Threads of Vengeance

Part 2 Chapter 1

Heran

Gurak stared uneasily at the iron wrought gates that barred entrance to the foreboding mansion. The run down building, even in daylight, gave a sense of foreboding. Gurak lifted his walking cane and pushed at the gate with it. The gate swung open creakily, barely hanging on to the hinges that held it. He reached into a pocket and brought out a small bottle. Taking a swig, he stepped into the grounds of the mansion.

“Are you sure you can find information here?” murmured Deeran. “They say the witch hasn't stepped out of there in a hundred years.”

“A spider doesn't have to leave it's house. It just has to spin a web and wait.” said Gurak. “Besides, she's not a witch.”

The trio walked up to the door. A loud single scream erupted from the depths of the house, shrill and long. Deeran mumbled something about keeping watch and ran, like he had never run before. Gurak snorted and banged on the door. It swung open noisily. The inside was dark, damp and dirty. As Gurak limped into the house, a smell of rot enveloped him. He grimaced and started breathing using his mouth.

“Gurak,” a voice sang. “How have you been?”

“Maara,” he replied.

A figure stepped out of the darkness, revealing a young woman with jet black hair falling to her shoulders. She wore a green gown that was ragged and torn at the bottom. She was beautiful. Her beauty was surreal though, like something out of a fairy tale.

“Have a seat,” She gestured towards a number of chairs that were strewn about haphazardly. Gurak remained standing, and so did Nistar. The woman named Maara shrugged and sat down.

“Forgive me, I have no beverage to offer.”she smiled. The smile only made her look more beautiful. Gurak gazed at her, unable to speak. His eye wandered across her face, greedily drinking in the unearthly beauty that she possessed, until their eyes met. Her eyes were different. They revealed something ancient in her. Something, primal and hungry.

Gurak shook himself out of his daze. “I need your help.”

“You always do. You always did. And you always will.” Maara smiled. “But what price will you pay?”

He remained silent. He knew the answer as well as she did.

“Ah yes you've already paid didn't you? How brave and determined you were back then. I liked you better as you were, than as you are, Gurak.” Maara rose from her seat and glided towards the part of the room hidden in darkness.

“You know nothing of me. Nothing of what I've gone through all these years. Nothing.” snapped Gurak

“Oh but I do. Quite possibly more than you do yourself,” her smooth voice came from the shadows.

There was a creaking sound and a moment later, she returned, in her hands, several white sticks, each with intricate carvings.

She tossed the sticks onto the ground and pulled out a dagger. Before she could as much move, Nistar's sword was at her throat.

“Calm down, boy.” She laughed and flipped the dagger in the air. Catching it by the blade, she offered it to Gurak hilt first.

Gurak hesitated and then took the dagger. He glanced at it. It was the same one she had given him all those years ago. The same, bone hilt, worn down, the same black obsidian blade and the same nauseating feeling. He took a deep breath, ignoring the smell of rot that clung to the room like a babe in its mother’s arms and like all those years ago, let the blade taste blood.

Unlike back then, this time the blade bit into his own flesh and blood dripped down. He held his hand so the blood fell onto the sticks Maara had tossed onto the ground. She bent down and picked up all the sticks. After arranging them in a specific manner that vaguely resembled a human. She started muttering something under her breath. A black mist grew around the sticks.

Nistar jumped back, horrified. “Blood magic,” he whispered.

“Is there any other kind?” Maara glanced at Nistar and then at Gurak. “Tell me, what do you wish me to find?”

“Find me, my daughter,” he whispered.

She closed her eyes and appeared to enter a trance like state. She slowly opened her eyes and shook her head. “She is still protected.”

He sighed sadly. It was worth a try. “Find me information about a man named Mazan.”

She raised an eyebrow. “It doesn't work that way.”

“Then find me someone who knows about him,” he snapped.

“I'll need more. Describe him to me,” she said.

Gurak racked his brains trying to remember what the fat man had said about Mazan's description. Nothing came up. The fat fool had forgotten to mention anything other than a name. Probably not even a real name. He looked at Nistar.

“You know what he looks like?” asked Gurak.

Nistar thought for a moment. “Dark, tall and...”

Maara groaned and shook her head. “Don't tell, show!”

“Err... he's this tall,” said Nistar, drawing a horizontal line just above his eye. “And dark, like Cerurian but...but a bit more, light....eyes like...”

Gurak glanced at him. Nistar seemed exhausted by his speech. That was probably the longest sentence he had uttered since birth. Maara closed her eyes and sat for a long time.

Finally she said, “A girl. Find a girl with one eye. She's somewhere north.”

“Thanks that is very specific indeed,” replied Gurak.

“Empire. It is hard to tell. More accurately than that.”

Gurak groaned. Empire. He had to go to the fecking Empire of all places. He sighed and started limping towards the door. Days of hell on a horse awaited him.

                                                                         * * *

Maara watched Gurak leave, unmoving from her spot. When he finally disappeared, she moved, gliding through the darkness. She opened a door concealed in the darkness of her house. Unlike others, she could see even in pitch black darkness.

She turned right and headed up a flight of stairs. At the top of the stairs, was a long corridor engulfed like the rest of the house in darkness. She let out a small whistle and something bounded towards her in darkness.

As it grew closer it was revealed to be a man on four limbs or at least something man shaped. His expression was mixed between a smile and a frown as though he did not know how to use his facial muscles.

“Hungry?” she asked him. He let let out a small sound and padded after her as she strode along the long corridor. She stopped at a door and produced a key from her gown. She unlocked the door and pushed it open, revealing a room empty except for a woman in the corner.

The woman bore a long scar along her wrist and her skin clung desperately to her bones. Her face was gaunt and she was shackled to the wall.

“I made a deal today, you know?” Maara told her conversationally. “The man, he was called Gurak. That is his name now, but it is not truly his. A long time ago, he went by a different name. Marak they called him.”

The woman’s eyes widened.

“Ah yes, you knew him didn’t you?” Maara smiled at her pleasantly. “He finally gave me what I’ve wanted for so many, many years. You.”

Maara clicked her fingers and the thing behind her ran forward. He stood on two legs, awkwardly and raised a hand. It turned into a spike and shot into the woman's chest. She screamed. A single long howl of agony. The spike returned and a red tentacle shot out of the mouth of the thing and entered her wound. The man's body collapsed and lay still.

The woman's expression changed, as though she had suddenly forgotten how to use her face. Her wound started healing visibly. Maara unshackled the woman and walked out the door. The woman followed on four legs.