Tainted Blood Anthology

by Jeff Gunzel

  “Three days,” he said.

  “Then I shall start preparing at once.”

  Chapter 15

  “I have done nothing wrong!” the tarrin growled, the binding ropes crackling between his wrists as he twisted. Arms straight up, hands above his head, his toes were just barely able to touch the ground. Blood seeped from the many lashes covering his body. But despite his wounds, his eyes remained clear and focused.

  “Of course you haven’t,” Yuznal said, seated at a nearby table. “So say all the guilty. I’m certain the devils you work for will be pleased by your resilience. Most would have confessed by now.” The acting High Cleric took a bite of his sausage, a rare food commodity among a race that didn’t really eat meat. “But you can’t hold out forever. The light will always outshine the darkness. Sooner or later you will confess, as do all who collaborate with the shadow. It is only a matter of time.”

  “Two days,” the man sputtered, his eyes fluttering as he fought to stay conscious. “Two days you’ve tormented me, and still I have yet to confess to any of your paranoid delusions. Do what you will if it pleases you, but know that even you can’t change reality through pain or suffering. I was innocent when you began this madness, and I will remain so until it ends. Look under enough rocks, and your mind will eventually see what it wants to see.”

  “I pity you,” Yuznal said, taking another bite of his sausage without ever looking up. “Still you stand in defiance, even after so many witnesses to your black magic have already spoken out against you. Tell me, Grungle, how deep do your loyalties to the shadow run? Confess, and I promise to make your final sentence as painless as possible. Let no one say that I am not merciful, even to those who do not deserve it.”

  Grungle lifted his head. Glossy lips coated with spittle moved up and down, but no sound came out. He swallowed, rolling his head to the side before trying to speak a second time. His throat was so very dry. “And where are these many witnesses you speak of, Yuznal?” he asked, his voice gaining strength with each word.

  “Just as all of you, I have lived in this village my entire life.” He looked out across to those who had gathered to watch. “I know each of you by name, just as you know mine. You know me, and you know that I have never begged for anything in my life. But I will beg now! Show me the faces of my so-called accusers! I want them to look me in the eyes when they—”

  “I’m sure that’s exactly what you want!” Yuznal fired back, fist hammering down on the table, flipping over his plate. “You would single them out and use your shadow magic on them, possibly even sending one of your minions to take their children in the still of the night. Well, I will not have it! Any who are brave enough to step forward and speak out against the darkness shall have anonymity, as well as my full protection.”

  Yuznal turned to face the growing crowd. “Besides, this man refuses to confess to his crimes, therefore has not earned the right to face his accusers. He shall die a coward’s death just like any who serve the shadows. Mark my words, this is only the beginning. One by one I shall draw out the demons among you like weeds. Fear not, those of you who still stand in the light. Report them to me, and I will see justice done. But be warned, protect them or hide their identity,” he glanced back at the man strung to the tree, “and you will suffer the consequences.”

  Narkural, as well as several other nezzerians, stood nearby, watching the spectacle unfold. Although they seemed to have no particular interest in what they were witnessing, their presence alone was intimidating.

  Most of the tarrins watching their old friend doubted there were ever any witnesses to begin with. They all knew Grungle, and couldn’t imagine how any of these outlandish claims could possibly be true. But who would dare speak out against Yuznal, especially when he had these menacing creatures working for him? How had it come to this?

  The slow takeover was so subtle at first. With their former High Cleric providing the perfect scapegoat, Yuznal’s transition into power had been smooth and seamless. No one questioned his right to the position. Unchallenged from the beginning, each of his subtle moves had gone unnoticed. Convincing the nezzerians to work for his cause, blaming Assirra for all the village’s troubles, and insisting that members of their community were practicing black magic had all been done with such precision and grace that no one batted an eye. And now that his power was absolute, it appeared to be too late to do anything about it.

  “If it is purification by pain you seek, I’m sure that can be arranged,” Yuznal went on. Already distracted by the accused, Yuznal didn’t even notice the village’s attention being diverted elsewhere. “I’ve heard this before about servants of the shadow. Your kind actually enjoy the torment, the pain and suffering. Well, I think we can work something out that will satisfy both our—”

  “This madness ends now.”

  Yuznal turned, his eyes instantly drawn to the source of that familiar voice. Assirra stood among a crowd of tarrins, the very same ones who had escaped not so long ago. Tall, menacing, her eyes were hard as stone. Her appearance was so different that in a way she was hard to recognize. But it was her, all right.

  “Yes, Yuznal, we have returned,” another tarrin spoke out, standing protectively in front of Assirra to prove without a doubt where her loyalty stood. “Is this not what you wanted?” she asked, a smug grin on her face. “Did you not say you wanted to have the High Cleric brought back to you?”

  “I wanted her head on a platter,” Yuznal snarled, rising from his seat. The withered old man could look quite menacing when he was pushed this far. “How dare you bring this traitor back to my village?”

  “You mean our village,” Assirra corrected, her own rage just barely kept in check. “You seem to forget what it means to be the High Cleric. You were supposed to represent the people, to be their voice when needed. You were supposed to be a symbol of hope and reason, not one of suspicion and hate.

  “Clearly you have forgotten what this title means, or perhaps you never knew to begin with. No matter, your reign of terror ends now.”

  Yuznal threw his head back and wheezed, a whistling sound that could only be interpreted as a laugh. “You would talk about a reign of terror, traitor? The same woman who turned her back on her own people?” His clouded eyes squinted as his withered hands pressed down on the table. “The High Cleric who abandoned her own god? What makes you think you have the right to be heard here, let alone to stand in our presence? It should be you strung to that tree.”

  Assirra shifted her feet, appearing uncomfortable for the first time. To set foot back in the village also meant facing judgment for her actions. She always knew this, yet still was not quite prepared to face it. There was little doubt that Yuznal was going to try and make a public case against her. He would question her motives, her loyalty to Odao, and ultimately her love for her people.

  It was a sound strategy on his part. After all, her new views and beliefs were a direct contradiction to everything the village stood for. Yuznal was a confident speaker, as well as a competent merchant who could sell a bag of rocks and dirt when he was determined to do so. A con man, a manipulator, the snake didn’t need much in the way of evidence to make his case.

  But he rarely ever told the truth either, not directly anyway. His embellished stories were little more than exaggerations lightly based on the truth.

  So this time, why not see if he could handle the truth head-on? Already deemed a traitor and a witch, what did Assirra have to lose by beating him to the punch? After all, sometimes the hard cold truth could be even more shocking than a manipulative lie.

  “I deny nothing,” Assirra said, deciding to just admit the partial truth of Yuznal’s words before he could begin spinning his web of deceit. She continued, ignoring the stunned reactions of the villagers whose worst fears had just been realized. “You claim that I have turned my back on Odao. I admit this, but only after he turned his back on me first.

  “You claim that I have betrayed my people, that I have turned my
back on them in their time of need.” With a look as if cold steel had just pierced her heart, she grabbed her chest and closed her eyes. “Again, you are correct. I make no excuses for leaving like I did, but hurting my people was never my intent. I left because I had to.”

  “So the betrayer claims that her betrayal was an accident,” Yuznal said, spitting on the ground in disgust. “Does this witch have no dignity?”

  “No less than the tyrant who chooses to rule by fear rather than inspired loyalty?” Assirra shot back, her hands trembling with rage. “I have much to atone for, but do not question my loyalty to my people, serpent.”

  “You are no longer the High Cleric!” he roared, suddenly displaying a thunderous voice for such a frail old man. “You have no authority here.”

  “And once again you are correct,” Assirra said as her hair began to wave about. Ghostly faces materialized all around her, each one with differing expressions of extreme proportions. Some appeared to scream while others laughed, but each one only lasted a second or two before being funneled away by some invisible force.

  “I am no longer the High Cleric, nor do I have any desire to be,” she boomed, her magically enhanced voice more than a match for his. “Keep the petty title you relish so dearly, for it means nothing to me.”

  “I knew it!” Yuznal said, waggling a shaky finger towards her. “I told you she was a witch. I warned you all! Now you can see this monster for who she truly it.”

  “If you’ve always known, then why look so surprised?” she asked, hair waving about like ocean kelp. Her suddenly calm demeanor made her appearance that much more unnerving. As the misty white faces winked in and out of existence, white spheres began circling above her head. “Is this not what you envisioned as you spun your stories? Strange, isn’t it, to see your lies come to life right before your eyes? You were telling the truth all along and didn’t even realize it.”

  The spheres moved faster, spinning around her as they began to change shape. The spheres of light suddenly grew beaks and scaly feathers. What were once spheres now resembled glowing white hawks, each one screaming as they zipped around her head.

  “I am a shadow mage,” she said, her voice no longer booming, but smooth like icy crystal. Sharp, clear, her words were piercing. “I am not here to steal back your false title. I have come to free my people.”

  “Enough of this sacrilege!” Yuznal shouted. “May Odao strike you down where you stand.”

  The corner of Assirra’s mouth turned up in a half smile as she whispered, “Odao is welcome to try...if it pleases him.”

  “Kill her!”

  Only watching curiously up until now, Narkural motioned to one of his nezzerians standing nearby. The brute nodded, then began stalking toward Assirra. Narkural worked for no one, and wasn’t acting on Yuznal’s orders. His motives were his own, and he simply agreed that the situation needed to be handled. This witch, demon, whatever she was, was not a natural part of the balance.

  Therefore, she needed to die...

  The white hawks elongated, their bodies stretching out like spears made of pure energy. The first one spun free from its endless orbit, then ripped straight through the nezzerian’s chest before tearing out the back of his shoulder. Eyes wide in shock, he gripped the mortal wound and stumbled back as spurting blood pumped between his fingers. With the brute effectively out of the fight, Assirra could have stopped right there. But that wasn’t good enough, an example needed to be made.

  A torrent of spears whirled around and ripped through his body, each one zipping back in a sweeping circle before slicing through him again and again. Being hit from all sides, the nezzerian’s body ripped and tore as chunks of bloody meat tumbled away with each fresh strike. Bones snapped then snapped again as each pass further pulverized his body.

  Long dead but still upright, the momentum of the spears tearing up and in somehow managed to keep him on his feet. Like a puppet on strings, the force even caused him to keep walking backwards as his thick legs churned, supporting little more than a bloody stump.

  With a final surge, the spears all looped around one last time, striking what was left of the nezzerian in a single blow. Even though the ground was already speckled with blood and meat, a saturating wave of gore splashed down as the marching puppet practically imploded. How the pulverized corpse still had so much more to offer was quite a mystery.

  The violent show had proven that no one present was even close to being a match for the shadow mage. The one-sided battle had been quick and decisive.

  “There is no place for you in this world, witch,” Narkural said. The calm in his voice was nearly as shocking as what they had just witnessed. “Girtran gave his life for the cause, an honorable death in the eyes of our people. I will not shed tears for those who sacrifice themselves in the line of duty.” He used his chin to point at the bloody remains. “It is creatures like you that continue to upset the balance, so we will continue to resist you at every turn.”

  “It is creatures like me that will save this world while cowardly monsters like you stand by and watch,” Assirra growled. “Perhaps you should rethink your priorities. If the ghatins wipe out this world as they intend to, I don’t think your precious balance is going to matter much. If you still cannot see that, then I pity you.”

  She glanced at the remains, still plenty fresh and warm. “That man died following your orders, not because he made a free choice. His blood is on your hands, and unless you want to join him, I suggest you gather up the rest of your monsters and leave our village. Consider that your only warning.”

  Narkural snarled, summoning the others with a twirl of his hand. “This is far from over, witch,” he muttered before lumbering away into the forest, the rest of his nezzerians in tow. He was not afraid to give his life for the cause. But after what he had just witnessed, there was little doubt she could kill them all if she chose to. He would have to find another way to eliminate this monster.

  “As for you...” Assirra said, returning her attention to the task at hand. With a squeal, Yuznal rose up out of the nearby bush he was hiding in. Suspended in the air by an unseen force, he floated along as his hands and feet swam about. “Now you’re going to tell the truth for once in your life. Our brothers and sisters deserve at least that much.” One of the drifting energy spears came streaking toward his face, stopping right in front of his left eye. “Tell them your true motivation for branding me a traitor!”

  “Influence! Power!” the old man shrieked. “I wanted to be named the High Cleric, so I made you out to be a traitorous monster. It was the easiest way to secure my position.”

  “But even after you had taken my position, you continued to torment our people with false accusations of black magic and witchcraft. Why?!”

  “Controlling them through fear was easier than trying to gain their loyalty by any other means. Trust takes years to build, while fear yields instantaneous results.”

  “How did you know such an extreme plan would work?” Assirra asked, her anger slowly giving way to curiosity. It was a bold plan indeed, and a risky one now that she thought about it.

  “How did I know?” Still hung in the air, the old man threw his head back and let out a wheeze. “Of course it was going to work! You know as well as I do that our people are weak and easily manipulated.” He spit on the ground in disgust. “Years of peace, and lack of conflict, have made us soft and complacent. Why, I did them a favor! If not for me, some other clan would have come along and conquered them anyway.

  “The tarrins have no idea how to adapt to a changing world, and I simply took advantage of that fact. Better to be ruled by me than some outsider. Surely you see the logic in that?”

  Immobilized, helpless, the old man still managed to have an aura of command about him. Just looking at both their expressions, it was easy to be convinced that he was the one in control here.

  “So what now?” he asked, already resolved to his fate. “You think killing me is the answer to all our problems? W
ell, go on then. Take my life and take back your title, High Cleric. We both know how this must end.”

  With a flick of her hand, the old man went flying into a nearby bush. Shaken but unharmed, he struggled back to his feet. “Get out of my sight,” Assirra said, wanting nothing more to do with this snake of a man. “Go, live in the forest like the animal you are. I know what you want from me, but you will not be blessed with a quick death by my hand. You will not have your name immortalized as some martyr who died for what he believed in.

  “Instead, you will sleep in the mud and eat bugs for sustenance until you yourself are eaten, or perhaps an infection burns up your insides. Your death will not be a dignified one, but a long, drawn-out decay as you struggle through each passing day.

  “And when your spirit is finally broken and you lay in the mud, starving and beaten, waiting to take your last breath, know that there is not a single soul anywhere in the world who will shed a tear for you. Our children, and our children’s children, will never even know you existed.

  “Now go...and die...alone.”

  His expression dropped as the fear of this particular death sentence sunk in. Even being remembered as the tyrant who nearly took over Eldham would have immortalized his name. Now, she had taken everything from him. In a flash he had become nothing, just a pitiful old man whose life would never be remembered.

  The stunned look on his face remained even as two tarrins lifted him by the arms and carried him away. He would be left a few miles out of the village, and never thought of again. A rogue tarrin would never be taken in by any other race. His fate was sealed.

  Suddenly feeling dizzy, Assirra sat down on the ground, arms dropping onto her knees. It was over. Her people were free, which meant her work here was done. Everything was so quiet that she had to look around to see how many had stayed during the tragic ordeal. She half suspected most were hiding in their homes.