Curse of the Red Evil

by Zel Spasov

“Have you sold hay before?”

  “Yes,” said Tony.

  “Well, when you sell it, don’t you sell it per kilogram?”

  “No, per cartload.”

  The clerk slapped his forehead loudly with his palm.

  “Guys, remove the haystack from this cart so we can see how much it weighs.”

  “Boss, but what about the lunch break?” said one of the guards.

  “You’re right, look at the time,” the clerk said. “Usually, I would make the boys check the hay for contraband or fugitives, but that would be so cliché. I mean, how stupid and deprived of imagination would you have to be to hide in a haystack?”

  The speech was followed by loud laughter. Even the people waiting in line chuckled.

  “Honestly, you'd have to be the dumbest creature ever to be born to think of such a hideout. Even if there’s someone hiding in the hay, I don’t want to find them. I'm afraid they’ll infect me with their mediocrity.” The clerk was apparently a comedian as well, as all around him erupted in uncontrollable laughter. “All right, Tony, you can go ahead; you’ve held up the line long enough. I don’t have all day for your hay, after all. I’m signing your papers, but you measure that forage somewhere, all right? All right.”

  Tony thanked the clerk, and the wagon started moving again. Cayden took a breath. They were about to enter the city! He could almost taste the steak he would order at the nearest inn.

  “Wait, who are you two?” asked the clerk when he saw Cayden and Charles. “Are you two with him?”

  “Yes, our names are…” started Cayden, but realized he had forgotten the names. “Kashmir… Dandelion… and Marco the Moron.”

  The Rabbit glanced at him with bafflement.

  “Mmhm,” said the clerk, while he jotted the names down. “And where do you come from, Mister… Dandelion, is it?”

  “Upper Valley.”

  “The same as your friend with the hay, eh?”

  “Yes, we were just hitching a ride to Windhaven,” said Cayden.

  “Were you?” asked the clerk. “And why now, exactly? What made you want to visit our modest city so much?”

  “Oh, you know, we just always wanted to see the glorious Windhaven,” said Cayden, who was now beginning to feel the pressure of his lies. He was just coming up with stuff on the spot and didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up.

  “And what about your friend over here? Mister… the Moron, correct? He also wanted to visit?” asked the clerk, nodding his head at Charles.

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Those are awfully unusual names, Mister Dandelion and Mister the Moron,” said the clerk. “Are those typical names from Upper Valley?”

  “The Dandelions have lived there for generations,” said the Rabbit. “And I just recently moved in.”

  “Ah-ha. You know, I have an aunt in Upper Valley. Mrs. Carper. You know her?”

  “Mrs. Carper, yes, she’s such a nice woman,” said Charles, who had started fidgeting again. “We just spoke to her before we left.”

  “Really?” asked the clerk, his eyebrows shooting up. “Well, that’s surprising, considering she died ten years ago.”

  “Well, yes,” intervened Cayden, who felt the situation was rapidly spinning out of control. “We went to her grave. We like to visit it and keep it clean, you know. Bring flowers. She deserves it.”

  “No, she doesn’t,” said the clerk. “She was an awful woman. Tormented me and the entire village. Everyone hated her.”

  Cayden was sweating profusely, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. The Rabbit had become jittery. The guards were staring at them with cold looks, their hands on their weapons, ready to stab them if the clerk ordered them to do so.

  “But it’s good to know someone cares for her,” said the clerk. “Even the worst people deserve someone to go to their grave, and I always felt guilty I never went to hers. All right, in you go,” he said. “We don’t have all day to hang around.”

  Tony drove the cart through the gates. They arrived at a large plaza, in the center of which stood a massive fountain and a giant statue of a woman pointing a sword to the sky. Unlike in Agapea, there were more people here than talking animals. The square was overcrowded with citizens, soldiers, and merchants.

  There was some commotion behind them at the gates. Cayden turned around to look at what was causing it and saw someone pointing at them, saying something to the clerk. The official then looked at them and started waving his hands, commanding the guards to go after them.

  “You go,” said Tony. “I’ll try to delay the guards.”

  Cayden feverishly searched for a hiding spot. To the left of the square, side streets led into the heart of the city. Maybe they would be able to hide in there.

  “Rabbit,” he said, “we’re making a run for those streets. Are you ready?”

  Charles nodded, and the two rushed to the alley nearest to them.

  “What are we going to do now?” Cayden asked when they entered the narrow street.

  A group of city guards was talking to Tony, but some of them split from the multitude in the square and headed toward them.

  “Come,” Cayden told the Rabbit. “We have to find cover.”

  They hurried down the alley, hoping to quickly find a hiding place. Homeless people sat on the cobblestone, and small kiosks sold little items like fish bones or pins. The odor here was stronger than anything Cayden had ever smelled. He wrinkled his nose and tried to shield himself from the stench, covering his face with his hand.

  “Every alley in the city has its own, unique smell,” Charles said. “No two streets smell alike. The odor serves as a guiding system for the blind—they can know where they are just by smelling the air. This street, for example, is called ‘Rotten Fish.’”

  The alley diverged to the left and to the right. Both streets looked the same, occupied by homeless people, and each had its own smell.

  “The one on the right must be Garbage Street,” Cayden said, sniffing the air. “And the one on the left—Spoiled Eggs.”

  “You’re a quick learner,” Charles said proudly. “The one on the left is also called Groundwater Street.”

  At the point where the streets diverged, there was a bouquet of fragrances only real connoisseurs could appreciate.

  The guards came closer.

  “To the left,” the Rabbit said confidently.

  “Why didn’t you choose the right one?” Cayden asked.

  “Spoiled Eggs Street is way nastier than Garbage Street. I don’t think the guards will follow us there.”

  The smell was so unbearable that Cayden's nose informed him that dealing with such odors wasn’t in its official responsibilities and that Cayden should leave immediately, otherwise his nose would resign. Cayden choked on the shock of this unexpected disobedience. He squeezed his nose and said, “Let’s get out of here!”

  “Don’t you like it?” Charles grinned.

  When they reached the end of the alley, Cayden collided with one of its inhabitants—a gray rhino with a particularly menacing look. The animal pushed Cayden and screamed, “Watch where you’re walking!”

  Cayden was startled by the rhino’s sudden aggression. He raised his fists, ready to fight.

  The animal laughed. “You want to fight? Don’t you know I'm an endangered species?! Every attack on a rhinoceros is punished with a death sentence.” He came close to Cayden, his horn touching his face. “If you don’t want me to turn you into mince, you’d better scram. And take your rabbit friend with you!”

  “Come on, let’s split,” Charles said.

  The two disappeared into another alley.

  Such incidents often happened in Windhaven, especially now that the city was preparing for war and tensions were running high. That was why the episode didn’t leave an impression on the inhabitants of this place. Only a small, eight-legged spider named Steve observed the event with professional interest. He was hanging on his web, which he had spun und
er a windowsill. Steve the Spider climbed his numerous webs, woven between the rooftops of the city, to reach the palace, where he was to report what he had seen to his employer, Queen Mira. He would inform her that Cayden Starosta was alive and located in Windhaven.

  ***

  Preparations for the upcoming war weren’t going well. Seated at the wooden desk in her small office, General Varvara Venari was comparing the numbers on the different pieces of paper scattered over the table. Every strategist with even a little experience in military campaigns knew that the basis of a successful war was food supply. The army of Windhaven wasn’t big, but it was well-trained—its number was close to five thousand soldiers. Each fighter carried his own equipment and food supplies, enough to last him for a week. Donkeys travelled with the army, carrying food supplies for another three to four weeks. In total, the army was supposed to carry around eight thousand pounds of food, forty thousand liters of water, and eighteen thousand pounds of animal feed. Currently, they only had half of that. Whichever way Varvara looked at the situation, her army’s supplies weren’t enough, and there was no quick way of finding more. They had gathered everything they could from the surrounding settlements. If Mira were to postpone the attack on Agapea, they would have time to collect the necessary provisions. With the current deadline, however, this was impossible.

  Even if Varvara agreed with the war, she would never have commanded her army to go on a march without the necessary supplies. Their enemy would exploit that weakness and destroy them. Once their provisions were depleted, her army would fall apart. Then all it would take to crush them was a well-organized attack. The war would be lost before it began.

  The longer they waited, the more the Evil’s power grew. The world had never faced a threat as great as this. Queen Mira was convinced that the complete annihilation of Agapea was necessary to destroy It, but Varvara didn’t agree with her.

  “Why am I doubting my queen?” Varvara asked herself. After all, Mira hadn't become Queen of Windhaven by accident. Her iron will and her principles had helped her assume the throne and keep it. Her determination was so strong that it made Varvara feel ashamed for not having the same conviction. Nevertheless, she couldn’t stop thinking of all the innocent souls that would perish in the wake of Windhaven’s army.

  Doubt crept into her mind. Considering she’d become the general mostly because of luck rather than any special qualities she possessed, she asked herself if she was even fit to lead an army. She was too young and had little experience compared to her predecessors. There were at least a dozen people in Windhaven's army who were better suited for the position. Mira had chosen her only because they were friends. What was she doing here at all? Of course she couldn’t solve the army's supply problem; she wasn’t prepared for that responsibility. Until now, she had somehow managed to deceive everyone, but eventually they would see she was an imposter...

  Varvara banged her fist on the table. Enough. Again, she had started doubting herself. Such thoughts troubled her periodically, and she always reminded herself that they were just an illusion. She had gotten where she was through blood, sweat, and tears. She did her best to solve the problems she faced every day, and if she made a mistake, she learned her lesson and never repeated it. Varvara had just as much right to be here as anyone else. Little by little, her doubts and uncertainties receded, and her mind cleared.

  She turned her attention to the current problem—the inadequate provisions for the army—and decided that nothing could be done about it now. They had to postpone the march or risk annihilation on the battlefield. It was her job to convince the queen to give her more time. This would enable her to implement her own plan, which, if it worked, would prevent the deaths of thousands. Then they would have a chance, albeit small, to defeat the Red Evil without destroying the two cities and sacrificing countless innocents.

  Approaching the subject with the queen was going to be tricky. Every word, every little intonation was important. Unfortunately, Varvara didn’t care much about political maneuvering. She usually spoke her mind without dancing around issues.

  Lost in thought, General Venari took some papers from her desk, on which she had written down her calculations regarding the required provisions for the army, and headed to the war room where the queen spent most of her time.

  The ruckus in the hall pulled the general’s mind back to the present moment. Windhaven was expected to go to war the following morning, and there was a lot to do. Varvara walked past the bustle and knocked on the door leading to the small room where the queen usually made her plans.

  “Come in!” said Mira.

  She looked worse than the previous time Varvara had seen her. Her glazed eyes were like two burnt holes in a blanket. She muttered to herself as she leaned over a map of Agapea spread out on her desk, along with other papers, perhaps messages and reports from various counselors. The general heard only some words, such as “death,” “destroy,” and “kill.” The wound on Mira’s left elbow had spread to her hand.

  “My queen,” Varvara said, bowing.

  Her greeting remained unnoticed by Mira, who kept talking to herself as she stared at the map in front of her. After a few tense moments, Mira turned to Varvara. Her face was pale, and blue veins had appeared on her neck and cheeks. She looked as if she hadn’t slept for days.

  “The problem with the supplies is more serious than we thought,” Varvara said. “The available preparation time is insufficient to collect the necessary provisions. It will take at least another week, probably two, until—”

  “How much do we have?” Mira asked.

  “Half of what we need to—”

  “That's enough,” said the queen. “We will not delay the war. The longer we wait, the stronger It becomes.”

  “The Red Evil will be destroyed, my queen,” Varvara said. Mira wouldn’t listen to her if she openly contradicted her. First, she had to win her trust, make her feel she was on her side. “We will conquer Agapea and return it to its former glory.”

  “No,” Mira said quietly. “Agapea is beyond salvation. The city must be destroyed. I will bury the Red Evil in its ruins.”

  Agapea was the place where Varvara and Mira grew up. It was their home before the Evil had taken it from them. Both had fought tooth and nail to protect the city from Its attack. When they left, the two had sworn to come back one day. The general couldn’t believe that the queen was talking about the destruction of their home.

  “A siege can take weeks, even months, my queen,” Varvara said tactfully. She swallowed the anger burning in her. Now was not the time to lose her temper. It was important to keep her eye on the ball and convince Mira to delay the war for a few days. “The supplies we have won’t last us—”

  “We won’t besiege the city,” the queen said, interrupting her again. “We will burn it to the ground along with everyone inside. The corruption of the Evil must be cleansed from this world with fire.”

  The words didn’t come from the Mira Varvara knew. That Mira had died in Agapea. The woman standing in front of her was a completely different being who had taken over the body of her friend.

  “If we attack the enemy recklessly, we will be left open for a counterattack that could completely destroy us.” Varvara was trying to speak in a soft voice, though it was difficult. “History teaches us that the more successful tactic is to kick the enemy in the stomach, my queen. That's why we'll need supplies.”

  “If we need food, we'll plunder the nearby villages,” said Mira. “The soldiers who can’t continue because of hunger will be left behind or executed, and their remnants will be used to feed the rest.”

  Unspeakable horror paralyzed the general. She’d heard stories of soldiers, left without food, that had begun to devour their own, but she’d never imagined that Mira would suggest anything like that. No, thought Varvara, this isn’t Mira. It’s a monster that’s wearing her skin.

  “My queen—” she began, but Mira interrupted her.

  “These a
re my orders, General Venari. The war will not be delayed for any reason. We will defeat the Red Evil at any cost.”

  Grief overwhelmed Varvara. The queen had made up her mind. There was no way of dissuading her from starting the war.

  She bowed to her queen and left the room, leaving Mira to talk to herself, her glazed eyes staring at Agapea's map.

  ***

  After losing the guards, Cayden and Charles entered a tavern called The Simmering Cauldron. The setting inside was no different from that of any other inn. Several tables were occupied by patrons, some drinking, others playing games with dice and figurines. Behind a small counter, the plump innkeeper was polishing a glass. A maid ran between the tables, which were covered with traces of wax, carrying food and drink. The smell of stale beer and vinegar floated in the air. Flies looped over the mouths of the sleeping drunks.

  “This place has the best steaks,” Charles said.

  “Since when do rabbits eat steaks?” asked Cayden.

  “Since we realized they’re way more delicious than cabbage and carrots. Do you know how sick I am of cabbage-and-carrot stew? That’s all I’ve been eating for the past few months. I can’t wait to try something different.”

  Cayden and Charles sat down at one of the free tables. The maid immediately appeared and wiped down the table with the rag she’d just used to clean the floors.

  “What will it be, gentlemen?” she asked.

  “Two big steaks and two beers, please,” Charles said politely.

  “We’re out of steaks,” said the waitress.

  “Then we’ll have fish with fries,” the Rabbit said.

  “We’re out of fish as well. And potatoes.”

  “Tripe soup?” Charles asked, his ears drooping.

  “Nope.”

  “Well, what do you have?”

  “Cabbage-and-carrot stew.”

  Since all the food in Windhaven was being used to supply the army, the inns and taverns had to make do with the few provisions they had left. That was why the main dish on the menu of many inns was a stew of unrecognizable vegetables and other secret ingredients, the origins of which the owners of said taverns were keeping to themselves, lest their more discerning clients be dissuaded from trying the dishes.