He could hear the melody of children’s laughter. At his side, her body entwined with his was Sena. She smiled that beautiful smile of hers and ran a finger through his black hair.
‘You must awaken my love.’
Valyn groaned and shook his head.
‘No, I don’t want to. I want to stay here with you.’
Sena looked away, sadness on her face.
‘I wish you could, I wish we could all stay here together, safe and happy like we used to, but that world is now just a memory. A memory that you must hold dear for what you must do.’
He touched her face and wiped tears from her eyes. He was confused. What did she mean? A memory?
‘And what must I do, Sena?’
She faced him, her eyes turning hard, her slender jaw firm. Gone was the love, instead there was only a burning hatred. She reached up and grabbed his head violently, jerking it forward so that their lips almost touched.
‘Kill them. Kill them all.’
“I think he’s waking up.”
Valyn stirred at the woman’s voice and slowly he opened his eyes. Immediately he recoiled from the glare cast by the small room’s solitary lantern.
Another voice hushed the other and scolded the first for holding the light so close to Valyn’s face.
“Go and get Grig, he’ll know what to do.” A door opened and closed signalling the departure of one of the voices.
Valyn groaned. His battered body protesting as he tried to move, and the room swam. Stars exploded in his vision, and he vomited. He slumped back onto the rickety bed barely conscious.
“Hold still now. You’re in a terrible state.”
The voice belonged to a woman. At first, in his delirium, he thought it was Sena. He opened an eye, this time he could focus slightly. The woman in question was old and concern was etched onto her weathered face. She wore a green woollen shawl that she wore tightly around her long silver hair. She crossed the room and picked up a clay jug. She poured water into a mug and placed it to Valyn’s lips.
“Drink. It looks as though you’ve not drunk a drop in days.”
The cool liquid felt like amber as it slid down his dry throat. He tried to speak, but the pain was too much. Instead, he sobbed. The dream had seemed so real. He wanted his wife. He wanted his children. He drifted in and out of consciousness. The room's door opened again and a middle aged man wearing a long cloak and wire frame spectacles hurried in. He looked nervous.
“Please Andra, I’ve told you many times that I cannot risk helping every stray you find in the gutter,” the man complained. He took one look at Valyn, and all signs of annoyance evaporated. Quickly he moved to his side and placed the bag on a table next to the bed.
“By Niveren, what happened to this poor man? How long has he been here?”
The elderly woman, Andra stood at the end of the bed and shook her head.
“Not a clue. My boys found the poor devil lying in Robbers Alley three nights ago. At first sight of him, they thought he was dead, but then he twitched like one of the undead. They couldn’t just leave him there.”
Grig rifled through his bag and pulled out several vials filled with varying coloured liquids.
“Robber’s Alley you say? I’ve known the Fleetfoots to mug people but never have I seen them leave a man as beaten as this one. Hold him still.”
Andra and another, much younger woman held Valyn down by the shoulders.
“This may hurt a little,” Grig said. He began poking and prodding Valyn’s battered body. He groaned in pain but was too dizzy to resist.
“Feels like his ribs have been broken. Three at least. His hip has been dislocated as has his right shoulder. By the Gods, his feet! Every bone has been broken. What animal could have done this?” Grig muttered as he continued his examination.
“Could it have been a Nora?” the younger woman said in hushed tones. Andra scowled at her before clipping her round the ear.
“Stupid girl there are no such things. Who's been filling your head with such nonsense Yasmin?”
Grig rolled Valyn onto his side and leaned in closer to get a better look at his scarred back.
“No monster did this,’ he muttered. He reached into his bag again and pulled out a small magnifying glass. “These wounds are from a chain, and these are from a branding iron. This man was tortured almost to the point of death and then dumped in the streets to die.”
Andra gasped and made the sign to ward off evil.
“Knights-’ Valyn wheezed. ‘Knights of Niveren.”
At his words, Grig paled. He quickly put his magnifying glass and potions back in his bag and closed it.
“I cannot help him. What were you thinking bringing me into this Andra?”
The old woman looked aghast. Grig picked up his bag and took a pace toward the door. Andra reached for his shoulder and pleaded.
“I had no clue. If I knew I would never have asked you to come. But you are here and this poor soul needs help. I will not tell anyone, and neither will my granddaughter. Isn’t that right Yasmin?”
“Yes grandmother,” the girl replied meekly.
Grig stopped, his shoulders slumped, and he sighed loudly.
“I will help him,’ he grumbled reluctantly. “Is this room still warded?”
“It is,” Andra replied. She scurried over to the door and pointed to strange markings etched onto its surface. Next, she went to the room’s solitary window and pulled down the cloth blind. It too had a rune stitched into it. Satisfied that the room was indeed safe, Grig put down his bag and sat on the chair next to the bed. He gestured for the two women to leave.
“Best you’re not here for this. That way if something should go wrong you can plead innocence.”
The two women did as they were told and departed the room. Grig regarded Valyn for a few moments. He was unconscious but breathing.
“So, the Knights of Niveren did this to you, did they? Are you a wielder I wonder, or perhaps someone you know?” Grig muttered. He rubbed his hands together, narrowed his eyes and began to mutter an incantation. Light began to emanate from his palms, and he placed them over the worst of Valyn’s injuries. A crunching and squelching sound came from within his torso, and he grunted in pain. Next, Grig moved his hands down Valyn’s body and focused on his broken feet. With a sickening pop, his mangled toes began to snap back into place and colour began to return to his feet as blood began to flow once more. Grig continued this act for over an hour until he was satisfied he could do no more. He stood and shakily wiped his brow. Using healing magic on such extensive injuries for such a long time was exhausting.
“I hope you find justice, my friend,” Grig said softly. He picked up his bag and walked to the door, he would sleep well tonight. Before he exited, he hesitated.
“I shouldn’t do this, but I get the feeling you’re going to need all the help you can get.” He reached into his tunic pocket and took out a small bag that he placed on the bedside table. Quietly he left the room and closed the door.
It was dark when Valyn finally opened his eyes. A single candle had been placed in the room’s window, its light doing little to push back the shadows. Slowly he sat up. No dizziness greeted him this time and the pain in his body had resided to just a dull ache. To his surprise, he could feel his legs and wiggle his toes. He sighed in relief at that. He had feared he’d never walk again after the knight’s torture. He pushed back the thick wool blanket and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His bare feet touched the cool stone floor making him wince. A mirror stood in the corner of the room, and he caught his reflection. His face was still a mass of bruises but the wounds on his torso had faded and the lacerations to his limbs had sealed at an impossibly quick rate. He wore a pair of freshly laundered linen trousers, where his clothes had gone, he hadn’t a clue and doubted they were in any condition to wear anyway. He looked up as the room’s door opened with a creak. An elderly woman carrying a wooden tray stood in the frame. Upon seeing him she smiled and entered the room.
“I am so glad you’re awake my dear. Three weeks you’ve slept, and my daughter and I have tended to you as best as we were able. Here, have some soup, you need to recover your strength,” she said.
Valyn didn’t want to eat. He wanted to die. His family was gone, his children murdered before his very eyes and his wife, he had no clue where she was.
‘Kill them.’
The words echoed in his mind. He knotted his hands into fists. Yes. He would. He would avenge them all. The Knights of Niveren would pay.
Andra regarded him for a moment then placed the tray on the bed.
“I recognise that look,’ she scowled. ‘It is the look of a man wanting to do something stupid. Now I don’t know what happened to you, I don’t even know your name, but if it is vengeance you seek on those who did you wrong you need to regain your strength. Eat the soup and bread.”
Valyn looked at her with tears in his eyes and his lip trembling. Who was this woman to offer him such kindness?
“My n-name is Valyn.”
Andra nodded.
“I wish we had met under better circumstances, Valyn,” she said softly.
She was right of course; it was all well and good thinking of revenge. In reality, he hadn’t a clue how to go about achieving it. He hadn’t wielded a sword in over a decade, his short time serving in the King’s Legion giving him the most basic of martial training. His mind raced, he could feel himself hyperventilating. It was then Andra placed her hand on his and squeezed it gently.
He looked at the old woman, he saw pity in her eyes.
“They- killed- them. My girl and my boy,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. The tears came again, and he sobbed uncontrollably. Andra held his hand whilst he cried, the emotion hitting him with wave after wave of excruciating anguish. He sobbed like a child until finally, he had no more tears to shed. All throughout, Andra had sat with him holding his hand.
“My name is Andra,’ she said softly after he was done. She handed him the bowl of soup and a wooden spoon and urged him to eat. Hesitantly Valyn took the spoon and took a mouthful. It tasted like onions.
‘I am what you’d call the matriarch of this little slum we call Robber’s Alley. Two of my lads found you. You’d been beaten to a pulp in the gutter. They brought you here and I have tended to you. You said they killed your children, who did?”
“The Knights of Niveren,” Valyn growled through mouthfuls of soup.
Andra sat back and nodded in understanding.
“You’re a wielder then?”
Valyn shook his head.
“No. My- wife is. Our daughter was. I thought I could keep it a secret, keep them safe. I failed them. All of them.”
“I know of others who have paid such a price for loving wielders,” she said, lifting the sleeve of her tunic to reveal vicious scars that criss crossed up her arm. “I too sought vengeance. All it brought me was more misery and pain. Find your children, put them to rest and get on with your life is my advice.”
Valyn stared into his soup bowl at her words. The memory of his daughter flashed before his eyes and with a roar, he hurled the dish across the room where it struck the wall and smashed into a thousand pieces. He got out of the bed and shakily stood. He glared at the strange old woman.
“Where are my clothes? I need to get out of this place.”
Andra pointed to a small cupboard that stood against the room’s back wall. Valyn walked over to it and opened the drawers. Inside he found a pair of sandals and a grey linen shirt. He put them on.
“There’s a cloak you can have on the back of the front door. You’ll need it in this weather. Oh, and take this,’ she said, picking up the small bag Grig had left on the bedside table. She tossed it to Valyn, and it clinked in his hand. Curious, he opened it and a handful of silver Delfin coins fell into his palm. Adra shrugged.
“Grigg is the man that healed you. He’s a generous sort. He knows pain and misery just like the rest of us. What will you do now?”
The question made Valyn pause. What would he do? How could he go back to his life after the horror he’d experienced? He took two of the Delfins and placed them on the table.
“For your trouble-”
‘Kill them, Kill them all’.
He closed his eyes and shook his head. The words were different this time. Not in his wife’s voice but the higher pitched tones of his precious little girl. He staggered but reached out to the wall to steady himself. He looked at the old woman, his eyes dark.
“I’ll kill them all,” he snarled. He wrenched open the door, took the cloak off the peg, and stumbled out of the room. He found himself in a long narrow corridor that had six doors on either side each leading into similar rooms to the one he’d just exited. He moved down the corridor, his mind reeling and his heart racing. Sounds of laughter came from down the hallway. He froze as one of the doors to his right opened and out stepped a woman, naked save for a flimsy sheet wrapped tightly about her body. A man’s voice called after her. On seeing Valyn she gasped before giggling and hurrying off down the corridor. It was clear from the laughter, the grunts, and groans that he was in one of Kingsford’s many brothels. The city was infamous for them. Being a coastal city there was always new clientele for the whores that frequented the harbours. Sailors from across the world and those of the King’s navy meant that business was always booming. Disgusted, Valyn wrapped the itchy woollen cloak tighter about himself and pulled the hood up. He limped to the end of the corridor and descended a flight of stairs that led into a wide open tavern. The air was thick with Carma smoke and the stench of stale booze. There were over twenty tables all packed with drinkers and vagrants. In the centre was the bar manned by flustered wenches and an irate barkeep. Valyn stared at the scene before him. People were laughing and being merry, no one cared about his pain, it was as though he were invisible. How could they carry on when his world had been destroyed? Anger filled him and he shoved his way through the press of bodies. Finally, he reached the exit and stepped outside. It was night and as the old crone had said it was close to freezing. Shivering, he set off up the cobbled street and tried to get his bearings. He was obviously in the harbour district; he could hear the toll of ships bells as the vessels rocked gently in their berths. This was a dangerous part of the city and one he wanted to leave as quickly as possible. Moving as quickly as his bruised body would allow, he stuck to the well lit main streets. The city was dangerous at night and more than once he spied figures moving in the dark alleyways and backstreets. He reached a narrow crossroads, a signpost stood in its centre and nailed onto its surface was a piece of parchment issuing a warning. This was Fleetfoot territory. The thief’s guild was a mystery to all but its members. They had a mixed reputation as vagabonds and burglars. It was said that all the crime in Delfinnia ran through them. Ignoring the sign, he walked on all the while shivering in the night’s cold air. Eventually, he reached a long curved street with townhouses standing in a row at its edge. On the opposite side was a large garden, all dark and ominous. Valyn slowed his pace and pulled the cloak tighter about himself. Ducking into the shadows cast by the tall trees of the garden he hid. His eyes were wide as his home came into view. The front door was smashed, as was the lower story window. It looked empty, but fear that the Knights of Niveren were watching the place filled him. Cautiously he scurried across the street and ducked in the side alley that ran along his house’s eastern side. There were no sounds of alarm and no sign of movement from within. He released a breath he didn’t realise he was holding and stepped through the shattered doorway. Glass and wood crunched underneath his feet. The interior was cast in darkness save for the moonlight cast by the two moons. The large room to his right was the living room. The stone fireplace had been cracked in two from where his wife had resisted. When she’d used her magic, the room had exploded to send debris in all directions and one of the knight’s clear out the window and into the street. Scorch marks were on the floor where her fire spell had almost fried the Inquisitor. Valyn stood in the doorway, his mind reeling as he recalled the horrors of that night. When they had come, they’d forced their way inside without warning. He had been upstairs tending to the children. The last he had seen of his wife was just after the explosion. She had dashed to the front door, looked over her shoulder, her features full of fear and without another word fled. The Knights had quickly recovered their senses and within moments had bounded up the stairs. Valyn sank to his knees in the darkness and sobbed. He had tried to fight them off, but he was no match for heavily armed warriors trained to kill wielders. He’d been battered senseless by clubs and sword hilts, helpless to stop them from snatching up his screaming children and dragging them outside. It happened so fast.
‘Kill them!’
Valyn flinched at the voice. This time it was that of his son’s. With a howl he punched the wall, the blow caved in the masonry to leave his knuckles bloodied. Sinking to his knees he screamed his rage and despair.
“CURSE YOU NIVEREN! CURSE YOU AND ALL WHO WORSHIP YOU. I SWEAR I WILL HAVE MY VENGEANCE!”
Wild eyed he looked about him. A piece of broken glass lay on the floor nearby. He grabbed it and with a snarl ran the jagged edge across his palm.
“I swear it in blood!”
He watched his blood drip to the floor. He sat in the darkness for hours. Absently he stood, turned and sloped up the damaged staircase and entered the bedroom he’d shared with his wife. He slumped onto the bed and pulled the thick woollen blanket that still smelled of her perfume over his head. Sleep full of nightmares followed.
Valyn awoke with a start. Footsteps. The room was dark, so dark that it felt unnaturally so, and his breath came in icy clouds.
‘Such horror, such pain,’ whispered a strange ethereal voice from the blackness. Valyn cried out. Something was standing in the corner of the room. He squinted; he could see the faint silhouette of a person. Fear clawed at his stricken heart and terror wormed in his gut. He wanted to flee but he was frozen to the spot.
‘Vengeance can be yours, Valyn if you seek it.’
Pulling the bed covers up to his chin he asked, “Who are you?”
A hissing laugh answered him.
‘One who can point you in the right direction to vengeance. Think of me as your- guardian spirit.’
The voice sounded amused as though the question was one that it had heard a thousand times before.
‘To kill those who killed your precious, darling children is currently beyond you. To put their ghosts to rest you must learn to become the thing all men dread.’
“And what- is that?” Valyn stammered.
Despite not being able to see any details of the shadowy figure he knew that it was smiling sinisterly. His skin crawled but he couldn’t take his eyes off it. The fear was quickly fading, a morbid curiosity arose in its place.
‘Death.’
Valyn threw back the woollen blanket and got to his feet.
‘Become death itself. Become what all men fear the most. Become a servant of the shadows. On Huntsmen Street you will find a drainage cover. Remove it, enter the sewers, and follow the white crosses. There you will meet one who can aid you. Now,’ the figure said, ‘sleep’.
A strange sensation washed over Valyn and before he could protest, he collapsed to the ground unconscious.