Blue Words - Part I

by M.C. Edwards

over his shoulder, ever wary.

  George looked the relic up and down. It was much taller now that it stood straight and strong. She had torn feelings about this relic. Or creature. Or whatever the hell it was. Every fibre of her being wanted to lay blame for everything at its feet, but if it wasn’t for it there was no telling what would have happened. George wanted to both embrace and slap him. “It or him.” In the end, rushed by the distant wail of sirens, she made a decision.

  “Come with me, I live just a few blocks away,” she said motioning down the road. Gudrik paused a moment and then nodded gratefully.

  “I will see you to your home safely,” he replied and began to walk in the direction she had indicated. Despite her reservations about Gudrik, she would see Tabitha again thanks to him, and for that George would be eternally grateful.

  As they strolled down the road, George looked at the tattered remnants of jacket and shirt still flapping about Gudrik’s shoulders in the breeze. “You look about my ex’s size. I still have some of his clothes you can use.”

  “Gratitude,” he rumbled.

  Evaporation

  “Any obstacle can be overcome when one flows like mist.”

  Tabitha answered the door with a smile. “Meeeeeoww,” she purred, long, black whiskers streaking her cheeks.

  “Hello baby, did you miss me?” George asked, scooping her up and smothering her with kisses.

  “So.....interesting day then?” greeted Edna sarcastically, eyebrow arched at George’s windswept hair.

  “Ha,” she pouted, “You don’t even know the half of it.” Edna glared at her with that all-knowing gaze older, wiser people give when they are just about to school you.

  “Mummy, tee bee,” squealed Tabitha clapping her hands. George wandered into the apartment and looked at the television. She bit her lip. An announcer prattled excitedly over shaky footage of Gudrik and his majestic wings carrying her off into the sky. George’s heart began to miss every second beat.

  “So who’s your new friend?” asked Edna, eyeing off Gudrik, who was still standing politely in the hall, barefoot and shirtless.

  “Oh sorry, this is Gudrik,” she replied, beckoning him in.

  “Nice to meet you Gudrik,” replied Edna, picking up his hand and shaking it. “Next question, what is your new friend?” she continued, looking him up and down and rubbing her hands unashamedly over his chest and stomach muscles as she ushered him in.

  “No idea Edna.” Her attention shifted to him, “Gudrik, I believe you promised me an explanation to all of,” George paused for a second, searching for the right words. “This,” she finally added waving her hands theatrically. He examined the room.

  “I am a Varth-lokkr,” he rumbled. The room was silent as his his eyes darted from woman to woman. “A Magnus?” The faces remained blank. “Veneficus? Stregone? Djinn?” He paused and thought on it, curling his lips in vague disapproval. His mouth opened to continue, but Gudrik’s attention was suddenly stolen. He looked up to see a familiar face on the televisiom, a face which halted him mid breath and sent his so far level temperament swinging violently. He lurched for the television attempting to snatch the man from out of it, his hand struck only glass.

  “That’s Julian Drake,” said George, finally slapping Edna’s probing hands off Gudrik. He was hosting a press conference in response to the day’s very public events.

  “Thank you all for coming. Since my youth I have lived with a secret, a secret which today has managed to bubble its way to the surface. It is a secret I have kept simply because no one would have believed me anyway, had today’s events not occurred. My line of ancestors can be traced back as far as history itself. We have long been charged as guardians. Along my bloodline has been passed the responsibility, the charge, the duty to protect the people of the world from a dark threat. A threat long believed to be myth by our society. The threat of Varth-lokkr or Warlocks.”

  George and Edna’s eyes widened, that was a name that they recognised.

  “Wizards, sorcerers, demons and witches. All are familiar with the mythology attached to these beings. The dark creatures which are the source of these tales and many more are in fact real and much, much worse than any tale could ever do justice. They once rained death and destruction upon the world and for an age they were unchallenged, until my ancestor rose against them. I believed them to be extinct, but this attack proves otherwise. Six good men died today.

  Once again the world is shadowed in terror. I swear to uphold my bloodline’s ancient charge and once again rid the world of this Warlock, even if it costs my life. I posses the knowledge, resources and weaponry, passed down through my family to combat this monster and I have agreed to work with the authorities in a symbiotic relationship to achieve our shared goal.

  I urge everyone to be wary of this creature. It is an expert in lies and an artisan of deceit. I hold grave fears for the woman seen with it in the footage. No doubt it has convinced her by this time that it is in fact the victim in this situation. However, this creature will leave nothing but a trail of bodies in its wake. I implore her to distance herself from the creature immediately and seek help. The instant it has what it needs, she will join the dead, along with all whom she holds dear.

  Anyone with information please contact the police immediately. I will be liaising closely with them and have offered my private forces to assist, as well as my elite paladins. These paladins have trained their whole lives, just as their fore fathers did, in preparation for the day this very situation arose. They are more than prepared to combat this creature and will prevail. Thank you.

  The crowd of reporters erupted into a sea of flashes and waving hands. A chorus of questions roared, none being heard above the others.

  The mood in Edna’s lounge changed dramatically. There was now an uneasy silence as everyone digested what they had just heard. The shaky truths which George had made with her cynical subconscious had just been shattered. The air hung heavy with tension. George and Edna shot conspiring looks at each other across the room. “What on Earth was I thinking, bringing this creature into my home?” thought George.

  “So does this mean that for once, I’m not the oldest person in the room?” japed Edna, awkwardly chipping at the silence. The women both chuckled uneasily, but not Gudrik. He sat still and silent, visibly shaking with anger.

  “Ahh, Gudrik, why don’t you come with me? We’ll get you some new clothes and you can be on your way,” urged George, shooting a ‘you know what to do’ look at Edna.

  “Aye,” he grunted, distant and angry. As soon as the door clicked closed Edna leapt for the phone.

  George disappeared into her closet. All sorts of rummaging and crashing echoed as she searched. Eventually she reappeared holding a cardboard box labelled ‘Brad’s Clothes’. “I packed these up furiously and never did anything with them other than put them back in the closet,” she said, her face part reminiscence and part anger. George slashed at the tape with a small, blue handled kitchen knife. “Stupid and sentimental, I know. I think I still hope the asshole may come back one day.” Gudrik gave a short cough.

  “The ability to forgive speaks to the quality of your character. Never be sorry for it. Few people, including me possess it,” he rumbled quickly, the whole time avoiding eye contact.

  George looked at the supposed Warlock, intrigued by the apparent wisdom which oozed from it. Or him? He spoke little, but when he did the words carried weight. If you stripped back the wild hair and beard Gudrik looked to be no older than her. She handed him some blue jeans and a t-shirt. “You can get changed in there.” She motioned to the bathroom.

  “Is there any truth to what Drake said Gudrik?” she asked through the wall after a short pause. Her suspicions had finally become too heavy to bear. Gudrik appeared at the bathroom door wearing only the jeans. He drew a deep but frustrated breath; he was at the edge of breaking.

  “I have not lived a perfect life. It was and most likely still is a brutal world. To help
people I had to be brutal as well. I have fought many battles and killed many, many men. Most deserved it, but I am sure that more than a few who met their death at my hands did not.” He paused a moment, solemn and dark. “The most depraved man I ever killed was a warlord who waged a ridiculous holy war on a peaceful land of people because they held a different god. H-he would......the things he did to the children.........those things will never leave me. That is the heritage your Julian Drake boasts of.”

  “So his distant ancestor was a scumbag, doesn’t mean he is too,” replied George. Gudrik cocked one eyebrow at her. “Ok so he kept you prisoner, he’s not completely innocent.”

  “His every word is a lie. Did I kill those six men on the roof as he claimed?”

  “Well I’m not sure; it is all a bit of a haze. I fell off a skyscraper for Christ’s sake.” Gudrik shook his head and bared his teeth.

  “It was not his ancestors which eradicated my kind, it was he. My only regret is allowing him to live on that day I killed his father.” He stopped and pulled the t-shirt on backwards. Now it was George who cocked her eyebrow.

  “So you’re telling me that Drake is a Warlock too?” The word ‘Warlock’ seemed to stick in her throat.

  “No, mortal,” replied the Warlock as though it was a stupid question. “His real name is