Light of Epertase 01: Legends Reborn (5 page)

Rasi awakened long enough to wonder if he was alive or dead. Either would suit him fine.

A glimmer of sunlight peaked through the cave’s entrance as some kind of creature dug at the ever-widening gap of piled snow. Rasi fought his eyelids but lost again.

R
asi opened his eyes, stunned that he was able. A dark blur stood before him. The blur was Death. Rasi smiled.
I’ve been waiting for you.

Like a dream, the cold eyes of death faded, replaced by another’s face. If the cold and starvation hadn’t taken him, he was sure this stranger would.

Another hallucination?
he wondered. The stranger’s warm, gloved hands grasped beneath Rasi’s armpits and pulled his limp body deeper into the cave. He fell asleep again for what he hoped was the last time.

R
asi felt warmth tickle his face and forced his eyelids open against their gooey coating. His mouth was dry like he’d been chewing on cotton. A fire flickered before him.

He moaned as he lifted his arm.

“Easy, old friend,” a familiar voice said.

“Therik?” Rasi mumbled which hurt his throat.

“It is me. Rest, friend.”

Just as the gods had brought such a horrible winter upon him, to redeem themselves, they brought his friend, Terik, as a savior.

As the weeks passed, Rasi’s strength slowly returned. Terik arrived each morning with rations and anti-infection medications.

One such morning, Terik’s demeanor was somehow different, sadder than usual. For most of the morning he hid what troubled him, but Rasi had been his friend long enough to know something was wrong.

After a pause, Terik blurted, “This will be my last trip for awhile.” He intentionally kept his eyes away from his old friend. “I fear I may not be able to prevent suspicion if I continue to sneak up here.” He paused. “I brought something for you. I have been taking care of Salient since you left and brought him along today. He is a fine stallion and deserves to be with his owner.”

Neither man made a sound as they sat by the campfire. There was one subject they had avoided all these days but Rasi could not allow Terik to leave without knowing for sure.

“Ith it ’rue?” he asked.

Terik lowered his head for what felt like an eternity. Though Rasi knew the answer, he allowed himself the slightest bit of hope.

Terik’s answer was as brutal as it was final. “I am sorry, friend. By the time I found out about your banishment and went to your home, it was too late. I made sure Edonea’s body was treated with respect and that she had a proper burial.”

Rasi’s heart burned as though set afire. He rolled onto his knees, vomited, and clutched his chest. He pressed his palms against his face with a force that left red blotches on his skin.

“Rasi, I know you didn’t do what they accuse you of.” Terik paused, maybe seeking validation but receiving none. “You cannot return to Epertase. Everyone is angry. They think you are a monster. King Cecil, himself, was devastated to hear of the charges against you. He didn’t want to believe it, but he had no choice. The evidence against you was staggering. Thasula’s citizens have called for your head but he went against the masses. He declared the barbaric armblade’s brutal execution of your wife as punishment enough. He declared your killing of him in self-defense and that you faced no additional charges. He called off the hunt for you and announced that, due to your loyal service, your death sentence was absolved. But he said you are never to set foot in the territories again.” Terik placed his hand on Rasi’s shoulder. “Old friend, go back home to Puimia. Hide with your parents. Live your life in peace.”

You mean disgrace.
Rasi’s mind flashed back to the empty, dead stare of the poor, murdered girl he was too weak to save.
She deserves justice. No, I will stay here. These mountains are my life now.
He nodded to his friend in agreement while staring at the floor.

“Good. I will look you up in Puimia one day.”

Rasi felt emptier than ever before.

Hatred for the prince consumed him, keeping him warm through the bitter, lonely winter. He must do it right. He must take his time and plan with vigilance. Elijah would not be easy to get but it could be done.

Any thought of Rasi was little more than a bad memory by Elijah’s 31st birthday. To celebrate, Tevin treated him to a rare evening of drinking and gambling. By evening’s end, Elijah was up twelve coins and ready for more. They made their way deep into the city, seeking out more games of chance and suckers to swindle. It was late. Most of the citizens were safely tucked away in their homes with their families or their ale which made finding an active game more difficult.

They happened across a sleazy, rundown tavern wearing a hand-painted sign that read “Arthur’s Dive,” with the “D” written backwards. While Tevin clearly understood the dive status of the bar, Elijah had consumed too much ale to care.

Elijah plowed through the door as though everyone awaited his grand entrance. He counted five, six patrons at most in the dim shithole. A putrid stink lingered in the place like an outhouse.

“My gods,” Elijah said, covering his nose. “What is that smell?”

A man shouted from behind the bar, “You’ll get used to it.” Elijah didn’t want to get used to it. He scanned the bar and found no tender, only the massive back of a hulk-sized patron. “Pretty soon you won’t notice it at all,” the man continued and that’s when Elijah saw the top of a balding head from behind the bar.

“Have a seat anywhere, hon,” a waitress hollered. “Be right with ya.”

She leaned over and shook the shoulders of an unconscious man who lay supine atop a table. The drunkard’s gut protruded into the air like a whale stuck on the beach. He didn’t budge so she lowered her ear next to his mouth to confirm that he still drew breath. He mumbled something she must not have appreciated, most likely concerning her thick breasts pressing against his chest.

She bounced back. “Don’t talk to me like that, dunghole,” she said, her language showing her class. She yanked the end of the table into the air, dumping the drunkard, along with several half-empty mugs, to the floor. He rolled to his side, unaffected, and began to snore. “Shut up,” she said with a noticeable annoyance before kicking him in his bloated gut. His cheeks puffed out with a half-vomit, half-choking sound before he swallowed, rolled to his opposite side, and continued his sleep.

She made her way to Elijah and leaned on the wobbly table. Her belly, in all of its stretch-marked glory, hung from below her shirt. “What can I get for ya?” she asked with a twang in her talk.

She couldn’t have been more than twenty-eight years old, though her weathered face indicated otherwise. Too much sun and tobacco sticks were likely the cause.

Tevin nudged Elijah and whispered into his ear, “Looks like an old blister, does she not?” Elijah chuckled, diverting his gaze to the knotted table.

“I recognize you, your highness,” she said.

He smiled at her like a politician.

“But you and your friend can leave just the same.”

“Just serve me something strong,” Elijah said, already bored.

Tevin nodded that he’d have the same.

“Hey, Frank,” she shouted. “Two zaps over here.”

“Alright, Marge,” the bald head hollered back.

After a moment, she returned with two dirty mugs full of piss-colored liquid and splashed them onto the unbalanced table. A tiny, dead bug floated, trapped in the bubbles of Tevin’s drink.

“Excuse me?” he said, pointing to the bug.

“Oh, sorry ’bout dat,” she replied. She fished her dirty-nailed finger into his drink, removing the insect before strutting to the bar again.

The night dragged on as Elijah imbibed zap after zap, more fitting the town drunk than a future ruler. The volume of his voice increased when he shouted, “What stinks in here?” loud enough for all to hear, though no one replied.

Marge walked past Elijah’s table, announcing last call. He waited until she passed to smack her rear. She swatted his hand away with a holler. “Your highness, that is not appropriate behavior for our future king.”

“Shhh,” he whispered. “Are you trying to embarrass me in front of my sheep?”

He grabbed her wrist; she yanked it free. She lowered her voice but kept her intensity. “With all due respect, sir, I’m not interested.” He snatched her hand again and again she yanked it free.

Tevin tugged on Elijah’s shoulder. “You’ve had enough,” he said with a chuckle. “Leave her be or we won’t have anyone to bring us our alcohol. And I do need more alcohol.”

She cocked her head to the side and said, “Maybe you didn’t hear me, Te-vin. Last call.”

A scrawny, toothless patron in need of a scrub-down and clean clothes staggered past and made his way to the corner of the pub, his stench lingering behind. He stumbled over a knee-high can, spilling its contents onto himself and the warped wooden floor.

“Marge,” the tender yelled. “Someone knocked over the shitter again.”

“I saw him,” she yelled back, glared at Elijah, and then headed to the mess.

Elijah leaned into Tevin’s ear. “That explains the smell. Here I thought we got rid of all the heathens.”

Tevin recommended the two head home and placed his hand on the back of Elijah’s neck. “It is getting late,” he said, escorting him toward the door.

Elijah pulled away from Tevin’s grasp like he had forgotten something of vital importance. “I will not be sad if this place burns to the ground,” he yelled across the room.

He staggered and slammed into the back of the humongous, slouching patron sitting at the bar. The hulk straightened his back, revealing his full size. He wrenched his head to the side, releasing a symphony of agitated cracks.

Elijah took a drunken step backward, almost tripping over his own feet. “Turn around, big man. If you are going to clench your fists, then turn around.”

Tevin stepped between the man’s back and his prince. The big man took a deep, calming breath but didn’t turn. Tevin pushed Elijah through the doorway and into the street.

Elijah’s stomach twisted and rumbled. Putting distance between him and the stench of the bar helped his nausea, though not much. If he could stop the town from spinning he would be delighted. Finally, the nastiness came. He tried to choke the vomit back but failed, dropped to his knees, and spewed warm zap onto the dirt road.

Tevin rushed out of the tavern, laughing and patting Elijah’s back. “Do you know who you bumped into back there?”

Elijah rolled to his rear-end and wiped the crud from his mouth with his sleeve. He shook his head that he didn’t.

“Does the mercenary Simcane ring any bells?”

“Yeah, I know Simcane.” He raised his voice, “Bring him out here. I fear no man.”

Tevin laughed again as he helped Elijah to his feet. “Let’s go, tough guy. No fighting legends tonight.”

“He is not a legend, he’s a coward.” Elijah put both of his hands on Tevin’s shoulders, leaned his face closer and whispered,

“Tevin, old friend, you needn’t walk me home like one of your floozies.”

“Your breath, Prince.” Tevin pushed him away. “You’re sure?”