by Jeff Gunzel
Liam echoed his laugh, but for a completely different reason. Once again he had underestimated the veteran warrior. Despite his gruff exterior and sometimes barbaric manners, Owen had a true wisdom about him, a general insight that only came from years of experience.
“Turn to the east once we pass that next tree,” Thatra called out. “If memory serves, it’s only another hour’s ride from here.”
Liam dropped back into formation. Owen acknowledged her words with a wave before steering his beast to the right. Her general sense of direction while navigating through the forest was impressive. Had they stayed on the main road, this would have been a much easier journey. But by choosing to cut right through the forest, they were able to shave off at least two days of travel, as well as keep Viola off the main roads.
Sure enough, a short time later they crossed an overgrown trail that looked like it hadn’t been used in years. The scattered party moved back into a row as they followed it. Owen remained in the lead, his beast making short work of bristly shrubs and hanging vines that would have otherwise been a burden on the horses. Suddenly he stopped, his lavics letting out a mighty snort. The hunter whistled while patting his beast’s neck in long, calming strokes.
“What is it? Why have we stopped?” Liam asked, attempting to see over Owen’s shoulder by shifting about on his mount.
Owen glanced back. “Ye all need to see this,” he grumbled before riding ahead so the others could follow. Emerging from the thick brush, the group found themselves staring straight up at a massive structure. The wooden wall had to be forty feet high, completely assembled from sanded logs tied together with vines. Blazing torches topped every tenth log or so, collectively lighting the area in a sea of flickering light.
Seeing no immediate way in, they followed along the wall’s base while gazing up at the marvel of engineering. Who could have built such a thing? Viola reached out to touch it while riding, her hand thumping each smoothly sanded log as she passed. But a quiet scolding from Liam saw her pull her hand away. He warned of possible traps and reminded her that the loss of her hand wasn’t worth the risk.
Rounding the corner, they discovered a set of enormous double doors with a single torch blazing on either side. Wide open and unguarded, the easy entrance almost felt like a trap for unwary travelers. “Unlike humans, the nezzerians don’t bother with guards or any other wasted resources,” said Thatra, answering the obvious question on everyone’s mind. “This must seem strange to you all, given how humans are suspicious of everyone. By your way of thinking, everyone is an enemy until proven otherwise, hence your constant need to be wary of those who’ve done nothing to you. You could say the nezzerians’ instincts are the opposite of your own. They believe that if a stranger’s intentions are evil, then there is no sense in trying to stop them, since they’re only acting out on their own instinct. The stranger’s intent is not to be judged.”
“So they leave these doors wide open with no intent of defending themselves should the need arise?” Liam asked, having a hard time comprehending this strange logic.
“I said they wouldn’t judge your actions,” Thatra replied with a grin. “That doesn’t mean they wouldn’t defend themselves. Remember, they’d view your death by their hands as a result of your own aggression. Ultimately, actions are not judged on good or evil, but all actions have consequences.” She eyed the tall entrance, torches hissing and popping in the eerie silence. “Shall we?”
Thatra leading, they made their way down a sandy torchlit trail. Rickety-looking old shacks lined the path, most having sagging, uneven steps leading up to worn doorways, warped from age and lack of upkeep. The wobbly-looking homes were a sharp contrast to the beautiful, well-constructed wall that surrounded the eerily quiet village. In fact, it was too quiet. As far as they could tell, there wasn’t a soul in sight.
Xavier snapped his fingers and pointed, drawing the others’ attention towards a flickering light shining off a building just ahead. Rather than riding over to investigate, they decided it was best to wait and see what was approaching. Dismounting, they looked on cautiously.
Around the corner marched two green cloaked figures, each holding torches. Faces shadowed beneath drawn hoods, the figures walked slowly with a sense of quiet purpose. Others came into view, all walking side by side to form two separate columns. Heads down with hands tucked into opposite sleeves, they hummed in some strange, foreign tongue. Thick gold cords were wrapped around their waists, and they wore black leather sandals strapped to their shockingly large feet.
When the final two turned the corner, the lines stopped moving. They turned about, their backs to the building while facing the road. The two with torches walked up and down the line, inspecting as the others kept their heads down.
Thatra looked very uneasy, which in turn caused Liam to feel uncomfortable. “Is something wrong?” asked Liam, not liking the look in her eyes one bit. “They don’t even seem to notice we’re here.”
“Oh, they know we’re here,” she said in a shaky voice, her fingers tapping her thigh with a steady, nervous rhythm. “But our presence is unimportant to them right now.” She shook her head, eyes beginning to moisten. “Why? Of all the times we could have arrived here, why did it have to be now? Why did we show up in the middle of...this?”
“In the middle of what?” Viola asked, she too beginning to look nervous.
Thatra didn’t answer, all of her attention focused on the mounting spectacle before them.
One of the creatures pacing up and down the line swept his hand above their heads, slowing his march. With each step, his hand hovered over someone else, causing that cloaked figure to flinch and sometimes quiver a bit. When he finally tapped one on the head, the creature stepped out from the formation and waited on the path. The others moved closer together, filling the vacated spot.
Stalking back the other way with his hand outstretched, he tapped another on the head. The newly chosen stepped out and waited in the street near the first. As the figure stalked back a third time, Liam saw something that he hadn’t noticed before. As the hand passed over their heads, they seemed to lean towards it as if wanting to be picked. The quiver he had noticed the first two times was not dread or fear, but eager excitement.
Heads leaned towards the figure’s fingers as he passed by. Stopping, he touched the head of a third. The others seemed to deflate, shoulders slumping as the last one picked scampered out to join the others. The two with torches led the trio off a short way, stopping near three wooden posts on the other side of the path. Two of the three posts were charred black, making Viola and her companions wonder what they had been used for originally. One by one the three chosen figures were tied up, each facing their pole with their hands bound from the opposite side.
“Thatra, what’s happening?” Viola asked again, wringing her hands nervously. “This doesn’t look right to me.”
“I-I think you should close your eyes, Viola,” Thatra replied breathlessly, strongly considering taking her own advice. They watched as the rest stepped up to the poles, pulling out black-handled whips from beneath their cloaks. When the light caught them just right, a slight twinkle revealed tiny bits of metal attached to the ends of those three-lashed whips. The beings with torches stepped to the side as lines formed behind the bound figures.
Viola flinched at the first crack followed by a howl of pain. She wanted to look away but was somehow compelled to watch. Like the sound of stones being thrown from a rooftop, the resounding snaps seemed to boom from everywhere at once in a blend of clattering noise. Those wielding the whips were relentless, whipping with a savage aggressiveness. The fabric of the victims’ cloaks tore away almost instantly, revealing their quickly tearing flesh. Red lines crossed other red lines with each stroke, each seeming to cut deeper than the last. Within seconds their skin was all meshed together into a tattered pulp of dripping red flesh, and still they didn’t cease their barbaric onslaught.
“Stop!” Viola called, her hissing voic
e radiating from everywhere at once. Cloaked figures looked about, obviously a bit unnerved by the girl’s strange vocal effect. But the distraction only lasted a second or two before they continued on with the savage beating. Others stepped forward with their bladed whips, replacing those who were slowing or growing tired.
“Why?” Viola whispered to herself, the horrifying scene reflecting off the moisture building in her glistening eyes. “What could they have possibly done to deserve such a cruel fate?”
“They’re not being punished!” Thatra blurted out. Placing a hand to her forehead, she shook her head in dismay. This was hard for her to watch too, and she hadn’t meant to take her frustrations out on Viola. “They’re not being punished,” she repeated in a much softer tone. “I know it’s impossible for you to understand, but being chosen for this ritual is one of the highest honors anyone can achieve in this culture. Believe it or not, the others are jealous of those three, which is probably why they are putting their hearts into it.”
Viola couldn’t rip her gaze from the carnage. It had gotten so bad that she could now see white ribs exposed on one of the beings. The sand was growing dark and moist with blood, but still the others weren’t stopping. “An honor?” she whispered under her breath. “This is complete madness.” Against all her instincts, she privately prayed they were dead already. Anything to end their suffering.
When the cracking of whips finally stopped, the three poor souls were standing motionlessly, their limp, torn bodies still suspended against the poles. Their bindings were cut, allowing the lifeless bodies to thump onto the ground. It was unclear if any of them were actually dead, but it probably didn’t matter. No one could fully recover from such a savage beating. With wide-open slashes covering most of their bodies, they would mostly likely bleed out within minutes.
The being holding the torch moved from body to body, checking each one by placing his fingers on the sides of their necks. His head snapped when he touched the one in the middle. Moving with urgency, another cloaked figure rushed up and handed him a jar with something squirming around inside. Removing the lid, he pulled back the hood of the unconscious being and tipped the jar over the side of his head. What looked to be a blue centipede spilled out, its tiny legs scampering all over the unconscious creature’s cheek. In a slippery movement it spun about, then burrowed right down into his ear.
Instantly seeming to spring to life, the nezzerian started thrashing about as he unleashed a sorrowful, agonizing wail. Only the most insufferable pain could have produced such a primal scream. Viola covered her ears as she sank down to her knees. Never had she heard such suffering. She had reached her limits, and was certain this nightmarish vision would haunt her the rest of her days.
Thatra stepped over and slapped her hands over Viola’s hands, trying to help drown out the blood-curdling screams. “Look at me,” she said, her eyes filled with intensity as she shook Viola’s head. “Focus...on...me. There is nothing else in the world. It’s just you and me...and nothing else. Do you hear me?!”
Viola’s eyes snapped open. Her horror-filled eyes gazed straight into those milky, white orbs.
“That’s it, just keep looking at me. There is no one else here. Just you...and me.”
The men watched as Thatra did what she could to calm Viola down. As far as they could tell, it seemed to be working. With their foreheads pressed together, eyes locked onto one another, Thatra kept on speaking, drawing Viola’s attention away from the horrific suffering. And suffer the being did. The men looked back, watching him writhe on the ground with mouth wide open yet no air left to scream, in too much agony to draw another breath. With his hood drawn back, he actually looked quite human from this distance.
Blood ran from his eyes and mouth as the centipede continued to gorge. His body quivered with tremors. Seconds felt like hours before he mercifully stopped twitching. The cloaked figures watched on curiously for a time, as if not sure, or possibly even disappointed, that it was over. Had he finally succumbed to the worm?
The bodies were then lifted away with surprising care. Bloody and torn, they were treated far more gently now that they were dead. Hoisted above their heads as if they were heroes, the mob of cloaked figures carried them away, all humming once again in that strange, foreign tongue. Viola and her friends watched as the group disappeared around the corner from where they first emerged, yet still heard them humming and moaning for several more minutes, before that too faded into the night. Whatever that nightmarish display had been, it was finally over.
At long last, five figures reappeared from around the corner. Acknowledging the group for the first time, they headed straight for them, large bodies swaying with each step. Owen stepped back, hand rising to finger his sword hilt. After witnessing such a brutal act of violence from these creatures, he wasn’t quite ready to trust them just yet.
Stopping in front of the group, they stood there in silence, hands folded across their chests. It wasn’t until they were this close that their substantial height became so obvious. The shortest among them could look Liam right in the eye, while the others were several inches taller. After making sure Viola was all right, Thatra rose from her side and went to stand with the rest of the group. Having some familiarity with the nezzerians, she showed no sign of being intimidated by their presence.
“My name is Thatra, and I stand before you in representation of those who request the aid of the nezzerians,” she said, hands clasped behind her back in an attempt to appear as nonaggressive as possible. Despite how they apparently treated their own, she knew the nezzerians could be sensitive to such things. Aggression of any sort from outsiders would not be tolerated. “We humbly request an audience with Narkural. We’ve come a long way. I assure you, if it were not urgent, we would not have made such a journey.” She nodded her head and rolled her shoulders forward. The meek, passive stance looked strange on the proven warrior.
Thatra held that stance for some time, patiently waiting out the ensuing standoff. Finally, one of the nezzerians slid back the hood of his dark-green cloak, revealing what they had already suspected was a rather human-looking face. But what did catch them off guard was the size of his nose. Easily twice the size of any human’s, his large, round nose seemed to ride down from the space between his brown eyes, to where it boldly hung over his upper lip. Other than that, he could have easily passed for a tall human wearing a fake nose. His wild hair was wiry and thick, more like the bristles on a broom than anyone’s hair.
“A lone tarrin traveling with a pack of humans?” he questioned, his slow speech rolling along with each garbled word. “Are you enslaved by them, or being forced to pay a debt, perhaps?”
“She is an equal as well as a trusted friend,” Viola spoke up, only now finding the strength to join the conversation. The others glanced at her, a bit surprised at her sudden boldness. “Both she and I have been shown nothing but kindness by a race that is not our own. I find it hard to believe you could make a similar claim!” She gestured towards the poles where the carnage had occurred. “How could you do such a thing to anyone, yet alone to your own people!?”
The nezzerian flashed his gaze towards her, glaring as the other four drew back their hoods. It was unclear if he was glaring because of her biting accusations, or the simple fact that he had most certainly never seen a mixed creature such as her. Most likely it was a little of both. The only features the others shared with him were their bold noses and thick, bristly hair. Other than that, they looked as different as any group of random humans might look. Their hair color ranged from blond to brown, and no two had exactly the same eye color.
“And who is this creature that dares to challenge our customs?” he asked, looking Viola up and down the way a hawk might look at a field mouse.
“Her name is Viola, not ‘creature,’” Xavier hissed. He stepped forward, his fingers with their silver rings inching inside his white cloak. “And unless you are this Narkural we seek, then I suggest you bite your tongue before I remov
e it from your mouth.” Their attention no longer on Viola, the group of nezzerians now glared at Xavier with venom in their narrowing eyes.
“Stop this, all of you!” Thatra interrupted, stepping in between them to cut off the escalating tension. “We have not come all this way to end our journey on a misunderstanding. We need to speak to Narkural, and we are not leaving until we do. Tell him the balance of energy in this fragile world of ours is in jeopardy, and we believe we know why.”
At length, the nezzerian tore his glare away from Xavier and looked at Thatra once more. “We are already aware of the impending imbalance,” he replied in that slow drawl, his eyes flickering towards Viola briefly.
“Then you know why we’re here,” Liam reasoned, taking Thatra’s cue and keeping his hands low and head down. He could only hope Xavier’s outburst had not done too much damage already.
“We know nothing,” the nezzerian replied as the rest of them turned to leave. “But Narkural knows all. Follow us and we shall see what he has to say.”
Viola and her group followed the five nezzerians down the sandy trail. The nezzerians’ pace was slow, and they seemed to be in no rush to take the humans anywhere. The scenery was nothing special; the whole village appeared to consist of nothing but rundown shacks. It seemed more likely that they were abandoned than that any nezzerians might actually live there. Oily black smoke coiled away from caged torches lining each side of the path. Flickering away, they smelled of burnt animal fat.
They were led up to a large wooden structure that seemed completely out of place considering the poor shape of the other buildings. It was no royal palace by any stretch, but the multistory building did seem to be kept up nicely. Seated on either side of a well-sanded stairway sat two jade panthers, each appearing to glow with an eerie green light. Lifelike and crafted in exquisite detail, each had a gold ring piercing its nose. The eyes appeared to be painted black, but as Viola and her friends drew closer, it was clear there were black gemstones set into the dark sockets.
