by Jeff Gunzel
Once Aurabelle and Xavier finally stopped adding details to the incredible tale, the room fell silent.
“Well?” Xavier said, still unable to read Owen’s expression. “Say something, please.” Owen shook his head. He had seen some amazing things in his day, but this definitely topped the list.
“Why in the nine hells did you hide this from us, boy?” Xavier opened his mouth, but found himself at a complete loss for words. At least Owen believed him. “All we have is each other. To think you would run off like that instead of seeking help from those who would do anything to help you... What were ye thinking?”
“I-I was trying to protect you.”
“By running away from yer problems? Tell me, boy, has that ever worked for ye before? Haven’t you listened to a damn thing I’ve taught you?” He stepped up and poked a finger in Xavier’s chest. “You don’t ever turn your back on your friends, or your duty. Understand? Now it seems to me like you have some work to do. So let’s get to it.”
“But I’m not sure if I can—”
“What did I just say, boy?! Like it or not, you’ve been handed another duty. You don’t get to pass it on to someone else. You don’t get to pretend it’s someone else’s responsibility! I know ye didn’t choose this, but it’s too late to worry about that. Now we’re going to figure out how to control this thing. You don’t get to quit because I’m not going to let you.”
Owen stepped across the room only to poke a finger in Aurabelle’s chest as well. “And that goes for you too. You’re going to teach the lad how to control this gift, and we’re going to start today. Understand?” She nodded briskly. She could hardly comprehend how much this human frightened her, but part of her was relieved that he seemed to grasp how urgent this was.
“Good.” Owen turned back and pulled up a chair. “And I’m not leaving until we see this thing through, so we had best get started.” He turned to one of the men who had been watching, his spear still up and ready. He looked nervous, and rightfully so. “So what does a guy have to do to get something to eat around here?”
Chapter 12
Rolling to his side, Jarlen stared at the far wall. Irritated by his own inability to relax and enjoy his newfound power, he tried once again to close his eyes and empty his mind. He had taken the city of Redwater and put people in place to train his army. Through his own drive and ambition alone, he had come farther than even he thought possible. He had earned this moment, and life could not be better.
So what was it, then? What were these unnerving thoughts that kept churning in the back of his mind?
The humans were dying by the thousands, and it was all happening without him lifting a finger. Sooner or later the ghatins would purge this world of those wretched creatures, and he would become even more powerful than he was now. Everything he had ever dared to dream of had come to fruition, yet there was still something...off, something missing. It almost seemed too easy.
Ghosts, voices from the past, nothing more than that, he thought, giving up on the idea of rest as he sat up. The lingering effects of a mind still used to being a slave. I’ve transformed from a slave to a god, and my victory was so complete that even I’m having trouble accepting it. Just give it time to sink in.
The couch was so soft and deep that rolling out required a modest effort. Another of his many well-earned luxuries. It was a good time to take a walk. That’s what he needed, to take part in the spoils with all his loyal lerwicks, and not just from behind a closed door. He needed to get out there, to be in the public eye. Yes, that would boost morale even further.
As usual, the streets were mostly empty save for a few lerwicks snacking on one of the roaming humans. After hearing the rumors of what happened to those who drank more than their fill, they were certainly taking it easy to say the least. A few drops of blood was plenty, so that’s all each of them took.
As for the humans openly roaming the city, they did not dare resist. This was the only reason they were kept alive. Was such an existence really better than dying? That answer likely depended on which human was asked, and how many times they had been fed on. But for now, most would tolerate the abuse.
Despite their whimpering sobs as lines of savage lerwicks formed around them, in the end, they each had a survival instinct that wouldn’t let them give up. For now, they would deal with their nightmarish lives one day at a time, and they would live to see another day. It was a better deal than the ghatins would have offered them.
Jarlen was pleased, even a bit relieved to see them controlling themselves. Beings as wild and raw as lerwicks could be unpredictable at times. There was no telling how they would take to his new rules and regulations. His tactics for weeding out the worst of them may have been brutal, but no one could argue with the results.
All seemed good here, but once he began making his way towards the far side of the city, he cringed at some of the odd reactions he got. Some lerwicks avoided eye contact completely, ducking into alleys when he marched past. Others smiled and waved from rooftops, apparently just out enjoying the sunny day. They waved, as if he was a neighborhood friend coming out to play! What was going on around here?
He couldn’t help but think back to Tobias’s earlier warning. In many ways they really were just like children. If the ghatins were to deem them a threat and attack Redwater now... Jarlen shivered at the thought.
Long before he reached the corner, he heard the sounds of a training session well under way. The grunts, the clacking of wooden swords, all brought a smile to his face. The sounds reminded him of his days in the pit. Such a brutal, beautiful art it was, and one so few lived long enough to master.
He could not deny his excitement at seeing how far they had come. Perhaps he would even join in and teach the young troops a thing or two.
But when he turned the corner, his reminiscing smile melted away. It only took a brief glance to see how green they really were, how different this was to any training he could remember. Painfully awkward, lerwicks traded sword blows with slow, sweeping strikes. Each clumsy strike left them wide open for a counter attack, one that wasn’t coming because their training partners were equally as bad.
Others moved with all the grace of a wounded dog, working their hand-to-hand combat techniques with loose form and little to no intensity. None were using their natural speed. Methodically going through the motions, it looked more like children having a shoving match.
But as much as all that bothered Jarlen, it wasn’t the thing that truly sickened him. It was their expressions as they continued making a mockery out of combat. Smiling, even laughing on occasion, it seemed like some big game to them. Tobias was off to one side working with another group. Jarlen couldn’t hear his instructions, but he could still see what his general was trying to accomplish with that group.
Raising his shield, the others mimicked Tobias’s action with grinning faces. With loose grips that would surely drop those weapons if anyone slapped the backs of their hands, their shields wobbled in the air like branches in a stiff breeze. Tobias moved down the line, steadying their hands one at a time while pushing their shields closer together. They were supposed to be locked together like a wall of steel, but it was obvious that a well-placed stone would have broken through it with ease.
Tobias caught Jarlen’s eye. He looked tired, beaten, the look of a man who had been working day and night with a group who just couldn’t figure out what it takes to be a soldier. The learning curve was steep, both mentally and physically. Jarlen’s stomach began to churn. The gravity of the task he had given Tobias was really sinking in. His general had tried to warn him, but in his blind arrogance, he just didn’t listen. Or perhaps just didn’t want to face it.
Well, he was listening now.
When Jarlen stepped into view, grins vanished and were quickly replaced by serious expressions. Elbows jabbed against ribs, drawing attention to their rarely seen leader. Ignoring them for now, Jarlen stepped over to Tobias. Throwing an arm around his shoulder, he walk
ed him a few paces away so they could speak privately.
“I’m sorry,” Jarlen began. If seeing their leader was a rarity, than an open apology for anything was practically unheard of. “I now see what you were talking about,” he clarified, reading the stunned look on his general’s face. “Your concerns were obviously valid, and I dismissed them too quickly. That was my mistake.”
“Sir?” Tobias said, not exactly sure how to respond. “I appreciate you taking the time to come see these issues for yourself, but to apologize—”
“Is appropriate in this case,” Jarlen said, holding up an open hand to let his general know he would hear no more pushback on the subject. If he had learned anything from watching Orm’rak delegate, it was how to keep his ego in check. There was a time when such a thing would have been impossible for Jarlen, but that time was long past. In times of war, a commander’s ego could get an entire army killed.
“Waiting this long to get involved was foolish on my part. It was arrogant of me to think I could run the city, as well as my army, from the comfort of a lavish room and a lush chair.”
“But sir, men have been doing exactly that for thousands of years,” Tobias pointed out. “Those men were referred to as kings, and those lush chairs were called thrones.” Even Jarlen couldn’t help but crack a smile at the general’s dry humor. Still, his point was well taken.
“We are not humans, nor will we repeat their many well-documented mistakes. From now on I plan to be much more involved, and I plan to make a few changes starting now. Remember what I said about sending them to me before making an example out of them?” Tobias nodded with a knowing half smile. “Forget it. They advance at an adequate pace, or they perish in the most public of ways. There isn’t enough time to approach it any other way. Now, first I want you to divide them into two groups—”
Tobias turned when Jarlen’s gaze drifted up past his shoulder. Eyes to the sky, lerwicks began backing away from the scene unfolding. Some even turned and ran.
Circling overhead was a small contingent of spiritists, perhaps a dozen or so all riding their ravens. A female spiritist looked down on them, smirking, her taunting grin only serving to enrage Jarlen further. But with his clumsy lerwicks running around in panicked circles, some even gone into hiding, it was unclear if he was more enraged or embarrassed.
Unless they were just serving as a distraction for some greater threat, there was no way a group this small was organizing for an attack. But his army was too inexperienced to recognize this obvious fact. It was yet another stark reminder that they were not prepared to defend Redwater against any serious attacks.
“Your sister sends her love,” the spiritist shouted, much to the approval of the others as their laughter rained down. “In fact, she misses her dear brother so much that she sent him a gift.” She shoved a box off the front of her saddle. When it hit the ground, the lid flipped open and the assassin’s head came rolling out.
“And as for the rest of you,” she said, addressing the lerwicks still looking up in awe. “Such will be the fate of any who dare stand against us. You would do well to remember that the next time your cowardly leader sends one of you on a suicide mission.” After a final bout of taunting laughter, the spiritists flew away.
Tobias casually strolled over and picked up the head, then walked it over to Jarlen. The fire in his eyes was similar to Jarlen’s, but completely at odds with his nonchalant movements. He knew the men were watching, and the last thing either of them needed was to show any signs of panic or desperation. The illusion of control was paramount in these situations.
“Dispose of that,” Jarlen growled quietly, staring over Tobias’s shoulder. He didn’t even bother looking at the head. She had failed in her mission, therefore was no longer worthy of any recognition or thought. “After that, round up those who ran and punish them accordingly.” Tobias raised an eyebrow.
“No, executions,” Jarlen clarified, although he was tempted. “Not this time, anyway. We can’t afford to lose that many at once. That, and a round of mass executions would crush the men’s morale. Whether they deserve it or not, we still can’t lose sight of our ultimate goal.” It was a delicate balance between keeping morale high, and some much-needed discipline.
“Sir.” Tobias marched away.
Heading back to his private quarters, Jarlen could feel the eyes burning into the back of his head. He was supposed to be their leader, yet he could swear they were laughing at him. What was he supposed to do, attack Lunaris Tower with an inexperienced army that would probably be slaughtered? He had very few options here.
Viola was in a similar situation, seeing as how her troops were equally inexperienced. But she had the spiritists on her side. That alone was an insurmountable advantage. The more he thought about it, the more concerned he became. Not only were they in no position to fend off a ghatin attack, but if Viola ever decided to go on the offensive with the spiritists at her side...
Heads turned as Jarlen stormed through the door. “Out,” he growled, his soft tone dark and threatening. Some were without shoes or socks while others were nearly naked, but not a single woman hesitated in clearing the premises. Barely five seconds passed before he was completely alone, but the silence was short-lived.
Livid, he flipped one of the beds over, kicking the bottom base before it ever hit the floor. Flying across the room, the bed’s frame shattered against the far wall. Vases and tables were next as Jarlen’s rage played out. Better to do it here than to lose control in front of his men. How dare she make a fool out of him like that? Viola would pay. All of them would pay! He would not be denied his revenge.
“Sir?” Jarlen slowly turned around. Perhaps someone else would pay first? Who would dare enter his private chamber unannounced? But no, none of his men were this stupid. There had to be a good reason. The look on this young man’s face spoke volumes. “Sir, you better come with me right away.”
Chapter 13
Lerwicks sat on rooftops, gazing down at the spectacle unfolding in the streets below. So far it had been a most eventful day, and now it looked as if that pattern would continue.
Led by a giant of a man in a red mask, the party of humans marched down Redwater’s main street. Decked out in black armor with black helmets to match, around two dozen moved in formation right behind him, each with an oversized sword propped up over one shoulder. Excited lerwicks zipped all around them, darting back and forth wearing evil grins. Others whirled about behind them, their black funnel forms cawing and squawking.
All Jarlen had to do was say the word and they would tear the humans apart. Their battle skills were raw, but they were still quite dangerous in a wild ambush. Skill wouldn’t matter much with their savage aggression and superior speed. Even by pure numbers alone it would be a slaughter.
What were these humans thinking? Coming here was nothing short of madness, didn’t they realize that?
More lerwicks rushed out ahead of them from a nearby building. Carrying tables and chairs, they set them down right in the middle of the street. After pushing them together to form a makeshift meeting space, they rushed away just as fast as they came. It appeared as if Jarlen’s curiosity had gotten the best of him. Oh, the humans weren’t getting out of here alive. It was not a change of heart by any stretch, but he first wanted to get some answers before letting his army slowly drain them for days on end.
Jarlen approached from the opposite direction with his own band of personal bodyguards. Being the first to reach the tables, he and the others took their seats and waited. Diovok was in no hurry, his big body swaying along at a steady pace until he eventually stood before the table. Swords still drawn, his black knights circled to his back. With a triumphant smirk, Jarlen gestured for him to sit.
“I would have used every resource at my disposal to have you brought before me alive, Diovok,” Jarlen said.
Jarlen could barely contain his excitement at having his old nemesis fall right into his lap like this. Diovok had tortured him with t
hat magical collar more times than he could count. He used it to control him for years, and now those memories were all flooding back to him like a haunting dream. As he sat there reliving those old memories, his smirk began to twist into a grimace. Oh, but he hated this man.
“I never would have dreamed you would wander right to me like a lost dog, saving me the trouble of hunting you down. For that, I must thank you.
“I have not come to help you satisfy some old blood feud you once had with the humans, or with me,” Diovok said, his hissing, airy voice reminiscent of a snake.
“It speaks,” Jarlen said, his rising eyebrows the only sign of any emotion. A part of him always suspected his torturer was much more than many believed. “Is that why you came all this way, to prove to me that you’re not some mute simpleton in a man’s body?” Jarlen clapped slowly, his smile returning once more. The surrounding lerwicks began snickering, many mimicking his clapping as well. “I must say old friend, it was good to see you one last time. Any last words?”
“You are not going to kill me today, old friend,” Diovok hissed.
“Arrogant, even up to your final seconds. I respect that. Really, I do. Goodbye.” Chair flying back when he surged to his feet, Jarlen’s flesh blade ripped across Diovok’s chest.
After a brilliant blue flash, Jarlen went flying straight back. Landing hard nearly ten feet way, his flesh blade withered back down into a steaming arm. He growled, ignoring the white-hot pain radiating up and down his arm as he struggled back to his feet. Now he knew there was no reason to give the signal to attack. Little doubt they were all magically protected just like Diovok.
