Cries of a Wounded Soul

Chapter 7

The shock of cold water jolted me out of my impact induced sleep. I pulled desperate breaths as the rivulets streamed down my face, soaking my shirt. It took a few moments until lucidity returned. Where was I? What happened?

My head throbbed pain with each heartbeat. Slowly, the eerie scene resolved as my eyes regained focus. Two torches, one to my left and one to my right, provided fluttering illumination within a dark circ of overhanging trees at streamside. Leaf filtered moonlight made a glistening line across still water. I must be outside the city near the river.

Ropes looped under my arm pits held me upright, although slumped, attached to a wooden post driven into the soft ground at my back. Wrists bound behind me immobilized my arms.

Five dark figures stood like statues before me in an orderly semi-circle, arms folded, wearing sleeveless black tunics with hoods. Menacing eyes glared over the black sashes that hid the rest of their faces.

Scanning my audience, I said. "Umm... Nobody told me this was a costume party." Immediately, I groaned inside. Why did my tongue conspire against me?

A magic shield surrounded me like a cylindrical cage, shimmering and sparkling in the low light. From my previous experience with such a barrier at Obeus's home, I knew that would not hinder me. But the rough rope binding my wrists, that was another matter. Out of sight from my captors, I wriggled my hands, pulling and probing for a weakness.

Easy, I cautioned the stirring Fury as it bucked against mental restraints.

One man stepped forward. "Tomas, you have been found guilty of blasphemy and acts of disrespect to the Order."

I recognized the voice and those narrowed dark eyes. "Really, Ewyn? Is your ego so fragile? Is it daddy issues that make you such a prick?" Oh, there went my tongue again.

"Shut up! Shut up!" he bellowed. I think I hit a nerve.

Snapping a hand up, he shot a glowing blue orb of magic against my chest. It hit me like a punch, knocking away a breath. I heaved, gasping for air as the dull pain rolled through my core. The Fury within me roared with offence, yanking at its bonds. Not yet, I told it. Wait for the right moment.

"Bring the Iudicium Socium," the tallest of the masked men said in an even voice.

A sixth emerged from the brush, dragging along a struggling girl by her arm and tossing her into the mud by the riverbank.

A panic flashed through me like a lightning bolt. Ebelle! No!

With arms lashed behind her and ankles bound, she could do little more than roll over in the muck. And with a knotted rag stretched tight across her mouth and around her auburn hair, she could speak in only a panicked mumble. Crimson trickled down from one nostril, staining her torn dress. She trembled as she caught my eyes, projecting a terror that crushed my heart.

"Ewyn, you coward!" I screamed while bucking against my bonds. "Are you not man enough to face me alone? No one else needs be here."

"Silence!" the tallest man yelled, interrupting Ewyn's retort. "Justice must be done. An offence against one of the Order is an offence against all."

"The Order?" I drew in a sharp breath. "The Wizard's Order died out a century ago."

"It is reborn," the tall man hissed.

Part mages and part clerics, the Order was known for a brutally oppressive theocracy. Eventually, the people rose against them. Even the corrupt kings that supplanted them were a welcomed change.

But what most terrified me was their sick justice protocol, meant to brutally suppress dissent. Not only would the accused be punished, but also someone close to them. An innocent wife might suffer the whip with her husband, a son might be executed with a parent. Ebelle...

"With water, we shall cleanse the Fallen." The tall one said, misquoting a passage from the Holy Writings. He motioned to Ewyn.

Glowing blue threads streamed from Ewyn's raised hands, weaving through the still air to encase Ebelle. She yelped as the magic lifted her over the water. Dropping his hands, he dunked her face first. Ebelle writhed just beneath the surface, shaking and splashing, churning the still waters.

"No! Please stop this!" I pleaded. "Just let her go. You may do with me what you will. Please..." My voice trailed off.

With a smug grin, Ewyn lifted his hands, raising Ebelle. She gasped and sputtered while hovering above the water surface, heaving gulps of air. "Oh, we will. Her suffering is on you, Tomas. Remember that."

He dropped his hands, submerging her again, and the desperate struggles resumed.

My heart pounded in rage, and I yanked on the rope binding my hands. Finding an edge on the post behind me, I furiously scraped the weathered rope against it, willing it to break. The Fury rumbled, tense and ready, a swirling turbulent mass in my mind's eye. While I hungered to save Ebelle, it simply hungered. I gave the command it desired. Go.

Gray tendrils of swirling smoke burst from my body in furious turbulence, eager to consume. Six arching fingers attacked together, entwining and wrapping its victims like constricting snakes. The hooded mages pierced the night with their screams as they collapsed to the ground, thrashing about. The Fury ripped the Magic from them, consuming flashes of blue light in enraged gluttony.

By then, Ebelle floated face down, as still as the dark waters around her.

Chills flooded my heart as I cried out her name, but she did not move. Nor could I go to her. With gritted teeth, I focused anger driven strength, and pulled against the ropes while twisting my hands. The skin on my wrists burned from the friction. After several yanks, a hand pulled free from the bonds.

Sprinting to the water's edge and crashing into the pool, I scooped up Ebelle into my arms and carried her to the shore. She laid limp. No rise came from her chest nor warmth from her lips. Salted water streamed from my eyes as I turned her body on its side and pounded her back, a desperate attempt to restore life that I knew would not work.

I gathered her lifeless body into my arms, whispering, "I am so sorry, Ebelle. So sorry..." Between wrenching sobs, I said a silent prayer, pleading that the Creator God would guide a worthy soul to paradise.

Moaning came to my ears. The mages, those who took her life, trembled and twitched on the ground, traumatized by the Fury. Good. I snatched a knife from the tall man, gripping it tight enough that my knuckles whitened. The Fury swirled around me as witness to my rage while stalking the one I held most responsible.

On his back, Ewyn's eyes widened and his breath shortened as I approached. He tried to scoot away, then grimaced as I stomped a foot down on his shoulder. I grasped his mask and ripped it from his face.

Ewyn trembled under my vengeful scowl. "You..." he stammered in an airy voice. "You are a monster."

"Perhaps I am," I replied in an even voice. Then I plunged the blade between his ribs. He shook with death throes, his eyes glazing, finally drawing a ragged last breath that gurgled with slow exhale.

I gazed down at Ewyn's lifeless body. Should I feel remorse? Was it vengeance or justice? Even with reason blurred, I knew everything had changed. And there would be no going back.