Tainted Blood Anthology

by Jeff Gunzel

  A blurred shadow from the corner of her eye drew her attention. Without thinking, she ran towards it, cutting through the brush to catch up with whatever it was. The sound of a cracked branch followed immediately by a pained cry slowed her pace. “Hello?” she called, cautiously sneaking around the next tree. “Is somebody hurt? Do you need—”

  There on the grass lay a boy clutching his ankle. His pale white face looked up, bloodred eyes wide with fright. Black lips glistened with fresh blood from his most recent kill.

  “That was about ten years ago,” said Assirra, looking up with glassy eyes as she reminisced about the past. “I took him in that very night and kept him hidden right here in the temple.”

  “Why did you never speak of this?” Thatra asked, bewilderment etched all over her face.

  “Because I know our people and their general intolerance for outsiders,” Assirra answered sharply. “He would never have been accepted. Odao does not turn his back on any living creature, so nor would I.” She paused, hanging her head briefly. “Although in hindsight, leaving that creature be would have been better for all.”

  “I am not some creature!” Viola protested.

  “No, of course you are not,” Assirra agreed, regretful of her poor choice of words. “But Jarlen most definitely was, and one I would have left to the wolves had I known what he was capable of.”

  “Everyone, please calm down,” said Liam, facing around the room with his hands raised. “Assirra, please finish your story.”

  “Very well,” she replied, looking down while smoothing her dress that didn’t particularly need smoothing. “Orfi and I were the only ones who knew. It didn’t take him long to formulate an elixir to keep Jarlen’s cravings in check. At one point I truly believed that the time had come to reveal him to the rest of the village. But one day...” She shivered at the memory.

  “Why do I have to wear that?” Jarlen asked, stomping his feet.

  “For the same reason you’ve never been allowed to leave this room until now,” said Assirra, shaking a brown hooded cloak in front of his face. “There is a merchant passing through on the main road today, and I need to buy some goods. Believe it or not, I do have dealings with humans on occasion. I can’t leave you here alone, so you’ll need to accompany me.”

  “Fine,” he groaned, snatching the cloak from her hand. He slipped it over his head and pulled the hood low to prove it would hide his face.

  “Good, that will work,” said Assirra. She peeked out into the hall to make sure no one was roaming the chapel. “You know how this works,” she whispered without turning around. “Go out the window and meet me fifty yards out or so. And make sure no one sees you.”

  Jarlen nodded, then tiptoed down the hall and up near the window. He peeked out briefly to see who was around, then glanced back at Assirra. “How much longer do I have to keep hiding like this?” he asked, frowning. With his red eyes and white hair, the sad expression looked odd on what would otherwise be considered a rather frightening set of features.

  “It won’t be much longer,” Assirra assured him, but even she could hear the doubt in her voice. Wishful thinking was not the same as believing it. “Now go,” she said in a much firmer tone. After glancing left and right, he leapt through the window and blurred into a living cone of black birds. The spinning funnel zipped high above the treetops and over the heads of unsuspecting tarrins below.

  Assirra walked casually onto the outside platform, then descended the stairs spiraling around the boxa tree. Eyeing the tarrins going about their business, she walked casually between them while trying her best to look natural. Responses varied from nods of acknowledgement as she passed, to deep bows, noses practically touching the ground. To those who bowed low, Assirra promptly grabbed them by the arms and hoisted them back to their feet. There was no need for such formalities, and quite frankly, she didn’t need the extra attention right now.

  “High Cleric!” came a call from behind. Assirra tensed, then turned back to face the young female running up to her. Like Assirra, her hair was long and blonde. Despite how thick it was, it did little to cover the curled horns spiraling back from the sides of her head. “Assirra, where are you running off to?” she asked, mildly winded from the short run.

  “A merchant’s wagon will be coming down the main road at any moment, Tentris. If you will excuse me, I must catch them before they pass.”

  “They will sell to you?” Tentris asked, surprised to hear that the High Cleric was off to barter with humans.

  “I have had dealings with these humans before,” Assirra admitted. It was true enough; she had made several purchases from Shadowfen’s merchants over the years. To them, the gold of a tarrin was just as good as the gold of a human. True businessmen cared little about race. “They know me well enough. It’s never been a problem before.”

  “Better let me come with,” said Tentris, already beginning to lead the way. “I can’t have you go alone. It’s simply not worth the risk.”

  “Uh...wait,” Assirra replied, hurrying to catch up. She grabbed Tentris by the shoulder and spun her back. “No, you can’t come with me.” Tentris flashed her a puzzled look, her creamy white eyes narrowing slightly. “They will only have dealings with me. If they see you, they will become suspicious and ride on past.” It was only a slight exaggeration. Assirra really was the only tarrin they had ever dealt with.

  “I’ll take you most of the way and then hide nearby,” the other tarrin reasoned.

  “No!” Assirra replied sharply. Startled, Tentris took a step back. Her only intent was to help protect her High Cleric from any unforeseen predicaments. Stunned and even a bit hurt, she drew in on herself while nodding her understanding. “Tentris,” Assirra said softly, seeing the hurt on the woman’s face. That had never been her intention. “I didn’t mean that to be—”

  “No explanation is required,” Tentris blurted in a rush before spinning away. Within seconds she was no longer in sight.

  Assirra clenched her fists in frustration. It was hard enough trying to keep this secret, and now it was beginning to affect her relationships with others. “But not for much longer,” she said to herself, continuing on her way. Soon, the time would come when she would present Jarlen to the entire village. Surely they would accept him. True, he suffered from the thirst, but she and Orfi had proven that it could be controlled. The two of them had taken it upon themselves to make sure he would not be a danger to himself or anyone else. So far, it seemed to be working.

  Hiking through the tall shrubbery, she glanced up at the treetops expectantly. Sure enough, a black funnel whirled from branch to branch, following her movements from above. Now and then the shadowy blur settled on a branch, melting itself back into a humanoid form just to gaze down on her and grin. With a stern look, Assirra snapped her fingers and pointed to the ground next to her. He spun down from the treetops, cawing black birds reshaping right beside her.

  “The main road is just up ahead,” she explained. “I need you to walk next to me like a normal person. No more buzzing around in the trees, understand?” Jarlen said nothing as he pulled the hood of his cloak forward, covering his face. Ignoring his irritated groan, she took him by the hand and led him on.

  “You asked me something earlier,” she said, now able to see the reddish dirt road just past the sparse tree line. “You asked me how much longer you would have to live like this. Well, I’ve decided it’s high time that I introduce you to the rest of the villagers. You have earned my trust, and therefore I believe you shall earn theirs as well. In due time,” she added as an afterthought. She was more than aware that the trust of the tarrins would not come easily or quickly.

  Together, they stepped out onto the road, and not a moment too soon. Rising dust from churning wagon wheels could be seen off in the distance. As usual, the merchant’s wagon was right on schedule.

  The white wagon with gold trim came creaking up. As usual, the merchant was surrounded by hired mercenaries, each sitting high in
their black mounts. Four in front, two at the rear, these leathery-looking fellows were heavily armed. All had sheathed blades strapped to their sides with visible daggers strapped crossing their chests. Two of them had crossbows strapped to their backs as well. The caravan stopped before the horned creature with her hooded companion.

  “Good day, Rykun,” Assirra said, eyeing the grizzled, white-haired driver wearing a long brown coat and a tall black hat. Even though his face was well hidden behind a bushy brown beard, it was clear there was no smile behind those hard brown eyes.

  “Assirra,” he grumbled, spitting the name as if it burned his tongue.

  “And what be this creature here?” one of the swords for hire barked, leaning in from his saddle.

  “Never mind that,” said Rykun, waving off the swordsman. “We’ve done business before. Her gold is good.” He refocused his attention on Assirra. “So what is it you need this time, goat?” he huffed. Assirra shifted uncomfortably as the mercenaries laughed. Among her own people no one would dare speak to her in such a way. But among these humans, she was not the High Cleric, or anyone of rank, for that matter. She was nothing but an alien creature to their eyes. A thing to be tolerated, at best. She found their boorish behavior to be quite a culture shock.

  “Grain,” she replied, refusing to look away even under their scrutinizing gazes. “Four sacks if you have them.”

  Rykun’s attention shifted to the hooded figure beside her. “And who might this be, goat?” he asked, ignoring her request. Two of the hired blades slid down off their mounts, approaching cautiously. Assirra put her arm round Jarlen, pulling him closer to her. Rykun had never been all that kind to her, but today he was being outright cruel. What had gotten into him? Why was he showing off to these roughnecks at her expense? No matter, the escalating situation was no longer worth the risk.

  “That’s quite all right,” said Assirra, slowly backing off, inching back towards the forest with her arm still wrapped around Jarlen. “The tarrin have enough grain to last for several more months. Another time, perhaps.”

  “Now hold on there,” said Rykun, motioning towards the other men. They hopped down off their mounts, moving swiftly to cut off any retreat into the forest. “Now, I asked you a simple question, and I expect an answer. Each time you and I have met on this road, you’ve come alone. That’s the way I like it. That’s when I don’t mind doing business with your kind. But now you bring along some shady character who looks like some kind of reaper hidden underneath that hood, and you expect me to look the other way?” He flicked his tall hat, making it sit up higher on his mostly bald head. “Well I just find that to be outright suspicious. Deceitful, even. Now, what say you let my boys here take a good look at what you’re hiding so we can all go about our business?”

  “What has gotten into you, Rykun?” Assirra gasped, her head turning this way and that as the men closed in. “Allow my companion and I to return to our village and that will be the end of it. I promise you will not see me again.” Under her forearm, she could feel Jarlen’s neck vibrating with a low, gurgling growl. His defensive reaction to the hostile situation was primal, more like an animal following its survival instincts than that of a frightened boy.

  “Your companion is the problem,” Rykun corrected, hopping down from the wagon. “You’re hiding something, and before we head back to Shadowfen, we’re going to find out what that something is.” He motioned towards one of the men, then pointed to the cloaked figure.

  “Don’t touch him!” Assirra protested, trying to twist Jarlen out of the way. It was no use. The man grabbed the top of the boy’s hood, along with a fair amount of hair, and yanked it up and back. Twisted with rage, the ghostly white face glaring back at him snarled, bloodred eyes blazing with violent intent.

  “What the—” the man uttered just before Jarlen snatched his wrist. With a twist, his arm straightened, elbow facing down. Jarlen jumped, his knee driving straight up as it crashed through the man’s elbow. Instantly bending the wrong way, the mercenary’s arm cracked like a twig. Eyes wide, he watched his broken arm flop like the pendulum of a clock, the injury occurring so swiftly that his brain hadn’t even registered the pain yet. Suddenly, the delayed wave of fire rushed clear up to his shoulder, bringing the screaming mercenary to his knees.

  “Jarlen, stop!” Assirra shrieked, but it was too late for that. A blood lust had taken hold of the boy, savage instincts pushed too far by a pack of arrogant, yet physically inferior beings. Blades flashed from sheaths as the surrounding mercenaries rushed in.

  Jarlen sidestepped the first blade, watching it float down in front of his face before easily ducking a second. To his eyes, these bladesmen were moving in water, far too slow to be dangerous. To their eyes, this creature seemed to be teleporting around, first here before flashing a short distance away. The two mercenaries swung wildly, hitting nothing but air with each pitiful slash.

  “Stop! All of you, stop!” Assirra screamed, backing away from the whirling steel. All she could see was the backs of the two swinging at Jarlen, the remaining four simply cutting off any retreat. She turned to Rykun, who was just now approaching her. “Call them off, I beg you!” she shouted, her large bluish eyes filled with panic. “Please don’t hurt him! Please don’t—”

  A shrill ringing sound forced her to look back. Had they killed him? She didn’t want to see, yet couldn’t force herself to look away. The two swordsmen had stopped their movement, each standing perfectly still. Two small points appeared to protrude from each of their backs. When the points retracted back into their bodies, the two mercenaries fell to the ground, armored chests stained with blood, eyes wide open. Jarlen stood still, his bladed hands melting back into his arms, blood trickling from his fingertips down his wrists.

  He glanced left and right, then fired out his arms once more as freshly formed blades impaled two more mercenaries. Jarlen looked at Assirra, his bloodred eyes cold and uncaring. The flesh blades retracted once more, sending two more bodies crumpling to the ground. He shook his wet, sticky hands, sending drops of liquid red speckling across the ground.

  “Oh no,” Assirra muttered, barely able to generate any sound. It was all like a bad dream. All she wanted to do was wake up. Having seen enough, Rykun scrambled back towards his wagon, leaping up in a single jump. “No more, Jarlen. It’s not too late,” Assirra pleaded, her eyes filled with tears. “You’re better than this. Stop. Stop now!”

  Slowly, Jarlen shook his head back and forth, his black lips curling up into a faint smile. “You’re wrong,” he sneered, before turning to face the last two. Already they were in full retreat, running down the road in a full panic. “This is exactly what I am.” In a burst of speed, he caught up to them within seconds, easily impaling each from behind. Not even stopping to savor the effortless victory, he leapt into the air and began spinning around. The funnel of black birds streaked back the other way, heading straight for the fleeing wagon.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Assirra screamed as he blurred over her head. “No more bloodshed, please! Just let him be!”

  The rider snapped his reins, urging the horses on as fast as they could gallop. Panic gripping his heart, he glanced back again and again, his only hope being to put as much distance between himself and that creature as possible. Suddenly, a squawking funnel blurred up into the seat next to him. Liquid black, the form melted together into a humanoid shape. Tranquil red eyes stared Rykun right in the face.

  “I just don’t understand it,” said Jarlen, his voice icy calm. “She keeps me hidden away from the humans as well as the tarrins, and says it’s for my own protection. But it’s so clear to me now. You are all just like sheep, whereas I am the wolf.” He grinned, black lips stretching back to reveal all his perfect, white teeth.

  “No. Please, I’m begging you,” Rykun pleaded, his whole body trembling as the reins slipped from his hands.

  “I expect to hear a lot of that in the coming years,” Jarlen whispered. “For you see, I am no
t the one who needs protecting. A being as weak as you isn’t meant to survive.” He lunged, teeth sinking deep into Rykun’s neck. The driver’s high-pitched scream soon became a wet gurgle as blood fled his body at an alarming rate. For Jarlen, this final kill was no longer about revenge. He would feed on this flesh bag simply because he wanted to.

  All Assirra could see from her view was the wagon drift off the road before turning over on its side. “Jarlen!” she called, running towards the wreck. Upon seeing his outline through the rising dust, she slowed, approaching with caution. “Jarlen?” she repeated, unsure of what to make of what she had just witnessed. He approached, his hood pulled low to shadow his face. Even from here, she could see the dark blood dripping from the bottom of his chin. He stopped in front of her, standing in silence. She glanced over his shoulder at the overturned wagon; one of its wheels was still spinning. “What have you done?” she gasped, her soft voice a stuttering whisper.

  “You were wrong,” he said, thick drops of blood trickling from his chin before speckling the dirt at his feet. “Humans are nothing to fear. They are nothing at all.”

  “How could you?” She dropped to her knees, tears flowing down her cheeks. “They had the right to live. All creatures have the right to live!”

  Jarlen threw back his hood, his bloodstained face cold and emotionless. “Not all of them,” he said, pushing past her to head back to the chapel.

  With bloody bodies littering the street, Assirra wept there for hours. That innocent boy was nothing more than a cold-blooded killer. There was no way he could live among the tarrins. For the sake of her own safety as well as the entire village’s, something had to be done.

  Assirra paused a long while, clearly pained from reliving the agonizing memory. “I waved down the next caravan I saw,” she eventually went on. “I told them the truth about what had happened. Of course, they could see the bodies for themselves. They promised to report the information to the king once they reached Shadowfen. Three whole days I lived with that monster, pretending everything was all right, pretending he had done nothing wrong! Each night I feared for my life, wondering whether or not he might kill me in my sleep.