I walked through the dingy, grimy depths of the catacombs that ran under the city. It was hot, and I could hear the clatter of feet; the squeaking of wooden axles all above me.
Unsurprisingly, mushrooms grew from the walls, giving off a faint glow that allowed me to see. The catacombs stretched ad nauseum, going on and on with little to mark which way led anywhere. More than once, I ended up back where I’d started, staring at a door which the woman, Asema, had slammed in my face and locked behind her.
“So much for gratitude,” I said in my mind.
Dragon fumed. “You’ve caused problems again, young traveler. You did not think of the consequences of your recklessness.”
Stopping, I leaned against a wall. “So what, I’m supposed to do nothing? To see people being harmed and look the other way?”
“Of course not!” Dragon boomed, then added, quieter, “but you must learn to accept the consequences that come from your actions. It is not your fault that Asema needed saving—but it is your fault for saving her. Responsibility and consequence.”
I wanted to argue, but I wasn’t really sure why. Dragon’s words made sense, in a wise old sage sort of way. Sighing, I said, “So I just need to accept that when I make an action—any action, it can cause good, but harm may also come from it as well… When did my life become so complicated?”
“When you met me, of course.”
“It was rhetorical,” I replied, chuckling lightly as I ran a hand across my forehead, throwing droplets of sweat to the floor. “Don’t you worry. I blame you for all of this.”
Dragon seemed to curl back into his normal spot in my mind. Almost, I imagined him purring, like a cat, but instead of a cat, it sounded like the smoldering of a small fire.
I kicked off the wall and continued onward, but as I walked, I began to notice small carvings in the wall. I tried and failed to understand the writing, but the symbols, eloquent and flowing, seemed to me to say more than the text did. It was almost as if there was some sort of communication, but whomever carved these wanted that communication coded.
I continued onward, vowing that I’d rather fight the Sentinels than return down here when I escaped—
If I escaped.
Then, I was against the wall before I could even realize what had happened. Rough, calloused hands pressed against my neck, my mouth pressing against stone making it hard to breathe. “Ugh!” I grunted, trying to push off the wall, but then, a second pair of hands pushed against my arm; then another on the other side. Soon, at least three held me steady. I struggled to free myself, but in the end, was unable to move.
“Stop!” One demanded in my ear with a gruff voice that edged on violence. “Rodrant spy—here to tell them where we are? We’ll kill you first.” I felt a knife push against the swell of my back.
“No!” I replied in a shrill voice, more panicked than I would like to admit. “I’m-no-no-not-a-sp-sp-spy.” The knife pressed in a little deeper, and I knew that just a little more and it would cut the fabric of my clothing, biting into my flesh.
The man’s hot breath brushed against my ear as he seethed out, “And you expect us to take the risk?”
“Wait…” another said with a youngish voice, interrupting the first. “Look at his hair. Short, blond and curly. Just like—”
“Shut-up!” the first replied, cutting them off. The man seemed to muse for a bit before pulling the knife back. “You, what happened today? Why are the Rodrants looking for you?”
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I breathed out slowly, forcing my nerves to calm. Inside my mind, I could feel Dragon’s silent anger, smoldering like a hot coal, and, almost, my mood shifted to align with his. But, keeping a cool head, I merely said, “I saved a girl in an alleyway from three thugs. They’d have killed her, and then, we hid from the Sentinels.”
“And why did you save her? Wouldn’t it have been better to simply walk away? Why risk yourself?”
“Yes…” I replied mutely. “But I couldn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because of the sound of her voice. You may not understand—I barely do myself—but she sounded so… defeated.” I suddenly felt angry. “She just accepted the abuse. Like it was normal. I couldn’t—wouldn’t let that stand. Not from Rodrants… and not from fellow humans.”
The man barked a laugh, and I felt the rough hands ease off me as he stepped back, letting me take a full breath as I pulled back from the wall. I reached for the back of my neck and felt the hot skin of a rash forming where the man’s hands had pressed against it.
Turning, I gazed at the man and his companions. He was older, mid-forties with black hair as curly as my own. His nose looked deformed, as if broken repeatedly and reset badly. He was missing one ear and his right-eye, which he kept bandaged with a dirty off-white cloth tied around the back of his head. His clothing matched the rest of his appearance: tattered and broken, and filled with holes, filth strewn about it. I’d say that if I wasn’t so used to the terrible smells of this world at the time, then I could have sensed him a mile away downwind.
His companions looked similarly, minus the missing body parts. They were young, maybe early teens, a boy and a girl, and they wore little but dirty rags. However, unlike the older man, each of them had a glowing growth somewhere on their body. The girl, on her neck, and the boy, on his face, surrounding the skin of his left eye. The marks looked eerily similar to Asema’s.
Before I could speak, the older man said, “My names Raled.” Turning, he added, “And this is—”
“I’m Otun, and this is my sister Sitri. We’re part of the Chainless—”
“Enough!” Raled said, causing Otun to go tight-lipped. “The boy has yet to learn patience. Now’s not the time to spill all of our secrets. But you—” he pointed the knife forward at me again “—you better tell us everything you know. We’ve got eyes and ears in the city, we know more than the nobles who think themselves our rulers. You and your master visited one such noble, a lesser noble named Vhol. What was the purpose of that meeting?”
I reached for my own dagger, which Asema had given me, but, sadly, I found that it’d been taken during my rough treatment. I looked towards Raled who gave me a smile, then towards Otun who held out empty hands, adding his smile to the mix. Then I noticed, the girl, Sitri, had already tied it around her own waist.
“We can still beat all three,” Dragon whispered in my mind.
Looking at the three of them, I decided that it’d be best just to tell the truth. Not like I had much to hide. “Vekrem, the Rodrant your spies have seen me with, is not my master. Nobody is!” This seemed to take them by surprise, as they were immediately captivated by what I had to say. When none spoke up, I added, “Vekrem and I are on a mission of sorts. He’s an Alchemist, and, for reasons I don’t have time to get into, he wishes to cure a certain disease. He calls it the Radiant Rot.”
One could have heard a pin needle drop when I uttered those words. All three appeared stricken, as if hit by lightning, but then tears formed in each of their eyes. Raled sheathed his knife, wiping away his own watery eyes. The girl, Sitri, unhooked my new dagger from her waist and threw it down in front of me; she was on the verge of wailing.
Uncomfortably, I reached down, picking up the dagger, and as I did, I added, “There’s no reason to get upset. It’s not a big deal.”
Raled’s eyes narrowed towards me. “Not a big deal? Curing the Radiant Rot would mean… It would save countless lives. Tens of thousands… and that’s just in Silverock alone.” Otun held his hand against the growth around his eye, whimpering and Raled reached down to embrace him, pulling him into the side of his leg.
Realization set in as I said, “Those markings on your bodies… that’s the rot?”
Raled nodded, but then asked, “How do you not know?”
Scratching my sore neck, I replied, “I’ve had some trouble with my memory of late.” I felt a sudden reinvigoration in my blood. “So this cure. It would help?”
“It would do more than you can possibly understand,” Raled replied. But then, he sighed, lowering his head. “Even if you managed, there’s no way this Rodrant Vekrem you travel with would allow humans such a cure. Likely, it’ll be dangled above our heads—fall in line and live, or rebel and suffer disease and death. It’ll be nothing more than another leash.”
“No!” I replied, feeling sudden anger. “You don’t know Vekrem. I do. He would never—never do that.” Then, realizing that I really hadn’t known Vekrem for long, I second guessed myself, adding, “Would he?”
Raled stepped forward. “But you—you said that you’re going with him?” I nodded, and he clapped me on the shoulder jovially, giving me a wide grin. “Then I have a proposition for you.”