Rickley's Requiem

A fit of coughing welcomed me back to my realm of fibrous white stone. I clutched and clawed at my chest desperately until the pain became too great to bear. Then I swung and thrashed until my swinging limbs met with the slabs of wood carefully resting against the wall. I rolled and spun until saw the failures of my past ambitions scattered around me. I kicked and cried until my foot cracked against my iron door. But all I felt was that horrendous, crushing force in my chest.

However long I suffered, I could not say. I knew only that when I crawled from my hole, the first hints of dawn were creeping above the southern horizon. Even with my fit of coughing, the timing couldn't have been more perfect. I rushed into my hole to tidy up silks and tie my hair back, then turned to see my precious drums had been tampered with.

It was like they'd been disassembled and reconstructed with strange materials. The drum head was made with some type of black snake skin that held beautiful patterns of golds, blues, and reds; surrounded by a ring of black feathers that seemed to leave glowing dust and black flakes as I tentatively picked it up.

It felt… powerful, as I lifted it. It was light but extremely sturdy. And it almost seemed to hum energetically as I turned it about in hand, studying the mesmerizing patterns of black and gold wood grains adorned with countless tiny jewels.

"Why, hello beautiful." I held my treasure at arm's length, smiling at the jewels until I realized the shape it created. An owl with fiendish horns and eyes filled with countless stars.

My mouth fell agape as another violent fit befell me. This one of the mind. I remembered, suddenly, the nightmarish dream I had; the vision that yielded a glorious offer that I took with no hesitation or thought.

And so it was, I followed the path laid out to me in that vision by donning my drums without a thought. Knowing, vaguely, there was to be an exhilarating effect to the cause I was dedicated to, I went out into the pre-dawn night. Expecting a mind-boggling reward for the very act I've obsessed over for months, I gave three strikes of my drum to announce my approach to the hated fence as I'd done so many times before.

Dun-dun. Dun-dun. Dun-dun.

It was a ritualistic act of defiance. An act that served as morning entertainment for all with open eyes at this hour. But as it was yesterday, there was none but him and I. And this time, things were different.

Slow like a dying heartbeat, the first beat shot a wall of black dust overhead. Then the grains glowed gold on the second beat before it assimilated with my body on the third; cloaking me in a silent veil of dark light.

Dun-dun. Dun-dun. Dun-dun.

"Hello! Buke of the Bizarre Bazaar! One-stop shop for all your exotic needs! The orphan boy grew into a merchant man who becomes ever-richer! Please!" I hissed an echo of a trillion whispers carrying sarcasm and disdain through the cracks of his shutter, prompting them to creak open.

"W- who's th-"

Dun-dun. Dun-dun. Dun-dun.

"He's a fluke with a fictional repertoire who buys from from rogues and thieves! Thieving? His Joy! But not his master plan! That was to be a fencer! Indeed!

The strikes and ominous whispers pulled the shutter half-shut. His bulbous head turned this way and that, straining his beady eyes into the night. "Rick? Is that you?"

"Your death will yield screams aplenty." Dun dun-dun. "Befell by the ears of none."

"I want no trouble!" He slammed the shutter in retreat. Far too late.

"Tainted, is your name." Dun dun-dun. "For your avarice has won, gone and ruined your game."

In the dim light, he backed away slowly from the door to palm the wall for the heavy crossbow resting against it. But I was moving past him, down the stairs, and around the many traps I spotted throughout the years.

"None, I say." Dun dun-dun. "Shall remember your name."

A bear-owl trap here. A false step there. An entrapment device. An acid-tipped arrow and several more neutralized or disarmed.

"When the reaper comes calling." Dun dun-dun. "Only yourself is to blame."

Down in his store, I ignored the endless bounty around me; the potions and tomes and herbs and spices. I ignored my chest of gold and the brutes, thieves, or assassins in wait and hiding, discussing amongst themselves if they should fight or flee. Or if they'd all gone mad.

They weren't a part of the plan. Nothing but a single item composed it. A curtained cage in the back of the alcove of beasts.

"My only wish." Dun dun-dun. "Is to see your defeat."

Three more times, the drum thrummed like a murmuring heart. Then I clambered to the top of the wildly shaking cage, soaking in the screeching rage of the abhorrent creature trapped within.

"To laugh and mock." Dun dun-dun. "The dying calls of the meek."

Three more times, the drum thrummed like a murmuring heart. And a fourth beat violently shook the cage beneath me. I looked down to bear witness to the steel bars bowing out from the cage and smiled.

"To hear your requiem." Dun dun-dun. "Oh, so sweet."

Three more times, the drum thrummed like a murmuring heart. Followed by a wild screech and a crash of thunder that signaled the cage's demise, giving way to 680 kilos of angry claws and a sharp beak that had little in the way of maneuvering space. The screech all but demanded the beasts jammed into the alcove press themselves flat to the backs of their cages while the violent rush all but knocked the creatures free from them.

With the bear-owl in front of them, the other creatures put their fear aside and focused on the second-highest priority. Thus Buke's bodyguards, sworn to not harm merchandise, were smeared into paste by a stampede of creatures large and small rushing to the food stocks. Only to find the shelves and bins empty. The magically attuned creatures went for trinkets and magic items first. Only to find them gone. But the predators latched on to the scent of one flesh bag in particular.

  With the big beast taking charge, those voracious creatures sprinted up the stairs, safely bypassing disarmed traps galore in the hopes of being the first to the last remaining morsel.

The screams were like candy befit for a queen to my ears; made sweeter by the syrupy roll of my drums as I ascended the stairs, eager to have the taste astound my senses.

My candy was found in a mess of a room. Many of the animals had already escaped. Pushed away from their morsel, they were, by the influence of a raging bear-owl. All but one, a frog with formless bands of black and yellow, sitting at the head of the stairs. Hesitant, it seemed, to hop into the cold dawn. So instead, it remained in place. Locked in a death stare with my candy.

As for him, Buke had been speared or clawed or otherwise disemboweled. He lay on the floor using the wall to support his head while he hugged his intestines in one hand. The other was minced meat and crushed bone attached by tendons and spite alone. But he was alive. Making it all the better when my stealth ended.

"You!" he spat, rolled, and reached with his good hand. And in my moment of elation, I reacted to his throw far too late.

The last thing I saw before my mirth drained was a portrait painted by a shoddy artist who used nothing but green and yellow consuming the entirety of my vision. The next thing I knew, my face was stinging but numbed and my feet were somehow off the ground. The wall slammed into my head and back a moment later, smashing my head between the dull pain in the rear and the burning slime in the front.

It seeped through the seals of my mouth and eyes as if it were alive, that slime, pulling my mind into a frenzied dance of spinning colors. How eager, it was, to rise up my nostrils with each wheezing breath, adding more embers to the eternal fires in my lungs. I fought against it as best I could, daring not to open my eyes as I sought to wipe them. Only to find my hands, my shirt- my entire being was covered in slime.

I had my answer when the wicked heckling of a dying man echoed in my ears.

Sneering, I followed the sounds and fell to my knees before him, palming around until I felt the soggy noodles of his intestines, grasped, and then heaved with all my might.

His screams returned in full and I heard myself hissing in glee as I used his innards like a napkin. Opening my eyes, I saw him attempting to fight and claw with his remaining arm. I pushed it away easily, finding his shirt to finish the deed and coming across a pendant around his neck in the process.

There was no thought to it. I simply gripped the pendant, regurgitated everything from within and spat it in his face, then pulled.

The frog, still sitting idly behind me, began a croaking hymn the moment the small chain snapped free. And again, without thinking, I used my bloodied, slimy hands to thrum my drum to the golden-rimmed notes of shadow floating before me.

"Now then, let us sing." Dun dun-dun. "Our Requiem."

A low, rolling tone dampened as it approached the coming dawn, though it seemed to echo louder in the present darkness. A darkness Buke seemed unable to peer through. "Fucking… hells." He gasped. "Rick…"

"Do NOT call me tha-." I slammed on the drums as I fell to my knee, hacking mucus and blood. "You- fucking… pig."

"Aye. I'm… greedy. As is. Every… one. From. Chor." He shivered in the slowing rhythm of my tune, though his unfocused eyes never trailed from the ceiling. "Bard. Rogue. Bar…barian. Fence. It's… struggle. Makes us. Great. You. Had. To be… great. Rick…ley"

"So you-" I gagged, needing to swallow what felt and tasted like a handful of copper. I spat it in his face instead. Then collapsed next to him. "You. Steal… my shit?" I forced out a pained laugh as the dark veil came over. Leaving the emptiness clouding his eyes as the only observable thing. "Not. For you. To decide."

"Seems... not."