Fractured Loyalties

by Greg Alldredge

  “Why do I need to go out? It is only going to get hotter today, I can feel it.” Six ran her nails down the middle of his bare back, raising bumps along her path.

  “Because I’m a stranger here. They will be looking for strangers to hang. I would rather not be hanged.” His body reacting to her professional touch, but he needed to concentrate on the task at hand before he set out to discover what happened to his pat little world where he always felt the one in charge.

  “See if I ever save your life again, if this is the thanks I get. Anything else, your lordship?” She slapped him on his bare ass. The vibrations from the contact caused pain to radiate from every cut on his body, but he gritted his teeth to keep from screaming.

  “Maybe when you get back… You can give me some clothes. It seems mine have gone missing, along with my purse.” He called as an afterthought, “Something so I can move about unseen.” He looked out and watched the children digging through the garbage and shook his head. He wanted to help all of them, but he was just one person, and for every child he helped, he knew there were thousands of others waiting to take their place. The world never seemed to run out of the poor, no matter how many died.

  “I will see what I can do,” she said while slipping out the door.

  He inspected the back of his right hand, the one that took the most damage from the blast. It seemed to be someone else’s, a much older man’s. The cuts and scars left behind would make him offset. Stop worrying about your looks, now is not the time.

  He assumed the attack did not originate from Perdition, it made no sense. That would leave Abaraka or another yet-to-be-discovered player. The poisoning didn’t seem like Abaraka’s style either. He spent time in the city and island of Abaraka, and though extremely secretive, the Brotherhood seemed like the type that would want to stab you in the chest, not the back. Anyone that knew of such things understood that the city of Abaraka would not make a move without the Brotherhood’s blessing. Though separate, the city leadership grew interwoven with the crimson temple.

  If not the Brotherhood, then who? The only answer he came up with was the slavers. The slavers lost a number of customers when Zar freed their slaves. Not only the shard, but many of the tiny shards aligned with them followed their lead. If freedom continued to spread, it would put a great many people that traded in misery out of business. The poison seemed like an excellent message, but they left no note, no claim to the deed. Another must have committed it.

  Then there was the blast. That was a bold statement but directed at the city, not the rulers. Maybe the people responsible could not reach the leaders on top of their pinnacle with their magic weapon.

  One thing for certain, he didn’t have enough information to make an educated guess. He needed to dig more to find out the cause and take the correct actions.

  He inspected the small balcony where his blood now stained the wooden slats of the floor. He had lost a great deal of blood, judging from the size of the stain. No wonder he felt so weak. It would take time to regain his strength. Over the door, he noticed a small silver mirror. An extravagance in such a humble part of town. With the mirror in his hand, he inspected the cuts and bruises left from the blast. He was sure the time spent in Zar left a few new wrinkles as well. He replaced the mirror back on its hook, where it stood guard, keeping evil spirits from entering Six’s room. Such a superstitious custom, as if a mirror might protect a person from evil. He thought most people had left the old ways long ago.

  <=OO=>

  No matter how long he racked his brains, he thought of no better motive than what he had. Unless there was a family member he didn’t know of, that angle was dead.

  His stomach rumbled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. It must have been while still in the Villas’ cell.

  The door opened behind him. He continued watching the children dig, his back to the door. Since he had nothing to wear, he remained nude on the balcony.

  “You aren’t scared the guards come for you?” Six asked once the door closed.

  “Your feet have a certain cadence on the steps. I am sure of the quality of guards throughout the land. They couldn’t tread as lightly as you, nor would they travel the steps with such confidence. Your steps told me you knew who was in the room and what to expect. A guard would open the door expecting death.” He turned to face her. She only carried a walking stick. “I thought I asked for some clothes.”

  “Yes, to pass through the streets unnoticed, I heard you.” She tossed the four-foot-tall staff at him, which he caught with ease, and began removing eggs covered with a dark brown crazed pattern from the folds of her dress.

  “What are those?” He limped to the table, touching the closest one with a finger.

  “We call them dragon eggs. They are simply an egg that has been soaked in spiced water for several days until they pick up the flavors. They are said to possess healing powers. Try one.” She motioned with her head.

  “Or they are just eggs, colored to sell more, with tall tales of potency.” He picked it up, inspecting it carefully, even smelling it. “You do know dragons don’t exist, right?”

  “You might think so.” She stuck her head inside an oversized shrunk and called to him. “I think some of these will do to let you slip through the city, invisible.”

  Convinced the egg would not kill him, he peeled it and plopped it into his mouth hole. He cocked his head while she pulled out clothes.

  She pulled out several dresses from her lesser-used section of the closet. “These should fit.”

  “They are rather old and worn. Not that I am an expert of women’s fashions, but aren’t these all… ancient? Something more like your grandmother might wear?” It took work to speak around the egg in his mouth, but he managed to get the words out without scattering too much yoke across the room.

  “Thank you. I think. You want to be unnoticed, right?” She held one up to his shoulders checking fit. “This should work.”

  “What of the Villas? Who is in control of the city?”

  “As far as I can tell, the mayor is still alive and in charge. I have not seen her of course. I don’t normally travel in those circles.” She draped the dress over his arm. “That one should do.” A step away from the eggs, she began peeling one, inspecting him.

  “Nothing under it?”

  “No, you have nothing to worry about. It is long.”

  “Unless I need to take it off.”

  “You planning on working the streets?” She bit the egg in half.

  He lifted the dress over his head and let it slip down over his many wounds. “In a manner of speaking, yes.” The dress hung over him like a sack, hiding all manner of bulges most men needed to hide. “I don’t think I make a very attractive woman in this.”

  She stuffed the other half into his mouth. “That’s not the point.” With a cord, she began wrapping his dress in the correct way to hold everything in that a woman would need to worry about. “I don’t think you want to find a date. Let’s try for convincing instead of attractive.”

  Swallowing, he said, “Not really, no dates please.”

  Six took a pair of hand towels and stuffed the top of his dress, creating a pair of lopsided sagging breasts. “This will help.”

  “My hair is too short, and I need a shave.”

  “I thought of that too.” She pulled a black hat with a mourning veil attached from a drawer.

  “I think it will work for where I need to go. Not bad, Six. I’m impressed.”

  “Use the stick to help keep you bent over, and walking with your limp, you should be fine to visit the site. I tried to get close, but there were too many guards. I didn’t want…”

  “You didn’t want to be caught.”

  “Right.”

  <=OO=>

  The timing of his outing became crucial. He needed enough sunlight to reach the scene of the blast and inspect it and reach his rooms to gather a few things. The eggs went a long way to stop his stomach from growling. He n
ever noticed, but he assumed an old woman wouldn’t walk the streets with a stomach roaring like a mountain beast.

  The mountains: the thought hadn’t crossed his mind until now. He knew most of the shards’ interiors were rugged mountains. In those mountains, many tribes of men lived. On many of the shards, past conflicts between the mountain men and the cliff dwellers tainted relations to outward hostilities, if not open warfare. He’d never heard about conflicts between the two peoples. There was no reason to assume the relations between Zar and those of the interior would be any better than his experience. He rarely included them into his calculations because they were such a rarity.

  His staff was a blessing, the wounded knee made for slow going. He hoped the trip turned out uneventful for his body’s sake. He found the crowd heavier the closer to the epicenter of the attack. Makeshift memorials of flowers and toys had been set up for the victims. It was hard to tell how many died, but the city came out to mourn their loss.

  Before he cleared the crowd, the ring of guards was evident, spearheads shining in the setting sun above the crowd’s heads. It was easy to tell he would not be able to inspect the area too closely. Dressed as a mourning old woman made it easier to push his way to the front.

  As close as he could get, he plainly saw the blast originated from under the lift platform that he accidentally dropped while trying to escape. Luckily there would have been no one under the slab of wood and iron that tumbled down the cliff. At least he didn’t add to the death toll.

  He found nothing to learn at the site. All evidence would have been wiped clean by the blast or trampled by the crowd of onlookers after the fact. He would need to find the attackers the old-fashioned way: human intelligence.

  Unfortunately, he had few contacts available in this city, and his best information sat untouchable on the pinnacle of black granite. He was unaccustomed to being out of the information loop. Any witnesses that survived the blast had to be taken somewhere. The first order of business would be to find them. He had a pretty good idea where they would be.

  He shuffled away, his new direction the pair of rooms he kept. There were things he needed, and a trip to the Temple of the Mother was called for. This must be where the wounded were taken. If there were any leads left alive, that would be where they would be found.

  Chapter 8, Hayline Shoemaker:

  Hayline woke, surprised to find himself still locked in the torture device. At first, he thought it only a continuation of the nightmare he had endured for the gods only knew how many days—he sure didn’t. The lack of sunlight messed with his sense of time, and the dehydration he felt took its toll on his body. The priestess left him strapped in with no way to relieve himself. His body held out until he couldn’t wait any longer and revolted. Now empty, there was nothing left to void.

  He didn’t remember the last time she came to visit. It seemed like days. Forced to stand in such an uncomfortable position, he found it possible to only sleep for a few moments at a time before the pressure on his chest made it unbearable for him to breathe, and he would wake up choking. She told him he needed to renounce Giblet within the day or he would die. Had it been less than a day? Giblet wouldn’t tell him. His long-time friend left him to his fate as well. Hayline had no idea what to do. He drifted off to sleep once again.

  Only to dream of the familiar voice of his childhood friend. Giblet said, “I know a way to free you, but you won’t like it.”

  “Thank the gods you’re back. Please, I will do anything. I am not sure how much longer I can take. My body hurts all over. I’m ready to ask them to kill me to end the pain.”

  “I can save you if you like.”

  “Which word did you not understand? I will do anything you ask, just save me now!”

  “You must promise to do as I say.”

  “Damn it, you creature from the darkest of hells, I promise to do anything you wish, just free me of this unrelenting torment.” Tears flowed down Hayline’s face as he pleaded for the pain to end.

  “Just close your eyes and open your mouth wide.”

  Hayline did as he was told.

  <=OO=>

  Hayline heard the Priestess’s voice whisper in his ear, “Are you ready to renounce the demon that has tormented you?”

  Hayline spoke with barely a whisper, “I’m ready to renounce all evil and accept the Mother Durra’ah as the one true Goddess and receive her as my savior from evil.”

  “You shall drink of her kindness and feel her bounty,” her voice continued, and he felt her soft lips touch his. There was little he could do. Secured as he was, his body was at her mercy. “With my body, I consecrate your soul to her and anoint your physique to fight evil.” Her words continued as she stepped away from him.

  His eyes closed. He knew what she was about to do, but he believed himself too tired to perform. When he opened his eyes, he found her willowy, shapeless naked form in front of him. His body reacted to her enticements. She removed the mirror from in front of him to reveal the torture chamber beyond. He closed his eyes, waiting for her to free him, but instead he listened as water dripped into a pan when she rang out a cloth. The fluid soaked into his body and smelled of flowers and spices. His senses came alive. The lack of sleep heightened his awareness. All thoughts of Giblet disappeared. He knew his body was filthy, but the priestess took great care in ensuring he was clean.

  He was unsure how much more he could take, but a new noise came to his ears when she slid to his side and gave a crank of the wheel a slow turn, and the torture device rotated flat.

  Like a snake, she was forced to slither her way on top of him, her short stature and crippled leg compelling her to drag herself along. Beyond his wildest dreams, he found himself fully erect as her lips began working him over. Eyes still closed, his imagination ran wild. With the movement over his body, he hallucinated being devoured by a giant snake.

  He let her take control with her mouth.

  <=OO=>

  She released him from his bindings once finished rewashing him. Unsure of the time passing, he drifted in and out of reality during the sex. He found the whole experience terrifying. The visions of demons and other winged creatures fighting over his soul struck him to the core.

  Hayline would never be the same. Once cleaned and released from the device, he was confident about only one thing: He needed to kill as many demons as possible, certain they lay in wait for him or any other unsuspecting person. They would possess those they found weak. He stood lost in deep thought, when he realized she spoke to him while she dressed.

  “… your father comes in, you will tell him you are ready to take your place by his side. He’s getting old, and once you prove yourself, you can take over the city,” she droned on.

  Hayline was not sure what she spoke of. “What do you mean? I’m not ready for this. I have…”

  “Don’t you worry,” she interrupted him. “I will be by your side to advise you. We will not be able to make it official, but I will be your constant confidant. I know things, and I know how to make people do what’s needed to help you.”

  It happened so fast. He wasn’t sure of the day or how long he’d been held captive. His mind raced with all the changes to his thinking. What were the visions he saw?

  “… once things have settled we can have a private service for Durra’ah to bless our…”

  He looked down into her face, and where he once saw a Devi, a messenger of the Goddess, he now witnessed a flash of evil cross her face. He blinked his eyes, and her face went back to normal.

  “… your father comes to speak with you shortly, you must be ready.”

  “I’m ready, I just need to think a moment. So much has changed.”

  To Hayline’s shock, the diminutive woman reached up and slapped him across the face. “Now is not the time to turn into a common washwoman. Pull yourself together, your father comes.” She grabbed his face and glared into his eyes. “Don’t you ruin this for me!” she growled.

  Hayline cocked
his head when she spoke. He was capable of snapping her in half like a twig but answered, “I won’t.”

  “Good, now sit down.” She pushed him toward a basic wooden chair, his back to the door. The Principal’s cushioned chair faced him. He would have sworn he saw scales flash over her arm when she touched him. “What’s wrong with your arm?”

  The woman inspected both her arms. “What do you mean?”

  Before he pointed out the scales on her arm, the door behind him opened and his father Soto Shoemaker, the Principal of Perdition, walked into the room and sat in his chair. “Hayline, you look better than I expected.”

  Hayline tried to smile, but everything spun around him, things didn’t make sense.

  “How are you doing, son?” his father continued.

  “I’m—I’m tired,” was the best Hayline could muster.

  “I bet you are…”

  His father kept speaking, but Hayline’s attention was drawn to the woman that stood behind him and her fingernails digging into his shoulder like daggers. He forced himself to not flinch from the pain, but they felt like tendrils forcing their way into his body. Hayline looked up into his father’s face and found his bearded visage replaced with a pocked, scarred, boil-laced mask of a dead man. Fear grabbed Hayline. He wanted to run away. His father turned into the most hideous monster he had ever seen.

  “… and of course, if you’re better…” The voice coming from the creature in front of him sounded like his father, but the face most definitely didn’t belong. Horns erupted from the top of his father’s head.

  Hayline needed to blink to make sure they were really there. He wanted nothing more than to flee the room, to save himself from the demon his father turned into before his very eyes, but from somewhere he felt the power of Durra’ah give him the strength to speak.