Dark Humanity

by Gwynn White

  “No, I have another reason,” said Liam. “I promised Viola I would not abandon her. I never break my promises, and I never abandon my friends.”

  The hunter’s arms fell to his side as he shook his head. He grabbed the last bag off the bed and headed towards the door, nudging Liam with his shoulder as he passed. Liam sighed, leaning heavily against his staff. Now what would he do?

  “We leave in ten minutes,” came the call from the hallway. “I hope you’re already packed.”

  A pair of guards at her front, two more at her back, Viola was marched towards the front doors. It was everything she could do not to make a break for it. Not yet. Just a little farther. If I seem overeager they’ll sense something’s wrong.

  Her plan was a simple one: the moment they stepped outside, she would start running until she separated enough to transform into her black-bird form, then take the chase back to the rooftops. As far as she knew, there didn’t seem to be anyone who could keep pace with her step for step. None of them are as fast as me. I Just have to get outside.

  The torturous march seemed to go on forever. Hands bound at her front, the ropes crackled as she nervously twisted her wrists back and forth. Around the next corner, the front doors came into view. Her muscles began twitching with anticipation. Almost there. Just a few more steps! Suddenly, hands flashed down across her face from behind, something clicking around her neck.

  A staticky energy crackled through her, numbing her mind and body, dropping her to her knees. “Courtesy of Owen Dunwich,” said the guard behind her. “We are not in the mood to chase you around the city a second time.” Her trembling fingers clawed at the black collar around her neck. It was no use; it wasn’t coming off that easily. “The man traps demons for a living. Didn’t you think he might have a device for just such an occasion?”

  She gasped for air, arms flailing uncontrollably as she rolled back and forth across the carpet. The wide-open door just a few feet away taunted her, laughed at her for thinking escape would be so easy. Pressure building in her head, it felt like it was going to split open. “The hunter said the more you fight it, the worse it gets,” said the second guard. “Just try to relax and the pain will subside.”

  Her whole body was on fire, acid coursing through her veins, yet she continued to try to fight against it. She pushed back with her mind, trying to take back control of a convulsing body that seemed to no longer be her own. Her resistance was rewarded with the sensation of being struck by lightning over and over. Beaten, she gave in, letting the collar’s magic invade her body. The white-hot pain slowed; her skin, which had been on fire, was now dulled to a pins-and-needles prickle.

  “That’s right,” the guard said, helping her back up to her feet. “Better, yes? Look, you might as well accept the fact that you’re not going to get away from him.”

  “At least not yet,” she mumbled under her breath. Her knees were weak, but she managed to walk under her own power. The sun on her skin was like a taunting slap across the face. She was supposed to be free at this very moment.

  They walked through the street, folk pointing and whispering as they passed. “Witch... black... sorcerer... dead girl,” they whispered. Before long, a slow-moving mob tailed them, the harsh insults growing louder and more assertive. It was the typical bravery associated with a mob, each person feeding off the others’ hate.

  A spherical object tumbled over her shoulder and past her ear, causing her to flinch. She pulled her hood forward, shoulders slumped. A second one found its mark, hitting her square in the center of her back. She shrieked, pain radiating between her shoulder blades. “Enough!” yelled a guard, spinning back with a hand on his sword hilt. “All of you, go back to your—” A potato flashed right past his nose, narrowly missing Viola as it skimmed past her chin.

  The angry mob was growing out of control. Small rocks, tomatoes, and other objects were being hurled at a regular pace, many of which were being pulled right off the carts of vendors. “Get moving,” urged another guard, giving Viola a shove. “Head for the stables. The sooner you’re out of sight, the sooner this ends.”

  They hurried their pace, rocks and vegetables bouncing off the guards’ chainmail. Unprotected, Viola took the brunt of the punishment, feeling each hit across her back and shoulders. Although the pain was gone, the effects of the collar were obvious to her now. Normally she could have outpaced them all easily, but it was as if her legs just wouldn’t respond the same way. She felt as if she were trying to run through waist-high water. The hunter probably used this device when the contract called for the target to be taken in alive.

  The stables were just ahead. “Get out of our city!” came another of several threatening shouts from behind. She could see Owen and his apprentice saddling their mounts, basically ignoring the thunderous uproar heading towards them.

  “Silence that racket,” Owen said to Xavier, tying the last bag on his lavics. “We have no time for this.” Face shadowed as always, the apprentice silently nodded, then stepped from the stables and out into the street. Facing the advancing mob, he reached back underneath his white cloak, retrieving what looked like two short blades. Each had a leather grip right near its center with the bladed ends slightly curled.

  He clanged them together, each suddenly sprouting an additional blade, making them look more like bladed wheels. He snapped his wrists, Viola and the four guards sliding past him just as he released. Spinning through the air, they whistled with a piercing hiss, soaring right over the tops of everyone’s heads. Hooking in mid-flight, they glided back to Xavier, who effortlessly snatched them from the air. The warning shot was obvious. He could have killed a dozen in one shot had he chosen to.

  The mob stopped in its tracks, staring at the cloaked figure. Face shadowed, emotionless, he began stalking towards them, lightly tapping his bladed wheels together with each step. Outnumbering the stranger sixty-to-one, they still fumbled over each other, trying to back away.

  “Stop this madness at once!” Liam boomed, sliding out from the back of a wagon. Viola gasped when she saw him appear, a mix of hope and relief swirling inside her. For the moment at least, it seemed as if he’d kept his promise to her.

  Xavier stopped his slow advance, sliding his weapons back under his cloak. He turned and stalked back towards his horse as Liam raced out into the street.

  “What is the matter with all of you?” Liam asked pleadingly. A few folk still holding rocks dropped them to the ground, eyes shying away. “I’ve known you all for most of your lives, yet I’ve never seen you display such hate. You called for the head of Hyndrid Coleth, a great man and friend to us all. Now you want to see a young girl die because she looks different than you? Where does it end?!”

  Liam pointed to a wiry man with thinning brown hair. “Tendle, I knew you when you were only knee high,” he said, holding an open hand near his lower leg. “If your father had lived to see you now, what would he say?” The man looked down, avoiding Liam’s accusing eyes.

  “Miranda,” he continued, gesturing at a plump girl with short blonde hair and a flowery dress. “How many times did you come crying to me because the other children picked on you because of your limp? I comforted you, reassuring you there was nothing wrong with being different. And now you’ve joined up with this bloodthirsty mob, intent on hurting someone who has done nothing to you?” Beginning to weep, she, too, looked away.

  Liam sighed, glancing back to the stable where the others were waiting. “I don’t recognize a one of you anymore,” he scolded, before heading towards his waiting party. “I don’t recognize this city anymore,” he whispered to himself.

  Viola waited in the back of the hooded wagon, feet dangling over the edge. Futilely, she kept tugging at her collar, eyeing Liam as he approached. “It’s only for the time being,” he assured her, gently guiding her hands away from it.

  “You came back for me,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. Even having no idea what was to become of her, his presence alone made her feel muc
h better about the situation.

  “Of course I did,” he replied with a wink. “I always keep my promises.”

  He made his way to the front of the wagon and climbed up into the double seat. Giving the reins a snap, the horses began pulling the wagon. Slow at first, it wobbled from side to side with the uneven road. With Owen and Xavier taking the lead, they were on their way.

  Viola watched the crowd, angry glares fixed on her, until she could no longer see their faces. Before she knew it, the city itself was nothing but a speck off in the distance. She didn’t know where they were going, or what would happen to her once they got there. Only one thing felt certain in her heart: She was never coming back to Redwater...

  Panting heavily, the thin, bearded man ran as fast as he could. Shoeless, and wearing little more than a tattered pair of pants, his calloused feet smacked against the cold stone with every step. Covered in soot and grim, his every panting breath was visible as his burning lungs produced wisps of steam. The temperature was near freezing, but a healthy layer of soot and natural body oils kept the chill from his bones. That, and the fact that he had simply grown used to the frigid climate.

  Jagged to the touch, cold as ice, stone walls blurred past his vision as he ran. Day and night meshed together into twenty-four hours of darkness, a world of eternal midnight.

  Save for the occasional stalagmite with an odd shape or color, each tunnel looked identical to the last. No matter, he knew these caves like the back of his hand. Long ago his eyes had adjusted to the nearly lightless world. Still, the low light of the occasional oil lamp flickering on a peg embedded in the stone was a welcome sight. Such a luxury occurred every three hundred feet or so.

  With little warning, the mouth of the cave sprung open before him, emptying into a giant chasm. Leathery feet bleeding from the rough terrain, he skidded to a halt, taking in the view he’d seen hundreds of times before, yet would never get used to.

  The underground city sprawled out before him was as breathtaking as it was unsettling. Tall buildings with jagged forked roofs spidered up towards the chasm ceiling, each glowing faintly in a dull, fluorescent shade of purple. The walls looked to be polished stone, but the spiky, jagged roofs had the look of crystal. Beautiful it was, a stark contrast to the vile beings who lived there.

  So used to the near pitch-black he was that the modest city light looked radiant at first. From here, a narrow path led down into the heart of Kraindoel. Resisting the urge to rest, he sped on, making his way towards the lost city. He carried with him urgent news.

  Orm’rak was not one to be kept waiting...

  Terrified, the girl forced herself to take another step, followed by another, then another. Each reluctant movement came as a product of sheer will, her true instinct being to flee the other direction. Her dingy dress was worn to nearly nothing, a single frayed strap clinging to one shoulder, her left breast fully exposed. The lower half consisted of tattered ribbons of cloth, once white, now a dingy yellowed tan. Whimpering in fear, her shaking hands gripped the lidded silver tray. It rattled from her trembling, wobbling from side to side.

  She almost threw it in the air when a hand touched the back of her shoulder, giving her a start. “It’s only me, Naomi,” the girl said, stepping around to face her. “You’re drawing too much attention to yourself. Just go in with your head down, serve the tray, then leave. Nothing will happen.”

  “I-I can’t go in there, Talis,” the girl cried, eyes beginning to water. “What if they want something else? What if they—”

  “Stop it!” Talis demanded. “Don’t talk like that. You are not to be used for that. You are a servant, and servants are not to be used for—” She swallowed hard, unable to finish her own sentence. “That is not our purpose,” she finished, rewording her poorly chosen sentence. “Listen, I’ve been here four years now. I’ve already accepted that escape is impossible, so survival is the only hope I dare cling to. The key is to keep your head down, and don’t make eye contact with them. Just do your job and leave.” Lip quivering, the other girl shook her head from side to side. “You’ve already kept them waiting too long. I’ll be by your side the whole time. We have to go right now.” Holding a porcelain pitcher, Talis shook it around with a sloshing sound for emphasis.

  Reluctantly, the other girl followed her down the hall. Standing before a set of red double doors, Talis held her breath and backed through. Naomi followed, head down as instructed, gripping the tray firmly to control her shaking.

  All at once, the soulless creatures sitting at the table turned their heads eagerly. Forcing her head down as she always did, Talis rounded the table, filling glasses with red drink. Red eyes stared at her as she poured, those pale white faces always reminding her of death. She ignored them, concentrating on the task at hand.

  Ghostly in appearance, their lips were black and most had no hair. Their eyes sat low on their faces, making their foreheads seem long by comparison. Their ears were long and pointed at the top.

  Mustering all of her courage, Naomi leaned in, placing her silver tray at the center of the table. Boldly, the creature to her right gave her body a long sniff, pressing his cold wet nose against her side. Panic swelled up in her chest, the pace of her breathing increasing tenfold. Wisps of steam rose from her lips, making it seem like the already frigid temperature had dropped several degrees. Anxious to get away, she fumbled around with the lid, that cold nose still sniffing her side like a curious dog.

  Trembling fingers finally taking hold, she removed the lid too quickly, knocking over the goblet of the sniffing creature. Red drink doused his front, the goblet rolling onto his lap. She froze, petrified eyes dashing between the angered creature, and the now exposed main dish on the tray. A human head sat upright, eyeless sockets staring directly at her. An assortment of fingers and toes bordered the edge of the tray, a sort of garnish that added a decorative touch to the gruesome snack.

  Naomi’s heart leapt into her throat. “I’m-I’m so sorry,” she gasped, nearly on the edge of fainting.

  Talis watched in horror as the scene unfolded. Just walk away. You’re making things worse! Just. Walk. Away. Over the years she had gained a strong understanding of their thought process. Humans were either food or workers, and not much else. Humans meant so little to them, that they were almost always forgotten once they were out of sight. It was a strange advantage to be viewed as something lower than a pet. Once you understood that, becoming invisible was relatively easy. Just turn and go! The thoughts screamed through her head, but she didn’t dare say a word.

  Naomi snatched a nearby cloth, sending his fork and knife tumbling to the other side of the table. Desperately dabbing away at his chest, she ignored the primal rumbling coming from his throat. He hissed, a bright red tongue flickering like a lizard’s. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, now urgently wiping his chest. “I’ll get this all cleaned up. I’ll—”

  With impossible speed, the enraged creature snatched her by the arm and flipped her onto the table. Winded from the jarring blow at first, she quickly found her voice, producing a glass-shattering shriek as he bit into her wrist. Like wild animals, others lashed out, gripping limbs and hair, ripping towards them what they felt was their deserved portion of fresh meat.

  Talis turned away and started walking towards the hall. Naomi’s shrieks were short lived. All she could hear now was the snapping of bone and sinew as limbs ripped free from her torso. Human blood was the bulk of their sustenance, but they would indulge in flesh on occasion, given it was fresh enough.

  Talis dared a glance back over her shoulder, regretting it instantly. Hands and feet were being held over goblets, as every drop of the precious nectar was drained. Strips of skin were being wringed like wet towels, the useless innards chucked into a pile on the floor. She covered her mouth, fearful she would throw up on the floor, hence drawing attention to herself as well.

  She darted out the door and into the hallway, cheeks puffed with her hand still clamped over her mouth. With an e
ffort, she swallowed the bitter mixture that was threatening to escape, then hurried away. Not drawing attention was the key to surviving in the underground city of Kraindoel, a lesson that had been wasted on Naomi. She would be replaced soon enough. They always were.

  The laberaths were resourceful like that. Whether they were nourishment or labor, humans were mostly ignored, but managed to serve a purpose one way or another.

  “I sense his approach,” the laberath grunted, shoving the winded man down to the floor. “Deliver your message, then be gone from our sight.” In walked a second laberath, an unmistakable grace to his steps. Unlike the others, he boasted a full head of black hair, long and slicked back across the top of his head. His long robe was of the finest quality, dark purple with white ruffles around the neck and wrists. His eyes were proportionate to his nose, making his facial features appear quite human. In fact, if not for his oddly colored eyes and skin, he would have been considered handsome by any human standards.

  “Orm’rak!” said the filthy human male, scrambling across the floor on his hands and knees. “Orm’rak, our surface contacts have reported back to me. I bring word of—”

  With a raised hand, the tall laberath silenced him. “You’ve traveled so far already. Surely this can wait a bit longer,” he said, easily lifting the man off the floor as if he were weightless. “Join me for a walk. Stretch your legs before we talk.” His voice was soft and musical, large red eyes inviting, almost hypnotic. Well spoken and charming when he wanted to be, he was nothing like the others.

  “You may leave us,” Orm’rak said, making a subtle hand gesture to no one in particular. Suddenly, the air to each side of him seemed to rip open, two massive klashtons stepping into view where there was nothing a moment ago. Stunned, the human scrambled back on all fours, trying to put distance between himself and the rocky creatures. Amused at the startled human’s reaction, Orm’rak let out a hearty laugh, far deeper than his usual voice.