by C. Gold
After securing both packs around her shoulders, Amira faced the forest and leaned against the staff to appear non-threatening. It wouldn’t do to let the enemy know she could whip it into motion at a moment’s notice. Radcliff stood tall and confident even though he was empty handed. The girl clutched his leg and looked nervous.
Amira began to get nervous too when a group of around twenty nomads materialized out of the forest and approached. She tightened the grip on her staff but otherwise remained outwardly unaffected. The man in the middle, the leader she assumed, was tall and his bare chest showcased an impressive set of muscles. Unlike the boy, he wore leather leggings and an impressive collection of claws and teeth which adorned a necklace and two arm bands. He looked fierce and angry and was pointing his large spear her way. Riveted by his obvious menace, she almost failed to spot the second man who walked alongside. This man wore a colorful beaded tunic that made him stand out from the rest. He also wore arm bands, but they were decorated with beads and what looked to be feathers. His face bore a neutral expression which was less reassuring than Amira would like but at least it wasn’t angry.
Before Amira could call out a greeting, the girl streaked past. “Papa!” Nalani called out and leaped into the angry man’s arms. She began babbling in a sing song language and slowly the man’s angry face softened to joy. But as soon as the girl said the word Radcliff, the man’s eyes blazed with hate. He thrust his daughter to the colorful man despite the girl’s protests and stormed forward.
“Oh dear,” was Amira’s only thought as she watched their death approach.
“You!” he bellowed. The spear came up into a threatening position and his knuckles turned so white Amira swore she could hear the tortured groan of wood compressing. “I thought I smelled your foul stench but told myself I was mistaken. The Destroyer was executed.” He stopped a spear’s length away. “It appears the emperor lied.” Then the man’s frown turned into a frightful, wicked grin. “I should thank him for that. I will turn his lie to truth and avenge my family.”
Amira managed to block the spear’s thrust in time to save Radcliff. “No!” she shouted. “You mustn’t kill him!”
“Why not?” the man sneered. “He burned our forests, killed our people. And my pregnant wife!” He roared and lunged at her.
Amira deflected the spear to the ground but the shock of impact reverberated through her hands and wrists. This was a losing battle if she didn’t end it quickly. While the staff was lighter than a regular wooden one, it still weighed more than her opponent’s spear. Worse, he was more skilled with it. She gasped back, “If you kill him you destroy us all.” The spear’s return sliced her sleeve, but she jumped back in time for it to miss her skin.
They exchanged several more blows until Amira’s lungs burned and her muscles felt like wet noodles. She tried to reason with him again in between blocks. “I know about wanting vengeance.” Amira blocked another quick thrust and shook her hand to restore feeling while they circled each other like vultures looking for an opening. “He also killed my family, my people, my little sister!” Her voice cracked with emotion. This time she followed her block with a jab to move him away from the wizard. When she could breathe again, she continued her verbal assault. “Thousands died in Westbrook.” She sidestepped his overhead smash and send out a final verbal parry. “I sacrificed our peoples’ reparation to save his life.” Surely now he would understand how important Radcliff must be.
He stood still and stared at her like she had two heads. “Did they thank you for that?”
“I was exiled.”
“You got what you deserved,” he hissed as he thrust, this time at her feet.
She jumped over the spear and spat back, “My vision made it necessary.” When he still wouldn’t relent she threw out her final shot. “He saved your daughter.” That got him to back off long enough for her to suck in a few desperate breaths.
He twirled the spear, showing off how not out of breath he was and smiled. At first it was soft like he was thinking of his daughter but then it turned ugly. “I’m grateful. But it doesn’t repay the death of my first wife and our unborn son.”
The spear’s blurred motion forced Amira to backpedal, and she quickly lost too much ground as she struggled to keep up. He was back within striking distance of Radcliff.
“Maleko!” An authoritative voice shouted followed by a string of incomprehensible words that managed to sound threatening despite the melodic language.
The butt end of the spear wacked the side of Amira’s head and she collapsed to her knees. She cursed the minor distraction—she didn’t even see that move coming. Shaking her head to try and clear her vision, Amira held the staff up in a futile attempt to block the killing blow. It never landed. Cautiously she looked up to see the colorful man’s hand restraining the angry man. They were conversing rapidly. Whatever the colorful man was saying only angered her opponent even more. Finally he spat on the ground and stalked off. She saw him take the girl, Nalani, from one of the other men and vanish into the forest.
“Forgive Maleko, he has reason for his anger.” Surprisingly, the man held out his hand to help Amira stand. “My name is Ekewaka. I am the spiritual leader of the Alashaesen.”
A retching sound interrupted the introductions. “Radcliff!” Amira cried out when she saw him hunched over on his knees, vomiting up his breakfast. She ran over to him and went to put her hand on his back but he flinched away from her touch. Blinking rapidly to combat tears at the unexpected rejection, she looked away from Radcliff straight into the eyes of Ekewaka.
“What’s wrong with him?”
Ekewaka’s genuine concern was almost Amira’s undoing. She looked away and saw the warriors’ hard, angry faces staring at Radcliff. Each one looked eager to plunge their spear into him. That’s when she realized her mistake. While trying to reason with the warrior, she revealed to everyone that the man travelling with her was none other than the Destroyer. And while his name might be stricken from the records, a long lived people like the Shae would remember him and hold fast to their grudges.
And now, because of her insensitivity, Radcliff learned he was a mass murderer, responsible for killing her family and the warrior’s wife and child, and that these people wanted to kill him for revenge. Without his memory, he was too innocent and gentle to be told like that. She doubted she’d ever tell him. What would be the point?
Amira went to touch Radcliff again but thought better of it. Instead, she leaned down and whispered in his ear, “I’m so sorry.” Then, she gripped Ekewaka’s arm to lead him away. When they were far enough away that Radcliff wouldn’t hear, she filled him in. “He doesn’t remember anything from before. It’s part of his punishment. And now, he just found out he did really terrible deeds.”
“I see. May I examine him?”
She looked at Ekewaka and wanted to kick herself for revealing Radcliff’s disability. How could she screw up twice in one day? Both times she was just trying to help. But first she wound up hurting the wizard and now she was exposing his vulnerability to a possible enemy. Yet did she have a choice if she wanted their help?
“I promise not to harm him,” Ekewaka reassured, clearly sensing her distress. He stood there patiently waiting for her to make up her mind.
Amira bit her lip and studied the spiritual leader. With the warriors at his command, he could just as easily have them killed and she wouldn’t be able to stop them. That he was asking instead of ordering said much about his integrity. Finally, she nodded her assent before clarifying, “I will kill you if you hurt him.”
He walked back to the wizard and leaned down to speak. She didn’t pay attention to what was said, too busy preparing to put a hole through Ekewaka’s skull despite knowing it would be a death sentence. He put a hand on Radcliff’s head and closed his eyes in concentration. When he was done his face looked ashen, and he took a stumbling step back. Then he looked at her, smiled, and whatever she saw was gone in a flash. She was about to ques
tion him when Radcliff spoke.
“Just kill me and get this over with.”
Amira balled her hands into fists to keep from reaching out, to soothe. “Radcliff, that’s just the spell making you feel that way.”
“I am in agreement with it. Why keep a monster when there are so many others more suitable for your grand plan?”
The bitterness and misery in his eyes when he looked up flattened Amira. She couldn’t breathe. This was all her doing. Her fault. Her mess to fix. She spoke through the emotions swamping her. “You are the only one who can do this Radcliff. You must hang in there.”
“Why?” His eyes flared in anger. “I killed your baby sister.”
Thousand year old pain speared her heart as if it were yesterday. She could feel tears streaking her face but she no longer cared, caught up in a memory of running through fields and her sister laughing. It was the last time she ever saw her. The exposed wound demanded redress. Clutching Radcliff’s face between her hands she let the cold anger in, armoring her shattered heart. “Stop the self-pity. You owe me. You owe the people who lost loved ones to your butchery. You will survive and you will save us. After that, if you still want death, I’ll hand it to you myself.” She leapt from him like a scalded cat and stalked away. Amira was too angry and ashamed to meet anyone’s gaze so she pretended an interesting study of the rocky ground.
The awkward moment was broken at the sound of horses in the distance approaching fast. When Amira looked north she saw what she feared most—the troops they had eluded on the plateau had finally caught up to them. “They’ve come to kill us,” she said to nobody in particular, too numb at the moment to really care about her fate.
Ekewaka spoke more of his lyrical language and the nomads quickly encircled them, spears in the ready position. He stepped forward to meet the lead rider just out of spear tip range.
The horse was a beautiful specimen with its all-black coat and elegantly arched neck. He rolled his eyes and pranced a few steps before finally settling down with a final snort and a head shake. His rider scanned the group before locking eyes on Ekewaka. “I have a writ from the emperor to take Radcliff Durnhast into our custody.”
Ekewaka said nothing for a long moment, studying the man. Finally he reached out a hand and said, “I’ll see the writ.”
The man grumbled but produced the document from inside his travel cloak.
Ekewaka closed his eyes briefly as he held the paper. When he handed it back, his irritation was plain. “This is a forgery. Who is your real master?”
“What?” the leader bristled. “What would a savage know about writs anyway?”
“My gift is sifting truth from lie. Your words and that writ are dripping with falsehood.”
The horse began stomping and snorting, clearly reflecting his rider’s souring mood. “No matter,” he spat out, “we’ll take him by force if you don’t hand him over.”
The men on horse unsheathed their swords at the leader’s hand signal. The nomads countered by readying their spears for tossing. The unexpected sound of maniacal laughter sliced through the poised brink of violence like a sword cleaving flesh. All heads turned in unison as the source emerged from the clump of nomads.
Radcliff stood tall and though he was skinny, bruised, and his tunic ripped and bloodied, he radiated a savage menace that captivated his audience. In one hand he held a rock which he repeatedly tossed in the air and caught. The other was empty but somehow seemed as threatening. All eyes were glued to him as he spoke.
“I am Radcliff Durnhast, killer of thousands. Did you anger your master that he sent you on this suicide mission?” he sneered. “You lack enough spell power to take me by force.” Radcliff tossed the rock a few more times before continuing. “There are two outcomes to this confrontation. One, you return to your master with a message from me. Two, I kill you.” He made eye contact with each rider before adding in a chilling tone that would freeze an ice bear. “Oh, there are enough rocks here to kill each of you, no worries. I may even be able to make them all hit at the same time. That might relieve my boredom.” His wintry eyes returned to bore into the leader. “What is your decision?”
The leader swallowed a few times before he could speak. “What is the message?” The words came out hoarse and shaky.
Radcliff gave him a smile dripping with menace. “Tell your master I remember everything and that my reckoning is coming.”
Thirty pairs of pleading eyes were glued to their leader’s every motion. The leader flashed Radcliff a hateful look which quickly turned to fear before he broke eye contact. To save face, he pretended an extended examination of the false writ before stuffing it back in his cloak pocket. He shifted uncomfortably in his saddle, clearly debating the wisdom of returning empty handed before making the difficult choice and lifting his hand to signal the retreat. With a collective sigh of relief, the riders gratefully sheathed their swords and turned their horses with perfect precision. Then they galloped away as fast as they dared, like the very fire of their worst nightmare was at their tails.
The nomads stared at Radcliff with a mixture of hate, suspicion, and fear.
Radcliff deflated under their combined stares and his previous aura of menace and arrogance vanished like a puff of smoke. He looked away and spoke softly, his words tinged with bitterness. “I guess I don’t have to ask how accurate that impersonation of myself was. I can see it in your eyes.” He dropped the stone to the ground and held out his shaking hands. “With all the terrible things I’ve done, I’m shaking like a leaf in a wind storm.” He finally mustered the strength to look at each warrior, one by one, before stopping at Amira. She looked away, ashamed for him to see her own fear. “Some monster I am.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Still, it was a good bluff wasn’t it?”
The silence grew uncomfortable until Ekewaka began barking out orders. The Shae, clearly grateful for the diversion, hustled into a single file formation. Ekewaka gestured for Amira and Radcliff to precede him in the middle of the line.
The wizard stepped ahead of Amira as they began their march into the forest. He looked so fragile and broken. The glint of humor in his eyes was gone, snuffed out along with his trust. She did this to him. Always before, she used her visions for the greatest good as they guided her through life’s journey. And the one time it truly mattered, she allowed her hatred to twist her gift from saving a man’s life into ruining it.
Her shame only grew stronger when she realized she was looking forward to sunrise when Radcliff would forget everything and they could start anew. She kept her head down and surreptitiously wiped away the tears that fell. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.
CHAPTER 10
Village Troubles
After the woman shoved a book in his hands and told him to read it, she bolted before he could ask her to stay. She was beautiful, yet sad—a striking combination that piqued his interest. With nothing better to do, he opened the book and read the first page before the words finally sunk in. My lack of memory is a punishment? Curious, he skimmed through pages of stuff regarding magic he supposedly had before his eye caught on what looked to be diary entries containing several paragraphs of curt notes detailing people and his interactions with them. At least he now knew the woman’s name as well as his own. He wasn’t sure he felt like a Radcliff but Amira was an elegant name and matched the beauty of the silver haired, violet eyed temptress who wanted nothing to do with him. Why was that?
Reading entries from five days ago, Radcliff found out exactly what she revealed during a conflict over his fate. A chill crept into his bones with each line. Did I really do all that? I don’t feel evil. Sadness washed over him and he wondered why he wrote all that down in the first place or kept those pages. If he ripped them out, he wouldn’t remember come sunrise. But then he wouldn’t know why Amira was avoiding him or be able to fix things with her. He laughed at the absurdity. What’s there to fix? It’s not like you can have a relationship. You forget everything each morning.
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Just kill yourself already. You are evil, worthless, nobody wants you. The terrible voice rose from nowhere and repeated itself over and over. The urge to give in and die grew stronger with each repetition.
“You owe me.” Those three words read just moments ago speared through the fog of depression and slapped Radcliff’s very soul, demanding his attention. He could almost picture Amira’s face filled with rage, confronting him. They were only words strung together on a page now, but he latched onto them and that imagined scene and threw it all at the darkness clawing away at him. For whatever reason, what she said mattered to him.
The death urge left as suddenly as it arrived, leaving Radcliff drained. Where had that come from? He stared at the book in fascinated horror. Was this also documented in there or was he just going crazy? What other nasty surprises were left to uncover? Did he really want to know? Dare he not?
The creak of the door opening was the only warning Radcliff had before a man wearing a colorful beaded shirt stepped into the two person sleeping structure. Radcliff snapped the book closed and hugged it to his chest possessively. While the things written in it were poor substitutes for memories and many were unpleasant, they were all he had and he refused to lose what little he had left, regardless of whether he chose to read them or not.
“It’s ok, I’m not going to take your book away,” the man said as he walked over and sat on a cushion facing the wizard.
Radcliff studied the man. His long black hair was tied back to reveal a chiseled face that looked both youthful and ancient. Radcliff’s gaze shifted briefly to the tunic made from thousands of beads which formed an image of a colorful bird that was probably native to the region. Clearly it held significance to this society. The way the man carried himself with such authority tempered with wisdom screamed tribal leader. And while the man’s smile was friendly enough, it didn’t reach his eyes. Those twin pools of deep brown looked haunted, like they’d seen terrible things, and bored into Radcliff as if he was the cause of some of them.