Chapter 33 - The Art of Persuasion

Skyle hugged Moonshadow to his chest as he struggled with all the recent changes in his life. Only a day ago, he would have never even thought of murdering another human being. Certainly not for anything as foolish and petty as revenge. He had been taught better than that by a rowdy, if well-intentioned father, and a kind, loving mother.

Even as a younger boy, Skyle had always been conscious of the way little Kass and Reik would gaze at him when they thought he wasn’t looking. Thus, he had always tried to act in a way befitting of an exemplary role model, doing his best to bring together the best qualities he saw in his own role models, his parents.

Little did he know then, that only a day later he would find himself a cold-blooded murderer, currently stalking forward along the shadows of the forest in order to harvest a few more lives.

Inside his head, this all made sense. Those men were obviously preparing to enter the forest after the fugitives they had missed. Once they did, they would have to worry about this dangerous band of murderers and thieves stepping on their shadow everywhere they went. Far better to deal with them now, before they received whatever backup it was they were awaiting.

It would have been easy to deceive himself in such a way. In the end, however, Skyle knew what it was all about. He could still feel the slight resistance in his fingers as the knife pierced into the little boy’s heart and could still vividly remember, as though his latest victim were still right here in front of him, the surprise and pain that filled those eyes as they slowly grew cold and devoid of life.

Skyle had knelt there, looking into that gaze and refusing to look away, because he felt that was the least he could do for the little boy. He had fancied that he could feel the spasm of the heart as it fought bravely one last time, before it finally stopped altogether and all was still and quiet except for the hollow scream ringing inside his own head.

It had taken a while before Skyle registered the fact that it was his own, because the little boy was now dead and Skyle had been the one to do the deed. In so doing, a part of Skyle had also died, back there in that obscure little gully.

Moonshadow’s limbs shook faintly as his hand twitched violently for a moment, but Skyle closed his eyes and took a deep breath, summoning the lessons from his father. This was about survival. This was about proving that love and hope and dreams could make a difference. It was up to him to do it, to defend this glowing belief that his mother had upheld for as long as he had known her.

It was this thought that gave Skyle the strength of will and the determination to keep going and follow through with his current course of action.

“Mother will forgive, and it will all be alright,” Skyle told himself inside his own mind, refusing to let lesser considerations such as logic or reason to so much as brush against this thought, this ideal. “I just need to go home.”

Before that, however, he would bring swift retribution to the true murderers. This, he understood very clearly indeed. The hand upon the knife might have been Skyle’s, but the ones who had killed both the innocent boy and that little piece of Skyle had been these men, and by the gods he would see that they paid for it.

Thus finished with the necessary justifications for the vile actions he was about to commit, a fleeting thought of how the act of murder became increasingly about numbers rather than faces came to Skyle. After all, he could still see the old man and the little boy’s face. Even that first soldier Skyle had killed when he had first been dragged through the rift, his every feature was indelibly engraved in his mind. However, these six men he was about to kill, though with his Infinite Eye he could distinctly make out their every feature, even down to each of the individual hairs in their beards, Skyle found that he couldn’t recall their features at all.

They were simple faces filled with numbers upon them.

After climbing up to the highest branch on one particular tree that had a commanding point of view of the field, Skyle calmly set out the arrows in front of him, upon the branch, as well as the special gift he had prepared for these dead men walking.

Preparing the arrows didn’t take long at all, and after that it was simply a waiting game. Skyle was a veteran hunter, and as such patience was a virtue that he had honed into an art. Six adult men who earned their living through reaping others’ lives could be very dangerous, even more so if any of them happened to be a mage.

Having traveled with Leon the fire summoner, Skyle had grown familiar enough with the young elementalist’s aura and its contrast with regular auras that he felt confident that he should be able to identify individuals strongly gifted with elemental powers. However, Skyle’s True Sight did not extend as far as to be able to scan the men’s aura, and so both boys had decided to take a methodical approach about this business of killing.

Time slowly passed as Skyle sat upon his branch, his eyes fixed upon the six men who stood in a semicircle about 120 meters from him with an unearthly calm, as though he were simply waiting for the clouds to clear or rain to fall. Only, he was waiting for the men below to show a single opening that would mean their deaths.

He didn’t have to wait for long, as the men seemed to finish their discussion, and four of the men headed towards bedrolls lying near their feet, while two moved a dozen paces away to either side and sat on the ground, their eyes vigilant.

Because of the tall grass covering the area near the tree line, and without a fire or torch to light the way, it would have been nearly impossible to spot the men now. However, thanks to Skyle’s Infinite Eye, it was as though they were sitting right under the tree upon which the deadly archer lay in wait.

Slowly and patiently, Skyle counted the time between the rising and falling of each of the four men’s chests. After all the fighting and the chase, these men must have been exhausted, as their breaths quickly evened out into the long, drawn out movements that indicated sleep.

It was only then that Skyle raised Moonshadow and sighted one of the sentries, whose face seemed to glow with a huge number 2 in his vision. With a thoughtful twist of his lips though, Skyle deliberately raised the tip of the arrow upward, far more than the shot would have otherwise warranted, and his eyes narrowed as he focused. Streams of wind and elemental essence swirled in his vision, and he let himself be borne away into the trajectory the shot would take when it arced high into the sky.

Satisfied, Skyle took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled as he tried to focus all of his attention upon the right angle and point of release.

Now!

With a thrumming sound, the arrow shot away into the darkness, its trajectory taking it far higher in the air than Skyle would usually prefer. However, Skyle resisted the temptation to follow the arrow’s flight, and instead his eyes found the other sentry, whose face had a big imaginary number 1 blinking upon it.

The man was squatting upon the ground directly across from the other sentry, his eyes vigilant as he nibbled on a piece of bread. In the middle ground between the sentries, the four men slept in their bedrolls, though they still wore their armor and all their weapons were within easy reach.

All this information flashed past Skyle’s brain in the blink of an eye, as his fingers deftly picked up one of the arrows carefully arranged in front of him. This time the shot was executed immediately, the arrow flying away in a much flatter arc.

By now Skyle’s hands were a blur as they reached for the next arrow, his eyes already fixed upon his next target. It was a thickly muscled man, the most formidable looking one among all the men who were lying down. His face had a bright number 3 to Skyle’s eye, because he had decided he would pose the greatest threat, and thus should be neutralized first after the sentries were dealt with.

Skyle’s third arrow was nocked and drawn back in Moonshadow, ready to soar into the sky, when down at the enemy camp an arrow finally struck its target. Surprisingly, it was not the first arrow Skyle had launched. Instead, it was the second arrow which tore into the chest of the man whose face had the imaginary 1 drawn upon it.

The impact of the arrow was such that he was thrown off his feet, flying backward while the arrowhead exploded out on the other side of his chest. Only a shocked wheeze managed to squeeze itself through the constricted throat of the man, the rest of his breath punched out by the terrible blow.

The other sentry turned around with a puzzled look on his face, but before his eyes could even focus upon the figure of his dying comrade flying backward through the air, another arrow plunged down from the sky straight into the top of his head, instantly drilling through his skull with a loud cracking sound and a small spray of blood.

The man’s hands twitched for a moment before his eyes rolled up to the back of his head and he slowly tottered to one side, falling to the ground with a muffled thud.

The flat arc of the shot had caused the second arrow to reach its target just a split second before the first, and the sentries didn’t even have the opportunity to raise the alarm.

Still, whether because these men were veterans, or because they were simply too close to the border to the red zone, the other four men began to stir. In fact, one of the men instantly popped his eyes open as his hand instinctively reached for his sword.

It was the massively muscled man, and all his well-honed instincts served him for nothing, as no sooner had he opened his eyes, they then flew wide open in shock and pain. The hand that had been reaching toward the sword lying by his side instead grasped convulsively toward the thick arrowshaft now protruding from his stomach.

The man’s mouth opened wide as though to scream, but only a gurgling sound emerged from the man’s throat, and his eyes showed deep unwillingness as a large mouthful of blood was coughed out. The cruel arrow had effectively nailed his torso to the ground, and it was an agonizing task to grasp the shaft and try to draw it out so that he could move. Even so, the man took hold of the arrow and began to jerk on it, apparently trying to snap the shaft, all the while screaming at the top of his lungs.

“Attack! Agh, we’re under atta-!” The last of it ended in a wet gurgle as more blood was spat out.

The remaining three men finally began to stir, but by the time they thought to sit up and take stock of the commotion in their camp, another man had been shot in the chest, right through the heart. The man, who had been in the process of sitting up, was flung back to the ground with a painful wrench. There, he only managed to lift his head off the ground for one last time to stare in complete disbelief at the arrow sticking out of his chest, before he slumped to the ground, dead.

The last two men did manage to get to their feet, upon which they surprisingly did not panic, and instead they sought cover under the tallest grasses they could find nearby. All the while, they were calling out several names in succession, but the only answer came from the agonized roars of the man who was still pinned to the ground by that cruel arrow. His wet hands kept sliding off the blood-slickened arrow shaft, but he furiously kept tugging at the arrow, howling louder and louder with each desperate pull.

Skyle’s lips twisted in cold scorn as he scanned the tall grass. Though he could not use the True Sight to scan for their auras from this distance, with the Infinite Eye he could perceive even the smallest vibrations in each blade of grass, and could follow the movement patterns down to their roots, where his prey had sought refuge in vain.

Of course, the men had no way of knowing this, and in truth, even if they had known, there was no other refuge to be found anywhere in the vicinity. Perhaps the men had been far too overconfident in picking their resting spot, but from their lack of panic and swift reactions, Skyle thought these men were decently trained. Thus, he feared another possibility.

“Maybe their reinforcements are very close by, or they have others who are guarding the perimeter of the red zone with them,” Skyle thought to himself.

Narrowing his eyes, Skyle raised Moonshadow once again.

“First, finish the job - then we’ll see.”

***

Leon had begun to sprint forward the moment he heard the roar of pain from the enemy camp. With his enhanced strength and speed, closing the hundred or so meters separating him from the camp was a matter of seconds. He burst through the tall grass surrounding the camp with one hand cradling a deadly fireball, the other holding aloft a sword with a red hot edge. A translucent semi-sphere of red energy swirled in front of Leon as his eyes swiftly searched the area for threats, but this time he was to be disappointed.

Instead, Leon felt an uncomfortable tingle in the back of his spine as his eyes took in the scene of the carnage laid out before him.

Near the center of the camp there were three men lying still, obviously dead. The arrows that had caused their demise attested to the fact, boring deep into their flesh. Off to the side, he could see another set of feet which lay unmoving, the rest of the body hidden by a tall clump of grass.

However, Leon’s attention was focused upon the two survivors.

The first was a man crawling pitifully along the ground, with two arrows cruelly sticking out of each of the man’s legs. As soon as he saw Leon, the man drew his sword and raised it in a rather contemptible attempt to defend himself.

Leon just shook his head scornfully at that, and for a moment he was tempted to fling the fire bolt roiling in his hand, just to see the look on the idiot’s face.

As for the other survivor, this one was far more impressive. The man was built like a bull, with a thick beard and many scars across his face. The beard was now painted thick with blood, and more blood periodically spurted from a hideous wound in his stomach. Still, even wounded as he was, the man crouched low in a veteran’s combat stance, a huge sword gripped tightly in his right hand, while the other picked up one of the corpses from the ground and held it up at his side like a shield. Even though the dead man’s body must have weighed at least a hundred seventy pounds, the warrior didn’t even look strained by the maneuver.

Still, the man made no move to attack, and instead stood his ground, glaring at Leon without saying a word. Meanwhile, the other man crawling on the ground slowly moved away from Leon, towards the warrior.

“I’ll give you one chance. One of you dies right here, right now. The other will tell me everything you know about your purpose here, and I will not kill him,” Leon said, raising his right hand and displaying the burning mass of fire churning within his grasp. His voice was dead even, showing his complete lack of interest in which man would remain alive and which would burn to death, leaving no room for negotiations or pleas.

A full second passed while both men stood rooted in place, their faces rigid as their brains processed the ultimatum. Then they both reacted at the same time, but the taller man had a decisive advantage, being already on his feet and with a weapon drawn.

The man lying on the ground with the arrows in his legs began to back away from his one-time ally, his features twisting into a harsh expression of fear and despair as he slowly lifted a sword in a feeble, useless gesture. “Captain, please! I have a wife and-”

The rest of it was cut off as the tough warrior flung the corpse in his hand at the other man, hard. Powerful arms bulged with the effort, and the improvised projectile struck its target with a sickening crash of broken bones and torn ligaments. The smaller man’s sword went flying to skitter across the ground, but his scream of pain ended in a wet gurgle. The tough warrior had immediately followed the throw with a vicious chop that crushed the victim’s windpipe and took a fist-sized chunk of flesh off for good measure.

Wet choking sounds echoed in the night air as the man desperately gasped his last few breaths, each with an accompanying spurt of blood. Then it was all silent once more as the warrior turned back towards Leon with a hot glare.

“We’ve been eyeing the caravans passing this stretch and thought to disguise our attack as a demon beast overflow from the nearby red zo-”

Leon’s face didn’t show any reaction as he lazily flicked his hand in the direction of the former captain.

The man’s face, in the other hand, immediately contorted into a mask of shock as he grit his teeth and flung up the shield in his hand, bracing himself for the blow he was too late to avoid.

The firebolt struck the man’s outstretched shield, exploding violently upon impact and almost instantly turning the fragile shield into a useless heap of slag. Shockwaves rippled outward as a tide of heat spread in a circle from the point of impact, along with the flaming remains of the man’s arm, which had been literally blown apart into several fist-sized chunks by the violent explosion.

The man’s body was thrown into the air, spinning like a ragdoll before landing with a sickening crunch. He still tumbled crazily along the ground a few more times, leaving a trail of broken skin and copious blood behind until he finally came to a stop over a dozen feet away from his initial spot.

A faint hissing noise could be heard intersped with an intermittent crackling noise as small lumps of flesh lay scattered along the ground, the flame consuming them brightening occasionally as they found and devoured a particularly thick pocket of subcutaneous fat.

Leon wrinkled his nose in distaste at the not unpleasant aroma of roasting meat, and his expression finally showed a small change as his brow furrowed in an expression of annoyance.

Still, Leon had the presence of mind to wait for a few more breaths of time. This was expressly so that the man whose arm Leon had just disintegrated into flaming chunks of cooking flesh could shake himself out of the state of semi-shock as his mind urgently attempted to catch up with the overwhelming amount of pain data that was being transmitted from every screaming nerve in his body.

“That was for lying to me,” Leon remarked calmly, as though admitting that he couldn’t really blame the man for trying, and in fact almost felt sympathy for how things had turned out. Almost. “First and last warning.”

The pain and shock slowly began to bleed out of the man’s eyes, and as some semblance of sanity returned to them, he gaped at the ruined stump that had once been an arm. When he lifted his eyes toward Leon, they were filled with hatred, with just a little fear mixed in as well.

Too little fear.

Leon’s eyebrow hitched up minutely, and he casually extended his hand in the man’s direction, palm facing up. Then slowly, very slowly, he curled his fingers into a fist, whereupon a small tongue of flame began to lick eagerly from the small gaps in between each digit.

Under the horrified stare of the man, that small tongue of flame was soon joined by another wisp of fire, until one by one they became a jet of fire that rose a whole foot over his extended fist. When he finally loosened his fingers, cradled on top of his palm lay a small sphere of incandescent light.

All the while, Leon did not take his predatory eyes from the man’s terror-striken gaze.

There. Now, that was just the right amount of fear right there.

It was just enough fear there that what came out of the man’s mouth next might be at least partially true, yet not quite enough to melt his brain into a useless, quivering pile of mush.

He had seen that happen, after all. Quite literally so.

“Now that we understand one another, start speaking.”

“Nothing like a little gentle persuasion, after all,” Leon sighed in his mind, feeling justly satisfied at a job well done.

“And most importantly, I didn’t even need to waste a single arrow.”

Briefly glancing back over his shoulder, Leon unconsciously straightened his back a bit.

“Meh, peasants.”

It was this same infuriatingly smug little smile that utterly confounded Skyle as the small boy finally limped his way into the clearing.