Blood Of The Righteous

by J. E. Sandoval

  Jonathan nodded. “Brother Morland came to visit me this morning. He said I would be finishing my weapons training with Brother Na’Hastas as my mentor.”

  “Na’Hastas. He’s the one with the one blue and one brown eye, right?”

  “Yes. He is supposedly one of the best combat trainers.”

  Gabriel smiled. “Good. Then he will whip you into shape and you will be a mentor within a month.”

  Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Oh, bugger all. The bearer of pain returns.” The young healer returned to the room and began to approach the two initiates. Gabriel met his eyes with an intense glare, and the healer halted his approach, allowing them to finish their conversation.

  “I’m glad you are feeling better, Jonathan. I’ll see you when you are back on your feet again,” Gabriel said.

  “Remember me in your prayers, brother. And remember what I said about El.”

  Gabriel stood and walked from the room without another word. The thought of El with Janelle never failed to turn his stomach. It was time to put an end to it.

  * * * * * *

  Gabriel made his way through the crowded streets of Avonshire. The market was flooded with mostly women this time of day, both wives and daughters, buying what was needed to prepare the evening meal for their hardworking husbands and brothers. Given his large, muscular build and the white tunic and forest green cloak of his Holy Defender's initiate's uniform, people tended to step out of his way with a quick bow. This never ceased to cause slight embarrassment to Gabriel. Even the servants of the castle in Lystra weren't this obsequious. Sure they showed respect, but there was always a familiarity and fondness to their attitude. But with the people of Avonshire, it seemed to be respect almost born out of fear.

  A group of laughing children ran through the crowd, darting between carts, stands, and people. As they ran past an old woman carrying a large basket on her shoulder, she lost her balance and toppled over. The breads and vegetables, which she had spent the better part of the day collecting, spilled forth from the basket onto the cobblestone street. The laughing children disappeared into the crowd, oblivious to the chaos they were causing.

  "You filthy little scamps!" she screamed from the ground, shaking her fist.

  In an instant, Gabriel was on one knee next to the old woman. "Ma'am, are you hurt?" He reached down to offer his help to get her back on her feet, which she readily accepted.

  “Thank you, young man,” the old woman said, brushing herself off. “I’m not as young as I used to be, and I don’t see so well anymore. Ever since my husband died…”

  Quickly, Gabriel began to pick up her fallen things and stuff them back into the basket as the woman continued to speak. All around, people paid no attention, other than giving the fallen goods a contemplative glance. But, one look at Gabriel, and they quickly went about their business.

  Over the drone of the old woman and the noise of the crowd, bells at the cathedral began to ring. Not the ordinary bells, which signified time of day, meals, and such, but what were referred to as the “Grey bells”. The pitch was higher and sharper, and their piercing noise reached a greater distance. The Grey Bells were only used to call an emergency meeting of the Arch Bishop, his advisors, the Holy Defenders’ council of twelve, and Templar Majoris Carmen himself, the leader of the Holy Defenders.

  The entire market square suddenly got quiet as the high-pitched bells continued to chime. Gabriel quickly finished shoving the woman’s goods into her basket, handed it to her, and left without a word.

  The crowd erupted in speculative murmurs as the bells stopped. Gabriel quickened his pace through the crowd, anxious to get this confrontation over with and get back to the University to see what was wrong.

  * * * * * *

  Eleenia set down her cup of honey tea as the conversation stopped to allow the bells to play out their ringing. Resting her chin on her hand, she took on a pensive look, staring out the high-set window up into the cloudy sky.

  Janelle finished her tea with a final swig and set the cup back on the table. “What does that mean? Eleenia? Eleenia!”

  El snapped out of her trance and turned her attention back to her friend. “Hm? Oh, I’m sorry. I believe that those bells are used to call an emergency council meeting among the leaders of the church and the Holy Defenders.”

  Janelle rolled her eyes. “I wonder what for? One of the Moldy Rear-enders come up short on his weekly extortion run?”

  “I’ve heard that it is only used in extreme emergencies,” El said, letting the last comment pass by.

  Janelle poured them both some more tea. They sat quietly, staring into the cups, both lost in thought. A sharp knock on the door brought them both back to the present. Janelle strolled to the door as the knocks became louder.

  “I’m coming!” she yelled. Unbolting the door, she opened it to the sight of Gabriel standing on her small front porch, arms folded in front of him. Their eyes locked in mutual distaste and anger.

  Janelle was the first to break the stare as she looked down to size up her broad-shouldered opponent. “Eleenia, your pretentious brother is here!” she shouted. Without saying another word, she turned and walked back into the house, leaving Gabriel standing at the open door.

  Caught a little off guard, Gabriel hesitated, and then stepped into the small Argos house. Janelle was nowhere to be seen, but Eleenia was entering the front room from the back.

  “Gabriel! What are you doing here? Is something wrong?” she asked, perplexed at seeing her brother.

  “El, I told you I don’t want you here. How can I look after you if you keep…” He stopped in mid-sentence as Janelle followed El from the back room, longsword on her belt with her hand on the hilt. Her eyes bore holes right through him as all the anger she had in life was focused on the young initiate.

  “You, watch after her? HA!” Janelle spat. “She doesn’t need you to take care of her. I’ve taught her to fight and she can more than take care of herself now.”

  Gabriel took a deep breath to calm himself. “El, come on. We’re leaving.”

  Janelle stepped in front of Eleenia, never taking her eyes off of Gabriel. “Tell that pig-headed toady that you will leave when it suits you.”

  Eleenia stood shocked, glancing between her brother and her best friend.

  Gabriel clenched his fist. “El, now.”

  “Tell him to crawl back to his ivory tower like the hypocritical coward that he is.”

  Gabriel shifted his gaze towards Janelle. “El, you should try harder to keep your little pet strumpet on a tighter leash.”

  Janelle drew her sword. With a scream of rage, she charged. Gabriel held his ground, prepared to call the girl’s bluff. It was almost too late before he realized that she was not bluffing. At the last second, he stepped forward, grabbing Janelle’s sword arm, completely catching her off guard. Quickly, Janelle landed a strong kick into Gabriel’s groin with her pointed boot.

  Biting his lip to hold off the pain, in one fluid motion Gabriel twisted Janelle’s arm and shoved her with his free hand. The smaller girl stumbled back, dropping her sword and tumbled over a decorative table, landing on her hands and knees. Before Gabriel could react, she darted to her sword and grabbed the weapon in hand.

  Eleenia jumped between them, causing both of them to drop their guard a bit. “Stop it! Both of you! Stop it!”

  Gabriel relaxed completely, but Janelle hung on to her sword.

  “What are you going to do? Kill each other?” she screamed, well beyond the point of anger. She turned to Gabriel, tears beginning to form in her eyes. “I am not a little girl! I wrote to father and he was happy Janelle was teaching me how to fight! So was Mother and David! Why do you feel differently?”

  Gabriel shifted his weight as the sharp sting in his groin turned into a dull, lingering ache. He s
hook his head. “They don’t know…”

  “What? They don’t know what? What is best for me?” Eleenia interrupted. “Janelle is right! You won’t always be around to watch over me. You haven’t been there the times that I have needed you, and Janelle has!” Tears were now streaming down her face. “You have no right to tell me what to do with my life! Quit trying to bully everyone around!”

  A strong twinge of guilt hit Gabriel, seeing his sister brought to tears for the first time in years. Looking down at the ground, unable to make eye contact, he gave a resigned sigh and nodded. “I’ll find out what is going on. When you are finished here, come to my room and I’ll tell you what I learn.”

  Gabriel turned and started walking towards the door. Once outside, he closed it gently. Eleenia turned and faced Janelle. “And you! He is a man of God AND my brother! You show him some respect! How dare you pull out a sword on him!”

  Janelle sighed and smiled a bit. “El, it was just a practice sword.” She demonstrated by running the dulled, rounded edge across her own palm. “It wouldn’t have hurt him…much,” she snickered.

  “Janelle, Gabriel isn’t one of those tavern rogues you are used to fighting. He has been trained to kill for the last three years. He could have seriously hurt you and I would have never forgiven him. Besides, he’s a good man and has a kind heart.”

  Janelle rolled her eyes.

  Eleenia put her hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I know how you feel about the church, but Gabriel is just a Holy Defender initiate. He doesn’t make the choices about what wars to fight and who to send into battle, nor does he harass people for tithes and offerings.”

  Janelle smiled. “Well, at least it was good to see you stand up to him.”

  “Oh, I’ve stood up to him in the past. He is just being overprotective. Now, did he hurt you at all?”

  Janelle rotated her bent arm, rubbing her shoulder. “I don’t think so. He’s stronger than he looks. He almost dislocated my arm.”

  “You deserved it,” Eleenia replied.

  “So are you going back to the University now?”

  Eleenia shrugged and smiled. “When I feel like it.”

  * * * * * *

  David lost track of time as he lay in the cold dirt alley, hands clutching his bruised ribs. His face hurt, his ribs stung, and the back of his head felt like he had a lump the size of a melon. Gingerly reaching back, he touched the spot, a move he quickly regretted.

  Slowly, he ran his tongue across his teeth, making sure that none had been kicked out during the attack. The salty and metallic taste of blood made him shiver, but at least all of his teeth were still in place. The memory of the attack washed over him, like hot, putrid vomit across his soul. David felt around on the ground next to him, hoping that beyond all odds his pack would still be there. A horrible fluttery feeling rose from his gut as he drew his arm back empty. He tried to raise his head, but the pain in his neck and skull made it a bit difficult. Delicately, he opened his eyes.

  The alley was dark, for which he was thankful. The small amount of light that did touch the alley still bothered him. His vision was blurry and noises sounded like he was listening to them through water.

  David felt a skittering feeling through his hair that moved across his head and along his cheek. He reached up and brushed the roach from his face. The image of him being covered from head to toe by roaches encouraged David to try and stand up. He braced his arms beneath him and pushed himself up to his hands and knees. The feeling of pain, which he was getting quite familiar with, shot through his body. A piece of rotting lettuce and a few small rocks were stuck to the side of David’s face. Brushing them off, David took a deep breath. Once again, he was overtaken by a coughing fit. The taste of smoke once again rose to his tongue, and his bruised ribs ached in protest. After waiting a few seconds to catch his breath, David weakly clambered to his feet. His head reeled with dizziness as the world spun around him. He took as deep breaths as his ribs would let him as he concentrated on staying standing.

  Slowly, the feeling of disorientation faded, replaced by the fluttery feeling rising from his stomach. He could almost imagine the taste of bile on his tongue. Here he was, a fourteen year old boy in a strange city, where the only people he even remotely knew were the ones who had beaten him and taken all that he had left in the world. He quickly felt around his clothes, seeing what he had left. A small jingle in his front shirt pocket revealed seven coppers. That would hardly be enough for a decent meal. The pants he was wearing didn’t have any pockets, and the small coin pouch he had tied to his belt was also gone, taken by Gaceric’s men. David started to feel choked up. He had no way now to pay his way to Avonshire, and he realized that competition would be extremely fierce among those who wished to work for their passage. The army of Aragil was only days from him, and they would probably reach Kheog by nightfall tomorrow. When they reached New Portsmouth, someone would definitely recognize him as a Ki Kalendeen and turn him in for a reward of some kind. Probably to that Necromancer and that damned General. Tears pushed their way through, but he bit down and refused to cry. Now wasn’t the time to become hysterical. He had to think, and think quickly!

  His hand found his way down to his boot. He still had his father’s knife! Although the thought of parting with his father’s dagger wasn’t a pleasant one, it was far better than spending the rest of his life as a beggar, or as a prisoner of an evil wizard.

  David quickly tied the small silver scabbard to his belt and sheathed the dagger. He dusted himself off one last time and walked from the alley back to the main street. The sun was starting to go down, and David figured it was about 3 hours from sunset, two hours from when the evening meal used to be served. The city streets were definitely less crowded now, and most of the vendors had already packed up. David walked west, away from the docks, in search of a vendor who might buy his dagger.

  He rounded one of the oddly placed corners and came to a bald man with a red bandana. The man was packing away his goods back into the compartments hidden in his wares cart.

  “Excuse me, sir,” David said to the man. “Are you still open for business?”

  “Packin’ up and a movin’ on, boy. But, state your business quickly, and if it ain’t packed, it’s still for sale.”

  “Oh, I’m not in the position to buy anything, sir.”

  The man looked up from his work at David. The sight of the battered lad took him a bit by surprise. “Who beat the piss out a’ ya’, boy? You talk to the town watch about it?”

  David untied the scabbard without answering. He handed it to the merchant, who studied it with his best appraisal face.

  “Hmm,” he said. “Not too shabby. You sure you want to part with it, lad?”

  “No, sir,” David said. “But I have to.”

  The stout vendor gave a half smile as he sized up David. “I’ll give you a silver for it.”

  David’s eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped with shock. “A silver?!?” he yelled indignantly. “It HAS to be worth more than a bloody SILVER!”

  The vendor gave David a smug smirk. “Oh, and I suppose you’re an expert in the ways of appraisal, eh?”

  “I…. I…” David couldn’t take any more. His mind felt like it was going to snap and he broke out openly crying. Tears streamed down his cheeks and his eyes turned red and puffy. “Forget it!” David said between sobs. “I shall take my business elsewhere!”

  David went to grab for the dagger, but the merchant shoved him aside. “Oh no, lad. We have a deal. One silver.” The merchant began to chuckle as David tried to subdue a fit of rage.

  “No! I never agreed to it!”

  “You handed it to me, didn’t you?” said the merchant smugly.

  David had had enough. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he screamed at the top of his lungs. “WATCH!!! WATCH!!!”

&nb
sp; The merchant pressed his lips together in anger. “What are you doing, boy? Stop it!” He reached for David, trying to silence him.

  David nimbly stepped to the side and continued his screaming. “WATCH!!!”

  Two town guards dressed in blue and white uniforms, each carrying a halberd, came to David’s call. The first one was an older man with several battle scars, while the second was very well muscled, but a good bit younger. The older man was the first to speak. “Well, what have we got going on here, then?” He looked at David’s face. “What’s your name, lad?”

  “David, sir.”

  “Did he do that to you, boy?” The younger guard glared at the merchant and began to hold his halberd with two hands.

  The merchant stiffened, as he realized the potential dilemma David could put him in. “No, sir, it wasn’t I who beat the boy. He looked like that when he came here!”

  “Silence!” yelled the younger guard. “He wasn’t talking to you.”

  His father’s dying words echoed through his mind. Although this man deserved any type of punishment he might get, David did not want it on his conscience. “No, sir. He didn’t beat me, he merely STOLE my knife!”

  The merchant gave an “I’m innocent” gasp. “I did not steal his knife. He sold it to me for a silver! I gave him the price, then he handed me the dagger!”

  David kicked at the merchant in rage. The younger town guardsman tried to step in the way. “That’s not what happened, you liar! You were going to appraise the dagger, then you gave me a ridiculously low price! A jewel encrusted silver coated dagger! Why would I give it up for a mere silver? Then you kept the dagger! Now give it back!”

  The merchant looked a bit caught off guard. He had expected David to say something that would make his story less believable, at which point he would pounce on it and have David thrown into the dungeon, and keep the fine knife and the silver. The opportunity never presented itself, though, as David stuck to the truth.