Dark Humanity

by Gwynn White

  “Aye, about that little trick of hers,” Owen said, a twinge of suspicion in his voice. “Do I even want to know?”

  Liam sighed, already aware of what Owen was hinting at.

  Owen continued, “So that’s what’s really bothering ya. She not only has their speed, their taste for blood, and now—”

  “Don’t say it!” Liam warned, gazing around as if someone in this ghost town might actually hear them.

  The hunter leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Necromancy,” he said, the word coming out in a long, slow hiss. “I know we swore to protect her, but denial isn’t going to do any of us any good. I know she’s half human, but her laberath side seems to be maturing by the day.”

  “We can’t be sure of anything at this stage,” Liam replied, the weakness of his voice betraying his inner thoughts. In truth, he had wondered for some time now if and when this particular trait might surface.

  “Oh, we’re not sure?” Owen said, mocking Liam’s denial. He patted the mystic on the knee. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. I guess she just plays better with the undead than we do.”

  “That is not funny!” Liam snapped back, a bit harsher than he intended.

  “No...it’s not,” Owen admitted, leaning his head back to look up at the clouds again. The sky was a brilliant blue, with only a handful of fluffy white clouds lazily drifting by. A flock of black birds soared overhead, streaking across the sky in their arrowhead formation. “I suppose it’s just one more thing we’ll have to figure out.”

  Viola turned the corner, cautiously following the grunting sounds to their source. There before her stood two more undead, one ramming its head into the side of a house repeatedly with a series of thuds, the other staring at the sky, drool flowing from the corner of its open mouth. The second one turned, suddenly aware of her presence. It growled a low, watery gurgle before advancing towards her. With a flick of her hand and a subtle thought, they both collapsed to the ground. She smiled as she felt their life forces zip away, off to find the eternal peace they so desperately craved.

  Another angry sound caught her ear, more a scream than the usual grunting she was growing accustomed to. Viola turned back just in time to see a woman charging her with a pitchfork. She reached out with her mind but knew instantly this woman was not one of them. She was alive...and enraged!

  “Wait! Stop!” Viola cried out. She was far more helpless against a human then she was against the undead. Backing up, she fumbled for her dagger. The moment she had it in her grasp, her trembling hands juggled the weapon briefly before dropping it on the ground.

  There came a flash of white accompanied by a cracking sound. Viola looked up to see the old woman in Xavier’s grasp, the forked head of her weapon snapped off cleanly. Held in a loose chokehold, she thrashed against the apprentice. Of course she was no match against him, yet he wasn’t quite sure what to do with her, either.

  “Let go of me!” the old woman screeched, all her aggression still focused on Viola. “Don’t you see? It’s her!” Her foot swung up in a fruitless attempt to kick Viola in the face. “She’s one of them! She killed them. She killed all of them!”

  “You need to calm down,” Xavier reasoned. “We are not here to hurt you.” Still, the gray-haired woman thrashed, displaying a tireless aggression Xavier could hardly believe for someone her age. His grip was loose so as to not cause her injury, yet more than once she nearly broke free. He looked up at Viola. “You better go back to the others,” he warned. “I don’t imagine she will calm down until you are out of sight.”

  “Demon whore!” the old woman screamed, foot firing up a second time. “My husband is dead. Both my sons are dead. All because of you murderous creatures! Fiend. Monster!” Sobbing, her body fell limp in Xavier’s arms. He lowered her to the ground gently, resting her head across his knee.

  Opting not to leave just yet, Viola boldly approached and knelt down beside them. She reached out to stroke the woman’s hair but pulled back at the last second, thinking better of it. “I’m so sorry for what they did to your family,” she said. “But they’re gone now. You’re safe.”

  “They’re gone now,” the old woman mocked between sobs. “Everything is gone now! My family, everyone I ever knew, everything! What am I supposed to do now?”

  “Come with us,” Viola blurted without even thinking. Xavier flashed her a look, subtly shaking his head. “The men I travel with are strong,” she continued, ignoring Xavier’s warning glance. “We can protect you. I know we can’t replace your family, but you’ll be safe with us. We can—” A glob of spit hit her cheek, silencing her.

  “I would rather die than travel with a demon whore like you,” the old woman hissed, fire smoldering in her eyes. Viola had already accepted that most people would never trust her. But this was different. A deep loathing like nothing she had ever seen burned in those eyes. Feeling the cool wetness run down her cheek, Viola froze, unable to lift a hand towards wiping it away.

  “You want to help me?” the old woman asked. “Then take your own life right here so I can watch as the light goes out in your eyes.” Viola’s eyes began to glisten with wetness. “Then I want you to rise so I can watch you do it again, and again, and again. I want you to die once for each soul that was lost here. And once your debt has been paid, I want you to lie down before me one final time so that I alone may cut off your head, and take it for my wall. Then, and only then, will you have helped me.”

  Each word was like a white-hot dagger sinking into her heart. So much hate directed at a person she’d just met. Deep down inside, a part of Viola died. A sour taste spreading through her mouth, she felt nauseous, everything spinning around her.

  “Are you listening to me?” Viola snapped out of it, looking at Xavier as if seeing him for the first time. “For the third time already, go back to the others. I need to question her, and that’s clearly not going to happen while you’re still here.”

  Viola swallowed the bitter phlegm, her glazed-over eyes coming back into focus. “All right, I’ll leave,” she said, so softly it was hard to hear her. She glanced at the old woman. “All I ask is that you tell me your name.” The woman glared back at her silently. The hate was so strong, Viola thought she could actually feel the heat radiating from that stare. “Tell me, and I promise you’ll never see me again.”

  “Breda,” the woman growled, only now attempting to get back to her feet.

  “Breda,” Viola repeated, more to herself than to them. She turned to leave. “I won’t forget you as long as I live, Breda,” she whispered to herself.

  A short while later, Owen and Liam came into view. The two of them appeared to be engaged in a spirited conversation, but fell silent when they noticed her approach.

  “Did you accomplish your goal?” Liam asked. “Have the townsfolk all been liberated?” Expression blank, she kept on walking, ignoring his questions. “Viola, where is Xavier? He went looking for you.”

  She turned slightly, pointing back the way she came from. “I’m tired,” she said, sounding very much the part. “I’m going to lie down for a while.” She headed right for the wagon, then disappeared beneath the canopy inside.

  A short time later, Xavier showed up. “And where have you been?” Owen asked. “We considered leaving without you.”

  “We found a survivor,” he said, surprised they didn’t already know. “I’ve been questioning her this whole time. Did Viola not tell you?” Their expressions were answer enough. He gave a recount of how the old woman had treated her. Now thinking on his own words, the fact that Viola hadn’t spoken of her was not actually surprising at all.

  “Poor dear,” said Liam, glancing back at the wagon.

  “We’ll deal with that in a minute,” said Owen, his attention focused on his apprentice. “Did she speak of what happened here?”

  “As we suspected, they fell victim to a laberath attack,” Xavier replied. “They had no chance. This small town has no militia, and I doubt it would have made a difference
anyway. The woman hid, watching from her attic as the town was slaughtered before her eyes.” He shook his head. “She stayed hidden even after they were turned into those...things. Such trauma that one has endured.”

  “So basically, we fought off the entire town.” Owen grunted, a bit too much pride apparent in his tone.

  “Not exactly,” Xavier corrected. “According to our only witness, they took a quarter of the townsfolk captive. Marched them out of here like livestock.”

  “So they didn’t kill all of them?” Owen asked.

  “Only most,” Xavier replied.

  “A food source?” Liam suggested, thinking out loud. “Possibly labor. I’m not sure who is worse off, the captives or the dead.”

  “Well, I say we get moving,” Owen said, already heading for his lavics. “I figure we’ve already stayed too long.”

  “Agreed,” Liam said, heading towards the wagon. “Uh, how much further until we meet these friends of yours?” he called to Owen.

  “Soon,” came the vague, but expected answer.

  “Of course,” Liam muttered, peeking inside the back of the wagon. Viola was lying down, her face nestled into the crook of her arm. He could tell from her breathing that she was still awake, but opted against bothering her. If she wanted to be left alone, he would honor her wish. After all, she’d been through a lot today. They all had. He climbed into the front, and with a snap of the reins, they rolled away from the empty town.

  The runner streaked down the hallway, bare feet slapping against the thin carpet layered over ice-cold stone. Hearing the mumble of blended voices coming from the room just ahead, he stopped to lean against the wall, his pounding heart slamming inside of his chest. He was winded from the long sprint, certainly, but the thought of delivering bad news directly to Orm’rak was beyond terrifying. His heart would be thumping the same even if he had walked the entire way.

  Here in the frigid hall, mists of steam blasted from his mouth with each breath. He took a final moment to gather himself, building his courage at last. Pushing off the wall, he jogged around the corner. Streaking into the dining hall as if he’d been running the entire time, he ran straight for Orm’rak at the head of the table, determined to deliver his message and get out as fast as possible.

  The laberath leader hardly paid any attention to the human, allowing him to babble in his ear without the slightest change of expression. Listening, Orm’rak tipped back his goblet of blood, draining it in one gulp. Others around the table only spared the human a glance or two before continuing their gluttonous feeding.

  After the last word left his lips, the runner stood up straight, awaiting further instruction. When Orm’rak said nothing, relieved, he turned to bolt from the room. After only a single step towards the hall, a hindering tightness around his waist halted his movement. Reluctantly, he glanced back to see two fingers pinching the band of his tattered pants. The grip was so strong they might as well have been iron locks.

  Calmly, Orm’rak began tapping the side of his goblet with a bloodied fork. Muttering voices began to dissipate, quickly followed by total silence. All eyes on the head of the table, he took his time, meeting each curious gaze in turn. “I have just received an update on our most recent objective.” He gave the runner’s band a gentle tug. “Um, what is your name?” he asked.

  “G-Goru,” the man muttered, trembling from head to toe.

  “Ah, yes,” Orm’rak continued. “Goru here has informed me that our team has failed in capturing the half-blood girl. Can anyone here suggest to me what might have gone wrong?” His answer came in the form of a long, drawn-out silence. He tugged the man’s band again. “Excluding the target, how many adversaries did my team encounter? One hundred? A thousand, perhaps?”

  The rising terror forced the man to lose all control of his body. Moist warmth spread across the front of his pants, trickling down the inside of his legs. “Three,” he whispered, his voice barely a rasp of air.

  “I’m sorry, could you repeat that, Goru?”

  “T-There w-were three of them,” the runner repeated, shaking so hard his teeth were starting to click.

  “Did everyone hear our friend, Goru?” Orm’rak asked, his red-eyed glare sweeping around the table. “Three humans defeated our warriors. Needless to say, I am not pleased by this.” He turned back to Goru. “But I imagine this pleases you quite a bit.”

  “No. No, that’s not true,” the runner groveled. “I live only to serve you. To serve the laberaths!”

  “Now don’t you lie to me,” Orm’rak scolded, speaking to him as one might speak to a child. He lifted Goru up in the air by the seat of his pants. After letting him hang for several seconds, he slammed the runner down on the table, driving all air from his lungs. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this right now. I need to figure out what, if anything, is so special about you humans. I will not accept another failure.” Pinning Goru down by his neck, he slid a knife out from between two dinner cloths.

  “Master, please,” the man begged, trying to slip air past the crushing grip around his throat.

  “So let’s take a close look at one of these humans so we may determine what it is that makes them so formidable,” Orm’rak said, ignoring the choking man beneath his grasp. “I must find their secret so I may plan accordingly. Please be patient. This might take a while, since I plan to search for this magical formula inch by inch.” Goru’s terrified scream was partially muffled, smothered into the iron grip strapped over his mouth.

  There came a flood of cheers, laberaths clapping and rubbing their hands together. “Now then, that’s what I like to see: a little enthusiasm towards our research efforts. So where shall we begin our search? You there,” he said, pointing to the female to his left. “Where do you think this human is hiding his special powers?”

  “In his hand,” the hairless female chirped, rubbing her hands together with excitement.

  “You may very well be right,” Orm’rak admitted, privately entertained by the simplistic answer. He raked the knife diagonally across the top of the runner’s wrist, liberating four of his fingers and a fair chunk of hand. Goru shrieked in pain, again his cries muffled against Orm’rak’s hand. He tossed her the piece. She wasted no time in tearing into the fresh slice, teeth scraping against bone.

  “Anyone else?” Orm’rak asked.

  “The secret is in their eyes,” came a voice from the back. “Always a sickly blue or brown. Never a proper color. I’m sure that’s where their power lies.”

  “Excellent!” Orm’rak said, pointing to the one at the far end of the table. “I hadn’t even though of that.”

  He tipped the runner’s head back, forcing him to look up at the ceiling. “Nooo!” he screamed, closing his eyes as tightly as he could, thrashing about, head shaking, legs kicking. “Please don’t! I’ll do anything you say.” Ignoring the desperate pleas, the laberath leader wiggled his fingers into the man’s socket. Goru released a high-pitched shriek fit to shatter crystal. With a bit of effort, the eyeball popped free with a snap. Orm’rak held it up, the clinging optic nerve looking like a small tail. He tossed it across the table, watching it hop once before rolling off the edge.

  “I’m not so sure anymore,” Orm’rak said sarcastically, glaring down at the wounded runner, his hand clenched over a bleeding, empty socket. “I thought their secret would be easier to find than this. I see I must triple my efforts.” With nowhere near the amount of care he used removing the first eye, the laberath drove his fingers in the second socket, snapping out his other eye. “Umm, nothing here, either,” he reported casually, tossing the bloody ball aside. His mortally wounded body going into shock, Goru lay on the table with his mouth wide open. His body twitched again and again, head shuddering with seizure-like symptoms.

  “I’d better keep looking,” Orm’rak growled, no longer looking amused at the game he had created. His hand fired down into the open mouth, its hidden mass apparent in the form of a lump moving deep down the runner’s throat. Vicio
usly, he wrenched his hand free, a spray of red misting a portion of the table. Stringy bits of meat clung in his fist, dangling between his fingers like gory vines. “Nope,” he said, glancing at the red pulp then throwing it right in the center of the table with a wet smack. The other laberaths slid their chairs back, entertained smiles slowly melting from their faces. This was getting out of hand even by their practically nonexistent standards.

  Tongue, jaw, and ears were quickly ripped free and tossed onto the table. “They’re clever, these humans are!” Orm’rak roared, gouging away at the lifeless corpse. “I just can’t seem to find any hidden power.” A minute later, the corpse was completely unrecognizable. To prove it was once a human would take a long, careful examination.

  Orm’rak moved away from the corpse. Glistening blood-coved hands clasped behind his back, he calmly began circling the table. “I’ve searched but found nothing,” he said, his steady voice an icy calm. Eyes low, the laberaths sat quiet and still, avoiding his gaze at all costs. “So, now that my thorough search has concluded, I can only come to one conclusion.” Orm’rak stopped directly behind one of the seated laberaths, and glared down at him. “It seems to me that there is nothing special about them at all. They are just as pathetic and weak as I always suspected.” He leaned down into the laberath’s ear. “Which means my brothers have failed me.”

  A fist exploded through the creature’s chest, spraying even more blood across the table. The others leapt from their seats, instantly becoming blurs of movement streaking for the hall. “And you shall not fail me again!” Orm’rak raged, his piercing scream echoing down the hall. Retracting his hand with a squishing slurp, the wide-eyed body tipped from the chair onto the floor. Still seething, he glanced down at the corpse. It was a necessary sacrifice. Someone had to be held accountable. And more importantly, others needed to witness someone being held accountable. There was simply too much at stake here.