CHAPTER 43
PROTAGONIST SWITCH: JOHN HEDEKIRA
I burst out of our back door, looking for them in the backyard. First I feel hope, right as I exit our home. And then despair. Deep, sinking despair, and confusion. They aren’t here, just as they weren’t in the house.
Soror and Frater are just waking up. I don’t want them to know about this. I don’t want them to know about what I fear is happening. I run as fast as I can into the woods behind our home, my gaze whipping back and forth as I try to look for them. Eventually, I can contain myself no longer. “Dad!” I call. “Mom!”
It’s so dark for sunrise. Shadows cling to the trees around me. No birds are singing. But it’s not completely still. Rather, a cold wind sweeps through the forest, sending a chill through my bones—a chill into my heart.
“Mom!” I scream. Where are they? Where are they? They would have told us if they were going somewhere, wouldn’t they have?
“Dad,” I say again, my arms hanging limp in hopelessness. I wait for a response, desperately pleading with the world to hear an answer.
Silence.
It’s hard to forget those memories. But I have to ignore them. They make me feel too emotional. So I push them down again.
My arm has stopped hurting. I find that odd, but I’m too happy to be free of the pain to care. I didn’t bandage the wound, because I still want to keep an eye on it, and besides, it’s stopped bleeding. I’m waiting to see if it will happen; I want to know if Kiilda’s blade will actually turn my flesh to stone.
Or then again, maybe I don’t want to know.
It’s no longer the pain that I’m worried about, consequently. Kiilda’s blade turns flesh into stone. When will it happen? And how? Dammit! I don’t know enough. I don’t know enough to be in this fight. Will I just drop dead? Will it happen slowly?
I need to win, and fast. I need to find Kiilda, and I need to kill It.
“…you must find the ‘river of water’.”
I breathe, looking up again at the sky. I’ve been wandering through this forest, trying to find my way out. It’s dark in here; not terribly dark, or so dark that I can’t see properly. Just enough to make me feel uncomfortable. Like the darkness is hiding something. The trees are thick, and their branches are low, and yet long. There’s a decent amount of spacing in between the trees, which is helpful for me to be able to peer throughout the depths of the woods, watching for Kiilda. But there’s still too much gloom…too much shadow.
I’ve successfully found a way to watch my back, or a way that eliminates the possibility of being flanked. I’ve found one of the mountains I perceived right upon entering Kiilda, and I intend to remain close to it. The sturdiness of the rock gives me a sense of security, and now I no longer need to be glancing back and forth, expecting Kiilda to appear from any side. Maybe I shouldn’t be worrying. Why would Kiilda want to fight me here?
Maybe that’s what It wants me to think. Maybe It wants to wait, to allow me to grow lax, and then It will strike. Or perhaps It wants me to turn to stone first. There may not even be a reason for It to strike again; perhaps I’m already on my way to a cold, stiff, stony death.
I push that thought out of my mind. “No,” I tell myself, “I’ll find Kiilda.” I grip my wound, endeavoring to feel strong. “I can do this.”
Something moves in the woods.
I flick my head in the direction of the movement, raising my sword, my eyes wide with alert. There’s nothing. Not a sound. And utter stillness.
I know I just saw something, I think, my heart beginning to race.
Suddenly, the idea of Kiilda about to attack me doesn’t just make me nervous. Kiilda—an image of the demon’s expressionless, yet unholy face flashes in my mind. Its red, intently-focused eyes. I swallow, and I suddenly begin to feel hot. “Dammit,” I whisper.
I feel my heart drop to my stomach. A startling realization enters my mind. I don’t know if it’s true, I think in a quivering voice, but…Kiilda, this world…it’s just a hunting ground for the monster. I’m just another of the thousands of prey It consumes every time someone enters. No wonder It knows where to find me. No wonder It seems to control this place. No wonder It’s impossible to beat. I swallow again.
I can’t take it. All of a sudden, I don’t feel so brave anymore. I don’t feel so determined. In fact…I feel like screaming, throwing down my sword, and running away.
But I don’t. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I know that if I do, I’ll be exposed. Maybe then It will attack.
Or maybe because there’s still a part of me that wants to fight.
“Grasp that thought,” the words enter into my mind, “and don’t let it go.”
My teeth grit, so hard I commence shaking. “No,” I say under my breath. I clench my sword, so hard my arms quiver. “No,” I say again, louder this time. I push the fear out of my mind. I stand erect. “No!” I shout into the forest. “If it’s a fight you want, then it’s a fight you’ll get!” I brandish my sword, crying out, “Come and get me, you monster!”
I feel alive. Where is this coming from? A moment ago I was terrified. Then I had a single, empowering thought. And now I feel power rushing through me. I don’t know where it’s coming from. But I’ve needed this. And now it’s been given to me.
I grin challengingly and breathe, my determination renewed. “This is who I am,” I say to myself, aloud. “This is knighthood. I understand that now. And for every Knight…”
—Movement again, flitting through the forest, dashing towards me—
“…there’s always a monster!”
Kiilda lunges from amidst the boughs of the trees, soaring towards me. I watch him come, smiling and tightening my grip on my sword. “All right,” I say as the beast descends. “Let’s go again!”
Kiilda slams Its sword down for me. Normally, I would’ve raised my blade, positioning it horizontally, intending to intercept my opponent’s sword with my own. But I’m smarter than that. This isn’t a human. This isn’t just an Evil. This is Kiilda.
I swerve, bobbing my head and sidestepping the blow. Kiilda’s blade flashes through the space where I just stood. Before It can attack again, I strike, crying out with my first strike, then grunting with the three that follow. I don’t force Kiilda back, which frustrates me, but I’m holding my own. Kiilda sees an opening, slashing for my right side, but I dance backwards, aware that the stone mountain is at my back. Kiilda charges me, forcing me backwards, endeavoring to pin me down. Its sword comes singing through the air horizontally, and I’m forced to raise my sword vertically and block the attack. I grunt, a jolt running through my arms.
For a moment, we parry. Then Kiilda surges against me, stepping forward with powerful steps, about to shove me into the rock at my back. “No you don’t!” I say through clenched teeth. I allow myself to get shoved backwards, even as I push against Kiilda’s sword with my own. Anchored by the pressure Kiilda is exerting on me, and the pressure I’m exerting on It, I run backwards up the rock behind me, only to flip up into the air over Kiilda’s head. I aim a strike as I somersault over him, but Its sword flashes towards me, and I’m forced to twist in the air. Its sword misses my right eye by less than in inch.
I land on my feet, tucking into a crouch, and I spin, gaining my momentum, and I sweep my blade into Kiilda’s legs.
There’s a clarion ring, but my sword rebounds against Its stone legs.
I bite back a curse. “Damn…you!” I say dodging two attacks. I thought I had him! Isn’t there anywhere I can hit It that isn’t made of stone? But I think I know something now, I think as I dance backwards, into the depths of the forest. Kiilda doesn’t do well with fancy moves!
I allow my back to be exposed as I run away from Kiilda, deciding on a course of action. I dart towards a tree. This is going to be risky. Everything I’m about to do will be risky. But maybe that’s
the only way this will work; it’s the only way I can win.
I jump and push off of a tree, flying backwards to Kiilda who pursues closely behind. I spin in the air and slash, right for Kiilda’s head. I don’t know if Kiilda was prepared for the move. But I somehow feel like It hasn’t encountered such an attack before, to say the least. Nevertheless, It raises Its sword, deflecting my attack. I land a mere foot away from the demon, dangerously close. I’m about to strike, taking advantage of this opportunity, but Kiilda is too fast. It stabs at my face, and I am forced to lean back, watching the black blade lurch over me. Kiilda retracts Its sword, and I stand upright again, only to have to block a lightning-quick slash for my left hip. I dance away, back into the forest.
A new plan forms in my mind; I have to get rid of Its weapon. If I can do that, at least for a moment, I can aim a shot for the one spot I’m hoping the demon is vulnerable in. In spite of how fear-inducing Kiilda’s eyes are, I’m counting on them to be Its one weakness.
I pivot as I hear the beast come close to me, and I successfully turn about just in time to deflect two cuts for my chest. I fight with my back against a tree; I know it’s dangerous, but I need to get Kiilda to miss me and accidentally lodge Its sword in one of the woods. I feint, trying to bait the beast. Yet, It doesn’t react to my movements. It’s like It’s focused solely on Its own sequence of attacks, and It doesn’t care what I do to interrupt that sequence.
That being said, if Kiilda is genuinely intent on killing me, but at the same time It is also invincible, why does the demon even try to block? I’ve landed blows on it twice now, and my sword has rebounded off of the beast’s stone body. So why even worry about defense?
Kiilda cracks down once, then twice. I nearly drop my sword each time It strikes, but I force myself to maintain grip and stand upright. The monster batters me again, Its expression lifeless and dull, but Its movements powerful and violent.
Then it happens—what I’ve been waiting for. I back up as I see the demon give up on hacking and draw back Its sword for a stab. My back hits the tree, and Kiilda’s black blade shoots right for my eye.
But I flick my head to the side, and the monster’s sword impales the tree behind me. There is no look of surprise on the demon. Rather, it clenches the hilt of Its sword with two hands and commences to remove Its weapon from the tree. And that’s when I draw my arm back and stab the demon right in the eye.
Nothing happens.
I grunt, shoving with all of my might. There’s no blood. There’s no exclamation of pain. There’s no visible sign of discomfort. I stabbed It in the only part of Its body devoid of stone. And the demon just stares at me.
Kiilda finishes freeing Its sword from the tree with Its left hand. With Its right hand, It grips my sword, and with seemingly no effort at all, breaks the tip of my blade off. My sword seems to cry out, ringing loudly in response. And for a moment, all I can feel is shock.
Then, without a hint of emotion, Kiilda draws back Its sword and stabs me in my right shoulder. I grunt, clenching my teeth and gurgling, my whole body frozen in pain.
I look up at the demon, and our eyes lock. Fear and despair imbue my heart.
I can’t do this…
The world begins to grow blurry. Wind tears around us. Everything is twisting together. And just as before, I go unconscious.
PROTAGONIST SWITCH: BERNARD TANNER
“Eat it.”
“No!”
“Eat it.”
“No!”
“Eat it.”
“No!”
I sigh, my shoulders drooping and my head bowing. “Frater,” I try again, speaking to the little boy gently, “You have to eat. Won’t you at least try it?”
Frater looks sidelong at the plate of food I’ve extended towards him. For a moment, I think he’s actually going to eat it. But then he frowns and turns his stubborn, little-boy face away, a pouty grunt escaping his mouth. “Frater,” I explain again, more forceful this time, “This is kotta steak with red gravy and baked chestnut-potatoes. I don’t think Lord Beznar is eating food this good!”
Frater doesn’t respond.
I growl in my thoughts with annoyance, thinking, No wonder John had such a hard time with his siblings. This kid is a complete brat!
“I don’t want you,” the boy suddenly states. “I want Faith.”
I pause for a moment, regarding Frater intently, who still won’t look at me. Is that what this is about? He won’t accept food from me because he prefers to receive it from Faith instead? I can understand his fondness for Faith; after all, it was she that protected him while John was facing Nirak. And of course, Faith has a way with small children, a way that we don’t share, apparently. Faith is a big sister, now that I think about it, and in spite of how she left her family about two years ago, the experience has obviously helped her to understand and cope with kids younger than her.
It wouldn’t be too much of a problem for me to go and search for Faith. In fact, I’m a little tired of being cooped up in this room with Frater anyway. However, I find that I don’t want to leave—not until I’ve succeeded. Call me obstinate or proud, but for whatever reason, I cannot help but feel that since I came here to look after Frater, I won’t be satisfied with myself until I’ve helped the boy. Until he’s accepted my help, and understands that both of us, Faith and myself, are here for him. I’ll feel like a failure otherwise, handing Frater over to Faith because I can’t get him to like or accept me.
For a moment, I feel surprised with myself. Frater is just a little kid—pigheaded, fussy and ignorant—, so why do I care what he thinks about me? Why do I care about ensuring that we have some sort of a relationship?
I don’t know why, at this moment. Maybe it’s because I want to know if a child could ever trust me, or look up to me, or just appreciate me. I’m an only child, so I’ve never had a younger brother or sister. Maybe this is all just because I want to be able to experience that...experience what it’s like to have a sibling.
I sigh, about to rise and tell him that I’ll go look for Faith, when he suddenly glances at me and then swipes the food from my hand. Without looking back at me, he commences eating. I’m shocked for a moment. Sure, it didn’t happen the way I expected. But I smile to myself as I watch Frater eat the food. Good. Satisfaction courses through me.
PROTAGONIST SWITCH: FAITH PINCK
Tarsh and I enter into Lord Beznar’s throne room. I swallow, my heart beat quickening. I can’t believe I’m about to let Tarsh do this. Hand himself over to the Brown Bandits for execution? It sure is courageous, but isn’t there another way out of this? The time for talking Tarsh out of this is over. But maybe Lord Beznar will think it’s a…dramatic idea, too.
I’m not surprised to find that Lord Beznar is surrounded by a number of scouts that I recognize from the rescue squad I had joined with John and Bernard. However, I am a little surprised to see that Ashida is here too. He looks weak, as if his wounds still haven’t completely healed—in fact, I’m confident that they haven’t—and he looks unnaturally reserved. Though I haven’t actually known him for very long, it always seemed like Ashida had a bold, out-going character. Now he stands with his arms crossed, his head bowed, and he seems to be leaning backwards, as if to blend in and disappear into the rest of the scouts. He’s changed…a lot.
Whatever discussion the scouts and Lord Beznar were having abruptly stops as we enter. I feel awkward coming any further—I’d feel awkward leaving too—but Tarsh surges forward without hesitation. “Excuse me,” Lord Beznar says, his tone stern, “this is a private meeting. Both of you must leave immediately.”
Two scouts move forward to intercept Tarsh. Tarsh is wise enough to halt for them, but he still opens his mouth, saying, “I know who they are and what they want. It’s pretty obvious to me.”
“Is that so?” one of the scouts scoffs.
“That’s right,” Tarsh repl
ies. He pauses, and for a moment, I wonder if he’s going to tell them the truth. To my partial annoyance, he does. “They’re here for me.”
A murmur runs through the scouts, and Ashida and Lord Beznar exchange a look.
“Explain what you mean,” says Lord Beznar.
Tarsh grimaces, and then stands erect, stating determinedly, “I killed the leader of the Brown Bandits as the Ghost of Hedekira. That’s who these people are. In doing so, I also dealt into a serious wound to the woman that now leads them. At the end of the fight, John Hedekira defeated me, and the Brown Bandits captured me. I was going to be executed, but John rescued out of mercy, and helped me to change my ways. I would assume that they’ve been searching for me ever since. I don’t know for sure if they know I’m within Castrum Fortress; they might just be assuming so. But the bombs I used in Howaito Maki probably would’ve grabbed their attention, if anything, especially if their scouts were watching.” Tarsh bows his head, “I’m sorry to have brought this upon you. I will leave, and hand myself over to them if you wish.”
I look at Ashida as Tarsh finishes. I want to see his reaction; I want to see the will to save Tarsh in his eyes. Ashida is the only one I feel like I can talk to among the people here, and he would have a significant amount of influence as one of Lord Beznar’s chief advisors too.
I only see hardness in Ashida’s eyes. I feel my heart drop to my stomach. How much has Ashida changed?
“That is honorable that you would offer to do such a thing,” Lord Beznar replies, after a moment of considering Tarsh’s words, “but let us not be hasty. We will seek to discover what exactly the Brown Bandits want, and then we shall decide on a course of action.” Lord Beznar seems as if he is trying not to sound too grim, but he finishes with the heavy words, “I am glad that you understand that I will not sacrifice the lives of my people for one repented criminal.”
Tarsh grunts, nodding in acknowledgement.
“That settles it, then,” Ashida says. “Let’s send a delegate to the Brown Bandits.”
I exhale deeply, glancing over at Tarsh. On the outside, he appears resolute and tough. But I see it in his eyes. He’s afraid. And I don’t blame him. I wish John were here, I think. He would be able to find an answer to this problem…or at least do the right thing amid this mess. I hope he’s all right.
I know it’s useless to worry about him. I need to focus on what’s going on around me; on what I can control. Tarsh looks over at me and meets my gaze, and certainty seems to fill me.
But then he smiles softly. It’s sort of an affectionate smile. But then I realize with a jolt of anxiety…
…that it’s really a smile of farewell.
PROTAGONIST SWITCH: AETHYER GRIM
Two riders trot across the bumpy, uneven fields towards our camp. They emerged straight out of Castrum Fortress, and it’s obvious that they’re delegates. One rider bears a flag with the emblem of Castrum Fortress—a single golden sword, with a prominent, intricate cross-guard—and the other one just looks like a man of politics and diplomacy.
I’m lucky that I was one of the bandits chosen to watch the edge of our camp. It’s technically a low job; most of the thieves would scoff at such a position. However, I enjoy it for a number of reasons. First of all, it gives me some time away from the rest of the bandits; I hate their attitudes of arrogance and selfishness. Second, it gives me time to think on my own. To think about what’s going on. And lastly, if anything exciting happens, I’m one of the first to know about it.
I grunt as the realization hits me. If I intercept the ambassadors, perhaps I’ll be able to escort them to Sharon and gain some intelligence as to why we’re here. I’ll be able to know the truth.
I shoot forward in the direction of the delegates, brandishing my short-sword. Some of the other camp guards move to join me, but I’m the fastest, the most intent on being sure that I’m there first. The ambassadors rein in their steeds, and I come to a halt before them, eyeing them suspiciously, mainly because it’s my job to be defensive. I remain in a crouched fighting position, but I have no intention of harming them. “State your business,” I say in a firm voice.
“We are here,” answers the more diplomatic one, “to consult with your leader.”
The rest of the camp guards arrive with me at the delegates. Before any of them can say anything, I announce, “I’ll take you to her.”
Without arguing, the other bandits part as I motion the ambassadors forward and lead them towards the camp. In messy ranks, the camp guards follow us.
My jaw sets, and I squint. “It’s time I got some answers,” I say quietly to myself.
It looks like that will be happening sooner than I planned. Word about the delegates must have spread quickly. Sharon and her advisors have already reached the edge of the camp, and are awaiting our return. At least I’m still the one leading the ambassadors. I’ll have to make this look good though.
We arrive at the edge of the camp. Straightening up and abruptly halting, I salute to Sharon and say, “Ambassadors from Castrum Fortress, sir!” And I step to the side, allowing the delegates to come forward.
The politician emissary dismounts his steed. He bows to Sharon, who begins speaking, asking, “You come from Lord Beznar?”
“We do,” affirms the delegate.
“Good,” nods Sharon, “as fate would have it, we were just about to send a delegate of our own. I apologize for not sending one earlier and making you come to us; I’m afraid I am still new with my position as leader of the Brown Bandits.”
“No apology is needed,” states the delegate. “No offense was taken by Lord Beznar.”
I scowl inwardly. I hate the unnecessary formalities that go along with politics.
“Good,” says Sharon. “What news, then, does Lord Beznar bring to my camp?”
“He asks simply for the reason of your presence, whether it be a hostile presence, a friendly one, and if the latter, if there is any way we can be of service.”
Sharon seems pleased with the delegate’s words. However, a strange smile touches her lips for just a moment, and she states almost challengingly, “There is no reason for Lord Beznar to be concerned with us, insofar as hostility goes, so long as he is willing to help us find what we want.” Sharon squints at the ambassador, adding, “However, should Lord Beznar try to restrain us from finding what we want, we will have no choice but to take it from him.”
“Pray tell us what it is you seek,” says the delegate, seeming to have grown a bit uncomfortable.
This is it. I look straight ahead, into the distance, behaving like the attentive but withdrawn warrior I should be. I want to make it look like I mean nothing to Sharon; I mean nothing to this meeting. I’m just a low-ranked camp-guard.
Sharon glances both ways for a moment, as if assuring herself that there are no other bandits present other than her advisors, myself, and a few other camp guards. And then she answers, saying, “I understand that you have a certain warrior residing within Castrum Fortress. He was once known as the ‘Ghost of Hedekira’, but his real name is Tarsh Landid. Our scouts tracked him to this location, and so far, we haven’t seen him depart from Castrum Fortress. We would like to know if this Tarsh Landid is indeed within your castle, and if not, where he is headed. It is important to us that we find him.”
I grunt, thinking, So, that’s what this is about? I steal a glance at Sharon. She has involuntarily begun stroking the stub of her arm, which had been blown off by an explosion instigated by the Ghost of Hedekira—by Tarsh Landid.
The ambassador pauses in response, and then replies, “It would please Lord Beznar to know what exactly you would want Tarsh Landid for. For what purpose do you seek him? We are in much debt to him, as he saved numerous lives during our attack against the Evil of Howaito Maki.”
I look ahead again, endeavoring to be ignored. I sense the eyes of Sharon flit towards me, but they depart a moment later
. She doesn’t care that I’m here. Good.
“We want him,” answers Sharon, “because he killed our leader, numerous other bandits, and wounded many others too. He deserves to pay for his crimes, and we deserve to exact his punishment, because he transgressed against us as the Ghost of Hedekira. Hand him over, and no harm will come to the people of Castrum Fortress.” Scowling, she finishes, “That is why we are here, and we will not leave until we have him.” Then she turns away, declaring, “You are no longer welcome here. Leave immediately.”
The ambassador pauses, grunting with surprise. For a moment, he makes no move to depart. But then he complies, turning swiftly away from Sharon, mounting his horse, and with a look of contempt, he rides away back towards Castrum Fortress.
I sigh as Sharon and her advisors leave, and I watch the delegates return to their castle. I frown grimly, thinking, So, we’re here on a mission to punish…on a mission for revenge. I knew there was something selfish about this whole endeavor. This is all about Sharon. I walk away from the camp, back to my post, deep in thought. If Castrum Fortress gives up Tarsh Landid, then we’ll just be executioners. And if not, then we’ll be slaughtering more innocent people. As I reach my post, about two hundred yards away from the edge of the camp, the recognition comes to me. It’s not Sharon that’s the problem. It’s this organization. We’re no better than the Evil that ruined me and Addy’s lives. I turn back, looking sidelong at our camp. And that means it’s time for the Brown Bandits to fall…and everyone faithful to them.