Take the body and give me the rest

by Julius Schenk

  Seth sensed another feeling upon him. His muscles and body were heating up as if on fire, the heat extending upwards into his skull. He experienced a torrent of memories that were not his own but had been claimed as his. He remembered another childhood, another life, other skills and thoughts. Everything the General had seen and done was all there, within him now, to call up at his will.

  Seth stood as the creature idly licked the remaining blood off the floor and crushed a leg bone in its powerful jaw. His hunger was gone, replaced by a feeling of absolute strength and vitality.

  ‘You must run now, boy. They loved this one and they will come for you for this. Take the pieces so they can’t call me and only you can. They need them to protect themselves when calling me but you won’t. I’ve chosen you’ it said in the booming, painful, wordless talk.

  ‘Thank you for your help, but, with respect, I won’t be calling you again,’ Seth said.

  The creature’s laughter boomed in his mind. ‘Oh, you will. There are many kinds of hunger, and I can help you sate them all.’

  Chapter 3

  It was a good thing that the General’s mansion was near to deserted of people. Seth crept cautiously out of the door he’d come in from. Walking casually, he retraced the way he’d come into the house. On a row of brass pegs, along the wall next to the back door, were a few outside coats for the guardsmen and gardeners. Seth grabbed a long but nondescript coat and threw it over his dirt-covered clothes.

  Grabbing the smooth brass handle, he opened the back door without a sound and stepped out. The night air was crisp and cool, and he still felt a rush of energy and power through him . It was like a deep reserve of strength like he’d never felt within himself. He wasn’t scared to be caught and inside he felt as if he could battle ten men. Still, he knew the creature was right and the steward would soon raise the alarm and set out looking for the newly bought slave who had left some shattered metal cuffs behind and a bloody stain and ripped clothing where the General had stood.

  Seth walked slowly but assuredly across the dark grass of the manicured lawn at the back of the mansion until he reached the tree line. The back wall was a large red brick affair. Seth jumped up, with his boot kicking against it, until his hands made the top. No spikes or broken glass, thankfully; he pulled himself over the wall easily and dropped into the alley running behind with a small grunt as he landed. Following Northern wisdom, he turned in the alley and headed down towards the water and the sea. He had to find a place to stay for the night and then make some plans for getting himself homeward bound.

  The city was just coming awake now that night had truly begun. Men had started their drinking early and down near the docks, where Seth had walked himself, the taverns spilled out warmth and noise through their rough plank walls. He spotted one with a sign of a buxom mermaid which had jaunty friendly music issuing from inside. He could certainly do with a cold drink after what he’d witnessed—a nice ale to wash down the taste of the General, he thought with a grimace.

  A wave of warmth hit Seth in the face and his slightly cold, numbed hands as he walked inside. The music and talking didn’t stop as he entered, and soon he found himself seated at the dark wood and highly polished bar, on a tall stool. The room was filled with a good many people, all arranged at tables and booths, with attentions cast to a small rough platform where two fiddlers and a singer performed. The fiddlers were two older men who seemed like they were brothers, and the singer was a younger man around Seth’s age of nineteen. He was telling the tale of the current king and how he’d united all the dukes of Cravoss and the North. It was a nice epic song that spoke of the years of peace that had followed and the happiness of the people. Border wars between the dukes be damned; nothing to ruin a good song.

  Seth ordered a tall glass of beer, though nothing compared to the lidded tankards he was used to, and took a large draw. It tasted like bliss in his mouth. The first real drink or flavour he’d had in his mouth for nearly a week. In a few quaffs, the beer was down to the dregs, and he looked at the bartender ready to get another. The bartender was a large man with a trimmed black beard and scuffed leather apron. He was heavily built and had a nose that looked like it had been broken more than a dozen times in his life. He and Seth looked at each other as Seth realised he had not a copper to his name and couldn’t pay for the beer he’d just drained. The bartender must have seen the panic written on his face.

  ‘That’ll be two coppers for the beer lad.’ That was an expensive drink, two coppers too many. Seth just looked at him with a guilty expression. ‘You can read the bloody sign, can’t you?’ The sign, which was the work of a fairly talented wood-cutter, hung behind the bar, said, ‘Not even the king drinks for free’—the joke being, of course, that Seth along with most any other man you’d meet in this city couldn’t read. Seth looked at the carved letters and was shocked that he’d just in fact read it. Knowledge he’d never known came spilling forth. He’d never been taught how to read in the Northern runic, let along in Cravosi letters. Now he could clearly see each letter and its meaning as the words seemed so clear and easy to understand. He couldn’t imagine not knowing what they meant.

  ‘Not even the king drinks for free,’ Seth read in a flat tone, unsure if the owner had ever read it himself, but just took the word of the carver on its accuracy. ‘Well, friend, I’m not the king and clearly not even that would help me.’

  ‘Why’d you order a bloody drink if you can’t pay? Are you a thief? Planning on running when my back’s turned? Bad idea in this tavern, lad,’ the owner said, starting to work himself up to do something violent.

  ‘That wasn’t my intention, just a thoughtless act by someone having a very bad night. What can I do to make it right?’ Seth said. He started to breathe quickly ; deep breaths, getting ready to fight.

  ‘You could pay two coppers or maybe you can pay with some of your teeth,’ the man growled.

  ‘I don’t want to fight you,’ Seth said.

  ‘Not many do,’ the man replied.

  ‘It was my error, but I’ll not sit still for a beating. If it’s a fight, then let’s get it started.’ Seth stood up from his stool stared into the man’s eyes, fists clenched. In the background, the room had fallen silent, with even the minstrels stopping, and everyone turned their eyes towards the bartender and the show about to unfold: him thumping some pup was an almost nightly sport in this tavern.

  The man stared at Seth for a moment and then started laughing. He bellowed so the whole room heard. ‘See the bloody balls on this lad?’ The room broke out laughing as well. ‘So you can read, can you?’

  ‘I can write as well,’ Seth said, knowing it was true, yet still amazed that it was he, a soldier’s son, saying it.

  ‘Right, my bloody copper-less scribe, you read me a letter and I’ll let you off the hook for your drink and the teeth,’ the bartender said.

  Seth knew that the kind of people who could read and write were in such short supply that the few wandering scribes there were charged a lot for their skills. You could see them set up in marketplaces, charging a silver coin to read or write just one message, or charging by the very word.

  ‘Make that the ale and a plate of something with some meat in it and you’ve got a bargain,’ Seth said, pushing his luck.

  The owner smiled back and, reaching over the counter, crushed his hand in a firm shake. Feeling the strength in his grip, Seth was even gladder it had ended in trade and not a fight. ‘My name is Dean Sampson and this is my place,’ the owner said.

  ‘Dean, I’ll speak it true and say it’s good to be on the sunny side of you. I’m Seth’ He said.

  Dean turned to serve a few other patrons and then disappeared into a backroom. Seth saw that their exchange had become the centre of tavern gossip. It was clearly a place that held many local and regular visitors. There were a few small groups of fishermen who all seemed to know one another, some musicians, tradesmen and traders from the lesser markets along with one or two off-duty city
guards. Real people of the city; Seth felt at ease among them. Maybe they were disappointed he hadn’t gotten his teeth knocked out, but they still looked expectantly as if the show wasn’t over yet.

  Dean returned to the bar and, reaching across, he gently handed Seth a small folder letter of thin paper. ‘Here you go, Master Quill, if you could read it for me. Been holding it for two bloody weeks, but no scribes at the market,’ he said.

  Seth felt comfortable holding the letter and unfolded it with a practised ease. His fingers could tell that the cheapest of papers and inks had been used. He read it easily but was actually appalled at the spelling, hand and care taken with it; he knew he’d have done a much better job of it, or the General would have.

  He looked up at Dean. ‘Should I read it loud or just to you? It is good news, I’d say.’

  ‘Well, if it’s good news, let’s share it out to the whole tavern,’ he said.

  Seth still faced Dean but raised his voice loud so the quiet room of two dozen or so people could hear him as well. The General had had no fear of speaking to large groups or indeed telling them what to do.

  ‘Father, we have arrived safely after two months at sea. We’re all hale and whole. Derrick has started work with his uncle and is doing well. I’m with child and it’s healthy. A wise woman said it would be a girl. We’ll name her for mother. Love, your Laurine.’

  At the end of his short reading, people clapped and cheered as if watching a stage performance of magical skill.

  ‘Short but well received,’ said Seth.

  ‘Most scribes charge by the letter and my daughter isn’t heavy with coin, but I know she’s well and that’s all a father needs. Thanks, Master Seth, and I’ll get you a plate,’ he said.

  The music had started again and the singer gave the crowd a soulful melody about a failed young romance. A serving girl, who was very tall, with blond hair but who sadly took after Dean a little too much in looks, slid a metal plate of food in front of Seth and smiled at him as she put it down.

  The smell of actual real food, the first in days, was like bliss. It was a simple plate of a few roasted vegetables and a small cut of fatty roasted mutton. He cut into it with the knife and fork the girl had provided and fed the hot meat into his almost watering mouth. As he swallowed it and the next Seth started to feel more and more like a man. Maybe he could forget what had happened with the General and just go on with life. He’d been given some strange and wonderful gifts from the creature, but now he would flee the city and simply live his life. He could be so much more than ever before, but he didn’t want to become a man like the General, killing helpless people to gain what they had. He could read, write and, he knew, how to fight with a rapier and dagger in the Cravosi style. He would make his way in the world and just pretend it was a strange visitation from a passing god.

  Chapter 4

  The steward walked into the ornate room with a serious expression which suddenly deepened into a frown when he cast his eyes across the bloody armour and viscera on the floor. Looking at the broken metal cuffs, it was clear that the slave had escaped and that maybe he’d done something horrible to the General. The remains of his leather armour looked like they’d been devoured by a pack of hungry dogs, even his fine boots had been ripped open and lay torn in half covered in blood. He started shouting until a man-at-arms ran into the room. The guard was equally stunned at the bloody wreckage. The steward spoke to him.

  ‘Go fetch Lady Seraphina from her rooms, now!’ he said.

  The man-at-arms, who was turning paper white, turned and fled from the room.

  Shortly, with the sound of clicking heels on the polished floors, a beautiful young lady with long, flowing blond hair and very refined features walked calmly into the room and cast her blue-eyed gaze on the bloody ruin of her Uncle Stephan’s body. To the glance, she would have seemed around twenty name days but looking at the seriousness and depth of her eyes one could see she was really much older.

  She spoke to the young man next to her, who’d also come with her into the room.

  ‘I’m sorry this has happened to your father, Dirst,’ she said in a gentle and polished voice.

  Dirst looked like a fairly typical general’s son: stiff posture, moustache and exuding deadly intent. ‘It’s a dangerous trick and we know the risks. I would like to know what happened though. It was hardly Father’s first time through the breach,’ he said without much emotion.

  Seraphina reached with small white hands into the pocket of her elaborate riding jacket and brought out a fine pair of gold-rimmed reading glasses. She held them up to her lips and whispered some words of incantation over them. Then, placing them in front of her eyes, she took a few steps back and looked around the room.

  Dirst, who had seen her use this trick before to see images from the past, was not surprised when she started to report what she saw happening before her eyes.

  ‘He summoned the creature but it was a very old and powerful one. The creature chose the boy over Stephan, freed the boy and killed your father. The boy has Stephan now and everything he was and knew.’

  ‘We’ve got to get the steward to tell us where he bought him and track him.’ Dirst said.

  ‘Let’s move fast but we need to be careful. I’ve never even heard of a creature choosing someone over another before; I don’t like the look of it at all. It spoke with him and he could understand without any training, that’s something I’ve never heard of before’ said Seraphina.

  It had taken her close to four summoning before she could understand their booming mind talk and even now it sometimes gave her a bloody nose and a ringing in her head that lasted for hours afterwards.

  Dirst turned to her. ‘What does he look like, the slave?’

  ‘Like a big stupid Northerner.’ She said.

  Seth woke with a slight headache and a few muscle aches, slumped in one of the taverns wooden booths. His mouth tasted faintly of beer and he remembered that Dean had been good enough to let him sleep the night in the tavern along with a handful of the regulars who seemed to make it a nightly occurrence.

  He felt the reassuring clink of coins in his pocket. Retrieving them, he found one full silver, a half and a few coppers. He’d done a lot of reading during the rest of the night. It seemed that most people had a letter they were more than happy to run home and have reread. One sailor had a letter in his boot from his wife back home in Pellos. He had it read before by a travelling priest, but the man had left out all the really good phrases from the man’s lonely and ribald wife. The tavern was in an uproar of laughter at her saucy words and his red face.

  It was so strange for Seth to be the centre of attention in that fashion, and he felt the life of a travelling scribe would be a very good one indeed.

  Seth used some of his new found wealth to order a quick breakfast of warmed-up what-they’d-been-serving-for-dinner. Dean’s daughter, who had served him the night before, and who seemed like she at least had gotten a good night sleep, slid the tray in front of him.

  ‘Well, quite a carry on happening out there this morning,’ she said, nodding towards the street and watching his face as she did.

  ‘What’s the tale?’ he asked, eating as he spoke.

  ‘Some rich man on the hill was murdered by a new slave he’d bought. The slave killed him and then made an escape,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t worry; the city watch will grab him up. What does he look like?’

  Now she looked at Seth even closer ‘Big Northerner, short hair. Plus they say he killed the man and then ate up the body like an animal!’

  Seth did his best fake laugh. ‘I’ll keep my eyes open for a half-wolf, half-man escaped slave on the loose, then.’

  Having finished the meal and feeling decidedly unsafe about this city, he stood to leave. ‘Say goodbye to your father for me; he’s a good one,’ Seth said and made his way casually out the door of the tavern.

  Seth had to get himself out of this city and quickly. If they had his description fr
om the steward, how long would it be before they went down to the slave market and exchange words with his former owner? How long before they found out who had sold him to debt slavery and how long before the man Yend, who was the owner of that boarding house, had told them everything that he knew for a price? Seth felt like such a fool now, not only for what had happened to him and his friends when stumbling into the city like some wide-eyed savages, but for running his mouth at every chance about where he was from and every little bloody detail about his life. He’d always been free with talk, and now that would stop him from going home, and maybe even have the General’s kin hunting for the trail of his family.

  He had to go back to that boarding house and do what he should have done last night instead of drinking and making merry: ending someone’s life.

  Chapter 5

  They had come through the city gates like kings returning victorious from a war. Seth had been in the fine company of three of his close friends from the levies, Erik, Griffith and Ulrik. They had been of the same mind as he, to make a life as fighting men — and where better than the city of Cravosi? When a young man served his two years in the levies and watch of the local duke, if he did well he’d be given his shield. It was something that only a handful of each group were given, and it was something they trained and fought hard to win during their two years at Bloodcrest. Of their group of a few hundred, only around two score had walked away with a small buckler shield with the Bloodcrest, of two swords crossing a red background emblazoned on the front.

  The shield was a sign that they were welcome in the army of the Duke, but also that they were men worthy of their places in a watch or other levies. Accordingly, these four Northern lads had walked into the city they had ridden three weeks to reach and swaggered past the current watch. They had planned to spend a few days relaxing and enjoying their almost two years of accrued wages, then find out about joining the city watch or, better yet, the King’s Guard.