by Joseph Lallo
His eyes lowered. He did not argue. There was a time, however brief, when he was whole. When he was a person with a name and a life. That time was over. The creature who had earned that name would never have done what he'd done. Teyn was gone. Now he was only the Red Shadow.
After a few minutes of laborious searching and three miscounts, the men finally exited the building and dropped the coins into his gloved hand. Eight rhysus. Eight gold coins for the work of a few days. He gazed at the glittering payment. What he held in his hand was the freedom of one of his own—or more.
“Feels good, eh? Something about the weight of a gold coin. Just feels right. Now that you've gotten your feet wet, I've got a real job for you. Something a little more substantial.”
“No. I have something I need to do first,” he said, clutching the coins tight and turning to the south.
Now that he had the money in his pocket, and the blood on his hands, the weight of his deed was ravaging his mind. He'd been able to make it this far because he knew that what he did, he did to achieve his goals. It was for his purpose. Now that it was within his power to sever a set of chains, to give back a life, he needed to do it. Every moment wasted stained his soul more and robbed this horrid act of any redemption.
“Fifteen rhysus for this one,” she called after him.
He paused. “I'll do it when I return. A few weeks.”
“Weeks? No, no, no, Red. It won't be here in a few weeks. These things dry up. The opportunity passes, they dismiss the job, and no one gets paid. Fifteen's the top of the list right now, but I've heard from this man before. Fifteen is nothing to him. Once he trusts a hired blade, twenty, thirty, fifty rhysu jobs start to show up. I don't know how good you are with numbers, but what would you rather? A handful of coins today or a pocketful in a week? Or a sack in a month? I don't know what you're off to do, but don't tell me you couldn't do it better if you were a few coins richer.”
He looked down to the coins in his hand. What had moments earlier seemed like more than he could have hoped for now seemed pitifully small. If what she said was true, in the space of a month, he might earn enough to free a dozen men. In a year, he might earn enough to buy the very plantation out from under the slaveholders. His conscience and his reason tugged at his thoughts. This wasn't about money, this was about lives. Who was he to be making these decisions? But if he didn't do what needed to be done, who would? There was so much to consider, so much at stake.
Finally, he cleared his mind and did what he always did when something seemed beyond him. He thought back to the one person he'd known who had the mind and heart to make such a decision. He thought back to Ben. What was most important? The purpose. Could more be done to achieve it? Yes. Then so it must be. If it can be better, then it isn’t good enough. He quieted the part of his soul that still resisted, and turned back to Maribelle, eyes still low.
“What do I need to do?”
Chapter 21
While the Red Shadow was near the northern border receiving his orders, deeper in the heart of Tressor, Duule was meeting with a group of his underlings. A meeting such as this would normally have taken place in the wheat field, but in light of his capture there, he wisely decided to find a less open and more secure place to conduct his business for the time being. He selected an isolated barn some distance from his home and stocked it with six of the burliest bodyguards he could hire. Joining him were eight messengers, each carrying reports from his endless network of scouts and spies. Thus far, none of them had managed to provide him with what he considered to be a simple bit of information.
“How can you look me in the eye and tell me that no one has any idea who this man is?” he growled. “I ordered people to be stationed at every bounty office and watch house. You should have had his head on a platter by now! You!” He stabbed his finger at a young female messenger. “You came from the capital, right? Explain to me why he wasn't piled with half a dozen armed men the moment he showed his worthless hide to turn in a bounty there?”
“Whenever we had an ambush ready for him, he never showed. It was like he knew they were there!” Her arms were raised, shielding her face. “Even after you had your inside men sic the rest of the watch on him, he still got away. It isn't our fault!”
“I don't want to hear your excuses!” He raised his hand to strike her, then grinned at the flinch. Instead, he turned to the next messenger in line, an older man with the scars of a long and unpleasant career. “At least tell me that you've gotten some replies.”
“Of course,” stated the older man. “Most of the bounty offices you sent me to investigate have turned him away, and I managed to speak to a few of the less scrupulous hunters. Most were thrilled to see him gone. They say he was taking an awful lot money off of the table for them, and there were more than a few who were interested in the generous bounty that was anonymously offered to bring him in. Seems none of them are eager to risk having him back on the hunt again.”
“Good. I want his head. And I'm not being colorful. The man who pulls that worthless wretch's empty head from his shoulders and hands it to me will have his pockets lined with gold.”
“I think that trophy may be a good deal more interesting than you realize,” came a sharp, smug voice from the other side of the barn door.
There came the very distinctive and threatening sound of more than a dozen people revealing a weapon simultaneously as all eyes turned to the door.
“Which one of you fools managed to lead someone here?” he growled.
“It wasn't very difficult to find you. You are a highly visible man. Open the door. I'm here to make your task a good deal easier,” the voice replied.
“Who are you, and how fast and far do you think you can run? Because if you don't leave me to my business, I'm going to have my men start carving—”
Before he could finish the threat, he was silenced by a sudden and sharp drop in temperature. In moments, the air around the door fell from the warmth of a Tresson night to bitter, biting cold. Frost began to form on heavy wooden planks, and the black metal of the hinges and nails began to emit a piercing whine, rattling in place. Finally, fractures spread across the whitened wood and the whole of the doorway crumbled into a heap of frozen shards.
It revealed Teht on the other side, arms crossed and face humorless.
“Listen. My associates typically prefer that I 'comport' myself with 'tact' and 'subtlety,' but I have had quite enough of the stubborn, backward ways of this primitive, whimpering society. Listen closely, because I haven't got the time or inclination to repeat myself,” Teht stated.
“Kill this wench!” Duule roared.
Teht clucked her tongue and raised her hand. Fingers curled into a curious and unnatural gesture, she swept the hand upward. A black aura coalesced around the weapons of each of Duule's men. A downward sweep of her hand sent each weapon solidly to the ground—in some cases, much to the detriment of the hand that had been holding it.
“For reasons that are beyond your capacity to comprehend, I am forbidden from engaging in open hostility toward any of you, but I am well within my rights to defend myself if needs be.” She gestured upward again. The weapons launched from the ground and hung menacingly in front of their former wielders. “Do any of you feel the need to press my patience further?”
The others wisely held their ground.
“How were you able to find me?” Duule rumbled.
“I was able to find you because you shout your name and tout your influence from the rooftops. Your shriveled up little soul is a burning beacon of hate and greed. If you haven't guessed, I am a powerful sorceress. That is all that someone like me requires.”
There was only an angry silence as a reply.
“Good. Then I'll make this brief,” she said. “If I understand correctly, you are after a bounty hunter who turned you in, yes?”
“Yes.”
“And you are also aware of the reports that a malthrope has been menacing the area, yes?”
; “Yes.”
“I suspect they are one and the same.”
“That is preposterous! Whoever did this outwitted and outmaneuvered three of my best men. He transported me, on my own horse, from my home to Gallishasa. You would have me believe that a mere beast could have achieved such a thing.”
“Much as it pains me, I'm forced to acknowledge the rather remarkable elusiveness of this particular malthrope.”
“I won't hear it.”
Teht looked around the room. “As I understand it, you've spread word among the watches that masked hunters are not to be trusted, yes? I assume one or more of you have spoken with watchmen who witnessed the hunter in question when he was asked to remove his mask.”
“I did,” answered the older messenger.
“How did he react?”
“He ran. Sometimes impressively.”
“What sort of a man would rather be chased by the whole of the watch than show his face?”
“I can name any number of men who would be killed rather than willingly reveal themselves to the watch.”
“Fine, then. The mask. Was it large enough to conceal the face of a malthrope?”
“They say it had an oddly-shaped visor. It may have been big enough.”
“All of this proves nothing,” Duule snapped.
“Perhaps not, but you've been hunting a man and you've come up empty. I know for a fact that Tressor has got is share of malthrope hunters. Hire one.”
“If the beast running amok near the capital is indeed who we seek—and I do not for a moment suggest that it is—then it has been the target of every malthrope hunter in the region since the day it was first sighted.”
“Yes, but they have not been offered the bounty that you've placed on your delinquent hunter. 'Lining their pockets with gold' might be a bit more motivating. And when you find one willing to take on the job, you can give him these.”
Teht reached into a small pouch at her belt and revealed a braided leather strand with round gems woven into the braid at regular intervals. They were each a bit smaller than a grape, and in total there were five. She also revealed a netted bag with a half-dozen more of the same gems loose within it. Each gem in the bag and strand had a dim blue glow about it. She dropped the strange accessories to the ground at Duule's feet.
“What are those?”
“They are a few aids. Affix the strand to whatever weapon you choose. It will provide an enchantment that, in the right hands, should be sufficient to bring the finest warrior to his knees. You need only use your weapon normally. If you strike your target even with a grazing blow, he will experience pain you cannot imagine. It will also disguise the scent of anyone near it. The loose gems have the same enchantment and can be thrown. Now, I'm supposed to tell you not to kill him. It suits our purposes that he be brought to us alive. Frankly, I'm sick to death of coming down here on these blasted errands, so I leave it to you. If I find that the beast has been killed, that is your decision, but it will not break my heart.” She turned and stepped over the rubble of the door. After a few strides, she stopped and turned back to them. “And by the way. Those gems will only trigger if used against a malthrope, so don't bother trying to use them for your own foolish pursuits.” She stirred the air with her fingers, summoning a swirl of black that steadily grew until it was a column a bit taller than she. “Don't disappoint me.”
Teht stepped into the column and, an instant later, the weapons held in the air by her will clattered to the ground. Seconds after that, the column tightened to a filament of brilliant violet light, then vanished with a flash, a clap of thunder, and a rush of force. When the shock of the event passed, Duule's men gathered their weapons poured from within the barn, gathering around crater where once had stood their uninvited guest.
“Useless!” Duule raged, grabbing one of the messengers and throwing him against a wall. “All of you are utterly worthless! Is there no one in this blasted kingdom who can follow a simple order? Kill anyone who would threaten me! Simple!”
He knelt down and fetched the strand of gems.
“What now, sir?” asked the burliest of his bodyguards.
Duule investigated the braid. Without taking his eyes off of it, he answered. “Find me some malthrope hunters. The best you can find. Tell them I want a word with them. And someone find me someplace where I can do my business without being interrupted!”
#
The Red Shadow moved swiftly through the night, a heavy sack held tight with one arm to keep it from jingling. He'd so far taken five jobs from Maribelle, and taken five lives as a result. The first had nearly killed him, and left his mind in tatters. The second never saw him coming, but his heart and soul ached afterward. Each time, he earned more gold than he could have hoped to earn in months otherwise. It was a black, bloody path to his goal, but it was taking him there. He saw each target for only a short time—a few hours at most—but each had clearly been neck-deep in dealings that would inevitably lead to a vicious end. He told himself that if it had not been his blade it would have been another, that their lives were lost long before he'd accepted the job. It didn't do any good. It took all of his will to stamp down his feelings of disgust, to deafen himself to the voices of resistance in his mind.
And what had been the price? Fifty rhysus. Fifty heavy gold coins weighed him down, the fruits of his labors. It was a staggering sum by any measure. He didn't know how many slaves it would free, but he knew it would be a few. Now all that remained was to find a way to make the purchase. The question of how he would arrange to have the money put to its intended use had been heavy on his mind for weeks, and the answer had been slow to form. Even after he'd devised a plan, he had his doubts that it was even worth a try. As had so often been the case though, he had no other options.
It had taken some doing, but over the course of the tracking he'd had to do to find his various targets, he'd found another familiar scent. One of the targets had been a blacksmith in a town called Bellarah. The name of the place had sounded familiar when he'd first been sent that way. It wasn't until he'd caught a scent on the breeze in the countryside surrounding it that he'd realized why. Now he had nearly reached the source of the scent again.
It was a farm, though the word hardly seemed appropriate. In a land dotted with sprawling plantations that grew enough crops to feed and clothe a city, this place was a garden in comparison. A single-room hut stood at one corner, and the rows were planted with simple, hearty crops. This was not a place where a fortune was made. This was a place where a man could grow enough to keep food on this table and clothes on his back. As the sun slipped from the sky, that man could be seen leaning on the handle of a shovel, eyes staring vaguely over his land. It was Menri. He might have been old to be starting anew, but he was not broken. A long life of hard work had hardened him in a way that even the years under Marret couldn't completely ruin. Under his skilled hand, this patch of land had flourished.
Careful to stay out of sight, Shadow approached him. “Menri,” he whispered.
Menri's head snapped aside, his shovel raised defensively. At first, his eyes swept the darkness beside his hut without seeing, but after a moment they settled on the figure of the Shadow. He was wearing his mask, and despite the temperate night and the long run, he was bundled in his cloak, the hood firmly in place.
“Who goes there?”
“Someone from your past,” the Shadow answered.
“My past is behind me now. I'm done with it.”
“A past like ours never truly fades away, does it?”
“Who are you? What are you doing here?”
“I'm here to ask a favor of you. I'm here to ask you to do something that we both know needs to be done.”
“You'd ask a favor without showing me your face?”
The Shadow took a steady breath. In a motion deliberate and slow, he slipped the mask from his face and pulled back the hood.
“You . . .” Menri said, fingers squeezing at the shovel handle. “You set fo
ot on my land?”
“I've spoken to Gurruk. He told me of his escape, and yours. He told me that despite the deeds I had done, he had me to thank for his freedom and his life. He told me you would feel the same.”
“Just because I owe a devil for my freedom doesn't mean I'll welcome him the day he returns.”
The Red Shadow dropped his heavy sack of gold. “You were able to buy your freedom. There is enough gold there for you to do the same for several more. I want you to do just that. Buy back the lives of some others. Give them what they need to be free.”
Menri kept a cautious eye on the figure before him and tugged the sack open. “How did you get this money?”
“Any way I could.”
He shoved it with his toe. “I don't want it.”
“It isn't for you. It is for the others. Those who are still trapped within the fences, feeling the lash of the strap. What you think of me doesn't matter. Do this one thing and you can go on hating me until we are both in our graves.”
The older man eyed the gold for a bit longer. “You want nothing in exchange?”
“All I want is for you to make it clear to them what needed to be done to free them, and make them aware that they may one day be asked to do the same for others.”
“Is that your plan? Pay the last freed men to free the next?”
“It is.”
“Why? Do you think this will wipe the blood from your hands?”
“It doesn't matter what I think, and it doesn't matter why I choose to do it. All that matters is that it needs to be done, and that you can help make it so.”
Menri considered the words. “And how will you know which men owe you their lives? How will you know where to find them when the time comes to do it again?”
“I'll be watching,” the Shadow said.
“And what if I don't do it.”
“You will. We lived the same nightmare. I don't think you would force that on someone else to spite me, no matter what I am.”
