The Destroyer (18 page)

"Deal!" I liked cooking so I wasn't giving up anything. I was happy he was helping me so I offered to clean the dishes while Father and Leotol went to start the fires in the smith.

"Get me when you are ready," he said as he followed our father out of the room to the workshop next door.

I finished cleaning and went to the stables, doing my standard morning tasks: refilling feed and water, cleaning up manure, and setting up to do the re-shoeing. There were four of them that needed it today. Three of them I had reshod before many times, and the new one that didn't seem to like me much. After debating with myself I decided to do him first with Leotol's help.

"I'm ready," I said to him as I poked my head into the smithy. He stood up from the piece of iron he had been hammering and nodded as he wiped his hands on his apron and across his sweating brow. Father was cooling something in a big barrel of water in the back. Steam rose like a white serpent from the liquid.

"Be there in a second."

I went back to the stable and got the new horse out of his pen. He grew antsy and I used my secret weapon on him: a small tart apple that I stole from the slave’s kitchen every Saturday night. The horse gobbled it out of my hands and we became friends.

"Alright. This guy doesn't seem so tough," my brother said as he walked into the stables. With practiced ease he grabbed my shoeing apron that was stuffed with tools and slid it on. Once attired, he picked up the back right hoof and started digging the dirt out of it with the pick. Leotol used to run the stable until I grew old enough to handle it myself. "Keep him occupied. He's squirming too much."

"Got it." I went back to rubbing the stallion's face and whispering to him.

"Ahh crap. Your piece of shit pliers broke. I've got another set in the smithy, by the crate where I keep my small hammers and nails. Go grab them for me?" he said as he threw aside the snapped pliers and went back to digging with the hook.

I walked back to the smithy and ducked through the door.

"What do you need?" my father asked from the corner.

"Broke the pliers, Leotol said there was a spare by his small hammers and nails?"

"In that corner." He gestured to the back and I walked over and spent a few minutes looking through the chaotic bucket of discarded tools until I found it.

As I stepped outside the door to the smithy I skidded to a halt. There were eight Elvens walking down the grassy hill from their main house toward the stables. At the top of the hill three more waited. They turned to look at me when I exited the smithy, but I ducked back into the doorway before they saw me. At least, I hoped that I dodged back in time. The coppery-haired woman that had been my malaise for the past few months was leading the group of eight walking toward the stable. She had her hand on her sword hilt.

"Father!" I whispered.

He didn't need to ask what the matter was. He dropped the piece of iron he was working on and ran to the doorway. His hammer was still in his left hand.

"Step back," he commanded and I obeyed, letting him move before me. I ducked down and peered around his waist; the woman waved her hand toward the stable and two of her companions ran inside. In a few seconds they emerged, each holding one of Leotol's arms as he struggled.

I heard a gasp from Father and his right hand clamped onto the frame of the doorway.

"Oh no. No no no," he sobbed as we watched them drag Leotol toward the woman. She looked back to her companions and said something. Her friends laughed. She then turned and spoke to Leotol, he said something back and she hit him hard across the face. My stomach felt like I had swallowed a bucketful of water from the stream during the winter. Leotol struggled in his captor's arms, he was strong for a human, but even the weakest Elven was still twice as strong as a human.

She smiled as she reached out and stroked his face. Then her hand clamped down on his neck and I could see her shoulders tense as she began to squeeze. Leotol's body started to thrash as he felt his life being strangled out of him.

Father was out the door before I even realized, running toward the group of Elvens as he screamed, his hammer raised over his head. She looked up at him as he dashed the last forty yards toward them. I saw her mouth move.

Her friends drew their swords.

It was over before he even swung his hammer. His body burst into a bloody spray as three expertly wielded swords pierced and ripped out of him. My father, Kai, the strongest man I had ever known, who had raised my brother and I alone after our mother had been killed by Elven hands, died in a splutter of blood and hate, as the last bit of air was choked out of his eldest son a few feet from him.

I ran out, not caring that they were going to kill me too. I wanted to die with them. I couldn't imagine life without my father's kind eyes, or my brother's rakish smile and teasing. When I reached my father's corpse, I fell upon it. His eyes stared up lifelessly, his skin already looked waxy and pale. Blood oozed out of him, I felt the disturbing sensation of the warm viscous liquid flowing over my skin. His body felt strange and soft, broken and yielding in places that were normally solid, normally strong.

I looked up through tears at her. Her friends still had their swords drawn, waiting for her instruction. Her eyes locked with mine for a few seconds. There was no emotion in them. I felt oddly distant, looking at her, as if I had left my body and was observing this scene from afar, removed and unfeeling. I no longer felt my father’s blood on my hands, nor the grass beneath me. I felt nothing. I was floating, tethered only to her eyes, trying to read them, trying to puzzle out how the same soft white hands that had clung to me in passion could be so coolly used to choke the life from my brother.

She looked to the Elven standing next to her. He had dark onyx-colored hair that was braided down his back.

"Next time you think I am copulating with a human slave, I'll do the same to you. Do you understand?" The Elven nodded. He looked terrified. I had never seen one scared.

"A human stable boy?” she said with disgust. I have every male within two hundred miles courting me. Are you a fucking idiot?" She demanded of the black-haired man. His face panicked.

"I'm sorry, I thought I saw you with the human," he stuttered. All of her companions seemed terrified of her. My father's hammer lay on the ground a few inches from me. I could probably hit her before they killed me. The world spun and everything started to turn red.

"Hurmpf," she snorted. "I am already bored with this. Let's go do something else." She began to walk away, up the hill toward the three Elvens that stood atop the slope. My legs wouldn't move. My arm wouldn't move. I couldn't even breathe through the sadness. I wanted to die, but no noise escaped my mouth when I tried to scream.

"What about this human, Iolarathe?" one of her friends said. I felt the blade of a sword lay on my shoulder.

She turned back, her eyes stared deep into mine. We had spent hours looking into each other's eyes before this. Tears clouded my vision, distorting her. I thought I saw remorse flash across her face.

"He looks strong for a human. Take him to the barracks. They can use him in that ridiculous hobby army of my father's." Then she turned and walked away toward the gathered Elvens waiting for her. As she reached the top of the hill, the sun caught her hair, and it blazed as if on fire. It was a beacon in the darkness that became my field of vision.

Strong hands grabbed my shoulders and forced me to my feet. My brother's face was blue, and his tongue rolled out of his dead mouth. There was no anger on his face, just pain. I couldn't look at my father's body as they dragged me away.

My eyes were so dry and grainy it hurt to open them, my eyelids stuck and slowly peeled back as I forced them open. I was afraid to keep them closed, to remember. I rubbed them and blinked to moisten them, wanting to look around, to orient myself in the present, away from the horrific dream.

I could still smell the sweet wet scent of the grass, feel the sticky warmth of my father’s blood, a sharp contrast to his slick cold skin. It felt as if he had been in my arms only moments ago.

I looked down at my hands. The dawn trickled a bit of light through the window in my room. It was enough for me to see that my father's blood did not still cover my hands. I sighed in relief and realized I had a splitting headache.

I had caused their death. The Elven woman, Iolarathe, and I were lovers. Repeating her name in my head caused it to spin along with the pain.

I struggled out of the covers that entwined me and made my way to the bathroom. I turned the metal wheel as Paug had instructed. The steam from the stream of water pouring out distracted me. When it had almost filled the tub, I slipped out of my pants and slid into the burning hot bath. I took a deep breath and submerged myself completely.

Underwater I heard nothing but my heart beating. It grew louder the longer I stayed under and I wondered if the force of my heart caused ripples on the surface of the tub. It would cause the water to move like waves in the ocean, it would match the water in the blood that coursed through my body, giving my muscles strength. I felt the power of the Water flow around me and blissfully fill my body like a wine skin. I thirsted for it everywhere, my skin and eyes parched with their own need.

My brother and father were dead and it had happened so long ago that there was nothing I could do about it. I wasn’t even sure I was the same person as in my memories. What did it really matter? Should I go through the agony of losing them twice just because I forgot my past while I slept?

I came up to the surface and laughed. The emotions coursing through my memory had little impact on my life now. The memory of Thayer must have been from after the deaths of my father and brother. So even though I experienced great sadness with the loss of my family, I also found joy with my friendships. I'm sure that I had taken my revenge serving in the O'Baarni's army and crushing the Elvens into extinction.

I had a new life now. The memories were there to guide me but not to rule me. My headache seemed to vanish and I smiled at the sudden release of pain.

I grabbed the soap and rubbed it over my body, cleaning away the sweat the nightmare produced. Then I rinsed off and looked into the mirror that hung over the ornate sink. My beard was dark and thick, but in my memories I only recalled being clean-shaven, even my hair had been cut very short. It was one thing I wanted to keep, so I grabbed the razor blade and went to work.

After I shaved my beard I debated doing the same to my head, but the thick dark strands did remind me of my brother and father. Would they have approved of what I had done in my life? Had I asked that of myself already? I didn't remember.

A soft patter of feet stopped in front of my door; I guessed it was a girl's from the quick, light heartbeat before a knock sounded.

I opened the door to see a young woman around Jessmei's age standing with a basket. I recognized the color of the tunic on top but it was neatly folded. The girl's mouth hung open as she looked at me. Her eyes glanced down my naked body in astonishment.

"Uhhh . . . laundry . . . clothes." Her heart beat in double time.

"Thank you," I said as I grabbed the basket from her. "Anything else?" I asked after a few seconds of holding my clothes.

"Uh. No. Thank you." Her face blushed red, but she turned to run down the hallway before I could ask her why. I could only shrug before I hooked my left foot around the back of the door, slamming it closed behind me.

I hadn't realized that they took my clothes to clean, but it was probably a good thing. I was about to choose between wearing clothes that I had worn for one week and smelled like I had rolled in horse shit or ones that I had worn for two weeks and smelled like cow shit.

I figured I would probably be meeting new people today, so I picked my nicest pair of pants and the loose gray tunic. Both had been obtained at the camp in the jungle. Our encounter with the Vanlourn soldiers felt like it had happened a lifetime ago, while the memory of my father and brother’s murders was so fresh in my mind they could have died yesterday. Time became a very relative and pliable thing when one had been sleeping for centuries.

Paug's door opened across the hall and he knocked on my door.

"You shaved!" he said when I opened it.

"Yes. I got tired of the hair. I used the bathtub as well. The water worked just like you showed me." His face lit up. My friend was easy to please, but his big smile reminded me that I still had to tell him and Nadea that I wasn't the O'Baarni.

"Are you hungry?"

"Always."

"Let's go break our fast with Iarin." I nodded and we walked down the hall to the quiet woodsman's room.

"Ahh. Perfect timing!" he said as he opened the door, unleashing the tantalizing scent of the food that had already been placed on the table in his room. It was loaded with an enormous pot of eggs, steaming loaves of yeasty fresh-baked bread, dishes of golden butter and crumbly, blue-veined cheese, ripe green and orange fruits, two pitchers of water, and a large flagon of cider. I was always hungry, but the sight and scent of the food set my mouth watering and I breathed in deeply through my nose to savor the aroma.