The Seven Sins, Joslinne Morgan [good fiction books to read .TXT] 📗

edge of the bog. A mass of tangled, rusty wire shaped into a dome sat in the brush and, if Pike was not mistaking, he could catch sight of a small tentacle peeking out of the holes.
Crawlers, no matter how disgusting they may look, were excellent when fried in a skillet with onions and potatoes. And their eggs made delightful breakfast omelets. It was only a matter of catching them, which was especially difficult because they only came out for short periods at night. So Pike had fashioned a series of cages specifically for catching the creatures, usually coming out to check them in the afternoon after giving the Crawlers plenty of time to dry up in the blazing hot sun. The cages were not very heavy; a full-grown Crawler could just pick itself up and slink back into the dim, murky waters that it sheltered itself in during the day, if it possessed the brains to do so. In fact Pike had lost many of his best-made traps that way. It was the babies that were easiest to catch. They were small and not that in control of themselves, making manipulation of their limbs impossible. Most people would not stoop to such a low thing as to eat a Crawler, but those who had tasted the white flesh of the bog creatures normally agreed that it was the babies who tasted better – and who were altogether tenderer than the adults.
Pike scrunched up his nose, the Crawlers reeked of rank fish. He approached the trap and saw that this one contained a fair-sized Crawler not quite a baby but not quite an adult. It had nine tentacles and was on the verge of developing its tenth, but most of its limbs had been shriveled and dried by the sun. The skin on the top of its formless body was puckering and gross, the limbs that were still in working order snapped at Pike through the bars of the cage, stopping just inches of his nose.
Pike pulled out his spray bottle, which was filled with a mixture of water and red chili powder, and sprayed it straight into the creature’s single eye. The Crawler roared and its tentacles snapped out again, sending his spectacles flying. Pike sprayed twice more before stabbing the creature in the brain with his knife and the retrieving his glasses.
Pulling out a basket, Pike opened the cage and dumped the dead crawler in. It landed on the bottom with a wet sploosh, and the man shuddered as he replaced the cage and took up his basket, continuing on his way.
Several of the traps were empty or else missing, but there were a few that contained more Crawlers. One of them was full-grown and fully alive and angry, waving its long tentacles at Pike except for one, which had been dried up, preventing any escape. Pike had to spray the thing several times and stab it repeatedly before at last it shuddered and died. He placed it wordlessly in his basket and headed back towards his house.

“Crawlers?” Phantom exclaimed in disgust. “Are you bats?”
“Oh, don’t be so finicky,” Pike, much more cheerful after drinking his morning coffee, said as he hacked off the tentacles of one of the beasts. “It’s just like gourmet seafood. Except it’s not really gourmet.”
“You’re crazy,”
“They make lovely omelets.”
“If you think I am eating that…”
“Hmph,” Pike pouted. “I almost wish preferred my other visitor. She ate anything I put in front of her.”
“And a few things you didn’t,” Phantom remarked dryly, plopping back down into his chair. “Very well, if it’s only for one meal.”
“Actually, I thought of taking what we didn’t eat now with us. We’ll need food for the rest of the trip and no use letting good meat go to waste.”
“Wait a moment,” Phantom held out a hand. “What do you mean, we? I thought I made it very plain that you are not tagging along.”
Pike grinned from ear to ear.
“Ahh,” he said, looking slyly at Phantom as though he had outwitted him in a game of chess. “But how will you get out of the bog?”
Phantom stood up slowly.
“Look, you,” he said, drawing the words out. “I was exploring this bog, most likely, before you even heard of it. I think I can find my way out by now.”
“I doubt that,” Pike said, missing the point entirely. “I’ve lived here a fairly long time…”
“That’s not the point, you bleedin’ bastard!” Phantom shrieked, grabbing Pike by the collar and lifting him off the ground. For such a small man, he was considerably strong. “The point is I do not need to any extra baggage! Do you understand me? You. Can. Not. COME!”
Pike nodded, eyes wide, as he struggled against Phantom’s iron grip. Phantom held him in the air a little longer for good measure, then set him down.
“I believe,” he said, his voice deceptively calm. “That I have got my point across?”
Pike nodded, rubbing his throat with one pudgy hand as his eyes darted about the room, trying their very best to avoid meeting Phantom’s gaze.
“Yes, sir,” he muttered. “Point quite taken, sir.”
“Good,” Phantom sat back down, his finger toying with the chain of his mirror. “Hurry up, now, it’s almost noon.”


“I knew him,” Ralavar closed his eyes. “His name was Phantom.”
“How did you know him?” Lord Valadik questioned, continuing to circle his prisoner like a hawk circling its prey. A crusted black hole was all that remained of his missing eye, somehow giving him a more intimidating appearance.
“We were good friends,” Ralavar explained.
“And did you respect him?”
“I did…I do, I respected him like I respect the business end of a knife. Why do you ask?”
“I believe I am the one doing the questioning here!” Valadik snapped. Ralavar fell silent. “Ask me,” Valadik said after a moment’s pause, his voice soft and soothing. “Ask me why I have not yet killed you.”
Ralavar sucked in a breath.
“Why have you not killed me?” he asked.
“Because,” Valadik’s smile was one of malicious glee. “I may have a use for you yet.”

Phantom hiked through the bog for about three miles before the brush began to thin and the ground began to grow soft with loose dirt instead of sticky muck. The border ended after another half mile, and then he entered a meadow.
The meadow – a pleasant place that stretched for miles – was just another thin strip of earth that made up the Borderline of Tiér dá Sönä. After it came a stretch of tall black mountains, and then one could finally reached Sèntrài, the neighorbing kingdom to Tiér dá Sönä.
The meadow was quiet and pleasantly calm. Phantom waded knee-deep in soft green grass, fluffy white clouds drifted lazily above his head in an endless stretch of blue sky. The air was moist and warm, at least enough to allow him to shed his cloak.
Making his way across the meadow was a happy change after the endless trudge through the bog, but he was not quite prepared for what he spotted ahead.
A young woman, with an ageless face and blue forget-me-not eyes, sat on a swing in the middle of the meadow. The swing swung lazily back and forth slowly like a pendulum, suspended in empty space by silver ropes that reached up into the sky and disappeared from view. Her dress was floaty gossamer the same color as her eyes. Phantom stood there, staring at her, until finally she turned her head, her soft cheek resting against her shoulder as she smiled coyly at him. “Hello,” she said sleepily, her words soothing as a lullaby. Phantom set his coat down in the grass and watched her as she swung, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth…
His eyelids had begun to droop until he could no longer hold them open. He sat back on his heels and rubbed his face with his hand. Then he yawned, heavily as if out of exhaustion, and next thing he knew he opened one lazy eye and the woman’s face was hovering inches over his own, her hands massaging his cheekbones as his head rested in her lap.
“You are tired,” she soothed, brushing his forelock away from his eyes. “Rest. I’ll keep an eye on you.” Her hands moved slowly down his neck until they found the chain around his neck and began to lift it off gently. How good it felt to get the heavy gold off for a while! Phantom hadn’t realized up until now how truly tired he was, and how much lighter he felt, now that the gold chain was off.
The woman wrapped the gold chain around one dainty white hand while the other played with his hair. Phantom drifted closer to the brink of unconciousness, darkness was creeping in from the corners of his eyes…
“Aeiee!” came an all-too-familiar sounding cry of alarm.
Phantom’s eyes snapped open, and he suddenly remembered where he was. He rolled over and wrestled the woman in blue to the ground, meaning to pry the mirror from her dainty fingers even if it meant breaking them. From the corner of his eye he spotted a bobbing head of red hair. Blood of the gods, the little bastard had followed him!
Phantom balled his hand into a fist and he punched down hard on the woman’s face. There was a sickly crackle of cartilege, and blood streamed from her nose. She tried to raise her head but was met by a continuous barrage of blows that kept raining down on her even as Phantom tried to take the mirror from her. She kept her grip firm, and he growled in frustration. There was a resounding snap as he broke her wrist and she screamed as her fingers ceased to function and Phantom managed to pry the mirror from her weakened grasp.
The woman’s body went limp, Phantom stood, clutching the mirror in his hand covered in blood not his own. He unceremoniously placed the chain back around his neck and turned to see where Pike was and what had alerted him. The little man sat huddled in a little ball with his knees tucked up under his chin and his pupils dialated with fear.
“I suppose I should thank you,” Phantom said, wiping perspiration from his brow. “Considering that it was your supreme idiocy that saved my life…” he trailed off, and his eyes followed Pike’s until he saw what it was that had scared the man so badly.
Ralavar stood at the edge of the bog, naked blade in hand, challenging look on his face. Phantom spared Pike one last glare.
“I’ll kill you later,” he promised before drawing his dagger in one hand, his sword in the other, and charging.

“So Ralavar,” Phantom said, keeping a wide berth between him and his opponent. “What sort of deal with the devil did you have to make to get out of that predicament?”
“Lord Valadik saw fit to spare me,” Ralavar fairly spat out. “I serve him now.”
“Well I hope you signed the contract in blood. It isn’t binding otherwise.”
“Churlish bastard, I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t soon forget!”
“Proceed, I am so very keen on learning.”
Neither of them waited any longer. The swords met in midair, setting off a terrific ring that made the flesh on Pike’s back crawl. It was a brilliant display of swordsmanship and would have any other time been a pleasure to watch, had not the two been locked in deadly mortal combat, during