by J. E. Klimov
“I’ve been sent by Two.”
Muttering broke out, like squirrels chattering over a nut. “Why would Two send you? You look foreign,” someone from the crowd piped.
Bence bristled. “Foreign? How dare you.” His hand hovered over the hilt of his sword, but he forced his fingers to relax. “Of course she would send someone other than a Tuuli. The Tuuli need to be kept in place.”
Some nodded, sprouting confidence in Bence’s chest. “She sent me to deliver a message to Hakan.”
Everyone’s faces reverted back to confusion. More drew their weapons. The man that had spoken up stepped forward. He twirled his pitchfork on the ground. “Two had a message for Hakan?” he asked, exposing several missing teeth.
Red flags popped in Bence’s mind. “No, you misheard me. She had a message for… a message for…” He scanned the man’s face for any reaction. “Three?”
“Three’s in Zeyland,” a woman yelled in the far left.
The man with the pitchfork glared so intensely, Bence thought his eyes would pop from his head.
“One! The message is for One!” Bence rose his voice and waved his hands.
Fear boiled like water in a kettle over fire. He already screwed up one number, and odds are they weren’t going to allow a third guess. To disguise his nerves, he tapped his foot, acting impatient.
“It’s very late,” the man said. “One is probably asleep.”
Bence quelled a sigh of relief, but a chuckle slipped out. When the man scowled, he pounded a fist to his chest and said, “What’s your name?”
The man curled his lip. “Why do you want to know?”
“I want to tell One who was responsible for the delay of a time sensitive message,” Bence drilled with an authoritative tone.
His face fell. “Everyone calls me Gabriel.”
Bence crossed his arms, tucking his fingers into his clothes. They were losing feeling. He was baffled how none of these people showed signs of frostbite. “What do you mean ‘calls’ you? I want your real name.”
Everyone exchanged glances in unison. Gabriel shrugged. “Because I don’t remember my real name.”
Lips twitching, Bence fought every urge to laugh. “Were you dropped on your head?” Right when he thought he had seen the bizarre, something else topped it. Gabriel’s answers were completely illogical.
“None of us know.”
That was the last straw. “Forget it. Let me in immediately, Gabriel. I have no time for games.”
“Games?”
Bence shoved his shoulder against Gabriel as he pushed past. The farther away he was from these freaks, the better. Those people were the stuff of nightmares. He stormed up to the double doors, which opened on cue, but before descending the steps, he looked back. All the guards peered at him until they disappeared behind the shutting doors.
Once the gates clicked shut, Bence shook his head. “This is getting too weird.” He flew down the steps, two at a time, taking in the grand view of the city. All the steel buildings remained intact. He wrapped his cloak tightly around him; the sheer size of the waterfall made the air around him a few degrees colder. Golden Falls emptied into a basin that stood at the head part of the city square.
Vendor booths were vacant. There wasn’t a single Foti in sight. When Bence reached ground level, he placed his hands on his hips. The atmosphere was very much like Buryan: frighteningly empty. His steps echoed as he transversed the area and into a main road. Scanning each building, Bence realized there were no signs or markings. He scratched his neck, trying to figure out which one belonged to Hakan. He had never met him. A human youth stepped out from a side street, whistling and swinging a baton.
When their eyes connected, the youth said, “You! What are you doing here? One has ordered all Foti to remain indoors until the Aeonian threat has been neutralized. And you’re not a Foti.”
Bence towered over him, fingers twitching with desire to snap his fragile neck. He breathed in through his nose and out his mouth. “I was sent by Two to deliver a message to One.”
“Oh,” he said. “I’m so sorry. Go on ahead. But, shouldn’t you be headed that way?” He gestured his thumb to the road he appeared from.
Drawing his hood to disguise his blush, Bence said, “I know that. I was just taking in the sights before I head over.”
The youth opened his mouth, but Bence spun around and took off. He jogged down the narrow road. A fire flickered ahead. When he neared, he spotted a Foti in wool slacks and a sash around his shoulder. His rust colored fur matched the dirt that swirled around in the wind. He was hunched over, hammering onto a surface.
As Bence approached, the Foti’s ears perked up. Slowing down, Bence removed his hood and swept his cloak over his sword. His stomach soured when the Foti turned around. Gray fur masked his snout and the crest of his chest. He brushed his mane aside and lifted his head high.
Eyes darting around, Bence whispered, “Hakan?”
His black eyes rolled. “Not only are they lifeless, but they’re also stupid.”
“Stupi—wait. No, hold on a second.” Bence fumbled over his words. He couldn’t decide what shocked him more: the fact he was wrong, or what the Foti had said. The Foti stepped up to him and sniffed. Bence stiffened.
“Wow. I stand corrected, you’re not one of them.”
Questions pelted him like hail. “Who is ‘them?’”
The plopping of boots rang in the shadows. The Foti quickly resumed his work. Bence leaned forward and saw him forging a sword.
“Go away,” he growled softly.
“I need to know where Hakan is. Or One. I assume they’re together,” Bence pressed, lowering his voice.
The hammer connected to the red-hot material. A metallic ringing fluctuated as the weapon took shape. The Foti raised the hammer and struck again. Sparks flew. Bence cursed beneath his breath and decided to continue straight.
As he passed the Foti he heard, “Wide two-floor building. You need to take a right.”
Satisfaction gave his steps a little boost. Bence continued until he hit the first right. The sound of boots scuffing against the ground seemed to come from various directions. He picked up the pace until he spotted the only two-floor building with a flat, metallic roof. One scraggly man and one husky woman stood guard. The woman bore an eerie resemblance to one of his late sisters. He shook his thoughts away and slapped another fake smile on his face.
When the guards drew their weapons, Bence waved both arms down. “At ease. I bring an urgent message from Two to One.” He felt tongue tied every time he said their names. It tripped him up, and he had to pay extra attention not to confuse the numbers.
They backed away. Pleased, Bence strut past them. Pride swelled in his chest at thinking how successful he has been thus far with this tactic. He ripped the sliding door open and stepped inside.
His arm flew to his nose, alarmed by the smell. Sour and damp, even the air felt dense. As he approached another door, Bence constantly gagged. When his hand hovered over the handle, he reminded himself of his mission.
A white bun bounced at the snap of the sliding door. The hair wound tightly over a woman that sat on a large throne. She uncrossed her legs, letting her equally white dress slide down.
“One?” Bence growled.
Her golden necklace clacked as she nodded. Gold cuff bracelets slid down her forearms. Bence was convinced her sandals were laced with gold as well.
“And you are?”
“I am…” Invisible sludge slowed his speech. “Tulelo.” He flashed his teeth in a nervous grin.
“It’s way past curfew. What do you want? How did you get in?” She stood and slinked toward him. “Close the door, boy.”
The clack snapped him from his nerves. “I come bearing a message from Two.”
“Is that so?” Her jewelry jingled in unison, as if she were walking in chains.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Ma’am? Ha! Barely.” One traced her hand across her protru
ding clavicle. Bringing herself inches from Bence, she stared at his lips.
Bence’s ears burned. In one clean swipe, she snapped the latch of his cloak. It crumpled onto the ground. Her gaze traveled lower. He held his breath, praying he held well under scrutiny.
“I don’t recognize your outfit. I don’t recognize you.” Her lids flickered as her gaze bounced to his neck.
“It’s urgent. And it’s about Hakan. Where is he?”
One’s chest rose and fell erratically. Bence’s hand slipped from his neck to where his dagger was. Empty. Damn. I left it behind. He only had a fraction of a second. Not long enough the draw his sword. His arm lashed out and around her neck.
Bence twisted until he heard a sharp snap. Instead of a scream, One released her breath as her lungs deflated. Wiping his forehead, Bence fell to his knees and searched her clothing. When he reached her belt, he twisted it around and found the same stone Two had. Bloodstone. He didn’t understand its purpose, but it glowed like Isabel’s talismans when she used her powers.
The bloodstone radiated in Bence’s hands. Looking up, One started to thrash about. Her head lay disconnected from the rest of her body, but she still writhed with as much energy as an assassin with a vendetta. Using his sword, he sawed the belt off and tossed it on the floor. He hammered into the bloodstone with the hilt of his sword relentlessly until it shattered. The glow faded.
As Bence stood, he turned his attention back to One. She still struggled, but with less vitality. He bent forward and whispered in her ear. “I wasn’t going to let you summon your minions, and I need to keep my sword sharp to kill whoever created you,” he spat.
One sputtered to a halt. The chunks of bloodstone also lay lifelessly, void of light. Relaxing his muscles, he sheathed his weapon and sighed.
Hakan was still missing; his mission was not complete. Bence scanned the bare rocky walls and stopped at a door behind the throne. A gold bucket reeking of rotten fish sat in front of it. As he strode toward it, he found it littered with half eaten sea creatures. The bones were picked clean, but the heads remained intact. He gingerly pushed it aside, then turned the doorknob.
The closet was about eight feet high and eleven feet wide. Bence was hit with a wave of the same sour air he picked up earlier. A Foti curled on the floor.
“Hakan? One has kept you locked in the dark all this time?”
Hakan lifted his head and sniffed. After he released a grunt, he burrowed his nuzzle in between his arms and mane.
“Come out. You’re free now. And I have something for you.” Bence patted his body and realized his cloak was on the floor near the entrance. He ambled over and picked it up, searching for the pocket. A growl sent his skin crawling. Rotating at a snail’s pace, Bence’s eyes widened. Hakan leapt from his spot and slinked toward him on all fours.
He revealed razor sharp fangs. “What have you done?”
“I saved you.”
The lanterns in the room revealed his tangled mane. His matted fur clung together in clumps. Each time Hakan exhaled, Bence could see his ribs protruding. His sash was stained, and his pants were ripped. “You killed One!”
As Bence stretched his hands in front of him, he shook his cloak. “That’s a good thing. You’re free. In this cloak, I have something for you. A gift from─”
Hakan pounced. Stretching the cloak, Bence created a barrier from his snapping jaws. Bence cycled his legs. Once he landed a blow on Hakan’s lower abdomen, he scrambled backwards. His cloak hung from the Foti chief’s mouth. When Hakan tossed it aside, he charged, paws scraping against the ground. Jaws locked onto his boot. Bence bit his tongue as pain lanced up his calf. As he attempted his kick with his other leg, Hakan shook his head like a rabid animal. He stretched his fingers; the cloak was inches away.
When his other foot collided against Hakan’s head, the Foti yelped and released his ankle. Bence’s injury throbbed, but he pushed it out of his mind and pulled toward the cloak. His instincts demanded that he behead Hakan instead. There was no guarantee that showing him the claw would change his demeanor, but his penchant for honor outshined his thirst for blood.
Grasping the fabric, Bence rummaged for the inner pocket. His fingertips grazed a pointed object. Working off an ounce of hope, he pulled out the claw and swung his arm. “Look! Here! Look at this!”
In the blink of an eye, Hakan pounced again. Bence’s arm came full circle as Hakan’s open jaw aimed for his neck. He didn’t have time to react. The claw drilled into Hakan’s skull. The Foti gnashed his teeth as blood poured down his face. Bence released his grip, staring in horror as Hakan collapsed on him. Wheezing, Bence pushed the Foti off and ripped the claw out.
“Hang in there.” He pressed the end of his cloak against Hakan’s head wound and tossed the claw aside. It skidded to a stop in front of the Foti’s eyes.
Hakan panted, tongue hanging out to the side. Blood soaked through the cloth in seconds. Bence rotated different patches of fabric.
“No. No. No, no, no.” If there were this much blood, the claw likely pierced his skull. Bence’s hope snuffed out, knowing that nothing could stop the hemorrhage.
“Fa?” The hoarse sound squeezed from Hakan’s throat.
Bence’s heart pounded in alarm. He curled his free arm around the furry body. Hakan was burning hot. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
Hakan’s front paw stretched out, reaching for the claw. He blinked. “Father?”
Bence strained as the body turned into dead weight. “No…” Resting Hakan’s head on the ground, he scampered to the other side and knelt down. He pressed his head against his chest. No heartbeat. “No.” Slamming his fist onto the ground repetitively, he bit his lip until it bled. Failure hovered over his head, like a stubborn storm cloud.
After taking a few rattled breaths, he faced Hakan. One lone tear glistened at the edge of his right eye. “I’m so sorry.” The words sliced Bence’s throat like glass. He leaned over and wiped the tear away.
Bence then turned his attention to One. He couldn’t discern the exact power, but he would spare the next bloodstone. Whatever it did, it powered the freaks that guarded every tribe and sapped the life from the chiefs. Maybe it could patch him up. He donned his soiled cloak.
Honor and blood. Bence used his two strongest motivators to hook his arms beneath Hakan’s body. He hoisted him up, and he limped toward the exit, leaving a trail of both their blood behind.
Bence passed the lone Foti blacksmith, ignoring his bewildered expression. Continuing down the street, he focused on one destination. Footsteps padded behind. Bence smirked─that’s what he wanted. He wanted everyone to see. Relying on his good foot, he forged ahead until he reached the city square. By now, scores of One’s guards formed a horseshoe, blocking the exit.
When he lowered Hakan’s body, he addressed the crowd just like when he commanded the Aeonian army. “One has determined that Hakan’s time has run out.” The gates screeched open above. Heads poked through the opening. Bence recognized Gabriel and his silly pitchfork. He waved them down. “One needs everyone under her command to hear this message.”
Ignoring the intensifying throbbing in his ankle, Bence stood patiently. He held his hands behind his back and hummed. He could afford patience. When everyone settled into a thick crowd, he continued, “One now controls Ogonia now that Hakan is diseased.”
“About time,” shouted an anonymous woman.
Bence wore a manic smile so wide, his face hurt. “Before he uttered his last breath, Hakan mentioned treasures and other vital resources that have been squirreled away beneath this basin. One has ordered everyone to retrieve Hakan’s belongings, as it is hers now.”
As he limped toward a platform with two golden pillars, Bence snapped at a figure who held a torch. After snatching it away, he struggled up the three stairs. One golden pillar was lit, but not the other. Extending the torch, the second pillar took on the flame.
The ground shook like an earth-splitting earthquake. Shouts er
upted, and many people lost their balance. Water drained down the basin into infinite darkness. A slick stairwell carved into the wall wound into the depths. Even though Golden Falls dumped into the basin, it didn’t fill.
Crossing his arms, he faced One’s minions. “Alright, we don’t have all day. Chop, chop. Take the stairwell down until you reach a door. Be careful, it’s a bit slippery.”
They all clutched their weapons to their chest and shuffled like lost sheep. They bottlenecked at the basin’s edge; disappearing one by one. As Bence waited, he recalled his trip down there one year ago. The infamous Foti’s Chamber─a secret torture chamber for those that committed unforgivable crimes. He was well aware some of his siblings were rotting away in the bowels of the chamber.
He had followed Isabel down there. Closing his eyes and letting the chill air refresh him, Bence could picture the scene. There they duked it out for Kai’s Sapphire. He had prevailed. When he opened his eyes, about a dozen people still remained above ground. Bringing his hands to his chin, Bence recognized a familiar a twinge of regret. He should’ve let her have the talisman. It would have saved a lot of grief, especially since he had decided to defect at that moment. But he had run away from her, back into his parents’ clutches.
The last person turned and stared at Bence. “Oh,” he blurted. “I’m grabbing Hakan’s body. I’ll be right behind.”
As soon as the man disappeared from sight, Bence picked up the steel snuffer tucked to the side, and positioned himself between the two pillars. After stealing one last look down the basin, he slammed the snuffer over the first pillar. “This is for you, Hakan.” After murmuring those words, he extinguished the other flame.
A guttural rumble churned below. Bence sat down and elevated his injured foot. Sitting back, he waited. A string of cascading screams rang, only to be silenced instantly. Waves crashed below as the water levels rose. When the basin filled to the brim, the excess water filled the ravines on each side and flowed freely out of Ogonia.
