Chapter 2

  Drowner’s Fate

  A painful groan escaped Ash’s mouth as he woke up with a splitting headache. Ash was disoriented and his mind was foggy. He tried to think, but thoughts were scattering from him like a group of summer birds fleeing winter’s approach.

  “Good morning, Ash,” a familiar voice greeted him from the darkness, and fog let him go.

  With a huge effort, Ash opened his eyes - a lantern light blinding him. After an agonising moment, trying to adjust to the light, he managed to see his surroundings. Ash found himself in a small, cold room, with no windows in sight. He was surrounded by walls made of cobblestone and strapped in a metal chair, his arms and legs tied to it with leather bands.

  In front of him in a different chair sat a man of an average build in his early fifties. His scarred, ugly face didn’t match a City Guards’ uniform he wore. It was more fitting for a street thug than an officer. A scowl on his mug made him even more unpleasant to look at.

  “Scar!”

  “While you are in this building, you will call me captain Merlon, boy. Learn your manners,” said Scar calmly.

  Scar leaned on his knees with elbows and patiently waited for Ash to get his bearings. His deep blue eyes watched the boy closely.

  “We failed,” said Ash.

  “I am aware, that’s why you are here. My men barely snatched you from the nails of the nobles,” Scar replied, “Tell me what went wrong.”

  “The information you provided was wrong. The mage didn’t come alone. Instead, he brought along five fighters. Mouse and Sand wanted to be cautious and cancel our plans, but I thought that five men wiouldn’t change anything. I brought rats together and convinced them to strike… Slipped the pill you gave me into his drink...” Ash’s voice started trembling, the thin wolfish boy crumbling under the weight of his own words, “ And now… They’re all dead, Scar! They were all I had, Scar.”

  Tears streamed down his cheeks as anguish made his heart tighten. All the boys and girls of the understreet gang always held together. They covered each other and didn’t let the evil of this city touch them. Mouse… Sand… Lily, Bug, Rooster, and others.

  Scar jumped up from his chair and embraced the crying boy.

  “It’s alright, boy. Cry your heart out,” he held Ash in his hands, “We will make them pay. I promise you, boy. We will! Have I ever lied to you street kids? No! I always held my name and you know it.”

  “Did anyone else survive, Scar?”

  “I am so sorry, Ash. You are the only survivor.”

  “How? How did they fight like that in the darkness.”

  Scar sighed and let Ash go.

  “I don’t know for sure. From what I understood young Owen was guarded by personal guards of duke Arnington himself. Rumors say, the duke put so many mana-infused narcotics in them they shit magic raw. For those lunatics, a group of fifty or so teenagers didn’t even count as a fight,” Scar said, “But don’t be too hard on yourself. There was no way for you kids to know it. You did your best.”

  “We thought that the darkness would let us swarm and shiv them. Instead, we couldn’t even tell how many of us died, while they just kept slaughtering us.”

  “I have a plan, boy. We will take revenge,” Scar said with eyes glistening in the lanternlight, “That’s a promise.”

  “How?”

  Scar pulled out a metal cube and put it in front of himself. Ash could see a barely visible blue shimmer coming out of it.

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  “For now we will get you out of here. Duke Arnington will not let you disappear without a trace, so we must placate his anger. This is a mana recorder, only one in the City Guard. Once I press the plate it will begin recording the surroundings. I will give you the names, and you will say that these people orchestrated the attack. It’s the only way for us to escape the Duke’s wrath, boy.”

  “And after that?” Ash looked up.

  “I will sneak you out, son. If they get the culprit names, they will not try to find you too hard. I will protect you, as a son of my own. I have two kids myself, you know,” said Scar in a conspiratorial tone, “You know me Ash. I will protect you.”

  Ash met Scar’s gaze, sorrow pooling in his eyes. Tears still flowing down his cheeks, pain of loss still fresh in his mind. But even through the sorrow Ash was able to think straight. He truly understood Scar way too well.

  “I know you, Scar...”

  Scar smiled amicably.

  “You will never let me leave this prison alive,” Ash finished and Scar’s smile melted away as if it was never there in the first place.

  The only way Ash would leave this building was in a corpse bag and both of them understood that. The moment Ash did what he was asked to do is the moment when he signs off his own death warrant. For a brief moment Scar stood in front of Ash in silence, and then he sighed.

  “You’ve always been a smart kid, Ash,” he said and there was not even a trace of his previous warmth left in his voice, “I liked you the most of the bunch. You will do as I say. We can take the easy route… Or the hard one. Ending will not change and you know it.”

  “You know what, Scar?”

  “What?”

  “You are the ugliest son of a bitch on this side of the kingdom,” boy said and spat into Scar’s face, “Always wanted to do that.”

  Scar didn’t even flinch as the spit hit his cheek. His face stayed blank, his voice flat as he turned around, “Let’s see how you sing after a week in here.”

  He didn’t look back. He marched out of the interrogation room without making any more threats.

  Only after the doors shut behind him did Ash finally let himself collapse. Strength left his bones as he let his head hang down. He was hungry and parched, but nothing could take his thoughts off his lifelong partners which he lost in an instant. It all seemed so surreal.

  Ash didn’t know how long he sat there in the interrogation room wallowing in his thoughts, but lanterns in the room were already burnt out and the room was pitch black when the doors opened again letting in a new visitor. He came inside the room with a lantern of his own bringing light with him.

  The newcomer was a priest. He wore a simple grey tunic and leather sandals, and brought a large bag in one of his hands. Despite his old age and wrinkled skin, the priest radiated strength beyond his age. His movements were fluid and eyes harsh. Flower tattoos on his cheeks gave away his identity as a messenger of Mother.

  Of the Great Seven only Mother had any significance in the lives of street rats. Ash had never seen any priest of the other six pompous gods up there, but priests of Mother often spent their time doing charity work in the slums. They gave away food and some healing in return asking for nothing.

  “Hello, son,” the priest said.

  He put down his bag on the ground and closed doors behind him.

  “W.. tr…”

  “What you say?”

  “Water...”

  “Water will come after. Let me introduce myself to you first,” the priest said as he bowed slightly, ”My name is Benerilus. I am priest of the Mother, and from this day on, you’ll be in my care.’’

  “I don’t need healing.”

  Benerilus didn’t bother to answer. Instead he opened his bag and took out a delicate-looking pair of tweezers. With fast and precise movements he closed in on Ash, took his right palm in his own hand, put tweezers on his nail. Before Ash had understood what was happening, the priest pulled with a great force.

  “Aaaaaahhh!” a scream of pure fear and agony escaped Ash as his nail dropped on the ground.

  “Trust me. You will require my healing, son,” said brother Benerilus as he put his tweezers on the second nail.