Coil of Worlds

Lara mentally added a cheap clothing store to her list of things to do as she dropped her sheathed sword onto the tiled floor. When the clothes went on without a problem, she turned and stared at her reflection. Becky was right; she had lost weight. She dropped her head down, considering the weapon as she chewed on her bottom lip. She couldn’t carry it on her hip, so she needed to find a bag or blanket to wrap it in.

She stuffed her discarded clothes into the wastebasket, pulled the bag out of its container, and tied the two sides together. Holding the bag under one arm, she reached down and picked up her weapon. As an afterthought, she picked up the peroxide and a couple cotton balls.

When Lara entered the kitchen again, she froze at the sight that greeted her. In ordinary clothes, Skye was spectacular. She looked down at his feet and grinned; he still wore the training boots from the other planet. She was wearing hers as well since Becky’s feet were larger than hers. He turned to regard her with sober, questioning eyes. She smiled at him as she set the items down on the table.

“What do you think of your clothes?”

He rubbed his hands over his chest and down his legs. “This clothing restricts my movements, but it will suffice.”

“I know the assassin wounded you. Before we go anywhere, you need to have your wounds cleaned before infection sets in.” She pointed at the chair facing away from the table. “You’ll need to take off your shirt first, though.”

Lara took his ruined clothes and stuffed them into the trash bag. She winced when she saw the wound in his arm, but she didn’t say anything. Before she poured the peroxide on his wound, she warned him, “This is going to hurt.”

Except for the minute clenching of his jaws, Skye didn’t move. Lara also rubbed the antiseptic across any scratches she found. Even though Skye still stood of his own accord, Lara wouldn’t have been surprised if the Malirran dipped his blades in poison.

They both tensed when they heard a loud voice come from the back of the house. Her eyes widened in fear. Did her friend call the police? Were they on their way here? “Where’s Becky?”

He pointed toward the living room. “Your friend disappeared after I walked back into this room.”

He kept pace with her as she made a mad dash to the den. When she saw her friend standing in front of the television, watching a reporter speak to the camera, Lara cried out, “What are you doing? We don’t have time for you to watch the news.”

Her friend jerked around and blinked at them in remorse. “I wanted to see whether there was anything on the news. You wouldn’t tell me what happened.”

Lara glanced at Skye, but only received a noncommittal shrug in return. He was leaving the decision to her. Turning back around, she caught her friend gaping at Skye’s half-naked body. She rolled her eyes. The reporter’s voice continued to fill the room with its non-stop chatter. The television screen changed scenes behind Becky, going from blue to green.

Even as her mind raced with what to say, Lara said, “You’re with somebody, remember?”

She heard Skye’s snort and watched as her roommate turn stark red from mortification. Making an abrupt decision, Lara stepped around the couches so she could look squarely into Becky’s eyes.

“If I tell you, I’m putting you in danger with the police. I can’t do this without you. If you are willing to help, then I’ll tell you as much as I can while we get the rest of the stuff together.”

She hugged her friend when Becky readily agreed. While they searched for two sleeping bags, Lara related the events to her roommate. She heard her friend’s shaky gasp when told how Brian died. They carried the two sleeping bags out to the kitchen before Lara turned to her friend with a grim look.

“I’ve been trying to decide whether you should report the murder or if I should call it in. With Skye with me, I dare not draw any more attention to myself than the murder already does.” She shivered at the memory of her friend dying beside her. “Becky, it is gruesome.”

“I can handle it. Let me do this for you.” Her friend turned away and went to the living room for a moment. She came back in carrying her purse. Becky handed over all her cash and her debit card. When Lara refused the offering by hiding her hands behind her, her roommate huffed and slid the money and card into the side pocket of her packed bag.

“Take it. Please. You’ll need the cash.” Becky looked at Lara with determination. “Your best bet is to get the cash out of the ATM while you’re in the area. Draw out the largest amount of cash you can from both my card and yours, then toss them somewhere. I just got paid, so don’t worry about taking too much. If you plan to camp, then you’ll save yourself money, and the money will last longer.”

With a sigh, Lara nodded before asking, “What’s your passcode?”

She repeated the number in her head until she was certain she’d remember it. “I was planning on hitting a grocery store for some food and other items we’ll need. Do you think I’ll have enough time to get out of Dallas?”

“Lara, it’ll take the police a while to figure out what happened. They’ll have to question any potential witnesses and look for clues. I would give you a day minimum, two to three days at most before the police start looking for him.”

Lara swallowed in trepidation. She planned to have Skye in another state before that happened. But she hated the idea of becoming a suspect for a murder she didn’t commit. Lara prayed her family wouldn’t believe the news or the police.

“To be on the safe side, clean the bathroom and kitchen so no one will know we were here.”

After they found and packed everything they could, Becky helped them carry the bags to the car, putting it in the trunk. Lara and Skye argued about their weapons. By law, weapons were not allowed in the interior of the car—except in the trunk.

“I can’t protect you if I don’t have my sword with me,” Skye growled.

Lara ended the argument with a slash of her hand. “I know you have the dagger and the knives. Hide those in your boots or under your shirt. I don’t care as long as they’re hidden from sight. The swords go in the trunk. If we get pulled over, the swords will cause all kinds of problems for us.” He snarled, but wrapped a blanket around both their sheathed swords.

As they got settled in the car, Becky leaned over and gave Skye a stern look. “I do not know you, but take care of my friend. I don’t want her ending up in prison because of some fluke of nature.”

He gave her a solemn nod. “Such as it is, I give you my vow of honor.”

Becky reached out and gave him a quick hug in acknowledgement, surprising the man. Her roommate smiled at him, then stood back up and came around the car.

Lara whispered in her friend’s ear, “Take care of yourself. Don’t get in trouble with the police because of me, and watch out for the other person that came through with us. He is dangerous.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” Becky looked at Skye. “After meeting him, I don’t think I want to meet the other guy. Anyway, I don’t think I’ll be able to stay on campus. Our rooms are going to turn into a crime scene as soon as I report it. And Lara, please accept my apology for how I behaved the last couple of days.” Becky gave her a trembling smile of contrition and another tight hug before she slammed the car door shut. Lara rolled down her window so she could hear her friend’s last words of advice.

“If I were you, I’d get rid of your cell phone and the bloody clothes as soon as possible. Where are you going to go?”

Lara shook her head, her hands tightening on the steering wheel. “I don’t know, but there’s no way I’m telling you that information. If you don’t know, you can’t get into trouble.”

Becky laughed and gave her a last wave. “Okay, fair enough, I’ll open the garage door for you. Good luck. When I can, I’ll call your parents for you and tell them not to worry.”

Lara gave her friend one last wave before backing into the street.

¤¤¤

Lukar ignored the whimpering behind him as he stared at the map of Pyran in contemplation. He absently rubbed his bloodied hands on a cloth, forgetting the blood that reddened his lips and leaked down his beard. After taking Valorri, half of his army had arrived at the city’s port, ready to cross the land at his order. The rest of his ships made their way around the land mass to Gharra’s coast line. They were assigned the task of destroying any seafaring ships that either approached or left Gharra. The strategy was to cut off the supplies heading toward Gharra. His ships would await him until the rest of his army crossed Pyran by land.

His landed army was now ready to begin its conquest of Pyran. Pillaging the small city ensured his men were prepared for the long weeks ahead. The Valorri townspeople were consigned into his army on threat of death. He laughed, the chilling sound ringing through the spacious room where he stood alone.

Word had spread of his war council’s and his religious leanings. The men and women of this kingdom were mere chattel for his consumption or needs. The Pyranni men would give their lives as soldiers, fearing they’d be eaten by his men. He shrugged his shoulders, relieving the constant ache between his shoulder blades.

The women were given the tasks no man was willing to do. He looked behind him at his current meal. Perhaps it was time to shift his meat to a more tender variety.

Yes.

Lukar needed a woman for his next few meals.

He cocked his head as he stared with deep, black eyes at the man stapled to the wall. The naked man’s eyes were open, though they were crazed from pain and blood loss. He sighed. Lukar’s latest sacrifice was only three days old, but he wouldn’t live much longer. He’d been careful with this one, too. Not too much meat was taken at a time, but the combined effect held the Pyranni near death. He remembered when one human lasted a week or longer.

As the fever insidiously took control of his mind, Lukar had been unaware his intake of human flesh increased with every passing day, week, and year. At first he ate only a few bites every other week or so. Now, his intake was considerably more. Now, he understood. Lukar had consumed the flesh as necessary for the worship of Semnac until he craved it with every meal.

He didn’t realize he’d walked over to the wall until after Lukar reached out and petted a brutal wound, stroking his fingers inside the cut, lingering at the feel of the various textures. His fingers coaxed another whimper, coming more from the man’s belly than his throat. His prey’s voice had long since tapered off into silence—ruined from his screams the first night he entered this chamber.

As he continued fingering the wounds on the man’s arm, shoulder, and stomach, Lukar thought about the differences between the men and women he chose as Semnac’s sacrifice. The problem with the women was that they never lasted long under his knife. Their soft sensibilities had them falling unconscious long before he wished.

Lukar was addicted to the screams that escaped the throats and mouths of his victims. It was music to his ears. For a moment, he recalled the last woman chosen for him. The sacrifice had been a blond haired, young woman who looked as if she was once of noble blood. Her essence had been all the sweeter for her constant cries and pleas.

Lukar turned his head to study the statue of his Goddess, Semnac. In many ways, the woman reminded him of his Goddess. Her body’s beauty was almost a mirror of Semnac, though her weak personality had left something to be desired. He would have his guard bring him another woman like the other. Surely, they could scavenge the streets for another sweet morsel.

Lukar turned back to the map with a low growl. He shuddered, detesting his lack of control. He’d become distracted once again. A course of action must be decided. His army but awaited his orders, ready for their next conquest.

It was getting worse.

His ability to focus on his designated tasks deteriorated every day, little by little. A small part of his brain cautioned him this latest manifestation should be worrisome, but he couldn’t procure enough emotion to care.

His hands tapped a hypnotic beat against his thighs as he stared at the rivers and mountains they must traverse to reach the kingdom’s stronghold. Which route would bring his army the most benefit? Which route was the quickest, surest means of reaching Gharra?

Like so many other kingdoms, Pyran would fall to Malirran swords and power. It was inevitable. His Goddess’s power flowed through his and his council’s blood, making them almost invincible.

Lukar smirked at the notion of a kingdom fearing the power of magic. Because of Pyran’s repudiation of magic, believing it evil, no single person within its borders held a trace of magic in their veins.

It would be Pyran’s greatest downfall.

His easiest conquest.

He picked up his beloved dagger from the small table beside him. With a final glance, Lukar threw the weapon toward the map where it sliced through the river. That was their route. Winter was coming, and the mountains would either slow or halt their progress, forcing him to lose men to the snow and ice. Plus, the villages and cities along the other route would provide his men sustenance by pillaging the crops and farm animals. The men and women found would either be killed during the fighting or join the ranks of his army. His lips slanted into a grim but emotionless smile. His army will have grown before it reached the gates of Gharra.

Having made his decision, he relinquished his tenuous control and succumbed to his true yearning. While debating which route to take, his cravings had surged to new levels. His limbs trembled from withdrawal. Perspiration dotted his forehead as Lukar tried to shake the addiction, the continual craving. Picking up another dagger—one with a hook for gutting, Lukar walked to the opposite side of the room to the man hanging motionless on the wall.

As the years passed, Lukar learned there was a side effect to withdrawal. Abstaining from human flesh weakened his body, returning it to its prior human strength. Semnac’s power allowed him to become quicker and stronger than his foes, but the difficulty lay in the fact that, over time, the Goddess required he consume more and more flesh to maintain the same level of strength as before.

The constant need to eat flesh was taxing, but Lukar willingly paid Semnac’s price. He enjoyed the additional strength she provided him through his worship of her. With a grin that was all teeth, he dug the sharpened hook into one of the man’s many wounds, waking his victim from his deathlike doze. The cries, though quiet, filled his ears. As he played, Lukar decided nothing sounded quite like the sound of agony.