Made to Suffer (Journeyman Book 3)

by Golden Czermak

  Dajjal pondered that statement for a moment, deciding that it was bullshit. There was no place for weakness in this new regime, as had already been shown time and again in the old one. As he told the dearly departed Astaroth, the followers do not know who the leaders are. There is no fear and that must change.

  “Yes, one must always stay true to themselves,” Dajjal acknowledged, rubbing his beard knowing that more torment was imminent. “The herd of monsters that was present for this meeting on Halloween… do we know who they were?”

  “Yes, my Lord.”

  “Each and every one?”

  Ronove looked down to Steinolf, knowing what was coming. “All of them.”

  Dajjal grinned and moved back up to the top of the short set of stairs. “I want you to have them all rounded up, in secret. What's left of the dog there, too. Find some dark and hidden hole to toss them in for now, at least until I'm ready.”

  “For what?” Ronove probed, eager to keep himself ahead of the curve.

  “You’ll see,” Dajjal replied, denying him that opportunity. He leaned up against the rocky wall and kicked up a foot. “All you need to know now is that the Journeymen must not get wind of this, at all. Keep them away from the mountain… use deserts in the neighboring states or even some other remote speck of a country.”

  Ronove began to withdraw, agreeing but ever cautious.

  “Now that our small animal problem is being addressed,” Dajjal continued, looking to his damaged suit pants. “I’m past due for this hospital visit and another change of clothes.”

  With his last words, the wind whipped the dirty floor into a frenzy and with no less than another thunderous boom, he vanished.

  A HUGE AND ancient city loomed in the shadow of even darker mountains, their amethyst peaks rising up in the north and east to scrape the sky while the city itself, with its gleaming white buildings, sprawled into the south and west. Encircling the entire thing were high walls of gray stone, three in all, topped with battlements and banners that fluttered gracefully in the breeze. The structures had been strengthened with magic and wards dating back to the time the gods wandered the lands, so it was that they had stood the test of time and if left unchecked, would likely endure for many millennia to come. Placed one inside the other, the walls divided the city into concentric rings and within each of these were distinct zones.

  The outermost had been designated for farming and livestock, the second for merchants and residences, and the innermost for the monarchy.

  In the outside walls, massive copper gates were hewn out of the rock, coated in a drab olive patina from centuries of aging. Early that morning, those gates had been swung open, allowing the free flow of people and goods into and out of the city.

  One out of the masses was a hooded rider dressed in dowdy garments, bareback on a midnight thoroughbred. Discreetly he rode up to the guards, brandishing his seal from within the folds of his cloak when requested.

  “Fair morning, Liege,” said a tall sentry, his voice low as he bowed. Then, his keen elf eyes darted around the crowds, looking for anything untoward. With no such trouble imminent, he motioned for the rider to proceed.

  With that, Fenran guided his steed into the capital of the Otherworld, an opalescent jewel housing the throne of the King as the very heart of all Elvendom.

  He continued to ride confidently yet cautiously through the streets, unsure if any opposing forces were watching. Navigating the cobbled paths that passed by numerous inns, markets, blacksmiths, and armorers, Fenran took note of their strong construction and hard working proprietors, both obviously able to withstand the tests time so cruelly doled out, just like the city walls themselves.

  Fenran was making his way toward the Court of the King, a large square area denoting what had been the middle of the city back in the early days. He arrived a short time later, passing again through a set of guards and gates before being met by tiles of countless colors, wrapping themselves around the outer edges. All sparkled in the sunlight like some enchanted threshold. Three fountains were also in the courtyard, issuing water from their elaborate carvings while well manicured trees, tall and thin like cypress, swayed gently.

  Yet more guards appeared, this time dressed in finer, ceremonial attire. Fenran removed his hood so they could see him plainly, allowing him to continue his approach in haste.

  Ahead, in the absolute center of the Court, was a great bell tower that rose high like a spire of light. It symbolized the fathomless voices of the gods that had not rung out since the dark days of the First King. Surrounding the tower was a palace of sorts, though trifling in comparison to the grandeur of the pinnacle.

  Fenran dismounted, handing off the reins to a stable elf who had run up to him.

  “Greetings, my Liege,” the young elf said politely, taking the reins. The horse neighed and he immediately set about calming the beast down. “He seems a bit grumpy. No worries though, we’ll be sure to get him fed shortly.”

  “Thank you,” Fenran said as the horse was whisked away.

  He continued into a long and covered walkway, one of four identical structures that jutted into the middle from each cardinal direction. They merged at the throne room, situated directly beneath the tower. Entering beneath an archway, he proceeded into the all-white chamber. The smell of earthy spice greeted him as he shuffled across the granite while ahead, two figures stood in waiting. Though the room was bright, their demeanor gave off a definite chill that could be felt in the air.

  One moved to sit upon the throne – oak with ivory trim, raised on a dais of six steps – while the other shifted off to the side with hands clasped tightly in meditation. Beyond them, wild and untamed, grew a copse of trees and overabundant vines that blanketed the area with a warm, green-tinted glow.

  So it was that the three of them had assembled. Fenran was before the legendary Chair, King Danann and all of his pride seated upon it, while his daughter Meriden had come there to plead her case in this last ditch effort to save them all from the brink of doom.

  “Good day,” said Fenran to all, and was met with the same.

  “So, my friend,” said Danann to Fenran. “It would seem my daughter still pleads that we hand over Haldran’s Gift to the outsiders. What say you on this matter; have you changed your mind since our last counsel?”

  Fenran shook his head. “My opinion remains the same: I believe it to be folly, my King,” Fenran answered quickly while bowing his head respectfully.

  Meriden rolled her eyes, straining not to laugh out of frustration. “I cannot believe you are so blind, Fenran! I don't know what has clouded your judgment, but it is worrying. There is a storm coming beyond our borders, the likes of which the worlds haven't seen. We should be here, united as kinsfolk against that tempest. Instead, thanks to you, we stand on the footsteps of ruin. Our fight happens to be against the demons of Hell, and should not be against each other.”

  That is something Danann could not deny, looking to Fenran with concern. “She does have a point,” he said.

  “Opinions,” Fenran dismissed, “to which we are all entitled. Mine is no different when you boil it down, for I seek the betterment and preservation of our kind.”

  “By fighting me?” Meriden snapped. “Enlighten us: how does civil war amount to ‘betterment’ and ‘preservation’ in your mind?”

  “Technically my dear Princess, I am not the one calling us to arms,” he replied smugly.

  Danann grew tired of the impasse, rising to take a brisk walk beneath the trees. He was very frustrated, agreeing with Fenran for the most part in principle yet, he didn't want to engage his own blood for that preservation. Unsure of what to do, he returned to the Chair and slowly sat back in it.

  Fenran thought to try a different approach. “The Journeymen have proven many times over that they cannot be entrusted with matters of the worlds. My King, think about it: there has been the Incursion, which was caused by a human. We have the collapse of the Order, which was caused by a Council tha
t had, up until recently, been run predominantly by humans. Now, we are suddenly on the cusp of an apocalypse on Earth and I dare say upon examination that we can place blame for that upon them, too.”

  “That would be unfair,” Meriden stated, “and false.”

  “But regardless, we have been presented with valid examples,” Danann said, becoming quiet and contemplative.

  Meriden didn't like this at all.

  “You speak so wisely, my King,” Fenran continued. “Human arrogance knows no bounds. They seek to dominate and control all things; one need only look at their cities to see how they treat the natural order of the world.”

  “This is true,” Danann agreed. “I don’t see how you've managed around so much concrete for so long. By aiding them, how do we know we aren't just setting ourselves up to be wiped away down the road?”

  “Exactly,” said Fenran. “They spread like weeds in a garden.”

  Meriden grew in her frustration, thrusting her arms into the air. “This talk is utter madness and you have both lost your minds! How can you not see the beauty in that garden you mention… and the fact that it is our faults, as well as skills, that define who we are? Not to mention the issue you raise is a hypothetical one, with no facts. We do have facts about the Noctis.”

  Fenran was petulant, unable to fathom what she was saying from his deep brows. “Meriden,” he said to her like she was a child, “let us be frank for a moment. What hope do you think your ragtag band of lowlifes has against the might of this city?”

  “We have all the hope we need,” she replied, “because we are in the right. We will return the Ring of Dispel to the Order, so that it may be used to stem the Infernal Tide.”

  “Such heresy!” Fenran chastised, pulling out all the stops. “My King, you see! Your own blood dares insult our kind by calling the Gift by its human moniker.”

  “Me?” Meriden said in shock, bending her look at him. “Based on that comment alone I think I know more about our kind than you, prideful snake.”

  Fenran didn't look too pleased at her snide response, scrunching his face in a toad-like leer.

  “The intention has always been to be supportive,” Meriden continued. “Even Solomon knew that the kinship between worlds was, and still is, paramount to our survival against the darkness – whatever shape it comes in. That is why he gifted the Ring to the First King… Haldran… and thus our people. It is meant to be a symbol of friendship between the realms, in addition to the means for us to rebuild our civilization. Now, one last time, please see reason. It is time for us to do our part and return this graceful favor.”

  “Favor? I think not,” Fenran scoffed, meaning to provoke her. “Your actions, Meriden, threaten to –”

  “Enough of your poison!” she shouted, having had enough and there was a desperate look in her eyes that couldn’t be misread. “It's not going to sway me. It is your actions, Fenran, and this madness, that taints Elvendom with shame.”

  She looked to her father, her next words heartache.

  “The same can be said of you, Athair, heeding his beliefs as your own.”

  Fenran’s raced to the King’s side as if to shield him from her words, leaning in to whisper something in his pointed ear. Meriden knew it was something foul, as nothing good crossed Fenran's lips these days, growing more nefarious the lower his tone fell.

  The King nodded, then rose. “Let it be known, Daughter, that I have made my ruling. We will not relinquish the Gift to the inhabitants of the Earth – whether human, monster, demon, or Solomon’s own Journeymen. Outsiders may have it only when it is plucked from my cold, dead hands.”

  “This is your final answer; one you have reached of your own accord?” Meriden asked solemnly, not wanting to hear the next words for fear of breaking her harder than any battle would.

  Thankfully she was spared hearing anything more, though without a word Danann dipped his head as a yes, his jeweled crown glimmering in the errant light.

  “Then it is apparent blood holds no more sway,” Meriden said, turning to depart. “Let this be settled on the battlefield then, as you wish. Goodbye, Athair.”

  As she reached the opposing archway, Fenran coughed as if he had something more to say. “Blood does indeed hold sway, my dear. Especially when it is that of our enemies, and of traitors, spilled copiously on the ground. We shall see you soon.”

  Unwilling to waste any more energy acknowledging him, she stormed out, racing under the arch and into the cloister beyond.

  IT WAS JUST shy of nine in the morning as Gage and Adrienne stood waiting on the deck for the arrival of Evans. The wind was gentle but cold, yet degrees warmer than the icy shoulder he happened to be getting from her. Last night’s conversation was still fresh on her mind.

  Adrienne looked across to Om, who was making his way aft, back up the stairs to the navigation room. In due time he disappeared behind its doors and she turned back around. “You nervous about today?” she asked pointedly, with no extra frills or flirts.

  Gage could sense her feelings and boy were they still as jagged as his machete was. He definitely didn't want to dig a larger hole for himself, so emphatically stayed quiet before answering, “Yeah, I am a bit I guess. Can't say that I'm overjoyed to be traveling to a meeting with vampires, with another vampire. But that said, I’m glad that I got you here with…”

  She twisted slightly to the side, crossing her arms, “Gage, please, not right now. I mean, I’m fine and you're fine, so don't worry about it too much. There’s just a lot of info to process and emotions to sort though. We just need more time to –”

  By some sick twist of fate, the doors to the forecastle creaked their way open, cutting their conversation short. Four armed guards emerged, dressed in Order blacks. Two led and the others trailed, Evans tucked in the center wearing a pair of dark sunglasses.

  Gage sized him up, Evans certainly looking stronger than when they'd first met. Whether rejuvenated by the wizardry of the hospital ward at HQ or “donated blood” somewhere along the way, Gage couldn't be sure. In any case, the passenger was aboard now and they had to work past their differences in order to be successful on this mission.

  The guards took their leave, handing off a few sheets of bureaucratic paperwork to Adrienne. She pocketed the documents, returning her arms across her chest as she looked to Evans, left behind with the two of them.

  “Welcome to the Odyssey, David,” Gage said as nicely as possible.

  Evans shifted in his bright, long sleeve shirt and jeans, using a gloved hand to unfurl the scarf around his neck and tip up his hat.

  “Evans is fine,” he corrected. “David having long since departed.”

  “Okie dokie then,” Gage answered.

  “We should be off within the next fifteen to twenty minutes,” Adrienne added. “We're just waiting for a couple more operatives to join us.”

  “Out of towners?” Evans prodded, mincing no words. “Only way to explain their tardiness.”

  Gage suspected he was trying to illicit a response out of Ady; after all he was well versed in her past.

  No sooner than the thought formed, she chuckled, stepping forward and taking the bait. “As a matter of fact, yes.” Her voice climbed. “They're from the Smoky Mountains. Do you have a problem with that, David?”

  Gage moved his bulky self between the both of them, gently pressing her back before things got too bitey or stabby – either one would look bad in the record books. He kept a hand on her shoulder and looked her reassuringly in the eyes. They were full of anger. “Now is not the time, darlin’. Do ya understand? Let's take all this out on the Noctis for now.”

  Oh how the roles had reversed, Gage talking her down this time. It worked and she subsided, taking a couple deep breaths.

  “You best listen to your master, woman,” Evans sneered.

  “You too, Fangs,” Gage snapped. “Zip it with the insults.”

  “Fine,” he replied obediently. “Do you have a room prepared for me on this�
� vessel, so I can get more comfortable? Or am I to hang upside down in one of your closets?” He pointed toward the sun. “Daylight to night walkers is murder to the skin.”

  “Sure thing,” Gage said, indicating the door further down deck.

  “Evans,” Adrienne spoke up as they started to set off. “My apologies. For what it's worth, let’s see this through.”

  The vampire mulled over a response and sensing her earnest tone, chose to be diplomatic instead of derogatory. He leaned back on a shady spot along the wall, removing his scarf and his glasses. “Agreed. This mission is of incredible importance. If… no, when it is successful, it will be a beacon of hope shining in the face of darkness. Not only for monsters, but humans as well. It is truly my view that beings not of this world have no right to the things in it, so we must all unite in some way else be swept away by their power.”

  “While I’m certainly no demon fan, how do ya know that this plan will fly?” Gage questioned, admittedly doubtful.

  “We have you two,” Evans responded.

  “Well, that was too quick for comfort,” Gage replied mockingly.

  “Well let’s not forget that you are well known for your slaying statistics. But that said I’m going to be there as well,” Evans continued, adjusting himself slightly. “I seem to have a way with words and uniting monsters against a cause. I would've succeeded in Durango, had that fucking Hell Knight not stuck his pitchfork in where it didn't belong. With the three of us spearheading these negotiations, our chance of success is increased. It won't be easy – there is a lot of animosity built up – but I hope that solidarity will triumph over revenge.”

  “I didn’t think this would be simple,” said Adrienne. “Yet, I would hate for us to have to clear our way out of Pine Springs.”

  “That makes all of us,” Evans agreed. “If we fail, I'm pretty sure that I won't be held in as high regard.”

  Gage could tell that Adrienne was growing anxious again. He leaned in with his lips close to her, sweeping away some stray brunette hairs.