The Hunt for the Three Roses

by Jason Hubbard

  When it was over, her limp body fell into Rainer’s hand, and he brought her close to savor the look of her charred skin and stilled eyes. “That’ll do, Nyx, that’ll do,” he muttered, then suddenly snapped her tiny figure in two.

  Twenty-two

  A bold little mouse hopped onto his right foot in its constant quest for food. Sean swiveled the foot around, sending the mouse scurrying away. The critter had awoken him, but that was okay since he couldn’t sleep very well anyway. Ever since he was tied to this chair in an uncomfortable position, he didn’t really sleep anymore as he did pass out for moments at a time. He always awoke with an aching neck and would futily slide his dry tongue along cracked lips.

  His belly rumbled for the umpteenth time, and all he could do was groan in response. Rainer had made sure to pour whiskey on his fresh wounds and bandage his hands and feet to inhibit blood loss, but he never gave his hostage anything to eat. On occasion, he would pour whiskey down Sean’s throat, giving him temporary relief from the constant, searing pain, but when the effect wore off, it left him just as parched as before. His bladder would also ache for release, and Sean was left with no choice but to urinate in his trousers, leaving a foul odor for him to gag on and the resident cockroaches something to drink.

  He could tell the passage of time from the presence of faint daylight from the upper doorway. That was how he marked his first day in this hellish prison, but at this point he couldn’t tell how long he’d been down here. It was getting hard for him to think and concentrate, and his vision was blurry more often than not. The room was still freezing cold, but he shivered less than he used to. He believed he was going into shock, his precious body heat lessening by the hour. If he didn’t get out of here soon, he was bound to pass out and never open his eyes again.

  He tried to think of good times, better times. He thought of his friend, Patrick, who told such clever and amusing stories while the army was on the march, and of Master Cypher, who had learned to bury the past and be a mentor to him once more. And he thought of Callie, who had fed him while he was her captive, and how she made his travels with Jonas bearable even though she could have remained distant with her new friends. But the more he thought of these times, the more they seemed like they belonged to another man entirely. He felt as if he was looking through the eyes of a complete stranger, gazing at loved ones who couldn’t have cared about him. No, not when they abandoned him like this, letting him die under the menacing gaze of a bloodthirsty killer. He couldn’t have been so lucky to know such wonderful people.

  He tried lifting his head, but he grew dizzy and had to shut his eyes and bring his head back down. A wave of nausea followed, prompting him to stick his tongue out as he dry-heaved. When it was over, he prayed to God for blessed release from this torture. He used to pray for rescue, but he had given up any hope of that a day ago. Or maybe it was two days ago, he couldn’t tell. Time had no meaning anymore, which was just as well since he felt he was dead already. All the Lord God had to do was cut his strings and make it official.

  He wondered what the entrance to Heaven would look like and whether or not he would be allowed through. Nothing was for sure since there was often no telling what God was thinking or how merciful he was. After all, Sean’s ultimate end was being drawn out like twine on a spindle while Rainer could miraculously survive a fatal stabbing with only a mark to show for it. Although Sean could understand why Rainer had God’s favor, he nonetheless felt it was misplaced.

  When he heard footsteps upstairs, he grew more alert and he forced his eyes open through sheer willpower. When the door opened, his breathing picked up and his poor, strained heart worked a little faster. He wondered what kind of story Rainer would tell him now—one born of anger or self-pity? No doubt Rainer would demand some kind of appropriate response from Sean, and then he would take another digit no matter what Sean said to him. So far Sean had survived each horrendous maiming, but maybe this time would be the last. As fresh pain tore through his body and more blood poured through the stump, his heart would finally cease its useless thumping and come to rest. It would be a blissful end, and at Heaven’s gate, he would state that he had been sent by one favored by God, so surely he would have to be allowed entrance. It wouldn’t be a dignified way to go, but that would be of no concern once he was in God’s loving embrace.

  Once he saw Rainer, he noticed something was a little off. Sean heard the clink of chain mail and could vaguely see a helmet, both of which Rainer didn’t wear. Rainer called out to him, but his voice was different. His captor had a very distinctive voice, stark and masculine, but now he sounded rather mundane. Sean could only utter something incomprehensible in reply, and then he was surrounded by several people. Seems Rainer had brought friends this time, and they would be just as merciless as they furthered his torment. He shook his head in a weak display of defiance, a pathetic show of force while tied in a chair. Rainer grasped his chin and held up his head, then placed his whiskey bottle on Sean’s lips. Sean had to drink, thinking it a mercy that his suffering would take place behind the haze of alcohol.

  But the liquid turned out to be water, not booze. Sean drank it greedily, and he was confused as Rainer’s friends cut apart his bonds, freeing his hands and legs. It wasn’t until he had a good look at a man’s concerned face when he realized he was mistaken. These men weren’t a band of thugs; they were city guardsmen They were saving him. He was finally free.

  They tried to bring him up on his feet, but he fell to the floor and began sobbing, his tears and mucus staining the cold stone. All of his pent-up sorrow, despair and anger were released all at once, and he silently thanked God for showing mercy when it hadn’t been too late.

  Once he had calmed down, the guards helped him walk up the stairs and out of the house with a man holding up an arm on each side. Sean’s missing toes made each step painful, so he tried to put most of his weight on his heels. He went out into early daylight where he gazed at the eerie brown sky and winced at the screeching noise of the Red Borough. He was thankful for the thick cloak someone put on him, for the breeze was strong and chilly, cutting through his newly grown beard stubble.

  He had to be carried out of the borough on a pallet and delivered to a carriage beyond a fence, for the carriage’s horses refused to enter the tainted atmosphere. Sean was given some rations to consume, including flatbread, apple slices, a carrot, and a flask of water. Once he was done, his mouth was still dry but his taste buds were quite pleased. One of the men he rode with tried asking him questions, but Sean was in no frame of mind to answer. He was frightfully weak and could hardly keep his balance. Worse still, his stomach threatened to empty itself of its newly acquired sustenance. It seemed his struggle for survival was not yet over.

  About thirty minutes later, he was brought to an abbey on the outskirts of the Nostromus district. The monks there were very accommodating, helping him reach a vacant room where they took off his soiled clothes and drew him a bath. Understanding that he was as weak as a newborn, they scrubbed every bit of filth from him and changed his bandages, and he conjured enough spirit to disinfect his wounds with a simple spell. Once he was dry, he was given new clothes that were clean yet a bit tattered. Throughout the process, the monks encouraged him to talk, and he was shocked at how difficult it was simply to speak. He could hardly form coherent sentences, and it was a struggle just to place his tongue in the correct formation. His mind was too foggy to work right, and his muscles ached from lack of use. It took a while, but in time his status improved, and he willed himself to give his name and address to his helpful caretakers.

  He was soon led to a dining hall and given a meal of steaming veal, a potato and vegetable broth. He was exhausted at this point, but he made sure to eat everything put in front of him, enjoying the warmth of tasty food while wrapped in his cloak. They were such simple comforts, but to a dying man they were like a desert oasis amid scorching sands.

  With his belly ful
l, he was then carefully led to a cot beside a flaming brazier, where he had the most restful sleep he had in a long time. It was troubled with bad dreams of a dark man who cut him up like a chef preparing supper, but when he awoke he was sufficiently refreshed. His eyesight was still a little unfocused, but his nausea had gone down and his skin wasn’t so clammy.

  He would have liked to forget about his ruthless captor for the rest of the day, but an investigator from the guard was there to interview him. He again had trouble speaking but shortly got up to speed and told his story. He left nothing out, including how Rainer shrugged off every spell he and his partners threw at him. The investigator said it was a little hard to believe, yet he had to believe it since the guard had retrieved the bodies of the other mages the other day. The way they had been slashed to death left little doubt to Sean’s recollection of events.

  He later sat down with an abbot to discuss theological matters. The abbot read Holy Book passages about God’s great love and mercy, and he claimed that Sean’s ordeal did not come from God’s desire to punish him but from man’s folly instead. It was his flesh-and-blood captor, not God, who tormented him, and the blame lied with that man alone. Sean chose not to inform the abbot about Rainer’s unbelievable powers of healing, because he wanted the abbot to rest well without knowing such an unstoppable monster existed.

  Sean spent the rest of the day in the abbey, consuming hearty meals and taking walks around the property. Shortly after nightfall, he lied back down in his room and found it hard to fall asleep. Thoughts of Rainer plagued his mind, keeping him ever fearful of the darkness enveloping the building. His tormentor could be lurking somewhere in the halls at that very moment, his boiling blood crying for vengeance. All he had to do was enter the small room, take three quick steps, and plunge a blade into Sean’s chest. His pride would be restored, and Sean would learn too late that safety and security were nothing more than an illusion.

  He was groggy when it came time for him to leave, yet he eagerly got up and complied with his caretakers’ instructions. Once he was bathed and his bandages were changed, he got into a carriage from the city guard and soon arrived back home.

  Count Guyver personally greeted him by the front door, inviting him to a much-needed hug despite the awkwardness his crutches brought. Sean was similarly greeted by the count’s wife and sister-in-law, and Master Brown patted his back and gave him a yellow potion that would help with his nausea. “Lessons are postponed until you’re back on your feet,” Master Brown said. “Take as much time as you need to recover.”

  After Sean had breakfast with the count where he was assured he would never have to go after Rainer or any such criminal again, he retired to his room where the servants had a lit brazier that would help him with his leftover shock symptoms. His hunger pangs had alleviated, but he still felt rather weak, and his wounds were sore. Still, upon nestling himself beneath soft covers under windows aglow with sunshine, he felt he could fall asleep once again, giving his body the time it needed to reconstruct itself.

  He was nearly about to lose consciousness when he heard footsteps and turned to a woman’s silhouette in the doorway. “Sean … may I come in?”

  He got into a sitting position and smiled. “Please do. I was wondering when I’d see you.”

  Callie moved the chair from the study desk next to the bed and sat down. She appeared guarded, unable to look at him for long as her fingers were tightly latched together. “I know what he did to you. I thought I lost you, Sean, and I’m sorry … sorry for getting you caught up in this.”

  She sounded close to tears, and while Sean was touched, he was afraid the tears would come for the wrong reason. “Don’t … don’t be sorry for this. That’s what Rainer wants; he wants you to feel guilty. He’s trying to wear you down so much that you’ll want to turn yourself in to him. But, Callie, you have nothing to feel sorry for. What Rainer is doing is all on him. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

  She looked at him, her features a mix of emotions. “Thank you, but … I am partly to blame. I could have done more to stop him, but I didn’t. I just let him go.”

  “Yeah, I heard. A sword through the belly and a knife to the throat.” He explained to an astonished Callie how Rainer had shown him his scars then demonstrated how he could heal quickly from a mortal stab wound. “He didn’t know himself he could cheat death, so how could you?”

  Callie was silent awhile, then asked, “What does this mean? Does he have a spell on him?”

  “I don’t know of any spell that can do that, but it must be.” He decided not to say anything more for fear of eavesdroppers. If there was one thing he learned this year, it was that speaking openly of vital secrets was unwise.

  “He’s more dangerous than I thought,” Callie said. “But if you chop off his head, I’m sure that’d stop him.”

  “Wish I thought of that,” Sean said with a weak smile.

  “I’m sorry for what happened to you. Doesn’t mean I’ll do what Rainer wants, but I will make it up to you. I’ll stay and do whatever you’d like. If there’s something you need, just ask.”

  Sean didn’t want to take advantage of Callie’s sense of guilt, but he decided to humor her for now and asked for some water. She left the room and returned with a glass and pitcher. Back in the abbey, Sean had drunk from a cup by tilting it over while keeping the cup’s base on the dining table; he was so weak he hadn’t trusted himself enough not to drop it. Fortunately, he didn’t drop the glass Callie gave him, reassuring him that he was recovering already.

  “When last I heard of you, you were out with Sir Barnes,” he said.

  “Oh … yes … I was. It was very sudden, he just came to the house and asked me out to dinner with the count’s blessing.”

  “That’s good. He seems like a gentleman, and he can teach you some new moves.”

  Callie turned to him in shock. “Moves!? What moves?”

  “You know … sword moves?”

  “Oh, those, of course! Yes, he can if I’m up to it. I mean, we never …” She closed her mouth before it got her in any more trouble, and Sean simply shook his head in confusion.

  “If he’s an excellent swordsman, he can protect you,” Sean said. “Magic can’t even touch Rainer, but a blade sure can. Just separate the head, and he’ll be just a bad memory. Lord knows I can’t handle a blade like this …” He raised his hands to show the damage: His left hand was missing its ring finger, while his right was missing its ring and little fingers. Callie gasped and looked away. “I doubt I can handle a sword very well like this. At least Sir Barnes doesn’t have the same problem.”

  “Yes, but I’m not going out with him until you get better. I swear to you, I’ll be here until you’re okay.”

  “You don’t have to do that on my account.”

  “I know, but I want to. Sir Barnes can wait.”

  “Then you have my gratitude. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to rest.”

  Callie nodded then gingerly took his right hand in both of hers. “Sweet dreams,” she said before exiting. It was a thoughtful sentiment, but Sean knew he couldn’t oblige. No one could live through such an ordeal and feel safe immediately after. Nightmares would haunt him for weeks to come, reminding him of his fragile mortality, and he’ll surely have the occasional restless night for the rest of his life. Still, just knowing how Callie and the other house residents cared about him would help him cope. It wouldn’t solve anything about Rainer, but with any luck his tormentor will be captured and Sean will never have to worry about him ever again.

  Then again, if he did correctly see what was on Rainer’s upper arm, then Rainer was a larger threat than anyone could anticipate.

  Twenty-three

  The next morning, a man let himself into Sean’s room while the young mage was still in bed. He introduced himself as Ren Carter, who was tasked by the count to assist Sean in his recovery. “You can�
��t get your strength back by staying in bed every day,” Ren said. “So that’s where I come in. Time to get up!”

  Sean pulled his sheet over his head. “Whatever he’s paying you, I’ll give you double for five more minutes.”

  “Son, for that kind of money, you could ask for ten. But we both know you don’t have it, so rise and shine!”

  Sean drowsily obeyed, getting himself dressed and following his new instructor to the dining hall for breakfast. Ren appeared to be in his forties, with steely brown eyes and perfectly coifed black hair with streaks of gray. He wore the leather tunic of a house guard and was armed with a falchion, though he left out the standard chain mail undercoat. Ren outlined their schedule for the day, which was a series of physical tasks that would test Sean’s limits. “I don’t expect you to do everything, but I need you to do the very best you can,” he said. “In two days, you should be a lot stronger than you are now.”

  After they ate, they went outside for a walk through the quarter. Sean was made to carry two sacks with a few rocks inside, and he was to keep his elbows crooked to work out his biceps. It proved challenging early on due to his missing fingers. His left hand was bad enough with its missing ring finger, but his right hand had only three digits. It was disconcerting how much difference the absence of two fingers made, since his index and middle fingers got tired quickly. He had to clutch the sack by wrapping his palm around it, without relying on his fingers so much. It strained his hand a little, so he took little breaks to ease the discomfort. This small trial confirmed his belief that he might not be able to wield a sword like he used to. Such a weapon needed the full grip of four fingers to be properly used.

  Callie was also there for the walk, carrying two flasks of water and bandages should they be needed. She didn’t interfere with Ren’s instructing, but her mere presence helped to motivate Sean to push himself. Seeing him so weak and frail must be tough on her, so Sean wanted to recover quickly to ease her nagging sense of guilt.