The Auric Insignia Page 18

  Her face, framed by unkempt hair the color of bistre, was a serious one, sunken in deep concentration.

  - Ahaa!

  Concentration suddenly broken by a sudden outburst of childish excitement, bubbling to the surface. Roarke’s heart felt like it was in his throat, and he began to pull his spear when she began to make her way towards where Refaz was hiding. Dreading where the situation was going, Roarke only managed to take one step forward before he saw that the girl ran past the shrubbery where Refaz was trying to remain unseen. She stopped by some plants with white flowers, plants Roarke didn’t know by name but that he had seen since they had entered the swamp. Not wasting any time, the girl started digging in the wet soil, trying to uncover the roots. Roarke allowed himself a breath as he watched the process of digging up the green plants with purple spots on them.

  - Now he will get what he deserves...

  Minutes passed as they waited for her to finish, not daring to move an inch. Having retrieved numerous, and as far as Roarke could see, unassuming roots, the girl rose to leave. Retracing her steps, she now moved with more purpose and direction. Not before long, she was gone from Roarke’s view and after a while, the sounds of her departure faded into silence as well. Breathing easier, glad that they had avoided a possible predicament, they broke cover and ventured out into the open. Roarke met up with Refaz where the girl had been standing just a couple of minutes ago.

  - That could have gone worse.

  - Yeah, Where’s Ama?

  Ama had not emerged from his hideout, causing Roarke and Refaz to look for him everywhere. They soon found him going the same way as the little girl had gone before. As if he had felt their eyes on him, he turned around and signaled for them to follow quietly. So they did, walking in an invisible procession consisting of one unknowing leader and three followers, spaced out so as to not be noticed. Roarke, the least stealthy of the of three, assumed his normal position and brought up the rear. After what Roarke guessed could not have been much more than half an hour, he saw Ama and Refaz crouching down together, waiting for him to arrive.

  - Did you lose her?

  - No, human, but we should not venture further right now.

  - Why?

  Ama nodded against the crown of the tree by which they were standing. With Refaz boosting him, Roarke got up on a branch and started making his way to the top. Looking down, his hands started to sweat and his knuckles turned white from holding on too hard. One branch away from being able to breach the top, a wind blew through, causing him to sway back and forth. He stopped, closing his eyes in fear.

  - Come on, Roarke, don’t be such a fucking craven. You’re fine, you’re fine.

  He cracked his neck and slowly opened his eyes. With a final effort, he heaved himself up, poking his head out in between the stiff, green gray leaves. In the area in front of them, the trees had been cut down, and on a small peninsula going out into the main body of water in the swamp, stood a keep. Roarke had never seen a keep before, but in the fairy tales from when he was a child, this was how they were described. A large, dark building made out of stone, setting an ominous scene with the surrounding gloom.

  Roarke could see the road they had walked on before, leading into a walled courtyard, separated by a large gate. Clay huts like the ones they had seen before, were scattered outside the gates and along the waterline, some of them standing on stilts in the dark waters, connected to each other by thin walkways. Intermingled with the workers dressed in rags akin to those that the girl had worn, were men and women in armor. Acting as guards and overseers, these soldiers patrolled throughout what Roarke could see of the compound. On top of the walls were sentries armed with what Roarke guessed was crossbows, walking back and forth, ready to take down any unwanted visitors. If this wasn’t enough, he could hear the baying of hounds, making him forget how high up he currently was, as he listened to the demons that had defiled his home, crying out in the cloudy evening. Having seen what he could, he began his shaky descent down to where Ama and Refaz were waiting for him.

  - It’s the keep, the pack is here.

  The sudden change from following a girl, to almost walking into a hostile fortress made Roarke speak in hushed tones, something Refaz emulated as he answered.

  - Yes, but we should wait until we have the cover of darkness before we approach, favoring a surprise attack.

  Even though Roarke was eager to right wrongs, he couldn’t deny that any precautions and advantages available to a party of three, attacking a defended fort, should be taken. Going back the same way they had come, they stopped half an hour away, where they could await the right time. Searching for a relatively dry place to catch some shuteye before they went back, Roarke could hear the Kappian brothers talking in the distance.

  - Brother, are you ready for this?

  Ama, who had been quiet since Roarke had come down from the tree, looked at his sibling.

  - Do you doubt me?

  - Not the strength of your arms, nor the sharpness or your teeth, no brother, I doubt your heart.

  - Worry about the human instead, the one who has never seen combat before. Now go to sleep, little brother, I will keep watch.

  Refaz looked at Ama, and seemed to see through the hostility, to the conflict below.

  - Ama, it’s the right thing to do.

  Feeling that the conversation was over, Refaz walked over to Roarke, who had taken out his spear, trying a few jabs in the air.

  - We probably should have taught you some moves.

  - Is it that obvious I wasn’t born spear in hand?

  - A little bit.

  - Aw shit, I thought I had everybody fooled.

  - Seriously though, I know Ama was just deflecting, but are you going to be okay?

  Roarke gave up trying to fight his invisible opponent, sitting down in the dry spot he had found.

  - I’m fine. Don’t get me wrong, I probably won’t be tomorrow, but hey, what can you do?

  - You could leave.

  - What?

  - I mean, nothing is forcing you to be here, this is not your fight, not really. Why choose to fight it?

  - Honor and glory, of course.

  - A poor reward for pain and death.

  Roarke looked off to where Ama was standing, trying to imagine what the Kappa of wolves was thinking about.

  - Somebody said it was the right thing to do.

  ***

  The highest must be served

  It was quiet, unnaturally so. In a forest, no matter how deserted it may seem at first glance, there is always movement. But this was no forest, and everything around him felt off. Beyond the slow, deep breaths of his sleeping companions, Ama barely heard anything. No birds, no rustling in some nearby leaves, there were not even any insects out in the night, making themselves heard. He felt like he was inside a corpse, a land that had once been alive, but that had died and that was currently decaying all around him. Nothing thrived, some of it managed to survive, bent shadows of what used to be, allowing no escape from the guilt he felt. As he rose, as silent as the quagmire surrounding him, Ama wondered if he was doing the right thing, if he was righteous in his line of action. Without waking anyone from their slumber, he started walking, and in the dead of night, he allowed himself some honesty, admitting that he didn’t care. Didn’t care if he would be hated, his name cursed when it was heard spoken out loud, at least he wouldn’t stoke the fires of his own self hatred that burned inside his chest, consuming him.

  He, the fuel, his peace of mind, his laughter, all of it kindling for the flames, leaving behind cinders as gray and lifeless as the hues of his coat, filling an almost empty husk. The only thing left, spared from the fire that had once kept him hot, angry, a fire that now, in the absence of substance, left him feeling cold and detached, was his wish, his wish to once more see that innocent smile. The smile that was the last remaining point of light in a sea of ash. Countering the darkness of his mind, the light from the braziers atop the walls encircling the cour
tyard shone in front of him, leading him to his destination. Not out to fight his way in, Ama stepped out on the road, walking with slow paces against the gate. Beside the biggest brazier, stood a sentry that had noticed Ama’s approach. Brandishing a crossbow, the guard yelled out in the night.

  - The gate of Fenmyere is closed at night! State your business or leave!

  Not answering, Ama continued to walk closer, so that the guard could see him for what he was. Almost jumping from shock, the man atop the wall gripped his crossbow tighter and was just about to speak when Ama spoke first.

  - I am here for the lord of the keep, I am here for Racka.

  Confused and scared, the sentry understood that the nightly visitor wasn’t any old vagabond seeking shelter.

  - Who, eh, who shall I say is requesting an audience with our lord?

  - His brother.

  With eyes the size of saucers, the man ran off without a word, descending the ramparts, leaving Ama alone. In his wait, Ama looked out towards the small stilted houses that rose from the toxic void that dominated the landscape to the west. Looking, at first glance, as if they were empty, the dim lanterns shone no light om either man or beast. But Ama’s sight, like orbs cut from amber, saw deeper through the nocturnal cloak, to the pitch black interior of the small homes. Peering out of open doorways and staring from slanted windows, were orbs like his own, shaped out of quartz, in which muting fear was swimming in colors of brown, green and blue. He saw their pain, knew and understood it. Still, Ama didn’t feel the compassion he knew he should probably feel, an old, automatic response took its place, collective disdain.

  - Sir? Excuse me, sir?

  Leaving his wandering thoughts behind, Ama turned his attention to the man standing on the wall.

  - Yes?

  - You are allowed to enter, the lord will see you immediately.

  And with that, the gates began to open, folding up to reveal its insides to their guest. Waiting inside, an armed escort of guards proceeded to position themselves on either side of Ama, their expressions a mixture of fear and steeled vacancy. Ama had not expected any less and made no protest to their advances. If it would come to a fight between him and the guards, the outcome was not in doubt, but Ama had not come to fight guards and so, he allowed their presence. Led by what he assumed was some sort of leader, their procession started crossing the yard, heading for the main entrance of the keep. As dictated by the hour of Ama’s arrival, the yard was empty save for a handful of guards that were stationed at strategic locations. If any servants had been present prior to his entrance, they had been cleared away before before the gates had been opened. To his left, Ama saw a large metal structure taking the shape of a cage. Inside, he could see the beasts that had, the way he saw it,led him to his one last chance, however morbid and crass, at redemption. The hounds, as any other beasts, were slaves to their internal rhythms, rhythms that now existed in the dormant phase. As such, Ama paid them little attention, he was after the head of the snake.

  Ascending to the doors, Ama and the soldiers around him climbed the small stone steps up to the keep, looming above like a dark giant in the night, promising horrors on any who dared to enter. They entered a conservatively lit entrance hall, illuminated by lamps sprouting from the walls. Not stopping there, the procession moved on in an almost ceremonial pace, each and everyone one of them walking with the weight of the situation on their shoulders. Moving through hallways indiscernible to one another, they arrived at a door, where they stopped. The leader, the stony faced woman who had led their cortege, opened the door and signaled with a lame hand for Ama to enter.

  - The lord awaits below.

  Ama looked at her scarred face, a face of someone who had learned through tough lessons not to show any emotions. Having experienced more battles than most, Ama could see that these old wounds had not come from combat, but he didn’t comment on his observation. He walked through the open doorway, the door closing behind him with the soldiers on the other side. Standing at the top of a staircase leading down into the earth, Ama could feel the slightest breeze, like fingers going through his fur. Passed the point of no return, both physically and mentally, he walked down the stairs until he reached another door which he opened to the subtle sound of air whistling as it was allowed passage through. Ama noted that even down here, the smell of the swamps lingered, clinging to everything everything and everyone it came into contact with. Standing in a natural cave, covered in what could have been the fangs of some ancient monstrosity, fangs upon which some unlucky few had met their end.

  - Brother! Come in, come in!

  As it echoed against the roof, at first Ama couldn’t pinpoint from where the voice was coming from, but just the sound of his lost kin made Ama’s heart beat faster.

  - Racka?

  - Can you imagine my surprise when I was disturbed by a measly guard, saying someone claiming to be my brother is standing at the doorstep of the keep?

  A moving silhouette drew Ama’s attention to a hill some distance into the cave. Atop the hill stood poles between which cloth had been strung up, creating a sort of blurry depiction of someone moving behind it. Sealing up the sides of the taut cloth, was a large mirror on one side, with a bulky dressing cabinet facing it on the other side. Both of them fine pieces that looked out of place amidst the dirt and muck. Walking past the grim scenes on display around him, Ama was transfixed.

  - Racka?

  - I asked “where is he now?”, “He’s standing outside, my lord.”, he said, he said that, to me!

  The voice sounded strange, not like Ama remembered it. Its tones jumped up and down in unstable shifts, and it had an edge, an edge that had not been there when last they spoke to each other. Ama however, did not care, he had come here this night, wishful thinking driving him beyond reason, hoping for a change. What determination he had felt going in, felt like iron in comparison with what he felt now.

  - “Let him in”, I said! Off he went, scurrying like a rat on fire! I have to hurry, I said to myself, I have to be ready to show my new self to big brother when he comes.

  A demented giggle came from behind the cover, a sound that felt malicious. Ama’s vision began to blur as tears flooded his eyes, pouring down his furry cheeks. Feeling more than he had in a long time, he took a shaky breath as he started the small climb up the hill.

  - Racka?

  - Soon!

  Ama reached the top where he stopped, barely managing to stand, both terrified and happy at the prospect of seeing his fallen brother emerge from behind the drapes.

  - You see, brother, I have moved up in this world, no longer the runt of the litter, now the packmaster. And despite what some fucking cunts might say, I am the right hand of the highest! Fucking bitch!

  And as he stepped from the dressing screen, Racka continued.

  - I am Racka, and I am the master’s most loyal!

  Standing atop the hill, in front of his brother, was the lord Racka. Clad completely in the flayed skins of the victims of his sick obsession. The dead skin stretching and bulging to fit his inhuman frame, a quilt showing the different colors and complexions of the original wearers. Racka raised his arms and spun around as the echo of his hysterical laughter rose to new extremes. Finally, he started to slow down, slightly out of breath as he stopped to face Ama.

  - So, big brother, what do you think?

  Ama looked at his former kin, at the rotten smile, and at the twitching mannerisms. He looked into the eyes that had, once upon a time, been like a mirror of his own looking back at him. He looked long and hard, trying to pierce through the madness in hope of seeing something familiar lying underneath. Wondering how something could become so twisted, Ama realized that he no longer recognized the reflection staring him in the face.

  - Well, brother?

  - I am sorry.

  - Sorry?

  - I am sorry if I failed you, that I allowed this to happen to you, I am sorry.

  - Brother!?

  - You’re no brot
her of mine, you have taken him from me and given me a ghoul in his stead. When I look at you, I don’t see the happy Racka I once knew and loved, I see a stranger, a monster.

  Like from one heartbeat to the next, Racka’s mien changed. Going from that of bubbling madness to that of brewing insanity.

  - Well I’m sorry you feel that way, Ama, but then my orders are clear. The highest must be served, and I’ll prove myself the most capable servant, Racka will prove himself!

  - Do what you will, I am spent.

  Closing his eyes one last time, a final tear ran down Ama’s slick cheek and into his mouth. As he tasted the salt, Racka’s scream seemed distant, like from another world. Ama was in a happier place, a place where a wolf, standing on two legs, was watching his baby brother playing in the warm rays of the sun. And as his throat was slashed, and the salt mixed with drops of warm metal, Ama, the Kappa of wolves, cried no more.

  ***

  I trust you

  In the yard below, the wolf was leading his own funeral procession across the damp gravel. He was already dead, his sentence decided, now a shell waiting for the axe to fall. The small party moved on, going outside of the narrow slit that Marielle could see from where she was standing. Ever the survivor, she analyzed the situation, factoring in the events unfolding below her. Coming to the conclusion that the changes were inconsequential, she left the window, following the plan she had set up. The hour of the wolf was closing in fast, in more ways than one, and Marielle was moving to the next phase in the scheme. She moved in the shadows, slinking past the guards posted in the keep with ease. Her knives remaining sheathed, every soldier she passed was given a grace from her cold blades, saved by their own nescience. Off to see if her outsourcing had carried fruit, her sights were set on bigger game.