Tainted Blood Anthology

by Jeff Gunzel

  With a crack, the black straps came down simultaneously. All four horses whinnied in protest, then exploded in different directions. The general’s body erupted in a sea of red, gore painting the streets. Lifeless eyes glassed over, his torso still attached to one arm skipped down the street. Many folk looked away, unable to bear the sight. Others cheered for the dead traitor, pumping their fists in the air.

  Liam fell to his knees, trembling hands entwined in his hair. Everything around him seemed to spin about. Faces contorted before his eyes, as if all those around him had suddenly been possessed by demons. He roared, a savage, mournful wail that forced all those near him to step away. The pain of failing his friend was more than he could bear.

  This time...Alaric had gone too far.

  Chapter 3

  Guards stationed at the front entrance continued about their business, watching the travelers come and go, pulling aside anyone they deemed suspicious so they could be searched or questioned. But most were simply waved by in order to keep the heavy crowds moving. Horses and wagons inched along, careful not to crush any fearless children who ran past, slapping at the slow-turning wheels with sticks.

  Suddenly, the outbound traffic stopped altogether. Unnatural like a river reversing direction, all the traffic began to back the other way. Folk stumbled back, tripping over each other just to get out of the way. The guards at the gate began waving people off, sending them to either side of the street. “Tell Lord Alaric he’s here!” one guard called out, sending another scurrying back towards the keep.

  The lumbering beast ambled through the gate, its head topped with a bony plate and spiny horns all over its large, gray head. Crooked and warped, the horns twisted about in chaotic patterns. Its furry body was striped with gold and black, and its disproportionately thin legs ended in massive, oversized paws with razor-sharp claws.

  Seeing a lavics was extremely rare. Seeing someone ride one was completely unheard of. The rider’s long black hair hung down to the middle of his back, the top portion tied in a topknot to keep it out of his face. Covered from the neck down in a snug black bodysuit, it clung to his bulging arms, accentuating his massive chest. A thick, puckered scar, faded from age but still plenty visible, flowed from the back of his ear and down his neck, disappearing below his collar.

  Two silvery swords crossed his back, both of exquisite quality. Positioned at the back of his shoulders were two small crossbows, so black they seemed to blend in with his body armor. A variety of other bladed weapons were strung around the lavics, some tucked inside of sheaths with ties at the hilt, others in plain sight with nothing more than a bit of twine keeping them attached to the beast.

  Another figure rode directly behind him, trotting along on a sleek black horse with silver chainmail armor draped across its front and side. Although not quite as impressive a specimen as the lavics, the warhorse was clearly a fine animal indeed, more than fit to carry a queen. Its rider might as well have been a ghost. A white cloak covered him from head to toe, the hood drooped low covering his face.

  Together, they rode slowly through the streets of Redwater, folk staring for only a moment before rushing to get out of their way.

  *

  “Alaric!” came an enraged call from out in the hallway. Alaric snapped his fingers, his already assembled soldiers positioning themselves around the table. He knew the mystic would be angry when he gave the order to have the prisoners executed. The only thing to do now was wait out the storm, let Liam calm down until he was ready to listen to reason. So far...things weren’t exactly going as planned.

  “Alaric!” came a second roar just before a heavy boot blasted open the door. Ready soldiers partly unsheathed their blades, a raspy hiss filling the air.

  “Now stop right there!” Alaric ordered, his normally confident voice shaky and unnerved. “You have no right to barge in here and—”

  “Why?!” Liam boomed, his deep voice filling the dining hall. “And it was done in such a brutal fashion. Have you no soul?” His voice softened. “I thought we had reached an understanding.”

  “Bah!” Alaric grunted, the back of his hand sending his full goblet flying across the room. Now that it was out in the open, he was no longer going to tiptoe around Liam’s feelings. “You had an understanding. While you continue to coddle the prisoners as if they’re your children, I do what must be done. Unlike you, I’m not afraid to make the hard choices!”

  “What must be done?” Liam mocked in a stunned whisper. “Hyndrid was innocent. You knew that as well as I.”

  “Leave us,” Alaric ordered, slamming his hand on the table as plates and silverware jumped. Now that Liam was in control of himself, the soldiers no longer seemed necessary. Besides, he knew where this was going, and really didn’t want to have this talk in front of anyone.

  Reluctantly, the soldiers began filtering from the room, flashing suspicious glares at Liam as they did. Although Liam’s rank was significant here in Redwater’s keep, the soldiers knew who had the final say.

  Alaric waited until the clanking of armor was far out of earshot before continuing. “Of course he was innocent,” he said in a rush, still keeping his voice low as if unwanted ears might be lurking in the shadows. “You knew it, I knew it, but the people did not. Liam, the citizens of Redwater were terrified, and rightfully so. All we know is that a large number of soldiers were killed with virtually no explanation. The people were growing restless and needed someone to blame.”

  Appearing strangely calm, Liam raised one of his pointed eyebrows. “So an innocent man died today, because you caved to the pressures of a mob?”

  “Those rumors of his involvement, and possible betrayal of this city,” Alaric pointed, “I did not start them. They merely became a convenient way to solve an escalating problem. And not just any execution would satisfy those who had already condemned him. It had to be savage, a violent, visual display that would leave no doubt that justice had been served.” He sighed, throwing himself back in his chair. “I took no joy in that, if that’s what you’re waiting to hear,” he added, looking away. “At the loss of a single life, I have regained control of my entire city. Is that not a fair trade?”

  “No, it is not,” Liam corrected, his ice-cold eyes boring holes into Alaric’s skull. “All you managed to do was buy a little more time. Those attacks still remain a mystery. Nothing has been solved.”

  “Agreed,” Alaric cut in, fingers drumming nervously across the table again and again. “That is why additional steps have already been taken.” He leaned forward in his chair, hands clasped directly in front of Liam. “And as such, these sorts of decisions have always been your weakness, Liam. You do not have the ability to see anything beyond your own nose. You lack the gift of forward thinking. I, on the other hand, understand that a ruler must remain several steps ahead at all times. This is why I run Redwater, and you shall forever remain my right hand.”

  “Again, you are mistaken,” Liam replied, frost dripping from every word. “Your bloodline is the reason you run Redwater, not your intelligence, and not your ‘forward thinking,’ as you so put it.” He leaned forward and clasped his hands, mirroring Alaric’s pose. “And it is most certainly not your compassion...my lord.” Not once did Liam raise his voice. There was no need.

  “Your jealousy is beneath me,” Alaric hissed, eyes narrowing dangerously. “My father was wise to choose me over you, and today I shall prove it yet again. While you were playing caretaker to criminals who have no right to draw breath in my city, I send word, and have already acquired the aid of a most capable individual. Owen Dunwich will be in Redwater soon, possibly even today.” He found the look of shock on Liam’s face was more than gratifying.

  “Owen Dunwich?!” Liam repeated, both hands flattening out on the table. “You sent for the Demon Hunter? Are you mad?!”

  “On the contrary. I’m in complete control,” Alaric corrected smugly. “As you’ve already stated, the death of General Coleth did little more than buy us some time. Ra
ther than sitting on our hands, I’ve reached out to a legend in the profession and acquired his services. Whatever is going on in the wilds of Ayrith, he’s sure to get to the bottom of it.”

  “That man is little more than a renowned murderer,” Liam protested, surging to his feet, forcing his chair to topple back. “A cold-blooded mercenary whose blade goes to the highest bidder! He can’t be trusted.”

  “And guess who was the highest bidder?” Alaric retorted, also rising from his seat.

  “Lord Alaric?” came a voice from the doorway. There stood a nervous-looking man, rubbing his hands anxiously. “Pardon my interruption, sir. Your guests are here.”

  “Then send them up,” said Alaric, dismissing the man with a flick of his hand. “You there,” he snapped his fingers at a servant passing in the hall. “Go to the kitchen and fetch us some food and wine. Go!” After a brief curtsy, the young girl scurried off. “And you,” he growled, pressing a finger against Liam’s chest. “Why don’t you go play nursemaid with the prisoners while the adults discuss the fate of our city? I assume you’ll sing them a lullaby, or something else just as useless.”

  Liam’s chest expanded as he took in a deep breath, then closed his eyes when he slowly exhaled. “I’m afraid your modest request is impossible,” he replied. “You’ve already murdered most of them in cold blood.” He bowed his head. “I take my leave, Lord Alaric.” Disgusted, he turned and stormed into the hall.

  Making his way towards the steps, he slowed at the sound of heavy footsteps making their way up. The Demon Hunter came into view. Their eyes met as he ascended the last step. A strange gray color, the hunter’s eyes locked onto Liam. Neither spoke, heads rotating as they passed, each daring the other to look away first. A cloaked man in white flashed across Liam’s vision, redirecting his gaze. A bit shorter than the hunter, the man moved with an eerie grace seen only in trained assassins.

  “You’ll find him in there,” Liam spoke, pointing to the open door on their left. With barely an acknowledgment, the fearsome figures entered the dining hall. Already Liam could hear Alaric spouting enthusiastic welcomes, and knew the wine was sure to start flowing shortly. This was no longer his concern. Let Alaric deal with the hunter. The madman was his problem now. It was high time Liam got back to his lab. There were more tests that needed to be completed.

  Let’s find out what you really are...Viola.

  *

  Liam shook the vial of blood, then held it up near the light of a lantern. Thin and watery, he wasn’t sure what to make of it just yet. A series of random tests was simply out of the question. There wasn’t enough time or resources, so all he could do was measure one likely probability against another and work up from there.

  Thumbing through one of his many massive tomes, he finally found the page he was looking for. Repeating the list several times in his head before pulling his nose from the book, he shuffled over to his shelf and managed to pick out all the ingredients needed. Next, precisely measured liquids were mixed with dashes of white and brown powder. After adding a few drops of Viola’s blood, he held the mixture over a tiny flame with a pair of tongs. Within seconds, the concoction bubbled briefly, then turned black.

  He frowned at the beaker, fingers stroking his long mustache in thought. The lack of a clear result could only mean one thing. Not unlike the ash mixture, her blood was not pure. Whatever her race, she was apparently some sort of hybrid, a mix of at least two species, possibly more. Rare, indeed.

  With little choice left, he made his way towards an old, dust-covered trunk in the corner. Reaching under his shirt, he retrieved a key strung around his neck. He never parted with it, even when he was sleeping. After jiggling the lock, a thin cloud of dust sifted into the air as he threw the lid back. It had been ages since he needed any of these special items.

  Scattered about were rare insects floating in preservatives, dried herbs that could only be obtained from faraway lands, and old vials of dried blood from various creatures, many of which hadn’t walked the realm for many years. It was going to be another sleepless night, but rest was the last thing on Liam’s mind. Tongues could lie, appearances could deceive, but blood was a straight-lined map to the truth that couldn’t be denied.

  *

  Eyes reddened yet still plenty alert, Liam set down another beaker. Green and bubbling, it was another of several filling up multiple holders. He ambled over to a piece of parchment at the end of the table and frantically began scribbling, dipping his feather in the inkpot several times before he was through. He set the parchment on a stack of others, allowing it to roll back into its former shape. Notes, charts, and the details of each test so far lay about in an unorganized heap.

  His hand trembled as he uncorked the blood vial marked “laberath sample.” Was he getting close? These sorts of tests rarely came with black or white conclusions. A blade of grass was vastly different than a tree, yet both had plenty in common when compared to a stone. So far, the night had proved far more useful in determining what she wasn’t...than what she was. Each test result led closer to another probability, which had slowly guided him to this final theory.

  She was at least partly human, of this much he was certain. With an effort, he stopped his hand from shaking and managed to scrape a bit of dry laberath blood into the vial. This sample was so rare, Liam figured he was probably holding a thousand gold pieces’ worth. Next, he added a few drops of Viola’s blood. He’d been at this all night, and her original blood sample was nearly spent.

  He hesitated a moment, going over the possibilities in his mind. He would have never started with this test, but this was where the night’s results had led him. Determined, he added a small amount of blue liquid and began swirling the contents. The colors mixed, clouding until the liquid went dark. Moments later the muddy mixture began to clear, starting from the base and working its way up. After a minute, the liquid looked no different than water from a spring.

  The vial slipped from his fingers, shattering against the floor. He stumbled back, luckily landing in an open seat behind him. “Impossible,” he mumbled, staring at the far wall with a blank expression. Numb, he sat in silence for a time before pulling himself together. Forcing himself to accept the reality of it, he rose from his seat and went back to his bookshelf. Finger tracing along the rows of bindings, he eventually found the one he was looking for.

  With an effort, he pulled the heavy book free and slammed it on the table, dust rising all around him. The binding crackled as he turned the yellowed pages. His head swam with swirling emotions, nearly all conflicting with one another. On one hand, she could just be the greatest discovery ever found, an impossible mutation that shouldn’t even exist. On the other hand, the very concept that human blood could mix with such a being...was terrifying.

  *

  Several pages torn from his book in hand, Liam bounded up the steps. Despite his disagreements with Alaric, he was still obligated to report any relevant information, especially a finding of this magnitude. Rushing down the hall, he glanced into the dining area as he passed. He stopped, a bit surprised. He hadn’t expected to see Alaric still in here. He must have been here all night!

  Scattered plates of half-eaten stuffed pigeon were slung around the table, along with a few empty goblets, one turned on its side with a trail of red running across the white cloth. Unsure, Liam approached the obviously drunk man sitting alone. Eyes glassy, Alaric stared at the flickering ball of wax that was once a full-size candle.

  “My lord?” said Liam, cautiously taking a seat across from him. “My lord, where is the hunter and his companion? I assume your meeting went smoothly as planned?” When Alaric’s eyes drifted towards his half-full goblet, Liam pushed it with his fingertips, subtly sliding it just out of reach. It was too early for Liam to be tolerating such foolishness. He needed Alaric to sober up and clear his mind.

  Alaric’s lazy eyes rolled towards Liam. “The hunter and his apprentice retired to their rooms many hours ago,” he said, his voice
uncharacteristically soft. He sounded exhausted.

  “Apprentice, you say,” Liam repeated with a nod, at least getting one relevant answer to his many questions. “Then why are you still here? Still drinking. All by yourself. Where they able to provide us with any relevant information regarding the attack?” The string of questions was really just an attempt to get Alaric talking.

  “The attack,” Alaric repeated, his voice so very soft. “Owen and I spoke of this at length. It appears these assaults are happening all over Ayrith, each resulting in a single survivor left to tell the tale.” He motioned towards three tiny rolled-up parchments on the edge of the table. “Even as Owen informed me of what he knew, messenger birds have been landing throughout the night. Every nearby town and city is calling for aid, each one unaware that this is happening everywhere.”

  Liam bit his tongue, the vision of his friend being torn to pieces right before his eyes flashing in his mind. Again, more proof that his death was meaningless. As badly as he wanted to point that out, now was not the time. Something big was happening here, and they needed to be united on all fronts. More bickering would accomplish nothing.

  “And what are they reporting? I need specifics,” Liam said, reaching through the rolled parchments. He read the alerts one at a time. They were so similar, they might as well have been written by the same person. White powder being dropped from above... Large albino men with pink eyes moving through the white dust and attacking from underneath... Their limbs shifting shape to form solid weapons... Help us, we can’t fend off another attack... The notes where chilling.

  “I killed him.”

  “What?” said Liam, suddenly realizing Alaric was speaking. His tone was so feeble it was nearly unrecognizable.