Scarbles, chapter 4
The searing light of the morning sun drew me out of a deep sleep. I
sat up and absorbed the transition as easily as I could. When I gained
the energy to move, I donned the cult regalia and headed downstairs. I
found the cultists in mass congregation; No one eating or in a volley of
idle chatter, but caught in a web of solemn whispers. As I went to join
them, I felt a hand grasp my shoulder. It was Kel'Thuzad, still wearing
the gaudy outfit I met him in.
quot;Ah, Vincent! I'll show you to your group."
quot;What is all this about, master?" The first time I called him that. A reflex I had acquired.
quot;The time has come to set it all in motion" He said to me as he led
on, his arm around my shoulder. "And it begins with the people of Caer
Darrow.”
nbsp;Three sets of eyes turned to me as we came upon a small group of
three very different people. A dwarf, a man, and a woman. The dwarf was a
tightly coiled powerhouse, with two full-sized axes strapped to his
back. He was mostly shrouded in tattered burlap that opened up to reveal
two hands nestled in studded leather and two legs armored with dark
fluted plate. A bald head sat atop of the burlap cloak, and rings of
various metals adorned the dwarf’s ears, nose, and even his great brown
beard which grew out and down like roots of a tree until it was tamed by
a thick braid that hung like a pendant. The human man was tall and
lean, providing a potentially comical juxtaposition to the stout dwarf.
His hair was fair and hung down to his shoulders. He wore a violet vest
of velvet over a white linen shirt, with navy blue slacks. A gleaming
golden cross hung around his neck, shaped by a vertical bar with a pearl
near the top encircled by two curved bars above and below. This
completed the image of a man that recently gave a sermon. The woman
seemed the most mysterious of them all, in flowing black robes with
bone-white hems, accented with sky-blue silk that supported her breasts
from the shoulders. This, and her raven black hair, all pronounced her
pale-white flesh, leading one to think she had not seen the light of day
in over a decade. Kel was the first to speak.
nbsp;
"Everyone, this is Vincent. Vincent, this vision here is Lady Illucia
Barov. She will be in charge of your group in the field."
nbsp;So that's what she looked like; The queen Barov. For years, I'd
imagined her as an angry old hag draped in shining jewels, masking the
decay of age with flamboyant displays of wealth. After all, gold is
timeless.
nbsp;"Vincent? of Gaelwood farm? Ah, I know you. The only man to not offer
his own beating heart to clear his debts with us. Perhaps you were just
lucky we did not send someone to rip it out for you." Said Lady Barov.
nbsp;"Are we ready to go?" I asked, ignoring her fruitless attempt at intimidation.
nbsp;She gave an irritated look. "Patience. We are still waiting for Ras
to join us, and then we can go. He is taking his sweet time, isn’t he.
You have met him, yes?"
nbsp;"I’ve met him. These two are new to me."
nbsp;"Them?" She gestured to the other members of the group. "The skinny one is called Isaac, the small--"
nbsp;"I'll speak fer m'SELF, if ye don't mind." the dwarf interrupted in a
gravely, yet hearty voice. Despite the extravagant outburst, he
remained in a stoic stance. His arms were firmly folded and his eyes
remained closed by his drawn brow, patiently waiting for whatever was
next. "Ye can jes’ call me Gibbins. An’ that's all ye need ta know."
nbsp;The skinny one seemed uneasy before, but now he was quite tense,
ready to sprint across the lake and hide under some rock until it was
safe. Before Illucia could retort, Ras joined us, breaking the tension
with
nbsp;"Alright, then. Lets get this over with."
nbsp;Lady Barov brushed aside whatever she was about to say to Gibbins,
"Not looking forward to it, Ras? I would think that this was your kind
of thing. I, myself, have been wanting to clean house for a long time
now."
quot;I simply don't like getting my hands dirty, my lady." He replied.
nbsp;Now it was time to go. Lady Barov led the four of us down the
cobblestone road, but I remember Ras being at the head of the group. Not
a soul walked the streets of Caer Darrow. I had caught errant whispers
clinging to the walls of the mansion, telling of rumors haunting the
town. The cult had made certain things known to the people, and so they
had come to fear the already ominous castle Barov. The imagination of
the people conjured ghosts hungry for flesh, and vicious monsters with
an orc's bloodlust pouring from the mansion and skulking through the
streets, always hunting. Thus, they all stayed in their houses and
locked their doors to keep themselves safe from these intangible
threats.
nbsp;We reached the fountain in the square. It had stopped flowing,
becoming two stone plates of stagnant water. The echoes of our footsteps
surrounded us as the only sound filling the air, until Ras spoke and
broke the chaotic rhythm.
nbsp;"Vincent, Do you know what our objective is today?"
nbsp;"No."
nbsp;He sighed, "As I suspected. In the dark as always...You make things harder for your superiors, this way."
nbsp;"That isn't my intention. I simply find it more efficient to remain
silent and do what I'm told, rather than to ask trivial questions."
nbsp;"But you freely make trivial statements, it seems."
nbsp;Lady Barov let out out a small laugh, amused. I said nothing more.
nbsp;"Each group is assigned a house to call upon. When we arrive, we
either welcome the family of that house into our brotherhood, or kill
them where they stand. Either way, we benefit. We will need bodies once
the training begins at Scholomance, dead or alive."
nbsp;The blonde turtle, Isaac, sank further into his shell, drawing his
crossed arms and head closer to his chest as if he was walking through a
field of snow in his small clothes. The dwarf let out a sigh. Silence
enveloped us again until we came to a halt in front of a house that was
across from a smithy. I realized that I had not seen any other cultists
on the way here. I supposed then we were the first to leave. Ras had
been looking at Isaac expectedly.
nbsp;
"...Well? This is why you're here, isn't it? Go on, make yourself
useful!" Raz hissed as he placed his hand on Isaac's back and shoved him
towards the door.
nbsp;
Isaac straightened his posture and cleared his throat. With a sigh he
knocked on the door, and again, until a silhouette finally answered by
cracking the door open. When the silhouette loudly asked us what we
wanted, Isaac made a lot of pleading gestures and spoke in a low, soft
voice. To me it was inaudible, but whatever it was worked, as the crack
of open door widened to let us in. When we did, I saw the silhouette was
of a larger man who might have owned or worked at the smithy, and he
was accompanied by another, slightly older man and an adolescent boy. In
what could only be mistrust, they stood around us with their arms
folded, slightly flared out, or resting near a smithing hammer on a belt
around their waist.
nbsp;"Your friends don't look like they're from any church"
nbsp;"...I-I can assure you, that they,... Uhhh... That we--" Isaac floundered, until Raz took over,
nbsp;"We are quite devoted, you need not worry. But tell me, friend...Are you?"
nbsp;"We like the Light well enough, ...But there ain't no church around
here." said the man who opened the door, narrowing his gaze.
nbsp;"Oh, that's just not true. My apologies if there was any sort of
miscommunication...But we aren't affiliated with any Light gobbledygook.
Instead, we humbly serve a living deity, who will one day guide this
world into a new, glorious era."
nbsp;"I KNEW IT, you're all from that cursed mansion!" the man hollered as
he drew his blacksmith hammer from his hip. The other two men drew
closer, as well. Ras turned his nose up in defiance and silence once
again choked the air. It quickly dissipated when Lady Barov attempted to
parlay.
ldquo;Please, my lords, let’s maintain civility. There is no need to spoil a
perfectly good conversation. Besides, a confrontation would not turn
out well for you.”
ldquo;Get out!! Take your monsters and demons and leave this island!” The
man shouted, shaking his hammer. Lady Barov threw her head back in
laughter.
ldquo;I own this island.” She retorted after her laughter died down. “I own you.” she continued with a raised brow.
ldquo;I’ve heard enough!” Yelled the man on the right, as he snatched the
hammer out of the blacksmith’s hand and charged at Ras. Gibbins, the
dwarf, quickly intercepted the man and buried his axe into the left side
of the man’s belly. Shocked and overwhelmed, almost everyone took a
step back with their mouths agape. I remained still, watching the blood
erupt from the deep wound. The dwarf pulled back his axe to make the
killing blow, when Isaac lunged forward and grasped it.
ldquo;NO!! This is WRONG!!” Isaac screamed with a frenzied visage. Gibbins,
unwavered, drew his other axe with his left hand, and used the seized
axe as a fulcrum to spin around and land the other into Isaac’s skull.
As the third man, the boy, collapsed and crawled backwards to the back
corner of the room, the blacksmith took advantage of the opportunity and
drew a fire poker out of his tool belt and ran at the dwarf. When the
poker was plunged deep into Gibbins’ back, he cried out in pain and
staggered forward until he collapsed, bringing himself and Isaac to the
floor. The blacksmith was about to charge at Raz, unarmed, but Raz was
prepared and swiftly held his hand out. For a brief moment, I saw small
glowing blue crystals cascading around his splayed hand before he had
made it into a fist. When he had done this, the blacksmith stopped dead
in his tracks, halted by large veins of ice that clung to his boots and
rooted him to the floor.
ldquo;Take the good Lady’s advice and calm down, worm.” Ras said, sneering.
Lady Barov had idly glanced at the boy and, after a moment, focused her
gaze on him intensely. I then too looked at the boy and watched his
cowardice subside into a look of vacancy as he stood up and ascended the
staircase next to him. Ras continued, “Now...I understand, you’d like
to skip the pleasantries. Fine.” The man struggled to break free.
“Normally, I’d tell you that we’re here to offer you an opportunity and
so on and so on, but I’ll just give it to you straight. You’ll be coming
back to the mansion with us one way or the other, dead or alive. It is
entirely up to you to decide how you get there”. The man glared at Ras
in silent fury, a fury that deafened him to the scream that came from
above. Soon after, two bodies came tumbling down the stairs, more
accurately sliding than tumbling. It was two women, with blonde hair and
plain dress. The situation finally penetrated the man’s anger. He
turned and looked to see one of the women get to her knees and scramble
to take hold of the other woman. The other woman was decidedly younger,
most likely a daughter. The young man came down the stairs.
nbsp;“Oh! I suppose the gang’s all here, now?.” Ras smirked, clasping his
hands together with a resounding clap. The man twisted back to Ras,
absolutely raging.
ldquo;Don’t you hurt them!! I won’t let you hurt my family!!”. He began to
struggle frantically, and at last, forming cracks could be heard and
seen in the ice that bound him.
nbsp;“Alright, I can see you aren’t taking this seriously. I’ll have to
make the decision for you.” Ras slowly moved his clasped hands apart,
muttering something under his breath. A foot broke free, scattering
about large shards of ice, but the man’s other foot remained frozen. In
the space Ras created between his hands, ice crystals began to form and
congeal. It quickly grew to the size of a plump apple and then burst
into flames. It was then that the man, aided by the leverage given by
his free foot, completely broke free of his icy manacles and resumed his
hulking sprint towards Ras. But it was too late. Flicking his palms up
to face the man, Ras released his conjuration into the man’s chest. He
was knocked onto his back and became engulfed in licking flames and
fast-fleeting embers. He didn’t move.
nbsp;“NO!!” the woman screamed.
nbsp;“Oh, relax. He’s not dead yet. He’s just paralyzed. Well, frozen.” Said Ras, nonchalantly.
nbsp;“Monsters...You’re all...Monsters...” She said through quivered sobs
and tightened her embrace on the younger girl. I noticed the young man
blink for the first time and begin to sway.
nbsp;“Boy,...” Lady barov called out, her voice saccharine. She moved over
to him, and as she did he all too quickly became conscious of all that
transpired in front of him. Horror.
nbsp;“Dad...” The words were carried on a breath choked out of the boy as
if punched in the stomach. He looked at the approaching Illucia Barov,
“Stay back!!” he warned, but was unheeded. She cupped his face in her
hands. For a moment he maintained the same look of fury that his father
wore, and nothing was said, but he soon melted into melancholy and
despair.
ldquo;...Just leave us alooone.” the boy pleaded as he began to sob.
ldquo;Aw...Such a brave young lion. You don’t want to die, do you?” The
mask of compassion Lady Barov wore seemed unnatural; as if her face was
not made for such expressions. He said nothing, so she pressed further,
“Hmm?”. He shook his head. “No, of course not; And we do not have to
kill you. Indeed, we can make you live forever! Is that not exciting?
Little lion, I know you have more wisdom than these men lying on the
floor, who forced us into a violence. Do you know how I know? Because
fear is wisdom. Your fear has inspired wise decisions, and has saved you
today. Do not give into impulse now, for it will be your doom. Tell me,
will you come?”
nbsp;The boy hesitated only a moment before nodding his head. “Just please
don’t kill me...”, he pleaded as tears continued to cascade down his
hairless cheeks.
nbsp;A smile appeared on the Lady’s face. “Just do as we say, and you need not fear any longer”.
nbsp;Raz picked up the blacksmith’s hammer and placed it in the boy’s
hand. “Kill them.” Raz commanded, as he pointed to the two women whose
faces were buried in each other’s shoulder.
nbsp;The boy sank and looked at Lady Barov in dread. She simply nodded her
head. He turned to look at the women he knew so well as they sat on the
floor, sobbing quietly, unable to return his gaze. After a moment, he
ran to them and it was done. He then bawled uncontrollably as Lady Barov
led him out of the house with her hand on his shoulder. I’m not sure if
she was being comforting or if she was being forceful. With nothing
else to be done, I went to follow.
nbsp;“Er...Vincent?” Raz called out. I turned to him but he only looked at
me with amused inquisition. “Where are you going?”, he asked.
nbsp; “Are we not done here?”
nbsp;"No, you'll stay here and wait for a wagon to collect the dead. You
can return once you’ve helped load the bodies.” Raz explained as he
himself went to leave. “Oh, and don’t worry about the mess”. The door
was left ajar and I was left alone. The only life among the dead, I
looked around at what was once a peaceful home not an hour ago. I sat in
a chair in the corner of the room and waited. After an hour or so, the
stench of death and waste was beginning to become overwhelming. The
blacksmith, or the man who had answered the door, remained paralyzed on
the floor, twitching an extremity every once in a while, but more
frequently as time passed. Finally, the door swung open and through it
walked two cultists. They looked at me briefly without saying a word,
and I gave none in return. After assessing the workload, they got on
either side of the blacksmith and carried him out through the door, with
much difficulty, being such a hearty man. I got up and carried the
bloody women over my shoulders and walked out to the horse-drawn wooden
cart to deposit them as the cultists went back in to collect the last
body. It would seem that being the farthest from the mansion, this was
to be the final stop, as the pile of collected corpses was already about
two or three yards high, despite the considerable width of the
carriage. One of the cultists sat on the edge of the cart as I did,
while the other drove the horse as we set off for what could be called
home. As I said before, a grim silence had fallen over the town when the
people became gripped in superstitious paranoia over their proprietors’
nefarious activities, but now it was something different. Though the
journey to that family’s house had been quiet, what noise had pervaded
the air didn’t come back as strong as it had left the source; It was
heard. Now there was a void, and the clopping of the horse’s hooves on
the cobblestone and the churning of the wagon wheels came back to us
stronger than it had left, to the point where our presence seemed
unnatural. This was death, and I knew from that moment it would be my
shadow.