The bonfire gave off a flickering light, its flames dancing like chained thieves, struggling to escape certain execution. The fire wavered rapidly back and forth with all the vigor of a life on the cusp of death, trapped within the confines of its brick-lined pit.
The township of Vigilance was, in a way, like the bonfire. It was not a place for the faint of heart nor was it a place for those who were not willing to give everything they had merely to survive.
Vigilance was set far within the Wastes. It was a place for runaways, convicts, and exiles. In proper society, these men and women would wreak havoc, but out here their energy kept them alive, contained by the madness of the very place they lived.
Few chose to live in Vigilance on their own accord. Many preferred imprisonment or certain death to living where diabolen ran wild. It was also a land of darkness and shadow. Daylight only lasted a single hour, which meant that for the men and women of Vigilance, fire was a welcome sight.
Maximilian Elliot heaved a dry log onto the flames, ash sputtering into the air like glowing particles of dust. Everyone contributed some of their spare wood for the town meeting. They had gathered around, warming themselves in the cool moonless night. The stars were the only alternative source of light at this time of day.
Next to the fire rested the monstrously large head of the behemoth. The creature’s black horns and reptilian scales reflected the flickering light making its appearance almost ethereal.
Its face was part-man, part animal. The huntsmen had described its body as having the brute strength and ferocity of a wild creature. Its chimeric nature was a key feature of all diabolen. They were hideous, terrible monsters that wanted nothing more than to destroy all in their path. Hence the reason why barely anything lived in the Wastes. It was a desert not for geographic reasons but because of its inhabitants.
“What you’ve brought upon us,” Mayor Hendricks proclaimed loudly before all. “Will condemn us all.” A handful of men grunted in approval.
Most of the town stood shoulder-to-shoulder, huddled for warmth. Everyone wanted to be near the fire and Hendricks exploited this to gain their attention.
Max couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Did the mayor actually say that killing that thing was wrong? Max stood near the front, squeezed in between his mother and Uncle Oren.
“Vigilance is too deep in the Wastes to attract this kind of attention. The diabolen are practically at our doorstep. We cling to life by a thread.” Mayor Hendricks’ voice was clear and sharp, full of a certain backwater charm that was perfectly tailored to the people of Vigilance. “This could be the end of our way of life. Or worse, our lives themselves.”
Jeers from the crowd. Eyes turned to Oren, who tilted his head slightly to one side. He remained silent. Public speaking was not his preferred skill. He was a man of action.
“Tell him he’s wrong,” Max whispered to his uncle. “Tell him that you’ve only done what had to be done, and that father was a hero.”
Oren said nothing, eyes fixated on the fire. Hendricks would have none of that.
“Have you nothing to say?” Hendricks said, turning to Oren. “It was your brother who slew the beast was it not?”
Hendricks was not a fan of the Elliot family. Anyone who took more of the limelight than he was a threat to his political power. And political power could mean the difference between life and death out here.
Oren finally raised his head and spoke. “Very well,” he said. “What my brother accomplished is something that’s never been achieved in this world. To speak against that is to desecrate his memory. He is a hero.“
“A hero to whom?” Hendricks said. “What do we care if the rest of the world lives or dies? They have abandoned us here. We must make peace with the diabolen, not push them to war. May I remind you where we are?”
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Others joined in, agreeing with the mayor. He had a point, after all. The people who resided here did not care for the troubles of the rest of the world. They only sought to survive.
“Say what you wish,” Oren said. “The rest of the world needs us now. The diabolen are a threat to them all. And only we have taken one of the Nine.”
Hendricks was silent. Would he concede the point? Any soldier would be proclaimed a hero for having killed or even tried to kill a behemoth, one of the Nine. Max watched in anticipation, his heart skipping a beat.
“Need us? Need us?” Hendricks said. It turned out he had only been pausing for effect. The man was a skillful orator. “They only need us to fill their prisons and clean their wasterooms. We owe them nothing. Society has driven us here. What do we owe them?”
“Diabolen are as much a threat to Stronghold as they are to Vigilance,” Oren said, clenching his hands into fists.
Max noticed that the beast’s head with seemed to watch Oren as he spoke. Something about the creature’s eyes. It was as if a flame refused to go out somewhere deep inside the creature's skull. A flame that only he could see.
Hendricks narrowed his eyes before speaking. He was coming in for the kill. Stronghold was the capital city of Athracia, which ruled most of the more habitable regions of the continent. Most of the residents of Vigilance did not have pleasant memories of it. If they did, they wouldn’t be in Vigilance. Max gulped, realizing Oren’s mistake.
“Athracia? Athracia? I say good riddance,” Hendricks said. “Your brother was no hero, he was only a fool. An imbecile who gave his life only to incite violence against us. There is only hate and malice in the hearts of the diabolen. It is better to let sleeping dogs lie. They will seek vengeance.” His voice was fierce and assertive, angry even.
“As for Athracia,” Mayor Hendricks continued. “We came out here to survive, and could care less whether it thrives. If it were up to me, I’d let the behemoths and the rest of the diabolen eat Athracia alive.”
The man knew how to rile a crowd as jeers erupted from the townsfolk. Beside them, a flicker of fire shone out from the eyes of the behemoth’s head. It seemed to almost come to life.
Max’s eyes narrowed and his muscles tensed as Hendricks spoke. This was incredibly wrong. How could anyone react in such a way to accomplishing what his father had done? Even in a place like Vigilance, he’d never expected such an angry reaction.
It was the mayor.
Clearly he’d done the political calculus in his head. If Alex Elliot and the other huntsmen were heroes, what did that make him? He’d be a second-class citizen for not bothering to join them, the benighted heroes of the Wastes.
Max wanted to leap up and fight him on the spot for speaking in such a way about his father all for personal political gain. His blood ran hot. “My father was a hero,” he said, pushing his body forward. The heat of the flames seared his skin but he didn’t care. “He’s ten times the man you’ll ever be. I’d like to see you go up against one of the Nine...or should we say Eight, after what’ my father’s accomplished.”
“You have passion, boy, but bravery and survival are two different things,” Hendricks said, his voice slowing. He spoke almost condescendingly, tilting his head as if to speak to a small child. “Your father was indeed a brave man but also fooli–“
“How dare you speak in that manner about my husband,” Marian said, her voice firm and powerful, cutting Hendricks off mid-sentence. “Have you not even the slightest respect for the dead or for my family?”
“I–“ the mayor said.
“Or is it all about power for you?” Marian said. “My son lost his father, whose memory you desecrate in front of all. I lost my husband. This town has lost a great friend. And all you can think about is to shame him for doing what no other man has ever done before.”
“Yes, but - “
“I don’t care if we all have to pick up and move,” Marian said. “This town is an ash heap and you know it. My husband is gone but his memory will live on forever. Can you not have respect for that at least?”
Sweat ran down the mayor’s face and neck. He’d clearly met his match.
Marian turned to look at the crowd. These people that she’d come to know so well. “Alex a was friend and a neighbor, who helped built his Vigilance and whose hard work has saved the lives of many of us here.”
It was true, Max thought to himself. His father had always been the first to lend a helping hand, especially to those who needed it. He had been a skilled huntsman and often gave food to those who’d otherwise had starved. In the end, that mattered far more to the people of Vigilance even than killing a behemoth.
“She’s got a point,” said a female voice from the crowd. It was Felicity Bilton, an elderly woman who’d somehow managed to live twenty years in Vigilance, longer than anyone else. “Vigilance can burn to the ground for all I care and I care even less for the diabolen,” she said. “But Alex Elliot was a good man. Anyone can see that truth plain as day.”
The tide had turned. The mayor clearly felt it by the look on his face.
“Here, here,” said another voice. “Alex Elliot was a hero.” Cheers broadly erupted from the crowd.
The mayor knew better than to argue with a mob much less a woman forlorned. As the cheers continued, he quietly crept away.
And silently plotted his revenge.
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Mayor Hendricks