Chapter 14 - Greedy Reward

Capital City Primlon, exact location unknown, Present Day

What had it been, a day? Two?

Zahra’s throat felt scraped and torn from her screaming. Flecks of blood mixed with saliva crusted on her dry lips, some of it having collected on the floor in front of her.

The contraption kept her arms out to her sides, her knees barely touching the cold floor below. Each antagonizing second was accompanied by the strange energy, which flowed through the entire cavern, being ripped from her body, bringing along excruciating pain like she’d never felt before.

Before her abrupt journey through time or space or whatever the hell it was, she’d been in one of the changing rooms at a mall in New Cairo with some friends. They’d gone to buy some new clothes for an upcoming wedding, but she supposed that was out the window now.

A pulse ripped through the room. By her estimates, it occurred every hour or so. Like clockwork, the extra energy that had been pulled from her was forcibly shoved right back into her body like some feedback loop. Another hoarse scream ripped from her mouth, more flecks of blood painting the floor in its monotone abstract design.

When Zahra had arrived to this forsaken place, she’d been met by a young man with ruggish features and some strange accent she couldn’t place. He’d been nice to look at and talk to, but that’d gone to shit when he’d led her here.

“We’re so sorry, we didn’t mean to call you here. It was a mistake, but I have a solution.” His tone had seemed forced, like a new car salesman talking with their first customer. “Please place your arms in the holes here, and it will act as a means of transportation back to where you came from.”

She wished her mind had told her body to stop and think, but it was too busy being an asshole, being all shocked by this new sixth sense of this energy that was everywhere. When the contraption with the glowing script had tightened around her arms and proceeded to shove multiple hooks through her flesh, she’d almost been too numb to realize.

Fuck that dude and fuck this place. Screw the fact the guy had almost looked haunted by what he did to her.

As another scream vibrated through her body, she promised herself one thing.

If she got out—no, when she got out, that lying sack of shit was going to pay.

***

Iris

“...promise you Colin, get some rest. I’ve got it from here.”

“Fine.”

Voices and the sound of a door opening were the first things Iris heard. She opened her eyes. Aerowyn was in the middle of making a strangled sort of sound as he noticed she was awake. Colin was halfway out of the doorway when Aerowyn’s choking sound had him whirling around and rushing back to her bedside.

She tried to sit up, but Aerowyn’s hand stopped her from getting up.

“Hold on, hold on! Take it slow, we don’t know what’s wrong yet.”

“You collapsed out of nowhere, Iris!” Colin whined.

She pushed Aerowyn’s hand out of the way as she tried again to sit up. “You think I don’t know—”

Her voice cut off as the same pounding headache from earlier came rushing back in full force, this time even worse. A groan escaped her lips as she slowly lowered herself back to prone. Even holding her hands to her temples did nothing to alleviate the pain.

“What happened, Iris?” Aerowyn said, voice tender.

“I don’t know…asshole standing next to you threw sand in my face.”

“I was—”

The light smack from Aerowyn on Colin’s arm was enough to get him to shut his mouth.

Iris continued, “I couldn't see, obviously. When he was hitting me, I just got so…” she looked for the right word, “pissed off that I couldn’t see. I forced them open, and I saw…” this time she couldn’t find the right word.

“Saw what, Iris?” Aerowyn queried.

She thought for a moment, remembered the beautiful ebb and flow of the energy in the air. For the briefest of moments, she’d seen that same energy concentrated within Colin, dormant and waiting. Iris had an inkling she knew what it was, but that couldn’t be possible…right?

Aerowyn must have sensed her uncertainty. He kneeled next to the bed and placed a hand on her arm. “Iris? Speak freely, girl. We—well, I am not one to judge your words.” He said, side eyeing Colin.

Iris turned her head towards Aerowyn, scared to say what she thought. Doubt caused her to stumble on her next words, “I-I think I could see Auris…”

A beat.

Two.

The embarrassment of even saying such a statement only multiplied as Aerowyn and Colin just stared at her. The hand on her arm had gone rigid, she wasn’t even sure if they were breathing.

Aerowyn lunged towards the door so fast he almost reached speeds Colin did during the examination. He slammed the door shut and placed his hand along the wall, activating some rune that glowed temporarily.

“What is that? You did that when you first brought me to the castle.” Iris asked, curious about the rune.

“Privacy enchantment.” he responded absentmindedly.

Elder Varron had told her about enchantments. According to him, he’d seen very few in his days. They were apparently expensive, even by Crest standards—but for good reason too. The effects they were able to provide were nigh second to none. They accomplished things impossible to do by normal Auris wielding. Something about composite intent behind the engravings.

They watched as Aerowyn paced for a few seconds, his face betraying nothing of his thoughts, but it had her worried. He stopped and turned towards her. “Are you sure?”

Iris recalled the brief memory, the shifting colors, the ever changing hues.

“I’m sure. I had forgotten to tell you before, but I had noticed my eyes changed color in the mirror. That must have slipped my mind.” Iris said.

“They changed color?” Aerowyn asked in a way that spoke of not believing her.

“You didn’t notice? I now have these little blue streaks, or at least I think they’re still there.” She muttered.

Aerowyn leaned forward and inspected her eyes, Colin doing the same just behind him. It made her a bit nervous to be under so much scrutiny, but she pushed through.

“Huh, you do have a little bit of blue in there. Bah, there’s no way I would’ve noticed that change. I haven’t been paying attention to your eyes, Iris.” Aeroywn insisted.

Despite the distraction, Aerowyn returned to his thoughts and pacing. He ended up sitting down on a chair and leaned forward, fingers steepled. He exhaled an audible breath of relief while leaning back in the chair.

Then he started laughing.

“Coin for your thoughts, Aerowyn?” Colin asked before Iris could.

“It wasn’t all for nothing. I mean, do not mistake my phrasing, but I did hold on to the fear that her Trait might not help us. Emancipating Iris from the Draegors needed to happen. Allowing criminals to be examined is one thing—murdering an innocent that found themselves in the wrong circumstances? That’s another matter.”

Aerowyn stood and walked over to Iris.

“I can’t begin to imagine what you had the pleasure of witnessing, Iris. What I do understand is the freedom your Trait will give you in manipulating Auris.”

Iris had her own thoughts running through her head. She could see Auris? As far as she knew, no one else had ever been able to do that—not that her knowledge on the Kingdom’s history was anything robust. She could only imagine the feats she’d be able to pull off.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

There was only one problem, one that erased her growing enthusiasm like a snuffed candle.

“I can’t.” She muttered.

Aerowyn’s smile receded slightly. Colin looked at her with confusion, tilting his head like a pup would.

“Can’t…what?” Aerowyn asked.

“I can’t manipulate Auris. I’m a Blank.”

Iris expected them to curse or display some form of disappointment. Instead, they maintained their expressions, even sharing a look that had Colin shrugging his shoulders.

“I must admit, I’m not familiar with the term.” Aerowyn added.

It was Iris’ turn to be confused, but then understanding dawned on her.

“That actually doesn’t surprise me.” She chuckled, her headache flaring with the action. She continued through a wince of pain, “It’s a name you would probably only hear in the Reaches. Even there, it’s rare. A Blank is someone who has no sensitivity to Auris. I can’t feel it, no matter what I try.”

For the second time, they looked at her in shock.

Stuttering a bit, Colin chimed in, “That can’t be true! Everyone can sense Auris! Of course, there’s some among the districts who hold lower sensitivity for their caste. Not being able to feel it at all shouldn’t be possible!”

“Perhaps I haven’t spent enough time getting to understand the lower districts,” Aerowyn ruminated, “Nevertheless, we will figure something out. By the Mother’s grace, Iris, I promise you this.”

Iris could only stare helplessly, knowing there was nothing to be done. No one had ever fixed the affliction, after all.

“But wait, how come I was able to use the Trait, even though I’m a Blank?” Iris asked, the thought not occurring to her at first.

“Traits are outside the scope of Auris. They can’t be replicated by any means, and Auris isn’t used as the fuel for them either. It’s not yet clear what exactly is the source, but using a Trait too much leads to backlash, as I’m sure you’re now aware.” Aerowyn said.

Iris could only look downcast. Who wouldn’t? She now had such a unique ability to see Auris, but what good was that when she couldn’t utilize that potential? She turned the other way, not wanting the other two to see her mounting sadness.

“I know you’re hurting. I was no different when I first used my Trait. Rest up, we will talk more later.” Aerowyn adjusted the blankets so she was covered accordingly. His hand guided Colin out of the room and he closed the door behind him.

In the silence, Iris wanted to argue against her slowing breathing that she didn’t need rest. She needed to understand her Trait, useless as it may be. Tarros was somewhere out there, probably wondering where she was as he dived by his lonesome. She could picture Elder Varron muttering to himself as he tended to the church. He’d be nervous about her whereabouts, possibly even angry with her for getting into trouble. She needed to visit him once everything died down.

As her snoring filled the room, her last thoughts were of the otherworldly colors and rolling flows of Auris her Trait had allowed her to witness.

***

Tarros

Tarros missed Iris.

Not only did he have to watch her get taken away as he was powerless to help, but now he had to be the accompanying fresh meat to that very same guard responsible for Iris capture! The decision had come from above, and he was unable to go against the watch captain’s order.

Oh how he wished he could cave in Henly’s gnarled face. It was like it was fixed into a permanent scowl. There were only three things that managed to lift the corners of Henly’s lips: booze, coin, and women.

In that order.

Said coin was exactly why Henly was smiling right now. Or at least the promise of it.

“The brooch your girlfriend gave me should pay for a few drinks, maybe a whore or two.”

Tarros grunted in response.

To his own chagrin, Henly also loved verbally torturing him at every chance he got. Whether that be in a local tavern for drinks, during training, or throughout their mundane patrols of the Reaches. At times, it was irksome. Other times, it made Tarros want to put Henly’s head through the closest and sturdiest wall.

Today was one of the through-the-wall days.

Not that Tarros was able to do anything in return. Henly was a mountain in the physical aspect, larger than Tarros by a wide margin—quite literally. Even with some of the muscle he’d been able to pack on in his short time with the citywatch.

Tarros also didn’t consider himself a smart lad, by any means. Iris was the thinker between them. He always tried thinking of some comeback, he really did.

The brooch depicting a pouncing leocrep Henly clutched belonged to House Leon, one of the few Prime Houses within Primlon, according to Captain Pike. He’d taken one look at the brooch and immediately told Henly and Tarros to stay clear of them with no other explanation. His advice? Sell the brooch to some third party, which is exactly what Iris and Tarros had planned to do in the first place.

Which was exactly why he was following Henly to the Leon residence. The promise of a reward was too great to pass up for Henly, and he was convinced the reward he’d get from the House themselves would be greater than whatever he could get in the Reaches.

At each checkpoint into the higher districts, Henly would flash the brooch and they’d pass right on through.

Tarros wasn’t one to gawk at the higher class decorations or architecture. It was nice, but most of the time with Henly was spent staring hatefully at his boulder-like back as he imagined a plethora of different ways to take the larger man down.

With Henly’s large stride and Tarros’ rushing gait to keep up, they soon made it to the Heights.

By this point, they had to start asking people for directions to House Leon, which was surprisingly smooth. Some did give them a few odd looks, likely wondering why watchguards didn’t know where the House of such an important family was.

Eventually, Henly led Tarros through a polished gate that sported the sigil of the very brooch Iris had found. Atop the sigil were the words, “Grex Una Manet.” Tarros didn’t know what it meant, but knew it had to be the house motto. He knew they were all written in a language from long, long ago, and that not many people these days even knew what the language had been called.

Passing through the gate, the pathway wound up through a lush garden, small trees dotting the space. There were even thick bushes that had been trimmed into the likeness of a leocrep standing vigilant—whether that was to intimidate visitors or just show off the House’s pride in their mascot, Tarros didn’t know. It did make him scoff at the lavish lifestyle the Leon’s certainly enjoyed portraying.

The cobbled pathway brought them before an imposing gray-stoned manor that was starkly larger than the other adjacent residences. Banners hung from window sills, each of which were colored from top to bottom with a dull blue that flowed into a muted orange, reminding Tarros of the sky one would see as Rynor set over the horizon.

Henly made to knock, only to be interrupted by the door opening. They were greeted by a male servant in freshly pressed garments.

“May I help you gentlemen?”

Curt and to the point.

Henly bared his teeth in an ugly grin and flashed the brooch.

The servant looked at the sigil for a moment before looking back at Henly, “What is that supposed to tell me?”

“Oh, umm…is this not House Leon?” Henly wore an expression of confusion.

“It certainly is, watchguard. Yet showing me a brooch with our sigil does nothing to explain why you’re here.” He raised his brows expectantly.

For a change, it was nice for Tarros to see Henly so flustered with embarrassment. He could practically see the dumb brute’s face turning crimson.

“I found this in the Reaches.”

The blatant lie had Tarros leaning forward in preparation to punch Henly right in the jaw, regardless of the consequences. The only thing that saved Henly from his surprise attack was the servant who stepped aside, inviting them into the embellished home.

Tarros took in the priceless decorations as they passed through the hallways. Just about every single trinket and ornamentation held some sort of image of a leocrep, furthering his suspicions that the Leons were either obsessed with the predator—or that it held some deeper meaning in the House’s history.

Before long, they arrived at a closed wooden door. The unnamed servant knocked and a gruff aged voice from inside called for them to enter.

Instead of Henly and Tarros being allowed in, the servant motioned for them to stay outside for a moment as he walked in and shut the door behind him.

Tarros could just make out the servant explaining their situation on the other side. After a few more moments of some indecipherable back and forth, he came back and opened the door.

Henly walked in, Tarros attempting to follow, but the servant put his open hand in his way.

“Just the big one, if you don’t mind. Please wait here for a moment.”

Tarros paused, then decided it was better to get a small break from Henly’s constant verbal poking. Henly looked back and sneered, even throwing in a rude gesture to top it off.

If he thought Tarros would be annoyed with being left out, he was sorely mistaken.

Door now shut, Tarros sated his boredom by attempting to eavesdrop on the conversation happening inside the room. The muffled voices continued until there was a sudden silence, so quiet and pure in a way that had Tarros reaching for the handle after a few moments of patient curiosity, consequences be damned.

He attempted to turn the handle to no avail.

When had it been locked?

The silence and his inability to open the door was beginning to fray at Tar’s nerves. Damn it all he did not want to be here. He should be using his newfound pseudo-freedom to be looking for Iris, not standing in the hallway akin to a courier boy of some more-than-likely pretentious Patriarch.

He gave up on his struggle, condemning himself to the sound of his own breathing in the hallway.

The wait was—to say the least, unbearable.

Soon after Tarros felt the next wave pass through, he was met with the sound of the door opening.

Rather than the servant or Henly, he was met with two glowing eyes set upon a gray furred backdrop in the visage of a leocrep.

Tarros almost jumped back out of primal reflex, until he realized the head connected to a cape that draped around the shoulders of an older pale man with a regal bearing. This was a man used to those before him trembling with fear and angst.

Tarros was no different.

Sounds comparable to the soft tapping of a blacksmith’s hammer rang out as his rusted metal cuisses clanged against each other, his thighs uncooperative in their quivering.

The taller man’s thinning brows scrunched up in confusion at Tar’s frightened state, and he glanced at his shoulder where the cape rested proudly. His look changed to one of comprehension, and the eyes set in the head lost some of their glow—or maybe Tarros was imagining it.

In some way or another, his legs came back under his control.

The Leon, probably the Patriarch if Tarros had to guess, held out a small cinched bag in offering to Tar.

Gingerly, he took it as the gruff voice he’d heard upon their arrival to the door spoke to him.

“Do me a favor. Give this to Pike—as a gift.”

Tarros heard clinking as the weight of the bag settled into his hands. He risked a peek inside—

Holy fucking Mother’s droopy tits!

“I trust none of the contents shall go missing. Or should I be concerned, young one?”

That was a tone Tarros was very familiar with. He shook his head like a rabid animal ripping meat from bone.

“N-No Sir, um…Patriarch, Sir.”

“Excellent. If you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment with my mother. Do tell Pike that Patriarch Leon sends his condolences.”

The Patriarch adjusted his expensive clothes as he spoke, Tarros now registering the abnormal splotches of red adorning the man’s attire.

Blood.

The Patriarch walked past, Tarros scrambling to get out of the way.

Tarros broke out of his stupor, turning back to the now slowly closing door, the gap mostly being taken up by the servant from earlier. Past the silver of an opening between the servant and the door, Tarros could make out a mangled body resting on the floor, unrecognizable except for its mountainous shape.

Tarros locked eyes with the unreadable servant until the door clicked shut.

Without a word, Tarros whipped around and hastily made his way out of the house, lest the Patriarch decide he deserved the same “reward”.