by Adam Watson
Both the young men wanted to leave the army as soon as this situation was over, it was a sentiment shared by a lot of the new recruits stationed at the wall. Some of them wanted to be soldiers, but most of them didn’t - most of them didn’t have a choice.
They would talk about food and travel, they would talk about wine and how much better it would be than the swill they had to contend with at the moment. Yes, travelling was a topic they loved to talk about, and it always involved travelling somewhere very far away from Candelier City and the war.
Often they would talk about travelling to somewhere exotic, where the food was great, the goods were cheap, and the women were beautiful. In fact, they always talked about places where the women were beautiful, perhaps more than any other subject, and that’s what they talked about now.
As they walked through the stone corridors within the wall they spoke quite loudly; there was no reason to whisper, they were not hiding from anyone in here. They talked, they laughed, they made jokes, they fantasised with each other about exotic women in far off lands, and about how good it would be to bed them.
They walked at pace though, there was no threat in here, but some commotion was going on outside - the eyes on the wall were sending out reinforcements as a precautionary measure. Their armour clanked with every footstep they took, their shadows flickered on the walls from the fire-lit sconces.
“What about a battle-maiden from Ravona? Would you say one of those was beautiful?” asked Dorian.
“Sure, why not?” answered Manny. “I’d bed every single … one … of them.” His words trailed off as he became aware that something unusual was in the corridor with them. Dorian looked over to where his friend’s unblinking gaze fell, and he too went silent - there was something there.
Neither of them was sure what it was, but it was large enough to get their hearts racing. They drew their weapons out of fear of the unknown and slowly made their way towards the unknown object.
Slowly, but surely, they approached. They were still unsure as to what it was, but whatever it was, it remained absolutely still - even so, they were not ready to sheathe their weapons.
Closer and closer they stepped, details started to emerge. It was in the corner, obscured by the shadows. It appeared to be covered in fur.
“What is that?” Dorian whispered. Manny didn’t answer but shook his head from side to side, unsure of the answer himself. Suddenly it moved, and they both jumped back, their hearts lurching up into their throats. The movement made them very aware that whatever it was, it was alive. They held the weapons before them, ready for an attack.
Instead of an attack, the fur covered object opened up and before them sat a beautiful, armour-clad woman. She stretched her legs out, crossing them and taking up a more comfortable position.
“W-Who are you?” Dorian stuttered, they were both shocked to say the least. The beauty just smiled, not with her mouth, which was covered, but with her eyes. She slowly stood up and the two men tensed.
“I’m just a girl,” she answered, as she slowly approached them.
“Stay back,” warned Dorian. He wanted her to stay away, he wanted her to stop walking towards him. He didn’t know who she was or where she had come from. He didn’t know whether she was friend or foe.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” piped in Manny. Neither of the men wanted to hurt her, her eyes - they were so beautiful.
The girl, the one known as Solitaire by her Sisters, took another step forward. She was just a weak, delicate woman, what harm could she do to them? They were strong, well-armed and armoured men.
“You’re not going to hurt me, are you?” It was more of a statement than a question. The two men gave each other sideways glances trying to determine what the other was thinking. Solitaire was now right in front of Dorian's sword, her heart inches away from the point.
“Stay back!” He wanted to be strong, he wanted to be in control, but her beauty was overpowering.
“You say you want me to stay away,” she stated innocently, “but in your heart, you want me to come closer, don’t you?” She pushed Dorian’s sword to the side with her hand and took another step closer. Dorian could not break his gaze, his eyes were locked with hers; those deep pools of beauty, those hypnotic lures. He began to tremble knowing he was at her mercy.
“What’s the matter? You do want me, don’t you?” Dorian may have been caught in her direct gaze, but Manny had not fully succumbed to her beauty just yet, his sword was pointed straight at her, he watched her every move. If she tried anything, he was ready to run her through.
“Y-Yes,” Dorian nodded. “I want you.” Manny looked at his friend incredulously. Yes, she was beautiful, but Dorian didn’t know a thing about her. They had just met in the corridor and under dubious circumstances - and now he wanted her? Manny couldn’t believe what he had just witnessed. She seemed dangerous, he should run her through, but she hadn’t done anything wrong – not yet. Something inside of him was screaming for him to act before it was too late.
Solitaire had moved so close that Dorian closed his eyes waiting for her kiss. Instead, she quickly reached up and latched the collar around his neck. In an instant, the Leash of Binding had him under her control. At that same instant Volantia launched her spear from the shadows, it flew through the air and then through Manny’s back. He fell to the floor in a pool of blood, never knowing what hit him. Dorian did nothing, but stood still, just as Solitaire had wished. Volantia walked over to Manny, put her foot on his back and yanked hard - retrieving her spear.
Dorian stood in a daze. The beguiling effect of Solace’s gaze upon men had ensnared him long enough to be collared, but it was the Leash of Binding that held him now. In the hours before Justina’s death, Solitaire had used that time to glean as much information about controlling the item as possible; forcing answers out when Justina hesitated. The most valued thing she had learnt was how to keep the person with the collar on silent when using the pain for control. The last fifteen minutes of Justina’s life had been a time of writhing and a time of pain, but it had also been a time of silence. Volantia hadn’t let her die until Solitaire was sure she could control the noise - only then did Justina find peace.
Ideally, they would have taken Justina with them, but there were too many guards to get her through undetected. They agreed, mainly due to Volantia’s insistence that they would get rid of Justina. They would kill her and then set her body alight as a distraction to get past the guards at the front entrance. Once in, they would use the Leash on whoever they encountered to find the Oracle, and as fate would have it, Dorian had now become that person.
“Where is the Oracle of Tempus?” whispered Volantia, into Dorian’s ear.
“I don’t know,” he answered. Solitaire looked to Volantia who did not believe that for a second. Volantia nodded back, and Dorian felt the pain. He screamed in silence and fell to the ground writhing.
“I swear,” he said, in a pained whisper. “I swear, I don’t know who you are talking about.” Volantia glanced at Solitaire again asking an unspoken question and Solitaire answered.
“I feel he speaks the truth, Sister.” Whilst they tried to determine the truth of his words, Calista began to move Manny’s body to a more discreet location. Volantia moved so that she could look straight into Dorian’s eyes. Dorian gasped, her eyes were even more beautiful than the others - if that was even possible. Her gaze made him feel sad and anxious. She was angry and displeased, he couldn’t possibly allow that. He would do anything to change that, he would do anything to make her happy.
“Who do you think would know where the Oracle of Tempus is?” It was a simple question, but she asked it seductively - that always helped with men. Dorian smiled, he knew the answer to that! He would tell her straight away, for that would surely make her happy.
“The Commander. The Commander of the Wall knows all of the comings and goings of this place. If anyone is going to know where this Oracle is, it would be him.” Volantia
smiled and when she did Dorian’s heart fluttered. It was risky, but it was a risk that would yield results. Why go through all these middlemen when she could go straight to the top? If this Commander was ‘leashed’ he could prove to be very useful.
“What is your name, soldier?” she asked.
“Dorian, My Lady,” the soldier answered, unsure as to what her correct title should be.
“You have done well, Dorian. Can you show us the way to the Commander … without being seen?” Dorian thought about it for a moment and then answered that he could get them most of the way without being seen, but there were private guards in front of his quarters - to get past them without being seen was pretty much impossible.
“Take us as far as you can,” she ordered. Looking on to the floor she could see the blood stain clearly, but the light was dim, and most humans wouldn’t notice it - at least not for a while. Calista had taken the body and hidden it in the shadows of the far corner. That too would be discovered eventually, she hoped it would be later rather than sooner. Nevertheless, the Sisters were forced to work fast now - a timer had been set.
The Commander of the Wall had a name, but he never used it. He didn’t like it, in fact, he loathed it - mainly because it wasn’t his real name. The walls surrounding Candelier City never used to be called ‘The Walls’ either, that only happened after the Creed attacked and took control of the city, before that they were just the outer perimeter. The Walls were now the only part of the city that the humans still controlled, and they had become a kingdom unto themselves - here the Commander of the Wall was King.
He sat there, at his desk pondering, it had been a long day. These long months trying to keep the Creed contained within the city whilst the royal hierarchy decided what they were going to do about it made him feel drained. Sooner or later an army would be raised, and the humans would try to take back the city. From the correspondence that the Commander had been receiving, the Royals seemed to think that this was going to be an easy task - nothing could be further from the truth.
Yes, the Commander and his men had access to the outside world, and yes, they were bringing in supplies from the nearby villages, supplies that included building materials. It was also true that a team of men were reinforcing the walls and fortifying them, getting them ready for battle, getting them ready for war, but what the Royals and other human leaders of the world had failed to realise was that the Commander was doing this for a different reason. He wasn’t doing it to help them. The fools. No, he had his own plans for these walls.
The Commander had a candle alight on his desk, as he often had to do his paperwork by candlelight, but now he stared into the flames. He had often thought that fire acted like it wanted to tell you something, like the flames themselves wanted to speak, to whisper dirty secrets or reveal great mysteries.
He stared into it now, the light flickered as the air in the room stirred. Shadows played throughout the room and danced on his desk. He didn’t seem to notice though but instead wondered what great mysteries would be revealed to him if he knew the language of the flames.
There was kind of peace staring into the flame. The kind of peace that could calm the soul. It may have hurt his eyes, staring at it for so long, but it cleared his mind. The longer he stared, the more aware he became of the world around him as his senses began to heighten.
He could feel the faint stir of the air in the room, as a soft breeze flowed through the open window. The window on that side of ‘the walls’ faced the countryside, and even though the air out there was almost completely still with only the softest of movement, he knew that if the window had been on the inside of the wall, the side that touched the city, he would never have dared to open it.
When night fell on the inside of the city, a great tempest raged. No-one in their right mind would dare to go out in it. It was a place where creatures of the night stalked, and shadows came to life. It was a taint and a corruption that had come on the first night of the Creedic attack - and the city had bled ever since.
On this side of the wall though, there was peace. He continued to stare, he could hear the call of the nightingale singing late into the night. He could hear crickets chirping from the ground below, he had even heard the call of a wolf far off in the distance, perhaps a lone wolf, for no other answered its call.
His smell too was heightened, and he could tell the different fragrances in the room. There was the burning smell of the candle itself. It was clean and pleasant, made of beeswax and smelt much nicer than the tallow smell produced by a candle made from animal fat. Only the wealthy could afford beeswax, but he was the Commander of the Wall, and that fact meant that he could have as many beeswax candles in this room as he wanted. He smiled to himself at the irony - he only wanted one.
Beyond the candle, there were other smells too. There was an aroma on the wind that came from the outside, the countryside. It drifted in from the forest and gave a pleasant smell - a fresh smell, a nice smell. He liked that smell because it reminded him of when he used to go hunting with his father as a child.
His touch too had become extremely sensitive. His mind was in a kind of meditate state, his awareness of things beyond himself had become acute. He could feel the fabric of his clothes. The smoothness of his shirt, the rougher fabric of his pants, the heaviness of his armour and the tightness of the bands that fastened it to him. He could feel the coolness of that faint breeze, gently caressing his skin, giving him soft butterfly kisses and in stark contrast to that coolness, there was heat, heat from the candle, the small flame sending its warmth onto his face as he continued to stare deep into the burning fire.
These were all familiar things to him. He recognised those smells, those feelings, those sounds. He had heard them many times, as he had performed this ritual numerous times before, but then … something unfamiliar. It was faint … so faint, so quick that if he had not been in this heightened state of mind, he may never have even noticed it, but he had noticed it; something had fallen to the ground outside his door, something that was not supposed to have fallen to the ground.
There were two guards stationed outside his room at all times. Not just ordinary soldiers, but seasoned veterans. They weren’t the type to fall asleep on the job, they were the type to stay alert at all times, just as he needed them to.
There was a great distance between them and the entry point to the walls. If anyone, friend or foe, had tried come up the stairs to get to this room, those sentries would have spotted them well in advance, certainly well in advance enough to raise the alarm. All along the wall were patrolling guards scouting not only the wall itself but both sides of it as well, outside and in.
It seemed to the Commander that it would be improbable that he could be taken by surprise and yet he had heard that noise; something had fallen to the ground. His gut told him that one of the guards had just been taken out. It would be virtually impossible for that to happen without the other one raising the alarm and yet … he could feel it with every fibre of his being. One of his guards had just been taken out.
So, they want to take me by surprise, do they? He was the Commander of the Wall. It was a prized position. Whoever was Commander, was King. Was this some kind of rebellion? Had one of the guards just killed the other one? No. He didn’t think so. They were loyal, and he had personally tested both of them - he had to assume that they were both dead.
That only left one other realistic alternative - assassins. Frankly, he wasn’t even surprised, he always thought that this day would come eventually. There were many people in the world that wanted him dead, and if the commoners knew the truth about him, there would be many more.
He quickly got up and grabbed the two loaded crossbows which he had preloaded for just such an occasion and took position. They will burst through the door, expecting to take me by surprise. The Commander took aim, anything that came through the door would be receiving a bolt to the heart. Oh, won’t they be shocked when they realise I was ready for them? And so he waited.
The door burst open with a force and a fury. When the Commander saw a figure at the door, he didn’t hesitate for a second, one bolt to the heart, one bolt to the head, the figure was impaled twice, and Dorian fell to the floor dead. The Commander looked at the fallen body shocked. The assassin was one of his own soldiers? Suddenly there was movement, and the Commander drew his sword as a small object rolled into the centre of the room. What is this? Even as he had the thought, smoke began to pour from it. The Commander couldn’t help but take a breath. He immediately felt sleepy and light headed. Poisonous gas. He tried not to breathe in anymore, but the gesture was futile, the green-tinged smoke quickly filled the room, and he was forced to breathe more of it in - he fell to his knees coughing and as weak as a kitten.
He could feel a presence. Someone had entered the room and was approaching him. Whoever it was they seemed to be unaffected by the gas. He struggled within himself. He wanted rise, to stand up, to face his assailant, but his body wouldn’t respond. He struggled to just stay on his knees, he struggled just to stay conscious, he struggled even to keep his eyes open, and before him he watched as delicate and intricately ornate knee-high boots walked towards him.
His assailant was now standing over him, he was helpless, like a baby and just as vulnerable. If his assailant wanted to kill him now, there would be nothing he could do to stop it. So, this is how it ends, he thought. Slain in his own room by an unknown assassin.
He could feel them grabbing his hair and lifting his head up to make him look at them. His eyes rolled around in his head as his mind tried to ward off delirium.
“The gas may be potent, but it is not lethal,” rasped Volantia. “Stop trying to fight it. You have more important things to worry about now, Commander.” The Commander couldn’t help it, the gas was a noxious cloud and tears blurred his vision. Her words though, seemed to clear his mind, perhaps the effects of the gas weren’t as permanent as he had feared, he could feel them wearing off at a rapid rate. He looked in the eyes of his assailant, the rest of her face being veiled - she was beautiful, and his heart raced.