Yes, we need him. You need to make him one of us.
A small part of his mind knew that this was all insane, that something had control of him but that small part was locked down. The whisperers now controlled everything else. His body was not his own. As soon as he felt this, his body stopped thrashing and slumped against whatever was holding him. His eyes stayed focused on the mage. Just behind him on the crate, Kurt could see the book flip itself open and start flicking through its pages.
You are part of us. We can give you the power to free yourself, but only if you help us capture him.
In the trapped corner of his mind, Kurt watched the pages of the book settle as if awaiting the next entry, the right page blank, the left held a drawing of a staff with something scrawled alongside it. The rest of his mind and body paid it no heed as it relaxed against Drake’s invisible bonds.
We will help you if you will help us.
The voice was now stronger inside his head. Kurt could feel its presence wrapping itself around his mind, claiming control of his body. Fear was now replaced by terror and what was left of Kurt’s mind wanted to shut itself away, to protect what was left from the invader. Whatever these voices were, they were way beyond his ken. Except that running was not an option, not now, not here. Kurt willed himself to fight.
Drake was still staring at him, his lips moving as if speaking, but Kurt could hear none of whatever it was he was saying. The presence in his head now had control of all of his senses.
Abruptly those golden eyes flashed. The Magister leapt away from him, his runestaff flaring to life bathing his small room in a blinding blue light. At the same moment, Kurt felt his body pushed hard against the wood of the door, making it hammer against the jamb and its hinges. The Whisperers were now in control and they lashed out, ripping apart the invisible force that held him and he felt himself drop to the floor in a crouch, his eyes fixed on the Magister across the room.
An ache started deep in his chest as he watched Drake swing his staff, making its blue light blur into a solid wall. He then slammed the heel of the staff onto the floor and the blue wall spanned across the room separating the two and sliced clean through the ramshackle pallet that Kurt was using as a bed, but the others in his head did not feel worried about it.
Kurt felt his body rise to its feet, his eyes never leaving those of Drake. Drake straightened himself, his staff still blue bright with runes, staring right back at him.
“I see you’ve bought an unexpected friend home with you tonight.” Drake leaned forward onto his staff, his golden eyes reflecting the blue light from his wall.
“We had not expected to meet one of your kind here, but your power will sate our hunger just as readily as the life source in this meat shell.” Kurt heard himself reply. It was his voice, but with a strange accent.
“Meat shell? Strange term for a human life,” Drake said.
“Every living thing is a shell to us, housing the energy within that we need to survive and thrive.”
“What of the poor sod that you have there? Is his soul still alive?”
The Others crowding his mind did not answer, but Kurt got the gist of what was being said. He was a dead man.
“I take it you were the one that overpowered Aber in the alley.”
“The form before this?” Kurt felt his hand pluck at his threadbare shirt. “He fought well, but he trapped us. We will not be trapped again.”
“Trapped you? In one of those objects?”
Kurt heard himself hiss and a surge of unbridled anger rushed through him. “Enough of this banter. You either join us willingly or not.”
Drake shrugged. “I like my life force to stay just where it is, thank you very much.” He then moved into a better defensive stance, twirling his staff with a flick of the wrist as he did so.
“So be it.”
Kurt felt his body moving. The Others in his head had quickly sunk their ephemeral feelers everywhere and the one that worried him most was the thick feeler that leads straight to his core, his essence. Pain exploded in his chest as his feet pounded across the wooden floorboards. Kurt could see his life quickly being sucked away by this thing as it used his body to rush against the Magister’s barrier.
He hunched back in his corner, barely aware that his life was being leached away by the Others to be used as magic against its prey. If he was a dead man already, why should he care what happened to a Magister? Why should he care what other victims this thing might make after he is gone?
He should care because, in this pig cutting stint of a world of his, his mind was his only haven, the only refuge he had. And now even that small thing had been taken from him. That hurt more than the thought of him dying. His survival instinct kicked in. He was not going to just lay on his back and die like a mangy cur in the gutter. He wanted to make this creature bleed for invading his sanctuary and killing him.
His body had made its way through Drake’s wall and was now involved in a duel of magic with the Magister. It was good that he was dead because none of his acquaintances would ever believe this. But what can he do to make these things suffer?
They had a large feeler running deep into that bright spot in his chest. And Kurt noticed that he had one himself leading to it. It was probably what was keeping
