Blood Loss: The Chronicle of Rael

by Martin Parece

  Rael hasn’t seen a city before, but Somi does not look anything like the great Western cities he has heard about. Some of the buildings are crude wooden constructs and some are made of granite, while most seem to be built out of bricks of orange-brown stone that he assumes to be common in the area. The streets are unpaved, simply dirt packed by the hundreds of feet that walk them every day. Sometimes, the wind blows and kicks up clouds of dust that move through the streets like a choking fume. There seems to be no reason to the city’s layout, except that many of the wealthier merchants maintain warehouses near the docks.

  It was there that Demon found work so that he did not risk depleting their decreasing coin. Demon’s imposing size and obvious stature as a warrior made him an easy choice for a merchant requiring protection for his wares. Rael wonders if Demon provides other services for the merchant as well, but he knows better than to ask the details of the arrangement. While Demon works, Rael spends most of his time reading.

  When they arrived in Somi, the first thing Demon did was find them a place to stay at the cheapest inn he could find. The food seems decent, but Rael discovered in the first two days that it is better to drink ale or wine than the rancid milk or foul smelling water that was available. The main room is kept more or less clean, except for the constant hazy smoke that clouds it, but the innkeeper pays no mind to the rooms he rents out. Rael and Demon spent the first three hours in their meager accommodations trying to wash away the smell of vomit and urine, not to mention drown as many fleas as possible.

  In the weeks after porting in Somi, Rael had taken to walking the city streets. He started with the well-travelled areas, generally avoiding the cramped alleys or places that looked generally unsavory. He looked at the wares of every vendor, though he had no money to buy anything. Once, Demon had given him a few silver coins, and Rael returned to the inn with no money, though he hadn’t spent it. Still, Rael generally went unmolested. Either the people of Somi had no interest in him, or the longsword on his hip presented him as a young man not to be trifled with.

  It was exploring the streets of Somi that Rael found the supplier of the various tomes, books and scrolls that he reads while Demon is about his business. He happened across a wooden stand in one of the city’s many makeshift bazaars. It had a roof made of animal furs that had been slathered with some sort of oily wax to cause water to run right off of them. An odd, old Tigolean woman sat on a tall stool, overseeing her wares – a wide array of different pens, coal pencils and inks. Rael looked over her offering several times while she sat and watched with a most disapproving glare. He started to pick up a vial of ink that was the deepest of red, and she slapped his hand away from it, speaking in angry sounding Tigolean.

  “I do not understand,” Rael stated.

  “No touch! Ink made from cord blood of Shet chief son. Very expensive. Very powerful,” she replied in Western, though her tone was no less angry.

  “Do you have ink? Normal ink?” he asked.

  “Of course! Normal ink easy.”

  That night, Rael quietly swiped a few gold coins from the sacks Demon kept hidden in the corner of their room. The old woman was surprised to see him return the next day and actually purchase a few vials of ink. He began to negotiate as he had seen buyers do with vendors all across Somi, and she replied only by saying, “You not know how much ink cost! Ink expensive! You pay my price!” Unable to read Tigolean, he had no idea what her price actually was, but when it was over, it seemed to Rael that he was again copperless.

  He continued to visit her stand day after day to see what new form of ink or pen she had, though he rarely purchased anything, and after a while the old woman took an interest in him. When he showed up, she would volunteer with pride to show him any new wares, and they became friends or at least friendly. One day, she pulled aside a large ragged curtain to reveal a dark doorway into the building behind her stand. Rael then understood that her real business was not ink, pen and parchment but books and scrolls. She allowed him to carefully thumbs his way through the various tomes and read as he liked, if he could and if he stayed inside. Over time, she began to teach him the Tigolean dialect written and spoken in Somi and even allowed him to take tomes back to the inn.

  It was one of these, a history of northern Tigol that Rael reads now while keeping an eye on the door, the servants and the whores. The latter of these had taken him by surprise when they first visited the inn. He’d heard of such women from Demon’s mouth on many occasions, and from what Rael can tell, Demon is rather fond of them. Rael has spent a fair number of nights asleep at a table in the common room, or curled up outside their door and Demon made all sorts of noises that generally threatened to shake the inn down. Rael handled the women-of-ill-repute’s advances with self-conscious silence and shyness, something they considered humorous.

  One heads his way now – a woman named Sevye. Like all of the younger Tigolean women, Sevye is exotic to Rael’s Western eye, with her creamy yellow skin and almond shaped eyes. She has traits common to young women of her race – a small and lithe figure, black hair and small breasts, barely concealed by some sort of silk brassiere. Her sheer, loose fitting and easily accessed skirt sways back and forth as she approaches, and Rael cannot help but notice that it is slit right up the middle to her…

  “What do you read tonight, Master Rael?” Sevye asks, sitting in an empty chair at his table. Sevye speaks several languages, including Western. Rael has heard from several of the inn-dwellers that she has a skilled tongue.

  Rael smiles at her interest and replies, “A history of northern Tigol.”

  “Is this one written also by this Chronicler of yours?”

  “I am not sure, but I promise you the Chronicler is real,” he replies, looking up at her face. She’s much closer to him than he realized, and the perfumed scent of her hair assaults his nostrils. He thinks about kissing her. After all she’s right there with her dark brown, almost black eyes, but the fear of doing it wrong banishes the idea.

  A mailed fist thumps heavily down onto the tabletop as Demon’s giant form falls into a chair opposite Rael’s. The construct complains a bit under his weight, but it somehow manages to hold the huge mass of steel, bone and flesh. So absorbed in Sevye, Rael had not noticed the Dahken’s entrance. He sighs inwardly at the interruption, and he swears a momentary look of disgust flashes across the whore’s face before she assumes her customary demeanor. A servant brings a flagon of poor ale to the table, as they always know to have it ready for Demon.

  “My feet betray me,” Demon grumbles. “I chased a thief for over two hours. By the time I caught him, I was feeling a bit harsh.”

  “Shall we pass on training this evening then?” Rael asks.

  “Why not? There’s nothing else for me to teach you that you won’t learn on your own.”

  “I like to hone my skills,” Rael replied.

  Demon pulls his skull helm from his head and drops it on the floor where his arms hang. He looks over the scene before him, and a grin comes to his face – a truly frightening sight to one who has not seen it before for his deformities. “I see you keep company with the greatest whore in Somi. Perhaps you have finally chosen to partake in the other of my two joys in life? Tell me whore, does he woo you with sweet words from that moldy book of his? Because I know a much easier, faster way.”

  Sevye wrinkles her nose with a grimace and says, “Wash away the stink of steel and sweat and maybe we could discuss business.”

  She leans in and places a soft kiss on Rael’s cheek before standing from the table. Rael watches wistfully as she swishes her way between tables and chairs, repaying the occasional bawdy look or comment with a smile. He sighs and looks back down at his reading, but he finds that he cannot concentrate with Demon’s quiet chuckling across the table. He looks up to see the older Dahken wears a vicious looking grin.

  “The whelp is in love with a whore,” Demon rumbles quietly, still chuckling. “Do not think she has any interest in you. It is only co
in she is after. She’s no different than any other merchant. It’s just her cunt she sells instead of grain.”

  Rael slams the tome shut angrily, drawing looks from some of the inn’s patrons, and he stands from his chair. He wants to say something; he opens his mouth for a moment and then closes it again. He tucks the heavy, leather bound tome under his right arm and stalks away to the wide doorway that leads to the accommodations. Demon fills the room behind him with laughter.

  Rael unlocks the room with a cheap copper key that he is fairly certain will unlock every other room in the inn and quickly closes the door behind him. He doesn’t bother locking it again as he knows that Demon will be there soon, and he lights a half dozen candles. The giant Dahken will likely drink until he can only stagger down the hall before he decides to sleep. The room is small, perhaps only ten feet in either dimension. Rael sits on his foul smelling straw filled mattress, placing the book beside him, and pulls his soft leather boots off one at a time. It surprises him when Demon’s massively armored form squeezes through the door, skull faced helm in hand.

  Demon unbuckles the leather strap across his chest and gently leans his great sword in the corner next to his own mattress. He stares at Rael, who avoids his gaze, as he slowly removes his plate armor and sets it with care on the floor. The soft linen undergarments he wears to protect his skin are soiled, soaked with sweat and stained with rust. Demon again begins to chuckle softly, and Rael looks up to see the unsettling grin on the malformed face.

  “Would you like me to buy the whore for you?” Demon asks with a leer. Seeing that Rael has no intent to respond, he continues, “You know, there’s nothing like the feel of a virgin, and you’d probably prefer that for your first time. Then again, I’m sure Sevye would be close. I understand she prefers to use her mouth.”

  “Be silent!” Rael snaps. Seeing Demon’s grin widen he adds, “I am trying to read.”

  “You’re a poor liar,” Demon says, pointing to the closed book next to Rael. He sits on his own bed, which creaks angrily under his weight, and then leans back against the wall to gaze into the distance. “I remember my first love as a boy. I was stupid to think that such a fine creature would have one such as me. She spurned me, but I came back. Eventually, her father and half his village drove me into the jungles. Oh, I had her eventually. A few years later I returned and slaughtered most of them until they ran from me into the jungles. She begged me to spare her life and the life of her child. I’d killed her husband already. I allowed her to pleasure me, but that wasn’t enough. I dashed her infant’s head against some rocks, and then I raped her every way I could think of next to his corpse. In the end, I couldn’t stand to look at her, so I pounded her head in with my bare hands.

  “You’re smart, boy,” Demon concludes, pulling his eyes back to Rael’s horrified face. “You picked a whore to fall in love with. She’ll love anyone for the right amount of silver.”

  “By the gods, I hate you,” Rael whispers.

  Demon explodes into raucous laughter, and Rael winces with the loudness of it in their small room. He suddenly turns to reach behind is bed where he keeps his stash of coins liberated from Sanctum, and just as quickly, Demon stands and bolts from the room. Rael simply stares after him in confusion. He sits and watches the open door, listening to the sounds of the main room beyond.

  Within minutes, the sound of Demon’s heavy footfalls reverberate through the floor as the man returns. He’s laughing at some joke or another, and Rael hears soft laughing from another voice as well. When Demon returns to the room, the supple form of Sevye is with him. When she sees Rael, her laughter suddenly stops, and she almost freezes in place.

  “Well come on then,” Demon growls as he pushes her down to her knees. “We made a deal, and I didn’t even have to wash away the stink of sweat and steel.”

  “You didn’t tell me he’d be here,” she replied, glancing almost fearfully at Rael.

  “What difference does it make,” he says with a sneer, his enlarging manhood already in his right hand. He opens his clenched left hand and flings some silver coins, and she flinches as they hit her in the face then clink to the floor. “There’s the rest of my coin. Now do as we agreed.”

  Without a second look at the incredulous Rael, Sevye moves in on her work. As she takes Demon’s member into her… Rael turns away and faces the wall, a sick feeling in his stomach. He wants to push Sevye away and beat Demon’s misshapen face into pulp, but he knows he’s no match for Demon physically. After a moment of staring at the wall, he closes his eyes as if it will block his ears from the sounds of Demon’s labored breathing, grunts and half-moans. Rael squeezes the wool blanket of his bed in clenched fists until his fingers hurt, and still the sound of Demon pleasuring himself with Sevye’s mouth continues. He considers maiming Demon with his longsword, and then Demon releases a great, long growl.

  Rael has heard the sound before, and he knows it is over. Demon pauses for a long moment, regaining his breath, and then says, “Now get out, whore.” The Dahken takes Sevye by the hair and nearly throws her into the hall outside their room. As the door slams shut behind her, Rael turns just in time to see that tears have made tracks in Sevye’s expensive makeup.

  “You see?” Demon asks, tucking his soon flaccid manhood back into his linen undergarments. “They’re all whores. They don’t care for you. You buy their affections with money, promises or threats, but don’t ever think a woman loves you.”

  “You are evil,” Rael declares quietly, bringing a roar of laughter from the huge man. Rael waits until his laughter subsides before saying, “I should kill you.”

  “Stupid boy, you’re welcome to try. Many have, but I think it will go the other way.”

  “So you will kill me then, just like you killed my parents that night years ago,” Rael says without thinking. It is as if a veil lifts from over his eyes, and he asks, “That was you, was it not?”

  The humor disappears from Demon’s face as if it never existed, and his deep voice rumbles back, “Yes. They would not’ve given you to me. I had no choice.”

  “You had every choice!” Rael screams back at him. “You could have talked to them!”

  “Why for? No one listens to me. All they see is this,” Demon says with a gesture toward his face.

  “You did not know them. They would have listened!” Rael half shouts, have wails. “Why?!”

  “I do what I must. The world has taught me my place,” Demon replies darkly.

  Rael draws his longsword and attacks before he realizes what he is doing. Demon has neither his sword nor armor, but he is far from helpless. Before Rael can strike, a huge stone-like fist makes contact with the left side of his jaw. He hears a sickly snapping sound and immediately tastes blood. Some things rattle loosely within his mouth, and he academically realizes that several of his teeth are missing. He lands hard onto his bed, and his head hits the wood paneled wall. His sword is gone, and the entire world spins around him.

  “Let that serve you well, stupid boy,” Demon growls. “I’m going to drink awhile and maybe fuck Sevye’s mouth again. Think about what just happened, and maybe tomorrow I’ll heal you.”

  Rael hears the door slam shut. As the room ceases its spinning, he sits up and spits a mouthful of blood onto the floor. There is his sword – on the floor between the two beds. He feels something like an insect on the right side of his face, and he reaches up to scratch at it. His hand comes away from his face covered in blood; his head bleeds where it hit the wall.

  Dahk’s power rushing through his blood, Rael jumps to his feet and bends over to retrieve his sword. Demon is strong, but fueled by his blood, Rael is stronger. He opens the door, sword in hand, and thinks, I can end this now. If he rushes into the inn’s main room, still strengthened by his wounds, he can end Demon’s nefarious existence. The world would be better for it.

  He very nearly jumps out into the hallway, but a second thought stops him. Demon may very well be waiting for him, expecting an attack at an
y moment. Even if he manages to slay the Dahken, will he be able to escape the inn and Somi with his life? A pang of anxiety hits his stomach when it occurs to him that the leather bound book may not be returned to its rightful owner should that happen. Rael sits back down onto his bed to think it over.

  * * *

  Rael’s pillow, really just a sack filled with corn shucks, is soaked with fresh blood, as is a good portion of his mattress. He lies facing the wall, and every once in a while he gouges into his gums with his finger to keep them bleeding where the teeth are gone. At the same time, he tears at his scalp where he hit the wall to make sure it also continues to bleed. He has a knife in his hand; it’s just a small cutting tool, but once in a while he makes a small slash in his arm. He has to be careful, because it’s all keeping his blood up, and he doesn’t want to cut too deeply.

  Demon must be enjoying himself immensely, because it seems he is gone hour after hour. For that matter, he may be passed out in the common room from too much drink. It’s an uncommon enough occurrence; after all, the man is very, very big, but it does happen on occasion. Even on those nights, he wakes at some point in the dead of the night and staggers his way up to his bed. Rael just hopes it happens before he passes out from blood loss. Fortunately, the pain keeps him going.

  The door’s hinges whine, and the sound makes Rael’s eyes fly open. He must have dozed off, but only for just a moment as he still feels the strength of his blood in his muscles. As he hears something huge and heavy drop into the other bed just a few feet away, Rael fights every urge to jump from his own and strike. It’s not time just yet; he need to be patient. He opens his mouth and jabs his finger into one of the gaping holes. The bleeding had started to slow, and he cannot afford that.