by Edison G. S.
But it was hard to remain positive. Every time she looked at the boys, Holga sadly realized how the glimmer in the boys’ eyes had slowly disappeared. They had lost the joy of childhood. Definitively, the boys looked forward to getting to the Forest; at least they still had a purpose.
The noise of an arriving ship made her feel dejected. It was one of the few ships used merely for transporting people instead of resources, yet they could not afford any kind of ship.
Soon, she thought, imagining the day when they gathered enough money for the tickets. It had taken them weeks to get to Caira on wagon, but a ship would get them to the Forest in three days or less. She breathed the saline air and imagined the day when they could finally board. If she kept her job, she would have the money soon.
She started to fantasize and could imagine the boys sitting comfortably at her sister’s table, enjoying warm soup. Her thoughts were interrupted when Neil began coughing loudly. Few weeks after they entered Caira he caught the flu and now he was very weak. Holga could not bear the thought of him being ill, especially now. It will pass soon, she reassured herself.
This strain of flu was a foreign one; the merchants carried it from some random city. Others were outliving the disease; interacting every day with those affected had allowed their bodies to grow stronger. But Neil was just a boy and was malnourished. Even Omar was very susceptible, but somehow he remained healthy.
“As soon as we get to the Forest, I will take you to a physician. Your aunt will not have any problem paying for it,” she reassured Neil, but that did not seem to make the boy feel any better. “I will offer to work on her house or help her wherever she works,” she continued talking, but the boys never opened their mouths.
That night the boys felt asleep next to the wall; she covered them with some layers of old rags and towels she found around. Once they were asleep, she sat down looking at the sky. She was certain the next morning she would find the amount of money needed.
The next morning she got up early and left for work. The boys never asked her about her ways of getting money; they just waited for her, hoping not to be caught by the owner of the building. They seemed exceedingly enthusiastic to see her come every day before dark to sleep with them, to protect them from the demons as much as she could, no more than hugging and covering.
***
The smell of urine was unbearable in the brothel. Her usual “customers” were young men experimenting or a virgin wanting to learn a few tricks. She had to plaster a smile on her face as she sat on their laps, pretending to be aroused by their lewdness. She never sat on her husband’s lap even though she loved him; she just did not feel comfortable mostly because she was afraid to hurt his legs, but she did not give a damn about the men in the brothel, so she let her entire weight fall on them.
The man she was with now was paunchy and had been drinking liquor all night. He bounced her around on his lap like a ragdoll. Angrily, she pressed down too hard and the man threw her to the floor. “Careful wench,” he said. She inhaled the disgusting stench of human fluids and dry beer on the floor and became dizzy and nauseous, but stood up quickly.
The man began walking away so Holga shook the dust from her clothes and tried to regain the smile she had moments before. Another man walked in front of her pulling the hair of a young woman scarcely seventeen-years old. It broke Holga’s heart to see the scene. The girl was naked and the man was bringing her outside of the room, claiming that he “paid for a virgin, not a used up strumpet.” Virgins were the main attraction and were paid more, while she was treated like a used toy. She had had daughters and would be devastated if her daughter ever ended up like that. She had to turn away or she would have defended the girl, causing them both to be killed.
The swine of a man she had been with gave her another chance to satisfy his needs before paying her a measly few coins and tossing her aside. For Holga, it was just another day leading to her final goal—ship tickets. Though she felt disgusting and dirty having pigs like him inside her, she did what she needed to take care of her boys, so they would live a better life.
As she left the brothel the sky was slowly turning dark. She wished for demons to attack Caira after she and the boys left and feed from the pigs that were inside the disgusting brothel. But the army was very strong in Caira and demons had not attacked the city in years. Even if they did, the men in the city would easily win against them, unless it was a major attack. There had been tales of massive attacks—hundreds of demons attacking a city at nightfall—but she was thankful she had never seen a real case.
She walked through the streets while the sky was turning orange. She was impatient to return to her children, but she also knew there was always the chance that the curiosity would win over the kids. “Where were you mother?” Neil had said a few times while hugging her. The innocent boy had no idea what Holga had to do to get them to the Forest. Omar, on the other hand, always scanned her with a glare in his eyes, but never said a word. She could feel the shame in his gaze and though he never said anything, it was clear he knew what was going on. He probably felt guilty and powerless; his entire world had turned to ashes within weeks.
As she kept walking to her children, she noticed a drunken death on the ground. It was common for the fights to end like that. She had explained to the boys what to do if something happened to her. Neil had looked at her with tears filling his eyes. “I will not let the demons kill you.” He had no idea other people could hurt his mother just as much as the demons could. Omar just stared with a blank look as if imagining how empty his life would be if something happened to Holga, his fear almost palpable.
On her walk home she counted her coins and was surprised she had earned enough money for their tickets—they would be leaving tomorrow. She walked as fast as she could, waiting to see her babies, in fact, anxious to be there already.
On her way, she saw a man hitting a woman and trying to drag her somewhere. Holga kept walking and tried not to look. Every time she heard the woman scream the guilt consumed her. She barely had energy to get through every day, what could she do to help the woman? Some streets of Caira were too dangerous to mind someone else’s business. The woman was finally knocked down and the man was dragging her somewhere. Powerless tears filled Holga’s eyes and she walked faster to get away from the scene. This kind of thing would never happen in the Forest territory. It was such a peaceful land filled with trees and gardens.
With half a smile, Holga thought of her childhood in the Forest, where the calm streets were safe, where once she and her sister would go for a walk with their father whenever they felt like smelling the flowers. They even walked at night without fear from demons. Their mother made sure to protect them with her magic, though her happiness was never fully complete. She always needed approval from society, and due to her surname, she would never have it over there. People used to look through the windows cursing the family that had freedom of going outside; after all, they were accused of witchcraft.
However, the Forest was too peaceful; since the Maxwell Rebellion, the council of the Forest stood free from any trouble. They cared more about keeping order within their lands rather than in the Royal Waters. If the king wished to take something away from there, they never complained just to remain in the good graces of the ruler. Holga guessed they were probably smarter than anyone else.
Suddenly, she sensed someone behind her, following her every footstep. She felt the need to run and started rushing, but the man ran faster and jumped on her, throwing her to the ground. She screamed, bit him, and tried to push him away, but he slapped her. She realized she knew the man as one of the men that frequented the brothel. “Help!” she screamed just like the other woman did a few minutes back.
He searched her until he found the money she just was paid and then ran away. Disheveled, Holga stood up and ran after him without even knowing what she would do after reaching him. “Please, no!” she yelled while gasping for air. The man kept running and then finally stopped
.
She reached him, uncertainty filling her mind. “Please, my children,” she said without knowing how to appeal to his sense of solidarity. Without a care for what she said he pulled out a knife and approached her, pointing the knife towards her. “Please, no. I need my money,” she supplicated. The man kept coming toward her shouting in the old tongue, but Holga did not know what he was saying.
Knowing better, she decided to walk away and forget about the money. All the humiliations, the hunger, the sadness and she would still need to return to that disgusting place after all. She did not see the situation coming and a strong desire to give up filled her thoughts. She could not deal with this anymore. She lost her balance and fell on her knees. Her mind urged her to wake up and run away, but her body was just an inert trembling mass. Tears streaked her face as she thought about her kids. She had tried too long to remain strong for them. For the first time, her broken soul wanted to be in control, to give up already. Everything she witnessed and endured will mark her forever.
She remained on her knees until she finally regained control of herself. Not all was lost; she could get more money in time and then make their way to the Forest. Still, she hoped to get her boys to safety sooner rather than later.
Before she could solve her inner conflict, the man approached her; his eyes were bloodshot and the funk of alcohol and urine filled her nostrils as he stepped forward. She remembered him, the drunken foreigner nobody understood in the brothel. He became angered when people ridiculed him for attempting to communicate in the old tongue. His was a dying language mostly spoken by the rebel tribes hiding in the Frozen Land.
He displayed an aggressive attitude countless times, but tonight he had a different fire in his eyes—an amalgamation of his frustration and humiliation. He was tired of everything, just as Holga, but he was dealing with it in a different way. He was fighting an innocent person whereas Holga was fighting with herself not to give up.
She wanted to run, but it was too late. “Acacious, protect my children,” she said as the stranger thrust his knife through her throat.
Andreas
The elders say before the demon was the creature it is now, it was just like any other man. It was a human and its three children were human as well. It is said witches transformed them into what they are now and gave them the power to transform other humans into demons.
Andreas observed the dagger carefully; what makes it so special? If he could kill the other offspring, every last spawn would die in a heartbeat. The most sizable demon would have to be eradicated by Andreas drinking the amethyst liquid and letting the demon drink his blood. It was out of question to make anybody else drink the potion.
Andreas still questioned the old woman’s intentions. If witches created the demons, why would she go against them now? Though he still questioned himself, he knew the witch was reliable, yet he did not know what he was willing to do for his cause. His children needed him, as did Marie. Was he a dead man since the moment he took the dagger and the drink?
How will I manage to kill the other sibling? Andreas knew it would be hard, next to impossible, to find them all. The demons divided the regions they wished to attack. Alar led attacks in the Frozen Land hiding his spawn among mountains, while his siblings, Zesna and Caik, led attacks in the Forest and the Desert hiding deep in the trees and sand caverns. There have been attacks where all the siblings surfaced. Their father was rarely seen, though he was in charge of the attacks in the Ocean territory and all surrounding islands.
If Andreas wanted to kill them all, he would have to move through The Land of the Men looking for them. He realized it would be challenging to identify Kazar considering he has not had face-to-face contact with him.
Observing the shining object, he wondered how it was created. The witches were so powerful, yet so secretive, he could not comprehend how a simple dagger could be full of so much magic. He had read in an old, weathered book about the witches of the order, the seven more powerful witches. Their power was so profound, it could not be destroyed. If one of the seven witches died, her power abandoned her body to be reborn in someone else, often times somebody from her family, a person with the same strength and power. The book also said the witches of the order were godless; they served and prayed to Death only. The book dictates each witch has a very strong, distinct power. They can provide protection, health, richness to anybody. He couldn’t remember the other four. Foresight, he remembered. One of the witches of the seven was capable of seeing the future; he wondered which power Melantha carried. And there were other three powers that he could not remember anymore.
His chamber was dim and very calm as all the men were out hunting for wild animals to serve as improvised food. They had been overly enthusiastic since their victory against Alar and his spawn. That was what his men needed to stay motivated.
Anthony walked in and interrupted his pattern of thought. “What did you tell the witch?” he asked with scrutinizing eyes that reflected his bad mood. He had not commented about it since they met Melantha, but apparently he had been told the witch offered Andreas a potion and a dagger. “I saw the dagger you used; we do not have that kind of daggers. I saw the witch standing next to you.” He could not wait anymore to make Andreas hear him.“We should tell the king we need his help. You do not have to precipitate to join sides with the witch. We all are against it.”
For the first time, Anthony offered a valid argument instead of just complaining about everything. It was true all the men were against it and it was not fair of Andreas to go against the wishes of those loyal to him. “Do you want to make the decisions here?” Andreas could not control his annoyance toward Anthony any more.
“I want what is best for everybody. If I have to take control of everything to get there, I will do it.”
Andreas did not know if he was being cynical or honest. What makes him want to be Sub-Commander? Is it the desire of power or justice? Anthony’s obsessive behavior toward leadership told Andreas everything—Anthony was jealous. Andreas felt sudden grief; his closest friend envied him.
“I am the leader here and will make the decisions for the good of my men,” Andreas responded without moving from his seat.
“I will request help from the king,” Anthony announced as he started reaching for the door.
“You will do no such thing,” Andreas demanded firmly while rising from his seat. He walked aggressively toward Anthony. “If I have to kill you now, I will.” He grabbed him by the throat and pressed all his weight against the wall. Anthony tried to free himself from the deathly chokehold of his brother-in-law.
“Let…go…of me,” Anthony spat out, his face turning red.
Andreas released him, keeping his eyes on him. “You will bring about trouble if you dare attempt an act as such. Do not ever suggest that or …”
“Or…” Anthony replied. His chin was trembling and he swallowed hard. In all those years of disagreement, they had never had a physical confrontation; Anthony decided to leave before their casual disagreement became in a battle of brothers.
* * *
Back at home, Andreas reflected on what had happened while Marie served him dinner. Jeremiah sat across the table; Rolando and Aaron were in their rooms though Andreas had called them to join at the table, but they did not reply.
“You have not touched your food,” Marie observed.
“Ah…I was waiting for Aaron and Rolando,” he swallowed a spoonful of the lukewarm soup.
“Do you want some more?” Marie asked Jeremiah, pointing her finger at his almost empty soup bowl. They boy nodded in silence.
“You like the soup Jeremiah?” Andreas smiled. He felt satisfied to provide a little enjoyment to his brother. He remembered how Jeremiah’s mother tried many times to make a delicious soup, but it was always inedible. After Andreas’ mother was taken by the demons, his father remarried and had Jeremiah. The woman could not cook, but she loved Andreas as if he was her son and that was enough.
Marie se
rved him some more. It was so strange how she actually did not feel uncomfortable in Jeremiah’s presence. He was only ten-years old, yet it seemed he barely noticed what situation they were in. Andreas looked sadly at the boy who had lost much more than his parents.
Aaron and Rolando interrupted the dinner. “Rolando, Aaron,” Andreas called while they ran upstairs. They were coming from outside.
“What is it father?” Rolando asked.
“Where have you been? It is almost dark. I thought you were upstairs.” Andreas’ tone was that of worry.
“I am sorry, father. I was practicing with my sword. If the demons attack again, I will be prepared this time,” Rolando said, the large sword still in his hands. The young man seemed excited about the idea of an attack and showing the world what he could do had blurred his sense of risk.
“I forbid you being outside this late. It is dark already. We were attacked not long ago. What do you think you are doing outside? And you are taking your brother with you?” Andreas pointed at Aaron who had a small rusty sword in his hand.
“He followed me! I did not invite this bug.”
“Stop it at once Rolando. You say you are a man now yet still behave like a boy. It is my intention for you to take my place one day. The Frozen Lands need a brave and loyal man, but all you are showing is immaturity.”
Marie could not avoid being offended by what she just heard. “Only if I do not have a boy, but I will,” her voice was almost a hiss. “I am your rightful wife and my son will be…”
“What if you have a girl?” said Rolando, defeating her argument.
Her face turned red as a tomato with anger, “Oh, it will be a boy, but who knows if you will live to see it. You probably will die before your father; after all, you are just a silly boy that cannot fight.”
Rolando was about to say something, but Andreas would not allow him. “Enough. Will you ever get along?”
