Pagewalker (24 page)

In light I see hope,

In hope I see future,

In future I see life,

In life I see God.

Protect me father above,

Wield your glory through me,

Make me like Sif,

The angel who speaks your voice.

With those words resting gently on my lips I lit a
small match from the wooden box I kept in his pocket and flames
instantly engulfed my newly made torch. Tilting back my head and
filling my cheeks, I took a large swig from the Oil flask. The goat
skin canteen I took from Caitlin, and ran with increasing speed to
charge the first wave of bodyguards.

I Burst into the small opening between the tents in
a cloud of dust sweat and smoke. There were guards on either side.
Shield walls were raised. Spears facing forward in an attempt to
trap me. They must have known that the flame of passion cannot be
so easily extinguished, love and anger are not defeated by fear or
oppression. They must have thought they would contain me, but the
coin had flipped. They were all together, surrounding me in a small
space. bottle necking themselves. The ambush had turned into my
killing floor. My back foot was not placed in defeat but in attack.
If I were to die tonight I would do so as one of the knights of
Xill, no fear just honour.

I must have taken the guards buy surprise,
they were not expecting me to smash directly into the shield wall,
two guards toppled backwards giving me a clear view of the guards
behind. I lifted the torch to my face and blew, flames exhumed in
an arc in front of me. A glorious ring of green and yellow dancing
fire. The tabards and garments of the guards instantly burst into
an inferno. Panic hit the ranks and an un organized retreat ensued.
The shield wall behind me closed in, sensing what they believed to
be an opportunity, but they too were met with a burst of flames. I
only had one mouthful of oil but the flames were larger and more
intense than anything I had conjured before. I felt that I could
move the fire. Each burst was larger and hotter than the one
before. The Yellow turned to blue and the heat intensified. Guards
ran and flailed weapons around them but they were blinded by
flashes or blue flame and searing heat, melting the armour to their
skin. Cries of men burning alive festered in the air. The heat was
unbearable, the Air was thick with singed hair and bubbling flesh.
So dense it was impossible to breathe.

Long after the oil was gone from my mouth I
continued to breathe pillars of fire toward my foes, Turning the
fireballs into large vertical spires of flame. I wielded them like
whips. Slapping into the walls and splashing molten stone in a
circumference of destruction. As the combat continued the once
lifeless and depressing fair, now resembled the deepest seal of
hell, flame, pain, screams, burning tents and smoke rising from the
bodies below me. I continued my rampage for several minutes,
revelling in the power. This magic was intoxicating. I was drunk on
this magical supremacy.

I continued until all had either fallen at
my feet or retreated back out of my reach. I stopped blowing fire,
the awareness of my image became very real to me. What was I
becoming? I sank to my knees, exhausted. My body was more painful
than I can express in written words. Exhaustion seems to small an
adjective to express what my arms, chest, head and legs felt. More
than the many times I had fallen from the high ropes or my only
time at attempting to tame a bear under the supervision of the ring
master. I could not move, I was anchored by fatigue and I waited
for the killing blow to come from behind, but no blow came. Moments
passed that seemed like lifetimes. Silence filled the paddock, Just
the occasional light hiss and a wisp of steam, as drops of blood
dripped from wounds of the fallen, onto he scorched hot armour they
died in.

From the smoke however, emerged one single figure.
Not heavily armored, not large in size or presence but with eyes
that could pierce the seal of the heavens. Dark green eyes fixed on
mine. I knew who came toward me. The self proclaimed Queens.

A ruthless, sadistic masochist with a deep
hatred for the bloodline of Grimm. She had always seen us as
northern gypsies. A nomadic scumm, plaguing the northern world.
Before my senses could return to me or even any time to stand or
react I felt a welt on the side of my head.

Then Darkness…

I opened my eyes to see her towering over
me. I tried to move but a pulsing, excruciating pain shot from my
head and neck, to my lower back. The blow must have concussed me
and the feeling of vertigo was unshakable. My vision blurry and
noises were muffled as if I had slipped under the surface of a hot,
deep bath.

I could however make out her face, and hear
her snake like, smug tone.

‘
I will not kill you now, I will do it
tomorrow when the spectators arrive for a new spectacle. I have two
other acts lined up you may enjoy. Two new visitors to our lovely
fair. That little man beside you and a woman with the mouth of a
gutter tramp.” She nodded over to the cage beside me. The smallest
man I had ever seen was chained up and holding onto a beautiful
Northern Woman. Long blonde hair was tied back behind her head with
blue eyes sharp enough to cut her free from these chains. They were
both gagged and looking at me with longing and desperation. I knew
that look. New ‘visitors’ were usually nothing more than fodder for
the Queens amusement. Most likely fed to lions or tossed from high
ropes. “They both arrived this morning! Maybe you could explain how
things work here, show them the ropes, so to speak.” She cackled
that horrid laugh she used mostly ironicly then continued “Tonight
will be a masterpiece, so manywill be watching” she said.

She dragged Me toward the stalls in the Best
pens. I gave little struggle, my body was broken from the magic. I
had no fight left in me. I was locked in. My vision went very
blurry and then I must have lapsed once again into unconscious
darkness.

The next morning, I was awoken from his oblivion by
a sharp slap on the face, administered by a most gorgeous woman.
The same one from the day before in the cage. In any other scenario
this would be a perfect way to be awoken and no better view to gaze
upon once opening your eyes but the safe time between awakening and
remembering reality had just passed. She steadied me and put both
her hands on my face. Her accent was foreign, harsh but kind.

“
Hey, wake up for fuck sake.” She said
with a confusing tone, shaking slightly with fear but energetic,
the voice of someone with a plan. “Ok, we haven’t got very much
time here ok? My Name is Sarah, and that wee legend is Garret!” She
pointed at the little man that was with her earlier. He had somehow
squeezed through the bars of the pen and was creeping along the
side of the tent with a spade he had collected somewhere. I began
to speak but Sarah put her hand over my mouth and narrowed her eyes
on mine. “Feck sake, just shut up, Listen. I only have a small
window of time to get home. Garret is going to take me to some
place called the brotherhood alter? Or something along those lines?
I don’t really know but that’s not important to you. Just know that
Garret will pass the spade thought the bars to us, we can prise the
front of the cage open enough for us to slip through if we work
together. I haven’t got time to explain or care about anything else
right now. So just pull when I tell you and stay quiet.” Her voice
was a whisper. A beautiful whisper. She reminded me so much of
Caitlin. That is most likely why I fell immediately in love with
her. Who was she? How amazing she is. The little man named Garret
managed to sneak back into the cage. We managed to prop the spade
between the lock and the latch and wiggled it until it was deep
enough into the groove to give us some leverage.

“
Now!” Sarah whispered. It was awkward to
get enough room or into the right position in the cage to get the
gate open. We were cramped inside and couldn’t get enough room to
really push it open. I was more worried about the wooden handle of
the spade snapping under the pressure. We managed to get a couple
of inches of movable room but not nesarly enough for sarah to get
out. I am much skinnier than I used to be and not nearly as strong.
Starvation will do that to a man. After another group heave we
managed to prize one of the hinges of the door. The bottom corner
of the gate had enough room for us to bend the bars either way.
Enough room for a man my size to slip through but Sarah has
something that was a blessing in so many ways and only a fault in
this particular scenario. She has an amazing, large bust. I tried
not to look but sometimes a man can not help himself. After she
tried to slip out feet first she was stuck at the chest. We tried a
few times but it was decided that I would slip out and pull the
other side as Sarah pushed the middle hinge. This was the only way
we could move the gate enough for her to slide out. I slid under
and got out of the cage. Holding the bars as Sarah pushed I pulled
with all of my strength. The screws on the hinges were just
starting to bend slightly when all the pressure was released at
once.

Garret and Sarah both stood in the cage.
Stepping slowly back into the middle with their faces drained of
colour. A shadow loomed over my own from behind me. I managed to
turn just in time, to see a black blur speeding towards my face.
Then once more I tasted dirt and felt a throbbing pain behind me
eyes.

The smell of sweat and rotting leather from the
Robes the queen insisted on wearing under her carnival house coat
awoke me. She always wore this, be it through superstition or sheer
filth, never removed, even as sahe slept. The stories and roomers
had always circulated through the whispers of guards, to tradesmen,
to their wives to their children to the streets. It was thought to
be simply tales, but I truly believed it now. I composed myself, I
thought inwardly “At least he would not have to deal with the stink
for long.” By the quick and sharp look I received from her I
realized statements spoken out loud were not as private as I had
hoped.

As my eyes focused I saw boots, stained with
blood, my blood. I lifted my head and looked around to see the
staff of the carnie and hundreds of new patrons, watching me with
drained blank eyes, soulless and lifeless eyes. The people had
loved my father as ringleader. He was charismatic, funny, kind and
generous to both paying customers and his traveling family of
carnival workers. Since the Queen had taken over, this circus had
become a suffering existence. No life or hope left under the
canvas.

She released me, allowing me to fall to the
ground, landing in filth to the amusement of the two guards that
lifted me up. Not until they had both placed a sly boot to my ribs
and chest. They lifted me and sat me on my knees. The bitch was
giving her speech to the silent crowd. A Congregation of
ex-civilians standing there simply through orders and the lack of
self-will. My senses were still failing me and I could not
understand the hum that was the queen’s drone of a voice. I
couldn’t listen to her incessant rambling. Rehearsed words spoken
at every execution and public display of discipline. Or as she
would call them, ‘attractions’ I mustered the energy needed and
exclaimed,

“
I will free you all, I will return and rid this
place of the cruelty that rests on all of your shoulders like
vultures on that of a dying stag!”

My eyes shot from left to right, scanning
the crowd for a single glimmer, a spark, anything. I tried to spot
Sarah and Garret. The cage was empty had they already been killed?
I searched franticly with my eyes for evidence but where they
landed was locked with the cold white eyes of the Queen. She did
not react, a slight smile turned on the left side of her mouth and
then the ground beneath me disappeared. I was kicked backwards into
a large pit of putrid filth.

I knew this pit. The centre ring of the big
tent. The wooden floor drawn back and the stage sank into the
pit.

It was the pit of the beast, the most
vicious of all beasts to have ever lived in Northland.

Legend tells of its capture. And myth tells
of its birth. But the truth is Much less exciting. No Great
battles, Dark Magic, Divine intervention or alchemist altercations.
This was no more than a roaming predator from the forgotten jungle,
lost. Roaming Northland for prey. It was drawn to the smell of
blood from the battlefields.

Shann in particular.

It was not captured, it chose to dwell in a
deep sink hole not far from the city. A regular and plentiful
supply of carrion and live prey. Prisoners, Criminals and the
unlucky from Sáann provided a steady diet for this Nameless Beast.
My father was planning on training it, but it had become more of an
obsession of his. He found the sink hole and built the big tent
over the top of it.

I scrambled around the slime and filth to
find anything possible to defend myself. Nothing came to hand. I
got to my feet, stabbing pain ran through my legs. With my hands on
the walls to steady myself I limped to the side of the pit and
pressed my back to the wall. Sinking into the thick layers of moss,
I waited for the large, iron gate door to open with the rush of
sewage from under the circus, releasing the beast.

I remembered sneaking down many evenings to spy on
this abomination. Every time someone would find me and stop me.

I remembered the sounds it made though, the
sound of bones crunching between its jaws, the sound of blood
splatting and dripping from the fresh kill, like ripe tomatoes
under a blunt knife. It had no weakness, I knew this, many years it
has been fought and fed, never beaten. A Gruesome death awaited the
victims of the beast. I know well the hopeless cry’s and screams of
mercy from men eaten alive. Most of whom criminals, Rebels and
defiant loyalists but many simply those unlucky enough to cross
paths with the Queen at the wrong time.