Mindripper by Baron Blackwell

Author:Baron Blackwell [Blackwell, Baron]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-10-27T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

A Helping Hand

Enk inhaled sharply, his gaze fixed on Apilsin’s giggling aspect. As a volcanic vent might inflate a sheepskin balloon nailed about its opening, the nala had flooded the man’s contours, distorting his dimensions into a mockery of its former anatomy. The same mad buoyancy inflicted the features of those that hung above with their hands clutching unsteady weaponry. Their eyes gave an impression of flitting from thing to thing, all of which remained unseen.

He rose onto his elbow, blinked against the lamplight. Isolated variables combined into a mosaic of glittering doom. There had to be a way out—there had to be! Yet for the moment the answer remained incalculable.

Enk bit his lip. His sword shimmered on the sand just within reach, if he but had the strength to reach for it. His back itched; the inkling of a solution, perhaps.

“How. . . .” Tizkar dropped his hand from his head, studying Suni with a look hooked by equal parts wonder and horror. Though even now the surprise did not quite reach his eyes; they remained inviolable, gray pools untouched by all those things that moved.

Enk swallowed and said, “A trap—all of it. Don’t you see, Tizkar, the theft of the muskets was just a lure. He wanted you here. He needs you for something.”

The Black Lion shifted his gaze onto Enk, his dark eyelids furling slightly. Enk stilled. He felt as if something immense lay below the man’s surface, something that despised him in a way it did not Tizkar.

“Is this true?” Tizkar asked softly.

“We got you now you uppity mother fucker!” Apilsin chortled, leaning heavily on his walking stick. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about your little gift,” he added, pointing at Enk. “I haven’t, and it will be repaid. Trust.”

Suni gave Apilsin a slant-eyed glance, his manner one of repressed vexation. Apilsin stammered then fell silent, his expression as sullen as that of an over-privileged child deprived of a want.

“You’re too powerful to remain unbridled,” Suni told Tizkar. “Consider this your recruitment into my services.”

Tizkar snarled. “You think to bind me? Me?”

“Always so petulant.” Suni sighed. “Yes, you. Think a moment on what we could accomplish with this strange ability of yours. Together we could—”

Tizkar chuckled loudly.

Another sigh. “And what amuses you so?” Suni asked.

“Your plan is a little flawed.”

“Oh?”

“Look!” Tizkar gestured above.

And Enk did just that, tracing the arc of Tizkar’s finger to the curling tendrils of blue rising from the mouths of the men with the muskets. Half of them already seemed oblivious to the goings-on of the world, laughing and muttering to themselves.

“Those fools are more likely to hit you than me,” Tizkar continued, his tone biting. “The daemon weed has them by the stones.”

“Tizkar!” a small voice screamed.

Tizkar spun about, rising to his feet. “Cat. Lulu. No.” The last word was spoken in a whisper that tugged at Enk’s pith, so filled with sorrow and hurt was it.

“I’m sorry, Tizkar.” Lulu’s voice descended from overhead. “They took us by surprise. I should of.

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