Jeremiah’s Tale, part 5
Two weeks later:
They grabbed the young woman in the middle of the market square of Edessos in broad daylight and in full view of the townsfolk, not even trying to hide what they were doing. Four men-at-arms, commanded by Lord Hector’s court magician, surrounded her as she shopped for vegetables, and demanded that she come with them.
She tried to fight back, of course, but the guardsmen merely laughed and clouted her on the side of the head, dazing her. A grey-haired shopkeeper tried to intervene, but a slash across his stomach from a guard’s sword ended that quickly. A dark grumble rose from the watching crowd, but the sight of the bleeding man lying on the cobblestones held them back.
“Best come along easy now, girl,” the magician crooned. “His Lordship’s going to treat you nice, he is.”
“I don’t believe she wants to go with you,” a voice called from behind them.
The guards turned to face the man who strode confidently to the front of the crowd. He was tall and lean, with shoulder-length black hair and purplish robes ornately trimmed in green.
The magician frowned at the stranger. “Doesn’t matter what the girl wants,” he snarled. “Lord Hector wants her.”
“Ah, and Lord Hector always gets what he wants, does he?” the stranger challenged. “Not today, I think.”
“And who might you be to stop us?” the magician said with a laugh.
“What, don’t you recognize me, Ranald? I certainly remember you. You always did run at Hector’s heels like a pet dog. So he’s got you running his errands now, does he?”
Ranald made a motion with one hand, and one of the guards strode forward, drawing his sword as he advanced. He raised it to slash at the stranger, but the tall dark-haired man merely made a gesture with his fingers, and the guard’s sword clattered to the ground.
The guard’s eyes widened in sudden fear as he clutched at the arm now hanging limp by his side. “What did you do to my arm?” he hissed.
“Nothing that won’t wear off in a few hours,” the stranger said. “Now, Ranald, I have a message for your master.”
Ranald responded by crossing his arms in front of his chest. A red glow surrounded his hands.
“Oh, so you’ve mastered some magic since we last met?” The stranger grinned, and made a chopping gesture with his left hand. There was a brilliant purple flash, and Ranald’s legs collapsed beneath him. “So have I.”
The stranger advanced on the magician where he lay on the ground, and stood over him. The guards backed away slowly. “Now, here’s my message. I’ve been hearing some disturbing things about Hector. His father’s been in the ground for what, almost six months? And yet Hector seems to have forgotten everything Lord Markham ever taught him about justice and honor and good rulership. He’s nothing but a brigand, stealing from his people and failing to provide the protection he owes them. And abducting women off the street for his own amusement? That’s even worse. He’s been behaving very badly, and it must stop.”
He fixed the guards in a cold stare. “Let her go,” he commanded.
The guards released their hold on the woman, and abruptly turned and ran. The woman sank slowly to the cobblestones.
“Tell Hector this,” the stranger commanded. “His misrule ends today. From this day forward he will be a just and lawful ruler to his people, or he will answer to me.”
“Who are you?” the frightened magician screamed.
“Still don’t remember?” The stranger shook his head. “I was called Jeremiah.”
“Jeremiah?” The wizard’s eyes widened in recognition. “But you were nothing but a cowardly whelp who ran away and never came back!”
“Perhaps that’s true,” the stranger said, nodding. “The man who came back… is quite different from the frightened, overpowered boy who left. Now I am – Jeremiah the Black? No, too pretentious. Call me Jeremiah Black.” And with that, he turned and walked towards the wounded shopkeeper.
“Come back here!” Ranald commanded. “Undo what you did to me, or I’ll make you regret it.”
“I could make it permanent,” Jeremiah called over his shoulder. “Now, crawl back to your master and tell him I want to see him.”
He knelt beside the wounded man, and closed his eyes. “This man needs a healer,” he announced. “One with more skill than I have.”
An old man with a flowing beard pushed his way to the front of the crowd. “I know someone,” he said. “Come with me.”
They quickly improvised a stretcher out of a piece of cloth commandeered from a nearby shopkeeper’s stall, and lifted the man between them. “Make way!” the older man commanded, and the crowd drew aside to let them pass.
They made their way through the narrow streets of the town to a small house, and the old man knocked on the door. “We have a wounded man!” he called.
A young woman with red hair pulled back in a ponytail opened the door. She took one look at the injured shopkeeper and hissed. “Bring him in, quickly!” she ordered.
They laid the man on a table in the front room, and the woman immediately got to work. “He’s badly wounded,” she said. “But I can heal it. He’ll live, as long as there’s no infection. What happened? Hector’s men again?”
The old man nodded. “With Ranald leading them. They were trying to take a woman – Dalia, Harold the shoemaker’s wife. This man tried to intervene.”
“Stupid,” the woman spat. “Stupid, stupid. And I suppose everyone else just stood there and let them do it?”
“Not everyone,” Jeremiah said softly.
The woman looked up, fully taking notice of the younger man for the first time. A look of shocked recognition spread across her face. “Jeremiah?”
He nodded. “Hello, Naomi.”
“But how… What…”
Jeremiah shrugged. “I heard what was happening, and came back to do something about it.”
“He challenged Ranald and his men,” the older man said. “Put some kind of paralysis spell on them. Left Ranald lying in the street.”
“About time somebody stood up to them,” Naomi grumbled as she turned back to the wounded man and resumed her work. “You should have done something like that a long time ago, Tobias.”
“Tobias,” Jeremiah repeated. “Weren’t you Lord Markham’s house wizard?”
The older man nodded. “I was indeed, until Hector turned me out and put that cur Ranald in my place.”
“And you just let him do it?”
“What could I do?” Tobias sighed. “I’m not much of a fighter. Ranald may not be the strongest wizard around, but he can cast a mean fireball, and I’m not powerful enough to stand up to him.”
“Well, I am,” Jeremiah said.
Naomi looked up at him again. “And how did you get to be so powerful? You didn’t have that kind of power when I saw you last.”
“Actually I did. I just had no idea how to use it.”
“So you’ve been off learning wizardry these past few years, is it?”
“And herding sheep,” Jeremiah said.
“So just what is it you plan on doing with our dear Lord Hector?” Naomi’s challenge had an edge of skepticism to it.
In response, Jeremiah walked over to the wounded man. “You said you were worried about infection with this one. You were right to be. With a wound like this, it’s almost inevitable.”
“True,” Naomi said. “But what’s to be done about it? A belly wound is a belly wound.”
Jeremiah laid his hands on the wounded man’s stomach. The wound was already closed, leaving an angry red scar.
“We simply identify the infection,” Jeremiah said in a low voice, “and then eliminate it.”
A purple glow formed around his hands, and then sank into the wounded man’s abdomen.
Naomi’s eyes widened. “What did you do?”
“I burned away the infection,” Jeremiah explained. “Destroyed the bad, so that the good might have a chance. It’s what I do.”
Naomi nodded. “So you’re going to kill Hector then.”
“No, I’m not,” Jeremiah answered.
Naomi’s face hardened. “But he’s a monster.”
“True enough.”
“He took me, you know.”
Jeremiah said nothing, so Naomi continued. “A week or so after his father died, he came to the door with his guards and dragged me back to his castle. I was there two months before Hector got bored with me.”
“I’m sorry,” Jeremiah whispered.
“I was married,” Naomi added.
“I’d heard.”
“He’s dead now. Hector had him killed.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So you see,” Naomi went on, “when I say he deserves to die a horrible death, I have my reasons.”
“I understand,” Jeremiah answered. “And I suspect few would mourn his passing. Certainly not his uncle.”
Tobias, standing in the corner, nodded. “I’ve told you before, Naomi, killing Hector would just put a worse monster in his place.”
“So he goes unpunished, then?”
Jeremiah shook his head. “There are other punishments than death,” he said. “Some that might even be considered worse.”
“Yes, there are,” Tobias agreed. “If you don’t mind being as bad as Hector.”
“Hector’s problem,” Jeremiah went on, “is that his mind is twisted. Now, what’s twisted might possibly be – untwisted. By someone with the right tools.”
Tobias looked alarmed. “Now that is some powerful magic indeed. And very, very dark.”
“True enough,” Jeremiah agreed. “But Hector must be stopped. By any means necessary. And since nobody else is willing or able to do the deed, it seems it must fall to me.”
Naomi nodded slowly. “Hector deserves whatever Jeremiah does to him.”
“He probably deserves worse,” Jeremiah said. “But it’s a fine line to walk. I don’t want to become a worse monster than he is.”
“Are you not already?” Tobias challenged.
“Ask me again tomorrow,” Jeremiah shot back. “You’ll see.”