Blue Valley Underground - Part 13 - Rumors
Rumors can be hurtful...Or deadly.
Blue Valley Underground - Part 13 - Rumors
"Yeah, there were a lot of rumors," Glen told Isaac, "Some people were saying you got carried off by fauns. I told 'em it was bullshit--you'd have broke their skinny legs before they even touched you."
Isaac sat in the bunk above him, playing with a blue yo-yo he pilfered from the orphanage years ago. There was another bunk bed across the room, Lukas sitting on the bottom while Nathaniel lay on top. This was Isaac's room--Room 6A--that he'd shared with these three men for the last three years. They were the only people in this whole compound he could call 'friends'. The room was rather cramped, with just two bunk beds, four trunks for belongings, and one window that was barred from the inside.
"Glad I wasn't on that mission," mentioned Lukas, "Sending my own people to Kelvingyard...Couldn't do it. Wouldn't do it."
Lukas Kiwana was a muscular Midlander somewhere in his 30's. He had a smooth handsome face, coffee-colored skin and his hair was bound in tight ropes extending down to his chin. He was an expert shieldman, and was responsible for much of Isaac's training.
"You'd plant a big wet kiss right on Evan's ass if he told you to," Nathaniel added dimly, "Brown-noser..."
"You wanna lose your other eye, Freakshow?"
"I'd like to see you try!"
Lukas laid back and grinned and told Isaac,
"He's just pissed 'cause I whipped his crispy ass in the tournament yesterday. You missed it, Isaac--it was glorious."
"You won because you sucked up to Evan all week! You were clearly out of bounds and he called it in your favor anyway! It was bullshit." Nathaniel growled and crossed his arms. Isaac didn't know much about him, as he was always too afraid to talk to him. Not so much because of his disfigurement, and more because of his temper. Nathaniel Poiret was in his late 20's, an ex-convict and apparently a burn victim. Much of his left half was pink and grooved like the bark of a gnarled old oak. His skin color was otherwise doughy, his body lean and short. Most of his scalp was seared and hair would not grow, the rest of it closely shaved. His left eye fell victim to the flames, blind and coated with red film. Isaac never asked about the burns or what he was in prison for, and in fact tried his best to never acknowledge those things.
Isaac tilted his head,
"There was a tournament yesterday?"
"Yeah," replied Lukas, "I almost made finals. Tyrus Blanc took me down though. Gotta admit, he's one hell of a swordsman."
"I wish I could'a been there..." Isaac said wistfully. Tournaments only happened once every three months He never competed in them because he didn't like embarrassing himself...Or getting beaten with a wooden sword by men twice his size. Watching them, however, was one of the biggest highlights in his life.
Glen laid on his back and gave Isaac's bunk a couple kicks,
"Poor Isaac--Gettin' nasty with his new girlfriend while the rest of us are clawing our way to the top, fighting for fame and glory!"
"And blowjobs!" Lukas added. Isaac rolled his eyes,
"Clara's not my girlfriend. I just helped her out, that's all."
"Helped her out of her clothes." Glen wiggled his eyebrows.
"Shut up..."
"Is she pretty?" asked Lukas.
Isaac shrugged, "I guess so."
"So where might a guy find this single, pretty girl...?" grinned Nathaniel. Isaac shook his head, throwing the yo-yo off the edge of his bunk,
"Just forget about it." The toy zipped back up to his hand.
Glen snickered,
"Yeah. Forget about it, Nate. She'd see your shriveled dick and run all the way to Serkel!"
In an instant, Nathaniel jumped off his bunk with a mighty roar and threw himself on top of Glen, pummeling him with his fists.
Glen had a foot of height and at least one hundred pounds on the man, lurching forward and pinning him to the floor. The two rolled across the room in a flurry of growls and swinging limbs, until Lukas got up with a long sigh and pried Nathaniel away. The ex-convict struggled in Lukas' strong grip as Glen laughed and stuck his tongue out at him, blood trickling from his lip.
"That's enough, Glen." Lukas grunted, "You too, Nate! Calm down!"
Finally Nathaniel stilled, panting harshly. He shot a death-glare at Glen before climbing back in his bunk. Glen returned to his as well, dabbing his fingers on his mouth and inspecting the blood with amusement,
"You swing pretty hard for a little guy."
"Glen..." Lukas warned.
"It was a compliment!" the blonde man smirked. Isaac couldn't help but smile. For the first time in a week, things were starting to feel normal again. He lay in his creaky bunk and for once, was grateful to feel that hard mattress against his back. The wall beside him was plastered with papers; illustrations torn from books, depicting brave knights and terrible beasts. There was the small bronze halo given to him by Chaplain Kohl, ticket stubs from plays he saw, and an amusingly insulting caricature of him drawn by Glen.
Below him, Glen's wall was covered with chubby pinup girls and drawings of swords. Lukas had a few preserved beetles pressed under glass on his wall, along with an antique shield and old knives. Nathaniel's was simply bare stone, like the wall of a prison cell. No personal touch, no hints to his character. Isaac always found it unsettling.
One of the barracks' slaves--an old faun woman--peeked in the doorway,
"Lights out!" she announced, then disappeared. Lukas stood and turned off the oil lamp hanging from the ceiling.
"Alright. Night, All." He said. The others grunted their goodnights and settled into bed. Isaac should have slept easy knowing he was accepted back into the barracks, Evan was not angry with him, and everything was back to normal. But he spent all night anxiously turning with obnoxious worries in his head. He was home and safe.
But what about Clara? Furthermore, why did he care? He'd done his part for her. She was out of his hands. Yet he couldn't help but wonder about the agents and where they were now. Had they seen Clara board the train to Rivermere? Perhaps they were on their way now.
Isaac slept fitfully through the night until a goblin slave poked his head in to wake them. Isaac went about his morning routine as if the week's strangeness hadn't happened at all, which felt strange in itself. After a shower and breakfast, he almost walked on to the training grounds in his under-armor.
"Sir," Isaac knocked on Evan's heavy office door, "It's Isaac."
"Isaac of Rivermere?" asked a muffled voice.
"Yes."
"Come in."
The young soldier walked in and saw Evan sitting at his desk, staring down at a document.
"Sorry, got two other Isaacs in training right now. Popular name with boys your age, huh?"
"Sorry to bother you, Sir, but," Isaac wrung his hands anxiously, "I don't have any armor. Or a weapon, or an ID."
Evan glanced up from his paper only briefly,
"Working on it," he said, and wrote something down, "Everyone's armor got banged up in the tournament. The blacksmiths seem to be choked up too, so you're not the only naked soldier right now. I can get you a new ID by tomorrow though."
"Should I do my training anyway?"
"No," Evan looked up and pointed at him in a serious manner, "If I see you unarmored on the grounds again, I really will expel you." He rose from his seat and searched a bookshelf for a moment. Then he presented a book to Isaac, about two inches thick with a sword on the cover.
"It'll probably be a week before the new armor arrives--if we're lucky," said the marshal, "In that time, I want you to study this. I noticed your form was a little sloppy on the border mission. Also, you almost cut my head off. So read up on your swordsmanship and give me a three-page report on what you learned. Once you're finished, I'll assign you new equipment."
Isaac began to sweat. His hand quivered as he hesitantly took the textbook,
"Uh...I, uh..."
"I know you're not used to book-work as an apprentice," Evan patted his shoulder, "But the higher you rise in the ranks, the more they bury you in paper. I want you--I expect you--to succeed, Isaac."
"Sir, I..." Isaac bit his lip. He thought he would never have to admit his illiteracy to his hero, to look like the ultimate fool: A grown man who couldn't read. Finally he took a deep breath and croaked,
"I can't do this."
Evan furrowed his brow,
"Not with that attitude."
"No, I mean I...I can't read, Sir." Isaac winced, "I'm...Illiterate."
Evan stood in silence, then sat down and nodded,
"I see. Then consider that part of the test."
"Learning to read?" Isaac's eyebrows shot up, "In a week?"
"The important thing here isn't what you complete," Evan told him, "It's about how hard you try. Check back with me in a week and I'll see where you are. If I catch you half-assing this, I'll give you another book." The older man smiled, though not with his eyes,
"Just remember: I hate empty spaces on my shelves."
Isaac glanced at the shelves, all the books neatly packed together...Except for one space, left by the book he was holding.
"I'll try, Sir..."
Who was willing to tutor him? The boy wondered as he returned to his room. His roommates would just laugh at him! Every other man in this compound would laugh at him! Any sixteen year-old novice in the barracks could read, but not Isaac.
Dolly. Dolly would teach him.
That afternoon, Isaac met his roommates in the dining hall for lunch. As all the soldiers in the compound gathered here, he noticed he wasn't the only one waiting for new armor. Lukas sat beside him, also dressed in cotton under-armor,
"...Yep, I'm banished from the grounds too," he said, "Tyrus bent up my helmet and broke off both of my pauldrons. Lucky that wasn't a real battle or I'd be in the ground!"
Isaac brightened,
"Did Evan give you another assignment?"
"Heh, yeah. He wanted me to go to the orphanage in the mornings and read to the kids."
"What?!" Nathaniel pounded his fists on the table and seethed, "That asshole put me on dish-washing! Novice shit! Are you blowin' the guy or what?!"
Glen grinned wryly,
"If he was, he'd be a marshal by now."
"No way." Lukas rolled his eyes.
"Evan gave Julian marshal status when he was still an apprentice," said Glen, "Kinda weird that he went straight from apprentice to marshal like that...Just sayin'."
Lukas waved dismissively,
"Nah. Evan's married to regulations; he's probably got his reasons. He wouldn't do nasty business like that."
"Julian's an idiot," Nathaniel scowled, "and his squadron's full of idiots because he doesn't know what he's doing. Meanwhile we bust our asses and we're still living on the first floor! Shit's unfair around here, I'm telling you!"
"Glen," Isaac broke in awkwardly, "Is Dolly still at the barracks?"
Glen was quiet for a moment, his face blanking. Dolly was a special slave to be available for border missions. She was multilingual, proving to be a useful translator no matter what corner of Noalen the soldiers took her.
"Dolly," Glen repeated quietly, his eyes darting anxiously, "She, uh..."
Isaac leaned forward impatiently. Glen cleared his throat and announced solemnly,
"Dolly's not with us anymore."
Isaac recoiled, looking confused,
"Did she leave?" he asked hopefully. Glen simply shook his head. Isaac's shoulders dropped, his eyes panicked and mournful,
"So she's...Dead."
"I didn't want to tell you. I saw you were pretty close to her," the blonde man winced, "I'm sorry, Isaac."
"Who's Dolly?" asked Nathaniel. Glen replied quickly,
"Tall slave woman. You know the, uh--The translator."
"Oh! You mean the Horrible Horned Hag?"
Glen, Lukas and Isaac glared at the man. Nathaniel shrank back a bit and muttered,
"That's what some of the guys called her, I mean...Not me..."
"What happened to her?" queried Isaac. He wanted nothing more than to cry, but not in front of every other soldier in the compound. His voice only creaked a bit. Glen's gaze dropped,
"I don't want to tell you...You're gonna be upset."
"I'm already upset," Isaac frowned, "Please, Glen. She was my friend; I need to know."
The blonde soldier let out a deep sigh, resting his forehead in his hand as he explained,
"When you went missing, we looked everywhere for you. Hell, Evan dived in that nasty river for hours tryin' to find a body. But, uh..." he paused, "I guess Abe said he saw Dolly walk off into the woods with you, and she came back alone. She said you were on your way, but you never showed up. Me 'n Evan were convinced you ran away. Evan was all broken up about it; he thought he yelled at you too much 'n scared you off. I thought you just got sick of the bullshit, personally..."
Isaac stared, enthralled as Glen went on,
"Abe kept saying Dolly was responsible, that she killed you or sold you to elves or something. Eventually we got a bunch of these dumb little novices out there for a search and Abe just kept runnin' his fuckin' mouth about it. People got riled up and..." Glen shook his head,
"I don't know what happened exactly. Apparently Evan found half of Dolly in the river, other half was stuffed in the bushes. Someone sliced the poor lady clean in two, then made a shit attempt at hidin' the body."
The color in Isaac's face drained. His stomach tightened and his head spun. He silently buried his head in his hands. Glen furrowed his brow,
"It was some dick-for-brains novice, if you ask me. Normally I'd say Abe, but he's too skinny to snap a twig, much less pick up a fuckin' sword." He leaned towards Isaac, his voice dropping to a murmur, "Abe's too smart to hide a body like that anyway. Smart enough to get those boys riled, put ideas in their heads, you know? I know he had something to do with it, and Evan knows too."
"Where is he?!" Isaac screamed and sprang up from his seat. There was wild ferocity in his eyes, tear-tracks glistening on his cheeks,
"Where the hell is he?!"
The room quieted a bit and all eyes were on Isaac. The boy was leaking tears and snot in front of every soldier in the barracks.
"Holding cells," Glen replied quietly, "Evan's trying to kick him out but--"
Isaac was already dashing off. He shoved through any men in his way, bounding downstairs to the basement level. He'd never actually been down here before, he just knew this was where disorderly soldiers were taken. It was terribly warm. He passed a boiler room and a laundry room, where dozens of goblins were washing clothes and polishing armor. Isaac never realized the barracks had this many slaves. He'd never once seen any of these goblins outside the basement.
An old soldier was sitting at a desk beside a doorway, and through it Isaac could see holding cells. After an unpleasant pat-down, Isaac entered the jail. There were only nine cells. Disgruntled men were sitting in four of them, and among them was Abraham. Isaac's rage surged the moment he saw him. Rushing to his cell, he clutched the bars and shouted,
"You killed Dolly!"
Abraham jumped in surprise, dropping his book. He gasped upon seeing the boy and stammered,
"Isaac! My God, you're alive!"
"You killed Dolly, you fucking asshole!" Isaac choked, tears spilling from his eyes again, "You're a murderer!"
The archer furrowed his brow,
"Who told you that?"
"Glen said there was a search party looking for me, and you--you told them to kill Dolly!"
"I did no such thing!" Abraham stood up, "Glen is a lying imbecile! He managed to convince Marshal Evan that I was at fault too, and now look where I am!" he growled, "I'm about to get expelled from the military because of that idiot!"
Isaac swiped at his tears and croaked,
"You hated Dolly. You blamed her for every little thing that went wrong on that mission. You were trying to get her executed!"
"True, I didn't care for her," Abraham admitted, "But I am not responsible for her death. I was not the only one who mistrusted her; much of the search party found her repulsively sly as well..."
"You were spreading rumors," sniffled Isaac, "You said she made me disappear."
Abraham glared at him,
"I saw you walk into the woods with her, and only she returned! She set those captives free when we turned our backs! She proved that she was traitorous, so what conclusion was I supposed to make?" his eyes darkened, "She was a petulant old fae who knew she was nearing the end of her life, and wanted nothing more than to take a promising young human with her."
"That's not true! You didn't even know her!" Isaac snarled and rattled the iron bars.
"Nor did you!" the archer stepped forward, "Any compassion she showed you was trickery to gain your trust. It's how all faefolk operate. You're young and think you know it all, but you haven't experienced what I have with those vile people--those creatures!"
"It was my own fault I went missing; Dolly had nothing to do with it! She left and I told her I would follow her, but I stayed. I stayed alone in the woods and got attacked by a nymph. It was my fault, and you blamed her with no evidence!"
Abraham sighed,
"There was much panic and confusion after your disappearance. We were worried sick about you, Isaac, but the others were too afraid to point fingers at the old, decrepit woman. All signs pointed to her, every meager shred of evidence we had told me that she was responsible, and I was willing to bravely speak out for your sake." He held out his long arms and sneered, "And just look where my bravery has gotten me."
Isaac loosened his grip on the bars and muttered,
"You didn't speak for my sake. You just wanted another fae wiped off the planet." He shrugged, "After all, I'm just a dirty Serkelite rat, taking up space on your land. Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't murder me too."
"How dare you," The archer's voice was grave, "You little swine! How dare you treat me this way when I have risked my livelihood for your honor! It's nothing but my twenty-eight years of seniority botching Marshal Evan's expunging process." He crossed his arms, "But I'm sure between his lies, Glen's lies, and your lies, I'll be on the streets in no time. Thank you, Isaac. You have ruined me."
Isaac's hands slid off the bars. He backed away, shaking his head in disgust,
"You ruined yourself, Abe. And if you weren't in that cell, I'd break your skinny arms."
With that, he turned and began walking away. Just before he left the doorway, he heard a primal yell,
"Southlander vermin!"