Passion of the Different

by Daniel A Roberts

  "Sensible," Ryan agreed. "He didn't give you, ah, details did he?"

  "Not really," Vendegal confessed. "Just something poisonous had bitten your shoulder and needing to be lanced. So your shoulder will be fine, yes?"

  "Better than fine," Ryan assured his friend, making a mental note to send thanks to the doctor for being discreet. Before he could continue or mention why he was in town an alarm bell started to clang. Both he and Vendegal turned and the fire wagon rumbled around the corner, the large tank on wheels pulled by ten horses, a pump box with a two man lever near the rear. Several men in thick padding were clinging to it as the driver snapped the reins to urge the horses to a faster trot.

  It became all too clear the fire wagon was headed out of town and down the southern road. It was that moment they spotted the distant black smoke rising. Ice twisted in Ryan's gut and Vendegal got the words out before he could. "That looks uncomfortably close to your farm, let's get a pair of horses and check it out."

  "Agreed," Ryan replied darkly. He followed the garrison commander to a nearby stable, the boys who were brushing the fast animals backed up at the site of the big man. At any other time Ryan may have smiled and joked with them, but not now. A number of garrison horses were saddled already and it took only a few minutes to check the nails in the horseshoes. Satisfied, they mounted and trotted out towards the smoke.

  The ice feeling in his gut spread as they got closer to the fire, and Ryan couldn't restrain himself from hollering out when he spotted the cottage. It had already burned completely to the ground. "Myra! Myra!" His hands shook as he got off the horse and released the reins. She wasn't answering back from anywhere.

  The water wagon still gushed out of the long cloth hose, two men pumping while the others helped control the direction of the spray. Whatever they used for increasing the water pressure was impressive, but that fleeting thought blew out of his mind as his eyes searched the smoking ruins. They were still too hot to go tramping through, the smoke way too thick. His thoughts stammered. She has to be out picking fruit in the woods. She does that often. Her favorite peaches are out there. She couldn't have burned to death.

  "Over here," came Vendegal's voice, detached and emotionless. He spun and saw his friend by the barn. The dour expression put haste into Ryan's feet and Vendegal blinked with the speed the big man could produce even in short distances. Anything that large shouldn't be able to move that quick in his opinion, but the current situation drove his attention to the larger problem. They both regarded a long thick paper with flowing text, pinned to the barn door with an expensive looking dagger. It was signed with a flourish and what appeared to be a royal symbol, the gold dust sparkling in the sunlight on the melted wax where the seal made its impression.

  "I can speak the language," Ryan darkly confessed to his friend, "but I can't read it. What does it say?"

  "You don't understand, Lord Za'Ryan," Vendegal reluctantly got out between pursed lips. "This paper has to come down and go directly to the king. This cannot go unanswered."

  "What does it say?" When Ryan spoke, the sentence was in a normal tone of voice except for the last word, which he thundered out. His emotions were running too hot to care for proper procedure and he didn't give a damn if it offended anyone. Vendegal's expression said he understood as he raised his hand and placed it high on Ryan's shoulder.

  "If I read it to you, will you listen to reason and not go running off?" It was a dangerous question to ask any man in that situation. Vendegal almost removed his hand when he saw those blue eyes, often warm, turn ice cold and deadly. Instead, he swallowed hard and hoped he didn't break into a nervous sweat at the same time.

  "No promises," Ryan replied, the frost in his tone equal to those who killed without remorse. "Just read it please, or I'll find another to do it."

  He nodded to the big man and turned to the parchment. He traced the words as he read them out loud with his finger. "To Lord Za'Ryan of House Ven'Krue. Greetings from the Bright Lands, the greatest in the world. I, Queen Darya of Central Avernus bid you to come to my castle and speak with me. No harm will come to your Lady if you comply, as I've foreseen your refusal to pay me a visit should there be no incentive. If I do not see you by the end of next summer, I will return your Lady in six different boxes. This I swear upon my throne, do not disappoint me. Seriously sincere, Queen Darya."

  Thunderclouds of pending grief cleared from his head and new hotter emotions took their place. Relief that Myra was still alive coursed through his veins but it was bitter sweet. She had been captured right out from under him, something he had never thought would happen. He knew he cut an impressive sight among the locals. He also knew that word would have gotten around about him, but to have some royal figure from another country demand his presence after kidnapping his wife to assure it? He felt there was a lot more to this than it appeared. He also felt the dark and stubborn black hole of lost memories in his head quiver.

  "I need my armor," he told Vendegal with a grim tone. "I also need my sword." He reached out and worked the dagger free of the barn door and snatched the paper. Then he placed the document in Vendegal's hands. "And please, do get this to your king. We have plans to make and we need to do them quickly."

  "Running off after her is a bad idea for several reasons," Vendegal complained, only a tinge of regret riding his musical accent. "There is time for diplomacy here, and our king is not one to show weakness. It's more than likely he'll send an army after her."

  "You're the one who doesn't get it," Ryan snapped back. "There's a spy somewhere. That queen who shouldn't even know me or my social status addressed me directly by name. They want me to get in my armor and go riding out, it would be hard to miss me. I don't want my armor and weapon for that, we need to set up a decoy. Make them think I'm still here waiting for your diplomatic response, fill my suit with another but keep the visor down. Even if the blacksmith has to make the insides different so one of your people can parade around town during drills pretending to be me, you all have a chance at not being invaded outright. They want that army to thunder towards them so her forces can sack this country without much resistance. Are you hearing me, Vendegal?"

  "I - I think so," he stammered back, features twisted in confusion. "What about the spy?"

  "You find your most trusted man in your unit to play my part. The fewer who know, the better," Ryan explained quickly. "Put it all over town that in my grief over the kidnapping and waiting to see if the king sends an army or not, I don't want to be bothered in public. It will give reason why I'm not seen in person. Have the decoy ready in a few days and start parading him around at the proper times for patrols and drills. Let the spy see that. The word will go out that I didn't leave yet and so this place will remain safe for a little while longer."

  "So what will you do?" Vendegal demanded, but with respect and an urgency for haste combined.

  "I'm going after her, of course," he replied with a dangerous tone. "I'll travel only by night and sleep during the day when I can find a comfortable hidden spot. They're terrified of their losses over sacking Ocaza if I'm here. If they find out I'm gone too soon, they'll hit the town hard. So build up the defenses as much as you can. Are you understanding me?"

  "I think so," Vendegal said, still slightly confused but thinking it through. "You're leaving to go after her, but making sure they don't think you're gone, right?"

  "You got it," Ryan assured his friend. "When night falls, I'm gone. Tell nobody, not even the mayor. Only those you must and swear them to secrecy or this fails and you'll have raiders up the ass. We can't have that."

  "I get it," Vendegal replied, voice tinged with doubt. "But why not do this my way, or at least try? You have the time, according to the letter. We can put pressure on her kingdom. If it comes down to it, then you can go and we'll be prepared for an all out attack."

  Ryan faced his friend more fully and rested his large hand on Vendegal's thin shoulder. "Two reasons. One, you have a spy to worry about blabbing our in
tentions. Catch that spy if possible. Two, I have to get her before a year is up. Way before. She's pregnant."

  All doubt vanished from Vendegal's face and his eyes hardened. "No more dissent from me, Lord Za'Ryan. Two lives are at stake, go and save them. I'll take care of my end." They clasped hands and Ryan wished he had more knowledge of the terrain around the countryside. He knew which direction the enemy lived and which road to start out on, getting there and locating the castle maybe a bit harder.

  Vendegal mounted his horse and tucked the paper inside his shirt. He glanced back at Ryan once more, nodded quickly, then galloped off for Ocaza. It was time to prepare and as soon as it got dark, he prayed that nobody got in the big guy's way.

  Chapter Fifteen - Interrogation

  The horizon was getting pink with dawn though the sun hadn't shown itself. Ryan guided his horse off the road and out into a small field. He let it trot for a hundred or so yards before stopping to dismount. A small tree was close by and he tied the horse to it. Not knowing the critter's given name, he merely made friends by finding wild fruit and feeding it several pieces. Then the horse grazed as he slept during the day under a shady tree.

  Even though he had been riding hard at night and resting during the day for almost a week, he couldn't seem to catch up to the kidnappers. He was well into enemy territory and from what he understood, the queen's castle was in the center of the enemy kingdom. Myra may already be there even now and he could feel the anger growing in the pit of his gut like a wildfire with each sunrise. At least food and drink were plenty in the countryside or this would have been much harder on both man and horse.

  The night was long and the road was blessedly empty of all traffic. Another sunrise threatened exposure of his size and intent and it was time to stop yet again. He located a small stream about fifty yards from the road and decided it was the best place to nap. He made sure the horse got a refreshing drink as the sun left the horizon and the morning dew settled. A nice shady tree wasn't too far away and he found a comfortable spot underneath it. He put his arm over his eyes and rested it there, and he was sleeping soundly before he could wonder how long it would take him to doze off.

  It wasn't quite sunset when distant voices woke him, the sun blazing the long shadows of tall trees across the river. They were so faint he couldn't understand what was being said. His horse was still munching the wild grass and looked content. Ryan frowned and tilted his head a moment. The voices were coming from down river. He should get ready to ride out once darkness dropped, but curiosity won out. Making sure the beast was still tightly tied up, he kept to the shadows and moved downriver as silently as he could. A few minutes later he could make out the words. In the distance, two brown and red uniformed men were fishing by a campfire.

  "I can't believe that Elerian bitch scratched Roo'Pah across his face," the shorter dark blue haired one stated.

  "He had it coming," the older red headed man replied, then grunted a chuckle out. "Elerians get claws when with child, Kah'Deen. You don't try to kiss them or feel them up when they're like that."

  Ryan froze, his heart pounding. He couldn't think at first. Coincidence? He strained his ears to listen more. He didn't know if 'Elerian' was the term for the people he had come to respect and protect or not. He quickly got his confirmation from the older man.

  "It was the cleanest snatch we've done though, and we were pretty damn close to Ocaza," the older one stated proudly. "Other than the bloody scratching, I'm glad nobody got anything worse. Besides, that fairy tale about her husband was probably designed to scare us away. Fat lot of good it did."

  "I don't know," the younger blue haired man replied with caution. "I have a second cousin who said he saw the creature from afar. He's second in command to the regional raiders, you know, and doesn't make things up for sport."

  Ryan had heard enough and he peeked around the tree for a quick look. One had a spear leaning against a nearby tall bush. The other wore a sword. Both were dangling their bare feet in the water while their lines were strung out almost to the middle of the river, the yellow bobs bouncing in the mild current. Good. He knew how to get to them.

  He carefully went back to his horse and did his best not to make any sounds. He took off his shirt then stripped down to his undershorts. His boots were tied to the saddle so no ground insects would crawl inside. Then he waded out into the water and took a minute to feel the strength of the current. Careful not to make any splashes, he was happy it was shallow at the banks but deep in the middle. This will make it more than easy for him and those two idiots are about to find out just how horrible fishing can actually get.

  Gulping the air a few times to fill his lungs, he sank slowly under the surface to reduce noise. As soon as he was under, he struck out strongly for the opposite shore, letting the current carry him down river. The water was blessedly clear, only a few small fish darted out of his way. He held his breath easily, it wasn't the strain he thought it might be and crazily wondered why. Adrenaline? Probably. After a few more powerful strokes, he spotted their rapidly approaching feet under the water. Even better. It was only thigh deep to him there. Too bad he didn't intend to drown them, it would have been effortless.

  The two guys were laughing at an unheard joke when Ryan erupted up out of the water. In one smooth motion he grabbed their throats with his large hands and held them up high as he strode up onto dry land like some living gallows. He gently applied pressure while their feet kicked in frustration. The terror in their eyes faded as they rolled up at the same time, then he let them fall. Not dead, merely passed out from lack of oxygen and flow of blood to the brain. They would sleep for a while and then he would be able to get some answers.

  The youngest one woke up first and it was already dark, the campfire blazing high with fresh wood. He quickly realized he was tied at both hands and feet. He forced himself into an upright position and looked over at his unconscious friend. "Gher'Jek, wake up man! A water demon captured us! Wake the hell up, please!"

  Ryan spoke from the darkness just beyond the campfire's circle of light, making his voice even deeper than it normally was. It's a good thing he had a good memory for names when he strained to hear their earlier conversation. He also packed his tone with an icy anger that didn't have to be faked one bit. "He can't help you, Kah'Deen."

  "No - no - no," Kah'Deen's tenor almost squeaked under his breath, head whipping left to right and back again, trying in vain to see what was talking in such a low and terrible monster like voice. "This isn't happening. This isn't really happening."

  "Oh yes, it is happening," Ryan said, voice rolling out of the darkness like thunder. "You've been a very bad boy, Kah'Deen." This produced the desired effect, the young man's eyes squinted as a tear rolled down one cheek.

  "Who in the hell are you?" Gher'Jek said, finally awake and struggling to sit up as his hands and feet were also tightly bound. "What do you want from us?" The older man peered into the darkness, unable to see past the campfire's blazing glow as well.

  Ryan knew the bright campfire would give them poor night vision. He also played with the two ropes in his hand. One was tied to each of their ankles, just in case he needed the extra leverage. It was a good thing he thought of it, the older one was a bit more world wise and could possibly break the deception. "Gher'Jek!" he thundered from the darkness. "Silence old fool, or I'll eat your face off. You've been bad too!"

  "Horseshit!" Gher'Jek shot back, unconvinced. "Show yourself, liar!"

  "I warned you!" Ryan thundered with dark relish, then yanked the rope to the old man with all his strength. From Kah'Deen's point of view, his friend spun around and vanished hollering into the darkness feet first before he could blink twice, the attached rope unseen.

  As Gher'Jek got dragged to Ryan on his back, he was still screaming in fright at the wild unknown before him. The large man picked him up and let the older guy feel his huge hands and strength. Before anything else could be said, he slugged Gher'Jek in the jaw, hard. The thin fo
rm crumpled, out for possibly another few hours. Then he sought for the fruit he had tucked into his belt earlier.

  Kah'Deen was freaking out. "Gher'Jek! Where are you! Gher'Jek! Talk to me!" When the old man stopped screaming, he stopped calling out. Then as close as Ryan dared, just enough for his large outline to barely flicker at the campfire's edge, he bit into the fruit as noisily as he could, chewing with his mouth open and making yummy sounds. The youth was completely silent, frozen with fear and the tears were flowing from both eyes. The exaggerated eating made his blood run cold as ice. He would later swear that his hair felt like standing up and leaving the rest of him behind.

  Psychological interrogation felt natural to Ryan. He almost enjoyed it. Where the ideas came from he didn't bother to question anymore, they just happened as he needed them. For now that was more than enough. After a few more moments of loud chewing, he tossed the fruit away. The sudden distant sound of it hitting the ground made the youth jump, but Ryan didn't let him dwell on it. "That was one delicious face for an old man, Kah'Deen He was seasoned with stupidity and disbelief. Are you stupid as well?"

  "No!" Kah'Deen cried out, trying not to sob. "I'm not stupid! I promise!"

  "Do you believe I exist?" Ryan growled, adding even more ice to his tone. "Please say no, I hunger for a young face to eat."

  "You exist!" the young terrified soul hollered into the darkness, desperation making his plea almost sound like a woman's voice. "I believe you exist! My face isn't delicious! Please, be merciful! Please!"

  Good, the young man was ready to tell him the truth. Before, if there was any thought of deception, he would have possibly lied. But not now. "You know, the last flavor my kind likes are lies. I'm going to ask you some things. If you lie, I get to eat. Do you understand me, Kah'deeeeeeeen?" He purposely stretched out the name for effect and it terrified the youth even more. Excellent.