did you do to him?" asked Shyrose, also looking down at Kayle's
still, almost motionless body.
     "I just... put him in a state between life and death," replied Dianna,
fidgeting a bit under the scrutiny. "He'll be okay once the spell wears
off. I put it on a kind of timer, in case... um... we don't make it."
     "Good idea," said Grant, looking up from Kayle to the others. "So what
now?"
     "Now... we wait," replied Shyrose, huddling into her blanket. "That
damned thing should find us easily enough."
     As though on cue, a crunching noise sounded behind the group which
whirled as one to face the noise. The moon-silvered Task burst through the
foliage of the clearing, striding purposefully towards the pack, eerily
mute and expressionless.
     "I'm about to wrestle down something that looks like it could take out
a cinderblock bunker by breathing hard," muttered Shyrose darkly. "If it
had a mouth to breath with, I mean. Murphy's _gotta_ love me." With that,
Shyrose whipped the sheet from herself, tossing it into the bushes where
she wouldn't accidentally absorb it for mass. Shyrose tried to focus all of
her attention on the Task, but a little detail wriggled into her mind...
     "GRANT WOULD YOU CLOSE YOUR DAMNED EYES?" she shouted behind herself,
causing the young man to flush with embarrassment. Grant obediently averted
his eyes, not particularly because he wanted to, but because he quickly
considered the wisdom of ogling a woman against her will when she was about
to turn into an armoured killing machine. Shyrose turned her attention back
to the slowly advancing Task and concentrated, taking in the most minute
details of creature as she peered at it. She felt the tickling sensation of
earth and stone being drawn through her feet into her body, providing mass
for her change. Her skin and very self utterly warped, mirroring the Task
that stood before her, and with a rush of power Shyrose's body shifted and
rearranged into a perfect doppleganger of her opponent.
     This thing really needs a mouth to shout 'what do I do now' with,
thought Shyrose, closing with the construct. While the two mammoths circled
the others jumped into action. Sabrina was first, leaping into the air with
a twirl, blurring to superspeed as she flawlessly spun in the air. Darting
around the Task like a butterfly, Sabrina danced. She spun, kicked, twirled
and hopped faster than the eye could follow, leading the Task towards what
she hoped would be its doom with her gyrations. At no point did she close
with the creature, content to dodge and dip under its savage blows. Grant
stood his ground and watched as the creature drew closer to him, his arms
pointed at the ground in front of him. Sabrina whirled and twisted,
bringing the Task closer and closer until it reached the point that they
had designated. Daringly, Dervish somersaulted onto the construct's
shoulders and blurred into motion again, vaulting gracefully over the
creature before it even realised that she was there. Remix waited the half
second for his friend to get out of the way before unleashing a devastating
wave of sonic force. Rather than targeting the creature itself, he blasted
the ground at its feet, throwing dirt and stone into the air. Clumsily, the
Task fell into the pit that Remix had blasted, landing on the bottom with
an audible thud.
     "'Rose, now!" shouted the young man, stepping back from the hole.
Immediately, Shyrose leaped down, her silvery form impacting upon the
Task's own. Struggling, she wrapped her arms around the creature, trying to
pin it to the ground.
     "Does she have it?" asked Dervish, twirling back to Remix.
     "Yup, she's got it," replied Remix, looking down at the hole, just as
the transformed Mimicmorph was hurled out of the pit and to their feet. "On
the other hand..."
     "It's not working!" cried Necra, biting her lip. "What do we do now?"
     "Improvise?" asked Dervish, looking uncertain as the Task leaped from
its earthen prison, landing next to the young speeder. She gasped and
jumped backwards, spinning into a low squat in time to avoid having her
windpipe crushed by a savage swipe.
     Several meters away, Kayle tossed fitfully in his dreamless sleep. His
body ran cold, then hot, then cold again. He moaned and the spell which
kept him prisoner began to loosen.
     "'Rose, hit him!" yelled Dervish, dancing the Task back towards the
pit. Mimicmorph raced towards the construct, trying to piledrive it back
into its prison, but stumbled as it moved aside, tumbling the selfshifter
to the dirt. Remix looked for a good angle from which to attack the ground
again, but the Task didn't move in a straight enough pattern for him to
blast with accuracy - and he was worried about using up the last of his
reserves before the battle concluded. Mimicmorph got to her feet and closed
ranks with Dervish and Remix as the Task moved relentlessly closer to them.
     Suddenly a shot rang out in the night. Buckshot rained against the
Task's back, causing the construct to turn around to face its assailant.
     "Oh poopie," muttered the forest ranger who had been investigating the
disturbance to his partner. "You know what the manual says about giant
silver creatures that shrug off a cartridge like it was birdseed, right?"
     "What's that?"
     "RUN LIKE HELL(tm)!" shouted the ranger, darting into the woods.
     "Wait, I don't remember that sect--WAIT FOR ME!"
     Meanwhile, the pack had not been idle. Seeing the creature distracted
for a moment, Remix aimed another sonic bolt at the Task's feet, blowing a
pit in the ground and immobilising the Task, at least temporarily.
     Kayle tossed and turned on the soft grass where he had been placed,
unconsciously gritting his teeth against the pain that he felt.
     Dervish hopped lightly down into the pit and executed a hyper-speed
tap dance on the Task's head, jumping back out as it swiped at her with a
brutal strength. This distraction gave Mimicmorph a chance to once more
drop onto the construct, securing one arm behind its back. Necra moved to
the side of the pit and looked down.
     Kayle's back arched as an angry charge ran down his spine,
illuminating his body from head to toe.
     Mimicmorph - struggling against the savage strength of the Task -
looked up at Necra, nodding frantically for her to cast her spell. The
young necromancer struggled with a spell, pointing at the half-trapped
construct.
     Light played over Kayle's body, reweaving body, bone and tissue.
     "I... can't do it!" cried Necra, shaking her head as sweat beaded on
her brow. Again she gestured, but the spell which she tried to draw to mind
eluded her grasp. "I don't know what I did wrong, but it's not working!"
     "Well do something else fast, then!" cried Dervish, looking down into
the pit. "'Rose can't hold it like that for much longer!"
     A pillar of light burst from the copse where Kayle had been placed,
seemingly out of the way of battle. The intensity of the flare nearly
blinded the young heroes, who shielded their eyes against the blaze.
Slowly, the dazzling light faded into a single humanoid shape which floated
in the air for a moment.
     "K-Kayle?" asked Dervish, looking up at the figure who slowly lowered
itself down towards the pit where the Task and Mimicmorph struggled. The
glowing man dove through the Task, shimmering like a stone-troubled pond as
he did so. The construct moved to attack its new assailant, managing to
break free of Mimicmorph's grasp. In response, the brilliant figure dove
through the creature again and vanished within it for a moment, before
floating out the other side. The Task froze mid-swipe, impotent and unable
to move.
     "Oh god, Kayle, what happened to you?" asked Sabrina, as the
illuminated man flew from the pit and landed between Remix and Dervish.
Upon closer inspection, the figure bore Kayle's facial features, though the
body itself was obscured by a brilliant white glow.
     "Told you I'd change," rang out Kayle's voice, clear and yet somehow
scattered, like a church-bell on a misty morning. He scowled for a moment,
then turned to Necra. "Whatever you've got to do, do it now! The Task
didn't have much of a mind to control, so I don't know how long its going
to stay still!"
     Mimicmorph took this opportunity to smash the Task to the ground and
pin it completely, holding it against the dirt. Necra jumped lightly into
the pit and placed her hand gently against the Task's head. She sighed
slightly as she felt herself slip into its soul, losing herself to the
outside world.
***
     Necra would have screamed in torment if her soulform had had a mouth
and air to give voice to the pain. Instead, as her essence merged with the
tortured soul of the Task, the young necromancer's spirit fluctuated with
her suffering. Slowly... so slowly... Necra began to distance herself from
the pain of the pre-damned soul, becoming distinct from its horrible
misery. Drifting through the currents of the creature's spirit, Necra began
to search for a fragment of her soul left, only hours earlier, to
facilitate a rather elaborate illusion. After only seconds, Necra was drawn
to the discarded piece of herself, which she moved to absorb.
     And then stopped, as her spirit touched another intelligent being who
clung desperately to her piece of soul for existence.
     Hello? sent Dianna, encoding a greeting into a capsule of her
personality and identity before casting it towards the refugee which clung
tightly to her spirit. A weak reply issued back, hardly held together in
the morass of the soul.
     ...di...?... returned the reply, barely encoded and given almost no
personality to help it propagate through the medium of the soul. There was
some reinforcement present, however, or else the sending would have been
scattered into the Task's soul and dissipated. With a shock, Necra
recognised the sender of the message.
     TOM! she sent back immediately, feeling a shiver at how little of her
friend seemed to remain. What happened?
     It took several moments for a sending to be distilled back to Necra,
and even once it returned it nearly became lost due to its weakness.
...killed... by man... with cauldron... knife... placed here... used...
to... scent... prey...didn't exist... almost... nearly faded away but...
found... this piece of... life...
     Oh no, sent back Necra, lacing her soul-send with overtones of
sympathy and love. For a long moment, she considered her options. The soul
which she's given to the Task was all that kept Tom from total dissolution
into oblivion. Yet it was also what stood between her and eternal
damnation. There was too little of it to be split, Tom needed this much
just to remain alive. With a tiny, inward sigh, Necra made her choice and
resumed her sendings.
     Tom, she continued, I'm going to merge you with the piece of soul that
you've found. The thing that's letting you remember who and what you are.
Then you'll be complete again. It'll be easier for you to think.
     Necra wasn't sure what to do after she'd given Tom back enough soul to
reform his identity. Presumably, his body was already dead and sacrificed.
Further, this would deny Necra the tiny, vital piece of soul which would
let her survive her contract with C. H. Aaron. But if she didn't act now,
Tom would slowly drift apart and die. If she could save a life, Hell(tm)
would be a price that she would gladly pay... and maybe that much less of a
torment. Slowly, Necra reached out to Tom's tiny sliver of soul and began
to merge it with her own discarded fragment.
     TaKE mINE!, sent a powerful soul-entity, its sending rippling Necra's
spirit-self with its force. It took the girl several moments to realise
that this was the Task's own bound spirit speaking.
     MinE! enD... continued the Task's soul, frenzied and pleading. Torment
laced every nuance of the sending, threatening to drive mad the necromancer
who received it. Necra gasped inwardly, realising what was being offered.
     You want me to give Tom your soul? she returned, being extremely
careful as to what she encoded into the sending. But you'll die!
     YES! dEaTH... BlESseD ceSSaTion... EnD MISerY... oVer...
     But... what about Tom? If I end your pain, will I give it to him?
     nOt DAmNed... wILL noT sUFfer... END! END! END!
     Necra could feel the waves of pain emanate from the Task's pre-damned
spirit. Moved by compassion and pity, she reached out through the soul in
which she currently visited, feeling its boundaries adhere to her power.
     Are you sure you want this? she sent one more time, ready to stand
down if she was making a mistake.
     OvER, OVeR, OVER! sent back the Task's soul, a pleading note woven
into its demands. Necra sent back a single affirmative sending, before
drawing the corners of the soul to herself.
     Tom... she began, I give you a soul... and a body in which to house
it. With that, she drew Tom's consciousness into the Task's soul, cleansing
it of its damned occupant.
     freeeeee..... was the soul's last sending before it was flooded
utterly by Tom. As her last act in the Task's lifeforce Necra reached out
and grasped her soul fragment, taking it into herself before returning to
the mortal world.
***
     "You can... let go," whispered Necra, as she slowly opened her eyes.
"It won't hurt us anymore." Mimicmorph nodded mutely and let go, putting an
arm around her friend before leaping them both out of the pit. Once on the
ground again, Shyrose let her pattern of the Task fade away. Dirt, shreds
of rocks and everything else that she had absorbed for mass fell to the
ground around her in a light sprinkle. Behind her there was a thudding
noise.
     "What was that?" she asked, turning around to see what could have
happened. Dianna sighed tiredly.
     "Grant... fainting," she replied, rolling her eyes before sitting down
on the ground, exhausted.
     Shyrose rolled her eyes as well. "I'm going to have to have a little
talk with the boy about respect for the opposite sex one day." She walked
into the foliage and pulled out her blanket, draping it concealingly around
herself. "How'd we do?"
     "Good," smiled Dianna through her fatigue, looking relieved and
relaxed. "I got what I needed... and I think we got Tom back."
     Shyrose blinked in surprise, just as the others rushed up to the pair.
"Tom? Where?"
     As though in answer to her question, the Task slowly climbed out of
the pit and faced the young woman.
     "It's out, we've got to put it down!" cried Sabrina, ready to dance up
to speed, even while knowing the futility of yet another battle. Dianna put
herself between the Task and the others, holding up warding arms.
     "Stop it, this is Tom!" cried Dianna, unconsciously drawing upon her
visage to add command to her words. The others, awed, stopped at her
command.
     "What do you mean, this is Tom?" asked Grant, confusion written across
his face. Dianna walked past the man, her eyes fixed upon a point behind
him. The others shrugged and peered curiously at the Task, who raised a
hand and waved his fingers.
     "Kayle?" asked Dianna, stopping at the glowing humanoid figure. He
smiled benignly at the necromancer, clearly glad to see her.
     "It's me," spoke Kayle, his voice clear as a trumpet. "Yes, I've
picked a name, though I'm a little late to use it. It's Aura, anyway. Guess
my crystal decided to wait until the others needed me."
     "Maybe," replied Dianna, biting her lip. She seemed ready to comment
on Kayle's words, but stopped short, censoring herself. "Maybe that's it.
Are you... okay?"
     "As okay as I can be, I guess," replied Kayle, his slight depression
radiating away from him like waves of pure thought. "I'd more or less
resigned myself to this happening to me."
     "What's... it like?" asked Dianna, almost morbidly fascinated. Kayle
smiled slightly, and as he did so, the emotions radiating from him became
not depression but faint amusement and friendship.
     "It's weird, Di," he replied, crossing his arms across his chest. "I
don't know if I can even come close to how it is using just words. I feel
like... my whole self is my mind. But it's more than that. I look at you...
and I can feel - just a little - what you're feeling. I could almost count
all of the rabbits, birds and foxes around if I really concentrated. I
feel... I don't know, Di. It's incredible and alienating at the same time."
     Kayle reached down, and picked up a small rock. Slowly, as though
caught in warm molasses, it slipped through his hand and fell back to the
ground. "Takes a heck(sm) of a lot of concentration to hold onto anything,
though," he sighed. "Guess you have to take the good with the bad."
     Dianna nodded a little and Kayle smiled, radiating good-will again.
"Hey, Di, you get the piece of your soul that you needed?"
     "Yes, I did," replied Dianna, with a small smile, glad that Kayle was
not fixated on his plight. "We can go pay the boatman."
     "Sure can, but first... mind if I say hi to Tom, first? I'd thought he
was dead, and I'd really like to talk to him again."
     "He can't talk," said Shyrose, who had overheard a bit of the
conversation. "Look."
     Kayle and Dianna looked down at the ground where Shyrose had
indicated. There, Tom had stooped down and was scrawling to the others in
the dirt. Kayle stepped forward.
     "Hey there, Tom," he said, smiling a hair. "It's _really_ good to see
you." The Task looked up, and though it had no facial features to change,
Kayle knew that he was smiling inwardly. "And if I guessed it right, it's
good just to be alive, eh?" Tom replied with a nod, scrawling 'Better than
where I was before' in the dirt.
     "How did he get in there?" asked Grant, turning to address Dianna, who
shook her head slightly.
     "Someone... sacrificed him," she said quietly, her voice filled with
tones of horror. Sabrina stopped short.
     "Sacrificed him?" she asked, aghast. "That's... when I get my hands on
whoever did it... why?"
     "I... think to give the Task impetus," replied Dianna sadly,
understanding but not comprehending what one could do to another. "And to
help find us."
     "Hold on," said Sabrina, crossing her arms as winds played about her
hair. "Doesn't that jibe wrong?"
     "Hunh?" asked Grant, his brow still creased with confusion. "I don't
follow."
     "I do," replied Shyrose, blinking in realisation. "The Task was
supposed to be after us because of our fragments, wasn't it?"
     "But... if someone used Tom to set it on us before we were even
powered," continued Grant, getting the gist of things. "Hell(tm), the old
man must've lied!"
     "But who set it on us?" asked Kayle, turning to ponder with the rest
of the group. "Tom, did you see who... um... hurt you?" Tom shook his head,
scrawling 'Ambushed' in the dirt. Grant cursed.
     "We'll find out, though," said Sabrina, determination ringing from her
voice. "We're going to figure out why this all happened."
     "But first, we've got a debt to absolve," said Kayle, smiling a touch
at Dianna, who smiled back.
     "Yes, we do," replied the quiet necromancer. "And I owe you all a big one."
     "No you don't, Di," replied Shyrose, grinning. "Just think of what
life would've been like without you. We were being selfish."
     With that, the six changed people walked towards the river, just as
the sun began to rise. Their night in the forest was over. With it,
possibly the nightmare too would end.
***
Epilogue

     The old man made his way back to where he'd left his cauldron and
other ceremonial tools as his illusion of mortality slowly faded. It was
time to beat a quick retreat, before the brats came looking for the corpse
that had walked out on them. But first, he was compelled to check in with
the 'boss'. Reaching into his breast pocket, the man retrieved a small hand
mirror, in front of which he made several hand passes. As always, the murky
image of his contact's head appeared, veiled by illusion of either
technological or magic origin. He was never sure which it was, but it
concealed the man's features from either.
     "Report?" asked the figure, practising his best word economy.
     "Not too good," replied the man immediately. "The brats beat the Task
that I raised to kill them."
     "Five untested children... beat an unstoppable magical hunter/killer
automaton," repeated the figure, incredulously. The vague head shook in
disbelief. "Are you _quite_ sure you cast the right summoning spell,
Randolph? Maybe you accidentally threw a 'Raise Ineffectual Hunter Smurf'
by mistake?"
     "Damn you, I've been a graduate of the school of Summoning for years!
The spell itself was flawless, a masterpiece in the melding of demonology
and artistic craftsmanship into one glorious ritual. It was those damned
Millennium Fragments that messed things up, not my magnum opus!"
     "They have quite an instinct for survival, don't they? I'm sure you'll
understand if we step up to phase three of the plan immediately, won't
you?"
     "Don't you dare recall me," hissed Randolph, glaring at the mirror and
wishing that the figure would blink or draw back or somehow acknowledge his
anger. "I still need to take care of that little necromantic bitch, first."
     "Randolph," snapped the figure. "Would you get your mind out of your
trousers? So Mystica had a kid. Lots of people have those. Why do you have
to kill her's?"
     "Because she's a reminder of what Sharon had with all those other men
that she lifted her robes for," growled Randolph. "And I know the names and
faces of ever one of them: Stevens, Erickson, Wynn, Hilsop... they're all
scored into my brain indelibly. Only time and death will scrub them away.
That brat should've been my kid!"
     "But since she wasn't, and because the now late Incantantrix Vitae
proved that her tastes were somewhat more refined than I gave her credit,
you've decided to kill her. Charming. Tell me, do you swipe at baby
carriages when they accidentally brush against you?"
     "You wouldn't understand," replied Randolph, working himself into a
furious rage. "I'm staying on Earth until the brat's six feet under and
talking to herself. Activate phase three if you want, but until then, count
me out!"
     Randolph slammed the mirror back into his pocket and dismissed his
other mystical disguise with a wave of his hand. A tall, thin, middle-aged
man stood where the old gentleman had been. Quickly, he set to work stowing
his sacrificial tools into a mystical tesseract before retreating towards
the dawning sun.
***
As usual, this story is trademarked, all rights reserved 1996 to
Frobozz/Chris Angelini (email:cangelin@uoguelph.ca homepage:
http://www.uoguelph.ca/~cangelin). Everything alluded to is intended as
satire, and no trademark infringement is intended or implied. Have you
played Atari today?