Yorgen slapped the hair and attached skin down into the trough; a curved portion of the counter that allowed goods and proof to pass either way. “Bounty for Hiro Adelrahim.” He slung his pack to the side and grabbed the photo out of it—Hiro slumped against the stone hall of the Underground before Yorgen had taken part of his scalp. It was their two way proof system: a photo of the victim to match the bounty, and the scalp to prove the death.
The clerk was the same one that was always there. Yorgen had no idea what his name was. “The usual?”
Sounds like the family is fed, thanks to Nartha. “Actually, I might take a walk, if that’s okay. I know it’s late.”
“Its fine,” He glared out at the crowd behind Yorgen, “I’m not going anywhere until they fuck off.”
“What’s going on, anyway?”
“Lifebond. Big lifebond.”
God, it’s going to be hours before people take it on. “Shit. That is going to ruin your night. Someone important?”
“Only the mercenary General of the fucking Pact.”
Hafi Boral? Holy fucking Mystics.
“Actually, you know what? I will take the usual. And I’ll take the lifebond.”
The clerks jaw dropped, “You’ve never taken a lifebond. Are you sure? This one is going to be a bloodbath.”
Yorgen smiled, “I might not take lifebonds, but I do take all the rough bounties no one else will do. I’m guessing the payoff will set me and my family up for a few years?”
“One hundred thousand trade value.”
Yorgen’s smile got wider, “Perfect.”
Strategy would be key. He could leave tonight for a head start, or he could wait for someone else to get the kill, then just murder them for the scalp and film. It wasn’t uncommon for the competitors to team up until the kill was made, then the makeshift team would break into a free-for-all brawl. His best bet was to follow the big group, wait for them to kill each other off, then kill the lucky winner. Either way, he would get the reward.
The clerk pulled out a book and a small circle with a hole in the center. Through the hole, he placed a nail. “Sign the book, blood and signature.”
Yorgen signed with the fountain pen provided, then slammed his hand onto the disc so the nail popped through the other side. He made a fist, allowing the blood to drip next to the signature, then pressed his thumb into it. “Hopefully, this will get the ball rolling so you can get out of here, too.”
The clerk smiled, “Hopefully, this won’t be the last time I see you.”
89
Shara
Her one show of resistance when they had brought her here had backfired. Now, Shara was stuck in a never ending dreamless state. Sleep would wash over her, but would not take her away. No matter how much she screamed at her mind to take her, distract her, she was trapped in a world of black.
Anywhere but here—anywhere but here.
Within the bouts of restless slumber, that only dulled her senses as much as her home of wooden floors dulled sound, the pain burned through her, consuming her from the outside in. Next to the pain was the constant tugging and pulling, punctuated by roaring shouts of fresh, sharp pain, as they rearranged what lay inside her body.
See it! Sense it!
In the darkness, she tried to reach out and sense what they were doing to her, but the source was dark to her. The only thing she could sense was the presences, looming around her as she lay strapped on a table that was propped up. She couldn’t sense any Source elements, but she heard some. The hum. The Blight crystal. It was always with her, now.
On occasion, the fog of sleep would lift enough for her to see her surroundings. It seemed like a perpetual night outside her dark dreamworld. Wherever they had put her, there was no light other than a strange golden glow that emanated from a crystal on the table next to where she was strapped. Next to the crystal lay others. First, it had been all the Source elements from her amulet, the gold crystal, and the Blight crystal, but it seemed with each waking, the number dwindled.
How long has it been?
Why?
Did the army survive?
The Blight crystal was the first to vanish off the table, its persistent hum moving closer to her—deep within her. Then, one by one, the others vanished. When the diamond vanished from the table, she fought and struggled to find it—to heal herself—or at least blunt the pain. But she could not sense any of the other elements, even though she knew that they were inside her, just like the Blight. Now, only the golden crystal remained on the table.
Ripping, tugging, slicing that seemed to go on for days. Then, she awoke in the blackness, the small golden bloom of light was gone. The Xenai presences around her had vanished. She was alone, strapped to the table, the dampening necklace weighing heavy on her.
Then the Voice came to her. She couldn’t sense whoever spoke near her, but it sounded as if he was standing right beside her, having an intimate conversation.
This cannot be forgiven. We cannot ignore growths of treason.
What the fuck was this dude on about?
We cannot fix what is broken, we can only welcome the next stage of our cycle: a new becoming. The old fights don’t matter; only our survival until we complete the cycle. When we kill, we do not end a life, but send it through the Gate, on to the next.
Yeah, murder isn’t murder, killing isn’t killing. We are helping, honest! Shara would have rolled her eyes if she could keep them open.
There is nothing that keeps these insignificant beings from being crushed other than our own mercy. We have given them every chance to turn from their path, to accept the way of the new world, and to join with us. And now! The only recourse left to us! Is to storm and rage and swallow them whole!
Shara laughed. The spasms of pain wracked her body, and the laugh ended with a gasp and choke, although her mind continued in its amusement. She remembered Hafi training her, Xenai are not so different from men in that they are stupid and they panic in a fight. Their army may adapt to change suddenly, but as individuals, they do not. Keep them on their toes, do what they don’t expect. Sacrifice ground when they expect you to protect it. Know their next step and be ten steps ahead. Be the embodiment of chaos, and you’ll win every time.
She pushed back at the Voice in her head, reaching out to communicate back to him with every ounce of Intuition she could muster. There were no words to say to it. So, she expressed herself with an internal yet visceral and defiant scream.
Outside the room, she heard scrambling and the bark of Xenai, as if they had heard her.
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Thanks for spending time in the Array!
Also by A. R. Clinton
“Heart of the Mountain”
A short story which takes place in 72 A.S.
Unable to procreate as a race, the Xenai revere children. When the head assassin for the Xenai leadership council discovers that his target is a child, he wrestles with the choice before him. How can he choose between saving the life of one little girl or the future of his people? Follow Fiher as he battles with the choice between his beliefs and his orders all while being chased by the their enemy: the Pact.
Heart of the Mountain is the prequel story to the first novel of the Sunder series, Song of Sundering. Read it for free on A. R. Clinton’s website:
https://www.arc.wtf
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Song of Sundering Page 51