The Workmen

Chapter 28

"Sir, there's still no sign of the Queen."

Larz sat on his throne, fiddling with his pendant by its chain. His headache was killer, right behind his eyes and growing in intensity. The last words he'd screamed at his wife before locking her in their bed chamber was intertwined with the screams of Ediw's citizens. Having one more voice added to the nagging mix of afflictions was a nuisance.

He waved the guard away only to have another pop up in his stead.

"Your majesty, there are reports of people fleeing the city." The new guard tried desperately to sound collected.

"So let the cowards go." The King's own words stabbed pain through his skull.

"Some of your soldiers are abandoning their posts. Half the castle will be empty by nightfall. No one can find our Captain, and the city is clearly under attack." The subordinate's emotions were beginning to burst out of him. He no longer cared about formalities.

"And what do you propose I do about it?"

The guard was dumbfounded. It sounded as if the man didn't care at all. He felt his face redden and his control dissolve. "You're our King! We need you now more than ever. Will you sit by and watch the city turn to rubble? Your father would never have let things go this far." The soldier came up short. He realized he had gone overboard. There weren't many things one couldn't mention, but anything pertaining to the former King was definitely one of them.

A devious grin slid across Larz's face. He turned his head toward the loud mouthed guard and stepped down from his throne.

"Tell me, boy. How would you like to be promoted?" The guard, who the King now realized could be no more than eighteen years of age, flinched as the royal put his arm around his shoulders.

"Promoted," he asked skeptically.

"Of sorts...yes." Larz began working his magic. "I'm going to make you into the finest soldier the world has ever seen." He moved the boy farther into the throne room. "In a sense, you will be the new Captain."

Uncertainty contorted the guard's features.

"Think of it, all the glory and honor that come with your new title." Larz stepped back in front of the guard. "And all you have to do...is wear this." He dangled the pendant in the small space between them.

The guard stared at the strange accessory for a while. It was covered in strange markings and seemed wrong to even look at for too long.

"Does it have a name?" His voice came out shaky as he reached for the object.

"The ancients called it a pentagram," he said smugly, "but you can think of it more as a talisman."

The guard moved his thumb across its surface as it stared up at him in his palm. "A talisman? Does it hold some kind of magic?"

"It's more like a tool that will make you stronger." Confidence grew inside King Larz. He already knew the boy was his. "No fancy words required. Just put it on and the power is yours."

The boy hesitated. Something didn't feel right. He should have been punished for his insolence not rewarded.

"This could be the only chance our city has. You could be our only hope." Larz's fake sincerity nearly made him gag.

The King's words poked what innocence still lingered in the young man's heart. He was a soldier of Ediw. It was his duty to keep the people safe and defend the city's borders. If he didn't do it, who would?

"Alright," he gave in nervously, putting the pendant around his neck. "If it's what's best for the city."

And in that moment of poor decisions, of ignoring the voice known as intuition, the boy of good intentions was lost forever. A poison filled his veins—one of greed and blood lust. It scorched his skin and hardened his heart. Nothing but his new power and the conquests to come mattered. The marks from the pendant disappeared one by one, branding themselves all over the guard's flesh. There was no stopping what he had willingly welcomed.

The mesmerized King watched his handy work in awe. "So, how do you feel...Captain?"

A devilish grin cracked the charred skin on the new commander's lips.

"Very good," Larz commended, cocking his head to the side. "Now, I have a mission for you." The Captain's hands twitched. He ached for the taste of battle. "Do you think you're up for it?"

"Anything you wish, your majesty." The sentence sounded strange—not to say that the boy disapproved. He liked the raspy bass of a voice that replaced his old, mundane one. The average, all but authoritative tone he often fretted over was gone for good.

"Excellent. Go and gather your troops. I do not want to see your face again until my wife is in your custody. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

The King turned and sauntered back to his throne. An explosion sounded in the distance. More terrified cries for help and shouts to run. It seemed his nauseating headache was here to stay. The suckered boy still stood in his peripheral.

"What are you still doing here," he shouted regretfully. "Go...get...my...wife!"

"Right away, King Larz. Just as soon as you tell me who I'm meant to be gathering. The men's loyalty still lies with—"

Anger flurried within the King. The pain in his cranium was overshadowing his thin patience. "Who said anything about the men?"

At any other time in the young man's life, he would have been frightened, possibly even disgusted by what the King was suggesting, but not now. It made him giddy. What he and all the other citizens of Ediw assumed was the most powerful force to be reckoned with was now under his control, to command as he saw fit. He was Captain—Captain of the Dwellers.