by Jeff Gunzel
“I suspected,” she admitted, her voice void of any emotion. “It explained a lot, more so with her brother than with her. I knew him longer. I saw him...do things. The more I think about it, the more obvious it seems. I suppose I was just in denial.”
“Then that is all the more reason to tell her,” said Liam, pushing himself up off the floor. He reached down and offered his hand. After a moment of hesitation, she took the offered hand and allowed herself to be hoisted up. “Thank you,” he said, leading her from the room.
When they came back, the front room was deathly quiet, all still seated and waiting patiently for Liam to return. The beads were pulled back across the front entryway and Thatra entered. “Our sister is doing well,” she said, excitement in her voice. “Her body is as strong as ever, and she seems happy to be…” Thatra’s voice trailed off as she sensed a bit of tension in the room. Not saying another word, she slunk over to the corner and took a seat.
Liam retook his seat next to Viola and turned his attention back to Assirra. The others followed his lead, heads all turning in her direction. Her eyes swept the room, taking in each person one at a time.
“I have something to share with all of you, but mostly with you,” said Assirra, standing tall in the middle of the room, her gaze settling on Viola. “I have not been entirely honest with you, although outright deceit was never my intention. I led you to believe I had never seen another being such as yourself. This is not true. Not only have I seen another, but he lived among us for a short time.”
“No, that is impossible,” Thatra interrupted, rising up from her seat. “I’ve lived here my whole life and not once have I—”
“And I can only assume that every human from Viola’s former city might make a similar claim,” Assirra shot back, clearly irritated at being interrupted. “She kept her identity a secret for nearly two decades. Do you not believe I was able to keep Jarlen hidden for a year?”
Averting her eyes, Thatra sat back down.
“Wait,” said Viola, rising up from her seat. “You mean there is someone else like me? Where is she? Where can I find—”
“He is not like you!” Assirra blurted, far more aggressively than she had intended. Sighing, she waved a dismissive hand towards Viola. “He is not like you,” she repeated in a much softer voice. “He was nothing like you, and that is why he is no longer here.” Her fingers rose to her temples as she rubbed them in circles. “He was...dangerous, Viola. Very, very dangerous, and truth be told, I’m glad he is gone.”
“It’s all right,” said Liam, rising from his chair to go comfort her. It was obvious the memories of this story were painful. “You’re doing fine,” he said, rubbing her shoulder. “I know this isn’t easy, but they need to know everything. Please, start from the beginning.”
Tiptoeing along the roped bridges connecting the tree homes to one another, Assirra used her long-handled candlesnuffer to extinguish the strings of paper lanterns. It was getting late, and most of the villagers had already gone to sleep. One by one, the flickering flames hissed beneath her brass candlesnuffer, the path further darkening with each step. Reaching for one of the last remaining lanterns, her keen eyes caught a rustle of movement from the bushes below.
She stared for a time where she thought the fluttering movement had occurred, but it was still now. Checking across the way, she watched as two other tarrins working on opposite bridges set about extinguishing the lanterns on their end of the network of bridges. They hadn’t seemed to notice anything, and quite frankly, she wasn’t sure if she had actually seen anything, either. Finishing her area first, Assirra decided to climb down and have a look, if only to satisfy her curiosity. No doubt it was a squirrel or some other pest. Regardless, she would verify her suspicions then return to the chapel.
Winding down the stairwell, she scanned across the brush, searching for anything else suspicious. All was quiet, and she was beginning to feel a bit foolish. Once on ground level, she roamed over to where she saw the rustling in the bushes. Assirra swiped her foot across the base of the brush, expecting an animal to come scurrying out. After swiping a few more times, she caught a glimpse of something small and gray.
Bending down to part the branches, she spotted the carcass of a dead rabbit. With the blood still fresh, it was obvious it had just been killed, probably within the last half hour or earlier. “Well, this certainly wasn’t what I spotted,” she mumbled to herself. “It was most likely the thing that killed this—”
A blurred shadow from the corner of her eye drew her attention. Without thinking, she ran towards it, cutting through the brush to catch up with whatever it was. The sound of a cracked branch followed immediately by a pained cry slowed her pace. “Hello?” she called, cautiously sneaking around the next tree. “Is somebody hurt? Do you need—”
There on the grass lay a boy clutching his ankle. His pale white face looked up, bloodred eyes wide with fright. Black lips glistened with fresh blood from his most recent kill.
“That was about ten years ago,” said Assirra, looking up with glassy eyes as she reminisced about the past. “I took him in that very night and kept him hidden right here in the temple.”
“Why did you never speak of this?” Thatra asked, bewilderment etched all over her face.
“Because I know our people and their general intolerance for outsiders,” Assirra answered sharply. “He would never have been accepted. Odao does not turn his back on any living creature, so nor would I.” She paused, hanging her head briefly. “Although in hindsight, leaving that creature be would have been better for all.”
“I am not some creature!” Viola protested.
“No, of course you are not,” Assirra agreed, regretful of her poor choice of words. “But Jarlen most definitely was, and one I would have left to the wolves had I known what he was capable of.”
“Everyone, please calm down,” said Liam, facing around the room with his hands raised. “Assirra, please finish your story.”
“Very well,” she replied, looking down while smoothing her dress that didn’t particularly need smoothing. “Orfi and I were the only ones who knew. It didn’t take him long to formulate an elixir to keep Jarlen’s cravings in check. At one point I truly believed that the time had come to reveal him to the rest of the village. But one day...” She shivered at the memory.
“Why do I have to wear that?” Jarlen asked, stomping his feet.
“For the same reason you’ve never been allowed to leave this room until now,” said Assirra, shaking a brown hooded cloak in front of his face. “There is a merchant passing through on the main road today, and I need to buy some goods. Believe it or not, I do have dealings with humans on occasion. I can’t leave you here alone, so you’ll need to accompany me.”
“Fine,” he groaned, snatching the cloak from her hand. He slipped it over his head and pulled the hood low to prove it would hide his face.
“Good, that will work,” said Assirra. She peeked out into the hall to make sure no one was roaming the chapel. “You know how this works,” she whispered without turning around. “Go out the window and meet me fifty yards out or so. And make sure no one sees you.”
Jarlen nodded, then tiptoed down the hall and up near the window. He peeked out briefly to see who was around, then glanced back at Assirra. “How much longer do I have to keep hiding like this?” he asked, frowning. With his red eyes and white hair, the sad expression looked odd on what would otherwise be considered a rather frightening set of features.
“It won’t be much longer,” Assirra assured him, but even she could hear the doubt in her voice. Wishful thinking was not the same as believing it. “Now go,” she said in a much firmer tone. After glancing left and right, he leapt through the window and blurred into a living cone of black birds. The spinning funnel zipped high above the treetops and over the heads of unsuspecting tarrins below.
Assirra walked casually onto the outside platform, then descended the stairs spiraling around the boxa tree. Eyeing the
tarrins going about their business, she walked casually between them while trying her best to look natural. Responses varied from nods of acknowledgement as she passed, to deep bows, noses practically touching the ground. To those who bowed low, Assirra promptly grabbed them by the arms and hoisted them back to their feet. There was no need for such formalities, and quite frankly, she didn’t need the extra attention right now.
“High Cleric!” came a call from behind. Assirra tensed, then turned back to face the young female running up to her. Like Assirra, her hair was long and blonde. Despite how thick it was, it did little to cover the curled horns spiraling back from the sides of her head. “Assirra, where are you running off to?” she asked, mildly winded from the short run.
“A merchant’s wagon will be coming down the main road at any moment, Tentris. If you will excuse me, I must catch them before they pass.”
“They will sell to you?” Tentris asked, surprised to hear that the High Cleric was off to barter with humans.
“I have had dealings with these humans before,” Assirra admitted. It was true enough; she had made several purchases from Shadowfen’s merchants over the years. To them, the gold of a tarrin was just as good as the gold of a human. True businessmen cared little about race. “They know me well enough. It’s never been a problem before.”
“Better let me come with,” said Tentris, already beginning to lead the way. “I can’t have you go alone. It’s simply not worth the risk.”
“Uh...wait,” Assirra replied, hurrying to catch up. She grabbed Tentris by the shoulder and spun her back. “No, you can’t come with me.” Tentris flashed her a puzzled look, her creamy white eyes narrowing slightly. “They will only have dealings with me. If they see you, they will become suspicious and ride on past.” It was only a slight exaggeration. Assirra really was the only tarrin they had ever dealt with.
“I’ll take you most of the way and then hide nearby,” the other tarrin reasoned.
“No!” Assirra replied sharply. Startled, Tentris took a step back. Her only intent was to help protect her High Cleric from any unforeseen predicaments. Stunned and even a bit hurt, she drew in on herself while nodding her understanding. “Tentris,” Assirra said softly, seeing the hurt on the woman’s face. That had never been her intention. “I didn’t mean that to be—”
“No explanation is required,” Tentris blurted in a rush before spinning away. Within seconds she was no longer in sight.
Assirra clenched her fists in frustration. It was hard enough trying to keep this secret, and now it was beginning to affect her relationships with others. “But not for much longer,” she said to herself, continuing on her way. Soon, the time would come when she would present Jarlen to the entire village. Surely they would accept him. True, he suffered from the thirst, but she and Orfi had proven that it could be controlled. The two of them had taken it upon themselves to make sure he would not be a danger to himself or anyone else. So far, it seemed to be working.
Hiking through the tall shrubbery, she glanced up at the treetops expectantly. Sure enough, a black funnel whirled from branch to branch, following her movements from above. Now and then the shadowy blur settled on a branch, melting itself back into a humanoid form just to gaze down on her and grin. With a stern look, Assirra snapped her fingers and pointed to the ground next to her. He spun down from the treetops, cawing black birds reshaping right beside her.
“The main road is just up ahead,” she explained. “I need you to walk next to me like a normal person. No more buzzing around in the trees, understand?” Jarlen said nothing as he pulled the hood of his cloak forward, covering his face. Ignoring his irritated groan, she took him by the hand and led him on.
“You asked me something earlier,” she said, now able to see the reddish dirt road just past the sparse tree line. “You asked me how much longer you would have to live like this. Well, I’ve decided it’s high time that I introduce you to the rest of the villagers. You have earned my trust, and therefore I believe you shall earn theirs as well. In due time,” she added as an afterthought. She was more than aware that the trust of the tarrins would not come easily or quickly.
Together, they stepped out onto the road, and not a moment too soon. Rising dust from churning wagon wheels could be seen off in the distance. As usual, the merchant’s wagon was right on schedule.
The white wagon with gold trim came creaking up. As usual, the merchant was surrounded by hired mercenaries, each sitting high in their black mounts. Four in front, two at the rear, these leathery-looking fellows were heavily armed. All had sheathed blades strapped to their sides with visible daggers strapped crossing their chests. Two of them had crossbows strapped to their backs as well. The caravan stopped before the horned creature with her hooded companion.
“Good day, Rykun,” Assirra said, eyeing the grizzled, white-haired driver wearing a long brown coat and a tall black hat. Even though his face was well hidden behind a bushy brown beard, it was clear there was no smile behind those hard brown eyes.
“Assirra,” he grumbled, spitting the name as if it burned his tongue.
“And what be this creature here?” one of the swords for hire barked, leaning in from his saddle.
“Never mind that,” said Rykun, waving off the swordsman. “We’ve done business before. Her gold is good.” He refocused his attention on Assirra. “So what is it you need this time, goat?” he huffed. Assirra shifted uncomfortably as the mercenaries laughed. Among her own people no one would dare speak to her in such a way. But among these humans, she was not the High Cleric, or anyone of rank, for that matter. She was nothing but an alien creature to their eyes. A thing to be tolerated, at best. She found their boorish behavior to be quite a culture shock.
“Grain,” she replied, refusing to look away even under their scrutinizing gazes. “Four sacks if you have them.”
Rykun’s attention shifted to the hooded figure beside her. “And who might this be, goat?” he asked, ignoring her request. Two of the hired blades slid down off their mounts, approaching cautiously. Assirra put her arm round Jarlen, pulling him closer to her. Rykun had never been all that kind to her, but today he was being outright cruel. What had gotten into him? Why was he showing off to these roughnecks at her expense? No matter, the escalating situation was no longer worth the risk.
“That’s quite all right,” said Assirra, slowly backing off, inching back towards the forest with her arm still wrapped around Jarlen. “The tarrin have enough grain to last for several more months. Another time, perhaps.”
“Now hold on there,” said Rykun, motioning towards the other men. They hopped down off their mounts, moving swiftly to cut off any retreat into the forest. “Now, I asked you a simple question, and I expect an answer. Each time you and I have met on this road, you’ve come alone. That’s the way I like it. That’s when I don’t mind doing business with your kind. But now you bring along some shady character who looks like some kind of reaper hidden underneath that hood, and you expect me to look the other way?” He flicked his tall hat, making it sit up higher on his mostly bald head. “Well I just find that to be outright suspicious. Deceitful, even. Now, what say you let my boys here take a good look at what you’re hiding so we can all go about our business?”
“What has gotten into you, Rykun?” Assirra gasped, her head turning this way and that as the men closed in. “Allow my companion and I to return to our village and that will be the end of it. I promise you will not see me again.” Under her forearm, she could feel Jarlen’s neck vibrating with a low, gurgling growl. His defensive reaction to the hostile situation was primal, more like an animal following its survival instincts than that of a frightened boy.
“Your companion is the problem,” Rykun corrected, hopping down from the wagon. “You’re hiding something, and before we head back to Shadowfen, we’re going to find out what that something is.” He motioned towards one of the men, then pointed to the cloaked figure.
“Don’t touch him!” Assirra p
rotested, trying to twist Jarlen out of the way. It was no use. The man grabbed the top of the boy’s hood, along with a fair amount of hair, and yanked it up and back. Twisted with rage, the ghostly white face glaring back at him snarled, bloodred eyes blazing with violent intent.
“What the—” the man uttered just before Jarlen snatched his wrist. With a twist, his arm straightened, elbow facing down. Jarlen jumped, his knee driving straight up as it crashed through the man’s elbow. Instantly bending the wrong way, the mercenary’s arm cracked like a twig. Eyes wide, he watched his broken arm flop like the pendulum of a clock, the injury occurring so swiftly that his brain hadn’t even registered the pain yet. Suddenly, the delayed wave of fire rushed clear up to his shoulder, bringing the screaming mercenary to his knees.
“Jarlen, stop!” Assirra shrieked, but it was too late for that. A blood lust had taken hold of the boy, savage instincts pushed too far by a pack of arrogant, yet physically inferior beings. Blades flashed from sheaths as the surrounding mercenaries rushed in.
Jarlen sidestepped the first blade, watching it float down in front of his face before easily ducking a second. To his eyes, these bladesmen were moving in water, far too slow to be dangerous. To their eyes, this creature seemed to be teleporting around, first here before flashing a short distance away. The two mercenaries swung wildly, hitting nothing but air with each pitiful slash.
“Stop! All of you, stop!” Assirra screamed, backing away from the whirling steel. All she could see was the backs of the two swinging at Jarlen, the remaining four simply cutting off any retreat. She turned to Rykun, who was just now approaching her. “Call them off, I beg you!” she shouted, her large bluish eyes filled with panic. “Please don’t hurt him! Please don’t—”
