Winds of Chaos (Tainted Blood Book 3)

by Jeff Gunzel

  “Yes, go. Just go!” one of them shouted, nearly sprinting backwards in full retreat as Jarlen reached for him. Anything to not get touched by this diseased man.

  “We can’t let them in here,” the third guard protested, also working hard to keep his distance.

  “Well then they’re going to stand here while you write it up,” the other said, backing all the way up to the wall. Jarlen hobbled around in circles, fingers raking his face mostly to keep their eyes distracted. If they were to truly get a good look at him, one of them might figure out who he was. Not that long ago he was the most recognizable figure in the city.

  “Bah! Forget it then,” he conceded, just wanting this most unpleasant encounter to be over with. Their shift would end soon anyhow and then it would be someone else’s responsibility. It was too late in the day for this. “Just go!” Smiling her thanks, Assirra lightly heeled her mount and trotted past the gate. “And don’t touch anyone or anything!” the guard warned. “I don’t make enough coin for this,” he muttered to himself, wiping the sweat from his brow.

  “That was close,” said Assirra, daring to look back once she felt they were far enough away. “That was some quick thinking back there.”

  “It wasn’t really that much of a stretch,” he groaned, tugging down on the front of his hood to restore his disguise. “Humans see me as a monster anyway. All I did was alter my expressions and behavior. That hardly made me a completely different person, but it still worked better than it should have. Humans are easy to fool like that. They see what they want to see because their minds are already made up.”

  “I have no doubt,” she replied absently, withering against all the suspicious looks being cast their way. Rarely was she in the company of humans at all, let alone this many at once. Nudging her horse through the crowded street, she wasn’t really sure if everyone was actually staring, or if it was just the overstimulation of being around so many people. Probably a little of both, she decided. Being the lone tarrin here in the city was going to make it difficult, if not impossible, to keep a low profile.

  “You really haven’t thought this through, have you?” asked Jarlen, practically reading her thoughts.

  “Not as well as I should have,” she admitted, squirming in her saddle under all the gawking stares—not hateful or judgmental, but certainly curious, as many were seeing a tarrin for the first time. In truth, she was beginning to feel quite foolish. Had she honestly believed she and Jarlen were going to just march into the city, break Viola free, then leave without anyone noticing?

  She couldn’t think straight with all these people watching. “We need to stop somewhere.”

  “Where?”

  “Anywhere! We just need to get off the road and away from all these people,” she replied sharply. Jarlen wasn’t fairing much better with all the unwanted attention. Sure, he had lived in the city for a long time, but that was in isolation for the most part. He had never seen the city like this, alive with varied sounds and smells, packs of people walking shoulder to shoulder.

  “Over there,” he pointed to a wooden sign hanging from two thin chains. “The Royal Oak” it read, the letters painted over an engraved mug and plate. This tavern seemed as good as any to go sit down and gather their thoughts. Assirra tied her horse just outside and the two of them went in. The place was nearly empty, save for three older gentlemen playing cards at a booth in the corner, and a scattering of barmaids standing around with not much to do. It was too early in the day for drinking. Things would probably liven up in a few hours.

  Relief washed over Assirra as they made their way over to a private booth in an opposite corner. Despite the lingering taint of pipe smoke and stale ale spilled on the floor from the night before, she finally felt like she could breathe. One of the barmaids shuffled up to them, an empty tray tucked under one arm. “What can I get for you fine folks this afternoon?” she asked. If a tarrin seated with a cloaked stranger was anything out of the ordinary, one couldn’t tell by her cheery disposition. After years of dealing with all types of travelers, she had probably seen just about everything, Assirra suspected. That was a good thing. The less they were noticed, the less people would talk.

  “Two ales will be all,” Assirra said, frowning into her coin purse as she gave it a shake. Things were going to be more expensive here. It was a bit early for drinking, but neither of them cared about that. They needed to relax and come up with a plan. After flashing a curious, if not slightly suspicious look at Jarlen, the woman shuffled off to fetch their drinks.

  “Is this what you imagined when we set out on this mission?” Jarlen asked, shoulders rolled forward while keeping his face shadowed.

  “I’m not sure what I imagined,” Assirra admitted, hands fidgeting at her sides. “It’s all so big, so many people. We don’t even know where to start. We need to find out where they’re holding her.”

  “Then shouldn’t that be our first priority?” Jarlen asked. “We can’t exactly help her escape if we don’t even know—”

  “Here you are,” said the barmaid, sliding two generously full mugs across the table. Sliding to a halt, each spilled a little with the sway of ale.

  “Thank you,” said Assirra, handing over two coins. The woman eyed the silver but remained standing there, hand open. With a sigh, Assirra reached into her purse and retrieved two more coins, clinking them on top of the first two. Only then did the woman stride away with a grin. “Drink it slowly,” Assirra said, frowning into her purse once more. “I’m not sure I have enough coin to—” She looked up to see Jarlen with puffed cheeks, a fair amount of foam on his lips while holding a half-empty mug. She glared as if she had caught him stealing. He swallowed, then let out a rasping cough.

  “Do you know how long it’s been since I had a cold ale, or any ale for that matter?” he asked innocently, trying to justify his greediness.

  “Never mind that,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “We have more pressing matters. We don’t know where Viola is and we have no idea where to begin searching. I’m afraid our priority has changed. We need help. We need to find the humans.”

  Jarlen nearly spit a mouthful of ale across the table. “And just how do you propose we do that?” he asked, wiping his mouth. “For one, they could be anywhere by now. We have no idea which direction they may have traveled. And even if we did, how would you convince them to help us?”

  Assirra gave him a curious look. “Given how much time you’ve spent among the humans, I would have thought by now you would be more familiar with their predictability. Since they have failed to keep Viola safe, you assume they’ve fled the city and left her to her fate. But human stubbornness is the stuff of legends. I bet they’re still here. In fact, I’m certain of it. We must find them and join our efforts.”

  “And what of me?” Jarlen asked. “Let’s assume you are correct and they really are still in the city. How are you going to explain the monster at your side?” He patted his own chest.

  “I’ll tell them the truth,” she said, sinking back into her seat as if all the air was seeping from her body. “I’m done lying for you. I know you never asked me to, but it always felt like a necessity to protect my reputation. One white lie became two, two became four. The next thing I knew I was living a double life, all because you held my heart in the palm of your hand. But Odao sees all, I tell you. Easier to turn off the sun than to lie to the great creator. He can see right into my heart. I no longer feel him, and I suspect I know why. I must regain his trust one step at a time.”

  She threw back her mug, downing the strong liquor as if it were water, then hammered the empty glass down on the table. “Come, it’s time to go,” she said. “I know of one spot where everyone must visit sooner or later. The market area is probably our best chance of finding them. The sooner we find them, the sooner we can devise a plan.”

  “You know they may not accept me,” he stated plainly.

  “That is certainly possible,” she replied, scooting out from the boo
th without any further explanation.

  * * *

  The city was alive with its unique sights and sounds. Merchants shouted at any who passed by, pushing their wares of furs and leather goods. Smoky scents wafted from the open doors of butcher shops, their windows strung with links of meat. The combination of shouts, mumbling, and laughter rose up in an endless jumble of sound. The city was alive at every corner. But on some deeper level, the lively scene made Jarlen sick to his stomach.

  Despite his time here in the city, he had never seen the humans in their natural habitat until now. Before now, all he had ever been exposed to was the angry mob either calling for his blood or ordering him to kill. These beings craved violence right down to their very core. It was the center of their world; it had to be. But what he was seeing now did not match what he had always known to be true.

  Near a street corner, a young girl twitched her fingers, arms stretched up towards her father’s chest. Smiling down at her, he picked her up and bounced her in his arms as they strode away. Couples walked together arm in arm while doing nothing more than enjoying each other’s company. Lost in their private worlds, time might as well have been standing still.

  Was it possible they didn’t actually hate the world and everything in it? But that didn’t make any sense. How could such hateful creatures who lived only to watch other beings suffer show such public displays of affection? How could—

  The sorrowful groan from an old man nearby startled Jarlen from his thoughts. Filthy, his eyes frosted white, the blind man with one missing leg sat on the side of the street shaking his bowl. What sounded like two or three coins rattled in circles as the wretched creature moaned. He was impossibly thin, making Jarlen wonder how he was even alive. And then he saw it... It was nothing like the little girl climbing into her father’s arms, or the way humans might treat a significant other while strolling down the street. Nearly all the folks who passed by ignored the pathetic creature. A few grumbled insults while one even kicked his leg to move it out of the way. He was human, but not recognized as a human in any way. Inferior, invisible to the masses...weak. He would never have a place among them.

  The realization of how this broken race thought enraged Jarlen even further. Their cruelty was mostly aimed at those they deemed inferior, no matter their race. The reality of that hit him like a stone. The real truth had been revealed. So you believe I’m the same as that creature sitting over there? All these years of torment just because you believed you were better than me? One of these days you wretched humans will pay for—

  “Over there!” Assirra said, pointing off near a fruit stand. Had Liam not been nearly a full head taller than all those around him, she never would have spotted him. A quick scan of the area revealed Owen and Thatra standing nearby. “I told you they would still be in the city.” She thought for a moment, keeping her eye on them so she wouldn’t lose sight. If they were to suddenly wander off, it could be hours before she found them again.

  “Here,” she said, hopping off her mount. “I better go speak with them first. Tend to my horse and then wait in that alley over there.” She pointed across the street. Silently, he took the reins and led the animal away. He was just fine with not having to speak with the humans just yet.

  After swiping her hands nervously down a dress that didn’t require any straightening, she made her way towards them. Funny, really. She found herself to be quite nervous after deceiving them somewhat, all in the name of a man she no longer loved. Pull it together. I am the High Cleric. I do not answer to these humans. I do not answer to any—

  “High Cleric?” came Thatra’s questioning shout. Assirra nearly missed a step, flinching at the call of her title. Thatra came running up to her, then dropped to one knee. She seemed to forget where she was. People stared, many pointing at the odd behavior. As if seeing two tarrins in the same place wasn’t strange enough.

  “On your feet, child,” said Assirra, moving quickly to help her up. More attention was the last thing she wanted. “You forget yourself, Thatra. Here, we are nothing but strangers wandering in a strange world. My rank and title mean nothing here.”

  “But what are you doing here?” Thatra asked.

  “Yes, what are you doing here?” Liam asked, stepping up to join them. Owen came around from the other side, an apple clenched in his teeth with several more held in a sack.

  “I am already aware of what happened to Viola,” Assirra replied. As Thatra began to gush with apologies over her own failure, Assirra raised a hand to silence her. “I blame none of you,” she assured them. None of you standing here, anyway, she thought. “These unforeseen events were out of your control. I set out as soon as I heard. I knew you would still be here working on a plan, and I wish to aid you in any way I can.”

  “It’s bad,” mumbled Owen, still crunching away on a mouthful of apple. “We think they might be holding her in the keep’s dungeon.”

  “Or any number of undisclosed locations,” Liam added, regarding Assirra while stroking his beard. “The last time we saw her, she had been caged and paraded through the city. Finding her location will be the first step, naturally. But I must ask, how exactly did you hear of what happened?”

  Assirra paused. She knew this question was coming and had played it out in her mind a thousand times already. “Come with me,” she said. It would probably just be easier to show them rather than explain.

  She led them away from the market, weaving in and out through the heavy crowd like a salmon swimming upstream. The others followed without question, but were a bit hesitant when she led them into a back alleyway. Leaning against the wall stood a cloaked figure, his dark-blue hood pulled down over his face. “Reveal yourself,” Assirra said, taking a step forward while the others cautiously kept their distance. Anyone going to so much trouble not to be seen was difficult to see as trustworthy. In a jerking movement, Jarlen pushed off the wall and slid back the hood. White hair spilled down around his shoulders, the tiny bells woven in jingling softly. Red eyes leaped out from his pale face, leaving little doubt as to who this was.

  He sneered at them while all around, itchy fingers stroked the hilts of their swords. “What is this?” Liam demanded, fingering his own blade.

  “He is with me,” Assirra said calmly, stepping between them with her hands raised. “Everyone just calm down.”

  “Why is he standing here, and yet Viola is a prisoner of Shadowfen?” Liam asked.

  “It does not matter!” Assirra said, trying to defuse the inevitable questioning before it got out of hand. “He is here to help us, and I suspect we will need all the help we can get.”

  “They released me,” Jarlen said truthfully. He stepped away from the wall, hands in the air to prove he wasn’t a threat. “After they captured my sister, I was deemed expendable.” Also the truth...if not all of it at one time. He couldn’t have known, but Liam was measuring his every word, gazing into his eyes while reading his soul like reading a book. “What’s happened to her is wrong, and I share in that responsibility.”

  “And what do ye mean by that,” Owen growled, having yet to release the grip on one of his two blades.

  “I alone know what those vile creatures are going to do to her,” Jarlen continued, ignoring the direct question. “I have lived through this nightmare once already. I know what it is like to wish for a merciful death, begging for the torment to end even though it is just beginning. I know what’s in store for her, and I would not wish it on any living thing.”

  He turned his back to them and rolled his cloak up over the top of his head. Raised white scars climbed his back like chaotic vines growing out of control. Given his pale skin, they were hard to see from a distance, but up close, the obvious signs of torture were enough to make any man’s skin crawl.

  Assirra covered her mouth and looked away. How could she have known? How could anyone do such a thing to a human being? But that was it, wasn’t it? He wasn’t human and would never be treated as such.

  He snapped do
wn the cloak with an angry flick of his wrists. “If you do not want my help, then tell me now,” he said, the calmness in his voice an icy hiss. “But I promise you one thing. If we do not free her soon, the next time you see her, you will not recognize the person standing before you.” His eyes turned distant, looking off to something only he could see. “I know this for certain,” he whispered to himself.

  Silence hung like a black storm cloud, each of them trying to gather their thoughts. After a time, Assirra spoke up with a question of her own. “Where is Xavier?” she asked, realizing for the first time that he wasn’t here. She looked at Owen, then grew concerned as he hesitated in answering. Unable to meet her eyes, he groaned and looked away.

  * * *

  Four powerful wings pumped the air, gliding the hydrogriph through the sky with the effortless grace of a songbird. Each blast of its leathery wings propelled it faster, sending wind rushing all around its scaly red body. It alone ruled the skies, and nothing would challenge it here. Guided along by the pull of some unseen force, a craving, an urge that had to be satisfied, it searched the ground below for those who had summoned it. Its goal was singular, and nothing would stop it until that goal was met.

  Down below, the volcano smoldered, belching out clouds of rolling black soot blooming in the air like dark blossoms. Despite the obvious danger of such a place, it called to him, pulling the hydrogriph ever closer. With a diving swoop, the powerful beast landed at the base of the volcano. Pasty white faces met it at the entrance. Featureless, those faces with wild pink eyes stared out from the darkness. Unable to resist the summoning, the hydrogriph entered with no real understanding as to why.

  A white hand rubbed down the hydrogriph’s neck as its eyes flared with a flash of light. The ghatin clicked in its ear, a sort of rhythmic communication that penetrated the beast’s mind. The ghatin turned back to face the others, its pink eyes blazing with excitement. That too-large lipless mouth split its face in what could only be interpreted as some sort of grin. It hissed words softly, yet they echoed down the corridor clear as a bell.