You Can't Avoid A Little Blood

by Philip Norris

  The switch threw the weasel and he faltered, his eyes darted up and down the hallway obviously hoping to see some of his men coming to the rescue. But it was only him and the only sound was the sound of both men breathing heavily. Joakim lunged with the sword and as the weasel hit it aside he stepped in and brought the short sword up to cut the forearm the weasel held his sword with, the cut was above the wrist, it wasn’t deep but it was enough to make the weasel drop his blade with a yelp.

  Joakim drove forward and head butted his opponent knocking him back against the door to the stairs with blood streaming from his nose. Joakim kicked his sword away and knelt in front of him with the point of his sword against his throat.

  “Now I think you might have some answers for me.”

  #

  Joakim used the belt from the man he’d killed to tie the weasel’s hands behind his back and shoved a handful of the man’s torn shirt into his mouth to stifle any cries for help. Then he pulled him back into the stairwell. He had to make a decision which way to go, he knew now that if he went up there would be more men, there could of course be as many in the levels below but he had to think that whatever size the force used to take over the Keep couldn’t be that big to have men on every level. And if he was in command he knew the key to controlling the situation was the Highlord. If you had him in the bag even if there was a whole division of the Highlords men in the levels below a handful could control the upper levels because no-one would make a move when the Highlords safety was at stake. So tactically the bulk of any force would be on the levels above.

  That meant the only option was down. The weasel tried to struggle at first but when after a few steps of trying to break free Joakim let him fall the remaining dozen he gave up. Bloody and bruised he glared at Joakim with open hatred, the cloth that had been in his mouth spat out on the floor.

  “You haven’t a chance of getting out you know that?”

  “Maybe, but one thing you can be sure of is you won’t be getting out either. Now unless you want me to let you fall all the way down to the bottom keep your mouth shut unless asked.”

  The weasel went into a sulk as they headed down past four landings. Joakim thought he had the measure of the man after hearing his complaining earlier and now his mood. He was obviously the type that always liked to have things his own way but rarely had it so.

  “The Keep is ours, our men are everywhere.”

  “Yeah I’ve encountered a few of them, left three slowly cooling.”

  Joakim glanced at his face and caught the expression that crossed it, the man looked concerned there were three dead which made Joakim wonder exactly how many there were in the levels above.

  “So is this the job you wanted me for?” The weasel didn’t say anything and just watched his footing as they started down another set of steps. Joakim decided the man had a short temper and would probably react to goading.

  “Pretty stupid decision bringing me here if you ask me. If you’d left me in Underhill I’d have joined the departing army and be gone.” The weasels face was reddening. “Whoever’s making your decisions must be inexperienced”

  “You know nothing, Jakamo Boskags knows his trade and if not for the interference of that damned A’yai…” The weasel looked suddenly at Joakim knowing he’d been goaded and said too much.

  “An A’yai, interesting.”

  Eight

  Boskags watched the Highlord as Tenemi approached, it had been nearly quarter of an hour since they’d secured the level, now the only men armed were his and he was beginning to feel a little more comfortable with the situation. He’d expected Kark to have returned with the A’yai and hadn’t really thought anything of it but now was beginning to worry if his Lieutenant had decided to visit the gate level and the Captain of the Gate. There was nothing he could do about it now he’d just have to hope the men he left down there would deal with the situation.

  Tenemi stood before the Highlord with a neutral expression, it was impossible to tell what an A’yai was thinking, if it was happy or angry. Boskags was confident everything had gone to plan so far so there was no reason for Tenemi to be anything but pleased. The silence in the room was becoming oppressive, former master and advisor just stared at each other. Not that the Highlord could do little else as he was still gagged. Tenemi turned towards Boskags.

  “Good to see you had the sense to gag him. He has the power to bend weaker minds.” The A’yai looked around at Boskags men but none of them reacted to the subtle insult.

  “Where’s Kark?” Boskags asked.

  “I sent him to bring the Regulator.”

  Boskags was surprised. “Any reason why, if it had been down to me we would have left him to leave with the army or killed him in Underhill. Are you sure it’s a wise move bringing him up here?”

  Tenemi turned back to the Highlord cocking its head slightly to one side the way a dog does when talked to.

  “Things change I’d have thought you being a soldier would realise that. A battle never follows the exact plan laid down for it.”

  “Is that what this is, a battle?”

  “I believe you humans consider life itself to be a battle, you fight to be born, fight to thrive, you fight to find your place in your world and at the end, after such a brief span of years you fight to stay alive.” Tenemi turned to look at Boskags. “Sounds utterly tiresome.”

  Boskags bit back on a response, there was no point arguing with an A’yai. It was like talking philosophy with a dog, the dog has no concept of the subject so has no chance of engaging in the debate. There were more important things to discuss.

  “The Keep is secured and all the Highlords men are dead, now might be a good time to fill me in on the rest of this mission.”

  Tenemi turned away from the Highlord and began walking round the raised dais his throne sat on. Boskags fell in behind assuming the A’yai wanted him to follow, behind the dais was a short hallway that ended at a door. Tenemi slowed as it approached the door and stopped reaching out laying a hand on the carved wood. Boskags would have sworn the look on the face of the A’yai face was one of reverence. He looked at the door, the carving showed a depiction he was familiar with, one every human was familiar with. It was a scene from the final battle between the Frail Men and the Highlord Callus Ardens army.

  In the background was the Sirus mac Callas, the vast circular mountain range at the heart of the Four Empires that circled Sirus mac Haeds, the home of the Frail Men. The vast plain stretching out from the mountains was filled with men fighting and dying, not all humans had risen up against the gods. The two armies had clashed in a battle that was said to have lasted a day from sunrise to sunset, the battle only ended when finally Callus Ardens broke through the Frail Men’s defensive ring and attacked them personally. The carving at the centre of the door, the carving Tenemi seemed to be caressing, showed a two headed man, one of the Frail Men, in heavy armour battling Ardens.

  “What’s this?” Boskags asked.

  Tenemi seemed to snatch its hand back like it had been scalded.

  “This is the prize Jakamo Boskags. A prize far greater than any Highlords Keep or treasure trove, far greater than the power of all the Highlords.”

  Boskags looked at the door, there was no handle and no lock that he could see. He stepped past Tenemi and pushed against the door but he might as well have been pushing against a mountain. He turned to say something to Tenemi but the A’yai was already heading back towards the throne room. Boskags followed after and as he reached the room Tenemi pointed up at the Highlord.

  “Bring him.” Then turned and went back towards the door. Boskags stood as confused as his men looked. He shrugged and indicated the Highlord.

  “You heard, get him in here.”

  The short hallway became crowded very quick, despite his vast age the Highlord struggled when manhandled and it took four men to hold him and drag him up to the door. Tenemi stood with that strange look on its face again looking at the door, Boskags was a litt
le behind him with a growing feeling of unease. He was about to say something when the A’yai spun round a knife in its hand, with a swift movement the Highlords throat was cut and a gout of blood arched across the space between him and the door, when it hit the door it did so with the sound water makes when spilt onto a hotplate.

  Rank sulphurous steam filled the hallway quick and the men holding up the now dead Highlord dropped him and stumbled back into the throne room coughing. Boskags pulled a kerchief from his pocket and held it to his face over his nose and mouth, it helped keep the stench at bay but didn’t help the steam stinging his eyes. Through the haze he could see Tenemi stood before the door its arms outstretched to its sides and head bowed forward so low it was near level with its waist. There was a loud rumbling that Boskags could feel through the soles of his boots and the door seemed to glow before it splintered in two top to bottom with a rending screech. Boskags covered his ears and screamed at the pain before he blacked out.

  He must have been out for only seconds because the doorway was still splitting open. Tenemi was stood before the opening unaffected by the noise or the noxious steam. Boskags struggled to his feet looking back towards the throne room, everyone in there was laid out, some were beginning to stir but some were immobile and he was sure did not appear to be breathing. He was about to go and assess the situation when Tenemi called for him.

  “Come Jakamo Boskags time is short.” The A’yai walked into the opening and with a look back at the throne room where those that were awake were beginning to check on those that were not Boskags followed, he would have to hope his men could deal with whatever the fallout was from the door breaking.

  As he walked through the opening a chill went through him, the air was so much colder and the light from the hallway barely made it over the threshold. He stopped waiting for his eyes to adjust and ahead he could see the dim outline of Tenemi standing in front of what appeared to be another door. Boskags approached hesitantly wondering whose blood would have to be spilt to open this one, as he joined the A’yai the room suddenly began to brighten.

  They were not so much in room as a cupboard, he doubted he would be able to layout flat on the floor without his head and feet touching the opposite walls. In the pitch dark the room had felt so much bigger. The walls were covered in dark windows all of which had archaic inscriptions under them that Boskags had seen on other relics said to have come from the time of the Frail Men. There were six of these windows, three on either side to the left and right. Ahead of him what he though was another door was another window this one twice the size of the others. There were no writings under this one just a square block raised up off the wall that had eleven smaller squares on its surface, each of the squares had a number etched into them except the last which had Frail Men lettering.

  “What is it?”

  Tenemi looked round and Boskags could have sworn the A’yai looked startled like it had forgotten he was there. It regained its composure and turned back to look at the blank window.

  “It’s a question.” Tenemi reached up and ran its hand over the squares, each one glowed as its fingers passed over. “We just need the answer.”

  “Knowing what the question is would be a good start.” Boskags leaned forward for a better look but Tenemi stopped him pushing him back.

  “This is beyond even your skills Jakamo Boskags this is something only the A’yai can do.”

  Boskags raised an eyebrow in question. “The A’yai, all of you?”

  Tenemi didn’t answer and just stared at the numbers, Boskags risked a closer look and saw the A’yai seemed to be in some sort of trance. He stepped back uncertain what he should do, he knew little about the A’yai though he probably knew more than most. They were said to be old, older than the Frail Men it was said. Legend said it was the A’yai who had birthed the Frail Men and from them then came humanity, but the Frail Men had grown powerful and eventually had enslaved the A’yai in the same way they had enslaved humans. He turned back to the doorway and went through back towards the throne room, whatever the A’yai was up to there was nothing he could do so he would just do what he was paid to do and keep the Keep secured.

  He stopped just after he stepped into the hallway and looked down at the body of the Highlord Mandrus Bendicala, now the life had passed from him his body had been consumed by all the centuries it had been kept vital by the magiks imbued into the Highlords by the Frail Men. The skin had darkened and turned like leather left in the sun too long, the eyes were gone leaving black pits staring up at him. He had shrunk inside his clothing so now if alive would have stood no taller than a child. Boskags gave a shudder, even in death the Highlords gave him the chills. He carried on into the throne room.

  #

  The vault is attained

  The seal intact

  Yes but possibly corrupted

  Too long has it waited for the question to be answered

  There is nothing could have been done sooner

  The question is asked

  The answer is sought

  Tenemi could feel the Cathedral of A’yai around all funnelling their energies and intellect to this one purpose, the question is asked but what if they do not know the answer. What if after all this time, all these centuries they are finally at the moment they planned for only to fail. Tenemi had no concept of despair in the same way all other human emotions were alien to the A’yai. But even so here in Cathedral there was a sense of wrong, a sense of doubt a sense that failure could be a possibility. The A’yai had laid the groundwork for this day even as the war between men and the Frail Men had been in its infancy. The humans had a saying, playing the long game, the A’yai had embraced this concept being the ageless things they were it was the only logical solution to wait out the centuries until all opposition was spent and order could be restored. But this time an order aligned along A’yai lines of thinking.

  The answer is accessed

  Tenemi bring the terminal online

  Awaiting sequence

  Seven seven five niner four

  Tenemi looked at the keypad and for barely a second hesitated, were they right in what they were doing? The number glowed as Tenemi pressed seven, seven, five, nine and four. The screen above the keypad glowed red one word pulsed over and over.

  Commit

  Commit

  Commit

  Tenemi looked at the final key on the pad and pressed enter.

  Nine

  Joakim didn’t consider himself a cruel man, yes he was a violent man who had led a violent life. He had killed, maimed and by some men’s standards butchered his way across the known world, but he wasn’t inherently cruel. That’s not to say he shield away from cruelty when the need presented itself. He’d dragged pushed and beat the weasel down to the tenth level without them coming across anyone, he’d decided this was as safe a place as any and now was time to get some answers.

  Joakim knew men like the weasel probably didn’t break that well under torture but then the weasel had never met a man like Joakim. In his years with the Regulators he’d seen a lot of nasty things done by nasty men. And being a studious man Joakim had learned from the experiences. Red hot metal, needles, ground glass and a particularly acidic excretion from the flying fishes of the Lapotos Ocean could all have varying affects at loosening tongues when applied correctly. Seeing he had no access to the last item Joakim decided to resort to the rest of the list starting with glass.

  As it was he had misjudged the weasel. He had barely dragged the man into one of the rooms, which again was the exact copy of the one he had been in, smashed several glasses and begun to grind them into fragments inside a cover he’d took off a cushion than the man started babbling.

  “You want to know what’s going on I’ll tell you….I’ll tell you…Jakamo Boskags is in charge, well least he’s in charge of the men that damned A’yai is calling all the shots, did I tell you we were under contract of the A’yai, well I say the A’yai I don’t know if all of them or if this one
is just gone rogue but it does do that glassy stare thing they all do when they’re talking to each other, Tenemi it calls itself, why it has a name I don’t know not like they’re like us like they need names, we have the Highlord, all his men are dead or under key, we orchestrated the troubles in the south there is no..”

  Joakim hit him hard knocking him to the ground, the man was rambling and though sense there was the tinge of the manic to his voice. Joakim had seen prisoners lose control of themselves under torture and talk themselves to death, he wasn’t done with this one yet so needed him calm. Joakim was also a little angry, the man was a soldier he should have at least endured a little discomfort before spilling everything he knew. The weasel sat himself up rubbing at his lip then looking at the blood on his hand, some of the old fire that had been in his eyes earlier was back, Joakim hit him again just to get his point across some more.

  “Now shall we try this again?” He picked up the cushion cover and began slapping it against the palm of his other hand. “So this A’yai has some plan that requires the Highlord and his Keep?” The weasel shrugged.

  “It never told us much except that we had to have our men here this evening and the tower had to be secured before moonrise.”

  “Why moonrise?” Joakim leaned in making the weasel flinch back his eyes locked on the cushion cover full of glass.

  “No idea, maybe Boskags knows but he never told me I’m just the muscle.” Joakim barked a laugh and the weasel’s face reddened.

  “And you’re doing such a grand job of that.” The weasel tried to get up and Joakim hit him again knocking him back against the wall, his head hitting with a dull clunk. “Where are the rest of your men?”

  The weasel rubbed at the back of his head with his hand. He glared up at Joakim with a mixture of hatred and shame, any bravado he might have had now all gone now he had shamelessly capitulated without Joakim even really trying. He hawked and spat bloody phlegm onto the floor.