Blood Rain

by Helix Parker

  And Chedes declared, “I will bring death among man.”

  10

  Edgar tried to get more information about Leon, but the assassin would only say that Leon lived on a farm outside of the city. Then she leapt up a wall like a panther and was gone.

  Edgar went inside the inn and rented a room for the night. When the transaction was complete, he asked the innkeeper about Leon.

  “Yeah, he and his wife, they come into the city every so oft for supplies. I know him.”

  “What do you know about him?”

  “Was a killer, that one. Heard he was with the assassins but was thrown out.”

  “How does one get thrown out of the assassins? I thought it was a life vow.”

  “They got themselves a code, though I’d be a goat’s bitch if I knew what it was. Seem to kill everything in sight, those do. But they got themselves a code. See, Leon didn’t have himself no code. He killed for pleasure.” The innkeeper shrugged. “That’s what they say anyway. But he seems a nice enough fellow when he comes by. Even had to stay the night once on the cause of a storm, and he fixed some o’ the holes in the roof while he was here.”

  Edgar nodded, thanked the man, then went up to his room.

  His sleep was restless, and the room seemed abnormally small, not much more than a closet really. And he kept getting awakened by screams. He thought they were in the room with him, but when he would jump out of bed, he found they were only within his skull.

  With sleep eluding him, he rose, put on his boots, and went outside. The torches had dimmed, and a dull blackness covered the city. Warm and without a breeze, the place felt as if it were covered with a wool blanket.

  He walked the streets alone, most people already behind closed doors. He passed a brothel, and a woman hollered obscenities at him. Edgar smiled and kept walking.

  He thought again about just leaving. The gold was enough to buy an island if he wished. What kind of fool pursued revenge when he had paradise waiting? Besides, life was brutal and short in the kingdom. For everyone. The Marauders were the current predators, but another day, they would be someone else’s prey. That was just how things worked. Why was it up to him to upset the natural order of things?

  A slab of neatly cut stone was set at the bottom of the hill, and Edgar climbed atop it and observed the sea. The waves crackled on shore, and farther out, he could see the dim oil lamps hung on the bows of ships as they gently drifted toward land. Using mirrors and flame, the lighthouse gave off a powerful beam that cut through the darkness like a blade, going far out to sea before disappearing in the mist. The empty piers were wooden fingers sticking out from the rocky coastline.

  “You want to go to paradise, halfling?”

  He turned. A young woman stood before him, dressed scantily with black, boiled leather boots that came up to her knees.

  “Pardon?” he asked.

  Walking over in a seductive, slithering way, she sat next to him on the stone and placed a hand on his thigh. “I said, do you want to go to paradise tonight?”

  “No, thank you. I’m actually quite tired and fear I may not enjoy it as much as I should.”

  She shrugged and stood up.

  “Wait,” he said, pulling out a single silver coin. “I could use some company.”

  She slipped the coin into her dress. “You seem lonely,” she said, putting her hands on his back and kneading his muscles.

  “I am lonely. Last of my kind, actually.”

  “You’re the last dwarf?”

  “No, silly girl, the world’s full of them. The village I was born in is no more.”

  “The village where I was born was burnt to the ground a few weeks afterward. What does it matter?”

  “Exactly. What does it matter? It is the natural course of things for brutalities to happen, is it not? It’s certainly not my place to change fate.”

  “You believe in fate, do you?”

  “You don’t?”

  She thought a moment. “I think it would be hard to get by every day, thinking my fate was to be ridden by every sweaty brute that comes through this hog’s den.”

  “Then why do you do it?”

  She shrugged. “Because of bad choices I made. They were stupid and silly, and I did things I had to do, and now I can’t do what I want. But they were my choices. No one forced them on me.”

  He looked at her quizzically. “You are quite philosophical for a prostitute.”

  “And you are quite sad for a dwarf. The only dwarves I knew were happy.”

  “A sad misconception, I’m afraid.”

  She massaged his shoulders and then his arms. “You lost someone you cared about?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “A woman dwarf?”

  “Just a woman would have sufficed, but yes.”

  “Did you love her?”

  “I don’t know. I think so.”

  “How did she die?”

  “Marauders.”

  She was silent a moment. “I saw them once, out in the plains. They didn’t see us, thank the gods. We hid in a forest and watched them pass. They didn’t even look like people. They looked like animals… or demons.”

  “I’ve seen them from very close, my dear, and I assure you they are people. Just skin and blood and bone. And they can die as surely as anyone.”

  “Oh, now I see. It’s revenge that has made you sad.”

  “Why would revenge make me sad?”

  “You’re not sure if you want to go after the men that killed her. You don’t want to, do you? But you’re going to anyway.”

  He sighed. “Yes, I’m afraid I will.” He looked up at her. “What do you know of a semi-hermit named Leon who lives on a farm half a day’s walk from here?”

  11

  Rodrick awoke early in the morning and went down for his broth. That was food at Castle Night—a salty, thin black broth, and the cooks never said what was in it. From what he could taste, the soup contained some sort of fish parts and boiled wine, but there were other flavors that no one could place. But the broth made him feel refreshed and strong, as if he could run a hundred miles without having to stop.

  The mess hall was a work of art in degradation. Nude men and women lay about in their own vomit, and the wine-stained floors and walls stank. Several corpses lined the walls. Inevitably, there were corpses; the Marauders always had to show each other who could fuck the hardest or most violently. The contests would usually end with dead women, boys, and sometimes, dead Marauders. Rodrick had wanted to put a stop to it, but his master told him it was good for the men, that life was nothing more than competition for survival and the Marauders had to compete even against themselves.

  He retrieved a bowl and stood in line. The cook slopped a ladleful of the broth into his bowl. He found a wooden bench and sipped the broth without a spoon. Hot, spicy, and gag-inducing, it seemed to never change. He looked up to see Hess coming over to his table.

  “What did the master want with you last night?” Rodrick asked.

  “He asked an odd question.”

  “What?”

  “Whether I had ever seen a god.”

  Rodrick scoffed. “Don’t tell me he believes in the ancient fairy tales of desert-dwellers.”

  “He, I think, very much believes in the ancient tales. Certainly, he believes gods are here among men for their amusement and joy.”

  “He said that? That he thinks gods are here among us?”

  Hess tilted his head to the side and then back in a gesture that was equivalent to a shrug in his culture. “In some ways, he is a god.”

  “He’s a man. As fearful and powerful as any I have ever met, but just a man.”

  “I am not so certain.”

  A ruckus arose behind them. Two Marauders who had been passed out a moment ago were on their feet and bashing fists into each other’s bodies. One connected with a good blow to the stomach, folding his opponent over before delivering a knee to the jaw that sent the man reeling backward. He went
in for the finishing blow, but the injured man ducked low, wrapped his arms around his enemy’s legs, and lifted him into the air. They both then dropped full force onto the floor and began exchanging more blows. Fights were so commonplace, only two or three other men took notice.

  “This business about Dolane,” Rodrick said, turning back to his broth. “I’m not certain about it.”

  “It is an enormous city but a city nonetheless. It can be defeated.”

  “The king couldn’t possibly approve. If we upset him, every legion in the kingdom will be recalled to hunt us down.”

  Hess nodded. “Perhaps. But maybe with the resources of Dolane, it would not matter.”

  “We’re fifteen thousand at our strongest, Hess. The Royal Army is fifty times our size with ships and infantry and archers… we have few of those things.”

  “You don’t value fear as you should. Those men fighting with the king do not instill fear in us. But we instill fear in them. It would not matter if there were millions instead of thousands. They cannot defeat us.”

  Rodrick sipped the last of his broth. “I wish I had your confidence.”

  “Master!” someone shouted.

  As was customary upon Erebos entering a room, the Marauders knelt on one knee. Rodrick and Hess were no different.

  “Rise,” Erebos said, his voice booming, “and be risen. For death cannot touch you while you are under my protection.”

  The men stood but didn’t move until Erebos traversed the room and exited through another doorway. The chambers below the castle were a type of respite for Erebos. Dark and with no sound, the rooms gave him the opportunity, among other things, to focus and plan the future. They had been built by an ancient people that no longer existed—a race of giants that nearly destroyed the world of men.

  Rodrick watched as his master disappeared down stone steps. He had been having his doubts for a while. Attacking villages filled with unarmed peasants brought no honor, glory, or even proper training—a useless waste that filled time better spent preparing for war. And a near suicidal attack on one of the kingdom’s largest cities? His master may have lost sight of their initial purpose: to bring havoc upon the world of men for their own profit.

  12

  Leon was in the fields when he saw a horse on the road. Sauntering up the path, the animal appeared like an apparition in the bright sunlight—shimmering and wavy. It was a bit away yet, so he turned back to work the barren dirt with the occasional green or yellow. Though he’d done it a thousand times before, he reached down and picked up a handful. The dirt ran through his fingers like sand through an hourglass. Worthless.

  The image on the road turned into a brown horse, and as it approached, Leon could see a dwarf riding it. The harness and saddle were custom made, as the dwarf’s legs were not long enough to spur the horse into action. Two wooden rods dangled on either side of the beast. When the dwarf wished, it appeared that he could both grip and spur. The dwarf brought the horse to a stop a few feet from where Leon stood.

  “That horse is tired and hasn’t had water in a long while,” Leon said.

  The dwarf looked down at the animal, his face wrinkling in disapproval. “I just bought it.”

  “You probably paid too much.” Leon walked to the well and tossed in the bucket. After hearing the faint splash, he pulled it back up and brought it to the horse. She drank her fill as he rubbed her muzzle. “She’s old. I don’t think she’ll have much longer left.”

  “Bastard son of a whore. I paid good coin for her.” The dwarf was handsome with pasty, white skin from a lifetime spent indoors.

  “I would say to take her back, but I’m guessing her salesman is long gone.” He lowered the empty bucket and placed it on the ground. “So what’s your pleasure, friend? You didn’t come here to show me an old horse. If you’re selling wares, my wife handles all the—”

  “No, I’m not selling anything. Quite the opposite actually. I wish to give money to you.”

  “When a man says something like that, it’s usually a prelude to a good theft.”

  “I assure you I mean you no ill, Leon.”

  “So you’ve heard of me? A salesman who does his research. I’m impressed.”

  The dwarf’s large emerald eyes never left his. “I am no salesman.”

  “You don’t speak like a salesman, I’ll give you that.”

  “I was a barrister, actually. Enforcing the king’s law.” He chuckled, but so quietly that it seemed a gesture of melancholy rather than mirth. “That seems funny now.”

  “So if you are no salesman, then what are you doing here? We’re not on any thoroughfare and neither are we close to any cities.”

  “No, you’re not.” The dwarf dismounted using a bit of elastic cord that stretched out and recoiled once he was on the ground and let go of it. “I’m here to offer you a job.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Killing people.”

  While Cassandra prepared the meal and his daughter played outside with the dwarf’s horse, Leon sat at the kitchen table with the little man seated across from him.

  “So what do they call you, dwarf?” Leon asked.

  “My name is Edgar.” The dwarf took a sip of the drink Cassandra had served. “Mm, I have never had a drink quite like this. What did you say it was, m’lady?”

  “Just milk, honey, and yogurt. But the honey is a special blend from over the sea. The bees there are rumored to produce the world’s sweetest honey. We received it as a gift from my parents.”

  “I dare say that rumor is true.” He wiped his lips with a napkin. “I like your home. It’s simple. No extravagance for the sake of extravagance.”

  Leon replied, “The only people I’ve seen who give in to that sort of thing are people afraid that others will see who they really are. I have no fear of such. I’m at peace for the first time in my life. That’s why I must turn down your offer.”

  “You haven’t heard what it is yet.”

  “I don’t need to.”

  “Really? And what if I told you I enquired all about the cities and discovered that many believe your lands are about to be repossessed by the financiers? And do you wish to know why? Your creditors simply found someone willing to pay a higher lease. That’s all.”

  “And why would anyone in the cities care about what happens to me?”

  Edgar took another sip of his drink, not removing his eyes from Leon. “Apparently, you have quite the reputation there. Leon the Lion, that’s what they called you. A man so fearsome he made armies tremble. And then he met his wife, and she tamed his savage spirit.”

  Leon laughed. “Men do love their tales.”

  “Yes, they do. So is it true?”

  “No, it is not.”

  “You were never a brutal”—Edgar glanced out the window to ensure Leon’s daughter wasn’t listening—“killer?”

  “What I was I am not now. Nor can I be. That part of me is gone.”

  “No part of us is ever gone. It’s always there, just under the surface, waiting for the right moment to come out.” Edgar placed his elbows on the table. “What if I told you I would buy your land and give the deed to your wife? I would do that right now. Today. And once this journey is complete and what I want done is accomplished, I will pay you so much gold and silver that you will not have to worry about your harvests for twenty years. Would that be enough to entice you?”

  Leon looked at his wife, who had stopped cooking. She saw his gaze and turned back to the hearth. He thought of life on his own farm, without landlords or men who wished to squeeze him for everything he was worth. Men were cruel and pitiless, and it seemed the more pity you needed, the less they gave. That was something he had not been aware of until just recently.

  Leon eyed Edgar a moment. “Who?”

  Edgar leaned in close and whispered, “Just a man. One man. And a terrible, monster of a man at that. A rapist and murderer of hundreds, if not thousands. Just him. Nothing more.”

  “Nothing more? I
find, friend, that that is rarely the case in the world of men.”

  “Then you haven’t dealt with many dwarves. We’re much more… straightforward than the common folk.”

  “I appreciate the gesture and your trust, but I am not that man anymore.”

  Edgar nodded. “Well, I will be in Bale another two days, and then I will leave and find others who might be willing to help me. If you alter your opinion, call on me at the inn.” He scooted off the chair and thanked Leon’s wife for a lovely drink. He walked outside, and Leon watched through the window as the dwarf made the horse perform tricks for Star, making the child squeal with laughter.

  “Are you certain?” Cassandra asked, coming behind him.

  “Of what?”

  “We could own the farm and pass it down to our children when we are gone. All he asks is that you capture one man.”

  “He wants me to kill one man.”

  “You don’t have to kill him. Just arrest him for the king’s law. Let them mete out punishment.”

  He turned to face her. “You would want me to leave you, our daughter, and our unborn child to go hunt a man that has proudly murdered thousands?”

  “That’s exaggeration, I’m certain. Who could do such a thing? But no, you’re right. I don’t want you to go. It’s just…”

  “What?”

  “I see how worried you are. You sit by the fire and drift away in your thoughts, and the worry creases your brow. I’m not stupid, Leon. I know we are in trouble and that we could lose our home.”

  “I’ll find a way. But killing is not it.”

  13

  When night fell and the sun made its long flight into the earth, Leon went back out to the fields. He again reached down and let the dirt escape through his fingers. The words of the dwarf rang in his head: No part of us is ever gone. It’s always there, just under the surface. Waiting for the right moment to come out.

  He flung the remaining dirt and slapped his hands together. The moon was covered with gray-black clouds slipping over the heavenly body like water over a stone, revealing powerful white light. The mountains and hills surrounding his land appeared as monstrous fingers jutting out of the earth. Suddenly, his place of peace didn’t seem peaceful. He wasn’t certain how he would raise the necessary funds for the lease. Even if he were to go to Bale and seek work, the pay would be a pittance of what he needed.