by Charles Dean
“Arraaa! You scum! Heretics! What have you done to me! You dare defile a winged member of the Sun God Emperor’s Host!”
“Wings you may have . . . for now,” Maddock responded, “But I doubt you will ever be flying anywhere again. Even if I choose to let you keep them.”
The shock was evident in the White-Wing’s face as the realization struck him and the memories of how he came to be bound to a tree rushed back to him. Maddock had severed the muscles in the White-Wing’s back that allowed him to fly. Even if they were given time to heal, the White-Wing would never fly again.
“Infidel!” the bird finally said, anger in his voice. “You will suffer a thousand deaths in His flame for this act of barbarism!”
“Oh, I doubt that. I doubt that very much,” Maddock said, his voice remaining calm. “Now, you’re going to answer my questions. After that, I’ll decide whether you live or die. In the mean time, you pray to whatever ‘holy emperor’ you want to strike me down, alright? Now, what is your name?”
The White-Wing writhed against his restraints, struggling to break free, screeching in octaves too high for any human voice to mimic. “I will tell you nothing!”
Maddock approached slowly from across the camp. “We’ll see.” He took the small hunting Knife from Shane and drove it through the palm of the White-Wing’s hand, pinning it to the tree behind it.
“What is your name?” Maddock repeated.
When the White-Wing said nothing, Maddock yanked the Knife out and plunged it into the bird’s palm again, eliciting another screech.
“Alright, then.” Maddock pulled the long Knife from his belt and savagely began cutting away at the White-Wing’s Leather Armor that covered its chest. Not caring how deeply he cut, he had soon stripped away the Armor, leaving behind several deep gashes in the process that poured blood down the front of the White-Wing.
“Your name?” Maddock asked again.
The White-Wing shrieked into his face.
Maddock reached up, grabbed a handful of the blood soaked feathers from the bird’s broken wings, and ripped them out.
“Oh! Time to pluck the birdie!” Thorn laughed from across the camp.
“I can smell the stew already. Did we loot any potatoes from that town?” Bear added.
Maddock had pulled several rough handfuls of feathers from the White-Wing before it finally choked out between the screams, “Icar!”
Maddock stopped and cocked his head. “What was that?”
“M-my name is Icar.” The anger and left the White-Wing’s voice and was replaced with fear and pain.
“And why are you here, Icar?”
“I follow the will of the Sun God Emperor. I act according to His wishes.”
“And what would those be, exactly?”
Icar’s eyes widened at the question. “His wishes are not for you to know, infidel!”
“Uh huh,” Maddock responded raising an eyebrow, “You sure about that?”
The fear was evident in the White-Wing’s eyes, but he said nothing.
Maddock violently slammed the pommel of his long Knife into the White-Wing’s chest, knocking the air from its lungs. Icar sucked in huge, gasping breaths, unable to scream.
“Elaine, if you don’t mind?” Maddock asked.
“Yes?” The lithe mage stepped into the light from where she had remained silent this entire time.
“Why don’t you be a dear and help persuade our friend here.”
Elaine smiled and her eyes lit up. “I thought you’d never ask!” She tilted her Staff towards the White-Wing. Firelight caught in the dark rubies socketed at its apex in the dragon’s skull and sent eerie shafts of red hued light cascading around the encampment. The flakes of gold embossed in the dark wood sparkled as she began casting her spell. “Chains that bind, they do entwine, round and round they go,” she began chanting. The sing-song nature of her words made her sound like a little girl skipping rope on the playground. A small tendril of flame leaked from the dragon’s mouth on her staff and spiraled towards the ground. As it twisted downward, it grew in size until it reached the forest floor, at which time it was almost as thick as a man’s wrist. A serpent’s head could clearly be seen in the flames as it began slithering its way towards the entrapped White-Wing.
“You still praying to your god, bird?” Maddock asked as the flames snaked their way around the bird and the tree, encircling both. When it was done the serpent’s head reared up above Icar’s, flicking a tongue of flame into his face. Everywhere the flames touched, the bird quickly began blistering, and the smell of burning flesh and feathers soon filled the air.
“Oh, great Emperor of Light. I have failed you. I am unworthy to serve!” Icar cried, fear riddling his voice.
“For the last time,” Maddock asked again, “Why are you here?”
“To scout the White-Horns!” Icar cried out. “It is His wish that they be brought to serve the Empire!” The White-Wing began shaking uncontrollably from the pain. “It was my job to find them and report back what I found. I was supposed to map out the terrain for the attack plans and scout their troop movements.”
“So, I was right,” Maddock thought. “Anything else?”
“NO! That was all! I’m just a Scout, I only know what I was assigned!’
“When is the attack coming? How many legions will they send?”
“I don’t know!”
“Where will they attack from?” Maddock pressed.
“I don’t know! I swear! I’m just a Scout!” Icar broke down after this, muttering incoherently about ‘being unworthy’ between sobs.
Maddock took a moment and sized up the broken bird. “Elaine, finish him.”
The fiery serpent began constricting itself around the body of both the White-Wing and the tree. Dark wafts of smoke began drifting upwards as the tree burned, but did not catch fire. Icar turned from sobbing to screaming in seconds. The head of the serpent plunged onto the White-Wing’s throat, sinking fangs of flame into the soft skin there, and the screams died off suddenly. Elaine relaxed her Staff back to an upright position and the serpent disappeared.
Maddock turned to face the rest of his Guild. “Looks like the plans have changed.”
Chapter 7: One Stone To Rule Them All!
Qasin:
“Qasin my dear, you have absolutely no reason to be afraid of me,” Eve said as they continued their journey.
“Excuse me?” he asked, not entirely sure what she was talking about.
“Your blade, Qasin. You haven’t taken your hand off it since our journey began. I didn’t check, but I could be easily persuaded to believe you even sleep with it,” she said, still holding his left arm in the escort position as they walked.
Qasin looked down at his right hand, resting squarely on the pummel of his sword. Have I really been holding it the entire time? he thought, taken a bit by surprise. The itch hadn’t gone away when Eve joined him, but the urge to kill wasn’t half as strong as she was entertaining. She had more than distracted him from his urges as they journeyed together, adequately fulfilling her purpose.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized. Old habits never fade, I guess?” he lied--this was a new habit.
“Right then, well it’s not entirely proper to keep your weapon so ready when you’re around royalty, you know? A more timid Queen might think you’d up and kill her for her throne.”
“It’s a good thing then that we don’t have to worry about you being ‘too timid,’” he mused.
“A good thing indeed. Now, my curiosity has up and killed the dog, so I mu . . .” she started.
“Cat,” Qasin interrupted. “Curiosity has killed the cat.”
“Why that’s an absolutely silly notion, who told you that? If curiosity killed cats, then there would be none of them left. It’s care that killed the cat,” She said in all seriousness maintaining her know-it-all persona.
“If you say so.” Qasin shook his head. She’s very unique, that much is certain at least.
>
“Anyway, before I was rudely interrupted, I was going to ask what you actually plan on doing in the White-Horn area.”
“A man must have his secrets too,” he replied, still not sure exactly that he wanted to let her know who he actually was. It was a thought that had managed to keep his mind occupied a bit of late since the longer things dragged on, the harder it would be to tell her if he actually wanted to.
“Is that what they say? And here I thought good gentlemen knew that honesty was the best policy when women were involved.”
“Lies and secrets are different things, you know. I asked first though, so if you want my story, you’ll have to tell me yours.”
“Oh dear, next thing I know you’ll be asking about my age, weight, and if this is my natural hair color?”
“No, just the one for now.”
“Very well, since you’ve been such an upstanding bodyguard and portable wallet, I think it won’t hurt to tell you what I’m doing more specifically. You see, I am on my way to the White-Horn lands to make sure my brother’s journey goes smoothly.”
“So you are running an errand at your brother’s request then?”
“Heavens, no! He doesn’t even know I’m still in the area. He only knows that there is a harbor in the White-Horn lands and that he will soon have to go to that harbor if he wants to achieve his goals.”
“So your goal is to negotiate with the head of a nation just to secure safe travel for one person?” Qasin was becoming more confused with every explanation. It was as if each answer came packed with two questions.
“Again, Qasin, no. You’re assuming too many things incorrectly. You should perhaps stick to bodyguarding and not try so hard to take up divining. I’m going to make sure things go smoothly, not safely, for my brother and his people, not just himself.”
“Smooth isn’t safe?”
“Safe is boring. Smooth, not so much,” she said, drawing a wicked smile that made Qasin’s hand return to the pummel it had been avoiding.
“I think I prefer safe.”
“That’s what people think they should think, but it’s not the actual truth. I think this talking is something you’d rather throw to the sides for a good fight, for a spark of danger, or for a duel to the death.”
“What leads you to believe that?”
“Experience . . . but enough about me. I believe now you owe me your half of the reason for our joint expedition.
“Hmmm, I suppose I might as well say it. I’m the King, and I’m on my way to kill the leader of the White-Horns and take control of the area.”
“Oh, my! That is a rather tall tale. What evidence do you have to prove such a claim?” she said, unclipping herself from the arm she had been holding onto for the last day.
Qasin stopped walking, reached into his backpack and pulled out a Crown. “I don’t like to wear it when I’m traveling, but it is the real deal, I assure you of that,” he said, not sure if it would suffice as evidence.
“I see. I suppose it would be impolite of me not to believe you at this point,” she said, grabbing the Crown from his hands and playing with it for a second before resting it atop her own head instead of his. “And you’re going to go kill the leader of the White-Horns?”
“Indeed,” he replied bluntly.
“Why,” she asked, adjusting the crown as Qasin had a myriad of times before her, “that doesn’t seem very political.”
“The White-Horns will never let themselves be lead by a Human if I don’t,” he explained. “Sure, the Satyrs might listen to me today, but tomorrow they’ll have a fresh Dagger for my back, and Minotaurs will have an axe for my front from the start.”
“So, you have to kill their leader?” she asked, trying out various poses with her new crown.
It suits her better than it does me. Maybe she is a Queen, he thought as he watched her goof off with the Crown.
“Yes, otherwise they won’t follow.”
“That’s true. You’ve made an excellent case for that, sir, but you haven’t made a case for why they need to follow.”
“Because if I don’t break them and unite the island, we’ll be stuck in petty wars for ages to come. The peace won’t last and people will die because I didn’t stand up.”
Eve gave him a resounding golfer’s clap. “Bravo, sir. Bravo! You’ve reached the point of arrogance properly expected of a monarch. Say it’s for the people; don’t say what you truly mean.”
Qasin began to get agitated. What I truly mean? It is for the people. This is all for them. “What do you mean by that?” he asked.
“I don’t think your logic is bad,” she started, “It’s just I think you’re lying to yourself again. You’re not after being a King. You don’t like it. It’s all politics, ordinances, decrees and constant bickering between fat, lazy, old men about what should or shouldn’t be. The only people you’ll end up talking to are either people who won their position by force, like yourself, or people who won it through lies and broken promises, like the Councilmen, and all you’ll ever do is talk.”
“But, someone has to rule them,” he started to argue back, but there wasn’t much voice behind his words. Her opinions on the matter had already started to worm their way into his thoughts. “If not, then the good honest and innocent people will die for the greed of those pigs.”
“That’s true. Someone does have to rule, but should it really be you? Wouldn’t you much rather be out in the world, risking your life, adventuring through dungeons and caves as you bounce from one fight to another? I quite imagine that this little thing . . .” she took the Crown off of her head and placed it on his, “feels much more like a shackle than an honor.”
Qasin adjusted the Crown, thinking back on the hundreds of people he had murdered over the last few days in his gambit for power. It feels good to kill, he thought at the same time she mouthed the words at him. It feels so good. He sighed, knowing she wasn’t wrong about the Crown or his need to find someone else to wear it.
Darwin:
Darwin wasn’t able to get half way back home before Alex came barreling out of the woods in front of him at full speed.
“Captain!” Alex almost shouted as he closed in on Darwin. “Captain, I’m glad I could find you in time.”
“In time? In time for what?” Darwin asked, confused.
“To kill them. To kill those scum,” Alex said, pointing randomly at a direction in the forest.
“Kill who?” Darwin asked, “What scum are you talking about?”
“The bastards who murdered my family,” Alex said, gritting his teeth as his face grew redder by the minute.
“Wait, scum that killed your family?”
“Captain, during the attack that earned you your title and destroyed our village, many people died defending the town. They fought bravely against the intruders, but some didn’t; some people took advantage of the chaos that ensued during the struggle and murdered and pillaged good people’s homes. A lot of people died that didn’t have to, people that weren’t part of the struggle. These people, I know for a fact, were part of that group of traitors who murdered the townspeople during the mayhem,” Alex said in a way that made it difficult to tell if he was angry at the people or at Darwin wasting precious seconds that could be spent avenging.
“Say no more,” Darwin said, not wanting to upset Alex with more waiting. “Lead the way.”
As the two of them tore through the woods with Darwin’s entourage, Fuzzy Wuzzy and the four Turtle-Wolves, Alex did his best to update Darwin on the situation. “There are twelve of them. They aren’t nearly as skilled in combat as you, but they are better than the average soldier.”
Better than the average soldier? So they’re at least above level 20. If they aren’t nearly ‘as skilled as me’ then that means they are probably all between level 25 and 30, probably not over 30. Darwin began putting the numbers together in his head. It was going to be a mathematical slaughter. I have five troops with me, all of which are originally only Level 4
1, but each of them gaining the Captain’s Emblem’s +5 levels and +5% all stats, I don’t think I even have to take part in this fight.
“But, Captain, there is one thing we may need to be concerned about,” Alex continued, breaking Darwin from his happy thoughts about being overpowered against the noobs. “One of them kept talking about all powerful entities--he called them Aliens. ”
Darwin’s face fell flat. “You’re worried about . . . Aliens?”
“Yeah, this Henry character in the group kept talking about them and how they made us all. How they could easily come down and destroy us at a moment’s notice. I normally wouldn’t believe intel like this, but he was casually telling his allies without any knowledge that we were eavesdropping. It makes it a lot more credible.”