Curse of the Red Evil

by Zel Spasov

  “I can’t,” said Nino. “The queen will have my head!”

  Varvara walked over to him and put her hand on the back of his head.

  “When they ask you, tell them we overpowered you and freed the prisoners.”

  “What—” asked Nino, but before he could finish the question, Varvara head-butted him into unconsciousness.

  “You really enjoy making people faint, don’t you?” said Cayden, looking at the two men on the ground. “So, what’s the plan?”

  “A few moments from now the dungeon will be filled with guards,” said Varvara. “It’s time to fight.”

  She cut the cloth in which the Sloth was wrapped. The mighty beast slowly rose to his feet. Then she broke the chains holding Cayden and Charles.

  The first wave of attackers came around the corner and sounded the alarm. Varvara pointed her sword toward the enemy, prepared for a fight. Cayden stood beside her, clenching his weapon in both hands.

  “Do you remember how to use it?” Varvara asked him.

  “I think so,” he said.

  The narrow corridor in front of them quickly filled with guards. The good news was that their small group had an advantage here—their opponent couldn’t surround them in the confined space. The bad news was that between them and freedom stood dozens of armed soldiers.

  The attackers approached, the fire of the torches mounted on the walls gleaming off of their blades. The Sloth extended his arms, wrapping them around the first row of soldiers. With a strong swing, he threw them back, knocking all enemies to the ground. He turned his head back one hundred and eighty degrees while his body remained in the same position, and smiled mysteriously. Although the way he turned his head independently of his body unsettled Varvara, she was relieved he was on their side. The Sloth was a fearsome enemy when he decided to fight.

  The group made their way through the bodies. Cayden, Varvara, and Charles finished the enemies who sneaked past the Sloth’s mighty paws. The rage with which the Rabbit attacked the guards suggested a need for psychiatric treatment.

  They reached the stairs leading upward. The Sloth extended his arms, then retracted them, wrapped around two guards who were trying to escape. They’d run up the stairs to warn the others. He struck their heads in on one another, stunning them.

  The outlaws climbed to the ground floor of the palace and walked down the corridor that opened before them.

  Soon, every soldier in Windhaven would be after them. Even if they managed to escape the castle, they wouldn’t be safe. The roads leading out of the city would surely be blocked off and the exits barricaded. If they tried to leave on foot, they would have to face a whole army. Even the Sloth wasn’t powerful enough to defeat thousands of soldiers alone. They would be cut down before they’d taken two steps toward the city gates. The landing grounds were their only chance of salvation. They would leave Windhaven by air.

  The only way to reach the landing grounds was by the stairs on the other side of the dining hall, where the soldiers stationed at the castle were currently finishing dinner. As they approached the great hall, Varvara signaled the group to stop. In front of them were rows of doors, now closed, all leading to the dining room. The corridor divided in two directions as it ran around the large hall and merged again on the other side. Varvara examined the area, and, after not seeing any signs of movement, she chose to go to the right. They hadn’t gone far when one of the doors behind them opened and a group of soldiers came out.

  “I can’t wait for this war to end!” said one of them. “The food they make us eat is horrible!”

  “I suspect the cooks make the stew nasty on purpose so they have more left over.”

  “Ha, right...” The soldiers stopped when they saw Varvara with the escapees. “What are you doing here?”

  “Intruders!” someone yelled. The Sloth closed their mouths with his paws, but it was too late.

  Other doors opened, and reinforcements poured into the hallway. In the hall, hundreds more were sitting on long wooden tables. On the other end of the hall, soldiers had formed a circle around someone, but Varvara couldn’t see it who it was from this distance.

  The Sloth grew ten times larger than his original size, his head hitting the ceiling. Cayden and Varvara stood on his left and right, and Charles positioned himself in the back. The enemy approached them cautiously, staring at the Sloth with a mixture of awe and fear. The beast smiled melancholically, like a lazy god who was delighted by his children. Finally, one of the soldiers mustered up enough courage and swung his sword at the Sloth, leaving a small scratch on his skin. The Sloth flicked him with his paw like he would an annoying bug. His attacker flew a few meters and fell on one of the tables.

  The rest of the guards lunged at the mighty beast. The Sloth threw dozens of fighters into the air with one swing of his massive arms. He then stretched his hands to the other end of the hall and divided the sea of soldiers, creating a passageway wide enough for his comrades to pass through safely.

  On the other side of the dining room, they came across a bloodied wolf wearing the uniform of a soldier of Windhaven.

  “Ah... I have a strange luck tonight...” the wolf said.

  “Who is this?” Varvara asked.

  “Monsieur Bernard Gèroux, a not-very-well-known Agapean headhunter,” Charles replied.

  “I’ll be better known once I hand you over to the guards in Agapea,” said Bernard.

  “Let's leave him here,” Charles said. “It's too dangerous to take him with us.”

  “Cayden, what do you say?” Varvara asked. “Can we trust him?”

  “We aren’t leaving anyone behind,” Cayden said. “We need everyone in the battle against the Evil. If you help us escape, we’ll take you with us.”

  The hunter grunted. “I agree to leave our differences aside,” he said. “In the common interest of our survival.”

  “You go in the middle,” Varvara told the wolf. She trusted Cayden's judgment, but she didn’t trust the bounty hunter. “Make any suspicious movements, and I’ll slash your throat open.”

  Bernard showed her his teeth before going where she told him. Varvara led the group out of the dining room. Despite his wounds, Monsieur Gèroux moved at an amazing pace. The Sloth closed the distance between them with a big step and returned to his normal size, releasing the soldiers he had held back with his arms.

  Now the whole palace was after them. The group reached the winding staircase leading to the takeoff platforms and climbed up. They were breathless, wounded, and frightened. Even though the circumstances were difficult, Cayden moved with unwavering determination. Whatever had happened to him after his conversation with Varvara, it had changed him. Now his whole being exuded grim responsibility. It wasn’t the Cayden Varvara remembered—but at least this one had a purpose. The wolf possessed a similar aura. Although she didn’t know him, Varvara felt she and he were alike. He, too, was a warrior, and would never admit he was hurting until his last breath. Everyone was tired, but they were holding up. They’d found something worth fighting for.

  They finally reached the top, the sound of metal boots and yelling approaching fast behind them. The landing grounds were individual platforms of the same size, made from stone. Some of them were currently occupied by wyverns and their riders. Varvara had thought about using the flying beasts to escape the city, but had quickly discarded the idea—the wyverns were trained to obey only their assigned riders. It took months of training for them to get used to new ones.

  She had something different in mind. In addition to the wyverns, the army had several hundred dragon lizards, kept in iron cages and used for short-distance messages. They weren’t as fast or as strong as the wyverns, but they could be ridden by anyone. They were about four meters long, big enough for two or even three riders to fit on their backs.

  When the guards noticed the newcomers, they steered their beasts toward the group. The soldiers from the great hall also appeared from the stairwell, pouring on to the landing gr
ounds.

  Varvara reached the cages containing the lizards and started breaking their latches.

  “Hurry up!” she shouted to the others.

  The Sloth used his long, powerful arms to break the locks, releasing dozens of lizards at a time. After they opened all the cells with his help, each one of them mounted a lizard. Charles climbed onto Cayden’s. Varvara squeezed her mount with her lower legs and pushed her hips forward, giving it a cue to start moving. The animal accelerated so fast that it almost threw her from its back. Cayden and Bernard followed her example, while the Sloth whispered something to his lizard and the creature bolted.

  The soldiers filled the takeoff platforms and quickly formed a circle around the group.

  “We have to break the defensive line where it’s weakest!” said Varvara to the others.

  The reptiles could develop unbelievable ground speed. Varvara hoped to use their agility, as well as their thick scales, which served as an armor against any weapon, to punch a hole through the guards’ defense.

  She pointed her sword at the enemy and let out a battle cry. Her lizard charged into the soldiers, scattering dozens of them in the air. Cayden and Bernard’s mounts slammed like cannonballs into the hole made by Varvara, crushing more enemies. The rest of the freed lizards attacked the foe’s ranks, causing disturbance and chaos.

  From the sky, the wyverns descended on Varvara, their claws nearly piercing her breastplate. The blow threw her from the back of her lizard and sent her to the ground. She rolled over and quickly leaped to her feet, ready to fight.

  Two nearby soldiers attacked her, probably thinking she was easy prey. She evaded the first fighter’s attack and hit him on the back of his head with the hilt of her sword, then hit the second one in the jaw with her iron fist, knocking them both out.

  Behind her, the wyvern that had assaulted her a moment ago roared. She turned around, ready to face a new attack. The creature lunged at her with its razor-sharp claws. Varvara jumped to one side and swung her short sword, cutting the tendons of its front right leg. The beast lost its balance. Varvara used the opportunity to grab its rider by the hand and pull him off of the wyvern’s back. The soldier hit the ground, his helmet rolling aside. Varvara prepared to strike but hesitated when she saw his face. She knew him. His name was Jon Davis. She remembered his mother, who’d said goodbye to him with tears in her eyes when he'd joined the army. The boy had progressed rapidly through the ranks, becoming the youngest wyvern rider in history of the Windhavener army. Varvara was proud of him. And now she was ready to kill him.

  The beast used her hesitation and hit her with its strong tail, throwing her a few meters in the air. She hit the ground hard, rolling over several times. Left breathless, she tried to stand up but couldn’t. Wheezing, she used her sword as a crutch to help her get to her feet. From all sides, soldiers approached her. She held her weapon in front of her, but her grip was weak, and her vision was blurry. The enemy surrounded her. She parried an attack, then a second. The third one penetrated her defense and wounded her in the hip. If she didn’t recover fast, her end was near.

  It wasn’t the first time she’d been in a hopeless situation. Her long training had taught her one truth: the best defense was to attack. The soldiers tightened the circle around her, ready to finish her. She lunged at the nearest enemy with speed he didn’t expect, knocking him down to the ground but falling with him. Before she could get up, Cayden, Bernard, and the Sloth charged the soldiers and shattered their formation.

  Their surprise attack caught the enemy unprepared, the lizards dropping many fighters. The guards retreated to regroup for a new assault.

  “We have to go now!” Varvara said. “We won’t get a second chance!”

  The Sloth helped her get on her mount. She pointed her sword at the edge of the landing grounds.

  “There,” she said. “That’s our escape route!”

  “Wait! You want us to jump from there?” Cayden shouted as the lounge of lizards dashed toward the edge. “But these animals can’t fly!”

  “These aren’t ordinary lizards,” Varvara said.

  The Sloth’s mount jumped from the edge of the platform and spread its legs, revealing a membrane between them. As the moonlight touched it, it started glowing with a purple color.

  “These are flying lizards!” Varvara said.

  A moment later, Bernard's mount jumped as well. Varvara had almost reached the edge when a spear hit her shoulder and knocked her from the back of her animal. Cayden stopped his lizard and steered it toward her.

  “Run!” yelled Varvara. “Save yourself!”

  The soldiers stood between her and Cayden. A moment later, his mount spread its legs and glided in the air. The sky filled with hundreds of lizards opening their bright webbings—some red, some yellow, others purple and blue. Moonlight shone through their skin, illuminating the sky in different colors, creating a beautiful spectacle.

  Blink.

  Nurse Venari ran out of the ruins onto the hospital grounds, the techs chasing after her. She dashed toward the exit of the premises, but the orderlies cut off her escape. As she turned around and headed for the hospital, she found herself surrounded by her pursuers. They grabbed her and held her down.

  Blink.

  Varvara held her sword in hand, ready to die. Instead of attacking, the soldiers partitioned, letting Queen Mira pass between them.

  “Lower your weapon, Varvara,” she said in a cold voice.

  Blink.

  Doctor Perfect approached Nurse Venari, staring at her with her paralyzing gaze. Varvara tried to break free of the techs’ hold, but to no avail.

  Blink.

  General Venari's body obeyed Mira’s commands without her telling it to.

  “Kneel,” said Mira.

  Varvara fell to her knees. The queen came closer and held Varvara’s chin in her hands. The coldness of her eyes pierced the general’s body, immobilizing her.

  “Varvara Venari,” said Queen Mira, “for your crimes against Windhaven, I sentence you to die.”

  Blink.

  The emotionless faces of the orderlies surrounding Varvara watched as Doctor Dimitriou pulled out a syringe filled with a clear liquid. She inserted it into Varvara’s neck and pushed the plunger.

  Blink.

  Mira pulled her sword out and thrust it into General Venari's chest. Dark-red blood poured out from the wound. Varvara grasped the queen’s hand and said, “You… won’t… win…”

  Her body fell to the ground.

  Varvara saw the hundreds of lizards flying in the night sky, their intensely hued membranes reflecting the moonlight, illuminating the landscape in breathtaking colors. Her last breath left her body.

  Blink.

  Varvara’s body fell to the ground like a stone. Persephone Dimitriou and the techs lifted her off the ground and took her inside the hospital. She lost consciousness.

  Chapter 14

  C harles, Lenny, and two other patients were sitting at a table in the middle of the canteen. In front of them lay a detailed floor plan of the hospital that they had stolen from Director Petrov's desk during their dissent, and a metal thermos from the kitchen. They were looking for a way to reach the outside courtyard and break free.

  The rest of the patients were either sleeping or entertaining themselves with made-up games. Charles was finding it difficult to motivate them—it turned out not everyone thought the situation was so bad. Some found it far more important to play with glasses and napkins than to fight for freedom. He felt guilty because he’d used them. They’d taken part in the uprising without knowing what they were doing. They probably thought it was just a game. No, Charles said to himself. He had done what was needed to defeat Doctor Dimitriou. She was pure evil. Her eyes were so full of hatred that he could feel her gaze every time she glanced at him. He had seen what happened to people when she looked at them. Only “The Sloth” could withstand her stare, but he was crazier than anyone in this hospital.

  “We
need a plan,” Charles said.

  “Plan! Yes!” one of the patients at the table said.

  “How do we get from here,” said Charles, pointing at the place on the map, which was marked with the word canteen, “to the outdoor courtyard?”

  “Outside! Yes! Yard! Yes!” said the same man. Charles suspected that he just agreed with everything he was saying.

  “Lenny, do you have any ideas?” Charles asked.

  “The Sloth” didn’t say a word. “The Rabbit” wondered who else could help them. Cayden was still non-responsive. The rest of the patients weren’t showing any signs of willingness to join in the planning either. He was on his own.

  “We can’t use the main corridor,” he said to himself. “Perfect will expect it. We need to pick a more direct route. If we go through these rooms here,” he continued, pointing to a series of connected rooms laid out on the plan, “we’ll be faster, and we’ll avoid the orderlies. We have her keys, so opening the doors shouldn’t be a problem.” Charles picked up the keychain, from which several dozen keys hung. “But we’ll need a little time to find the right ones.”

  Doubt crept into his thoughts. Was their rebellion madness? Could it be that they were actually crazy, and Doctor Dimitriou was right? Was it insane to doubt whether he was sane? No, he told himself. A madman would never have acknowledged his own madness. And he’d never heard of rabbits suffering from mental illnesses. So at least he himself was all there.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed how Monsieur Bernard Gèroux, one of the patients, approached Cayden. Charles immediately recognized his ill intent.

  “Stay away!” Charles told him.

  “It's only a matter of time until you lose,” said Gèroux. “Doctor Dimitriou will be merciful if you surrender now.”

  “And sell my soul to her like you? You’re a traitor, Bernard. I don’t know how you sleep at night.”

  “That’s easy: I don’t sleep,” he replied, pulling out a kitchen knife. “Let me take him with me, and no one will get hurt.”