The Third Eye Initiative

by J. J. Newman

  “I’m not selfish,” Tsaeris retorted. Tyrier answered with a cool stare. “Alright, I’m selfish. But as a street kid you kind of have to be.”

  “If you say so.” Tyrier wrapped the bandage around Tsaeris’ eye. “There you go. Now get some rest. We can talk later.” He gently removed the pillow from behind Tsaeris, and lowered him gently onto his back.

  “I’m not tired. I want to...” Tsaeris yawned. “I want to talk now.” His eyes felt suddenly heavy.

  “Later,” a voice said from somewhere in the room. Tsaeris was only vaguely aware of it, and sleep claimed him quickly.

  ***

  The next week was difficult for Tsaeris. The Doctor had begun working on his damaged eye, and the operations were painful. Doctor Sydarin had explained that he needed to close the wound as much as possible to avoid infection, and that the work was mostly trial and error. As much as the operations hurt, there was something much worse going on with Tsaeris. Depression.

  The reality of losing one of his eyes began to take its toll. The lack of depth perception made him dizzy, and he was very aware of the large blind spot. He felt vulnerable with only half his vision. He feared the idea of being attacked from his blind side and not even knowing he was in danger before it was too late. His thieving days were over, of course. If he attempted to take a purse or pick a pocket, how could he be sure that he wasn’t being watched from his blind side? His only source of income was denied him now, and he had no idea what he would do.

  His self-image was badly damaged as well. He felt the scars made him ugly, and he didn’t like the idea of an eye patch. He was a disabled freak now, and would probably die quickly on the dangerous streets of the City. None of this was fair. He didn’t deserve this.

  Doctor Sydarin would force Tsaeris out of bed for a few hours each day. At first it was difficult. His muscles were weakened from lack of use, and the disorientation of only having half of his vision made walking even harder. Each day did get easier, however, and the Doctor encouraged Tsaeris, and told him he was adapting already.

  Adaption. The Doctor talked about it a lot. He assured Tsaeris that he would get used to having only one eye, and it wouldn’t always be this bad. Sometimes Tsaeris believed him. The Doctor had a way of making Tsaeris feel confident.

  He began reintroducing solid food the first day Tsaeris had gotten out of bed. It upset his stomach at first, and he could only eat a small amount. It didn’t take long for the youthful appetite to grow in strength again, however, and soon he was eating like any boy his age. Ravenously.

  After that first week, Tsaeris found that he only occasionally bumped into things out of his field of vision, and his muscles began to regain some of their strength. The Doctor had finished operating on his eye, eventually sewing the socket shut, and it no longer bothered him as much. It was sore now and then, but bearable.

  It took almost another month for Tsaeris’ broken bones to heal, but when he was finally nearly himself again the Doctor showed Tsaeris a few different eye patches he could wear, and let him choose the one he felt most comfortable with. The first he tried on was a standard black leather patch with a thin strap that wrapped around his head. Tsaeris rejected it as soon as he looked in the mirror. He thought it made him look like a cliché sailor. He tried on several more, but none of them seemed right. None of them fully covered the scars. Then an idea struck him.

  Tsaeris walked across the room and removed his green scarf from the hook. He held it up before his eye, staring at it. It was the only piece of clothing he had left, the only one that hadn’t been completely destroyed. Slowly, he began wrapping it around his ruined eye socket. When he was finished, he tied it in a knot behind his head. He stood in front of the mirror and nodded at his reflection. The scarf felt right. It felt like a small victory against his tormentors, and was the only thing he had left from the time before he had been mutilated. Despite its slight damage, Tsaeris knew it was perfect.

  Tsaeris had spent his entire time at the clinic in a thin robe, his clothes having been destroyed during his torment. The Doctor frowned at his choice of eye patch, but said nothing. The Doctor gave him some new clothes. He looked at himself in the mirror. A grey tunic was covered by a brown leather vest. The breeches were also brown, with a black belt, and he was given a brown hooded cloak. They were all new, and were the finest clothes he had ever worn.

  “When can I leave?” Tsaeris asked after thanking the Doctor for the clothes.

  “Why? Got somewhere you need to be, kid?” Tyrier replied.

  “Well, not really. There’s just somebody I wanted to see.”

  The Doctor considered for a moment. “I’m not ready to cut you loose just yet. Want to make sure everything is sound before you go your own way. Things look good, but the danger of an infection is still there.”

  “Can I just go out for a few hours? I’ll come back. I promise,” Tsaeris lied. It’s not that he didn’t appreciate all that the Doctor had done for him, but he had been stuck in this place long enough. He was also broke, and didn’t want to be around when the Doctor tallied up the cost of his treatment.

  “You can go, but you better be back before it gets dark. Deal?” Tyrier said.

  “Deal,” Tsaeris agreed.

  Just like that, he was free. He wished he had a chance to thank that Elias fellow who had rescued him, but contrary to the Doc’s predication, he had never showed up to speak to Tsaeris. It was just as well. Tsaeris wasn’t very good when it came to thanking people.

  He considered going to see Cyra, but he knew that was dangerous and stupid. He didn’t want that Thieves Guild finding him again, and he knew her master would probably run off to find them the second he saw Tsaeris. No, best he got out of Market and on his way back to Darson as fast as possible.

  He managed to pocket a few coins from the Doctors cash box when he wasn’t looking, and decided to stop for the night at an inn and start off for Darson with a whole day to travel. He wanted to put as much of this place behind him as possible, and didn’t want to be caught in the Neutral roads at night again. If he waited until dawn to leave, he could make it to a Neutral Road hostel before it got dark. It would also give him time to see if he could still get away with the occasional pickpocket. The boy needed money, after all

  It was late afternoon when he set out, and he walked until it got dark before finding an inn. He spent the money he had taken from the doctor on a room, some food and ale. The ale went straight to his head. He hadn’t had a drop since before his eye was removed, and his constitution for the stuff had lowered considerably.

  He made it to his bedroom only with considerable effort. The room smelled of sex and vomit, and Tsaeris took the time to open the window before passing out in his bed. After only a few hours of sleep, Tsaeris heard a familiar sound. His bedroom door opened. Why the hell did this stuff always happen to him at an inn?

  Chapter Ten

  Recruitment

  Tsaeris wasted no time. He was not being taken again. He rolled out of his bed and leaped out of the open window. It was only one story up, but his head was still foggy from ale, and he landed badly. Despite the time he had spent recovering, his body ached and groaned in protest from the impact of the jump. Dizziness over took him, and for one terrifying moment he was sure he would pass out. After stumbling a few steps, he managed to shake off the dizziness and began to run as fast as his battered body would allow.

  He was so tired of running from people. It seemed that everyone was after him since he left Darson. Slavers, thieves, now whoever the hell this person was. Why wouldn’t people just leave him alone?

  A full moon hung brightly in the sky, lighting the empty city streets with a dull white glow. Tsaeris cursed. It would be much harder to hide from his pursuer in this light. He ran as fast as he could. He turned down an alley, ran its length then headed back into the street. He did this several times, alley, street, alley, street, hoping to throw off whoever was chasing. His stamina began to fade quickly, and he slowed
down. He was exhausted, and he didn’t hear any sounds of pursuit. He sighed in relief. He had escaped.

  He stopped in a dark alley to decide his next move, and to catch his breath. He would head for the Neutral Road tonight. It was a scary thought, but obviously he had over stayed his welcome in Market. He knew that if he stayed any longer something bad would happen to him. He corrected himself. Something worse would happen to him.

  He stepped back into the street and walked briskly, but casually, in the direction of the Neutral Road. He wondered if the guards would even let him in at night. It didn’t matter, he decided. If not, he would stay near them for protection until dawn.

  He occasionally saw another person walking the moonlit streets, but they ignored him. Houses and shops lined the roads, but the shadows they cast were beaten back by the bright night. Regardless, Tsaeris still kept alert for predators in the dark.

  His head pounded. Too much drink, and too little sleep, he decided. He missed his inn in Darson. He had slept there before, and nobody had ever tried to kill him, chase him or sell him as a slave. Tsaeris was feeling sorry for himself. This was all Jason’s fault, naturally. Everything had been fine until that little ass had approached him with his big plan. He would never listen to any other street kid again. Tsaeris worked best alone, and would only ever follow his own path and plans. To hell with the big score, he had done just fine with little scores up to this point.

  He walked for a long time, lost in his thoughts. Suddenly he saw the light of torches a few hundred yards ahead. The gate to the Neutral Roads! He was almost there. The ordeal was almost over. A large shadow fell from the sky and landed right in front of him. Tsaeris froze. A fist struck him hard in the stomach. He collapsed, and felt himself being dragged towards an alley. Tsaeris decided that he hated alleys.

  He knew he was done for. He would not be escaping this time. The man dragged him deep into the darkness, and hauled him to his feet. Tsaeris could not make out the man’s features, only that he was of medium height. Tsaeris closed his eye, and waited for death. He was tired and had no fight in him.

  A hand slapped him on the hard on the cheek.

  “Don’t do that. Open your eye.” The voice was calm, but had a dangerous edge.

  “Please don’t kill me,” Tsaeris begged. It was worth a shot.

  He felt the hand slap him again, harder this time.

  “I said open your eye.” The voice was still calm.

  Tsaeris did as he was told. His eye had adjusted to the darker shadows of the alley, but he still couldn't make out any features under the man’s hood.

  “You really are a piece of work, kid,” the man said. “After all I went through to save your life, this is how you repay me? By running off into the night against the Doctor’s orders, even stealing some of his coin?”

  Tsaeris swallowed hard. “You’re Elias,” he managed in a small voice.

  “I am. I’m going to let go of you now, and you’re going to come with me. I doubt I need to tell you what will happen if you try and run.” Elias could convey a threat more convincingly in that horrible calm voice than most men could with a yell or a snarl.

  “Are you going to kill me?” Tsaeris asked.

  Elias didn’t respond. Tsaeris followed him, not daring to try and run. Elias led him to the end of the alley. It opened up into a kind of alley courtyard, wide and round. Elias lowered his hood, and Tsaeris could make out his features, the dark hair, and the neatly trimmed beard. He almost felt like he recognized the man.

  Elias turned and walked towards Tsaeris again. He grabbed him roughly by the shoulders.

  “You’re lucky you’re still recovering, because if you weren’t I’d be beating the shit out of you right now.” The calm voice was now tinged with rage and contempt. “All that effort, and here you are risking it all again. And for what?”

  “I...” Tsaeris swallowed. “I didn’t have the money to pay for my treatment.”

  “I would almost have accepted that excuse, if you hadn’t stolen from the Doctor before you left,” Elias said. “I paid for your treatment, Tsaeris.”

  Tsaeris was dumbstruck. Elias had paid for his treatment? He found himself getting irritated.

  “I’ve had enough of this shit. Why? Why the hell would you save me, then pay for my treatment? Why would you care? Don’t tell me it was for the good deed. That’s crap. What the hell do you want with me?” Tsaeris knew that it was risky taking that tone with Elias, but he just didn’t care anymore. He was sick of this. Tsaeris thought he saw a faint smile cross the man’s lips.

  “You’re right. I didn’t do it out of goodwill. And I do want something, no, demand something from you.” Elias let go of his shoulders. “For some reason, my boss has an interest in you. You’re going to work for us.”

  “Work for you?” Tsaeris frowned, and then began to laugh bitterly. “After all this shit, I still get enlisted by a bloody thieves’ guild.”

  “Thieves guild?” Elias laughed as well. Tsaeris did not like the sound of it. “We’re no thieves’ guild. Not that it matters. We saved you, we paid for you to get well. Without us, you would be dead. We own you now, boy.”

  Tsaeris felt his world closing in around him. He knew there was no way out of this. He would escape later, of course. For now, he would just go along with it. It was better than dying, he supposed.

  “If you’re not a thieves’ guild, what are you?” He asked.

  Instead of answering, Elias pried open a sewer grate in the center of the courtyard.

  “Down you go,” Elias said.

  Tsaeris sighed when he saw the sewer entrance. This sure felt like a thieves’ guild to him.

  ***

  The darkness in the sewers was absolute. Elias told Tsaeris to stay where he was. Tsaeris heard a soft grating sound. After a few moments he heard the click of flint and tinder, and a torch roared to life in Elias’ hand. Tsaeris could see Elias standing before a small square compartment in the sewer wall. Elias slide closed a small brick door, and the compartment disappeared. The brick wall looked unbroken. Elias approached Tsaeris and held out a length of cloth.

  “I’m going to bind your eye. It’s a bit early for you to know where we’re going,” Elias said, then gently tied the cloth around Tsaeris’ eye.

  The sewer went dark again. Tsaeris didn’t like the blindfold. He imagined this is what a man on a gallows must feel like before the fatal drop opened beneath him. At that moment, he didn’t think the blindfold was as humane as the executioners believed it was.

  They walked for what felt like hours to Tsaeris. Several times he attempted to ask Elias questions, but was promptly told to shut his mouth each time. Tsaeris was surprised to feel the ground sloping downward at certain points, almost like long, gradually descending ramps. At one point he was lead down a long staircase. He found this unsettling. What was deeper underground than the sewers?

  The sewer smell receded after a time. They must be below the sewers now. He remembered hearing about catacombs beneath the city, but he had never really given it much thought. Most people didn’t believe that the catacombs existed, and nobody he had ever met had actually seen them.

  Finally they stopped. He heard Elias speak softly to someone, and he thought he heard a door opening. He walked forward for a few more minutes at Elias’ urging, and then was stopped. Elias removed the blindfold from Tsaeris’ eye.

  “We’re here,” Elias said.

  Tsaeris’ jaw dropped. He was in a large open area, well lit by hanging chandeliers and countless braziers. The room was square and massive, the ceiling domed above him at least a hundred feet high. The walls were light polished wood, and there were three separate levels, all walled in by railings. The room was hundreds of feet in diameter. Walls surrounded an area on the right side of the large chamber, with a two small wooden swing doors. Tsaeris could see inside. It had a bar, tables and stools. It was a tavern. Far across on the other side of the room there were training dummies and targets. Each training area w
as separated from the next by a wall, and contained one dummy and one target, and there were at least fifty of these training stations. Each one was occupied by one or two people practicing various fighting and ranged combat styles. Hundreds of people moved through the chamber. On the wall straight ahead there was a series of small rooms with large wooden doors. Tsaeris thought they must be offices of some sort. A corridor left the chamber to the right of the offices. There was more to this place. Tsaeris could hardly believe it.

  Tsaeris pointed at one of the railings above him.

  “What are on those levels?” He asked,

  “More training stations.” Elias seemed amused.

  Tsaeris knew it was an odd first question, but he had so many he honestly didn’t know where to start.

  “What the hell is this place?” he asked.

  “We call it the safe house. Enough gawking, follow me.”

  Elias led Tsaeris through the swing doors of the tavern. It was larger than most tavern rooms Tsaeris had seen. The tavern was mostly empty, save for four boys and a girl, all around his age. They sat on a long bench at one of the large tables, all with dumbfounded expressions on their faces. Elias sat Tsaeris down with the other kids, and then went to the bar and sat in a stool.

  None of the boys spoke to each other, or Tsaeris. He was glad for the silence. He didn’t know what to say. They sat in silence for at least half an hour, when suddenly a large man burst through the swing doors. He was tall, with a bald head and a beard that hung almost to his waist. His belly was round, but his large arms looked hard and strong. Several angry looking red scars crisscrossed his forearms, and there was one running down his cheek from just below his right eye, right down to his neck. He wore a sleeveless brown tunic, and black pants.

  He motioned the boys to stand, then lined them up side by side in the center of the room. He walked to the bar, and the barkeep handed him a large tankard. He gulped it down, wiped foam from his beard, and then stood before the boys.