A Heartful Killer

Eldra, Kingdom of Elyria, Capital City Primlon, circa Cycle 7100

Fendric was old. He knew he should be thankful for his life. With such an esteemed job, he was well paid, plus he didn’t have to worry about the familial duties his brother was taking care of back in the Duchy. Petty theft, banditry, and maybe a few disputes between smaller families was all they had to deal with. There were no wars, no large-scale battles or political scuffles; they were a Kingdom at peace.

This was why Fendric preferred his duties here. Even though some might consider his profession to be mundane, he loved every second of it. Aside dealing with the occasional ritual and the studies of new Traits, he had all the time in the world to parade around the capital city, laying with whores and drinking with acquaintances.

What else could a man ask for?

Here he was, at the ripe old age of 467 cycles, performing what would probably be his last duties as a protector and overseer of the rituals. His morning started like no other, waking up next to whatever broad he’d chosen the night before, and then grabbing some morning tea on his way to his empty study.

Except this time, it wasn’t empty. Sitting in one of the chairs closer to the door was a young child that couldn’t have been more than 15 cycles. When he had asked the little lad what he was doing, the kid had only handed an envelope over. Fendric knew it was from his brother by the heavily pressed wax seal, upon which depicted an arcraen perched atop a runic shield. The only difference between the seal and the sigil on his brooch was the motto on the silver, stating “Custodes Fractorum,” which roughly translated to “Guardians of the Broken,” from the old language.

As it turned out, the youngster was one of his nephew’s two children. Apparently, the other one was to take over as head of the Duchy, and the one sitting in his office was to be Fendric’s replacement.

Pfft.

As if he was going to be embracing the void any time soon.

He didn’t have the power to go against the news, as the decision had already been made official by the Sovereign’s blood stamp at the bottom of the page. Dejectedly, he kept his cursing internal before addressing the child that was still staring at him with one part curiosity and two parts trepidation.

“Name, child.” He demanded.

“Flir, elder.”

“Call me elder again and you’re going to lose that tongue, boy.”

“Of course.” Flir responded, bowing his head in a show of respect.

“I see you have mannerisms, at least. Come, you’re just in time for the ritual. See what your responsibility will become once I am gone.”

Fendric turned around and walked out, not waiting for a response or to see if Flir was following him. Hearing the boy’s hurried footsteps behind him, Fendric led them through a number of twists and turns, to which he had no doubt Flir wouldn’t be able to find his way back if he tried. They ventured through the maze-like hallways and staircases until they were looking at a massive iron door.

Fendric had lost all shock and awe whenever he laid eyes upon the door, already having seen it more times than nearly anyone else in the castle, the King and Queen included. It was obviously Flir’s first time, as his gasp echoed through the hallway back the way they came.

Without fanfare, Fendric rested his hand upon the door, using his heightened Auris sensitivity to deactivate the locks and wards inlaid throughout the entirety of the door. For him, it was easy to flow the magical energy along the looping pathways, which had always just felt like pouring water down a tube—it was natural. All that could be heard were slight sounds of clicking gears, and then it was done.

The door shuddered, then swung open of its own accord, allowing Fendric and Flir to step through into the vast cavern beyond. It was such a stark change from the clean and decorated halls they were just in that Flir let out yet another gasp, echoing further than the last. If looks could kill, the one Fendric leveled at the boy would have pierced through his skull and out the other side.

“First impressions, boy! It seems as though the King and Queen wanted to be present for today’s ritual.” Fendric said, flicking his eyes to the two figures sitting at a hastily set up table near the cavern’s wall.

Fendric pivoted so he was facing the two royals and bowed in a way not unlike what Flir had given him earlier, except Fendric’s put his torso almost parallel to the ground. He didn’t dare raise his head in the motion to confirm their reciprocating nod of greeting, as he knew both himself and Flir were probably under their scrutiny since entering the vast room.

Thankfully, the two weren’t the center of attention for long, as the Sovereign must have motioned for the ritual to go on, no doubt having already applied his own piece to the ritual. Fendric could see where the bloodstains mixed with certain parts of the runes engraved into the cavern’s floor. Already the other individuals in the room, all in flowing robes and a mask affixed to their face, held their hands up and began to chant.

Looking back at Flir, he gave one last instruction, “Stay here, child, and do not move from this spot.”

Flir nodded in understanding before turning his attention back to the commotion going through the chamber.

As the chanting increased in volume and pitch, Fendric could feel the Auris gathering in the center of the chamber, focusing on a central point within the runes. When it reached the apex of sounds and magical density, there was a sudden pop of misplaced air, followed by an incessant wailing. Immediately, Fendric knew something was wrong, and moved forward to inspect the source of the noise, pushing through some of the robed members in the process. Instead of a strangely dressed human as was custom to find within the circle, he saw something much worse.

There, lying on the stone floor, arms and legs flinging around while screaming at the top of its little lungs, was a baby. Still covered in placenta and blood, umbilical cord severed by the transfer.

Shit.

This was not supposed to happen, and Fendric was starting to panic. Someone was going to get blamed for this, and he hoped beyond anything else that it would not be his old bones.

He turned around, making his way to the two royals, both with necks craned to see what the bothersome sound was coming from. Upon reaching them, he knelt down with his head also tilted forward, staring at the ground as he addressed them.

“Sovereign, Crownmother…” he struggled to find the words, still somewhat shaken from what he saw.

“What is that shrill noise, Fendric?” The Queen asked, face scrunched up from the discomfort of the warbled screaming echoing throughout the cavern.

“It’s…it’s a baby, Crownmother. A newborn, to be precise.” he responded.

“Damn. What went wrong?” The King murmured, eyes downcast in thought.

“What does it matter? Just put the thing in the connection and be done with it!” the Queen said, scoffing.

The other royal looked at her, aghast.

“I am not putting a newborn into the connection, Eloise! What we do may not be considered humane, but even I have lines I will not cross!”

“Hun, what else are you going to do? Another ritual?” she barked out a laugh. “You don’t have the strength! I love you, my dear, but you have to know that we must make do with what we are given.”

“I refuse, and that is final.” Turning to Fendric, he spoke once more, “Take the babe, Fendric, we can decide what to do with it later. After that, prepare a new ritual, I think I may have one more in me, after a brief rest, that is.”

“By your command, Sovereign.” Fendric turned to leave, but King Valdoc’s words stopped him.

“I appreciate your years of effort, Fendric, truly.”

“Thank you, my King.”

Returning to the circle, he grabbed the newborn, motioned to the masked individuals to prepare for another go, and made his way out of the cavern, only stopping to break Flir from his shocked state.

***

Iris

When Iris woke, Aerowyn was already present, somehow sneaking in at some point and taking up one of the chairs in the lavish room, fumbling around with an opaque stone. After a short time, the stone within his hands lit up with a soft glow. Just for a moment, Aerowyn stilled, looking off into the distance. Once the stone lost its glow, he stood up and looked in her direction.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“It’s time.”

Knowing she had no other choice, she stood and followed him out of the room. Unlike last time, where she had been unwillingly brought through the castle, Iris had the chance to admire the pretentious decor splayed throughout the hallways as they made their way to their destination. Between the paintings of royal predecessors, luxury decorations adorning nearly every surface, and the gloss prevalent everywhere she looked, it was opulence epitmoized.

Before long, they approached a set of massive doors which were elaborate like everything else they passed on their short journey. Two guards in gleaming armor with golden capes stood rigid on either side, both armed with halberds that Iris did not want to be on the receiving end of. Without stopping, Aerowyn walked up and placed one hand on either door. Grunting, he pushed each door until they slowly swung open, the slightest sound escaping the well oiled hinges. He stepped through the opening, Iris trailing along behind.

Once through, Iris took in the open chamber. On either side of the hall were seats set in ascending curved rows. Opposing the main doors was a raised dias, holding only two chairs—one of which was a large throne occupied by a middle-aged man resembling the paintings she had seen throughout the hallways, radiating a sense of finality and authority. He had flowing yet elegant embroidered robes with fur lining, and he was fiddling with a crown embedded with jewels running across its length.

Sitting on the other smaller chair was a woman that she didn’t recognize, but looking at her had Iris’ neck hairs prickling with danger, like a rodent meeting the eyes of a much larger predator. She wore more plain clothes, modest in nature, yet they still were made of a quality Iris could see at a glance. She had her eyes narrowed at Iris, gaze searching her face as though she still had food from the morning left on her mouth.

Next to them, on either side were two men in matte black armor combined with a cape dark as a starless sky, seemingly pulling in the light around them. Both of them had a sword strapped to their waist, almost touching the floor. Helmets completely hid their features, though that didn’t stop them from standing there menacingly.

Colin was in the center of the round antechamber, standing next to a kneeling man ripe with old age, head drooping and back hunched. Aerowyn led Iris into the center, and bowed before the two royals, “Greetings, Sovereign, Crownmother.”

The King waved his hand, “Screw the pleasantries, Aerowyn. This isn’t some official meeting.”

“Of course, Sovereign.”

The King rolled his eyes, “You never change, do you?”

He looked at Iris, quickly appraising her. He turned his gaze back towards Aerowyn, “Let’s get on with it, then. I’m tired from having to do another ritual so soon,” he shot a pointed glare at the kneeling man, which Iris could now see was bound in the hands and ankles.

At this, Colin stepped around to Iris, holding out a shortsword the length of her arm, prompting her to take it. She looked between the blade and Aerowyn, and he just stared back at her, waiting. She took the weapon, surprised at its weight and almost dropping it in the process. Looking back towards Colin, she noticed his eyes looked haunted. He gestured towards the kneeling individual.

“Kill him.”

Even though she had been told this was coming, Iris didn’t move an inch. She had never killed before. She would do what she had to, as living as an orphan meant you did what needed to be done to survive, but this was still something she wasn’t ready for.

The King leaned forward in his seat, “Aerowyn,” he prompted.

Aerowyn leaned over from behind, whispering in her ear, “You have to do this Iris…I’m sorry.”

Her hands trembling around the hilt, she stepped towards the bound man, coming to a stop in front of him. He raised his head, their eyes meeting, and Iris was captivated by a color she had never seen anyone have. His eyes were the most beautiful sky blue, but holding a depth of pain and longing that nearly caused her to well up with tears.

“Please,” His throat struggled to produce that single word the same way Iris struggled against her rising emotions.

She tore her eyes away and looked at Aerowyn. She couldn’t do this. What had this man done to deserve death? Aerowyn didn’t speak, but Iris could read his lips as he mouthed, “Do it.”

Tears now threatening to blurry her vision and heart thundering in her ears, she looked at the man. “I’m so sorry,” she said. His only response was a single tear that rolled down his cheek, his mouth set in a perpetual grimace.

Iris brought the blade to her side. With a groan that could have been mistaken for a whine, she twisted her torso, her meager arms struggling to carry the momentum of the blade around in an arc that met the man’s neck, barely slowing until it came to clanging halt on the ground on her other side. She had closed her eyes right before impact, but she felt a thick warm liquid splatter over her face.

She opened her eyes right as the body keeled over, and her eyes followed the trail of blood leading from the still gushing neck. A few paces away, the head had come to a rest.

Her breathing quickened, and she couldn’t stop from looking between the two pieces that had once been a whole. This man probably had a family: a mother, a father, maybe a sister or a brother. What would his children do? They were now without a father, and it was her fault. She had been the one to swing the blade. She felt bile rise up in her throat, and she turned away and spewed the contents of her breakfast all over the chamber’s floor.

Surprisingly, her little audience of six waited for her to finish before the Queen addressed her.

“Well, girl? Do you feel any different?” her voice was soft, but it held a promise of retribution if she didn’t answer.

Iris wiped the last bit of remnants from her mouth, turning with prickling eyes that probably came from the blood splatter. She tried not to look back at the corpse, but it was so hard not to. She shook her head.

What was there to feel? The only thing she felt was the disgust at herself for killing someone for a reason she didn’t truly know.

Anger at the King and Queen for making her do this.

Anger at Aerowyn and Colin for allowing it to happen.

Although, the King and Queen did seem different, except Iris couldn’t tell why. It was like something within her pulled her attention to them more than ever.

“Who knows, Aerowyn, maybe you’ll finally decide to take a Trait, if this one is to your liking.” The King said, bemused with the idea.

“I politely decline, Sovereign.” Aerowyn said, face still impassive.

“No surprise there. Well then, perhaps it’s a Trait suited for combat.” The King said, motioning towards Colin.

Combat?

She turned towards Colin, who was now striding towards her, unsheathing a sword from over his shoulder.

“What are you—”

He swung his sword upwards once he was within striking distance, cutting her off completely. It was a slow swing, not one aiming to kill her, but she was so frozen from shock and trauma at the death caused by her own hands that she didn’t dodge in time. The tip of his blade cut through tunic and flesh, bringing fresh pain to Iris as her chest now sported a shallow gash across her torso. The pain allowed her to finally react, clenching her jaw as she leapt backwards–or tried to.

Her foot caught on the prone corpse still behind her, leaving her to tumble onto her back. Her time as an orphan, being on the run from both Gunther and Amara in the past gave her the wherewithal to hunch her back and kick her feet up for the momentum needed to roll back to her feet.

“Help me!” she cried towards Aerowyn, who just looked on passively.

Colin hadn’t stopped lazily stalking towards her, blade by his side once again. Iris could only hope it was to give her the chance to recover. She backpedaled, but it wasn’t fast enough to overcome Colin’s pace, and he struck again. This time, however, she was more prepared, and she flung her body to the side, narrowly escaping another wound. As she came up from her prone position on the floor, she caught sight of the shortsword which had fallen from her grasp during her inelegant roll.

Only an arms-length away, Iris reached out and picked up the shortsword. She oriented herself back towards Colin just in time for her to raise the weapon into the trajectory of his swinging blade in a pitiful attempt at a block. His strength was overbearing, and she found her own sword pushed back in the exchange, the edge cutting into her left shoulder as she tried to press against Colin’s sword. She cried out, but was cut short when Colin’s leg swooped around the back of her legs, his other hand coming forward to push her over into another fall.

Her breath came out in one big whoosh as all the air was driven from her lungs once her back made contact with the hard unforgiving floor. She had to think, she had to get away.

She didn’t want to die here.

But Colin didn’t give her that chance.

The point of his sword came down in a stab, driving through her chest on the side opposite her beating heart. Her scream was suffused with pain and fury, echoing for what seemed like an eternity. She desperately grasped at the blade to try and pull it out, but her efforts only earned her shallow wounds on her hands as Colin held it in place.

“Valdoc.” Aerowyn said, forgoing all honorifics.

King Valdoc, who hadn't taken his eyes off the “fight,” briefly looked at Aerowyn, before motioning Colin to wait. He removed the sword from Iris’ chest, bringing an all new round of pain. He stepped back, leaving Iris on the ground to curl up in agony.

“Aerowyn, mend her.” King Valdoc said, leaning back in his throne and steepling his fingers in thought.

Aerowyn came over, kneeling beside Iris and placing his hands on the life-threatening wound on her chest. She felt a tingle, then a soothing warmth as her broken flesh started knitting itself back together. She looked up at Aerowyn, fear and betrayal etched all over her features.

“Please, I w-want to go. Don’t let him hurt me again.” she pleaded softly so only he could hear, but Aerowyn just maintained his stoic expression as he focused on treating her.

The King, who seemed to have come to a decision, leaned forward again, “I just have this feeling it must be combat oriented. Are you finished, Aerowyn?”

“I’ve finished the worst of it, but I’d like to treat her other wounds before continuing.”

King Valdoc shook his head, “Unnecessary, she just needs to be able to move.”

Aerowyn looked down at her with apologetic eyes, then grabbed her under the armpits, hauling her up to her feet. He stepped back to his original position, but something about Valdoc’s tone had Aerowyn on edge, “And why is that, Sovereign?”

Valdoc smiled, “Our young Graven here has yet to use Auris, and that might be the key to pulling out the Trait.” he said, eyes gleaming like he had just come up with the greatest idea in millenia.

Both Colin and Aerowyn reeled back in surprise. Only the two guards on either side of the King and Queen gave no reaction. It was Colin who broke the silence, “But… I thought we don’t ever—”

“Yes, we don’t use it.” Aerowyn said, taking a few steps towards the King and Queen. “Why exactly do you suggest this?”

The Queen raised an eyebrow, “And why is it you question my dear husband, Advisor?”

“Because as the Advisor to the Court, it is also my job to ensure the actions of the royal family are in the best interests of Elyria, Crownmother. Auris-empowerment may as well kill her without us discovering the Trait. Are we to then study Colin once she’s dead?”

The Queen opened her mouth, but King Valdoc offered his own caveat, “No weapons, if that is your concern. Colin should have enough control for that, hmm?”

Colin nodded, expression solemn, “Absolutely, Sovereign.”

The King smiled and leaned forward with rapt attention, “Good…begin.”