Four Gods

by Sebastian H. Alive

  ‘I don’t know what I’m looking for.’ she thought miserably.

  ‘Keep going!’ said the voice in her head. ‘The woods are full of animals and they must eat!’

  So she moved a few yards away from the path and swept through a tangle of branches and strayed farther into the woods as she tentatively began looking around. She paused by some wild nettles but didn’t fancy getting any painful welts on her hands but Anya knew they were edible and quite tasty. Her cook back at the castle could make the most delicious wild green nettle soup with butter, onions, celery and potatoes and once cooked the nettles tasted like spinach or cabbage. Then she came across a bunch of fungus nestled in the rotting stumps of an old oak tree. Anya crouched down and looked at the fungi and grimaced. It was black at the base and white towards the top and resembled a snuffed candlewick but she wasn’t sure if it was poisonous and it definitely did not look very appetising. On she ventured but she found the trail through the trees become thicker and harder to navigate through without clawing young saplings to the side and trampling her way through the long grass. Just as she was about to give up and head back the undergrowth flattened out and she emerged into a small clearing. It was then that Anya smelled the wood smoke and she frowned to herself. At the edge of the clearing she could just make out some footprints in the ground vanishing into the trees and her eyes fixed on the recently trampled on campfire which had a thin tendril of smoke drifting lazily up into the air from the centre.

  Just as she was about to turn around a calloused hand clamped itself over her mouth and a voice whispered into her ear.

  “Hello little girl.”

  Chapter Twenty One

  The capital city of Tarlath

  Unfortunate’s alley

  “Who is she?” asked Leonidis staring at the masked woman walking slowly up and down the cobbled street swaying her hips seductively.

  Damascus half-turned with an uninterested look on his face and glanced at her then back at Leonidis.

  “Another one of Ingrith’s undesirables,” said the cripple with a grunt. “She arrived yesterday.”

  “Does she have a name?”

  “She has any name for the right price.”

  Leonidis looked momentarily confused and Damascus broke into a smile and clapped him on the back.

  “She’s a streetwalker and looking for men. They come to Ingrith occasionally and while she has that body she should have some takers.”

  “A prostitute?” questioned Leonidis letting his gaze linger over the robe clad woman with the long brown tousled hair.

  “What are you more surprised at? That there’s someone who’s even wetter behind the ears than you on the streets or that we don’t just beg on the streets? Sex sells and will continue to do whilst people part with coin to buy it and she is using her best assets to make that happen.”

  A man stopped, stared the streetwalker up and down then carried on with his journey and she looked in his direction hoping for some interest but there was none.

  “She’s either new to the profession or new to the streets.” muttered Damascus craning his neck at her with a winch of pain.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Streetwalkers usually wear the striped hood of their trade to abide by city regulations and I’ve also caught a glimpse of gold on her fingers. Such finery should not be worn on the streets.”

  “What makes a woman want to sell her body?” murmured Leonidis curiously.

  “There could be any number of reasons, loss of a husband, status, to make ends meet or she may just enjoy sex with strangers. The world is a harsh and dangerous place to live and beggars and prostitutes are symbols of this harsh reality. She is simply fulfilling a supply and demand market under the care of Ingrith. There’s no shame in turning to your own body to make some coin.”

  “Then why does she wear a mask to hide her identity.”

  “A trauma she has experienced is something important to hide in her trade.” answered the cripple sadly.

  “Trauma?” questioned Leonidis.

  “She has lost something dear to her, her beauty, and now covers her face.”

  “Then we have something in common. We are both victims looking to conceal ourselves.”

  “As unfortunate as it sounds I fear she won’t last long. A streetwalker’s longevity and worthiness is usually measured by her beauty. Age withers the body and she is selling the only part of her that isn’t important to her anymore. For a streetwalker with the right look the streets could be paved with gold and she could charge a higher price. Time is against her and she doesn’t have that luxury.”

  Damascus rubbed his upper back for a few seconds with his eyes squinted closed then stepped out of the alleyway and onto the streets.

  “Where’s old Theo today?” queried Leonidis looking around.

  “The fool has caught bloody flux through drinking contaminated water.”

  “Will he pull through?”

  “He is weak in body but not in mind but he has survived worse than stomach cramps and diarrhoea before. One thing I’m sure of is that he wouldn’t take too kindly to his spot being taken, women or not. Anyway, less talking and more humble begging,” he said with a chuckle as he turned around. “Now I must go fleece some unwitting stranger of his hard earned money.”

  “I’ll try Bread Lane again.” offered Leonidis without much conviction.

  “Ingrith is pleased with your progress.” called out the cripple sloping away heavily stooped.

  “She is pleased with the coin.” he shouted after him.

  “Same thing.” yelled Damascus before he was lost from view down a narrow side street.

  For a few minutes Leonidis stood alone in the relative safety of the alleyway waiting for his anxiety to subside. With his heart pounding he reluctantly abandoned his position but instead of turning right towards the maze of narrow winding cobbled streets that led to Bread Lane he walked left towards the masked woman with the long brown hair. As he walked he kept his head down watching each stride so no-one would pay any attention to him and didn’t know that she was staring at him approach from a distance with her head cocked to the side slightly. He caught scent of her perfume first, a faint sweet jasmine smell that drifted towards him and he inhaled deeply as he stood before her. The mask she wore shielded her features completely from view. It was made from some kind of moulded stiffened linen or hardened leather and was black lacquered with small horizontal slits on each side of the nose. It looked stiff but comfortable and only her sad, haunted eyes could be seen.

  “I am Leonidis.” he said clearing his throat.

  She didn’t offer her name and just stared for a few moments, her dark eyes flickering over his face, apparently unfazed by his ruined flesh.

  “You here to have a try?” she asked huskily with her voice muffled by the mask.

  “No, I...” he stammered, caught off guard by the unexpected response.

  “Then why are you here.” she interrupted harshly.

  “It is not safe out here for a lady. There are…unsavoury characters on the street.”

  The woman laughed coldly and fixed him with a baleful stare.

  “You think I’m a lady?” she asked seemingly annoyed. “I was someone’s lady once, but not now. He left me to suffer the King’s fury and my life was shattered into a thousand, thousand pieces so now here I am on the streets and in need of some coin so unless you desire me then you are wasting my time.”

  Leonidis saw the edge of madness in her eyes and recognised the look as a familiar one.

  “I only want to help.” he whispered.

  “What business is that of yours what I do?” she snapped. “You are but a boy what would you know about my life?”

  “I know that I too have suffered at the hands of the King.”

  “Then you know what it feels like to have your face carved from your skin.”

  Leonidis winched at the thought and instinctively reached up with his hand and touched the
rugged contours of his raw puckered flesh. The woman saw this and in an instant the anger had died from her eyes and her head sagged.

  “I faced a Meldling in an arena. For me it was punishment for thievery and for the King it was nothing more than entertainment, a blood sport to satisfy him and his nobles.”

  “You survived a beast?” asked the woman looking him up and down in disbelief.

  “If you call this surviving,” answered Leonidis. “The people spared me.”

  “You found favour with the people when you fought for your life. They must have seen a great deal of courage in you. It also shows how much the King is still swayed by the vociferous demands of the people but our situations are different. Do not think me calloused but for a Meldling to do what it did to you I can understand for they are bred to kill and they know no different. My attacker was the Captain of the Guards under instruction from the King. A man who probably has a wife and children at home, who could be a doting husband and a loving father, yet could so coldly mutilate a woman frozen in fear on the ground. Tell me, what must be within a man to take his knife and do that to someone?”

  Leonidis didn’t answer and the woman sighed loudly.

  “You seem a nice boy, Leonidis and have a soft heart. You have been in the dark place and come out the other end. Don’t let it pull you back in.”

  “You are still hiding in the darkness.” he replied.

  “And you are wiser than your years,” she said with a chuckle. “But I have no friends and nowhere else to go.”

  “You have one friend.”

  “Thank you, Leonidis. Now leave me for I have business I would like to conduct.”

  “Stay safe.”

  “Always.” she answered pulling aside her robe and showing him her dagger belted at her waist.

  He turned to leave her when she called out to him.

  “My name is Giliane.”

  Leonidis nodded his head and walked away feeling in high spirits towards Bread Lane. As ever it was the warm appetising aroma of freshly baked bread that signalled his arrival. His stomach rumbled as he savoured the smell and he realised how hungry he was as he gazed with longing at the ground-floor half-timbered shops with their open doors gathered together in the same cobbled street. Even though it was long after midday there were still small crowds of people looking for bakery products for their afternoon meal. Leonidis scanned the milling people with a trained eye. They looked well-fed; their cloaks looked warm and clothing still of good grade without patches or holes. He had only been there a few minutes when he became uncomfortably aware that many of the customers had stopped what they were doing and were staring at him. Some were pointing and speaking in lowered voices and others were just gazing at his face with open revulsion. Low on confidence it was then that he recalled the words of Damascus.

  ‘Remember Leonidis, there are people out there that are going to look at you like you’re worthless to them but it’s one thing to think you’re worthless, and quite another for somebody to tell you that you are. Whether you choose to believe it or not, you matter and your life matters. Show them that.’

  But those words, however uplifting at the time, seemed hollow and without meaning at that moment as he cut a forlorn figure soaking in their stares. Just as he was about to turn and leave a man came striding out purposefully from one of the bakers shops and walked straight towards him with something flat and round in his hand. He was a burly man with a round face and long sideburns and wore a long sleeved shirt, apron and dark trousers caked in flour.

  “Here. Take it and leave,” said the man thrusting a round black crusted loaf into his hands. “Don’t need your kind around here. It’s bad for business.”

  The bread felt dry and not fresh and Leonidis looked at the baker then at the people behind him watching the exchange and felt shame. Lowering his head he nodded numbly and left Bread Lane and never felt more like he didn’t matter in his entire life. Clutching his bread and feeling melancholy he trudged back to Unfortunate’s alley with the encounter still weighing heavily on his mind but his thoughts were broken by the sounds of shouting and he raced out onto the street to see Giliane struggling with a soldier with a knife in her hand. The man was tall with black hair, a long dark beard and a deeply pock-marked face and was struggling to fend her off such was her ferocity in attacking him.

  “He did this to me!” she screaming hysterically. “He did this!”

  The soldier finally wrestled the blade away from her then casually backhanded her with his free hand sending her sprawling to the cobbled ground.

  “No, wait!” shouted Leonidis holding out his hand and running over to them.

  “You whore.” yelled the man hawking and spitting a glob of phlegm down at her before glancing across at him with narrow eyes.

  “It was him.” hissed Giliane pointing a shaking finger at the soldier with her deranged eyes staring manically through her black mask.

  “This is King’s business,” said Hermes coldly at him. “Nothing here for you freak.”

  Leonidis felt a surge of anger as the soldier turned his back and dismissed him before dragging Giliane upright and pulling her close so his nose was nearly touching her mask.

  “You pulled a knife on me and I’m a King’s man,” whispered the Captain of the Guards. “An assault on me is an assault on the King himself and punishable by death.”

  Without another word Hermes plunged the blade deep into the stomach of Giliane then wrenched it viciously to the side.

  “No!” screamed Leonidis dropping the bread to the ground.

  Releasing the knife the soldier grinned as she staggered a couple of steps with her hands desperately clutching at the blood spurting from the mortal wound. With a strangled cry she turned to Leonidis, tottered on her feet then fell to the ground on her side weakly clawing at the handle protruding from her abdomen.

  “No, no, no.” he mewled sinking to his knees by her and cradling her head in his arms.

  He watched as the troubled light faded from her eyes and he bowed his head as she breathed her last.

  “She was nothing more than a worthless whore, boy.”

  When Leonidis raised his eyes they were full of hatred and Hermes chuckled.

  “Careful boy, your anger will see you die next to her.”

  Leonidis averted his eyes and looked back down at her body and the blood pooling around him.

  “Thought as much.” muttered the soldier turning his back and beginning to walk away.

  A strange sense of calm fell over Leonidis and he slowly reached for the knife and pulled it free from her body feeling the wetness of her blood over his palm. Gently lowering her head to the ground he stood to his feet and ran after the retreating Captain of the Guards. Before Hermes knew what was happened Leonidis plunged the blade deep into his back with all of his weight then dragged it clear and stabbed it into the side of the man’s unprotected neck. He heard screams but he didn’t bother to look around and see where the noise had come from. The soldier half-turned with blood pumping from his neck and looked at him in disbelief as he desperately tried to apply pressure to the wound. Taking a step back Leonidis watched in silence as Hermes choked, then gagged and collapsed to the blood splattered ground.

  Suddenly someone gripped his arm from behind and he spun around with the bloodied knife still clutched tightly in his hand.

  “What have you done?” whispered Damascus, his eyes wide and fearful.

  Leonidis shook his head, his eyes unblinking and let the blade fall from his fingertips then looked around him at the watching crowd that had gathered on the street. He pushed himself past the cripple and knelt by Giliane’s body and gently removed her black mask.

  “Let everyone see what he did.” said Leonidis grimly as he stared at her brutally scarred face.

  “Come!” cried Damascus pulling him to his feet. “We need to get out of here. Ingrith will know what to do.”

  Chapter Twenty Two

  South

 
The brigand knelt on one knee and reaching forward he placed his rough hands to either side of the girl's head and looked into her dark, half-unfocused eyes that were staring off into an unknown place.

  “Look at me!" he said. “Look at me!”

  The girls head was turned in his direction but her gaze, wide and unblinking remained fixed on nothing. He stroked her red hair for a moment then looked back at his accomplice with a bemused expression on his face.

  “She don’t say much, Hemmet.”

  The man named Hemmet stood just behind them looking down at the girls bound arms and legs. He was tall and lean with a crooked broken nose, a narrow thin mouth, chestnut brown eyes and close-cropped dark hair and wore a rough woollen tunic tied around the waist with a leather belt and simple stockings.

  “I don’t want to hear her talk, Otis. I want to hear her scream.” he said smiling cruelly.

  “Why do you get to go first with the girl?” he grumbled.

  “It’s quite simple, Otis. Have you ever seen a wolf pack take down a deer?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I have. It was quite exhilarating to watch. After stalking a herd of deer for some time a young fawn had fallen behind the main pack and once separated the wolves saw their opportunity and attacked at once. They leapt onto its back and dragged it to the ground but the interesting thing about watching wolves eat a prey is that it’s based on a hierarchy. Only the highest-ranking wolves get to eat first and the dominant alpha is always first to eat from a kill whereas the lesser ranked omega wolves ate what was left. My point is, I am the dominant alpha and you are the lesser omega and therefore you get to go last with what is left.”

  Otis flushed red angrily and looked down at his knife that was belted around his waist and his hand hovered close to the hilt. Hemmet saw this and chuckled coldly.

  “Do you know what happens to the omega wolf that challenges an alpha?” he asked from behind. “They fight. It’s viciously brutal and continues until dominance is accepted and the hierarchy is re-established. I’m a better fighter than you, my friend.”