Beyond Redemption

Solitude is indeed dangerous for a working intelligence. We need to have around us people who think and speak. When we are alone for a long time we people the void with phantoms.

—GUY DE MAUPASSANT

Bedeckt limped past Stehlen as she settled their account with the Ruchlos Arms.

"Don't kill anyone," he whispered, and she shot him an annoyed look.

Wichtig followed close behind, guiding Morgen with a firm hand on the young lad's shoulder. The boy sported a bruised chin and a look of hurt betrayal. Wichtig, lost in his own doubtlessly shallow and self-centered thoughts, was oblivious.

"Are you sorry you hit me?" Morgen asked.

Wichtig grunted a laugh. "Apologies are for people who don't know they are doing what must be done." He gave Morgen's shoulder a friendly squeeze.

"Then I'm sorry," said Morgen.
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"We can't all be me," said Wichtig.

Bedeckt, focused on his many small pains, was only peripherally aware of their conversation. The street greeted him with the familiar stench of dysentery and poverty. The same wretched air he'd breathed in a dozen city-states. The scent of hopelessness. Watching the soiled earth, he sidestepped a heap of horse droppings swarming with dark flies, fat and wet. Bedeckt heard Wichtig swear as he narrowly avoided the same steaming pile.

Stehlen, having paid the innkeeper, followed Wichtig and the boy. Later, she promised, she would return, take back her hard-earned money, and kill the innkeeper, ensuring he didn't talk about his odd guests. Bedeckt still walked about with that cat-turd face like something bothered him and he couldn't let go of it. Thinking too much never gets you anywhere and Bedeckt can overthink taking a shite. The old man was growing soft and sloppy, but she would take care of him. Then, once they sold the boy and collected their loot, perhaps she would kill him for making her worry.

As they stopped at the tavern's entrance, Stehlen's nostrils flared as she took in the street's many scents. Her Kleptic-tuned senses muttered of danger and the need to hide. She looked past Bedeckt as he limped across the street directly toward a group of four people huddled in conversation. She could warn him, but not without giving herself away. She watched as the largest of the four looked up and saw Morgen. When the thunderous roar split the air, she'd already disappeared into the shadows.

"The boy is mine," commanded Asena. "Kill the other two." Wasn't there a third? She couldn't remember.

Torn between her need to obey Konig and her desire to talk to Morgen, she hesitated to twist. Bär, Stich, and Masse suffered no such hesitation, the latter two collapsing as reality succumbed to their delusions. Bär moved fastest, and a colossal grizzly bear charged the ugly scarred man who was stopped in the center of the street. Stich, a swarm of glistening black scorpions, and Masse, a writhing knot of vipers, followed. Asena stood rooted, staring at Morgen, unable to decide. Obedience, loyalty, and love vied for dominance.


Bedeckt stopped dead in the middle of the street, startled by the deafening bellow. An enormous bear, towering easily three feet over his own considerable height, charged from across the street.

A bear? What the hells?

He swung the ax from its place on his back. It hung surprisingly heavy in his hand.

Behind the bear swarmed a throng of snakes and glistening black insects. He checked over his shoulder; Stehlen was nowhere in sight. Was she still inside? He had no idea. He saw Wichtig draw his swords and step in front of the boy. Bedeckt didn't have time to question what went on in the Swordsman's head. Wichtig's actions would no doubt be self-serving.

The earth shook as the bear charged. How do you fight snakes and insects? It didn't matter. One thing at a time.

Bedeckt forgot the weight of the ax.

Asena watched, astounded, as Bär crashed to the ground, his skull split by a thrown ax. He hadn't made it halfway to the man. Such a towering icon of vitality and strength dropped dead in a fraction of a second. It occurred to her they might have underestimated their opponents.

She saw the man with the matching blades—this must be the Greatest Swordsman in the World—step forward to protect Morgen from the charging Tiergeist assassins. Never for a moment had she thought they might fail at their task, that she might not have to face the choice of killing Morgen or obeying Konig.

Asena stepped forward and then stopped as she caught the scent of sour body odor.

The snakes and insects—scorpions, Bedeckt could now discern—swarmed unhindered over the still-twitching corpse of the grizzly bear. His ax protruded from the monster's skull, tantalizingly near but far from reach. He found himself thinking back to when they had been attacked by albtraum, to the day he had not abandoned his companions. He'd saved both Stehlen and Wichtig's lives. He thought about Wichtig's endless attempts to manipulate him since.

To hells with them.

Bedeckt turned and fled.

Wichtig saw Bedeckt sprint away as fast as his ancient knees would carry him.

"You goat sticker!" he screamed.

Every nerve and sinew in his body begged to follow. Bedeckt was no fool, and if the bastard fled, there'd be a damned good reason for running.

Morgen stood behind him. They boy would never keep up. Shite on it, leave him. Run, gods damn it, run!

No.

This wasn't it. His destiny was not to die in this filthy piss-bucket city. Morgen said Wichtig would be the World's Greatest Swordsman. Hadn't he? Wichtig snarled a curse and charged. All he had to do was trust in his destiny.

Morgen watched Wichtig draw his blades and charge forward to confront the approaching snakes and scorpions. He watched the Swordsman go down as hundreds of vipers coiled about his legs and dragged him, screaming and thrashing, to the ground.

What had Wichtig been thinking? Had he meant to protect Morgen? Had he given his life in a selfless act just to buy Morgen time to flee?

Run. He should run. He should run now.

Why wasn't he running?

Because he knew these scorpions and snakes. This was Masse, and Stich! They would never hurt him.

Would they?

Stich, twisted into thousands of deadly scorpions, scuttled over the struggling figure and the mass of writhing, biting snakes, and continued toward Morgen.

I help god-child Ascend. Konig make Stich new leader of Tiergeist. Scorpions are the ultimate killers. Cold and black.

Stich was a thousand deaths.

Stehlen stood frozen, not even breathing, behind the young woman who had stopped to sniff at the air. Does she know I'm here? The girl must be Geisteskranken. But what kind? A Therianthrope like her companions? It made sense.

Bedeckt's sudden and unexpected flight left Stehlen wondering if, perhaps, she too had best flee. Did Bedeckt know something she didn't? The old warrior hadn't reached his decrepit age by being stupid. She saw Wichtig charge forward—only to be dragged down by a mass of snakes—and shuddered. His swords would be of little use. She could run now. Leave Wichtig to his fate. It would be just her and Bedeckt. Isn't this exactly what you wanted? Wichtig's cries choked off in a strangled gurgle.

The woman, scanning the street and seeing no threat, moved toward Morgen, and Stehlen followed, quiet as death, hidden knives sliding silently from their sheaths. Only one person gets to kill Wichtig, and that's me.

Or maybe Bedeckt, if he asked nicely enough.

The scorpions poured over Wichtig and continued toward Morgen, and the boy screamed, an earsplitting noise shredding the air. The woman flinched and covered her ears.

Stehlen ghosted closer.

Wichtig fought, slashing and stabbing, until his arms were pinioned at his sides. He bit and thrashed, clawed and kicked, until even that movement was taken from him. Something dry and scaly slid with sinuous ease around his throat. The world, what little he saw of it between the coils of gods knows how many snakes, turned gray. And then black.

Morgen watched in mounting terror as the swarm of glistening scorpions scampered with an eerie chitinous clicking toward him. Though he didn't understand why, he knew Stich sought to kill him. But something else terrified him more: insects were filthy. Aufschlag told him so. Weren't scorpions carrion insects? Fear and disgust scrambled his thoughts into a chaotic jumble.

Bedeckt running away. Stehlen gone. Wichtig buried under a mountain of snakes. Why didn't I see this? Was this his death?

Morgen's incoherent screams became one word repeated over and over. "No!"

This isn't it! This wasn't how he Ascended. He'd seen it. He'd seen fire. He'd seen Bedeckt wounded and dying. This was not it. The thought helped him focus.

Stich was almost upon him when Morgen screamed, "Don't touch me!"

Confused, Stich ceased his charge and piled up around Morgen's feet. He was unable to touch the boy, unable to even want to touch him.

Morgen pointed a trembling finger at Masse, entangled around the downed Swordsman. "Kill the snakes, they're filthy."

Stich felt the boy's disgust to the core of his soul. He hated Masse. Maybe he always had, he couldn't remember.

As one, the scorpions turned and swarmed the snakes.

Asena approached Morgen, stepping around the agonized coiling heap of Masse, Stich, and the World's Greatest Swordsman. She understood now why Konig had sought to deafen them. Unsure if she planned to kill the boy, she moved closer. Konig's Gefahrgeist coercion warred with her love of the child. She wanted to obey the Theocrat. She wanted to make him happy, to please him so he might—if not love her as she loved him—at least respect her. No matter what she did, no matter what she sacrificed, Konig wanted more. He was a pit she could never fill, no matter how long she poured herself into it. But she would never give up. She couldn't.

Asena made up her mind. She would bring Morgen back to Selbsthass so he might Ascend among the comfort of friends. Konig wouldn't thank her—he never thanked her—but would perhaps someday come to understand that she did this for him.

"Morgen," she called out. "I've come to take you—"

Stehlen's knife slid effortlessly between the young woman's vertebrae, just below the shoulders. It was the perfect strike, instantly paralyzing. The woman crumpled, face-first, to the ground. Stehlen stepped over her and continued toward Morgen as if nothing had happened. The snakes finally stopped their mad thrashing and the scorpions—those not crushed during the battle—staggered about in confusion. The few surviving snakes fled. She wrenched Bedeckt's ax from the skull of the dead bear as she passed. The damned thing weighed a ton. The old bastard would want it. Should I give it to him haft or edge first?

Stehlen glimpsed one of Wichtig's hands protruding from the coil of dead and dying snakes. The hand held no sword. Idiot.

Stopping before Morgen, she gestured with the bloody knife. "Is he dead?" She wasn't sure what answer she hoped to hear.

Morgen stomped on a dazed scorpion. The remaining bugs streamed away to the east.

"For now," he said.

Stehlen thought he sounded less than happy about this. She considered putting a comforting arm around the boy but couldn't figure out how to do it.

"We should get off the street," she suggested. "Find a different inn too."

She stooped to grab Wichtig's hand and drag him free of the dead snakes. The Swordsman, covered in bloody welts, his head hanging at an odd angle, was unnaturally still and limp. The glint of one of his swords caught her eye. She thought about asking Morgen to bring it along. Assuming the boy brought Wichtig back, he'd want those blades.

"We had better go," she said.

With a nasty smirk and a grunted effort, she hefted Wichtig over her shoulder. She couldn't carry Bedeckt's silly ax and Wichtig's stupid corpse.

"Carry this," she said, handing the ax to Morgen, and set off down the street.

Dragging the ax behind him, Morgen struggled to catch up. "Where did Bedeckt go?"

"No idea."

Unable to move, Anomie watched the feet of her killer and listened to her brief conversation with Morgen. Blood pooled around her head, filling one nostril and making breathing difficult. In moments her right eye sank below the rising blood and halved her vision. She couldn't open her mouth, and soon her other nostril would fill. She felt nothing, not the slowing thump of her heart or the shattered bones and teeth resulting from her headfirst impact with the cobbled road. She was glad she hadn't slain Morgen and even happier she hadn't returned him to Konig's clutches. Knowing it was over, knowing these moments were her last, freed her from Konig's Gefahrgeist grip.

I regret nothing.

Blood filled her nostrils, and her vision blurred and narrowed to a graying tunnel. Involuntary shudders racked her body and her lungs fought to draw breath.

A swarm of staggering, stumbling scorpions wended their way through the narrow streets of Neidrig. Little more than instinct and Konig's coercion drove the swarm east. People fled before the dazed insects and those too slow to escape were left writhing in the streets to die as their hearts and muscles spasmed and seized.

When Stich managed to pull together enough of his fragmented mind to maintain cohesive thought, he twisted back into his human form. He felt small, slow, and stupid. Chunks of memory were missing, entire years gone with the parts of himself lost fighting Masse. Why had he fought his fellow Tiergeist? He remembered moments of loving worship and the need to protect something, but little more.

Stich stood, half his former height, and stared to the eastern horizon.

Why go east?

Konig. He remembered the Gefahrgeist Theocrat, fear and worship and hatred. Though he felt he should return to report . . . something . . . he couldn't think what it could be. All he knew for sure was that he had failed something important. Again.

Unable to maintain coherent human thought, Stich once again collapsed, twisting back into a much-diminished mound of scorpions. For a few moments the scorpions stayed together, crawling over each other in confusion. Finally, driven by the fading remnants of Stich's self-loathing, they fell to fighting among themselves. After a protracted battle, the few survivors separated and fled in different directions.