Chapter Sixteen - Drowning in a River of Pain

Raindrops fell upon him as he sat in his sanctuary. Rain was good; it hid his tears. His legs crossed, his hands rested in his lap as he sat upright, quietly weeping to himself. His brother, his own flesh and blood, his idol... he'd held him so high and now the halo had been shattered in the cruellest of ways. Through the eyes of a stranger, the very person he'd wanted to kill, he had seen his brother commit the most horrible of acts and all the illusions that Regnak had dreamt up had been shattered, the shards burying themselves ever deeper into his heart.

The rain continued to fall, each droplet glimmering translucently in the morning sun. He had nearly killed someone who had been so wronged by his kinsman; nearly eradicated the soul of someone who'd already been defiled beyond reason. That wasn't right; it shouldn't have been that way. To take the life of an innocent... no, that was inhuman. Worse than inhuman even... it was the very blight of all that is humanity. And it was all because of one person, one person who'd wanted Callo Merlose dead for their own gain. He had been used; no more than a puppet to whoever had been pulling his strings, his emotions. They had known about his past and exploited it, hurting him more than he could have ever imagined.

The day before Regnak had made himself cold, focusing on the one thing that could make everything better, or at least, not quite as bad. He'd been out on the streets doing... research. Yes, that's what he'd call it. Research. He had a name and that was all he needed. With that, he'd trace down the source and then...

The weapons he normally carried with him lay inside, resting upon his bed. No, Regnak would need no weapons at this juncture in time. One more time for certain, but after that? He hoped not. Maybe he could retire to the lush countryside that filled Valendia, living a life of quiet solitude Maybe find a small village to settle down in, a kind woman to take as his wife and a role in life more suited to the light side of his soul... Regnak Drummonds head was full of 'maybes', each one creating its own new pathway of imagination, a new dream that could be one day visited. One thing stopped him, one thing held him from his hopes, one thing blocked his path into a new life. No, this would not do at all; it had to be rectified...

And then he was gone, his requiem upon the rooftop ended and the weapons on his bed now safely in place upon his person. He walked through the streets, occasionally bumping soldiers with people but it didn't matter. They paid him no heed and he did likewise, continuing on his way. He now knew the day before had been spent wisely; inside his head was the information he needed to finish this once and for all.

It was so clear to him like the rain drops that still fell from the sky; each one containing the light and the dark in one. With every blessing comes a curse; with every shower of praise comes a torrent of abuse; with every flood comes a drought... he would be doing something that was both wrong and right at the same time. A double-edged sword indeed...

The sun had reached its zenith in the sky when Regnak finally arrived. From where he stood, he could see most of Valein; the only distraction from the view was the constant cooing coming from the pigeons in the aviary behind him. But it was this aviary that he had been looking for; the messages had been sent by carrier pigeons and he'd tracked them back to here. Now he only had to wait, and waiting was something he had gotten exceedingly good at.


Adren heard the sneers but he ignored them. It was nothing new to him; he'd been hearing them all of his life. He'd never spent too long in school, but the time he had passed there had been a period of constant torment. It wasn't his fault; it was never his fault. He was one of God's special children and for that he was singled out and hated by everyone else. They were jealous of his individuality, that's what his mother told him. They treated him so because they envied him. Whenever she said that, she always had tears in her eyes, each one ringing out the lie in her words. Somehow he'd actually believed that back then; everyone wants to believe they're special, that they're different from the masses.

No, everyone takes the piss out of a hunchback; that's all they're good for. They're not really human but not anything else either. They're deformed, freaks, incomplete. This was the reality of Adren's life and the reason he had fled to the church when his parents had died. Of course, he never told anyone how his parents died, that was his secret and his alone. No, no one was to know of how he'd throttled them both in their sleep. He didn't do it because he was a bad person, he did it because it was the only way he could escape, to break free of the tyranny they had placed upon him. He didn't like himself for what he had done but he knew it had been necessary for his own survival. He didn't seek forgiveness for it since he knew he could never forgive himself; it wasn't their fault they were cursed with a cripple such as he, they just couldn't cope with him.

So Adren ignored the sneers and the cajoling coming from the shadows as he loped down the street past the back alleys. They all knew who he was and knew not to touch him or they'd have his wrath upon them and they knew that they definitely didn't want that.

Stairs were always a pain to Adren but he did this for his new master. For him he'd do anything since he'd given him life again. He allowed him to be himself, to not have to worry about the weight of his hunch and how it would make people react to him. No, sneers could easily be ignored; living your life to the fullest couldn't. His lower back and legs ached as he hauled himself up the final flight of stairs. He came up here every day; it was good exercise but more importantly, his beloveds lived up here. He'd been most distressed when Bess hadn't come back, but then, what do you expect when dealing with assassins? He still didn't understand why the Cardinal had gone to him but his was not to ask questions of his betters and the Cardinal was most certainly that.

Opening the door, sunlight poured down upon him. In front of him was the wire cage framed with wood that was the home for his beloveds. Almost as one they cooed in welcome to their master but that was to be short-lived. As the door closed behind Adren, an ominous shadow fell upon him as a strange odour filled his nose.

"I wouldn't try anything if I were you. I've a bowgun aimed straight for your heart."

Adren shrugged slowly.

"Oh, and I covered the aviary with kerosene. One spark and all your pigeons roast."

"Bastard..." Adren hissed underneath his breath.

"Yes, but I prefer not to discuss my parentage with the likes of you. All I want is the answer to one question."

"Ask and ye may receive. Proverbs 2:14."

"Who are the messages from?"

"What messages?"

An arrow flew towards the aviary, hitting the floor a mere few centimetres away.

"Ah, those messages... why do you want to know?"

This time the arrow plunged into the wooden frame, drawing a sharp breath from the hunchback.

"The cardinal! The cardinal ordered me to send the messages!"

"The cardinal... what would he gain by Inquisitor Merlose's death? With the decimation of the Crimson Blades, he needs to retrieve power somehow... but how are they linked?" Slowly, Regnak shook his head. "One last thing; look behind the aviary."

Turning around and keeping his eye on Regnak, Adren loped backwards with some difficulty to behind the aviary. What he found there was something he most definitely hadn't been expecting; a puddle of liquid lay on the floor, its stench violating every cell of his being.

"B... but..."

"I'm not a monster. Once I was, but you could say I've rediscovered my humanity. I don't kill indiscriminately... Your pigeons were never in any danger. Sorry for the pretence."

When Adren turned around, Regnak was gone; the door creaking slowly closed. Shaking his head at his betrayal, Adren walked to the aviary and watched the birds for a moment. He liked birds; they carried the hope of a better tomorrow upon their wings...


Night was coming but still the rain wasn't abating; its drumming incessant upon the roofs of all the surrounding buildings. He stood at the window, his hands resting on the sill as he took in the chill of the evening. It invigorated him, suffusing him with a feeling of power and closeness to God. Yes, he liked the breeze; it carried the memories of time with it. He hadn't always controlled such vast power and authority; he'd started out as a humble priest, wandering the length and breadth of Valendia, preaching the word of God. But war came and he was forced to defend what he believed in. When the frontline had moved into the streets of Valein, he'd been dragged with it and ended up falling in love with the city. When the war had finally been settled, he'd received a promotion and found a place he could truly call home... and now here he was, the cardinal of Valendia's capital and the head of the church. The loss of the Crimson Blades in Leá Monde was a devastating blow but with the ancient Kildean powers that Ashley Riot held... he would need no army, nor a God to stock his faith in. He would be the god instead...

He turned from his window-side requiem and returned to his desk, his long red robes swaying gently as his strides took him across the room. Taking a tinderbox, he sparked it, giving the room an eerie glow. Lighting a candle with it, he laid it on his desk before sinking into his chair. It had been made centuries ago for the high priest of the Iocus brotherhood, hand-carved lovingly from rosewood; it was still in fine condition even after several centuries of wear and tear upon it. However, he couldn't let his mind rest on such things; thoughts would only lead him back into giddy anticipation of the power that would be his. Nay, he would write a discourse upon the war that was responsible for all that had happened to him afterwards. As he reached for the quill that sat in an inkpot upon his desk, the candle spluttered out.

Odd, I don't recall lea--

"For a man of such immense importance that he can use and abuse anyone he chooses, you really should be ashamed of your security."

Cardinal Batiste drew himself upright, refusing to turn and face the intruder. "I am a man of God, what need for security have I?"

"Man of God indeed..." A glistening globule of phlegm flew past the Cardinal's left arm, smashing into the desk, leaving streaks of spit across the fine upholstery. "No true man of God would toy with the lives of those who are their betters."

"And you consider yourself better me 'assassin'?" the last word carrying a heavy inflection.

"No, but certainly not worse. I may have sold my morals years ago, but I never sold my soul for personal gain."

"Ahh, spoken like a true VKP hound. Tell me Regnak Drummond, do you miss killing in the name of 'their' law?"

"Even the VKP are better than you and your corrupt religion. All you do is create false hope and then laugh as you watch the common people toil hard for you in blissful ignorance."

"To wit, by the same hand the VKP give the people a false sense of belief that they shall be protected; leaving them content to work towards giving the VKP even more control over their lives."

"This is neither here nor there. I came here for two things. First, I want to know why you want Callo Merlose dead." But silence and a stare were the only responses he received. "Or I could resort to violence. That's always fun."

"I think not assassin!" he heard the Cardinal say without moving his lips. It took a few seconds for him to realise that the Cardinal had spoken them telepathically... and then the pain began.

What started as a low whine slowly grew in pitch, its intensity shaking the insides of his skull. White lights flared in his eyes as Regnak dropped to his knees, clutching his ears. Staggering back to his feet, he tried to focus on drawing his bowgun. Sweat rolled from his brow, plummeting to the floor as he slowly raised his right arm. He tried to take arm but he couldn't see clearly; his vision was blurred and continually distorted by the flaring lights in his eyes. The Cardinal still stood where he was, but Regnak could no longer train a shot upon him properly. Squeezing the trigger in hope, a bolt flew across the room, missing Batiste by nearly a meter. It flew across the room, striking a small oil lamp affixed to the wall. As it fell to the floor, it shattered, oil spilling everywhere as the metal sparked, setting it alight.

Regnak dropped the bowgun, instead drawing a gladius. Staggering forwards, he aimed a kick at the Cardinal's chair, sending it crashing into the wall a few meters to his left where it burst into tattered fragments.

"...and just what do you hope to accomplish with that pig-sticker? You VKP never know when to give up do you? Let me make it easier for you to decide." With that, Cardinal Batiste raised his hands, an orange glow growing around them. Quickly, flames started dancing around them, growing into a large ball of fire. Realising what was happening; Regnak dived to his left, the fireball just missing him, smashing against the window, liquid flames spraying everywhere. As Regnak landed on his shoulder, he started to roll but pain flared up. Struggling to his feet, he yanked a chunk of wood from it, hot blood pumping forth from the fresh wound. As he looked up, he could no longer see the Cardinal at all.

"Not willing to admit defeat?" came a sibilant whisper at his right ear. Spinning around, he slashed with his blade, only meeting air; the Cardinal wasn't there.

"SHOW YOURSELF YOU BASTARD!" he screamed, wanting nothing more than the blood of the man who'd lied to him. His own life mattered no more to him, retribution was all he craved.

"As you wish..." Batiste appeared across the room from him, merely standing there, the ever-growing flames flickering around him. Screaming a cry of rage, Regnak threw himself across the room, running as fast as he could, the Cardinal still just standing there. As the blade came flying downwards, the Cardinal suddenly flickered. He no longer stood just before Regnak, but to his left. Regnak spun, the sword slicing through the smoke-filled air but again the Cardinal flickered. For nigh on a minute, the Cardinal danced around the ex-Riskbreaker, Regnak's attacks never meeting flesh. Finally giving up, Regnak sunk to his knees, hanging his head in defeat. The old mans powers were just too strong, he couldn't touch him...

A hand gently came to rest upon the top of Regnak's head. "Ready to give up now assassin?"

Regnak mumbled something but the Cardinal couldn't make it out. "Speak again; I'm afraid my hearing is fading with old age," he asked as he leant inwards.

The assassin looked up, staring straight into Batiste's eyes, defiance shining in his irises. "Never." He drove his right hand forward, the gladius sliding into the Cardinals stomach right up the hilt. Regnak forced himself to his feet one final time, placing a hand on the Cardinals shoulder for support.

"Riskbreakers don't give up until they're dead, you know that." Slowly, he forced the blade upwards, tearing through Batistes organs, hot, sticky blood spraying across both himself and the room. Finally pushing the old man from the blade, Regnak watched the corpse fall backwards onto the floor. With a tight-lipped grin of satisfaction, Regnak turned to the door but found his legs would no longer support him. Toppling to the floor, he clawed along the plush carpet, tearing it from its fitting to the walls. Pieces of the ceiling started falling as the very structure of the building shuddered, the flames having spread throughout the cathedral.

As the life drained from his shattered body, Regnak rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. Flames licked at it as more and more fragments began their swan dives to the floor. Slowly his eyes flickered closed, his vision fading from red and white to grey and finally to black. His last thoughts were whether he'd see his brother in the next world...