The Devil's Judgment

by Chris Pisano

  He frowned. Maybe this was not such a good idea, for their current destination held allies, but now that there was an obvious divide between the siblings and him, how would their allies align? Perhaps a different destination would prove to be a wiser choice. Though the struggle for him was real, one consideration rose above all others, crowning his thought process, trumping any misgivings: it was time. If Fate had decided that it was time for Ideria and Nevin to know the truth about Daedalus, then it was time for the siblings to make their own decisions about how to handle the truth. He had done his best to protect them, now he was sure that it was time to help them, instead.

  The kids continued to run ahead of the adults. They knew the way well enough. It was a quiet and emotionally uneasy journey for Draymon, but before he knew it, the sounds of people engaged in daily chores reached his ears. He closed his eyes, not sure if he was prepared for this, but knew that it was going to happen regardless of his readiness.

  Draymon and Bartholomew hastened their pace for the last few steps, exiting the forest right behind the siblings, on to the property of those the children viewed as friends. Sweeping the stone pavers that led to the front of the house was Rue, the only family member of House Pinkeye that Draymon liked. The young ogre was very intelligent and quite charming, very unbefitting his race.

  Rue glanced up as Ideria and Nevin approached. Even a simpleton could deduce from one look that the foursome had suffered an ordeal, one ending in loss. He dropped his broom and jogged to the siblings, but not before yelling toward the house, “Uncle Phyl! Uncle Lapin!”

  Once close enough, Rue placed his hands on the shoulders of Ideria and Nevin. “What happened?”

  Ideria opened her mouth to talk, but her chin trembled too much, calling forth tears and stopping her from forming words.

  Tears streamed down Nevin’s face as well, but he was still able to explain what occurred. As he told the story, more of Rue’s brothers and sisters filed out of the house. A dozen in total by the time Nevin finished.

  Draymon stayed a few paces away, letting the kids have their space, and listened for clues as to why they might be deflecting their anger at him. He heard nothing more than just the facts and was joined by the patriarchs of the house, Phyl and Lapin.

  A satyr and a rabbit.

  A talking rabbit.

  Viewing it as a process of give and take, Draymon had never been one to worry over the way that life treated him. By and large, he was always willing to give a little more in the hopes that a little less would be taken, all with minimal complaint. But each time he met Lapin he couldn’t help but consider the possibility that his life simply sucked. Lapin greeted the children, his charges, giving little rabbit hugs and forming human words with his little rabbit lips. Draymon realized that “give and take” were not in balance for everyone. After Phyl and Lapin greeted the children, they made their way to Draymon and Bartholomew.

  “Lapin, it’s good to see you, as always. Phyl . . .” Draymon always struggled for things to say to the satyr. He was sure that somewhere there was a line not meant to be crossed with the satyr, but he was never quite sure where that line lay . . . or which side of it he truly wanted to be on. It was with great relief that he watched Phyl wave to him in response to his acknowledgment of the satyr’s presence before turning away to greet Bartholomew.

  Draymon, not wanting to be rude, made his way down the seemingly endless line of half-ogre children, clapping each one on the shoulder giving a half-hearted hug and smile in salutations. He saved Rue for last, knowing that he would be able to share a few carefree words with the boy, but he had been preoccupied with Ideria and Nevin this entire time.

  “Please, come inside,” Phyl said, gesturing to the opened door. “You’ve all been through a lot and could use the comforts of some hospitality.”

  Everyone filed into the house. Phyl and two of the younger girls immediately went into the kitchen to start some tea. The rest of the ogre/harpy family guided Ideria and Nevin to the couch. Bartholomew stood on one side of the couch, Draymon on the other, uncomfortable by everyone staring in his general direction with pity in their eyes. Lapin hopped into the middle of the room and sat up on his haunches. “It saddens me to hear about your grandparents. I didn’t know them well, but they were good people. They treated my nieces and nephews fairly. Much better than most anyone else in any of the neighboring towns. For this, I am at your service.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Nevin said with a courteous nod.

  Ideria remained silent. Nevin gently elbowed her and she swatted at him. Even though the room was silent, he whispered, “Don’t be rude.”

  “I’m too angry to be polite.”

  “Angry?” Lapin asked. “At Prince Daedalus, I assume?”

  “Yes, and—” she cut herself short, but not before glancing toward Draymon.

  Draymon’s mind raced again. It was he who she was mad at. But why? What could he have possibly done while aiding in her and her brother’s escape to warrant such anger that she struggled to control her own words?

  “And . . . ? Draymon?” Lapin asked.

  Ideria closed her eyes, her nostrils flaring with every breath she took. A whisper barely loud enough to be heard, she said, “Yes.”

  Lapin looked to Draymon. It was now his turn to shrug his shoulders in ignorance. The rabbit turned back to Ideria. “Why?”

  Opening her bloodshot eyes, she growled, “He’s been lying to me. He’s been lying to Nevin and me for all of these years. My mother is still alive.”

  A cacophony of metal clanging and ceramic shattering from hitting the floor sounded from the kitchen. Phyl poked his head out from the kitchen. “She knows?”

  “If we weren’t certain before, we are now,” Nevin said.

  “Phyl!” Lapin shouted. “You idiot!”

  “Sorry, Lapin,” Nevin said looking around to Draymon and Bartholomew. “But the looks on my uncle’s faces gave it away before Phyl said anything. As well as the look on your face.”

  Lapin’s mien softened as he cast his gaze to the floor.

  Phyl made his way from the kitchen, head hanging low, his hooves softly scuffing the floor. “Take it easy on your uncle. Or at least spread your anger towards him amongst all of us. Draymon is a good man. He only wanted to protect you.”

  “Protect us from the truth?”

  “Protect you from yourselves,” Bartholomew interrupted. “It wasn’t a perfect childhood. We couldn’t give you that. We constantly trained you and we wouldn’t let you past the nearest towns. We feared that if we told you the truth then the knowledge would have consumed you with directionless anger and grief.”

  “Instead you gave me directed anger. Thanks,” Ideria growled, throwing a look of disgust in Draymon’s direction.

  Draymon’s heart broke. He had been dreading this day, fearing the look in her eyes would leave an indelible mark upon his soul. He wanted to hug her, to hold her. Yet, instead, he blurted, “Be mad. Be mad at me all you want. It was never an easy decision.”

  “No, it was a cowardly one. Spare yourself the pain of breaking of our little hearts and all of that. You took my name from me. Nevin and I have been the Wahls for so long that I forgot we were Stillhearts. I don’t even know who I am.”

  “But you know that you are someone. You have no idea what that means to me. You were never alone, nor forgotten. We have no idea what has transpired in the years since . . . since—”

  “Since you watched my mother get captured by Prince Daedalus?”

  “You have no idea what happened. All of us would have taken her place. She made me swear to protect you two. We didn’t lock you up in a cage. We taught you that the world is a dangerous place and how to survive, how to fight, how to stand up so that one day—”

  “So that one day what? So that one day you could tell me the punchline to a jo
ke I was never included in?”

  “So that one day you could make your own decisions, Ideria,” Bartholomew answered. “It was never up to us to determine which day that would be. But Draymon made sure that you would be ready whenever that day came. I don’t think you realize how difficult it is to dedicate your life to preparing someone to leave you behind.”

  “Like you left my mother behind?”

  “Ideria!” Nevin snapped. “We weren’t there. Before today the greatest cause we ever fought for was to rough up a drunk hooligan who was creating trouble for the locals while passing through town. Our uncles and our grandparents sacrificed a great deal on our behalf, more than I’m sure they’ve told us.”

  “But they lied to us, Nevin. They told us our mother was dead.”

  “What would you have done had they told us the truth?”

  “I would have looked for her, of course!”

  “Exactly. Please tell me how far do you think you would have gotten at ten years old? Armed with only a heart full of anger and a head full of revenge, and your eyes not yet far enough from the ground to properly see over a bar top?”

  Ideria snorted and shook her head as if trying to blow away an unpleasant smell. “I would have waited until I was better prepared. I wasn’t stupid back then.”

  “Then why are you being stupid now? How long would you have prepared? Another year? Three years or four years when adolescence first greeted you?”

  “No, obviously!”

  “When, then? When during the last ten years would have been the perfect time for you to enact your plot of vengeance?”

  “Certainly not ten years!”

  “And what of me? You’re just going to leave me behind because somehow you claimed dominion over our mother? She’s no longer my mother now, is that it? It’s your sole duty to find her?”

  “No! I . . . I . . . I’m so sorry, Nevin.” The tears flowed once more as she leaned over to hug her brother. She sobbed within his embrace, the only noise in the room.

  Until Rue stepped forward. “Excuse me? I hate to bring this up now, but if what you’re saying about their mother is true, then wouldn’t it be reasonable to think that the same could be said about my father? He was involved in the same battle to save King Perciless, correct?”

  “Rue!” Ideria looked up from her brother, tears still streaming down her face. “You’re absolutely right! I’ve heard this story a few times and I’ve always heard it the same way.”

  “Oh, my,” Phyl exclaimed. “I think the tea is burning!” With that, he scrambled for the cover of the kitchen.

  Lapin muttered a colorful expression before heading to the medicine cabinet under the excuse of not feeling well. Everyone in the household, family member and guest alike, knew full well that the medicine cabinet held only treacle of an alcoholic variety.

  “Draymon?” Ideria glowered at her uncle.

  “No,” Rue said. “I think Draymon deserves a break. Despite Nevin’s eloquent defense, I cannot fully condone his logic, but I think I can at least appreciate that in his heart he thought he was doing the right thing. No, I think one of my uncle’s needs to answer me. Uncle Phyl? Uncle Lapin?”

  Phyl came back into the sitting room from the kitchen, dabbing his eyes with the corners of his apron.

  “Steam got in my eyes,” he said.

  “It’th true,” Lapin hiccupped, three empty bottles rolling across the floor in front of him. Despite everyone’s emotions rising to the surface of their skin, Draymon had to take pause and allow himself to be amazed at how quickly the rabbit consumed that much alcohol.

  Lapin hopped to the feet of his eldest nephew. “Rue, you are a thuch a beautiful child. Your uncle Phyl and I couldn’t bear to watch you thuffer with knowledge that you couldn’t use to make you any better. We concocted the lie. Phyl and I. We took it to Draymon and . . . and . . . and that other guy standing right there,” Lapin waved at Bartholomew, almost toppling over as he did so. “It was uth. No. It was me. Your uncle Phyl wanted to tell the truth, but I convinthed him. I had less to lose than him.”

  “How did you have less to lose, uncle Lapin?” Rue asked.

  “I couldn’t allow you hating Phyl. It would have dethtroyed him. He’th your uncle, your real uncle, once married to your father’s sithter. So, I figured, who cares if someone hates a rabbit?”

  Rue looked to his eleven siblings, exchanging facial expressions and slight gestures. He looked back down to Lapin. “Uncle . . . I mean that with the reverence in which it was intended. We all love you as such. Yes, we feel betrayed. But we forgive you.”

  Lapin used a front paw to wipe away a tear. “You are thuch an amazing ogre, my boy. All you kidth are amazing.”

  “Excellent. I’m glad you feel that way since you and Uncle Phyl will be aiding me in my quest to find our father.”

  “What?” Phyl screeched.

  Hands behind his back, Rue bent over to get closer to the rabbit. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but as our guests began to settle in, you mentioned that you would do anything for them due to the Whals being nice to us. I can only assume that Ideria and Nevin will be joining us, because we can only assume that their mother is being kept with our father, and they have expressed interest in finding their mother.”

  For the first time in the past hour, Ideria smiled. She grabbed her brother’s hand and shouted, “Yes! We will be joining you.”

  Rue continued, “It would be foolhardy for the three of us to venture on this quest alone.”

  Lapin’s beady black eyes became cross. “You know what? Okay. You’re right. Your Uncle Phyl and I will help you.”

  Draymon stepped forward and nodded toward Bartholomew. “As will we.”

  “I’m joining you, too,” Joy said.

  The largest of the brood stood up, the nut-brown tuft of hair atop his pointed head mere inches from the ceiling. Woe, a boy who resembled his father in every way from what Draymon remembered of Bale Pinkeye, with one exception—the hump on his back. His voice could be felt when he spoke. “I’m coming, too.”

  Bartholomew rubbed his chin while walking in a small circle around Woe. “I like this one. We’ll need him.”

  “I just don’t know that I can do this,” Phyl sobbed. “These kids are everything to me. And I’m retired. Did I mention that yet? I’m retired from adventuring!” Phyl exclaimed, his finger wagging back and forth between his chest and each of the various youths assembled in front of him.

  “We are doing this, Uncle Phyl, with or without you. But if it’s without you, then I’m not sure I can forgive you,” Rue said.

  Phyl sighed. “What about the other nine children?”

  Faith, an ogress with a beak and harpy legs, the second oldest of the bunch, stepped into the middle of the room. “I will stay with the rest of the kids while you are gone. Try to hurry. Bring back our dad.”

  Phyl sighed on top of a sigh. “Where’s my ankle bracelet? The one with the crossed morningstars? I gave it to one of you. I’m going to need it. Oh, and my cooking pans, too. We’re going to need to eat while we’re gone and who is going to cook for us if it isn’t me?”

  Draymon cringed at the thought of consuming Phyl’s cooking, but solidarity was necessary. He decided to say something, to give everyone else the same sense of solidarity. As he opened his mouth, Lapin took one final swallow from the bottle between his paws, and then tossed the empty vessel into the corner. “Tholidarity!” the rabbit yelled and passed out.

  ten

  Daedalus landed his dragon in the middle of Castle Phenomere’s courtyard. It caused quite a fuss among the people focused on their daily duties. Women covered their mouths to stifle their screams. Children and the elderly froze where they stood, nary a stray breath given or taken. The men cast their gazes downward while trying to slide into the nearest shadow as quietl
y as possible, attempting to usher the closest woman, child, or elder with them out of sight. No one wanted to attract the attention of the dragon, or worse, the prince.

  Dropping the reins, Daedalus dismounted his dragon by jumping from its shoulder. Whatever pain he felt in his knees from absorbing the shock was gone within a dozen steps, his anger a unique salve that burned away all other pains and ailments and there was no better fuel for his inner fires than failure. They were in his grasp, the girl close enough to taste her breath. Using a preplanned escape route, they slipped away through an elaborate tunnel system. Deep underground, his dragon clawed through the ground in random spots until Daedalus found a tunnel. Hours of digging, following the tunnel only led to a double-back. He spent even more time rampaging through the nearby forest only to find a household of children seemingly conceived by a harpy and an ogre. Children never possessed useful information so he returned to the farm to let his dragon have its fill of livestock. He killed what the dragon left alive. Now back at the castle, even though the people were all quiet in attempts to go unnoticed, he knew word would get back to the dragon handlers soon enough. He had no desire to wait for them; they knew how to return his dragon to its pen. He had more pressing matters.

  Storming through the hallways of the castle, Prince Daedalus thought of different ways to torture Dearborn Stillheart. Not with racks or spikes or cuts or creatures, but with words and ideas. He planned on letting her know that he knew she had children and that he would find them. He would let her imagination take care of the torture for him. Nothing would stop him from finding her children. But there was one person who could make him put it on hold: General Perrator.