by Kyle Prue
Even with the wax in his ears, the Marksman could hear slightly better than the average human. His days of eavesdropping were over, but he was still able to hear the other Lightborns coming upstairs. He waited until he could hear the girls go into their room and the young intellectual go into his. The blonde giant, Darius, was right next-door. “Simpleton,” the Marksman said, just loudly enough for someone to hear him through the door. “Simpleton,” he said again.
The door opened a crack and Darius poked his head in. “Did you say something, prisoner?”
The Marksman shook his head. “I didn’t say anything, simpleton.”
Darius entered the room. “You want to go another round?” he asked.
The Marksman raised his arms, which were still bound tightly together. “Like this? That doesn’t exactly sound fair.”
“You’re barking up the wrong tree,” Darius said. “I’m not going to untie you. You can’t provoke me.”
“You’re right,” the Marksman said. “In order for me to provoke you, you’d have to understand the words coming out of my mouth.”
“Excuse me?” the Marksman noticed that Darius’s hands were curled into fists.
“Oh, should I speak slowly?” the Marksman asked. “Maybe I could write it down for you.” He bit back a sinister grin. “Oh wait. That wouldn’t do you any good either.”
Darius looked over his shoulder instinctually, then back to the Marksman. “I’m not going to do this,” he said. “You can’t taunt me. You can’t get inside my head.”
“Apparently knowledge can’t get inside your head either. Isn’t that right, simpleton?” He could almost see the rage bubbling up inside Darius. All he had to do was push a little bit harder. “I’m curious, when you killed your brother was it intentional? Or was it just hard to control those big stupid fists of yours?”
The Marksman saw the punch coming and leaned into it at the perfect angle. Blood sprayed from his nose and splattered over the wall behind him. “Done talking?” Darius asked. “Or do you want more?”
“No,” the Marksman said, “that will be sufficient.”
Darius stared at him and the Marksman saw a shadow of regret pass over his face. He didn’t yet know what he had done, but the Marksman would make him aware, just as soon as he escaped. “Get some sleep,” Darius commanded. “I’m sure the Wolf has big plans for you.”
The Marksman bowed his head in mock defeat. Once Darius was gone, he focused his energy and channeled it through his hands. One of his fingers began to mutate and the bones began to realign. Soon a claw grew from his fingernail and he was able to use it to tear at the ropes binding his hands. Strand by strand, they tore. He knew he’d be free by morning. The Marksman grinned to himself internally. The Marksman knew many things, but few better than pressure points. With Darius he knew exactly where to push.
Chapter Twenty-Two
THE GOLDEN MUG
LILLY CELERIUS
To Lilly the morning felt like a bizarre combination of chaos and serenity. Being with her uncle again was a dream come true, but Bianca continually pulled him aside with rebel business. Neil had pushed himself too much and was now on mandatory bed rest. Anastasia drifted between rooms, fueled by anxious energy.
When Lilly reentered the bar, Rhys and Darius were passing the Lightborn book back and forth. According to the Wolf, A Rough History of Lightborns was a work in progress and he was always looking for more information to include in it. “Cassie Taurlum…” Darius dictated as Rhys wrote. “She was well known in the slums for sneaking into underground boxing matches, disguised as a man.”
Lilly set her sword on the table. “Is that true?” she asked. “That’s one secret that never made it into the Celerius rumor mill.”
“You bet it’s true,” Darius said. “She would wrap her hair into some weird circle braid.”
“Do you mean a bun?” Lilly asked.
“Hell if I know,” he said. “But she would cover her hair in a brown scarf and put on some makeup that looked like dirt. She’d go a few times per week.” He smiled to himself. “No one could take Cassie in a fight. If she’d been old enough to join the feud… You guys might not be here.” He winked.
Lilly wanted to scoff and talk about how her speed would outmatch Cassie’s strength, but she didn’t. “Do you miss her?” Lilly asked.
Darius’s face fell. “Yeah, I do.” He turned back to the book. “But I’m going to save her. The second I get her out of the Emperor’s dungeon, she’s gonna be back to her sparring. I just know it. Maybe I’ll let her get a few swings in at the Emperor himself.”
“If she fights like her brother, then the Emperor’s going to be in trouble,” Anastasia said from the balcony above them. Lilly didn’t know how long she’d been there.
Darius smiled at her comment, but stopped when he realized whom he was smiling at. Anastasia noticed and sighed. “Maybe she’ll take a few swings at you too,” Darius said. “I doubt she’ll be happy to hear about Michael…”
Anastasia leapt over the balcony and swung down fluidly to the floor below. There was no denying her acrobatic prowess. She reminded Lilly of a leaf in the wind the way she bounded weightlessly from balcony to table to floor. She made only the slightest sound and drifted as if controlled by the wind. Lilly even felt a twinge of jealousy. Despite her unmatched speed and extraordinary skill with her weapon, she had never been light-footed and she couldn’t help but go a little green when she saw someone like Anastasia move. In addition, it was hard enough to pretend that jumping down from the attic didn’t fill her with vertigo, dread, and fear. She’d never be the “leaping off of balconies” type. “I’m sorry that the wrong guy paid me, Darius,” Anastasia said. “But you’ll have to get over it if we’re working together. It was just business.”
“Oh you’re right,” Darius said. “Maybe I’ll pay Cassie to beat you down. That makes it business, doesn’t it?”
Anastasia scowled at him and exited the room through the gaping front door. Bianca walked in past her. “What did you do?” she immediately asked Darius.
“I let her live through the night,” Darius said nonchalantly. “You’re welcome.”
Something pulled at Lilly’s mind and she grabbed Bianca’s arm. “May I speak to you?” she asked in a low voice, quietly enough so that Rhys and Darius couldn’t hear her.
Bianca glanced over at them and silently indicated the kitchen. They walked in only to find it occupied by Josephine. “Oh…” Lilly said. “Apologies, I thought the kitchen was empty.”
Josephine was chopping potatoes but she set the knife down when the girls entered. Despite the fact that she now had an unwelcome guest in her home, she was still preparing dinner. “What are you girls plotting?” Josephine asked. She grabbed a tomato and diced it swiftly. “Should I leave?” she asked.
Lilly hesitated, knowing Josephine’s apprehensions about the Wolf. Maybe this was something she needed to hear too. “I just wanted to ask Bianca something,” Lilly said. “Yesterday you said that the Wolf’s wife was killed by the Empire?”
Bianca glanced over at Josephine, who hardly appeared to be listening. “I did. Why?”
“Well…” Lilly said. “That’s not exactly true. She didn’t die. She was just expelled from the Celerius family.”
“I don’t understand.”
Lilly explained. “Maybe I’m mistaken, but I’d always been told that the Wolf was exiled for crimes against the Empire. We were forced to sever ties with him, so his wife wasn’t allowed to live in the house anymore.”
“What happened to her?” Bianca asked.
“I was told that she died of pneumonia a few years ago,” Lilly said. “She’s still dead, but not in the way my Uncle was told.”
Bianca’s fingers twitched. “I would keep this to yourself, for now,” she said in a low voice. “Let me do some digging. I’ll find out what really happened. There’s no need to distract him if we don’t need to. He’s the most important man outside the walls. I�
�d hate to divide his attention.”
Lilly patted Bianca on the arm in agreement. “Understood.”
She liked Bianca more and more every time they talked. At one point Bianca had been rash and impolite towards her, but since leaving the walls she’d demonstrated not only an incredible amount of bravery, but also an enviable emotional intelligence. Bianca was still from the streets, but she’d adapted to this new world well. The two of them had formed a friendship in the short time they’d spent outside the walls together. Bianca squeezed her hand and left the kitchen. Lilly could hear her yelling at Neil. “Get back in bed!” Bianca commanded. “You’re wounded.”
“I just want to go outside for five minutes,” she heard Neil whine. “I’m bored in here.”
Lilly wanted to join the argument, but she remembered that Josephine was still in the room with her. “I hope that I can trust your discretion about…” Lilly faltered. “About my uncle’s wife.”
Josephine smiled at her. “I love you very much, Lilly,” Josephine said and slid the diced tomatoes into a pot. “I’m not petty enough to share secrets with someone out of spite.”
Lilly released a breath that she didn’t remember holding. “I was very sorry to hear about your son.”
Josephine didn’t look up from the meal she was preparing. “So was I,” she said. “Being a mother and then suddenly not being a mother… It changes you.”
Lilly wanted to say something, but nothing seemed sufficient.
“Maybe I’m not being fair towards your uncle. I understand how important he is to the people. It’s just hard to watch the man who convinced my son to fight lead you all down the same path.”
Lilly walked around the counter and hugged Josephine. “I wish we had a choice. I wish we could have whatever life we want.”
Josephine laid her hand on Lilly’s head and hugged her back. “I know I can’t be, but I wish I could be the one to give it to you. You kids deserve that.”
Lilly noticed that Josephine was wiping tears from her eyes when they parted. Josephine went to add the vegetables to whatever she was cooking, probably a stew.
Lilly felt relieved that she could reconnect with her uncle and stay close to Josephine as well.
“Do we have carrots?” Josephine called.
“In the store room,” Lilly said.
She’d been in charge of stocking it a few days ago. Lilly heard shifting in the floorboards above her and an odd thought ran through her mind. Who could be moving upstairs? Neil was outside with Bianca and the Wolf, Rhys and Darius were in the bar area, Josephine was in the kitchen, and Rebecca was bringing food to the Imperial prisoners at the shack by the river. The only one upstairs was… Lilly’s eyes widened. Before she could scream or alert her friends, the trapdoor to the attic swung open and the Marksman dropped down. He swept her feet out from under her instantly and placed his foot on her throat. She tried to alert someone, but he was pressing too hard for her to make any sound other than a pitiful gurgling. Josephine was only a room away. Maybe she could manage a scream.
She clamped her hand down on his leg in the hopes that she could channel energy through him, but the lack of oxygen made it impossible to focus her energy. The Marksman pressed a finger against his lips, a silent command to subdue and allow him to escape.
Lilly saw Josephine rush at him with a knife. He maneuvered around her swings, disarmed her, then slammed her head into the table. She fell to the ground, groaning in pain. As Lilly’s consciousness slipped away, the Marksman admired Josephine’s knife and flipped it in his hand, ready to resume his hunt.
Chapter Twenty-Three
THE GOLDEN MUG
NEIL VAPROS
Neil watched patiently as Bianca and the Wolf sparred. She was fast, faster than he’d ever seen her, but that didn’t help her with the Wolf. He parried easily and blocked each punch without an ounce of effort. He actually looked half asleep as he partook in combat that would kill a normal man.
Suddenly Neil heard heavy footfalls behind him and realized that their prisoner was escaping. The Marksman was bolting from the Golden Mug and charging up the nearest hill toward the tree line. His rifle was strapped to his back. Apparently, he’d recovered it from Rhys somehow. “Wolf!” Neil cried.
The Wolf was already looking. It was as if he’d sensed the presence of a new body in the open air. He tore after the Marksman with his Celerius speed. The Wolf tackled him to the ground, but the Marksman quickly rolled over onto his back and delivered a strong kick to the Wolf’s nose. Blood spurted out and the Wolf staggered to his feet. Neil bolted over as fast as he could. He knew it was only a matter of time before Bianca retrieved her throwing knives. The Marksman stared at them, obviously tired; after all, he’d been kept in a dark room with little food or water for the last week. Desperation crept into his eyes as he backtracked slowly.
Neil let his hands ignite. “This isn’t gonna end how you want it to, Marksman.”
The Marksman studied him for a moment, then turned to look at the Wolf, who kept his fighting stance strong. The Marksman drew his trusty rifle. Neil threw a fireball. He wasn’t going to wait for the Marksman to shoot.
Victor dodged the fireball in one fluid movement. He corrected his stance he fired his rifle at the Wolf. The Celerius seemed to be anticipating it and weaved out of the way letting the bullet seamlessly pass by.
“Looks like you missed,” Neil said.
The Marksman almost looked sad as he shook his head. “Missed the old man, maybe.”
Neil turned and realized that the Marksman must have accidentally fired his gun straight through the open door of the Golden Mug. While Neil’s head was turned, the Marksman continued his dash towards the tree line. Neil and the Wolf exchanged looks when they realized their predicament: Go after the Marksman or see what damage the bullet had done. The Wolf raised his arm to feel the surroundings around him. “Is someone dead?” Neil asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Should I-“
The Wolf’s eyes widened. “Do you have any medical knowledge?”
“No,” Neil said.
The Wolf ran back toward the bar almost without waiting to hear his answer. “Don’t lose him!” the Wolf called over his shoulder. “Follow but don’t try to fight him.”
Neil wanted to debate the Wolf’s decision to run back to the pub. Clearly that’s what the Marksman wanted: the strongest fighter out of the picture, but Neil decided that he could take Victor alone. He couldn’t be worse than Saewulf. Neil’s fiery hands propelled him up the hill. He was hardly running anymore. He was flying. He reached the tree line and let his hands extinguish themselves. He stepped into the forest, but anxiety weighed on his mind. If what the Wolf said was to be believed, chasing a Venator into a forest was a dangerous act. It didn’t help that this forest was so different from anything Neil had ever seen. Inside the city, trees were planted in an orderly fashion and well kept. Nothing grew to excess. Outside the wall it was a different story. Trees grew randomly and sporadically wherever they wanted.
The Marksman was probably long gone by now. Neil saw a hint of movement in one of the tall trees. Without a second’s hesitation, he launched a fireball into the canopy. The Marksman leapt from the tree acrobatically and caught onto another nearby branch. He slid down it without difficulty and dodged Neil’s next fireball with a somersault. He rolled onto his feet and stood to face Neil. “You came to fight me alone?”
Neil glared at him. “I don’t need anyone else. Last I checked, Darius was alone when he nearly killed you.”
“Your friend is impervious to bullets. If I’m not mistaken, you can’t say the same,” the Marksman pointed out.
“If I’m not mistaken, you’re out of bullets,” Neil said and hurled another fireball.
“You’re not easy to beat because you can be killed by a bullet,” the Marksman said without emotion. He twirled out of the way of the fireball and with his next step closed the distance between the two of them. Neil tried to b
urn him to death, but the Marksman twisted his arm behind his back before his hands could ignite. Neil felt the Marksman kick him in the back and heard a popping noise. Sharp pains shot through his arms and chest and his airways felt like they were collapsing.
Neil tried to summon some fire, but none sprung from his damaged arm. He yelped in pain as the Marksman grabbed his other arm. “You’re easy to beat because you’re cocky. You think fire is the eternal problem solver, when in actuality there is no refinement to it. No finesse. It’s destruction.”
Neil’s other shoulder popped and he began to scream. His arms sat uselessly by as the Marksman stood over him. “I figured without proper control over your arms, your abilities would be useless. I suppose I was right.”
Neil couldn’t breathe and his mind was racing. What else could he do other than throw fire? The Marksman pulled a kitchen knife from his belt. “I’ve been told not to kill you.” The Marksman sounded conflicted. “But I don’t suppose you need your hands.”
Neil gasped. He then remembered he was still in possession of the paramount Vapros ability. He materialized a few feet away from the Marksman and closer to the tree line. He stumbled to his feet and bolted as fast as his legs would carry him. The Marksman caught him and slammed him into the nearest tree. He jabbed Neil in the stomach and Neil stifled a scream. The Marksman held Neil to the tree by his neck. “I have no anger towards you, Neil Vapros,” the Marksman said. His voice never changed from its monotone delivery. “If you’re going to give me trouble on our way to see the Doctor, then I’m going to hurt you very badly.”
Neil wanted to talk but he was more focused on trying to breathe.