When Joaquin decided to work on Alonso's farm he was expecting at least a few dozen workers. Joaquin had arrived a few minutes before dawn on his first and was surprised to see that only a handful of people showed up.
I told you. People are paranoid. Those were Alonso's words.
That was two weeks ago.
The first week he spent mostly resting after his shifts. Joaquin didn't realize just how exhausted he was making the trip here. It had been months since he left the old man. Joaquin wondered if he was even still alive. Before Joaquin could linger in his thoughts the rusty sound of a bell clanging began to echo from the small work cabin on the edge of the farm.
His shift was over. Joaquin carried four large baskets over to the drop off before making his way back towards the city. He could feel Alonso trying to get his attention but did his best to ignore his attempts as Joaquin made his way deeper into the city.
Joaquin was surprised by the number of people that were clustered together. Alonso mentioned that they were called gangs. How many of them have popped up since the sacking of the Lord Wall Church by a mysterious group of raiders that appeared inside the city. Joaquin couldn't help but think that Ephidel had a hand in the sacking or cooperated with the raiders. And they were all looking for the zapojin boy who stole money from a low rank noble.
Joaquin did his best to look for the boy but found no luck. Each day he was filled with worry that one of these gangs would find him and take him to Zephiel. He couldn't let that happen. His tribe was gone and this was his chance to start anew. To bring back the glory of his people and rebuild what they had lost. But Joaquin knew he could not spend all his time looking for the boy. He had come to the city for a purpose. He came here for Zephiel's head.
Joaquin looked up at the sky. By the position of the sun he guessed that he had about three hours of sun left. He took a moment before deciding to check out the inner walls at the far end of the west side of the city. Alonso mentioned it would take about an hour to reach the inner walls.
With each step towards the inner walls the more tense he felt. What if he manages to come face to face with Zephiel? Would he announce his presence or would he try to go for the silent kill? Years of training didn't prepare him for this. As much as he would deny it to the old man, the truth was he was scared. The images of fire and blood coursed through his mind. The cries of anguish as all those he knew and loved fell before him. How he hid from the man and his dons by hiding in the nearby woods. How he could do nothing but watch as he prioritized his own life. It made him both angry and scared. He wondered how he would appear to Zephiel once they met eye to eye.
The inner walls were not as tall or sturdy looking as the outer walls but it was much more decorative. Where the outer walls were made of tough stone the inner walls were made of a white stone with a gold coating. Images of creatures unknown to Joaquin were carved alongside the walls. Each of them was slain by a warrior and had the people praising him for his actions. Before the carvings were repeated there was a head carved into a rocky wall. With a lone figure bowing before it. The creature was smiling and Joaquin couldn’t help but be disturbed by the imagery. Joaquin lifted his hand towards the wall before stopping an inch from touching it.
He took a deep breath just like he did when he arrived at the city weeks prior. Heat began to radiate from his eyes as his vision was enhanced.
When his eyes caught a glimpse of the purple colored aura around the inner walls he could tell that he almost fucked up.
If I touch this then he'll know I'm here. Joaquin thought.
What made it worse was that the aura extended above the walls. Almost as if Zephiel expected someone might try to jump over the wall. Someone like Joaquin. Joaquin bit his lips as he felt defeated. He would have to find another way inside.
For now Joaquin decided to head back towards the tavern.
Halfway back he felt the tiny hairs at the back of his neck stand. Joaquin glanced at the small opening between two homes. Something the people called an alleyway. There was something or someone wanting him to enter. Joaquin held back a smile as he took his first step into the alley.
The alley was dark and empty. The memories of that man flooded Joaquin's mind. Whoever this person was calling to him with a sinister aura was working for Zephiel. But which one of the seven was it?
Joaquin ended up at a dead end. A clicking sound echoed from behind him.
Click.. click click… click..click click. Over and over in the same repeating pattern. Embers began to heat up in his stomach. He had heard this same clicking used on the day of his manhood. He placed a hand onto the hilt of his sword as he turned to face his inviter.
If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
The stranger wore a robe embroidered with gold on the seams. The red color was bright and seemed to have been recently made by a professional tailor. Joaquin squeezed the hilt on his sword with so much grip that it began to crack.
The memories of the commander began to flood Joaquin's mind. The way the stranger humiliated him in his final moments before making the killing blow. The anger, shame, and regret made it easy for Joaquin to claim his memories years after his death.
“You.” Joaquin pointed his sword at the stranger's head. “I'll make sure your death is slow and painful.”
“The boy crawls his way to death's domain. The gates shut behind. All alone with no one to hold. Have you come to embrace the end?” The stranger said with a smile.
Joaquin ignored his words. In a blinding light Joaquin dashed behind the stranger with sword in hand.
“So impatient.” The stranger sang as he blocked Joaquin's sword with his own. “I don't think I'll need the hands I was born with.”
Joaquin still didn't say a word. He remained calm even after an arm grew out of the stranger's back before grabbing the sword that hung around the man's waist and blocking Joaquin's attack. Joaquin continued with a flurry of swings and strikes before one finally went through.
The stranger screamed as the arm in his back was cut clean. Blood splattered down from the air like rain in a storm.
The don's screams sent shivers down Joaquin's spine. It was like hearing a dog wailing for its life as you put it down. Whatever small pity Joaquin felt for the don died when the don turned to face him and smiled. “Gotcha!”
Joaquin saw how the wound began to heal itself. Still he didn't say a word. The commander's memories had shown this. How the commander cut off a dozen limbs to no avail. Each wound either healed or grew another limb to replace the one that was lost. A terrifying ability to overcome.
“Don't tell me that's all you got. My lord, this is turning out to be a bore.” The stranger said as he pulled out the cane on the other side of his waist. Imitating Ephidel in his mannerism. “Still, Lord Ephidel will be pleased once I bring you to him. Perhaps I will even ascend beyond the others if I bring you to him personally.”
Joaquin turned his back on the stranger and relaxed his sword on his shoulder. The sharp end was pointing at the stranger.
“You have some nerve turning your back on me you filthy zapojin.” Joaquin could feel the anger building in the man's head.
The stranger threw the cane and prepared to lunge at Joaquin with his sword. A loud bang erupted in the alley. Dust that had gathered atop the buildings nearby had shifted and fell towards the ground. Joaquin pulled his sword in front of him. In the end was the stranger's head alive and gagging.
The stranger gagged as the blade cut into his throat the more he struggled. Once the blur in his eyes passed he saw the rest of his body splattered in many bits and pieces where he once stood.
“W-what did you do to me?” The stranger asked.
Joaquin pulled the strangers head until they were eye to eye with each other. Joaquin smiled.
“I told you. Slow and painful. You were too focused on seeing the physical that you neglected to think about what you can’t see with normal eyes.”
The don’s eyes bulged as Joaquin’s words reached his ears. “W-what you can’t s-s-s-s-see?” The don focused whatever energy he could towards his eyes. Aura as red as blood spewed out of Joaquin’s sword. “What is that?”
“It's exploding magic. The moment you crossed swords with me the aura was seeped into your blade and to your body. From there I just needed to wait for it to reach your neck.” Joaquin dusted his cloak.”I knew you could regenerate as long as your head remained attached to your body.”
The stranger's eyes bulged as fear overcame him. The sword felt like thousands of small needles piercing his throat. “P-p-p-please…. I'll do anything. Just put my head back on—”
The words were stuck in the don's mouth as he shifted his gaze towards the other side of the alley. No matter how much he looked he could not see the upper half of his body. He could feel death approaching.
“Now then. How do I get inside the inner walls without being detected?” Joaquin asked.
The don glanced at Joaquin with curious eyes before feeling the blade cut towards his brain.
“You don't have much time left. Leave this world with one good deed. Or should I increase the pain so you can suffer as much as possible before your strength fades.
The don could feel pieces of his heart trying to regenerate on the alley floor. Even without his body he could still feel his heartbeat. It was rapid and cold. It was a strange feeling. To feel a phantom heart when he had none. The don mustered what strength he could as he looked at Joaquin.
“How did you know about my weakness? You've never seen— my abilities before.”
Joaquin turned the dons head and whispered in his ear, “You pissed on me. You defiled me, you laughed and shamed me. I gave that man everything and I could die peacefully as a warrior but you kept my spirit alive long enough for this man to find my crying soul. You Don Nicholas dishonored me and kept me from sleeping.”
Don Nicholas's eyes were about to pop as Joaquin's voice changed to a man who should've been dead. A man who knew about his abilities and a man who should know about the things the zapojin shouldn't. A man who died three years prior.
“W–Who… WHAT ARE YOU!?!”
“My name is Hawahkan. Carrier of Commander Joaquin’s memory and soul, and a member of the Cuauhtli. For Joaquin,” Joaquin shifted the blade and pierced through Nicholas's brain. Blood pooled down the blade and towards the hilt. But Joaquin didn't care to flick The blood away. Joaquin just looked at the sky. Glancing at the four moons that began to appear in the red sky. “And for me.”