Double Life - Book 1 of the Vaiya Series

by Vaiya Books

“Lovely thought,” said the first thief, laughing maliciously. “It’s our way of sayin’ thanks.”

  “It’s dirty revenge,” replied the second, a broad-shouldered man, with an heir of authority about him. “She refuse to marry me; we retaliate.” He coughed. “We make the whole family pay for her crime.”

  So focused on the bad grammar the Mafia men spouted out, Jimmy absentmindedly leaned forward, causing one of the crates to inch forward. Dialogue immediately halted. Footsteps drew nearer. His heart hammered; his muscles trembled. They’d spotted him and there was nothing he could do.

  “Looks like we’ve caught ourselves a spy,” said the second thief, clearly the thief leader by his rich apparel, as he clutched Jimmy’s shirt with one hand and effortlessly dragged him out from his hiding place into the alleyway, where he flung him mercilessly onto the dusty street.

  As Jimmy tumbled across the ground for several seconds before eventually getting a hold of himself and lifting himself into a squatting position, the thief leader, gazing at him, immediately recognized him, grinning knowingly as only a villain could. “You the oddly dressed guy we robbed earlier,” he said, his smile growing more wicked by the moment. “Well, your day just gonna get even worse.” With deftness, the muscular man drew his dagger, slicing it at Jimmy’s throat.

  But Jimmy was ready for him, and suddenly leaned his head backwards, avoiding his sharp blade by a mere two inches.

  This maneuver infuriated the thief. He lunged at him again with startling speed, when a sudden burst of adrenaline overpowered Jimmy and he kicked the thief so hard in the stomach before his weapon could cut into him, causing the man to tumble through a few crates, knocking them down, and land backwards on the ground, his dagger whirling through the air and landing in the ground sharp side up, nearly gashing his foot. All eyes, devilish as a hyena’s, instantly turned on Jimmy in frenzied hatred.

  “Brazen idiot!” yelled the first thief, as Jimmy scrambled to his feet and faced the man with utter horror in his eyes, realizing he didn’t stand a chance against all of these men and that running wasn’t even an option, as they’d catch him in a heartbeat. The only thing he could do now was back away slowly and hope they’d change their minds or find something else to interest them.

  While Jimmy started backing up with caution as if each move would trigger an avalanche, the man closed in for the kill, shouting, “This is for wounding Cargamur!” Leaping forward, the shaggy bearded man, aimed his sword straight at Jimmy’s stomach.

  Evading the blade, feeling a fountain of raw energy coursing through him, Jimmy scooped up the dropped dagger and parried a powerful strike to the heart. Then, a weird, ethereal sensation spread throughout his body, causing all his skin, muscles, and bones to tingle.

  Before he could ponder what was happening to him, the thief dove his sword into his abdomen.

  Time seemed to stop. Jimmy let out a blood-curdling scream of terror, his heart bursting with fear, tears filling his eyes, as he backed away from the thief, holding his stomach tightly, expecting pain to course through his body any second. Rage burned into his heart. He couldn’t die! Not now! He shouldn’t even be here!

  As Jimmy stood there in a wild panic sinking to his knees, the attacking thief pulled out his sword with glee, a bloodthirsty glint in his eyes, before he glanced at Jimmy. Then his countenance immediately darkened.

  Plucking a cluster of dull white weeds from the ground, he quickly backed away from Jimmy, holding out the weeds as if to ward him off. “Sunlight dispels shadows!” he continued repeating with a stammering tongue, as if the words would yield him magical protection.

  But Jimmy just ignored him, hope and astonishment gushing into his mind. Why wasn’t he bleeding? Why didn’t he feel any pain?

  Staring down nervously at the spot where the thief had plunged in his sword, Jimmy noticed that his shirt wasn’t even torn. It was as if the sword had passed right through his stomach--as if his body were incorporeal.

  In awe, heart thumping, he failed to notice as a short, stubby thief hurled a butcher knife at his neck. However, instead of piercing through his neck, the knife flew straight through his body and embedded itself in a wooden door behind him.

  “Cool!” Jimmy murmured to himself, astounded, eyes wide, heart pounding with excitement and astonished wonder. Unexpected confidence gushed into his heart, replacing the stronghold of fear that had been there but moments ago.

  As the thieves stared at him in stupefied horror as if gazing at a demi-god, Jimmy turned around and looked at them, slipping a serious brooding look on his face, taking full advantage of their fear, not knowing if another one of their strikes would produce the same uninjured result for him.

  “Leave the poor blacksmith alone,” he demanded, in a deep voice, both rasping and snake-like, one he borrowed from the Ringwraiths in Lord of the Rings. He strutted confidently towards the crates meaning to pass through them, but tumbled on the ground instead, which startled him, shaking his courage.

  Quick to the kill, three thieves skewered him with their knives, but their weapons again passed harmlessly through his body as if he were made of air. Demoralized by his invincibility, Cargamur, the thief leader--a man with a tangled head of black hair and a juniper-colored cloak--and one of his men fled off into the night.

  Witnessing this with amusement, Jimmy took full advantage of this cowardice act. “Enough foolishness.” He stood up, recovering quickly from his fall, and brushed off his shirt, wiping a spot of mud from his face, concealing the horror he felt at seeing knives repeatedly stabbed through his body. “Go back into your dens and hide.”

  But the short thief had other ideas. Running at Jimmy, he wrapped his arms around him and tried to strangle him, but his arms passed through his neck as if he were a ghost.

  “Get back!” shouted Jimmy, as he shoved the man abnormally hard, causing him to fly six feet backwards and ram into the wall of a house. Witnessing his sudden strength, as a twinge of guilt raced through his mind at having injured the man, Jimmy looked at his glowing blue hands and his eyes grew even wider. Just what was happening to him? Was he turning into a monster? a superhero?

  One of the thieves broke his thoughts, asking a question along that train of thought. “Who are you?” he shouted, voice shaking, keeping a safe distance from him.

  Jimmy quickly assumed his new role. “I’m the ruler of justice,” he replied darkly, stepping slowly towards him, a grave look on his face.

  Backing away from him like fearful cowards, the thief and two of his friends continued muttering among themselves in inaudible tones.

  But not all were so intimidated. Seeing his comrades’ fears, one of the thieves only grew bolder. “Ruler of justice, huh?” spat out a short thief with a brown mustache. “Then you’re goin’ ta have ta die!” Deftly unscrewing the lid to the jar he held, the thief then hurled the toxic green contents towards Jimmy’s face. However, as soon as the liquid should have covered him, it passed right through him and splashed against the wall of the house instead, leaving the thieves in a state of shock.

  Witnessing his invincibility with awe, Jimmy grew more courageous and simply glared at them, sick of their relentless acts. “Enough of this!” he shouted, as he stalked over to where the thieves were with his fists clenched tightly. If he didn’t scatter this group soon, they’d likely discover some kind of loophole that could still kill him, or his invulnerability power would run out. Either way, he’d be dead in no time so he didn’t want to take any chances.

  As he got within arm’s length of them, though, the thieves attacked him again and this time from all angles. Knives passed through his face, daggers sliced at his feet--possibly looking for some Achilles’ heel--a short sword went in and out of his chest, and a rope was thrown around his neck and tightened, but they all just passed through him harmlessly. The thieves might as well have been throwing feathers at him for all the damage they were inflicting.

  Watching their desperate attempts to extinguish his life, Jim
my soon grew entirely disgusted by their bloodlust and their bold arrogance in not knowing when to quit. He had to put a stop to this--and now!

  Standing as still as possible given the fact that weapons were disappearing and reappearing through his body every moment, Jimmy clenched his fists even tighter, his arms and legs tensing, his breaths coming faster.

  A moment later, he let out a shout as he jumped backwards and suddenly threw his hands forward to try to intimidate them. Instead of just intimidating them, though, he unexpectedly sent a wave of energy into the six thieves, causing them to flatten against the side of the house, leaving them rather battered and entirely demoralized.

  Astonished by his power, Jimmy subconsciously stooped down and picked up a shiny knife that one of the thieves had dropped, putting it into his belt, while he just stared at them, feeling strangely conscientious that he’d hurt them--even though it was out of self-defense.

  As he continued to watch them just lying on the ground too weary to even get up, he suddenly heard loud military-type footsteps and clinking armor coming near him. Turning around, he saw twelve royal guards, carrying shiny spears and torches, beautifully clad in vivid purple and green cloaks with steel armor underneath, quickly marching towards the alleyway.

  Within a few seconds, they had completely blocked off all of the main routes of escape. Finally, these criminals would get what they deserved.

  As Jimmy eagerly awaited the outcome, the commander of the guard force, upon observing the thieves who were all huddled against the house, spoke sternly to them, his voice rich and resonant with trumpet-like power. “Forest Scourge!” he shouted. “The sun has arisen upon your crimes.”

  Mad terror in their wild eyes, the thieves, although injured and weary, still tried to break free, but the guards easily overpowered them, and, after seizing their weapons, shackled their arms and legs.

  Then they noticed Jimmy, black hair curling wildly, eyes tame and mellow now, a knife stuck into his brown belt. The commander marched up to him warily. “What are you doing here, boy?”

  “Defending my life,” he replied solemnly, gazing at the tall regal-looking man whose freshly polished visored helmet concealed all but his grim, judicial eyes.

  But the royal commander merely squinted, his eyes reduced to bluish orbs. Then he frowned. “Six deadly assassins against you? and all you have is a knife?” He cocked an eye. “You expect me to believe that?”

  Jimmy patted down his hair, biting down his irritation. “Actually there were eight of them; the other two got away.”

  “No, you’re mistaken,” the commander scowled at him with haughty contempt. “There were nine in total.”

  “Nine? But I don’t remember--”

  “You complete the circle,” the commander interrupted sharply, a frightful sneer forged onto his face. “I’ve seen it too many times.”

  Jimmy leaned forward, stunned by his accusation. “So you’re saying I’m a thief?”

  “No, that’s too soft of a title,” he replied, fists wrapped in black gloves covered with chain mail. “I was thinking murderer, arsonist, kidnapper.”

  At these harsh words, Jimmy could barely contain himself. “You’re wrong,” he blurted out bluntly, as he twisted his neck to the side, and pointed to the house behind him. “See that knife sticking out of the door? That’s from when one of them tried to kill me.” He continued, “And notice these fallen crates? I kicked one of the thieves into them. And see these footprints?”

  “It does look like a battle scene,” the commander finally admitted with a snarl, as two of his guards scouted out the area. “But it wouldn’t have had you not contrived it.”

  Annoyance swept through him. “Like I had any time to.” Jimmy frowned in disgust, seriously annoyed by this guy’s lack of common sense.

  “Oh, I know you did.” He sneered. “Nothing else clears the way.”

  But Jimmy just stared at him, both bewildered and exasperated. “And why do you think these criminals would go along with it, huh?”

  “Possibly you’re their leader,” countered the royal guard. “You certainly lie like one.”

  Now he was getting mad. He knew that asking about how he could be their leader when he was so much younger would likely not fly over too well as the man seemed averse to logic, so he asked another question instead. “And why don’t you think I was fighting them?”

  “You?” said the man, as he raised his eyebrows and smirked, his comrades looking equally amused. “You couldn’t hurt a river rat.”

  Were such rats weak in this country? He didn’t care to find out; he had a more pressing inquiry. “Yeah, I’m really liking your logic.” The commander gave him a dirty look, but he continued: “First you say I’m the thieves’ leader, then you say I’m weak.” He paused as he tapped his finger on his chin. “Something doesn’t add up. I’m not sure how it works in your country, but in mine, criminal leaders are generally the strongest of the group.”

  “And where is your country?” asked the commander haughtily, apparently only asking this question because he had no good comeback. Before Jimmy could reply, though, he made his own guess. “You’re one of those northerners, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah.” Illinois counted; it was in the northern half of the United States, after all, so it technically wasn’t a lie.

  The commander merely grunted. “Well, that settles it; no northerner could’ve stayed alive for even a fraction of a second.” Shackling Jimmy’s legs with a close-cutting iron band attached by a short chain, he told him to keep his arms to his sides and keep quiet. It felt like he was being arrested by a cop, only his hands weren’t in the air, and the experience was much more painful and humiliating.

  As Jimmy was just about to ask the commander why the thieves would let such a “pathetic northerner” be their leader, one of the guards stabbed him in the arm with something akin to a needle, instantly causing him to become extremely drowsy. Seconds later, he drifted off into a deep sleep.

  Chapter 23

  Sitting at a sturdy cherry wood table in Carakoth, Sarith’s capital, King Ralin Taverak pushed aside his paperwork as he bitterly thought back to the three unusual cases he was forced to rule in today.

  Usually, aside from matters of life and death, his judgment would not be needed, as the judges from the minor courts and the royal court would handle all cases. The one exception, though, was bizarre cases with no precedent. By royal decree, which his grandfather had written, only a king could decide on such important matters, as the fate of laws could be determined in such assemblies.

  Though he’d never particularly liked this law, as it only added to the insurmountable work he had to do each day, he tried not to gripe about it, at least not in front of his citizens. Kings weren’t guaranteed an easy life, after all.

  Still, though, on a day like today, he truly wished that his grandfather had never conceived such a law. Usually, at most, he’d have one of these special cases a month, but now he’d handled three in one day. He’d just have to hope that this wouldn’t become an everyday occurrence.

  Resting his head in his hands, he tried to burn away the image of the young girl screaming that he was being unjust, as she was dragged to the common prison. Though his verdict was perfectly reasonable given the circumstances, he didn’t like jailing women, especially one as young as she was. He knew all too easily how such a punishment could scar someone of her temperament for life.

  Still, the evidence was against her, as three witnesses proclaimed that they’d seen her steal a blacksmith’s newly forged iron sword. Though the sword couldn’t be found, he’d been through cases like this before and knew that it was likely either hidden away in some secret place or else buried underground. No, none of this bothered him. His sole source of discomfort came from her own testimony. She claimed that all three of the witnesses were conspiring against her and that they were the ones who told her to steal the weapon for them in the first place.

  Of course, such an idea was absurd.
All three of the witnesses were well-respected men in the community, and more importantly, richer than they’d care to admit. If they wanted to, they could have bought that sword themselves and it wouldn’t have even dented their income. It would make no sense for them to force this girl to do such an evil act when they could more than afford to pay for it themselves.

  Then why was he even troubling himself over her fate? One reason--he’d seen her eyes, and he knew that look. They spoke only of truth. Still, for him to accuse all three of the men would have taken far longer and would have made him lose the respect of his people. No one wanted a one-trial case to turn into a three-part conspiracy, at least not anyone he’d care to impress. Thus, he made his decision. Four years in jail for her. It seemed a small thing, as the crowd was demanding at least six, but her age and that look in her eyes made him decrease the sentence. The populace just had to accept it.

  He grimaced. But could he accept it? Turning his thoughts from such a dark case, he thought over the next one. This one had been much easier to rule in, and had hardly wasted any of his time. A middle-aged merchant had been accused of swindling his customers. The only catch--the merchant had accused his customers of swindling him.

  Never very skilled at the specifics of such a job, and at how items were priced and such and where the money went, he simply ruled against the merchant, forcing him to pay a high sum to his customers, to the happiness of the crowd. At least this case made him feel stronger about who he was.

  If his day had ended here, it would have been mildly acceptable. Sure, he would’ve never forgotten the girl’s pitying frown nor her words that he was unjust, yet he could’ve lived with that. No, it was the last case that really upset him....

  A light rap sounded on the door, knocking him from his thoughts. Setting himself upright, and placing his hands in a more regal position, he bid the outsider to enter. This had better be important.

  No sooner had he fully composed himself, than his trusted royal advisor Arvage strolled in, his tall-imposing form, clean-shaven face, and heavy brown cloak giving the man the very essence of dignity. Arvage’s handsome features made him very admired among all the women in his kingdom, yet for some reason, he’d never claimed to find any one that suited him.