Rise of the Retics

by T J Lantz

  His logic was sound. He had indeed saved her from the men who had killed her teacher. He could easily have harmed her in the hours while she slept. Instead, he had protected her, hidden her from danger, and even brought her food.

  “Why did those men—what did you call them?—Why did they want to take me away from Lipkos?” She wanted to ask Reginald why these men would kill an innocent monk just to get to her, but she wasn’t quite ready to say that out loud.

  “They are called the Coalition of the Burning Heart. They work for the church and several allied governments, though only the most powerful officials know of their existence. And simply put, they wanted you because of who you are, ” Reginald replied matter-of-factly.

  His answer was so simple and easy that Tyranna felt stupid for not understanding what he meant the first time. She waited for him to continue, suddenly eager to hear more When no more information came from the creature, she got a bit bolder.

  “I don’t understand. I am nothing but an ordinary orphan girl. What value could I possibly have to anyone?”

  Reginald paused for a moment before he spoke. “You are an orphan, yes that is certainly true. However, you are anything but ordinary, my lady. You are a very unique being. There are very few of your kind left in this world.”

  “My kind? What does that mean? What kind of person am I?”

  Reginald’s words piqued her interest and washed away any last droplets of insecurity. For as long as she had been alive, Tyranna had wanted nothing more than to be more than just an orphan girl. She sat up straight, her muscles relaxing for the first time since she woke.

  “Well Tyranna, that is a very complicated question, but I suppose we’re not going anywhere until you have received some type of answer, so I will appease you the best I can. Let me begin by asking you this Tyranna, have you ever heard of the Viking people?”

  “Of course, I know who they are,” Tyranna responded with confidence. “Brother Tychus says they are fierce savages—warriors from across the sea. They would raid coastal cities and towns like Gluesk for hundreds of years. But that was a long time ago.” Tyranna beamed with pride at her answer, the same way she always did when she knew something important. Knowledge made her feel as indestructible as a knight in plate armor.

  “Your Brother Tychus sounds like he was a very wise man, but I must slightly disagree with his assertion. They are no more savage than most humans. They were, however, the great warriors of their day. That much is certainly undeniable. I am also willing to wager that you have not been taught that Viking raiding parties were led by fierce soldiers known as berserkers.”

  Tyranna tilted her head sideways to indicate that this was new knowledge to her.

  “These men, and sometimes even women, entered the battle field wearing only a cloak made of a strong animal, usually a wolf or a bear, identical to what you are wearing now.” He pointed to the muddy cloak draped around her. “A very valuable and very magical cloak.”

  She wrapped it tighter around herself. It was her only real worldly possession and the soft fur made her feel safe.

  “It was said,” Sir Reginald continued, “that in the heat of battle, with the help of their cloaks, these warriors could change forms and become powerful animals. Once transformed, their might and ferocity would inspire the rest of the Viking warriors to greater prowess in combat. These tales have been handed down for many years my lady, and most humans believe them to be little more than legend now, but we know the truth. There are still a few berserkers left in this world, and I am certain you are one of them.”

  “You believe that I am some kind of Viking animal warrior? Now I know you’re lying. That’s just absurd. First of all, no human in the world has that kind of power. Secondly, everyone knows that females can’t be soldiers.”

  This was something Tyranna was absolutely sure on. It was made very clear at the monastery—war was a man’s job.

  “I must respectfully disagree, Tyranna. First of all, I never said that berserkers were human. In fact, they are a unique product only possible through the mixing human blood with that of an ancient race known as ljósálfar, though you may have heard of them by their more common name—elves. Through this combination, young shape-shifters were sometimes born. The elves, who did not agree with mating outside their own species, would exile their shifter children, leaving them out in the elements to die. The Vikings were far more pragmatic. They saw the value in such strong warriors and praised the gift of a berserker. You, Tyranna, are one of these gifts, and your transformation last night proved it.”

  As much as she hated to admit it, she knew he was absolutely correct. Her memory was hazy at best, but she remembered the feeling.

  “In response to your second statement, women are some of our greatest warriors. They are also scholars, healers, and politicians. In many different cultures of Rosehaven, the genders are equal in all facets of life. With so few retics left, it is the only way for our people to survive and prosper. If you agree to come with me, I can introduce you to some of them.”

  As crazy as the first part of his response sounded, the idea that she could be anything she wanted to be in life greatly intrigued her. Tyranna had spent most of her life being teased by the boys at the monastery for her strength and intelligence. She could always beat most of them in physical skills like swimming, running, and jumping—they hated her for that. School was even worse, and it had gotten to the point where Brother Tychus had been forced to instruct her lessons privately, without the other children around to tease her.

  “Where would we have to go?” she asked softly, still a bit wary of Reginald.

  “There is a boat, called the Wild Rover, anchored off the coast of Gluesk’s port. It is less than a mile from the harbor. The admiral has orders to bring both of us back to Rosehaven—my home and soon yours as well.” Tyranna noticed that Sir Reginald, or Branchy as she wanted to call him, spoke the name Rosehaven with a fondness in his voice that she had never heard anyone use when describing where they lived. She hoped it was as nice a place for her as he obviously believed it to be.

  “Rosehaven? I don’t know of such a place. Is it far?”

  “I am very happy to hear that knowledge of Rosehaven has never touched your earsthe ent said with a toothy smile. “We take great pride in keeping our city unknown to those who do not reside within its borders. I truly believe you will enjoy living there. It is a wonderful place where all retics who wish for freedom are welcome.”

  Tyranna wrinkled her nose slightly at the word “retics”.

  “Retics? What is a retic?”

  Reginald cleared his voice before he continued.

  “You see, little one, when humans first began to hunt us almost a thousand years ago, those people who wished us dead called us heretics. As they began to wage war against us, many of us, dozens of different species, stood up to their armies and unified against their hatred. We took their insult and adopted it for our own, taking pride in calling ourselves retics as a symbolic act of defiance to their tyranny. The word refers to any creature capable of intelligent thought that is not a human.”

  Reginald stopped for a moment to collect his thoughts. After a few seconds he continued.

  “Over time, human governments and religious groups have tried to erase the knowledge of many different retic cultures from the world. One way they did this was to spread the idea that we were not creatures of this world, but that all of us were monsters that needed to be hunted and destroyed.”

  “I don’t understand. If you’re not evil than why would anyone want to hunt you?” Tyranna didn’t understand why humanity would want to kill off entire cultures. Until last night, she had never met a single human who wanted to kill anyone.

  “That is a question I do not have an answer to, nor do I believe anyone on Earth could answer fully. Our scholars have debated this for hundreds of years and have come up with many theories, but there is no consensus. Some believe it has to do with power, others argue greed. But
alas, Tyranna, there will be plenty of time to answer all your questions once we are safely aboard the Wild Rover.”

  Tyranna was torn. Despite all her initial fears, she sensed no evil from this creature. If he was, in fact, telling the truth, and she was some sort of crazy shape-shifting monster, then returning to Lipkos was definitely not an option. Those men would surely come back to find her, and then she would meet the same end as Brother Tychus and the monks who lived there. Regardless of what she was—a human girl or some mythical Viking-elf warrior, she really wanted to live long enough to find out the truth.

  If he was lying and planned on eating her, there would be little she could do to stop it, regardless of what choice she made.

  After careful thought, Tyranna decided to trust her instincts. She stood, grabbed a quick handful of food from the ground next to her, and started following Branchy.

  Tyranna spent the next hour avoiding branches, climbing over logs, and desperately trying to follow the path that Branchy was blazing. For such a huge creature, he moved through the forest with the ease and grace of a young doe.

  She had to stop for breaks to rest her feet several times, which slowed her down even more. She had no shoes and the rough nature with which she was dragged out of the monastery the night before had left them scraped, swollen, and burning with each step.

  Noticing Tyranna’s pain, Branchy stopped and had her sit down. He took a handful of mud, rolled it around in his huge hands, and applied it to both her feet like a salve. She winced at first at the course feel of his hands, but soon the soothing relief of the mud became all she could feel. While it didn’t take all her pain away, she was able to move with much greater ease.

  Finally, when she thought she could travel no farther without resting again, the forest edge appeared before her. Just beyond the tree line Tyranna could make out the image of several large ships docked near the shore. Hundreds, if not thousands, of men busily loaded and unloaded goods while their captains exchanged currency with the street merchants. A near equal amount of women, many with children in tow, paced back and forth through the rows of vendors, searching for deals that only existed in their minds.

  Tyranna had never seen so many people at one time. She found the sight to be equal parts intimidating and exhilarating.

  “It’s so busy, how are we ever going to sneak down there?” she asked Branchy as she surveyed the bustling harbor.

  “It will take me some time to get down there unnoticed, Tyranna. Take this,” he said handing her a few silver coins, “and head down to the fisherman’s stand near the western most dock. See? Down there.” He pointed to the far side of the harbor, several hundred yards away.

  “While you are there, buy a fish or two, and then head down the coast away from the harbor toward the western side of the beach. I will meet you there. Oh, and while you are at the market, be sure you haggle over the price so that they think you a merchant’s daughter. Hopefully your less than sparkling appearance does not destroy that illusion before it begins. Oh, and also try not to talk to anyone other than the fishmonger. The fewer people you interact with down there, the better. We don’t want to make it easy for the Coalition to figure out where you went.”

  “Can’t I just go with you and just avoid the port altogether?” asked Tyranna, wondering why they needed to risk anyone seeing her at all.

  “I wish we could do that, but the only out of sight path around here is quite treacherous. It’s almost a completely vertical climb down a rocky cliff to the beach below. It will be difficult enough for me to traverse alone, and I fear there is no way I would be able to carry you along with me. Now go, little one, and be safe.”

  Tyranna nodded. She was surprised at how nervous she felt heading into the harbor alone. Just a few hours ago she had thought Branchy was going to kill and eat her (hopefully in that order), and now she was scared to not have him at her side.

  “It’s ok. No one down there wants to hurt me,” she repeated the words as she began her descent down from the tree line to the dirt path that led into the city. Despite reassuring herself several times, she felt no braver. Being kidnapped, seeing her teacher slain, and meeting mythical creatures had drained her bravery for the week.

  Tyranna spun back to make sure that Branchy was still watching her. Seeing that he had not yet left made her feel a little bit stronger. She swallowed hard, closed her cloak tight, and nodded a quick goodbye to her newfound protector before heading off to find the road again.

  Chapter 6

  Father Knows BEst

  Jaxon

  Roserhaven: The Sheriff’s Office

  October 16, 1503

  Sir William Hoofstomp was covered with coarse brown fur from the waist down and wore no clothing to cover his muscular human looking torso. His unruly chestnut hair swarmed both sides of his large, curved horns, and hung down well past his shoulders. It was a strong contrast to his long, well-groomed goatee, in which no hair dared to be out of place, lest they incite his wrath. One look at the satyr was usually enough to make a creature think twice about saying anything to cross him.

  Unlike the two other men in the room, Sheriff Quicktrigger and Captain Bushytail, William carried no weapons. He much preferred to disable his enemies with his bare hands, a distinction he took great pride in. In fact, before venturing into the dangerous work of a Roune-Knight, he had spent months developing a self-defense method he called Crag-maga[15].

  Jaxon thought it was an interesting fighting style. It had lots of throws and headbutts, but it was not very effective for someone without huge horns on their head. It worked for William though, and he often boasted that in head to hand combat he could beat twenty humans at one time. Jaxon didn’t see how that was impressive. They were only humans after all. Jaxon could probably swat thirty or forty house flies, but you didn’t see him bragging to everyone about it.

  “Good morning, Alastar. Kirgo,” William nodded as he greeted each man. They politely nodded back, doing nothing to reduce the tension hanging in the air.

  “I’m glad you arrived when you did, William,” the sheriff said. “We have a problem with Jaxon.”

  “So it appears,” replied the satyr dryly as he folded his arms across his broad chest. “What did he do now?”

  “What did he do you ask?” Bushytail interjected. “He committed grand theft against all the creatures of the forest.” The captain paused to let the severity of his statement sink in, but neither the dwarf nor the satyr showed any outward response to his words, so he continued. “I am here to see that proper justice is done in this situation. As a citizen of the city-state of Rosehaven, I cannot allow our sheriff to cover for this menace any longer. As free creatures, we deserve assurance that our right to trade is being protected and that dangers like this red skinned criminal are removed from the streets immediately.”

  “Alastar, the boy took a couple of oranges,” said the sheriff once he sensed the captain was done speaking. “He didn’t conspire to steal the crown off the head of the Lord Protector or anything close to that. Hasn’t your daughter ever done something stupid?”

  “What are you insinuating about my daughter, Sheriff?” The dark gray fur up and down the captain’s spine bristled with his annoyance.

  “No, no, no, Alastar, nothing about Samantha. I’m sure she’s a lovely girl. I’m just saying kids will be kids is all. You can’t go around arresting them all for every little thing they do.”

  Neither side spoke again for an awkward moment that seemed like an eternity. If Bushytail got annoyed at what he thought was an insult toward his daughter, how mad was he going to be if Jaxon was forced to kill her?

  The thought of possibly having to kill Samantha Bushytail in front of hundreds, maybe even thousands, of retics suddenly flooded Jaxon’s mind. He had never actually had to kill anyone before. He assumed it would feel little bit like stepping on a bug, only messier. He had stepped on countless insects and had never once felt bad about it. How much worse could killing another retic
be?

  After a few moments of nerve wracking silence, Hoofstomp finally offered up a response. “I will make restitution on the losses the Forest Folk have suffered today, Captain, above and beyond their initial value in order to compensate you and your neighbors for the time and stress Jaxon caused.” William turned his head toward the cell as he spoke, giving Jaxon a stern look before he continued. “And your community will have both my and my son’s sincerest apologies.” Usually Jaxon hated when he called him his son, but somehow it seemed ok when he was trying to get him out of trouble.

  “How much for the fruit and the inconvenience?” asked the satyr as diplomatically as he could.

  “I’m sorry, Sir William,” responded the captain, “but this is no longer an issue of value. Your son is a nuisance to the entire island and must be dealt with properly. The Forest Folk have invoked their right to a trial by combat.” From the look on his face Jaxon could see that Captain Bushytail was not in the mood to negotiate.

  “You can’t be serious! He took a few pieces of fruit,” William continued, his diplomatic tone tossed out like day old bread, “and you want to put him on trial for that? He’s just a boy. I will take care of him myself.”

  “You have had your chance already, Sir William, and you failed miserably. You have raised a menace to this entire island. Your turn to discipline the demon is over, and now we shall have ours. Tomorrow, at noon in the arena, the trial begins. I have already filed the necessary request with Lord Laszlo and it has been accepted and approved. As I just informed the sheriff, in the interest of fairness the Forest Folk have decided that my daughter, Samantha, will represent us. Since they are the same age, neither side will have an unfair advantage, so you have no grounds to appeal. Please don’t be late. Oh, and I would make sure you say your goodbyes to the demon before he steps in the arena. I have a strange feeling he might not be stepping back out.” Without waiting for any further response Captain Alastar Bushytail turned and left the sheriff’s office.