by Giancarlo G.
***
Sitting on a rusty bench on a clear and sunny day, anyone could have mistaken Raynard for a man with no cares in the world; something he was far from being. Ever since that dreadful incident at Sulfil's residence Raynard felt sporadic episodes of fear and tension. He had never seen death before and truly, it was a detestable experience. Luck had to be on his side, if not he would not be sitting here today.
Three days ago when he had reached the end of the secret tunnel inside Sulfil's home, Raynard had half expected to find a door that opened out into the street; instead, the tunnel branched into two smaller passages. Taking the leftmost Raynard finally made it to an old room full of dust and vermin. The room had one moldy door with a rusty handle. Taking care not to break it, Raynard twisted the handle slowly until the door opened. He was now inside a kitchen. The kitchen itself looked as if it had seen no use in years. A lonely window overlooked a deserted alley. Cautiously Raynard opened the window and after a false start he jumped out, falling ten feet to the cobblestone paved alley below. He landed half expecting to find security guards or local law enforcement all over him; instead, there was a small crowd near the entrance of the house. The crowd was so intent in getting a better view of the commotion inside Sulfil's home that nobody saw Raynard's escape out the window. Taking advantage of the opportunity, he casually joined the crowd for a few minutes before quickly slipping away.
The journey on the crowded street had been uneventful, that is until he spotted Sulfil’s killer doing his best to blend in the crowd. Raynard felt the urge to turn back and head in a different direction, especially after the dire warning the killer had given him, but he needed answers. Soon he found himself dodging the afternoon crowds and ducking into alleyways or shop entrances, avoiding the careful eye of the killer. The chase led him here, to a small park where the main road led to the docks half a mile away. Across the street stood the Pale Dancer Inn, a dilapidated brown brick building that made the eye sore. Plaster used to cover the walls, as evidenced by large chunks that still clung from the corners. The brick that showed had a coat of cheap brown paint, badly faded from the passage of time. Old gutters hung precariously from the roof’s edges. The roof had lost half of its blue tiles, the replacement ones red instead of blue. The front doors did not match and the sign over them, a depiction of a dancer doing something sordid, swung perilously on a moldy rope, in the wind.
The killer had entered the inn but Raynard decided not to push his luck further by following him in. Finding a convenient bench in the park that allowed him a clear view of the inn’s entrance Raynard settled in and waited.
Three days of watching and waiting, only leaving to eat and to visit the restroom, had yielded no reward. He slept on the bench, barely able to close his eyes for more than two hours at a time. Twice he had walked around the inn, making sure there were no back doors the killer could use to get away, and found none. What could the killer be doing inside of this place for three days straight? He considered many possibilities, but none made sense. The only thing that was starting to make sense was that he had only two options left. One was to drop the entire matter and walk away, abandoning his mother and brother to an unknown fate. The other was to go in and find the killer.
And after you find him then what? he thought, the question full of common sense and caution.
There was no answer, of course, but he did not care. He was not about to abandon his family. Mind made, he stood up and walked towards the inn, heart racing.
The interior of the Pale Dancer Inn looked worse than its ramshackle outside, if such a thing was possible. Beige wallpaper, now yellow and peeling, covered the walls, except for one part where someone tore out a large chunk exposing bricks and mortar. The ceiling was also peeling with some chunks of plaster dangling precariously over the door area. Small portraits and advertisements filled the lower parts of the walls. The portraits were old, their paint faded. The advertisements peddled many types of services; some of these were so scandalous that they made Raynard’s stomach twist. Unlit brass lamps in need of some polishing hung from pegs on the walls and the only light in the room came from a large filthy window behind the reception desk. The dull desk had been hand painted in a dark brown, the dry smears of the incompetent paint job visible. Behind the desk, leaning on a small chair and snoring loudly, was the attendant.
A thick bundle of black matted hair covered half of the attendant’s face, while the other half exposed a pale complexion with a small nose, thin lips, and unremarkable eye (the other hid behind the hair). Her head rested on the wall and next to it was a brass plaque that read 'Pale Dancer Inn: where your stay will be forever memorable'. Raynard rolled his eyes at the plaque and slammed a fist down on the desk making the attendant jump up. Noticing Raynard, she wiped off the drool from her face.
“Morning” Raynard said sarcastically “I am looking for...”
The attendant yawned loudly interrupting Raynard “Do you want a room?”
“No I do not want a room. I am looking for a man that is staying here. He is about this tall” Raynard said placing two fingers above his head “Dark hair, stocky build, wearing a gray shirt with black trousers and brown boots, all of them dirty”
“Sounds like you are describing my father. Do you want a room?” she said lazily.
Raynard sighed “No! I just need to know if someone fitting that description is staying here!”
“I have no clue. Do you want a room?” she asked with a deep loud yawn.
Raynard slammed his fist “I do not need, want, or even care for a blasted room. All I want is help!”
The woman looked up at Raynard, dark eyes dry and emotionless “I can help you in getting a room. Do you want one?”
Before Raynard could open his mouth, a loud voice stopped him “I can help!”
Raynard counted to ten before turning around to face the owner of the voice. A short wiry man with a pair of sharp blue eyes, a flat nose, and a beaming smile stood there.
“Are you the owner?” Raynard asked tentatively.
“Owner of this rat trap? Thank goodness no! But I have seen the person you are looking for” the man said cheerily.
“Where?” Raynard asked.
“Third floor and I will be more than happy to show you” the man said pointing towards the stairs.
Raynard was not about to go up those stairs accompanied by a complete stranger, who conveniently seems to know about the killer.
“No thanks”
The man smile stayed, but without warning, he produced a small dagger.
“I insist” he said.
Swallowing Raynard went for the stairs followed by the man with the dagger. The two slowly ascended the creaky wooden staircase, stopping at the first landing long enough to make sure it was clear. Once sure, the man urged Raynard to continue up, which he did reluctantly. Reaching the third floor landing Raynard looked around hoping to find something that might help him get out of this mess, but there was nothing useful. He entertained the idea of pushing the man down the stairs, but that might not work, and he had little desire to house the dagger’s blade anywhere inside his body. The only thing left was to wait and hope the man made a mistake, and by the looks of it that was not going to happen anytime soon.
“Is this it?” Raynard asked, casually moving away from the man.
“Yes. But please stay where you are” the man said waving the dagger.
Raynard's blood turned to ice. The man's face darkened as he looked down the empty corridor with all of its closed, mismatched doors.
“Keep a mind to stay quiet, he is quite tricky”
“Uh yeah, sure” Raynard said, eyes never leaving the dagger.
The man looked at Raynard, then looked at the dagger and smiled “I am not here to kill you or anyone else if I can”
Slipping his free hand in a pocket the man produced a small oval plaque made of silver.
“Here, this might help make your mind feel at ease”
Handing the plaque to
Raynard, he looked back down the corridor. Raynard took the plaque, noticing how heavy it felt for something so small. One side of the plaque was flat and featureless while on the other there was a shield with red words around it. The shield showed a blade resting between the pages of an open book. The words read:
REGION OF ADEMORA COUNCIL
INDIVIDUAL CHARGE FOR LAW ENFORCEMENT
CENTRAL GOVERNMENT PROOF 2845776Y
LENNER RIETH – 3RD CLASS PROTECTOR
The man was a Central Government detective. Known as Protectors they took on the most serious criminal cases that violated national or World Law, all in the name of the Central Government. Lately the role of Protector, reserved only to the Enduen race, opened up to humans. With the recent attacks by Krassian renegades, and the rumors of a human uprising cooking in the hills, the Central Government used anything and anybody at its disposal. Raynard only hoped that this man, Lenner Rieth, saw a fellow human in Raynard and not another assignment.
“Feel better?” Rieth asked.
“Yes.” Raynard lied “The question is why bring me up here?”
“Sulfil Palvat was murdered three days ago. A servant by the name of Gerdid is missing. We believe this man is dead, killed by the same man that murdered Sulfil” Rieth said raising an eyebrow.
Raynard took a step backwards.
“I did not do it” he said.
“Relax, I believe you. The description you gave fits a well renowned assassin named Cuilan Arner. This man works for the Ballanth”
Raynard’s eyes went wide “The Ballanth?”
Rieth nodded.
He knew the tales and stories about the Ballanth. They were the complete opposite to the Keepers of the Balance, seeking to unbalance the Universe in favor of the shadow. Their ultimate goal was to establish a perfect world for the rebirth of the Four Terrors whom they worshiped as gods. Terrors, the creatures that dared to defy the Creator, forsaking their own divinity in the process. Terrors, the one thing Raynard really feared.
“The Ballanth is a myth” he said, testing Rieth’s story.
Rieth smiled “Really? Then explain to me why was it that you turned paler than chalk when I mentioned their name?”
“Ghost stories” Raynard countered quickly.
“Ghost stories indeed. Let us leave it at that for now. The Ballanth apparently wanted Sulfil dead, so they sent Cuilan in. You were lucky he did not kill you in that study along with Sulfil”
“Who said I was there?” Raynard asked innocently.
“I saw you leave Sulfil’s house and I followed. At first I thought you and Cuilan were working together” Rieth said.
“And what made you change your mind?” Raynard asked.
“Three days of watching you watch this dreadful place” Rieth answered with a slight smile.
Raynard nodded “He is here”
“Of course he is! These Ballanth assassins love to kill Keepers of the Balance. Sulfil was one of them, but there is another left in town. Such an opportunity is too good for a Ballanth to pass up” Rieth said, a slight hint of amusement in his voice.
“So what do we do now?” Raynard asked, silently wondering if there was indeed another Keeper in town.
Rieth laughed, “We go and get Cuilan, of course”
“Good” Raynard said but Rieth placed a hand on his shoulder.
“First thing first, are you a Keeper of the Balance?” he asked gravely.
“I swear by the truth of my Life and Existence that I am not a Keeper of the Balance” Raynard answered using the formal oath.
“Oh, I see, well that makes sense. Just, ah, try not to get in the way, that is a sure way of getting killed” Rieth said before checking his dagger's blade, a hint of disappointment in his voice.
Raynard hid a frown. Rieth was quick to accept things, a clear sign he was hiding something.
“Ready to do this?” Rieth asked and Raynard nodded “Good, then follow me and try not to make any noise”
Taking a deep breath Raynard followed Rieth down the filthy hall.
The Pale Dancer Inn’s third floor hall was dark, the only light coming from two dirty windows above the staircase landing. Water stains ran down the filthy walls creating a mosaic of dirt and rust. Bits of discarded trash, ash, and dirt covered the floor. Thin trails of smoke hung in the air, its acrid odor mixing with the stench or rot and decay.
Raynard walked alongside Rieth, cringing every time one of the floor planks creaked. The foul air that filled his lungs made him dizzy as he forced away the impulse to cough and vomit. He wondered if the stench would wash away from his clothes.
Rieth stopped next to room 320. The room’s door was halfway open, and Raynard could see a large bed in front of an open window next to a plain wood wardrobe.
“Is this the one?” Raynard asked in a barely audible whisper.
“Yes” Rieth whispered back “But don’t go in. It is a trap”
Rieth walked to the door across the hall. Carefully he pushed the door and it slowly swung open revealing a twin copy of room 320. He slowly walked in and Raynard followed feeling out of his element. The good thing was that the excitement stifled that fear, the bad was that it clouded his judgment. Rieth stopped and looked around. Raynard expected him to open the wardrobe but the man ignored it, walking towards the window instead. Shaking his head Raynard took a step forward when suddenly the wardrobe doors swung open and Cuilan jumped out, Launcher in hand. Rieth stood where he was, looking calmly, as Cuilan aimed his Launcher at Raynard.
Raynard dived, a last ditch effort to avoid the inevitable. The floor rushed up and he slammed sideways. In his heart he had no regrets for he had done all he could to save his family, diving into a shadow world he knew nothing about. Victory was a simple matter of saving his family, of being a hero. Now he understood the grim and simple reality of his past success: luck. He had been lucky; a fact that was evident throughout his quest up to this point, but luck never lasts forever.
PTOOM!!!
Raynard closed his eyes as the blast tore through the air making his ears ring. Tightly he held his eyelids shut, waiting to feel something. To his surprise, he felt nothing, only the ringing in his ears. Had Cuilan missed at such short range? Opening his eyes he looked up in time to see Cuilan, eyes open in disbelief, drop the Launcher and clutch his chest with both hands as a steady stream of blood soaked his shirt. Raynard could not believe it!
With one final gasp, Cuilan shook and crumpled on the floor and in that same instant Rieth jumped over the assassin’s body, eyes full of hate and rage, knife in hand. Raynard covered his head but Rieth ran past him, headed to the door. Raynard spent a heartbeat trying to get his bearings and quickly stood up. He turned around and saw Rieth panting like a ferocious beast, blade barely touching another man’s neck. However, this was just not another man, it was old Gerdid, and he was holding a still smoking Launcher. Gerdid’s eyes were calm even as they met Rieth’s wild stare.
“Finish it” he said calmly.
Rieth’s wrist trembled. The mental battle between killing Gerdid or not seemed to go for an eternity until the trembling stopped and Rieth took a step back.
“No! Not until I get what I want”
“And how do you plan to do that when he is not the one you want? As usual Rieth you are wasting your time” Gerdid said coolly.
“We shall see who is wasting time, but first drop that Launcher.” Rieth said menacingly.
“If you insist” Gerdid said and dropped the Launcher.
The weapon fell, landing on top of Gerdid’s foot. In one quick move, Gerdid raised his leg, lifting the Launcher up and away from him. At first, it looked as if the Launcher would smash Rieth’s face, but he quickly covered his face just as the Launcher fell short. The weapon was too heavy. Rieth missed on this fact and as he covered his face, Gerdid rushed him, punching him in the jaw. Rieth fell backwards with a surprised look. Gerdid took Rieth’s dagger and smiled.
“Dumb and predict
able. You will never change Rieth” he said.
Rieth snarled. Gerdid shook his head and turned to Raynard.
“Let’s get out of here before any of his friends comes looking for him”
Raynard stepped back, anger in his face.
“Murderer!” he said viciously.
“Look there is no time to explain, but this man is not a Protector” Gerdid said.
Raynard was about to call Gerdid liar when he saw that the Protector badge had rolled out of Rieth’s pocket. Gerdid saw it too and pointed a finger at it.
“Pick it up and take a good look. If it is real, the letters are fused to the metal. A fake badge’s letters are usually glued on and fall off easily”
Raynard picked the badge and looked at it skeptically. Suddenly he noticed the faint outline of something green under each letter. With a fingernail, he pulled one of the letters and it fell off, leaving behind a green outline on the silver metal.
“See?” Gerdid said triumphantly “The glue corrodes the metal, turning it green”
“A fake” he whispered, anger boiling up inside.
“A cheap fake. Count on Rieth to do things cheaply” Gerdid said mockingly, just as Rieth stood up, rubbing his left eye.
“Why?” Raynard asked, tossing the badge at Rieth.
“Stop playing games! The two of you have been working together all along. But no matter, all is well, my masters will know what happened and you will pay”
Raynard was as confused as a blind rat in a mountain cat’s den.
“What are you talking about?”
“The Order will not succeed” Rieth growled, “The Gate of Hazhuir shall be opened and the Lord will finally walk on Alion’s soil. Atten Kalamidon!”
Raynard looked at Gerdid who simply shrugged.
“Truly a madman”
Raynard scratched his head in frustration
Suddenly a large explosion rocked the building.
“What was that?” Raynard asked surprised.
“That would be a heavy charge, probably set up somewhere outside to scare the guests out” Gerdid said calmly “Smart move Rieth”
Rieth looked at Gerdid, panic and fear on his face.
Gerdid swallowed “That was your people, right Rieth?”
Raynard looked at Rieth who looked back, anger and frustration on his face mixed with panic and fear...
“No” he said in a shaky tone.
Gerdid looked at Raynard and then at Rieth “I think it is time to leave”
The three men moved swiftly towards the door but Raynard stopped next to Cuilan’s body. A knife with a chipped blade rested next to Cuilan and his launcher. Raynard looked at the blade and thought the blade resembled its owner, sharp but destined to snap and break, just as fate did today for both him and Cuilan. He then looked at the Launcher next to the dead man’s hand. Such a weapon could come in handy, yet the thought of handling such a weapon was revolting. Stepping away from the Launcher, he gave the room one last look before following the other two out.
The hallway was already full of patrons, all of them moving quickly in single file towards the stairwell. Thin smoke crept up the stairwell and along the ceiling, mingling with the faint light of the windows to create dancing shadows. Raynard had expected a scene of chaos, but the calm demeanor of the guest coupled with the speed and efficiency of their evacuation said these people were used to chaos. Many of the guests carried light bags, another sign these people lived ready to bolt from their room at a moment’s notice.
Rieth stopped just as a woman pushed her way across the flow of guests, her matted hair in complete disarray. Raynard recognized her immediately, she was the front desk attendant that had given him such a hard time, and she was carrying a launcher. She looked at Raynard, winked, and then addressed Rieth.
“We have two Cashnem and a Faradir making their way up”
Rieth’s eyes went wide “A Faradir!”
“Yes” the woman said coolly.
“How did they find out so quickly when this was supposed to be our job in the first place?” Rieth asked, but the woman just shrugged.
Suddenly a shriek pierced the air, and the calm of the guests switched to insane panic and horror. Men and women ran, shoving and pushing, fighting their way back to the perceived safety of their rooms.
“Apparently they want no loose ends” Gerdid said and the woman nodded.
“Well this is a loose end they will not have an easy time tying up” Rieth said, the fear of the Faradir replaced by the heat of anger.
The stairwell was clear of guests except for one. This guest was having trouble opening the door to his room; having no other choice he made a run for the stairs. He was a foot away from the first step, running at full speed, when he came to a sudden stop. His body shook, the way one does when hitting a wall, but there was no wall. Raynard looked in horror as a tall, slender man held the guest by the neck. Where the tall man had come from, he could not tell, but it held the kicking and screaming guest without any sign of strain or effort.
“Now what?” Raynard asked to no one in particular.
The woman stepped forward and aimed her Launcher at the tall man.
“I wouldn‘t do that” Gerdid warned.
“He is going to kill that poor man!” Raynard exclaimed.
“He is already dead” Gerdid said pointing to the kicking and screaming guest.
“Take the shot before it comes for us” Rieth commanded and the woman squeezed the Launcher’s lever.
The Launcher‘s blast was deafening, the weapon itself recoiling backwards as it spat a deadly projectile. In that split second, between the pressing of the lever and the weapon firing, the tall man moved. Raynard could not believe the man’s speed, a feat made more impressive by the fact he never lost his grip on the guest’s throat. The projectile struck the stair’s railing, exploding in a show of sparks and wood splinters. The tall man cocked his head sideways, and with a simple squeeze crunched the guest’s throat.
“Told you” Gerdid said softly “Any other bright ideas?”
“Looks like we need to work together” Rieth offered but Gerdid gave him a level look.
“Great offer, but the four of us are not enough”
“The exit is that way” Rieth said pointing at the stairs behind the man “How do you propose we get by him without a fight?”
Gerdid's eyes darted to Raynard “There is another exit, a private staircase for the owner of the inn. It is small and cramped, the sort used in case you need to bolt ahead of the heat”
“Sounds like a good idea” Raynard said.
Rieth looked at Gerdid and then at Raynard “Well someone needs to keep him busy, and I rather go down fighting than fleeing. Reena?”
The woman nodded and produced a slim metallic cylinder from her hip pouch. On one end of the cylinder a cord, waxed and covered in a gray sandy film, protruded from a hole. Reena carefully tugged at the cord, making sure it was tight.
“Did you bring the striker box Rieth?” she asked and Rieth produced a small wooden box with the symbol of a flame carved on its lid.
Reena opened the box and took out a small stick with a green film on one end. She gave the box back to Rieth who returned it to his pocket. She then looked at Raynard and pointed down the hallway.
“When you see the flame, run for your life”
“Come with us, if he wants to die here so be it, you do not have to follow him to the grave” Raynard said.
Reena smiled sadly, “Thank you, but I have no choice. Get ready to go and do not look back”
Raynard was about to say something to Reena but was interrupted by Gerdid.
“It is her decision. Let it be”
Raynard nodded and prepared to run. Gerdid stood next to Raynard, cool and calm, muscles clearly ready to run.
“This is not over. I will find you one way or another” Rieth said to Gerdid.
“If you survive my dear Rieth, if you survive. And if you do, and yo
u cross my path again, then I will finish the Faradir’s job” Gerdid said menacingly.
Rieth gave Gerdid one last, nasty look, then nodded at Reena who struck the green part of the stick against the sole of her boot. A shower of sparks followed by a red flame caught the tall man’s attention. Raynard and Gerdid ran, just as Reena touched the cord to the flame. Sparks erupted from the cord and Reena tossed it at the tall man who looked at it with curiosity. Rieth dived for cover, and so did Reena all the while counting down the remaining time.
“Ten, nine, eight, seven...”
Raynard ran faster than he had ever had in his life, but the once seemingly frail Gerdid was leading him by three paces and lengthening that lead every pace or so. He could hear Reena’s voice, counting down the numbers. He was curious to know what the cylinder was supposed to do, but he did not dare stop to take a look, at least not until he reached Gerdid’s secret door. Hard to admit but he was not feeling courageous, in fact he was feeling quite the opposite at this moment. Nothing wrong in being scared, he hoped.
The two men reached the door and Gerdid started to wriggle the handle, making it spin without stop.
“It’s broken!” Raynard gasped.
“No, but it has to spin so many times before it releases the lock”
Suddenly the door clicked and Gerdid opened the door “See?”
Without warning, the entire hallway shook followed by a deafening explosion that sent Raynard and Gerdid flying. They landed on top of each other as smoke and debris peppered the hallway and their bodies. Shaking dust loose Raynard stood up, nursing a small wound to his wrist. Gerdid opened his eyes, a trickle of blood near an eyebrow, and smiled. Raynard helped Gerdid to his feet when out of the cloud of dust and smoke, the tall man walked out unscathed. Raynard turned to Gerdid who was staring at the man as if the Master of Terrors had stepped out of the fires of the Underworlds.
“The... the...Faradir”
“So this is the Faradir?”
Gerdid nodded and started towards the secret stairs.
Raynard looked around and saw a piece of wood lying on the floor. Picking the piece of wood, he started towards the Faradir. Gerdid saw this and grabbed his shoulder.
“Are you mad? That thing dodged a Launcher's projectile, and held a man by the throat as if he had been carrying a kitten. Not to mention he just walked out of a major explosion!”
“So? Let’s see how well he handles a solid piece of wood to the head” Raynard said brushing off Gerdid's arm and making his way towards the Faradir.
Once in front of the Faradir Raynard stopped slapping the piece of wood against the palm of his hand, cocky and defiant. He could not tell what in the name of the Gates of Creation he was doing, but he felt strong and invincible.
“Dodge this!” Raynard said swinging the stick at the Faradir's head.
The Faradir stepped aside grabbing the stick as he did so. With a dry smile, it snapped the thick piece of wood in two with one hand. Raynard looked at his now broken weapon, feeling helpless and a little bit stupid. The Faradir grabbed Raynard's shirt collar, lifted him up, and tossed him like a rag doll. Raynard crashed against the wall on the other side of the door, leaving his lungs in shock, and his head spinning, Suddenly Gerdid leapt in front of the Faradir and tossed a handful of dust into its face. The Faradir covered its eyes with a shriek just as Gerdid slammed the secret room's door, turning the trick doorknob until the lock engaged. The Faradir screamed, an ear splitting sound, followed by a slew of horrible curses. Raynard slowly stood up and joined Gerdid.
“Guess that wasn’t smart, eh?”
Gerdid gave Raynard a sarcastic look “How about stupid and dumb?”
Raynard rubbed the small of his back and shrugged “Sounds just about right”
“Can you walk?” Gerdid asked.
“I can fly if that will take me away from that creep!”
“Better start practicing because that door will not hold for long”
As Gerdid said this, the door shook. The two men looked at each other and immediately started down the stair at a dead run.
Raynard and Gerdid followed the secret stairs, a spiral rusty frame loosely fitted into a crude hole on the floor. The stairs ended on an old, dusty storage room with a wooden locked door. Gerdid examined the lock and decided it was rusty enough to kick open. One swift kick later, he and Raynard were standing at the end of a service corridor.
“I am getting tired of secret passages and abandoned rooms” Raynard muttered.
“Don't complain, it beats being chased down the streets by armed men, or a Faradir” Gerdid said gravely.
The two men followed the service corridor and once at the end they stopped to peek around the corner. The reception area of the inn was clear of guests. Two burly men in heavy coats stood watch over the empty room their backs turned towards Raynard and Gerdid. The two yawned and shifted their feet, briefly exchanging a comment on the weather. Taking advantage of this Gerdid pointed at a small a vase that held two dead flowers on a niche next to him. Raynard nodded and pointed to the brass plaque next to the main desk.
Silently Raynard crept to the desk and nudged the plaque. Just as he had expected it was loose, held only in place by a cord on a peg. Taking the plaque he crouched behind the desk as Gerdid joined him, vase in hand.
“Ready?”
Raynard nodded.
With a perfect throw, Gerdid's vase crashed on the head of the guard to the left. As his companion turned, Raynard dashed up and struck him on the head with the plaque.
“There is your memorable visit” Raynard said tossing the plaque on the floor.
Gerdid joined Raynard and looked down at the two men “Well that takes care of the Cashnem. Let's get out of here while we still can”
Outside the Pale Dancer Inn, the street was empty as Raynard and Gerdid crossed it. The two stopped running once in the park, next to the old rusty bench Raynard had warmed for the last three days. With a deep sigh of relief, Gerdid sat down on the bench.
“I need a minute; age is catching up on me”
“You did better than I did!” Raynard exclaimed.
“That was because I knew what was after us. Now that you know what a Faradir is I expect you will run faster than anyone you have ever known”
“You can bet on that” Raynard said dryly.
“Well we better start moving, that Faradir will be out soon” Gerdid said standing up and stretching his legs.
“What about Rieth and Reena?” Raynard asked looking back at the inn.
“I for one don’t care” Gerdid said bluntly.
Raynard started back towards the inn, intent on helping Rieth but Gerdid stopped him.
“Stop kid, he is not worth it”
“I can’t look the other way” Raynard said, his conscience struggling with his common sense.
“They are probably dead, and if not, Rieth is the type to slit your throat rather than to thank you for helping him” Gerdid said placing a hand on Raynard’s shoulder.
“I understand” Raynard said sadly.
Gerdid looked back at the inn “We better keep moving, our best bet is to take the road towards the docks”
Raynard ran the scenario in his mind. The town sat on the side of a hill overlooking the Sea of Galere. Starting at the town gate the main road ran in a curve from east to west, the west side being close to the top of the hill, until it narrows down. Once it narrows down it turns south, right past the park, ending at the docks a half mile away. The logical choice for escape was to follow the road to the town gate and leave on foot. Once Raynard had shared this idea, Gerdid shook his head.
“The Faradir would be expecting this and odds are he left some friends to guard that route”
Raynard was about to counter the suggestion when all of a sudden a scream pierced the air making Raynard’s heart stop for a second. The Faradir had emerged from the front door of the inn holding the heads of the two Cashnem.
“The price of failure�
�� Gerdid said coldly before starting at a dead run towards the docks.
Raynard shook his head and followed. It was at the docks that their salvation or death was going to be decided.
Half a mile later, panting and sweating they reached the docks. This late in the day, the docks were empty as the last of the cargo vessels had finished unloading or loading and hour ago. Raynard looked back and saw no sign of the Faradir.
“We lost him” he said, happy to get a moment's rest.
“Don’t count on that. Faradir’s are tricky and fast. We can run until we are so exhausted our feet cannot carry us and still never lose a Faradir. They can run for days without breaking a sweat” Gerdid said leading Raynard down a narrow street flanked by two massive storage houses.
“What is a Faradir anyways?” Raynard asked.
“A Faradir is one who by his own free will surrenders his self to great evil. He achieves this by committing terrible atrocities thus poisoning his soul. You will find them acting as killers or as messengers for their overlords. They have great strength and dexterity, probably owed to training and a lack of balance between their true Good and Evil” Gerdid explained.
“Balance?” Raynard asked, curious to know how a this man knows about the Universal Balance
“I am a Keeper of the Balance, just like your mother. When she disappeared, I left to look for her. We never abandon one of our own” Gerdid said between breaths.
“If you are a Keeper, then what was Rieth?”
“A Ballanth, and the last one I expected holding Cuilan’s leash”
“Why?” Raynard asked.
“He is inept, short tempered, and has the tendency to concoct elaborate traps that are ineffective. He could have had Cuilan kill you. Instead, he ordered Cuilan to lead you to the Pale Dancer Inn so he could watch you and make sure you were a real Keeper of the Balance. Once he made sure of your status a Keeper the ambush in the room would have ended with you tied up and sent to their master for interrogation and torture. As it was they found out you were not an actual member of the Order, you had no value so there was no need to keep you alive. Lucky for you I arrived when I did” Gerdid said as they moved from alley to alley.
“I told Rieth I wasn’t a Keeper of the Balance thinking I was being smart. I guess this isn’t my day for bright decisions” Raynard said feeling like an idiot.
“Cheer up, the day is not over. Plenty of time to make more bad decisions or good ones”
“About the Faradir, why was Rieth so scared of it? Aren’t they on the same team?” Raynard asked feeling some confusion creep up.
“That is another question. My guess is that whatever the answer, your mother features prominently in it. Ahhh, there she is!” Gerdid exclaimed pointing at a slender two masted ship tied on the last berth, a quarter of a mile away.
“Huh?” Raynard asked even more confused.
“That Runner is one of Sulfil’s. Her captain is an old friend and he will give us passage to his destination. It also helps that he is one of us”
“Oh good because I feel like...”
Raynard did not finish the sentence as something heavy struck his legs, knocking him down flat on his face. A few seconds passed and he tried to move. Something heavy and cold was holding his legs down. Slowly he looked and saw a heavy chain wrapped around his legs. He reached down and as he did so, noticed Gerdid sprawled on the ground blood trickling down his forehead, the Faradir walking slowly towards him, a deadly smile on its face. Raynard knew he had to save Gerdid but the chain prevented much movement. Luckily, the Faradir was intent on its prey ignoring Raynard’s escape.
Finally, he managed to wriggle free, and picking up a stone, he stood up, took aim, and with a silent prayer threw it at the Faradir’s head. The stone flew, straight and steady, missing the Faradir’s head, crashing instead into a window on the storage house. The stone shattered the glass and part of the frame along with it. Raynard hissed and shook his head at his lousy aim.
At least I got his full attention he thought Now what?
Fresh out of ideas he looked around for something that might help him out of this predicament. There was nothing but barrels, crates, and a few old boxes. Nothing useful, not even another stone! Suddenly he got an idea.
“Big bad Faradir picking on a skinny old man; thinks he is a challenge. You and your kind are a bunch of cowardly plicks” he taunted in a tone laced with as much insult as the nasty epithet he used.
The Faradir laughed “Better men than you have cried like little children, falling down on their knees, begging for mercy, anything for a quick release onto death’s arms”
“Oh now I am really scared” he said dripping sarcasm.
The Faradir laughed, a dry, cold laughter, devoid of life and humor. Raynard felt a cold shiver run up and down his spine. These taunts were good and great at buying time, but eventually it had to end, and then he would have to deal with the Faradir. Panic replaced the cold in his spine and his eyes moved, scanning again for something, anything that could help. Suddenly he noticed that the barrel to the Faradir’s right was oozing a dark gooey liquid. With a quick look, he saw a similar barrel next to him; this one had no lid revealing a caramel colored liquid inside. A plan quickly formed, and with it, a glimmer of hope crawled back into his heart for he felt that his dance with lady-luck was not over, yet.
The Faradir unsheathed a vicious looking, double-edged, and unusually long dagger “It is time to see how long it will take you to beg for mercy”
With a deafening roar, the Faradir charged Raynard, and in that same instant Raynard ducked to his right pushing the lidless barrel. The barrel’s contents spilled out, onto the Faradir’s path. The Faradir kicked the barrel like a child kicking a small ball. Raynard ran, dodging the barrel, missing a swing from the blade by a few inches. The Faradir turned, slipped on the oil, and fell. Avoiding the oil Raynard ran towards the other barrel. The Faradir had recovered enough that it was on its way back towards Raynard. With a kick, Raynard overturned that barrel spilling the dark goo onto the dusty road. The Faradir saw the goo and tried to stop, too late, slipping to land flat on its face. Raynard had never heard such a profane, colorful, and creative set of curses like the ones the fallen Faradir uttered. He ran, following the street that led away from Gerdid and the boat. A quick look behind confirmed the Faradir was on his tail, albeit slipping and sliding from side to side. So far so good, all he had to do was stay alive long enough to come up with a plan to escape the Faradir.
Raynard ran past a group of shabby warehouses. His heart and mind raced, but ideas were short, and so was his breath. Soon he had to stop or otherwise he was going to collapse and make the Faradir’s day. Suddenly he saw a door open on one of the buildings and quickly ran in, shutting the door so hard that the bolt swiveled down locking it in place. The door was wood reinforced with iron bars, something he was sure not even a Faradir could break. The inside of the warehouse was bright thanks to a set of wide skylights that filtered the warm afternoon sunlight.
A crude rectangular building the warehouse was two storeys high. The first floor contained rows of stacked wooden crates of the type that required beasts of burden to move. The second floor ran around the perimeter of the walls leaving the center open, much like a barn. Chains and ropes hung from a roof crane to lift or lower cargo from one floor to the other. Rough wood ladders, one on each of the four corners, allowed access to the second floor.
Raynard twisted his nose at the heavy stench of fish oil. He hated that smell and it was just his luck to take refuge in a warehouse full of the stuff. He wondered how long it would take to clean away the odor from his clothes when all of a sudden the door to the warehouse shook savagely. Raynard ran, happy that at least part of his plan worked and the Faradir had forgotten all about Gerdid. All he had to do was loose the Faradir, collect Gerdid, and jump aboard ship. Easier said than done, but not impossible.
As he moved deeper into the warehouse, Raynard decided it would be best t
o go up to the second floor. Up there he would have a better view of the warehouse’s layout, spot a suitable exit, and maybe track the Faradir’s progress in case it managed to get into the warehouse. Wasting no time, he made his way back to a ladder and started to climb just as the door crashed open.
So much for the door holding him down Raynard thought as he climbed faster.
The second floor was similar to the first one with the exception there were less boxes, crates, and no barrels. He silently made his way to the edge, avoiding floorboards that looked loose or worn. Looking down he saw an exit opposite the way he had entered, and a ladder a few paces away from it. Feeling relieved he crept around a stack of boxes and looked at the door the Faradir had crashed. The relief he had felt a second ago vanished as he saw only splinters and torn iron around the floor. Of the Faradir, there was no sign inside the warehouse. Raynard looked and looked, staying quiet and barely moving, but there was nothing. He knew that there was a possibility the Faradir would leave after taking a quick look, but that was not likely. It was then a game of cat and mouse, one in which the cat was akin to a tiger and the mouse was lame and blind.
Creeping from cover to cover Raynard stopped, looked, and listened. The silence was loud and ominous. Stealth was only part of the game, with skill and luck taking precedence. Slowly but surely he got closer to the ladder, and just as he was a few feet away a box came crashing down next to him. Raynard dived, avoiding the box and at the same time a potentially decapitating swing of the Faradir's dagger. He ran past some neatly stacked boxes, stealth no longer needed, pulling a nasty splinter from his arm as he did. Taking a quick look back, he saw the Faradir run around another stack of crates in a move to intercept. Raynard doubled back to the place where the box had almost crushed him moments ago. His spirits went up, as the ladder was intact and unguarded. Wasting no time, he started to climb down and as he neared the bottom, the Faradir jumped down kicking him on the side as it flew past. Raynard lost his grip and fell, slamming his back hard on the wood floor. The Faradir grabbed Raynard by the hair and pulled him up to a standing position. Raynard felt strands of hair rip, sending ripples of pain all over his body.
“Beg” it said in that bone chilling voice.
Raynard smiled weakly “Go kiss a horse”
The Faradir released Raynard's hair and backslapped him so hard it was a miracle he did not lose any teeth.
“Sorry” Raynard said spitting blood “I meant to say go kiss a horse's rear”
The Faradir kicked Raynard on the stomach making him double up. With a terrible and triumphant smile, he picked Raynard up by the neck, pointing the tip of the wicked dagger to his left eye. Up close, the dagger looked more like a small sword.
“Is that all you got? You are nothing” Raynard said feeling one last round of defiance inside of him.
The Faradir laughed, “You think this heroic stunt saved your friend? Then you know nothing, by this time he has left town, abandoning you to my mercy. Bu there is no place where he can hide that I will not find him. In the end, the great and noble human quality of self-sacrifice served me, not you. Now beg and I will dispatch you without any pain, or better yet, I may give you the right of vengeance and allow you to hunt down your friend”
Raynard looked at the Faradir’s eyes and instead of feeling destroyed, disappointed, and betrayed, he felt puzzled. His self-preservation instinct demanded he stop the Faradir, beg for forgiveness, and ask for a chance to hunt Gerdid. Joining such a powerful creature would allow his anger to bloom, give him power, and achieve his goal of saving his family. Nevertheless, his heart told him he was not going to do that, no matter what. His mother had taught him well and she would have died in his place to prevent the destruction of his soul at the hands of such a creature. He did the right thing, he saved a life, and there was no way to know if the Faradir was telling the truth. Moreover, if Gerdid had indeed run away then that was on the man’s conscience, not on his’.
“You lost. I know what you want and you shall never have it. My soul and my will belong to me and me alone. Go ahead and kill me, I won” Raynard said, triumphantly.
“So be it” the Faradir said leveling its blade.
Raynard felt his life ebb away slowly. His body felt no pain and all he felt was warmth inside, warmth of comfort.
Is this how death feels? Raynard thought, wondering how long it would take him to die.
Suddenly Raynard's hand brushed something on his belt. A blast of emotion rippled through his body as he felt the hilt of his Korl knife. Having no killer or fighter instincts he had forgotten all about it in the heat of his flight. Not that it would have helped, but it was still there, ready to serve him. Slowly he reached for the blade hoping the Faradir did not notice. Thankfully, the Faradir was muttering something, eyes closed, and its face full of pure ecstasy. Raynard wrapped his right hand around the handle and as he pulled it out the Faradir opened its eyes, muscles tensed, ready to drive cold steel into Raynard's skull.
“Die” the Faradir said.
Raynard swung blindly. Suddenly the blade made contact and he felt a painful shock run through his arm, up his shoulder, and then through his body. The pain forced tired muscles to contract just as the Faradir’s grip dissolved. Suddenly a wall of hot air blasted Raynard away from the creature, slamming him against the ladder, and leaving him breathless. Desperate he slid down and after what felt like an eternity, he managed to coax his lungs to accept air again. Slowly he looked at the Faradir and noticed it was holding a hand over a gash on the neck, dark blood oozing out. The Faradir did not make a sound as it knelt and looked at its bloody hand. Bloodshot eyes turned to Raynard, malice, hatred, and fear rolling in them.
“Atten Kalamidon!” it exclaimed before letting loose a bone chilling scream.
Raynard covered his ears, as the scream seemed to go on forever and then just as it started it ended and all was silent. The Faradir then looked up at the ceiling and collapsed, eyes glazed in death. Raynard looked to his side, and saw his Korl knife, snapped cleanly in half. He felt pain, dizziness, nausea, but still he tried to stand up. The attempt was wasted, his battered body was not up to it and as darkness took him, he kept hearing the last words of the Faradir in his mind.
“Atten Kalamidon”. Hail the Kalamidon, the Master of Terrors. Evil incarnate.
