The Third Eye Initiative

by J. J. Newman

  He felt the ground slip away from beneath his feet. He was flying! What a wonderful thing! He felt a sharp jolt surge through his neck and he had even more trouble breathing, but this didn’t concern him. He could fly! He wondered if birds needed to breathe. Perhaps they didn’t need to breathe because they were part of the air. Perhaps he was now like them.

  He had an odd sensation in his belly. It was painful for a moment, then the pain faded and his insides felt as light as air. He wondered how high he would float. His mind was becoming cloudier by the second.

  Then as suddenly as it had come, he lost his ability to fly and crashed painfully to the ground. He was saddened by his loss for only a moment. As he lay on his back, he felt something warm and wet lying across his stomach. He wondered what it could be. Then he wondered nothing at all.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Rage

  The clinic was softly illuminated by the orange glow from the hearth and candelabras along the wall. Elias stared down at the beaten and mutilated body of his protégé. He had been here before, this scene all too familiar.

  He had come as soon as he heard, and had found Tsaeris alone in the clinic. He wondered where Tyrier was. He had questions that only the big man could answer.

  His relationship with Tsaeris had grown considerably over the last few weeks. What had started as a strict teacher-student relationship had become a hesitant friendship. Their interactions had grown less intense, and there had even been moments of sincere levity between the two as they exchanged the occasional jab, and silly argument. Elias was still his teacher, and would harshly reprimand Tsaeris when necessary, but he did enjoy the new tone that their relationship had taken.

  The truth was, Elias had been hard pressed to find reasons to reprimand Tsaeris at all lately. He followed orders and preformed his tasks with dedication and professionalism. It was Tsaeris’ excellent performance that had allowed for the relationship to grow at all.

  Now Tsaeris was wounded as bad as, if not worse than, the time before Elias had recruited him into the Initiative. Elias had a pretty good idea of who was behind this, and when he found evidence to support his theory...

  He left the thought hanging, knowing that at the moment they were pointless. Still, he felt the familiar rage bubbling just below the surface, begging release. His stony expression never changed, and to an observer he would seem simply contemplative.

  The door opened behind him, and Tyrier entered the room. He knew it was his brother because the man stomped like a giant as he walked. Elias said nothing at first, knowing Tyrier would approach him.

  “Hello, Elias.” Tyrier was standing beside him now, looking down at Tsaeris.

  “How did this happen?” Elias asked, not returning the greeting.

  “Frank Rangaard brought him in. His kid, Aedrus, found Tsaeris hanging outside his window and cut him down.”

  Elias nodded then pointed to the stitches on Tsaeris’ stomach.

  Tyrier nodded. “Attacker slit his belly. The boy’s guts were hanging out when he was brought in. Lucky for him, those wounds tend to look more ghastly than they really are. Most people get sewn up and make a full recovery. Here’s what really surprises me.” Tyrier pointed to some large and deep bruises on Tsaeris’ neck. “He was dropped with the rope around his neck, but there’s no break. Boy’s more lucky than he has a right to be”

  Elias sighed with relief. “So he’ll be fine, then?”

  Tyrier hesitated. “I didn’t say that.”

  Elias turned and glared at Tyrier. “You just said that wound wasn’t so bad.”

  “That wasn’t the only wound, Elias,” Tyrier began. “He lost a lot of blood, and his airflow was cut off for a time. His right hand may be broken. Hard to tell with the swelling. Also his ribs are cracked. But the main concern was the loss of air and blood. No way to be sure what the damage will be until he wakes up.” Elias turned back to Tsaeris, not responding to the Doctor.

  “There’s more,” Tyrier said. He bent down and lifted a bandage that was wrapped around Tsaeris’ chest.

  Several markings were carved into his chest, none of them in the common tongue. Elias felt his rage burst free, and his eyes blazed.

  Tyrier gave him a concerned look. “What does it say?” Tyrier asked.

  “Arinbinev” Elias replied, then turned and began walking towards the exit. “It’s Turindiel,” he said as he reached the door, “for Abomination.”

  ***

  Elias gritted his teeth as he walked. It must have been the Purity Union behind Tsaeris’ attack. It could not be a coincidence that on the day that The City enters into an alliance with the Turindiel, another Turindiel was found battered and mutilated with the word ‘abomination’ carved into his chest. Elias guessed that carving the word in the Turindiel’s own language was to add to the insult.

  There was another question that Elias did not want to ask. Was Tsaeris targeted because of his race, or because of his role in stopping the assassination attempt on Ambassador Bel? He hoped it was the former, as the implications of the latter were just too dire.

  Elias was taking a chance here, and he knew it. If the Purity Union knew Tsaeris was behind the failed assassination attempt, then what else did they know? Did they know who Tsaeris was? They must have at least followed him for a good part of the day. Was Tsaeris’ cover blown?

  Luckily, The Purity Union was not The City Watch. If they had determined Tsaeris’ identity, they would simply be eradicated. Tsaeris’ life would not be forfeit. Thieves guilds and other such organizations were aware, to an extent, of the existence of the Third Eye Initiative. The Union had no real power beyond their own members. Of course, Elias had killed Agents in these situations if he deemed it necessary. He wondered if he would be showing this same leeway were it another agent other than Tsaeris.

  Elias reached a slightly seedier quarter of Market District, known as Paradise Row. The nickname was meant to be ironic. The buildings here were slightly dirtier, its people slightly more feral looking. It was by no means as bad as a slum district, but it was the worst that Market had to offer. The thieves, snitches, and a larger assortment of sordid people liked to drink and gamble in these taverns. Like all living things, they felt more comfortable among their own kind.

  Elias pushed open the doors to The Screamin’ Pig; a tavern that was seedy even by the lower standards of this quarter of Market. The interior smelled of a mixture of various bodily excrement. Dwarves and men occupied the tables and every gaze turned his way as he entered. Many of them turned away nervously upon seeing him, and those closest tried very hard to look as small as possible after noting the dangerous look in his eyes.

  Elias scanned the interior. A barmaid began to approach him, but he turned her away with a look. He looked at each face, and quickly found the one he was looking for. The man, clearly sensing that he was the one Elias was here to see, tried to strike up a conversation with a filthy, frightening looking dwarf at the table next to him, in an attempt to appear engaged and busy.

  The dwarf ignored the man, and stood up to leave as Elias approached. Elias and the dwarf made eye contact for a second, and the dwarf walked past him silently. Elias sat down at the table.

  “Hello, Narv,” Elias greeted. The man had thin, mouse-brown hair, and a long hooked nose. His face was smeared with tobacco ash and food remains. He was a snitch, a man who sold information. Elias used him when he needed answers quickly, and the information was not yet available to him through the Initiative. Elias had checked before coming here, and nobody had seen or reported the attack on Tsaeris, nor on any plan to attack him. Elias didn’t know how he did it, but when something eluded his organization, Narv always seemed to have something for him. He was one of Elias’ top, and most despised, unofficial Third Eye informants.

  “Elias. To what do I owe this rare pleasure?” Narv asked in his nasal voice.

  “Somebody cut up a tundra elf at around midnight. Who was it?”

  “Haven’t heard a thing a
bout no tundra elf,” Narv replied.

  Elias glared at him “You’re lying.”

  “No, seriously. Who do you think it was?”

  “I’m not in a good mood, Narv. So I’m going to give you one last chance to tell me who it was,” Elias said, his voice even and cold.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, honest,” Narv said, seemingly confident that Elias wouldn’t follow through with the threat. Elias was about to prove him wrong.

  Elias stood and lunged forward, grabbing Narv by the arm, and forced his hand onto the table. He pulled a knife from his belt, and stabbed the man through the top of his hand, feeling the blade tip connect with the wooden table as it pierced through. Blood began to pool beneath his hand, and Narv cried out. Elias twisted the knife cruelly, his face was expressionless, but his knife hand seemed the embodiment of rage. Nobody in the Tavern dared to intervene.

  He stopped twisting the blade after a few seconds, and Narv was crying and bleeding from the terrible wound. “Ready to talk?”

  Narv wept, and whined, “I don’t know nuthin!”

  “Wrong answer,” Elias replied, and twisted the blade again.

  “I don’t know! Maybe it was the Purity Union!” he screamed. Elias stared at him, waiting for the terrified man to elaborate. “Yeah. Purity Union are all angry ‘bout this elf allegiance thing. Talk is they gonna kill any elf they see in the streets. Ain't heard nuthin about any specific elf. That’s all I know, please! Don’t hurt me anymore.”

  Elias stepped away from the table. “Next time, you answer me right away and we’ll be able to avoid this unpleasantness.” He slapped a silver coin on the table.

  A room full of nervous eyes followed him as he left the tavern.

  ***

  Ivan Gorik was a wealthy man. He wore nice clothing and ate expensive food. He was a successful silk merchant, and lived in a big expensive house. Ivan had enough gold that he and his wife, Laura, had everything they could ever want. Save for one thing. Purity.

  Filthy dwarves and now Fairies had the audacity to live in The City and act as if they were his equal. His wife and himself found them disgusting and insulting, but were helpless to do anything about. That is, until they had discovered the Purity Union.

  The Purity Union was a large group of like-minded people, all who appreciated the importance of the dominance of Humans in the City, and felt that the inferior races had no place among them, other than slaves. To date, only the Orcs were in their proper place.

  He and Laura had started off as small time members of the Purity Union, attending the meetings and feeling like they were doing their part. Before long, Ivan was donating more and more money to their cause and slowly began to climb the ranks of the order. After ten years with the Union, he and Laura were now among the board of directors. His donations and tightly formed relationships had earned him that place.

  More and more wealthy men and women had been attaching themselves to the Union, and the money that they contributed had helped the Union achieve their goals. Their power was growing, and Ivan was finally starting to feel that their ultimate goals were actually a possibility, and no longer a simple dream.

  Somebody had sabotaged their attempts to stop the alliance with the tundra Fairies. This alliance was an affront to Humankind and an insult to everything the Union held dear. The Directors had talked about hiring contingencies rather than rely on one lone assassin, but the man’s reputation and the need to save resources had persuaded them otherwise. It had been a mistake, and one that would not be easily rectified.

  Now that the alliance was sealed they would have to rely on other means to drive the Fairies from The City before they increased in number. The Union was exploring their options.

  Ivan sat at the dinner table with his wife, enjoying a glass of wine. An Orc slave cleared the table of the dirty dishes, and he and Laura enjoyed the silence.

  Somebody knocked at the door. He ignored it. His man at arms, Hamish, would answer and turn away whoever it was. Ivan was not to be disturbed during his evening meal and drink.

  The door to his dining room burst open, and a man entered. He was dragging the body of poor Hamish behind him. The man was of average build and height, and he had a neatly trimmed black beard and hair.

  Ivan sprang to his feet. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

  The man turned and locked the door to the dining room. He turned to face them, and drew a long, angry looking dagger from his belt. Laura screamed, and ran behind her husband. Seeing the blade, Ivan moved quickly to the wall behind him, and pulled a decorative, but sharp, rapier from the wall mount.

  “Ivan and Laura Gorik?” the man asked.

  “Yes. Who are you and what do you want?” Ivan tried to sound dangerous.

  The man began to approach. “You two will be the first,” he said as he closed the distance. Ivan braced himself as the man approached.

  Minutes later, a dark figure dropped agilely to the limestone walkway from the dining room window, and disappeared into the night.

  Chapter Eighteen

  A Reluctant Request

  Captain Blorick, head of the Market District City Watch, sat at his desk with his hands buried in his face. His long, red beard appeared from beneath his hands and was tucked into his belt. His shoulder length read hair was messy, and hadn’t seen a brush in days. When one imagined a dwarf, that dwarf would look like Blorick. His wide nose, high cheekbones and intense brow were so dwarven that Blorick appeared almost a cliché.

  Blorick read the reports that his constables had brought him at dawn, which was several hours ago. He had read them over and over again, always followed by a heavy sigh. What was happening in his district? During the night there were five Tundra Elves beaten, two of them to death, and one eviscerated and hanged.

  There had been Elves in The City for a few years now, but they were few and they had been cautious. Now that the alliance had been declared, they walked the streets feeling safe and at home. That had lasted for almost a whole day before the attacks began.

  To make matters worse, five humans had been found murdered in their homes, the killings having taken place during the night. All of them were wealthy, and not a single one of them had been robbed. He spent the entire morning digging into the Watch files to find out what he could about them. When he had found what he was looking for, the implications made him feel sick.

  Each of the murdered humans were known to be high ranking members of the Purity Union, Blorick was not stupid. He understood that the murders of the Union members and the beatings of the Elves were connected. His suspicion that the Purity Union was behind the beatings was all but confirmed when he learned of the death of their members.

  Was it the Elves who had murdered the Union members in retaliation for the beatings? A large group had accompanied Ambassador Bel to The City with the intention of making it their home. But were that the case, Blorick could not believe that they had discovered the names of key Union officials in that short amount of time.

  He hoped that they weren’t connected, hoped that it was all one great big coincidence. He knew better, though. He only hoped that The Purity Union didn’t connect the elves with the murders. The fallout would be bloody.

  Blorick felt terrible about what had happened to the Elves. They were in his district, and that made their safety his responsibility. He had let them down. He had sent out extra patrols during the night, most of them into areas known to have the highest concentration of Elves. It hadn’t been enough.

  Blorick knew now that it had been a futile attempt. Many of his men were corrupt and easily bribed, despite the fact that he was quick to execute corrupt Watchmen when he had evidence of their sordid dealings. The only man he had that he trusted implicitly was Isaac, and one man was not enough to protect all of the elves.

  Blorick felt no sympathy or guilt for the murdered Purity Union members. The organization was a breeding ground of racism and bigotry. They were suspected in many murders o
f non-humans, though the ranking members were never charged. Even if a low-ranking member was caught in a violent crime, they would take full responsibility for the attacks. The leaders called the shots, the rabble did the deeds.

  This was going too far, however. His men had discovered a dead man on the roofs by the Market Square with a crossbow pointed at the stage. Somebody had been trying to kill Ambassador Bel, but had been killed himself before he had the chance. Blorick had no doubt that the assassin was hired by The Purity Union. He had a good idea of who had taken him out as well.

  Blorick knew that he couldn’t prove that the attacks on elves during the night had been the Purity Union, but he planned on paying a visit to them anyway. Maybe he could put some fear into them, get them to back away from this before it got out of hand. Before it became city wide genocide.

  “Isaac, get in here!” he yelled. Though Dwarven, his voice lacked all but the tiniest hint of the common dwarf accent. He had lived most of his life in The City.

  After a moment, the door to Blorick’s office opened and Isaac entered. Isaac was man of middle age. He was tall, and lean. He face was clean shaved and his greying black hair was cut short and neat. He looked like a solider, serious and determined.

  “Yes, Captain?” Isaac asked.

  “Get a group of Constables together. We’re going to pay the Purity Union a visit,” Blorick said. Before Isaac could leave, he added “Make them a good mix of dwarves and humans. Friends, if possible. That ought to piss those assholes off.” Isaac nodded and left.

  Blorick strapped on his half-plate armor and green city watch surcoat. He carried his large war-hammer in his right hand, leaning the head against his shoulder. He liked to carry it rather than hook it to the frog on his belt. It was an intimidating sight, and he used it to his advantage often.