by CJ Perry
Justin sighed. Probably not.
Chapter Six
Children’s Garden
Justin crossed the ward of the castle, surveying the preparations for the Day of Freedom. The sky had lightened, the impending sunrise banishing the stars. Merchants and traders from all over the Empire had worked through the night, building market awnings and arranging carts. They broke from their chores and took a knee as Justin passed. The cool breeze of early morning and light-hearted smiles of the workers were a stark contrast to the oppressive heat and tragedy of the day before.
The city still slept, but once it woke, the streets would bustle with activity. Hornstall had grown to bursting at the seams since his mother had declared it the capital of the Empire just over a decade ago. The shops and houses crowded the street but they still managed to stay clean. The Empire had no beggars, no sick. Those who needed healing received it in the great hall every second day.
In Justin’s opinion, the cleanliness just hid the horrific brand of justice his mother enforced throughout the Empire. Beggars and other undesirables were turned into soldiers, or sacrificed on the Dark Altar in the Inner Sanctum. His mother did her best to be fair with judgements during the brief trials of the accused, but other priests throughout the empire did not always conform to her standards and ideals. The Night Goddess’ Temple rule was absolute, making every priest in every town a god in his own right, with the power of life and death over their town’s citizens.
The older shops had second and third stories built atop their original storefronts. A dwarven family had come and built an inn, after the Orc raids on their homeland had stopped. They named it “The Alibi” and it boasted three floors above a large receiving room - a saloon that served wine and dwarven spirits. Justin’s mother had forbidden him to partake of dwarven spirits, but she hadn’t needed to. He’d seen what came of men who indulged and had no interest in dulling his wits or looking like a stumbling fool.
The sign - a picture of a stein and bed juxtaposed - hung over the road from above the front door. Most of the common folk had no ability to read; a fact Justin planned to change. He would choose his first apprentice at the ceremonial dinner to celebrate the Day of Freedom. Once he had trained enough of them, the doors of the first school in the Empire would open.
A pair of Red Knights stood at attention on either side of the closed double doors of the inn. Dwarven spirits contained a mild hallucinogen as well as a stimulant, so that even at this early hour, the patrons of The Alibi still drank and a fiddler played his carefree tune. The raucous noise of the saloon spilled out into the street as three men came out, singing and still drunk from the evening before. Their expressions sobered when they noticed Justin in his red robes. They each took a wobbly knee and bowed their heads.
Justin signaled for them to rise with an impatient hand, and let them stumble past. Preferring not to enter, Justin decided to have the conversation out front. He smiled at the Red Knights.
“Please find Victor of the Five Clans. Tell him Prince Justin is waiting outside.”
One of the knights ducked inside. A few minutes later, the noise of the saloon quieted down and Victor emerged from the double doors. His eyes were heavy with sleep, and his tattooed brow furrowed at Justin. He walked out to meet Justin, staff clacking on the flagstone path from the inn.
“What?”
“I came to apologize.”
Victor snorted. “Then it can wait until a decent hour.”
He turned with a mumbled curse, heading back inside. Every fiber of Justin’s being urged him to just let Victor go back to sleep and come back later. In front of his mother, at a civilized table, Justin had no fear of Victor. But here, in the street, with no spells or weapons, his stomach churned at the thought of the confrontation. Justin cleared his throat.
“And to ask you a question. Or two. Maybe. If that’s alright.”
He rolled his eyes at himself as Victor turned back around in the doorway. He was not sure how he pictured this going, but stammering had not been part of the plan. Victor leaned on his gnarled, rune-inscribed staff as he made his way over. The red and brown feathers that decorated the top fluttered in the breeze. Justin backed up, getting off the path to the inn and onto the street.
“I'm sorry about dinner,” Justin said, before Victor closed the distance.
Victor stared at him with a blank expression. “What, specifically, are you apologizing for?”
Justin thought it best not to reiterate his previous statements. “For insulting you.”
“Which insult?”
Victor was going to make him repeat it, then punch him in the face for it in the middle of the street. Justin forced himself to stay put, to not back up any more into the road. If Victor sensed Justin’s fear, he would prey on it. Though, it was probably already too late for that.
“Are you really going to make me repeat it?”
Victor stopped in front of him, well within Justin’s personal space. His baritone turned threatening. “Are you really going to make me ask you to?”
“Forget it,” Justin said, and turned to walk away.
Victor grabbed him by the arm. Justin attempted to shrug it away, but Victor squeezed until Justin thought his bone would snap between the behemoth’s fingers. Without his spells, Justin was defenseless. All he had left were Cantrips, minor tricks designed purely for educating apprentices and of little combative or defensive value.
“Let go,” Justin warned, his voice stronger than he anticipated.
“Or what? You tell mommy?”
Justin glared at him, the butterflies in his stomach burned away by a hot ball of rage. “Or I teach you what it means to make an enemy of a Red Wizard.”
Victor laughed and let go. He swatted Justin on the back hard enough to rattle his teeth. Justin straightened the collar of his robe with a sideways look at Victor. Victor grinned, though it was more of a snarl to show his pointed teeth.
“You do have a spine, after all,” Victor said.
The comment did not merit a response. Justin had come to ask Victor for information, not exchange quips and backhanded compliments. Victor folded his arms, leaned back, and peered at Justin.
“So?” Victor asked.
“So, what?”
“Ask your question or two. Maybe. If that’s alright,” he said, mocking Justin’s earlier stammer.
“I –”
Victor’s ham-like fist slammed into his stomach. Justin doubled over, crumbling to the street in a ball with the wind knocked out of him. He rolled onto his side, eyes bulging. The Red Knight in front of The Alibi still stood next to the door, watching, but made no move to assist. Victor was known throughout the Empire as untouchable. Justin fought for breath as he lifted himself to his hands and knees.
Victor kicked him in the rear, and Justin’s quivering arms gave out. He landed with his cheek on the cobblestone street. Victor squatted down and steadied himself with his staff. He turned his head to the side to look Justin in the eye.
“Apology accepted,” he said, and waved a horse-drawn merchant cart around them.
Justin rolled onto his back as it clopped past, hands over his stomach. Justin’s breath slowly started to return, but he lay there another moment to be sure he could sit up unaided.
“Are we even?” Justin asked, between breaths, cradling his stomach with one arm.
“For dinner, yes.” Victor took a step back as Justin climbed to his feet.
The first rays of the morning sun touched the pitched roof of the inn. Justin jerked his head to the walkway next to the road as another merchant cart, filled with rolled rugs, made its way up the street toward them. He motioned for Victor to follow him and hobbled off the street. “My questions are about fetished artifacts,” he said, still slightly wheezing.
Victor stopped at the edge of the walk and frowned. “What about them?”
“I think the Guardian’s sword might be one.” Justin gritted his teeth as he stood all the way up. “I need t
o know how it’s done, and if creating fetishes without negative effects is possible.”
“No,” Victor said, and shook his head.
“No, what? No, it’s not possible?”
“No, I won’t answer that. Binding souls is a secret of the Behir Shaman.”
Justin did his best not to roll his eyes. “It’s not a secret, Victor. Wizards do it, as has the Dark Temple in the past. I’m just not familiar with it.”
“Our way is a secret that only those who participate in the ritual may know.”
“Then how do I get in on this ritual?”
“You have an enemy you wish to bind?”
“It has to be an enemy?”
“Of course. Binding a soul is cruel otherwise.”
A piece of the puzzle clicked into place. Orcs only bound enemies, which explained the curse. Still, he needed to know the actual process in order to reverse engineer a means of destruction.
Another wagon bounced its way over the cobblestones, headed for the ward of the keep. A set of two carriages turned off a side street and followed it. The birds were in full song. The morning had come, and Hornstall had awakened.
“I need to see this ritual,” Justin said.
“No.”
“The Empress wants the sword destroyed,” Justin said, and half turned back toward the keep. “I’m sure she is already outside, overseeing the preparations. Should we go ask her opinion on your lack of cooperation?”
Victor glowered at him. “You want to see it?”
Justin did not like the way he asked. “Yes, just not be the subject of it.”
Victor turned and walked south down the market street, headed for the front gate. He made no motion for Justin to follow. Justin waited for a moment, then trotted to catch up. He walked up alongside Victor on the slate walk. A family of four, a mother and three children, crossed the cobblestone street to avoid them, smiles vanishing.
“Where are we going?” Justin asked.
“I need to talk with my spirit guide,” Victor said.
Shaman had spirit guides, an animal that assisted them on their spirit walks. That much Justin understood. Though, what kind of animal or what a spirit walk was, he had yet to understand. His stomach twisted itself into an anxious knot. If Victor planned to show him, he would make it as unpleasant as possible.
“I didn’t mean to-”
“Threaten me with the Empress? Yes,” he said, giving Justin a sideways scowl. “You did.”
“Alright, I did. Would you have shown me otherwise?”
“No.”
At least Victor was honest, Justin had to give him that. The inner gate was closed, but the four soldiers manning the winch above recognized the two seven-foot men from afar an it ratcheted open at their approach. The four Red Knights on guard snapped to attention and lifted their visors as Justin passed. Normally, only two knights manned the inner gate, with two soldiers above to man the winch. Deetra still had not relieved the men of the double guard shifts.
They passed through the first of the two gatehouses, Victor’s staff echoing each time it tapped down on the cobblestones inside. The portcullis closed behind them as the one on the other side opened, the rapid-fire cacophony of steel ringing in Justin’s ears.
The Children’s Garden - named for the statues of the fifteen child-priests lost in the Battle of Hornstall - lie just ahead. Justin came and went from town by the docks, but had yet to see the garden in the year since he came home. The hedge maze had more than doubled in height to a towering fifteen feet.
The road split in two and circled the garden. Justin and Victor took the slightly shorter path to the right. No children had yet come out to play and the quiet allowed the spray and splash of the fountain in the center to carry across the half-mile-wide outer courtyard. The morning songbirds chirped happily, calling to one another while they built nests in the hedges. Empty picnic tables lined the far side of the road, opposite the hedge maze. Flowers lined the base of Hornstall’s outer wall.
Justin smiled as they passed one of the side entrances to the hedges. Despite some of the bad memories the place held - like getting stabbed in the ass - the maze often served as a sanctuary for him. Victor stopped and took a deep breath.
“Ready?” Victor said.
“For what?”
Victor cocked an eyebrow at him. “Is that a yes?”
The garden was still empty and the outer gate was closed, but that would change in short order. If Victor planned to do the ritual here they would not have much time, and risked scaring the life out of any passersby. Justin shook his head.
“The sun’s up, and this garden will be full of kids pretty soon.”
“The gates do not open for another hour. We have time.”
“Your spirit animal is here?”
Victor nodded. “He has to sleep in the maze at night, while the gates are locked.”
“Why?”
“I was letting him breed in the forest so we could have a pack here, but some merchants complained.”
“What is he?”
“A wolf,” Victor replied, directing Justin to the side entrance of the hedges with the feathered top of his staff. “After you, my Prince.”
Every instinct screamed for Justin to stay put. Victor’s normally expressive face and heavy, tattooed brow gave no hint of his intentions. His casual air contradicted everything Justin knew of him.
“Is this wolf dangerous?”
Victor shrugged. “Is the Red Wizard scared of a wolf?”
“Just make sure you keep it under control,” he replied as he stepped between the towering hedges.
“Of course. Remember how to get to the center?”
Justin nodded. The sun, still low on the horizon, left the inside of the maze in near darkness. He walked to the first intersection and turned right, then a quick left. He checked behind him, and Victor nodded for him to keep going. Even if Justin had not remembered the way, the children who had played here in the years during Justin’s absence had worn the grass down along the correct path. The sound of the fountain grew louder as they approached the center, and Victor spoke.
“I’m tired of you using the Empress against me. She is not a weapon. You play the Empress’ affections, and one day, she’ll see through it.”
Justin turned around. The casual air had left Victor and his tattooed brow lowered in anger. He stood in the middle of the path. Justin cocked his head to the side, unsure of where this was going.
“I don’t play her affections. You mean to tell me you don't go to Butch and ask for his help?”
“No. I stand on my own two feet, like a man.”
“Well, things are a little different among humans, Victor. Here, even a Prince is not above asking for help.”
“You don’t deserve to be heir, you spoiled little-”
“Is that why you hate me, Victor? Because I’m Prince?”
Victor glared at him and scoffed. “You would think that, wouldn't you?”
“Then why? Out with it. Don’t you get tired of hating me? I know I'm tired of dealing with it.”
“You really want to know?”
“I asked, didn’t I?”
Victor took another step closer, fury in his dark brown eyes. “I should have been chosen by the Dark Queen, not you. It was my birth that ended the battle of Hornstall. My mother gave her life to save mine, and swayed the Goddess of Healing to turn her back on Tor’s minotaur army.” Victor’s voice shook with rage. He pounded his chest with his fist. “ME! Not you!”
Justin took a step back, maintaining the distance between them. “You think I asked for that? That I want anything to do with the Dark Queen?”
Victor pointed his staff at Justin and spoke through clenched, pointed teeth. “That’s exactly what I'm talking about. I’ve had to fight and kill for everything I have. You’ve had everything handed to you, and you don’t even want it! Do you know what I would sacrifice to have the things you have?”
“What do you want
me to do, Victor? I didn’t choose any of this.”
“Accept the gifts that have been given to you. Be grateful, for once in your life. You said I was trying to be something I'm not. For the love of the Dark Queen, Justin, can’t you see that’s what you’re doing?”
“No. The Dark Queen and my mother want me to be something I’m not. The only thing I am, or want to be, is a wizard. No more, no less.”
“You can still be a wizard, Justin. No one is trying to tell you not to be. Come with me to the Hills, let me take you on a spirit walk. See the power of the Dark Queen.”
“I’ve seen what the Dark Queen has in store for her worshippers. Not interested.”
“No, you haven’t. Not everything.”
Justin had had enough. He came here for Victor to show him the binding ritual, not to argue. He tried to walk around Victor, but Victor leaned his staff out to the side, blocking him. Blood swirled out from his pupils, covering the irises and whites until only dark red remained from corner to corner. Justin backed away, pulse quickening.
The birds went silent. Bones cracked and tendons popped as Victor’s mouth elongated to a canine snout. He was shapeshifting. His mother and Deetra had said Victor was a powerful shaman but Justin never imagined this.
Victor squeezed his eyes shut and white-knuckled his staff as bony ridges pierced the skin on his head and the back of his neck. His body lengthened and grew even more muscular than before. Hair covered his body in a ripple from nose to feet as his staff, tunic, boots, and pouches melded into his new form. He dropped to all fours, a full nine feet in length and six in height at the shoulder. A wolf for certain, but Victor had omitted the ‘Abyssal’ part. Justin’s blood ran cold.