Tainted Blood Anthology

by Jeff Gunzel

  Slowly, her body began to strengthen again. Recovering just enough, she crawled the rest of the way to Xavier. He was alive but unconscious. Strangely, his grievous wounds had formed thick scabs. They weren’t completely healed, but they were no longer life-threatening either. Even his most recent wounds didn’t seem too bad. Somehow, his body must have regenerated when in that form. She had so many questions, but for now she was just glad to see her friend safe.

  *

  Xavier began to stir. Eyes half open, he groaned weakly. “Xavier, you have to get up.” Startled by the voice, his eyes snapped open. Kneeling, Assirra was looking down on him with his head resting on her lap.

  “Oh, my head,” he muttered, bringing a hand up to his forehead. The endless throbbing made him want to close his eyes again.

  “No,” Assirra scolded, giving her knee a mild shake to perk him back up. “I can’t claim to know how you’re feeling, but we cannot rest here. You need to get up right now.” Alarmed by her unusually demanding tone, he slowly sat up to look around. They were surrounded, not by ghatins but by the villagers, angry villagers wielding pitchforks, shovels and torches. “Neither of us are welcome here. We must leave right now.” Xavier realized she must have been guarding him the whole time while he was unconscious. How long had she been risking her own neck for him? Minutes? Hours?

  “What is this about?” Xavier shouted, rising to his feet. He swooned, head spinning before nearly falling back down. He shouldn’t have been able to stand at all, but his leg and shoulder were far better off than they should have been. Save for the dizziness, he could walk well enough. “We saved your town! You would all be dead if it weren’t for us.”

  “They wouldn’t have come at all if it weren’t for you,” one villager said, leveling his shovel to point right at Xavier. “We saw what you did. We saw what you are, demon.”

  “Demon?” Xavier replied. Looking past the man’s shoulder, he saw Lindsey leaning up against the side of the tavern. She made eye contact briefly, then dropped her eyes and scurried back into the tavern. His heart sank. It was only a fleeting glance, but that look all but verified the man’s claim. Xavier sighed, nodding his agreement. “Demon,” he repeated softly to himself.

  “Their fear of us is the only reason we haven’t been lynched yet,” Assirra said. “But I believe they might be growing bolder by the minute. We have to move. Can you walk?”

  “Yeah.” Xavier nodded. Eyeing the angry villagers, it became obvious to him that Assirra was the only reason he was still alive. Not only had she shown up just in time to save his skin from the ghatins, but if the villagers really believed he was a demon, they likely would have slit his throat while he was unconscious. He took one last look at the tavern, knowing he would probably never see it or Lindsey again. “I’m ready. Let’s just get out of here.”

  Chapter 17

  Using a long stick, Xavier poked and prodded at the fire. Assirra watched him closely, still not certain whether or not his mind was where it should be. As far as she could tell, he didn’t look unstable or dangerous in any way. Just sad and withdrawn. She wanted to help him but had no idea how. “You mean you really don’t remember anything?” she asked, breaking the long silence with the same question she had already asked several times already. He shook his head, continuing to poke the fire that needed no poking. “Xavier, I just want to help you. Remember, I am here for you.”

  “I’m not sure anyone can help me,” he said, his vacant gaze a thousand miles away. It wasn’t even clear if he was answering her or just thinking out loud.

  “You shouldn’t say such things,” Assirra was quick to point out. “Your friends care about you, and I have no doubt that they are as worried about you as I was. Whatever is happening to you, we will find a solution. All of us together. You are not alone. We’re going to figure this out, I promise.”

  Xavier scoffed, giving the fire a hard poke that sent a whirl of sparks spiraling into the air. “My friends care about me?” he muttered. “And why should any of them still have faith in me? I failed them all! I failed,” he swallowed the lump in his throat, “I failed Viola. She is dead because of me.”

  Assirra flashed him a sharp look, slowly rising to her feet. “Dead? What makes you think she is dead?”

  “Because I saw her die! I saw it in a—” In a what? A dream? A vision? How was he supposed to explain that? “Because, because I failed to protect her. I saw it. Because I—”

  “Xavier, Viola is very much alive,” she said gently. He stopped poking the fire and froze, his arm outstretched with the stick still in hand. It was like he wasn’t even aware he was holding it anymore. He glanced back at her, his eyes filled with life for the first time in what seemed like forever. “Yes, Xavier, she is alive,” Assirra repeated, assuring him he had heard correctly. “Furthermore, she is up in the mountains with the others. The only way you will have failed her is if you do not come with me. She needs you, Xavier. She needs us both, and that’s where I’m going, with or without you.”

  Nearly half a minute passed and Xavier still had not moved. She is alive? He finally let go of the stick and dropped to his knees as a sharp rush of air expelled from his lungs. “She is alive?!” he gasped, apparently having not heard anything else she said.

  “Yes,” Assirra confirmed again, feeling bad she hadn’t cleared this up earlier. She didn’t know this false memory had been haunting him all this time, or she would have already said something. “Xavier, she is fine, but I don’t know for how long if we don’t reach her soon. You have to come with me.”

  The relief was so sweet, it warmed him to his core. It was like getting a second chance at life. Wiping tears of joy from his eyes, it was all he could do just to focus on the conversation at hand. “You could not have brought me better news.” He shook his head, trying to pull his head back into the conversation that seemed to be going on without him. “But Assirra, what do you mean by we? I assumed you had already gone as far as you planned to. I figured that by now you would have already gone back to your people. After all, this was never your fight to begin with. So you’ve decided to join us?”

  It was Assirra’s turn to scoff. “My people,” she mocked. “As far as my people are concerned, I am already dead.” Xavier shook his head, confused. “As much as you have changed, I too have changed significantly, Xavier. Did you not see what I did on the battlefield today?”

  “Of course I did. And your show of power came as no surprise to me,” he lied. It was quite shocking, actually. He had no idea she was capable of such things. But who was he to claim to know the limits of the High Cleric? “Once again you have shown me that Odao gives you great strength.”

  “If that is what you saw, then you are very wrong!” Xavier leaned away, caught off guard by her defensive response. In truth, it was hard for him to stay focused on her words at all. The wonderful news was still dancing about in his mind, and not much else seemed to matter right now. “But I can’t blame you for thinking as such,” she went on, softening her tone. “You still see me as the High Cleric, just as my people once did. That title no longer means anything to me.” Now that comment did catch Xavier’s attention. What was she talking about? Odao was her reason for living.

  “I will explain everything in time, but you must first know this,” she went on. “I am no longer a cleric. Furthermore, I resent the title. What you saw back there was a result of my own power, not that of a deity. Odao has betrayed me, so I in turn have turned my back on him as well.”

  “Your god betrayed you? How?”

  Assirra took a deep breath. “Xavier, Thatra is dead.” She paused to let her news sink in. Xavier looked away. She watched him deflate, shoulders drooping. She hated having to tell him that, especially right after lifting his spirits with the good news about Viola. But he needed to know. He needed to understand what was driving her. “She died right in my arms. And as I watched her helplessly, I prayed to Odao, promising him that I would do anything. Still, he did nothing but force
me to watch her take her last breath. For that, I cannot forgive or serve him ever again.

  “So you see, I can’t go back home, for I have no home to go to. I am a traitor to our faith, and I admit it proudly. My place is here with you and the others. This mission is my calling and I plan to see it through. We’ve all changed, Xavier, but that doesn’t mean we stop being loyal to each other. I accept whatever change has happened to you, and the others will as well. Come with me and I will prove it to you.”

  “You accept my curse?” Xavier all but laughed. “You have no idea what you’re saying. I made a choice, Assirra, and it turned me into a monster. One does not simply accept or forgive such a thing.”

  “You are wrong, Xavier. You underestimate your friends. They will always accept you no matter what.”

  “You still don’t understand.” He stood up and stepped over to Assirra. Cupping the much taller woman’s cheeks to ease her down, he kissed her on the forehead. “What I do, I do to protect you as well as the others. Thank you for telling me the truth about Viola,” he whispered. “The truth about everything. And although my heart sings for her, it also bleeds for Thatra.” He stood and stepped back. “I do not even trust myself, so why should anyone else trust me? Maybe I will return someday, but not before I have slayed this demon inside of me. Tell the others not to mourn for me, because I have been dead for some time.” Just like that he turned and stalked away.

  “If you leave us now, you are a coward and a traitor!” Assirra shouted at his back.

  He stopped and glanced back at her, a deep sadness in his eyes. “Indeed, that is exactly what I am,” he agreed before disappearing into the night.

  *

  The jungle village was especially active today. Shirtless men and women stalked about, many with white and red paint decorating their dark skin. Most of the women had low, hanging earlobes, stretched and gaping from oversized plugs. The men all had pierced noses, some with rings, while a few preferred animal bones. Women carried water buckets up from a nearby stream, using wrapped clothes to balance them on their heads.

  Just beyond the huts made from dry grass and bamboo, children played a game called “bones” near the edge of the village. Tossing rat and bat bones onto a large flat rock, the objective was to try to knock the other children’s bones off the slate. The game could go on for hours and did more often than not.

  Both men and women practiced their war craft near the village center, sparing hard with spears and dulled blades. While fatalities were rare, injuries were not. Pushing themselves the way they did usually meant needless bloodshed, but it was a price they were all willing to pay. One day the prophesies would come true and they would have to go to war. It was not a day they feared, but one to be relished, celebrated. They would be ready when the time came, and each passing generation hoped it would be their turn.

  A charging man broke through the bushes and everyone turned, spears leveled, all standing in perfect formation as if they had been given an hour’s notice prior to attack. But this was no attack, it was one of their own tribe and he was moving with great urgency. Recognizing him as one of their many spies sent out beyond the village to gather information, the surrounding warriors relaxed. Still, he could have gotten himself killed by rushing in unannounced like that. Strange that he might be so careless.

  Rushing straight towards the center hut, he slid to a halt as two men crossed their spears to block his path. The guards were large, even by the standards of a village where everyone seemed to be much bigger than folks found in Ayrith’s main cities. “Let me pass!” he demanded, his words raspy as he tried to catch his breath. “I must speak to Aurabelle immediately.” Not unlike the two blocking his path, he wore nothing but a loincloth and face paint. But his feet were cut and bloodied from running through the forest so recklessly. His nose was pierced with a gold ring, and his dry, gritty, black hair was matted down so it nearly covered his eyes.

  “You know we can’t let you pass,” the first man said, the many large hoops in his ears clacking with just a modest head shake. “Aurabelle will not see anyone until the third moon has passed. You know this, Banglaha,”

  “Of course I know that, but this cannot wait,” Banglaha hissed, his clenched fists trembling with frustration. “If you would just listen to what I’m—” The second guard held up a finger to silence him. Leaning back over his shoulder, he nodded as if acknowledging some unspoken instruction from within the hut. With neither guard saying another word, they lifted their spears to allow him passage.

  After flashing them an angry glare, Banglaha pushed through the beaded doorway. The room was smoky with a thick, spicy scent. Tribesmen were all around the room, sitting on individual rugs while smoking pipes attached to bubbling glass vases. The furniture was modest, save for a large bed at the far side of the room. Weaving and tiptoeing, stepping over sleepy-eyed men and women who had yet to even notice him, he made his way over to the veiled bed in the back.

  Seeing her shadowy outline through the thin blue veil, he dropped down to one knee at the side of the bed. “Aurabelle,” he rasped, suddenly having trouble finding his voice in her presence. “Aurabelle,” he repeated after clearing his throat. “I am sorry to trouble you, but—”

  “Yes,” she said, her soft, delicate voice carrying off the walls with authority.

  “Er, yes,” he replied, clearing his throat a second time. “I bring news. It is just as you suspected. Several of our spies have reported spotting another.”

  “Another?”

  “As you foretold! Your prediction has come true. A man who has the gift was spotted not two nights ago. No doubt the gods have sent him to stand by your side. It is a sign. It must be!”

  “And where was this man spotted?”

  “He was last seen in Dawsbury. He used his abilities in public, defending the town from the white demons.” He paused a moment, thinking. “But that was the last reported sighting. By now I can only assume that he is long g—”

  A brown vine snapped right through the curtain, wrapping around his neck and pulling him in close. Before he could blink, he found himself face to face with the bare-breasted woman, one half of her face covered with green scales. With hair white as snow, one eye black as midnight, her stare bore into him like a nail. He gasped, hands tugging and clawing at the vine. But the attempt was futile, even making the vine squeeze tighter.

  “Find him,” she said, her calm voice at odds with the fire in her eyes. “Find him and bring him to me.” Face turning bright red, he nodded furiously.

  He dropped to the floor and gasped when the vine slithered away from his neck. “I’ll go gather others to help,” he croaked, rubbing his neck. “We shall find him as quickly as possible.”

  “You have three days,” she said, sliding the curtain back into place. The man turned and ran from the hut. He knew better than to take Aurabelle’s words as some idle threat. If she said three days, then that was all the time he had.

  Chapter 18

  “Give it back!” she growled, her flesh blades forming tauntingly slow to make her point.

  “Why should I?” he asked, sinking his teeth into the back of the severed human hand. “It was fair game the moment you walked away from it,” he spoke into the hand, his voice muffled as he drank.

  “It doesn’t work like that!” she said, crouching down like a coiled snake ready to strike. “I can’t help it if you’re too slow and weak to catch your own food. It’s probably more likely that a human would eat you!”

  “Silence, bitch!” He tossed the hand aside.

  “Or what? It’s not like you’re going to do anything about it.” She stepped over to the hand and kicked it back near his feet. “Here, you scavenger. If stolen scraps are the only thing you’re capable of hunting, then by all means take it. Just make sure you stay out of the way when the real hunters go out to gather more humans. Tend the fire or something. Maybe sweep the cave up a little. I just hope you can handle a broom better than you handle a sword.”r />
  She ducked at the last second as his flesh blade slammed into the cave wall just above her head. The stone cracked, proving the blow was meant to be much more than a warning. It was meant to be fatal. Sidestepping his second strike, she rushed the lerwick, throwing herself against his chest. Clawing wildly, she raked his face and eyes for several seconds before a clean, rolling right hand sent her sprawling across the cave floor.

  Face bleeding, his twitching right eye hot and irritated, he raced over and threw himself on top of her, then began raining punches down on her face. Pinning her shoulders down with his knees, at least ten landed clean before a choking tug at the back of his collar sent him flying. Crashing against the far wall, the winded lerwick slid down to the ground with the wind knocked out of him.

  “What is going on here?” Jarlen roared, his red-hot glare shifting back and forth between the two.

  “It was her fault!” he rasped, pointing across the way.

  “Says the thief who stole my food!” she shot back. Even with her face swelling up, she looked as if she might rush him again.

  “Enough!” Jarlen shouted in frustration, turning away with his fists in the air. Had he not gotten back when he did, these two just might have killed each other. At the mouth of the cave lay the two fresh corpses he dropped when he saw them fighting. Already, a number of lerwicks had made their way over to them, certain to drink more than their share if he didn’t keep an eye on them.

  “The enemy is out there!” Jarlen shouted, pointing towards the mouth of the cave. “Or have you already forgotten that? Every time I turn my back, it seems as if you’re at each other’s throats.” He looked around the cave, addressing everyone within earshot. But the looks on everyone’s faces bothered him even more than the fight itself. Barely listening to him, expressions dreary and uninterested, it seemed as if no one cared that these two were about to kill each other. They had just watched the whole time while no one even lifted a finger to stop it.