I’ve known pain in my life. After all, who hasn’t known the subtle, niggling sting of living? It pricks at you daily. Slowly drawing motes of blood until you breathe your last as it takes the last drop.
Nothing, however, could have prepared me for the day they took my beloved Karina from me. I still remember her how her face shined that morning before I left. I can even still smell the expensive oils she used to bathe with.
She was my everything. Her bright smile was my dawn. Her loving dark eyes my reason for drawing breath.
These past few weeks have left me wondering if we shouldn’t have splurged so much on such finery. People take notice of that kind of thing. Especially in Shyre. The wise hide their wealth or are protected enough to make it known.
I often worked extra hours at the Broken Boar just so we could afford such luxuries. But again, she was my heart and soul. Again, she was worth it. I tell this true: If you love someone, cherish them. Treat them as you would a precious flower. Because like a mist, they can vanish from your life in an instant.
Sometimes I think she might still be alive had I been there. Maybe I could have been enough to stop the men who had taken her from me. In reality, the truth was far harsher. I was only a simple cook, not a trained swordsman. I would have been helpless. At least in death, we could have been together.
The guard was of no help, though they said they tried. It came as no surprise. I wasn’t an official citizen. It was something Karina and I had been working toward.
I sought a necromancer, but the cost was too steep. Even if one could to summon her spirit to bear witness of the crime, most courts wouldn’t allow it as evidence. Spirits could be tampered with, or so they claimed.
Still, I know who took Karina from me. I’ve seen them in the Great Bazaar on my forays to refill the Broken Boar’s stores. I’ve watched how they observe passersby. Their beady gazes are like rats scavenging for scraps at whatever table they saw most opportune. They would scurry about the merchant booths like tiny a pack. Their eyes ever-shifting for new prey and purses to lift.
Each day I bear witness to this behavior, the deeper my hatred grows. It festers within my soul like a disease. It tempts me and eats away at my restraint. I often wonder how easily my cook’s knives could carve their flesh. Why do such men deserve to live?
It’s a question I’ve pondered many a lonely night. Even now, late into the evening, with the kitchen cleaned and the tavern closed as I wander home. My only comfort in this arduous trudge, a bottle of Absonian spirits.
It had become a paltry substitute for her, and like any other evening, part of me hopes these same men will come for me tonight. Perchance I can send their black souls to the Keeper. To send them to whatever awaits them in his icy embrace.
It’s a fruitless effort, I know. I have nothing they want. Yet, it has become my singular hope. Even if I die, Karina and I would be together.
“Such a sad face. So much despair contained within it.” I pause, the man’s voice barely registering in my drunken haze. His tone reeks of contempt and mockery. “I’ve seen much despair in my life, but perhaps nothing that cuts as deeply as yours.”
My stomach overturns and I fall to my knees. I reach out to the wall of the building beside me for support. My body jerks and I heave, emptying all that I had drunk onto the street and my trousers. The smell nearly made me heave a second time.
“What would you know?!” I reply, lifting my head to look at him.
His clothes and appearance left much to be desired. The rags covering him were tattered and well worn. The stitching was horrid, but functional enough to keep him from being naked.
His skeletal frame showed he had barely eaten. It had probably been days since his last meal. Grey stubble covered his cheeks and his head was shaved bare. The whites of his eyes were yellowed, like a man who had drunk more than his share.
“Oh, my friend, you don’t live on these streets without seeing despair in its many forms,” he answers. “Shyre, for all its beauty, has another side that it fights to keep hidden.”
Curling my lip in disgust, I pull myself up. “I don’t have time for beggars or life lessons.”
“I see,” he replied, the sound of his disappointment echoing in my ears. “Then I suppose you have no time for justice to be served on behalf of your departed wife?”
Like a kiln inflamed, I was suddenly consumed, my chest burning, and my heart pounding. It was as if all the hatred I had clung to so tightly these weeks and months had been released all at once.
The old man toppled. In a mad rage, I had pounced upon him. My right fist stung. When the haze cleared, I was covered in blood. His blood. He simply cackled like a madman in response. Some of his teeth were missing from his blood-splattered mouth.
“That’s what it takes!” he shouted. “That’s the rage you’ll need to gain your justice and grant her peace!”
Horrified and disgusted, I pull away. I could have killed him. What could he possibly know? How could he understand what I’ve been through! Even in disgust of myself, loss reestablished a foothold in my heart.
“What justice could you possibly offer?!”
“Enough to right a wrong,” he replied, his bloody grin making him more ghastly to look at. “There are ways to punish those who escape from the law,” he added.
“And what would such a thing cost me?”
He smiled wider. “Nothing,” he replied. “My reasons are my own, but we share a common interest.”
“They took something from you too?”
He nods, his face hardening and eyes growing cold. “In a way,” he answered. “They took something before its proper time.”
“Then teach me what I must do.”
He laughed. “Do, oh my boy, it’s so simple.” He held out his right hand, a black flame igniting within his palm. When the ominous fire died, a wooden box sat its place. “
The box seemed simple enough. There were glyphs carved all over it. The symbols gave no inkling of their meaning. Then again, I’m no mage. “If it’s so simple, why can’t you do it?”
“Because I don’t foster the resentment you do,” he replied. “That is the key to the magic you want. Sure, I’m angry, but you… you have what the incant requires.”
Taking the box, I’m first surprised by how light it feels. I’d thought it would be heavier. The feel of the wood grain was strange as I touched its stained black surface. As I ran my fingers across it, trying to discern what it was made of, the rough texture offered a hint.
“Is this bone?”
The old man laughed. “How perceptive,” he replied. “Yes, it is. Crafted from the remains of one of the Forgotten.”
Forgotten? The old man seemed amused by my curiosity. Karina always said I wore my emotions well. “So, what do I do with this?”
“Find a crossroads or intersecting street, then bury it at the center.” He drew a dagger from the folded tatters of his clothes. “Cut your palm and whisper: Zvrish nez gelia. Your deliverer will come and broker a deal for the men who took your wife.”
I took the knife, then stared at the box. When I looked up, he was gone, vanished like mist. I ran my fingers across the lid. Whether it was a conscious act, or one of comfort and hope, I cannot say.
Something felt wrong about this. The feeling niggled at me, pricking at my mind. I should forget about this and toss this bone crafted container behind.
“Doubt doesn’t bring closure,” the old man chimed in, his voice echoing from the darkness around me.
My mind began to wander, my thoughts turning to her. With its purchase secured in my heart, loss quickly won the debate.
I turned away, leaving the sidestreet I had drunkenly wandered into. The walk home was quiet, almost chilling. Upon my arrival, I placed the box and knife on the floor by our bed. I washed up, then laid down. Sleep, however, eluded me.
All I could think of was the fact I had the chance I had prayed for. The opportunity to make things right. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. It clung to me like the sheets of our bed.
Over the next few days, my hesitation grew. I found I couldn’t touch another bottle of ale. The very smell turned my stomach. Sobriety offered clarity, however. Work and the box quickly consumed my mind. Particularly what should I do with it?
Oddly, I felt lighter. It was as if my encounter with the old man had somehow lifted a burden I had been carrying. I dare even say I felt happy.
Another week passed and the bustle of the Boar continued to become enough to occupy my thoughts and mind. With the upcoming Founder’s Festival, business had soared. The few rooms we had for boarders were rented into the coming month.
I began experimenting with new dishes and to Jarroe’s, the Boar’s owner, delight they were a success. He even offered me a few extra coppers for the week if we broke our serving record.
“Digan, you’ve been different these past few days.”
I looked up, my mind snapping toward the present. During the rush, one tends to focus more on preparing and cooking the orders than on noticing the people around them. “Have I? I hadn’t noticed.”
The smile Brenn wore seemed to make her beautiful face shine. She laughed, grabbing the next order. “It’s definitely noticeable,” she said, then winked, taking the dishes I’d finished and walking toward her patrons to serve them.
It was hard not to smile back at her. The moment quickly passed when I saw who was at her table. It was them. Their shifty, greed ridden faces were all too familiar. They had their eyes on her. One of them even reached out to grab her.
Brenn easily maneuvered around him. It was a skill many of the servers quickly learned to develop. Jarroe tried to keep such incidents to a minimum.
“Come now, sit in old Pip’s lap,” one of them cackled. “You’ll enjoy it.”
Brenn smiled. “I doubt I’ll find much to enjoy.” She then added, “If you even have anything worth enjoying at all.”
Pip’s eyes flashed with anger, while his companions laughed at him.
“I like this one. She a bit of a furnace,” one of them chimed in.
Another one of them reached out, placing his hand on her thigh. Brenn was quick to slap it away. “We don’t allow that here,” she said.
My hand stung. Only then did I realize I was gripping my cook’s knife so hard it was shaking. I stepped toward the doorway and into the main room, knife still in hand.
“The four of you need to pay for your food and leave!”
They look up at me, sneers on their faces. “And what whitewashed hole did you climb from?” Pip asked. “You exist to serve us, cook.”
They started laughing, but to my ears, it only sounded like chittering rats. There was a scream, and I blinked. My hand was still on my knife, but it was planted through Pip’s hand and anchored to the table. Brenn was behind me. I didn’t need to look to know she was terrified. It could sense it.
“My hand! You stabbed my hand, you stupid bumpkin!”
Pip’s comrades were on their feet, knives drawn. The room went deathly quiet. From behind them, I saw two sellswords stand and draw their weapons.
“You’re going to pay for that, Cook,” one of Pip’s companions said. “If you knew who we were, you’d show us proper respect.”
At this point, the sellswords had stepped up behind them. One of them, a tall woman in heavy armor, leaned forward and whispered. “How about I bend you over and teach you respect with my blade?”
The gaunt man spun around to cut her when she grabbed his wrist and throat. He cried out, dropping his knife as her companion, a dwarf with a claymore, put his sword to Pip’s throat.
“I’d be leavin’ if I were ya,” he said.
Pip’s face was beet red with rage, but he nodded. The woman let Pip’s comrade go, tossing him aside like a burlap sack. With a malicious glint in his eye, the dwarf didn’t bother with being delicate as he pulled my knife free. He twisted it, tearing out bits of the rogue’s hand as he dislodged it.
Pip screamed, grabbing a tablecloth to stem the bleeding. “You and your whore have a lot to learn,” he sneered, fighting against the sellswords as they rushed him and his companions out the front door.
I took a breath, feeling a bit lightheaded as Brenn grabbed me from behind, wrapping her arms about my waist and resting her head against my back. She squeezed me tight and a warmth I hadn’t felt in so long filled me. “Digan, I would have been fine,” she said. “But thank you.”
“It was the only thing I knew to do.” It was partially a lie. I didn’t remember stabbing him.
She squeezed me tighter. “I wouldn’t have expected anything less. You’re a good man, Digan.”
I don’t know why, but I reached for her hands, taking them into mine, and gently squeezed them. Again the warmth returned, but in the shadows of this feeling came something deeper, like the frosty edge of a dull knife. I couldn’t do this. These feelings were a betrayal of Karina’s memory.
“We should get back to work.” I pull away only to realize the entire tavern had been staring at us. The dwarven sellsword and his companion were both grinning ear to ear from their table and whispering to themselves as they looked at us.
There were others too. It came as no surprise. There were many regulars who knew my story and people do tend to talk. I’m sure many felt I needed to move on after so many months.
They just don’t understand.
The atmosphere in the room changed. The lively nature of the Broken Boar returned as quickly as it had left. Bren seemed especially radiant, casting an occasional glance my way from the main room and into the kitchen. I tried not to smile and stay focused, but she made it hard to resist.
Each time I noticed, the warmth I felt earlier greeted me along with the betrayal it would leave in its wake. Jarroe had said nothing about the incident. No one had been hurt and regulars were still coming in. I think, in a way, he was happy that someone else other than himself had stepped up to stop the rats from causing any harm.
The day rolled on and eventually; the crowd died down until they were all but gone. There were always a few stragglers or people who had drunk too much. Typically, it was a dwarf or a Graz from the beast tribes.
Convincing either it was closing time was always a feat. Graz in particular. They were almost as big as trolls. Their gruff bear-like appearance didn’t help matters, either. Even barehanded, you never wanted to get into a bar fight with a Graz. Their claws were as sharp as any of my knives.
Closing up was never a quick task, especially today. We had turned so many tables and there was much to clean. The dishes sat piled high.
“Are you almost done?” Bren asked.
“Not quite,” I reply, setting some of the clean plates aside. She was leaning against the doorframe, her blue dress swaying slightly from a breeze that had blown through the front door of the main room. Jarroe must be outside cleaning the windows, I thought.
“How much longer?” she asked. “I was hoping you could walk me home?”
I winced, part of me hoping she hadn’t seen the expression. “I may be here for a few more hours. We had a full day. Jarroe likes it when I tidy up before I leave.”
“Oh,” she said. “That’s too bad.”
Her disappointment rang clear in my ears.
“Maybe tomorrow?” she asked, sounding hopeful.
I nodded, turning my attention back toward the sink. “Perhaps tomorrow.” I couldn’t look at the disappointment on her face. It would have only made this harder. Truthfully, there wasn’t as much left as I had let on.
The sound of her boots drifted away from the doorway as she headed out. Jarroe mirrored them as he drew closer. “She likes you,” he said. “Far be it for me to interfere, but you’re a scrag brained fool, as the Sokorans are fond of saying.”
“I can’t do this, Jarroe. I can’t betray Karina.”
There was a long sigh. “Karina is dead, Digan, let her go.”
“Let her go?! You say that as if it were so easy…” I was shaking as I turned to face him. My heart pounded in my ears. “What happens when I do? What happens when I can’t remember her face anymore? Or her warmth? Or anything else that made Karina who she was?”
I don’t know if it was the look on his face or the sadness radiating in his eyes, but either way, it felt like nothing but contempt. My vision blurred as my eyes watered. “Digan, why don’t you go home? I’ll finish up.”
I could only shake my head in agreement and removed my apron. I could almost hear the Absonian spirits calling to me by the bar. No, not tonight! I told myself.
The walk home was like any other, but sober it took less time. I was a little guilt-ridden. Jarroe meant well, and reluctantly I had to admit I was drawn to Bren’s tender nature. Still, it wouldn’t be right. Karina would never forgive me.
Once I finally reached home, as was my routine, I washed up and went to bed. As I lay there, before sleep claimed me, I found myself staring at the black box on the floor by the bed.
“Life can be so cruel.”
The rest of the week went well and every evening, Bren would ask me to walk her home. My response was always the same.
Her response was likewise and always hopeful. “Maybe tomorrow?”
It was funny. The more I told her no, the more determined she became. Sometimes I would catch myself staring at her through the serving window as she moved from table to table tending to the Boar’s patrons. Even today, on Fifthsday, she seemed to glide effortlessly across the hardwood floors.
Maybe I should buy her something…
Jarroe had promised all of us a little extra for the great week we had. The festival was tomorrow. We could go, she and I. Jarroe can get Senda to cook for the evening in my stead. Even as the ideas churned, in their wake was the subtle sting of betrayal.
I clenched my fist, pushing all thoughts of her aside.
“Digan? Is my order ready yet?”
I blink and scan the stove, doubling my pace. “Almost Seretta!”
“Maybe if he didn’t stare so much at Bren, Seretta, we’d already have turned those tables,” Kylesa chimed as she grabbed her order. “Though it is about time he looked at something other than food.”
I winced as she giggled. Kylesa meant well. I understood that. She was Shaylin, an elf, but we didn’t use the word ‘elf’ around her. The last person who had used the slur on her ended with some of their fingers cut off with a steak knife. The word had something to do with their history, a reference she didn’t talk about.
“Ladies please,” Jarroe said after stepping into the kitchen. “Leave the man be. Go help the other girls with their tables.” Both women rolled their eyes and went back to work. “Don’t mind them,” he added while putting an apron on. “They mean well.”
“I know…”
“Good, because you’re going to the festival tomorrow,” he said.
I glanced at him, slightly curious. “Are we setting up a booth like last year?”
Jarroe shook his head. “I had thought about it, but if I did, how would Bren enjoy the celebration if you weren’t there with her?”
Staring at him was about all I could do. Was he reading my mind?! “Jarroe, please… stop.”
“No, you can take her tomorrow or not come back at all after tonight,” he replied sternly.
Surprise completely took me. He has no right! “That’s not fair! You can’t do that!”
“I own the Broken Boar, I can do whatever I sloshing well please!”
Flabbergasted, I could only sigh.
“Digan, everybody sees it. Why can you?” he asked.
“I just… I…”
He touched my shoulder, patting it softly. “We’ll talk later. Let’s get through the midden rush first.”
We worked at a rigorous pace over the next few hours. Orders came flying in and were sent right back out. We even turned it into a game. Jarroe was an excellent cook. It truth, I learned a great deal from him over the years.
Some patrons had started ordering extra just to place bets on us. It was technically illegal, but no one here was going to tell the guard. After a couple more hours, the bets had reached a few gold pences. It was a first!
“Oh come now, boy! Don’t let this old man beat you out!” he shouted.
“The student can become the master,” I shouted back. “Dannu, give me every order you have!”
“Getting cocky now?” Jarroe sniped. “And where are you going to cook that much food with both of us standing here?”
I simply grin. “It’s all about portioning, old man!”
In my mind, I had partitioned the stove’s flat surface like a King’s Board. I had no idea what orders Dannu had or how many patrons she was tending. It was an honest gamble, but one that paid off. She had six tables. One of a five top, another a double, and the rest triples.
The triples’ orders were nearly identical. Dannu had a knack for suggestive ordering. It was mostly because it made it simpler to serve them and avoid getting the orders wrong. Still, it more or less gave me enough room to maximize the space on my side of the stove.
Jarroe gave me a sly smile. “Clever bastard! I see your game!” he said and laughed.
By the end of the night, bellies were full and Jarroe ended up with heavily lined pockets. That, in turn, meant we also earned extra for the night. The girls were thrilled, but the largest surprise was when Jarroe handed me my cut.
“You’ve earned this,” he said, taking care not to let anyone see what he was handing pressing into my palm and closed my hand. He then leaned in close and whispered. “Spend it on Bren at the festival.”
My heart nearly skipped a beat as I glimpsed the two gold pences that was part of his cut from the last round of betting. I couldn’t earn this much in two months. “This… Jarroe… this… you can’t.”
He frowned, causing the wrinkles on his face to knead together like dough. “I bloody well can, boy. Now, do as I say!” His stern expression gave way to a wolfish grin.
“But it’s so much…” Again, I was flabbergasted. I’d never know him to do something so outrageous.
He quickly smacked me over the head with his hand. “Keep your voice down, you dolt! Or the ladies in the other room will revolt!”
I winced, rubbing my head, but still managed a smirk. The girls would kill him if they found out how much he had given up.
A soft giggle drew our attention. Bren was standing in the doorway of the kitchen. “What are you two on about?”
She has been wearing a long, red wool dress for the day and kept her soft auburn hair pulled up in a bun. I don’t know why, but today, it made her light blue eyes stand out more than usual. “Oh… nothing,” I answered. “Nothing at all.”
“Oh, by the Keeper’s Shadow, but tell her you, idiot!” Jarroe pipped up. “Or I will!”
Bren glanced at him curiously, furrowing her brow, then back at me.
“Bren, would you… attend…”
“Yes,” she replied before I could finish. “I will.”
“But, I didn’t even…”
She rushed toward me, placing her index finger on my lips before I could utter another word. “You didn’t have to,” she replied with a smile, then shrugged. “I knew you ask.”
My heartbeat quickened, betrayal reaching its spindly fingers across its surface, trying to stifle and strangle what I was feeling away from me. No, not this time! I told myself, breaking free of their grip.
“Then I had best finish up here, so I’ll be ready in the morning.”
She smiled warmly. “You had better or I’ll have Kylesa cut your fingers off!”
Laughter erupted from the serving window, followed by two loud thuds. I knew their particular tone all too well. Some of the other girls who were still cleaning up were staring in our direction curiously.
“If you have time to laugh, then you have ample time to stay late and clean!” Jarroe shouted.
The laughter came to an abrupt halt. Curious, I peered around the kitchen doorway to confirm my suspicions.
Kylesa and Seretta and fallen to the floor in hysterics. Their faces were crimson, Kylesa’s pointed ears were especially bright. Both were gasping for air as they pulled themselves to their feet, casting sly glances my way.
This will never end.
“So I guess we will meet here in the morning?” Bren asked, drawing my attention.
Left speechless, my nerves frayed in anticipation, I could only nod.
She giggled softly. “Then I won’t ask you to walk me home. I want to save that for tomorrow.”
I smiled. “Until tomorrow then.”
She smiled back, then kissed my cheek and slid past me through the kitchen doorway. The other girls gave her looks of approval as she headed toward the front door of the tavern. Especially Kylesa and Seretta.
“You had best behave yourself tomorrow, Bren,” I faintly overheard Dannu comment.
Bren blushed, then scowled at her before finally leaving. Part of me was sad to see her go, especially when she closed the door behind her. I jumped, the familiar sting of Jarroe flicking my ear, drawing my attention.
“Work now, gawk later,” he grinned. “You need to get your rest.”
With the moment passed, I focused on the kitchen. Time flew, or perhaps it was in anticipation of tomorrow. When I looked up, it was only me standing there. The girls had already gone home. Jarroe had likely retired to his chambers to go over the books. It was one of his many nightly rituals.
I washed up and after making sure the tavern was secured, locked up for the night, and began my trek home. It was hard not to smile as I thought about Bren. Guilt crept in each time my mind turned toward her. I fought it, pushing it back as best as I could.
So many months had gone by. Perhaps Jarroe was right. Karina… I promise not to forget you.
A sudden scream drew my attention. I looked around, realizing I had wandered a bit out of the way of home. Whoever had screamed was close. Another scream sounded and my heart almost stopped.
Bren!
I ran toward it, the sound of laughter chiming into my ears the closer. I recognized their particular shrill. Pip… No!
I rounded the bend into the alley and fell to my knees. Bren was lying on cobblestones, her beautiful red dress shredded and body nearly bare.
“I told you that you would enjoy what I was offering!” Pip cackled madly. “I know I sure did.”
“You…”
Pip and his companions turned toward me, eyes wide in surprise. Each man’s expression then changed. Becoming twisted as sadistic grins wound their way across each man’s face. “Well now, we must be in luck! We got ourselves a bonus, boyz!”
Their laughter became nothing more than the chittering of ravenous rats. But my gaze was on Bren. They had carved up her beautiful face.
With her cheeks shorn and nose broken, blood covered it like a ballroom mask. Her expression showed how much they had made her suffer. Her body was in even worse shape. Even a cook can understand how to cut flesh. They had taken their time, and once finished, the rats had gutted her. They even robbed her body of what made her a woman.
Pip grabbed my face and turned my head to ensure our eyes would meet. “You stabbed my hand, bumpkin!” he sneered. “I think it’s only fair I stab yours…” He then gestured to his companions. “Hold him.”
“You killed her…” I knew how pathetic I must have sounded. So weak and useless. My tone seemed to embolden the rats as they chittered on.
He laughed along with his friends. “Aye, and we did a bit more than that before she finally passed. I have to say, I didn’t think I would savor it as much as did.”
There was no remorse in his eyes, no hint of anything human. He was a monster, cloaked in human form. Pip and his friends were everything I had ever imagined. Nothing more than vermin.
My chest burned, and I screamed, red crossing my vision. At times, I felt hard jolts to my head, back and sides. My fists hurt and my right hand was on fire as if I had stuck it on flat against the stove at the Boar. Nothing made sense. In the end, there was only excruciating pain and Pip’s chittering laughter.
When the haze cleared, the pain grew worse. I found myself laying beside Bren’s body. They must have drug me next to her and left me for dead. I look around, pain shooting through my neck.
True to his word, Pip had stabbed me in the hand. I could feel where their daggers had cut me across the back. Thankfully, they had been too busy enjoying themselves. I’d been cut by plenty of cooking knives to understand the difference between a shallow cut and a deep one. That still hadn’t stopped them from beating me senseless.
My knuckles were bloody. I hope I at least did some damage. I reached toward Bren, her lifeless eyes staring at me from the awkward angle of where her head lay. They had taken another… I should have used the box. I should have!
“So that’s it then?” It was the voice of the old man from before. I couldn’t see well enough to be sure. My right eye was swollen shut and my left just barely open. “I give you a precious thing and you squander the opportunity! Now, look at what you have done!”
“It’s not my fault! It’s not!”
“Oh, shut up! You knew this would happen,” he spat. “You knew the kind of men they were, yet you hesitated and now because of you, she is dead!”
Tears were my only response. What more was there to say? He was absolutely right.
“So are you just going to die and leave both women unavenged? How many more must they rob, brutalize and kill before action is taken?”
He didn’t stop. I was helpless to do anything but listen to his words before I fell unconscious from the pain. As I listened, my hatred rekindled. It burned hotter than a smithy and I knew if I survived, that they would finally die. The vermin weren’t deserving enough to be allowed to live.
“Digan?”
I opened my eyes and when my vision cleared, Jarroe and the other girls were standing around me. Each of them were staring, some of them close to tears. Jarroe looked the most worried out of them all. I tilted my head. My neck fiercely sore. I was at the Boar, in a bed. Probably one of the guest rooms.
“Digan…” once he had spoken my name a second time, he, and the girls, became overcome with joy and started crying. They were simply overjoyed that I was okay, though I didn’t feel as if I were. “Digan, we were so terrified you wouldn’t make it. You had lost so much blood…”
There was a Reeve standing dutifully by the door. His expression stern. I knew I had to choose my words carefully. “Jarroe… what… where?”
“You’re home now, with us,” he replied. “We were lucky the Reeves found you and took you to a healer.” He paused, swallowing hard and wiping the tears from his eyes. “Digan, we need to know if you saw who murdered Bren.”
I shook my head. “No, it was too dark. Everything happened so quickly. I heard a scream and ran toward the sound. I was so overcome when I saw her laying there that I became too distracted to notice anything before they attacked me.”
The Reeve didn’t need to know. None of them did. There were better ways to take care of this.
“Your knuckles tell a different story. Or so I’m told from the report. It says you appeared to have put up quite a fight,” the Reeve by the door chimed in. He had a dark complexion, his hair curly. It was his gaze, though. There was an intensity that showed he was not a man to trifle with.
“I was fighting for my life and in a panic. I only pray I hurt them badly.” My tone was calm and even. It was a bit frightening. Perhaps it was my renewed sense of hatred for Pip and his rats.
The Reeve tightened his lip as if contemplating something. “So not even a sliver to identify the people responsible for this vile act?”
“Sir, I swear if I knew who did this, I would beg you to let me watch as you punished them.” Again, my indifferent tone surprised me. It’s true what they say. Hatred changes you.
The guardsmen nodded. “Then I will take my leave. Should you recall anything, come to the Barrows and let them know to need to speak to Tovrek.”
“I will.”
With that, he promptly left. “Jarroe, how long I have I been here?”
“Four days.”
“What did they do with Bren’s body?”
“They were going to take her to the charnel house before we stopped them. We pooled together to buy her a plot. A necromancer is preparing her body for proper burial.”
“Take my earnings from that night and spend it all on everything for her.”
His mouth fell open. “All of it?”
“All of it. Give her a plot and headstone worthy of her.”
He reached for my hand and squeezed it. “Whatever it takes, I’ll get it done.” He then turned to the servers. “Ladies, let’s give him some space. He’s been through enough.”
One by one, he ushered them out. But the expressions they wore ate at me. In my heart I knew it wasn’t pity they felt, but sorrow. This time, all of us had lost someone. In my mind, however, all I could hear was how pathetic I had been. My inaction had caused this tragedy. It was more proof of how right the old man had been.
I made my mind up. Tonight the Forgotten would be summoned. This nightmare would end. I would exterminate the rats.
Throughout the day, Jarroe or one of the girls would come and check on me. We would talk briefly, but not of anything significant. They were still trying to make sense of it. I felt guilty for lying to them, but at least by tomorrow, it would all be over.
The shadows cast long and soon the sun set. I gathered enough strength to pull myself out of bed and peer through the window as the girls left for their homes or lofts. Living space for the lower class was a premium. Kylesa and Seretta lived together. It was most economical that way.
I heard Jarroe through the door coming down the hall and eased my way over to the bed. He opened the door moments later, carrying a tray of meats and cheeses.
“I know you already ate earlier, but in case you were still hungry, I brought up something to nibble one.” There was something fatherly about him. He always gave that sense, even as hard as he was. I never knew my father and my mother died when I was still young. In a way, I guess he was as close as I could comprehend what a father should be.
“I appreciate it, Jarroe. You’ve always been there for me.”
“We’re family here. Well, except for that bastard, Kitas. Worst hire I ever decided on.”
It hurt to laugh, but I laughed anyway. Kitas had only been with us a few months. He was horrible for the place. Always hitting on the girls and skimping slivers when no one was looking. He didn’t understand what Jarroe was trying to build.
Jarroe’s smirk lessened the sense of loss in my heart, but only for a moment. I tightened my lip. I can’t get distracted now. “He was pretty awful. Couldn’t even hold a tray properly.”
Jarroe laughed. “Couldn’t wash a dish either,” he added. “You know, I heard he got sent to the stocks. Wouldn’t surprise me if he was still there.”
“Seems like a good place to send a rat…”
The mirth in Jarroe’s tone dimmed. “Digan, I know you’re planning something. I may be old, but I’m not stupid.”
I wasn’t a good liar when cornered. Karina always found me out when I tried surprising her. “It will be over tonight. I just need you to trust me.”
“I do, but these people are dangerous. You’re not a fighter.”
“Jarroe, I won’t be hunting them.”
He grew quiet. “Then tell Tavrik what you know and end this.”
“I can end this my own way.”
His cheeks became flushed. In all the years I had known Jarroe, I had never seen him so angry. Not even to the point of tears. “Then I’ll take your money and make room for you beside Bren!” he shouted. “There’s more than enough to make a monument to this stupidity! We have lost enough!”
I clenched my fists, my heart growing cold. “And we won’t lose anyone else, ever again.”
“Fine! Run off on whatever errand you have planned, but if you do, don’t come back!”
“Jarroe…”
He was shaking and in tears. He tried to speak, but words appeared to fail him as he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The silence was deafening. Almost deterring. Almost.
I got up from the bed and searched the room for my clothes. Once dressed, I made my way down and the stairs. On my way to the front door, I felt Jarroe staring at me from the kitchen.
“I just need you to trust me.” There was no response. I didn’t even bother to look back. Instead, I reached for the door handle and stepped onto the street.
The walk home was brief. I couldn’t recall it ever happening this quickly. The box was under the bed. The knife nestled comfortably on top. I pulled them out and scooped them up, cradling them like a mother would her child, and slipped out the front door, back into the night. No more time needed to be wasted.
I knew I would need to head to the docks in the West Quarter. There were several cross streets that had yet to be paved in cobblestone. Once I arrived at Fisher’s Row, it suddenly dawned on me I had forgotten to bring something to dig with.
“Of all the nights!” Searching around, I found a few old crates. Some of the wood was loose enough to break away and improvise. The old man had never said how deep to dig, so I assumed it only needed enough to be put in the ground and covered over.
I dug frantically, and once the hole was deep enough, I placed the box inside and covered it. With the knife in hand, I ran the blade across my palm, drawing blood. Again, I was only guessing, but I let it fall over where I buried the box.
“Zvrish Nez Gelia.” Silence followed. “Zvrish Nez Gelia.” Still nothing. I clench my fist harder, the flow of blood moving more freely. “Zvrish Nez Gelia.” Silence. That liar! That scrag throwing, mule shrekking….
“Such language,” a soft feminine voice commented. “Your mind is screaming with so much obscenity that it would shake the dead from their graves.”
I turn, a woman approaches me. In form, she was perfection. It stole my breath to look upon her. The white gown she wore contoured to every curve. Her movements, precise and graceful.
Horns curved subtly out from her forehead, then slightly back, but weren’t nearly as distracting as the intensity of her molten yellow eyes. They blazed like fire, tempting you and drawing you in. The leathery wings on her back were contracted, but could easily extend out to twice her lithe, six-foot frame.
Her sultry gate had ensnared me like spider thread as she drew closer. I felt so small and insignificant in her presence. It gave the sense that our pact would cost me dearly.
“Are you going to gawk or make a pact?” Her smile revealed a small set of fangs.
“Pact…” I must have sounded so stupid. I felt absolutely idiotic. But even speaking in her presence was difficult.
“Oh, I forgot, you can’t handle standing so close to me.” She lifted her right hand, claws extending from her fingertips, and cut into my forehead with her index finger.
I winced, but couldn’t move. I can only endure. Her eyes flared with each cut. She was enjoying this. Enjoying the pain she was causing.
“There, I have claimed you,” she says.
“Claimed me?” I could suddenly move. The allure she had over me had vanished.
She smiled. “Indeed. I would have done it either way, but at least now we can speak.”
“So what happens now?”
She leaned in, just so her lips were within a breath of my ear. “Whatever you wish for.”
“Then I want Pip and his rats… companions slain. I want all of them dead!”
I sensed the atmosphere around me shift. Her wings tremble as if she were delighted. “Your hatred. Your pain… I can barely contain myself. It’s so pure. So beautiful.”
She cupped my face in her hands, resting her forehead against my own so the bridges of our noses touch. She smells of lilacs.
I sense her excitement. I feel it in her touch, but underneath, hidden just beneath the surface, lurks a predatory nature. It spoke of hunger. A yearning so intense that was both erotic and arousing.
“I want this… purity,” she whispered, briefly brushing her lips against mine. She was shaking, fighting was fighting for self-control. “What do you offer?” she gasped.
It was a strange question, but some part of me knew that money wasn’t. The smile on her face as she regained her composure said as much. She can read my thoughts.
Yes, mortal. I can. I can read everything, see everything within that beautiful mind! She replied. I know their faces. I have burned them to memory. There is no place in this world they and theirs cannot hide. It will be a massacre of epic proportions!
A chill ran through me. Even if I had wished them dead, I had never met anyone who delighted in murder the way she did. “What is your price for such a thing?”
She pulled away, a wicked grin on her face. “You…”
In my heart, I knew it would come to this, though I had hoped. Jarroe had been right. I was dealing with something otherworldly. Something from the darkest imaginings.
The Forgotten pursed her lips. “Oh come now, don’t be squeamish,” she chided. “You knew. Don’t pretend or hope for otherwise.”
“My life for theirs?”
She laughed. “Your life? Oh, no. I want your soul.”
“Then my soul…”
“Think carefully,” she warned, cutting me off. “There is no turning back. Once you speak those words…” She left the statement hanging in the air, her fangs flashing as she grinned. “Are you certain you have the courage?”
I glared at her, rage bubbling to the surface. My resolve was cemented the moment I left the Boar. “I offer myself to you. I offer my soul.”
Delight radiated in her molten eyes. “Oh, you lovely thing…” she purred. “Let us get started.”
She vanished. I glanced at the center of the cross street. It was undisturbed. The gravel and dirt pristine, as if I had never dug it up. The knife in my hand was gone. The incision I had made healed.
Did she take the knife?
The cross street grew eerily cold. I wrapped my arms around myself for warmth as I waited. I lost track of time and my impatience grew. After a while, the familiar clomp of a Reeve patrol sounded in my ears, and I decided to head home. I didn’t need to explain why I was here so late. The moon was already nearing its full swing. Dawn would come soon.
The chill lingered at my back, shadowing me like a cloak. I’ve heard tale about those who were dying are often overcome by a similar chill. Some called it the Keeper’s Shadow. They believed it was a sign he was near.
By the time I got home, dawn’s first wisps of light reached like elongated fingers from the horizon. I was shivering now. I couldn’t help but think she had lied. Why else would I feel this way?
I climbed into bed, wrapping my blankets around me. They did nothing.
I thought of the Forgotten, of Pip, and his rats. What would she do? How would they be punished? With the deed done, I thought I might feel something, but there was nothing. Vermin didn’t deserve pity or remorse.
My eyes grew heavy. It wasn’t surprising. I had been up all night. I closed them and despite my ceaseless shivering, sleep found me.
In the drift to full slumber, I was overcome and enveloped by a warmth that my mind struggled to comprehend. It filled me, touching every part of my being straight into my soul. When I opened my eyes, I saw the room bathed in light.
I lay there staring, my heart quickening as I lay eyes on Karina beside me. I froze, paralyzed, while my mind buzzed with questions. She smelled of lilacs, the lilacs I had I thought I had forgotten.
The sheets lay spread across her still, sleeping frame like clothing. They covered her nakedness invitingly. I yearned to pull them away and drink in her beauty.
The way her dark auburn curls draped around her head and shoulders just like I remembered. Her pale skin, so soft and tender at a glance. My heart beat faster in anticipation as I reached for her, but the room shifted and so did she.
The warmth vanished with the light, leaving nothing but shadow and a cold, bitter chill in its wake. Horns grew from her forehead and wings sprouted from her back. Her dark auburn hair straightened itself and her pale skin took on a more olive, tanned tone.
The woman I had thought was Karina opened her eyes. Their familiar molten glow lit up the room. We aren’t done yet, mortal. She said, speaking directly to my mind.
“Why her?!” I asked. “Why my Karina?”
The Forgotten smiled widely, her fangs showing. “Oh my dearest love, do you not recognize your beloved wife?” she asked. “I am your Karina.”
I scrambled from the bed, mind reeling, chest aching. It was hard to breathe as I stood there staring at her. “No… you are not! Karina is dead! They took her!”
She pushed herself up; the sheets falling away like a veil. “I remember how it felt when you ran your fingers across the small of my back. How your touch excited me in ways few ever do. That was when I knew I needed to heed my lord’s advice. You needed to be savored, nurtured…” she paused, her eyes flaring. “Seasoned.”
The world spun. My stomach rolling over and over, chest growing ever tighter. I fell to my knees, the urge to heave gripping me stronger. “You could have read my mind. Searched my memories for what Karina liked!”
“I could have, Husband, but what would be the point? I have had many, but you are among the few who were beyond compare to them.”
“Lies! More Lies!” The sickness in my stomach grew. Tears streamed down my face.
“Oh, my Heart.” She slid from the bed. “Come here.”
I don’t know how, but I found the strength to stand and shuffled toward her. She pulled her naked body against me, wrapping her arms around me. Her wings followed next, their leathery membranes covering me like a cloak.
“All of this was to make you perfect, my love,” she whispered. “Your anguish. Your pain. Your loss and suffering. You tortured yourself so much, hated them so much.”
“Because… I loved you.”
“Yes, yes you did,” she replied, resting her forehead against mine. “I loved you too.”
“But the old man?”
The light in her eyes flickered. “He was me,” she replied, using his voice. “It was to prepare you. To make sure I properly marinaded you for this moment. A great stage for a grand performance.”
My legs were giving out. I could barely stand. She, however, held me up as if I weighed nothing at all. “I don’t understand. I… Karina…”
“Shh, dearest,” she said, her voice returning to normal. “It will be okay. We made a deal. Pip and everyone he was connected to is dead.” She softly touched the mark she had cut into my forehead. “You were always mine. This only cements my claim.”
I wanted to run, but I knew it was futile. Where could I go? Then it dawned on me. “Everyone he was connected to?”
“Why yes, love. Everyone. All because of you. I fed on each, and every, one of them.”
I thought of Jarroe, the girls and the rest of the Boar’s patrons. My heart sank as her knowing smiled confirmed my worst fears. “No… no… Karina why? Why them?” The tears wouldn’t stop. I could no longer stand, but she didn’t seem bothered and continued to hold me.
“Shhh, dearest, it’s almost time. I just have one last gift for you.”
“One… last… gift?” I sobbed.
She nodded and kissed my forehead. “Bren, you can come in now.”
Bren?? No… I don’t understand… she’s dead.
The front door opened, and to my horror, Bren trudged into the room. Her gait was awkward, her head tilted to one side. The shadows made it hard to see. Then there was the smell, and I knew hat Karina had done. Bren was nothing more than a walking corpse.
“Now we’re all here.” She gingerly stroked her lips against my own and then whispered, “Now we are complete.”
“No more,” I cried. “No more, please Karina.”
“Oh dearest, now you are ready. Just one kiss is all it takes.”
I stared into her eyes through the anguish, pain, and tears. The old man, or rather Karina, was right about one thing. In the end, I had a choice and all of this was my fault.
I pressed my lips to hers and after a brief moment of bliss, everything went dark.
