Curse of the Red Evil

by Zel Spasov

  Cayden found himself at the edge of a large square, at the center of which stood a giant stone statue. It depicted a lion with a crown on his head, dressed in plate armor, with a sword lifted high in the air. Under normal circumstances, Cayden would be deeply impressed, but now he faced a new problem: an artillery weapon pointed at him, ready to shoot.

  An artillery officer shouted, “Fire!” At his command, the left gunner lit the gunpowder.

  Time stopped. The entities inhabiting Cayden’s body needed to talk.

  “There is no point in trying to save ourselves,” said Laziness, Despair, and Apathy. “It's utterly hopeless. Our legs are hurting, we’re out of breath, we woke up in this foreign world, and no one asked us whether we want to be here or not.”

  “I understand your arguments,” said Self-Preservation, “but please hear my point also: I don’t want to die. There are things worth living for. Like music, love, chocolate. We haven’t even seen the Eiffel Tower yet!”

  “The Eiffel Tower isn’t that special,” said Apathy. “It’s a big disappointment.”

  It was time for Reason to intervene: “Guys, you need to make a decision quick because we're back to normal time in three... two... one...”

  The cannonball left the barrel of the mortar in slow motion and quickly gathered speed. The internal struggle for supremacy among Cayden’s entities wasn’t resolved yet. After a moment that lasted longer than an eternity, one side prevailed. Cayden jumped away from the projectile’s path.

  The next events unfolded simultaneously.

  Cayden landed on the hard ground. The collision knocked the wind out of him.

  Blink.

  … the two assailants grabbed the raging Cayden. One of them hit him in his diaphragm, knocking the wind out of him...

  Blink.

  The cannonball crashed into the white beast’s snout and pushed it back into the alley from which it had come.

  Blink.

  … Doctor Perfect drew the liquid out of the vial and into the syringe, making sure that the dose was high enough to put Cayden to sleep...

  Blink.

  The soldiers in the square cried out triumphantly, except for the rookie George, who had never experienced a real battle before. This one had caused him to pee in his pants.

  Blink.

  … Persephone’s heels tore a hole in the fabric existence with every step she took toward Cayden. She stuck the syringe in his leg and pushed in the plunger...

  Blink.

  The physical tension overloaded Cayden’s body. He blacked out, the world around him fading into darkness.

  Blink.

  The techs put Cayden on his bed in the seclusion room. Persephone’s eyes were fixated on him the way a predator’s follow her prey. Her face, however, was frozen, as if she was struggling inside, trying to hide her pain.

  ***

  When the army of Windhaven attacked, Monsieur Bernard Gèroux was closing in on his target. The panic that ensued made it impossible for him to find the criminals. He had a more important task now, anyway. It was vital to get to his house as quickly as possible.

  His apartment was in the slums adjacent to the city walls. It would take him a long time to get there from the castle. While everyone else was looking for cover, the wolf was running in the streets, dodging the raining fireballs. Explosions thundered left and right, but he didn’t stop. He entered an alley located to the right of the main road that would take him to his neighborhood.

  A sudden wave of warm air lifted him up from the ground and threw him into the air. The headhunter hit the pavement hard. The crash knocked the wind out of him. A fireball had exploded a few yards away. The buildings near the blast were destroyed. Thick smoke floated in the air.

  Fortunately, Bernard wasn’t seriously injured. His clothes and some parts of his fur were burned, but otherwise, he was all right. The headhunter stood and continued running toward his home. Around him, the lights of numerous explosions flashed, leaving ruin and destruction behind.

  Finally, the wolf reached his house. He was relieved to see that the building hadn’t been damaged in the ongoing attack. Monsieur Gèroux had a simple home, composed of a small bedroom and a kitchen. Two tiny windows let the sunlight in. The red tiles on the roof had been worn out by the elements. Water leaked into the dwelling every time it rained. The color of the walls had once been yellow, but now had faded into pale beige. Cracks ran through the plaster on the ceiling. The apartment was conveniently located on the second floor of the building, right above The Lion’s Heart tavern, where drinking carried on until the early morning. During the Festival of Nine Moons, the feasts continued for a week nonstop. The apartment was perfectly suited to a lone headhunter who spent most of his time out anyway.

  But Monsieur Gèroux didn’t live alone anymore.

  He climbed the outer staircase with great speed and rushed into the apartment through the wooden door. There wasn’t anyone in the modestly furnished kitchen. He ran into the bedroom, where he found his wife, Anna, trembling over two little cubs in the corner of the room. The bounty hunter threw himself at them, wrapping them in his arms. The children were weeping, but Bernard managed to calm them down. Every time an explosion boomed, he threw a pillow over his children. The four of them huddled in the corner of the room, waiting for a fireball to fall on the house and bury them alive.

  Little by little, the explosions subsided and then stopped completely. The building remained undamaged.

  “I'll go look outside,” said Bernard.

  He carefully popped his head out of the front door. Complete desolation met him. Fires covered the entire city. The screaming of those hurt by the explosions filled the night air. Although the attacked had passed, they were still in danger. Most of the buildings in the slums were made from wood, and a lot of them had caught on fire, which was quickly spreading. If Monsieur Gèroux’s home burned down, his family would be left on the street.

  The wolf returned to his wife and children and said, “You have to go to the river. You will be safer there.”

  “And you?” Anna asked.

  “I'll stay here to make sure the house doesn’t catch fire.”

  “We want to help too, Dad,” said one of the children.

  “You can’t; it's too dangerous,” said Bernard.

  Anna gave him a look that said she wasn’t going to obey his commands. “We are not leaving you,” she said. “Either you’re coming to the river with us, or we're staying here with you.”

  Arguing was useless. If they didn’t act now, they wouldn’t have a house to stay in.

  “We have to collect the buckets and fill them with water,” said the bounty hunter.

  Four buckets had been strategically located inside the house to collect the rainwater dripping from the ceiling. Unfortunately, it hadn’t rained in a long time, and now the buckets were empty. Anna grabbed one of them and the children grabbed the second. Monsieur Gèroux took the last two. They filled them with water from the sink and went outside. Their neighbors were already fighting the fires. Even the tavern patrons had stumbled outside to try to help as they could. Some started throwing their drinks in the fire, but the innkeeper quickly stopped them.

  Some of their neighbors had fled to the river Toska to save themselves from the fire; but most stayed behind to protect their houses. The citizens living in the slums didn’t have much—losing their homes meant they would sleep on the streets and possibly starve. The fire brigade was already extinguishing the fires in other places of the city. It would be a long time before they reached them. The slums were their last priority.

  As he poured buckets of water on the fires, Bernard prayed for his family to survive this nightmare.

  The battle was uneven. The fire was spreading rapidly, and he couldn’t stop it with his small buckets. Only the fire brigade was equipped to handle a disaster of this magnitude. His heart ached at the idea of his family sleeping in the streets.

  The headhunter smelled agitation in the ai
r. Someone, or Something, wailed from across Agapea, muffling everything else. Terrible pain flooded his body, followed by a sensation of blinding rage toward the attackers from Windhaven.

  The image of the man he had seen alongside the Frog earlier appeared in his mind. He let the anger flow into him, giving him strength to fight the fires.

  Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled. Drop by drop, rain started pouring from the clouds. The fire stopped its swift onslaught, hissing at the torrent. The wet Monsieur Gèroux left the bucket on the ground and looked up to the sky. He was grateful for the storm clouds gathered above his head. He would not lose his home tonight.

  Chapter 4

  M eanwhile, the throne room of the palace was in complete disarray. Various advisors and other high-ranking officials were running around, trying to regain control over the situation. The room was filled with wooden tables on which lay maps, provision and army lists, and the like.

  “War!” cried out the noblemen. Others yelled things like, “Windhaven pigs!” and “Murderers!” Amid this chaos stood Count Porcius, dressed in his finest clothes for the party that had never happened. Bewilderment and fear crossed his face. The poor count wasn’t equipped to handle such an emergency.

  “Count Porcius, what are your orders?”

  The generals of Agapea's army stood rigidly at attention in front of him, holding their helmets under their arms, awaiting instructions for further action. Count Porcius’ mind, however, was in another, happier place—he imagined playing in the mud without a care in the world and certainly without a burning city and impending war at his doorstep.

  “Count Porcius?!”

  Silence enveloped the throne room. Everyone was looking to the count for guidance. The fate of their city lay in his hands.

  “Well... I...” the count began uncertainly.

  The beat of drums filled the corridors of the palace, drowning out the count’s words. The floor shook and plaster fell from the ceiling. We have to fix it soon, Count Porcius thought.

  Thunder rumbled in the night. The candle flames dwindled and were almost extinguished. The noblemen hid behind the count, whose fear had paralyzed him.

  The double doors, made from oak and plated in steel, swung open, making way for a procession of drummers, trumpeters, jugglers, clowns, fire breathers, and acrobats. Surrounded by this pandemonium stood a majestic lion with a golden crown on his head.

  “Damn, I am magnificent!” said the king, standing at the head of the procession with his fists on his hips. His mane was blowing in the wind coming from a window that had opened at just the right moment.

  A group of admirers, which had suddenly materialized in the hall, screamed and fell unconscious on the floor when they saw the king.

  “Porcius, if I had a coin for every time you screwed up, I would be a king!”

  The king walked past the kneeling noblemen, ignoring them, slapped the Count on the back, and said, “What did you do this time, you useless coward?”

  “Well... I...” Count Porcius tried to say.

  “I was in my chariot playing with these two lionesses, and we were just getting to the interesting part when suddenly the chariot rolled over! Porcius, you know how wild lionesses are in bed, right?”

  “Well... I...”

  “Of course you don’t! If you had ever slept with a lioness, she would have bitten your head off—and not the one you are thinking of, you disgusting pig!” The king laughed and slapped the count on the back. “Porcius, tell me, if you please, what are these GODDAMNED WINDHAVENERS DOING IN MY GODDAMNED CITY?!”

  “Well... I...”

  “Porcius, I swear, sometimes you're as useless as a pair of nipples on a breastplate.”

  The king turned to the generals of his army. “I want all the fires in the city to be extinguished as quickly as possible. Double the guards on the city walls and mobilize the troops. In two days, we are going to war!”

  The king scratched his forehead and added, “Also, bring the two lionesses to my bedroom. I promised to show them my collection of balls. Do you know how many I have? EXACTLY TWO! Woof!” He made an obscene gesture with his hips.

  “Yes, my king!” said the generals, who bowed and left the hall.

  “Everyone else: continue to panic,” said the lion.

  “But, my king, what is the use of such actions?” a nobleman asked.

  “None whatsoever, but I like the energy!”

  A watchman entered the room, bowed, and said, “Your Majesty, I have a message for you.”

  “What is it now?” the king asked impatiently.

  “We have just apprehended two criminals. One of them is the Frog Jean, who stole some precious stones from the palace,” said the guard.

  “Fantastic news!” said the king.

  “But the stones are not on him.”

  “Then make him talk—um, croak—and then turn him into frog legs!”

  “The second prisoner, Your Majesty... is Cayden Starosta...”

  The king’s posture stiffened. His smirk faded. The king approached the guard and whispered, “This information has to remain a secret. There are still those residing within the city walls who support him. If the public finds out about this, it may cause a rebellion. There is no need to create unnecessary panic. Take the prisoner to the courtroom. The trial against Cayden Starosta is to begin within the hour. We'll sentence him tonight and then remove him.”

  Fraud still had some arrangements to make for the trial. He had to notify the prosecution; call a court reporter, a clerk, and a bailiff; make sure there was enough ink and paper; summon witnesses... And, of course, he had to provide an attorney for the accused. He knew exactly who to call.

  The guard and the king left the room, leaving it in disarray. Count Porcius stood, alone and helpless, amid the chaos.

  ***

  The boy with the red ribbon was running in the crowd at the amusement park. The strip disappeared in the crush of people. A moment later it appeared, only to vanish shortly afterward... and again... and again.

  Cayden was worried that it would never pop up again. Mira was laughing beside him, her hair shaking on her shoulders. Cayden couldn’t help but smile when he watched her. She made him happy. Bliss had come to him without him looking for it. He wanted nothing more than to live in this moment eternally.

  But nothing lasts forever.

  The sky turned dark red. Mira's laughter became thunder. The red ribbon vanished without a trace. Cayden chased after it, but it was too late.

  A laugh, deep and sinister, came from the sky above. Cayden looked up and saw It. The Red Evil rose above him like a dark god. Its countless tentacles had wrapped the world in its life-draining embrace. Something glinted to the side. A red ruby. If he could reach it, maybe everything would be fine.

  He was too slow. The tentacles descended upon him. Searing pain ran through his body. Cayden cried out.

  ***

  The blackness withdrew from Cayden’s mind like a viper returning to its hole. At first, he could only move his eyelids. His limbs hadn’t got the message that he had woken up yet. With some effort, he managed to lean on his elbows. Opposite him was a wooden door, with a small window with bars and a hatch, blocking the view to the outside. He was in a prison cell.

  He laid on an uncomfortable bed covered with straw. A bucket in one corner of the room served as a toilet. A tiny iron cage was chained to the left wall.

  The throbbing in his head was strong, indicating that its source was somewhere nearby. Images flashed in his mind—a red ribbon, an amusement park, and some big, ominous Presence that hung over him. Laying on this rough bed in a prison cell in an unfamiliar land, not knowing who he was or where he came from, he suddenly felt lonely and scared. The earth beneath his feet was giving way, and he didn’t have anything or anyone to grab hold of. His breath came in shallow waves as panic slowly took hold of his body.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he told himself. “This is just a bad dream.”

>   However, these reassurances didn’t make him any calmer. On the contrary, trying to deny his perceived reality of the situation made him even more nervous, as if he was suppressing his true emotions.

  “Awake at last?” asked Jean the Frog from the cage.

  “Not really. I think I’ll nap some more, and then we’ll talk about all of this craziness,” Cayden murmured, still struggling with his feelings. “That wolf in the palace... What did he want from us?”

  “He’s a headhunter; goes by the name of Monsieur Bernard Gèroux,” Jean said. “I told you that the guards are not my biggest fans. They probably set a large bounty on my head. Are you epileptic?” asked Jean, suddenly changing the subject. “One moment you were running like a wild boar, the next you fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes! You have to go see a doctor.”

  “So, we’re in prison,” said Cayden. “It’s not as bad as I imagined. I mean, at least they gave us a bucket. And there are no cockroaches. I’ve slept in worse rooms than this.”

  Cayden’s stomach growled. While running for one’s life, one rarely turns one’s attention to such simple needs as food. But in the absence of a direct threat to his life, Cayden felt at once very hungry and thirsty.

  “I suppose the three-course meal is about to start any moment now,” he said in an ironic tone.

  “Oh, we already had that; you just missed it. It was between the back rub and the foot massage. Do you think you’re here on holiday?!”

  His other senses woke up along with the hunger and the thirst. Bruises and scrapes he hadn’t felt during his escape now drew attention to themselves by flooding his brain with pain. This was the cost of survival.

  A cool breeze touched his neck. Behind him, over the bed, was a small barred window. Outside, he could see the ditch surrounding the castle and the city recovering from the recent attack. Lightning crackled nearby. A single raindrop broke off the stormy clouds and fell to the ground outside. More drops followed and quickly became a torrent. Unfortunately, the window was built so that the water flowing on the walls of the palace poured directly onto the bed where Cayden was lying.