Fear

Cold and wet was his skin, unmoving and untouched. The man sat conscious yet ignorant. His eyes locked to the stone ceiling, now and then they twitched as to tell Reed they knew him. 

Penburn glared down at the catatonic man with a look of pity. 

"Who is this Penburn?" Reed asked.

Penburn's eyes held a darkness to them, darker than the surrounding space, his countenance showed untold pain.

"The first of us," he began, "this is Zemizel. He was the one to tell me what I now know. I was his first underling, his first retriever of others like us. His goal, however, was unknown."

"I still don't know what you mean, Penburn. Why retrieve other risen from Profaners? What use of us are we to you? Or him?"

Penburn waited for a few. He walked around and behind Zemizel as he grabbed his long continual hair from near the bottom of where his feet were and held it as the locks slipped past his fingers. 

"Much of his hair has gone out of control, but it's the telling point of determining his health," Penburn responded, ignoring the onslaught of questions from Reed. "But," he continued, "My continuation of Zemizel's goals truly derived from one thing he had told me."

Reed stepped closer, listening to Penburn and glaring closely at Zemizel. 

"'We represent the courtesy of peace'. He told me," Penburn continued, "I hadn't known what he meant by that, but eventually it came to me. The day he acted differently, by then I knew of what Profaners were, but I had never met them in a conscience state myself, not until that day, and until..." He paused.

"What happened?" Reed asked, toned in, grasping his scar.

"He was simply kneeling on the ground outside this infirmary, his before mine, a figure of height and svelte in gold and grey and eyes of dark with lips of cracked sand. A blade of thin sculpted string held straight as steel crushed wire pierced through Zemizel's white glossed steel."

A blurred image appeared within Reed's mind, something he could not clarify, a mix of muted colors washing around before the thought vanished. His head began to ache as he winced, rubbing the side of his temples. 

"I take it you're remembering things, Reed?" Penburn noticed.

"I... I don't know."

Penburn took a moment to let Reed gather himself before he continued.

"Till this day," Penburn said, "I neither remember that Profaners face nor his demeanor, like an image plucked from my mind, left with such a minor detail left with intent as if to show me what to fear."

"The eyes," Reed said, "you remember its eyes and blade, you remember its stature yet not of its depth."

"I remember what I was forced to remember, a warning as to not disobey. But," Penburn paused, "I already have, yet my Profaner has not shown themselves."

With utter urgency into the matter of the subject which Reed had not expected, Penburn had dropped that line on him, revealing his eyes widen.

"You've been given a courtesy?" Reed voiced.

Penburn closed his eyes, placing a hand on the catatonic Zemizel before raising his other arm to the side.

"My courtesy disallowed the effect of success." He uttered as a blue steeled Khopesh formulated in his palms and outward, scraping the near wall to his side. It dripped blue liquid from its curve and held keenly sharp at its tip.

"How!" Reed exclaimed. He'd never seen a medallion on Penburn from first sight, knowing who he was. "Where's the medallion?" 

Penburn lifted his finger to his metallic angular monocle, pointing and tapping.

"I've procured a way of success," he began, "we heartless, we bear no will, at least that's what we've been told, but it's fear that was left to us by them, and fear is a guise worn by will."

"I don't understand." 

"I know," Penburn responded. "I've been approached before I met Maddis, Furnella, Rhewl, and Tainch. I've disobeyed my Profaner's order long past, for they aligned with me in preparation for their courtesy, and I see that my efforts led me to nothing but success, especially with you being here. But our greater goal, the Devildom, is to destroy those pilfering kingdom bastards for they shine the light of the Profaners."

"The Profaners reap the harvest the kingdom's sow."

"More or less," Penburn affirmed.

Penburn let go of his blade as it fell towards the ground and dissipated before hitting.

Reed ignored the blade now. He thought hard as to what Penburn had told him. So many questions rushed his mind, and he didn't know what to ask first. But something else came to him, the attackers that essentially murdered him, and possibly Linette. Who were they?

"My killers," Reed stated, looking at Penburns' driven look. "Could they have been the devils you call, men of the kingdoms?"

"You opened up?" Penburn asked. "That's a surprise."

"So were they?" 

"Possibly."

"They pilfered my medallion, and someone else's," Reed told him, struggling at the last part.

"What did they say? Look like? Or what could you tell from them?" Penburn asked, giving him a list of aided questions.

Reed couldn't remember much from the event except a large man and a quick woman. The visage of opposing colors of black and white. And red, the blood of his failure.

"That's what I remember," Reed said, explaining to him the vague details.

"White armor is a sign of the Mor'Nairy kingdom. However, the black set is what fuzzles my mind. I think you've been robbed cleanly by the devils, a victim like many others, yet fortunate like scarce many."

"I guess," Reed said tiredly, that he had not slept since he was awake before the slaughter.

Penburn began adjusting himself as he walked past Reed and back to the stone stairs.

"Wait," Reed said, turning to Penburn. He had remembered something for but an instant, something so unimportant to the events surrounding the bloody images of surviving that it had escaped him until now.

"Something wrong?" Penburn asked.

"I remember why we were attacked," he said. "they were not just after our medallions, no, we weren't even what they aimed for. Our medallions seemed like a bonus to them."

"What do you mean?" 

"I was done for before the large one said something about a 'Xalidus' being secured. Something I had been safeguarding inside a box."

"You said Xalidus?" Penburn repeated.

"You know something?" 

"Follow me," Penburn said as he rushed up the stairs, Reed following behind as he took him to a room in one of the other halls closer to the entrance to the place. Inside was a desk and books on a small shelf. 

Penburn opened one of the drawers and dug through some papers until he pulled out a folded piece.

"What's that?" Reed asked as Penburn ignored, his eyes tracing the lines of words across the page.

"I hadn't thought it important," Penburn muttered before looking at Reed. "You said Xalidus correct?" 

Reed nodded.

"Zemizel knew what this thing was, but I tossed it away, knowing nothing."

"What is it?" Reed said

"A heart, a Profaners' heart."

"What does Zemizel know? Do you know anything?" 

"He took me in and told me nothing other than to focus on my fear. I took it for nothing until I realized what he meant. But that's all. As for what he knew of what importance a Profaners heart was, he never spoke of it."

"Do you know what his courtesy was?" Reed asked.

"No," Penburn said subtly, "he was gone before he could tell me. I've asked him before but he kept dodging the question, and now it's stuck in him without ever getting out."

Both of them stood there in that room looking at the mess of the pages scattered across the floor and around their feet, mostly Penburn. Reed took a closer glance at the page Penburn had studied about the Xalidus.

"Procured from the shadow, sunlit an enemy and grain another. Delicate and bloodless, possibly an infuser." Reed read aloud.

"That's what I don't get," Penburn said. "what were you doing Zemizel?" He muttered to himself.

"Penburn?" Reed said. "Is it possible for me to get a blade back, one born from a medallion?" 

Penburn put the pages down and glared at Reed for a moment before breaking the silence.

"I'm proof that it exists. Tainch is proof also, Maddis too. Just..." He said, "Not now, not today, there's too much on my mind Reed and I know you're in no position to wait, but I just can't."

"Right." Reed agreed, he knew it was hard for Penburn, but he hurt too, he was hurt and filled with anger, and as that anger began infusing his mind with his fist at just the thought of those few moments of fear against the Reavers, an even worse feeling overcame him, something he'd sense a few minutes ago in the basement.

This time, instead of a blurry image of colors, it was a sound and feeling touching his ear ever so closely in a pleasurable way, yet a daunting sense to Reed.