Theo's ears rang. Before him lay the sky, crystal blue and perfect. His body felt sluggish and numb, for which he was grateful. If he'd fallen over, his ribs should be on fire. The minotaur waggled fingers and toes to make sure everything still worked. They all responded, which meant his limbs would, too, when he finally worked up the motivation to move. Had he hit his head on something?
Theo let out a groan he could not hear as he rolled onto his side and forced himself up onto his knees. Orel lay sprawled nearby, wide eyed and stunned. He was opening his mouth and closing it repeatedly, and Theo realised the scaled was checking to see if he was deaf. Towering above the crenellations that faced the sea rose a column of billowing brown dust and smoke. The sight reminded Theo too much of the dust storm that Volkard had created in Eichen.
Stop it. Pull it together.
“Orel!” Theo tried yelling, as he crawled over to the other man. “Orel, can you hear me?”
It took a moment for the Spark to respond. Theo had to yell some more, but Orel eventually nodded. Theo got up and nearly fell down again, but was able to steady himself just in time. He pulled Orel up after him, biting back a groan. As light as the Spark was, the bull's ribs were still healing.
“What the fuck was that?”
“My invention!” Orel shouted, or at least that was what Theo thought Orel shouted. Lip reading had never been his strong suit, even less so when it was the almost non-existent lips of the scaled. The Spark looked away as he continued speaking, and Theo felt lost, then. The damned ringing in his ears wouldn’t stop.
Theo staggered over towards the crenellations that overlooked the sea wall. That blast had lifted him clean off of his feet and thrown him right across the top of the tower. He might have bounced off of the emplacements that topped the tower completely. The harbour side of the wall itself, however, had nothing but iron posts with lengths of chain running along it.
Shit!
It was pandemonium. Not just in the water on the inside of the sea wall, but across the harbour as well. Small boats were overturned, or sinking. People were scrambling all over the larger vessels deeper in the harbour, like ants rushing about all over logs. Meanwhile, closer to the wall, Theo could see nearly the entirety of the party Orel had invited out to witness this were now flailing about in the water. The chain was gone, and its accompanying posts were either bent in half like grain after the passing of the scythe or torn free of the stonework completely. Panic set in, and the young bull started instinctively searching for Count Falkenstein. He could see the heavily armoured bulls of the Count’s bodyguard were missing from the wall. They were in the water, with all that heavy armour…
Orel was speaking. Theo thought he could feel a clawed hand touching his shoulder. He could vaguely discern words about inaccurate weights and measures. As he was prattling on Theo could feel his ribs burning again with every breath he took as the feeling started returning all over his tired, worn body. Rising up from above he could hear fear, and panic. Were those screams real, or in his head?
Theo was not certain, but as he climbed up atop the battlements and leapt off the tower, plunging down into the water, he was definitely sure he caught Orel screaming after him.
*
His ribs burned. His clothes clung heavily to him. Water dribbled into pools at his feet whenever he paused for more than a few moments.
Theo clutched his chest as a hiss of agony escaped from the gaps in his teeth.
“I’m sorry,” he heard Orel say.
The minotaur had given up trying to determine just who the scaled was talking to. Was it Count Falkenstein, who had shattered his nose and broken three fingers? Was it the assembly that had nearly drowned in the harbour? Was it the family of the dead Harbourmaster, or the three of the Governor’s personal guard? Theo had tried desperately to reach them, before his chest could not take the pressure and the pain had forced him to surface. At least six other people were missing. One of them had been on the carrack that had been struck from above by a massive segment of the old lighthouse. Orel's invention had destroyed it, not to mention much of the island, and its shattered pieces had rained down on the harbour like meteors. More had been killed in that awful hail storm, and more panic and destruction had been sown. The main mast of the ship could just been seen above water, but it would be gone by nightfall. Theo and many others had done what they could, but chaos seemed to breed more chaos.
“Am I going to be arrested?” Orel asked him.
“I don’t know,” Theo could only moan. Despite his better judgement, he let Orel guide him back through the streets and up the hill to the resident witch hunter’s house. “Can they arrest us?”
“No,” the Spark said at once. “Not usually. It takes three hunters to convene and convict a fourth. Local law enforcement has no authority over us.”
“I wonder why you know this?” Theo groaned, hoping he conveyed a little sarcasm. The climb up the hill was killing him. Orel had a carriage, but had surrendered it for the use of the injured, who were being taken to the local Hospitaller Chapter in the city.
“You can moralise at me later, Theo. I don’t need that right now. I don’t. Do you think Falkenstein will have me locked up?”
“I would,” growled the Oak.
“You think I wanted that to happen?”
“It doesn’t matter what you wanted, Orel. It happened, and you’re responsible!” Theo snarled.
“I’m not trying to dodge responsibility, you oaf!” the scaled screamed at him. His eyes were wide, and his body was shaking so violently Theo had a hard time keeping a grip on him. “I wanted to make sure the tower blew up, alright? I admit it! I put more…a lot more barrels of black powder under the building than I calculated that I needed, but I had no idea it would do what it did! All that destruction…all that power…”
Theo hissed a curse under his breath. They passed through streets lined with people still staring up at the column of smoke that lingered in the sky as if it were coming from the maw of a volcano. Others were staring down at the ongoing chaos in the harbour. They passed through barely noticed, their booted feet crunching broken shards of glass into the cobblestone road. There seemed not to be a window on a street anywhere that the blast had not cracked, or shattered.
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“I feel awful,” Orel whispered.
“Please stop talking,” Theo hissed. His body ached, his limbs felt empty, and there were people at the bottom of the harbour he hadn’t been fast enough to save. “Please, Orel. I’m so tired.” It was true. Theo felt as if he might lose his balance and fall at any moment.
“We’re nearly there, Theo. Just a little further. You can dry off and get some rest, then. I can make you a painkiller. You’ll be fine. I promise.”
Theo tried not to listen. In the pandemonium, he had actually forgotten his reason for coming here. Had the Count read the letter? Was it a soggy illegible mess at the bottom of the harbour? Good God, what if Kurt and his son were here? What if they had been on that ship that was sinking? He should have been organising a search of all the vessels in the harbour, and having them all barred from leaving for good measure, but the Harbourmaster was dead and Count Falkenstein was locked up in his palace, having his wounds seen to. Star stones granted witch hunters a lot of authority, but even they had their limits.
“Fuck,” Theo groaned.
They were nearly at the top of the hill, passing by progressively finer houses with pillared fronts and balconies on the first or even second floors. House and Guild banners draped from above, twisting in a light breeze that the young bull could barely feel. As they rounded a corner there appeared a house of special resplendence, with a black banner hanging above a massive set of oak doors, upon which there was a golden flame. Theo guessed that it was the Spark’s personal crest, though there was not the chance to ask him. They were not alone.
A minotaur was standing at the front of the house. His armour was that of the Governor’s guard, though his purple cloak was gone, and he held his helmet under his arm. He was still as wet as Theo, but his eyes were burning. Theo couldn’t help but notice his fine physique and his handsome face. He had seen it before, when he had pulled this bull from the waters of the harbour and beat the air back into his chest.
“Hello Adrian,” Orel said, nervously.
The armoured bull said nothing. His blue eyes were narrow. The gauntleted hand that held his helmet was almost crushing it. There was a sword at his hip. His glaive and shield had been lost to the sea.
Theo looked into those eyes and saw murder. Wincing, he made himself stand under his own weight. Taking a careful grip of Orel’s shoulder, he gently pulled the scaled back, before stepping out in front of him.
“How is his Excellency?” the Oak asked.
“Well,” hissed the other bull. He was taller than Theo, like all the rest of them. “We have him secured in his palace. His barber has been summoned.”
“I can prepare him a solution for the pain,” Orel said quickly, keeping behind Theo.
A rumble built up in Adrian’s throat. He took a heavy step forward.
“Don’t talk,” Theo hissed to the Spark. He took a quick, unsteady step forward, raising his hand, open palmed, before him. “Sir, I understand if you’re angry with my colleague here, but violence won’t solve anything.”
The other bull smiled. It was a twisted, bitter thing. Theo realised then that some of the dampness on Adrian’s face had nothing to do with the sea water.
“Angry, sir? No. It’s not anger. Lars, my brother – my little brother – is at the bottom of the sea, and it’s because of him.”
The helmet crumpled in Adrian’s grip. It fell to the cobbled street and bounced once. He took another step forward, his face flushed with tears, his massive body trembling.
“I have done my duty to my master. Now I’m here for you, Spark.”
“No,” Theo said. He stepped forward quickly, his heart pounding in his aching chest. He was unarmed and unarmoured. He might as well be trying to stop this beast naked for all the good his damp clothes would do against that sword, or those steel gauntlets if this came to blows. He had to try and stop this. There had been enough senseless chaos today already. “I’m sorry, sir. I am. I truly, truly am, but I can’t let you kill him.”
Adrian’s teeth gnashed together as the smaller bull stepped out to stop him.
“You saved my life, sir,” the guard said, his tone tense, to the point of snapping. “I am grateful, but you need to get out of my way.”
Theo was quiet for a moment as the adrenaline rushed through him., His exhaustion evaporated as his mind began to race. The last thing he wanted was a fight, and there was part of him, a very large part he hated to admit, that on other occasions might have happily thrown Orel to this fellow. Damage had been done, and people were dead, and yet there was so much more at stake.
“Sir, I beg you: stand down. I am sorry for your brother, but I failed him as much as Orel did. I saw him in the water, but I couldn’t reach him.”
“You tried, sir. You saved my comrades. You saved me. I cannot fault you for not doing something beyond your power. Please sir, I am begging you now: get out of my way. I don’t want to hurt you.” The taller minotaur's features took on something of a pleading aspect then, but there was still murder in his eyes.
“And I’d rather not be hurt,” Theo replied. He took a cautious step back as Adrian took another one forward, and hoped Orel had the sense to stay behind him. “But if it comes to it, I will have to stay in your way. I appreciate that you want justice for your brother, but I’m here on a mission given to me by the head of my Order, and we answer only to the King.”
“Do you actually think dragging the King’s name into this is going to frighten me away?” the bull snapped, incensed. His hand moved down to the hilt of his sword, but he hesitated in drawing it. Theo saw the opening, and took it.
“Of course not, but I need you to understand why I’m not going to get out of your way, Adrian. Why I am going to have to fight you, if you don’t stand down," he said quickly, gesturing with an open hand for Adrian to keep his blade in his scabbard. “The reason I am here has to do with my duty as a witch hunter. This city might be in danger – terrible, catastrophic danger, and I need the help of Orel to see this danger off safely. He’s the only hunter in the city, and I need his help. I’m sorry for your brother, please believe me that I am.” Theo paused and bit his lip before driving his final thrust home. ”Other lives are at stake here, thousands of them. I can’t – I won’t – let you put them all in jeopardy.”
Adrian listened to him in silence. His stance grew less tense, less hostile as Theo spoke, and the young bull dared to hope he could see the hand pulling back from the hilt of his sword just a little.
“Is there a witch in the city?” Adrian demanded.
“I think there might be,” Theo confessed. Some voice in his head that sounded an awful lot like Eisengrim screamed at him for divulging this, warned him of the danger of causing a panic in the city, but he could not bear the thought of lying to this poor, grieving man. “I need to find them, take them into custody, and see them safely to the Sanctum.”
“You swear this to be true? In the name of God and on the graves of your forebears, witch hunter?”
Theo nodded. “I do, Adrian. I swear to you that what I am saying is true. Please, I beg you, stand down.”
The armoured bull did not move for long, glacial seconds. His bright, piercing blue eyes were locked on Theo’s, as if he was trying to find a hint of trickery in the smaller male’s face. Theo met his stare head on. He knew the type of man Adrian was. Even the slightest hint of weakness or fear would be seen as guilt.
Another second crawled by. And then another.
Please, Theo prayed quietly to himself. Please, stand down. He’ll go right fucking through me if I try and stop him.
The trembling hand fell away from the hilt of the sword. Adrian’s whole mighty frame shook. He let out a scream, and then buried his face in his hands and began to sob.
Theo stood where he was. He had no idea what to do. He could sense Orel hiding just behind him, and part of him wished the scaled would make himself scarce. It felt wrong just then to be here, watching such a display of grief.
Adrian got himself under control quickly, embarrassed and ashamed at losing his control.
“This danger will pass,” he managed to croak, looking past the Oak, and pointing at the Spark that cowered behind him. “When it does, I am coming for you, Orel.”
“I’m sorry, Adrian,” the Spark whispered.
The armoured bull spat in disgust on the ground. He turned and started walking hurriedly up the hill, towards the palace and his wounded master. Theo watched him go, and would not dare let Orel from out behind him until Adrian was a small dot ascending into the noon light.
