Six Heirs

by Pierre Grimbert

  He was a city dweller through and through. Up until recently, he had only traveled between cities, taking the shortest route possible. On this deserted, desolate island, he was out of his element. As if he were closer to the realm of death. His death.

  He tried to banish this unpleasant thought. In Lorelia, the streets were always lit and rarely deserted. The teeming city life, with its countless festivals and the impressive density of taverns and other entertainment establishments, didn’t lend itself to pessimism. Whereas here...

  Finally, he admitted it. Yes, he regretted the vision they had seen of the other world. He felt a kind of sadness and an inexplicable frustration he had never known before. He wasn’t the only one, judging from the others’ lost expressions.

  So much for the old man’s orders. He was going to break the ever-so-important silence. He needed to talk.

  He went over to Léti, searching for an amusing way to strike up a conversation...and froze midstep, his eyes fixed in one direction.

  A man had just appeared, right in front of him.

  Rey lunged at him so swiftly that he surprised even himself. The stranger, just as surprised as Rey, reacted with much less agility and found himself with his back on the ground and a dagger to his throat before he could even draw his blade.

  If he had been alone, Rey wouldn’t have hesitated for an instant to slice his steel blade through the man’s filthy skin. But some sense of decency, being in the presence of his naive companions, as well as the memory of the other world, prevented him from killing the stranger in cold blood.

  It all happened very fast. Rey smelled the man’s awful breath. He read the panic in his eyes. Then he heard Léti let out a dreadful cry, and something struck him brutally on the head.

  As soon as Léti saw Rey bolt for no apparent reason, she stood up to find the actor subduing an armed stranger.

  No one had heard the man approach. Yan, sitting close to her, was daydreaming, as he often did. Bowbaq was lost in his contemplation of the stars, and Corenn was resting with her eyes closed.

  Léti’s first emotion was relief. This stranger was clearly an enemy, but it was fine, since Rey had subdued him—and without Grigán’s help, even.

  Then she felt anger. Anger toward herself for not reacting as quickly as Rey. She hadn’t even reacted at all.

  Then hysteria overtook all of her other emotions when she saw the other men.

  She heard herself yelling to warn Rey and watched, powerless, as one of the strangers clubbed the actor on the head.

  She brandished her knife in front of her, in front of her enemies, in an improvised combat position. She didn’t even remember grabbing the weapon.

  Bowbaq placed himself between them and her, blocking the way with his massive body. Léti felt someone pulling at her clothes. She pivoted around, rage filling her body, ready to take on her assailant.

  It was only Yan. She realized he had been calling her for a while now. She finally understood what he was saying.

  “Come on! We need to leave! Léti, come with me!”

  She followed him without knowing why. Maybe because it was Yan. Because he had called to her.

  She couldn’t think straight. All she wanted was to keep her grip on the knife.

  She clasped the weapon, gritted her teeth, and started running as she never had before.

  Bowbaq had spontaneously confronted the strangers without knowing what he was going to do next. He was overjoyed to hear Yan and Léti get away. Then he noticed that, among the group, Corenn was in the most danger, so he leaped two yards to place himself in front of her.

  There were several assassins. He counted at least five, but the shouts and clanging of metal that could be heard all around didn’t bode well.

  The giant didn’t know what to do. The cluster of men standing before him remained still, encumbered by Rey’s body lying on the ground and impressed by their new adversary’s size.

  He took a slow step forward, looking hard into the nearest man’s eyes. He had often seen Mir do the same with his prey. The assassin unconsciously stepped back, forcing his fellows to do the same.

  Bowbaq swung his gigantic arm forward and ripped the club from its owner’s hands. He had taken an oath never to kill anyone, no matter who, but his enemies didn’t know that. Regardless, he felt a little better armed than barehanded.

  “Put it down!” he heard behind him.

  Bowbaq shot a brief glance behind him, short enough to still keep his other adversaries at bay. But what he saw drained him of the meager hope that had vitalized him.

  Men surrounded them on all sides, blocking all exits from the rocky passage. Several of them had bows.

  He, Corenn, and Rey were trapped.

  Grigán didn’t like it, not one bit. Their enemies seemed to be legion, and he thought he could hear sounds of a struggle where he had left his companions.

  In fact, all the assassins were rushing in that direction, and he was having more and more trouble making his way forward without being seen. Once already, he’d had just enough time to fling himself into a dark corner before coming face-to-face with three of the strangers.

  Grigán was brave, very brave, but not foolhardy. If he kept running as he had been, it wouldn’t be long before they captured him. If he waited, soon enough he really would be a solitary warrior, mourning the deaths of his friends.

  He heard running; someone was coming toward him. Grigán melted into the shadows and gripped his dagger. At the last moment, he stuck his leg out, tripping the hurried man, and watched as the man’s head smacked into a rock, knocking him unconscious before he could even cry out.

  The warrior wished it could always be so easy.

  But the assassin sprawled out on the ground gave him an idea. Somewhat ridiculous, surely very risky, but the best one he had for now. Actually, the only one.

  He quickly undressed his victim and slipped the clothes on over his own.

  Then he joined the band of assassins who were racing toward his friends.

  Léti was going way, way too fast. At first, Yan intentionally let her go out ahead so he could protect her and stop her from turning right back around toward the heat of battle. But now she was too far ahead of him and was slipping out of his line of sight more and more frequently.

  Forcing a swift pace wasn’t the best solution: in the thick darkness, they could very well fall or run smack into a rock—or right into one of the assassins they were running from.

  Earlier, running away as fast as possible seemed like it was their best option. Yan had understood that as soon as Rey was attacked, they were at a disadvantage. Their only chance at survival was to run; even Grigán would have agreed.

  He tried not to think about Corenn and the others.

  Not right away. First he needed to get his precious Léti out of danger, then he would turn back and help his friends. If he still could.

  Yan slowed down, out of breath. The path he had been following began to slope down; their escape was altogether aimless, and now they were completely lost.

  A few millidays had already gone by since Léti had faded from sight. She was several dozen paces ahead. He listened closely, trying to calm his panting.

  He couldn’t even hear her anymore. He concentrated hard, searching for the sounds of running feet in the silence of the night. Nothing.

  He had lost Léti.

  Corenn followed their enemies without resisting. It soon became apparent that any effort to escape would be useless against the imposing band of criminals and assassins that had been sent after them.

  These men hadn’t slain them on the spot, which left a sliver of hope. Furthermore, Grigán’s fate was unknown, and Léti and Yan had successfully escaped. Whatever they were planning, the best solution for now was to stall. By any means necessary.

  Corenn immediately put this idea into action, faking a painful cramp. But after only a few millidays, the horrible man behind her violently pushed her forward, letting loose a string of curses
which Corenn hadn’t even known existed. That wasn’t enough to stop her, and she made do with slowly hobbling along, crying out in pain every once in a while. She couldn’t leave room for any suspicion.

  Even limping, she managed to catch up to Bowbaq and get in front of him, before slowing down even more. The giant had been marching at his normal pace, which was far too brisk.

  Their only chance was to stall their enemies, she repeated to herself. For Grigán, for Léti, for Yan. And to give her time to think.

  The assassins had even brought Rey along on this forced march, even though the actor seemed more dead than alive. Two crooks had disarmed him and carried him along like a sack of grain. Corenn presumed it wasn’t the intention of the men to kill them. Not right away, at least.

  Nevertheless, they weren’t treated any less like enemies. Not a single member of the Guild—that’s who these men probably were—had spoken to them, except to deliver insults and menacing remarks. It was better not to have any illusions about their intentions.

  “Where are we going?” she risked asking.

  “Shut the hell up, old woman!” was the only response she received.

  Corenn left it at that, not wanting to make things worse. Making one of the men mad would surely result in more violence and would eliminate any chance they had of escaping through diplomacy, if they had any chance at all.

  “He’s awake, I’m telling you!” a Lorelien voice shouted.

  One of the men carrying Rey happily dropped him to the ground. Indeed, the young blond man had already regained consciousness, at least enough to protest his poor treatment.

  “Well, sirs! I get the feeling you don’t like me. This habit of dropping me without fair warning shows a flagrant lack of manners.”

  “Shut it! Stand up!” the scoundrel said, kicking him in the stomach.

  Rey grabbed the man’s leg and pulled him to the ground, then tried to take his sword. But it was stuck underneath its owner, and the actor’s attempt to escape died in the womb. The second man booted him in the ribs before forcing him to his feet at bladepoint.

  “I knew you didn’t like me,” Rey groaned in pain.

  “Shut it!”

  The little column started forward again. Corenn knew where they were bringing them: to the small beach where they had landed earlier that night.

  Her worst fear was that they would be taken away immediately. That she would be separated from the others, without any way of knowing what happened to them.

  Bowbaq had an exaggerated coughing fit. Corenn turned toward him, intrigued. To her knowledge, the giant wasn’t ill.

  Bowbaq stared back at her with eyes as big as saucers. He nodded to his left.

  Corenn followed the signal as discreetly as possible. What, he wasn’t thinking about trying to escape now, was he? It was too late for that.

  But what the giant had seen was a trail sign. Grigán must have assembled the unique collection of branches, rocks, and seashells. Unfortunately, Corenn couldn’t decipher it.

  It didn’t matter. Whatever the warrior’s message, there was nothing he could do for them.

  Léti had cracked. Her mental balance, which had already been strained tremendously over the past two dékades, had finally tipped completely.

  She had a strong urge to cry, but the tears didn’t come. If it weren’t for the bitter taste in her throat and the pounding headache that prevented her from reasoning, she would have thought she had become numb.

  She felt as though she had been running her entire life. She ran from her dear ones’ disappearance, from the love of the living, from challenges and joys, truths and lies.

  She had run away yet again, just a moment ago. So quickly, so selfishly, that she had even lost Yan. When she finally noticed, it was almost too late.

  Now, kneeling down in the grass, she shuddered at the memory. She had run and run, and still ran, as if she were trying to run from all her fears at once. She ran like a madwoman. Almost to her death.

  She had only seen the danger once she was ten yards from the edge of oblivion. It had taken her seven or eight more to stop.

  The path went no further. Her aimless run led her to the top of a cliff overlooking the sea, 150 feet below.

  Momentarily, she sat watching the waves crash against the rocks. She thought that joining them might be a solution, a relief.

  But no, that would be another weakness.

  She couldn’t run any further? Very well. Perhaps it was a sign of destiny.

  Never again would she run away.

  She tightened her grip on her knife and started back down the cliff toward the rocky maze with a confident step.

  Three armed men appeared, blocking her way. One of them yelled something in Lorelien, likely an insult or a threat.

  She calmly returned to the top of the cliff, turned around, and waited for them with a determined resolve.

  Never again would she run away.

  Grigán came as quickly as he could, but it wasn’t quick enough. He finally reached his companions after the short battle, just in time to witness their capture.

  The crooks already had them under escort. The warrior considered joining them, but it was too risky. Some of the men might know what he looked like; it was best that he stay back for now.

  So he followed the troop from a distance, more powerless, tortured, and anguished than ever.

  He figured they were taking them to the only place on the island where they could have landed: the little beach. Using this knowledge, he outpaced the group and left a sign for Bowbaq, hoping that the giant wouldn’t pass by it without noticing.

  It was all he could do for now—signal his presence not far from them.

  It wasn’t much.

  Bowbaq wanted to be somewhere else. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that they wouldn’t be in all this trouble if they had just avoided the cave. Once again, he had transgressed and was now suffering the unhappy consequences.

  He didn’t feel sorry for himself. He felt sorry for his wife and his children. The small group of heirs that had united failed to thwart their unknown enemy’s plan. And now the Züu were going to carry out their despicable duty until they were completely finished.

  Maybe he could have done something for them if he had stayed in Arkary. Or not. Anyhow, the past was the past and he couldn’t do anything to change it now.

  The line reached the beach. The heirs’ skiff was still there, now joined by four other, larger boats. Bowbaq had expected this, just as he’d expected the more frightening events to follow.

  No less than five Züu waited patiently on the beach. To a man, they looked just like the others they had already come face-to-face with: red cloak, shaved head, demented eyes.

  Only one of them stood out from the others—his face, or rather his entire head, was painted in black and white. It mimicked the shape of a monstrous human skull, inhabited solely by two eyes that seemed eager to devour their prey.

  Even the thugs seemed intimidated by these fanatics. Bowbaq noticed that none of them came near the Züu if they could avoid it. The majority of them preferred not to take their eyes off the assassins. Apparently, the Lorelien “brothers” didn’t doubt the sinister reputation of the Züu.

  Two of the Züu held their dreadful daggers. Two others were armed with crossbows, no less dangerous. The man with the painted skull was the only one unarmed. And yet he seemed to be the most threatening.

  “Where are the others?” he asked one of the thieves.

  He spoke perfect Lorelien, but there was something disconcerting about the sight of this enormous talking skull. The man swallowed painfully, cursing the gods for choosing him to answer the assassin’s question.

  “The two kids got awa—will soon be brought here,” he immediately amended.

  “And the Ramgrith?”

  The man took a step back, and lowered his eyes in silence. Bowbaq noticed that the man feared his boss more than Bowbaq himself feared his abductors.
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br />   The Zü turned away and took a few steps.

  “So your work is unfinished,” he announced in a clear voice. “You know what you still have to do.”

  The thug didn’t wait to be told twice and immediately left for the island’s interior. Six of his comrades raced after him, all too happy to get away from the madmen with poisoned daggers.

  The two men that held Corenn, Rey, and Bowbaq hostage moved to do the same, but the Skull constrained them with a simple furrowing of his brow. Then he approached the prisoners, walking slowly, very slowly.

  Rey laughed uproariously. The Zü stopped dead right in front of him, his arms crossed, and stared him right in the eyes, which didn’t seem to have the intended intimidating effect on the actor.

  “This number, ha! I mean, honestly!” Rey jeered. “When I play bad guys in the theater, I always think they’re so stupid, absurd, mad, and old-fashioned that I never imagined such sick people really existed. But it’s true. Congratulations, really, well done,” he concluded, with another burst of laughter.

  The Zü smiled faintly for a moment, then thrust two extended fingers into Rey’s throat so quickly the actor didn’t even see it coming.

  Breathing suddenly became impossible, and resumed only after a moment that felt way too long for Rey, as he tried desperately to draw air into his lungs. Then a gut-wrenching nausea took hold of him, and he turned to vomit, his throat convulsing in pain.

  “You’re lucky,” the Zü declared. “Four times out of five, that’s enough to kill any heretic.”

  Bowbaq couldn’t believe it. These fellows were truly insane.

  “Well,” the assassin continued, “we’re going to have a little talk. You, me, and Zuïa.”

  Léti had never felt so alive. Three assassins were advancing on her, weapons drawn. She had no way to escape. No help was on the way, and all she had was a simple fishing knife to defend herself with.