by Billy Wong
He awakened after an unknown amount of time to find himself lying on his side still bound to his chair. Taking a breath, he realized that while he felt inexplicably far more tired and thirsty than before, his chest didn't hurt, though he easily recalled the torturous sensation he'd experienced. Had it been a heart attack? He was only in his early thirties, but though rare, it wasn't completely unknown for someone his age to suffer heart problems. Nevertheless, he'd survived whatever happened, and being alive returned his thoughts to trying to free himself.
He realized upon testing them that his ropes were looser than before, and indeed began to unravel as he flexed his arms. Somehow, they had been cut in a couple of spots, and so damaged allowed him to free his arms. He guessed they had grazed the spike during his fall. Throwing the rope cocoon's remains off himself and undoing the bonds around his legs as well, he prepared to finish escaping the accursed room.
Testing the heavy iron door once he groped his way along the wall to it, he found it unsurprisingly locked. The portal looked too strong to be broken down, and he had no idea whatsoever how to pick a lock. He might have to wait for someone to open it and make his escape then. But what if, as would be likely, it was the silver Lost? Justin doubted he could defeat or elude that fearsome warrior. He settled upon making a racket to get whoever was on guard duty now to come check on him. He picked up the chair leg that had broken off for use as a club and banged on the door, hoping desperately the silver one or a large group weren't on the other side.
Hearing the door unlock, he hid to the side of the portal and raised his makeshift weapon. It yawned open, illuminating the gray walls with torchlight, and a stout man of average height walked in. Just as his eyes focused on the broken remains of the chair Justin struck, smashing the leg into the back of his head. To his satisfaction, the guard toppled like a pushed over statue to the floor. Another Lost entered to chop at Justin with a heavy sword, which cut his blocking chair leg in two. Ducking a second neck-level slash, Justin pulled a dagger from the first guard's belt and thrust it into his opponent's chest. He groaned and fell, dying.
After angrily slitting the first man's throat, Justin wiped his new dagger clean and tucked it into his belt. He retrieved a sword and another dagger from his deceased captors before exiting the cellar. Who knew if more foes awaited him upstairs? Oddly enough, he saw in the light that his shirt had been somehow torn, though he hadn't taken any hits in the fighting. Climbing the stairs just ahead, he realized his dark prison had only been the basement of a typical middle-class home, and quickly finding the front door emerged in the residential sector of Seil. So was this where the leader of The Lost lived? He wouldn't be living here much longer if so.
Pleased with his important discovery along with his survival, Justin reported his experience to the first constable he saw. Soon after, he worked out a plan with the city guard to catch the silver one upon his return and stop him once and for all. But the Lost leader avoided the trap by not coming back, and Justin figured he must have found out what had happened. Nonetheless, it pleased him to watch the constables ransack the home for evidence, and to know he'd flustered truly foul men by saving himself.
Chapter 5
Rose might still have been tempted to not try that hard at finding Justin, but she gave it her full effort for Evan. She and Finn questioned just about everybody in town regarding his whereabouts, but over several days got no relevant information, and were close to admitting their lack of success to Evan when they heard the soldier had returned. Rose caught him at his usual nighttime drinking spot, the Steady Hand. "Justin!" she greeted him, half expecting a friendlier than usual response. "Looks like Evan won't have to worry about you anymore."
He looked scornfully at her. "Yeah, no thanks to you."
What did she have to do with it? "So where were you, anyway?"
"I almost got sacrificed because our old friends The Lost thought I was friends with you, and when they found out I wouldn't make good bait, it seemed quite likely they'd offer my life to that thing they worship. Luckily, I managed to escape before I could find out for sure."
Rose's heart sank at the confirmation of The Lost's continued activity. "We would've tried to help you, if we knew you'd been kidnapped."
"What, because of your nagging guilt? In any case, I didn't need it. Hopefully they won't come after me again." He rose to leave, but as he neared the door turned and said gruffly, "But thanks for saving me when you did."
Rose nodded, and threw back a shot of strong whiskey as he left. She didn't regret putting herself in the line of danger to save him, even if it'd cost her so much, but damn those Lost for continuing to exist. She knew she wouldn't be able to rest easy now, until she put an end to their atrocities for good.
#
Learning his home had been raided by the Seil constables after his prisoner's escape, Irving's heart nearly stopped. It wasn't so much that he feared getting caught himself—the house had been bought under another name and he was never seen coming or going with his face uncovered—but he'd lost the Devil's Horn, the vessel of the great dormant power he sought to use to lay waste to the world. He'd become a little discouraged in his quest to revive that power after the failure of mass sacrifices to bring any sign that he was getting closer to his goal, but he certainly needed it back still.
The spike called the Devil's Horn was what remained of the demon lord after it fought the last of the Old World's archmages to their mutual destruction. Nobody knew if it still contained the demon's spirit, or only the immense magical power it'd possessed. Though many had wished it destroyed, conventional methods proved ineffective, and somebody spirited it away before a way could be figured out. Thus it had faded from human memory over the centuries until being found by the famous adventurer, George Umber. But when Umber had stuck his nose where it didn't belong and attempted to put an end to the activities of The Lost, they had killed him and found the spike in his home. He would surely be rolling over in his grave if he knew something they took from him gave them their best hope of reaching their goal.
Following the disastrous attempt to avenge his brother in which The Lost had lost most of their number, Irving had faked the remainder's deaths and thought them to almost be back on track. The populace had accepted the claim that their scapegoats—the men of ill repute whom they killed—had been kidnappers, and they'd set into motion a new plan to lure Rose and Finn into a trap. But the soldier Justin had turned out to make terrible bait—not only not being friends with the couple, but also striking a major blow to The Lost in his escape. Though it didn't take great priority, Irving would relish the chance to pay him back.
Right now, he was more concerned with retrieving his spike. The constables would have taken away everything in his house they thought might be evidence, so he hired two master thieves to steal it back. Though he waited impatiently for them to return that night, he felt confident they would succeed in their task, for they had a long history of successful jobs. But when he met them again, the nervous face of the younger man told of their failure.
"So how did you screw this up?" he demanded.
"We didn't screw up," the older and more self-assured of the two said. "It just wasn't there."
That was strange; Irving had been sure the spike would be taken as evidence, considering what the escaped captive had been told and its unusual appearance. A few more questions later, he dismissed the thieves without payment; they complained, but didn't dare to defy him. Why would the Devil's Horn not be among the evidence? He could only come with the theory that someone had stolen it before it could taken where procedure demanded, or from there. Irving doubted Justin would have done that, considering his lawful nature—but if not him, then who?
#
This really wasn't going to work, and Evan had no doubt about it. How could Victor even consider such a stupid, logic-deficient idea? By covering the floor of his room with earth from his old island, the prince had, in his own words, "brought home to" him. As if having a
very thin layer of island soil beneath his feet was the same as being there. Surely, this wouldn't enable him to have visions again...
He wasted no time protesting the insane plan, but Victor would hear none of it and forced him to sleep each night in the room carpeted by foreign dirt, threatening that he had better start telling prophecies soon or suffer unspecified punishment. His hopes of being let go dwindled and he contemplated trying to flee, though he knew his chances would be slim. He wished Rose and Finn would visit to give him some advice or perhaps aid, but they did not and he grew desperately tired of his stay. He tried to take up the issue with Victor again, but was "dismissed" quick without discussion and left feeling helpless.
Seeing Justin on patrol one day, he walked up to him. "Boy, I'm sick of being here."
"That's evident. And?"
Evan didn't quite meet the other man's eyes, but said softly, "It'd be nice if I could get out of here."
A momentary look of confusion on Justin's part was followed by a sidelong stare. "You expect me to help you leave?"
"It was just a thought. I'm pretty much being made into a slave here, you know."
The soldier glanced at the guard trailing Evan. "I can see that," he said firmly, "but it's not my place to free you. Prince Victor holds authority here, and if he no longer wants you to stay, then you can go."
Evan rolled his eyes and returned to his cell—room—and after treading over the dirty floor plopped himself onto the bed. And he'd thought he would find freedom in the outside world! It hadn't taken long for things to get worse than they'd ever been on the island. Maybe he had been a fool to brave unfamiliar lands, and in doing so find the dark future he now faced. Closing his eyes, he tried to dream of better times, and instead had a vision.
He could easily tell it apart from a normal dream, being used to experiencing both, for its clarity and vividness marked it as something more. In it he saw something he would never have predicted on his own, but believed at least in a symbolic sense, for his visions could be literal or not. He saw Justin battle an immense stony demon and defeat it, cleaving it down to crumble and melt away. Awakening with a fiercely pounding heart from the intense battle he'd witnessed, he wondered what the demon really represented. He considered that it might be The Lost, who had after all committed much slaughter in the name of an inhuman power.
It wouldn't surprise him much if Justin brought about their downfall; they were already diminished, and if Victor sent him to exterminate them with adequate support, he might well get it done. What really alarmed Evan was that Victor's crazy idea had somehow actually worked. How did it make sense that soil sprinkled on the floor would enable him to have visions again? While he could appreciate the prince's willingness to think outside the box, he was not at all pleased with his prospects for the future. Would he be able to keep a surely watchful Victor in the dark about his plan's success, and if not, was he doomed to live here forever?
#
Rose had taken to visiting taverns more than before, drowning her sorrows at least temporarily with many a strong drink, and one day saw Justin enter the same bar to sit at the counter. Having once been his friend and wanting somehow to mend their relationship to what degree she could, she approached him. "What brings you to Gustrone again?"
"I volunteered to be Victor's messenger. So you might be seeing more of me, like it or not."
She looked down into her cup, watched the surface of the liquid tremble with her arm. "You know I don't hate you. I just wish you'd let the past go."
He declined to respond to that, instead saying, "Your friend's getting really unhappy about living at the manor."
Almost choking on her drink of Volcano—spirits made of nearly pure alcohol—she sputtered, "H-he's still there?! That's ridiculous! Doesn't Victor understand he won't have any visions?"
Justin explained to an incredulous Rose that the prince was conducting an experiment wherein he put the seer in a room with dirt from his island across the floor, hoping it would trigger his gift. "He's still waiting for Evan to show signs of having visions again. He has him watched at night, trying to see if he has any particularly intense dreams that might indicate a return of his powers."
"And has he had such dreams?" She really doubted a bit of soil on the floor would adequately simulate the conditions of the island Evan had needed to be on.
"I don't know, but apparently Victor thinks there have been some hopeful signs, namely when Evan's woken up white and scared in the middle of the night. It's quite possible he's just suffering due to his confinement, though. He even asked me for help escaping, can you believe it?"
"You're the only one he knows. Even if you two haven't always gotten on, who else is there for him to turn to?"
Justin shrugged. "Hey, I'd approve of helping him, if it wasn't so dangerous to my career... maybe more than my career, if I got on the prince's bad side."
Rose understood. If he defied Victor and the latter happened to be in an unforgiving mood, Justin would make a fine example of a traitor and what was done to them. But she on the other hand was a national hero, considered by many the greatest hero of the age, and would likely garner much support even if caught acting against the prince.
"I'll go talk to Victor," she said, "and hopefully convince him of his folly. If not, then I'll decide what to do from there." She didn't want to have to go against a rightful authority of her nation again, but couldn't turn her back on a friend's suffering either. "Thanks for telling me about this."
"It's no trouble. Say, The Lost—have they bothered you since you came back here?"
"No, things have been pretty peaceful for the time being." She still wanted to eliminate The Lost, but had decided to wait for new leads instead of wasting more time searching fruitlessly away from her family. "Why?"
He shrugged. "Maybe I'm seeing things, but I've noticed people watching me since I escaped them. I keep wondering if it is them, when they will finally strike. See that one over by the door in the orange cloak? I could swear I've caught him looking at me in at least three places."
Rose got up and turned around, sneaking a quick glance at the man who indeed stared at Justin's back. She walked across the tavern as if to leave, passed by the beady-eyed, heavyset fellow—and spun, snatching him out of his seat with one mighty arm. She pinned him against a wall, feet kicking in the air below him. He must have weighed three hundred pounds, but she held him there easily enough.
"I know you've been following my fr—um, acquaintance," she said evenly. Justin might not have approved of the first term that came to mind. "Why?" He didn't answer verbally, instead drawing a short dagger to thrust at her middle. She caught his thick wrist and squeezed, bone crunching beneath her fingers, and he dropped the knife with a shriek. "You don't want me to kill you, do you?"
"Okay, okay!" he wailed, cradling his wrist against his belly as his good hand was occupied alleviating the strain on his neck by holding onto her forearm. "I was hired by a man to find some blue stone spike, and from his account of events I thought your friend might be keeping it somewhere. I wasn't going to harm him, just retrieve the damn rock!"
"And how are you to report to him when you've found it?"
"He approached me and said he'd find me when I got the job done! I have no idea where he came from, let alone where he is!"
Secretive bastards. Rose dropped the man to barely land clumsily on his feet and he ran out of the tavern, no doubt unused to having his huge body manhandled like a rag doll. She smiled slightly with pride in the strength of her great arms and turned back to Justin. "Well? What stone spike is he talking about? You know?"
He nodded. "I've seen it, but I certainly don't have it. I wouldn't dare keep such a foul object!"
"What is it?"
"I'm not sure exactly, but it seems like it might be what The Lost worship. When I was captured before, one of them—their leader, I think—told me it was through sacrifice that the spike's power would be revived."
A chill ran throu
gh Rose as she considered this might be the vessel of the demonic force her children were foretold to awaken. Trying to keep outwardly calm, she mused, "So somebody stole this thing from The Lost, and it might hold a dark power they've been seeking... sounds like I should destroy it."
"I'd be happier if I knew the thing was gone from the world," Justin agreed.
And maybe, in the process of finding the spike, she'd also be able to get rid of The Lost for good. She wasn't sure how exactly she'd do that considering her and Finn's trouble tracking down The Lost in their last attempt, but having gained new knowledge of the danger posed by this spike, Rose knew they had to try. At least now with the spike missing, The Lost would likely become active again in attempting to retrieve it.
"It looks like I'll be going back to central Kayland soon, especially since I need to deal with the Evan situation too. I must say, for supposed enemies we've been helping each other out a lot."
Justin frowned. "Hmph. It's just bad luck that got both of us involved with these Lost—they're a trillion times worse than you, I'll grant. I do hope I'll be able to see their end, whether at your hand or anyone else's."
"Well, do you want to come with me and Finn when we go after The Lost?"
"I'll have to clear it with Prince Victor... but yeah, I do."
He was a decent comrade in battle, if not much for emotional support, and Finn should be able to tolerate his company for one trip. "Okay, Justin. Let's go finish these bastards!"
"I'd be happy to."
She watched him finish a full mug of whiskey like he was Finn himself and grinned. "I just hope you won't regret saying that when you're sober! Looks like you've really been going for it with the drinks."
His eyes widened as he must have recalled an approximation of how much liquor he'd put away, but he insisted, "I'm sober. Recently I've just been needing a lot more drink for the same effect, that's all."
"I'll say. You're drinking like an alcoholic horse!"
