Lunatic

by Dekker, Ted

  Darsal started with the bread and butter. "Your brother's wife."

  "We were engaged."

  She finished and got him something to drink. "And once she became albino, you couldn't get married."

  Marak looked away, avoiding her. Why was he saying all of this, to an albino nonetheless?

  Still, he'd started, and now it was out in the open.

  Darsal brought his breakfast, then retreated to the other side of the table, well within sight. She'd remembered to stay out of his blind spot.

  "What happened?"

  He stared past. "They were forced to flee. Jordan promised to take care of her. Six months later a note saying they were married arrived. They both signed it. Rona sent her journal along. It was good-bye."

  Silence.

  "I'm sorry."

  Marak shook his head and started on his meal. "Thank you for breakfast."

  "General, I ..."

  "We're leaving in twenty minutes. You can go until then."

  haeda said the fruit would complete the process," Johnis argued. "It's still strange to walk into a Horde city without wanting to vomit from the smell." Silvie pressed her lips into a thin line. "Not that I miss it. Nor do I miss the Dark Priest."

  She meant Sucrow.

  I don't want to see the priest!

  "You must, my johnisss ...

  He stopped in his tracks. "Why?"

  She didn't answer.

  "Tell me!"

  "Johnis." Silvie touched his shoulder. He held up his hand.

  His body, his mind, his soul, ached. Shaeda's spirit was so heavy, so potent. He felt crushed under her weight. But something wasn't right. He could sense it, and Shaeda knew he sensed it.

  Why must I kill Thomas to destroy the Horde?

  "Conquer, my pet, not destroy."

  He chewed his lip. Put his hands on his knees. Struggled for breath.

  The dark presence cinched tight.

  `Resist me not, my johnisss . . .

  Let me go!

  "You have sworn your allegiance ... "

  "Johnis." Silvie interrupted the inner fight.

  "I'm listening, I'm-"

  Shaeda wrung his will with an iron fist.

  All right! My allegiance is yours.

  The noose slipped. His head cleared. "Talk to me, Silvie. It helps. You're the only one who makes her let go. I don't know why."

  Silvie's eyes narrowed.

  Johnis continued. "Unfortunately the mission comes before our preferences. It won't be for any longer than it takes to get rid of him. This way." They neared the gate.

  "Let's get it over with," Silvie grumbled.

  Johnis gave a swift nod and approached the guard speaking to an officer. Silvie hurried after him. As they neared, he could make out the captain's insignia.

  Shaeda filled his mind, whispering words to him. Words to speak to this guard and to the captain. They would hear, they would give him entrance.

  "Trust me, my johnis. Trust me."

  "Johnis," she whispered. "They won't take us seriously."

  He felt Leedhan might surge into him. Smiled.

  "Trust me."

  The pair turned when they saw Johnis and Silvie. The guard turned to assume his duty. "Names and business," he said.

  "Josef and Arya of Southern," Johnis said. His mouth seemed to work on its own. He spoke with her voice.

  Shaedas eyes were on him. He struggled, his will melding with hers. And he knew what to do.

  "We've been helping hunt albinos, if you must know. Tell me something: if a fellow had information for a man of authority in this town, to whom would he go?"

  "What kind of idiot asks a question like that?" the guard mocked. "The priest."

  The captain's eyes narrowed. "Really. And you, a lowly guard, know this."

  "No offense to the general, Cap'n," replied the guard. "But some say-

  "I'm not interested." The captain rerolled the scroll in his hand. "Though I am interested in a man who asks a fool question like that."

  "But you are, " Shaeda chuckled.

  Her eyes filled his mind. Everything turned reddish purple.

  Shaedas mind whispered. She knew this one ... this captain named Cassak ...

  Johnis turned. "I meant no offense, Captain. I'm from out of town, and Middle was close. We need fresh supplies. And I do have information that might interest whoever's in command here."

  "The albinos are in the desert. Lost your sense of direction?"

  "That's part of my information."

  The captain tucked away the scroll and started off. To the guard, he said, "Pass the word. Desecration goes down as soon as final orders come in." To Johnis and Silvie, "Get gone. I've got a job to do."

  "I can deliver the message for you," Johnis called out. "Save you time." The captain kept going. Johnis caught up. "Don't you have better things to do than play messenger boy?"

  "You aren't authorized to carry it," the captain replied. They were coming up the main road into town now: lake to their left, palace to their right. And across the lake, the Thrall. The captain broke off and headed for Qurong's expansive home.

  And they now stood in the streets.

  Shaeda coaxed him. A girl, he needed a girl . . . she knew where to find the general, who could take them to the priest ...

  Silvie scuffed up dust. "I told you he wouldn't listen."

  "I'm not done yet," he said. Johnis scanned the town. They now stood in the middle of the road with people bustling everywhere. "There."

  There she was. A child. A small girl. Johnis hurried toward her and crouched. "Hello."

  She withdrew and stuck her finger in her mouth. Johnis went down on one knee.

  "Do you know who the general is?" Johnis asked.

  The girl looked up with wide gray eyes and brushed hair out of her face. She nodded.

  Johnis smiled. "Excellent. So you know what he looks like?" Affirmative. "Do you know where I can find him?"

  Hesitation. The kid was a beggar. She wanted something. And she was eyeing his mother's ring.

  She couldn't have it.

  Shaedas talons drove into him. Screaming pain flashed through his body.

  Not my ring, he protested. Not my ...

  Silvie dug a fruit out of their sack. "Will you take this and show us the general?"

  But the girl was uninterested. Unlike a previous Scab girl they'd once encountered.

  "What do you want, pup?"

  The child opened her palm. "For my mommy."

  "Well, the ring belongs to his mommy. He can't give it to you. You wouldn't take anything from his mommy, would you?"

  The little girl thought about that. "I suppose not. But I want something for my mommy."

  Silvie had no patience for this. "Listen, girl ..."

  Neither did Shaeda.

  "Did your mommy tell you about the albinos?" Johnis asked, interrupting Silvie. The girl's eyes widened. "They do bad things, don't they?"

  She nodded.

  "Well, wouldn't you agree the best thing we could do for you and your mommy would be to make the bad albinos go away?"

  "Mommy likes pretty things."

  Johnis sighed. "Let me see the sack, Arya."

  She offered it to him. "What?"

  "In my other pocket." He fished in the bag and found the pants from the other world. His hand brushed against the Book of History.

  Johnis paused.

  Another time, my johnisss .. .

  Yes, they were in a hurry, weren't they?

  No time to ponder.

  He dug out a coin with a man's face on one side and a big star on the back.

  "This is silver, and it's worth more than the ring. You can get your mommy something pretty with this, can't you?"

  The girl's expression turned greedy. She reached for the coin, but Johnis pulled it back. "No, no. Show us the general, and then you can have the coin. Promise."

  Her face scrunched up. But she nodded. Johnis took her by the hand, and the lit
tle beggar led them through the streets.

  It didn't take long.

  "There." The girl pointed.

  The general was well out of earshot and getting smaller, barreling down the road toward the thrall with a woman hurrying behind him. The woman wore a plain brown tunic and pants, sandals on her feet. A veil covered her head. Her master wore tans and browns and a dark blue cloak with the hood flung back, sword strapped on, knives in place, just as before. Long, white dreadlocks bounced along his shoulders. He marched proudly through the streets of Middle.

  The girl grabbed the coin from Johnis and fled. Silvie and Johnis didn't bother protesting the little beggar.

  He had the sudden urge to run.

  Fast.

  Breathtakingly fast.

  Johnis grabbed Silvie by the hand. "Come on."

  DARSAL'S VEIL BOUNCED AS SHE HELD IT AGAINST HER throat to keep it from flying off. She had to run to keep up with Marak. His boots pounded up the road. Her sandals could only slap.

  And now she'd found beneath the Scab exterior even more layers, as with an onion. Like the pool, far deeper than she'd first imagined.

  The journal belonged to a dead lover.

  They weren't battle plans. They were good-bye.

  Touching those pages was a violation of his inner sanctum. She might as well have defiled water with human blood. But at least after Billos she could imagine the sentiment.

  The general rounded a corner, and she almost lost him, fumbling with the leg chain. She was fast, but his legs were much longer, and he was furious at Sucrow for summoning him like a commoner.

  Marak's rage at the servant had been almost more than she could take. It reminded her too much of her uncle in one of his drunken states. Or had her uncle been sober?

  At least now she understood. Somewhat.

  She clutched the necklace he still hadn't taken. Today she would help a Scab general kill albinos. Elyon help them both.

  To love a Scab who would slaughter his own lover, his own brother, before allowing an albino to live ...

  "General!" A voice bellowed from behind.

  She whirled, eyes wide. Stunned at the familiarity. A man and a woman raced toward them. Two Scabs. Darsal stared.

  "General Marak!" Johnis's voice called out again.

  Darsal could barely breathe. Johnis and Silvie were alive. Alive but dead.

  They were Scabs.

  And running. Fast.

  "Go tell Sucrow I'm coming," Marak said.

  She couldn't move.

  They were Scabs looking for Marak. She was an albino slaving for Marak. Disguise or reality?

  Johnis looked strange. Blue veins stuck out beneath pale skin. And his eyes ...

  "Darsal." The general's voice snapped her out of her stupor.

  She blinked. Johnis and Silvie were almost to her.

  "I'm going."

  She gave him a half bow then hurried over the bridge and headed up the white steps into the thrall.

  JOHNIS THRUST HIS SHOULDERS BACK AND STAYED ON TASK. Again, Shaeda coaxed him. He was beginning to enjoy these bursts of power and insight.

  "General Marak, we meet at last."

  The general crossed his arms, face hardening. "Who are you?"

  Shaedas inner voice whispered the words he would say. She willed him to bow.

  He obeyed. Hated it. Loved the increased gift of persuasion.

  The allure of men ...

  The siren song ...

  "My name is Josef. This is Arya. We have a proposition for you, a valuable piece of knowledge that will enable you to destroy the albinos for good."

  Marak quirked a brow and snapped his finger at a scout approaching from the west, who hurried forward and presented him a scroll. The general scowled at it.

  "From Cassak," the scout explained.

  How had he known-or even Shaeda known-the captain he'd addressed earlier was named Cassak?

  "Your attention, my pet. . .

  Right. The mission. Questions later.

  The general grunted. Nodded. "You can go." The scout hurried off, and Marak resumed his march toward the temple.

  "I've already taken my plans before Qurong and had them approved. They're proving quite sufficient."

  The general was getting away.

  "Release him not, my pet. Tell him."

  "I know a weapon that can kill the entire Circle in three days."

  Marak allowed Johnis and Silvie to catch up. He broke the seal on the scroll and proceeded to read it.

  "Think about it," Johnis continued, consigning himself to Shaeda's rule. If for no other reason than so he could think.

  Temporary, he reminded himself. Temporary.

  "Three days, General. Three days and the albinos will be dead. All of them."

  Marak rolled up the letter and resumed his march.

  "We use this." Johnis whipped out the rotten yellow fruit. Maggots fell out of the disgusting thing onto the bridge.

  The general stepped on one, squishing it beneath his boot. He sped up. "You're wasting my time."

  "It's bait."

  "Get out of my way, boy."

  "The bait is for the Shataiki. Who better to rout out albinos?" Johnis grabbed the general's arm.

  Marak flung him away. Johnis struck the ground hard. "The Shataiki are a myth, you fool." He stepped off the bridge onto the sprawling white steps of the thrall, where worshippers stooped to bathe in the muddy waters below.

  Johnis ignored the pain in his arm and shoulder and hurried after Marak. How in the name of Elyon was he supposed to do this? "General, I've seen them."

  "You were dreaming."

  "General, the Circle is protected by an invisible covering that also blinds us to the Shataiki. By doing this you remove the veil."

  Agitated silence.

  Johnis continued. "You kill the Circle without the priest. He's holding out on you."

  One of Marak's hands was on his sword. "How did you come across that information?"

  "In fact, I believe the priest has had your solution all along."

  The general scowled.

  "His book of incantations," Johnis explained. "He will know the road, but I possess the horse, so to speak. The priest will be necessary for this to work. What have you to lose, General? If I'm wrong, the priest will know immediately, and you lose nothing. If I'm right, then it is to your benefit."

  Marak mulled it over. Johnis could see on his face that the man despised Sucrow just as much as he did.

  Good.

  Of course, the priest was easy to hate. It could work to his advantage.

  "Five minutes."

  riest!" Marak slammed the thrall's double doors against the walls and bellowed into the hall. The few servants and acolytes around scurried out of his way. He roared through the atrium and between two shrines of the winged serpent, boots pounding against the floor.

  "He's-he's in his study, General," a temple guard offered. The man bowed and scurried out of Marak's way. Smart man.

  Marak swung open another door and knocked one of the serpent-idols off its stand. The silver god clattered on the floor as the door crashed against the wall.

  Sucrow looked up from his study, pen in hand, and drilled him with a malicious scowl. "You dare show such irreverence. Announce yourself like a civilized man."

  "I announced my entry from the front door, Priest. It's no fault of mine if you're deaf." Marak stomped across the room and slapped both palms on the desk, leaning over the wood into Sucrow's hawkish face.

  Sucrow stood and came around the desk. "Don't send me albino slaves, Marak. The smell is atrocious. I had the guards take her to a holding room. In fact, I don't want her to exist. Who are these?"

  "They wish to make a presentation. Apparently they think they can do in three days what we've been trying to do for years."

  Listen to yourself, he almost heard Jordan say. You talk like you re pulling weeds. I'm not a weed, Marak.

  Qurong wants dead albinos, I give him dead albin
os, his mind argued back.

  The invisible knife twisted inside his stomach. He remembered that argument. One of many.

  And when Qurong asks for my dead body, brother? When Sucrow takes Rona for his reprobate rituals? Then what? For Elyon's sake, Marak, you were going to marry the girl! Don't tell me you don't love her still!

  Marak stilled. He turned his back. I can't love the dead.

  We're not dead.

  Sucrow dismissed the young couple. "They can wait. I have another matter to discuss with you."

  Ignoring Josef's angry expression, Marak motioned for them to remain in the hall. The door shut on the pair of nutcases, then Marak was alone with Sucrow.

  The priest opened a cask of wine.

  "Why did you decide to keep an albino for a pet?"

  Marak shrugged. "I just haven't decided how to kill her yet. She's the one responsible for the death of Jordan of Southern."

  A sly grin spread across Sucrow's face. "You are cruel."

  Funny, Rona had told him the same thing.

  "She hasn't tried to convert you, has she? The albinos can be persistent."

  "She'll keep her mouth shut, or I'll cut out her tongue."

  "Just like your brother," Sucrow cackled. "And now he's dead."

  "Get on with this. I have duties that don't concern you."

  Sucrow fingered his necklace and folded his hands. Chuckled. "Very well, General. Let's get down to business. My report to the supreme commander included your compliance to the new laws regarding the albinos. As expected, the execution of your albino relatives has reassured us both where your loyalties lie."

  Marak growled. He'd given the order. His captain carried it out. As promised, he'd watched their executions.

  Cassak sent him home. Then he found Darsal in the dungeons.

  Sucrow sneered, enjoying his newfound power too much. "I will be placing my serpent warriors over each of your commanders. They will report to my men, just as you will report to me."

  "My men report to me."

  "You'll have to take the matter up with Qurong, General." The priest still looked amused. "But don't think that will aid you. I have my own means of persuasion."

  Rumor had it Sucrow used spells to control the throaters. If you believed in that kind of thing. Regardless, the man obviously had some sort of control over them. They were all unquestionably loyal to their high priest.

  Once again, Marak wondered how this man had gained so much power and favor with Qurong. Thus far, Marak had resisted the priest's influence. On that point alone he agreed with the rebel Eram.