Beast of Zarall

by E B Rose

  A few hours ago, before her bladder became unbearable, Olira had heard the men speaking in excited tones. There was an air of preparation. She’d spied outside through the gaps between the wooden planks and watched as the men left the townhouse in small groups. They’d dressed in different uniforms and carried their weapons. After they’d left, the townhouse fell quiet.

  Just when Olira was suspecting they’d left her alone, locked in the house, she heard a key turn inside the lock. She jumped away from the door and withdrew until her back was against the far wall.

  What if it was Dienus? What if he finally remembered her? Olira shuddered and bit her lip.

  The door opened with a creak and Emberlash’s wrinkly face glowered at her. “What are you screeching for?”

  Olira’s relief was quickly replaced by pride. She returned Emberlash’s scowl with hers. “You can’t keep me locked here for days. I need to use the privy, get some air.”

  Emberlash rolled his eyes. He nodded for her to follow him. Olira wiped her palms on her skirt and stepped outside after the royal servant.

  Emberlash took her down the stairs and through an empty living area, cluttered by bedrolls and rubbish on the floor. Melton, Dienus’s other squire, was sitting at a table with one other guard. Those two, and Emberlash, seemed to be the only people left at the townhouse.

  They walked outside through the backdoor, where a tall, wooden box was built around a hole in the ground ten feet from the house. It was chilly and dark outside. The air smelled of sweat and urine, which was the flavour of every city Olira had visited in her life. Still, it was nice to smell something other than the dust and mould that was lingering inside the house.

  Emberlash stood aside to let Olira inside the box. She closed the door behind her and finished her business in the dark. She hurried back outside as soon as she relieved herself and Emberlash lead her back into the house.

  “Where is Norrol?” Olira asked as they climbed back up the stairs.

  “He’s gone with Prince Dienus.”

  “Where?”

  Emberlash gave her an annoyed look. He roughly pushed her inside the cell and locked the door.

  Olira sat down on the mattress. Dienus was going after Lion of Zarall, she was sure of it. Although part of her hoped the slave could avoid falling into the hands of that twisted monster, the other part wanted to see the slave again. To tell him she was sorry and to seek his forgiveness.

  BEAST

  “Let us go, Valnar,” Ink demanded coldly.

  “Go where?” Valnar growled. Even despite the dark, his face was visibly red.

  “Anywhere but here.”

  When Valnar took a step forward, Ink stepped in between him and Beast.

  “Ink, what do you think you’re doing?” Valnar begged to know.

  “I’m saving him from being butchered at one of Master Naelar’s slaughterhouses.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Tell me what happens to crippled slaves in this country, Sir Valnar.”

  Valnar looked deeply offended. “Do you think... Lygor would... Lygor would never let anything like that happen to him!”

  “Oh yeah? Do you wanna talk about all the things Lygor did let happen to him since we arrived at Calae?”

  “That...” Valnar’s face darkened. He lowered his voice. “That was different.”

  Ink glared daggers at him. He switched to a cold, authoritative voice, that was so similar to Lygor’s. It reminded them both who Ink really was. “Don’t come after us, Valnar,” he warned.

  “I can’t let you do that, Prince Ingelhar!”

  “Valnar, let me give this man his freedom. Please!”

  Beast was listening to their argument with confusion. He watched Ink as if seeing him for the first time. The Kaldorian was fighting for his freedom like Beast himself never did. He was risking his own wellbeing for him. Beast was flooded with affection and gratitude towards Ink.

  A moment later, those feelings were replaced by doubt and fear. Every time Beast had felt that way for someone...

  “I can’t let you betray Lygor like this.”

  “He doesn’t mean anything to Lygor. He has no use for him.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Do you think the Union will trust a slave to keep his mouth shut about the scam they’re plotting; using an imposter to rouse the people for them?”

  “Lygor won’t let them harm him.”

  Ink scoffed loudly. Valnar’s face turned purple. He tensed and relaxed his hands. He took another step forward and turned his palms to Ink in a gesture of surrender. “Look,” he said. “I want Beast to have his freedom too. I agree, he deserves it. But this is not the way.”

  “And what is the way, Valnar? Put him through another twisted fight, so they can burn the rest of his flesh?”

  “Lygor is your friend!” Valnar begged. “Just put everything aside and remember this, okay? You both owe each other your lives! You swore to protect him! You can’t steal his property and escape in the middle of the night, like a lowly thief.” He paused. “Where is the honour in that?”

  He had struck a blow there with that accusation. Ink’s shoulders sagged. He remained quiet and seemed tired, but finally shook his head. “The Union have him under their thumb. Lygor won’t listen.”

  “You have to try.” Valnar took another step. “You’re right; the Union does have an influence on him. That’s why he needs our guidance more than ever.”

  Valnar was closing the distance slowly. Beast wanted to curl his hands into fists, but his burnt fingers didn’t move. He glanced down the side of the roof. The garden stretched far below. The rocky ground promised the fall would end in death.

  He wasn’t going back.

  “Let’s get down and talk to him,” Valnar begged. “I promise I will help you convince him. He will agree to give Beast his freedom. I know he will.”

  Ink lowered his head. His gaze was fixed on the remaining empty space between them. A thoughtful scowl pained his face.

  Beast closed his eyes. His chest was hurting again. He wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. He’d seen that expression before; On Olira’s face when she agreed to sell him. Then, on Lygor’s face when he agreed to let Vadithas take him. It was happening again.

  Again.

  He made a sound, which was half sob and half chuckle. Every time he trusted a free man or a woman...

  Every. Time.

  No, he wasn’t going to let this happen. He wasn’t going to allow Ink to become the next free man who betrayed him.

  He was going to take his freedom himself.

  “All free men are greedy,” Beast muttered.

  Ink’s head snapped up at him sharply. He seemed shocked and offended. Maybe a little hurt. That expression was how Beast would remember him from now on.

  Beast lunged forward. He wrapped his bandaged arms around Ink and pushed him off the roof.

  VALNAR

  “No!”

  Valnar’s fingers scraped Ink’s cuffs. The Kaldorian’s nails scratched Valnar’s wrist. Neither of them could get a good grip.

  Ink fell.

  “Ink!”

  The only reply to Valnar’s cry was the wet sound of flesh and bones meeting hard ground.

  “No, no, no, no...” Valnar looked down the edge of the roof. Ink’s body was sprawled on his back. His arms and legs were spread at unnatural angles and blood was splayed around his head. Vadithas’s men who were patrolling the yard had heard the noise and were gathering around the body.

  “You!” Valnar turned his gaze at Beast. He attacked the slave with an animalistic cry.

  To his surprise, Beast didn’t just stand there and take it this time. He raised his bandaged arms to block Valnar’s punch, then cried out in pain when Valnar’s fist connected with his injuries.

  “Prihjtivaviula!”

  Beast fell on the sloping roof. His weight and convulsions cracked some of the brick tiles. Valnar started kicking him madly, wh
ile yelling his Pain Word over and over again. Beast’s thrashings brought him too close to the edge of the roof.

  Valnar raked his hair with his fingers. When he closed his eyes, Ink’s image flashed in front of him. “Oh Kiejain…” he whimpered, but couldn’t bring the rest. He considered letting Beast fall down to his death, then thought better of it.

  “Padlociatius,” he said, then grabbed the slave by his shirt and pulled him to safety. “Why did you do that, huh?” he yelled at Beast’s bandaged face. “He was trying to help you!” He kicked him again.

  A loud sound made Valnar stop on his tracks. It was the sound of a giant paper, or sheet, ripping by force.

  It came from the yard, where Ink fell.

  Cold sweat trickled down Valnar’s back. He couldn’t breathe. He remembered this sound. He never wanted to hear it again. And he thought he never would.

  An orange light bloomed in the yard and Valnar heard the fearful and confused cries of Vadithas’s men. He took a reluctant step towards the edge of the roof and looked down.

  Ink’s chest was burning. Flames were climbing out of his torso. As Valnar watched, the flames took shapes; claws, thick legs, a tail, a long muzzle and the snarling face of a dog or a wolf. The canine body was made of fire. It pulled itself into Earthome through Ink’s body and growled at the faces of the men around it.

  “No,” Valnar whispered.

  The demon hound looked up straight at Valnar. It pulled its lips back to reveal black teeth and liquid fire dripping down its mouth. With a furious howl, it ran to the building and started climbing up the wall.

  Valnar ran.

  TESLATURAHEL

  “For the last time,” Tesla said patiently. He was using all his willpower to keep his voice civilized. “This is an urgent matter. I need to speak to the owner of this manor.”

  “Master Vadithas is occupied this evening,” the guard at the gate said dismissively. “Come back tomorrow morning.”

  Tesla closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. The manor was surrounded with tall walls and the gates were guarded with half a dozen men. When he pictured the praying circle he’d seen in that room, he could feel the pull of the tracking spell. The room was in that manor, so was Lion of Zarall and the dragon bone necklace inside him. He had to get in there.

  He briefly considered blowing the gate with a wind spell and getting in by force. He felt strong enough to cast Earthome spells, not to mention he could certainly justify the urgency of his loud entry, if Eternal Council questioned him.

  Tesla shook his head briefly. He couldn’t afford to draw too much attention to himself. He was still recovering from the Queen’s attempt to murder him. He took his hand to his side, where he could feel the bandage under his shirt.

  The journey from the shore, with a bleeding injury and no resources to cast the spells he needed, hadn’t been easy.

  He had laid half paralysed for the majority of the day, after he woke up from his premonition. He didn’t remember how he escaped from the long-armed demon in the cave. The last thing he’d recalled was being slammed against the walls while the demon in the cage laughed.

  When he woke up near the shore, more than a day must have passed. His skin was sunburnt, his whole body was stiff, his sensory integration spell had faded, and his cauterized wound somehow managed to get infected.

  That day, he had trouble convincing himself that he wasn’t going to die. He’d calmed his senses, transformed some more fruits for himself, conjured water, and managed to collect his thoughts.

  He knew Farhome sourced healing spells that could remove every trace of that wound as if it never happened, but without the right ingredients, he couldn’t cast anything other than low level Earthome spells.

  He had to move, so he’d gathered all his strength and walked inland, until he came across a small fishing village with no more than ten huts. The villagers didn’t have a healer, but they found him Asennamon root and Vessumine leaves, which he used to cure his fever.

  He bought an old plough horse from a farmer, paying with some rocks he’d disguised as Chinderian Blues. His illusion spell would last for several hours; by the time the farmer realized they were just pebbles, Tesla would be gone. He’d felt deeply guilty for deceiving the farmer like this, but he had no other choice. He was going to confess this act to the Eternal Council and make sure they’d pay for the man’s horse.

  Guided by his tracking spell, he’d rode hard for days, only eating transformed fruits and vegetables from the plants and leaves he’d found on the road. It wasn’t a nutritious meal, but it kept him going. By the time he arrived at Calae, he was tired, weak, and his fever was returning.

  Maybe the obstacle at the gate was a good thing for Tesla. Maybe he could use this opportunity to recover and regain his strength.

  “Okay,” he nodded. “Okay, I’ll come back tomorrow.”

  The guard didn’t comment. He simply looked bored. There was a single nose hair peeking out from his left nostril. Tesla’s mouth twitched as he resisted the urge to rip the hair out. Tesla took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts.

  “Do you know where the healers or herbal shops are located in this city?”

  The guard sized him up, with a raised eyebrow. “A few blocks from the Temple, Elmwood street and surroundings,” he said.

  Tesla was too annoyed to thank him, not to mention, he didn’t want to stare at the man’s rogue nose hair any more than he had to. He’d seen the steeples of the Temple of Twelve Riders when he first entered the city. He headed in their direction.

  He hadn’t taken three steps when he heard the shouts coming from the manor behind him.

  The guard with the nose hair was retreating behind the walls. They closed the gates and barricaded them with planks. Tesla couldn’t see behind the walls, but he could hear men running and shouting in confusion. A conflict was happening inside.

  Tesla bit his lips. Could this be about Lion of Zarall? Should he blast the gates open and take the slave by force?

  When he saw the burning figure on the roof of the manor beyond the walls, all Tesla’s doubts vanished. He recognized the demon hound from his premonition.

  It had already begun. He was too late.

  Tesla drew a sign in the air with his hands, finishing it with his palms towards the gates. A powerful wind blasted the gates into splinters.

  Men shouted in fear. The first ones to recover from their confusion saw Tesla and drew their weapons. Tesla swatted them out of his way with more wind and headed to the manor.

  VALNAR

  Valnar hardly bothered with the ladder and jumped down from the hatch back into the watch room. He felt sorry for the two guards, who were still tied on the floor, but once again, he didn’t have the time to untie them. If they were lucky, the demon hound would follow Valnar anyway.

  A demon hound… Valnar couldn’t believe he was being chased by a demon hound. The last time he saw one, he was a child on the verge of manhood. An eager, new recruit for Kiejain’s Army. He had no idea what was coming his way. When he found out, he didn’t want more of it. He’d left.

  As Valnar dashed through the hallways, he heard the muffled screams of the guards. The demon was inside the watch room. He saw the hallway light up in flames out of the corner of his eye and heard the hound’s deep growl. As he’d guessed - and feared - the hound was targeting him.

  He had to reach his room and get his sword; his two-handed sword. He had his long sword and a knife on him, but ordinary steel could not harm a demon. That was the first thing they’d taught at Kiejain’s Army. Valnar needed the weapon he’d kept wrapped in cloths and hidden among his belongings; the sword he thought he would never need again, but was still too terrified to throw away. He had to get to his room before the demon got to him.

  Valnar ran down the stairs, his feet barely touching the steps. The hound was at the top of the stairs, howling after him furiously. Its head scraped the ceiling, singed the walls. Despite his panic, Valnar couldn’t help but w
onder how a demon hound managed to get here. Who had summoned him?

  Darkhome sourced spells were required to summon a demon from Darkhome. Could Ink be practicing dark spells? The demon had climbed out of his chest after all.

  Ink... No, Valnar wouldn’t believe it. Ink would never...

  Alarm bells were ringing, but he saw no guards running to his aid. The men who were in the yard had seen the demon hound climb into Earthome. Surely, they were gathering their forces to intercept the hound.

  Valnar could certainly use a distraction; long and straight hallways gave the demon an opportunity to sprint and close the distance. Valnar slid into a narrow corridor used by servants. It led straight to the guests’ wing. Luckily - and maybe a little oddly - he saw no servant or slave on his way.

  When he reached the landing which was connected to the hallway their rooms were at, Valnar saw something that almost made him stop.

  He’d caught a glimpse of men fighting - each other!

  The demon’s hot breath was right on the back of his neck, so he couldn’t possibly pause and investigate what he saw. But…

  Men fighting each other?

  He felt the heat and ducked. The hound’s claw slashed over his head and splintered the paintings on the wall. The wooden frames caught on fire. Valnar pushed himself up. His door seemed too far, but the door to Lygor’s room was right next to him. He shouldered it open and stumbled inside.

  The demon snuck his head through the door, but his shoulders were too wide to fit. With an angry growl, the hound pushed on, until the wall crumbled and let him in.

  Valnar opened the door leading to his joint room. The demon ran through Lygor’s furniture and belongings, setting them on fire. Valnar closed the door behind him, knowing this wouldn’t earn him more than a few precious seconds. He threw himself on his bags, rummaging for the two-handed sword.

  The demon hound tore the door into splinters just as Valnar picked up the sword, wrapped in thick, protective cloth. His hands worked to unwrap it blindly, while he withdrew from the door.