Fugitive (Part 1)

SAL HAD LEFT ZYA, sauntering across the doctor's lair to the door on the other side. He stopped at the door, pulling it open. Curiosity flooded his mind as he entered the room.

Its silence deafened him, and the cold made him shudder. He looked about, left and right. Tools hung from the walls and ceiling, resting upon desks and the floor, a scent of flesh wafting through the air.

It was cold. It was dark. And there were grotesque limbs—hands, feet, bone—hanging from nails and skulls of abominations as ornaments for the walls.

And then, there was a light. A quick flash of light. Almost a shimmer. A shimmer from a blade that hung from a wall. A shimmer Sal decided to investigate.

He turned to it. It was a dagger with its blade curved and short but sharp. A gemstone protruded from the handle, which was wrapped in shoddy leather.

As compulsion brimmed within him, Sal reached out for the dagger and clutched his hand to the handle, unmounting it from where it lingered.

He observed the dagger, awe filling his sparkling eyes.

֍֎֎

Now Sal frowned as he held the curved dagger in his hand, the memory in his mind. Remorse, stemming from his plundering of the doctor's property, crippled his tenacity to grapple with the recent mishap.

After all, the king had declared Silas the enemy after the doctor's report. Silas' legacy had now been tarnished with the fact that he was now a Satharian fugitive.

Sal could only imagine the devastation of the regime, how bamboozled salient people like Farren were when word reached them.

News started with the guards who roamed about, clamoring what King Lewis Durelle had denounced unto the husking of their voices. The guard's words then reached every ear from but the mouths of folks.

The King's exact words were that Silas Sky is a dangerous user of the Void who channeled it against regime member, Zya Freymond, and sightings of him must be reported immediately. 

It was Satharian's dogma to not spread false news; it was also punishable to fabricate stories of news. One of the only times these rules were not enforced was when the sentient spawn had roused from the Void.

"By the gods," Sal said, scratching at his head. "What am I doing!" 

He hurled the dagger across the room. It spun. It ran straight through a book on his bookshelf. 

"No!" He flew up to his feet. "Not the books, not the books!" 

He grunted as he paced over to the bookshelf. He picked up the book, yanking the dagger from its leather cover. 

He frowned as he looked down at the ruptured book . Evil Turn By Von Cloud. It was a book about the wrath of the Void and its tendency to bend minds such that people became maddened by it. 

"I was midway through my nineteenth read," Sal muttered to himself.  

He set the book back down on the bookshelf as well as the dagger, unhooked his cloak, put it on, and set out of his house. 

As he paced forward, he put his hood over his head. He could not deal with people's eyes today. After all, his brother was a fugitive. 

He could no longer venture through Block Three to purchase books for bargains of prices simply because few read. He shook his head. No, it was simply because his brother, upon whom many there wanted to exact their revenge, was no longer around to protect him. 

I'm not safe, he thought. I shouldn't have left like that last night. I should've stayed with Vectus. But I had the man's dagger—I couldn't stay until he returned. 

Sal sighed as he rounded a corner, the slums bustling with folks. The king often granted rewards to those who helped with matters such as apprehending fugitives. 

That was why their eyes were fixed on Sal's red cloak. No one knew who was under it but none dared to test their luck. 

Sal hoped they did not. He was feeble in the likes of most. He could not fight to save his own life. Unlike for Zya, the Void was still not one of his tools. The thought of Zya shot chills through his body. He had left her in Vectus' lair alone.

No, he thought, I left her there but I'm sure the spawn will go back to Vectus. Where else could he go? 

He scoffed. He needed a weapon. He was not safe. He needed to protect himself. Was that why he took the dagger? 

"Sal!" a familiar voice cut through the air. 

Sal froze. He craned to catch the view of the person behind the call, finally looking somewhere besides the dirt path that weaved through Block Two. 

Farren and Jack moved toward him, wry on their faces. Their gaits were hurried. They stopped in front of him.

"We were going to your house," Farren said. 

Sal sneered. "For what?" 

"We're not here for trouble," Jack said, "so calm yourself down before I get mad."

Sal's face was riddled with scorn as he looked at them. They did not care for Silas. If they did, they would not have bullied his brother for so long. If they did, they would have been at his doorstep a long time ago.

"Just get out of my way," Sal said, starting. 

Farren pushed a palm against Sal's chest. "We just want to know if you saw him … if you saw him before he left."

"No, I didn't," Sal said. 

He knew better than to tell them a piece of information like that. He could not risk the king knowing about his interaction with Silas. Especially the details of said interaction. Silas' dealings with Skotar was, after all, a heinous act. 

Farren glared at him. "If you're lying to me, I'll—"

"Hurt me?" Sal shook his head. "How do you think Silas would feel about that?" 

"Silas knows you need to be toughened up," Farren said. "The fact that you're his brother— it …" he scowled, "sickens me."

"Sick people," Sal said, "can't be sickened if they're already sick."

Farren sighed. "Listen, a lot of people want your brother dead and you … you carry his blood. If something happens to you, he'll … he has a problem with blaming people."

"What do you want to do, protect me?"

"No, I'm suggesting that you keep safe — stay where we can keep an eye on you."

"Yeah, not happening."

"Sal."

"You guys don't care—you're just afraid of Silas," Sal said. 

"You know that's a fickle, Sal," Farren smirked.  

Sal knew it was not true himself. Farren was not too much weaker than Silas. Jack could hold his own. Together they were stronger than Silas. 

"Thank you for this lovely conversation," Sal said, "but I'll be on my way now, if you don't mind." Sal stepped aside, walking past Farren.

Farren turned to him as he departed. "If you see your brother around, let me know!"

Not happening, Sal thought as he withdrew. They were predators, careless young men who could not be trusted. Sal knew this. 

He traversed the slums until he had encountered Vectus' lair. When he arrived, he knocked on the door, guilt returning to him. 

The door slid open, revealing Asher who stood at the door in a clean tunic.  

"Hey, Sal," Asher said.

Sal narrowed his eyes at him. He was much more slender without his cloak. Malnourished even. His skin was like that of a wraith, clean but pale. And his eyes were ever so dark, pupils occupying so much space that there was barely any white.

Sal walked into the lair as Asher stepped aside. Doctor Vectus sat on a stool beside Zya's bed where she rested. 

"Sal," Vectus said, "I was just talking about you."

Sal frowned. The talk could not be good in spite of the doctor's beam. After all, he left Zya alone at dusk and went to his house. 

"Hey, Doctor," Sal said. 

"She's been doing a little better," Vectus said, "I've injected nutritious liquids into her body. It's the only way to feed her. I do fear that she must have damaged herself a bit last night during the seizure."

Sal's eyes gaped. Seizure? She had a seizure in his absence. 

"S-seizure?" 

"Why, yes," Vectus said, "you can ask Asher. Although he wasn't there himself, he did come back to me helping her recover."

Asher shifted on his feet. 

Sal looked at the doctor again. "I … I'm sorry … it's just that it was overwhelming. Everything. I—"

"It was a foozle on both your behalfs," Vectus said, "leaving her like that. But during a seizure it's best to let it run its course. There was absolutely nothing you could have done if she truly got one at dusk."

"What kind of damage are we talking about?" Sal asked. "I'm sorry …"

"No damage," Vectus said, "I was just trying to scare you."

"But you never tell jokes!" Sal snapped.

Asher laughed. 

"I'm old and wise," Vectus said, "but that really doesn't mean I can't jest here and there—how ageist of you!"

"I didn't mean it like that," Sal said, "I'm sorry!"

"Quit making a fool of yourself, Sally," Vectus said.

Asher laughed.

Sal spun to Asher. "You should shut your mouth, spawn. You came from the Void and can't remember a thing—you're the biggest joke yet!"