01 - The Price of Talent (3 page)

“Why don’t you take a seat son, we have some questions we would like to ask you and your parents and we don’t like repeating ourselves. So make yourself comfortable,” said the larger of the two men.

“And need we mention slow movements are preferable to fast ones? It’s bad manners to startle a man with a loaded crossbow,” said the smaller one with a crooked smile on his face.

              Not knowing what else to do, I took a seat on the chair next to the couch. It was then that a third man entered the room. Unlike the two guards, he was tall and skinny, giving him an oddly stretched appearance. He wore mail instead of brigandine, and had a medallion around his neck that seemed to twinkle too much in the dim lamp light.

“Well, now that we’re all here, shall we begin?” Said the oddly tall man.

“My name is Lucius Ferdinand and I am of the order of inquisitors from Caer Dogmatorum. I realize that you may not be familiar with my order as it has been years since we have made a pilgrimage to your… quaint… part of the Empire.”

              I noticed that, as he said quaint, he wrinkled his nose like he smelled something unpleasant. While he was speaking his eyes scanned the room, but kept returning to me. They had a hard penetrating quality, like he could see right through me and saw an offensive stain on the chair I was sitting on.

“We are here to remedy an unfortunate lapse in the diligent execution of our duties. In the years we have been absent, the local abbot here has gotten fat and lazy and he has not been examining his flock carefully enough. Heresy and vile magic have crept in under his leadership. This is something that we intend to rectify posthaste.”

              He punctuated the word “rectify” by cracking his knuckles, and allowed a thin smile to cross his visage at “posthaste”. The man also did not stand still, pacing around the room as he spoke.

“Our job is an ancient one. It is to remove dangerous elements from the earth, to keep the empire safe from the evils of demonic influence. We are like angelic gardeners, sent here to pull the unholy weeds; or like doctors, here to excise diseased flesh.”

              At the word weeds he paused and fixed each of us with a menacing stare.

“But look at me, I have waxed on for far too long. Let us get down to business. Reginald, Donald, please aim your crossbows at Mr. and Mrs. Janus’s heads.”

              With smiles and sickening smoothness, both of them did.

“Wait, WHAT!?” I said, with no small amount of fear. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? What do you want?”

              As I spoke out, the inquisitor looked to his medallion briefly and smiled.

“A question that’s been on our minds as well,” my father said. “We’re just farmers, we’ve been living here for over 20 years. We are loyal parishioners of this great holy empire and active in the local church. Where do you get off threatening us?”

“Loyal parishioners? What a wonderful cover story. Demons in sheep’s clothing more likely. But we shall see the truth of the matter here and now.”

“Why are you even here?” My mother asked. “What are you talking about? You’re not making any sense.”

“What brought me here? My hunt for scum masquerading as part of the great flock of the Empire. But more specifically, magic has been sensed from this area, as recently as mid-day today. We have felt the vile influence of magic in this area, and we are here to find out from whom this emanated.”

“Magic? Are you mad?” Asked my father. “If we had magic, do you think we would have spent our lives toiling on the land? What sort of mage does that?”

“The kind that thinks it’s clever enough to avoid church detection.” The inquisitor responded.

              As he spoke this he drew a long sword out from a sheath on his belt that had remained behind him instead of at his side, like the swords of his guards. The sword itself was long and thin, like the owner himself. And while it bore no particular markings, it also had a look of purpose. The few swords I had seen at this point of my life had been the more ornamental style worn by aristocrats and high church officials. This blade seemed more ominously purpose built.

“Oh, you have an interest in blades?” The inquisitor stated as he displayed the blade, noticing that I was staring at it.

“You may not find them so interesting in a moment.” And as quick as a flash the blade was at my mother’s throat.

“OH GOD! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? STOP!” I shouted.

“What am I doing? Rooting out evil. The better question is, what are you doing?” He said with a look at his medallion and a smile.

              At that moment, I realized my head was pounding and my skin sweating. I could feel a vicious headache coming on. I fell back into my chair, having been unaware that I had stood up.

“Oh god not now. Not another god damned headache…” I mumbled.

“Headaches eh? Interesting. Anything weird happen when you get headaches? I bet it does… So YOU are the source of the magic boy? How very interesting. Your parents show no signs of it. But then, sometimes these vile impurities lie hidden for generations.”

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!?” I yelled at him. My headache was quite strong now.

“What I am saying is your parents must carry some old and dangerous traits that they have passed on to you boy. Traits of demonic magic. Such heretical things have no place in modern Pandanu.”

              As he said this, he moved the blade away from my mother’s throat. For a second I had a kernel of hope. Then he pulled his sword back pointed the end at my mother’s chest, looked at me and said:

“You’re next, boy. Better pray for forgiveness in the next world.”

              The world suddenly went into a strange slow motion. I saw his shoulders tightened and the sword started moving in a thrust right at my mother’s heart. I realized I was screaming and my father was starting to stand up off the couch. Both guards’ fingers were tightening on the crossbow triggers, and my head was pounding. As the sword began to move, I heard the vicious click of the crossbows’ triggers. The world briefly slowed, and then something inside me snapped. My headache screamed for a second, then the world went black.

Chapter 2.

              The sun pierced the veil of my eyelids as I woke up. The first thing that made it through the fog in my brain was that I had a blistering, throbbing headache. If I had known at that time what a hangover felt like, that is the best equivalent to what I was feeling. My head was pounding, my stomach was making some seriously ominous noises and my whole body hurt to move. I could barely sit up to put my head in my hands.

              After an interminable amount of time, I finally had the energy to look at my surroundings. I was sitting up in a bed I didn’t recognize. The mattress was soft, softer than my straw mattress at home. Well, except for one sharp point in my leg… Which upon further inspection turned out to be the quill of a feather. I probably would have enjoyed the feeling of the feather mattress had I not been feeling so bad otherwise.

              The room was similarly opulent. The bed was a four poster. There were leather chairs in the corners and mahogany end tables. A large armoire, also of mahogany, was off in one corner. But I could barely appreciate any of it because I was feeling so awful. In the circumstances, I did the only things that could work their way through my head. I used the chamber pot, and went back to bed.

              The next time I woke up it was to the crashing noises of what turned out to be sheets rustling. From the effect the normally faint noise was having on me, my hangover-like symptoms still hadn’t abated. My response was to huddle down into the sheets and mumble something like “go away” to the noise maker.

“Oh so you are up? FANTASTIC! You know, they didn’t think you would ever wake up.”

“Oh god, not so loud,” I responded to the mystery voice.

“Ok, but I wasn’t yelling,” said what I recognized belatedly as a woman’s voice coming from outside the sheets I was huddled in.

              On reflection, the voice wasn’t one that I was familiar with. So, I peeked one eye out of the sheets to see who the source of the voice was. I almost instantly regretted this decision. First, because I didn’t recognize the girl; second, because the sunlight in the room lanced into my eyes with a fierceness that shocked me.

              The girl looked to be within a year or two of my age, though whether she was younger or older I couldn’t tell. She was of medium height and slight of build and had blond hair. On further inspection she did seem vaguely familiar…

“Where am I?”

“You’re at my house. Well, my dad’s house. He’s the mayor, in case you didn’t know. Once the hospital patched you up, they sent you here since… Well, I’m not supposed to talk about that. Also, why do you have this sword? Aren’t you just a farm boy? What use do you have for swords?”

“Wait… What?” I said.

“Never mind, you can talk about it when you are feeling better. I’m getting bored, so I am going to go bother Daddy for a while. Later,” she said as she walked out the door.

“Wait… What?” I said, again, lamely. “And what the hell were you talking about… What sword?”

              Unfortunately, she left without responding. It was then that my eyes were drawn to the wall next to the armoire. On that wall was a vaguely familiar looking sword. It was long, thin, and even sheathed, it had an ominous look of purpose to it.

              Then it all came back to me in one awful moment… And my headache came crashing back… And that was the last thing I thought for quite some time.

              I was again woken up by incessant rustling. This time though, it wasn’t quite so painful to hear.

“You awake yet?” Said that same female voice.

“You should eat something. You haven’t eaten anything in days. And given what you did to that poor chamber pot, which by the way was decorative, you probably need some food in you.”

              Surprisingly, I was quite hungry. I peeked out of the covers long enough to see she was carrying a plate with some soup, bread and cheese on it.

“Well, I suppose you’re right, I am a bit hungry.” I said, as I started to pull myself out of the covers.

              I was halfway out of the covers when I realized, quite horrifyingly, that I was not clothed. Worse, the girl holding the platter of food was giggling at me. I was suddenly very glad I did not throw the covers off past my waist. It did explain however, the ease with which I used the chamber pot in my previously incapacitated state.

“It’s ok, I saw your dongle when they brought you in. I was told to go to my room, but I didn’t listen.”

“Wait… What?” I said lamely, again.

“Here’s your food! I’m gonna go eat something better for dinner. BYE!” She said as she handed me my food and skipped out of the room.

              If I wasn’t so hungry I would have been embarrassed, and I probably would have examined more closely her use of the word ‘dongle’. Regardless, I tucked in and devoured my food. Unfortunately, this gave me extreme indigestion. Apparently if you don’t eat for a long time, then gorge yourself, your system gets angry; or at least mine did. With nothing on, and not knowing where I was, I did the only thing I could. I befouled the apparently decorative chamber pot a second time.

              Later that evening I was awoken again by the young lady. She was less than enthused by the chamber pot situation. At least that’s what I read her wrinkled nose and narrowed eyes to mean.

“I brought you some clothes. As much fun as it is to see your fiddly bits, my father insists that you get dressed if you’re awake. Something about inappropriateness or something. Like I don’t see these things all the time when I volunteer down at the Hospital. Yet somehow it’s ok when I am doing charity medical work, but when we actually take in a patient because the hospital won’t take them, OH NO, that’s inappropriate…”

“Wait, what do you mean the hospital wouldn’t take me?”

“Oh, they collected you, patched you up, and put you in a ward bed. But that sword of yours kept appearing. They said they put it in storage 3 times, but it kept appearing by your side. Freaked them out. They said you must be a mage and were going to throw you out on the street or turn you in to the church; there was much debate over this. But I intervened and convinced my dad to take you in. After all, it’s not like you have anywhere to go or anything…”

“I live in a farm outside of town. My parents have lived there for years. Why not just send me home?”

“Oh god, you really don’t know do you… My dad said something about not telling you too much at a time. But what the hell, you deserve to know.”

“Know what?”

“Your farm is gone. They found you in a giant hole in the ground. The other nurses said there were chunks of broken wood all over the countryside. You were the only person around.”

“No. That makes no sense, I was there, my parents were there and… Well, we were all there.”

The pause was because I realized that telling this girl that we were being attacked by an inquisitor squad over alleged magic use was probably not the best idea given the circumstances.

“They said you and that sword were the only things not blown to smithereens within an acre of your parents’ farm. But then I didn’t hike all that way out there, so who knows.”

“My parents, my farm, everything is gone?”

“Ummmm… Yeah? Sorry, that’s really insensitive of me… Sorry about your loss! I’ll check in with you later.” And with that she flounced out the door.

              My headache was now back in force. A serious pounding, throbbing headache. And the glinting of the sword in the corner of the room was not helping.

“God damn it, you twinkling bastard. Why the fuck did you survive and nothing else?”

Why the fuck do you think swords can talk?

“Wait, what?...”

After all, how many swords have you actually seen before me?”

              At this point I started looking around the room to find the source of the voice. But I was all alone.

Keep looking bright boy, I am sure someone will eventually turn up to appease your cognitive dissonance.

“Wait, so I am not imagining this. You really are talking?”

First off, if you knew what cognitive dissonance meant you would know it was me. Second, I am not technically talking. When was the last time you saw a sword talk? No, our communications are going on in your head. Which is funny because you keep speaking out loud like I have ears.

“Wait, talking in my head? I haven’t heard of swords doing that either.”

Yeah, but you live in a part of the world where magic is viewed as the work of the devil. So there are lots of things about it you don’t know or understand.

“That makes some sense… I guess… Wait, can anyone else hear you?”

No, you idiot. The only person that can hear me is you. But, because you keep talking out loud, instead of in your head, anyone walking by can hear you.

Well, that makes sense. Can you hear me now? Talking in my head?

Again, yes, I can hear you talking in your head.

“Did I hear you saying something? Do you need something?” Said the blond girl, sticking her head in the door.

“Well, actually I could use a little tea, if you have any?” I said, hoping that would mean she would go away.

“Sure, I will send down to the kitchens for it. Besides I could use some tea too. WILLIKINS! Oh, he’s the butler, by the way. WILLIKINS! We need some tea here.” And again, she flounced out of the room.

Need I say that it’s better if you do not talk out loud to me when people are around?

“OK.”

Oops, I mean ok.

Yeah… Oops. Moron.

              A few minutes later the blond girl returned and sat in one of the chairs. And it was that moment that I realized that, aside from knowing she was the mayor’s daughter, I had no idea what her name was. I figured that this was as good of an opportunity for an introduction as any.

“I know this seems a little odd, but I don’t even know your name. You have been helping me the past few days and all I know is that you are the mayor’s daughter.”

“Oh, sorry! I should have introduced myself. I just get so used to everyone knowing me around here that I forget that you farmers are so removed from society. My name is Meredith.”

“Well Meredith, my name is Tyr, and thanks for helping me out these past few days.”

“I know your name. It was on your toe tag at the hospital.”

“Toe tag?”

“Yeah, when you were brought in on the cart, they thought you would be dead from internal injuries soon, so they toe tagged you on the way in to save time. Jokes on them though, you pulled through and got better!”

“Uh yeah, funny joke…”

“Serves them right, they aren’t supposed to do stuff like that. Against protocols and all that. But they figured what with you being the only survivor no one would drop by and complain. Still daddy dropped by and saw you breathing with a toe tag on and raised hell. And what with your sword and the weirdness of how your farm blew up, no one objected to him taking you in. He thinks of it as some sort of charity. Good to show the world that he is a caring sort. Funny though, he leaves the actual caring for you to me. Well, me and Willikins.”

“I see… Still, nice of both of you taking me in. Also, what happened to me? What happened to my parents? What happened at the farm?”

“Well, no one knows really. Just that you were found in a large hole in the ground and that your farm was just… gone. Oh and that evil looking sword was near you. We took that back to the hospital as well.”