Tainted Blood Anthology

by Jeff Gunzel

  “Er...none taken,” he mumbled, his gaze finding comfort in the mirror once more.

  “You folks really don’t know who that is?” the barkeep asked, finally making it over to them while rubbing the inside of a glass with his filthy apron. A round of blank stares more than answered his question. “Why, people travel hundreds of miles just to see that creature fight in the pit.” He gestured around his establishment with a sweeping hand. “That’s why my place is so busy right now, and it’s going to be even more crowded come tomorrow. Whenever that thing is scheduled to brawl, the whole city starts bustling with outsiders. And most of them bring plenty of coin with them!”

  “Why is this place going to do more business tomorrow?” Liam asked, daring to glance at the arm on his shoulder once more. It obviously made him uncomfortable, so naturally the redhead was going to stay right there and make a game of it.

  “Why do you think, old man?” the barkeep laughed, ignoring the other patrons calling for service. Intrigued by these strangers who seemed to know nothing about Shadowfen, he wanted to keep talking a little longer. He snapped his fingers towards the redheaded girl. “Nana, go assist those folks over there while I chat with these fine folks.”

  With a pouting stomp, she reluctantly dropped her arm from Liam’s shoulder and shuffled over to the other side of the bar. Liam breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Now, I just told you that outsiders come from miles around just to watch that beast perform like some kind of trained animal,” the barkeeper continued. “Well, then, what does that make tomorrow?”

  “Jarlen is going into the pit,” Viola whispered, more to herself than to anyone in particular.

  “Right! That wild beast is set to— Wait. What?” he responded, scratching his head. “That thing doesn’t have a name, young lady. It doesn’t even talk. Where did you hear—”

  “How long has Shadowfen been featuring this particular event?” Liam asked quickly, trying to draw the barkeep’s attention away from Viola.

  “Not sure exactly,” he admitted, rubbing his chin in thought. “I moved to Shadowfen and opened this tavern around seven years ago. The fights had been going on at least since then. That was part of the reason I moved here in the first place. There was so much money flowing into this city that it seemed like the perfect place to start my business. And I was right. Best decision I’ve ever made.” Still rubbing his chin as he sized up these strangers, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. He took an extra long look at the tarrin, as if only noticing her now for the first time. “Say, if you outsiders aren’t even here to see Shadowfen’s renowned freak show, they why are you folks here? Where are you all from?”

  A crash drew their attention to the table at the center of the room. At first, Liam was relieved by the well-timed distraction. But upon seeing the source of the disturbance, he wasn’t so sure anymore. “Who ye calling a cheat?” came the all-too-familiar voice. Liam sighed, smacking a hand to his forehead. A broken chair at his feet, Owen was holding a man in each hand, gripping them by the throat. With a mighty heave, he sent both men tumbling over the table as dice scattered across the floor.

  Chair in hand, another charged him from behind. The hunter whirled about just as the swung chair crashed down on the top of his head. Shattering into pieces, it forced Owen’s legs to buckle under the heavy blow. But after stumbling back a step or two, the hunter shook it off and regained his footing. Blood trickling down between his eyes, he grinned, sending chills down the other man’s spine. A blow like that could have killed a normal man. How was this stranger still on his feet?

  In a near panic, the other mercenary swung a fist with all his strength. Catching the fist with one hand, Owen wrapped the man’s arm underneath his own in a single, sweeping motion. With deceptive ease, the hunter lifted his wrist, cracking the poor man’s arm as if it were a dry twig. With a shrill, ear-piercing scream, the other mercenary dropped to his knees, his arm bent grotesquely. It flopped about as if it had no bones at all.

  “Grab him and get him out of here,” Liam ordered Thatra, just before rushing the table. But Xavier was already there in a flash, practically dragging Owen towards the door.

  “They said I cheated,” Owen protested, reluctantly allowing his apprentice to wrestle him away.

  “Did you?” Xavier asked, promptly kicking the doors open to lead him out into the street.

  Owen paused, as if considering how to answer the straightforward question. “Bah! That’s not the point!” he reasoned. Viola and Thatra slipped out behind them, leaving Liam to try and clean up this mess.

  Liam kneeled before the downed man writhing in agony. By now he had stopped screaming, but was clearly in tremendous pain. His body rolled back and forth, feet kicking the air. His teeth were clenched. “Shh...you’re all right,” Liam whispered, carefully lifting the ruined arm. Upon closer inspection, it was clear this was not just a single break. Owen’s crushing force had practically shattered the bone. “There is no pain,” Liam said softly as a gentle glow radiated up from his fingertips. “Nothing out of the ordinary happened here today. You will remember nothing.”

  In fits and jerks, the shattered arm seemed to straighten on its own. In ripples of movement, bone fragments shifted back and forth beneath the surface of the skin. The man’s labored breaths began to slow. A moment later, he held the mended arm up, flexing his fingers while looking at it with a confused expression. He looked his arm up and down, then wondered to himself why he was doing that. What was going on with his arm, and why was he sitting on the floor? Liam helped him up, then walked away without saying another word. The other two had regained consciousness and were sitting on the floor rubbing their necks, wondering where that monster of a man had run off to.

  Strolling past the bar, Liam slapped down a coin. “I’d like to buy that man a drink, please,” he said, then took a step towards the door before turning back again. He slapped down two more coins. “For the damage,” he grumbled. He took another long step before taking it right back, then turned to face the barkeep a final time. “For your silence,” he added, slapping down one last coin. That earned him a grin from the barkeep. Irritated, lighter in coin than he had hoped to be so early in their visit, he hurried through the doorway, eager to be out of sight.

  Scanning the busy street, he spotted the rest of the group standing off in the distance. They waved him over, hoping the mystic had been able to clear up the minor misunderstanding. Liam marched towards them with purpose, appearing none too pleased.

  “I uh...suppose ye took care of that little mix-up?” Owen asked, hopeful.

  “As a matter of fact, I did,” Liam hissed. “But my coin purse is now a bit lighter than I would have cared for. In the future, I would suggest you find a way to show a little restraint. Call it a wild guess, but it seems to me that subtlety is not a strength of yours.” Owen opened his mouth to protest, then closed it with a shrug. This didn’t really sound like an argument he could win.

  Closing his eyes, Liam took a deep breath. “No matter,” he continued. “Despite today’s blunder, we’ve learned something important. Viola, we now have some information on your brother. Obviously, he is still alive, which is more than we knew before we got here.” Hands clasped together, she bounced up and down on her toes. Liam put his hands on her shoulders to calm her excitement.

  “But it is also clear that he remains the property of Shadowfen. As of right now, I’m not sure we can do anything to aid him. That said, I don’t see the harm in going to investigate the situation for ourselves. Viola, I’m not saying we can help him, but I promised you we would look into it as long as there was no risk to our primary objective. As long as we’re carful, we can at least do this much.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “If we take you to watch him perform in one of these events, you may very well see him get hurt. I wouldn’t even consider taking you if it weren’t your brother we were talking about. Are you certain you’re up for this?”

  Viola smiled, tilting her head as if not sure
how to answer. “I know this doesn’t make any sense, but even though I’ve never met him, I feel as if we have some sort of bond,” she said. “I can already tell he’s a fighter—a survivor. This has been his life for a whole decade, and yet he’s still alive. Obviously he is not that easy to hurt. I want to go tomorrow. No, I need to go. I need to see him with my own eyes.”

  “Very well,” Liam replied. “Then I promise we shall go. Let’s find ourselves an inn so we can discuss this further.” He flashed a glance towards the hunter. “Owen will be paying for our rooms this evening.” Owen opened his mouth in protest, then closed it with a grunt.

  *

  Stepping lightly, Bella worked her way down the stairway. Each resounding creak underfoot made her cringe. She knew she shouldn’t be down here, knew it was dangerous to keep taking such risks, but this time it was unavoidable. She had good reason. At the bottom of the steps stood the usual soldier with the greasy beard, his dark eyes watching as she approached.

  “Open the door,” she ordered. He didn’t move an inch. His thick whiskers rose with a hidden smile. Bella gritted her teeth, hands balling up in fists. So this was what it had come to. Despite the number of times she had already bribed these guards for their cooperation, as well as their silence, it seemed that now her over-generous compensations had become routine. They had come to expect compensation with each request, and why shouldn’t they? Her hands were tied.

  What was she going to do, go running to the king and complain of his soldier’s growing greed? She could have them executed, but they would most certainly confess to their dealings with the queen in order to bargain to save their own skins. And that was assuming they hadn’t talked already. Who knew how many other soldiers were aware of her ongoing exploits? Gold had bought her certain liberties under the king’s nose, but it hadn’t bought loyalty. Only more gold would do that, and only for a set amount of time. Trapped in her own web, she had no one to blame but herself.

  “A token of my gratitude,” she growled, forcing a coin into his palm. Closing his fingers around it, she wrapped his hand in both of hers, holding it tight for an uncomfortably long time. “In the near future, I would suggest you don’t forget who provides this comfortable living for both you and your family. Any stray thoughts of biting the hand that feeds you would be...inadvisable.” She released his hand with a shove and stepped back as he unlocked the door.

  “Words of wisdom as always, my lady,” he said as she passed by. “But fear not. Not a day goes by when I am not thankful for the good fortune bestowed on myself and my family. After all, our noble king and friend to the people, to whom I am most loyal, is never more than a whisper away.” She missed a step, but continued on as if nothing was wrong. Once again, in a not-so-subtle fashion, she was reminded of the limitations associated with bought loyalty.

  But their loyalty was never the goal. Time was what she was buying, and now it seemed to be in shorter supply than ever before. We can wait no longer, my love. Ignoring the moans of the dying coming from every door she passed, she rushed up to Jarlen’s cell. Ripping the bolt free, she tossed it aside. Throwing her shoulder into the door with a thud, it creaked inward. She stormed in as if the place were on fire.

  Startled by the sudden intrusion, Jarlen sat up with a jolt. Rising from his bed of straw, he brushed himself off while staring at the queen. Her visit was not completely unexpected, but she was usually much more cautious about showing up unannounced. Why so reckless this time? “What is it?” he asked, guessing that something was wrong.

  “Oh, Jarlen,” she whispered breathlessly, falling forward into his arms. The embrace was short-lived. Grasping her shoulders firmly, he pushed her back a step.

  “What is it?” he repeated, not interested in distractions of the flesh while there was obviously something troubling her.

  “The king has set up another match. Tomorrow evening you are scheduled to fight in the pit,” she blurted, the words coming out in a rush.

  “I am aware,” he calmly assured her, removing her clutched hands from his chest. “The guards down here talk freely among themselves. Thinking I can’t understand them, they make no attempt to mind their tongues. I’ve been aware of every match days in advance for as long as I can remember.”

  “This is different!” she said, both fists thumping against his broad chest. “The king has been preparing this for weeks. The intention of this match has been kept a secret, even from me. I only just found out. Their plan is to make the odds insurmountable so as to charge an exotic price for an exotic event. Jarlen, he really plans to kill you this time!”

  He stepped back, the bells woven into his hair jingling softly. “Why would he do such a thing?” he asked, doubtful. “Killing me would mean the end of Shadowfen’s freak show, as well as the endless flow of wealth. The king is no fool. This plan of his benefits no one.” Bella wanted to explain everything to him so he’d understand the king’s intentions, but there was no time. There was never enough time.

  “Jarlen, listen to me,” she said, hands rising up to press against his ears, forcing him to look into her eyes. With her desperate babbling having played itself out, she was under control once more. “We don’t have time for this, so listen to what I’m telling you. There is nothing I can do to stop this or aid you. Not yet, anyway. Once the event is finished and you are victorious as always, they will have minimal guards watching you for the next few days. That small window will be our chance. You and I shall slip out of the city under the cover of darkness the very next night. This, I promise you. But I can do nothing before that. Do you understand what I’m telling you?” His face was emotionless, but he nodded slowly in her grasp.

  “You have to survive,” she continued, finally releasing his face. “Make it through the tournament, and our enraged king will set another event almost immediately with the intent of doubling the price. It won’t matter, because you and I will be long gone by that time. But you have to survive tomorrow. You have to win!” Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. Her eyes locked with his.

  “I assure you, your king has underestimated me,” he said, voice steely as always. “Whatever pets he thinks he has assembled to stop me will not live to see another day.” He turned his back to her, lowering his head. “You should go.” She nodded agreement even though he wasn’t looking, then turned to leave. “And thank you for the warning,” he said, knees dropping back down on his bed of straw. He heard the door slam shut.

  The queen moved drunkenly down the hall. Walls warping before her eyes, they seemed to breathe with life as she swayed with each step. Death moans echoing from beneath every door sounded like cackling laughter to her ears. The thought of losing him made her chest ache, but she needed to hold it together. Soon, this would all be over with. Soon, she and Jarlen would share a life together just as they had planned for so long now. You cannot die on me.

  *

  Staring up at the ceiling, Viola lay awake on her bed. Tomorrow she would see her brother for the first time, and her stomach was in knots. Sleep would not come easily this night. But aside from the anxiety she was dealing with, the room was rather nice. It was by far the nicest place she had ever stayed in. Liam had pressed Owen to pay for nice rooms in a nice place as a way to apologize for the trouble he had caused. Sinking into her soft mattress, Viola wasn’t about to complain.

  After another half hour had passed, she gave up and rolled from the mattress. She would try again later, but was too wound up to just lie here like this. Hands on her hips, she glanced around at the finely decorated room. There were two paintings on the wall, one of a winding path leading through a forest, the other of a mountain, its wide peak tipped with white snow.

  Over a freshly lacquered mantle was a set of wooden figurines—tiny soldiers, mostly, but there were a few animals as well. Handcrafted, each was painted with surprising detail. Remembering something she had seen years ago when a pack of traveling entertainers came and performed in the streets of Redwater, she stepped over to the mant
le and picked up three figurines. With a lion in one hand and two soldiers in the other, she raised her head and pulled back her shoulders while taking a deep breath.

  Tossing them up in the air, her empty hands worked circles around the falling toys. She managed to touch one, slightly misdirecting it while the others simply landed at her feet. She sighed, looking down at the wooden figures. Why didn’t it work? She had seen it done before, men and women with funny clothes keeping balls in the air for long periods of time by simply touching them rapidly. What was that skill called again? Jurggering? Jugglon? Unable to remember, she picked them up and placed them back on the mantle.

  Shrugging off the failed attempt, she went over to the basin in a much smaller attached room. She dipped her hands into the basin, splashing water up over her face. A fragrance in the water left behind a light flowery scent. She sniffed her hands, enjoying the way they smelled for a time. After spending so much time on the road, this pampered treatment was truly a luxury.

  After a final splash, she looked up and caught her reflection in the looking glass over the water. Not wearing her wig or eyepieces, her true reflection stared back at her. Her white hair was a tattered mess. She ran her fingers through it several times. Why was looking different considered such a bad thing? Is this what happened to her brother? Was looking different his only crime? Questions like these would always haunt her.

  Feeling restless, a part of her wanted to go across the hall and knock on Thatra’s door. Having a girlfriend, someone she could talk to about personal things, was fun. Of course, she could go knock on Xavier’s door too. Again, she felt her face flare with heat at the very thought. No no no...it’s late. Everyone’s asleep, just like I should be. Pushing the thoughts from her mind, she went back to her large, comfortable bed. Feeling more relaxed now, it wasn’t that long before she drifted off to sleep.

  Come morning, she woke to a knock at the door. Groggy, she rolled from the bed. Opening the door a crack to peek out, she happily yanked it open when she saw Xavier standing on the other side. Her happy grin at odds with his frown, he stepped through and quickly closed the door behind him. “Viola, you can’t just open the door like that,” he said, whispering for some reason.