by J. J. Newman
“The boy will be fine for a few hours. We’ll place a guard while we go. I’ve done all I can for him right now. At this point he’ll either live or die, and until we know which there’s nothing more for me to do.”
Elias seemed to consider for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. We leave now.”
The men drained their tankards and prepared.
***
Elias knew where Pyron’s guild house was. He had been there several times before. A small warehouse had been converted into Pyron’s safe house and mansion. It looked worn and shoddy on the outside. It looked like every warehouse Elias had ever seen. Inconspicuous. The perfect secret base, even if it was a bit cliché, Elias thought.
He walked past the front of the building and turned into the connecting alleyway, with Tyrier keeping stride beside him. He stopped before a narrow but thick wooden door. Tyrier stepped forward and pounded on the door with a meaty fist. There was no response.
“They’re not answering. Is there a secret word or something?” Tyrier asked.
“Yes. I’m not in the secret word kind of mood right now, though. Kick the bloody thing in.”
Tyrier shrugged, and took a few steps back. He rushed forward and his large foot slammed against the door. Under the immense strength of the big man, the door might as well have been made of dried twigs. It crashed inward, and a few voices yelled in surprise as the two men stepped through the opening.
Elias and Tyrier entered a hallway. Three men stood before them, weapons drawn. After a moment, a rat-faced man seemed to recognize the two and ordered the other men to lower their weapons.
“What’s this about?” Rat Face asked.
“Where’s Pyron?” Elias demanded.
“He’s busy,” Rat Face replied.
Elias snorted derisively, and he and Tyrier walked right through the men, as Rat Face followed behind. They entered a large room that was built like a tavern, complete with a bar, tables and drinking men. Several men stood up when they saw the two men, but Rat Face motioned them to sit.
“Master Pyron must not be disturbed. We can send word to you when he is ready to receive you.” Rat Face sounded desperate.
Elias and Tyrier walked across the tavern room, neither one of them acknowledging the rat-faced man. Elias led the way through hallways, and up flights of stairs. It was clear that he knew where he was going. The men and their escort stopped before a door at the top of a staircase.
“The door’s locked. Let me open it and announce you to Master Pyron,” Rat face said.
Tyrier turned and smiled at the man.
“No need. I have a key.” Tyrier spun around and kicked the door down. A man cursed in shock, and a woman screamed.
Pyron lay naked in his large, opulent bed with an equally naked woman beside him. Elias and Tyrier stepped forward.
Elias looked at the woman.
“Get out,” Elias ordered.
“What the hell is this?” Pyron ordered, his voice full of anger.
Elias fixed his gaze on the woman. She squirmed for a moment, then ran to her pile of clothes on the floor, and hurried out of the room.
“Who the hell do you think you...” Pyron stopped mid-sentence. “Oh, Elias. I didn’t...”
“Get dressed, Pyron,” Elias said flatly.
Pyron got out of the bed, and wrapped himself in a robe. He pulled two chairs up to his desk, and sat heavily in his own chair.
“Please, gentlemen. Have a seat.”
Elias and Tyrier sat down.
“So, what can I do for the Third Eye Initiative today?” Pyron asked.
“There was a kid, Pyron. White hair. I found him in an alley in your territory. Know anything about it?”
Pyron’s face was expressionless.
“No. We don’t kill kids. We know the rules.”
“I didn’t say he was dead, or even injured. You would think that a Master Thief would be a better liar,” Elias said coldly.
“Well, I just assumed that when you said you found him in an alley, that he was dead.”
Elias looked at Tyrier. “Break his arm. The left one.”
Tyrier nodded, and his long arm shot across the desk like a viper. Pyron cried out in surprise, and Tyrier gave the forearm a sharp twist. Pyron’s elbow snapped under the pressure and he began to scream.
Several men rushed into the room. Elias stared at them and they stopped in their tracks.
“What are you doing!? Help me!” Pyron screamed to his men. The men glanced at Pyron, then at Elias and Tyrier. They nodded to Elias, and backed out of the room.
“I think we understand each other now, Pyron. You know who we are. Are you really stupid enough to lie to us?” Elias stood up from the desk, and Tyrier followed.
Elias walked to the other side, and slammed Pyron across the jaw with his right fist. Pyron fell from his chair. Elias nodded to Tyrier, and Tyrier forced Pyron to his knees and held him in place with a meaty hand on his shoulder.
“The kid was stealing without permission. He killed some of our men. I had to retaliate.” Pyron spoke fast, unwilling to lie to the dangerous men again.
“You tortured him. You burned out his eye. A kid, Pyron. You did this to a kid.” Elias kicked Pyron in the ribs. Several ribs popped, but Pyron remained held in place by Tyrier. He screamed again.
“Elias, he knew what he was doing. It’s not like he was a baby. He’s a thief, a killer. Why do you even care?” Pyron was sweating, and his voice was shaking from the pain.
“The boy was a prospect, Pyron,” Elias said coldly.
Pyron began shaking even harder. “I didn’t know,” he said in a small voice.
Elias bent forward and grabbed the man roughly by the hair. “Why would we tell you, Pyron? Why would we confide in a shitty little thief master? No kids, that’s the rules.” Elias let go of Pyron’s hair, and kicked him hard in the now-broken ribs.
“And you burned out his eye.” Elias shook his head.
Elias walked over to the fireplace, and removed a fire poker. He placed it into the flames and waited. The poker took a long time to heat up. Pyron’s eyes widened in terror as he began to understand what the men had in store for him, and he begged and pleaded for mercy. His pleas fell on deaf ears.
Elias removed the glowing hot poker from the fire. He walked back to Pyron and stood before him holding the poker loosely in his hand.
“Please. No,” Pyron begged. A puddle of urine began to pool at his knees.
“What’s that old saying? An eye for an eye?” Elias asked.
“No!” Pyron screamed.
Elias pushed the hot poker into Pyron’s eye. He pushed it in slowly, twisting it as it buried deeper into the man’s head. Blood bubbled from the wound as it came in contact with the white hot steel. Pyron’s wail of agony echoed through the entire guild hall. Elias placed the poker on the floor after tearing the point from Pyron’s face, the thief’s melted and ruined eyeball sizzling on the tip. Pyron was still screaming and crying as Tyrier dropped him roughly to the floor. Elias stepped behind Pyron and grabbed the sides of his head. Blood continued to ooze from his empty eye socket.
“An eye for an eye. But taking his eye wasn’t enough for you. You tried to kill him. You’re going to die now, Pyron. I want you to be very aware of that fact.” Elias waited a few long seconds to give the man time to contemplate what was about to happen, then produced a small sharp knife, and pushed in through Pyron’s neck, twisting it and grinding it deep into his jugular. The man gurgled and twitched violently for a long time before going still. Elias let go of his head, and it hit the floor with a loud thud. Several men entered the room and Elias turned to them.
“Who’s in charge after Pyron?” He asked.
Rat Face raised his hand.
“You remember this. If any of you cross the line even one more time, we will burn you all to the ground. Do you understand?”
Rat Face nodded.
Elias and Tyrier left the guild hall. They didn’t even
bother watching their backs, knowing that none of the thieves would be stupid enough to attack them. One did not anger the Third Eye Initiative twice.
Chapter Nine
The Recovery
The darkness faded away slowly and was replaced by pain. Tsaeris opened his eye. Something wasn’t right. Try as he might, his right eye refused to open. He raised his right arm, as his left was bound in some kind of sling, and poked a finger towards it and felt some sort of cloth covering his eye. The contact also caused an explosion of pain that vibrated through his head. Waves of agony washed over him, and he began to retch violently. The retching caused his side to throb in pain, which caused him to retch even harder. The cycle continued for what felt like a long time, and left Tsaeris feeling exhausted. He lay staring at the ceiling, terrified to move.
Memories began to return. The hot poker, the knives, and the beatings. He began to scream and sob. His eye was gone forever. He was a cripple, his life was ruined, and he was in so much pain. Why would that man do this to him?
He didn’t recognize the room he was in, and decided that he must still be in the Thieves Guild’s hideout, and there was more torture to come. He tried to sit up in the bed, but he lacked the strength. He tried to control his sobbing. He didn’t want the torturers to know he was awake, fearful that they might decide it was time to continue their work.
Finally, Tsaeris managed to get his sobbing down to a tiny whimper. He took deep breathes between frightened squeaks. After a few moments he managed to get even the squeaks and whimpers under control.
Think, Tsaeris. There has to be a way out of here. He knew he was lying to himself. He was in agony and could barely move. A plan formed in his mind. He would fake being unconscious when the torturers returned. They would get no pleasure hurting him if he wasn’t even awake. He would keep it up until his strength returned and he could escape.
He heard a sound. The door was opening! He closed his eye quickly, and lay very still. He heard somebody approaching him, but he dared not open his eye to look. Whoever it was stopped close to his bed. He heard no more movement.
“It’s no use, kid. I know when somebody is asleep and when they’re faking. Sleeping people breathe different than awake people,” the voice was deep and booming.
Tsaeris kept his eye closed. The torturer could be bluffing. He felt something, an unpleasant sensation in his foot. The bastard was tickling him! He gave it a valiant effort, but despite the impending torture he was unable to keep still. He squirmed.
“Hah! I knew it, you little liar!” The voice sounded pleased with itself.
Tsaeris opened his eye. His vision was blurry, but he could make out the form of a large man and the shadow of a long beard on his face.
“Please. Please don’t hurt me anymore. I’ll die.” He knew how pathetic he sounded, but he didn’t care at this point.
“I’m not going to hurt you, boy.” The man paused as if rethinking what he had just said. “Alright, I’m probably going to hurt you. But it will be the kind of hurting you that makes you better. The good kind of hurt.”
Tsaeris didn’t know what to say. He knew the torturer was mocking him. He hated himself when he began sobbing again.
“Easy there, kid. I’m a doctor. You’re in my clinic. You’re safe.”
A trick. It had to be. Why would his torturers bring him to a clinic? Maybe they wanted him fixed up so he could withstand more torture.
“Look, I won’t steal no more. I’m sorry for the dead men. I just want to go home, or even die. Just don’t hurt me anymore.” He was still crying.
“They messed you up bad, didn’t they? Tsaeris, the man who did this to you is dead. You’re with friends now. You need to relax. Stress will only make things worse for you.”
Tsaeris wanted so badly to believe the man. He wanted to get better, and he certainly didn’t want to die. Yet he was so afraid, and so depressed that he simply could not believe that anything good could be happening.
The big man leaned forward, and squirted some liquid into Tsaeris’ good eye. Tsaeris cried out. Acid! The bastard poured acid in his eye! He knew it was a trick! He screamed in rage and pain.
“Damn it, boy! It’s only water. There’s a film on your eye. This should clear your vision.”
Tsaeris stopped yelling. The liquid didn’t really hurt, now that he thought about it. And his vision was clearing with every blink. After a few more moments, he could see the man clearly. The man seemed familiar to him. Suddenly he remembered.
“You were at the Arms Fair. You won the fisticuffs match,” Tsaeris said weakly.
“That’s right. See? I’m not with the men who did this to you.”
Tsaeris shook his head. “That doesn’t mean anything. You could still be one of them.”
“We know each other, kid. In fact, we’re old friends.” The man smiled.
Tsaeris frowned.
“We’ve met lots of times, Tsaeris.” The Doctor began. “I treated you all the time when you were at the orphanage. Remember?”
Tsaeris did. Suddenly he realized why the man had seemed so familiar to him at the fair. This was the Doctor! The one he had liked. The only person he had really liked back then. The fear vanished, and suddenly he was a small boy again. He began to cry one last time, but these tears were different. They were the tears of a child who had finally found safety. He reached out his little hand, and the Doctor took it gently. Tsaeris felt ashamed for a moment, but one look into the Doctor’s eyes and the shame was gone. There was understanding in those eyes, and there was no judgment. The tears stopped after only a few seconds, and Tsaeris took his hand back. He felt better.
“Like I said, you’re safe now. I’m Tyrier by the way, in case you forgot my name.”
“I only ever knew you as the Doctor,” Tsaeris said.
“Well now you know.”
“I don’t feel well, Doc. How bad is it?”
“I’m going to be honest with you, Tsaeris. Your right eye is gone. We’ll do what we can to repair the socket, but I wanted you to regain some strength before those surgeries. They won’t be pleasant. But if we don’t do it, there’s a good chance the wound will reinfect when you’re out on your own, and you’ll probably die. So you’re going to have to be strong, alright?”
“You’re not giving me much choice there, Doc. When do you start?”
Tyrier shrugged.
“Like I said. You need to be stronger. A week or so of rest and good food should do the trick.”
As soon as Tyrier mentioned food, Tsaeris realized how hungry he was. Tyrier seemed to recognize the look.
“I’ll bring you some broth and some water,” the big man said.
“That’s it? I’m starving,” Tsaeris whined.
“You haven’t eaten anything solid in a while, boy. We need to ease you back into the heavier food.”
Tsaeris found the statement odd. “Wait, what? How long have I been out?” he asked.
“Almost two weeks. I’ll go get your food,” Tyrier answered. He walked out of the room.
Two weeks! Tsaeris was stunned. He had no concept of time passing. One moment he was being tortured, the next he woke up here. No wonder he felt so weak, he had been lying in this bed for so long. The Doctor returned with the promised broth and water. He propped Tsaeris up into a sitting position with a pillow, and placed the food tray on his lap. Tsaeris cringed slightly at the pain of movement, but it didn’t seem nearly as intense as it had when he had first awakened.
“Eat it slow,” the Doctor advised.
“You mean drink it slow,” Tsaeris said bitterly. He was still unimpressed by the food.
“I don’t care what you call it. Just pour it down your throat and stop complaining, you ungrateful...” Tsaeris didn’t catch the end of the sentence as Tyrier walked to the other side of the room, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t a compliment.
Tyrier returned with a small pot, a vial of some kind of paste and some bandages. He began unwrapping the bandage aroun
d Tsaeris’ eye.
“Do you have to do that while I eat?” Tsaeris complained.
Tyrier stopped, and glared at the boy.
“Is this how it’s going to be? Are you going to complain about absolutely everything? How about being happy that you’re alive and able to eat broth, and that I care enough to change the bloody bandage.”
Tsaeris sighed. “Alright, alright. I’ll stop.” A thought struck him. “How did I get here? I mean after they did these things to me?” Tsaeris went to reach for the bowl of broth with his left arm, when he remembered that it was in a sling. He grabbed the bowl with his right hand instead.
“A friend found you lying in an alley, almost naked, save for that.” Tyrier pointed to something on a hook across the room. It was Tsaeris’ thin green dress scarf. The one he had liked, and purchased for himself. It looked ratty now, stained and with a few tears in it, and the green seemed even darker than before.
“He brought you here. You’re one lucky kid. Keeping you alive was no small feat.” Tyrier finished removing the cloth bandage and Tsaeris could smell the wound. It almost ruined his appetite. Almost.
“We’ll let the wound get some air while you eat before I put the salve and bandage on,” Tyrier said.
Tsaeris didn’t like the feeling of the exposed eye socket, but he forced himself to ignore it.
“I guess I should thank you for saving me,” he said between mouthfuls of broth.
“Seems like the decent thing to do,” Tyrier replied.
“Thanks. And tell your friend I said thanks as well.”
“His name’s Elias and you can tell him yourself. He’ll probably be by to see you soon enough.” Tyrier began laying out the bandage.
“Why? Why would he even care at this point? He got me to you. I’d just go on my way if it were me.” Tsaeris finished his broth, and drank his cup of water.
“Well, not everyone’s a selfish little ass like you. He went through a lot of trouble to help you. He wants to know it was worth the effort.” Tyrier began gently applying a salve to the eye wound. It hurt, but not as much as it had when Tsaeris had poked the eye himself when he first woke up. In fact, after a few seconds it was actually kind of soothing.