Teefa leapt down from her hiding spot in the old tin water tank, armour glowing as it fought gravity’s influence, the force crushing the small weeds at the tank stand’s base. Neasa slid down the ladder. “You killed them,” said the remaining stranger, his once brave gun now hanging flaccid at his side. Teefa walked over and drew her silver, feather shaped daggers from the dead men’s necks.
“Exactly what you savages deserve,” she snapped sending one of the shimmering metal feathers deep into his wind pipe. He spluttered, spat and fell toward Gudrik, reaching for him as though begging for help. The Warlock stepped casually aside and let the hunter crash to the ground.
“Sorry Gudrik, we wanted to warn you but couldn’t give away our position,” said Neasa sweetly, giving him a peck on the cheek. Teefa did the same and retrieved her dagger.
“I thought you didn’t kill civilians?” asked Gudrik, unfazed. He was simply curious about the change of attitude.
“We let the first one go with a fright and a warning, only to have him show up later that day with nine others. So fuck ‘em,” answered Teefa.
“They keep showing up but, rumours spread fast,” added Neasa.
“What about the authorities?”
“That one there was the local cop,” Teefa replied eyeing one of the dead, “Most of them get greedy I think, don’t tell anyone where they are off to, they don’t want to share the spoils.” Gudrik nodded, sounded reasonable.
“Where is everybody?” he grunted.
“We had to scatter with all the craziness,” added Neasa.
“It’s just the two of us now,” said Teefa.
“Have you seen the news lately?” asked Neasa. Gudrik raised a confused eyebrow. “The T.V. man who tells us what’s been happening.”
“Aye, our pictures were on it.”
Neasa nestled with the hunting dog, its muzzle still warm and moist from the weasley man, “Well all of the faces they caught on camera at Raven’s Skull anyway.”
“But people are looking out for the tattoos as well,” Teefa mumbled as she dragged the bodies side by side.
Neasa came over to help, “The frenzy that ‘Merlin’ report has whipped up has kind of spiralled out of control. Vigilantes are scurrying about everywhere searching you out. They seem to think our blood works like yours.”
Teefa shook her head angrily, “Media aren’t helping any either, broadcasting that shit twenty four seven!”
Gudrik slung the lead stranger’s body over his shoulder and carried it to the others.
Neasa continued, “So far, they’ve all been way out of their depth. Malaki and Brood did more damage to each other than that first big group did to us. Some are after the money and some are after eternal life. Even George had herself a run in.” Gudrik spun to look at her. “One of the illiterates recognised her from the paper, despite the fact they are suggesting you killed her, or whatever they say you did. He started gulping down her blood.” Alarm spread across Gudrik’s face.
Teefa chuckled, “See babe I told you he loved her.”
“Ahhh, that’s sweet,” Neasa smiled. Gudrik blushed and postured as he slung the corpse down onto the ground.
“She’s okay, rammed a fork in his eye and got away. She’s with Kahn and Malaki hiding in the city,” finished Teefa.
“That is good to hear.”
“Yeah there are a lot of murders being attributed to you at the moment. Have you been going nuts or are they are just blaming you for everything?” Teefa asked. Gudrik just looked at her and raised an eyebrow to the bodies at his feet, she gave a cheeky smile.
“We stayed just in case you returned. Crave and Brood went off together as did Ami and Dorian. We can take you to George if you like,” added Neasa sweetly.
“No,” replied the Warlock, “This will all be over soon.”
Gudrik stepped the women through Fish’s plan. They were skeptical, objecting and refusing to play any part in it. However, as Fish’s logic was slowly applied to the situation they did begin to accept it, if only in theory. “It may actually be better than an endless life of being hunted,” Neasa relented. She drifted deep in thought. “There’s a children’s hospital in the city. I can take you there…..if you are certain about this.”
Despite Gudrik’s reluctance to involve the Inscribed any deeper, he had to face the facts. He knew nothing of the city, he couldn’t the read the modern language and with his now infamous face, he couldn’t just walk around asking for directions. Which ever way he looked at it, he needed their help. Begrudgingly the Warlock accepted Neasa’s offer, they were forever entwined with him now anyway, no matter what he wanted to believe.
They burned the hunters’ bodies on crude driftwood pyres below the high tide mark where the coming waters would take the remains. They ate a meal and slept the night at the safe house. They didn’t sleep in the house though; the chances of being hunted while dreaming were too high. Instead they slept in hammocks nestled high in the rafters of the shed.
Once again Gudrik dreamed his nightmare. Trapped in black, he bashed, kicked and punched at the dark walls of his prison. Once again small cracks appeared, water began to trickle in, but he couldn’t break free no matter how hard he tried. Gudrik woke, startled, in a cold sweat. It was still dark.
“You ok?”whispered Neasa from the large double hammock her and Teefa lay in, entwined together.
“Aye, just a dream,” he replied laying back down, though in truth it had felt far too real to have been a dream. The fear, the anger and the claustrophobia still sent his heart racing. He lay awake until the rays of the sun began to show. Worry and stress were getting the best of him, he was eager to get the day over.
Gudrik toasted some bread and all three showered before the boiler fire was extinguished. They loaded into Teefa’s Land-cruiser, three abreast across the worn vinyl bench seat. Teefa drove, Gudrik took the passenger seat and Neasa huddled in the middle, with her hand gently caressing the inside of Teefa’s knee. Gudrik watched in the rear vision mirror as the only home he had known in a thousand years disappeared behind a hill.
It was a long trip, lengthened again by anticipation. The thin, winding dirt tracks soon met country roads which snaked south and eventually flowed into the wide highway, which seemed like a dream to drive on in comparison. It was a beautiful day, clear, warm and bright. Gudrik soaked it in as though it were his last.
“Were you at the Betrayal?” grunted the Warlock suddenly. His voice almost blended with the engine rumbles.
“I wasn’t,” said Neasa, “But Teefa was.”
“We nearly gave up after it,” Teefa added.
“Understandable with so many dead,” said Gudrik as he watched out the window.
“Wasn’t just the dead but, we were used to loss. Trayue was the most dedicated of us, he was basically leading us at the time. Kahn had been distant, distracted in the years leading up to it, Trayue really stepped up. I still have trouble believing he betrayed us.”
“How many were lost?”
She squirmed in her seat, “Thirty seven lost in the assault, five more lost from injury and eight splintered from the group.” The recall was swift, unhindered; those figures were etched into her mind. They were not simply numbers; it was family she spoke of. Gudrik shook and lowered his head, but momentarily raised it again, looking puzzled.
“Splintered?”
“A few left. They were some of our best too, if not our most compassionate of souls. All good loyal Inscribed, but hard and brutal to a fault.Their inscriptions were chosen with killing in mind, true living weapons. They disagreed with our softer, more discreet campaign. Their fight continued with more of an ‘at all costs’ approach.”
“Look at what we’ve done in the past few days, are we really any different?” interrupted Neasa with a disappointed snort.
“True babe, seems we ended up following the lost Inscribed anyway, but they haven’t been heard from since before the New World.”
“Another twenty nine were
lost there,” added Neasa, “and about five times that many civilians in the process.”
“That all but finished us. I guess you could say we are the dwindling dregs of the order,” sighed Teefa.
“You could always rebuild using my blood,” grumbled Gudrik.
“With Kyran dead, hopefully there is no need for the order to continue. If we can abolish those blood rewards we might actually be able to live a normal life,” dreamed Neasa laying her head onto Teefa’s shoulder.
“Pray this puts an end to it,” Gudrik rumbled.
Neasa’s phone suddenly lit up, interrupting the discussion. It began to sing and dance along the dash as it rang. Teefa scooped it off the dash and looked at the screen. “Kahn,” she said as she answered the call. “Hello.”
Her face showed surprise.
“Yeah.”
The look wiped to one of sorrow.
“What? How?”
It transformed into rage, her cheeks bloomed a pinkish colour.
“Fuck them all!”
Suddenly the rage wiped from her face and in an instant she was cold and pale.
“Say that again?”
The look held.
“Understood, we’ll be there.”
Teefa placed the phone gently onto the dash and sat silent with her eyes locked on the road ahead. The other two occupants of the car looked at her wide eyed, dying to hear what was said on the other side of the conversation.
“That was George,” she finally said, “Malaki is dead.” Neasa’s eyes welled with tears.
Gudrik shook his head softly, “How?”
“They stopped for fuel, there was a squad of greys waiting,” said Teefa, still staring straight ahead.
“But Kyran is dead!” Neasa spouted through sobs, it was question as much as a statement.
“They are soldiers of fortune, someone is still paying them or they wouldn’t be here. The Paladins maybe? The Heir?” mused Gudrik.
Teefa snorted, “Ha, The Heir has been a rumour since the early days. Pure bullshit, he was too egotistical to share the blood with anyone who could have become competition, not even the Paladins. Every bastard of his who ever surfaced ended up dead.” They all paused in thought. “Anyway, there’s more,” Teefa added, “Kahn has called Fortoorhum.” Neasa put her hand to her mouth. Even Gudrik’s hard face showed shock. He understood the word, and understood the ramifications of it, but had no idea exactly how it affected mortals, even ageless ones.
The remainder of the trip was all but silent. Gudrik had seen how much the news had affected the women and decided that he would not press for more information. He was certain that all would become clear soon.
Trust Rebuilt
“Once broken, trust can be challenging to mend.”
The hot water running down George’s back was pure, unadulterated pleasure. The modern shower in the apartment certainly put the camp shower, to which she had become accustomed, to shame. She climbed out and wiped her hand across the foggy mirror. In the slowly fading streaks of clarity, George could make out the pink, almost healed slashes. She ran her fingers across her cheek, they were still raised, they would scar. They were nothing compared to the scars she carried inside.
The apartment was a hidden Inscribed asset, scurried away from view through a series of resales to “friends” of the Inscribed, people who would have been offered the trials had times been different, had the blood source remained. The apartment was now owned by a manufactured alias. Money had never been an issue for the group, collections of valuables had seen to that, but paper trails and legal restrictions had become an increasingly difficult challenge in recent decades. They had worked very hard to keep their properties hidden, though all of their careful secrecy meant nothing with a traitor amongst their ranks.
Crave and Brood had arrived only hours after them. They were lucky enough not to have been identified in the Raven’s Skull footage. So of course they had found themselves shit-faced in a strip club within hours of leaving the beach house. Unfortunately their tattoos were recognised by a group of local lads eager to make a name for themselves. It was in the silent aftermath of the barfight that they had received George’s call. The local lads didn’t protest their departure....well, the conscious one didn’t anyway.
They were sitting cross legged on the carpet when a knock boomed from the door. Kahn checked the peep hole and let the arrivals in. George stared acid at Gudrik from across the room. She greeted the girls lovingly, but did not waste a breath in his direction. His stoney resolve never faltered. “He has no remorse,” thought George.
The Inscribed apartment sat on the fourth level of a residential building only a block from the Drake Mineral Resources tower. It had always provided them with a launching pad for infiltration and observation of Kyran’s comings and goings.
Its furniture was sparser than the beach house, what you might call ‘minimalist’ design. Basically it consisted of a kitchenette, a bathroom and a carpeted space, nothing else. If they slept, it was done on the floor. If they ate, it was done on the floor. If they sat....well you get the picture. The only piece in the apartment which even resembled furniture was a black milk crate. It sat overturned in front of the large window, hidden by heavy, black curtains. It was for Teefa to sit on and spy through the gap in the surrounding buildings.
“Ami and Dorian have not come?” asked Neasa after scanning the faces.
“Not yet,” replied Kahn.
“They will,” added Brood. “They went north west when we split, so they have to back track.”
The group waited for the last of their order. It was a tense wait, very few words were uttered. Everyone kept to themselves. On some faces the anguish was beginning to tell. If Dorian and Ami didn’t show it was a good chance at least one of them was the traitor. No one wanted it to be true of anyone, but what other explanation was there?
Kahn sat by the window, looking more aged and tired than George had seen him. The stress of recent events seemed to weigh on him so heavily that even his agelessness was beginning to falter. Gudrik walked over and sat on the window sill beside him. George made no eye contact, but she listened intently. “What troubles you?” the Warlock rumbled awkwardly, these discussions had never been a strength of his. Kahn shook his head.
“This, Dorian, Ami. Take your pick,” he replied. George suspected the true list to be longer again.
“The girls mentioned what happened. I have to ask, why didn’t you just give your blessing? Why dwell on what once was? It achieved nothing anyway,” grumbled Gudrik.
“A fair point,” thought George.
“In all honesty Gudrik.....I still love her more than anything.”
“Whoa!” It took every ounce of control George had not to spin and stare.
“Our relationship has been told as a torrid extramarital affair, but it wasn’t simply lust. I was ready to throw in my life with Sakura, even ready to throw in my oath. Ami and I were going to leave together. Run from the order, run from the pressures of duty and the life of constant shadow. We wer going to live out our endless days in some tranquil paradise far away,” Kahn continued.
“So why didn’t you?” asked Gudrik.
“Dorian.” A single word which explained everything.
George pretended to nap, all the while riveted to the tale she was eavesdropping on. It seemed that on the day Kahn and Ami had planned to leave, Sakura had gone to her drifting husband to announce that she was pregnant. Kahn may have been done with it all at that stage, but right there, right then, his hands were bound. There was no way he could let his child grow up like he did, fatherless and alone. He would never desert his son. So he gave up his follies and fantasies for an endless life of responsibility and duty. All dreams of a peaceful life with the woman he truly loved were gone. It was a truth none knew other than Kahn.
“My life since then has been awash with guilt. Guilt over betraying Sakura, guilt over hurting Ami and guilt about my thoughts of desertion,” Kahn mumbled.
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“That’s why you haven’t let Dorian take the leadership isn’t it?” suggested Gudrik.
Kahn nodded, “I don’t want him trapped by duty like I was.”
“The past is gone, the future is where you must focus,” grumbled Gudrik. “That was something my father once said, something which has always stuck with me.” Gudrik had never been particularly good at consoling people and he wasn’t sure if it had helped or not, but Kahn gave a thankful nod anyway.
The door boomed again. Everyone anxiously climbed to their feet. George stirred from her false slumber. Kahn opened the door and was met by two icy stares. They didn’t want to be there, that was for sure, but they had come nevertheless. Dorian pushed in past his father without a word, Ami followed. They greeted the other Inscribed. Kahn wasted no time.
“I have called us together because we are at a crossroads. The people we once hid amongst have become the very tool used to hunt us. Kyran is dead, but the greys still function under someone’s orders. The deed we are here to carry out is a grave one, one which has never been done before, one which has been avoided since the establishment of the order. But the mistrust which is brewing must be brought to an end. If we cannot reach terms and once again trust each other we are doomed and the order will crumble.” He took a deep breath and sighed. “Please remove your footwear.” Everyone took off their boots and shoes.
On the base of each familiar’s left foot was a single, tiny, blue rune. It sat completely separate and free of the armour. To Gudrik’s eyes it read ‘Fortoorhum’. It was unique amongst spirit tongue, one of only three words in the entire language represented by a single rune. It was a simple word with a complex meaning and no direct translation in any of the human languages. Though, put into its loosest and most simple of contexts it was similar to karma or judgment, but with repercussions attached; you reap what you sow or death comes of betrayal. It made no sense to George.
When being inscribed, all familiars were marked with the rune. Being a small single rune rather than a long flowing string, it was not as dangerous as an extra blue word. It was the last mark made as fevers begin to show. It was an insurance policy of types. The group would soon speak it together and it would react. In theory, it should compare promises they have made and oaths they have sworn. Anyone who had been true to these would be spared. However, anyone whom had betrayed the group would suffer an agonising future, their consciousness forced to drift for eternity on the low road between realms while their body rotted.......in theory. So the fact that everyone showed was a positive sign that there was in fact no traitor.
Blue Words Page 23
