The Shadow of Bristork

by Wayne O'Brien

"I'm no birdie," Syndael said in a daze.

  "Best not be," Jaques said as he puffed on his own pipe. "I shall show you what happens to mockingbirds on the morrow." He pushed her to the bed and pulled her dress up, exposing the red hair below. He undid his pants and dropped them to the floor.

  Syndael's eyes widened when she saw his manhood. "At least this part of the job might be enjoyable," her yearning beginning to grow. He slid into her. She gasped as she felt filled and stretched. Smoothly, vigorously he went at her, internally compressing her abdomen, until her enjoyment, loudly vocal, penetrated the walls.

  Suddenly she was empty and wanting more, which she received, painfully. Jaques forced himself deep into her anus. She yelled in pain. He slapped her hard in the face and continued in an aggressive, drug-fuelled temper.

  The small red sun, named Agste by the believers, peeked over the mountains, painting the world with its usual blues and purples before settling on the light green. A cloaked figure briskly walked towards the small, one story house. Syndael could still feel where Jaques had been inside her just a few hours before. Her abdomen ached, as did her womanhood. Something wet trickled its way down her leg, but she could not determine if it was blood or some other fluid. Syndael knocked on the door to the house twice, then twice more. The door opened.

  "We need to talk," she said as she pushed passed Miche.

  "Syndael," he said wearily. "What's happened?"

  "Jaques knows."

  He looked at her for a moment, her words taking time to register with the newly awake man. She sat at the table gingerly, grimacing and holding her lower stomach.

  "Are you all right?" Miche asked. He moved toward the kitchen.

  "I'll be fine." She forced her voice back into the lilting accent. Miche returned with a steaming mug. The smell of vanilla lifted up into the room. Syndael sipped the hot drink. Brewed vanilla beans, sweetened with a cinnamon stick.

  "Cream is hard to fine here," he told her as he sat at the table. "The Gendarme will be out soon, he is getting dressed."

  "Thank ye."

  "What happened this eve?"

  "I had m' in'erview with Jaques las' night."

  Miche nodded thoughtfully, his young features drawn tight. He said, "At least you cannot become with child."

  Syndael guffawed as she sipped her drink, nearly spitting it out involuntarily. She reached across the table and grasped his hand. "Thanks," she said, the lilting accent gone, replaced by sincerity.

  "Report," the older man said entering the room. He looked as if he had not slept, as, indeed, Syndael had not slept, yet for different reasons.

  "Naethaniel, sire." Syndael stood and bowed her head with her right fist in her left hand. "Adom is in trouble. I believe Jaques intends to make an example of him."

  Naethaniel was silent for a moment, the scar twitching again. "He has gone to help with the harvest and cannot be reached."

  "Is he being watched at least?" she asked, knowing the danger her partner was in.

  The man shook his head somberly. "He requested the watchers be removed. Adom wished to go devout and regain their trust. Stay close to Jaques and keep an eye and ear for anything to help."

  "Aye, sire." Syndael did not like the situation. If Naethaniel was wrong, she would be next to Jaques with no immediate support. She turned and sat back at the table.

  "There is another assignment for you whilst at the Lotus," Naethaniel said. "A young boy. He is not yet a member but will be soon. He has a knack for stealth."

  "Ye wish for me to turn 'im?" Her faux accent back.

  "Yes. We need an insider. Someone not trained by us."

  "Do ye t'ink he would wan' t'give up 'is name?" Syndael asked.

  "One could pass on information without joining our ranks. We have others near you."

  Syndael thought of the people at the Lotus. Helmeck knew she was coming.

  "Helmeck?" she asked, not expecting an answer. Naethaniel looked at her blankly. "Who is this boy?"

  "His name is Turpin."

  That day went much as the previous one had. She was too new at the Lotus to risk being seen where she should not be, so she spent the day watching. Barbarae seemed to be the liaison for Jaques. Once the sky turned a blueish-purple, a telltale sign the sun was setting, the tavern began to fill with the usual crowd, merchants, smiths, miners and mill workers. There were no strangers that night.

  Syndael was called into the backroom before the eve grew too hectic. At the table sat Jaques and Adom.

  "Baby-pusher," Jaques said, his eyes already red, "if you knew of a mockingbird here, would you tell me?" Jaques looked at her with an evil intent, as if he could see a demon influencing her.

  "Aye, sire," she replied, looking at Adom. He was trained, much like her, in the combative art of the Nameless, yet, worry covered him like an invisible cloak.

  "An' how do I know you are not Nameless?"

  "I..." She thought for a moment about how to answer the inquiry in a manner that Jaques could accept. "Back in Tamerra, m' parents were killed and our home burnt." Syndael could feel her upper lip quiver as her eyes moistened. "I 'ave no other fam'ly, an' no coin."

  Jaques was plainly irritated. He held his hand up for her to stop. "Spare me your sob story blood flower."

  At that moment Helmeck entered the room and came to an abrupt stop. There was a look of confusion about him as he slowly scanned the room.

  "In the name of Uros, what do you want?" Anger filled Jaques' voice. Helmeck did not respond, he continued to scan the room until he saw one of the shelves on the wall. His hand went up to his face and snapped his finger as he went to the shelf. He picked up a small bottle containing an herb from the shelf. He held it up in the air, showing it to those in the room and left.

  Syndael looked over at the men at the table. Adom caught her gaze and responded with a concerned, unspoken question. His always happy eyes were unusually somber. Jaques chuckled to himself at Helmeck's absent mindedness. The chuckle quickly became another violent coughing spell.

  "I will find the mockingbirds and deal with 'em accordingly," Jaques sneered. He then turned to Adom. "Gather your gear and be in the back in one hour. As for you, Syndael…" He paused looking at her beauty with a lustful smile, "I'll call you when you are needed."

  The unnamed left the room, heading to the area behind the counter where Helmeck slowly turned a large boar over the fire pit. Syndael stopped and turned to Adom as soon as they were out of Jaques’ hearing.

  "Wha' hap'ened?" she asked quietly.

  "Jaques is losing it," he said, concern returning to his eyes. "Be very careful around here, this is the heart of it all. He can do anything he wants here and no one will speak a word of it."

  Syndael nodded in understanding, she was already aware of the dangers of being assigned to Bristork. Yet, now that her cover story was in place, fear entered her.

  "I need to go silent for a while," he continued.

  "I know," she interjected. "Watch that beddin' lit'e arse of ye'rs." She smiled at him.

  "Get this to Naethaniel," he whispered, and handed her a small, folded piece of parchment. "If anything were to happen…"

  "I would be 'ere alone." She finished his sentence as she took the note.

  "Not completely, but in essence, yes." He looked her over one more time, his face creasing into a sad, longing smile, before taking his leave. It was not his usual full smile, but one that expressed remorse and regret.

  Syndael slid the parchment into a pocket in her dress and turned to Helmeck to continue her duties as a bar maiden.

  "Don't let Jaques see ye with 'im," he said. He looked at her with shifty eyes. "Ye don't know how he can get."

  "Aye."

  The night lengthened and the crowd grew. There was nothing out of the ordinary that Syndael could see. The bard's music lifted into the smoky air and the crowd, as ever, grew rambunctious and requested songs for the bard to play. A boy, not older than fifteen sun cycles, entered and headed straight towar
ds Helmeck.

  "Helmeck!" he yelled over the noise.

  The long grey-bearded man glanced at the boy and nodded quickly for him to wait a moment. He placed a slice of ham on each of the two plates Syndael was holding. She turned and walked past the boy, smiling at him, intentionally brushing against him. “That must be Turpin,” she thought.

  She felt the boy’s gaze follow her and she knew she had successfully got his attention. She crossed the crowded room to a table where two smiths sat and bent deeply to keep his attention on her. Yet when Helmeck turned to speak to the boy, his gaze turned from her. Soon after, Jaques entered from the backyard and he and the boy disappeared into the backroom.

  Time passed, and, as Syndael stood waiting for Helmeck to place a cut of pork on each of the plates she was holding, the door behind her opened and hit her on her back. She turned quickly and saw the boy as he exited the back room. His face was pockmarked with signs of his growing maturity.

  "Excuse me, sire," she said with a bow. He smiled and accepted her apology. Syndael then walked past him and placed the plates on a table, bending deep at the waist. She felt many eyes upon her, but the stare from the boy was more unwavering than any of the others. When Syndael returned to the counter, she overheard the ending of a conversation between the boy and Helmeck.

  "I'm working on Agste street t'night," the boy said.

  "I'll see ye in the morn," Helmeck replied.

  The boy thief excused himself from the building before she could speak to him. She consoled herself with the thought that the timing had been wrong to begin with.

  “Who was that," Syndael asked Helmeck once she was on the other side of the counter.

  "Jaques' pet." He laughed. "An orphan of Bristork. 'As been doin' small jobs for Jaques for, oh, five years now. Name's Turpin."

  "Turpin." She thought of Naethaniel's order to turn him. As she worked on how to turn the boy into an informant, her thoughts were broken by Jaques calling for her to go out to the backyard.

  The yard was nothing more than a large dirt plot dotted with racks and tables for slaughtering the night's dinner. A very young child stood in one corner attempting to dig a long hole. There was a body lying on the ground near the hole the kid was digging.

  "Look at the mockingbird," Jaques said as he grabbed the back of Syndael’s neck, forcing her to the ground next to the body. His face was nothing but a bloody mangled mess. There were no distinctive features to be seen. Nothing but an open orifice that had been made by the power of Jaques' fists. Syndael could not determine who the corpse belonged to.

  "This is how we treat mockingbirds like Adom. Look at him! That will be you if you open your mouth for anyone or anything except my piss-pole."

  Jaques forced her face closer to the corpse's missing face. Terror gripped her as she sat next to the body of her partner. The coppery stench of blood mixed with feces wafted up from the faceless man. Her heart beat loudly in her ears. "Am I next?" she wondered.

  "Bury him," Jaques ordered, and he pushed her closer to the lifeless body of Adom before releasing his strong grip and entering the Lotus once again.

  Syndael looked at the body before her. She had not known Adom for very long, yet seeing his still body, cold and lifeless, shook her badly. Not to mention knowing that the man who did this to a human body without feeling any pain, without the slightest hesitation or remorse, was the man she needed to get close to and learn secrets from.

  "We bes' no' keep the mean man waitin'," a small voice said. Syndael looked up at the owner of the voice. It was the child, still holding the shovel.

  She rolled Adom's body into the freshly dug hole and helped pile the dirt on top. After brushing the dirt off her hands and dress, she returned to her duties. Syndael knew she was visibly shaken, and Helmeck came up to her.

  "Ye, a'righ'?" he asked.

  Syndael looked at him, forcing herself to not expose her cover. "Aye," she said sheepishly, "I 'ill be. I jus’…" She broke off. She did not need to feign disgust at seeing the corpse.

  Jaques was not to be seen the rest of that night. She pushed the memory of the faceless Adom from her mind and continued working. Eavesdropping on many conversations, trying to find any information that would be useful. Yet she heard nothing and found none.

  When Helmeck finally announced the Lotus would be closing, the crowd rumbled with drunken disapproval. Syndael helped to clean the tavern without a word to the other bar maidens, nor did she speak to Helmeck. The stress she was feeling that night was understood by them and they did not pry.

  When Syndael finished her duties and left the tavern, she snaked through the silent black streets, heading to the covert headquarters of the unnamed assigned to Bristork. She approached the back door and knocked the same way she did each time she requested entry.

  The door opened and Naethaniel stood looking upon her. He wore only his long under garments, and his stern career military eyes were gently glazed with sorrow. He nodded and held the door open for her to pass. Syndael went to a counter in the kitchen, grabbed a small glass and a decanter partially filled with a golden-brown liquor. She poured some of the liquor into the glass and drank it in one gulp.

  "Report," Naethaniel said. His usually hard, flat voice was softer than usual.

  Syndael pulled the folded parchment from her pocket and gave it to Naethaniel. She poured another glass of the strong sweet liquor. He opened the parchment, and another piece, folded inside the first, fell out and on to the floor. Naethaniel picked up the second parchment and read both to himself.

  "Did you read these," he asked.

  "No, they are not mine to read." Her faux accent was gone again.

  "The second one is," Naethaniel told her and handed the parchment over.

  Syndael looked in disbelief at the words written on the parchment. It was a personal note, which went against their creed. She looked at Naethaniel and his stone face gestured to the parchment for her to continue reading. Syndael read the note to herself.

  "Syndael, the truest daughter of Agste,

  If this comes to your eyes then I have been discovered. Do not fret, for I have laid a path for you follow. You are the only one I know who can retrieve what is needed. I have faith in you." The next two words were scratched out, so they could not be read, and replaced with her name. "Naethaniel has what you need to begin. Be wary and trust yourself."

  Again, there were marks on the parchment as if Adom had started to write the next part then stopped multiple times, eventually deciding to write it anyway. "Although we have not known each other long, only three bloomings, I have never felt closer to anyone." There was another marked pause in the writing. Syndael could feel his pain and sorrow through the letters on the parchment. "I wish we had met under different circumstances." More hesitant markings, "My love. It is time you learn my name of birth. I shall wait for you in the Fadeland. All my love, Robert Hoynon of Shadeville."

  Syndael stared at the parchment for a minute, and at that moment she knew she felt the same. The thought had never occurred to her before seeing the words on the parchment, yet they rang true in her ears and in her heart.

  Her mind raced back to a time shortly after they had met. Shaene and his playful and borderline inappropriate advances to her.

  "Mind your tongue," Adom had told Shaene. "We are all on the same team."

  "I cannot help it that I love women," Shaene defended his statements.

  "That's is only because you never tried anyone else," Miche, Syndael remembered, retorted with an innocence.

  "Do not advance on a team member," Adom continued defending Syndael, "even if her beauty could put all the gods and goddesses to shame."

  "I can handle myself, Adom," Syndael snapped, angry at the unwanted defense that was offered up.

  "I know you can, but I will always be here to assist," Adom said with a smile. The first time she saw his wide, toothy, warm smile. She now remembered how his smile was always directed to her, and when he let it show his eyes smi
led along with his lips and white teeth. A smile of joy in her presence. A tear began to form in Syndael's eye at the memory.

  "It is against our creed for things of this sort," Naethaniel said plainly, bringing her out of the maze of memories in her mind and back to the present.

  "What about my parents? They were both Nameless." A stern resilience was upon her words, her training pushing any feelings for the dead to the side, until the time came to deal with them.

  "I am not privy to that information. However, as I understand it, your mother was not operational and did not take such a vow as you and Adom did. They were permitted to retire, were they not?"

  "Yes."

  "Did you learn their names?"

  Syndael shook her head. "Not until I retire, then I shall request to be relocated to where they are and..." She trailed off, knowing that what she wanted to say next she would not be allowed to do.

  "That may be sooner than you think." Naethaniel grabbed two more glasses and poured liquor into each. "You are almost thirty."

  "I am twenty-eight," she said defensively.

  "That is still getting old to be operational," he said as he handed one of the glasses to her.

  "What about The Grandmother?" Syndael asked. She was referring to an old story about a Nameless woman who remained a covert agent well into her nineties.

  "She was a special case." He leaned against the counter and looked at her. "I may be your superior, but I do not have access to your files. I only know that you must be accursedly talented to be assigned here. The position I am told you can fill would require many years of work to master. Therefore, I know you must have had many tough assignments before coming here. Possibly in Tamerra? How is your body reacting to the stress of all those years? Are you feeling it yet?"

  Syndael did not want to answer the question, for he was right. She could feel the wear and tear beginning to weigh down on her. Her joints were protesting more with each passing sun cycle, and her muscles did not have as much stamina in them as they had when she was younger. Syndael knew that if she lied, Naethaniel would know, yet she did not want to admit it to him either.