Edgar sat reclined in his chair, counting gold on the table in his little apartment on the third level of Pit Two. The pile of gold was huge, covering the table completely.
“Edgar?” Niklas muttered as he sat up in his bunk. “You can’t have that, it’s illegal!”
Lill pushed the door open, and Rasmus and Trygve ran past her laughing. She carried a plate of steaming food. “Boys!” she hollered at the commotion, but they scampered away.
“Lill?” Niklas croaked, his tired mind not making the connection that the scenario was impossible.
She set the plate down, and Edgar stood to hug her. Niklas grimaced in discomfort and got out of his bunk.
“Come here, Niklas,” Lill said with a smile as she walked up to him and hugged him. Niklas cried out, kicking and squirming, but her hug was bear-tight.
She dropped him, leaving him gasping for breath. Then Esther, Robin’s sister, walked in. She smiled at Niklas, her eyes twinkling. Her face was practically glowing, with big eyes, thick hair, and a subtly vulpine face.
“Why did you run away from me?” she asked, seeming offended, but still her eyes twinkled. The stirring started again. Niklas just wanted to look at her, but he knew he would be trapped if he did.
Crying out in panic, he turned and ran.
Niklas ran down the long decks of the third level. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the Zealots chasing him, all three of them. He cried out and ran faster. “Don’t break my face!” he shouted, clutching his Drone mask to his chest.
Niklas ran right into the Master Zealot and fell back. Somehow, the Master Zealot appeared before him, towering over him, and looked down at him as if he were a bug on the ground.
It was then that Niklas realized he wasn’t alone on the deck. Relrin mothers completely surrounded him. They gawked at him in terror. “What’s he doing here?” one of them snapped.
“Doesn’t he know Drones aren’t allowed on the fifth level?”
Niklas’ head spun. The fifth level? The sanctuary of Mothers? “No!”
The Zealot took off his mask to reveal Esther’s face. Her hazel eyes bore into Niklas. “Yes, Niklas,” she said. “You have no valor. You haven't taken your med.”
“I’m sorry!” Niklas cried, but the mothers murmured amongst themselves as they swarmed him.
“He’s faceless!” one cried. “Back to the under level!”
“No!” Niklas pleaded as they caught hold of him and towed him to the black pit that would drop down all five levels.
“Faceless!” they all cried as they threw him in.
Niklas screamed as he dropped, but he didn’t fall. Instead, he glided gracefully. To his surprise, he was wearing a red Zealot’s coat. It caught the air and lowered him into the black until the mothers at the fifth level were a mere pinprick of light up above.
Niklas landed in the darkness. Everything was completely black. He looked around in panic. “Edgar!” he cried.
“No!” a rumbling voice cut the air like steel plates being scrapped together.
“Who are you?” Niklas asked, reaching out with his fingers like a blind man. A figure stepped out of the darkness before him, and Niklas scampered back several steps.
Hunched and dark, it stood taller than him by at least a foot and wore black rags. Its skin was wrong; it looked like it might have been twisted black marble. It had pure black eyes, as though it were looking everywhere and nowhere at once. But its most sickening feature was its horrible beak. Twisted and dark, it curved down like a hook seeking prey to latch onto.
“What do you want?” Niklas cried as he scrambled away.
“Feed me,” it hissed.
“W-What are you?” Niklas demanded, choking on his words. “Are you Stigki? Are you god or monster?”
“I...Nightbeast!” It said as though it were trying its words out for the first time. Its voice came out warped and heavy. “Feed me!”
“I don’t have any food!” Niklas cried.
“You...are.”
“I am what?” Niklas asked in a frantic panic.
“Food!” It hissed and lunged.
Niklas screamed as he bolted up in his cot. Panting and drenched in a cold sweat, his heart raced as he desperately tried to get his bearings. Cot, window, sunlight. he was still at the Sommerfeld's.
“Frag,” Niklas hissed.
The nine-year-old Rasmus looked at Niklas cautiously from his own cot. Had Niklas woken him? The two boys moved back into their room after Lill decided Niklas was no longer a stranger, and the Sommerfeldts had somehow procured a new cot for Rasmus.
“Frag!” Rasmus echoed.
Niklas exhaled sharply. “Don’t say that.”
“Why?” The boy asked.
“Because your mother doesn’t want you to swear, you should obey her.”
“Frag is a swear?” Rasmus asked.
“Also, if she finds out you learned it from me, she’ll flog me.”
“Frag,” Rasmus tried the word with a smile.
Niklas sneered at the boy and sat up.
“Bad dream?” Rasmus asked.
Niklas nodded still panting.
“I have bad dreams sometimes,” he said as he rolled back over. “What was it about?”
“I don’t know,” Niklas said.
Rasmus hummed lightly to himself. Why was Rasmus already up? Lill usually woke Niklas long before the boys woke up.
Niklas pulled off his sweat-soaked shirt and dropped it with a splat. Sunlight peeked from behind the curtains on the window. Niklas bolted from his bed.
“What time is it?” he demanded.
“Late,” Rasmus yawned. Ma said you were burning up, so she’s let you sleep.”
“Frag!” Niklas winced apologetically at the boy.
He was late; why didn’t Robin get him? There was no time for that. Niklas washed his face quickly, pulled on a fresh shirt, grabbed a sack of mill bread, cheese, and fruit, and headed for the door.
Niklas rushed out the door and almost missed Esther as she sat weaving baskets in the shade of the compound. All the others must have left early.
“Hey you!” she called after him as he bolted for the gate.
He froze in his tracks.
“What’s your problem?” she demanded. “I mean last night.”
Niklas cursed himself inwardly. He was late already, and now he had offended another mother. He turned to her and bowed apologetically. “Forgive me!” he said. “I’ve just… never seen women before. You scare me!”
She looked at Niklas as though someone had thrown water in her eyes, and then she threw back her head and laughed. Her laugh differed significantly from how drones laughed when they got rowdy. “You’re afraid of women?” she gasped between free-flowing tears.
Niklas blushed a horrible shade of red. Why did he care so much about what she thought of him?
She let out a long sigh after she contained herself. “So the stories are true?” she asked. “You’re from Pit Forest, raised by actual devils?”
“Ye-”
The gate behind him squealed open, and two men filed in. They stomped past Niklas without any semblance of acknowledgment.
“Hey, Esther!” one of the men called. “Are your brothers here?”
Without a word, she regarded them coldly and returned to her weaving.
“No, then? Good, we actually came to see you,” one chuckled.
“Yeah, we and a couple of the boys could scrape enough money to pay off the money your family owes Alred.”
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Niklas turned to leave, and Esther rolled her eyes at them, though a flicker of fear in them caused Niklas to stop.
“What do you want?” she demanded. “You want me to believe that you’re willing to help out of the goodness of your heart?”
Both men laughed at her question as they continued closer. “Smart girl,” one of them said. “Of course, if we were to help you with your problems, we would need you to...see to some of our needs.” He smiled humorlessly as he fingered a lock of her hair.
Niklas shut the metal gate with a grinding squeal. Neither man noticed. Niklas slid a metal bolt on the inside.
He felt the heat rise in his body.
He warned himself that men touching a mother’s hair might be normal. He had already messed too many things up because he didn’t understand Relrin culture.
Niklas thought back to the hug she gave Robin.
“Stop it,” Esther snapped as she swatted at his hand. “It’s not my brothers you should be worried about. I’ll whip you myself.” She hitched up her skirt, grabbed a handful of wispy reeds, and swished them threateningly.
The men jumped away but laughed.
“Careful!” one grinned at his companion. “She smashed a jar of honey on Stem’s head.”
Niklas felt a slight rumble in his head and a shiver down his spine.
“Get out!” she snapped at the men, to which they let out another bout of dry laughter.
Niklas dropped his sack and snatched an idol bucket that rested against the wall.
Esther saw the motion from behind the men, and her eyes widened in surprise.
Niklas cocked his shoulder back and threw the bucket at the one closest to him. The bucket whistled as it flew through the air.
With a loud crack, the bucket nailed the man in the back of the head and sent him face-first into a water tub with soaking reeds.
His companion cried out in surprise and turned just as Niklas slammed into him. Niklas executed his rage-fueled throw with momentum and surprise on his side. The tramp’s feet swung high into the air.
Niklas bellowed as he slammed the man onto the concrete ground.
The man screamed with wide eyes as Niklas locked his arm out, threatening to hyperextend his elbow.
“I don’t think she likes you here!” Niklas snarled at the whimpering man. Then he jerked the elbow, and the arm snapped.
The man screamed louder as Niklas dropped him to the ground.
Valor continued to come, heating his whole body. This! This was war! This is why he was born!
The man’s companion came up sputtering and wet from the wash tub. He touched the back of his head in shock. His fingers came back with blood on it. “You!” he cried at Niklas before drawing a short work knife.
Niklas struck the sobbing man on the ground in the nose, and the back of his head rapped against the ground. Then he turned to face the second man.
With a snap, Niklas held his reaper's blade and settled into Hornet Four, a defensive knife-fighting stance.
The man stopped when he saw Niklas and then eyed Niklas’ weapon, his stance, and his build.
It didn’t take a soldier to tell that the man was untrained.
The man walked around the tub, keeping his distance, considering Niklas with the same caution he would a venomous serpent.
Niklas smiled. Oh, how they were right to fear him. “Come on!” Niklas growled.
The man walked over to his moaning friend, ignoring Niklas’ invitation. He grabbed him and hoisted him up. “You’re a dead man, corpse,” he snapped. His friend’s nose bled freely from both nostrils.
Niklas hissed and started after them, but they fled, yelping dogs with their tails down. They struggled with the lock before disappearing.
Niklas felt an overwhelming surge of satisfaction as his enemies fled. Valor was his! This was what it felt like to claim valor!
Niklas breathed deeply, his heart pounding in his chest like a cannon. His vision blurred in carnal pleasure for a moment before he remembered Esther. Deactivating his knife, he turned to her, his valor vanishing almost instantly, being replaced with concern.
She was on her feet, wide-eyed and shocked, her work dress wet from the reed tub.
Niklas dropped to one knee, his head bowed. “Mother, I splashed your garments! Forgive me!”
“Mother?...Splashed?...Niklas, what did you just do?” she cried.
Someone pounded on the gate, and with a screech, it swung open.
“Esther, are you okay?” A younger man in a green and yellow suit entered, flanked by two men armed with naked swords.
He stopped and gapped at Niklas in bewilderment.
“Teaman?” Niklas gasped in surprise. Sure enough, the merchant, his brute Arth, and his other guard stood before him. What were they doing here? Niklas recalled Wilbur saying he had a friend in the compound, but Niklas never would have thought it was Esther.
“I heard some of the Rowan boys had men here. Where are they?” he said slowly, not taking his eyes off Niklas.
He looked from Esther to Niklas. He seemed to be processing things still. “But it seems you have already been taken care of?” He sounded disappointed.
“Excuse me,” Esther gasped. “You two know each other?”
“I’ve had the privilege of meeting Mr. Loga in town,” Wilbur said with spite in his eyes. “The meeting was...disappointing.”
Niklas growled inwardly as he recalled Wilbur's foolish sermon. The man fancied himself a wolf, and Niklas didn’t trust wolves.
Esther seemed to gather her wits, then bowed her head. “Mister Teaman,” she said, “I didn’t know you were in town.”
“Yes,” he said. “My trading lines bring me through Soutfel yet again. I don’t like it here; I find it dirty. Be that as it is, I had to see my favorite flower while I was here.” He smiled at her, causing her to flush pink.
“Uh...what?” Niklas said, thoroughly disturbed by the way Wilbur spoke to her.
Wilbur rolled his eyes at Niklas. “Do you mind?” he growled.
“Do I mind what?”
“Giving us some space?”
“Oh sure,” Niklas gasped apologetically and gently pushed Wilbur back several paces, widening the distance between him and Esther. His guards gaped at Niklas.
Wilbur sputtered in outrage. “What are you doing?”
“Huh?” Niklas feigned ignorance. “I’m giving you two a more appropriate amount of space.”
“No, I mean, could you get out of here?”
Niklas scratched his chin in thought. “I suppose I could. I mean, I do have legs.”
“So why don’t you use them and leave?” Wilbur growled.
“Mostly because the last men in here with Esther alone tried to touch her,” Niklas said.
“Go back to the hole you crawled out of!” Wilbur snapped, dropping any politeness he had formerly employed.
“Actually, it was a pit!” Niklas corrected him.
“I don’t care, just go!”
“Oh, trust me, I’ve been trying!” Niklas assured him. “The first chance I get, I’m out of here.”
“Esther!” Wilbur turned to her, “Please call off your dog. His breath stinks.”
“I’d rather be her dog than one of yours,” Niklas said, glancing at Wilbur’s guards.
“Gentlemen, please!!” Esther cried. “Niklas...thank you, but this is my friend. I’ll be okay.”
Niklas nodded at her request and stepped aside, lingeringly ensuring Wilbur didn’t try anything.
“Esther,” Wilbur said as he approached her. “Forgive me for being late. I want only to see to your best interest,” He held out his hand.
She extended her hand with a smile, wrist up. Wilbur took it and pressed his lips against her wrist.
Niklas almost threw up a little in his mouth.
“Have you considered my proposal?” Wilbur asked.
Esther grew flustered. “Your proposal is generous, and I’m truly flattered. But it’s all so soon. We need time to court, to get to know each other.”
Niklas had no clue what they were talking about.
Wilbur’s eyes flashed darkly, only to be cleverly concealed with a smile. “Of course, my dear,” he said with a bow. But I’m sure you can understand how busy I am. I run my merchandise to all of the surrounding regions.”
She blushed again. “I know. I’m honored by your enthusiasm. But–”
“But what?” Wilbur asked dryly.
“It’s my brothers,” she confessed. “I mean no disrespect. But–”
“But what?” he growled, his patience growing thin.
“I know you are a man of youth, but weren’t you married three times already?”
Wilbur stepped away, looking hurt. “Esther...I expected a little more tact.”
She bowed her head and started to plead for forgiveness.
Niklas’ hand touched his knife before he realized he was reaching for it. He didn’t understand what was happening, but he didn’t like it.
Something else was bothering him. The timing of Wilbur’s arrival would have been flawless if Niklas hadn’t intervened. Something about the men he had driven out felt staged.
“Your brothers would be free. Your debt bond on all three of you would be paid, are they fools?”
“I’m so sorry!” she said. “It’s just-”
“Just what? Are you insistent on listening to your uneducated brothers? When will you be free of them and make choices for yourself?”
She closed her mouth tight, her lips pressed into a thin line. She looked as though tears might betray her if she spoke.
Wilbur sighed apologetically.
“You, pink!” Niklas growled. Arth took a few lazy steps toward him and smiled encouragingly. Their last encounter had been humiliating for Niklas. No doubt Arth was confident a second round would turn out the same way.
“Esther, child,” Wilbur started, ignoring the insult, “I only wish for you to become the woman you were meant to be. Your beauty won’t last forever. Consider my offer. You could be mine.”
“Be yours?” Niklas asked aghast. “If you think you will own a woman, then Stigki strike you dead!”
“Stigki?” Wilbur said, startled, “Good Kel, this man is a pagan!” he laughed. He turned away from Esther and approached Niklas, drawing close so she couldn’t hear.
“Niklas,” he sighed. “She’s mine. I don’t care if you’re a wolf. Get in my way, and I will cut you down.”
Niklas took a deep breath to compose himself. He was deliberately thinking of Lill’s warning to stay out of trouble.
Arth drew near and put a heavy hand on his shoulder.
Niklas tensed. He had seen this throughout his whole life: testing the new blood, just like when he changed units.
But this was different.
They outnumbered him, and these weren’t the dirty buffoons he faced earlier. He couldn’t surprise them now. These men were ready.
“Two things,” Niklas said. “When it comes to taking care of mothers. I don’t care about blending in. If you hurt her, I will be there.”
Arth moved with unexpected speed, kneeing Niklas in the thigh, causing him to let out an involuntary bark at the pain. Arth grabbed Niklas firmly by the arms and held him down.
“Wilbur!” Esther cried.
“Stay back,” Wilbur held up a hand. Esther froze.
“What else?” Wilbur asked, leaning in so he could be face-to-face with Niklas.
Arth held Niklas firmly. Niklas could possibly throw him off, but things would get unnecessarily messy.
“What else?” Wilbur asked again.
“Even if you are a wolf. Remember that you’re in my lair.”
Niklas flicked out his reaper’s blade, stuck it in the fold of Wilbur’s shirt, and swiped up.
Wilbur cried out in surprise as his buttons all clattered to the ground, and his shirt opened, revealing his undergarments.
Both guards roared as they lay into Niklas, pushing him down and kicking him. Niklas covered his head for protection and to hide his smile.
It hurt but was easily worth it. Arth and his comrades didn’t know torture, as the Zealots did. They were just boys venting emotion.
Wilbur snapped at them as he tried to hold his shirt shut. It felt like only a few moments before he pulled one of their jackets around himself, barking at them about the cost of the suit and their salaries as he ran out.
Niklas sat up, aching and bruised but also laughing.
He quickly sobered as he noticed Esther trying to hide tears on the other side of the compound.
“Esther!” he cried as he ran over to her.
“Niklas!” she snapped as she tried to wipe her eyes, ”you idiot, what were you thinking? He’s my friend!”
Niklas paused. ”You’re being deceived. Teaman is not your friend.”
“He shouldn’t have hurt you!” she whispered. “This is all wrong.”
“Oh, I’m fine!” Niklas said dismissively as he crouched by her. ”How are you?”
“You’re bleeding!” she cried, pointing to Niklas’ head.
He touched his forehead, and sure enough, his fingers came back with sticky blood. “It’s not bad. Head injuries just bleed a lot.”
“Oh Niklas, this is my fault!” she broke down again, threw her arms around him, and burrowed her head into his shoulder, wetting his shirt with her tears.
It took everything not to scream, run, and drown himself in the nearest well, but once he was able to calm down, something instinctive guided him to wrap his arms around her and just hold her. And so he did.
Vidder looked at the slow, winding Rulkite River. He stood at the wall of demons. The giant faces twisting and screaming in the gray smoke screen always looked silly to him. The fact that it actually kept the Relrins out was beyond him, but then again, he was beyond worldly things anyway.
He sniffed the air here. Niklas’ scent was all but gone. However, a faint trace did confirm his suspicions. Niklas was in Relgar. He put his mask back on. Today, he was wearing his drone mask, five marks, the same one he was wearing when Edgar had confronted him.
He sighed as he looked at the two bloodied, motionless border Drones that lay slumped against the trees. He had warned them to let him pass. But how could they have known any better? He squinted down at the flowing river. Where are you, Niklas?