The Auric Insignia (4 page)

     - Hey, I’m right here. The snares, tell me.

     - What do you mean?!

     - Don’t play dumb with me, those were no ordinary snares! How did you come by them?!

     - *cough, It was ...., was Marielle.

     Roarke’s eyes widened with disbelief. It was true, they had never been on very good terms but for all their differences, this took him by surprise.

     - Roarke?

     - Wha...t, yeah?

     - Do you know of someone by that name?

     - Uh yeah, she.... she’s a hunter.

     Korri seemed to take this as proof of the claim’s validity. Turning back to the man mounted against the wall, she bored her eyes into his.

     - Tell me what happened.

     - She came in to the shop a while back. I thought she was buying supplies, but she said she wanted to talk. We went out back where she showed me the snares, said she had found them on her recent journey to the south cities.

     The South Cities, the name given to a collection of cities and the area between them, far to the south of Brightwood. In contrast to the quiet life of Brightseed, they were the epitome of human profusion. Rich in industry and trade, the three cities that gave the area its name, dominated the human world.

     - Go on.

     - She said that they were the latest to come from the master smiths of Goib. That they were laced with a poison harmless to humans, and that even though they were thin, the metal was very durable.

     Roarke scoffed.

     - And she just gave these miracle snares to you, out of the goodness of her heart?

     - She offered me some, since we were good friends and traded wares from time to time. She said that I could sell them as my own and if I felt like it, I could give her a discount every now and again.

     This information filled Korri with dread. Her hope of some lucky fool stumbling upon this poison seemed less likely for every moment passing. The deliberate setup orchestrated by this huntress on top of the involvement of the south cities, gave a chill to her bones. Her mind went from one bad scenario to the next until Roarke broke the silence.

     - How gracious of her......

     - I didn’t see the harm in it! I thought if they worked that would be great and even if they didn’t, I could probably still sell them.

     Korri was dismayed, having had her worst suspicions proving far more likely, if not confirmed.

     - We’re done here.

     - What are you going to do to us!? I just, I..

     Before he could finish, Korri had knocked him out, his body going limp as it sagged unto the floor. Roarke felt tears trickle over his hand as the previously catatonic woman panicked over the sight of her unconscious husband on the floor. Her panic was mercifully cut short by a swift strike to the head, courtesy of Korri. By the time Roarke had placed her back on the bed, Korri were already going out of the bedroom door.

     - Don’t worry, they’ll be fine. Now let’s go, we have work to do.

***

Candy and rainbows, what do you think?

They were rushing back to the house. Staying off the road, they traveled through the thick vegetation that made up the forest floor this far north. Ever since they had finished their mission in the town, Korri’s mind had seemed elsewhere. Roarke had demanded answers, to which he had received nothing but a vague promise of future explanation. They traveled in darkness to minimize the risk of detection from possible trackers, and even if the sun would soon begin its ascent, the forest floor was still dark as a dungeon. Hurdling over roots and dodging low branches, Roarke’s eyes were fixed on his veritable guiding star this night, the tail dipped in silver and bronze, darting in and out of the trees in front of him, catching just enough light for it not to completely vanish in the verdant chaparral.

     Even if these woods were his home, and had been for his whole life, Roarke feared he would be lost if he lost sight of her, with a stitch growing in his side he pushed himself in order to keep up. Scurrying through the underbrush, the absurdity of the situation hit him, him, Roarke, the stalwart protector of quiescence, had agreed to a chain of events that would inevitably cause his world as he knew it to crumble. If he got lost in these woods, would she come back for him? Roarke didn’t know the answer, and he didn’t know her, he didn’t even know if they were running from something, or towards something. Taking an objective look at the situation, he didn’t know if he should laugh aloud or cry. Here he was, on a cloak and dagger mission, making his deftly escape in the dead of night. To top it all off, his partner in crime was like a concoction of fantasy, taken from the deranged mind of a madman. Roarke laughed a bitter laugh at his own folly, either he was so completely unhinged that he had pulled a figment of his imagination from his head, implementing it into the real world. Or he was so foolish as to follow the whims of an actual monster after essentially no explanation and far too little coercion. Running where he did, ducking branches and jumping over rocks, Roarke wondered which one was worst.

     The silence of the night offered no wisdom and before long, reality interrupted. Some distance in front of him, there was a dim light, light provided by the clearing around his cabin, closing in on the treeline, the light granted color to the drab world of the night. Crouching by the trunk of a giant Ymo tree some thirty feet from the clearing, was Korri, as he approached, she signaled for him to join her. Panting from the long run, he took support from the leafed giant as he kneeled beside her.

     - Why are we stopping out here?

     - I’m going to check inside, stay here until I return.

     - Check for what?

     - Candy and rainbows, what do you think?

     Before Roarke could catch his breath and voice a retort, she had already darted out of the relative darkness and into the open. She was beautiful to watch, Roarke admitted to himself. Moving with a grace far superior to that of any human, she resembled a cat hunting a mouse, only she looked closer in relation to a mouse than to a feline. Opening the door without so much as a hint of sound, she proceeded to go inside. Roarke sat watching tensely for a minute before Korri’s familiar shape reemerged from within, ushering him forward. With a sigh of relief, he stood and joined her by the entrance to the cabin.

     - Get your things.

     - What? What do you mean?

     - We are leaving this place. Pack what supplies you might need, tools and so on, but pack light and do it quick.

     - Okay, what bullshit is this, huh? I helped you question Brock and basically forfeited my life as I know it. I did like you asked, I think I deserve an explanation.

     - This is not the time nor the place, we have to leave now.

     - To go where, and to do what?! Will it be dangerous, will I ever see my home again?

     - Yes it will, you may die, we very well both may, but I can promise you this. Stay here and you most certainly will perish.

     The look in her eyes, though foreign in their appearance, was one he recognized. She looked at him with worry, and genuine fear, for both their sakes.

     - Okay, give me a minute.

     Roarke went inside, leaving Korri outside to keep a look out. He stood in the main room by the table, letting his glance roll from one side of the room to the next. Once he had made up a mental list of items would would come in handy, Roarke set out to collect them. A leather rucksack, into which he packed some dried meat, not knowing when he would be able to get a proper meal, he also packed a blanket, his fire steel and a knife. Lastly, Roarke packed the steel wire snare that had started this upheaval, questioning himself as to why. but still continuing to do so. Once the rucksack was done. Roarke slung his bow over his shoulder and tied the quiver around his torso. Before he made his way out, he retrieved his one handed battle axe from the bottom of a footlocker of assorted junk. Blowing the dust from the handle, he slid it through the metal ring attached to his belt. Realizing it was probably dull from lack of use and care, Roarke promptly packed down his whetstone as well.

     He was done, standing there in his house, the heart of his life. A knot was growing in his chest, accompanied by a feeling he knew all too well. Roarke didn’t care for change, he liked his life, even though from an objective glance it probably seemed poor and simple. Now, because of what had happened, the  choices that had been made, by him or by others, he was being torn from what he knew. His limbs grew restless, wanting to shake off the overwhelming feelings he was experiencing. He felt like he didn’t know himself, not understanding what he had done, and why he had done it. Remembering Jenny’s tears running down his hand, guilt washed over him. Closing his eyes, Roarke wished the nightmare would end.

     - Are you done yet? The sooner we leave, the better.

     Roarke’s eyes shot open and he faced Korri, standing in the doorway.

     - Yeah, I’m finished.

     - Are you okay?

     - Yeah I’m fine, let’s go.

     - Roarke?

     Roarke took a big shaky breath.

     - Yeah?

     - You’re crying.

     Noticing his damp cheeks, Roarke’s anxiety took a firmer grasp around his throat, forcing him to take shallow breaths. In an attempt to regain mastery over himself, he once again closed his eyes. In the murky confines of his own mind, an emphatic embrace touched him, absorbing the vibrations from his broken state, nullifying them. A scent filled his nose, a sweet but earthy tone that calmed his fractured composure. Korri, a being capable of such speed, strength and ferocity, had her arms around him. She grounded him in the now, keeping him from drowning in his own thoughts.

     - You’re a good person.

     He gave no reply as she continued.

     - I’ve been unfair to you. I know all of this is crazy and I’m sorry that you got dragged into this. You were there when I needed help, you saved me. I know this is probably new and frightening, and I know you never asked for any of this. I know you feel bad for what happened at the smithy, so do I. I know you probably feel like a bad person and that everything sucks right about now.

     She took his face in her hands. Hands capable of such power, moving so gently.

     - Hey.

     He opened his eyes to meet hers.

     - Sometimes you have to do things that are uncomfortable, bad even. However that is not who you are, an evil being does not feel bad, feel remorse. An evil being doesn’t question its morality, but you do.

     - How can you be so sure?

     - I know, I see it in your eyes. You saved my life and helped me when I needed it. You’ve reminded me that humans are capable of kindness, so let me help you. Talk to me.

     - I’m... I’m scared and I hate it.

     - Well I’m scared too, me, the monster from the woods!

     Her smile warmed him and Roarke could feel his chest grow lighter.

     - And you know what? That’s okay. So let’s be scared together.

***

Well that’s the thing, isn’t it?

The hearth licked his face with tongues of fire. With every pump of the billow, the fiery demon gained in strength, growing until it was strong enough to bend steel to his will. His body was used to the heat, his skin like thick hide, worn tough over many years of backbreaking work. The fervid air, filled with smoke, forced his body to make shallow breaths, making his work cumbersome in the best of cases. Coupled with his bruised throat, it had resulted in less work done. Since he had gotten his injuries that frightful night, some of the more curious customers had asked him what had happened. To which he had answered that he had slipped and hit himself one night whilst visiting the outhouse.

     This had been received with ridicule and questions concerning if he could hold his liquor or not. This was better though, than the reception he would have surely received, had he told the truth. Better to be viewed as a clumsy drunk than as unhinged, he thought. Once again he felt his body straining and so he reluctantly decided to take a breather. He put down his hammer, untied his leather apron, hanging it where he always did, by the hook right next to the door going back to the house. As he opened the door, a wall of cool air greeted him, granting respite.

     - Jennifer! Bring me a glass of water or something, will ya!?

     He wiped the sweat and sot from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt.

     - Jenny? Have you gone out?

     - Taking a break again? That’s no way to run a business...

     Brock froze, he recognized the voice but it was not the soft voice of his Jenny. If this voice had had a body, it would have been made out of ice, hard and cold.

     - Oh, hi Marielle, you startled me.

     Marielle was sitting by the table, her black dog sitting beside her.

     - My apologies, Brock, that was not my intention. Please, join me.

     He looked around the room before taking the seat across from his guest, failing to see his wife anywhere.

     - Have you seen Jenny around?

     - Forgive me, she asked to tell you she loves you, and that you will be reunited shortly.

     - Oh, great, heh, out for an errand I suppose.

     Where earlier he had been sweating, Brock now felt chilled to the bone. Noticing that he was being observed, he tried to retain a calm composure.

     - So, Marielle, to what to I owe the pleasure?

     - That’s a nasty bruise you got there, how did you get it?

     Brock swallowed, his throat reminding him of its condition.

     - I, I eh fell and hit myself the other day. Too much to drink, hehe.

     Marielle joined in his chuckle but her laughter never reached her eyes.

     - Amusing... You know, I heard another funny story earlier today, from Gumma no less. She said that she ran into Roarke the other night, drunk as a lord as well apparently.

     - Oh well, you know Roarke.....

     Brock’s hands grew clammy.

     - Well that’s the thing, isn’t it? In all the time I’ve known Roarke, I’ve never seen him at the tavern, not once.

     - Really?

     - Really. What’s even stranger, Roarke’s vanished, his cottage stands abandoned, supplies and tools, gone.

     Brock’s heart rate began to increase as the realization that Marielle had figured out what had transpired. Brock’s hair stood up on the back of his neck.

     One dog, there was only one dog there but Marielle always had both dogs with her everywhere she went. With a sudden panic, he jumped up from the table, knocking over the chair behind him.

     - Where’s my wife?! Where’s Jenny?!

     - Well let’s see, Rugeux, come here.

     Emerging from the bedroom doorway, came the giant hound that was the second part of the duo that made up the hounds of Marceau. Originally tan in color, the rough coated beast had taken on a dark red hue, blood dripping from the rugged fur. Hanging from the jaws by the hair, was the head of Jennifer, the Smith’s wife, torn and mangled. Her eyes frozen in their last moment of living fear. Brock felt sick, his stomach churning at the grizzly sight of what remained of his loving wife. Tears ran down his face as his body crumbled and he fell to his knees.

     - Jenny....

     - Don’t worry, like I said, you’ll see her soon enough.

     And with the slightest nod, the huge black hound received the signal it had been waiting for. In a frenzy of blood, ripped clothes and mauled flesh, the smith joined his wife in death.

***