by Jeff Gunzel
He raised his hands, settling the crowd. “Welcome, people of Drakdale,” he began, his voice surprisingly deep for such a small man. Almost immediately Jarlen blocked him out. He had no interest in a lecture from some pitiful human. Were they gathering in praise for one of the many human gods he had heard so much about? This was all just a waste of time. Jarlen’s interest quickly faded.
“Forget it,” Jarlen grunted to the other two. “You were right, we had best just get out of here.” But a cheer from the crowd urged him to turn back. The man’s speech had changed greatly all of a sudden. Wild, animated, his hands clawed the air with excitement.
“These demons walk among us unseen,” the little man roared, sounding savage in his own right. Even with his deep voice he was having trouble speaking over the restless crowd. “They lurk in the shadows, I tell you. They prey on your women and children! I have seen them with my own eyes. And tonight, brothers and sisters, you will see them as well.” He gestured towards an alleyway, heads turning. When moving shadows came stumbling from the darkness, a collective gasp rose up. The sound of so many taking in air all at once sounded like a hundred snakes hissing.
“Jarlen!” Lucilla squeaked from behind.
“Silence,” Jarlen growled, his eyes fixed on the scene unfolding.
“We have to get out of here!” Alaric said, his voice cracking with terror.
“We’re not going anywhere,” Jarlen answered, ice dripping from his every word.
With chains around their necks, their hands and feet bound, two lerwicks were dragged across the dirt towards the platform. Gagged, their muffled cries of terror were barely audible, even over a stunned and mostly silent crowd. All that could be heard were the occasional whispers declaring that the rumors were true.
“Set your eyes upon these twisted mutations!” the little man bellowed, backing off the platform as they were dragged up. “Make no mistake, friends, these demons are real. Straight from your darkest nightmares, they’ve come for your families, your children. I know this because I’ve already seen what they’re capable of. Once thought unique to Shadowfen’s lone monster, held captive under lock and key, they now appear to be everywhere!” More than a few worried whimpers rose up from the crowd. The people were genuinely terrified, and this man’s speech was only stirring the fire.
“But as long as we stand united against this dark threat, we can and will prevail against these monsters. We will hunt them down like dogs, I tell you. They are not immortal. I assure you they can be defeated.” A few people cheered while others just looked on in wonder. “Do you want to see proof of their mortality?” Feeding off each other’s bravery, more cheered and clapped, some even calling for blood. “Then bear witness, my friends! Bear witness to the fragile lives of two demons that won’t get the chance to kill your children!”
“No!” Lucilla cried out, her voice lost in the wave of thunderous cheers.
Down on their knees, the prisoners’ heads were jerked back. Red eyes wide with terror, their pale faces quivering, cold steel flashed across their throats. Blood erupted from their necks, splashing down across the wooden planks like water poured from a barrel. Their bodies twitched and flopped, rolling about. Rushing air buzzed in and out from the deep gashes as they struggled to breathe through their own blood. Not a quick death, it took several minutes before they eventually stopped moving, their final breaths bubbling up through puddles of blood.
“We have to go!” Alaric whimpered, his shoulders shaking with uncontrollable sobs. Never had he seen such a thing. Never had he been so terrified in all his life.
“Please!” Lucilla begged, tugging at the back of Jarlen’s cloak. But not only did he ignore them both, he began clapping along with the humans. Stepping away from Lucilla’s grip, he began walking towards the platform. Head down, face shadowed beneath his hood, he continued to clap in a steady rhythm. The crowd began to quiet as this stranger stepped onto the platform, still clapping, although by now he was nearly the only one.
“Excellent,” Jarlen said, loud enough for all to hear.
“Who are you?” the little man asked, backing away from this cloaked stranger. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“It’s good to see a proper execution go off without a hitch,” Jarlen said, ignoring the man’s questions. His continued steady clapping was becoming unnerving. “It’s just that a bound and gagged opponent can still be quite dangerous if one is completely incompetent. But I see that your skilled swordsmen here were still able to overcome their...disadvantage. Wouldn’t want incapacitated prisoners getting the best of them, now would we?”
“Who are you?” the man repeated, glancing around, wondering why no one was doing anything about this disruption. All he got in return were a number of uneasy looks from the executioners. They too could sense this stranger’s dangerous energy and wanted nothing to do with him.
Jarlen turned back to face the crowd. “This man speaks the truth,” Jarlen said, pointing back to the little fellow. “The lerwicks have indeed returned. I too have seen them with my very own eyes. Sooner or later they will come for your women and children. They are dangerous indeed, but I must point out one small problem in this man’s logic. You will not be able to hunt them down like dogs as he has claimed.” Jarlen threw back his hood, revealing his pale face and red eyes. “It is we who are hunting you!”
His arms snapped out to the sides, flesh blades taking the heads of all three men at once. With his expression nearly the same, the little man’s head rolled off the platform and stopped near a man’s feet. Screams filled the air as spectators tripped over each while trying to flee. Jarlen leapt in the air, his whirling form spinning across the fumbling folk who couldn’t even get out of each other’s way. Screeching birds tore through flesh as he spun past, leaving a trail of skinless bodies to drop in his wake. He reformed, standing on top of a skinless man twitching in the sand.
Suddenly, he was back in the pit again, looking up at those ghastly human faces, laughing, taunting, calling for his blood. He always hated them but could never reach them. But now here they were, a horde of running pigs waiting to be slaughtered. They would pay for what he had endured over the years. It was a bloodlust like he had never known, a thirst that couldn’t possibly be quenched! “Vengeance is mine!” he roared.
Faster than any human, he streaked across the road, flesh blades opening throats and gutting pink stomachs. You can’t run fast enough... Grabbing a fleeing woman by the back of her hair, he slung her straight up before slamming her to the ground. Striking like a viper before she could even wheeze, his teeth crunched into the side of her neck. His cheeks tightened, neck muscles contracting with each rush of fresh blood. She attempted to scream but quickly faded, eyes rolling back as her rapidly cooling body went limp.
Die, you filthy pig...
Not even patient enough to finish dining on his victim, he kicked the corpse aside and streaked back across the street, slashing and stabbing, dropping any humans within range. I’ll have my revenge... Grabbing a man around the head, he twisted sharply, snapping his neck like a twig. Facing his own back, expression of horror frozen forever, the corpse crumbled to the ground.
Alaric and Lucilla huddled in the street, their eyes shut tight but the sounds of dying humans still assaulting their ears from everywhere at once. They were not like screams of fear or pain. Chilling, a last desperate call to the world that would not come to save them, they knew those screams would echo in their minds for all eternity. The harrowing shrieks seemed to go on forever.
When it all finally stopped, the world was silent as death. Even the whistling breeze sounded loud in comparison. They opened their eyes to see Jarlen standing before them, two severed heads in each hand held by their hair. Tossing them aside, he stared down at his traveling companions. Lucilla closed her eyes again, bawling as Alaric rolled over and retched. Bodies littered the streets. He couldn’t possibly have killed them all, but he got plenty before they fled or got back indoors to hide.
“Don’t you dare presume to judge me,” Jarlen said, blood dripping from his hands and mouth. His stony expression was cold, void of any emotion at all. “You saw what they did. That could have been any one of us. We are nothing to them. This future world you speak of, where humans and lerwicks stand side by side, does not exist. It never existed except in your own minds. Come, it’s time to leave.”
“You can’t hide this,” Lucilla wailed, rocking back and forth on the street as she hugged herself. “The ones that got away, they’re going to tell others. Everyone is going to know!”
Jarlen looked around casually at the massacre brought on by his own hands. “I’m counting on it.”
Chapter 10
The evening fire crackled, damp twigs sizzling while the occasional pop threw a whirl of sparks into the air. Rising up into the night, they twirled around each other like glowing dance partners before winking out. Mesmerized by the flame, their minds a thousand miles away, Alaric and Lucilla watched the fire as if it were the only thing in the world. Jarlen sat opposite of them, munching on a handful of seeds. Here at the foot of the mountains, the winds were much stronger than they were used to.
“They’ll send riders, you know,” Lucilla said, her vacant eyes still fixed on the dancing flames. “They’re coming. They’ll track us down and—”
“And what?” Jarlen said, casting his remaining seeds onto the ground. This was the first time either of them had spoken to him since leaving the town. “Do you believe the result would be any different? Any who try and track us down shall meet the same fate as those other humans. It’s hard for me to imagine that any of these cowardly creatures would be in such a hurry to die. Even if they were foolish enough to come after us, from where would they gather a force? That little town had no army, and what few of them are left are no doubt hiding in their bedrooms.”
“They will send messengers to neighboring cities,” Alaric reasoned, his words soft and slow as if he were only thinking out loud. “It will take some time, possibly weeks to assemble a full militia. But they will come, and they will seek vengeance. You slaughtered an entire town. They will not turn a blind eye to what you did.” Alaric looked up from the fire, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. It was the first time either of them had looked Jarlen in the eye since they left the massacre behind. “You’ve started a war.”
Jarlen held his gaze, the corners of his lips turning up ever so slightly. Not quite a smile, but certainly not a look of guilt. “We were already at war,” he whispered. “You seem to have already forgotten what they did right before your eyes.”
“The humans don’t understand,” Lucilla reasoned, finally looking up from the fire.
“Again with your ignorance,” Jarlen snarled, rising to his feet. He rushed forward, his hand on her throat before she could even blink. Slowly, he drew a finger across her throat, his nail drawing a line of red as he scratched her skin. It wasn’t deep, but a few drops of blood trickled down the side of her neck.
“Imagine how those two felt when those razor-sharp blades were dragged across their necks,” Jarlen said, dabbing his bloodied fingertip into his mouth, smacking his lips. “What do you suppose their last thoughts were before their necks were opened by your precious humans? Forgiveness, perhaps? After all, it was not the humans’ fault. They simply didn’t understand, correct? I wonder if those poor souls would agree with you. A shame we can’t ask them.”
Pushing her by the neck, he shoved her back, then turned away to stare at the fire. It was his turn to gaze into the mesmerizing flames while thinking of what could be. What would be.
“You’ve convinced yourself that their sacrifices were somehow for the greater good, I assume,” Jarlen continued, still unable to let it go. “Martyrs even, whose great sacrifice will be talked about for generations to come, long after we’ve made peace with the humans.” He spun back, an accusing finger sweeping the air. “Well, that’s not what I saw! I witnessed two murders, and if it weren’t for me, they would have gotten away with it.” He brought a fist to his chest, making a hollow thump. “I am the one who rained down justice like a storm. Perhaps you should be thanking me, not judging me. I did what neither of you could, and I suspect that that will always hold true.”
Jarlen moved over to one of the horses and tugged angrily at the saddle bag. After ripping out one of the bedrolls, he marched back over to the fire and slung it down. Watching him crawl inside, neither of the others said a word. They no longer knew what to make of this stranger. Violent and hatful beyond comprehension, it was no longer about trust or even just sticking together because he was one of their kind. They were truly afraid of him and had no idea what to do about it.
Jarlen rolled over in his bedroll, his knowing gaze taking both of them in as if he had somehow been reading their minds. “We will probably find this paradise of yours within the next day or two, if that map is correct,” he said. “As I told you before, the world is changing, and you will need to decide whose side you’re on. I suggest you choose wisely.” With that, he rolled back over and closed his eyes.
“He’s wrong,” Lucilla whispered, keeping one eye on Jarlen as she stood to go get her own bedroll. “The world is changing, but not in the way he thinks. We will make peace with the humans. You’ll see, and so will he.”
Not certain what he believed anymore, Alaric just nodded absently. They would know soon enough. That much was certain.
* * *
After a tension-filled morning and a breakfast eaten in complete silence, they began their slow journey up the mountain pass. Freezing winds whistled about, blowing their hair and flapping their cloaks. The angry sky lit up again and again, lighting up the underbelly of black, angry clouds. The only thing stranger than the rainless storm clouds was the eerie silence that followed each flash. There came the occasional rumble from far away, but the distant thunder seemed unrelated to the endless lightning above.
The stony path began to narrow, and soon they were riding along the edge of a cliff. The horses stepped warily, snorting and bucking, displaying their unease. Pebbles dropped off the edge with each step, disappearing in the dark chasm below. The going was slow and perilous, to say the least.
“Enough of this,” Jarlen said, sliding off the back of Lucilla’s mount. “We can’t continue like this. Take only what you need and we will go the rest of the way on foot. I trust my own ability not to die like a fool more than I do any of these beasts. One wrong step and we all go over the edge.”
Not liking the idea of sending their horses away, but liking the idea of falling over the edge even less, they dismounted and began rummaging through their saddle packs. Other than some food and two half-full canteens of water, there wasn’t a whole lot to be salvaged. Assuming this hideaway was indeed a refuge of sorts, they weren’t going to need much. At least, that’s what they were hoping, anyhow.
Getting the horses turned around on the narrow path was a struggle, but once they managed, Jarlen gave them both a slap and sent them running back the way they came. “Now let me have a look at that map,” Jarlen said, holding his hand out to Lucilla. “Last time I checked, it didn’t appear to be much farther.” She just stood there, staring at his shoulder with her eyes slightly crossed. “Well?” he said, shaking his open hand expectantly. Suspecting something was wrong, he stepped closer. Her expression was blank, mouth slightly open. “Lucilla, what’s wrong with you?” Suddenly, her eyes grew large. Coughing violently, she dropped to her knees and began clawing at her own throat.
“Lucilla!” Alaric shouted, rushing up beside her. He gently lowered her down, laying her head on his lap. She coughed and wheezed, slapping her own face with her tongue flipping in and out from her mouth. And then it happened. Black veins began bulging from her neck, the spidery weave slowly moving its way up towards her face.
“The thirst,” Jarlen said, his mind racing as he watched it unfold. He was all too familiar with this infliction, although he hadn’t had to deal with it himself in
many years. A primal need for blood that could strike at any time, there was only one cure. He looked around, seeing nothing but mountains and desolate stone paths. Did anything actually live up here in these extreme conditions? If so, where?
Her whole body began to convulse, her feet kicking the air. She was grunting and thrashing the whole time; Alaric was barely able to hold her down. But he wouldn’t be able to much longer. Jarlen knew this for certain. If she didn’t get blood soon, her urges would take over completely. She would turn, and any living thing within range would be drained dry, not by conscious choice, but driven by pure need. Little good it would do. Lerwick blood would not help in quenching this voracious thirst, but it would be pointless to try and explain that to a mindless animal. And a mindless animal she was about to become.
“You must hold her down as long for as you can,” Jarlen said, looking back down the trail.
“But how long is that?” Alaric pleaded, already struggling with the thrashing girl. “How long?!” he called again, but Jarlen was already off and running.
Jarlen streaked back down the path, his every step sending rocks and dust kicking up in a dusty swirl. The gray rock wall blurred past his vision as he moved, speeding along at an inhuman pace. With so much ground covered in so little time, he soon saw what he was searching for, possibly the only living things for miles around. The horses they had released were galloping along just ahead. Maintaining his sprint, almost on them, Jarlen leapt into the air and assumed his whirling funnel form.
Galloping free, completely unsuspecting, one of the horses whinnied a startled cry as black birds descended down across its back. Jarlen reformed again, liquid black melting together as he wrapped his arms around the horse’s neck. He twisted hard, sending the beast crashing into the cliff wall. It whinnied again, tumbling across the stone with Jarlen still holding on with an iron grip. A final twist produced a satisfying crack, and the animal went limp.