Curse of the Red Evil

by Zel Spasov

  In the throne room, several sheep healers fussed over the banged-up King Fraud, who was sitting on his throne. His body was bruised in many places, and his head was bandaged. The fresh night air came into the room through a large open window, carrying with it the scent of rain, but also the residual smell of smoke. The torrent hadn’t completely erased the consequences of the attack.

  Zacharie Gèroux, the Captain of the Guard, entered the room. He was a young wolf with an upright posture and a calm but firm look. He stepped forward and bowed before his king. Fraud snarled at the healers, and they quickly left the hall.

  “Enough with that nonsense,” said Fraud. “We don’t have time for formalities. Double the guards at all exits of the city. The fugitives must not leave Agapea.”

  “Your Majesty,” said the wolf cautiously, “we’re still in a state of emergency. The city guard is busy clearing the remnants of the attack and helping citizens in need. The situation is not fully under control yet. As important as capturing the fugitives is, the guards we’ve sent after them should be enough to—”

  “Captain Gèroux,” interrupted the king, “who is wearing the crown in this room?”

  “You, Your Majesty,” replied the captain.

  “Ah-ha. And who sits on the royal throne?”

  “You, Your Majesty.”

  “What does that make me?”

  “King, Your Majesty.”

  “Then you will do what the king tells you!” yelled Fraud. The captain remained calm. This infuriated the king even more—he wanted Zacharie to understand that he must obey him unconditionally. “I want you to release the firehounds after them. Catching the fugitives is a priority!”

  “Of course, Your Majesty,” the captain said.

  He turned on his heels and headed for the exit. Fraud cleared his throat behind him. If Captain Gèroux thought he could get out so easily after he had contradicted him, he was sorely mistaken.

  “Captain, I almost forgot,” the king said. “In case you fail, I will send you to the mines. The shifts there are very, very long. I will make sure you do not see the sun for the rest of your life. Is that clear?”

  Zacharie nodded and exited the throne room.

  “I'm done with my responsibilities for the evening,” said Fraud. “And now I have two very important assignments waiting for me in the bedroom. Woo-ha!”

  Unfortunately, there was no one else in the room to appreciate the king's humor. Only two flies on the wall heard his last joke but found it to be too tasteless. In reaching this conclusion, the two flies left the hall through the open window.

  The flies flew low over the city. The full moon was peeking among the clouds, bathing the eerie-looking landscape in its soft light. Craters and debris of burned houses filled the streets. Children covered with soot and wearing blank expressions sat around the destroyed buildings. They had lost their families in the fires. The blaze had swallowed up their childhoods and their futures. At the same time, groups of drunkards stumbled through the streets. Musicians played their songs, some sad, some happy. Their music boomed even more strongly than before in a desperate attempt to silence the cries of those who had lost relatives or were themselves injured. The dancers swirled with unimaginable speed and rage, because if they stopped even for a moment, they would not be able to ignore the horror surrounding them. Suffering was everywhere.

  The flies flew amid buildings, performing complicated airborne maneuvers and evading the sparks in the air given off by the glowing debris. As they rose again over the rooftops, they saw the fugitives sneaking quietly toward the river Toska, which crossed the city. A raft, tied to one of the banks, waited for them... if they could get to it in time.

  A crossroad waited in the group’s path. Three guards had just turned into that same intersection. They would undoubtedly stumble upon each other. For a moment, the flies wondered if they should divert the guards so that the fugitives could safely reach the river. They decided not to interfere, as this was art of the highest form. Even their great-great-great-great-grandparents, who had watched Pablo Picasso as he created his most famous works, hadn’t intervened even when the artist had painted the eyes of the people in the wrong places. That is why their grandchildren didn’t want to meddle—they could spoil what might be the equivalent of the Three Musicians of their generation. Surely Pablo Diego José Francisco de Paula Juan Nepomuceno Crispín Crispiniano María de los Remedios de la Santísima Trinidad Ruiz Picasso would agree.

  ***

  The wet escapees moved stealthily across the city. Charles and the Sloth scouted the path ahead, and Cayden, Jean and the badgers followed them. Several times they had barely evaded the city guard. Cayden worried that their luck wouldn’t last. They passed crying mothers and children sitting around the ruins of their homes, where their relatives were probably buried. Fathers carried the dead bodies of their offspring in their hands.

  “Mommy!” A crying child came to Cayden and pulled at his pants. “Please, mister, come and help mommy! She’s trapped!”

  Cayden and his rescuers looked at each other. They didn’t need to say anything—they all knew they were going to help the child. They followed it to a collapsed building. Its mother was trapped underneath a large wooden beam. Cayden and the Sloth picked it up and moved it to the side, but the mother was too injured to get up. The child ran over to her, crying. Cayden came closer to her, fighting back the tears forming in his eyes.

  “Please,” the mother said, “take care of my boy.” She passed away, the child crying over her body. This was the grimmest hour of the night.

  Footsteps echoed nearby. Guards. Cayden yelled, “Over here!” and then hid in the shadows together with his companions. He stayed back, watching from his hiding place to make sure that the watchmen found the child and took care of it. After that, he carried on with a lump in his throat.

  At times, they stumbled upon crowds of merrymakers who were too busy celebrating to notice them. They came across crazed celebrations whirling around the ruins of someone's house. The inhabitants of Agapea had gone mad. The fear and the pain came out as hysterical laughter and overflowed in frenzied dances, which would continue until the morning.

  As they turned another corner, they collided with three guards. The fugitives reacted first and took to their heels, as their cover was blown. Cayden’s heart pounded heavy in his chest. They had to get to the raft that was waiting for them on the River Toska. They had to escape this mad city. The guards immediately called for reinforcements, which cut off the path of the fugitives. The escapees went back and tried another way, but more enemies waited for them. The city guard was tightening the circle around them, the metal clank of armor coming from all sides.

  The outlaws reached the raft just before the guards caught up with them. It consisted of a few wooden beams tied to each other with a thick rope. A bag of supplies and several round wooden shields had been placed on it. Charles untied the knot holding the raft to the bank. The Sloth quietly sat on the raft, as if what was happening around him didn’t bother him at all. The guards attacked them, but the Sloth stretched out his long arms and threw them aside. Cayden, Jean, and Charles pushed the raft into the river.

  The current took them away from the bank. There were no other boats there that the guards could take to follow them. Cayden breathed a sigh of relief. They had been saved, at least for now. His joy, however, was short-lived, fading as the huge city gate appeared on the horizon. It was built to stop the free passage of vessels on Toska River. Every ship that wanted to cross the glorious gates of Agapea had to pay a toll at the entrance. Now the gate was closed, obstructing their escape route.

  “We're screwed,” Cayden said.

  “Don’t worry, we have a plan,” Charles said.

  The city guard was waiting for them at the gate. They carried longbows, and some of them rode those fire-spitting creatures that Cayden had seen during the attack of the Windhaveners.

  “First, take a shield and hide behind it,” Charles sai
d, pointing at a shield lying on the raft. “Second, hold on tight!”

  Although he was shivering from the cold and the adrenaline coursing through his body, Cayden managed to gather enough self-control to grab a shield. Then he positioned himself so that he covered the Rabbit and Jean as well. The Sloth stood up on the raft. Slowly, he put his paws up, as if he was performing a sacred ritual. His legs, body, and arms started extending at an astonishing pace. Soon, he became twice as big as he had been originally.

  ***

  At the gate, the guards had already received a message to prepare for an attack. They had doubled their defenses, and further reinforcements were coming. The archers stood in two rows at the bank. Next to them were soldiers with spears and hooks, ready to catch the raft if it came close enough. They all held their breath in anticipation of the small craft appearing from the darkness. What they saw, however, caught them unprepared.

  A huge figure appeared on the horizon. The Sloth’s paws stretched far into the clouds. He had reached the height of a mountain and continued to grow. The guards were stupefied. George, who had been summoned from the square, despite peeing his pants, had come to perform his duty. When he saw the enormous figure rise above the city like an omnipotent god capable of crushing each of them with one swing of his giant paw, George fainted. George wasn’t the best guard.

  ***

  The Captain of the Guard shouted orders. The archers targeted the Sloth and fired a volley at his body. The arrows didn’t reach their goal and fell from the sky like toothpicks. Some of them hit Cayden’s shield with a dull, thumping sound. Despite his fear, he managed to remain calm and hold the piece of wood above his head, protecting himself, the Rabbit, and Jean. The captain ordered the archers to shoot at the Sloth’s feet. The strings of their longbows rang in the night air. This time, the arrows stuck in the beast’s thick coat like little splinters. Dark red blood flowed from his wounds. However, the mighty Sloth couldn’t be stopped so easily.

  The guards had come up with a backup plan. The archers moved to the sides, revealing a catapult. Two soldiers brought forward a heavy rock that would serve as a projectile, while two more cocked the arm of the catapult back.

  “They’re going to fire that thing at the Sloth,” said Charles, looking up at the enormous creature. “I don’t know if he can take it.”

  Jean jumped away from the cover of the shield and to the side of the raft.

  “You promise me you’ll finish this,” he said to the Rabbit. “You’ll end the Red Evil once and for all.”

  “What are you going to do?” asked Cayden. “You can’t jump in the water; you can’t swim!”

  “A frog has to learn someday,” Jean said with a determined look on his face. “Faites bon voyage, mes amis.”

  “No!” yelled Cayden, but it was too late. The Frog jumped into the River Toska and started swimming to shore with everything he had. Cayden and the Rabbit watched him struggle against the might of the river. Eventually, his little head was lost under the water. Cayden clenched his jaw, whispering to himself: “Come on… come on, you stupid frog, you can make it…”

  The archers from the shore fired another volley at the raft, and Cayden held up the shield at the last second. The steel tips of the arrows pierced the wood, one of stopping a centimeter from his nose. He took a breath and looked for the Frog again. The amphibian emerged from the dark river, reaching the shore safely. Once on dry land, he ran at full speed toward the catapult, which was being primed to fire. The guards tried to catch the Frog, but he was too small, agile, and fast. He jumped through their legs and on their shoulders and helmets, evading their grasp.

  At that moment, a party of Resistance fighters, consisting of armed and angry badgers, attacked the guards. A fierce brawl ensued. What the little beasts achieved with animosity, the guards accomplished with reinforcements. The firehounds also joined the battle, spitting fire, which the badgers barely evaded. Soon, the guards surrounded the rebels and cut off their escape route. Just when they thought they would surrender, the furry monsters attacked them again, their ferocity doubled. The guards hadn't observed one of the most important rules of war: never obstruct the escape route of the enemy, who must see that there is a possibility other than death. The badgers knocked down soldiers like bowling pins.

  Just as they were about to break through the guard’s line, Monsieur Bernard Gèroux joined the battle. His unsurpassed fencing skills proved a match for the fugitives and allowed the soldiers to recover.

  At that moment, the moonlight disappeared. The battle stopped, for everyone looked up at the awesome sight above them.

  High in the sky, higher than the highest mountain, the Sloth was now obstructing the moonlight, towering over the city like a mountain.

  “Fire the catapult when ready,” yelled the Captain of the Guard.

  The guards had cocked the arm of the catapult back, keeping it from launching with a restraining rope. They loaded the heavy rock into its bucket. Just as one of the guards was about to release the rope, Jean jumped on his face. The soldier tried to get him off, but the amphibian jumped away and to another guard. The badgers joined in the fight, keeping the guards away from the restraining rope.

  The Sloth reached up and grabbed the moon with his two paws. With his legs, he grabbed the raft and slowly lifted it up into the air.

  The guards managed to fight off the badgers for long enough to release the rope. Jean and two of the badgers lunged at the catapult and grabbed the rope at the last minute, trying to hold it back. Their strength wasn’t enough, and the catapult’s arm was released, firing the projectile into the air. Everyone watched as the piece of rock hurled at the mighty Sloth. The stone crashed into the creature’s leg. The force of the hit made the Sloth swing back, but he didn’t let go of the moon.

  The beast carried the raft over the city gate and left it carefully on the other side. After that, he let go of the moon and shrank to his previous size back on the raft. The guards sighed in relief, because they had been afraid the Sloth would take the moon from the sky. Even Captain Zacharie Gèroux watched with awe. Once the group was on the other side of the gate, the captain recovered and gave his archers the command:

  “Fire!”

  The badgers and the Frog tried to use the enemy's distraction to escape, but it was too late. Bernard threw himself on Jean and held him with down his powerful paws. The guards apprehended the rest. No matter how hard they pulled, bit, or scratched, the badgers couldn’t get away. The head of the Sloth, which was still showing over the city wall, cast a sad look back.

  By the time the archers were prepared with a new volley, the raft was already out of reach. The escapees had been saved, but the city guard had captured Jean the Frog.

  ***

  There was chaos in Mercy Hospital. The patients had rebelled and were trying to barricade themselves in the dining room. Persephone kept her cool on the outside but was fuming on the inside. Her keys with the red ruby attached to them were missing. A cold chill ran down her spin. Without the ruby in her possession, her powers were going to fade away, and she would perish. What was more, if Angela found out that she had lost the precious stone, she would be exiled or even killed. Her stomach tied into a knot. She brushed off a lock of hair that had fallen on her forehead, putting it back into its place with trembling hands. She had to make sure the patients were restrained before the acting director arrived two days from now. Persephone’s first task was to find the perpetrators of this revolt.

  She was looking for Jean, who was the main culprit. Doctor Dimitriou suspected that Nurse Venari had helped him cause the unrest. The orderlies and the security staff struggled to keep the situation under control. The patients had fashioned wooden sticks out of their furniture, which they used to hit the assistants on their heads. The battle was fierce. Such disobedience was unprecedented in the history of the hospital.

  Persephone noticed Jean’s long beard sneaking through the crowd. Her pupils widened like those of a cat abou
t to launch a deadly attack.

  “Get him!” she ordered the two men standing next to her.

  They quickly made their way through the crowd. Before they could reach him, a huge sack of flour hit them and dropped them to the ground. The sack tore, producing a loud noise that could be mistaken for a small bang. In the bustle, Jean, Lenny “The Sloth,” Charles, and three other patients with wooden sticks sneaked past the techs and headed for Cayden's seclusion room.

  “Don’t let them get to Cayden!” Persephone yelled at the orderlies as she ran toward them.

  It was too late. The patients pulled Cayden’s unconscious body from his room. They had almost managed to disappear into the frenzied crowd when the hospital assistants descended upon them. They grabbed “The Frog” and took him to Doctor Dimitriou.

  “Frog!” Charles shouted as Persephone searched him for her ruby. She didn’t find it on him.

  “Take him away,” she ordered security.

  Bernard Gèroux, one of the patients at the hospital who had always obeyed her commands, appeared behind her. Without looking at him, Persephone took out a kitchen knife she had hidden in her lab coat. She handed it to him secretly and muttered, “It’s only for protection. Don’t use it unless absolutely necessary. And make sure you get to him before he wakes up.” Gèroux nodded, hid the knife, and joined the revolting rebels, hitting and kicking orderlies. Giving a dangerous weapon to a mentally ill patient perhaps wasn’t the best decision, but desperate times called for ill-advised measures. She trusted Bernard to be a man of his word—he wouldn’t use the knife to hurt Cayden. It was absolutely vital that Cayden’s death wasn’t traced back to her or the organization.

  The tumultuous crowd entered the dining room and barricaded the double doors, leaving the hospital staff outside. There were not enough of them to break through the barrier.

  Persephone fixed her glasses, then smoothed out her hair and clothes. The patients had kidnapped Cayden. If the drug ceased to work, he would wake up from his medically induced coma. She had to get to him before that happened.