Chainers Torment

CHAPTER 11

Chainer awoke in his own private bedroom. He looked around to determine where he was, then checked himself for wounds. There were some minor cuts and bruises, and a few more serious injuries which had already been stitched up and bandaged over. His scanning eyes came to rest on his chain coiled around the bedpost by his foot, and he remembered everything that had happened to him outside the vault.

Everything but how he got back to his own room, that is. He recalled Skellum leading him through the labyrinth of halls and down Manor Way to the academy, but such indistinct memories were quickly eclipsed by images of Deidre's death and the echo of the Mirari's call. Chainer lunged out of bed, but his legs failed, and he fell heavily to the floor. His muscles wouldn't flex, and he could hardly move. His head swam, and his eyes, ears, and throat were raw.

It was only then that he noticed Skellum. His mentor was sitting in a large, wooden rocker with a vague look on his face. Without so much as a flicker of an eyelid, Skellum tossed a censer across the room to Chainer. "Catch."

Chainer slapped his hands around the pewter cage before it hit him in the chest and then winced as his arms objected.

"Skellum," he said through the pain, "they got Deidre. Did they get the Mirari?"

"Catch," Skellum said, and he tossed Chainer's knuckle dagger to him. Chainer was unable to get his fingers to work in time and had to roll out from under the dagger's point before it stuck in the floor. The abandoned censer rolled halfway back toward Skellum. "Skellum, what in nine hells-"

"Catch." Chainer realized his mentor's hat had been spinning a split second before Skellum stopped a gap in front of his face. The vortex spat a small smoking comet toward Chainer. He yelped and reflexively snapped his hand out as if casting his chain.

To his surprise, a black chain did leap out of his empty hand. Its sharp, weighted end intercepted Skellum's casting before it could fully form. There was a small pop, an oily flash, and a foul smell.

Then Skellum was out of the chair and standing over him. Chainer had forgotten how fast the older man was. Chainer himself lie panting and helpless on the floor with his hands crossed defensively over his face.

"I give, Master, I give," he said. "What's going on? Why won't you talk to me? Where's the Mirari?"

"Kirtar of the Order has your precious Mirari," Skellum said. "A wild Krosan dragon came straight into the arena. There was a lot of noise and confusion. Kirtar and your barbarian friend stopped it, and the Master of the Games gave the Mirari to the bird-man as a reward."

Chainer absorbed this. "Kamahl let him take it? Is he all right?" "Kamahl was buried under a half-ton of dead dragon," Skellum said. "By the time he dug himself out, Kirtar was gone, with that pretentious mer ambassador trailing behind him like a scavenger. Do fish scavenge after birds, or is it the other way around? Never mind. Your barbarian friend was half a day behind. He took off after them as soon as we told him they had the sphere."

"I wanted him to have it," Chainer said absently. "The First said he would have won it."

"And he could well have, but now we'll never know. The Mirari is gone, the First is pleased, and we have work to do." He prodded Chainer roughly with the toe of his boot. "Get up."

"Ow. Why? Don't I get to sleep in after protecting the vault? Deidre and that monkey guy were killed, you know."

"I do know, and you did get to sleep after protecting the vault. You've been asleep since I brought you here three days ago." "Three days? It can't be."

"It is. You've slept long enough." He offered Chainer his hand, but his face was still stem and impatient.

Chainer carefully took Skellum's hand and stood unsteadily. "Master," he said, "have I done wrong?"

"Wrong?" Skellum jerked his hand away and shoved Chainer back onto his bed. The younger man clawed helplessly at the air as he fell. He had never heard Skellum raise his voice in anger before. "You abandoned an assignment given to you by the First himself. You used the dementia exercise I expressly told you not to use. You killed three more members of the Order after the First and I both forbade you to do so, and you killed them using a spell that you never told your mentor you knew how to perform."

Chainer waited. Skellum would often browbeat him before praising him, but this was different. Chainer didn't think Skellum was going to break into a smile and laugh off these indiscretions any time soon.

"This isn't a game, Chainer. Games take place in the pits. Games have rules, they have winners and losers. People watch games for amusement. What you did, what I do-what all dementists do-it's not like anything else. You can't dabble in it. You can't polish it and put it in your weapons rack at the end of the day. Dementia space is alive. It interacts with you, it changes you. It shapes you just as surely as you shape it."

"Master-"

"Be silent. The First thinks I'm too careful with you. I don't know what you think, and I don't much care."

"Mast-"

"Be silent! I have trained scores of casters and potential dementists. The vast majority-" he tapped his temple with all five fingers brought to a point- "are gone. They only appear to be here in Cabal City with the rest of us. In reality, they only visit us occasionally. The rest of their time is spent raving, or meditating, or drooling quietly in a darkened room while they run wild in their own dementia space. Do you understand me at all, Chainer? What we do breaks minds. And the sad fact is that a broken mind won't stop you from being an excellent dementia caster. In fact, it often helps."

"But I," Skellum's voice softened slightly, "want you lucid. I want you to be a full-fledged dementist. There is far too much in this world to be enjoyed, and madness tends to water down some of life's strongest flavors. I would rather have you here, in this world, sharing a good meal and a good show while we both serve the Cabal. Not lost in the world within, constantly building monsters so you can surround yourself with them."

Skellum bent his face over Chainer's, and his voice dropped to a terse whisper. "The First also wants you lucid, for his own reasons.

You and I both serve the First, we both serve the Cabal, but that doesn't mean we can't also serve ourselves."

Chainer shut his eyes tightly, then reopened them. "I'm sorry, Master. I don't understand."

Skellum's voice grew stern again. "That is why you should listen to me and follow my instructions."

"I will, Master. I swear it." Chainer offered his hand up to Skel-lum. "Help me to succeed. Give me your instructions. I will not disappoint you again."

Skellum continued to stare at Chainer, sighed, and finally took his pupil's hand. "I am not disappointed, Chainer. I am annoyed by your disobedience. And I am concerned for your safety." He pulled Chainer into a sitting position, took hold of his other hand, and hauled the younger man to his feet. "Now come with me. I told you before, we have a lot of work to do."

Chainer stood, flexing his knees and ankles. The feeling was coming back into his extremities, and the pain was fading from his eyes and throat.

"I think I'm ready, Master. Where are we going?"

"To the pits. Gather your weapons."

Chainer stiffly bent and gathered up the dagger and censer. "I may be slow on the staircase, but I think I can-"

"We're not going to the pit mock-up in the basement. We are going to the pits in the arena."

"Really? What for?"

Skellum's eyes narrowed. "Because the First wishes it. And also, to prove a point."

Chainer stood in the empty pits, whirling the smoking censer around his head. As before, Skellum sat cross-legged on the floor in front of him with his hat also spinning.

"Remember how you got there last time," Skellum said. "Without me, I might add. You must take us there. I'm visiting your dementia space this time, not the other way around."

Chainer concentrated behind his closed eyes. The image was still there: the black sand, the endless desert, the red sea pouring from the mustard sky.

"My eyes are closed, too." Skellum sounded petulant. "Are we there yet?"

"Almost," Chainer said. He felt gravity shift beneath him, but he kept his balance. He opened his eyes. "We're here," he said.

The scene was almost exactly as Chainer remembered it. The only major difference was that the inland sea was now half-full, and the rush of red from the hole in the sky had dropped off to a steady stream. He turned proudly to Skellum, but his mentor was staring wide eyed and open mouthed at the vista.

"Kuberr's fortune," he whispered. "Chainer, is this what you saw in the hallway?"

"Yes, Master." Chainer's body was still getting used to swinging the censer, but he had already worked out the best stance to take while spinning it. He adjusted his footing and raised his chain arm higher, trying to minimize the tension on his shoulder.

"Chainer?"

"Yes, Master?" Now Chainer adjusted his grip on the chain. He would probably need to start wearing a thick leather glove again, as he had when he first started learning the weapon. Minat had told him to be careful about letting calluses get too thick or they could throw off the feel of the chain and make you lose your grip.

"Chainer!"

"Master?"

"Something's coming, and it doesn't look friendly. What should we do?"

"What? I mean… aren't you the expert here? Master?"

"This is your playground, not mine," Skellum's voice was gradually becoming more hollow and singsong. "I'm just visiting."

Chainer suddenly felt very cold. He was still recovering from protecting the vault, and the smell of Dragon's Blood wasn't helping. If Skellum faded out now, they might both die here. The figure Skellum had spotted was coming steadily closer. Chainer couldn't see it clearly, but it looked big. He squinted. Between the smoke and the featureless desert, it was impossible to put the thing on any kind of scale.

"Master," he said, "what happens if I stop spinning the censer? Will we reappear in the pits, or-

"Don't stop spinning," Skellum said. "I forbid it." His hat was also spinning, faster than Chainer had ever seen. Skellum was also twitching slightly at the shoulder, and every time he twitched, it spread across the rest of his body like a wave. "Master? Are you all right?" "Don't stop spinning. Not till I say."

The thing was now close enough for Chainer to see its general shape. It was humanoid but much broader and taller. It had a long, triangular head with wide jaws. It opened its mouth and roared. It was an ugly, grating sound, but Chainer welcomed it. At least now he knew how far away the thing was.

"Master, we don't have much time. Ten or twenty seconds. I don't think I can fight this thing, and I don't know how to get back to the pits if I can't stop the censer. Help me."

Skellum rose smoothly to his feet. "I thought you'd never ask." At his full height, he was well below the arc of the chain, even with the hat. He glided up alongside Chainer and held his hand in front of his pupil's mouth, just below his eyes.

"When I say," Skellum kept his eyes on the approaching monster, "stop spinning."

Chainer didn't know if it was a trick of perspective or if the thing was picking up speed as it got closer, but it seemed to be coming at them much faster than before. It charged along the ground like an ape, bent forward on all fours. It was taller than Chainer, and it had a head like a snake. Its lower jaw was distended and open wide, exposing rows and rows of short, sharp teeth. It continued to roar as it charged. When it was ten yards away, Skellum said, "Stop spinning," and covered Chainer's eyes. Chainer brought the censer to rest in the sand. He heard the implosive sound of Skellum producing a monster and felt another shift in his gut that told him they were now somewhere else. The creature's roar had vanished.

"This is where you should have gone," Skellum said. "This is where you would have gone if you'd waited for me." He pulled his hand away, and Chainer blinked his eyes clear.

They were surrounded by mist. Chainer sniffed it to make sure it wasn't just more Dragon's Blood, but the mist was odorless and felt the same as air in his lungs. He breathed in deeply and looked around, struggling to see anything through the thick fog.

"Where you were just now," Skellum explained, "you just shouldn't have been able to get there without help. You're a gifted student, Chainer, but not that gifted."

"But I was there, Master. You saw it. And I had no help."

"Of course you did. Do you think it was a coincidence that you achieved this advanced state of dementia trance within a stone's throw of that artifact you found? The First said it was powerful. You had contact with it. Obviously you tapped into its power somehow, and that power catapulted you deeper into dementia space than you could have gone on your own."

Chainer paused. "That would make sense."

"And now, thanks to the First's meddling, the Mirari's power, and your willfulness, I have to do something I don't want to do." He looked meaningfully at Chainer, who waited for him to continue.

"Do I want you to do it?"

"Of course not," Skellum snapped. "It's unpleasant and painful, and you're going to think me heartless. But if I don't do it, you'll never make it back here."

"Never?" "Never."

Chainer hung the censer from a loop on his vest. "Then do it." Skellum smiled sadly at his pupil. "I already have." He whispered a few words and waved. A strong wind whipped up and carried most of the fog away with it. The bare landscape left behind was as dull and gray as an unpolished stone. In the distance several figures walked, their feet still partially obscured by wisps of fog.

Chainer watched them walk. He pointed. "Who are they?"

"They are the reason I didn't want you killing things before your training was complete. I have a confession to make, Chainer. The First only dressed you down for killing that Order war bird because I asked him to. I didn't want you to kill because every one and every thing you kill winds up here. This is the first level of dementia. The creatures here are the creatures you've seen, fought against, and bested. The memory of them remains here, in your mind. If you want to get deeper, if you want to go beyond your physical experiences, you must go through here."

Chainer brushed his dagger. "So I have to fight them." He recognized the crusat bird Callda flying over the other figures. Its silhouette was bent and ragged, and it didn't seem possible that it could fly. "In a manner of speaking. You have to control them. They are not as they actually were, they are as you remember them to be. If you recall them as stronger than they were when you defeated them, they will be. If you believe they are still hostile to you, they will be."

"Oh." Chainer's voice was tight.

"It gets worse. You skipped this level and went right to one of the deepest reaches of your own dementia space. And when we went back there, something was waiting for us. Something that you've never actually faced but only imagined. There's no way that should have been possible, but there it is. You'll have to control that thing, too, along with these others."

Chainer nodded. The distant figures were starting to notice him.

The Callda shade set up a hideous squawking, as if trying to rally the others to an attack.

"What happens if I can't?"

"Let's not worry about that. You have to prepare-"

"What happens, Skellum?"

Skellum looked miserable. "If they don't tear you to pieces, you'll be trapped here forever, and they'll never stop hunting you. These things-" He waved- "aren't real to anyone but you Chainer, and they're not real anywhere but here. If you want to bring things out of this world, you need to be its master. You need to be the gateway they pass through, as well as the gatekeeper who lets them in or keeps them out." He gave his hat a discreet spin.

"I am ready, Master."

"That," Skellum said, "is what we are here to prove or disprove." The wind kicked up again, bringing a stream of mist with it. The mist swirled around Skellum until it enveloped him from the ground to his chin. Before it covered him completely, an implosion sounded, and he sent a smoking comet shooting toward the milling creatures. Halfway between Chainer and the inhabitants of his mind, it crashed and exploded into the shape of the snake-thing that had been charging at them under the mustard sky. It roared, angrily pounded the ground, and then turned on Chainer.

Skellum's body was fading away. His voice was distant. "Good luck, Chainer. Kuberr does not offer protection, but he does offer rewards. You must now earn yours." He looked quickly around, then added, "I'll be watching." Then he was gone.

Chainer watched the approaching monsters. There were more of them than he first realized. He tried to remember how many people and beasts he had defeated in the pits, and how many of those he had claimed for the Cabal.

They were following the aggressive lead of the snake-thing. He knew exactly where that had come from. Snakes were a constant danger in the flats, and he'd had bad dreams about them when he was a small boy, before he met Minat.

Well, he thought, he had beaten them all at least once before. Skellum said it wasn't about beating them, though, it was about controlling them. Chainer didn't even know if they could be killed again. He wondered if they remembered how he defeated them the first time, and if he could rely on the same moves twice. In the last few moments he had, Chainer reviewed his assets. He had never been able to create fighting chains so easily and so quickly before, but he still doubted his ability to subdue the creatures one at a time or in small groups before the larger mass overwhelmed him. He wasn't even sure if his dagger or the sharpened weight would penetrate the snake- thing's hide. He would just have to find out the hard way.

The snake-thing tried to barrel straight into Chainer without slowing. Chainer sprang over it and stabbed with his dagger. He had been right, the beast's hide was too thick.

Callda the crusat bird came next. It was even uglier and more misshapen than Chainer remembered. He would have to ask Skellum about that when he got back-if he got back. Happily, Callda's skin was no tougher than it had been in the street outside Roup's, and Chainer punctured one of its wings with his chain and guided it to the ground like a failing kite.

The rest of the shambling horde would soon be upon him, and the snake thing was preparing for another attack. Think, Chainer commanded himself. How could he control a dozen-odd monsters at once? He could kill some of them with the death bloom, he could cripple some more with a dagger to the hamstrings, and he could bind a few with-

The tip of the snake-thing's claw cut the air in front of Chainer's face. It was no longer charging him headlong, but instead slashed at him with its long arms. It feinted and slashed, but Chainer stayed just out of its reach.

A half-rotted zombie bear reared up behind Chainer, roaring through its skeletal jaws. Chainer cracked his chain like a whip across its remaining eye, and when the clumsy brute lunged at Chainer, it connected with the snake-thing. Enraged, the serpent ripped the bear's paw off in its teeth and then backhanded Chainer across the chest with its claws. Chainer nimbly rolled backward, pressing his shirt into the four razor lines bleeding beneath it.

The wound was not serious, but it would force him to think and act faster before the loss of blood started to slow him down. The zombie bear and the serpent were tearing into each other, with the bear getting the worst of it. More creatures in the horde began to turn on each other, and Chainer wondered if he could let them reduce their own numbers and then conquer the survivors.

Something small and ratlike clamped onto his calf muscle with a dozen tiny needle-sharp teeth. Chainer broke its back with his dagger and kicked the wretched thing off. The snake-thing finished with the last few ghastly parts of zombie bear and immediately began stalking Chainer again. A small swarm of glowing insects spat fire at Chainer, and he shielded his eyes from a cascade of sparks. A large pool of oily slime flowed over the dull stone ground, engulfing its fellow nightmares as it also homed in on Chainer. He backpedaled, keeping the horde in front of him with his arms spread wide and his hands empty. The creatures continued to advance, focused once more as a group on the stranger in their domain.

Chainer exhaled. He thought he had the answer. It was an unfamiliar shape, and these were not ideal circumstances, but he had been making links and weights on his own for half his life. He'd been taught proficiency by an expert, then had become an expert on his own.

The snake-thing was slower, almost playful in its final approach. The other nightmares gave it a wide berth as it hissed and grinned and clawed the ground. It was trying to get him to run, to play the role of prey. Chainer smiled at it, playfully showing it his empty hands.

"Come on," he taunted. He tilted his head back, exposing his throat. "You'll never get a better chance."

The snake-thing lunged. It was lightning-fast, but Chainer's hand was faster. He cast a chain at its neck, unlike any chain he had ever created before. It was malleable in flight, solid enough only to give itself weight. When it collided with the snake-thing's throat, it folded itself completely around the beast's neck, joined itself around, and tightened. The snake-thing stumbled forward, clawing at the choking collar, and Chainer pulled it right off its feet by yanking down hard on his end of the chain. The brute went face-first into the ground and fought with the unyielding metal around its throat.

Chainer cast another collar around the fallen bird. He held neither of the new leash-chains in his hands. Instead, the ends of each hovered an inch from his open palm, following the hand's movement as if they were attached to it. With his hands thus free, Chainer was able to send collar after collar into the pack of oncoming creatures. He nimbly dodged any who came close enough to strike, and he sank sharpened weights into the bodies of those who broke or avoided the collars. He caught the shapeless mass as it flowed over another, more solid body, collaring both creatures with the same cast. As he leashed each monster, Chainer created a conduit through which he could drain its energy. He used this conduit to draw a portion of each thing's essence into himself, and the monsters invariably fell to their knees, fatigued, weakened, chastened.

Chainer floated above the heads of the now- submissive creatures, borne on a wave of their stolen energy. He no longer felt the pain of his wounds, new or old. He spread his arms wide, with dozens of chains radiating out from his hands, each connecting a monster to its new master. Chainer howled.

With a final surge of power, Chainer dispelled all of the leash-chains with the screech of metal on metal and a deafening boom. Chainer dropped to the ground and crossed his arms over his chest.

The newly released creatures growled and grumbled and eyed him angrily, but none dared attack.

"Get going," Chainer said. He brought his arm up, and when he brought it down, a ten-foot length of whip chain cracked among the creatures. "I'll call you when I need you."

The sullen, confused mass began to move away from him. Some ran headlong, terrified of being collared again. The snake-thing was the last to leave, flicking its forked tongue and clawing the ground in front of it. It hissed at Chainer, sounding almost plaintive.

"Go on," Chainer said. "But not too far. I've got plans for you later." He smiled unpleasantly, lost in childhood memories. The creature grunted, turned, and loped off. When they were all distant and tiny, the mist returned, gently swallowing Chainer from the ground up. Chainer loaded the censer, lit it, and began to whirl it around his head in short, slow circles. He had just earned the right to continue as Skellum's apprentice. He had faced down his oldest nightmare, and for the first time in his life, he felt like he had found a place that was entirely his own.

He continued to casually spin the censer while he waited for Skellum to return and take him back to Cabal City.