by Zel Spasov
Here it was again, the same movement, this time a bit stronger. Zacharie was sure he wasn’t imagining it. Or maybe the badgers had drugged him so that they could implant ideas in his mind. He wasn’t going to take them at their word.
“Whatever this... Presence of yours is, it sounds like a complete sham. You are a bunch of deranged fools if you think—”
The elder lunged at the captain with unexpected agility. He grabbed his head and looked at him with his milky-white eyes. Though he seemed blind, the captain suspected that the old badger could see more clearly than him.
“Red Evil, show yourself!” said the badger.
“What are you talking about?” Zacharie twisted and turned, trying to break away, but the old man’s grip was strong.
“I know you’re in there. Come out so I can see you!” the badger said. “Māra!”
How did this old buffoon dare approach him, threaten him, and hold him hostage? The wolf wanted to kill him. Nothing else in this world would satisfy his fury more than to sink his teeth into the throat of that feeble badger. Red mist filled his vision. Zacharie growled.
No matter how much he flailed about, the ropes held him tight. His body was burning, making his blood boil. The captain was furious... Furious... Furious? He couldn’t remember ever being truly furious. He’d never felt such an all-consuming anger. He had taught himself self-discipline so he wouldn't lose control over his emotions. This anger wasn’t his; it belonged to Someone else.
Zacharie turned his gaze within, following the intense heat in his body to the depths of his mind. The hatred in him swelled like an immense red sea of fire, threatening to overflow at any moment. It wasn’t a part of him, but a foreign Presence. He found himself standing on its shore, staring at its endless, burning waters. Its waves, each stronger than the last one, crashed on the shore, almost swallowing the captain. A turbulent storm raged above the sea. Zacharie heard a rhythm coming from outside. The words “Māra… Māra… Māra…” filled the space around him with vibration. The reverberation gradually grew stronger, causing the storm to become even more fierce. Was this the Red Evil the old badger was talking about? The Presence which had hid itself inside him? Captain Gèroux hadn’t noticed It until he heard its name pronounced by the badger. And now he stood on the shore of an endless fiery sea that nearly overwhelmed him.
The words kept coming with a now-familiar rhythm: “Māra… Māra… Māra…”. The old badger's chanting made the storm in the sea even more violent. The waves pounded wildly into the shore, destroying parts of it with every collision. The burning blizzard raged in the empty space, looking for a way out. If Zacharie didn’t pour the Corruption out, it was going to annihilate him. He created a funnel in his mind, then touched the Presence, allowing It to flow through him. He heard the call of the Red Evil: “Surrender!” He opposed its orders, and the Red replied, “You can’t win!” It filled him, from the bottom of his feet to the top of his head, the fire engulfing him. His body was burning, and his mind was under colossal pressure, which would’ve broken him if his will was any weaker.
He stopped fighting the Evil and let it overcome him. Though he hadn’t experienced such pain before, Zacharie managed to hold on and spill the Corruption out through the funnel he had created. The captain had trained for many years to master his mind, which allowed him to perform this action with a stability and precision few beings could achieve. The effort sapped him physically and mentally. Nevertheless, he continued until the last drops of the Evil were drained from his body. Finally, he was surrounded by a deep and cool calmness. Exhausted, he opened his eyes.
The effort to free himself from the Presence was so great that he’d started screaming. His cries died out as the pain subsided. The badger had interrupted his chanting. He stood before the wolf, holding his hands behind his back.
“Who is the one sitting in front of me?” he asked.
“Zacharie Gèroux,” the wolf said.
“And the Red Evil?”
“I cleansed myself from its influence.”
He was exhausted, but his mind had never been clearer. The difference in him after he had gotten rid of the Presence was tangible. It was a dangerous opponent, and though he was no longer its slave, all Agapea was still under its authority.
The elder ordered the three badgers Zacharie knew to untie him.
“Captain Gèroux,” the elder said, “are you ready to join the battle against the Evil?”
“I'm ready.”
“Fighters of the Resistance,” the old badger said in a loud voice, “I present to you your captain! Together, we will defeat the Red Evil and restore peace to Agapea!”
The chamber exploded in applause and shouts of approval. The Frog lowered his knife, looking at him with a mixture of distrust, confusion, and hope. Peter, Gregor, and Theodor slapped the captain on the back to congratulate him.
So then. Captain of the Resistance. It didn’t sound so bad. Especially compared to his fate as a supervisor in the mines.
***
The Toska River flowed calmly as the group walked alongside its bank toward Agapea. As the rush of adrenaline went away, fatigue overtook them. Still, they continued ahead steadily. The Sloth had the same calm smile on his face the whole time. Charles kept the pace of the group, but his strength was decreasing. Although Monsieur Gèroux was completely drained from the previous fights, he didn’t stop or complain. Cayden was convinced that he would keep on walking even after he died, out of pure stubbornness.
They had gone a long distance from the place where they had crashed in the woods; the wyverns had probably given up the chase. It was a good time to take a break. The thick forest canopy concealed them from the flying beasts. When they reached a small meadow, Cayden said, “Let's stop and rest for a while.”
“Are you sure?” Charles asked. “What about the wyverns?”
“They stopped chasing us a while ago.”
“You're making a mistake,” said Bernard. “They must’ve sent patrols to look for us. It takes just one of them to spot us, and they’ll be all over us within minutes.”
“We're only stopping for a few moments to take a breath,” Cayden said. “You also need a break.”
“Don’t tell me what I need,” said Monsieur Gèroux. He stared at the tranquil waters of the Toska River. After a few moments his shoulders relaxed and he said, “Just for a few minutes.”
Though he didn’t want to admit it, even Bernard must be feeling tired. Cayden had never met a creature as headstrong as him. The wolf could be mortally wounded and would still claim everything was fine.
Cayden gazed at the silver reflections cast by the moon on the surface of the water. He contemplated the series of events that had led up to his decision to return to Agapea, a place where he was almost certain to die. He had never faced a challenge as daunting as defeating the Red Evil, but he didn’t have a choice. It was the only thing that mattered. He dipped his finger into the water and stared at the trail it left behind. He remembered the words of the Sloth: “Do… you think... that... the trail... in the water... steers... the raft?” It wasn’t the past that determined his present, Cayden realized. On the contrary, the present created the past. What was happening now changed the meaning of everything that had happened so far, put it in a new perspective. All his trials and tribulations had been what he’d needed to find the meaning in his life. However, until the moment he had discovered his purpose, the misfortunes that had befallen him had just been part of his wretched, miserable life. It was only after his revelation in the prison cell in Windhaven that their context had changed.
Cayden joined the rest of the group, who were sitting under a large tree.
“We're close to Agapea,” he said.
“We'll probably get there by sunrise,” Charles said.
The pulsation in Cayden’s head grew stronger. He placed his fingers on the ruby in his pocket and felt its warm glow. “Come to me…” The whispers in his head started as soon as he touched it. “Come to me…” Ca
yden envisioned the throne room with its high columns and a sense of immense power residing in it. The thumping, coming from the precious stone, was strongest when he was near the Evil. It beckoned him to come. He had a troublesome feeling that their meeting was destined by fate. Was its ending also foreordained? Was Cayden’s destiny written down in a book somewhere? Even if so, he was determined to change it.
“The Evil awaits us,” Cayden said.
“This... Red Evil of yours, it’s in the palace of Agapea, is it?” Monsieur Gèroux still seemed skeptical of their story. His mind was likely still under Its control.
“After Cayden disappeared, It corrupted the minds and hearts of all Agapeans who remained,” Charles said. “All of them.” He emphasized the word, casting a pregnant look at the wolf.
“Ah. So a Presence no one has ever seen or heard, except for the three of you, has perverted the minds of all Agapean citizens without anyone noticing it?”
“That's right,” Charles said.
“It’s normal to feel disbelief,” said Cayden. “After all, your mind has been touched by the Evil. It has made you blind to the truth.”
“Let me tell you about the truth, boy,” the wolf said. “It's like this: once we get to the city walls, I hand you over to the city guard. Even ‘the Red Evil’ won’t stop me from doing my job.”
“Aren’t you at least a bit grateful?” Charles asked. “If it wasn’t for us, you would’ve already pushed up the daisies.”
“I would’ve made it on my own. Don’t take it personally; it's just a job.”
“Then I hope you understand that we won’t give up without a fight,” said Cayden.
“We'll see about that when we get to Agapea,” the wolf said.
“You unthankful dog,” Charles said. “Don’t you realize the extent to which the Evil has brainwashed you?! Look at your state! You can barely walk, and you’re threatening us?! Especially after we saved you twice—”
“The Red Evil is a fairy story for children, a fabrication of your sick minds. You belong in prison for betrayal and treason,” said Bernard. “I owe nothing to criminals.”
The wolf put a hand on the hilt of his sword, while the Rabbit looked at him with murderous intent. Though the Sloth's face didn’t change, Cayden could swear that his eyes had flashed when Monsieur Gèroux made his threat.
Now he noticed the wolf’s eyes, which were glowing red. His whole body was trembling, as if it was overflowing with power. The Presence was slowly taking control over him.
“It’s talking to you, isn’t it?” asked Cayden. The wolf looked at him with surprise. “The images that you see. The voices in your head. Where do you think they come from?”
“Get out of my head,” said Bernard in a growling voice.
“It’s talking to me too,” said Cayden. The Rabbit’s eyes opened wide, and he stared at him in shock. “It wants me to come to the castle. It’s probably telling you to bring me to it, isn’t it?” Monsieur Gèroux became noticeably uncomfortable. He let go of his sword and looked away. “You’re stronger than it. You can resist it.”
“You know nothing about me, human.” Gèroux relaxed his body and took his hand off his sword. At least he wasn’t planning on killing them. “We need to get moving,” said the wolf finally. “The Windhaveners are still looking for us.”
Cayden agreed. The group picked their belongings up from the ground and headed for Agapea.
“You can hear It in your head?” whispered Charles to Cayden.
“Yes,” answered Cayden. The Rabbit waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. Cayden was afraid that revealing his connection to the Evil might alienate the Rabbit and the Sloth. He needed their support until the battle was over.
With heavy hearts, they continued toward Agapea in the morning darkness. To the east, the first rays of the rising sun penetrated the crowns of the trees.
***
Persephone Dimitriou sat behind her perfectly arranged desk, illuminated by a small lamp. She hadn’t had any sleep tonight, and it showed. Her clothing was messed up, she had dark circles underneath her eyes, and deep wrinkles had appeared on her face. Anyone who entered Doctor Dimitriou's office now would think she was dying. Without the ruby in her possession, her body was slowly decaying. Despite her tired looks, she was raging inside.
The events had been developing according to her plan—she had subjected the incompetent Doctor Petrov, the staff, and most of the patients to her authority. Just a little longer and the whole hospital would have been under her control. But then Nurse Venari had intervened, almost ruining everything. Even then, Persephone had been hesitant about apprehending her—the nurse was a good woman who cared deeply for her patients. Sadly, Varvara had eavesdropped on one of the organization’s meetings, thus endangering their secrecy. The situation had required swift and effective measures. Even then, Persephone hadn't wanted to hurt her. She had used a sedative to knock her out and had ordered the assistants to put her on a bed with restraints. To ensure that their secret wouldn’t be uncovered by Varvara, Doctor Dimitriou planned to intimidate her. Everyone had something to lose—a family, a lover, even a pet. Usually even the suggestion that something bad could happen to their close ones was enough to keep people quiet. Persephone never had to use physical violence when she used threats effectively.
Although she had dealt with Varvara for now, Persephone’s circumstances were desperate. Angela was going to arrive soon. If she found out that the patients had abducted Cayden and, what was more, they’d stolen the ruby, Persephone would be banished from the organization. Her last hope had died when Bernard had failed to return the Starosta boy. It was time for her contingency plan—an all-out attack on the cafeteria. This would cause even more disturbance and havoc than the riot of the patients had, but it was the only way Doctor Dimitriou saw to restore order.
Doctor Petrov entered her office. “Entered” was a strong word for his appearance. First came the timid tap on the door. After Persephone said “Come in!” the door opened slightly, and Director Petrov chickenheartedly popped his head in.
“Is this a good time to talk, Doctor Dimitriou?” he asked, just like a servant would ask his queen if he wasn’t disturbing her.
“Come in, Doctor Petrov; you’re right on time,” she said.
The doctor stepped cautiously into the room. He walked halfway to Persephone’s desk and stood still.
“Doctor Petrov, the situation is critical. We need to take back control of the asylum as soon as possible, otherwise we risk the health and the lives of our patients.”
“Well, Doctor Dimitriou,” said Petrov, wiping the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief, “it's a matter for the police. Maybe we should call them...”
Her gaze cut him off in the middle of the sentence. Doctor Petrov’s trembling body suddenly stiffened. His mouth opened and closed without making a sound.
“Doctor Petrov, I forbid you to call the police. Patient insubordination is our problem, and we’ll deal with it with our own resources. Do you realize the effect this news would have on your reputation if the public found out? Director of a hospital who can’t control his own patients? Not only would you be immediately fired, Director, but no one else would ever hire you.”
Persephone was spitting venom. Every word was a whip that struck the doctor with immense force. If it wasn’t for her gaze immobilizing him, the director would’ve long since cowered down with sheer terror. She needed him scared; calling the police would be a disaster for her and the organization.
Her verbal assault had destroyed the last remnants of confidence the doctor had. She didn’t get any joy out of annihilating this man’s self-esteem, but it was necessary. He would no longer resist her commands.
“We'll do it ourselves,” she said. “Call all the staff at our disposal. Security, too. Everyone has to get involved.”
“Yes... yes, Doctor Dimitriou,” the doctor said in a weak, trembling voice.
She allowed him to move again. He shuffl
ed his feet and left the room, stumbling.
Persephone picked up the phone, pressed a button, and said, “Come to my office.”
A big man dressed in an orderly’s uniform stepped into the room, standing at attention in front of her desk.
“Prepare the attack,” said Persephone. “I don’t want any more failures. Miss Starosta is coming in the morning; the situation must be dealt with by then.” Persephone pulled out a drawer in her desk. There were two guns there, in case of emergency. Although she disliked the use of firearms or anything else that would attract unwanted attention, the situation required drastic measures. She handed the weapon to the tech and said, “Cayden is our target. Do not hurt or kill anyone else if it can be avoided. Did you understand me?”
“Yes, Doctor Dimitriou,” said the attendant and exited the room.
Immediately after the door shut, Persephone collapsed on her desk. These last two encounters had sapped her energy. She wheezed as if she had been running for kilometers, barely breathing any air in. She pushed herself up with trembling arms. Little by little, the weakness subsided, but it didn’t disappear completely. She opened another drawer in her desk and took out a little mirror. She looked at her reflection—another deep wrinkle had appeared on her face, which now looked significantly older than before. She had to get her hands on the ruby, otherwise she would perish. Then it wouldn’t matter what Angela or the organization wanted to do to her.
The thought of Angela coming tomorrow sent a chill down her spine. Persephone knew she was just waiting for an excuse to get rid of her. The organization was the only family Persephone had ever known. The Starostas had taken her in and had treated her with respect through all the centuries. The possibility of losing her home filled her with dread. Maybe it was time for Persephone to secure her place by becoming head of the Starosta organization. With Cayden becoming a target and Angela proving herself to be an unworthy leader, the burden to supervise the operations fell on her shoulders.
Persephone remembered when Cayden and Angela were just children. The girl was spoiled, but Cayden was another story. He was curious, intelligent, good-hearted, disciplined—all qualities of a good leader. Persephone had hoped that he would become the next director of the association, taking over from his father. She had taken his education to heart by giving him classes in history, maths, and literature, and by teaching him valuable skills like swordsmanship and etiquette. It was important for a young man to know all these things. Cayden had started calling her “Aunt Penny.”