The Third Eye Initiative

by J. J. Newman

  “Come in,” he called.

  The door to his office opened and Elias and Tsaeris entered. He motioned them to sit in the two chairs in front of his desk, and slid them each a glass of whiskey. They accepted the drinks, and the men lifted their glasses in the air for a moment in a silent tribute to the fallen novices, before taking a drink.

  “What can you tell me?” Elias asked.

  “Not much. Allec had his fingers cut off, then was bludgeoned with a hammer. Brian had his guts ripped out, and Kelly was blinded, and strangled.”

  “Was the girl raped?”

  “No.” Tyrier took a sip of his whiskey. “No, this wasn’t a sexual crime. It wasn’t for money either, as the three weren’t robbed until the good men of The City Watch showed up.”

  “Three novices dead and a message about Gravelock. This was obviously personal,” Tsaeris offered.

  “The Gravelock myth is fairly standard in The City, not just with the Initiative. But the fact that they were novices definitely indicates an inside job,” Elias said.

  “Could it be one of the guilds?” Tsaeris asked. “Hell, as much as they fear us, the drug cartels and thief guilds have no reason to love us. Maybe one of them has decided to take a stand.”

  “Maybe. But I don’t think so,” Elias said. “Like I said, the Gravelock myth is one that seeps into all walks of life, and tends to be a personal superstition. The thief guilds and the drug cartels have their own Gravelock myths. The fact that the myth was attached to those bodies points to it being one of us.”

  “Could it be a former agent, then?” Tsaeris asked.

  Elias gave him a meaningful look. “There are no former agents.”

  “Ah, all dead. Gotcha,” Tsaeris replied.

  “This brings us to a delicate subject,” Tyrier said. “Who do we trust? If we’re certain it was an agent, that doesn’t narrow the suspects down by much. Who handles the investigation?”

  “It has to be handled by agents who we know for a fact can be trusted,” Elias began. “To be honest, I think I’ll keep this in the family for the moment. Who can we really trust, outside this room? This killer could just as easily be multiple agents as one.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Tsaeris said.

  “Alright. Tsaeris and I are off to go interrogate the mentors of those novices. Let me know if you find anything else on the bodies,” Elias said, standing up.

  “I will. Also,” Tyrier reached into his pocket and removed the flute. “Clean this off and see to it that Brian’s brother gets it.” He handed the flute to Elias

  “I will,” Elias replied. Elias and Tsaeris finished their whiskeys in large gulps, and then left the clinic.

  Tyrier finished his own whiskey, and headed to his examination room. He hadn’t found any useful evidence when he had first examined the bodies, but he would try again. In the serenity of his clinic he knew he could work more thoroughly than on the streets.

  He was disturbed. Nothing like this had ever happened in the history of the Initiative. He couldn’t believe that an agent, or more than one, had turned traitor. Worse, they killed novices. Kids. Tsaeris had his own novice now, the young Aedrus. The job of mentoring Aedrus had been offered to Tyrier, but he had declined and suggested Tsaeris instead. He had felt that Aedrus’ light hearted nature would be a good influence on his violent and often emotionally distant nephew. Tyrier hoped Tsaeris was keeping a good eye on the boy. Tyrier chuckled inwardly at his unintended joke, remembering that Tsaeris didn’t have an eye to spare.

  Tyrier had been friends with Aedrus’ father and had known the boy since he was born. And it had been Tyrier himself who had taken the orphaned boy into the Initiative. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if something bad happened to him while he was still a novice and under their protection.

  Tyrier let out a heavy sigh, then cursed under his breath. He stared down at the bodies of the unfortunate novices, and knew he would wait to complete a more thorough examination. His heart just wasn’t in it. The idea of cutting into those novices, kids all of them, unsettled his usually unshakable stomach. He knew it was selfish and that the best thing he could do for them was to help find their killer, but he couldn’t bring himself to continue his work. His brow tightened as he felt the sorrow finally reach his eyes, and he angrily wiped at the gathering moisture. What was wrong with him? He had examined many bodies in his time, many of them the remains of friends. One had been his son.

  For the first time in his life, he thought he might be getting too old for this. Was it finally happening? Were his strong shoulders finally beginning to bend under the weight of all this death and pain? He hated the thought, but he couldn’t ignore it. He felt like he was letting everyone down.

  Tyrier was suddenly surprised to discover that he was stroking Kelly’s hair, as if to comfort the dead girl. He pulled his hand away, and stared at it in shock. Then his pain and sadness vanished, replaced by rage. Rage at the killer, rage at himself, rage for everything good and pure that this accursed city had claimed. He growled, and over turned a table filled with the vials and instruments of his trade. The vials shattered on the floor, and the wood of the table splintered at the force of the strong man’s anger. A hard kick sent the door of the room flying from its frame.

  The world disappeared for Tyrier, and when it finally returned his clinic was nearly in ruin. It was like a powerful storm had suddenly passed through the confines of the structure, leaving destruction in its wake.

  The good doctor collapsed to his knees, his fists in large angry balls, and his regrets lying across his shoulders like a shroud.

  He was too old for this.

  Chapter Thirty One

  Vigilance in a Cruel and Unforgiving World

  The young girl ran. Her breath came out in gasps of frosty clouds as her pumping legs carried her through the dark city streets. A street kid of several years, she knew the dangers of the night. She would often sleep in abandoned buildings, or any dark hole she could find to shelter her from the monsters. Tonight her hole had been raided.

  Poor Evan. When the men had entered the old rotting house that had served as thier shelter, Evan had tried to defend her. He had come upon her as the three men held her down, pushing up her skirt and forcing their hands between her legs, roughly tearing her virginity from her. She could still feel the blood running down her thigh. Evan had attacked one of the men with a knife, but had only managed to inflict a shallow cut on the man’s face. The men left her alone to focus on Evan. He died screaming, as these men's tastes were not specific to young girls.

  Yet he had bought her a chance with his sacrifice. She had been able to escape, but the men pursued her relentlessly. They laughed and taunted her. She was tired, and they were fresh and full of adrenaline. Street kids were hard to catch, and these men would not let her go easily. She was running slowly now, tired from the fear and loss of blood. The men were close, and she knew they could catch her whenever they chose. But they let the chase continue, finding a sadistic pleasure in her desperation to escape.

  She knew a torturous and slow death was inevitable. She kept running, refusing to give up. As long as she had an ounce of energy, she would run. She entered an alley, knowing she would find no safety in the streets. The twisting and winding corridors of the alleys could be confusing and she would be harder to track.

  The homeless sat against walls, or around fires made from assorted garbage to keep warm. They ignored her, uninterested in her plight. She begged them to help her as she passed, but they were all indifferent. She was just a shade passing through, and meant nothing to them. The men chasing continued to taunt her, shouting their intent in graphic detail. Tears streamed down her young face.

  She glanced back towards her pursuers, and could see them silhouetted against the fires. She turned her focus back to the alley ahead of her. Too late, she bumped into a man standing in the middle of the cobblestone. She struck him hard, and fell to the ground.

  The man stared
down at her, a torch held in his hand. For a moment she was sure that one of her pursuers had circled around and managed to get ahead of her. She stared up at the man in terror. She realized that this man was not one of the men chasing her. She had gotten a good look at them while they were defiling her, and would have remembered that red hair. This didn’t comfort her in the slightest, however. There was no reason to expect that this man was any less a threat than the ones chasing her.

  His deep green eyes and young freckled face were wreathed in the light of the torch. He continued to stare at her, not saying a word. She could hear the other men approaching.

  “Are you alright?” The man asked softly.

  She didn’t respond, not trusting the man’s seemingly concerned tone.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” the man said, and reached out a hand to help her to her feet. “Come on, take it,” he urged. She grasped his hand hesitantly, and he pulled her to his feet.

  As soon as she was upright, she tried to pull away to run. He held her in a tight grip. She struggled.

  “No, don’t run. Stay behind me,” he said.

  “Those men...” she tried to explain.

  “I know. Don’t run, just stay behind me,” he repeated. “If you run, I won’t be able to help you.”

  Help her? She wanted so badly to believe it. He let go of her arm, and she considered fleeing again. Where would she run, though? She was tired, and if this man wanted to hurt her he could easily catch her. She realized that she was out of options. She would have to trust the man. She knew it was a gamble that would probably cost her her life.

  The man with red hair turned to face her pursuers, his torch held out before him. The three men stopped at the edge of the orange light to confront the man in their path.

  “We saw her first. She’s ours,” one of the men said.

  “She’s yours?” The man replied. “Well, let’s ask her.” He turned to look at her. “Do you belong to these men?” She shook her head in response.

  “Looks like you boys have the wrong girl.”

  “You’re pretty young and nice looking yourself. Give us the girl, or we’ll be taking you,” the man grinned horribly at the red-haired man.

  “I’m afraid I’m way out of your league. I like my men to be clean, have most of their teeth, and be women.”

  “You don’t get it,” the dirty man said, still grinning.

  “Oh, I get it. You just threatened to rape me. It was very clever.”

  The grin vanished from the men’s faces, and they looked suddenly angry. The lead man took a step forward.

  “Forget the girl. I think we might have more fun with yourself,” the man pulled a knife. “Let’s see how long you keep that cocky smirk.”

  “Now, now gentlemen. Rape is almost never the answer. Wouldn’t you rather settle this with a game of dice?” the red haired man replied, his voice mocking. She was suddenly afraid for her rescuer. She did not want those men to hurt him.

  “Oh, keep smiling you little shit.” The men advanced.

  The closest of the three lunged at the red-haired man. Her rescuer did not hesitate, and shoved the end of his torch straight into the man’s face. The man fell to the ground, clutching his face and screaming. The other two pulled knives and came at him. As if by magic, a knife appeared in her rescuers hand, and quickly flew through the air to bury itself deep into the throat of another one of the men. He fell to the ground, clutching at the knife as his life blood spilled to the alley floor around him.

  There was only one man left standing, and he turned to run. The red-haired man closed the distance in two quick leaps, grabbed him by the back of his head, and slashed the man’s throat with a spray of crimson blood. When he was finished, he approached the first man, still rolling on the ground clutching his burned face. He placed his foot hard in the middle of the man’s chest, and held his knife out to her.

  “Would you like the honor?” he asked her.

  She looked at the two dead men, and the one with the injured face. The men who had violated her, the men who had killed Evan. She nodded, and took the knife. Her anger took control of her hand, and she began stabbing the man repeatedly. It took the man a satisfyingly long time to die. When it was over she sat against the wall of the alley, trembling. Her rescuer sat down beside.

  “Are you alright?” he asked.

  “You’re really not going to hurt me?” she asked.

  “No, I’m not,” he replied.

  She laid her head on his shoulder, and he put his arm around her for comfort. She tensed for a moment, and then relaxed, feeling suddenly very safe. His thin but strong arm and his warm body felt safer than any shelter she had ever found. She didn’t know who this man was, but she owed everything to him. With his protective arm around her, she felt her eyes grow heavy. She tried to fight it for a moment. She wanted to ask the man his name, yet deep down she knew he would probably never give it. It wasn’t long before she lost the struggle and sleep finally claimed her.

  ***

  Aedrus let the girl sleep, knowing she had been through hell and deserved some peace. He would stay awake until morning if need be, and then would find her a place to stay. She was young, maybe twelve years old. He saw the stains of blood on her legs, and gritted his teeth in rage at the monsters that had done this to so young a girl.

  The homeless would occasionally pass by and Aedrus would give them a look of warning as they passed. He didn’t really expect any trouble from them, but it was still better to keep an air of danger surrounding him at all times. The corpses nearby help to add weight to his silent threats.

  Now seventeen years old, Aedrus had been a novice under Tsaeris for the last year. The first eight months or so had been trying for him, with constant lessons and lectures, followed by usually boring, but occasionally exciting, missions with his mentor. Now he was mostly left to his own devices, expected to meet with Tsaeris at least once a day for training or low-priority missions.

  Aedrus had excelled at sword and knife play, his natural agility making him a fast and dangerous adversary. He was a much better swordsman than his mentor, though that was hardly surprising as Tsaeris had all but shunned the use of swords. Aedrus knew that Tsaeris was still very dangerous in his unconventional ways, and was by no means helpless.

  The dark alley was silent now, as most of its denizens had found sleep. Aedrus kept his eyes open and alert, feeling strangely responsible for the girl nestled in his arm. He had seen her running from the men a few blocks away, and had taken to the rooftops to follow. When they had entered this alley, he sprinted ahead and had climbed down to wait. The young girl was lucky that Aedrus had been in the area.

  Despite his alertness, he didn’t notice the shadow descending on him and his charge until it was too late. The dark figure dropped silently from the rooftops onto the alley floor, landing right beside Aedrus and the girl. Aedrus wasn’t alarmed.

  “Evening, Tsaeris,” Aedrus greeted.

  Tsaeris took a seat next to Aedrus on the opposite side from the girl.

  “I see you’ve had a busy night,” Tsaeris remarked, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb the girl.

  “Same old,” Aedrus replied. He could hear Tsaeris snort.

  “What the hell is going on, Ginger?” Tsaeris asked, an edge to his voice. Aedrus noticed that Tsaeris always called him Ginger when he was mad. Or sleepy. Well, even when he was happy. Tsaeris called him Ginger a lot. Aedrus had decided to find it endearing.

  “Those men,” Aedrus said, pointing to the bodies, “were chasing this girl. They had already tried to rape her, but she got away. I saw her running, and came to help.”

  “What were you doing out here at this time of night?”

  “I don’t know. Walking,” Aedrus replied.

  “Aedrus, you need to stop this,” Tsaeris said with a heavy sigh.

  “Stop what? Walking? Are you going to carry me around?”

  “You know what I mean. You come out at night looking for
trouble. It’s going to get you killed.” Tsaeris sounded weary.

  “I wasn’t looking for trouble,” Aedrus argued.

  “Aedrus, stop. You can’t go out every night trying to help everyone. You need to sleep, and honestly it’s a losing battle. And more to the point, it’s not your bloody job. You want to help people, join the Watch.”

  “Yeah, because the watch helps so many people,” Aedrus said sarcastically.

  “You’ll be an excellent agent one day, Ginger. But we didn’t train you to be a night time vigilante. You have responsibilities.”

  “I meet all of my responsibilities,” Aedrus replied, a hint of anger in his voice.

  “Most of them. But you have a responsibility not to go out and get yourself killed in some stupid crusade. It’s time to grow up. You’re not a knight from your stories, you’re a novice of an underground and illegal organization. And that organization has put a lot of resources into training you.”

  “Why does this bother you so much? I wasn’t in any danger from those idiots,” Aedrus said.

  “One day you’re going to make a bad call, and find yourself biting off more than you can chew. And you won’t get a second chance.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Aedrus said dismissively.

  “Alright, let me put it this way. If you don’t stop this nonsense, I will have you confined to the safe house on your down time.”

  Aedrus gritted his teeth, and narrowed his eyes.

  “This young girl is alive because of me,” Aedrus said.

  “And I bet there are at least a hundred others killed this night,” Tsaeris retorted.

  “Well, there would have been a hundred and one. How can you not see that it was worth it?”

  “Look,” Tsaeris paused, and then sighed. “You’re still a kid. You want life to be like it was in the story books, but it’s not, Aedrus. Life is cruel and unforgiving. You can’t right wrongs on a case by case basis. You would spend every waking moment trying, and die of old age long before you ever made a dent. You may not like it, but that’s the way it is.” Tsaeris stood up and took a step away, then turned to face Aedrus.