Dark Humanity

by Gwynn White

  “Viola,” she said in a whisper. Her soft voice was barely more than a rush of air.

  “Viola,” he repeated. “Viola, do you mind if I join you in there so we may speak face to face?” Immediately, the guards began to protest. Surely she was too dangerous to be left alone with him. Silencing them with a raised hand, he returned his attention back to her. “Viola, that was not a demand but a request. You are free to say no. I will not force you to do something against your will. But understand, your refusal to any of my requests will have a consequence.”

  Liam had been doing this a long time. Part of the mystic’s job had always been to question the prisoners. Through light magic when needed, along with his own considerable intuition, he could always tell the difference between those who had made a poor choice, and those who were truly vile. He knew the innocent from the guilty, and always presented a fair case to Lord Alaric Bournfred. His rare ability to judge one’s character was renowned.

  Over the years he had learned that giving the prisoners as much freedom as possible reaped a certain amount of benefit. By providing them the freedom of choice, they felt as if they’d gained back a measure of respect. He would find the truth one way or another, but there was no reason to strip the prisoners of their dignity in the process.

  With a subtle nod of her head, she agreed to his terms. She watched as the eye slit snapped shut, then heard the chinks and clanks of bolts and locks being undone. Already pressed into the corner, she pushed back further, as if trying to bury herself directly into the bricks. Hugging her knees to her chest, fear gripped her. What if this was all a trick to make her lower her guard? What if they were going to just kill her here and now?

  The door creaked outward, and in walked the tallest man she’d ever seen. Back straight as a board, his light blue eyes measured her up and down. His pointed eyebrows gave him a sinister look, but his posture was nonthreatening. Liam set his bag down on the floor, and a lantern next to it. The door closed behind him with a heavy slam.

  “Are you not afraid of me?” she spoke first.

  “Should I be?” he asked, voice deep and commanding. “Is your kind dangerous?”

  “No,” she replied softly, face still mostly hidden behind her knees. “I-I don’t think so. But everyone else seems to be afraid of me.”

  Liam raised an eyebrow, curious. He specialized in reading one’s eyes, being able to see the truth no matter how hard the subject tried to hide it. It was clear she was telling the truth. She really wasn’t sure if she was dangerous or not. “I’ve never seen a being of your likeness,” he stated, hardly able to stop staring at her strange features. “As far as I can tell, you are completely unique to these lands. Tell me, Viola. What race are you?”

  A long while passed, her dark red eyes shifting from one wall to the next as if the answer were written somewhere. “I don’t know,” she admitted at length, moisture pooling in her eyes. “I just want to go home.”

  A thousand questions flooded Liam’s mind at once. How could she not know? Where did she come from, and how had her race remained hidden for so long? But there would be time enough to gather answers to these questions. After all, his desire to understand the world and all living things in it was an insatiable hunger, one he couldn’t satisfy in a hundred lifetimes.

  But he had a job to do first.

  “Viola, you have been charged with theft. Now answer me truthfully. Did you indeed steal that man’s coin?” Slowly, she nodded her head yes. Liam sighed at her admission of guilt. Theft, no matter how petty, was taken very seriously. Liam knew his thoughts were greedy, but he just couldn’t let her hang over such a minor charge. Not this rare specimen! She must be studied...and tested...and—

  “But it wasn’t for me,” she blurted out. Realizing his mind had drifted, he returned his attention to her. “It was for Ethan. He makes me steal for him.”

  “Is that the man in the other cell?” Liam asked. She nodded. “Well then, I shall speak with him as well,” he said, fumbling around in his bag. “But I’m afraid I must do something first.” He pulled out a syringe with an empty chamber. Her eyes seemed to double in size, her face rising over her knees. It was as if she believed it was some sort of treat. “I must take a blood sample from you.”

  Looking a bit confused, she didn’t resist when he extended her arm. Lips smacking, mouth watering, she watched curiously as the needle pricked her. Her skin was so very pale, and the veins he could see beneath the surface looked almost black. Drawing back on the plunger, the chamber began to fill. Her blood was red like any other being’s, but surprisingly thin and watery, as if diluted somehow.

  “There,” he said, removing the plunger and capping off the vial. He held it up, swirling the vial in circles. “We are not done talking,” he reminded her. “I’ll be back after I speak with your friend, and possibly run a test or two on this sample.” He hadn’t slept all night, but there was just too much to do to be bothered by rest.

  “He is not my friend!” she hissed, an eerie sound that seemed to carry around the room as if several people had spoken at once. He jumped at the odd, echoing effect of her voice. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought there were five of her in here.

  He took note of her obvious dislike for this…Ethan. “Very well,” he said, zipping up his pack and picking up the lantern. Arms full, he rapped on the door with his feet. It opened a moment later and he went back into the main prison chamber. He turned to one of the guards as the door was closed, and motioned with his chin. “Be sure she is well cared for. I have a special interest in that one—”

  He froze, stopping in mid-sentence. “Where are the other two?” he demanded, realizing for the first time that the other two cells were empty. With all his focus on the girl, he hadn’t even noticed when he came down here the first time. The guard flushed, his eyes rolling towards the steps. That was all Liam needed to see. Damn you, Alaric! I’ve been played for a fool!

  He streaked up the steps and down the hall, racing past his lab only to throw his bag inside. Slamming the door shut, he sped on towards the keep’s entrance. Even a hundred feet from the doorway, he could already hear the commotion going on outside. That mix of shouts and jeers could only mean one thing. “Damn you,” he muttered out loud before bursting through the doors and out into the street.

  There, right in the middle of the street, was a makeshift gallows on wheels, its first victim already hung. He was masked, both his hands and feet tied. Liam was already sure it was Ethan. The large body rocked back and forth, the rope creaking against his stretched neck. Surprisingly, the people were paying little attention to the gallows. With the execution already concluded, their interest had been drawn elsewhere. If that’s Ethan... No!

  Liam pushed through the tightly packed crowd, urging them to make way. Blood-curdling screams could be heard in the distance, urging him to move faster. “Move! Get out of my way,” he pleaded, nearly trampling folks as he shouldered his way through. The shrieks reached a high-pitched crescendo in an ear-splitting note fit to shatter glass. It was the most primal reaction to pain Liam had ever heard, making his heart sink and his chest quiver.

  Being taller than most, he could clearly see four horses in the street up ahead. With ropes tied to metal bars at their backs, they stamped and snorted, each pulling in a different direction. Finally, Liam broke through the crowd, more than one angry person protesting as they tumbled aside. He froze, his heart nearly sinking to his feet. Nothing could have prepared him for this haunting image.

  With ropes braced to each leg and arm, the general’s body was stretched out. He wailed as the horses nudged in opposite directions, spurred on by a man wearing a black mask. One of the general’s arms was clearly dislocated at the shoulder, rendering it several inches longer that the other. Skin and tendon were the only things keeping it attached.

  Liam watched in horror as three more men rounded the tugging horses, each holding a black strap. Hyndrid’s head rose from its hanging position. Clin
ging to consciousness, his bloodshot eyes scanned the circle of people until they found Liam. For a fleeting moment the world stood still as the two old friends shared a silent moment. Displaying bloodstained teeth, the general managed a small smile. It appeared as if he might have found peace in his final moments.

  With a crack, the black straps came down simultaneously. All four horses whinnied in protest, then exploded in different directions. The general’s body erupted in a sea of red, gore painting the streets. Lifeless eyes glassed over, his torso still attached to one arm skipped down the street. Many folk looked away, unable to bear the sight. Others cheered for the dead traitor, pumping their fists in the air.

  Liam fell to his knees, trembling hands entwined in his hair. Everything around him seemed to spin about. Faces contorted before his eyes, as if all those around him had suddenly been possessed by demons. He roared, a savage, mournful wail that forced all those near him to step away. The pain of failing his friend was more than he could bear.

  This time...Alaric had gone too far.

  Chapter Three

  Guards stationed at the front entrance continued about their business, watching the travelers come and go, pulling aside anyone they deemed suspicious so they could be searched or questioned. But most were simply waved by in order to keep the heavy crowds moving. Horses and wagons inched along, careful not to crush any fearless children who ran past, slapping at the slow-turning wheels with sticks.

  Suddenly, the outbound traffic stopped altogether. Unnatural like a river reversing direction, all the traffic began to back the other way. Folk stumbled back, tripping over each other just to get out of the way. The guards at the gate began waving people off, sending them to either side of the street. “Tell Lord Alaric he’s here!” one guard called out, sending another scurrying back towards the keep.

  The lumbering beast ambled through the gate, its head topped with a bony plate and spiny horns all over its large, gray head. Crooked and warped, the horns twisted about in chaotic patterns. Its furry body was striped with gold and black, and its disproportionately thin legs ended in massive, oversized paws with razor-sharp claws.

  Seeing a lavics was extremely rare. Seeing someone ride one was completely unheard of. The rider’s long black hair hung down to the middle of his back, the top portion tied in a topknot to keep it out of his face. Covered from the neck down in a snug black bodysuit, it clung to his bulging arms, accentuating his massive chest. A thick, puckered scar, faded from age but still plenty visible, flowed from the back of his ear and down his neck, disappearing below his collar.

  Two silvery swords crossed his back, both of exquisite quality. Positioned at the back of his shoulders were two small crossbows, so black they seemed to blend in with his body armor. A variety of other bladed weapons were strung around the lavics, some tucked inside of sheaths with ties at the hilt, others in plain sight with nothing more than a bit of twine keeping them attached to the beast.

  Another figure rode directly behind him, trotting along on a sleek black horse with silver chainmail armor draped across its front and side. Although not quite as impressive a specimen as the lavics, the warhorse was clearly a fine animal indeed, more than fit to carry a queen. Its rider might as well have been a ghost. A white cloak covered him from head to toe, the hood drooped low covering his face.

  Together, they rode slowly through the streets of Redwater, folk staring for only a moment before rushing to get out of their way.

  “Alaric!” came an enraged call from out in the hallway. Alaric snapped his fingers, his already assembled soldiers positioning themselves around the table. He knew the mystic would be angry when he gave the order to have the prisoners executed. The only thing to do now was wait out the storm, let Liam calm down until he was ready to listen to reason. So far...things weren’t exactly going as planned.

  “Alaric!” came a second roar just before a heavy boot blasted open the door. Ready soldiers partly unsheathed their blades, a raspy hiss filling the air.

  “Now stop right there!” Alaric ordered, his normally confident voice shaky and unnerved. “You have no right to barge in here and—”

  “Why?!” Liam boomed, his deep voice filling the dining hall. “And it was done in such a brutal fashion. Have you no soul?” His voice softened. “I thought we had reached an understanding.”

  “Bah!” Alaric grunted, the back of his hand sending his full goblet flying across the room. Now that it was out in the open, he was no longer going to tiptoe around Liam’s feelings. “You had an understanding. While you continue to coddle the prisoners as if they’re your children, I do what must be done. Unlike you, I’m not afraid to make the hard choices!”

  “What must be done?” Liam mocked in a stunned whisper. “Hyndrid was innocent. You knew that as well as I.”

  “Leave us,” Alaric ordered, slamming his hand on the table as plates and silverware jumped. Now that Liam was in control of himself, the soldiers no longer seemed necessary. Besides, he knew where this was going, and really didn’t want to have this talk in front of anyone.

  Reluctantly, the soldiers began filtering from the room, flashing suspicious glares at Liam as they did. Although Liam’s rank was significant here in Redwater’s keep, the soldiers knew who had the final say.

  Alaric waited until the clanking of armor was far out of earshot before continuing. “Of course he was innocent,” he said in a rush, still keeping his voice low as if unwanted ears might be lurking in the shadows. “You knew it, I knew it, but the people did not. Liam, the citizens of Redwater were terrified, and rightfully so. All we know is that a large number of soldiers were killed with virtually no explanation. The people were growing restless and needed someone to blame.”

  Appearing strangely calm, Liam raised one of his pointed eyebrows. “So an innocent man died today, because you caved to the pressures of a mob?”

  “Those rumors of his involvement, and possible betrayal of this city,” Alaric pointed, “I did not start them. They merely became a convenient way to solve an escalating problem. And not just any execution would satisfy those who had already condemned him. It had to be savage, a violent, visual display that would leave no doubt that justice had been served.” He sighed, throwing himself back in his chair. “I took no joy in that, if that’s what you’re waiting to hear,” he added, looking away. “At the loss of a single life, I have regained control of my entire city. Is that not a fair trade?”

  “No, it is not,” Liam corrected, his ice-cold eyes boring holes into Alaric’s skull. “All you managed to do was buy a little more time. Those attacks still remain a mystery. Nothing has been solved.”

  “Agreed,” Alaric cut in, fingers drumming nervously across the table again and again. “That is why additional steps have already been taken.” He leaned forward in his chair, hands clasped directly in front of Liam. “And as such, these sorts of decisions have always been your weakness, Liam. You do not have the ability to see anything beyond your own nose. You lack the gift of forward thinking. I, on the other hand, understand that a ruler must remain several steps ahead at all times. This is why I run Redwater, and you shall forever remain my right hand.”

  “Again, you are mistaken,” Liam replied, frost dripping from every word. “Your bloodline is the reason you run Redwater, not your intelligence, and not your ‘forward thinking,’ as you so put it.” He leaned forward and clasped his hands, mirroring Alaric’s pose. “And it is most certainly not your compassion...my lord.” Not once did Liam raise his voice. There was no need.

  “Your jealousy is beneath me,” Alaric hissed, eyes narrowing dangerously. “My father was wise to choose me over you, and today I shall prove it yet again. While you were playing caretaker to criminals who have no right to draw breath in my city, I send word, and have already acquired the aid of a most capable individual. Owen Dunwich will be in Redwater soon, possibly even today.” He found the look of shock on Liam’s face was more than gratifying.

  “Owen Dunwich?!” L
iam repeated, both hands flattening out on the table. “You sent for the Demon Hunter? Are you mad?!”

  “On the contrary. I’m in complete control,” Alaric corrected smugly. “As you’ve already stated, the death of General Coleth did little more than buy us some time. Rather than sitting on our hands, I’ve reached out to a legend in the profession and acquired his services. Whatever is going on in the wilds of Ayrith, he’s sure to get to the bottom of it.”

  “That man is little more than a renowned murderer,” Liam protested, surging to his feet, forcing his chair to topple back. “A cold-blooded mercenary whose blade goes to the highest bidder! He can’t be trusted.”

  “And guess who was the highest bidder?” Alaric retorted, also rising from his seat.

  “Lord Alaric?” came a voice from the doorway. There stood a nervous-looking man, rubbing his hands anxiously. “Pardon my interruption, sir. Your guests are here.”

  “Then send them up,” said Alaric, dismissing the man with a flick of his hand. “You there,” he snapped his fingers at a servant passing in the hall. “Go to the kitchen and fetch us some food and wine. Go!” After a brief curtsy, the young girl scurried off. “And you,” he growled, pressing a finger against Liam’s chest. “Why don’t you go play nursemaid with the prisoners while the adults discuss the fate of our city? I assume you’ll sing them a lullaby, or something else just as useless.”

  Liam’s chest expanded as he took in a deep breath, then closed his eyes when he slowly exhaled. “I’m afraid your modest request is impossible,” he replied. “You’ve already murdered most of them in cold blood.” He bowed his head. “I take my leave, Lord Alaric.” Disgusted, he turned and stormed into the hall.