by Jeff Gunzel
Eyes on the man next to him, the soldiers began a silent count. On the mark, three doors exploded inward, their heavy kicks knocking each one off its hinges. Swords in hand, they rushed into the rooms as more soldiers followed in behind.
The rest waited outside with their commander, a thick man with a tangled beard. Mostly bald, save for a brown ring of hair wrapping the back of his head, the man frowned at the doorway, wondering what was taking so long. He looked angry, but those that knew him knew he always looked angry. The scowl he wore was more or less permanent, although this one seemed a little deeper than usual. The street remained eerily quiet as they waited.
The front door swung open. Surrounding soldiers stepped back, expecting to see the suspects being led out in shackles, but instead only one soldier peeked out. “They’re gone!” he shouted, pointing back over his shoulder with his sword. “And the window is open in one of the rooms. They knew we were coming!”
“What?” the commander barked, his head on a swivel as he jerked left and right. “Impossible! Where could they have possibly gone...” He slowly looked up, his glare fixed on the roof.
* * *
“I think they’re onto us,” Owen grumbled, peeking over the edge of the roof.
“We better get moving!” Liam ordered, backing away from the edge. Jarlen was already running towards the next rooftop. He leapt, his black funnel form clearing the short distance before setting down on the other side. Owen and Liam followed right behind, each jumping over the alleyway. A cat looked up from the alleyway, wondering what had just disturbed its nap.
“I can’t,” Assirra cried out, hands covering her mouth to help stifle a sob. The distance between the rooftops was a manageable jump, even for her. But a fall for whatever reason would be less than forgiving. That alone was enough to make her think twice.
“If you say you can’t do it, then no one is going to force you to,” Thatra said, hearing the angry shouts from the soldiers below. Her expression hardened. “But I’ll be damned if I’m leaving you here to get captured.” She swooped down, snatching Assirra around the back of her knees, then slung her over her shoulder. Thatra took off running, ignoring Assirra’s shrieks of protest. The High Cleric could be mad if she wanted, but they could discuss it later. Thatra hurtled the alleyway with plenty of room to spare, then continued running after the others. Even with her burden, the sturdy warrior was already beginning to catch up.
Draining the deer in steady pulses, Jarlen’s burning hunger finally began to subside. Once again the humans had tried to control him, tried to dominate him. Never again would he allow himself to be captured, then forced to live in captivity like some kind of freak. Better to die. “Better to die,” he whispered to himself.
Dashing across the rooftops, the group could hear the clinking of armored men following their every move no matter which way they turned. Even the townsfolk were pointing up, a constant stream of shouts revealing their whereabouts. The whole city was against them.
“This way!” Owen called, breaking off to the left. “There is nowhere to hide up here. We have to get back down to ground level.”
“But the streets are swarming with soldiers,” Thatra protested, still running with Assirra slung over her shoulder. Her breathing steady, the warrior showed no signs of slowing.
“Owen is right,” Liam huffed, somehow managing to stay just a few steps ahead of her. “As long as we stay on the roofs they have us cornered. I don’t see any other way. We must take our chances in the streets.” With Owen leading the way, they rushed across three more rooftops before finding a wall covered with thick vines. It didn’t look like a safe climb down, but it would have to do. But the moment Owen knelt down to swing his legs over the side of the roof, the base of the wall flooded with soldiers. Many of them tried climbing up the vines, but the task proved impossible due to their heavy armor.
“Back this way!” Liam called, planting his foot and turning east. But after only a few feet he stopped in his tracks. The tops of ladders began peeking up all along his chosen path. Armor rattled the ladders with each step as soldiers began climbing up. Soon the tops of even more ladders began thumping against all sides of the building. There was nowhere to run. They were surrounded.
“We surrender,” Liam called out, hands in the air as he dropped to his knees. The old man knew an impossible situation when he saw it. Best to not make things any worse. Besides, they were innocent of any wrongdoing. This was all just a mistake. They would be given a fair opportunity to clear their names. He was certain of it...
The others followed suit, dropping to their knees, open hands in the air to prove they had no intention of resisting. All except Jarlen. Eyes wide with panic, his head jerked back and forth as armed men closed in from all sides. “On your knees,” a soldier demanded, inching forward with his sword tip pointed squarely at Jarlen. “In the name of the king, you are all under arrest. Do not resist.”
“No!” Jarlen shouted, pivoting his body constantly to try to keep all threats in view. But they were everywhere now, more climbing up to the roof each second. “No, I’m not going back to that life. You’ll have to kill me first!”
The soldier grinned, motioning to the other soldiers attempting to move around Jarlen’s back. “As you say,” he grunted, sure their superior numbers would still overwhelm this offender, regardless of his reputation.
“No, I’m not going back,” Jarlen mumbled, eyes distant. Like a babe sucking on a nipple, he still slowly drew blood from the deer carcass. But the action was just instinctive at this point, his mind drifting in memory.
“Just do as they say!” Liam ordered. “Don’t make this any worse than it already is. We have done nothing wrong. Once we have been given a chance to tell our side, everything will be fine.”
“Ha!” Jarlen barked, still pivoting about, hands up and ready. “Do you really believe that, old man? How is it possible that I understand your own race better than you? Our guilt has already been decided because someone must be held accountable, and it doesn’t matter who that someone is. Even I can see that!”
“I know what you’re thinking, Jarlen,” Liam warned, head bowed with his fingers locked on top of his head. Even a blind fool could see what Jarlen was about to do. “I understand what you’ve been through. I know you don’t trust humans. And given how they’ve treated you, I suppose I can’t blame you. But believe it or not, our laws exist to protect the innocent. If you kill these men, there will be no going back for you. Your fate will be sealed.”
“Perhaps,” Jarlen growled, backing all the way up to the side of the roof. “But I’ll still be a free man. You are wrong, Liam. Your laws are designed to protect the rich and those in power. And unless you are one or the other, being innocent means nothing. You know this!”
Liam said nothing in reply.
Jarlen’s mind was made up. Worse, in some twisted way, he seemed to be speaking at least a version of the truth. Those with status and wealth were always deemed innocent in the end, no matter how damning the evidence may be.
“That’s far enough,” the soldier said, his sword tip inches away from Jarlen’s throat. Other soldiers inched closer, their blades drawn and ready. Jarlen glanced back over his shoulder, seeing the streets below filled with armored men. It seemed as if all of Shadowfen’s forces must be here. “On your knees. I won’t ask you again.” With a heavy sigh, Jarlen placed his hands on top of his head and sank down to his knees. “Good boy. A dog should always obey its master.”
Fiery red eyes looked up at the soldier. Like smoldering rubies, they seemed to penetrate, boring right into the man’s soul. “Dog? I’ve seen how you treat your dogs, human,” Jarlen growled, those stony eyes unblinking, unfeeling. “And not once have the humans treated me with such kindness!”
He lunged from his knees, flesh blades flashing out like bolts of lightning. A deafening blast rang out as surrounding sword blades shattered. Metal shards rained down like marbles, clacking against the rooftop. The soldie
r who had been taunting him stood frozen, still gripping the hilt of his broken blade. Eyes glazed, expression unchanged, a spray of red spewed from his neck just before his body toppled over.
Stunned soldiers stumbled back while others lay motionless, their life’s blood spurting from open gashes across their necks and chests. Jarlen spun back and jumped off the roof, his form blurring together in midair. The black funnel drifted down, nestling on one of the soldiers below. Black birds pecked and clawed as the man screamed, arms flailing about wildly to fend them off. Agonizing seconds felt like minutes as his flesh peeled away, his eyes plucked from their sockets, his face all but removed. Practically skinless in seconds, the red clump of muscle, bone, and innards collapsed into a pile of unrecognizable gore.
The black funnel whirled back together, liquid black molding back into the shape of a man. Wasting no time, flesh blades shot out to either side, his left impaling two while the right took one in the throat. The head of the man with his throat slit flopped to one side as the body fell, only a thin, clinging piece of skin still keeping it attached to his neck.
Taking advantage of their stunned panic, Jarlen ran past the remaining soldiers, out of the alley, and turned at the intersection. Crossbow bolts whistled around him, many thumping into the ground near his feet. Running full speed, Jarlen drifted towards the far side of the street. Stands and carts were set up along this stretch with large crowds of people bartering for goods. He was safer near the people. Surely they wouldn’t risk...
A bolt zipped past his chin and thumped right into a woman’s chest. With no time to scream, her hands clasped the bolt, eyes bulging with shock. Her eyes rolled back as she fell, dead before ever hitting the ground. These reckless soldiers were willing to fire on their own people just to take him out!
Realizing they would still fire no matter where he was standing, Jarlen broke for the main gate. It was his only chance. Soldiers lined the rooftops, more appearing each second. Cutting the air with a whistling sound, crossbow bolts rained down from all sides, peppering the road around him. Faster than any human, his feet mashed into the dirt, each driving step propelling him closer to his freedom. It had been a mistake to come here in the first place. He should have listened to his gut. He should have–
Off in the distance, organized soldiers formed up in front of the gate. The front row knelt, loaded crossbows ready. The back row remained standing, leveling spears and shields to complete the human wall. Others stood on top of the stone wall, swords drawn. “You won’t take me alive,” Jarlen growled, somehow managing to increase his speed even more. His keen ears heard the collective snap of crossbow wires. He leapt, body whirling as the spray of bolts ripped the air below him. Twirling, the black funnel drifted up and over the wall. Soldiers slashed their swords, striking at the funnel as it drifted past. Black birds bounced along the stone, their feathered bodies twitching briefly before going stiff.
The funnel reformed in midair, Jarlen’s screams of pain filling the air before his body crashed into the ground below. Shoulder bloody, he sprang to his feet and kept on running as more bolts thumped into the ground around him. His wound throbbed, sending waves of agony clear down his side. But he didn’t dare let that slow him. The fear of going back to the pit was enough to make him push through the pain and keep running.
“Should we go after him?” asked a soldier standing at the gate, already turning towards the stables. “I’ll ready the horses.”
“Forget it,” the other soldier answered, recognizing the situation for what it was. “He’s killed enough of our men already, and we even had him at a disadvantage. There is no way we can handle that thing in wide-open terrain. Sending men after him now would just be a death sentence. Let the animal go live with the other animals. Besides, we have the others held captive. Now go give your report and let’s be done with it.”
“Sir,” he said with a nod before marching away.
Jarlen flipped the deer carcass off his lap. “Fools, all of you,” he muttered. “And look at you now. Held captive by your own people, yet you had the nerve to tell me that your laws are there to protect the innocent. Are you not innocent, old man? Aren’t I? You stupid humans deserve your fate.”
He winced at the bitterness of his own words. Perhaps not all of them deserved this. The thought of Assirra’s capture ate at him, whether or not he wanted to admit it. The two of them had bonded on their journey to Shadowfen, old feelings long forgotten resurfacing for the first time in many years. Assirra didn’t deserve to be captured any more than he did. But it was too late to worry about that. She had made her choice and he had made his. Which is why I’m free and you are not.
Free? Jarlen had to think that over for a moment. True, he wasn’t being held prisoner in Shadowfen. At least in that regard he was free. But would that symbolic word still mean anything to him tomorrow? The day after that, even? He eyed the deer’s husk near his feet. Was this his world now? Would he be forced to wander these lands, feeding on woodland creatures while hiding in the shadows like some frightened bird? The stark reality of his situation hit him hard. He had no place to go. Even a human with no home could still live with other humans in any large city. He wouldn’t necessarily be their equal, but at least he wouldn’t be viewed as a complete outcast either. Jarlen, on the other hand, was truly alone in this world.
An even more horrible thought came to mind. The time he had spent in the pit, when his own life was at risk day after day. Had that been...better...in some twisted way? He shivered at the rationalization, but couldn’t deny his true feelings on the matter. The humans cheered him, booed him, but all ultimately wanted to see blood. He was the center of attention, and in some warped way, he had earned some measure of respect.
And that was the difference between his life then and now. Even if he was being treated like just an animal, his life still had one thing that was now gone: purpose... The humans hated him, but they all knew who he was. He was a legend of sorts. Jarlen eyed the lifeless deer, its body drained and withered. And now he was nobody, no different than the pitiful dead creature lying at his feet.
Hairs rising on the back of his neck, Jarlen spun around. Two horsemen were approaching. He could see the tops of their cloaks peeking up just over the hill a short distance away. Jarlen leapt, his black funnel form whirling up into the tree. He could only assume they hadn’t seen him first, given how far off they were. Balancing up on a tree branch while waiting for them to pass, Jarlen suddenly felt humiliated. Already he was hiding from the humans like a frightened rabbit. There were only two of them. I will not live like this, he thought. I am still the hunter!
His mind was made up. When they passed beneath him he would leap down, kill them, and rob them. Even if there were more humans coming he would kill them as well. Even if he no longer had a place in this world, he would not be intimidated by a weaker race. He waited, then finally heard the clopping of their horses approaching. Jarlen held his breath. The riders stopped near the deer carcass, eyeing it curiously, no doubt wondering how it died and why it was just lying on the path like that.
I’ll show you how it died!
Jarlen dropped from the branch, his black funnel form whirling straight towards one of the riders. Sensing danger, the cloaked man dove from his mount. Rolling across the ground, he quickly got back to his feet, blade in hand. Jarlen cursed as he melted back into form, irritated at having lost the element of surprise. How did he dodge that? When did humans become so perceptive to danger? Perhaps it was just him. Already he was going soft, losing his warrior’s instinct. Time to finish these two and take their goods before any others showed up. Those saddle bags looked nice and full.
Jarlen’s arm twitched, his flesh blade firing out. But the man dodged left, then right, each strike cutting nothing but air. Such speed! Impossible! Deciding this human was more of a challenge than he first suspected, Jarlen decided to take out the other rider first before concentrating on this skilled opponent. His arm extended, flesh blade zipping r
ight towards the second rider for the quick kill. With impossible speed, he rolled back off his horse, the blade missing by several inches. Hitting the ground hands first, he pushed off, springing back to his feet, sword drawn in a flash. What is this? Who are these—
“Stop!” called a female voice coming from the one he had just attacked. “You don’t want to do this.” She released her sword to the ground and drew back the hood of her cloak with her other hand. A distinctly featured face stared back at him. White hair, red eyes, and black lips curled up in a most friendly smile. “Stand down, I beg you. You have nothing to fear. We are not your enemies.” The other figure pulled back his hood, a man, one with similar features.
Jarlen stumbled back. How could this be? Was it a trick devised by the humans to make him lower his guard so they could attack him from behind? He glanced about, searching for hidden danger, even though he knew these absurd thoughts were nothing more than his own paranoia. Who would go to such lengths to devise such a plan, even changing their faces to look like one of his kind? And even if the humans had gone to such extremes, they were still human. Humans couldn’t move the way these two did. As hard as it was to wrap his head around all this, he could only come to one reasonable conclusion: they were real. He had found two others just like himself and his sister.
“My name is Lucilla,” the girl said, boldly stepping up close to Jarlen. Face to face with him, she displayed no fear in his presence. It was a trait seldom found in humans who didn’t even trust each other, let alone someone outside their own race. “And this is my traveling companion, Alaric.” She gestured to the male. “You are more than welcome to travel with us. After all, there is greater safety in numbers. Don’t you agree?”