by CM Raymond
Julianne focused her mind. She whispered a word under her breath as her eyes flashed white. The girl on the bed wobbled, then dropped into a sound sleep. Light snoring soon filled the room.
“Best night’s sleep you’ll ever have, darling,” Julianne said.
She dropped a pile of coins on the bedside table, and quietly left the room. All the mystic wanted was to sneak out the back of the brothel and into the night. The entire place made her feel dirty inside and out.
Some would argue that the women made their choices to work at the Lair. She knew that most of them were there because they had few other choices in Arcadia.
As she moved toward the end of the hall, a voice filled with contempt met her. It wandered out of the cracked door at the end of the hall.
“How the hell am I supposed to keep this place running if you won’t do what the customers ask for?” a voice shouted.
Julianne tried to push herself to ignore the confrontation and leave the hellhole. She had to protect her cover above all else.
“Frank, listen,” a thin, young voice sobbed, “that beast of a man—the things he wanted to do...”
The sound of a fist on flesh stopped the mystic in her tracks.
Some things just can’t be ignored, and she knew it.
Closing one eye, she peered through the crack in the door. A young girl quivered in the shadow of a balding man who towered over her. Her cheek was already red and starting to swell. She couldn’t have been older than fourteen.
“I don’t pay you to have sexual preferences, you little bitch,” he screamed, his bald head growing red.
He drew back with his right for a second strike, not caring if he damaged an asset in his portfolio.
****
Frank had convinced himself that the Dragon’s Lair offered a service to the men of Arcadia and to the girls from the Boulevard whom he employed. It was an easy job, until the girls got finicky about spreading their legs for the city’s finest noblemen… or were asked to do kinky, unseemly things.
It was the girl’s second offense, and he couldn’t afford to lose customers due to her timidity. He didn’t care what she was asked for.
“I don’t pay you to have sexual preferences, you little bitch,” he said.
Pulse quickening, he pulled back to hit her again. Before he could deliver the blow, a hand grabbed his forearm. He turned to find a woman holding his arm. She was tall and beautiful, but she wasn’t one of his.
“What the fuck are—”
He stopped short as her eyes covered over with a milky white film.
Before he could speak to the mystery woman, his stomach stirred. He gagged as something wriggled up into his throat as if he were slowly vomiting. Clutching his throat, Frank panicked. His airway was blocked. Retching and coughing, the foul man opened his mouth as the obstruction continued to move.
It felt like someone was pulling a rope up, inch by inch, from his stomach.
He gagged again, and a snake, over a foot long, slivered out of his mouth and fell to the ground. His eyes went wide as it reared its head, fangs out and struck at his ankle.
“Mother fucker—”
Before he could defend himself, the sensation hit him again in the gut.
Fear rushed in as he heaved and gagged. A second snake dropped out of his mouth and wrapped around his leg.
As reality fell apart around him, he looked up at the beautiful woman. But she was gone or rather, had transformed. No longer a gorgeous face, but something cast in nightmares. Her skin lacked all color, her hair had mutated into dozens of serpents, like the ones that had escaped from his body seconds earlier.
Frank tried to scream, but nothing came.
The pale-faced woman grabbed his crotch and squeezed, twisting his genitals like a doorknob. A smile crept onto her lips.
“Do you like it, you little bitch?” she asked. “Do you, Frank?”
The woman released his man bits and tilted her head back.
She opened her mouth as if she were catching snowflakes, but her jaws just opened wider and wider like a serpent’s preparing to swallow its prey.
Finally, he screamed for help—realizing it was likely his last act.
Frank felt her fingers in his hair, and she pulled his face into her fanged mouth.
All went black.
****
Julianne let the man’s body drop to the floorboards in a quivering mess. His eyes were open, pupils dilated. He mumbled an indecipherable gibberish. A wet spot on his pants showed that Julianne’s illusion had scared the literal piss out of him.
“Is… is he OK?” the small girl whispered from her chair in the middle of the room.
She looked even younger up close, and Julianne considered kicking the living shit out of Frank’s convulsing body.
She shook her head. “He’s not even close to OK.”
The mystic pulled a bag of coins from her pocket and tossed them into the girl’s lap. “Take these. There’s enough there to give you a shot at starting over. Get out of this place and never come back.”
Standing, the girl weighed the bag in her hand. “Why would you do this?”
“Everybody deserves a chance. This is yours.”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
“One more thing,” Julianne said. “I was never here.”
The girl nodded. She turned to the filthy beast on the floor and kicked him squarely in the face. His head snapped back, but the shot did nothing to change his state. Thanking Julianne again, the girl ran for the door.
Giving the girl a moment’s head start, Julianne changed back into the likeness of the Capitol Guard and made off for the Noble Quarter.
****
It was dark outside in the fenced in yard, but with a snap of his fingers, Parker brought the magitech lights to life.
“Still can’t get over that magi-shit,” Karl said with a stroke of his beard.
Hannah looked at the lights, glowing like little moons around the perimeter of the property. “The lights are nice, but it would be nicer if they used their damn tech to do something kind… like, say, feed a freaking starving child.”
“I’m not sure there’s any tech for that,” Gregory said sheepishly. He kept his eyes on his feet, and Hannah wondered if he was thinking about his father.
Hannah was finally wearing her old clothes again, and she let her natural dark hair hang down. It felt good to look like herself again.
The night was cool, but they were planning on soon working up a sweat. There was an open stretch of grass in the middle of the yard, and a variety of melee weapons were spread out on a table just off to the side of the clearing.
Karl stood in the middle of the space, arms crossed and face grim. He nodded at Hannah. “Come, lass, try to take me down.”
Hannah took a step forward and paused. “I know you’re a damned good fighter, even for an old rearick, but this is hardly fair. I have magic.”
He shrugged. “Think I haven’t gone against you tricksters before? I whooped enough magical arses to make up my own Academy. Now, come on, don’t you pull any punches.”
A snide smile washed across Hannah’s face. She whipped her arms in arcs across her chest in a familiar pattern as two fireballs burst to life in her hands. With a thrust of her hands, she launched one toward the rearick, but Karl was faster than he appeared. With a quick step, he dropped to the ground and rolled beneath the fireball. His momentum carried him forward, and before Hannah could react, he was on her.
Grabbing Hannah’s arm, he pivoted and pinned it behind her back. She could hear his heavy breathing from behind her.
“Aye, I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of one of those fireballs, but to use magic, you need to use your hands. What are you going to do now?”
Hannah squirmed and struggled, trying first to get free.
“You’d be dead already, lass. If I were a remnant—or one of Adrien’s men.”
That last comment pissed her off, and even constra
ined, she was able to draw a fireball, albeit one smaller than before. Without being able to see, it was hard to aim, but she shoved the flame back behind her.
But Karl saw it coming. He shifted his weight, stepping to the side of her close-quarter attack. Her fireball launched across the lawn, finding an innocent, oak lawn chair in its path. A burst unsettled the quiet night; shards of wood flew in every direction.
The rearick released her and pushed her away, back into the center of the lawn.
Hannah’s eyes were still burning red, and her breathing was heavy.
“Learning how to cast magic ain’t the same thing as learning how to fight. It’s about reading your opponent, anticipating their moves. Coming up with surprising moves of your own. With your spell craft and my experience, you could be a formidable fighter indeed.” The rearick grinned. “Contrary to popular opinion here in Arcadia, the magician doesn’t always win.”
Parker whistled to Karl like a dog. “What does that prove? Hannah’s just a girl, after all.” Parker said it with a smile, but he still had to jump out of the way as she threw another ball of fire at his feet.
“Truce!” Parker yelled. “I don’t want to be on the receiving end of your magic either. But I do have some experience in the Pit. Taken down a champion, if I do say so myself. Why don’t you let me take a shot, man to man?”
Karl laughed. “The Pit? That’s like a child playing with blocks, thinking he can build the Academy tower.” He rolled his head and everyone could hear the vertebrae in his neck crackle and pop. “But if yer looking for a beating, step right up. Man to man.”
Parker stepped into the grass and immediately began to circle the rearick. Parker pretended to step right, then quickly dodged left. But Karl stood still, arms crossing his massive chest. He looked like he wasn’t even paying attention to the boy.
Parker decided to make his move. Without warning he leaped into the air, arms raised above him, then he dropped into a roll, hoping the quick change in movement would throw the rearick off balance. Parker came out of his roll swinging, but Karl’s massive fist was waiting for him.
The boy from the Boulevard dropped like a sack of flower, stars dancing before his eyes.
Gregory went wide eyed, but Hannah was beside herself with laughter. “Parker the Pitiable,” she chanted—his title from his five minutes of fame in the Pit.
Karl reached down and clasped Parker’s hand, pulling the young man to his feet. Parker tilted his head back and pinched his bleeding nose while the rearick slammed a hand across his back “Not bad, kid. You got speed, and that’s an asset. But real fighting is more than just fancy tricks. I’ll set you straight. Don’t ever let em get close to you. No offense, but yer body wasn’t designed to take a beating. If your opponent can get close, if they can grapple you, you’re screwed six times to Sunday.”
“Ways,” Gregory interjected.
The rearick spun. “Aye?”
“It’s ‘six ways till Sunday,’ not times.”
Karl broke out in his full-bellied laugh. “Maybe, kid. They’ll get you six times in all kinds of ways. You better believe that. Now, it’s yer turn.”
Gregory held up his hands as his face went pale. “No, not me. I’ve never…”
“Aye, but you will. Yer one of us now. Better take all that screwing from me first.” Karl smiled through his beard. “Now, get over here.”
The rearick was strong, but he wasn’t cruel. He knew a little tough love was just what these kids needed—if they were going to survive this. Luckily, Karl was as good a teacher as he was a fighter.
The three young Arcadians spent the next two hours learning basic hand-to-hand moves—how to stand to get force behind your punch, how to escape certain hand holds, how to best block an incoming attack. Hannah and Parker warmed to the lesson, while Gregory looked like he was going to pass out. He sat in the grass, breathing heavily.
Parker and Hannah joined him. They, too, were sweaty and winded from exercise.
“You weren’t kidding,” Hannah said to the rearick, who remained standing. “That was one hell of a workout.”
Karl smiled. “Just you wait until we get started with the weapons. That will put some meat on yer arms.”
But the weapons training would have to wait. Eleanor’s voice rose over the clamor. “What is going on out here? You’re all sweaty and rolling around in the dirt like a bunch of mating remnant. Come inside and get cleaned up. The rest of them are almost here.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Ezekiel sat at the head of the long, dining room table. All were accounted for, save Julianne. He had tried to reach out to her through psychic magic to no avail—which meant she was either occupied or incapacitated. Part of him started to worry, but he knew the mystic was strong. She could handle a few Arcadian Guardsmen if she needed to.
He asked Eleanor and Maddie to excuse themselves—hoping that they’d be able to maintain some plausible deniability if his rebellion went south.
“I was going to wait for Julianne, but it seems she’s—”
“Here I am,” the woman broke in as she entered the mansion through the back door. She looked like herself, wearing a simple robe with her thick hair cascading down around her shoulders. A nearly audible sigh came from the group. Having her in their midst looking like Stellan, the massive Arcadian Guard, was unsettling, to say the least.
Ezekiel sighed, but for a different reason. “I’m glad you’re… here. Now, we all know that Adrien’s tyranny must come to an end—and I believe that the people at this table have the skills necessary to do it. But it’s no use flying in like a lycanthrope in heat. We need to be strategic, form a plan.”
“I’ve got a plan, Zeke,” Hannah said. “You teleport us into Adrien’s tower, Karl here smashes his door in with his hammer, and then I throw him out of the window. Piece of cake.”
As she said this the table jolted, meaning the dragon was walking around underneath of it. “Or on second thought,” Hannah said. “We feed him to Sal. Who’s with me?”
Parker let out a loud huzzah, and Karl and Julianne both laughed. But Amelia and Ezekiel both looked at each other, a worried expression on their faces.
“While I admire your enthusiasm, Hannah,” Ezekiel said, “I’m sure that Adrien has developed a defense for precisely that. And while I also agree that at the rate your pet is growing, he could soon do the job, that’s exactly the kind of half-cocked thinking that could get us all killed. We’re not some remnant horde—we need more than the bones of a plan. We need the flesh and guts, too. But that requires good intel. So, what do we know?”
Silence fell over the room. Each person looked at the others to go first. Finally, Parker jumped in. He told the crew about the success he and Hannah had in the marketplace, offering Parker up as an alternative prophetic voice for the people to follow. They all laughed when he mimicked the Prophet’s face, and they applauded when he told them how Hannah had teleported in, grabbed him and jumped back out.
“The question is,” Karl asked sipping on his second ale, “where’d the lass grab ya?”
The table laughed, and Parker and Hannah blushed, refusing to look at each other.
Hannah piped up. “He was good. The people really listened. It’s been obvious that the common folk are hungry for something to believe in. That’s why so many of them have been eating out of old Jedidiah’s hand for so long. But yesterday, we showed them a glimmer of hope. If you’re starving and there’s only one thing to eat, you’re going to eat it. But Parker has given them something else. If we can keep this up, the people might follow.”
“Old Dirty Dick is Adrien’s puppet,” Parker added. “Taking a shot at him is also a shot at the Academy. Who knows, they just might take up arms. It’s their city at stake, after all.”
Karl snorted, this time with no sense of humor whatsoever. “Scheisse! We need soldiers, not cannon fodder. A mob is no good against an army. If you did manage to convince them to fight—it would be a slaughter.”
/> Hannah jumped to her feet, nearly knocking the chair over behind her. “You underestimate my people, rearick.” A vein stood out on her forehead. “I know they might not look it, but the Boulevard is strong. We have more to offer than you can imagine. And they’re being slaughtered out there already. The least we could do is give them a chance to fight for their lives.”
Karl grinned through his beard and raised his hands. “Aye, lass. I hear you. If they were all as tough and as strong willed as you, I’d march against the Guard, Adrien, and even the giants from the Frozen North. I’d take an ounce of yer spunk any day—but I have no desire to see innocent people get hurt—not under my command anyway. And they would get hurt—that’s a fact.”