Guns of Legend: Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
Kulgan clawed at his door, which had several long gouges in it already. He'd scratched at them so much that his claws were beginning to chip and bleed. It didn't matter, though. Pain was meaningless. The food that had been given to him earlier lay in the corner, a long colorful streak staining the wall where he'd thrown the plate. Hunger didn't exist right now. His clothes hung in tatters from his body, torn apart in his insane agitation. That didn't matter either. Nothing mattered. Nothing except his pendant. "GIVE ME BACK MY PENDANT!" he wailed, slamming his head against the door. Why wouldn't it come down? It was in between him and his pendant. Why did it have to be so mean? With a pitiful sob, Kulgan backed up two steps and then threw himself at the door. His body struck it with enough force to rattle his teeth, but apart from making a loud noise, it did nothing. He backed up and prepared to do it again. Thinking better of it, he backed up another couple of steps so he could gain more speed. He charged at the door- And it opened just in time to smack him in the face. Kulgan stumbled backwards, grabbing his nose. Blood began to leak out of it between his fingers, and he leaned against the far wall, moaning in pain, his assault on the door momentarily stalled. "Someone get him a rag," a voice he hadn't heard before ordered. He looked up and saw a kashni standing in his doorway, wearing the blue robes of a priest. A zik hurried in and held out a small piece of cloth to him, which he took and pressed against his nose. The acolyte hurried away, as if eager to put distance between himself and Kulgan. The priest closed the door behind him, and the familiar click told Kulgan that he'd locked it again. Taking a couple of steps further into the room, he looked around at the damage that he'd done with no small amount of distaste. The walls, like the door, were covered in long, bloody scratches. What had been the small desk was now a pile of splinters. Kulgan had tried to ram down the door with it. The painting of the old fuaro lay in the corner, its frame broken in half. "You've been making quite a bit of noise in here," the kashni said at last. "Are you not grateful for our hospitality?" Kulgan the bounty hunter would have probably shot a sarcastic remark at the priest, but Kulgan the desperate Twister could only get on his knees and beg. "My pendant," he said, his voice strained with need. "Can I have it? Where is it?" "Ah, yes," the priest said, nodding his head. "About this pendant you keep screaming about. What is the significance of it?" "I need it," Kulgan said, plainly. "Well, that much is obvious, but why do you need it?" Kulgan stared at the kashni in disbelief. Couldn't he see how important that pendant was? How much he needed it? What was wrong with him? "Please," he said again, "give it back. I'll do anything!" The priest folded his arms, "I want to know more about this pendant. Why is it so important that you have it?" "Because it makes me whole," Kulgan answered with complete sincerity. "I'm not me without it. I need it. I need it! I NEED IT!" With that, he sank his claws into the wood floor and began trying to pull them up. When that didn't work, he dropped to the ground and rolled back and forth, howling miserably. When he finally stopped to catch his breath, laying on his back, the priest came to stand over him. For a few tense moments, he was silent, and then he finally asked the question he'd come to ask. "Are you a Twister?" "Yes!" Kulgan answered without a moment's hesitation. Maybe now he would let him have his pendant back. Without warning, the kashni kicked Kulgan, sending him rolling into the wall. "Filthy beast!" he roared. "Enemy of Embin!" Kulgan didn't respond or make any effort to move. The kick had hurt, but he was grateful for it. It gave him something to think about besides his pendant- a painful, yet welcome, reprieve. "How dare you come into my church and accept my hospitality?" the priest ranted. "As if you were some sort of decent person?" Hearing the insults, a small part of the old Kulgan awoke inside of himself. Still looking up at the priest from the floor, he managed to make a wry smile. "Last I heard, I was brought here," he chuckled. The kashni's eyes narrowed dangerously, "You dare to mock me, Twister? You are not in any position to be making jokes. I will go to tell my brothers what you are, and you will be put on trial." He paused for a moment in consideration, "It is late tonight, but first thing tomorrow morning, you will be tried for your crimes against Nature. And make no mistake, you will be convicted, and you will be executed!" With that, the priest began to back towards the door. He knocked on it twice, and it unlocked. Seeing him go, Kulgan felt the desperate need rise up in him again, and he scrambled to his feet, running at the retreating priest. "Wait!" he shouted. "What about my pendant? I need my pendant!" He was too slow, though, and the door shut and locked itself before he could reach it. "PLEASE!" he screamed, beating on the door again. "PLEASE, I NEED IT! DON'T LEAVE ME HERE WITHOUT IT!" The last thing he heard of the priest was a derisive snort as he walked away, "I do not have it, Twister. Nor would I give it to you if I did."