Aphrodite's Acolyte

by J. E. Spatafore

  The armor clad man asked the boy, “Do you know why I did not stop that man from punishing you?”

  “No,” the boy responded between sobs.

  “If you are to join the guild, you must get used to being punished when you get caught. And you must get better at not getting caught. You got caught, so you got punished.” The man continued his matter-of-fact logic. “Do you think the law will be less harsh when they catch you?”

  The boy answered with a look of contempt in his eyes. "No."

  “Good. I covered you this time, as the guild will do many times in your life. But you must get better, Joseph.” The man turned the boy to face the rows of the merchants, “Why would you steal from the younger man selling bread when you could have stolen from the older man just three stalls down? The older man surely could not have caught you as easily.”

  The boy looked up at the man. “The older man has magical enchantments and I saw him casting spells earlier in the day. Spells that would have stopped me sooner.”

  As the surrogate-child pair walked away, Fidel's mind replaced the man with his second mother, and the child with himself.

  Watching the two walk away, Abby chimed in. “From what you've told me Fidel, isn't that situation exactly what you experienced in Marides with your own mother?” Fidel gave Abby a glance and a nod, acknowledging and conceding her point. Abby continued, “Marides is more lawful with a more centralized government. In Marides, family is tighter and less prone to separation. In Marisali, the community raises one another's children. You just witnessed exactly what you went through growing up, except the children here have far more parents and the organizations define the rules to enforce.”

  Fidel considered Abby's words thoughtfully. “Abby, you are correct. I have judged too quickly and with too much of my own recent experiences. May I ask why you care how accurately I judge this land of Marisali? After all, was it not here that you gained that scar?" Fidel pointed at the scar leading from Abby's ear to her mouth. "I would think you would be full of rancor for this city for allowing such an event to occur.”

  Abby's face twisted, exposing that Fidel's words bit at her. She obliged the question. “While this city was where I received this scar, it was not these people who gave it to me.” Abby's voice tensed harshly. “I do not blame the people of Marisali for not permitting me to steal their stuff. I stole and it was their right to punish me for it Fidel. But it was not Marisali's blade that cut the line from my mouth to my ear. That action was Balomes' alone. Marisali punished me fairly for my crime against their people.”

  Abby stopped for a second, her eyes appearing to grow dark as coal. “Balomes' injected his personal feelings of what was right and wrong before running the blade along my face.” She spat on the ground, the rage obviously taking hold on her heart. “That is why I don't want you to do the same, Fidel. Your judgment of these people was exactly the same as Balomes' sentence on me. Interjecting your opinion leads to extremes. Extremes lead to excess and often times, permanent damage.” Abby ran her finger along her scar, emphasizing her point.

  Fidel stared at Abby, offering no more than a blank stare. He was not sure whether to get upset that Abby just compared him to a vile dwarf that enacted a permanent sentence on Abby or to accept her accusation for truth. His heart told him to justify himself, but his mind reminded him of the truth to her point. Fidel looked to Cap for advice. Cap's face showed he was performing his own introspective analysis of the situation.

  Cap looked back at Fidel and shrugged, “I think she's right Fidel. You are being overly judgmental of the situation here. But I can understand why.”

  Fidel listened to Cap's words. His first instinct was to yell at Cap and Abby to defend himself against their judgments. He looked back to Abby and started to feel an overwhelming feeling of guilt.

  He placed a hand on Abby's shoulder. “I am sorry my judgment has caused you to remember painful memories. I will do my best to refrain from such criticism in the future."

  Abby smiled, not because she appeared to have won the argument, but because this elf showed so much concern for her opinion that he was willing to do his best to watch himself around her. She slapped Fidel on the back, letting her arm linger for a minute to show Fidel she appreciated his comment.

  Cap gave a small smile at the scene, understanding the potential implications of the heartfelt moment. “Lovebirds, let's go!” Cap called out jokingly. Fidel and Abby immediately withdrew their gaze from each other, each sharing a small hint of embarrassment.

  The trio continued to explore the town of Marisali. Fidel felt much more excited to watch the people of Marisali and put his newfound knowledge to work. He witnessed wizards practicing their arcane crafts, often with two to three surrogates teaching a single child of the various ways to obtain the same results. He watched several priests teach several students how to give sermons and lectures in different ways designed to evoke emotion and faith.

  He observed children of merchants walk up and down the rows and learn varying negotiation tactics from each stand owner. He witnessed children of the thieves guilds working their various methods, and their merchant victims sometimes catching them. The merchants subsequently taught their children the various tactics involved in snatching a thief.

  With his Abby-renewed vision, Fidel was able to thoroughly enjoy the elaborateness of the City of Chaos. He realized the City of Chaos was a misnomer. The city was actually a city of balance. A city where the good and bad didn't hit extremes because the temperament and tolerance of the citizens was sound and within reason. For the first time since he arrived, he considered this city a place he could call home.

  Abby, Cap, and Fidel carried on several conversations over their observations of the people, each providing points and counterpoints to discussions. Each learning more and more on how their individual thoughts were different and the same. Each enjoying the company of the other. The sun moved fast that day as the times were good. Before long, the sun was dipping on the western horizon. The trio decided it was time to depart.

  As they were leaving the city through the north gate, Fidel turned to Abby. “We must return here when our quest is complete.”

  Abby smiled, “Return to the City of the Damned? Are you sure?” She gave Fidel a wink.

  Fidel returned the wink. “Yes, the damned fortunate!”

  Cap chimed in, “If we survive, I would prefer we head to Marides.” Both Fidel and Abby gave a puzzling look at Cap. “Well, we have been to Marisali together now. Apparently, Abby has been here many times. Fidel, you grew up a bit in Marides and Abby robbed from there as well.” Cap gave a sly look at Abby and smirked at her expected cringe. “That is the city that connects the two of you, and I would also like to feel more connected.” Abby and Fidel looked to each other, both agreeing a trip to Marides would be welcomed and nodded. The trio rode fast to the north, the sun dipping beyond the horizon to their left.

  The silvery dwarf made his way through the Oricampan Plains, his ankles deep in the grass filled mud. He headed toward the light in the far distance, his very being summoning him to that place. He did not wear his newly acquired magical helmet. He needed the beacon to reach him and guide him to his master's location. The light grew nearer with every labored step. He could feel his anger building as it grew closer. He finally reached the bottom of a small hill, his footing more solid and the mud lessening. As he crested the hill, he looked down upon the small valley below him.

  Rows and rows of tents sprawled before him, a large central tower rising at least forty feet high. Silvery lifeforms were densely populated and moving about their business. The dwarf gasped at the vast numbers, thousands of his kinfolk, all gray skinned and enslaved to this single master. Humans, elves, and dwarves all existing to serve this tyrannical and perverse sorceress. He noticed some large pens on the eastern perimeter of the camp and made his way to the area.

  As he peeked through the boards of the pens, his jaw dropped in disbelief. A dozen gray creatures
stood as men with faces of bulls, horns included. The dwarf sighed heavily, recalling the legends of minotaurs and their battle prowess. As he turned away, the head of a spear met him. A silvery human stood before him, holding the spear with a request for the dwarf to state his business. The gray dwarf acted happy to see his fellow brother and told the story of Pravas' fall in the Rivolus desert, his subsequent trip to Harlow's Hovel, and his desire to return to his master. The human enjoyed the tale and decided to accompany Noxater to meet with the sorceress. Noxater agreed and put his helmet on, then signaled to the human he was ready to go.

  After a few steps, Noxater turned on the human and brought his axe to bear. The human, confused at first, raised his spear and jabbed at the dwarf. The dwarf quickly brought his shield to block and followed with a sidelong swing of his axe.

  The human sidestepped the dwarf's swing and performed a sideways swipe of his own, once again blocked by the dwarf's shield arm. The dwarf heard the alarms start in the camp, bells rang warning the camp of the intruder. The camp came to life quickly, the silver army lighting torches and grabbing their battle gear. Noxater knew he had to leave.

  The human came on with another jab directed toward the dwarf's head. Noxater dropped into a backwards roll, bringing his shield up to protect his stomach as he landed on his back. The human immediately brought the spear up over his head, intending a downward strike. Instead of completing his circuit and coming to his feet, Noxater laid flat on his stomach and brought his shield up to his back, placing it back in its traveling position.

  The spear made contact with the shield and Noxater jumped to his feet, pushing his axe straight out with his uncanny strength, slamming his axe into the human's knees. The battleaxes girth made contact with both of the humans knees, breaking them to a resounding cry of pain from the human. The spear dropped from the human's hands as he fell face first into the dirt.

  Noxater raised his axe over his head and plunged it into the human's back, hearing the gurgling sound as the human attempted to scream his final statement of defiance. The dwarf turned and ran south, putting the sounds of the battle ready silver camp behind him.

  Pravas Medeis witnessed the battle from the comfort of her makeshift tower. She called out to her assistant, “Release a minotaur to give chase! He would be better suited to pursue the dwarf through the mud.”

  Venin, the blue-eyed apprentice, acknowledged the order and made haste to the pens to release one of the minotaurs. Pravas grinned wickedly, her black eyes darkening. Her mind was already playing out the battle of the minotaur and the dwarf, ending with the dwarf's head in the mouth of the savage beast. She watched as the minotaur received his instructions and roared, then charged in the dwarf's direction. Her grin widened more.

  The dwarf jogged down the hill and entered the muddy prairie, determined to head south and warn the trio of travelers he knew would be arriving shortly. He made haste through the mud, each step feeling like the earth below his feet fought to pull him in with every stride. The sucking sounds of the mud with every step made him nervous as he knew the sounds could be heard from afar.

  He stopped for a second to adjust one of his boots, but the sounds of the muddied movements continued. He froze and stared behind him into the distance, seeing a large figure heading in his direction. For the first time since his inception into the world of the supernatural, Noxater felt fear.

  The minotaur stood twice as high and wide as the dwarf. He raised his long snout into the air, inhaling the air around him deeply. He stopped quickly and adjusted his stance, squinting into the distance toward the gray skinned dwarf. With a snort, he sprinted quickly toward the dwarf, the mud refusing to take a grip on his hoofed feet.

  Less than a dozen feet behind the dwarf, the minotaur stopped again to smell the air and discern the dwarf's location. He snorted loud and dashed toward the paralyzed dwarf, knowing his prey was within just a few strides. He pulled a long-handled battle-axe from his back on his first stride and raised it high above his head.

  Something pulled Noxater from his fear-filled paralysis. The sense of danger, perhaps. As the long-handled axe made its way downwards, toward his head, Noxater instinctively grabbed his shield from his back and raised it above his head. The slam of the axe into his shield caused the dwarf to sink a few inches into the mud. The vibrations of the sheer force felt like thousands of needles bore into his arm.

  The dwarf reflexively ducked low, almost burying his face into the mud, as he heard a loud whoosh of his opponent's axe fly perpendicular to his head. He continued his forward momentum into a roll, only to hear the axe splatter the mud beside him, large chunks of the watery dirt speckling the back of his head as he rose to his feet. The scared dwarf ran.

  The axe came down again, this time Noxater skirting to the side as the minotaur relentlessly pursued. Noxater zigged and zagged, hoping his pattern would keep the monster at bay until he could reach solid ground and could gain some advantage. The more axe chops that missed appeared to make the monster even more angry, giving the creature even more power. The splatters of the mud got larger the more he dodged. The silver dwarf kept running, looking back every once in a while and noticing the creature pursuing him was always just a couple of strides behind.

  The dwarf noticed the ground below him was getting more stable, each step coming easier but his breath coming harder. He charged on faster, zigging and dodging, zagging and ducking, until he cleared the mud ladened prairie and was finally on solid ground. He pulled his trusty axe from his back and turned to face his attacker, just in time for a sidelong chop to force him to drop to his knees, avoiding the brutal deathblow.

  The minotaur kicked the crouched dwarf square in the face, knocking him backwards into a reversed somersault. Noxater came back to his feet, dazed but with axe and shield still in hand. The bull-faced adversary continued, bringing his axe high for a tree splitting chop.

  Noxater raised his shield above his head, accepting the blow and glancing it to his right side. He countered with a right to left chop to the creature's knees, hoping to knock the stubborn bull off-balance. The minotaur back stepped and brought his axe back around for a sideways chop to Noxater's body.

  The dwarf barely got the shield up in time and took the full force of the blow to his shield, all those needles returning to his arm once again. The minotaur spun around, bringing his axe to the dwarf's axe hand, forcing the dwarf to raise his own in defense. The swing was so powerful, the blow ripped the axe from Noxater's hand and forced the dwarf to spin around, his back to the attacker.

  Noxater's instincts kicked in, inclining him to raise his shield above his head. The dwarf commanded his left arm to raise but it refused. For what felt like an eternity, the dwarf insisted, begged, and pleaded with his dislocated arm to rise with no avail.

  The dwarf heard a slight buzzing sound, a loud thunk, and saw the axe of his attacker fly over his head, at least ten feet in front of him. Then he felt the weight of the minotaur collapse upon him, burying him face first under four hundred pounds of gray flesh. His head buried in the dirt and unable to move, he heard familiar voices.

  “That thing is huge!” came the always excited voice of a familiar elf.

  “It's not dead.” insisted the voice of the always serious female. Noxater smiled at the arrival of the trio.

  “Abby? Would you mind finishing this one?” Fidel pleaded, never one to enjoy the demise of any defeated creature.

  Abby's voice was slightly playful and sarcastic. “Sure, Fidel, you drop him into paralysis, Cap hits him with an arrow, and now the girl has to clean up the mess. I got it.” The dwarf felt the last shudders of the creature as Abby's blades finished the minotaur off.

  Cap called out with a humorous tone. “I see his axe, but where's the dwarf?” The trio laughed as one of the dwarf's feet could be seen squirming from under the creatures groin.

  The dwarf wiggled as he grumbled, “Aye, I'm under here!”

  Rolling the minotaur over was a challenge in its
elf. The dead weight giving way to every attempt to move the creature. The dwarf rolled over to his back as the bull-headed minotaur rolled off him. He was severely battered, blood freely flowing from his long nose and his left arm was attached, but remained lifeless. He coughed, giving way to some blood, the weight of the creature apparently causing some internal injuries.

  Even in agony, the dwarf managed a smile on his face at the trio. “Aye, travelers o' Harlow's Hovel.” Noxater coughed a couple more times before passing out from the pain.

  Noxater could hear the trio debating. He couldn't open his eyes but he could see his eyelids were lit, brightened by the apparent sunlight.

  Abby said with concern, “I don't know if it will work on one such as him. He is alive but also dead. The salve may fix him or finish him.”

  Fidel debated back. “His blood is still red. I would think a true zombie would have no such color.”

  Cap interjected. “Even if he would die from it, he's already dead from the injuries.” Noxater attempted to say something. The back of his sunlit eyelids grew darker until he slipped back into unconsciousness.

  Noxater felt the direct rays of the sun on his face, a slight stinging as the fiery rays penetrated his gray skin. He sat up quickly in his cot and glanced around the camp. Three tents surrounded the central fire and a fine smelling kettle of food was simmering over the fire pit. Noxater rose from his bed to grab a bite to eat, then stopped suddenly.

  He looked down at his left arm as it responded to his requests for movement. He reached up to his nose and felt no liquid spewing forth. He slapped his ribs with his right hand, thinking he would feel pain, but none came forth. He inspected his body thoroughly, looking for any signs of the struggle with the minotaur. He could find no evidence of the previous night's encounter.