Chapter 7 – Oaths of Loyalty
For an eternity all that Edwynn knew was stumbling forward and pain. One of the bandits was driving him towards some unseen destination. A couple of times he tried to talk to the man, but all his efforts were met with a blow to the back with something heavy and iron. The boy figured it was the quiet bandit, but there was no way to be certain.
Sometime during the march, Edwynn felt Mythril's magic fade from him. To a degree, he was thankful. The awful smell inside the bag faded. Unfortunatly his strength faded as well. It was probably after midnight, and he had not eaten since midday. Also, the cold of his wet cloths and soggy boots returned with a vengeance. He started sneezing, and his nose began running. It smeared against the inside of the bag. As he marched, seemingly for hours, the sloshing interior of the bag grew more and more disgusting. With his hands bound behind his back, hew as forced to endure it in silence and misery.
After a forever, his capture began to steer him left and right. The ground began to rise and become broken. Edwynn stumbled and fell constantly, but his merciless jailor just dragged him on and on; sometimes by pulling, sometimes by pushing. The heavy iron object was used more and more often.
Finally they arrived wherever they were going. Orange torchlight seeped thru the bag, and the ground leveled and became wooden benieth his boots. The air became much warmer, and he had the feeling of being indoors.
"What's this then?" A strong male voice sounded.
"Found 'em in the woods, coming up the trail you used, m'lord. Rosie thinks he wasn't alone, so she didn't kill 'em. Instead I had to drag 'em up here."
The bag was roughly pulled from his head, smearing mucus across his face. Edwynn blinked in the sudden light. He was in a house somewhere. Before him was the same warrior from the Abbey this afternoon. The man's cloths were wet from the rain, and he wore his sword at his side. He looked hard at Edwynn's befouled face, then scanned his clothing. After a moment he smiled.
"The stable boy? Well isn't this a surprise. Did Jorik send you to spy on us?"
Edwynn was about to say something, but instead sneezed violently. This sent snot flying forward onto the warrior's tunic.
"Bastard!" The man threw a swift right that shattered Edwynn's nose. The boy was driven to the ground by the force of the blow.
""Gah! Now it's on my gloves as well!" The man wiped his glove across Edwynn's shirt. Then a cruel hand grabbed his hair and forced him to look upwards.
"Listen well whelp! My name is Crassius, and I am not a man of patience. But I can be fair and merciful given the proper motivations. Now I want you to understand something boy. You are going to die tonight. Probably within the hour. If you answer my questions truthfully, then I will insure your death with be swift and your mother may even recognize her baby's body. The man jerked back hard on Edwynn's head, causing him to gasp in shock.
"If you lie to me, or resist in any way, I will make you beg for death. I know how to draw pain from a body like water from a well. You will suffer agony beyond comprehension. And after you have confessed your most mortal secrets, I might just cut off your legs at the knees and give you to Onessa's demon hounds. You see, they like their prey to be alive and screaming as they rip open your stomach and feast on your entrails."
Cassius threw Edwynn's head forward so hard it bounced against the hardwood floor.
"Put him with the other one. I'll give him a quarter-hour to consider my offer before I begin my work."
The blow to his head made Edwynn dizzy. Hands grabbed him and dragged him to another room in the house. After a moment he was thrown roughly to the floor, and simply lay there. Pain from his broken nose and exhaustion overwhelmed him, and he passed out.
The sounds of a nearby fireplace could be heard, and its warmth started to drive away the cold of his rain soaked garments. At length, the sharp pain of his nose gave way to a dull, consistent throbbing. Breathing through his mouth, Edwynn tried not to swallow. Every time he did, the action would send pain thru his face. The coppery taste of blood mixed with the slime of nasal drainage. The combination made him want to vomit. On top of all of this, he would sneeze every minute or so, sending his head spinning. He couldn't imagine being in a worse situation.
'But it's going to get worse', he thought. Much worse. Crassius would be back soon, and that would be the end. There was no way out. His only hope was for Mythril to rescue him. He remembered how she had described not wanting to face a small number of bandits at the house. Now that he was in the center of their stronghold, why in the Light's name would she help him now? No, there was no one coming to rescue him. The only person he could count on was…"
"Edwynn?"
The name was spoken as a harsh whisper. Edwynn opened his eyes. He faced a large roaring fireplace. Rolling onto his back, he saw a low wooden ceiling covering a room about the size of the Crownguard's dining hall. A series of tables and bookshelves occupied the room. A figure was standing near one of the tables with their back to him. At the figure's feet sat a large crimson hound. The dog was watching him hungrily. It's eyes never blinked.
"Edwynn." The whisper came again.
Edwynn turned and looked behind him. Sitting against the wall was Brogan. His school robes were soaked black with blood near the waist. Through a gash in the garment, Edwynn could see a hasty bandage was probably the only reason his schoolmate was alive. Brogan's hands were tied together in front of him. Blond hair was plastered to his head, and his face was pale. But his eyes shone brightly. Too brightly. They had a crazed, feverish look to them.
"It's nice to see a familiar face." Brogan smiled weakly. "Id hate to think I was going to die alone."
"Brogan, what the hell are you doing here?"
"I was at the manor when the Defias attacked. They kidnapped me when they grabbed Myrista." Brogan gestured towards the figure with the dog. "That's Onessa. She's the one who told them not to kill me. She said I might be useful to them."
"Why? Are they going to ransom you? Your foster family doesn't have any money."
"They… I… Edwynn." Brogan's face contorted. He looked like he was about to laugh and cry at the same time. The blond boy looked at his schoolmate and his bottom lip started to tremble. "Edwynn, I have a confession. I… I can get us out of here."
"Really?" Edwynn felt his eyes grow wide. It was too much to hope for.
"Yes. It's rather funny actually." He half-laughed and half coughed. As his torso shook, his face was wracked with pain. "You see, I could leave whenever I want to. Whenever I choose to. That's the trick, see. The gimmick. I have to choose to live. But I was thinking that it would be better to die. But then what would happen to you and Myrista? Who would avenge the deaths of all those people tonight? But it's so tempting… It would be so easy… So much easier to slip away…" the blonde youth closed his eyes and his head sank back against the wall. His eyelids began to flutter like someone dreaming.
'He's mad' Edwynn thought. But the hope of escape, the promise of survival, it was too much.
"Brogan… Brogan!" The last whisper was too loud. Edwynn was certain the woman with the dog could hear him. But if she cared, she paid him no mind. Edwynn tried to shift himself closer to his friend.
"Wha…" Brogan practically jumped away. He blinked and looked around, confused. "I heard you… I… heard you." He looked at Edwynn, then across to the table and the woman.
"Edwynn, do you see that stack of books on the edge of the table?" Edwynn turned to face the table. Indeed, just to the left of the woman was a pile of books.
"See the second one from the top? The thick one with the green binding?" Edwynn nodded. "I need you to help me Ed. You have to get to that book."
Edwynn turned back to his friend, puzzled. Brogan's eyes still burned with their feverish glint. Brogan's gaze did not meet Edwynn's though. It seemed to bore thru the air to the book.
"Brogan, I don't understand…"
"The cover of that book has a bronze engraving. It looks like a hooded figure standing behind a sword thrust into the ground. There's a clasp holding the book closed. You have to get to that table. You have to open the book Edwynn. I can't move. I havn't been able to feel my legs for hours. But you… you can get to the table. Open the book Edwynn. Then… then I can get us out of here."
'This is insanity.' Edwynn thought to himself. But Brogan's voice was with certain. Filled with a kind of resigned sorrow.
"How am I supposed to get there?" Edwynn turned back to look at the table once more.
"She's seen to that." Brogan replied softly.
The woman by the table had not moved. Even her dog sat motionless as a statue. But before Edwynn could ask more questions loud footsteps sounded from the hall. Edwynn's heart sank. They were coming for him now. His time was up.
Three men entered. Crassius was not one of them. They were dressed in the dark leather of the bandits, but had pulled their masks down to reveal their faces. As they entered, two of them stopped at the door while one approached the lady.
"What is it?" the woman with the demon hound asked.
"Begging your pardon mame, but Master Padfoot has requested your presence at the gate. He told us to watch the prisoners while you went to see him."
"What?" The woman snapped. Her pet immediately stood and growled at the man. "How dare he? Has he forgotten that it is he who is working for us?"
"I can't speak to that mame. I can only say that the three of us were ordered to stay here mame. To watch the prisoners."
"Three grow men to watch two half-dead children? No wonder your pathetic Defias can't get a foothold in Redridge." The woman muttered in disgust and moved towards the door. "Touch nothing while I am gone. Everything here is under a powerful curse against would-be thieves. It would be a shame if your hands withered and fell off before I got back." Without a single glance towards the prisoners, she left, followed by the dog.
The three men crowded near the door and watched as her footsteps vanished into the hallway. At length one of them spoke. "Do you think it's true about the curse?"
"Who cares?" One of the bandits practically ran to Edwynn. Grabbing him by his shoulder, he hauled the boy to his feet. A dagger seemed to appear from nowhere. Turning Edwynn around to face the fire, the man began cutting his bonds.
"What?" was all Edwynn could exclaim. After a couple of seconds his hands were cut loose. Then the stranger roughly turned him to face his jailer. Edwynn was about to thank him, until he saw the malice in his liberator's eyes.
"So you killed Wedge, eh?" This bandit was tall, with a face riddled with pox scars. "He was my best mate, and he never lost a knife fight. Never."
The boy's eyes scanned the others. The second bandit stood at the doorway, but he seemed more afraid of someone looking in rather than for the prisoners escaping. He shook with nervousness. The third bandit, the one who had talked to the woman, stood by the table. His eyes kept darting between the door and the pox-faced bandit. "Hurry up and kill him, Mic! Lets do it and get out of here!"
"Not so fast." The pox-faced man pulled a second, smaller knife from his belt. "It's gotta look like he was trying to escape, otherwise Crassius will torture us in his stead. Naw, this runt's gonna put up a fight, aint ya?" The bandit, Mic, backed up and casually tossed the new knife handle-first at Edwynn. Even after all he'd been through, the boy caught it with ease. Mic held his own dagger causally in his right hand.
"Wedge n I had a bet going, see. Who's the best knife fighter in Northshire? You killed him, so I guess I owe you for helping me win. Thief's honor, see? So here's your payback. I'm gonna spare you a slow dying. So what's it gonna be boy? You gonna die on your feet like a man, or wait for Crassius to get here n bleed ya.
Edwynn swallowed, tasting blood, mucus, and the agony of his broken nose. The pain was sharp. And it helped him focus. Mic had a point, in his strange way. It was better to die quickly to a dagger than a slow death by torture. The boy looked down at the knife in his hand. It was a rusty steak knife, barely four inches long and not even sharp. Mic's blade was a foot and a half of razor edged steel. It was no contest. He could never survive, even if he had all the luck in the world.
"Men like us, we make our own luck."
The thought came to Edwynn with a shudder. It was Jorik's voice, from just this afternoon. Something Jorik's father had told him. Edwynn's eye shifted to Brogan. The wounded student's eyes had never left the green book.
"Time's up, runt." Mic sneered.
"You're right." Edwynn whipped up his wrist and let the blade fly.
In a thousand throws, he had never hit the heart-shaped bullseye of Jorik's target dummy. The steak knife was unbalanced and too light. It would not penetrate then bandit's dark leather, nor had it been Edwynn's intention to. It had been meant simply to serve as a distraction. And a spectacular distraction it made, striking Mic squarly in the eye. It sunk in until struck bone.
The scream would have woken the dead. For three whole heartbeats Edwynn stood like a idiot thinking 'Light what have I done?' Mic dropped his dagger and grabbed his face. He wrenched the rusty utensil from his socket with a wet sucking noise. The blade clattered to the floor, slick with translucent gore.
The clang of the blade seemed to break everyone's trances. The man at the door ran to help Mic. The one by the table run towards Edwynn with his hands outstretched. The boy waited for him to get close, then ducked inside his grip and tried to spin away. The move surprised the bandit, who only managed to grab a handful of waterlogged tunic. The thin material tore, and Edwynn sprinted for the table.
Reaching the stack of books, Edwynn shoved the top one aside and grabbed the green tome. The book matched Brogan's description perfectly. It had two bronze clasps to hold it closed. The bottom one was already open. The top one was fastened by an odd looking silver mechanism. Edwynn's fingers fumbled for the latch, but before he could do anything a heavy weight crashed into him from behind. The man who had ripped his shirt wrapped his arms around the boy's chest and lifted him clean off of the floor. He threw Edwynn back down against the table. The force drove the wind from the boy's lungs and there was a metallic ringing noise. The silver part of the clasp came off in Edwynn's hand, and the book flew across the room to land in front of the fireplace.
It was open.
A blow to his kidneys paralysed Edwynn with pain. Multiple sets of hands grabbed him and pulled him up. One bandit took each of his arms together they held him upright and prone. Mic stood before him, half his face covered with blood from his maimed eye. He screamed incoherently and rammed his fist into Edwynn's gut.
"That was for Wedge." He landed a second punch. "And that was for my eye." Mic stood back and scanned the floor. "I'll slit your throat as soon as I get my…"
Mic's dagger was not there. It had been picked up by Brogan. The robed boy raised his bound hands in front of him. He held the dagger's handle in his left hand, and was squeezing the naked blade with his right. Blood trickled onto the floor from his self inflicted wound. His eyes were closed and his lips were moving. The sounds his mouth made could not be called words. Their language was alien and evil. It made Edwynn's hairs stand up just to hear them.
Brogan's eyes flashed open. His gaze swept the room.
"The pact is sworn! Release him! Flee for your lives!" The words seemed more a warning than a threat.
One of the bandits holding Edwynn's arm looked from Brogan to the book and back to Brogan. "It's the curse!"
"The hell it is." Mic scooped up the steak knife from the floor. "We knew there couldn't be witnesses. Just have to kill this one first, that's all."
Brogan shut his eyes and spoke a word. Instantly his skin blackened. His fingernails seemed to extend. He screamed and threw back his head, revealing a wolf like set of fangs. When he opened his eyes, they glowed red.
The two men holding Edwynn released him. The boy fell back and slid to rest against the table. One bandit fumbled for his weapon while the other one backed away along the table's edge. Mic stood dumbfounded, unsure of what his eye beheld.
The Brogan-creature spoke and this time it was Mic who screamed. The brigand dripped his weapon and clawed at his own chest. He tried to scream, but his lungs refused to cooperate. It felt as though he was being stabbed in the chest by some invisible assailant. As fell to his knees in agony, Brogan rose. He tore away the hasty bandages, and Edwynn saw that his friend's gaping stomach wound was regenerating. The enchanted black skin slowly closed to seal the gaping wound. The creature held up it's hands, still bound together by rope. It muttered in it's dark language, and the hemp coils began to decay. Right before their eyes the strands rotted and frayed, finally snapping apart. The bits that fell were dust by the time they landed on the floor.
The bandit closest to Edwynn finally drew his own dagger. Brogan's glowing eyes turned towards him, and he started chanting. Fire began to seep from his palms. It dripped between his fingers like water, but did not burn his skin. The flames grew and grew, as did the chanting. After a couple of seconds Brogan shouted the final words of the spell. He clenched his fists and the flames vanished, only to explode into existence on the bandit's chest. The man screamed as the magical inferno spread across his body. In seconds his whole person was consumed by fire. He ran towards the door and tripped over Mic's spasming form. The two men fell into a heap, and the flames devoured them both.
The last man cowered terrified in the corner. Brogan raised his hand and made a beckoning motion with his claw like fingers. A sickly green mist rose from his victim's skin. It poured off of him like hot wax, and spread through the air to the spell caster's hand. The creature seemed to drink it in, gaining strength from the flow. The bandit meanwhile, struggled against the evil magic, but to no avail. His skin grew ashen, and open sores appeared. His hair turned silver, than white. He fell to his knees, gasping for breath. When his corpse fell forward onto the ground, it looked like the body of a man 50 winters old.
At last the creature turned its smoldering gaze to Edwynn. It lowered its hands and seemed to regard him as a child would regard an insect. Its breathing was deep and strong.. All signs of the mortally wounded boy he had been moments ago were gone.
"It is done." The entity said in a voice that sounded like Brogan's but deeper, and seeming to come from across a great distance. "My fate is sealed. I have bound myself to the powers of the Twisting Neither. I am a warlock, now and forever. May the Light have mercy on my soul