Tainted Blood Anthology

by Jeff Gunzel

  Furious, the king slammed his fist into the table next to his chair. It cracked, sending a pitcher tumbling over to shatter on the ground. Servants stepped back, not sure what the unpredictable king might do. How could that creature still be alive? He’d thrown the best he had at it, yet it was still standing. As fast as his temper had flared, the king suddenly turned around with utter calm and began whispering to Diovok. The shaman nodded and stepped forward, a subtle blue glow emanating from underneath his mask.

  To the roar of thousands, Jarlen raised his hands triumphantly. No doubt this mob had certainly gotten their money’s worth. Viola jumped up and down, then turned back to leap into Liam’s arms. Her relief was beyond words. Somehow, someway, her brother had defied impossible odds and survived the rigged tournament. She stepped back, her gaze following Liam’s as he looked up at the sky. The clouds were blackening at an alarming rate. Like drops of milk dripped in black tea, they boiled and rolled in place with an unnatural, violent spin.

  “What’s happening?” Viola asked. Glaring up at the angry sky, Liam grumbled something inaudible. He immediately recognized the summoning energies for what they were. The strands were shockingly powerful. Whoever was conjuring this much energy at once was clearly a dangerous and formidable mystic.

  The stunned crowd looked up at the sky in shocked silence as the winds began to pick up. Gusting funnels scooped up sand from down below, spinning it around to form dancing dust devils. “What’s happening?” Viola repeated, more urgently this time. Her blowing hair snapping around, she grabbed her wig to keep it from flying away.

  A glowing sphere opened across the floor of the sand pit, a silvery-white shimmering color. Jarlen grasped his sword and backed away from it. Suddenly, a stream of white bolts dropped down from the sky, twisting in and out of each other in a weaving spiral of glittery white. Striking the silvery hole, the bolts fanned outward, spidering along the sand like vines of pure energy. Blinding light streaked up from the hole, a flash of brilliance that caused all to cover their eyes.

  Long, spidery, three-clawed hands crept up from the glimmering hole. Hard and ridged, they looked like animated tree branches come to life. A head with four horns peeked up, its single green eye shifting back and forth. Glistening with slimy wetness, its coarse skin seemed to be covered with some sort of jelly. A mouth filled with spiny teeth opened wide, releasing a deafening roar that shook the sand pit. The people watching covered their ears, dropping to their knees from the thunderous roar. Those that hadn’t been floored by the roar turned to run away altogether. This event had turned into pure chaos. This was getting out of control.

  “Grankerling,” Owen gasped, rubbing his ringing ears. He had seen only one before in all his years of demon hunting. “Only a fool would think they could control that thing. We need to go, now!”

  “No, we can’t leave him!” Viola protested, gazing down at the emerging demon reaching up from the shimmering hole. One hand wrapping his wounded stomach, Jarlen continued to back away, dragging his blade along the sand with a weak grip. He was obviously in no condition to fight any longer. “He has no chance! We have to do something!”

  “There is nothing we can do!” Liam shouted over the howling winds, grabbing at her hand to lead her away to safety. “There was never anything we could have done to help your brother. He is the property of Shadowfen. If the city has called for his head, then we are powerless against the forces that be.”

  “You have to try!” Viola shrieked, ripping her hand free of his grasp. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she gazed pleadingly into his eyes. “I’ve never seen this side to you,” she said quietly, wiping a sleeve across her cheek. The winds blew all around them. People were running in panic, yet she held his gaze as if he were the only thing in the world. “I’ve never seen you quit before. I’ve never seen you so afraid that you weren’t even willing to try.”

  With a deep breath, Liam closed his eyes and gently pushed her aside. What could he possibly do against such a foul beast? Somehow, knowing he was powerless against it no longer seemed important. As irrational as it was, the fact that Viola had lost faith in him had hit him like a hammer. How deep were these doubts of hers? Did she also question his ability to keep her safe? Saving her brother was never a priority, yet somehow it had suddenly been placed at the top of the list. There was no plan, no way to deal with such a threat. Still, he needed to try.

  Liam looked at Xavier. “If things go badly, you must get her out of here. I am counting on you to guard her with your life. Do you understand?” Xavier nodded, then hooked her arm and pulled her back a few steps.

  Liam turned back, focusing on the monstrosity writhing up from the shimmering hole. Its thick, slimy tongue lashed about, covered with little bumps that seemed to move. The bumps screamed and cried, revealing themselves to be tiny heads, each with a pained expression. All crying at once, they sounded like babies wailing, shrieking. Their pitch-black eyes blinked as the trapped spirits howled in agony. Truly, this dark creature was the stuff of nightmares. How could such a perversion of nature even exist?

  Liam thumped his staff on the ground once, twice, his eyes beginning to cloud up with a misty white fog. He could never match the power of such a demon. Any spell he cast would most likely just anger it. He growled a few guttural words, his staff thumping against the ground twice more. The eyes of the goat’s head began to shimmer a silvery white. “Orm thundra go ein droothra!” he boomed, slamming his staff down once more.

  A glittery stream of silver streamed forth from the mouth of the goat’s head. Like a dancing serpent, it twisted through the air. The sparkling stream spun about three times, then streaked right towards the demon. Just before striking it, the glittering stream split into five separate strands. The strands of shining dust whipped around the silver hole several times before plunging straight down. Silver energy began to crackle along the sand, moving its way around the mouth of the hole.

  Like a thunderclap, the portal snapped shut with a boom. As if it were a hot razor cutting through butter, it cut through the demon’s hard body, meeting no resistance. The creature’s head and a fair chunk of torso snapped in half. With a horrified expression frozen in time, the chunk of body bounced once, then burst into steaming black ash on the second bounce.

  Enraged, Diovok scanned the fleeing crowd from the royal canopy. Who dared to halt his conjuration? And maybe, more importantly, who here had the strength to do such a thing? Needing to unleash his fury in some way, he waved his hand, unleashing the power in Jarlen’s collar.

  Head snapping back, Jarlen dropped down to the sand, his body convulsing in paralyzing agony before falling unconscious. Viola watched as a pack of soldiers went running into the pit to grab his body. They dragged him across the sand back into one of the dark tunnels. He was certainly not in the best of shape, but he was alive. Liam had saved him!

  “Now we go,” said Liam, leading the way. He stumbled more than once, weakened by the lingering effects of the high-level spell. Attacking the demon directly would have proved hopeless, but attacking the portal allowing it entrance into this world had worked rather nicely.

  “Thank you,” came Viola’s soft voice from behind. Not turning back, he smiled to himself as he led her by the hand. He was reminded of an old lesson he had forgotten somewhere along the line: Sometimes it takes the strength of another to find the strength in yourself. Today, he had done something he didn’t even realize he was capable of. It felt good to know that even at his age, he could still surprise himself.

  Chapter 11

  Back at the inn that evening, they settled on a late supper of roast mutton and steamed vegetables. Exhausted from the long day, the group ate silently while pondering over what to do next. Their options were few. For now, hiding out in Shadowfen seemed to be working well enough. Because of the chaotic event this evening, the whole city was a restless buzz—not so great for the king, who was trying to maintain some semblance of order in the city, but perfect for anyone trying t
o hide in plain sight. With so much distraction, and so many outsiders still staying within the city limits, they were unlikely to draw much attention no matter where they went.

  As for what to do about Jarlen, the topic was a gloomy one. Nobody wanted to bring it up anymore this evening. Sure, they may have kept him alive for another day, or even a few weeks, but sooner or later, the king would finish what he started. And it wouldn’t be something done secretly behind closed doors, either. Similar to this evening’s event, the deed would be done in public so the king could profit. In the end, there was nothing they could do to help him.

  After a few grumblings from Owen assuring them that this would be the last night they would each have the luxury of having their own rooms, the group decided to retire for the evening. Tomorrow was a new day, and they still had much to discuss. How much longer did they plan to stay here in Shadowfen? And when the time came, where were they off to next? But for now, a good night’s sleep was the only medicine that would do any good.

  Stretched out, Viola lay on her bed. Eyes wide open, she stared up at the ceiling as the day’s events played out in her overactive mind. She visualized Jarlen fighting for his life, each swing of his sword meaning the difference between living and dying. Reliving the horror in her mind, she watched helplessly as the shadow pressed his attack. Jarlen’s blade worked feverishly, parrying each strike with a thundering crash.

  Black clouds boiled overhead. Jagged streaks of lightning cut the sky each time their blades collided. In a rush, the black clouds began to empty as driving rain came down in sheets. Blinking against the downpour, Viola shielded her eyes, trying to refocus her blurry vision on the battle before her.

  All she could make out were two dark outlines, their blades far more visible than either combatant. White-hot swords danced through the air as driving rain sizzled against their blades. Sparks bloomed with each collision, casting off sprays of green and orange. Viola screamed, but her voice was powerless. Like screaming underwater, it had no carry, providing nothing but a bubbly echo in her own ears.

  Lightning flashed, revealing the warriors for an instant. Jarlen was on his knees, sword up defensively as the shadow’s blade came crashing down. After a series of blinding lightning flashes, the chaotic scene plunged into darkness. Even the swords that were practically glowing moments before faded into the black of night.

  A shadowy outline appeared from the darkness. Unable to move, unable to scream, she watched helplessly as the hulking figure approached. Hardly more than an outline of shifting darkness to her eyes, it raised a fist, holding something in its grip. Lightning flashed again, revealing the severed head of her brother held up by a handful of hair. Jarlen’s eyes opened suddenly. “This is your fault!” he hissed, blood bubbling from his lips with each word.

  Viola sat up with a gasp, her heart racing, forehead beaded with sweat. Breathing hard, she fell back on the bed and covered her face. When had she fallen asleep? She shivered, the final moment of that nightmare still vivid in her thoughts. But nightmare or not, his accusation rang true. What had she really done to help him? He was out there, alone, and here she was, sleeping in a soft, comfortable bed. I can’t just leave him out there. I have to do something!

  After rolling from her bed, she gathered her clothes and even the sword Thatra had loaned her. There was no telling what she might run into. As prepared as she could be, Viola peeked her head into the hallway. As expected, no one was around. It was the middle of the night, after all, and all the patrons were sound asleep. Still, she tiptoed through the hall and down the stairs like a thief in the night.

  Outside, the streets were barren, and most of the night lamps were extinguished, save for just a few to stave off the black of night. The empty streets looked strange at night, given how busy they were during the day. Small groups of night watchmen patrolled the streets, often moving about in groups of four or less. Not wanting to be questioned, Viola found herself ducking in and out of alleys to avoid being seen. Moving casually with no real cause for suspicion, the soldiers paid little attention to the alleys as they marched by.

  Growing tired of the cat-and-mouse movements while trying to stay hidden, Viola leapt up from her hiding spot in the alley. Her blurring form of spinning blackbirds whirled up to a nearby rooftop. From up here, she could see the back gate, its winding path beyond leading out into the desert. Feeling a sense of urgency, she took off running, bounding her way from rooftop to rooftop. Using her extraordinary speed and agility, she made the most of the jumps with minimal effort. On a few occasions, she had to whirl back into her blackbird form to complete the distance. A short time later, she was standing on a rooftop right across from the gate.

  Crouching down, she watched as soldiers marched back and forth on top of the wall. Even on the night shift there were more here than she’d hoped. Luckily, they seemed to be following a predetermined marching pattern. The spacing between men was all the same, and they all moved at the same speed before stopping, then turning to march back the other way. Timing their routes proved easy enough.

  She waited until they were just about to turn, then jumped. A whirling cone of black floated right over the wall. A few soldiers glanced around after hearing the cawing of birds, but soon shrugged it off and continued their routes.

  Hovering just above the sand, her whirling form spun along at a fair clip. The moon was bright tonight, its light helping to guide her along. After a few minutes of drifting along, the black cone settled on the ground. Having never held that form for that long before, she found it was extremely taxing on her body. Down on one hand and one knee, she gulped in the night air. Glancing ahead, she could see the open pit only a short ways up. Although it proved to be exhausting, she had managed to cover a great distance in a short amount of time.

  In a final push, she blurred over to the edge of the pit. Melting back into humanoid form, she dropped to her knees and peeked over the edge. Had it not been for the moon, she would be staring into pitch-blackness. Even so, the quiet emptiness was quite unnerving. Everything looked so different now. It was hard to believe that hundreds of people had surrounded this pit only hours ago. Now, it might as well be an abandoned wasteland.

  But despite the creepy atmosphere, she was relieved to see there were no guards at any of the gates. Bound in chains, alone in a dark dank tunnel, there was no risk that the beast might escape on his own.

  Drifting down into the pit, she glided over to the gate where she had last seen the men drag him away. Fingers slipping through the iron grid, she peered into the darkness. “Hello?” she said softly, cringing slightly at the sound of her own voice. It might as well have been a shout, given the deathly quiet of the night and the echo bouncing off the walls.

  The moonlight was adequate enough to locate the lever at the side of the gate. Holding her breath, she gave it a pull. If the sound of her voice had made her cringe, the clacking of the gate rising, followed by the heavy slam when it reached the top, made her want to run off into the night. The clanking sounds seemed to radiate around for several seconds before silence returned.

  The arena was plenty dark, but this tunnel was black as black could be. The sour, musty scents of dampness and mildew were nearly overwhelming. Building her courage, she took a step in before her toe struck something on the ground. She bent down to examine the sack, rationalizing that there must be a reason for it lying right at the entrance like this. Flipping it on its side, flint and steel spilled out at her feet. Good, she thought, considering using it to strike sparks as she walked, using the flashes to light her way.

  Striking them twice in succession produced two quick flashes. Gaining vision for a moment, something caught her eye over on the wall. She inched towards that spot and struck them a third time. Relieved, she caught a glimpse of a torch mounted on the wall. After slipping the torch from its bracket and laying it on the sand, she produced a few sparks and had the oil-primed torch blazing in a few moments. Lifting it high, she watched as bugs and rodents scattere
d into the cracks of the walls. She shivered, realizing those critters had her surrounded until the light scared them off.

  Glancing up ahead with new vision gained from the torchlight, she froze. The tunnel wasn’t deep at all. Perhaps fifty feet ahead, she could see a figure sitting on the floor, chained and covered with dirty wrappings. She could only assume it was him.

  “Jarlen?” she squeaked, barely able to speak. With the dripping torch hissing above her head, she made her way towards the motionless wrapped figure. She couldn’t even be sure he was alive. She dropped to one knee before him, holding the torch near his face to get a good look. Covering his eyes were thin metal plates with small chains hanging from the center of each. “Jarlen?” she repeated. Drops of liquid fire dripped from the torch, sizzling against the damp, sandy floor.

  “Who’s there?” he asked in a hoarse voice, causing her to jump back. It was actually the first time he had moved since she entered the tunnel. She tried to reply, but couldn’t seem to find her voice. “You’re not one of the regular soldiers. An assassin, then?” He laughed, his bandaged body shaking with limited mobility. “So, my time has come?”

  “No!” Viola blurted out, finding her voice once again. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

  “No,” he said, appearing to agree for the moment. “You made as much noise as possible opening that gate, then fumbled around trying to get that torch of yours lit, before finally stumbling back here to find me. If you’re an assassin, you’re the most incompetent one I’ve ever seen. So it’s the middle of the night, you’re not one of the usual soldiers who watches the pit, and you claim you’re not here to kill me. Then who are you, and why are you here?”