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Chapter Nine — Traitor

Ozzie breathed in the crisp mountain air and smiled. Two days of hiking through the badlands gave him a new perspective on life. Despite the chapter of his old life in Anduruna ending, he never felt the page turn so to speak. It didn’t feel like a fresh beginning. Sure, he was in a strange land filled with a mix of wonder and danger, but this day felt no different than all the other days in his life. He came to a realization that the things that truly mattered to him were never lost.

Jess moved her arm around his waist and stood beside him. Together, they watched the sun’s fiery golden light rise over the Starfall Mountains. The sky shimmered in a tasteful display of blue and gold as the light rays caught the frosty mountain tops. It was strange, watching the mountain shadows creep away from the yellow fields in the valley below as the sun rose higher and higher. The fingers of light stretched on for miles, free to engulf the valley with their warm grasp.

“It’s so different here,” Jess whispered softly. The words fogged in the cool mountain air, just under Ozzie’s chin.

“Mmm,” Ozzie replied in agreement. He affectionately rubbed his hand against her shoulder. “Good different?”

“So far.” She smiled, relaxing a bit. The last two days had been uneasy for her. She was glad Ozzie was feeling better, but she kept a watchful eye on him. The white glow in his eyes from a few days prior worried her. It came out of nowhere, and there was no telling if it would strike again.

The swishing sound of grass flattening underfoot announced that Selene had returned from her morning trip. They watched her set her bow and quiver down along with some game she hunted for lunch. Her cuts were healing and she moved about quickly, but she was uncharacteristically quiet these past few days. She spent most of her time isolated. It was starting to dawn on them that maybe Selene was not eager to come home.

Selene moved to undo her hair tie and winced as the bandages on her arms tightened. “Did Mask get his face out of that book yet?” she asked, gritting her teeth until the tie was undone and her dark hair fell past her shoulders.

“He’s still reading over there,” Jess replied and pointed towards a gap in the trees that led to a narrow mountain stream.

Selene frowned and moved her hands to her hips. Her steps were light and quick as she left to fetch Mask. “He reads that thing day and night, and he is still only on the first few pages. Honestly, the amount of time he spends reading is beyond—”

Her voice faded as she stormed off into the trees. Jess and Ozzie collectively shrugged and sat down by the pile of embers and ashes from last night’s fire. The surrounding area was quiet for the outdoors. It felt too quiet without the cracking sound of a fire. Only the occasional critter and the howling northern wind kept them company.

“Selene has been acting different,” Ozzie said softly, breaking the unintentional silence. He took an unused piece of firewood and poked the cool embers. “I saw her leave camp last night and I didn’t hear her return until morning.”

Jess frowned and watched him aimlessly toss the stick into the trees. “Maybe she’s nervous about coming home after all these years,” she replied, pausing before she continued. “She told me changes happen quickly here. It probably won’t be the same place that she remembers.”

“Ah.” Ozzie yawned into his arm and blinked sleepily. Weeks on the road now, many early rises, and he still wasn’t much of a morning person. “Does she have a family here?”

“I don’t know.” Jess hugged her knees and looked away. Her eyes found themselves transfixed on the shimmering mountain peaks, but her thoughts drifted beyond to the city she left behind. “Do you miss everyone? From back home?”

The depressed words lingered for a moment. Her body slumped downward, as if she was trying to disappear into the ground. She continued to gaze at the mountains, captivated by the scenic beauty and the bitter longing for home.

Ozzie sighed and turned her chin so he could look at her. Her eyes were once more on the verge of crying. It pained him to see her so crestfallen. He saw that look too often this week.

“I don’t miss them. Not when I’m around you,” Ozzie said softly and kissed her forehead.

A meek smile flashed briefly on her face before disappearing. “Always the romantic,” she replied, her cheeks rosy.

“Well, I try.” Ozzie moved to hold her close in his arms, and she let him. They sat there together for a moment. Both appreciated the company of the other and enjoyed the shared body heat to combat the cold northern winds.

“I miss my little diner. Spirits, I loved that place.” She smiled as fond memories came to mind.

“Do you miss the routine?”

“It’s not just that. It’s the people I saw every day: the staff, the regulars,” her smile flared mischievously, “those brats that took the outdoor seating in the afternoon, everyone. It felt like one large, chaotic family.”

Her cheer quickly faded. She brushed her hair out of her face and looked up at Ozzie. “I never said goodbye.”

The ground shook and Zoeka stomped through the trees, interrupting further conversation. Despite her numerous wounds, the large ryuu-neko was as happy as ever. She stopped in front of them, dropped to her front paws, and wriggled her large blue tail playfully. While she waited for Ozzie and Jess to move, Mask and Selene emerged from the trees. Apparently it was time to move again.

“All set to go?” Selene asked Ozzie and Jess while she equipped her bow and quiver. She delicately placed the hunted game into one of Zoeka’s saddle bags, hoping the ryuu-neko wouldn’t notice.

“Yeah, one second.” Jess grabbed Beans’ photo album and stuffed it under her arm. She took it upon herself to look after his things. The pictures of the city, though old, seemed to comfort her.

Mask kicked dirt onto the fire ashes, effectively burying them. He took the remaining firewood and displaced it around the campsite. Satisfied with the extra precaution to somewhat cover their tracks, he mounted Zoeka and began to ride east.

“If we make good time we should arrive at the small farming village of Pelnori in the afternoon,” Selene said while they followed Mask east. “The Pelnori folk are hospitable people. We should be able to rest there for a few days.”

“Sounds good,” Ozzie replied, keeping an arm around Jess’ shoulders.

“Hey,” Jess said softly. “Are you okay, Selene? You haven’t been yourself lately.”

Selene smiled. “I’m fine.”

Her smile seemed too broad to be genuine. Jess could tell something was up, but decided not to ask further. Selene would tell them in time. At least, that’s what she hoped.

***

The sun, so bright and cheerful earlier, was a sweltering inferno by midday. Sweat brimmed Ozzie’s brow as he walked through the yellow fields. He longed for the cool mountain air once more, but the mountains were now long behind him. There was no shade, villages or dwellings to rest in; there was only the seemingly endless yellow sea of hills and valleys.

Mask and Zoeka led the group onwards, with the large ryuu-neko flattening the yellow plant life to make a path. The heat was starting to affect them too. Zoeka was panting with her tongue hanging out of her mouth, though she kept the pace up. Somehow, she never seemed to tire during the trip.

“Hold up!” Mask shouted, raising his hand and stopping Zoeka in her tracks. There was a rushed danger in his words, putting everyone on guard.

“What do you see?” Selene asked, reaching over her shoulder for her bow.

Mask pointed up with a steady hand towards a wide streak of gray in the sky: smoke. He dismounted Zoeka and armed himself with his sword before cautiously approaching the next hill top in front of them.

The others followed behind him, with Ozzie and Jess unequipped and unprepared. As they neared the top of the hill, more and more smoke columns were sighted. Something, or several somethings, was on fire on the other side.

“Spirits above,” they heard Mask mutter from atop the hill.

Nothing could have prepared them enough for what they saw in the valley below. Sin spilled across the land in the repulsive concoction of red and black, leaving havoc and despair in its wake. The hospitable village of Pelnori laid in shambles, the thatched roofs aflame and the village dwellings piles of blackened, flame scorched ruins. It was a site marked by death.

Mask bolted down towards the village to the flaming fields with Zoeka right behind him. He pointed to the orange and yellow flames and the blue ryuu-neko released a pressurized spray of water. The idea proved effective. In moments they cleared a path into the village.

Selene, Ozzie and Jess ran to help too, but by the time they reached the village Mask and Zoeka were deeper within the inferno and out of sight. Moving around the fires, they rushed past the first dwelling towards the street. Several bodies littered the street in a disorganized fashion, face down in the mud: the Pelnori farmers.

“Spirits!” Jess exclaimed when she saw the massacre. She covered her nose to block the overwhelming pungent stench of death. Never had she seen such violence. Her legs wouldn’t move; she couldn’t go further. She was shocked.

Two small bodies lay in the middle of the street with pools of red around them mixing into the dirt. Their arms were outstretched, fingers just out of reach. Both of them were three steps from the door of a collapsed home. Not one farmer was spared, it seemed.

The sight was too much. Jess broke down and wept. She sobbed softly into her hands, unwilling to look any longer. There was a light touch on her shoulder, and then Ozzie knelt beside her and gave her a hug. There was nothing to be said: no witty remark, no explanation, and no words for comfort.

Mask and Zoeka reappeared at the southern end of the street, searching the collapsed structures for survivors. They put out as many fires as they could along the way, but it was little use. There wasn’t much left or worth saving from the all-consuming flames.

“They didn’t even have a chance to defend themselves,” Selene said softly with a burning anger. She examined the slashes against several dead farmers. Most of the farmers were cut down from behind.

“Did you find anything?” Mask asked, rejoining the others in the middle of the narrow street. His voice surprisingly held little emotion. However, his tense body language conveyed to the others the urge to leave this place.

“No, nothing.” Selene balled her fingers into fists, tight enough to whiten her knuckles. Her eyes gazed into the charred buildings and the cracking orange flames. “It doesn’t make sense,” she said angrily. “They were completely defenseless.”

“Perhaps we will find something on the other side of the village,” Mask replied calmly. Sheathing his sword, he crouched next to Ozzie and Jess. “We need to move. It is not safe here.”

Jess nodded her head between sobs and slowly rose to stand. They began walking through the burning village. Their feet pressed softly into the mud, as the flaming buildings cracked and splintered from deteriorating structural integrity. Whoever or whatever did this thoroughly eradicated Pelnori from the world.

The others began shouting over a metallic echo vibrating off the village ruins, but the words drifted in and out unchecked and unacknowledged. Jess was rushed down a series of narrow streets. She didn’t even feel herself run around the bodies along the way. It was a memory she’ll never recall for the rest of her life. Her head was spinning. The light flickered for a moment and then disappeared.

“Stop!” Ozzie shouted after Selene and Mask. “I think Jess fainted.”

The clanking of shields bashing into armor rattled through the streets, sounding closer and closer. Already they could hear quick, heavy footsteps pounding in the mud. War cries rose from multiple directions, uniting into the intense roar of a mighty army.

Ozzie listened for Jess’ pulse and breathing, and sighed with relief. Gently tapping her shoulders, he saw her slowly stir. “Come on Jess. Stay with me.”

“Quick, get her up, before we are trapped!” Selene shouted back. Her head darted from one alley to another, checking their escape options.

Mask’s hand snapped to the hilt of his sword. “It is too late for that.”

Soldiers clad in amber armor flooded into the street from all sides, yelling at the top of their lungs and charging forward with their barbed, two handed pikes. While their bark was intimidating, they had light armor and a poor weapon choice for such a narrow street. These light infantrymen began to form a perimeter. It appeared they were going to wait for reinforcements.

“They look freshly trained,” Selene said, loud enough for Mask to hear. “We can take them.”

She raised her bow, but Mask pushed the weapon back down. “No, do not fire upon them!” he said firmly. “They are not our enemy.”

A spark of tension flew briefly between them, before Selene hesitantly lowered her weapon. “Fine,” she replied through clenched teeth. “We will do this your way.”

As the spearmen shook their weapons menacingly and yelled ferociously, two columns of heavy infantry flanked by archers entered both ends of the street. The slow moving infantry were clad from head to toe in thick armor, and carried shields as big as a house door. No weapon was going to cut through that kind of defensive power.

The soldiers reinforced the perimeter, pinning Mask, Selene, Ozzie, Jess and Zoeka against a burning house. Every street alley was covered. All conceivable exits were blocked. The ambush successful, the soldiers hesitated with their attack. They looked to a soldier wearing a fancier set of armor: the commanding officer.

The officer anxiously glanced behind him, as if waiting for something. Seconds passed into minutes, with everyone holding their breath. The uneasy soldiers gripped their weapons nervously, watching their captives group together in front of the burning home. The dwelling’s wooden beams cracked from the damage and orange sparks flew into the air. The structure was going to collapse any minute now.

From the south end of the road, the archers parted to let a small entourage of officers through. The officers approached the front line, relieving the other officer of command. Some inaudible words were exchanged, and then a man in tarnished plate armor with swatches of white and blue stepped forward into neutral territory.

The dreamkeeper was of medium stature, though he was swift on his feet. Youthful, there was a vast amount of confidence in his bold steps forward. Fair haired, a handsome face, and dressed quite tastefully for a military man, he showed off more than a little bravado.

“I am General Marwick Jorr, commander of the 9th and acting Keeper of Peace on behalf of the queen.” His youthful voice was resolute, though perhaps a little overconfident. Smiling, he placed his hands on the two swords strapped to his waist. “Who are you?”

Mask cautiously held his hand over his own blade and took a step towards the general. “We are just travelers. We saw the fires and came to help.”

“Really now?” General Jorr said with feigned interest. “You look more like a band of scavengers to me.” He smiled zealously, eyeing the saddle bags on Zoeka’s back.

Before Mask could respond, some commotion broke out among the soldier ranks. The general turned around and watched a burly dreamkeeper with a large stomach and curly white hair make his way around the spearmen in the front line. The older man appeared out of breath, his face red and his pace slowing. As he approached, the general irritably tapped his boot.

“What now, Urgi?” the general shouted impatiently.

“That man,” Urgi started before bending over his knees and huffing. He raised his hand to pause for a moment, which in turn raised the general’s temper.

“I’m waiting.”

“He,” Urgi puffed and then stood again, red in the face. His voice was hoarse, and squeaked as the air moved through his teeth. “He is not,” Urgi huffed again, still remarkably out of breath.

“Spit it out man,” General Jorr snapped.

Urgi swallowed and took a huge breath. “He is not, a traveler or a scavenger.”

General Jorr narrowed his glaring yellow eyes and stood at his wit’s end. He closed his fist around his sword hilt, cracking his fingers. “No shit.”

Urgi gulped. The general had a way with the words that made them sound like ‘drop dead.’ Of course, that subtlety was lost on the common infantry. Many soldiers smiled at the exchange, while those that lacked discipline snickered.

Even Selene smiled at the conversation, although it was mostly from relief. That old coot had a mortified look on his face that confirmed her suspicion: he knew. If he revealed their identity in front of the queen’s Keeper of Peace, they would be in grave danger.

“Well, then.” General Jorr dismissed Urgi with a wave of his hand and refocused his attention on Mask. “What am I to make of this?” he asked as he slowly paced back and forth. “Poor Urgi here says you are not scavengers. Perhaps then, you are the enemy.”

General Jorr halted his pacing and elegantly unsheathed his swords, allowing the metal blades to run against their scabbards. The wicked steel glared in the orange flames and harsh sunlight as they fully revealed themselves. Grinning devilishly, he began to close the distance between himself and Mask.

Urgi thrust his arm out towards the general and stomped his foot on the ground. “General Jorr, stop this at once,” the old dreamkeeper boomed in an airy voice.

The new found confidence startled the soldiers and fazed General Jorr for a moment. However, the general pressed onwards with a bloodlust in his eyes. He came here for a fight and he will not be denied, least of all by Urgi.

“As Keeper of Records, I tell you that I recognize this man,” Urgi spat, pointing a shaky finger at Mask. “He is a living legend. Fighting him would be foolhardy.”

“Do not lecture me, Urgi.” General Jorr glared over his shoulder and bared his curved teeth at the old dreamkeeper. “Legend or not, this man wears the mask of a traitor. I will see the law carried through and have this traitor get what he deserves.”

“Traitor? Traitor!?” Urgi’s anger spiked into a feverous pitch as his volume rose higher and higher. “He was a champion for the people! He was the queen’s very own bodyguard and trusted friend! You and I both know the accusations against his loyalty are false. He is, he is…”

Urgi gasped for breath as his shouts echoed off the ruins of Pelnori. The general paused, and for a moment worry flickered across his fiery eyes. He glanced back at his men. They murmured to each other, some siding with Urgi. He had to regain control.

“Words are easy to say.” General Jorr lowered his weapons to his sides and stood at swords reach in front of Mask. “Do you have any proof to back these claims?” he decisively asked Mask.

Silence. Everyone held their breath waiting for a response that would never come. General Jorr glared fiercely at the black slits that hid Mask’s eyes but saw nothing in return. Mask remained steadfast; not once did he falter while in the young general’s intimidating presence. It was a rare occasion for the general to find someone unshaken by his status. Only the great or ignorant stood up to him.

“Perhaps,” Urgi said meekly, “the queen will sort this out?”

General Jorr hesitated for a moment to stare at the masked man before sheathing his blades. He gave a slight nod in agreement. The change of heart seemed to earn his soldiers’ approval. “Yes, I think it is best to defer to her judge—”

The screech of a crossbow bolt let loose through the air cut the general’s sentence short. General Jorr didn’t even have time to react. He heard the deadly arrow pierce metal and his heart skipped a beat. For a second nothing happened. Then, he witnessed a surprised gasp of air escaping the lungs from the man in front of him. His masked adversary twisted and fell to one knee with the bolt buried in his left shoulder.

“Assassin!” someone yelled loudly.

Mask dug his gloved fingers deep into the thick mud, feeling the warm earth entombing them. Firmly planted into the ground, this hand supported his entirety as his body leaned over his left knee and threatened to topple. The bolt had punched through his armor and winter coat, sinking into his flesh. There was blood: so much blood. The dark liquid seeped through his tunic and cascaded to the earth.

The scene rapidly fell into turmoil. Commands were barked and soldiers rushed the ground. The familiar hiss of a large ryuu-neko made the soldiers falter in their approach. Zoeka loomed above Mask like a mother protecting its young and was poised to lash out with her claws and teeth. Giving her a large berth, a column of heavy infantry shielded the general, Urgi, and their guests.

“There! On the roof!” a soldier yelled amidst the sounds of chaos.

Mask blinked slow and deliberate, trying to find the will to fight. Instead, he saw his own blood, dark and thick, dripping into the mud. His breathing was labored, and the stench of blood, sweat and death lingered in the air. The initial shock of the assassination over, burning pain spread ravenously from his shoulder like wildfire. It began to consume. With a final exhale, his body slumped into the ground.

***

On the outskirts of Pelnori, a lone figure concealed in a black cloak stepped into the burned ruins of a barn. Blackened by fire, the barn interior was darker than the depths of a mineshaft. Soot and ash clung to the remaining walls and coated ever so little on the trespasser’s boots as they moved among the smoldering wooden beams like a phantom. The place smelled like burned hair, among other unpleasant aromas. The figure pressed their face into their elbow and coughed, not at all happy about the meeting place.

“Is it done?” a man asked from within the shadows. His voice carried the danger of command, and the softness of death. Seldom does anyone ever hear such a voice, and those that do never forget.

“Always straight and to the point,” the man cloaked in black responded. He lowered his arm from his face, showed his best smile, and tried to remain absolutely calm. The man spun slowly, pretending to take interest in the extensive damage to the barn while his eyes rapidly searched the ruins for danger. “I love what you’ve done to the place.”

“Hardly,” the shadows responded impatiently. “A man such as yourself, Rekly, has certain extravagant tastes. Unlike most of those in your line of work, you appreciate the finer things in life.”

Rekly dropped his friendly charade and wrinkled his nose. “I never could stand that rural smell. The sooner I am home in my personal palace, the better. So!” He clasped his hands together, and smiled deviously. “Let’s talk…business.”

“I trust the assassination went well. Otherwise, you would not be standing here.”

“There has been a, uh, development,” Rekly said carefully, trying to conceal the worry in his voice. He continued to watch for movement using his peripheral vision, but so far the other man remained elusive.

There was a pause, which Rekly took as a sign to continue. “Honestly, I found it hard to believe, even though I saw it. You probably won’t believe me, but I’m sure our ‘happy’ arrangements in the past built enough trust between us that you won’t ignore my word.”

“Rekly, you have three seconds to say what you want to say before I tear out your insides and display them for the whole royal army to see.”

Rekly smiled at the threat; the assassin was used to them by now. They were quite common for people with his particular skill set. “He was there: the one you’ve been looking for. The masked man.”

What he got in response was a low growl, and then three clear, punctuated words. “Are you sure?”

The words scathed the mood of the conversation with an unseen fiery anger. There was bitter resentment behind them, no doubt linked to an ill fortunate past between the masked man and the man in the shadows. Rekly was more of the kill and move on type. Frankly, he wasn’t paid to care.

Rekly shoved his fear down with a troubled swallow and then beamed, having a huge smile on his face. “There’s no need to worry,” he said excitedly. “I killed him! Bloody fool never saw it coming.”

“The only fool in this situation is me,” the shadow whispered, a growing amount of hate filling his voice. “I trusted you to carry out a simple job. I gave you everything you could have asked for. The place, the time, the weapon: everything!” The shadow shouted, fuming with rage.

The assassin quickly wiped his grin away and regretted what he just said. Already, he felt the other man’s anger radiating dangerously. It was always good practice to avoid angry clients, especially if they had a blood stained history. Rekly began to weigh his chances with running.

“One vial of Riverbelly poison, one crossbow,” the shadowy voice thrashed out menacingly, “and one clear, specific, target!” The man in the shadows ended his rant with earsplitting wrath. The words resonated harshly off the walls.

In the distance they both heard shouts coming from the ruins of Pelnori. Someone heard them. In moments the royal army would swarm this place looking for the source of the disturbance. Rekly began to sweat profusely. He was nervous beyond all measure, knowing his life may end any second now.

“Have I made my point clear?” the shadowy man asked sternly.

“Exquisitely, sir,” Rekly replied softly.

“Your mission remains. Leave.”

Rekly didn’t bother to ask for another vial of poison. His client didn’t seem to be in the giving mood. Instead, the assassin bolted out of the barn and ran for the high yellow fields. He felt like he cheated death. Smiling like an idiot, he vowed to never fail again. His target was as good as dead.