Obligations
by Wiebke Fesch

Same disclaimers and notes as Part 1.

-----CHAPTER 15-----

The basement seemed a different place, transformed. Mostly it was the smell. It was the smell of sickness, reminding Swift faintly of Fulminir. As they approached the door, one of the attendants was bringing out a load of filthy, stained sheets. Stepping ahead, Ashmael nodded to the attendant and ducked inside. Knowing he would not like what he saw, Swift stepped in behind him.

The second attendant stood indistinctly in the foreground, busily remaking the bed. In the corner, on the table, lay a _thing_.

Ranat.

Ashmael reached back and grasped Swift's hand tightly. "Come slowly. His eyes are closed."

"For the moment, he has lapsed unconscious, sleeping," the attendant noted softly.

"Still, come slowly, Swift," Ashmael repeated.

Swift looked upon the creature. Twenty-four hours past, he had been a human boy. Now he was a collection of leaking, oozing, bloated tissues. His limbs and face were swollen, bulged out of all proportion. Blisters and sores covered his skin like a creeping fungus. Deep scratch marks scored his thighs and chest, his arms.

"He attacked himself," said Seel quietly, standing off to the right. "There was an itching, a pain -- he tried to scratch it. But as much as he dug into his flesh, he could not make it stop."

Ashmael leaned close to Swift's ear. "See the mess between his legs?" Swift nodded his head a fraction. He saw. He did not want to see but he did. "At the front is the old human phallus, breaking down. Farther back is where his waste is being expelled. His internal organs are changing and as they do, all their waste, all excess tissues, are being forced out -- through the new cavity that is forming, the soume-lam. Now it only bleeds, the exit way for bile and filth, but in a few days, it will be something else altogether."

Swift wanted to turn away, wanted to deny what he was seeing, but he could not. He had to know. He should know. To look away would be to deny the truth. Ashmael had gone through this. Seel too. Cobweb. Terzian. Cal. The Tigron. The only ones who had avoided this agony were the pureborns -- and of course Thiede, who had been born a mutant. Most of the others, though, the ones that survived, had gone through this fire and somehow emerged whole.

The attendant came to the head of the table. "He must be washed before we return him to bed. Can someone help me?" The other attendant had disappeared, no doubt carrying away the wash.

Swift knew it had to be him. Ashmael wanted him to learn -- "practical experience" -- and so he would. He stepped forward.

The attendant took hold of the legs, while Swift carried the shoulders. He felt the skin sloughing off into his hands, like soft wax. Ranat's body was settled into the tub. The attendant turned away to reach for a rinsing pot and a sponge.

That very instant Ranat let out a piercing scream. "Don't touch me!"

He bucked and with a kick of his legs, catapulted out of the tub, shooting backwards and flinging himself at Swift.

No one had time to stop him before he began to claw, growling, latching on to Swift. "I'll kill you all!" he screamed.

Ashmael was fighting to pull him off but Ranat fought back like an animal, pushing Swift up against the wall.

Madness it was, his screaming. "You think I can't take care of myself, but I can, I can!"

Ashmael pulled on his arms and shoulders while Swift desperately tried to free himself. It was a tug of war, ended only when Seel stepped in and smacked Ranat across the face.

In an instant, Swift was dropped against the wall, Ranat now charging at another enemy.

"You're trying to kill me!" he roared, slapping at Seel wildly, missing the mark as he suddenly veered toward the door. The attendant was just locking it. He would try to escape, Ashmael had explained.

Ranat ignored the attendant and took the door knob in his hand. "Open! Let out!!!!!!" He pounded on the door, bits of his blistering flesh sticking to the wood. "Let me out!!!!!!"

His legs began to falter. The attendant gestured to Swift. It was time to finish the cleaning. Quickly they rushed him back into the tub. As the attendant flushed Ranat with water, the devil of pain spoke with Ranat's tongue. "You Varrs, you Wraeththu, you hara, my father said... Kill me. You want to kill me... God, let me out. Don't kill me. Don't kill me."

Finally the words had died down. From mania Ranat had fallen back to sleep. Or so it was for a moment. As soon as they began to pick up the body to move him, Ranat convulsed, a great arc of vomit shooting all down the front of Swift's shirt.

That was it; he had to drop the body. He staggered back. Let someone else take care of it, someone else inured to this horror. Ashmael stepped in. After the vomit had been removed, washed away from the body, Ranat was lifted onto the bed. Straps were pulled out from the sides and fastened across.

Swift had begun to weep. He tore at the buttons on his shirt, fumbling, wanting to take it off but unable, it seemed, to make his fingers work. A second set of hands, Seel's, appeared, and soon they were doing the work, pulling over the shirt and wadding it up, leading Swift out the door and into the hall, leaving the shirt in the hallway to be picked up later with the next load of sheets.

Swift stole one last look at Ranat before the door closed. His body was splayed across the bed, swollen and blistered, almost unrecognizable. Flesh transformed, one species to another. It was a miracle; it was a curse.

They walked out of the basement in silence. In the hallway on the main floor, Swift walked to the window, late afternoon light streaming inside. Ashmael came up beside him. "I'm sorry, Swift. I didn't think--"

"No," Swift interrupted. "It's-- it's alright. Thank you. I needed to see that."

Ashmael turned and left.

"Come," Seel offered softly, "let's take a bath."

"A cleansing," Swift replied. "How appropriate." He followed Seel to the bedroom, shirtless and certain that he would not be revisiting the basement for a few more days, until it was time. He had borne witness, but once was enough.

TBC...