by Casey Eanes
Willyn regulated her response. “Hosp. What are you doing here? Council members have no business in the lower levels.”
A smile twisted itself onto Hosp’s face, “That is why I waited in the elevator, Madam Kara.”
Willyn was first to break the stare. Her skin crawled to look at him, revulsion first and foremost to his pathetic features; his patchy thin beard, pasty white skin, long interlocking fingers, and a small waterfall of shiny, greasy black hair. It was his eyes, however, the gray hurricanes that surrounded his pupils that worried her most. “What do you want, Hosp? I don’t have time for you right now. I have more important things than politics to deal with right now.”
Hosp’s smile grew to a pointed smirk as he waved his hand in the air between the two.
“Oh, I did not mean to bother you. I simply wanted to offer my deepest regret for what has happened to Hagan.”
The grin and the glint in his eyes revealed no remorse. Hosp looked like a man staring at a prize. Willyn knew exactly what he wanted: power.
Willyn shot back, “You could have offered your sympathies anytime and anyplace. Right now is most inconvenient, and I'm afraid I don’t have much time to meet with you. Is there anything else?”
Hosp’s eyes widened, like that of an animal locking onto prey. He let out a small chuckle and clasped his hands together as his cold eyes bore into her. Willyn regretted opening the conversation up further.
“Ah, yes, I do have something of importance to tell you. The Council is working on a motion to surrogate.”
Willyn’s chest felt empty, and a knot twisted itself into her dry throat.
“A motion to surrogate? I have not been notified of being elected as a candidate.”
Hosp drew in a deep breath and paused before coolly hissing, “That is because you are not a candidate. My apologies for any confusion on my part. I can see why you would assume to be a potential candidate."
Willyn grabbed Hosp’s collar and slammed him against the wall of the elevator. She felt like her face was going to explode with the rush of heat that flew into her.
“There is no one worthy of replacing Hagan because he will recover. And no one is better suited to stand in for him than me. What do you mean that I am not the candidate?”
Hosp tried to steady himself as Willyn pushed him into the corner of the creaking elevator.
“Simply put, Willyn, the Council feels the war has left you…unstable.” Hosp put his cold, twisted hand around Willyn’s wrist, “And I believe this attempted display of aggression against a Council member is another piece of evidence to support that suspicion.”
Willyn ripped her hand away and glared at the worm before her. The thought of beating Hosp felt like it would bring more relief than her earlier assault on Grift.
“You are nothing but a snake! You are the last person I would vote to power.”
Hosp rubbed his hand against his throat and coughed. Wheezing, he spoke, “Regrettably, Mistress Kara, you have no vote to cast. Had your concern been for your Realm rather than for your kin, you might have garnered favor with the Council, but instead you rushed your legion of rooks out into Lotte without so much as a single resolution from the people of your Realm."
Willyn checked him, breaking through, "Don't you mean the Sar? The Sar? The sovereign head of our Realm was nearly assassinated, and you make it sound like a petty family squabble. Are you deft, you sniveling idiot?”
Hosp fired back, "Yet your rash actions have guaranteed a blood war with the Pandereans. And for how long? Months? Years?!" Passion percolated out from the calculating maw standing before her, "How could we, the legislative representatives of the Groganlands, put you in as the surrogate when you have guaranteed an end to peace, the death of our loved ones, and the debt of your subjects."
The elevator dinged, and the doors swung open. Willyn had never felt so relieved. "Hosp, I will not continue this with you. Not here, not now. I will send a full report to the Council dictating my actions on the Lottian front and my purposes behind them. Who are the potential surrogate candidates?”
Hosp stared at her and slowly and delicately responded, as if to absorb this moment in his memories, "Well, Mistress Kara, there is only one candidate being considered. Myself."
Enemies were encroaching on all sides. Hagan had been nearly killed. Grift Shepherd would not give up his secrets. And now, Hosp. She riveted her eyes toward Hosp, answering him with masterful control.
"Then Councilman, I can assure you that your attempt to surrogate will fail. I will personally go to Council tomorrow and make my case to your colleagues. They will hear the truth and be swayed not to cast any vote for you."
An explosion of sirens went off, the sound cascading violently down the hallway. Willyn recognized the cadence of the particular alarm.
Prison break.
Grift.
CHAPTER FOUR
A black plume of smoke hovered over Cotswold. What was once a small, unassuming village had become an inferno of fifteen foot flames. The sound of timber frames cracking and buckling echoed through the whole valley as smoldering buildings collapsed in on themselves. Even from the outer fields, Kull had to shield his face from the wall of heat keeping him and everyone else at a distance. Nearly half the town was burnt to the ground, and the remnant of buildings still standing were all ruined.
Kull stood at the edge of the forest; his hands were shaking like leaves in a hurricane. His mind scrambled, trying to pick up the pieces of where he was.
The butchering rooks were gone.
Cotswold was gone.
Dad.
Dad is gone.
The dreadful thought repeated in his mind as the shock wore off. He stood amidst the burning remains of his ruined hometown and was bewildered as to why the Grogans had any desire to destroy his hometown and kidnap his father.
“Kull.”
Kull’s head snapped at the voice that did not register in his mind. It was a voice that had long been silent. He met the lucid eyes of his mother and nearly wept. Leaning over her was Ewing, who stood by her side as more and more refugees poured into the forest. She embraced him, weak and trembling. They held each other amidst the tall pines swaying in the soot-stained wind.
She whispered in his ear, her weak words like rain in the desert to Kull’s shattered mind. He could scarcely believe he was hearing them. What she said was not what he expected.
“You have to go after him, Kull. You have to go after your father.”
Kull stared in her eyes, trying to understand what he was hearing. Responsibilities and duty flooded his mouth like a reflex, “What about you?” How could he ever leave her alone when all that they knew was ripped away?
Her cold hand grasped his in the autumn air, and her eyes were wet with grief. “Grift is more important than me.” A rasping cough racked through her thin frame.
Kull did not know what to say. His hands shook, and quietly he stammered, “Don’t say that.” The thought of leaving his mother was so foreign to everything he knew. It pinned his heart to the wall of his chest.
Kull gazed into her eyes and did his best to be reasonable. “Mom, I know I have to do something, but I can’t leave you here in this town.” He turned his face to the wall of fire that was now consuming all he knew. “Look at it! Nothing is left. Who would take care of you?”
Rose took her son’s hand and wiped the dirt from his face with her frail, trembling hand. A smile fought its way onto her face. “Kull, you have been so good to me, but you have to find your father. I need you to be strong for me, and I will be strong for you. I promise.”
Kull wrapped his arms around her and fought back the tears pushing through. Everything within him churned with pain; his shoulder’s wound blazed with heat, and his heart broke and ached. All of it was happening so fast. His mind was blurred with the shock of his mother speaking to him, commanding him to go after his father, and the fear of what might happen. Finally, the words shook free from his lips, “But, what can
I do mom? The Grogans came with an army.”
Kull’s mother stared deeply into his eyes, and her face stiffened like stone. “Do exactly what your father would do if they had taken you, Kull. Don’t stop and keep fighting.”
The words ignited Kull’s heart and set fire to his spirit. They pushed heat through his bones that was more intense than the smoldering remains of Cotswold. She is right. He had no choice but to try and find his father, regardless of the cost. If his mother was strong enough to ask her son to leave her side, he could be strong enough to seek out his father.
“I have to go gather my things, then.” The sentence was awkward, but Kull did not know what to say.
His mother nodded. “Come see me before you go. I have something I need to give to you before you leave.” Kull nodded, his mind filling with disbelief. He sat her back down under a tall pine.
“I’ll be right back.”
“Kull.” His mother’s large, brown eyes stared at him. “Go. I’m fine. Now, go.”
Kull nodded and looked over the burning city before him, trying to plan his next move.
The girl. The red-haired girl. I’m going to find her, and then I’m going to kill her and bring dad back.
Arthur Ewing hobbled up past Rose and up to Kull as they both looked out over the raging fire. He cocked his head at him, noticing Kull’s vacant eyes.
“Lad, are you alright?”
“Stay with mom, Ewing,” said Kull before sprinting like a madman across the plain toward the hellish, burning town. Arthur Ewing screamed behind him, limping in vain to catch up.
Kull did not stop. He plunged himself deep into the smoldering wreckage of what was once his hometown, weaving far from the pyre that hungrily consumed half the village. The streets were littered with debris, shrapnel, and smoking wreckage. He looked back to see Ewing trailing far behind. He could hear his booming curses as he scrambled up toward Kull.
From his vantage point, he could see the streams of Lottian reinforcements flooding in from Vale, bringing with them a caravan of aid. Large white tents were being hoisted up in the outlying pastures, doctors and nurses scrambling to care for the wounded and the dying.
Kull tried to make sense of his surroundings. The buildings that were spared from the burning had either collapsed or were marked by fresh mortar craters and bullet holes. He weaved down a small alley, toward the hardware store his family lived out of for years. The store had been spared from a fiery destruction, but was badly damaged. He stepped gingerly around the familiar wreckage. Pieces of his past littered the floor in a ruin of scattered memories. Broken glass and splintered planks popped and cracked under each uneven step as he made his way to the back of the building.
Three walls of the back room were still standing, but the structure seemed to moan in protest as Kull explored the ruins of his former home. Then he found it.
“There you are.”
He pulled an old hunting rifle out from under the rubble. His fingers ran down the barrel and the stock and opened the chamber to inspect it. It was still intact, and he thanked Aleph.
He reached back into the wreckage of an old shelf and pulled out a half-filled box of ammunition. As he stretched his hand out, his shoulder thundered with pain, a quick reminder of his close brush with death. He groaned as his collar bone twinged with misery.
Kull could hear heavy footsteps approaching him from the front of the building. Ewing had finally caught up with him.
With every step came a curse and a heavy panting for breath.
"Boy! Gods above, what are you doing? Come on out of there now!" Kull’s mind switched from frustration back to dread. He had not thought to look at Ewing, but he was not in good shape. His trembling voice lost its boisterous boom. Something was wrong with him. Kull could hear it in his voice.
Kull stepped out from the back room to find Ewing leaning on the counter, catching his breath.
Holding up the ammunition, Kull revealed his intent.
“I’m going after her,” he admitted. “I’m going to make her pay.” Ewing said nothing, but his lips pursed as he shook his head. Kull threw his rifle over his good shoulder and stuffed the handfuls of rounds in his pocket. As he stepped around the counter Ewing suddenly grabbed Kull by his wounded shoulder and clamped down, his vise-like grip causing an explosion of pain up Kull’s arm. Kull fell to his knees, screaming.
“And what do you think the Grogans will do to you, boy?” Ewing’s grip tightened. ”If an old man like me can cause you to fall on your knees in your condition, what do you think they’ll do?!”
It took every ounce of Kull’s restraint not to retaliate. His temper extinguished immediately, however, when he spied the black open wound in Ewing's right leg. Gaping and swollen, the leg looked like rotten meat and it was loosing a large amount of blood. Kull shoved Ewing’s arm off his shoulder and stood up.
“Arthur… your leg.”
Ewing did not hear him, but stared at him, continuing to lecture. "I know you want to try and chase those Grogan monsters, but right now you are in no shape to go running after them with your shoulder…” Ewing smacked his lips as he tried to continue. “Listen to me… boy… it’s stupid to…” The color drained from Ewing’s face as his adrenaline faded. “You can’t just…” His sentence faded and Ewing swayed, falling to the ground unconscious.
Kull screamed and grabbed Ewing under his arms and dragged him out of the ruined home. The old man was a heavy load to drag, even a short distance, and every tug sent a blast of pain through Kull’s body.
“Help! I need some help here!” Kull called out amidst the empty streets.
White-clad medics were carefully navigating through the rubble, searching for survivors when they heard Kull and found him pulling Ewing into the street. Several broke into a sprint with a stretcher. While two of the men carried the fabric cradle, the other checked Ewing’s vitals and began to run IVs into his arm and patch his infected leg. Ewing started to come back around and mumbled as the men set him down outside one of the large white tents. Kull stared at the men toiling over Ewing, cleaning and dressing the wound. Soon, he could see the attendants relax; Arthur Ewing was stable. A man in a white coat splattered with blood issued a command to Kull as he tied a red piece of yarn around Ewing’s tattered leg.
“Take him down to the infirmary tent. We’ve done all we can do with his leg.”
Kull stood up. “What do you mean you’ve done all you can?” The question flew out before Kull could stop it.
“Just take him down to the infirmary tent.” The doctor’s stern eyes peered over his glasses, commanding the other medics. He gave a quick glare at Kull and walked away. The medics picked up Ewing again and hauled him further down the hill. They checked him in with the field nurses and then sprinted back into the burning town center.
Kull walked beside Ewing to one of the medical tents and helped him into a small cot so another medic could reexamine and treat his leg. His eyes kept scanning the tent, trying to find evidence of his mother. Ewing left her behind to chase after him. Panic thumped through Kull’s chest as he started for the door of the tent to go back to where he left her. Eva Dellinger, the town healer and nurse, came rushing over to them.
“Oh, Kull. Good. Your mother.” Kull quickly read her eyes for an answer. Eva spoke, “She is okay. She is resting, poor thing. But she is okay. Such a blessing she was spared.”
The words washed over Kull like cool water, extinguishing the panic that started to set in.
“Thanks Eva,” smiled Kull, “I didn’t know what to think.”
Eva smiled and pointed over her shoulder. “I have her in a smaller tent outside. She needs some quiet. This tent is a mess. It would rattle her nerves.” Then her eyes fell on Kull’s shoulder. “You need some attention yourself.”
Eva sat Kull in an open cot next to Ewing and began examining his wounds. Then she looked over at Ewing. There was shock in her eyes as she looked at Ewing’s leg. Her hands toyed with the red yarn. What did
it mean? Was it a fatal wound?
Silently, Kull sat as Ewing slept in a shock ridden stupor. His mind raced and worried over the old man passed out beside him. At least mom is okay. All he could do was wait.
Wait.
The image of the girl kicking his father to the ground filled him again with rage.
The Grogans were not waiting.
He took in all the people around him. Friends, neighbors, family. All the victims were innocents, butchered by the Grogans. He felt his throbbing shoulder and realized how lucky he was. Had the shrapnel landed a few inches over, it would have been over for him. A hand brushed over him, resting in the middle of his shoulder blades, as light as a feather, but as warm as a blanket. Kull looked up and his gaze fell on Adley Rainer. She looked exactly the same as the last time Kull had seen her before she left for the Academy. She left him years before, just one of many in Cotswold who made the routine journey away from home. Yet when it came to the people Kull missed most, she meant more than all of his friends who had left. Kull long held a secret affection for her, but life had other plans. Her long, brown hair was braided, falling down near the small of her back, and she was dressed in green medical scrubs. She greeted Kull with a smile, and Kull quickly stood and embraced her with genuine surprise.
