The Innkeeper's Son

by Jeremy Brooks

  “Keep your voice down. Are you really this naïve?” she responded.

  “Yes!” Sim whisper-shouted incredulously, “I am this naïve. Who is the Blood Lord, and what does he want with us?”

  Enaya looked genuinely annoyed. She glanced back toward the barn, hoping to see if Givara had completed her task. The barn was quiet. “His name is Thorl Desirmor. He’s the king’s son. His job is to find you using any means necessary.”

  Inside the common room, two short figures in hooded black cloaks and two soldiers wearing blood stained mail, entered dragging Sarimus by his arms. His face was bruised and bloodied, but he managed to smile as he was roughly dropped on Bella’s left. He coughed several times as Bella captured him in her arms, holding him in her motherly embrace.

  “Are you alright, old friend?” Sevin asked, looking gravely at the collections of wounds that decorated Sarimus’ arms and face.

  “I’m afraid my journey has come to an end, dear friends,” he answered as a small trail of blood ran from the corner of his lips, “but the battle is just beginning. May the Great Mother bless our children, and see them safely through the prophecy’s end.”

  Bella managed a smile, and Sim watching from the edge of the window outside could only marvel at his mother’s courage and strength.

  A tall man in a stark crimson cape walked suddenly into the room. He was young, perhaps a few years older than Sim, and he bore the unmistakable air of a nobleman. His black hair was cut to shoulder length with a neatly trimmed goatee to match. The man wore soft leather pants and a fine silk doublet, crimson like his cape. Sim felt his blood run cold as he noticed the man’s eyes. They were a devilish red color, and the man cast them about the room glaring with an unnatural hate. He was pure evil, and Sim knew at once that he was looking at the Blood Lord.

  Enaya took hold of Sim’s arm as she saw the Blood Lord enter. She pulled him down further, so he could barely see over the edge of the window.

  “We need to leave, Sim,” she whispered urgently. “Now.”

  “Go then,” Sim told her never looking away from the scene in the common room. “I won’t leave them to die.”

  “You can’t save them.”

  “I can’t just sit back and do nothing,” he pleaded with her.

  Enaya’s face softened as she stared into Sim’s helpless green eyes. She knew that he didn’t understand the gravity of the situation, couldn’t understand it, and she hadn’t the time to explain to him a brief history of the world outside of Caramour. She took his hands and began rubbing them tenderly.

  “If you try and save them, Sim, the Blood Lord will kill you. You are no match for him, at least not yet. Please try to understand, if you die, all of the sacrifices that your parents have made to raise you in hiding will be for not. They were prepared for this Sim.”

  She seemed to be getting through; she could tell from the look on his face that he was starting to think it over.

  “Sim, last night Sarimus met with us after he went to see you in the barn. He told us that he was being hunted and that if anything should happen to him, Givara and I were to get you out of Dell safely.”

  A bit of the tension drained out of Sim’s face.

  “I’ll follow you Enaya. But I need to see this first.”

  Enaya bit her bottom lip in frustration. “Fine…but keep down. And, Sim…you may not like what you see in there. Promise me if the worst happens, you’ll remain composed.”

  “It’s as you say, I can’t help them,” he said with resignation.

  He thought about the dream encounter with Harmony Alexidus. She had told him this would happen and that he must follow Enaya. His heart was heavy as he turned back to the window, knowing it was likely he would witness the death of his parents.

  The Blood Lord was standing before Sevin, Bella, and Sarimus with a beast at his side. He casually stroked the disgusting things head. The beast cowered like a servile dog, reveling in its master’s touch.

  “It is Sarimus?” he asked in a soothing, gentle tone. “That is what they call you, is it not?” Sarimus spat at the Blood Lord’s feet. “Come now, Sarimus, your old friend Cassell told us everything.”

  “May you rot in the feces of your vile borlicon, Thorl.”

  Thorl smiled widely, clearly amused by the macho bravado. He pulled a crimson handkerchief from his pocket and bent to wipe the spittle from his silver tipped boot.

  “Now that wasn’t necessary, Sarimus, was it? Civilized people never spit. It’s a disgusting habit.” He stood and put away the handkerchief. “And you must be Sevin and Bella Kelmor, the proprietors of this filthy inn.” He looked at each of his captives in turn. “But where is the boy? Sim I believe he’s called. I’m most interested to meet him. I’m told he has some extraordinary talents.” Frowning as he turned to the bar, Thorl walked over to the body of Tymus, and grabbed at the pallid face of the dead guardsman. “Seems my borlicon were a bit too overexcited. Poor boy. Died protecting his parents no doubt. What a terrible shame. I was so looking forward to questioning him.”

  Sarimus and Sevin smiled darkly at one another as the Blood Lord had his back turned. Bella kept up the act weeping openly and calling Sim’s name between sobs.

  The Blood Lord came to stand before Sarimus. He seemed to savor having the old sailor on his knees before him. “The last Harven,” Thorl said, admiring the words as if they hung in the air like a fine painting. “My father will be most pleased with me for this. The last of the legendary Harven line. Do you have any idea, Sarimus, how badly I curry my father’s favor? Can you imagine how highly I will be esteemed by the King for finishing the work he began over a thousand years ago?”

  “His work will never be finished, you filth,” Sevin snarled hotly. “There will always be people to oppose him. There will always be good at work in this world to oppose the evil that he brings.”

  “His fate is ruled by the prophecy,” screamed Bella defiantly. “And his reign will end as it was foretold.”

  The Blood Lord laughed wickedly. “The prophecy? Really? Silly woman, you can’t possibly expect me to believe that you still hold faith in that drivel? Do you have any idea how many poor misguided souls have come to challenge my father’s rule with claims to that ridiculous prophecy?”

  “Don’t you dare decry the sacred prophecy,” Bella cried out bravely. “Do you forget that it was put forth by your very own mother? I’ll die before I listen to you disrespect her name!”

  The Blood Lord’s face twitched unhappily at Bella’s outburst. He ground his teeth, and faced her squarely, clenching his red gloved hands into fists.

  “My mother is a loathsome whore, who has chosen to torture my noble father for countless centuries,” he hissed at her. “I hope she rots in that dungeon, and you my dear lady could rot beside her for all I care. However, you have made it clear to me that you would rather die than listen to me sully her good name. In this desire, I can help you.”

  Thorl stood back and removed the gloves from his hands. From the window Sim could see that the left hand was horribly scarred in several places as though cutting himself was some kind of game. Then Thorl removed a small dagger from a sheath on his hip. The handle was black and inlaid with thin gold strands that formed an exotic weave. The blade, which was only about two inches long, gave off an eerie crimson glow. Thorl held the strange knife out in front of him and closing his eyes began a sort of inaudible chant. The stone about Sim’s neck began to pulsate with heat as the Blood Lord continued to chant. After a few moments, the Blood Lord opened his eyes and in one quick motion sliced the palm of his left hand with the dagger, then returned the blade to its sheath. Thorl recited another strange invocation as his three captive’s looked on in horror, then clapped his hands together and held his blood smeared palms out before him.

  “I’ll give each of you one opportunity for mercy,” Thorl offered. “Tell me what I want to know and your deaths will be painless.”

  “Forget it,” Sevin lashed out bravely. �
��We’ll tell you nothing.”

  The Blood Lord looked at Sevin with disappointment. For the briefest of instances, Sim swore he detected a hint of sadness in his abominable red eyes. “I suppose you can go first then, innkeeper.”

  Thorl closed his blood smeared left hand into a fist and raised it over his head. A thin wisp of red mist began to form and take shape on the floor in front of him. As he whispered his incantation the red mist rose from the floor like a snake uncoiling and then slowly started to spin and swirl, gaining speed as it twisted into a six foot tornado. When the Blood Lord was satisfied with his work he lowered his fist and held it out to the tornado. The whirlwind seemed to edge toward him as if it tasted the blood on his outstretched hand.

  “This is your last opportunity to tell me what I want to know innkeeper.”

  The room was silent as all three captives, betraying nothing, looked down at the floor. The Blood Lord waited only a moment more before saying “Sevin” and thrusting his fist at Sim’s helpless father. The whirlwind danced across the floor encapsulating Sevin, pulling him off the floor until he was floating in the air within the tornado. Sevin let out a scream of anguish that cut Sim to his core. His heart sank to his stomach as he ached to stop his father’s torture. Enaya held his hand and began to silently weep beside him.

  Inside the common room, Bella was wailing hysterically, trying futilely to pull Sevin free from the spell. The Blood Lord screamed at Bella, “Tell me what I want to know and I’ll make his pain stop!”

  From his hiding spot beneath the window, Sim could no longer bear to witness Sevin’s unfathomable pain. His fingers had become numb and white from the excruciating grip he held on his sword hilt. The helpless sobbing of his mother tore at his heart, making him angrier than he’d ever been in his life. He’s dying, Sim cried to himself. I have to stop it. If it costs me my life, I have to try, he swore.

  Springing to his feet and preparing to throw himself through the window, Sim took a few steps back to get a running start. Just as he was about to start his leap, Givara tackled him hard from behind, catching his arm and pinning it behind his back as she forced him to the ground.

  “Are you a fool?” Enaya hissed, from his side. “Are you so lack-witted that you know nothing of what’s happening in there?”

  “What then?” he despaired. “Tell me, what am I missing? What’s so important that they’re willing to die to keep it secret?”

  “You, Sim,” Enaya said gently. “The Blood Lord came here to kill you. His spies have identified your ability. Right now they believe that poor guardsman in there is you. As long as he thinks you’re dead, he’ll call off the hunt. He’s trying to get them to reveal whether Sarimus is truly the last Harven and how you came to have power.”

  “But I don’t have any power,” Sim said in confusion. “Not really anyway.”

  Slowly some things were beginning to make sense to him. The man in the alley the night before had been a spy for the Blood Lord. When Sim had made the light appear in the alley he had inadvertently compromised his parent’s secret. The Princess had called him her champion, her salvation. Sarimus had recited a prophecy that foretold a savior would right the world of its evils. It was all about him.

  He looked at Enaya, her blue eyes sparkling with mystery and purpose. “It’s me isn’t it?” he said with a mixture of sadness and excitement. “I’m a Harven. I’m the Legacy.”

  Enaya smiled softly. She motioned for Givara to release him and took both of his hands in hers. “Yes Sim. We believe you are, and Givara and I will do anything we can to help you fulfill your destiny… for that is my destiny.”

  Sim nodded and turned to peer back into the window but Enaya stopped him.

  “Are you sure you need to watch this Sim?”

  Sim didn’t answer but turned back to the scene inside the common room. Sevin now lay dead at the feet of the Blood Lord and Bella wept mournfully over her fallen love. The red cloud of mist that had taken his father’s life was gone. Sarimus continued to keep his head down and to Sim it looked as though he were in some kind of a trance. His eyes were closed and his lips seemed to mumble inaudibly.

  “Curse you! Curse you!” Bella wailed as she stroked Sevin’s cheek. From outside, Sim could see with disheartening clarity that all of the life, the fire that defined her strength and grace for as long as he could remember, had left her eyes. She just stared vacantly into nothingness, her mind succumbing to the shock of watching her beloved perish.

  “Now, now Bella,” the Blood Lord mocked. “No need to suffer needlessly. You’ll be joining him in just a moment. But first I need to know how it was that Sim came to understand the trivarial power? Hmm?”

  Bella couldn’t answer. She just sat there on the floor, rocking back and forth with Sevin’s lifeless head pressed against her bosom. Sarimus continued his odd behavior off to her side though Thorl seemed not to notice.

  The Blood Lord watched Bella, losing patience with her as she babbled and sobbed. He took a threatening step towards her and savagely struck her face with an open handed slap, leaving a small smear of his blood across her cheek. This action seemed to bring Sarimus back to reality as he suddenly looked up at Thorl with rage emanating from his eyes.

  “You can’t win Thorl. Don’t you know that?" he said with a strange calm. The Blood Lord turned to him amused and raised an interested eyebrow. “The prophecy is real, whether you choose to believe it or not. This world was not meant for the darkness your father brings. The light has already returned. The wheels of destiny are beginning to turn as we speak. Kill us now and cement the path to your own doom.”

  “The prophecy is but a wish you foolish swine,” the Blood Lord replied smugly. “For a thousand years my father has ruled unopposed. He destroyed your whole race by himself and you expect us to believe that one man of a diluted, forgotten bloodline will rise up and overthrow King Desirmor.”

  Sarimus smiled and looked Thorl squarely in his crimson eyes. “Your overconfidence will be your undoing.”

  “And your unbridled faith in that imprisoned whore will be yours.”

  The Blood Lord turned away from Sarimus. He looked at the bar, his eyes wandering over the many labels on the shelves. He stepped over Sevin’s corpse and maneuvered behind the bar. There were wine glasses dangling by the stems on an overhead rack, and he removed one, placing it on the bar gently. Thumbing over the bottles of spirits on the shelves, he decided at last on a dusty bottle of red wine that Sim believed was probably the most expensive spirit in the inn's stock and helped himself to a glass. Thorl swirled the wine around in the glass as he came back around to face Bella. He sipped thoughtfully as he stared down at her savoring each taste as he prepared his next torture.

  “I must say woman, for such a remote destination and for such moderate accommodations, it is most surprising to find so fine a vintage.” He sipped again, delighting not only in the flavorful wine, but also in the lighthearted manner with which he was approaching her torture session. “Should you survive this day, I certainly hope I will be welcomed back for a return visit.”

  He finished off the glass amusing only himself but not seeming to care. Placing the empty glass on the bar, Thorl knelt down and smeared a streak of blood from his hand across Bella’s cheek. Standing, he made a wordless chant and clapped his hands together. Bella went instantly rigid dropping Sevin’s head as she came to her knees, arms pasted to her sides.

  “Are you prepared to answer my questions now, Bella?” the Blood Lord commanded, extending his left arm, then twisting his fist and focusing all of his attention on the entranced woman.

  Bella’s face twitched as if she were fighting to regain control of herself, but the Blood Lord's enchantment was too powerful, and she witlessly gave in to his demands.

  “As you wish, exalted one,” she regretfully complied.

  “At last, we’re getting somewhere,” sighed Thorl relieved to be achieving his objective.

  “Don’t Bella!” Sarimus cried in vain.
“You must fight him! You have to fight him!”

  Thorl cast an annoyed glare at Sarimus. He brought his free hand to his lips as though to blow a kiss, but instead a red bubble drew from his mouth and floated across the room, coming to rest over Sarimus’ head. Within the bubble, Sarimus continued to shout until he realized no sound was escaping. He thrashed about, clawing at the spell around his head until one of Thorl’s soldiers leveled him with a kick to the gut, leaving him laid out on the floor gasping for air.

  “Give him another one,” the Blood Lord commanded without emotion. The soldier gladly obeyed the order.

  Outside Enaya gave Sim a nudge on the arm.

  “I think we’d better go.”

  “Not yet,” Sim told her without looking away from the window.

  “There’s going to be trouble, Sim,” Enaya pleaded. She was becoming more and more impatient but Sim couldn’t find the will to leave.

  “What kind of trouble?” Sim questioned, looking at her. How could anything be worse than their current situation?

  Tension pulled at the creases around Enaya’s eyes.

  “If she can’t resist him, he’s going to learn about you Sim. He’ll make her tell him anything he wants to know. Right now, he thinks that poor guard by the bar is you. The only reason the borlicon aren’t ravaging through the city at this very moment is that he believes the search is over. Once he learns the truth, the hunt will begin anew. And we’ll have even less time to escape.”

  Sim knew she was right, but he couldn’t help feeling as though Bella was going to pull through somehow. He had conceded that he couldn’t save them, or at least that his parents wouldn’t want him to, but a familiar voice in the back of his mind told him that somehow, his mother was strong enough to resist the Blood Lord’s enchantments.

  “You don’t know my mother, Enaya, she’ll find a way.” His tone was resolved, his face resolute. Enaya looked perturbed but she chose to accept his decision.

  Inside the common room, Sim noticed that Sarimus was discreetly reaching for something in his boot. Sarimus was trying very hard to remain inconspicuous as he removed a small dagger from a hidden sheath and slid it up his shirt sleeve.