by Dean Jones
As the years passed and the nights and days blurred into one as he fought, drank, slept and fought again the following day.
One night, as he again found himself lying drunk next to the glowing embers of a fire in an Oxford inn, Seth drifted off to sleep with his thirst for ale and death quenched.
He woke with a start at the touch of an unknown hand relieving him or trying to relieve him of his purse.
His hand reacted quickly, despite his drunken condition, and through instinct he grabbed the strangers’ arm tightly.
“I strongly suggest if you want to keep your hand and your life you consider your next move very carefully,” came a gravelly voice from the darkness outside of the fire's light.
Seth immediately let out a chuckle and increased the pressure on the arm, twisting it as he rose to his feet.
The man let out a yelp of pain and was pushed to the floor by the twisting of his arm and through Seth climbing to his feet using this limb as leverage.
“I see your threat is as pitiful as your thieving abilities,” Seth growled as he looked down on the now cowering figure at his feet.
“Please sir, I meant no harm I was only testing, I was never going to steal from you I promise,” the gravelly voice had become snivelling following the change in their situation.
Seth considered his next actions carefully, as was advised, and thought more than once about slitting the throat of this assailant right there in the darkness and leaving his body for the barkeep to find in the morning.
In his mind raged a thousand reasons to end this man’s life but, in the back, was a single thought, a memory he had believed long buried and forgotten. It was his father and upon examining it he recalled the day, during one of his training sessions where his father had bested him and had him at his mercy.
“Seth my boy, the victory is mine there is no need to drive home a success by dealing a final blow, it is not necessary, do you understand?”
Seth looked up from his prone position at his father’s feet and considered.
“But surely father a killing blow is the most effective option, for that will allow me to turn my attention elsewhere during a fight?” Seth asked.
“Ah yes, you are right that in a fight with multiple enemies a killing blow to remove one of them is the most effective route, but when one on one and clearly victorious or dominant then mercy is the way. I believe the gods would want us to take that option, after all, we do not fight for the bloodshed we fight for the honour of defending our lands and families.” He punctuated this statement by sweeping his arm around to show their farm and all it encompassed.
“I understand father but what if the beaten man rises to fight once more?”
His father chuckled his deep and joy-filled laugh and placed his hand out for Seth to take, “my boy, no man who has been bested and faces his untimely end would ever think to restart a conflict as it would surely mean his death, but if this ever happens to you then you should give your enemy the thing they desire.” He pulled Seth to his feet and clapped him on his shoulder and pointed him towards the house. “Death awaits us all son, and if a man wishes to hasten the inevitability then by all means oblige.”
Seth snapped out of the memory and once again found himself looking down at a hooded figure at his feet still holding his now twisted arm.
“You are lucky, as I have had my fill of death these last few days and will leave you to go running back to where you came from with no more than a warning to never steal, or try to steal, from those who you think are vulnerable.”
He gave the arm one final twist and upon hearing the crack knew he could release it back to its owner.
The man yelped in pain and rolled into a ball cradling his now broken arm.
Seth looked at this ball of cloth and listened to the whimpers and felt a pang of guilt at what he had done, his father had taught him better, he was not a cruel man he was honourable.
Seth crouched down next to the figure and reached for his shoulder, or what he presumed was his shoulder.
“Listen, I am sorry I have hurt you it was cruel and not something I wanted to happen, but you caught me off guard. I was not expecting someone to try to steal from me…it has been a long, long time since someone took something from me, but the memory is still raw in my mind.”
The man’s whimpers stopped slightly, and he sniffed and with his good arm pushed back the hood from his head, so Seth could see him in the glow of the fire.
The face had a pointed nose with dank, greasy brown hair failing limp over his protruding ears. He was an ugly boy of no more than fifteen years, Seth guessed. Upon seeing this young boy, who he had just broken the arm of, Seth felt worse than before.
“Listen, child, I don’t know what you think you were doing but this is a very dangerous place to be lifting purses, don’t you think?”
The boy dropped his eyes and started to cry once again, he tried to get to his feet though with only one arm working and the pain of the other broken one causing him to flinch at every movement he was struggling.
Seth sighed and hauled the boy to his feet.
“What’s your name, boy?” Seth asked.
The young man caught his breath and composed himself slightly, “William…sir” he stuttered through his tears.
“Well, William, my name is Seth and I am very sorry to have caused you harm this night. As I said, I was shocked and not thinking straight.” With this Seth offered the boy his hand to shake
William looked at the offered hand and then back to his own useless arm cradled at his chest.
.
“Ah…erm…sorry child, I wasn’t thinking” Seth added, upon recognising the error, and instead patted the boy on his head and gave his hair a friendly ruffle. Much as his uncles had done to him when he was the same age.
“Have a seat here William, perhaps I can offer you some of the ale that’s left to ease the pain?”
William looked unsure but sat at the table Seth had indicated and accepted the cup taking a long swallow straight away before placing the now empty cup back onto the table.
Seth reached for the boys damaged arm and hushed his protests away before taking it in both hands and examining the break. “I know a thing or two about medicine Will, I can call you Will, can’t I?” William nodded, and Seth continued. “Good, as I was saying I know some tricks and perhaps I can fix this arm up, so you are no longer…. inconvenienced by our meeting?” Seth winked at Will and then closed his eyes.
Will felt a rush of warmth and a stab of pain enter his arm as the bones were twisted back together. He let out a muffled scream, but Seth continued to work on the boy’s arm holding it tight so couldn’t move it.
Soon the pain subsided, and Will stared amazed at his arm and the man holding it. Seth let out a long breath of air he’d been holding and opened his eyes.
“There, that should feel much better,” Seth stated.
William left his arm suspended where Seth had been holding it and with jaw open he just looked from the arm to Seth and back again.
“Go on, try it. I think you’ll find its fixed,” Seth prompted.
Will tentatively opened and closed his fist and upon discovering there was no pain he bent and straightened his arm in amazement, when he finally did speak, it was with awe.
“How on god’s green earth have you managed to do that, sir, I mean it was truly broken. I have had broken bones before, which did not heal in minutes but took months?” A thousand questions raced through his head at what he had just witnessed. It was then a light of understanding hit him, and he recoiled in fear jumping up from his stool away from Seth.
“Are you a demon…do you mean to eat my heart?” The question was justified, Seth acknowledged, as it was the middle of the sixteenth century and the time was a superstitious one. People had long forgotten the old ways of Spae, in fact, it had been many decades since he had used it himself. But he found, upon channelling the energy around him, that it felt like a warm, comfortable b
lanket he had rediscovered in his bedding pack.
“No child, I am not a demon or any other unnatural being, I am just someone who knows a thing or two about medicine as I said.” Will looked unconvinced but sat back down through curiosity more than comfort in the situation.
“Now I am sure you have questions but first let me ask you one.” Will nodded his agreement still half sitting and half leaving his stool.
“Why are you stealing from men sleeping in this inn?”
Will thought for a second and Seth could see he was considering a lie but then a resignation came across the boy’s face and he answered, “this is my father’s inn sir, he plies folk with the watered-down ale he laces with sleeping herbs and sends me to take their purses knowing when they wake it will be difficult for them to remember. They will leave thinking they lost their things whilst drunk and resign themselves to their loss.”
Seth was shocked and immediately thought back through the night’s events and remembered the inn keep and his insistence this next jug was on him.
“No sir, I will not take your coin, you have done us a service by fighting off those bandits who came to take our farms, your timely arrival was a blessing sent by God himself,” the rotund and jolly man had said.
Seth smiled wryly and shook his head at his own stupidity.
“Don’t tell my father I told you, he will beat me rotten if he thinks I have let on…in fact, he will not be pleased I haven’t taken your purse and will likely beat me anyway.”
Seth examined the boy in front of him and measured his options. On the one hand, he had been the victim of a planned and callous act of thievery. One of many such acts through the weeks and months past but on the other, there was this scared boy who was only fulfilling the wishes of his father to gain some respect and love, he suspected, from the man who should be giving those things freely.
Once again, his thoughts drifted back to his own father and the love this man gave him unconditionally.
“I will tell you what, will my boy, I will not let on to your father you told me anything of the planned robbery or of the scam he has set up here,” he paused before continuing. “I cannot though allow for this type of thing to continue after all there are those who are less fortunate than I and cannot afford to lose any additional coin to a scoundrel like your father.” he nodded to indicate the decision was made.
“You have some questions and I promised to let you ask them if you answered mine.” Seth waited for the barrage of queries he expected to hear from the boy.
Will thought for a moment and then spoke, “what will you do with my father now you know his schemes?” Seth was taken aback, as this was not the question he expected.
“Well…I will teach him the error of his ways and…persuade him this type of thievery is not acceptable.”
Will nodded and thought again. “When you have taught him this lesson, can I go with you when you leave?”
Again, Seth was shocked at the question he didn’t expect but considered the request for a few moments before closing his eyes for a second.
“Master, the boy has a good heart and will be of use in the coming months…”
Seth’s eyes shot open in shock at the sound of those whispered harmonious voices he hadn’t heard for several hundred years.
“Mara?” he asked into the room and William looked behind him in fright half expecting someone to be there.
“Yes, Master, it is good to once again speak with you now you have reconnected with our realm.”
Memories flooded back to him, which he had repressed and buried beneath all the killing and violence he had undertaken. And in his mind, he saw her again lying in his arms on their bed telling him she’d waited as promised. The pain resurfaced, and his anger rose, and he could feel the Mara recoil from his mind.
He felt a hand on his knee and he looked down to see Wills face looking concerned up at him
“Are you alright Seth, you look like you are ready to kill someone?”
Seth saw in this boy’s eyes a compassion he had not seen for so long he had almost forgotten what it looked like. Upon seeing this he at once relaxed and let all the pain go.
“Will, I would be honoured to take you with me, if this is what you want?” he asked after a moment of collecting his thoughts.
They’re Coming
“Little Mistress,” the Mara called, and Hope’s restless sleep was soon filled with images of the Mara waiting to speak with her.
“Yes Mara, what is it?” she asked.
“You need to awake and leave the room you currently occupy, we are aware of two men making their way there to take you prisoner and our Master would not be happy if this were to occur!”
Hope considered their words for a second before nodding.
She awoke with a start and quickly looked at the clock to see it was 5:30 am. The morning light was already breaking through the curtains and she sat up and looked for her mother.
“Mum are you awake?” she asked and then saw her mother turn from beside the window to look at her.
“Good morning sweetheart, did you sleep well?” She pulled the curtains open, letting light flood into the room.
Hope shielded her eyes from the brightness of the morning sun. “We have to pack up and leave Mum. The Mara sent me a message, two men are coming to get us, so we have to leave.” Letting her eyes adjust to the light, she hopped out of the bed and made her way to the bathroom.
“Did they, darling? That’s nice, but I don’t think leaving would be a good idea, remember, your Dad knows to meet us here so what would he think if he turned up and found we had left before he could get to us?” She stood up from the chair and straightened her dress
Hope could see her mother hadn’t slept and was concerned as they had been there days now and she couldn’t recall her Mum sleeping for any length of time.
“You’re tired, Mum, and not thinking straight. Believe me, I would love to be here when Dad gets out, of wherever he is, but I don’t think he would want us to be captured as well do you?”
Marcy looked at her daughter and could see the intensity of her pleas, but she couldn’t find it in her to leave this place. She had told Seth she would be here if anything happened and here she was going to stay.
“No love, I won’t leave, and neither will you. I told your father we’d be here and that’s the end of it.”
“But Mother!” Hope pleaded again, “we can always leave a message he can find.”
Marcy thought about this and squeezed her eyes closed. She was so tired and was finding it difficult to think straight.
“OK,” she said finally, “grab some paper and I will write him something.”
Hope paced the room as her mother slowly created a letter for her Dad. It had been nearly an hour since she had woken, and the sound of the morning traffic was slowly lifting from an occasional murmur to a constant hum.
“We have to hurry Mum, I don’t know how long we have!” she urged.
“OK, that should do it,” she said folding up the letter neatly. “Now where to put this so it isn’t thrown away by the cleaners but can be found by your Dad?” Marcy scanned the room before settling on the drawer beside the bed. Reaching behind it she placed the note underneath the telephone cable which left it pinned to the wall.
“There, given the standard of cleaning in this hotel, I doubt this will ever be discovered. But your Dad will look everywhere, he’ll find it.” Satisfied she grabbed her purse as Hope opened the door to leave.
“Ahh, you appear to have saved us knocking young lady,” the man blocking the doorway said as he pushed Hope backwards into the room again. Behind him was a smaller man who looked slightly nervous and continually checked over his shoulder and around the room.
“My name is Agent Bradley,” the taller man said as he gave both a final shove down to the bed.
“My associate, Agent Smith, and I have been asked to speak with you about an incident earlier this week,” Bradley continued. “Our emp
loyer is keen to learn anything of note you may remember.” He looked at each of them in turn, “I assume you are the daughter?” he asked with a smirk as he leered at her.
Hope felt his stare beginning to undress her and felt sick, “what do you want?” she finally asked.
“I told you, we only want to know what you saw. Now we can’t do it here, so you can come with us to our offices where we could discuss it in more comfortable surroundings.” Bradley closed the gap between them and placed his hand onto Marcy’s shoulder.
“Of course, I could be persuaded to report you weren’t here when I arrived, giving you some time to try and get away to wherever you were off to?” He looked them both up and down and licked his lips slightly, “after all I am just a man with… certain desires.”
Hope cringed and looked at her mother for support, but she just looked exhausted and Hope was worried she was contemplating the offer. “Listen, you fucking pervert, we have done nothing wrong and you will let us leave immediately,” she said as calmly as she could.
Pain seared across her face as Bradley slapped her hard “now, now there’s no need for language like that. I am trying to do you a favour,” his hand was on the inside of her thigh as she lay clutching her face on the bed. Immediately she regretted her choice of clothing as his hand darted up her leg.
Marcy punched Bradly as hard as she could in his head, “get your filthy hands of my daughter…she is only fifteen, you paedophile!”
Bradley blinked and rubbed his head where the punch had connected. He smiled and put his hand back between Hopes legs forcing it back up her thigh as she grabbed at his arm to try and stop him. With his other hand, he grabbed Marcy’s throat.
“I think I’ll have a little fun with you both before I take you back to the boss, I am sure he won’t mind especially since he doesn’t like your husband at all,” he whispered, and Marcy struggled to free his hand from her neck.
“Now which one first?” He asked aloud as he mulled over his options.
Hope was frightened and started to cry as this man’s fingers pressed into her knickers trying to find a way inside. “Please, don’t do this.” She begged again and again but he wasn’t paying attention, instead, he took his hand away and reach to his belt and pulled out some handcuffs. Placing her mother's arm into one end he calmly attached the other to the radiator under the window before standing and beginning to undo his trousers.
