by Gwynn White
Completely surrounded and with little choice left, she would be forced to confirm their suspicions. Hood low over her face, she hugged her body and spun in place. Her dark image seemed to blur with fluttering movement, a dizzying swirl of fuzzy black. Those who were near leapt back, many falling and scrambling away on their backsides.
The screeching calls of black birds rang out as the flapping swirl spun like a tornado. The living funnel of birds lifted off the street, floating up to a far-off rooftop. There the swirling funnel settled, the fluttering birds solidifying back into the form of a cloaked girl. With a final spin, she stopped and stared down at the people below. Openmouthed, with eyes bulging, the townsfolk gaped as if they’d just seen a ghost. She flashed a final grin, teeth sparkling behind those black lips, then streaked away across the rooftops.
Creeping silently through the alleyway, the rat sniffed the air with suspicion. Whiskers twitching, it sniffed a second time, unable to decide whether or not it was safe. A pair of eyes snapped open in the dark, sending the startled rat scurrying away.
Patiently she waited, hidden in the shadows like a creature of the night. Eyes darting this way and that, a trickle of sweat dripped from her nose. She ignored the irritating tickle, refusing to move, refusing to breathe. I need to be sure. I must know I wasn’t followed. The chilly night air licked her face, cooling the beaded sweat collecting on her forehead. Still she refused to move, senses in tune with her surroundings. I must be sure...
It was the middle of the night and the streets were barren, save for the occasional night guardsmen patrolling in groups of three. Still on high alert after the mysterious incident, they glanced down every alleyway, peeking in every barrel as they passed. There had been no reported injuries, other than the soldiers’ wounded pride. How had a single woman managed to escape so easily? What sort of demon could do the things she did? Someone in the city must have some information about her. The search would continue until the mysterious woman was identified.
Cautious eyes watched from the shadows as another patrol marched by. Lanterns flickered their dancing light as they went, sweeping every inch of street. Once they turned the next corner, the cloaked figure raced across the street. Her feet skittered in complete silence, making less sound than any rodent. After a last glance over each shoulder, she turned the doorknob as carefully as possible, flinching at the unavoidable click, wincing as if the sound physically hurt. She opened it just enough to slide through sideways, silently latching it behind her.
Crickets chirped in a nearby bush, moonlight illuminating the area intermittently between drifting cloud cover. After a few minutes passed, a lurking shadow drifted back across the doorway. Someone had proved to be even more patient than her...
Feet creaking on the wood floor with each step, she tiptoed through the dark. She froze when light from a lantern flared in the room ahead. “Who’s there?” came an angry call. The flickering light drifted closer, causing shadows to move along the wall. The dull thud of heavy footsteps inched closer and closer. She tried to speak but the words wouldn’t come. Lantern held high, a large, grizzled man entered the room.
She shielded her eyes, squinting against the light. Hair dark and greasy, the middle-aged man wore blue slippers with matching sleepwear. His bulging nose hooked downward, appearing to push down against his lip. “Where have you been?” he growled, voice raspy, thick with unfinished sleep. Lowering her hands, her eyes drifted towards the floor. “Viola!” he barked when she didn’t answer.
She shuddered, eyes flashing up to meet his angry stare. Without a word, she reached under her cloak, tossing the coin purse across the room. Eyes still locked with hers, he caught it with one hand, letting it slip through his fingers so he could hold it by the cord. He bounced it a few times, considering its weight, then walked it over to a dusty table.
Setting down the lantern, he wiped his hand across the seldom-used dining table, sending dust sifting down to the floor. Resisting the urge to cough, Viola covered her mouth and made her way over to him. He opened the purse with a tug of the cord and shook it over the table. Two dozen coins rolled across the table, nearly all copper with a few silver sprinkled in. Deflated, Viola’s shoulders slumped and she hung her head.
“And what am I supposed to do with this?” he asked, slamming a fist down on the table. More dust rose, the lantern wobbling near the edge of the table.
“I-I didn’t know he had so little,” she said softly, ashamed and unable to meet his eyes. “No-Nobody...” Her breathing intensified, fear rising up in her chest. “Nobody saw me,” she finished, her soft voice barely a squeak.
She saw a flash of white as fire shot across her face. With no memory of falling, she realized she was flat on the floor. “Everyone saw you!” the man roared, shaking the tingling sting from his hand. “The black magic pickpocket has been the talk of the city all day! For all I know you’ve led them back here. And for what? Those few coins won’t feed me for a day!”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she pleaded, inching herself away on her backside. “I’ll fetch you more coin in the morning. I promise! But it’s all right. Nobody saw me. Not...really. They don’t know who I am or what I look like.” The urgent words came out in a rush, desperate and pleading.
He approached, still shaking his hand. He loomed over her like a giant bird of prey. “Oh, really? They don’t know what you look like?” he said, reaching down, gripping the side of her face with thick, sausage-like fingers. He pushed a thumb under her eye, popping free a glass contact. She blinked up at him, one eye still dark in color, the other a deep blood red. “Or perhaps you meant this,” he hissed, snatching back her hood.
With a handful of her dark hair, he pulled hard, ignoring her shrieks of pain. Weaves popped free as the wig tore away. Long white hair spilled down around her shoulders, falling over her face. Viola whimpered like a frightened dog, sniffling as she tried to hold back the tears. “How long do you think we can fool them, you stupid bitch?” he growled in her ear, voice low and dangerous. “A month? Another year, perhaps? Bah!” He shoved her head away, rising back to his feet. “I should have left you where I found you! All you’ve done is bring me trouble. I should just take you back into the forest and—”
“No,” she shrieked, crawling towards him. She wrapped herself around his shin, clinging even as he tried to pull away. “Ethan, no! You don’t mean that.”
“The hell I don’t,” he said, his foot slipping from her grip. He marched away, back into the room from which he came. Motionless, head bent low, she kneeled on the floor until he returned. He stalked back up to her, one hand hidden behind his back. “How long do you think you can go without this?” he asked, displaying a syringe.
Her eyes watched the needle as he waved it back and forth in front of her face, a glistening drop of clear liquid hanging off the tip. She swallowed hard, her chest rising and falling as she stared at it. As if he were holding food in front of a starving dog, her dark lips smacked together, mouth watering uncontrollably. “It costs coin for me to keep brewing these for you,” he said, taunting her by pushing the plunger up a bit, the clear squirt dotting the floor.
She gasped, resisting the urge to lick the wet spot. “I’ll bring you more money,” she promised again, her tone urgent and pleading. “I’ll do anything you want!”
“Of course you will,” he replied, a chilling smile splitting his round face. The sudden mood swing was unnerving, to say the least. But she knew that look all too well. “You’ll always do what I want because you need me.” Waving the syringe back and forth, he backed away around the corner. “Well, come on, then,” he said, the sound of his footsteps fading with distance.
As always, she hesitated, wondering if just this once she might find the strength to resist him. Her hands balled into fists, trembling. She wanted to run for the door, to leave and never come back. “I’m waiting,” came a second call.
Just like that, her trembling fists stopped. She fell forward, catching her weig
ht before her face hit the floor. Slowly, she pushed herself up and began walking to him.
The long walk down the hall felt like a dream. It was as if it wasn’t real. She wished it wasn’t real. I’ll never escape him. This is the only life I’ll ever know. She entered the bedroom. Ethan stood in the corner, his back to her as he removed his clothes. Hands moving on their own, her fingers pinched the drawstring around her neck. Her cloak fell down around her feet. As she lifted her shirt around her head, a heavy push from behind sent her sprawling onto the bed.
“Get on with it!” he ordered, tugging at her pants until they tore away. Wasting no time, he crawled on top of her body like an insect, kissing her chest. Licking up the side of her neck, he stuck his tongue in her ear, causing her to flinch and turn away.
A second backhand blasted her across the face, forcing her to turn back. He mashed his lips into hers, tongue prying its way into her mouth. She could smell his sour scent, a pungent combination of ale and sweat. He groped her breast hard, pulling and tugging while his fingers dug deep. As always, her body was cold as ice. He didn’t care, for he had grown used to it.
“Ethan, please,” she urged, pulling back as her eyes rolled towards the syringe lying on the dresser.
“Huh, what?” he groaned, following her gaze. “Oh, you want that first?” Irritated by the inconvenience, he pushed off her and went to the dresser. Angrily, he snatched it and stalked back. Eyes big, she even managed a little smile as he hovered over her. “Fine. But after this you’re mine for the rest of the night.” She nodded eagerly, hating herself for needing that damn elixir, hating herself for needing him.
He jammed the needle into her neck. Back arching, her chest rose off the bed, eyes going bloodshot almost immediately. Dark blackish-blue veins pulsed beneath her pale skin, webbing up towards her neck and face. When she blew out, a frosty mist rose, dampening the ceiling and dropping the room temperature several degrees.
After a few seconds her breathing returned to normal and she settled back down into the bed. Pulsing black veins receded, settling back down beneath her pale skin.
Ethan yanked the needle from her neck and threw it against the wall, shattering the glass. “Enough of this already!” he barked, throwing himself on top of her. “You’ve gotten your fix, now I’m going to get mine.”
His statement wasn’t entirely true. The elixir didn’t bring her any particular joy; it only managed to temporarily dull her pain. The burning hunger would return as it always did, and she would beg and plead for him to make it go away...as she always did. In exchange, she would give up her body to a man whose very touch made her sick, and around and around it went. This is the only life I’ll ever know.
She allowed her mind to drift away, even as her body rocked back and forth. The squeaking of the bed sounded far away in her ears. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she stared at the ceiling, her eyes glassing over. He’s right to treat me this way. After all, I’m nothing more than an animal...
Morning light shone through the bedroom window. Eyes already wide open, Viola carefully rolled out from under the covers. Ethan lay next to her, his foul breath stinking with each rumbling snore. Loathing in her eyes, she glared long and hard as his chest rose and fell with deep sleep. It would be so easy right now... A pillow over his face... A well-placed knife in the chest...
But then what? Despite his gruff exterior, the man had an uncanny understanding of herbs and alchemy. Of course he would never teach her the trade secrets. Keeping her ignorant on such matters was the perfect way to ensure she would always be his slave.
Preferring not to look at him any more than she had to, Viola slipped from the room and tiptoed quietly down the hall, determined not to wake him. The longer he slept the better. Longingly, she glanced inside her sleeping room as she passed by. It was not really a true bedroom, given the lack of furniture and personal belongings, but still a sanctuary to call her own.
Normally, she slept there on the floor. Only on nights when he had his way with her did he insist she stay in his bed. Those were the nights when she hardly slept at all, and they were becoming all too frequent as of late. She sighed... Perhaps I’ll sleep tonight.
She went to the kitchen and fetched three eggs, and placed them in a thick iron pan. Setting the pan on the table, she kneeled down in front of the hearth. After rearranging the stones into a small circle, she spread out some dry hay and a few twigs to get the fire started. Grabbing the flint and steel that were just within reach, she collided the items together with a crack. A spray of orange and blue coated the straw, nearly all of the colors vanishing on contact. Several more times she struck them. Crack...crack...crack... Knock-knock-knock came a rapping from the door.
She froze. Who could that be at this early hour? No one could know about her being here, so answering the door was out of the question. Panic building up, she glanced down the hall at Ethan’s room. She would have to wake him quickly and—
A booming crash made her jump. The door buckled inward, hinges hanging loosely from both top and bottom. A second boom sent it crashing inward. Armored men stomped on the door, its last clinging hinge snapping away like a twig. Viola screamed, leaping to her feet and retreating back down the hall.
She felt as if she were running in mud, the end of the hallway seeming to move further away with each step. The crackle of shattered glass rang out as she zipped past her room, her eye barely catching a moving arm reaching in through her window. They were coming in from everywhere!
Tackled from behind, her legs buckled and she slammed into the floor, face first. The impact driving the air from her lungs, she gasped as cold armor pressed against her back. An armored knee came down on the back of her head, sending an explosion of dizzying white radiating through her head. Clinging to consciousness, fighting against the buzzing in her ears, she raised her bruised face off the floor.
Vision fuzzy, she watched them slam Ethan up against the wall, arms twisted around his back. Nose bloody, he looked down at her, glaring with pure hatred. Eyes narrowed, she returned his angry glare with a similar frost. In her mind, she once again relived the fantasy of killing him. A second knee to the back of her head sent her thoughts spiraling into blackness.
Chapter Two
The old man grabbed a stool from the corner, then walked it back towards the iron bars. Extremely tall he was, with a back as straight as a board. He spun the stool down to the floor and took a seat. He sighed, running his lean fingers through his long white hair. Mouth hidden beneath his bushy white mustache, his expression was hard to read. His light blue eyes watched thoughtfully as the man on the other side of those bars sat on the floor, trembling, hugging his knees while muttering nonsense to himself.
“Sir?” he said to the trembling man, snapping his fingers to try and get his attention. “I say, sir, do you recognize me?” he asked, to no avail. Muttering and rocking back and forth, the man’s vacant eyes wondered around the cell. “General Hyndrid Coleth! I cannot help you if you do not speak with me.”
The general’s eyes snapped back into focus for an instant. He looked at the old man, nodding as if he at least recognized his own name and former title. “Y-Yes. I—know...know who you are,” he stammered, sweat pouring down his face. “Liam. Y-Your name is Liam.”
The old man smiled, sitting up in the stool. “That is correct, old friend,” he said, reaching out to touch one of the bars. Running his long, spidery fingers along the cool steel, his expression changed to one of pain. “I’ve known you for many years, yet I no longer recognize the man sitting before me.” Liam’s white, bushy eyebrows were twisted at their center, making them rise into spiraled points. In a nervous gesture, he began rolling one of the points between two fingers.
“You’ve been branded a traitor and possible spy, old friend,” Liam continued. “Lord Alaric Bournfred doesn’t understand how you could be the only survivor after the alleged attack on your men. Why leave one alive? Truth be told, Alaric suspects you might have a hand in th
is. No survivors, yet you don’t have a scratch on you. How do you explain such a thing?” The general kept rocking back and forth, arms wrapped around himself as he mumbled to no one. “How do I even begin to plead your case? Hyndrid, you must give me something! If you don’t, they’re going to—”
Hyndrid sprung to his feet and rushed the bars, wrapping his hands around two while jamming his face between them. The clumsy impact chipped his front tooth, sending the white cap spinning into Liam’s lap. Liam leapt from the stool, surprised by the abrupt show of aggression.
“Is that what you believe?” Hyndrid accused, a stream of blood trickling down his chin from the freshly broken tooth. “Do you think I played a hand in having my own men killed?!” he shrieked, voice cracking, crazed eyes wide open like a mad man’s.
Liam drifted back towards the bars, closing both his hand around the general’s. He held his old friend’s gaze a long time before answering. “No, I do not,” he admitted. “But what I believe matters not. As Lord Alaric’s mystic, and right hand in matters of the court, it is my duty to question the accused and relay my judgment to him. I assure you he is not a man that’s easily influenced. Once his mind is set, I can only reverse his opinion with irrefutable evidence. So far you have provided me none, and until you do I’m afraid my hands are tied.”
Hyndrid slipped his hands down the bars, away from Liam’s touch. For a moment, his eyes cleared, a sharp, intelligent gaze Liam recognized, if only for that fleeting moment. “When did you become such a fool, old friend?” the general asked, raising one eyebrow with a lopsided smile. “What reason does any organized force have, be they man or beast, to leave a single survivor alive to tell the tale?”
Hyndrid shook his head when Liam didn’t respond, then went back to sit in the corner of his cell. “They are coming, old friend,” he continued. “And what’s more, they want everyone to know it. They drink our fear as if it were fine wine. Letting me live only served as a warning to the rest.”
