The Hunt for the Three Roses

by Jason Hubbard

  Once the trio reached the nearest market square, Ren treated them to some apples as they sat on the edge of a fountain. As they chatted about day-to-day concerns, Sean couldn’t help but look around for Rainer. His ordeal in the Red Borough had left him gripped in paranoia, always believing that the demented man wanted to finish him off as soon as he found him. He even searched the rooftops, remembering how he first saw Rainer drop from above a house. He caught Callie looking along with him, and she rubbed his arm and told him there was nothing to worry about. Sean knew she meant well, but he didn’t appreciate being told such an obvious little white lie.

  Once they returned home, Sean rested a bit then took up archery in the backyard. Ren suggested he pull on the bowstring a few times without an arrow. With his first attempt, Sean’s hands shook so much he almost dropped the bow. In future attempts, he pushed himself less and took short breaks after drawing the string for prolonged periods. In time he grew more confident and the shaking lessened, so he took to shooting arrows. His shots were rather pathetic compared to the guards who practiced beside him, but Ren said he was making fair progress and encouraged him to continue the pace. “Asturia wasn’t built in a day, and neither will you be,” Ren said. “Just take it one day at a time.”

  After a small lunch, Sean was made to do sit-ups and squats, and here his confidence took a dive. He grew more weary than he would have liked, and he wondered if his strength would ever return to the way it was. Perhaps Rainer had done the kind of damage that could never be repaired, like a tree stripped of bark by bear claws.

  Master Brown later removed Sean’s bandages and surveyed the wounds. The stubs were still capped with clotted blood that wasn’t ready to peel off, but thanks to Rainer’s whiskey and Sean’s spell, there were no signs of infection. A funny thing was that with the bandages off, Sean felt as if his fingers were still there and that he could move them as he could before—just as Count Guyver said about his missing leg. The memory of his fingers was still fresh, and his mind partly assumed that nothing was amiss.

  Brown then wanted to see if Sean could replenish his magic reserve, so he gave his young protégé a quarter of a vial of red potion. It worked to give Sean some magic, but it also made his stomach roll like an ocean wave. He retreated to bed with a bucket beside him in case he had to spew his lunch. He vowed to try another dose the next day, even though he expected a repeat reaction.

  That night, he awoke screaming and nearly rolled out of bed. The nightmare stood out vividly in his thoughts: He was taking a stroll through the city with a faceless companion (whether it was Ren or Callie, he couldn’t recall) when Rainer suddenly jumped down and cracked open the companion’s head with a rock. Sean ran for dear life through dark alleys and nondescript streets, but Rainer inevitably caught up to him and plunged a dagger deep into his chest, puncturing a lung.

  Sean entered the hall, clutching his hands together to keep them from shaking. He was met by a guardsman and Callie who was in her nightshift. “What happened? What did you see?” the guard asked.

  Sean shook his head, his eyes downcast in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, it was just a dream. I didn’t see anything.”

  Callie stepped up, looking relieved. “Damn, Sean, when I heard you, I thought … well, it was just a dream. Did you leave your room to get something?”

  “No, I just need to walk it off. Sorry to disturb you.”

  The guard returned to his station, and Callie went back to her room, her concerned eyes glued on his until she went through her door. Sean turned his hands into fists, furious at himself for letting the torture affect him so. He may have left the cellar, but Rainer was tormenting him still. If he were to fully recover, Sean would have to expunge all thoughts of Rainer. The man’s face, his voice, his curved dagger—all traces of these would have to disappear, never to return.

  But as Sean slipped back into his bed, he sighed and realized he wasn’t at fault for this incident. The blame was all Rainer’s, no one else. He didn’t have to do what he did, but he did it anyway of his own volition. Sean was simply angry at himself because he hated to see Callie so worried. He should have figured out a way to capture Rainer, even if he had to do it alone. Then Callie wouldn’t have to fret so much.

  Of course, Callie was thinking the same thing. She had also failed to put an end to Rainer, so it wasn’t as if she could think any less of Sean for his own failure. They were in the same boat together, two young people terrorized by a sadist on the loose. There was no reason for either of them to feel so guilty.

  He held onto that thought, and it let him fall asleep quickly and soundly.

  A few hours later, Ren woke him up for another round of physical therapy. The schedule was the same as yesterday’s, only Ren was more demanding. He urged Sean to jog down the street partway as he clutched the sacks of rocks, and he had Sean do sit-ups at the fountain before buying him a pear and a bottle of fresh milk.

  The morning’s clear skies had become overcast just before noon, when it was time for Sean’s archery practice. The young mage was nearly spent, but he drummed up the willpower to strike a bullseye from just over two meters away. Callie was also at practice, and she remarked how far he was coming along in his recovery. Ren agreed, although Sean still felt he had a long way to go before he could get as fit as he was in his army days.

  The training would have went on if the gray sky hadn’t suddenly unleashed its payload. Everyone rushed indoors where they ate lunch and found other ways to pass the time. Ren allowed Sean a long rest which was thankfully free of awful dreams. Afterward, Sean asked Master Brown for another dose of a potion, making sure to do so before supper. Brown gave it to him hesitantly, keeping a slop bucket at hand in case his student got nauseous again. Fortunately, Sean’s stomach didn’t protest as much as it did before. There was still nausea, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. Both tutor and student took it as a sign that he could do spells again as long as he didn’t do anything too taxing. While Master Brown did not yet want to continue lessons as usual, he did give Sean some reading assignments from his own extensive collection of grimoires.

  That night, after some light studying and rigorous strength-training, Callie caught him in the upstairs hall before retiring. “How are you holding up?” she asked.

  “I’m faring well, thanks. I did better than yesterday, and the pain has gone down.”

  “Good. By the end of the year, you’ll be just fine. Just keep at it.”

  Sean shook his head. “I can’t stop thinking about him,” he said darkly. “Even when I close my eyes, I see him. He’s still out there, probably thinking about me—the one who got away.”

  “No, he let you go because …” She sighed deeply. “He wanted me to see you like this. He knew you were close to me. Now that you’re here, he doesn’t want you anymore. You don’t have to worry so much.”

  “But you’ve been wrong before, Callie. You know how obsessed he is.”

  Callie stepped back and looked away. “I know … and maybe you’re right. I’m just trying hard not to worry myself.”

  “The guards have been searching for days and haven’t found him. Have you heard anything?”

  “Oh, you don’t want to know. You should leave it be.”

  Sean grew closer, determined. “Callie … what has he done?”

  She hesitated, studying a landscape painting with a frown. “He sent a note to the guard Wednesday, demanding they hand me over by a bridge in Hayes or else he’ll kill again. They ignored it and told everyone to stay watchful.”

  “And did he do anything?”

  She nodded bitterly. “Two more murders. Both isolated women. He wrote my name by them.”

  Sean turned away, digging his nails into his palms. “If he can keep killing like this, I doubt the guards will ever find him. He’s too careful, too slippery, and I feel so damn helpless. I wish there was something I could do, but the last
time I did something …”

  “Oh ye of little faith,” Callie said, trying on a brief smile. “The guards don’t rely on magic, so they’ll get him. They’re not allowed to rest until they do.”

  “I hope so.” He held up his hands, wiggling his fingers and stubs. “I’m grateful to be alive, but I’ll never be free until that monster is caught. Of course, handing you over won’t happen; I’ll see to it.”

  “Well …” She made to say more but then shook her head. “It’s nothing. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Goodnight.”

  For a moment, she looked at him with rounded eyes, then appeared unsure of herself before giving a friendly smile and entering her room.

  Sean got into his nightshift then took a long look out his window, searching for any moving shadows among the raindrops and watching guardsmen. He desperately didn’t want to end up like Dan, savagely murdered in a bed, and he assured himself it wouldn’t come to that. This wasn’t an inn but a nobleman’s house under guard by trained men and women, and there was no commotion to mask the sounds of a struggle. Any disturbance would be investigated right away, and Rainer would find it hard to escape.

  Still, such reassurance didn’t erase the memories of a blade slicing into his flesh and sawing through bone. Rainer had enjoyed doing it, and he might take the risk to do it to him again. Plus, Sean’s death might be the “tipping point,” as Rainer had put it, that would make Callie want to turn herself in.

  He went to bed with a heavy heart, and it took him a long time to fall under. He was reminded of his early days in the army, when he was afraid someone might sneak into his tent and kill him in his sleep. It was an irrational assumption then since he was surrounded by comrades, but his current fear seemed justified. Someone was out there with the means and motive to end his life, and it could happen at any time.

  The only good thing about this restless night was that he didn’t cry aloud when he dreamed of Rainer; he had managed to waken before the killer’s blade reached him.

  Twenty-four

  The rain had let up by sunrise, so Sean and Ren jogged through puddles with heavy boots. The air was brisk and refreshing, and the beautiful sunshine that broke through the remaining storm clouds made Sean forget all about Rainer for a good while. He took breaks less frequently, and Ren led him through a forested part of the city with an inclined path that made Sean’s legs burn like kindling.

  Just past noon, he asked Callie to join him for a walk, promising not to stray far due to the constant threat from Rainer. They agreed to go the market to have a simple lunch, which Sean carried in a rucksack. Callie wore the green jerkin she had bought at the nation’s border, now soft and clean after a good washing, plus a black cloak that reminded Sean of her days as a mischievous clanswoman.

  “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you away from the house,” Sean said halfway to the market square. “You’re not going to believe this, but Rainer has a tattoo that looks like Jonas’, only his is purple and has scars all over it. I think he cut himself there to try and be rid of it.”

  Callie halted and looked at him incredulously. He looked back and nodded at her, and she fell back into step beside him. “You’re right, I can’t believe that. It’d be too much of a coincidence if he’s actually one of … them.”

  “But it explains why the King wants him brought in alive; he otherwise wouldn’t care either way.”

  “That makes sense. Rainer rose to prominence around two years ago—just after Micah disappeared. And—” She suddenly clutched his arm. “Holy shit, it explains why he can’t be killed!”

  “Yes. It says in the Holy Book that Micah healed quickly, and he once survived an assassination attempt. Rainer got that from him.”

  “I should have known! Wow, this really puts things in perspective. But if Micah could heal like Rainer, then how could he die by crucifixion?”

  “People have asked that for a long time. He could have bled out, suffocated, or expired from the heat if the sun was strong enough. I can only guess that fast, miraculous healing could only do so much to protect him.”

  “I see. But Sean … I don’t know very much about Micah, but I do know he wasn’t a killer. Hell, didn’t he raise someone from the dead?”

  “Micah taught about the virtues of peace, tolerance and love—a far cry from Rainer, all right. It was hard for me to understand, too, but I had a long time to think about it. The Twinning Spell splits a person’s mind and distributes the pieces among the twins or triplets. Jonas must have received Micah’s positive aspects while Rainer got the negative ones.”

  “Yes, but still, how could a killer like Rainer come from a peaceful man like Micah? I just don’t see how it works.”

  “Micah may have been the Son of God, but he was also a man. He was God’s Son made flesh, constructed like any other person. I believe that within every person, regardless of disposition, lies a dark side that is concerned with survival, revenge and the like. One only needs a strong reason for that dark side to surface. A troubled childhood, the murder of a loved one, an unfaithful spouse—these can send a good person over the edge and tap into feelings they’d never known before. It’s up to every one of us to set up limits to keep those feelings—that dark side—at bay.”

  “And Rainer doesn’t have those limits.”

  “Right. He has no limits because he is only part of a whole. Micah’s dark side, which he kept under control as most people do—that’s all Rainer has.”

  “I never knew Micah was an adept sneakthief, either.”

  Sean shrugged. “I suppose the potential for such skills are inherent in all of us, too. So, Callie, do you see what this means?”

  “It means he must be brought in alive?”

  “Yes, because if he is slain, who knows what God would do about it. It’s bad enough Micah was split into three, but if any one of them are killed, what might God do in retaliation?”

  “Micah was hung on a cross, but God didn’t do much about that.”

  “That’s because Micah asked God to forgive his executors. This time may be different.”

  “Dammit, Sean, if Micah could see into the future, he should have seen himself being split into three. He should have taken steps to prevent that so Rainer wouldn’t be created! So why didn’t he?”

  Sean forgave her the outburst, knowing she was as equally worried as he but showed it differently. “I have no answer for that; I only know what I saw that night in the cellar. He is definitely one of the Three Roses.”

  They came to the market where they shopped around for any new clothing that caught their eye. Callie looked closely at a shiny steel bracelet adorned with a sparking peridot, but she passed by it to get some new trousers and a blue undershirt. They then sat on the lip of the fountain where Sean brought out a block of cheese, a bread loaf, and a bottle of grape juice.

  “I’d like to thank you for caring about me so much,” Sean said. “I know I haven’t trusted you as much as I ought to—”

  “No, don’t apologize for that. There’s no need. I mean, I haven’t been exactly saintly myself.”

  Sean lifted a corner of his mouth. “Oh, so I guess I don’t need to give you this, then.” He produced from a pocket the bracelet Callie had looked at earlier. He had bought it when they had been separated.

  “You didn’t,” she said once she stopped gawking. “But you shouldn’t have; it was expensive.”

  “It’ll set me back some, but I needed some way of showing you my thanks.”

  “You didn’t need to, but … thank you, Sean.” She fitted the bracelet tightly around her wrist and admired the sparkle of the olive jewel.

  “It’s beautiful on you. Now it just needs an outfit to go with it. I’m sorry, but that will be on you.”

  She gave a smile that carried a hint of sadness. Before either of them could speak further, Master Brown approach
ed in a formal brown robe. “Ah, there you are, Sean. Miss Callie, how do you do?”

  “I’m good, thanks.” She was about to show off the bracelet, but Brown cut her off.

  “Good, good. Sean, how are you feeling?”

  “It’s been quite a battle, but I’m doing better.”

  “Good! It does my heart well to see you like this. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about something. Have you ever thought about getting a familiar?”

  The question made Sean think back on some of his earliest magic lessons. “Sure I have, but I always decide against it because I like my privacy, which you can’t have with a familiar.”

  “I understand. I’ve had three familiars in my life, and I let each one go because I craved privacy, too. But they were good friends while we were bonded, and I don’t regret having them. One of them was an undine. Do you know what an undine is?”

  “An elemental that lives in lakes and streams. They supposedly have mastery over water.”

  Master Brown chuckled. “‘Supposedly,’ you say? I assure you, my undine was very powerful because it could move water with such great force! Whether it got it from a bucket or a river, it could turn water into a weapon few could match.”

  “Sounds dangerous,” Callie said.

  “Yes, but undines aren’t necessarily a threat to people—not unless you endanger them in some way. Well, yesterday an undine found its way into Marie’s Chapel not far from here. It has a beautiful indoor fountain fed by the Arlen Tributary, and now the undine is roaming around that fountain, making a nuisance of itself. It happens sometimes when it rains and heightens an undine’s wanderlust, and the chapel usually calls on me to coax it out of there. But if you’d like, you can make it a familiar. Undines are very rare, so an opportunity like this doesn’t come along often.”