12 A New Enemy

Quinn Forsythe sat silent and motionless in the coach and was pleased to find the mercenaries did the same for the entire ride to whatever earl he was being forced to visit. He didn’t feel like fighting to avoid answering any questions they may have for him, knowing he was undoubtedly going to face questions from this earl. What earl was he supposed to be visiting anyway? He hadn’t recognized the name provided at the tavern. Quinn observed the mercenaries’ cloaks and recognized the crest of the Earl of Rivas clipped on their left shoulders, which at first made no sense until he quickly recalled that Earl Rajashekar had two full-blooded sons. Quinn rolled his eyes.

“He wishes for me to avenge him, doesn’t he?” The mercenaries only stared at him blankly and he heaved a heavy sigh. “Savages.”

Quinn was not afraid of the fresh earl; rather, he felt progressively inconvenienced as they pulled up to the massive adobe and brick estate. The irritation continued as the mercenaries casually led him through the pastel corridors. At long last they arrived at the vastly spacious study lightly decorated with small potted plants and iron statuettes. There the young Earl Farzaad of Rivas sat behind his father’s writing desk evidently engrossed in some kind of document; so much so, one of the mercenaries had to clear his throat to get the boy’s attention. Farzaad merely peered over the document at his visitors.

“And this would be…?” Farzaad asked.

“Quinn Forsythe, per your request, my Lord,” the mercenary answered.

“This is he? The bounty hunter with two names?”

“Yes, sir.”

Farzaad finally set the document down and addressed Quinn. “Forgive me, sir. You’re not quite what I would expect from a long-regarded top bounty hunter.”

“I imagine that’s part of what makes me a top bounty hunter,” Quinn replied.

“I suppose.” Farzaad addressed his mercenaries. “Leave us.”

Once they were alone, Farzaad maneuvered around his desk to his iron minibar and gestured to a chair.

“Please, have a seat.”

“I’d like a glass as well, if you don’t mind,” Quinn requested as he sat in front of the desk.

Farzaad glanced at Quinn expecting that he was joking. When he realized that this man was completely serious, he didn’t know what else to do besides pour him a drink. Without a word, he handed the glass to his guest, who accepted it with a large grin on his face.

“Thank you, my Lord.”

Farzaad failed to acknowledge the gratitude, and instead went straight to business. “I imagine like everyone else in the country, you’ve heard of Ravan the Great and his many exploits.”

“Of course,” Quinn replied with a sip of his drink.

“As well as the expensive bounty on his head?”

“Yes, I’ve heard of that as well.”

“Well I must confess, I’m a bit surprised you haven’t caught the man yet.”

Quinn shrugged. “I haven’t tried.”

“And why is that?”

“Well, you know, everyone else is after the old chum and I’m pretty much financially set for the next few months. I figured I’d let everyone else take a crack at him first and if no one managed by the time my funds run dry, I’d go ahead and get him myself.”

Farzaad didn’t appear very pleased with this response. “A few months, you say?”

“Four or five, give or take.”

Farzaad returned to his seat behind his desk. “And I assume that adding to the bounty wouldn’t get you to work faster?”

Quinn shook his head. “Men like myself aren’t interested in fortune, my Lord. Just enough to survive will suffice.”

“Even if you could survive without working another day in your life?”

“I enjoy work, my Lord. It keeps me busy.”

Farzaad nodded and removed some parchment pages from a drawer to set them on the desk in front of him. “Well, it is commonly known to the public that I am new to this position I hold, so I thought it wise to do some research on anyone I invite onto my estate. I must say I’ve learned quite a bit about you, sir. You are certainly one interesting individual. So much so, I question my research. You’re from Duraland, is that it?”

“Yes, sir. I am,” Quinn answered, void of all emotion.

“So then you are not a fire elemental. Quite the opposite, in fact, you are a water elemental.”

“That is correct, sir.”

“And you acquired your skillset while training under centurions until you eventually became one yourself. And a good one, too. You worked directly beneath your emperor, is that right?”

“Under cover, sir.”

“Spying,” Farzaad confirmed.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well that explains the large gap in your history here, right up until the time when you were convicted of treason. What happened there?”

“I was framed.”

“Is that so?” asked Farzaad. “For what, exactly?”

Quinn glared at the young earl.

“Very well, touchy subject I see. Oh, and here’s why: because you were sentenced to death, but you escaped and unfortunately found that your family had been executed once you arrived back home. Tragic, indeed. Did you ever avenge your family, Forsythe?”

“No, sir,” Quinn replied.

“Why not?”

“I knew it would cause someone to desire vengeance on me. Much like what is happening here. I wasn’t about to begin a vicious cycle of needless bloodshed.”

“Ah. While I can understand where you’re coming from, I can’t say I agree. However, I can say I have something to offer which I’m sure you’ll find much more desirable than money.”

“What could you possibly have to offer me?” Quinn chuckled. “My family back?”

Farzaad grinned at Quinn and shuffled through his pages. “Well, I had my scouts go and verify their status: a wife and two daughters… Mayline, Avalon, and Moon Forsythe, were they?” Quinn refused to answer. “So it turns out your wife and Avalon survived the onslaught. They’re still living in Duraland, obviously a distant city from your original home.”

“My wife died in my arms, sir,” Quinn growled.

“Evidently not, it turns out shortly after you fled, a miracle worker and a few of his assistants came and took your family away. They managed to save Mayline and Avalon, but it appears they had found Moon dead upon their arrival.”

“No witchdoctor saved my family,” Quinn snapped. “You are blatantly using a dark time of my past to manipulate me into doing your dirty work and I will not stand for it!”

Earl Farzaad only appeared slightly put off over Quinn’s outburst. “I’m merely reporting what my scouts brought to me, sir. They verified their identities and informed them that you’re still alive as well. They were quite shocked to learn that you fled to a fire elemental country, which is curious. Why did you choose Arderé?”

Quinn stood to leave. “If you won’t dismiss me, sir, then I will dismiss myself.”

“Very well then, at least take these with you,” said Farzaad as he handed Quinn a couple leafs of parchment. “Your family wrote you a few notes; unfortunately I’m not versed in your native tongue so I can’t offer an opinion as to the legitimacy of any of it. My scouts say this here is the report that the miracle worker wrote in regard to their treatment; again, in your language, so only you can definitively say whether any of this is sound or not.”

Intrigued, Quinn took the documents and examined them. He grew even more intrigued when he noticed each document was written in different handwriting; he may have even argued it was handwriting which he would expect from each individual. Most importantly, he recognized his wife’s handwriting. Regardless, the entire unlikelihood of this circumstance continued to give him pause. He glanced at the earl.

“So what exactly do you require for more information?” Quinn asked.

Earl Farzaad grinned widely at Quinn and spread his arms in offering. “My good friend, should you deliver Ravan the Great alive, you would not only receive the full bounty and you would not only receive another five thousand pieces from me, but I will personally see to it that there is a vessel prepared for your departure to Duraland immediately after delivery for your convenience. You will be handed the details of your family’s exact location when you are handed your payout from me.”

“And should it come to be that I am able to deliver Ravan, though not alive?” Quinn inquired.

Farzaad took a moment to think. “Well then you’d only be completing part of the task, so you’d only receive part of the payoff. You’ll receive the bounty, but no pieces from me. I’ll give you the voyage to Duraland, but you’ll have to find your family on your own.”

Quinn contemplated the earl’s words as he gazed back down at the documents in his hand. “I require time to consider the offer,” he finally said. “I’ll give you my answer on the morrow.”

~~~

The suspicion Ravan felt toward Captain Fadi grew stronger than his confusion as he continued to fail to learn anything about the man’s whereabouts. Since all he had was the captain’s connections with the glassmith and the butchery, and both owners swore they knew nothing, Ravan finally decided that he would check these spots for any clues.

The glassmith owner was a very successful entrepreneur in not only Rivas, but the surrounding towns as well, which probably had much to do with his association with Captain Fadi. His warehouse was large with multiple units for different glass products such as mirrors, windows, dishware, light fixtures, decorative objects, and custom projects.

Ravan entered the warehouse and immediately found himself surrounded by a variety of windows, many of which were stained glass and cast colorful beams of light all across the area. They were everywhere: hung on walls, set aside, laid out on tables. Ravan ventured deeper into the building, watching and listening for anything out of place. He could hear subtle, distant clinking and shuffling sounds, but they were so quiet he couldn’t be sure if they were something he should be concerned about or if they were simply the sounds of an overworked building. Eventually Ravan felt he was hearing these sounds too often and slowly drew his sword to be ready for absolutely anything.

Ravan took soft, rolling steps over the glass-speckled floor so not to make a sound as he slowly wandered deeper into the warehouse. He made sure to stay vigilant, distrusting of anything which flickered in the corner of his only remaining eye. But perhaps because he wasn’t vigilant enough, or perhaps because of only having one eye, Ravan failed to see where his attacker came from when he was blitzkrieged from the right. Thank God the assault came from the right or he wouldn’t have spotted the movement in time to parry the strike. Ravan didn’t have to look at his attacker to know it was Captain Fadi; the captain had been waiting in the warehouse for him all along. There was no pause after the first attack before the second one followed, and a battle commenced immediately. It was wild from the start. Their blades flashed blinding colors into each other’s eyes as they stepped about the beams which shot through the dozens of stained glass windows.

Captain Fadi fought dirty – dirty like Ravan and perhaps even filthier. While he didn’t cast fire, he cast metal and shards of glass, and finally Ravan cast sand. The fight moved throughout the warehouse to a room of nothing but rows upon rows of stained glass windows and the rainbow likeness of the air was disorienting, especially for the one-eyed Ravan. But Ravan fought through all the vivid reds and purples with the extent of the might which blazed within him. The purified wrath which flared between the swordsmen was fire in its own right, and it resulted in their crossed blades being forced into a massive glass mural of a fairy forest scene. The fighting didn’t cease, however, as the men freely fought amongst the sparkling shards of pink, blue, and green which tumbled around them.

While his surroundings were challenging to ignore and concentrate through, Ravan found Captain Fadi simple to fight against. The captain showed horror is his eyes and fought mostly on the defensive, retreating at every opportunity he could find. When he exited the warehouse entirely, Ravan wasn’t about to let such easy prey slip away so simply. He dashed after the captain and paused a moment when he could find no sign of him anywhere outside the building. But then he heard movement above him and surmised the captain may be on the roof of the warehouse. So Ravan scaled up after him and chased him from rooftop to rooftop until the captain swung his way into a building less than half the size of the warehouse.

Ravan swooped in shortly after Captain Fadi and immediately found himself inside an icy room spotted with the dark silhouettes of animal carcasses which hung from the ceiling by meat hooks. The sight and rancid smell gave him pause, but what really caused Ravan to hesitate was the stark resemblance the area had to the slaughterhouse he had slaved at many years ago. Ravan quickly snapped out of his stupor with the realization that this entire fight along with the venues was a set-up that the captain had been developing while he had been busy taking down the nobles. Ravan had never felt adrenaline like this: it was a maddening mix of rage and terror and Ravan wasn’t sure what to do with it. He did know that he had reason to expect other numerous surprises throughout the fight. The best thing Ravan could think to do was to channel his adrenaline to finish the fight before the captain could use any new horrors against him.

Ravan drew his knife so that he was doubly armed while he crept around the hanging corpses. He fought all flashbacks and memories of nightmares which involved similar scenes, and he worked to focus on where the captain could be. He cautiously approached the door to exit the meat locker and carefully twisted the knob so not to alert whoever waited beyond for him. He slowly opened the door and felt suspicious to find no one waiting for him outside. He quietly crept down the small hallway and approached a set of double doors behind which he imagined someone hid. He gently opened the doors and examined the numerous butchering tools which lay beyond. At the far end of the room, Ravan spotted two silhouettes sitting slumped over on the floor: one appeared to be the figure of a young woman and the other that of a small child.

Ravan felt sick to his stomach and the cool relief he had received in the meat locker quickly faded to leave behind an intense fever. The subtle footfall behind him somehow managed to snap his attention back to the situation at hand, however he was still caught by surprise. Ravan managed to dodge the attack from the captain, but he wasn’t able to parry. He was hardly able to parry the second strike and after that he primarily fought on the defensive. Captain Fadi utilized the bladed tools in the room, throwing them and hacking at Ravan who struggled to counter each assault. The various saws and knives sliced deep into his hands and arms, and quickly Ravan’s confidence in the possibility he would win this battle dwindled.

Captain Fadi drove Ravan closer and closer to the dark figures at the back of the room where Ravan caught sight of some glistening substance oozing from what appeared to be their throats. The quality of Ravan’s blade-wielding rapidly diminished as his severe trembling compromised his grasp on the hilt of his sword. He was forced to drop his knife so that he could clutch his larger weapon with both hands. When Ravan was at last directly beside the two shadowed figures, he realized that they were only potato sacks set up to have lamp oil leaking out of them, and now Ravan was completely enraged. Captain Fadi had been trying once again to manipulate Ravan’s emotions, and he had been successful. No, Ravan thought. He had almost been successful. He refused to allow himself to be played this way; the captain had struck a nerve in Ravan which was forbidden to the touch and now he would unleash his wrath.

“You fool,” Ravan growled.

Then, fueled by the might of all his rage, Ravan threw Captain Fadi back, snatched up his knife, and attacked with vicious ferocity. This sudden change in Ravan’s fortitude caught the captain off guard and it took quite a while for him to catch up with what exactly had happened and what was going on right then. Of course, he eventually realized that Ravan had caught on and the captain had only angered him rather than distracted him, the latter of which he had hoped to do. So now Captain Fadi was forced to resort to his last resort, which was nothing more than to fight like a mad man with not an ounce of honor.

The battle was brutish with the rabid emotions boiling hot between the two swordsmen: Ravan recalling how this man commissioned the execution of his family, and Captain Fadi enraged by the audacity of this man to challenge the decisions of a nobleman. They utilized all their limbs, along with the blunt and bladed equipment at their disposal. They stabbed and jabbed, and swung their swords like axes.

Then, Captain Fadi shoved Ravan into the double doors of the room so that he broke through into the hallway. This only enraged Ravan further and he shoved the captain back against a wall and swung his sword at the man. The captain ducked and swung back. The fight got to the point where there was no skill displayed – it was simply two angry men swinging long sharp sticks at each other. It had the mien of a couple of young boys playing soldiers and pirates in their mother’s kitchen. There was an aura of ridiculousness that could make a bystander laugh if not for the frightening hatred which emanated from the two of them.

The conflict moved to the front of the butcher shop where they ran each other into chairs, tables, and counters. Ravan didn’t see how or from where, but another armed gentleman blind-sided him, throwing him into a table and a couple of chairs, successfully getting him to the floor. Once Ravan realized he faced a second opponent, the man already had the tip of his sword to Ravan’s throat. Ravan narrowed his eyes at the stranger; he seemed familiar somehow.

“You are grounded, out-manned, and severely injured,” said Ravan’s new enemy. “A wise man in your position would surrender.”

The very moment the man spoke, Ravan recognized him as Quinn Forsythe from Bayhill Tavern, and he was amused that a bounty hunter had not only managed to secretly frequent a criminal tavern, but had finally caught up with him. Ravan had figured that if he never completed his quest for vengeance, it would be because he had died at the hands of Captain Fadi. He never imagined it would be at the hands of a bounty hunter.

“You speak as though I have something to lose, sir,” Ravan replied with a grin. “Do you really suppose I would embark on this journey without first digging my own grave?”

“Regardless, it is my intention to bring you in alive,” said Quinn.

“Well then, allow me to offer my sincerest apologies, sir, because the only condition in which you will be delivering me to anyone is dead!”

Here, Ravan batted Quinn’s sword away with his knife and jumped to his feet to engage both men in a swordfight. However, due to his injuries and recovering state of mind, Ravan didn’t feel confident in his dexterity despite doing fairly well considering. He soon found himself near a window and after contemplating for not even a minute, he decided his best course of action was to retreat. The moment the opportunity arose, Ravan quickly sheathed his sword and knife, bolted for the window, and shattered the glass with a loud crash upon jumping out.

Captain Fadi moved to chase after Ravan, but Quinn grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Hold your horses there, Soldier. No doubt he’s concocted some elaborate escape plan riddled with traps for us.”

“Clearly ‘Ravan the Great’ isn’t so great after all,” the captain argued. “Don’t you think you’re overestimating him a bit?”

“Much better than underestimating him as you are, wouldn’t you agree?” Quinn challenged as he stepped aside to take a seat. “I’ve been studying this rogue for a year now, I would hope I know enough to make accurate predictions to his next course of action.”

“So then how would you suggest we go forward?”

“We move on to Plan B.”

“Well I hope you intend to initiate it soon because he could be after my family next,” the captain growled.

“I would argue that is unlikely considering that hasn’t been a recent method of operation of his,” said Quinn. “But I see your point. Is there someplace, some distant realm, to which you can send your family?”

Captain Fadi considered for a moment. “I suppose I have extended family in Bonn.”

“Good,” said Quinn. “Now Ravan is currently suffering some serious injuries to both his person and his ego. He will remain in hiding to recover for a while. During this time, I will help you covertly ship your family off to Bonn.”

“How long before you think Ravan will decide to strike again?” asked the captain.

“That’s difficult to say. He hasn’t been consistent in that regard. My main focus is to find where he’s hiding while he recovers. It would be a place with light traffic and rarely considered. I will investigate further while we send your family to safety.”

Captain Fadi heaved a heavy sigh. “Very well, Forsythe. Have at him.”

~~~

As Quinn had predicted, Ravan had fled back to the mausoleum where he treated his injuries, including those inflicted against his ego. Fortunately for Ravan, Quinn never considered this hiding place. Of course, that didn’t stop him from utilizing other search methods. Quinn learned of the many people who had known Ravan in the past and he interviewed each of them on their experiences. He also spoke with Earl Farzaad on what he knew of Ravan and then obtained clearance to research all crimes involving Ravan, which were recorded and stashed away in the records building on the Rivas Centurion Base.

While Quinn learned quite a bit about Ravan and his past, none of the intel was useful to his needs. But of course, this didn’t stop him from devising a detailed plot to capture Ravan, who began his own search for Captain Fadi only weeks later. With Captain Fadi’s family on a ship en route to Bonn, Quinn worked with the captain to put their Plan B into action under the radar so that Ravan had no way of knowing what they had planned, or that they were planning anything at all.

~~~

Ravan only emerged into the streets at night and masked his identity in the cover of the shadows. During this time, he checked Captain Fadi’s most common routes and his home, which was how Ravan learned that the family was gone… and so was the captain. Perhaps he was staying at an inn now, or the home of some acquaintance, like Quinn. The day following the receipt of this knowledge, Ravan read in the daily pamphlet that Captain Fadi’s wife had passed and he had sent his children to someplace unspecified while he buried her, which would happen in two days’ time. Ravan then figured that perhaps the captain was spending most of his time in the temple if this were the case.

So that evening, Ravan approached the towering, iron temple with its pointed spires and tall, stained-glass cathedral windows. He was fully armed and he felt confident in his renewed, physical condition. Ravan found the tall double doors already open, and he hoped this didn’t mean there was anyone else inside besides the captain. Ravan entered slow and quiet, yet casual, craning his neck to peer around the copper columns and the golden seats that were organized in small circles. He found no one there, nor was there anyone kneeling at any of the altars which lined the silver walls. But at the very front of the chapel Ravan spotted Captain Fadi knelt before a mahogany casket, praying all alone in the quiet, empty temple.

Ravan made sure not to make a noise as he slowly approached Captain Fadi, lest his footsteps echo in the vast, open space. He heard a subtle thump resound from somewhere in the temple and bolted behind a column, but it was only the one and the echo quickly faded into nothingness as if it had never happened. Ravan ultimately disregarded it as a creak in the large structure and breathed deep to relax his racing heart. He emerged from behind the column and continued to approach the captain. As he got closer, Ravan drew his knife and prepared to handle his last claim of revenge quick and smooth. Just as Ravan raised his blade above the captain’s head, he noticed that the casket was empty right as another thump echoed about the temple. Here, the captain’s hand shot up and snatched Ravan’s wrist to throw him into the casket. Before Ravan could even think to jump out, Quinn appeared and filled the casket with ice.

The frost burned Ravan in a way he had never experienced before, and once he was encased in the ice, he felt himself being forced into a slumber. But Ravan fought back viciously. Somehow, Ravan knew that if he allowed himself to fall asleep, he would never awaken again. So he struggled violently with whatever cold power which manipulated his mind so he could be conscious enough to attempt to melt his way through his frozen prison. The likelihood of this happening seemed very slim, however, due to his mental capacity being so severely compromised by the intense lulling ability of the ice. Ravan seriously doubted he’d be able to manage to escape this time.