Of Blood and Blade (Tainted Blood Book 2)

by Jeff Gunzel

  A pair of nezzerians led them up while the others waited at the bottom of the steps. At the top, each creaked open one of the double doors and waited expectantly. “I guess that be an invitation to go in,” Owen grumbled, being the first to enter the dark building. It was nearly pitch-black, with only a faint light at the end of the hallway to guide them. Viola held Liam’s hand as they fumbled through, her cheek pressed against the back of his shoulder.

  Drawing closer to the low-burning lantern hung on the wall, they could see it was more well lit towards the right wing of the hall, so they headed in that direction. The musty air was dank and smelled of dust and mildew. The warped boards under their feet creaked with every step. At the end of the narrow hall was a well-lit room with worn bookcases lining the walls. The books looked old and yellowed, and even their spines hung loosely with tiny white strings feathering down. A high-backed chair creaked behind an old oak desk, rocking just enough to prove that something was there.

  “Hello?” said Thatra, taking another step as the floor creaked in protest.

  When the chair rotated around, a collective rasping gasp filled the room as everyone took a step back. Seated comfortably, his fingers pushing against each other in front of his face, sat a strange-looking nezzerian with an even stranger sense of style. His long white hair looked softer and more manageable than the wild hair on the others. With one eye gold and the other green, his bizarre mismatched eyes swept the room, taking them in one at a time.

  Several golden rings pierced each of his eyebrows. Some of the same type of large hoops pierced through his top lip and into the bottom, making his mouth appear to be sewn together with some sort of metal coil. He smiled, his teeth peeking out from behind a golden cage. It went to prove that those oversized rings were not as restrictive as they had first appeared. Apparently, his mouth remained functional despite the odd jewelry.

  “Welcome,” he said in a similar, slow drawl like the other nezzerians’. But his voice was deep with a rolling rumble.

  “You were expecting us?” Thatra asked, unable to peel her stare away from those strange, mismatched eyes.

  “Yes,” he admitted, rising up to his full height. He was well over seven feet tall, closer to eight. “I expected someone or something. But as for who, I could not have said until this very moment.”

  “How could you have possibly known?” Thatra asked, looking puzzled. “Our journey here was kept secret from all eyes and ears. Were you alerted to our coming? Please, if someone knows we are here, then—”

  She was cut off by his booming laughter. “No one needs to whisper in my ear for me to know there has been an imbalance of energy in the realm. And it was only a matter of time before that imbalance found its way here. I take no credit for seeing the obvious. And you should take no credit for allowing yourself to be drawn into my presence. All such things were inevitable.”

  Always a man of thinking, Liam rubbed his chin in thought. Was it possible their journey here was truly inevitable, just as Narkural claimed? Did an imbalance in nature really seek to right itself by placing people where they needed to be at any given time? If so, did that mean that free will was a nonexistent entity made up by man’s need to explain things? He tried to focus on the task at hand, but his curious nature simply couldn’t let this go. So many questions! “I say,” he blurted out, unable to contain his curiosity any longer, “I must ask you—”

  “Why did you hurt those men?” Viola spoke, cutting Liam off in mid-sentence. “I saw what you did to them. We all saw!”

  “Did you, now?” Narkural replied with a deep rumble, his lips curling up behind that golden cage of rings. His casual smile was chilling, given the seriousness of her question. “And what exactly is it that you think you saw?”

  “You killed them!” Viola shrieked in a deafening hiss that radiated around the room. Thatra grabbed her arm and moved between them, fearful she was about to charge the nezzerian. Narkural only smiled wider at Viola as she struggled against the warrior’s grasp, fighting in vain. “And what’s more, you made them suffer greatly before ending it!”

  More amused than anything, Narkural sat back heavily in his chair, propping his elbows up on the desk with his fingers clasped in front of his face. “Their deaths were unavoidable,” he stated casually. “But the way they met their fate shall be immortalized for all eternity. Unfortunately, their great sacrifices shall never be acknowledged outside these walls, even though they affect everyone. Sacrifices that were made for you!” he pointed at Viola, the first hint of anger now seeping into his voice. “And you, and you,” he began pointing fingers around the room, “and me,” he ended with a thumb to his own chest. “And they faced it proudly for the sake of balance in the world.”

  “Balance?” Liam interjected, disgusted. “Those beings suffered beyond anything I’ve ever seen!”

  “That they did,” Narkural agreed, calm once more. “And in a few months’ time even more will suffer, fulfilling their purpose in life so that ungrateful beings such as yourselves will have even easier lives than you already do. By drawing away from the world’s pool, there is now marginally less suffering to be distributed to the rest of you. You thankless beings do not understand the sacrifices we make for the good of the world.”

  Liam’s brow furrowed. “Are you trying to say that they suffered as much as possible, to try and bleed away some of the world’s pain? You believe that their prolonged agony has somehow benefitted the rest of us?”

  “Were you arrogant enough to believe your pain was your own, a manifested illusion conjured by the mind?” Narkural asked in response. “When you experience pain, suffering, or even love, your mind has tapped into the reservoir of sensations that drive our very existence. There is only so much energy to go around, yet everyone uses it just the same. Remember, we are not bleeding away joy, love, or any other sensations the rest of you deem to be so precious. We are only draining away the suffering, in turn leaving the world a more joyous place.”

  “You’re mad,” Liam gasped, unable to grasp the nezzerian’s warped logic. “You can’t possibly believe that?”

  “And you are an ungrateful fool,” Narkural shot back, growing annoyed with this group of naive humans. How could their simple minds not see what was so obvious to him? Facts the nezzerians had embraced centuries ago and still practiced to this day. These humans would never fully understand the sacrifices being made for them, and every other being in Ayrith. These selfless, noble acts were for their benefit. “And not only do you stand by as an uninvolved spectator, reaping the benefits of our timeless sacrifices, but it seems you have also played a hand in the world’s current imbalance of power.” His eyes flickered back towards Viola.

  “Our intent is not to challenge your ways or show disrespect in any manner,” Thatra added quickly, trying once again to defuse the situation. “On the contrary, we have come seeking your guidance and wisdom to help us deal with the imbalance you are no doubt already aware of.” She touched Viola on the shoulder. “As you know, one of our own is being hunted day and night. Should she be captured and the ritual completed, the scale shall be greatly tipped in the name of evil.

  “Once the ghatins have shattered their prison, they will walk among the living once more, bringing death to all those who cross their paths. The delicate balance of power the nezzerians have given their lives to protect shall be shattered like glass, and Ayrith will never be the same. We beg of you, you cannot—must not—let that happen. You must help us protect the key. Help us protect Viola.”

  Narkural’s lips curled back in a snarl, those oversized rings looking as if they might tear free this time. “Thickheaded tarrin,” he growled. “You haven’t listened to a single word I’ve said. The nezzerians are not migrating gypsies that pretend to know the future. I have no idea what will happen to the balance if your pet is sacrificed. But as I already stated, we can sense that the balance is already off. For all I know, her demise is exactly what is needed to bring back the order of things
. If such is the case, I should deliver her to the ghatins myself!”

  Thatra stepped in front of Viola as the grinding sounds of blades shifting in their sheaths rattled about. If that was Narkural’s stance, his intentions would die here in this very room before any orders could be given.

  He laughed a deep, booming chuckle. “So your intention was never to aid the nezzerians in keeping order,” he accused, those eerie eyes sweeping over the room. “Your true motives were only to protect your friend, no matter how it affected the balance. You wanted the nezzerians’ help as long as it fit with your cause, correct?”

  “Is that so wrong?” Owen asked, still fingering his blade. “If she dies, thousands of others will as well. This we know for a fact. We’ve traveled a long way to aid our friend. Our intentions were not evil.”

  “But they were shallow and misguided!” Narkural shot back, rising from his seat. None in the room could deny that his sheer size was indeed intimidating, despite the fact that he was unarmed. “And still it changes nothing. I cannot see the future, so I cannot say whether or not I should help any of you. Unlike you foolish humans, we have no emotional attachment to affect our decisions regarding such matters. If offering your pet asylum will aid in restoring balance, I will do so. If letting her perish at the hands of the ghatins does, then that is the choice that will be made.” He glared hard at Owen, his lips pressed hard behind that golden cluster of rings. “And if I decide on the latter, there is nothing any of you can do to stop us.”

  “But you’ve already admitted you don’t know which choice is the right one,” said Liam, now wishing they had never come here.

  “I said I can’t tell the future,” Narkural replied, his calm demeanor returning once more. “But what I can do is read her life’s thread and determine her purpose in this world. That is, if she even has a purpose.”

  Chapter 7

  “And what is that supposed to mean?” Owen asked, finally breaking the long silence.

  “I believe I understand,” Liam said, absently tapping his chin while gazing up, as if only speaking his thoughts out loud. He didn’t appear to be talking to anyone in particular. “For centuries, numerous scholars have pondered the existence of these ‘life’s threads,’ as you call them. Many times I’ve tried to read up on the subject, but I’m afraid there is very little information to be found, and even less proof of their existence.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Viola. “I have a life’s thread? What does it do?”

  “Well, my dear,” Liam attempted to explain, suddenly seeming oblivious to the high tensions in the room. Intellectual topics distracted him quite easily. He could forget he was literally in the middle of battle if there was knowledge to be gained or shared. “The theory is that every living creature on the planet is connected in some way.”

  “To each other?” Viola blurted out like a curious child.

  “Indirectly, yes,” Liam went on. “But let me finish, please. More accurately, there is a connection between all living things, and a single source of energy. That energy is the source of life as we know it. It gives trees the strength to grow, and animals the will to hunt. It’s all part of a never-ending cycle of life. The initial energy used to drive life forward is all harvested from this single source.”

  He began scratching his head, as if he had lost his train of thought. “Oh yes, the theory,” he continued. “It is believed that each one of us is attached to this constantly recycling energy by a single thread. This thread cannot be seen or touched, but we can’t survive without it. When a person, bird, or even an insect dies, their small portion of energy is pulled back into the source to be reused in some other way. We are formed from this energy source, then return to it once our time in the physical world is through.”

  Liam shook his head, realizing he had been babbling when a far better source on the topic was right there in the room with him. “Or...so the theory goes,” he added, looking somewhat embarrassed. “Was any of that accurate?” he asked, glancing over to Narkural, who was watching him with an unreadable expression.

  “Surprisingly so,” Narkural admitted, impressed with the human’s knowledge on such an exotic subject. “But you’re mistaken on one minor detail.” He cast out his open hand. After a flash of light, a blue flame danced about on his palm. Still blinking from the flash, Viola and her friends all gazed at the flame in wonder. How was it not burning him? How had he made it in the first place?

  “I can indeed see your life’s threads, and we shall get to the bottom of this mystery once and for all,” Narkural said. After he muttered a few inaudible words, his gold eye began to glimmer with light. The blue flame pulsed and sputtered, as if air were being blown up from underneath it. Suddenly, it surged up from his palm, blue flame splashing against the ceiling before racing outward towards the surrounding walls. By rights, it should have ignited the entire room, but somehow it didn’t even leave a mark. Expecting the heat to be unbearable, Viola and her friends all covered their faces, stumbling back from the blinding burst. But surprisingly, there came no rise in temperature despite the intense flames licking the ceiling.

  In a rush, the blue flame fell back down, condensing back into his palm to form a spinning ball of blue light. “Ooth rha cordeer meh,” Narkural boomed, his voice echoing like thunder. “Spirits from the other side, send us your messenger of truth!”

  Up from the glowing sphere sprang a white skull. With two horns and a wide snout, it strongly resembled the skull of a moose. With an earsplitting screech, its black eye sockets flared an angry red as it flew up near the ceiling. Connected to the head was a long, segmented spinal cord that whipped around like a bony tail.

  Wailing, the specter zipped around the room while leaving a trail of powdery white smoke. Like a thick fog, the smoke filled the room from top to bottom as the spirit whirled about in circles. Viola and her companions covered their mouths while watching the spectacle, not sure if the smoky air was even breathable. But Narkural made no such gesture, obviously not concerned about the odorless, tasteless white steam.

  As fast as it arrived, the screeching specter funneled back into the sphere like a writhing worm, its bony spine snapping about until it disappeared. The room went still and quiet.

  “It is done,” Narkural said, closing his hand and extinguishing the light from his palm.

  Liam glanced around through the haze, eyeing his companions with awe and wonder. He could see that each had a thin thread, no thicker than that on a spider web, running from the backs of their necks straight up into the ceiling. They were so thin, but now so obvious, giving off a grayish-blue light in this mystical fog.

  Daring to glance up above his head, he saw exactly what he knew he’d see. A similar strand ran from the back of his own neck, then disappeared into the ceiling. He reached up to touch it, but his fingers sifted straight through as if he were trying to grab strands of smoke. Still, unlike smoke, the thread never distorted from his attempted touch or even seemed to be disturbed in any way.

  “Of course you cannot touch them,” said Narkural with a roll of his eyes. “Although you can see them now, they are not a product of the physical world. These strands connect you to another place where time and energy blend as one. And when you die, as all of us shall eventually, these threads will pull your energy back into that world. But they also serve another purpose as well. In a sense, they are much like maps that give us clues about the creatures in question. I alone have some proficiency at reading these maps.”

  “I thought you said you cannot tell the future,” Liam stated, still running his fingers back and forth through his floating thread. “What other knowledge could you possibly hope to gain from reading these strands?”

  “It is little more than a game of probabilities,” Narkural answered plainly. “I still make no claim on being able to see the future, but I can determine how much influence one has regarding the physical world.” He rolled his hand open, producing a sort of clear distortion that rose in his pa
lm. It was like gazing over the top of a fire as the heat distorted your vision. He held the funneling haze up to his eyes, then looked up at Liam’s strand. “I can follow a clear pattern when I see it. Knowing you’ll die if I push you off a cliff is not the same as knowing the future. Some of life’s patterns are obvious and require little explanation.”

  He spent a fair amount of time looking, grinning more than once as his mismatched eyes glanced back down at Liam. “You’ve seen quite a bit of violence in your time,” said Narkural, a knowing smile spreading behind those golden rings. “Why, I believe I could hold you personally responsible for many imbalances the nezzerians have had to deal with in the past. I find it hard to believe one man has had so much influence on the balance.”

  Looking anything but proud, Liam glared up at the ghostly thread hovering above him. “The demons of my past are written like a page from a book?” he asked in a solemn tone. “You can tell all that by reading my thread?”

  “Not in any specific way,” Narkural admitted, still studying the thread. “In fact, your body language and tone tell me more specifics than your thread does. It is not like reading a book at all. All I see is color, but these colors do not have names. To your eyes, they would just seem like different hues of other, somewhat more familiar colors. But humans would most certainly struggle if asked to describe them using words.

  “But what I can tell from these hues is how much you’ve affected the pattern, and in what way you have done so. The path of violence is clear. You’ve taken many lives, that much is obvious to me. Yet...” He traced his finger down a portion of the misty line. “It doesn’t appear these acts were done out of evil intention or greed.” He clicked his tongue. “Rare indeed for a human who thinks violence is always the solution regardless of the question. Although fascinating, your thread is not the one I wish to read. Let us find out exactly where your pet fits into the pattern. Only then can I decide for sure what the next course of action should be.” He turned towards Viola. “Now, allow me to—”