Furious Scribe
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25. Hull - Work Out After All
🕑 Added 2025-07-23 02:26:45 +0000 UTC
Chapter 25
Work Out After All
Basil wasn’t right. He wasn’t himself. I saw it in the way he’d barely reacted when he’d been given Esmi’s card, and I saw it in the ugly, dangerous look he leveled at this black-robed asshole holding his Master Assassin. If I’d seen someone looking like him back when I lived on the streets, I’d have hidden until he left, rich pickings or no. Even the stupid helmet couldn’t make him look like anything less than death waiting to happen.
“If that card is not in my hand by the time I count down from ten, we will fight and I will kill you,” Basil said tonelessly to the man.
I took a deep, shaky breath and started pulling Source. I didn’t know what kind of help I’d be in my current state – dying state. Alexi said you’re dying, maybe you should think about that, dummy – but I sure wasn’t just going to stand to the side. If Basil was fighting, so was I.
The sallow man didn’t like hearing that any more than I did. He blanched, going even paler, and stepped back a pace. “Your threats don’t frighten me,” he shrilled. He might as well have painted I’M LYING across his own forehead. “I will not allow Felstrife or any of her lackeys to interfere in my operations! Any bodies collected in or around the city are mine. It has been agreed upon.”
Basil stepped up into his face again, not giving him a moment of relief. “One of those bodies is not yours.” He held up Esmi’s card. “It is the corpse that belongs to this card. Tell me where it is.”
The man tried to back up again and found himself against the wall. His eyes flicked to the card and back. “I know that body, but–”
“Nine,” said Basil. The total lack of emotion in his voice was unnerving.
“I, uh…” he stammered. His gaze flicked over to the lich summons standing nearby. “Why are you allowing this?”
“Show him cards,” the thing’s unearthly voice echoed.
Basil flung out a hand toward the lich. “That can wait. The body. I will come collect it.”
The necromancer gathered himself, tugging on his robes as if they were askew. “You’re one of Felstrife’s projects. You’ll be dead in days at best. Your words are meaningless.”
“If that body is not handed into my care in pristine condition by sunset tomorrow, I will not only kill you, I will shatter your card,” Basil promised. “Felstrife will not stop me and you know it. All I have to do is say it will help my elevation.”
I tried to loom threateningly in the background, but it probably just looked like I was about to faint, because I was. Still, I kept pulling Source, and I filled my hand with summons, too. I didn’t see any big hitters in my opening hand, but that was okay. This was just for in case.
The necromancer seemed to be giving Basil’s words some thought and not liking the conclusions he was coming to. I wouldn’t have either in his position. His opponent was focused, deadly, and unconcerned with his own safety. “Just give him the body, idiot,” I said, trying to sound tough. “You’ve got more than you can use anyway.”
“You can never have too many bodies,” the man said automatically. “And anyway, it’s the principle of the thing. The flesh is my domain, and I’ll not have that damned lich breathing down my neck.”
“Seven,” Basil said.
“Stop that!” the man yelled, losing his composure.
The lich summons, apparently bored with the conversations of mere mortals, drifted forward, getting even closer to the necromancer than Basil was. “Show. Him. Carrrdsss,” it hissed, a deadly cold emanating from its form.
The necromancer flinched and squeezed his eyes shut. If his robes hadn’t been midnight black I wouldn’t have been surprised to see a wet spot spreading down the front. I took advantage of his momentary overwhelm to totter forward a couple of quick, uneven steps and snatch the Master Assassin card out of his hand.
“Hey!” he barked, reaching for me.
I scuttled back out of his grasp, holding onto the wall for support. He’d have nabbed me easily, but the lich fastened onto his wrist with desiccated fingers and held him fast. “Cards,” it demanded.
“I will not be treated in this fashion!” the necromancer howled. “I am a First Lord of the Endless Dark! I command armies without number! I will crush you all!”
“Six,” said Basil, unaffected.
Everyone in the room was watching, and most of them were laughing. To the vampires, this was just the after-dinner entertainment. The sounds of amusement seemed to embarrass the necromancer even further.
“Release me this instant,” he said to the lich. “I will show the whelp some cards. You’d best believe I will be talking to your master about this!”
With the promise of cards to be shown – whatever that was about – the lich summons let go, and the man once again straightened his robes. His face a mask of anger, he pulled a grip of cards into his hand and held them out for Basil to observe.
Basil barely gave the cards a cursory glance, though I supposed with his card-remembering ability he didn’t need any more than that. Still, I took the chance and stole a gander, ignoring the necromancer’s murderous glare and keeping a tight grip on the Order card I’d taken from him. The cards were pretty damn good for their rarity, every last one. If I let them make me a vampire, will I automatically get some Death Source? Death and Nether could actually work together pretty well. The thought of being turned made me want to puke, but if Mother went back on her word and decided to watch me die, I wouldn’t hesitate to run to Alexi. I wished I could talk to my younger self about it. That asshole.
“I will come to your lair before sundown,” Basil told the necromancer. “Have the body ready for me and I will never bother you again. I have no allegiance to the lich. My concerns are my own.”
The necromancer frowned and looked around in a way that made him look shifty. He spoke quietly. “I have previously had one of my subordinates inform you of the information that I require of you. I had hoped you would think she sought it of her own accord, but so be it. If you can offer me what I want, then perhaps a trade can be arranged. Otherwise we will have that fight you promised, and it will not go at all the way you seem to think.” Straightening his spine, the man walked away as if he were merely done talking instead of running away, but I knew the smell of fear, and he stank of it.
Basil couldn’t have cared less. He strode for the door. “Hull. Come.”
I hustled after him as best I could, not sure what he had planned. The vampires and their guests gave us a hearty round of applause as we exited. I glanced back before I shut the door, and Alexi gave me a meaningful look in parting. He’d meant what he said to me. Would it really be so bad to have a clan of powerful folks at my back? Not now. Not ever, stupid, not unless you have to. What are you thinking? The vampires are a last resort.
“Wait, Basil,” I panted, trying to hurry after him and failing. “Hold up.”
He paused just long enough for me to come abreast of him. I handed him the Master Assassin, which he took with a curt nod of thanks and stuck behind his ear. Then he started walking exactly as fast as he had before, the lich trailing after us. “”Why are you so sick?” he demanded. “You looked fit to die in there.”
I barked out a laugh. “Not too far from it.” I weighed out what I should tell him. He had his own troubles, obviously, not to mention a burr under his butt that didn’t invite casual conversation. “I made a deal with my mother that has left me a little worse for wear. It’ll be all right.”
He shot me a fierce look. “I need you at full strength.”
I felt a scowl growing. Basil could say things I wouldn’t let anyone else think of, but that didn’t mean I liked getting dressed down when I was here to save the little prick. “And I need a deck full of Mythics and a friend who says thanks when I get his stolen cards back. We don’t always get what we need, do we?”
He gave a very un-Basil-ish grunt and strode on. “Lead me to your quarters. We need some place private to work out the vault key issue.”
“Pull the stick out of your butt, Hintal,” I growled, wishing I sounded a little less weak. “I’m here. I’m helping. We’ll work it out.”
I saw a spasm of cold rage pass over his face, but then he swept a hand across his brow and relaxed. “I appreciate you with all my heart, Hull. Thank you for getting my card. Forgive me; I am not at my best.”
I went to clap him on the shoulder and ended up leaning on him instead. “You and me both, friend. My room’s this way.”
The lich summons barred our way. “Enough time has passed. Return to the ballroom.”
Basil’s hands formed fists, but he didn’t go all dead-eyed killer this time, at least. He thought for a moment and said, “This man has very unusual Nether cards. He will show them all to me, but it must be in his quarters, and we must have time to talk about them.”
The lich wavered, irresolute. “This can happen here.”
“Can’t,” I offered, thinking on my deadened feet. “It’s my soul ability. I can, uh, show others my cards in action, but I have to be in a safe place.”
I don’t know if that was a convincing lie or not, but the damn thing let us keep walking and trailed behind. I got the feeling from the interaction between this soul summons and the necromancer that it was powerful. It could probably hand me my ass if we had to fight it. We needed to avoid that if we could.
What you need is to get your card back so you’ve got some strength. If I’d have known I was going to go traipsing about the castle with Basil, I’d have waited to make my deal until later. Alexi said I’m dying. Maybe I’m not so special as Mother thought. The general only lasted a week when she stole his card, and I’ll be lucky to make it that long. Seems like I’m just like anyone else. What made the difference the first time? Why am I alive? Maybe it’s because I was little. She can’t have stolen many little kids’ cards; not many even have one when they’re young.
I thought of Bryll, Naydarin, and the other urchins of the Lows with a pang of homesickness. Kids are tough. Adaptable. They can still be anybody so long as conditions are right. Maybe it’s easier for them to recover from getting a card ripped out? It could be. My mind skittered from one idea to the next as we walked. Basil was lost in his own thoughts, by the look of it. I’d been so glad to see his face amongst all those vampires. Alexi and Stafford, who smiled at me like a pet and offered to save me while sipping at their goblets of blood.
Blood, I thought. Maybe it’s my blood that protected me. I’m the whelp of a Legendary and a Mythic. I was an Epic, for Twins’ sake. But it can’t just be soul rarity, or General Drakk would have lasted longer. Heritage could still play into it. Hmm. Could Mother have been gentler in the removal process than usual? She’s a sneaky bitch, but she has affection in her own way. Maybe the cuts were cleaner, if that’s even a thing. Damn. I know nothing. But maybe if I can tell her these thoughts, she can figure it out and give me my card back sooner.
I stopped in my tracks. Blood. Heritage. They could be the answers to more than just one riddle I was facing right now.
“What is it?” Basil asked, noticing my strange look.
“Not sure,” I said. “I want to try something.” I yanked the little belt knife from my waist and tried to slice my finger. The sharp edge pressed against the pale skin without piercing. A moment later I felt a card shed from my Mind Home. “Fate’s sagging tits,” I sighed. “Can’t even cut myself when I want to.”
“What are you doing?” my friend demanded.
“Trying to draw some bloody, dummy,” I replied, leaning against the wall and stabbing my finger again. One more card fluttered away. “Be a pal and hit me with something big, will you?”
He frowned in uncomprehending silence, then shrugged and pulled Source. A moment later one of his souls misted into being.
“Atrea, would you do my friend the favor of emptying his Mind Home? Be careful to go no further. He will draw his own blood. Just a little.” He quirked an eyebrow at me. “Just a little, right?”
“Yes,” I said. “Gonna wipe it on the vault key.”
His eyes lit with understanding and maybe even a glimmer of gratitude. “Quickly, please, Atrea.”
The beautiful winged woman gave me a grave look. “Brace yourself, youth. I have no wish to harm you.” Then she whacked me with her sword. Card confetti showered down around me.
A thought occurred to me. I knew his Winged Knight was an Epic, which meant… “You named your card?”
The normal Basil would have blushed like a sunset and stammered for days. This odd young man in his metal headgear kept a straight face and looked me in the eye. “Only until she reaches Mythic and regains her own. She has been important to me. I owed her a name.”
“I quite like the name Atrea,” the soul said with a sunny smile even as she hit me again with her sword. “Basil has been good to me.”
That seemed to tread a little close to the line these nobles cared about so much of getting overly friendly with your cards, but I wasn’t about to say so. I didn’t give a shit about that. Esmi might have, if she were still alive, but that ship had sailed, and Basil could manage his own affairs as far as I was concerned.
“There is no impropriety here, Hull,” he said flatly.
“Good,” I said, shrugging. Then I flinched even harder as the girl’s sword hit me a third time. “Great. Never said there was.”
It only took a few more moments to empty me of cards. His Flying soul was very polite, asking me to gauge my remaining cards before attacking me the last couple of times. She let me finish the process with my belt knife once I got low enough that her hits would do me physical harm. Fortune favor me that I don’t have to fight anyone in the next twenty minutes. I’d feel pretty stupid having emptied myself.
Finally the knife edge bit home and blood welled on my fingertip. “Let’s hope this wasn’t a stupid idea,” I said, wiping the scarlet stuff onto the surface of the ornate cube at my side.
It wasn’t a stupid idea. The moment my blood touched it the intricate metal etchings they twisted and shifted under my grip. One side of the cube opened to reveal a midnight void within. My heart quickened. I remembered how my father had done it the one time I’d seen him open the vault; the best I could do was copy him. I threw the silver cube at the wall, and the void inside unfolded into a fine doorway in the stone that hadn’t been there before.
“You did it,” Basil breathed. He almost looked excited. “How did you know?”
“Blood,” I said, grinning and pretending like my legs weren’t shaking underneath me. “Those Twins-damned vampires got me thinking about blood. The Queen was so sure that Mother hadn’t gotten into the vault. What have I got that she doesn’t?”
“The King’s blood,” Basil said, nodding in satisfaction. “Well done, Hull. Most perceptive.”
“A good guess,” I shrugged. “And really the only one I had.”
“Come on,” he said. “I need to get the bone staff that Gerard wanted so badly, remember? I can use it to reunite Esmi’s card with her body and revive her.”
“Whoa,” I grunted. “Like… bring her back to life?”
“Exactly like,” he said. “That’s what it’s for.”
The lich stood in his way. “This was not the plan. He was to show you his cards.”
Basil visibly restrained himself. “The safe space he needs is within. Follow if you wish.” He shouldered roughly past his guardian soul, striding into the vault. I followed close on his heels.
Immediately after we entered I heard a ghostly scream of rage right behind me. Stumbling, I turned to see the lich summons scrabbling at an invisible wall we’d just passed through. It couldn’t pass.
“I’d hoped it would work that way,” Basil said, sounding satisfied. “Only the living can enter. The thing I find myself wondering is if the vampire Lustra could have entered to claim a prize if she had lived.”
“I don’t think he’s going away,” I said, watching the lich pound at nothing. “And I don’t think there’s any other way out. He’s going to rip you in half once you leave.”
“Felstrife won’t allow it,” Basil said. “I’m nearly positive.”
“Nearly?” I asked.
“I’m getting what I came for,” he said. “If you want to stand and gape at the thing, feel free.”
He disappeared from the central chamber into the storeroom marked with the emerald where Gerard had gotten the spinal-cord-looking staff last time we’d been here. Our father hadn’t let him take it for some reason and he’d ended up with the foe finder that had saved our asses against Yveda the Endless. I didn’t even know why the asshole had wanted the staff to begin with. Who did he want to bring back to life?
I shook my head. I was wasting time. I’d gotten into the vault. The Queen had said that what we needed to save ourselves would be inside. I didn’t think she’d really wanted me to open the thing without her, but she’d have to live with it. The woman had sent me into a palace full of enemies; she was stone cold. I was going to see what I could find. If a few things fell into my pockets, well… call it a finder’s fee.
I went straight for the smallest room, the one marked with a diamond. These would be the most powerful Artifacts; certainly what we needed was here. My fingers itched, and I felt an excitement that almost distracted me from the fact I was dying.
The room was no bigger than a jail cell, and the shelves were disappointingly bare. Nothing was labeled. Some of the objects I saw defied description. There was a ball that was a different shape every moment. If I had to describe it, I’d have said it was a moving pile of ants, but there weren’t actually ants on it, just bits of… something. Then there was a hand mirror with no mirror in it, only an empty frame. Did he shove the Legendary room full of junk to throw off any enemy that got in? Despite the oddness, I didn’t think so. There was a feeling of power here. One shelf held only a wooden dowel sharpened at one end. Its point looked like it was covered in dried blood. Then there was a cube made of bone as big as both my hands together. I thought maybe it was a box, but if so, I couldn’t open it.
No axes, no swords. No wands of powers. Just knick-knacks I couldn’t figure out. Frustrated, I circled the room again and again. I picked things up, shook them, commanded them to open, and pitched them back on the shelves in disgust. My father was dead and still he managed to find ways to shit on me.
The light came from above in this room despite there not being any visible source of light. As I slumped in one corner, I saw from the odd angle that the shelves above cast a dark shadow on the shelves beneath in the back corners where I hadn’t been able to see. Was there something there I’d missed? Lurching over, I stuck my hand all the way back and felt a flat object under my fingers. I pulled it out.
I held a notebook made of paper. Not the cheap ragged stuff the merchants made into books for their snotty merchant friends to read, but soft, smooth paper held inside a stiff cloth binding. My Thoughts was the title scrawled in black ink on a leather faceplate.
Is this… his? I flipped through it. Whoever had owned this had used it as a journal of some sort; the writing was fresh and the hand was bold and sure. I could see Hestorus taking down his thoughts like this. There might be something useful in it. I tucked it into my waistband under my shirt to keep my hands free and then reached into all the dark shelf corners with curious fingers.
I’d nearly given up and I heard Basil calling my name, but right then my questing touch landed on something small, hard, and cold that gave me an electric jolt when I touched it. Biting back a curse, I knocked the thing forward into view, earning myself another shock. It was a heavy, crudely made ring of brass.
It looked like a useless piece of garbage, but there was obviously something to it, and it was sitting in the Legendary vault, so I covered my hand with my shirt cuff and tucked it into my pocket. I’d figure it out later.
I backed out of the room and found Basil deep in contemplation of the segmented bone staff in his hands. He’d found it. “I could see all the way to her spine,” he murmured. “The embedded shards…”
He snapped out of his reverie and pierced me with a blue stare. “You’ve broken a card before. What did it look like?”
“Uh,” I said, thrown off by the sudden change in topic. “Like a broken card?”
“Don’t be facile,” he frowned. “Is there anything unusual or unique about it? You used your hammer to smash that brute Ticosi’s card. What did you see in the moment?”
“What the hell does it matter?” I asked, wishing I had a chair to sit in. “Don’t we have enough on our plates?”
“Humor me,” he said, sounding as if humor was a thing he’d only read about in a book.
I sighed and put my hands on my knees. I could catch my breath a little better that way. “I dunno, I just hit the damn thing. Big flash of light, a release of power… I could see the shards as soon as I lifted my hammer out of the way. His image faded from them in seconds.”
He could have used those eyes as a lance. “The card image persisted within the shards after the breakage?”
“Only for a second,” I said. “It was gone almost as soon as I saw it.”
“But you’re sure?”
“Yes,” I grunted. “I’m not an idiot.”
“Hmmm,” he said, distracted.
“And you give a shit because…?” I prompted.
His eyes were still distant as he pondered something. “I think Felstrife knew a Soulsmith. He mattered to her.”
That was as clear as mud to me, but my wandering gaze had latched onto something else. “Hate to cut short your vital meditations, my lord,” I said with a sinking heart, “but we’ve got a problem.” I pointed to the portal on the far side of the chamber. It wasn’t just the lich summons waiting there anymore. There had to be eight or nine souls clustered about poking at the entrance.
“Yes, I saw,” Basil said flatly. “Felstrife sent Sliver and the others to reinforce Emerus. They’ll drag me back the second I emerge.”
“I did say something about that earlier,” I reminded him.
He considered the spine-shaped staff. “They’ll never let me keep this. I have to leave it here. When I’m ready we can come back in and fetch it.”
“Smart,” I said. “I’m not going anywhere. When you’re ready, you let me know.”
He hurried back to the Mythic storeroom and emerged empty-handed. “I’ll kill them all,” he whispered.
“I’ll help you,” I said.
He turned and gave me the first Basil smile I’d seen tonight. “Not tonight, dear friend. They will only take me back to the one who has me jailed. I have no assurance that they won’t harm you, though. Wait until we’re well gone before you emerge. We will find a way to confer again.” He laid a hand on my shoulder. “Dear Hull. I was lost when tonight began, but seeing you, almost I believe this can work out. How do you do that?”
“I’m a mean son of a bitch,” I said with a smile, “and I pick good friends.”
He nodded, squared his shoulders, and strode out to face the small crowd of souls. They yelled and harangued at them, but he strode past them without speaking, looking more like a king with an entourage than a prisoner being escorted back to his cell. The kid had balls he hadn’t had the last time I’d seen him.
I heard a sound behind me and turned to find my mother emerging from the Epic storeroom with her arms full of loot.
“Son of a whore,” I groaned. “How did you get in here?”
“That was the deal,” she said shamelessly. “When you get in, I get in.”
“But I didn’t even see you!”
She gave me the withering look that statement deserved and swept past me. “I knew you’d figure out something to get in,” she said. “You’re my boy. See you tomorrow for our session! Little Hull said he’s looking forward to it.”
“No he didn’t,” I scoffed.
“No, he didn’t,” she admitted breezily. “But he is nevertheless.”
Then she too was gone and I was left alone in this impossible space outside of reality, full of treasures, guarded only by me, a boy who couldn’t take three steps without falling and maybe fainting. I needed to shut this thing up and not open it again until I was sure it was safe. Who knew what weapons my mother had just walked off with?
Still, I considered as I exited into the empty hall and drew the portal back into its cube. In the last day I put hands on my old card and helped my friend. Maybe Basil is right. This might just work out after all.
