Divine Apostasy Book 7 - Chapter 44

Chapter 44

He floated in darkness. A darkness that felt familiar, but he didn’t know why. Releasing the stray thought, he returned to the calm and peaceful silence.

A vibration. The disturbance a cross between an itch and a tickle. He moved away, but the unwelcome sensation followed, and worse, it grew more intense.

Faint ringing combined with the vibrations making him…he couldn’t think of the proper concept…it made him different than before, and he wanted to go back to the before.

Eventually, he wondered if the vibrations and ringing might be linked.

The sensations intensified, the ringing becoming metallic. Metallic, he thought, what a strange word.

He missed the quiet darkness of the before.

The itchy vibration and ringing wouldn’t stop, and he turned, looking for its source.

A strange creature floated behind him. Its long twisting body had thousands of legs, and massive black wings sprouted from its back. Pincers protruded from its cheeks, curving around a mouth filled with sharp teeth. Blonde pigtails fell to each side, framing a triangle shaped face with two dark, gold specked eyes.

He felt…irritation.

He didn’t like irritation and turned back to find the before.

The disturbances grew louder, his annoyance greater.

Turning once more, he found the irritation remained.

The vibrations and ringing intensified.

He studied the creature, and its mass of legs created another sensation…disgust.

Disgust and irritation had ruined the darkness of before.

Disgust and irritation floated nearer, and half of its legs held a shiny circle. His discomfort radiated from these circles.

The remaining legs each gripped a short rod, and with a sudden movement, the circles and rods collided.

New, stronger vibrations arrived with a loud ringing, and he tried to flee, but as if sensing his intent, irritation and disgust smashed their circles and rods together, over and over.

The vibrations and ringing stabbed him, and he gasped at the new sensation: pain.

The pain took the form of a body. His body. An entire body of pain.

Circles, rectangles, and symbols filled the darkness. In the top left, a mostly empty rectangle suddenly lost the blue that slightly filled it. Immediately, warmth spread through him and the pain receded for a moment. A nearly empty rectangle filled with red, before dropping again. A mass of squares flashed under the colored rectangles.

Pain, paired with irritation and disgust, overwhelmed him, and he stopped resisting.

Grey replaced black, and the pain intensified. Voices emerged, but he didn’t recognize them, and he didn’t have the strength to open his eyes.

“He’s coming around,” a voice said.

“Oh, now you’re a doctor?” a young girl asked.

“I don’t need a degree to know you shouldn’t bang a gong at a dying patient.”

“That just shows how much you know, Tarot” the girl replied. “He’s too dumb to die.”

“You should heal him.”

“No, way. I’m not getting involved in this. I’m just here to yell.”

“Some things never change.”

“Fold your cards, Tarotmethiophelius. You have no idea how much trouble this kid creates.”

“I’m starting to get a picture.”

“One of his constructs is healing him anyway,” the young girl said.

“I’m not sure Worker heals will be enough.”

“Yeah, it’s going to be close.”

“Shame if he died. Who would you yell at then?”

No one spoke for a few seconds and then the gonging stopped.

The blue in the rectangle disappeared again, and another wave of warmth covered him. The red rectangle increased, but it dropped faster than before.

“Maybe you could cook him an omelet,” Tarot said. “Boost his Stamina.”

“They’re not that type of chicken,” the young girl replied. “They’re protection. You know we’re vulnerable in this Realm.”

“How about a trade then,” Tarot offered.

“What could you possibly have that I want?”

“Perhaps you’d enjoy playing an instrument. I recently picked one up that fits your musical ability.”

After a brief silence, the girl spoke again. “Did you steal my gong?”

He felt pressure, as if someone had dropped a boulder on his chest.

Tarot laughed. “Your tricks don’t work on me, wyrm.”

“Ugh! I hate you,” the young girl screamed. Then, in a calmer voice, continued. “You were always the worst one. Too clever. Too curious. When word gets out you’ve resurfaced it will get dangerous. I could help protect you. Just give me my gong back.”

“No deal. Shuffle, and try again.”

“Fine. What do you want?”

A few seconds later, Tarot replied. “A divine bandage of soothing, a superior cure bleed, a contact salve of bone regrowth, a binding of cure concussion, a wrap of skin mending, and an aromatic oil of regeneration. And one of your chickens.”

Tarot screamed, and a moment later an explosion decreased the red in his rectangle to just a sliver.

“Keep your chicken then!” Tarot screamed. In a serious voice, he continued. “Pay up, or I’m heading out on tour. Tarotmethiophelius and his magical gong. This could be my big break.”

The blackness returned, edging out the grey and removing the strange shapes. The pain grew distant as well, a welcome change. The voices fading.

Tarot spoke again. “Did I ever tell you about the diary I found? It was a while ago, but the poetry holds up. Ageless, really. I think I’ll open my gong show with readings.”

“That was you,” the girl hissed. “You took my diary? I was a teenager you thieving pile of—”

Tarot continued. His voice dramatic, the volume changing, as if he hurried around the room. “Scales rough and hard, wrapped in brimstone, your touch—”

The girl screamed loud enough that the ground shook under him.

“Stop!”

“I’ll trade for the diary,” the girl said.

“No deal, wyrm. I already gave you my terms, but to show my good faith, I promise not to read any more of your poetry.”

The darkness had almost completely returned. Once again, he felt the comfort of the before. The voices were barely audible.

“Why?” the girl asked. “Why do you care?”

“Ah, the wyrm finally asks the right question. Are you ready? I have three words for you, and they’re good ones.” Tarot paused and continued. “Does it matter?”

The girl laughed. “Oh, that is rich. Even for you. Too clever. Too curious. Too knowing. I hate you, Tarotmethiophelius. Now give me back my gong and stay out of my pyramid.”

The voices disappeared, along with most of the pain.

The before welcomed him back.

Heat surged down the last thread of pain holding him.

Sensation returned.

The darkness from before reached for him, but the sensations had become a torrent. His body convulsed, pain and fire swirling like partners in a dance.

Memories surfaced like a volcano erupting. He groaned as his body painfully healed and his head cleared.

Ruwen opened his eyes.

The beak of a chicken hung an inch from Ruwen’s right eye. The chicken’s head turned, its glassy black eye meeting his. He wasn’t an expert on chickens, but he recognized this one, which meant the other six stood nearby.

Blapy, her blonde pig tails almost touching Ruwen’s forehead, filled the vision of his left eye.

Blapy pointed a small finger at Ruwen’s eye. “You are in big trouble.”