The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 751

Chapter 751: Aulia’s...

A flash of white hung onto the word ‘devil’. The darkened outside flared in a volley of dimly lit torches.

“D-Devil?” he cowered, heavy stomps halted at the door and tapped.

“Decide,” said Igna, the taps discarded for full-on blows, each impact resounded across the wooden floor.

‘They’re after me, I’m doing to die,’ he crawled closer to the fireplace, a growl of the smoke climbing the funnel didn’t board well, in comparison, the sound would have been similar to one covering their ears with cupped palms. A bellowing rumble, the sound of flowing lava, loomed in terror above the boy, ‘-I’m sorry,’ he wept, tears flowed, ‘-I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help you,’ he clenched his arms, “-I, Yognl Currinda, eldest son of the Currinda merchant family, offer mine soul to thee,” every word hung, and he sniffled, the tears flowed silently.

“Good choice,” he threw himself out the chair, reached for the circular table, grabbed his sword and a pistol, then dashed to the entrance, “-Igna to the sleeping Fenrir,” fired through telepathically, “-could thee be so kind and keep the boy safe, I ought to pat the visitors in full for their rather invasive nature.”

“Will do.”

*Thud, Thud, Thud,* the lock clicked and turned, the bashes stopped, “-I have a few words for they who dared rudely perturb my night,” he slipped, glared across the gathered crowd, turned towards the door, locked it, and refocused onto the guests. Dimness couldn’t begin to describe the sight, torches scattered across various individuals, the light barely held against the coming storm. Even when the flames calmed, the tawny hue exposed part of the forehead and cheeks.

.....

“Hand over the boy,” said a voice within the crowd.

“Hand over the boy?” requoted Igna, “-doth thee take me a fool?” he stepped out the shelter of the house and under a roof of clouds, “-where’s the leader, I demand an audience.”

“I’m here,” said one amidst the crowd, he ambled through in the company of a blond-haired girl, “-Igna,” the sullen eye sockets enrobed by the darkness, gave birth to a pair of black circles, no pupils nor life, an utterly horrifying image, “-hand over the boy, he knows not of the crime his family has committed.”

“Which is the reason why I won’t do so.”

“Pretty bold for one who’s outnumbered.”

“Listen, threats won’t do much in the ways of negotiations. Tis best we not head for the ways of battle; you wish not to see the remainder of the villagers to be slaughtered, right?”

“HOW DARE YOU!” yelled the crowd, the voices carried across the trees and fields.

“I heard the story from the boy’s mouth, he only wanted to meet the one whomst he sought love and affection from. The disparities in thy social standing are sad, can’t say I’m too surprised.”

“Love, affection?” the blond-haired lass strongly stepped forth, “-HOW DARE HE SPEAK OF SUCH WORDS.” The description of skin and bones of which the boy gave was very literal, light brown rags haphazardly flung onto her stead, she watched firmly toward Igna who returned the feeling, “-my fiancé died because of him,” she gritted, “-I knew love, I knew affection, we are poor but we loved one another... THE LORD AND HIS PEOPLE, THEY STOLE EVERYTHING FROM US!”

*Sniff, sniff,* a tiny drop escaped the door, ‘-it’s bad to eavesdrop.’ Behind the rectangular form laid a boy who’d dug his head into his knees, the heart and mind cried in pain.

“And?” refuted Igna, “-winter-killed thy lover, the youngling of the village and the elderly, what should he be responsible for. Tell me, wise one,” he sarcastically flung at the girl, “-if he’d fancied, the young master Currinda would have easily abducted and enslaved thee. Tis not unheard of for people in power to crave lust beyond what is deemed moral. In the great picture, those who are born of lower stature are worth naught, words don’t change the steadfast hierarchy, tis action, and I see the village leader understand those words very well. Kidnap the lord’s son, kill him, send a message of revolt to the top,” he chuckled and burst into laughter, the way the tone fluctuated was in a way to mock their belief, attack their source of courage. “-Leader,” he pointed, “-the actions were for naught. I know the story and so does the boy – there’s justification for punishment by death.”

“Are you threatening us?”

Orenmir slid out the sheath, the condensed aura of death and suffering, materialized in the form of a weeping woman, long hair and pale skin, stretched her arms about the crowd in a tight embrace, “-do I need to further explain?” light from the torches reflected across the sparely bloodied sword.

“I don’t care,” voiced Aulia, “-I will kill the boy with my own hands if needed,” she stormed forth, dagger in hand, and ran for the door. He moved one foot forward, a tempest of sheer raw-power blasted her off balance into the muddied garden, “-one more step and I’ll cut thee where thee stand.”

“IGNA!”

“...”

“What then, what will happen to us, the villagers. We’ve been done wrong, is there no such thing as justice in thy dictionary?”

“Leader, the cause isn’t might to rally – my actions are very often extreme, they made no sense. I earnestly do not care about the survival of the villagers,” the sword re-sheathed, he shuffled to Aulia and gave a helping hand, “-killing the boy would have only worsened the village’s fate. A bounty for information, the greatest flaw in a perfect plan is the human side, sooner or later, one of the accomplices would have snitched. You know the rest.”

“Are we too forget the paid he caused?” wondered Aulia.

“Yes,” returned Igna pulling her to a stand, “-there’s no way to fight against oppression.”

She cried into her elbows, “-UNFAIR,” she dropped into Igna’s arms, “-UNFAIR!” she wept, “-unfair,” the cries halted, the dagger gleamed, skin pierced, the muscle gave, she plunged it farther into his stomach, “-too bad,” said a sadistic sneer, “-if you won’t let me kill him, I’ll kill you then kill him.”

“My o’ my,” he reached an arm around her back and tightened, “-Village leader,” he spun, “-here’s living proof of what emotions can do,” blood ran down his leg, “-she took action and stabbed.”

“LET ME GO!” screamed across.

“No, not going to happen,” bellowed a deep monotonous voice, “-you attacked whilst I obviously sheathed my weapon,” the grip changed from her back to a full-on strangle, he pushed her body upward, her tiny feet lifted off the ground, a break in the clouds beamed moonlight onto her struggling visage, snot, tears, all projected the fear and pain she felt.

“PLEASE STOP.”

“No, they who dare attack me will have the feeling mutually returned. Aulia, consider my action a great honor for thou art reunited with thine lover.” A sharp outburst from behind dug headfirst into his back.

“Igna please, don’t kill her,” begged the boy, “-I’ll do anything, let her go.” He flung her across, her struggle eased, the life, short of being snuffed, gasped in chokes and loud breaths.

Day broke across the turgid scenery, last night’s events ended abruptly. After Yognl stepped in to stop the girl’s death, the villagers nodded to Igna, grabbed Aulia, and left. The village leader, after his people made for the houses, stayed and said, “-I’m sorry for what the girl did, the intentions were to scare and spook the boy into coming with us without violence. We know what would have happened, we only wanted to scare the lord into easing our pain. I’m sure the truth is known by now, the boy was drugged by people who I don’t have control over, as the leader, I must take responsibility for their actions, which is why I must offer penance for Aulia’s behavior.”

“There’s no need to go through such extreme,” he sat on a lonesome rock, the wound healed at a fast pace, “-the villagers needed to see what violence can do to a person. Look, Yognl, see the fate of they who work without pay nor compensation for the town’s mouth to be fed. Appreciate them more.”

‘Memories,’ he thought sat in the cold outside, dawn drew upon the town, the humid air from the forest gathered across the plains in thick fog. A shabbily lit lantern, as he watched in the vague direction of the village, approached through the dirt path. Intherna, Fenrir, and the boy slept peacefully whilst Igna lit a cigar, ‘-who’s come to visit?’

The singular orb approached till their glance met, “-Aulia,” he replied, “-how come thee decided to pay a visit, you thought I was dead?” he puffed.

“Y-you’re a-alive?” she exhaled, her hands laid upon her chest in reassurance, “-I’m sorry...”

“Come on over, let’s chat.” The fog dulled any sense of direction, he opted to walk and she followed, a frigid tenseness of the early hours ensued. The ground, tender under the humid atmosphere and sloppy upon each step, was sometimes met by hard objects, pebbles, and rocks. The trail ran two lines moving in parallel, after-effects from carriages.

“Listen, I’m sorry about yesterday.”

“No need for apologizes,” he replied and slowed his pace, “-you did what you did in passion. How was the sensation of piercing skin.”

“Don’t... I can’t get the image out of my head. One moment my mind burnt in complete anger, the next, a chilling cold sensation of absolute fear.”

“Happens to the best of us,” he returned nonchalantly, “-tell me about yourself, Aulia, what would force a foreign girl to expose herself.”

“Sorry?”

“Don’t play dumb,” they stopped at an intersection, any further would risk an encounter with monsters. A U-turn resumed the tête-à-tête, “-you’re not from here, the clue is blatant, blond hair and blue eyes, fair complexion, the physical self doesn’t match any of the villagers, nor the townsfolk I’d wager. When I spoke to the boy, he told me you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, which I linked to the effect of novelty – I’ve seen plenty of girls who bare thy traits, and most of ’em, forgive my saying, are prettier. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and my words are rather crude, still, the observation is fair.”

“No tact towards a lady,” she murmured.

“Obviously not, we’ve bonded rather intimately, thee did pierce my stomach?” returned a sardonic response.

“Sure,” her pace slowed, “-true, I’m not from around here. I don’t remember my past either, from what the village leader told me, I hail from the people of Eipea – a long trip from where we stand. I was abandoned, I guess. I was ostracized for my looks, the townsfolk aren’t so kind on fair-skin blued eye people, don’t know why. No matter my looks, the leader took me into his family and welcomed me with open arms. I couldn’t have asked for a better environment, I made friends and fell in love with a local boy, he had dreams of becoming a strong warrior despite being bedridden. He was weak in body but strong in mind, I admired him and the courage he showed, the local physician said the pain he feels is enough to make a person mad. Regardless, he always kept a kind smile when I visited, we’d play and talk about the future. Winter arrived and everything turned for the worse, I met the boy from town. Our farmlands over Kiano Hill were rampaged by a dragon, the season hit hard, monsters attacked and killed the cattle, the town’s gate shut, they didn’t want to waste food on us villagers, they stole the last of our stock. We had to live off snow and few berries, a morsel of bread seemed to be a feast, in the end, a lot of people died, a lot of people whomst I thought to be friend and family. The chief changed, the death of his wife and children sent him on a path of destruction, he resents the town more than anyone but keeps it under wraps for our sakes.”