Rose Boy

by Michael-Scott Earle

  “I am sorry Princess. My orders were to bring you alone. If your father commands, we will return for the boy.”

  “No. Bring him with me. That is an order.” She crossed her arms and stuck her beautiful nose into the air.

  “I am sorry, Princess.” The man grabbed her like a sack of potatoes and heaved her over his broad shoulder. She started to scream, kick, and punch his back with her tiny fists.

  “You best find your father,” another guard said to me and I nodded. I had heard rumors of Raltenor the Conquer, but I never imagined he would come here. Sailtemp was the most powerful dynasty in the world, and we had not lost a war in centuries.

  “Go!” the guard yelled at me when he saw I wasn’t moving. I startled at his request and ran to the part of the garden where my father was working.

  The bones of the Crag Castle were as I remembered, but most else had changed dramatically. Where there were once polished floors there were now dirty pools of mud, vomit, blood, and rotting food. Where there once hung beautiful tapestries, there now dangled tattered rags that stunk of strong mold and alcohol. Once this palace had been a shining beacon of beauty and grace, but the hallways were now in worse state than the decrepit tavern I had visited earlier this evening.

  I struggled to hold my rage deep in my stomach and repeated the internal mantras of meditation that the Monks of Alacor taught me twenty years ago. The words and rhythm came easily to my mind and I felt my focus return. Anger would not serve me here.

  I had started my long journey with the thought of revenge burning in my heart. I traveled for twenty-four years and came to realize that Raltenor needed to be served justice not just to avenge my loved ones, but because of the countless terrors he had inflicted upon this world. Every city, town, and hamlet I visited had a tragic story to tell. Rich fields of grain were now laid to ash. Beautiful daughters were now enslaved to the local sect of Dog warriors. Trade was nonexistent, and everyone felt the pain of famine and disease. The Conqueror was strangling the life from our world and there was no army left to stop him, and no one with enough power to stand against him.

  Except for me.

  My love was dead and tonight I would die. But my blades would give the future generation a chance to right the last thirty years of Raltenor’s horrible destruction. Maybe the people would flourish again when they knew that the man was no more.

  Four slaves walked beneath me carrying silver platters of covered food. They looked malnourished, their ribs poked out of their bare chests painfully. The women had thin garments to conceal their breasts and small thongs to hide their sexes, the men wore loincloths. Cuts, burns, bruises, and animal bite marks decorated their pale skin, and I wondered how much time they had left before one of the Dogs decided to murder them.

  “Supniar and Altio were taken to the Throne Room,” one woman said.

  “Oh no,” a man whispered. “Did they try to fight?”

  “Yes. But the Dogs took them anyway. I pray that I don’t have to be the one to clean up the bodies,” the woman said, and the other three nodded.

  “There is another shipment of slaves arriving tomorrow. We will have to train them. Then we will be called to the Throne Room one night.” The four walked out of my earshot and I could not hear them anymore.

  Was Raltenor in the Throne Room? I had visited the place three times in my youth and had always felt awe in the presence of the high ceilings, wondrous chandeliers, and the golden dragon throne. It would be harder to get to than the Dynasty Quarters, and I debated for a few minutes where to journey first.

  The night was still young and the slaves were moving toward the Throne Room. I weighed my options and decided that I would check there before I made my way up the towers to search for the Conqueror. If he was sitting on the throne it would be next to impossible to kill him undetected. But I did not care about the aftermath of his slaying. My crossbow bolts were laced with a powerful snake poison, and a few drops of the stuff would boil the blood of any living creature within a few seconds. Then I would try to escape the Dogs, but it wouldn't matter if I failed.

  I crawled on the top of the beam and took the path I guessed the slaves would have. The oak under my belly intersected vertical beams every fifty yards, and I was forced to examine the corridors below me before I swung myself around them. I would have moved faster if I dropped to the ground, but I didn’t want to risk discovery.

  I wouldn’t be able to traverse the ceiling forever though. The towers were connected to each other through open foyers. Each room had high ceilings and grand chandeliers that burned kerosene through diamond encrusted cups. If my memory served correctly, then there would be large fern plants and statues of beautiful, naked dancers scattered through the rooms. I would be able to seek stealth behind them, but my nerves frayed at the strategy. My guess was that neither the plants nor the statues would still be there after twenty-four years of neglect.

  I would find a way. There was always a way.

  I reached the large double doors to the first foyer and saw that they were cracked open. I listened for a few moments and heard the sound of brutal laughter inside the room. The cackle didn’t sound close to me, so I lowered myself down from the oak beam and moved to the slim opening.

  Three Dogs occupied the massive room, along with a few long tables and piles of refuse. The corpse of a slave man lay on top of a garbage heap, rats picked at the flesh of his rotting body, along with dozens of thumb-sized flies. My stomach churned at the sight and my vision blurred. The Dogs were harassing one of the female slaves I had seen earlier, and she was trying desperately to escape them.

  “I have a delivery for the Receiving Hall,” she pleaded. Perhaps she had been beautiful when she first arrived at the castle, but now the famine made her hair a dull color, and her bones jutted out of her limbs in a sickly manner.

  “It can wait a moment girl. Amuse us for a while. My dick hasn’t been wetted for a few days.” The warrior that held her arm laughed harshly while he gestured at his groin with his other hand.

  “Mine either,” another of the red-armored warriors claimed as he wiggled his crotch at the girl. The other three servants stood behind her and she stared at the ground with obvious despair.

  “She only has two holes though,” the final Dog said with mock sadness. “I’ll have to wait for a turn.”

  “Hey dumbass. Women have three holes. The pussy, the mouth, and the ass. We can each have one.” The first Dog unbuckled his weapon belt with practiced ease.

  “Please. I need to deliver this or I’ll be punished,” the woman begged again. The Receiving Hall was normally where the Dynasty Magistrates organized the labor of the castle, and I doubted that the Conqueror would be present there.

  “Don’t worry, slave. If you want some punishment we can give that to you,” the second man said. “You there,” he pointed to one of the slave men, “take her tray. We’ll keep her here. Tell no one about this or I’ll have your tongues. Understand?” The slaves nodded and the man struggled to pick the fourth tray off of the table. Then the three turned and exited the room as quickly as they could.

  “No. Please. I don’t want this!” she pleaded again and the men began to growl in an animal unison.

  Stay out of this, I heard my own voice repeat in my head. If the Dogs were occupied with the woman, I could sneak past them into the next hallway. Then it would be a quick journey to the Throne Room and I could see if Raltenor was there. I wanted to help this woman, just as I had wanted to save the woman who had endured a similar fate in the tavern, but my logical side argued that killing Raltenor would do more good for them, and the countless other women enslaved under his rule, than simply preventing one instance of violence. I tried to steel myself with this reasoning and ignore her cries.

  “Please. Someone help!” she screamed, but her own voice betrayed her hopelessness. The men had circled her and they were removing their armor while the first Dog clutched her.

  I sighed and stepped through the door. Doi
ng anything to save this woman would jeopardize my entire mission, but I couldn’t help myself. My love had once been in this position. Rumor was that Raltenor raped her every night for a month before he took her beautiful head off of her body and mounted it to a pike outside the main gate.

  I had already let one rape happen tonight. My heart couldn’t handle witnessing another.

  “You come to us highly recommended.” The woman lounged in the plush leather chair and examined the thick paper of the scroll that had been taken from me.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of such a situation. We normally don’t associate with the Monks of Alacor.” She glanced up from the calligraphy of the scroll to study my face again, and then looked back down to the writing. Finally she set the roll down and pushed the tips of her fingers together.

  “This world has gone to shit,” she sighed and glanced at the two muscular men that held onto each of my arms. I could have broken them in half easily, but I doubted that would have given me any favor with the powerful woman known as the Spider.

  “Let him go.” They complied and I gently shook my limbs in appreciation of the sudden freedom.

  “It says here that you want to kill Raltenor the Conquer. Is that true?”

  “Yes Mistress,” I said with a careful nod.

  “Mistress? I think I like you already.” Her lips were a dark red and they curled into a scimitar of a smile. She leaned deeper into her chair and twirled a length of raven hair around a slender finger. The woman was beautiful, but there was no mistaking the evil she wore on her shoulders like a comfortable cloak.

  “As I was saying: this world has gone to shit. I can’t make any money with Raltenor in charge. The demand for our arts has plummeted to practically nothing, and even the few jobs I do have are bounties from commoners that want to rid themselves of the Conqueror’s magistrates. That will just bring down his wrath and put even more pressure on my guild." She studied me for a moment and her smile faded. Her eyes were such a dark brown that they shone black against the kerosene lantern light.

  “So I am interested in your mission. I doubt you can do it though. You’ll need training from my Masters. You’ll have to spend ten years as an apprentice and then another ten as a journeyman before you will be considered a candidate. Raltenor is a walking god. My spies saw him take half a dozen arrows to the chest and shrug them off as if they were beestings.”

  “I will kill him.”

  She waved her hand to dismiss my words. "I’ve heard thousands of New Bloods tell me that they have the stuff to become Masters. Nineteen out of twenty perish during the first year, and the ones that live don’t do any better the second or third year. We are the Guild of the Mask, and the only reason you are speaking to me now instead of lying butchered in a gutter is because this scroll intrigued me."

  “I want to learn. I am a Monk of Alacor, and the letter on your table is proof of my ability.” My mouth forced a smile that I hoped would convince her. I needed her to agree.

  “Fine. But even if you survive, you’ll be too old. Our tutelage normally begins in childhood, you look to be twenty-five summers.”

  “I am a quick learner.” I had escaped the castle when I was fifteen and roamed for many years before finding the monks. I was thirty-two summers old but I didn't think it would be prudent to tell her.

  “Heard that before,” she said as she waved her hand into the air with a spiral flourish. “I’ll put you with Beantee. He trains the children and is light on pupils right now. I’ll check back with him next year, and if you are making progress then I’ll consider reevaluating your training.” She gestured to the two big men and they stepped toward me.

  I hit the first one in the throat with a finger strike. Then I spun on my back leg to deliver a side kick to the other grunt. The attack was executed flawlessly, and the man bent around my foot while the air exploded from his lungs.

  The first man I hit staggered toward me, dazed yet enraged. I knew he couldn’t breathe, but the guy was big, mean, and had probably grown used to pain. His fist flew out at my jaw but I sidestepped the haymaker, brushed the fist aside to ensure it didn’t accidently hit me, and then smashed my elbow into his nose. His head snapped back and I grabbed his skull and slammed my knee into his face so that he was knocked unconscious.

  The second man was on his feet and came at me with a lumbering bear hug. He was faster than the first bruiser, but his wide arms meant that his face wasn’t protected and I jabbed my fingers across his nose and into his eye socket. I felt my fingers dig deep into the squishy orb, and the thug collapsed to the ground instantly. His body twitched with the seizures my jab had pressed through his brain.

  A crossbow sang from behind me, and I spun with my arms outstretched. I was quick, or lucky, or a combination of both, and my forearm slapped into the shaft of the bolt and sent the missile wide into the wood wall of the Spider’s den.

  The Spider and I stared at each other for a few seconds. If I had to, I could have jumped the desk between us and destroyed her before she could load her crossbow again. But, I knew that this wasn’t the kind of woman that only had one trick handy. She was the Grand Master of the Masks, and I realized that there were probably a dozen hidden assassins with their own weapons pointed at me.

  “Those were my two favorite bruisers.” She lowered her crossbow and then set it on the table.

  “The monks know how to fight.” I also lowered my arms but kept my body loose in case she changed her mind.

  “Perhaps I can expedite some of your training.” Her lips formed the curved smile again. “I am traveling to Belemour. The Conqueror will eventually extend his armies there, but it is one of the last cities with a noble class. There is intrigue, murder, and deceit on everyone’s breath, and the news of Raltenor is only increasing their frenzy. They are like a colony of field mice that knows the wildfires are approaching.”

  “Fine. When do we leave?” I asked as I returned her smile.

  “Tomorrow.” She looked at the scroll again and raised a puzzled eyebrow.

  “Is your name Rose Boy?”

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “That is the stupidest name I have ever heard.” The Spider leaned her dark head back and let out a mirthful laugh.

  I slid a dagger into my left hand and a short sword into my right. The Dogs hadn’t penetrated the girl yet, but they had pushed her to her boney knees. One of the men forced her mouth open while the other two stood behind her and ripped off her thin garment. Their dicks stood erect, and they were so absorbed in their assault that they were unaware of my presence.

  The man holding the woman’s mouth seemed to be the most focused on his task, so I approached the two at the rear. I guessed where the right man’s ribs lay, and slid my sword in between them and into his back. He gasped in dismay and I saw the back of his head lower to examine the point emerging from where his heart was supposed to beat.

  My dagger wasn’t as elegant as my sword. It ripped across the other man’s exposed neck with a rooster tail explosion of crimson. He gargled in surprise and his hand jerked away from the hips of the slave woman he was about to mount and wrapped around his spraying artery.

  “What the fuck?” The third guard noticed the spray of blood and he turned away from pushing his penis into the woman’s jaw. Our eyes made contact for a flicker of a second and I saw the disbelief spread throughout his face.

  Then my dagger ripped through his nose and drove into his brain like a hammered stake into soft earth. He tipped over backward and his hands cantilevered in an attempt to steady himself. It was too late though, and he died before his skull cracked against the dirty tile.

  “Who are you?” the woman gasped and looked at the three Dogs. “You’ve killed them? How? Why?” Panic formed on her thin face and I realized I may have made a massive mistake.

  “It doesn’t matter who I am. They wanted to rape you and I stopped them. Can you stand?” She stared at the corpses and tears ran down her cheeks.

&
nbsp; “They will think I killed them.” She began to shake, or maybe she had already been shaking and I only now noticed.

  “No one will believe you killed anyone. I doubt anyone will notice their disappearance for a few days. Will you help me?” I pulled her to her feet and realized that her clothes lay tattered on the ground.

  “Help you?” she whispered. I wanted to scream. The woman was probably beyond starving and couldn’t think clearly.

  “Tell me where to hide these bodies.” I gestured to the corpses.

  “Oh.” She looked around at the piles of trash and sniffled back a sob. “There is a trash chute down the hallway.” She pointed at the third exit to the large foyer. “It is the second door on the right.”

  “Good. Drag that one,” I indicated the corpse of the man that had been about to violate her mouth. She nodded and then latched onto his shoulders. I grabbed a leg of each of the other men and pulled them across the room and to the door. Their blood leaked all over the dirty floor and I muttered a soft curse. Nothing communicated a murder better than a long trail of crimson left by a dragged body.

  Then again, the castle looked as if it had not been cleaned in twenty-four years, and there were plenty of blood stains on the floor already. Perhaps these would escape notice for a few more hours. Either way, I didn’t regret saving the woman from the three men.

  I checked the door for noise before I opened it, and once it was ajar I looked into the hallway to make sure there were no Dogs. The corridor was clear, save the scurry of rats between small piles of garbage. I nodded to the woman and dragged the two corpses behind me and into the corridor. Their bodies were heavy, but my arms and back were well-muscled from daily training and I had no problem reaching the second door on the right side.

  I checked the door again and then pushed it open. This room was once a kitchen with a massive hanging pit in the center that the Dynasty Chefs used to cure meats. Now the grate was removed and the forty foot drop to the basin below lay exposed. There were piles of trash at the bottom of the pit and I could see rats and strange worm creatures crawl through the endless piles of refuse.