Chapter 6: The Vigilante's Plight
Alexei Stripeback didn't need to check his records but he did anyway out of habit. Once more flipping to a hand-drawn map near the back of a little book, he tapped a set of paths. At the beginning of every month Karok was always seen raiding the baron in Two Rivers, and before that he was around Mossflower Village.
There were three known paths to cross the hills between the two towns, but this was the most remote and least-traveled.
The skunk snapped his book shut and placed a hand on the head of Eoduin, his Mystical hound that was half-wolf, then looked around at the towering pines that had been his companions for two slow days, and now the beginning of a third.
His father had only granted him leave for a week because he had assured him that he knew where Karok would be and was absolutely certain he could catch the thief. Tomorrow would be his last chance before he had to start back.
Still, heavy guilt pulled at him to recall he was missing the king and queen's funeral this day for what very well could be a futile mission. Mortesen needed a friend right now more than ever. But he also needed closure, and that's why Alexei had made the choice not to stay at the castle when he had a narrow window of opportunity.
None of the bandits in the dungeon knew who hired them except for their leader, and he had been killed during the attack, his body shoved unceremoniously into a ravine afterward. They cursed Karok's name and refused to say anything else, so it was obvious they weren't in league with him, but all the same...
He had picked this place along the trail because it had a sharp bend making it hard to see anything until a traveler was nearly on top of it. Only three times in the last two days had Alexei moved the blockade to allow people to pass through, intensely grateful that once they recognized his uniform they decided not to ask questions. The first day had been difficult after he'd set the trap with a set of magical snares he'd learned recently, especially since he wouldn't have had the energy to fight Karok if he'd appeared right away. Only his hound's constant vigilance made him confident that the vagabond wouldn't be able to slip by during the night.
Alexei's thoughts were broken by Eoduin's warning growl as she detected someone on the path ahead. He rose to his feet to see who it was and half a minute later a deer bearing a rider stopped at the sight of him, throwing its head back in alarm. Athena was surprised, but she didn't flee immediately.
"Karok, I have a message for you," Alexei called, gripping his spear rather than sword as he stepped past the blockade. "Cosium can no longer suffer you to roam freely. This is your only chance to surrender."
Athena said nothing. She simply had Flora turn around. Having anticipated such a response, the skunk dropped to one knee and touched a cord half-buried by the dirt, whispering words he had practiced so many times that he could nearly say them in his sleep.
Magic slipped along its length until the net at the far end sprang to life, stretching itself between the trees on either side of the path.
The stag pranced uneasily, not liking this in the least. His rider didn't look back, urging him to run for the woods now that the trail was barred. Flora had just dived into the early morning shadows of the trees when he sensed something wrong and pulled back, but not soon enough.
Sticky, invisible strands of what was most easily described as a spiderweb tangled around his head and forelegs. He struggled madly but couldn't get loose, the kicking and bucking only serving to get him more thoroughly caught as well as dislodge Athena. She tried to calm him, but the poor stag was out of his mind with panic.
"I will release it," Alexei said behind her. "I don't enjoy tormenting creatures. But I'm afraid it will have to wait until our business is complete. No sense wasting time."
"I suppose not." She straightened, hand on her sword hilt and voice once more somewhat masculine. "You went to quite a lot of effort for this moment. I'm almost flattered."
Their weapons met, her blade glancing off the metal-plated shaft in a failed attempt at Swallow Rides the Air. She dropped into a crouch and then darted forward with The Lion Springs, but it did no better.
Alexei fought more as though he was using a quarterstaff than a spear and the hedgehog found herself pushed back by his skills and the unfamiliarity of fighting against this weapon. He always seemed to meet her sword in just the right spot or deflect it in such a way that every strike was rendered powerless.
Deciding this duel was getting too risky, Athena focused. A second later her blows came faster and more forcefully, sliding from one sword form directly into another. Alexei was surprised by this new strength. His footwork became less fluid and at times he skidded trying to keep his balance when she struck especially hard.
With more confidence she noticed the skunk was entirely on the defensive, backing up and side-stepping as she gained ground.
Alexei risked a glance rearward and saw that he was nearly against the wide netting across the path. Nervous sweat made its way down the side of his face. Athena gave a smile, beginning a swift technique, Black Pebbles on Snow.
Unexpectedly Alexei slipped under her guard with more speed than he'd shown thus far. She tried to twist aside, but he was too close. The butt of his spear flew up directly toward her face, cracking into the jaw and cheekbone. Before she could recover, he was behind her and a solid kick sent her flying into the net.
The threads were strung taut, and the second she bounced into them, they contracted. Like a snare, the entire net snapped inward and folded itself around her.
Alexei stood there watching her struggle until she realized it was useless. Even her strength could do nothing against the rubbery material that had effectively trussed her up. With an irritated noise she let go of her sword. He untangled it from the webbing and slid it into his belt, then took hold of her feet without any sign of gloating. After dragging her all the way back to his small camp, he pulled a flask from his satchel.
"If you want me to cut you out of that, drink this. Otherwise it will be a long, uncomfortable trip wrapped up in there."
"What is it?" she asked, suspicious.
"A potion that deadens all feeling in the body. You'll go limp and probably unconscious, but it will wear off tomorrow and leave no lasting effects."
"Bite my tail!" she growled, her fingers finally managing to grab one of the pouches at her waist.
Beans spilled onto the ground and burst outward, tendrils reaching straight for the skunk. Before they could touch him, there was an explosion as lightning shot out from his hands and fried them. It briefly arced to Athena and she couldn't keep back the scream of pain and surprise.
If she'd known he was a Lightning-wielder she wouldn't have been foolish enough to attack until he had his guard down. When she opened her eyes again, Alexei was staring at her with something akin to disgust.
"Your voice gives you away. I didn't want to believe it. I really didn't."
He reached down and grabbed hold of her left boot, yanking it off. Her irate cry went unheeded and he pulled something out of the bag at his side. Athena's eyes widened at the sight of her mother's slipper...the one she had thought lost after fighting the bandits that attacked the king. She'd wondered where it went, but didn't care enough to go searching.
"A perfect fit, Thia," he muttered with no triumph, staring at the shoe on her foot. Alexei swiped it off and threw it back into his bag, pulling savagely on the cord. It was clear he also recognized her from the ball. "You're a disgrace to the name of Karok."
"Male chauvinist pig!" she screamed, thrashing in the net simply because she had no other way to express her anger.
He turned on her, violet eyes blazing. "I don't see how expecting someone who spoke, dressed and acted like a man to actually be a man is chauvinistic. I respect women. That's why it hurts me that I had to force you into this position. It makes me look like an ill-bred cad. I don't suppose you have a dress to change into."
She spat at his feet, too mad to give a response with enough insults she felt he deserved. He ignored the rude gesture, simply signaling to Eoduin who obediently came and stood beside the net. Athena watched him walk away, feeling dirt and pebbles cling to her sweat-dampened fur and wishing she could move enough to wipe them from her face. He went along the path, touching the spaces between the trees. All the invisible webs he'd set up dissipated. Flora darted into the pines the moment he was free. When Alexei returned, he appeared less upset and spoke in a calmer manner.
"I'm not accusing you of disgracing Karok because of something you can't help, like your gender. I say that because of what you do." He began to dismantle the blockade. "Karok is my idol. He helped the peasantry only enough to the point where they could do things on their own. He never went beyond what was absolutely necessary. You've been making everyone dependent on you, and it's an unsustainable position since you can't keep that role forever. That's the difference."
Athena gave a spiteful glare. "They're dying in front of me and you think I should stop helping?! Do you even know what they go through?"
The skunk glanced her way, shoving one last pine branch onto the side of the path. "Of course. If my father hadn't been such a good soldier, our family would still be in Ruatha working under Baron Jaxom. But the only way to truly enact any real change is by going to the top. My father worked nearly seven years before he gained the rank and respect that put him into King Negolas's good graces. Sometimes the things he's said made an impression on the king, but it had to be done carefully. It just takes time."
"The people don't have time. I dig graves every week!" she shouted. "I was able to show Mortesen the truth in a single day and what do you and your father have to brag about after years of effort?"
Alexei clenched his gloved fists, growing so angry that his thick tail bristled up. "You're an idiot girl! Don't you realize that plan could have backfired more easily than it succeeded?! The only reason Mortesen listened is because his mother taught him compassion! If you had tried that with any other member of the Royal family, the retribution for such a thing could have condemned thousands of peasants to death or slavery. Is that what you wanted?!"
She said nothing, watching as he picked up the flask with its potion again and walked over. He jammed the opening against her teeth and shoved her head back.
"I wish I could trust you enough to avoid this, but I know I can't. My horse is fully rested. If I leave now and ride all night, I can have you at the castle by dawn tomorrow."
Athena suddenly realized what being caught meant. She would be taken to the castle dungeon, chained up helplessly, maybe tortured—and Mortesen would be there! She tried to spit out the liquid, but the muscles in her mouth refused to cooperate. Her fingers dug into the earth as she did everything she could to fight the lack of feeling that spread downward from her throat.
"NO!" she tried to scream, but it came out an incoherent shriek as her tongue went numb. 'Don't let him see me...'
The vivid trees overhead turned into sharp green spears thrusting themselves into a blue sky that darkened unnaturally, then there was nothing.
The Following Morning…
Sunlight had barely begun to touch the castle's upper towers when Alexei came within sight of it. The prisoner lying across the saddle in front of him shifted and muttered, but she was in no position to cause any trouble yet.
He reached forward, tucking his cloak more tightly around Athena's shoulders to keep back the morning chill, then gave a convulsive shudder, wishing once again that he'd brought a second. At least it was finally beginning to warm up. The night's ride had been difficult and uncomfortable.
At the same time in the Royal Wing, Rakar was trapped in a dream that had replayed in his head countless times since the attack. No matter how hard he tried to repress the memories, they always surged back when he was most vulnerable...
Soldiers were dying all around him, fully taken by surprise and hemmed in on both sides with no retreat. Rakar could barely control his horse as the scent of blood filled its nostrils and death cries came from every direction.
King Negolas shouted at his family to dismount. Priscilla slipped down and dragged her son off his nervous horse, pulling him against the cliffside and ducking to the ground. The king's steed angled in front of them as he raised his hands, a compressed windstorm gathering there. But before it could gain enough strength for him to direct it at their enemies, plants sprang up everywhere, grabbing hold of the bandits. One seized his horse and it reared, throwing Negolas to the ground. His ball of hurricane winds shattered, flying everywhere in aimless bursts.
The plants stopped growing and the bandits who hadn't been snared by them approached. One stomped a boot down on Negolas's upper arm as he tried to regain his feet. A sword tip dug into his back, its owner smiling with peculiar mirth.
"Is the mighty king going to beg for mercy?" the weasel laughed.
"Only if you swear to release my wife and son," came the answer, his pride still evident. He was willing to humiliate himself, but not pointlessly.
"No promises." His voice was almost taunting.
"Then you'll get no such satisfaction out of me, vermin." Negolas flinched as the sword bit deeper, but he refused to cry out. Instead he twisted his head to look at his family. "Rakar, get your mother awa—!"
He got no chance to say anything else. Priscilla grabbed Rakar and wrapped her arms around him, hiding his face in her wide, draping sleeves to keep him from seeing it. But she couldn't block his ears. The sounds of his father's fingers tearing at the loose rocks and the gurgle of his last breath half-choked by blood seemed to fill the air all around him, so loud that it seemed to echo everywhere.
Nasty laughter pulled him out of the paralyzed stupor. His mother's whole body trembled around him.
"Fade away," she whispered into his ear. "You can do it, Rakar!"
"You know I can't!" he protested, voice cracking.
He could hardly do anything with the Dark Element he'd inherited from Priscilla, much less a third-level technique like diffuse his body into shadows. Even she didn't have enough power to do that.
"You have a king's blood in your veins. You're stronger than you think you are, my darling. Try!"
It was the first time in his living memory she'd ever called him anything other than "Rakar" or "son". He looked up, seeing tears on her frightened face. Every trace of the stern, aloof queen was gone.
But filthy hands tore her away from him and the mockery of their attackers melted into a stream of blurry words he couldn't seem to make any sense of until the weasel stabbed her through the heart, cutting off one last desperate cry for her son to flee.
Rakar couldn't think. The world had gone grainy so that the blood that dripped down his mother's buttercup-yellow dress looked like thick, clotting sand.
Above her still body, the weasel flippantly gestured to the others and said, "Who wants to kill the runt? I earned my pay today."
You're stronger than you think you are, my darling…
He reacted on pure instinct as a gray rabbit sprang forward with barbarous malice in his eyes. Ducking under the thrust, Rakar grabbed the bare arm above him and used his gift. Without warning the bandit dropped to the ground in sudden weakness. It was a simple matter to disarm him and use the rabbit's own weapon to slit his throat.
You're stronger than you think…
For an instant no one moved. Then another bandit stepped forward, striking out. Rakar did the same thing to him. Surprise and confusion sifted through the faces of those looking at him.
You're stronger…
Now the brown hedgehog dove in among them, his movements almost growing mechanical as he blocked, touched and stabbed over and over. Their loss of strength that accompanied having half a soul ripped away gave him plenty of opportunity to kill before they had time to recover.
Stronger…
He could feel the power pouring into his body with every theft, making him almost giddy with a strange, spectral drunkenness he had never experienced before. Now fear passed over their faces just before he delivered their deaths.
Then a force caught him along the right side of his face, searing fire that threw him back—though not before he managed to reach out and touch his attacker's fingers. Rakar landed on his back, stunned and breathless and feeling nothing but white pain from the eye he could no longer use.
"What did you do to me?!" the weasel shouted, staring at the hand the young prince had touched. He was resisting the weakness that tried to pull him down to the ground.
But Rakar was crazy with grief and almost intoxicated by the strength he'd stolen. In his hand he could see so clearly what was foremost in the weasel's mind...how much he adored his beautiful but haughty wife, and the way she spurned his every effort to make her happy. In that moment he knew the very words that would cause this bandit the most pain, so he said them, thinking in another few seconds he would be dead anyway.
Then the weasel's infuriated face turned shocked and his eyes went dull as the rest of his soul fled his body. He fell, the double-bladed dagger clattering loudly on stone. Someone else stood over Rakar, but the sun kept him from seeing more than the vague silhouette of a—
Something metal fell to the floor with a sharp sound, startling the young prince out of his uneasy sleep. Mortesen didn't twitch, though, still too tired from the emotional drain of the previous day's funeral. The night before, he'd draped himself across the foot of Rakar's bed and fallen asleep under the pretense of resting there "for just a minute." At least someone had been thoughtful enough to cover him with a heavy quilt.
One of the castle servants bent down to retrieve the spoon she'd accidentally dropped. She was a green raccoon, rather older, and Rakar could never remember her name, though he did know she was the head of the household servants. His mother always said to treat them as if they had no names so that they were constantly reminded of their place and didn't become too familiar with those who ranked...
He cut the thought off mentally before it could drag him down into a pit of sadness again.
Meanwhile, the raccoon—Reveka—finished scooping a spoonful of aromatic herbs into the copper pot beside his hearth. She went over to the windows and pulled back their drapes, allowing dawn to enter, then carried a chair over to his bedside and sat down to go through her basket after greeting him.
"So unfortunate... If only the healers in the army took proper lessons, this sort of thing wouldn't happen. Well, the wound on your scalp was done handily enough, but eyes are a far more delicate matter. If the royal physician hadn't undone the healing when he did, you'd be completely blind in that eye right now."
She chattered on, taking her time setting out the bandages and jars of ointment. Rakar didn't say how much her yammering annoyed him because even the physician accepted her advice when she suggested treatment for his right eye. The raccoon had everything ready at last and softly eased the pillow out from beneath his head so that he lay flat against the mattress.
"Prince Rakar, would you please take off your bandage? Slowly—very slowly—I want you to open that eye and cover your good one."
He did as she said and found himself seeing pure darkness. A sense of leaden despair filled his chest.
"I can't... There's nothing."
"Of course not! You've kept it completely in the dark for nearly four days. It needs time to remember how to see. Dear, dear... It looks like you'll have a very visible set of scars there, but it can't be helped. While we wait, I'll try this new salve on those odd burns."
Rakar stiffened as the servant lightly smeared something cold onto the three other scars on his face. Around him, the world gradually began to lighten until he could distinguish dark and gray blurs. They weren't distinct, but at least he could see something. He described this to her and she gave a relieved, grandmotherly smile.
"Very good. Now I know the healing is actually taking place." She dipped her fingers into a different jar of ointment. "My Prince, this will be very uncomfortable. I need to spread this directly on your eye. Can you lie still for me and try not to blink?"
He gave a jerking nod, trying not to cringe back at what he knew was coming. With one hand Reveka held his eyelid wide, then the tips of her fingers approached the painfully sensitive organ. Rakar's jaw clamped shut and his whole body went rigid as the touch and sting of the salve commanded him to slap her hand away.
But he refused the urge, one word repeating endlessly in his head: Control...control...control...
The servant slid his eyelid shut with care then applied a new bandage. She tied a single strip of black cloth not quite diagonally across his face to hold it there. The burning didn't fade for a while, but at least being able to close his eye brought some amount of relief. Rakar didn't realize he was holding his breath and clenching his fists until she patted his shoulder and turned away to put her things back into the basket.
"Do your best not to rub it. This will have to be applied every morning until your eye is back to normal. Is there anything you need? I can have breakfast brought up for you both, if you like."
Rakar sat up and glanced at his brother, noticing how unkempt he looked. "Have someone prepare a bath in Mortesen's room, then bring two breakfast trays here in half an hour."
"Very well, my Prince."
She curtsied and left. Rakar waited only a few seconds before slipping out of bed. The hearth fire had died hours ago, and once out from under the covers it was obvious how cold the morning was. But he didn't bother putting on a tunic, instead stepping across the room to a mirror. At first he looked at the eye-patch, but then his gaze was drawn to the scars disfiguring his face and chest.
Of course the raccoon's ointment wouldn't work on these. No matter what she tried, the scars would stay there. He was certain of it. These thoughts absorbed him so much that he didn't notice the reflection of his brother's figure as he sat up behind him.
"Rakar?"
The brown hedgehog twisted around so fast that he knocked two books and a red-lacquered paperweight shaped like a dragon to the floor.
Mortesen blinked at this odd response. "What's wrong? Why are you acting so guilty?"
Rakar swallowed, but no words would come. The air felt hot and stuffy, though just moments earlier it had been frosty enough that he could see the palest ghost of his breath. His brother stood, staring at him critically.
"I didn't say anything before because it didn't seem to matter compared to...to everything else...but those are scars from using your gift, aren't they?"
The younger prince flinched, turning away only to find himself facing the cruel mirror.
"Do they burn?" There was concern rather than judgment in his voice.
"...Not after the first day," he answered at last.
"How many do you have?"
"Three on my face, five on my chest, one on my arm."
The older prince paused, trying to remember the information that had been almost too much to handle a few days ago. "Captain Stripeback said there were nine dead bandits heaped around you. Maybe the scars didn't fade because the souls had no reason to return to their hosts."
Rakar unconsciously touched one on his shoulder. "I suppose..."
"Did you keep the strength you got from them?"
"I don't care!" Rakar suddenly exploded. "Don't you understand?! I have dead men trapped inside me! I can feel the echoes of their lives—!"
His legs buckled, unable to support him any longer, and a gasping sob wrenched its way out of his chest. Mortesen knelt down and reached out, but Rakar recoiled frantically.
"Don't touch me! I might do it again and you'll be caught too!"
But Mortesen grabbed him hard, pulling his brother into a fierce embrace and refusing to release him.
"What you did wasn't done out of malice! It was self-defense. It was all you could do to stay alive, and I can't tell you how grateful I am for your Royal gift. I don't know if I could handle it if you had been taken from me too..."
The very real warmth of his brother's fur seemed to dispel the stale air clouding around him. Bit by bit, the world stopped reeling and crying out with unheard screams. After a minute Rakar stopped shaking and the tight grip on him loosened.
"Thank you, Mortesen," he whispered. "Thank you for being here...for not abandoning me. You've done so much for me my whole life...and I'd do anything for you."
A/N: Anybody who's familiar with LiyuConberma's "Tale of Origin" knows those are some pretty hollow words. Still, I think Rakar meant them at the time.