by Jeff Gunzel
“General Coleth was executed on my order.”
Liam sighed, glad to see Alaric showing some remorse for his action.
“There will be no way to conceal the knowledge of this widespread outbreak of attacks,” Alaric continued. “Soon, the people will know I made a mistake in executing Hyndrid. Th-They will hold it against me. My authority will be challenged at every turn!” He looked at Liam, panic filling his now alert eyes. “What do I do? I must find a way to divert the negative attention away from me.”
Enraged, Liam leapt to his feet. “That is the source of your distress?!” he bellowed, hardly able to contain his anger. “You sacrificed the life of a loyal friend in order please a mob... The death toll from these attacks looks to be hundreds of times higher than we originally thought, and your status is what concerns you most?”
“Please, old friend,” Alaric begged, diving over the table to grab Liam’s wrist. “Please, you must speak to the people on my behalf. Th-They value your judgment, as do I. They’ll listen to you. Set up a dais at the center of town, and tell them it’s not my fault. Tell them we’re at war! Yes! A declaration of war makes the weakest bonds strong again.”
Repulsed by the sickening display of groveling, Liam yanked his hand free. “You sniveling coward!” he roared, rubbing his hand on his shirt. “I’ll do no such thing! Is power all that matters to you? How many lives would you sacrifice to keep your authority for one more day, sitting in that chair drinking and womanizing as if you own the world? One hundred? One hundred thousand? It is obvious that lives are meaningless to you. No, ‘old friend.’ I won’t help you this time. It will take a miracle for you to save face after this treacherous blunder.”
“As requested, I gave you the night to think it over,” a gruff voice rumbled from the hallway. Without being asked, the hunter and his apprentice entered the room. Neither seemed to care whether they were interrupting or not. “I can wait no longer for your answer. Do we have a deal, or not?”
“Deal? What deal?” Liam hissed, angered by the intrusion.
Alaric slipped by Liam, whispering in his ear as he passed, “Alas, it seems my miracle has arrived. And not a moment too soon.” He turned his attention to the other two. “And good morning to you both. I trust you slept well.”
“That is not an answer to me question,” Owen grunted, his odd grayish eyes flickering towards Liam suspiciously. He was no longer wearing his black armor, only a plain white shirt with ratty blue pants. His arms bulged beneath the shirt, veiny and covered in scars. His apprentice, on the other hand, still wore his gleaming white cloak, face hidden beneath its hood. With both hands tucked inside the opposing sleeves, he strongly resembled a silent monk.
“Yes...yes. Straight to business then,” Alaric replied, doing an admirable job of pretending nothing was wrong. His voice was strong and his smile wide, a natural con when he needed to be.
“And who is this?” the hunter asked, speaking to Alaric but staring right at Liam.
“Liam Trundric,” Liam answered, fighting to keep his anger in check. “I am the city mystic of Redwater, and right hand to Lord Alaric Bournfred.” He extended his hand.
“Owen Dunwich,” said the hunter, ignoring the offered hand. “No doubt you’re already aware of my profession, or I wouldn’t be here.” Of that there was no doubt. Liam was certainly aware of the man’s reputation: a mercenary for hire that willingly tracked down both man and beast alike. Gold was gold, so the contract’s target made no difference. Rumor had it he’d even taken down a demon or two, hence his given title. No one could confirm nor deny the rumors. But the simple fact that he was still alive after hundreds of completed contracts spoke volumes of his resourcefulness.
“My apprentice, Xavier Graystone,” said Owen, gesturing to the man in white. Liam looked at the man expectantly. Head low, hands hidden within his sleeves, the man gave no indication he was even listening. “Xavier speaks only when I permit him to do so,” Owen added, answering the questioning look on Liam’s face. His eyes narrowed as he glanced back at Alaric. “Now that all the pleasantries be out of the way, I need to know right now if my journey here was a waste of time.”
“And what exactly are these terms you speak of?” Liam asked.
“Nothing that concerns you,” Alaric snapped, glaring at the mystic. “I’ll fill you in as needed. Dismissed.”
Liam bit his tongue. Continuing their heated debate in front of these two would only show weakness in front of the hunter. There had been enough of that already. He turned back to Owen and Xavier. “Well met,” he said with a bow. “I’m sure we’ll speak again soon.”
“I’ve no doubt,” Owen grunted, a knowing, tight-lipped smile creeping across his face.
With little choice in the matter, Liam stalked back into the hall. With all that had gone on the last forty-eight hours, adrenaline was about the only thing keeping him on his feet. But now even that reserve was beginning to run low. The lack of sleep was really taking its toll, and the thought of returning to his bedchamber was an inviting one indeed. Still, there was one last thing he needed to do before getting some much-needed rest. From his inner pocket he retrieved the ripped pages from his book. That girl is full of secrets indeed. Time we finished our little talk.
Stifling a yawn, he made his way back downstairs. The saluting guards he passed irritated him for some reason. Was he just cranky from a lack of rest? No. Things seemed different somehow. Nightly parties thrown for no reason other than to mock those who couldn’t afford such lavish lifestyles. Soldiers saluting his very presence just because the chain of command dictated them to do so. This power pyramid he had grown accustomed to was nothing more than a mockery of organization. Suddenly, it all seemed so fake and meaningless in the face of recent events. How could these ridiculous protocols be more important than this strange, dark violence that was suddenly gripping their world? Did anyone even care?
He marched up to the thick door, snapping open the eye slit. “Viola? Are you awake, my dear?” The smell coming through the slit was foul, far bitterer than it was his last visit. Listening closely, he could hear her raspy breaths. “Viola! Is everything all right in there?” No answer came, only the same harsh breathing.
Liam turned on the guard to his right. “When did you check on her last? I told you she was to be well taken care of.”
The guard avoided his gaze, eyes on the far wall instead. “I was following orders, sir,” he said, swallowing hard.
“Quite the opposite, I’d say!” Liam retorted. “I gave you explicit instructions to—” He stopped in midsentence, suddenly realizing he had simply been outranked by another. “Unless the individual gave you specific instructions as to what you can, and cannot tell me, you are permitted by law to tell me whose orders you are following. I assure you there is no legal penalty for giving me that information.”
“I am following the orders of Lord Alaric Bournfred, sir,” he replied quietly.
“Which were?” Liam stated, his voice soft and solemn.
“No food or water given to the prisoner until instructed otherwise, sir.”
Liam was amazed at his own level of restraint. He raged inside, wanting to strangle Alaric, this soldier, and nearly anyone else who might cross his path today. Instead, he kept calm, knowing that a rampage would solve nothing. The wheels of his mind churned as he tried to piece together why such a cruel order would ever be given. The fate of the prisoners was mostly his jurisdiction. Why did Alaric get involved this one time, over this one prisoner? Was it just to get back at him?
“I want you to fetch a proper meal and clean water,” Liam said, his voice dangerously calm. “You bring them directly to me, understand? My order does not conflict with your original instruction.”
“Sir,” he acknowledged before turning away.
“You,” Liam said, pointing to the other guard. “Open this door.” The soldier hesitated, appearing conflicted as to what he should do. Liam stepped towards him, towering over the young man. “It is a rare day i
ndeed where I am forced to repeat myself,” he said, eyes blazing with barely controlled rage. “I ask you now, has that day come at last?”
“N-No sir,” he stammered, immediately fumbling around with his key ring.
“All of this falls on my shoulders, not yours,” Liam reminded him as the man clicked through the locks. “You are but a small piece in a much larger game, and won’t be held responsible.”
Hearing the door click and rattle, Viola sat up. The straw in the corner used for a lavatory had yet to be changed, severely tainting the air in the unventilated cell. The rags they gave her to wear had grown foul with sweat, yet they were all she had. Her lips had grown chapped from lack of water, and her breaths came in raspy bursts. The door was flung open and in walked Liam. If the rancid stench in the room bothered him, he showed no indication.
“I’m so sorry, my dear,” he said. It was so stuffy and hot in here it was hard to breath. Even animals didn’t get treated like this.
“Water,” she begged, her voice raspy.
“It’s coming,” he reassured her. “I swear I didn’t know you were being treated this way. I would have come back sooner.” He sat down beside her, his back to the wall.
The guard returned, a hot plate in one hand, a silver pitcher of cool water in the other. He entered the cell, briefly turning up his nose as the musty stench assaulted him. “Give them here,” Liam reminded, holding out his hands. It was only a violation of his orders if he gave them directly to the prisoner. After setting them both down before the mystic, he took a step back.
“Sir, I cannot leave the door open,” he said, eyes flickering back towards the only source of light.
“Of course,” said Liam, dismissing him with a gesture. “Lock me in if you must, but I’m not going anywhere.” The mystic moved closer to Viola, sliding the plate and pitcher near her. She looked at him with pleading eyes, as if still waiting for permission to drink. “Go on,” he urged. “This is all for you.” She went straight for the water, gulping greedily as it spilled from the corners of her mouth.
The guard stepped out, the room going dark when he closed the door. Seconds later it opened again, the same guard holding the lantern that was just outside. “Knock on the door if you need anything,” he said, eyes flickering to the plate on the floor. “More water, food, anything at all, sir.”
“Thank you, lad,” said Liam. “Now go back to your post.” The door closed again, although this time the room flickered with the soft light of the lantern.
Viola began coughing, her throat chilled from the cool water. “Easy there,” said Liam, patting her on the back. “Take your time. There’s plenty more where that came from.” He lifted the plate containing two kinds of meat and a side of cooked potatoes. Given the quality of the food, Liam couldn’t help but wonder if the guard had swiped this from the dining hall above. Good lad... “Try some of this.”
She carefully lifted a strip of meat with her fingers, moving slowly as if he might snatch it away at any moment. Nibbling at first, she soon inhaled the strip and went for another. Liam placed the plate on her lap and leaned back against the stone wall. The coolness felt good given how stuffy it was in here.
His intent was to give her some much-needed food and water, then hopefully have a nice, long talk. So many questions he had. But the results of staying up for two days straight were really taking a toll. Their talk would just have to wait until another time. He would just rest his eyes for a few minutes, then return to his room. He felt the weight of her head press against his shoulder. Within seconds her slowing breaths were coming long and heavy. She must have felt safe and secure with the old man for such deep sleep to find her so quickly.
“Yes,” mumbled Liam, his heavy eyelids fluttering. “I’ll stay here a few more minutes, then I must go.”
*
“Well, isn’t this sweet?” came a familiar voice cutting through the haze of sleep. Liam stirred, eyes opening slowly as he started to get his bearings. It didn’t take long for him to recognize his surroundings. Still sound asleep, Viola’s head lay across his lap. “It seems the little freak has clung to a father figure,” said Alaric, looming over them. He leaned down close, nearly nose to nose with Liam. “Or am I mistaken? Perhaps it is...more than that.”
“You monster,” Liam hissed softly, trying not to waken her. “What kind of man deprives a young girl of even the most basic necessities? She was practically dying of thirst when I found her.”
“A necessary evil,” Alaric said, reaching down to tap her on the head. “I needed to see how far her condition had progressed.”
“What condition? What are you talking about?” asked Liam.
Ignoring Liam’s questions, Alaric tapped her head again. She squinted, swatting at her head as if chasing away a fly. “Wake up, Viola.” Blinking, she slowly sat up while wiping sleep from her eyes. “I do believe it’s time for you to leave,” said Alaric, turning back and making his way back towards the door.
“Wait,” she mumbled groggily. “You mean I’m free to go?”
Alaric glanced back over his shoulder wearing a tight-lipped smile. “I said it was time for you to leave. I never said you were free.” The moment he stepped out, a large shadow moved to take his place. The hunter loomed in the doorway, now dressed in his full-body battle suit.
Liam rose to his feet. Viola clung to him, her face buried in his shirt. “I assume this is the deal you spoke of earlier,” he said, not intimidated by the hunter’s presence. Liam was plenty dangerous in his own right, and had no intention of backing down, even to one of the hunter’s reputation. “I’m afraid I cannot allow you to take her. Go back to the land you came from, Owen. Leave in peace and that shall be the end of it.”
The hunter stared blankly for a long while, his hard, chiseled expression completely unreadable. “Aye. I’ve no quarrel with you, Liam,” he said at length. “But I won’t hesitate to kill you if you try to stand in me way. Alaric’s word is final. I need no authorization from you.” His gray eyes fell on Viola. “We leave in two hours. That is plenty of time for you to get cleaned and prepare for travel.” He spun away from the door, leaving it open.
“Liam!” Viola said, still gripping the mystic’s shirt, panic in her eyes. He leaned back against the stone wall, feeling beaten once more. The hunter’s words rang true in his head. He was indeed outranked by Alaric, and therefore had no say in the matter.
Years of built-up frustration boiled in his blood. No matter whether he was right or wrong, it always ended this way. Alaric would always be free to strike bargains under the table, to kill the innocent and do whatever he wished.
The mystic pushed off the wall, eyes jetting open. “No,” he said. “I will stand by no longer.”
“I don’t want to go with him,” Viola pleaded, face buried in his shirt.
Gently, he managed to separate from her. Her chin is his hands, he gazed into her tear-streaked face. “Do you trust me?” he asked. She nodded her head up and down. “Then you must do as I say. Go with the guards and get cleaned up as he instructed. I promise I will not abandon you.” Again, she nodded. What choice did she have?
Liam left the cell, guards flowing in behind him to fetch the girl and get her ready. “Two hours,” he mumbled to himself as he went up the steps. So much to do and only two hours to do it. He hurried back to his lab and bolted the door behind him. His eyes swept across his vials and beakers, glancing at his many books that had proved useful throughout the years. These decisions were going to be painful.
He opened a backpack and began stuffing it with his most precious belongings, books mostly, along with some rare components from his trunk, things that simply could not be replaced. With only a little space left in the pack, he left the lab and went over to his sleeping quarters. He filled the rest of the space with spare clothing, then threw the pack down near his bed.
Throwing back a side curtain, he entered the chamber attached to his room. He sighed, gazing down at the weapons he didn’t d
are leave behind. It had been many years since he had served in Redwater’s army. He picked up a sheath and belt housing his old long sword, and strapped it around his waist. “I hoped I’d never use you again,” he whispered down at his blade, clicking the buckle. “I still cling to that hope, although it now appears to be nothing but a fool’s hope.”
It the opposite corner stood a gleaming white staff, so clean and bright it looked to have been recently polished. In truth, it hadn’t been touched in more than a decade. The handle swirled with intricate designs, so many yet each vastly different from the one below it. The top portion was carved into the likeness of a goat skull, its two curled horns twisting back. The eye sockets each housed a shimmering white gem. With all its teeth on display, the goat skull almost looked to be smiling.
Grabbing the staff and pack, he headed back into the hall. Time was of the essence, and he had made a promise to someone—someone who was clearly unique and special. Even now he still didn’t know her story, but none of that mattered. How could such a being exist by accident? Liam had learned long ago to trust his instincts, and something in his heart urged him to see this through. The pull was strong, and he refused to ignore it.
Striding down the hall, he heard a call from behind. “Going somewhere?” Alaric accused.
Liam stopped, eyes fixed straight ahead. “I’m leaving,” he stated plainly. “My time in Redwater has run its course and there is nothing left for me here.”
“Enough with this foolishness,” Alaric said, his footsteps drawing nearer. “Is this about the freak girl? Bah! Let it go. Her body is diseased, yet for some reason the hunter has shown quite an interest in her.”
“She is not diseased,” Liam corrected, spinning back to face Alaric. “Her blood mix is rare and special. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“A mutant, then?” Alaric questioned, not particularly interested in what she was, or was not. “What does it matter? You didn’t want me to have her executed and I didn’t. And now she’s leaving with the hunter. She is no longer our burden. And as far as what his baffling interest in that creature is, I don’t know nor do I care. In exchange for her, he’s going to investigate the attacks. Don’t you see? His services now belong to the city of Redwater! I don’t know what fate shall befall on our neighboring towns, but I can only assume we are safe now. Once our enemy realizes Owen Dunwich serves the city of Redwater, they won’t dare advance a second time!”