Part 5
"Blemish"
"Freak!"
"Traitor!"
The
words burned hotter and deeper than the three fresh wounds on her face.
Captain Edri Rodan caught herself questioning her actions—had she taken
the right course after all? She shook her head. A good soldier didn't
second-guess herself.
A palace guard, Justin, scooted off his bunk to intercept her on the way to hers.
"Is it true?" He asked. "What they're saying? Did you actually interrupt a circus?"
Edri pursed her lips. "I did what was necessary," she said.
"You're
saying that was necessary?" Justin snorted. "That man deserved to die;
now because of you the Council has been forced to assign him janitorial
duties to keep him out of sight!"
Edri huffed. "If they
intended him to die, they should have left off the armor!" She sneered
at the cowardice of the Ruling Council. Everyone knew that the Twin
Regents held the real power—but the Council had been around since the
start of King Balwyn's reign, and they would do what it took to maintain
power over the people.
Justin still regarded her carefully. "They say he walked away without a scratch, yet everyone saw him get hurt multiple times."
Edri
swallowed; she definitely would have preferred facing down the lion
again, if it meant avoiding questions like these. "So? Maybe it's his
Gift; you know they only sacrifice Gifted people in the circus."
"It's not a sacrifice!" Justin retorted.
"What
else would you call it?" Edri demanded. "They broke no law, goodness
knows they did not volunteer, they are given no weapons—"
"He's
lucky the Council allows the provision of armor nowadays," Justin
offered this weak defense as Edri let her unfinished remark hang between
them. She remained silent and went about adjusting her boots.
"Flowers."
Edri brought up her head. "Excuse me?"
"The
Gifted man could make flowers; everybody saw him doing it when the lion
attacked. Everything was just flowers and blood. Then you stepped in,
and his wounds were gone." He never said it directly, but she saw the
knowledge in his eyes.
"People with gifts just need to learn to hide them," she quipped, and tried to walk away.
Justin's voice chased her. "Aye," he said. "They do."
Edri
shivered as she went out of the barracks, checking the cuff of her left
glove as she moved toward the assignments post. She hoped to be on Wall
duty; she needed the solitude.
She searched for her name, but
none of the areas bore it. Edri frowned as she approached the courier.
If any soldier missed their assignment, it was the courier's duty to
know all the positions and rotations, and a soldier had only to ask him.
"Edri Rodan, Sixth Battalion, reporting for duty," she announced.
The courier let a small smile twitch across his face. "No you're not," he said, producing a folded paper. "This is for you."
Edri
accepted the note and stepped aside to read it. The seal bore an
unfamiliar crest—but then again, the Twin Regents had only recently
claimed authority. If any seal were unfamiliar to a soldier of the
realm, it would be theirs.
"To Captain Edri
Rodan of the Sixth Battalion," it began. "Your brilliant display of
bravery during today's circus has brought your name into our regard. We
are agreed that it was certainly by your hand that this man was saved
today. Our castle could definitely use such a one as you, with the skill
you carry in your hands. We await no other response than for you to
present yourself to us. You are hereby assigned special duties of
patrolling the castle grounds for as long as you choose to remain a
soldier. The choice is yours. By all means, continue in your marvelous
service to the realm."
Edri stared at the
flourishing signatures underneath. Words like "brilliant display", "hand", and
"peculiar skill" jumped out at her. In time with her thoughts, her hand
burned and throbbed.
It was over; they knew, and they were
letting her know that they knew. She was probably saved from being
pressed into the circus purely because such a brutal demonstration would
not get rid of her like they wanted. No, this method of keeping her
forever within sight of the palace was a much crueler fate, Edri
thought. Still... As long as they assumed she was not a threat, perhaps
they could coexist in their mutual non-disclosure—particularly as it
seemed she had a skill they needed. Edri sighed and prepared to report
to her new post.
~<>~
Twenty paces to the arch,
twenty more to the corner; wheel right, ten paces, then down the
corridor to repeat the process. Captain Rodan knew her route by heart.
She timed her paces to the rumbling thunder as the rain poured outside.
This storm had rolled in early the previous day, and it had not reduced
intensity since it began.
Edri's ears hummed and her left
hand seemed to throb and swell; the Prince was using his gift. Those who
had been around during King Balwyn's rule spread rumors that the Prince
had a special gift like the Outcasts, that he could produce lightning
from his hands—and, in political spite in the face of the Outcast
Ordinance, the Council kept him hidden and protected from the Twin
Regents, using the lightning for their own mysterious scientific
"experiments" rather than shunning him like all the others. Being so
close to the tower now, the sensation bothered her, but she wondered if
she would actually be there long enough to get used to it.
She had just turned the corner for the hundredth time, when several things happened all at once.
Someone shouted up on the wall.
A terrific explosion rent the sky and nearly threw Edri off her feet, armor and all.
In
the confusion, the young soldier heard a cry for help. She couldn't be
certain; the terrific crash left her ears ringing—but then, in the
stunned silence afterward, she heard it again: a confusion of shouting
and wailing coming from high in the tower. The sounds of people in pain
reached her ears. Edri Rodan the palace guard abandoned her post and
raced up the long corkscrew staircase to the tower chamber.
More yelling.
"Stop! Please stop!"
High-pitched cackling. "Dance, my minions! Don't stop!"
She
reached the corridor outside the antechamber. A few of the more
scientific Council members stood by the door, quaking with fear. They
looked to Edri immediately when she appeared.
"Don't go in there!" One cried. "She's quite mad!"
More cackling issued from inside the room, and the noise of metal clashing.
"What happened?" She asked.
Another scientist gulped. "We tried everything; it was never supposed to be this way—"
He
broke off as the voice shrieked, "NOW LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE! DID I SAY
YOU COULD CHOP HIS HAND OFF? WE DON'T WANT HIM ANY MORE! YOU HAD BETTER
START GROVELING NOW!"
Edri didn't know who spoke, but she felt an odd pull and twist of her stomach at the voice.
She recalled the explosion just a few minutes ago. "Where is the Prince?" She asked.
The man squinted at her. "You know of him?" He caught himself. "Oh, I mean, the Prince has vanished."
Edri frowned. "Into the storm? He can't have gone far—"
"Never mind that!" Another councilor spoke to the first. "What are we going to do about Her?"
Edri gestured to the door. "Who is she?"
The
scientists were all shuffling awkwardly and muttering. "Should have
told... Should never have turned out... Needs to be stopped..."
Edri rolled her eyes. "Well, if none of you are going to do anything about this hoyden, I will!" She burst through the door—
And stopped in amazement and horror.
A
young woman jumped on the voluminous feather bed like a child; her
silken gown hung in tatters from her body. A group of soldiers gathered
in the middle of the room. Edri spotted a severed hand on the floor, but
no sign of the soldier it belonged to. The strangest sight of all were
the hardened guards and burly soldiers engaged in jigging in time with
her movements.
"Eenie-meenie-meinie-mo!" The woman sang, as the soldiers danced before her. "Who will chop your neighbor's toe?"
She
stopped and pointed, and Edri watched in horror as the man, shaking
with fear, slowly drew his sword and drove it deep into the boot of the
man next to him.
She lunged. "Stop!" She cried as the victim
cried out in pain. She stared at the wild-haired woman. "Are you doing
this?" But how?
The woman trained her weird gaze on Edri.
"Didn't
you hear?" She lolled her head back and whispered, "I am the queen—"
now she shrieked, "I AM THE QUEEEEEN! I DO WHAT I WANT, AND EVERYONE
DOES WHAT I PLEASE!" She hopped down onto the back of the soldier curled
up in abject obeisance on the floor. "Look at me!" She demanded.
He raised his gaze.
"Bark like a puppy!" She said.
He gave three enthusiastic yelps.
Edri stared at the fantastic scene unfolding before her. "But how?" She cried. "No one person has that much power!"
"Of course I do!" Snapped the self-appointed Queen. "Now BOW TO ME!"
Edri
listened, but her own body betrayed her training, as she bowed low to
this woman who could have been nothing but a commoner like herself.
The Queen stared at her as she stood, apparently seeking some other command of this stranger.
"You
are different," she mused, peering closely. Finally, she stepped back.
"I know what you are!" She scowled upon the young soldier. "You're
UGLY!" she pronounced.
Edri fought the tightness in her chest as the word seemed to reach out of the woman's mouth to choke her.
"You should just stab yourself!"
It made sense when she said it. Edri barely noticed the dagger in her right hand.
"Do it!" The woman cheered.
At
the first bite of steel in skin, Edri felt the urge to continue just as
strongly as her body screamed at her to stop. Those were someone else's
hands, someone else's side the dagger pierced—but when she was done,
she had three new scars, and blood on the blade.
The queen's eyes bulged. "Do that again!" She cried.
Edri moved again, this time slashing at the meat of her leg, but still, nothing came of it.
She
felt the heated stares of the men standing at the edges of the room. It
was now or never. She slipped off her glove and held her left hand for
all to see. The skin there glowed with a bright blue light. Edri stood
without moving.
"What is it?" Asked the Queen.
"My
gift," Edri answered. "I can touch people and animals, and heal their
wounds." She turned to the man who had been stabbed in the foot. "May
I?"
He nodded, his face already ashen-grey from blood loss.
The red liquid bubbled out of the slit in the leather as he hobbled
forward. Edri bent down and placed her glowing hand on the boot. She
held it for a few seconds as the entire room held still and watched.
Finally she pulled away.
"Does it hurt anymore?" She asked.
The
man stared at his boot, confusion twisting his features. "No," he
stammered. Abruptly he stood, putting weight on the foot; then, as his
eyes widened in surprise, he slowly pulled his foot out. Everyone
counted five toes; there was not even a slight scar on his skin.
The Queen pulled her lips together in a pinch. "Leave us!" She announced.
Edri
didn't feel the strange compulsion, but at the same time, the entire
group shuffled out of the room. When they were alone, the half-dressed
woman sat on the stained and tattered couch, staring intently at Edri.
"My name is Zayra, what is yours?" She asked.
"Edri Rodan," Edri answered.
"You
have a gift, Edri Rodan," Zayra mused—but the way she said it sent
chills down Edri's spine. "I have a gift too," Zayra continued. "It's
not very popular among others. Sometimes I lose my memories."
Edri saw the madness hovering at the edges of Zayra's gaze. "You want me to try healing your mind?"
Zayra grinned coldly. "Yes! Make me better, more controlled—that must be the way!"
Edri gulped. "I don't know if I—"
"DO IT!" Zayra shrieked, grabbing Edri's wrist and placing it on her head.
Both
women screamed. Edri's ears rang with a cacophony of voices, disturbing
images full of darkness and horror. Just as suddenly as it began, the
noise and the visions ceased. Zayra slumped over in a dead faint.
Edri leaped to her feet.
"Help!" She called. "She's fainted!"
A
flash of red on her shoulder caught her eye. She stopped and peered at
it; somewhere during the attempt to heal Zarya's mind, he hair had gone
from blonde to a deep scarlet color.
There was no time to
think about this, as those gathered in the hall swarmed the room, with
the one remaining council member shouting out orders.
"Quickly
now, the room must be repaired! Take away the soiled linens and bring
fresh ones. She must continue believing that she is a queen!"
Edri slipped on her glove and approached the man. "Why is this important?"
His
eyes bulged. "How dare you question! You must never do so again. She
trusts you as her protector, so you will act as her personal guard. This
kingdom needs a ruler, so we're doing everything we can to give them
one!"
From castle grounds to within the tower itself. To
anyone else, it might feel like a promotion. To Edri Rodan, and (if the
visions were any indication) to Zayra, all these trappings were no more
than a lovely noose, a scarlet brand they could not escape.
~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~
Erlis
the Healer regained consciousness without opening her eyes. She slid
the tip of her tongue between her lips, tasting the scent of her two
house guests on the air.
One guest; the other scent was already cold.
Erlis sat up quickly and stared into the shadows, which seemed to brighten with her focused gaze.
"Jaran!" She hissed. "Wake up!"
The young prince stirred and rolled over slowly. "'Mmph, what is it?"
"Harlock is missing."
Jaran's
eyes popped open and he jerked upright. "Blast! Where could he have
gone?" Wasn't it just yesterday that he had tried to recall any memory
of his former life, and pronounced all attempts utter failure?
Erlis curled her lips in a pensive smirk. "Apparently he may have remembered more than he admitted to us."
"That's not fair!" Jaran protested. "Why wouldn't he trust us, after all we did for him?"
Erlis tilted her head. "Do not look at me, Highness; it was not my actions that caused him pain yesterday."
Jaran flushed and shrugged. "I was trying..."
"I
know." Erlis nodded. "Stay here, I'll gather some things for breakfast
and see if I can find any sign of him." She put on her thick black robe
and slipped out of the house. As she turned, a thin object fluttered to
the ground. Jaran waited till he could not hear her footsteps before
stopping to pick it up.
Shining red against the black material
that matched the cape Erlis wore was an embroidered crest—not just any
crest, but the one belonging to his family. Erlis came from the palace!
Was she a plant, intended to intercept him on purpose and return him to
the council?
"I have not actually worn that patch for some time."
Jaran
flinched so hard that he pulsed, but Erlis ducked out of the bolt's
trajectory. She picked up the patch when he dropped it.
"You!" He spluttered. "You once served in the palace?"
Erlis
nodded. "I was a healer when your parents were alive. Until—" she
stopped, pressing her lips too late as she wished the word unsaid.
Jaran pressed her. "Until what?"
She fixed him with a glare that radiated from her golden dragon eye.
"Until they weren't," she stated, and swept past him into the house.
Jaran didn't take the hint to drop the matter. "I never really knew my parents. Everyone treats their death as some big secret."
Erlis took a seat near the fire, but her body was still tense and rigid. "Enough, Jaran," she warned.
He kept talking. "I know they were both very ill, but I could never find out more than that. Do you know what happened?"
Erlis was staring out the window, concern etched into her face. "Be silent, Jaran," she insisted.
He
huffed. "No! I mean it! If you were a healer, couldn't you help them?
Tell me how they died! Why are you keeping this from me?"
"QUIET!" A rumble of dragon roar underlaid her voice as she yelled at him.
Jaran finally turned to see what she was looking at.
A
Hunter—The Hunter—stalked down the lane, a furious scowl on her face.
She gestured to the palace soldiers—wearing the black livery of the Twin
Regents—and pointed down the alleys. "Find whatever Thugs you can;
bring them to the edge of the Wilderness. We'll find him if it's the
last big hunt of my career!"
When Jaran turned to look at Erlis, she was already staring at him.
"Your
parents' death is a mistake I will have to live with the rest of my
life," she said quietly. "That is all you need to know."
Jaran
felt an uneasiness settle in the pit of his stomach. "What is the
Hunter doing here in the harbor?" He asked. "Whom is she hunting?"
Erlis raised an eyebrow. "Whom do you think, dear runaway prince?"
~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~
"The Hunter is coming," said the milk-haired person.
Velora
grinned and tapped the tips of her claws against each other. "Let him
come," she's seethed. "My pack will take care of him."
The
newcomer cast her a withering look, but did not reply. Instead, she
nodded to Damaris. "And what will you do?" She observed the tongues of
fire wreathing his wrists. "Burn the Hunter to a crisp?" Before he could
reply, she approached Korsan. "Seriously? This is all you could enlist?
A cub and a two-legged matchstick?"
"Hey!" Both Damaris and
Velora lunged for her, but they collided with each other, as the woman
with the white hair observed them while leaning casually on the opposite
wall.
The Mage shrugged. "I did no recruiting; these were
already here when I returned from foraging, Aurelle." He winked at her.
"One could reasonably suspect you of planning something."
Aurelle snorted. "If I did, I would have chosen better allies." She stood and walked back among the group. She glared at Velora.
"The
Hunter is no ordinary woodsman. She is the single biggest threat to the
continued existence of the Outcasts. If she's tracking any of you, she
will find you. If she loses a fight, she has a way of escaping, only to
return with an even bigger army. Do not make the mistake of
underestimating her."
Velora huffed. "I'm read—" before she
had finished speaking, Aurelle lunged forward, bumping against Velora's
breastplate. Velora involuntarily looked down to see a handle protruding
from her breastplate, blood seeping down the hilt. It had been so
sudden, she didn't even feel it. The keen edge of a knife pressed
against her throat and Aurelle hissed in her ear from behind, "You were
saying?"
Velora reached up to her throat—and felt her neck,
unscathed. She looked down at her chest again, and the knife had
vanished, taking the grisly wound with it. The armor was not even
scratched.
Aurelle regarded her. "I'd say you have a ways to go, young pup." She sighed and walked right past the stunned Velora.
"So, Korsan, if these are all we have, we best get them trained before the Hunter shows up."
Korsan chuckled. "I assume you bought us some time?"
Aurelle
smiled. "A little; but she'll be back, and with a fresh army." She
nodded back at Velora. "That's nice armor; I'm assuming you picked it up
on your way out of the forest?"
Velora sniffed. "How did you—"
"You
and your pack left a mess and plenty of trail for the Hunter to find.
You need to learn about covering your tracks. You might assume that
you're invincible enough to withstand anything that follows you—but
unless you are the most powerful being in the world, you are better off
just not leaving a trail."
Korsan stood and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I will stay here and train Damaris to control his flames."
"Barricade the cave after we leave, won't you?" Aurelle recommended.
"Don't get caught," Korsan replied.
Velora followed the woman out to a dune just outside the cave. "Where are we going?"
"Back
to your mess," Aurelle replied. "No doubt the Hunter left troops behind
to guard the area. We'll just give them some motivation."
Velora groaned. "But it's going to take a whole day, maybe more, to get there!"
Aurelle smiled. "Not the way I travel." She gripped Velora's arm. "Hold tight!"
~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~
Velora
felt smothered in darkness till it suddenly dissipated, and she stood
in a thicket of trees. She looked around for the gleam of white hair,
but not even her keen, wolfish eyes could discern anything.
She opened her mouth to call for Aurelle, when she felt a hand tighten on her wrist.
"I'm right here," said a voice. "Don't. Say. Anything."
Velora squinted at her wrist, but all she could make out were the soft indentations of fingers on her skin.
"How are you doing that?" She asked the air.
Light
shifted softly till it formed the shape of a person. "Part of my Gift,"
Aurelle whispered. "I can create the illusion of invisibility by
bending light around me, or making you believe that all you can see is
empty forest." She tugged on Velora's wrist, forcing the young woman to
crouch low in the bushes. Finally, Velora could see her, concealed in
the undergrowth and watching something else carefully. Aurelle beckoned
to Velora. "Come see the consequence of leaving your mess behind."
Velora crept forward, peering between branches to see a blazing bonfire at the center of a camp teeming with castle soldiers.
"The
Hunter would have brought them, leaving them behind in case the quarry
shows up, meanwhile she's probably gathering a bunch of Thugs to come
back and overpower the person she's after."
Velora had to agree that it was definitely not a good situation.
No
less than twenty soldiers gathered around the campfire. At any given
time, five of them carefully watched the perimeter of the camp, while
the rest ate and slept as they waited for their rotation.
"So
tell me, Wolf," Aurelle mused. "Would your method be to invite your
wolves out for a snack and try to overpower the men before you lifted a
finger?"
Velora glared at her. "Of course I would!"
"What if your pack was back in the wilderness and there's not enough time for them to get here?"
Velora's
eyes narrowed even further. Her claws bit into the branch she held. She
took a deep sniff, the heavy scent of sweaty, unwashed men and old food
bolstering her frustration.
"Then what would you suggest?" She growled at the aggravating woman.
Aurelle
only smiled, and her image faded into the shadows of the forest. "You
become the Wolf. Use your senses to weed out the easy prey, use your
claws to silence them. We take them out one by one until there are none
left."
Velora scowled. "What exactly is your gift, anyway?"
Aurelle raised her eyebrows. "I'm an illusionist; I can make people see things that aren't there."
Velora
sensed a shift in the wind. Her instincts triggered a moment before she
noticed a spark hovering over the fire—hovering, and not moving. She
peered closer as the spark slowly moved in lazy whorls, up to the
shoulder of the soldier on the far side of the camp.
Finally, Velora pointed. "Things like that?" She asked.
Aurelle,
who had just been in the act of vanishing, abruptly became solid again
as the soldier noticed the glowing "ember" on his shoulder.
"That's not me," she murmured.
Pandemonium erupted in the camp.
"Fairies!" Screamed one of the soldiers. "It's fairies attacking us!"
Weapons materialized and blasted in all directions as the little ball of light dodged easily among the frenzied men.
"Move
or be discovered!" Aurelle's voice rang, galvanizing Velora into
action. The two women joined the frenzy, taking down the soldiers one by
one as they scrambled in blind panic. When the last soldier fell,
Aurelle and Velora stood in the middle of the clearing, with the fairy
between them.
A body of a slain soldier—a sniper, by the looks
of it—dropped out of the treetops, and a second followed it, this one
landing on his feet.
Velora and Aurelle stared as the man
reached out and cupped the fairy in his hands. He was dressed like a
sailor, with dingy trousers and wearing no shirt, his dark hair loosely
tied back at the nape of his neck. Velora noted that he had broken the
sniper's neck before tossing him down. He glanced warily from the claws
to Aurelle's glowing eyes.
"Who are you?" Aurelle demanded.
The
man opened his hands and let the fairy fly up to burrow in his hair.
"My name is Harlock," he answered, "and I'm afraid that's all I can tell
you. I would have offered help sooner but I didn't know you were there
until you attacked." He grinned. "So who might you be, and what
possessed you to attack armed soldiers in the woods?"
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