Red Death

by Jeff Altabef

  “The Exchange?”

  “I guess your tribe is farther away from mine than I assumed. The Exchange is a two-week ride on the Freeroad. The Keepers run The Exchange. They take a tax on all that is traded there. We barter goods like meat for other items we need. The last two times we went, Dermot let me negotiate the trades. The better we do, the more wine and other supplies we can get in return. Different tribes from all around meet at The Exchange. The Keepers make sure everyone keeps the peace.”

  “And the City of Bones is near The Exchange? Does it have massive metal buildings, broken down and abandoned?” Aaliss held her breath. If the City of Bones from her dream and this Bone City Eamon mentioned were the same, then her dream was more than just a dream.... It was a vision, and that would make it way more dangerous.

  “Yes, it’s a wondrous sight to behold. Built during the time before tribes, strange metallic buildings look like monsters that lay wasted on wide streets. Not all the buildings are abandoned though. Many vices can be satisfied in the City—witches sell magic, shadows sell strange drugs that alter reality, women offer nighttime pleasures, people gamble on rat races in the pits—really anything one can imagine, and probably some you can’t. It’s a dark place. Last time we went to The Exchange, one in our party visited the City and never returned. Dermot and I looked for him, but it’s vast and we could find no sign of him. It was if he just disappeared.”

  Aaliss whispered, “Is there a fine powder on the streets?”

  “Crushed bone, hence the name.”

  ***

  Aaliss woke to find the chubby bulldog licking her face, his tongue wet and sticky, his breath sour and hot. She scowled at the furry beast, but the dog stared back at her with a grin of sorts plastered across his wrinkled face. If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought he smiled at her, so she shoved his square mug away and the dog trotted off.

  Eamon slept next to her, their bodies separated by a few inches, his hair mussed over his face, the slightest trace of stubble on his chin.

  She lifted her hand to push his hair away from his eyes, but she stopped herself and brought it back to her side. She had stayed up late talking with him. Much of the conversation after the City of Bones focused on Jillian. The two were close, and at times she felt jealous; however, at other times he portrayed her much like Aaliss might have described Wilky or Piers, which left her confused.

  She wanted to know exactly how close the two were, but she couldn’t admit to herself why it was so important. She had just met him, after all. Sure, he was funny and sweet in an unexpected way, and his self-doubts charming. Plus, for someone who grew up outside Eden, he was surprisingly smart and learned. He knew more about ranching and farming and how to organize a tribe than she suspected anyone back home did, and that included all the aging Priests.

  In a million years she would never have guessed that someone like Eamon existed amongst the Soulless, and yet here he was, sleeping so close to her that the two almost touched. Of course, he also slept next to Jillian, and before Aaliss fell down that waterfall again, she shook her head and forced thoughts about Jillian from her mind.

  They discussed other things during the night besides Jillian. Eamon talked at length about Dermot, describing the responsibility he assumed as king of the tribe: the long council meetings, the endless decisions about herds and trading; and the never-ending personal squabbles he ruled over on a daily basis. Dermot had been no older than she was now when he became king, yet his decisions meant life and death for thousands. She would never want that type of responsibility—better to leave that to others.

  Her personal slate had started to get complicated and that worried her. The number of people on her payback list had grown, but even more troubling, the number on her owe list had increased also. She counted Eamon, Gemma, Jillian, Kalhona, and even the Witch as people she owed.

  The strings that bound her outside of Eden had gotten complicated, numerous, and tangled, and she didn’t like it. She preferred a simple, untangled life. At first, all she had wanted was Wilky’s safety and a way back to Eden to clear their names. Now, she wanted something different, but she didn’t know exactly what.

  Uncertainty was a killer, and that scared her almost as much as the Red Death.

  Eamon turned on his side and snored lightly, but his unlined face looked peaceful, beautiful even.

  She felt pulled toward him, but she fought against that attraction, knowing no good would come from it. The tide was strong, however, and having never felt that pull toward anyone else, she worried that she couldn’t swim against that tide.

  She’d never really had any boyfriends back home. Michel had made his feelings for her known, but she didn’t share them, so her feelings for Eamon were all new ground, fresh snow without any tracks or any way for her to know how to travel in it safely.

  Rubbing her hands over her face, she thought about Piers. He would like Eamon.

  Eamon was not Piers smart. He didn’t have a photographic memory or a well-trained analytical mind, but he thought clearly and was brave, like Piers could be when he let himself... if only he would let himself.

  There I go again. I want to think about Piers, and my thoughts turn to Eamon.

  When she turned to check on Wilky, her heart skipped a beat. He was gone, and a breeze blew through the open front door.

  That door was closed when we went to sleep!

  She rose to her feet, resisted the urge to call out for Wilky, headed for the front door, and nudged it open with her foot.

  Wilky and the Witch talked quietly, rocking on two chairs side-by-side on the wooden porch. The bulldog, which sat at Wilky’s feet, lifted his head for a second, eyed Aaliss with that silly grin on his face, and lowered his mug back down.

  “Wilky, are you all right?” Aaliss asked.

  He smiled back at her.

  Relief soaked into her and she relaxed, though surprised to find him talking to the Witch.

  Wilky doesn’t chat, and yet there he is talking with the Witch like they’re best friends.

  “Come join us,” said the Witch. “I only have two chairs, but you can settle on the porch.”

  A sparkle in her red-speckled eyes worried Aaliss. “Sure.” She looked pensively at Wilky as she sat next to the Witch and let her feet dangle over the edge. “What are we talking about?”

  She knew little about the Witch and did not fully trust her. A cure to the Red Death was valuable—valuable enough to be dangerous in the wrong hands.

  “We’re not talking about the weather. Wilky has told me about your special quest.” The Witch smirked. “You understand that your brother has unusual qualities?”

  How much does she know? “Well, I’m partial to him, if that’s what you mean.

  The Witch rocked a half dozen times while she stared at her.

  Aaliss got the impression that she looked through her, as if she could see traits that lay underneath, traits that Aaliss might not even know existed. While Aaliss did not know exactly what the Witch looked for, she stared defiantly back; the old crone would not intimidate her.

  Finally, the Witch broke the silence. “I like you. You’re strong, and that’s good because you’re going to need strength. We both know there’s more to Wilky than his good looks. I have the Sight that all red witches have. We see more than other people. We see the spirit energy thrown off by all living things, and some who have passed from this world many revolutions ago.”

  Aaliss wrinkled her face. Spirit energy? None of the teachings in Eden discuss anything like that.

  The Witch grinned. “People with strong characters are enveloped in a bright light, and weak ones, not so much. The light is different depending upon the person. An adept witch can read the aura and know much about a person they have never met. Even in my weakened state I can tell Wilky isn’t like other people. He’s not the same as witches either. There’s something special, maybe even unique about him. I know you must realize it too. He sees things—maybe not the
way I do, maybe not through spirits like witches but.... I don’t know how he does it, but he knows things. Important things.”

  She paused and rocked her chair silently for a long moment before focusing back on Aaliss. “Don’t fool yourself. There are dangerous people out here, and you’re woven into the fabric of important events. Events much bigger and more important than yourselves.”

  “I just want to find the mushroom and free us of the Red Curse. After that, I don’t have any ambitions but to live a long and happy life with my brother.”

  A red hue flashed across the Witch’s cheeks, her eyes narrowed, and the many lines on her face turned down. “You’re too smart for that type of talk. You’re not fooling me, and you’re not fooling yourself! You have a responsibility. What you do with it is up to you, but you cannot pretend it doesn’t exist. If you fail to take it seriously, it will take you, and you will lose all ability to choose your way.”

  The door opened, and when Eamon stepped outside, the Witch fell silent.

  “Jillian looks better,” he said, yawning and stretching. “But she still sleeps.”

  The Witch softened her wrinkled features. “I have bad news for you.”

  Eamon’s face turned white. “But she looks stronger. The bleeding has stopped and the wound looks clean.”

  “Jillian will be fine. It’s your brother, Dermot. He woke with the red eyes this morning.”

  Eamon looked as if the Witch had struck him across the face. All the remaining color drained from him and his knees buckled.

  Wilky frowned and nodded his head.

  Aaliss’s stomach twisted. She felt the intensity from Eamon’s pain as if she stood on the edge of a bonfire.

  “How... do you know?” he asked.

  “The spirits told me this morning. He’s drawn the Circle of Destiny. If you look into your heart, you’ll know it’s true.”

  Kalhona joined them on the porch, working the round stone in her right hand.

  Aaliss turned toward Wilky. “How long do we have to get him the cure?”

  “Two days.”

  “But you can live with the red eyes for a week after you have them.” Eamon looked desperate. “We should have more time.”

  Wilky shrugged. “Two days.”

  Aaliss stood. “We have no choice then. We had better get going. Once we save Kalhona’s sister, we’ll have to hope she knows where to find the mushroom.”

  “She’s our tribal expert.” Kalhona pocketed her stone in the folds of her woolen cloak. “If anyone knows, she’ll know.”

  “What about Jillian?” Eamon asked the Witch.

  “Her spirit light grows stronger,” said the old crone. “She will live. She only sleeps now because of the Sweet Leaf I gave her. She will awaken by midday, but she needs rest. Traveling for the next few days would risk opening the wound again. I’ll keep her safe until you return.”

  “If—”

  The Witch waved him off before he could continue. “I know. If I harm her you will burn me at a stake, or cut off my head, or sic the wolves on me. One time, a man threatened to tie each limb to a different horse and send them galloping in four directions. I think he would have enjoyed it. Men always threaten.”

  Aaliss liked the Witch. She spoke her mind.

  Eamon smirked. “If... we don’t return in a few days....” He smiled more softly. “Please lend Jillian a horse and help her find the Ancient Road. I’m sure my brother will pay well for the animal.”

  The Witch’s face tinted pink. “Oh... well, I never said I was a mind reader. I have two horses and only need one. When she is ready, I’ll make sure she finds her way back home.”

  A finch landed on a nearby tree and started chattering incessantly.

  Kalhona shrank away from the small bird.

  The Witch grabbed Wilky’s arm. “Don’t forget what I told you. It will be important. You have enemies out here.”

  ***

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  Chapter 34 – Viper

  The Viper followed the trail left behind by the Butcher horsemen who took Aaliss and Wilky to the Stronghold. Pausing on the edge of the forest, he gazed upon the stone fortress. This wasn’t his first time observing the city; he’d seen it two years ago and watched as torchlight danced against the stone palisade. He thought it crude and wicked and looked forward to the day he could take it and cleanse it of evil.

  He felt uncertain. Is the rabbit inside the stone fortress?

  He could climb over the wall and sneak inside to find signs of her, but that would be tricky and risky. Alternatively, he could look for her in the surrounding forest.

  He decided to ask Jacob for help. Surely his forefather was with him, leading him, guiding him on this chase.

  He closed his eyes and asked for help. Time drifted past. He saw no vision, had no epiphany, but when he opened his eyes, he found a blackbird with talons dipped in red paint staring back at him.

  Jacob must have sent the odd bird.

  The creature squawked, flew off toward a sturdy red maple tree, and then disappeared into the horizon.

  The Viper knew what Jacob wanted from him. He climbed the tree and perched on top of a thick branch hidden from sight, as if he were nothing more than a large raven.

  The early morning wind ruffled the leaves around him. A man on horseback approached... as he knew one would.

  The only path the horse could take led beneath him, so he waited.

  He smiled when he saw the leather cloak drift behind the rider. He needed information and now he would get it. The horseman rode slowly with his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him.

  When the horse crossed underneath the tree, the Viper leaped, grabbed the man by the shoulders, and ripped him from the saddle. They both fell to the ground, but the Viper landed on his feet. Before the startled man even knew what had happened, the Viper stood over him with the point of his sword pressed against his throat.

  The young man stammered, “Who are y-you?”

  “An angel from God.” The Viper grinned. “What are you looking for in these woods?”

  The man’s face turned pink, his eyes darting around wildly before they settled on the blade, but he said nothing.

  “Maybe I haven’t made myself clear. You have no choice. If I press downward just a little, you’ll die.” To make his point, the Viper slid the edge of his sword into the man’s neck, extracting a small trickle of blood that ran down the man’s throat and onto the forest floor. “Don’t struggle or the blade will cut into an artery. Your blood will make a mess of this nice trail, and that would be a shame.”

  The Viper lifted his sword an inch from the man’s flesh. “Tell me who you’re looking for. It’s a simple question. Even a Soulless fool should be able to answer it.”

  “A couple of prisoners escaped from the Stronghold. I’m searching for signs of them.”

  The Viper clicked his tongue. “Prisoners, you say. That’s very sloppy of you to lose them. Are they the same ones who were captured two days ago? A boy and girl?”

  The man’s eyes widened. “What type of devil are you? How could you know?”

  The Viper beamed his brightest smile. “Devil? I’m no devil. I’m an angel. How does it feel to have no soul?”

  “What?”

  The nerves in the Viper’s body fired as if the Creator lit them ablaze in a holy fire. He plunged his blade deep into the man’s throat, and enjoyed watching the light leave the young man’s eyes.

  He collected the horse and tracked the trail left behind by Aaliss. He counted three horses, which meant she must have found people to help her. The trail was hard to track, but he saw faint hoof prints, disturbed dirt, and a few snapped branches. Within minutes he spotted a spent fire and a used campsite.

  He dismounted, took a deep breath, and caught whiff of Aaliss and Wilky in the air. He glanced toward the heavens. “The game continues, little rabbit.”

  ***

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HARACTERS

  Chapter 35 – Aaliss

  Aaliss was grateful that the Witch’s directions were dead on: a two-hour ride along the Ancient Road by horse, and then a distinctive series of trees—one maple, two poplars, a pine and two oaks—marked the small path to Santra’s cabin.

  Wilky had spotted the path first. As usual, he’d appeared lost in his own thoughts, but he’d pointed to the narrow path on the side of the road as if he’d been there before, which was surely impossible. He had never left Eden, but sometimes Aaliss got the distinct feeling that he knew more than he should.

  Aaliss led the group to the edge of a clearing, where they studied Santra’s cabin. The swirling wind left cold little pinpricks on her face and hands, and steam swirled from her mouth when she sighed at their discovery—five men armed with axes, and one witch.

  If she didn’t count Wilky, and she certainly did not, they numbered only three, and she feared Kalhona would be of little help. The girl had poison darts she could blow through a tube. Aaliss wondered if the darts would work, but the bolts to her crossbow had poison tips, so she figured they probably would. At least Kalhona seemed confident the darts would take down a man, even though she admitted she had never used them on a person before.

  One mountain-sized warrior argued with the witch, and three firefoxes wove around Santra’s legs, snarling at the big man.

  Santra shouted, “You’ll pay me a fair price for that girl, Tynchek, or you’ll regret it.” She crossed her arms over her chest. She looked young and beautiful, but her beauty did not mask the dangers hidden behind her glare—she was a predator dressed in the most unlikely garb.

  Tynchek wore a cloak made from wolf fur that covered his barrel chest and massive biceps. A long beard with three different types of hair woven into it dropped from his chin like daggers. He looked like a killer.

  Actually, all the men looked like killers. No simple trading party, this group must be a raiding band for a larger group of warriors. They carried no flag, but a red wolf with blood dripping from its jaws was painted on the saddles of the horses, which Aaliss assumed marked their emblem.