by Jeff Gunzel
She rolled the blade across the back of her hand, then twirled it once on the end of her fingertips. “This blade can now kill a ghatin, and I assure you that all the A’zara are in possession of such weapons.” She slipped the dagger back into her sheath. “As I already told you, we have been preparing for their coming for centuries. Xylia chose me for this purpose centuries ago. The gift of the ancients has kept me alive far beyond my mortal years, and I’ve spent every waking moment in preparation for this moment.
“And now it’s seems she has chosen you as the second. Now the circle is complete. I am ready, the A’zara are ready. The question now is, are you ready, Xavier? Are you ready to stand by my side as we finish what our ancestors started so very long ago? What say you?”
Xavier held her gaze, but his outward calm was a poor indication of what was really going on inside him. Insides twisting with conflict, he thought he might be sick at any moment. Every decision leading up to this moment felt as if it had been forced on him. He accepted the gift of the ancients only so he could help Viola.
Now it just felt like a curse. Had he really been Xylia’s choice the whole time?
He left his friends for their own safety. It was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? Every action taken was just an extension of the last. Not once did anything feel like a real choice, just a necessity based on desperation.
I’ve given my life to the call of duty, but just once I want to choose for myself.
“No, I will not join you,” he said, then began walking back the way they entered.
“What?!” Seeing he wasn’t going to stop or even turn around, Aurabelle started marching after him. “So that’s it, then? You turn your back on me, the A’zara, as well as the entire realm? You are chosen, Xavier! You have a responsibility!”
“I didn’t ask for any of this,” he called back over his shoulder. “I’m leaving, and you will not see me again. Please, know that you have allies in the fight against the ghatins. On this much we agree. But as for anything else, I cannot help you.”
“And what will you do, then, go back to her? You know it controls you, Xavier.” He stopped in his tracks. “Yes, you know it’s true. How long before you lose control and hurt one of your friends? A month? An hour?”
He knew she was right. It was the same problem he still had no answer to.
“Xavier?” He felt her hand on the back of his shoulder, her voice suddenly soft and empathetic. “I told you I would help you learn to control it. I intend to keep that promise, if you’ll let me.”
Her shrugged off her hand and turned around. “And in exchange, I must stay here with you, correct? It that the deal you’re about to propose?”
Aurabelle shook her head. “I already took you by force once. There was no other way at the time. I won’t do it again. True, I believe the A’zara will need your help if we are to have any chance. But ultimately, that choice is yours. Let me teach you how to control the gift.” She flexed her hand. “You are no match for me because you don’t know how to use it properly. Once I teach you, you will become unstoppable.”
“And after that, I am free to go?”
“I swear it.”
“Very well, then. Let’s stop wasting time and get on with it.”
Chapter 6
Red and blue oil lamps flickered from the corners of the room, each giving off just enough soft light to give the place a cozy feel. Large red mattresses and colorful pillows lay scattered about, though none were in use this particular morning. Incense burned in tin trays as gray coils of flowery-scented smoke lazily twisted toward the ceiling. Everything was quiet, peaceful, perfect.
The feel of a cold apple slice pressing against his cheek broke Jarlen from his tranquil daydreaming. He opened his mouth without looking over, allowing the female lerwick to wedge half of it in. Biting off a fair amount, Jarlen couldn’t help but smile as he returned to his thoughts.
The world was falling apart all around him, yet he couldn’t be happier. Jarlen thrived on this sort of chaos. Thrown into a lawless world where he could make up the rules as he went, the chaotic being couldn’t ask for a better situation. He was born for this role, and planned to capitalize on the world’s demise.
There came a knock at the door, but he ignored it. Then a second knock. “Sir?”
Jarlen yawned, stretching his hands out wide. Taking advantage of her yawning leader, the woman popped the last bit of apple in his mouth before standing to go make her way toward the door.
Opening it just a crack, she eyed the lerwick standing there with his face nearly pressing through. “I have brought the new recruits as requested,” he blurted out quickly, as if he was afraid she might close the door on him.
Hesitant, she peeked back over her shoulder. “Um...I’m not so certain this is the best time—”
“Send them in,” Jarlen said, sounding even more bored than he looked.
Turning to whisper at his back, the man quickly gave a last set of instructions before leading them in. It wasn’t unheard of for the recruiter to bring twenty or more at a time for their orientation. But today he had only five, all of them males. Jarlen leaned back, thumping his feet up on the table. He stared expectantly without saying a word.
“Go,” the recruiter said harshly, pushing one of the men forward.
The man hesitated, clearing his throat as he withered under Jarlen’s gaze. Just finding his voice was proving to be difficult. “Sir... I... My name is...Toring. I know I could prove to be a great asset to your great army if...if you just give me a chance to—”
Jarlen silenced the man with a raised hand. These forced introductions were of no interest to him. He motioned to the man standing near the side wall, who then nodded and slipped out through the door.
“Gentlemen,” Jarlen began. “We all know how this goes, don’t we?” The men stiffened, wondering if they had already made some unforgivable mistake. “Of course you want to join my army, but not because of some made-up moral cause or sense of duty. So please, spare me any prepared speeches you had planned in hopes of groveling for my acceptance.”
They said nothing, and two of them even began glancing toward the door. Perhaps they thought it was just better to run now rather than face what might be coming.
Jarlen stood up. “So let’s just get right to it, shall we? Like the rest of us, you want to take back what is yours by right. Land, food, freedom, everything you were lacking in your former lives. And more than that, you want to sit high upon your perches while watching the humans suffer the fate they have brought upon themselves.”
He stepped closer, measuring them, gazing into their eyes one at a time. “Isn’t that right?” Again, they said nothing, their eyes wandering around the room. Anything to avoid that measuring stare. Perhaps this was a test of some sort? “Say it,” Jarlen growled. Suddenly, his demeanor brightened as if he had been caught in the middle of some grand joke. “Say the words and I shall make it so,” he finished, then spun back on his heels and flopped back down into his seat.
“I want revenge!” one of them said, even daring to take a step forward to separate himself from the others. Seeing the approving look on Jarlen’s face, the others started in with similar comments. One or two might have felt a bit forced, but it was clear that they genuinely despised their former human masters. At its heart, this chance at freedom was what all lerwicks had dreamed about for most of their lives.
They turned at the sound of the door opening. With a rope in each hand, the lerwick who had left a moment ago was now in possession of two humans, a man and a woman. Even being naked, with their hair wild and disheveled, they still seemed to be rather clean. Almost too much so, given their apparent circumstances. Shuffling along with blank expressions and leather collars strapped to their necks, neither one seemed to be resisting in any way.
“Choose,” Jarlen said, flicking a finger in the humans’ general direction. Confused, the new recruits looked back and forth between Jarlen and the humans. “Feed,” Jarlen el
aborated, rolling his eyes at constantly having to explain this part to most new arrivals. They just couldn’t grasp how much things were about to change for them. Going from having nothing, to having everything, was a reality they never dared to dream of.
The humans offered themselves by extending their arms. Their wrists and forearms were covered with purple rings, proof of their history of being fed on over a long period of time.
After only the slightest hesitation, the five lerwicks rushed the humans and sank their teeth into necks and wrists. Lerwicks needed little more than a few drops of blood to keep the thirst at bay, but that didn’t mean they didn’t enjoy feeding. The humans shook and swayed as the feeding frenzy commenced, the lerwicks’ savagery giving movement to their otherwise still bodies.
“That’s enough,” Jarlen warned. Reluctantly, four of them stepped back while wiping blood from their mouths with the back of their hands. But still caught up in the blood frenzy, one continued to feed on the male’s wrist. On the verge of being nearly drained, the male began to groan as his eyelids fluttered.
There came a blur of movement that was hard to decipher, and the feeding lerwick’s head went tumbling into the air. Landing at the feet of the others, it hopped once and rolled to an upward facing stop. The expression was still one of ecstasy, its frozen smile oblivious to what his greed had just cost him. Jarlen stood over the body, his blade clean and bloodless due to the sheer speed of the kill.
“Our food supply is infinite as long as the humans we hold captive remain alive,” Jarlen said. “Know that I shall hold you to a certain standard as long as you live in my city. You will pull your own weight, you will follow directions when given, and acting on insatiable greed will not be tolerated.”
The others stood frozen, heads down and eyes on the floor. So that was the test. He was testing their willpower. Anyone too weak or lacking in self-control was to be eliminated on the spot. A harsh but efficient way to weed out those who may prove to be problematic later on. And to make sure the lesson would not be forgotten, it was always done in front of others so that there were plenty of witnesses. Let them talk among themselves, and maybe even exaggerate the stories. In the end it all worked in Jarlen’s favor.
“Take them to the barracks,” Jarlen said. The recruiter began herding them toward the door. When Jarlen became this unpredictable, it was probably best to just leave him be. “And gentlemen,” he added. They stopped, but did not turn around. “Remain loyal to me and you shall have everything your heart desires. Betray me, and death itself will not come soon enough. Do not forget or doubt my words.”
No one was fool enough to doubt him after that.
“Um, sire?” With an awkward lack of words, the recruiter pointed toward the floor with his chin.
“Ah, yes,” Jarlen said, giving the severed head a push with the inside of his foot. It rolled across the room and stopped near their feet. The recruiter picked it up and tucked it under his arm like a melon. “You know what to do with that.”
Indeed he did. “Yes sir,” he said with a shallow bow. “And I’ll send someone to remove the body.”
Eager to finally leave, the recruits didn’t need much encouraging to get them out the door. As for the head, it would be placed on a spike near the front of the town with the other heads. Yet these were not the heads of enemies, but the heads of traitors who had refused to follow orders. Covered with flies, the skin dry and tightly stretched over the skulls, they would stay there as a constant reminder to others that disobedience would not be tolerated.
Jarlen started to move back toward his seat. But before he even sat down, the door swung open a second time. Even before looking, he knew there was only one man who would dare enter without knocking.
Tobias was a tall, slender lerwick. Although not physically intimidating, his mere presence seemed to fill up the room. Masterful with a blade, he was one of the few lerwicks who just might be close to Jarlen’s equal. But that wasn’t the only reason why Jarlen promoted him, elevating him to general of his army.
His unique ability to issue clear instructions under pressure was second to none. Even with men falling around him on the battlefield, the poised man could still lead as if nothing were going wrong. He just had a way about him, an aura of confidence, a natural leader if Jarlen had ever seen one. He knew he needed men like Tobias, and held his type in high regard.
The man stood there, hands at his sides with his head held high.
“Go on, then,” Jarlen said.
“Three more recruits were executed this morning, sir.”
“Reason?”
“Two were caught trying to flee the city, presumably to run off and join the rebel camp.”
Jarlen’s jaw visibly tightened. It was hard for him to comprehend why any of his men might choose to leave. Had he not provided them with everything they could ever wish for? Yet the number of lerwicks risking their own necks just to slip away in the night seemed to be growing each day. This was unacceptable.
“Their heads?”
“On pikes for all to see, sir.”
“Good. And why was the third executed?”
“Too slow in picking up the weapons drills. She was holding the others back, so I had her eliminated.” He paused a moment when seeing the disapproval on Jarlen’s face. “Per your instructions, sir,” he quickly reminded. “You were very clear on this matter. Any who were struggling to keep up needed to be removed, violently, so those who saw would double their efforts.”
Jarlen waved his hand dismissively. Yes, he had said that, and Tobias was only following orders. But such barbaric tactics no longer seemed like such a good idea. The intent had been to motivate them, but not at the sacrifice of the men’s moral. Perhaps this was the reason so many were leaving.
“The next time you run into a similar problem, I want you to bring them to me instead,” Jarlen reasoned. It was a subtle but necessary change to his original plan. Besides, once he had them alone for an hour or two, the problem was unlikely to persist. “Is that clear?”
“Sir.”
“Is there anything else?”
Tobias paused, as if weighing the question a bit longer than necessary. “No, sir, I take my leave.” He turned, but only managed to take one step.
“Speak your mind, Tobias,” Jarlen said, stepping over to a nearby table. He had great respect for his chosen general, and didn’t like the idea of him holding anything back. After pouring two glasses of wine from a crystal pitcher, he handed one to Tobias.
“Sir, I admit that I am somewhat...concerned.”
“With...?” Jarlen prodded, taking a sip of his wine.
“You’ve asked me to organize and train your army, and I am more than capable of fulfilling that task. I plan to prove that your faith in me was not misplaced.”
“Indeed.” Jarlen raised his glass in salute. Tobias did the same. Not unlike Jarlen, his arms were covered with crisp scars that could have only come from a blade. Too numerous to count, one could only assume his upper body looked much the same. Neither he nor Jarlen bothered to share their stories, a mutual respect between two seasoned warriors. No doubt they were from similar backgrounds, tortured pasts they would just rather put behind them.
“But I cannot do it overnight.”
“Do you believe I am pushing you too hard?” Jarlen asked, admiring his glass as he held it up and swirled the wine around.
Tobias shook his head at the missed point. “Although grown, physically, every new recruit is little more than a boy or girl at heart.” Jarlen stopped fiddling with his wine glass and gave Tobias his full attention.
“From the first day, I am forced to work on their mental toughness as well as their skills on the battlefield. The balance between the two is delicate indeed. They are young, therefore I must push them to the brink without ruining their confidence. The progression can be slow. It takes time, more time than we have, I fear.”
“Time for what, exactly?” Jarlen asked, setting his glass down on the
floor. It was strange to see his ever confident general so unsettled like this. “Is it the ghatins you fear?”
“Only a fool would not fear them,” he shot back, a little rougher than he intended. But Jarlen did not seem to take offense. “What I mean,” he softened his tone, “is that our men are green. Yes, a few of them might be ready, and that number grows every single day as they continue to work. But if the ghatins were to attack today—”
“You think we would not be able to fend them off?”
“Not at this time, no,” Tobias admitted. “Not a full-on attack, anyway. Yes, the ghatins would still take enormous casualties. Even with minimal training, we are practically made for killing them. But that is the other problem, the ghatins know this as well. If I were them, I would send every man right now to finish us off. There would never be a more perfect time.”
“I understand your concern,” Jarlen said, picking his glass back up and draining it in a single swallow. “But I’m just not convinced your fears are justified. The ghatins are hunting the humans, not us.”
“Did you not kill several of them yourself?” Tobias reasoned. “Do you not assume they will take revenge for that act of...well, let’s just call it murder.”
“Indeed they will try,” Jarlen agreed, almost sounding entertained by the thought. “Someday... Years from now, perhaps. Once all the humans are extinct, I’m certain they will come for us next. But by then we will have built an army so powerful that they won’t stand a chance.”
“Then I hope we have as many years as you seem to think we do,” Tobias said, bowing his head. “In the meantime, I will continue to push the men as hard as I dare.” The general excused himself and returned to his duties.
Staring at the door long after Tobias had left, Jarlen eventually felt a pair of hands caress his neck from behind. Hardly in the mood, he shrugged her away and went off to go sit by himself. The room seemed so empty now, so quiet. It was only in hindsight that he realized that Tobias’s words had really unsettled him. What if his own confident prediction turned out to be wrong and the ghatins did attack within the next few days?
