'Chapter Seven: Doubt
The practice field of Chisago was brimming with hectic activity despite being late at night.
People rushed back and forth in between the grassy fields full of archery targets and straw dummies, and the sound of laughter and conversation intermingled with the metallic clang of swords clashing and grunts of exertion of men and women testing their skills against each other.
Gus's focus wasn't on them, however.
Swinging his practice sword with a snarl, he met his brother's blade with a clang, then jerked back and swung again. Angelo grinned at him when he struck again, and again, and again, to no avail, and then with a speed that left him reeling, he swung.
Gus suddenly found his sword flying out of his hands, and was whacked in the temple.
He stumbled, ears ringing, and rubbed his bruising skull in barely leashed rage, but when Angelo laughed, his knees gave out and he sank down to the grass. The laughter abruptly cut off, but Gus didn't care, he merely put his head in his hands and let out a strangled growl of irritation.
Gentle hands coated in chainmail were suddenly on his shoulders
"Did I hurt you, little brother?" Angelo asked in a soft baritone. "Are you all right?"
"I am fine," Gus said. "Your blow was very well aimed, but that is not what troubles me."
"Then what does trouble you?"
Gus's shoulders sagged.
"The demon boy we brought back here troubles me," he said, pained. "This entire situation is wrong, and I can't condone it. Even if that creature is a monster, he still saved my life, Angelo... and no matter what anyone says, he doesn't deserve to be tortured the way we've been doing."
"You and I both know that demons don't feel emotional pain," his brother muttered. "That beast, no matter how bloodied and battered he becomes, will feel nothing."
"It still isn't right!" Gus snarled, raising his eyes with a glare. "It's not right! Emotions or no emotions, torture is wrong! When demons kill others, at least they do it quickly!"
"Orders are orders," Angelo growled. "Ella's word is law. We are obligated to follow her commands without fail, even if what she tells us to do is the worst possible thing you could imagine, my brother. She is, after all, the ruler of these lands."
Gus stared at him coldly.
"If she ordered you to take your sword to me, here and now," he said slowly, "would you do it?"
Angelo's grey-green eyes widened behind their helmet and he pulled back, but didn't answer the question... not like that really mattered, since the mere lack of an answer was enough for him to know the truth. Gus silently rose to his feet and walked away from his elder sibling, even more disgusted by everything going on around him.
He was nearly at the edge of the practice field when his brother ran out from behind him and barred his path, planting both hands on his shoulders.
"I would disobey," he said quietly. "If she ever ordered the death of you or my son, Michael, I would defect from her and the three of us would flee across the Nimikan Border. I would never, ever turn my blade on you, Brother... we are adults with our own lives and paths, but I'll not have you think I don't love you. Never, ever for even a second think that I would harm you."
Gus stared at the earnestness in those eyes.
"You allowed the public torture of a creature that saved my life," he said quietly, "and you said nothing when I made my protest against Ella's decision to give him leftover pig feed to eat. I owe him every breath of life that I take, brother, yet you refuse to allow me to treat him better."
"That thing is a demon, Gus," Angelo hissed, squeezing hard enough to hurt. "Ella shouldn't have even brought it into our city, she should have killed it on sight, and even now I question her motives for it--"
"I'm the one who asked her to show mercy!" he angrily interrupted. "That creature is an extreme peculiarity... he fought against a swarm of boar demons with his bare hands to protect me, and what's more, he speaks the common tongue better than some of our own."
Angelo's shoulders slumped.
Gus could practically see the fighting urge drain out of him right there.
"This sounds exactly like what happened ten years ago."
"Only it was me who experienced it," Gus icily rebuffed, "not an infantile child who couldn't tell the difference between a friend and a threat. I know what I saw, Angelo, and that creature... I don't know how, or why, but I truly believe that he's capable of feeling emotion like us."
Angelo pulled his fingers through his hair.
"I don't believe that," he grunted, "and even if I did, Ella would never agree to allow that beast to receive better treatment than it already has. Frankly, I'm surprised its still breathing after everything that's already been done to it... I've seen many demons die from far less."
"Making light of his plight is disgusting, brother!" Gus spat, finally losing his temper. "I've looked into that boy's eyes, multiple times, and he feels! I don't know how or why, but its true, there is more raw emotion residing in his eyes than I've ever seen before, even in the eyes of a human!"
"That creature cannot feel! He is a--"
"He thanked me, Angelo!" Gus roared, shoving his brother back a step; he clenched his fists, trying with all his might not to lose his temper and punch the man in the face. "He thanked me for not torturing him! He thanked me for not being one of the people to harm him!"
His brother gave a low growl of frustration and rubbed at his eyes, then took his helm off and shook out the mane of wild blonde hair framing his chiseled face.
"You cannot allow yourself to feel responsible for the demon's situation. It will only bring you heartache, Octavius... one way or another, that beast is eventually going to die. More than that, though, you must not allow yourself to become sympathetic towards it. Demons cannot feel emotion."
"And yet," he hissed, eye twitching, "I have seen him shed tears more times than I can count on both of my hands, with my own two eyes. Expression crosses his features even when he speaks, like it does with us. I've seen him angry, surprised, amazed, and upset."
"Gus, I didn't want to believe it, but I fear you have been bewitched--"
"Enough!" he snarled, whipping around and storming away. "I rely on my eyes and mind to make my living, Brother. I'm a hunter by trade, which means that I practically live in the wild and need to be quick-witted and observant. I haven't been bewitched, I'm simply informing you that what I've witnessed with my own two eyes does not match what we know about demons."
Silence came from behind him.
"What do you think... he... is, then?"
The question came from left field and Gus really wasn't expecting it.
"I don't know," he eventually admitted, not turning around. "I have seen many inhuman creatures through my travels across the country, from Satyrs and Centaurs to water nymphs, pixies, and demons. I've seen more varieties and species of faerie than you can possibly imagine, but not once, in all my travels, have I ever seen a demon with features like his."
"Do you think he could be an undiscovered form of fae, then?"
"I do not know," he repeated, scratching at his beard in frustration. "I have considered many possibilities since I first met him, and while the thought that he is, perhaps, some form of undiscovered faery troubles me... I can't be forthright with Ella because of his horns."
"Then why can't you just accept that he's a demon?" Angelo asked in annoyance. "All land-based demons, no matter what their species may be, have horns, Gus... and since Satyrs are the only species of fae that are known to have horns, it likely means--"
"That the probability of him being one is very, very low."
"Exactly."
Gus turned around to see his brother staring at him with a look of utmost concentration plastered across his face. Their eyes met for only a moment before he had to look away.
"I trust my instincts, Angelo," he eventually said. "I don't know how, but I know we've made a terrible mistake by hurting him the way we did. I can feel it in my bones."
Angelo walked forward until he stood only a few feet away. The sky overhead burned with stars as they stared at one another again. Hair blew into his eyes, coaxed out of place by a gust of warm wind, but he pushed it aside with concern written all over his features.
"For the good of your relationship with Ella, and your political position," he said slowly, "it might be a good idea to keep away from that creature. Until your head cools off, at least."
Gus shook his head.
"No, brother, I've had enough. Tonight, I'll be giving him food from my own home."
When Angelo jerked, startled, he turned around, crossed the training courtyard, passed through the gate, and was just about to make his way around around the corner when he paused and looked over his shoulder. His elder brother's wide eyes made him ache, but he shook his head and made his way down the dark cobblestone streets, twisting and turning along their paths.
The misshapen walls of the fort stretched upward to loom overhead like the ribs of some massive beast. Overgrown patches of tall grass hugged the gaps between homes here and there, while small plants shot up in the cracks between the cobblestone path.
They swayed gently in the breeze and basked in the moonlight's glow.
Despite its peaceful picture, it felt devoid by life to him, as covered in stone as everything here was. Neither the wilderness that slowly consumed the aged architecture of their home, nor the moss gripping every wall, could shift this impression.
Gus dragged his hand along the ash-stained stone walls as he walked back to his home. It was warm to the touch, so warm that the heat permeated the thick leather of his gloves. His fingers splayed along each crack within, its grey surface made smooth by centuries of rain and wind.
Chisago was little more than an imitation of civilized life, a last defiant flare of life.
Not like it was before.
He let out a sigh when he made it to his own doorstep, taking a few seconds to pull his house key out of his pocket, and after unlocking the front door he walked inside. His abode was humbler than most, since it consisted of a kitchen with a brick oven, a built-in lavatory, and one bedroom, but that was really all he needed since he spent most of his time outdoors anyway.
Setting his practice sword aside, he walked over to his kitchen counter and grabbed a tray from one of the cupboards hanging on the wall before placing a full loaf of bread, a wedge of goat cheese, and an apple on it. He added a bowl of water as well, then made his way back outside.
Even if he couldn't let the strange boy go, feeding him a pig's meal seemed highly unnecessary.
He'd already been beaten almost to death by half the town and whipped to the point of extreme bloodshed for no reason aside from existing. He shook his head, wondering why he cared so damn much, wondering why it bothered him, and it made him irritable.
Maybe Angelo is right and the demon has bewitched me, he mused, turning the corner and entering the marketplace. Maybe I'm only seeing what my mind says should be there...
He sighed and raised his eyes to the cage, but froze when he saw something on the ground directly beside it. For a few seconds, he stood there squinting at it, trying to figure out what it was that he was really seeing, but when it hit him his eyes went wide and he dropped the tray.
A body.
Someone was lying on the ground beside the cage, and worse, it looked like a child. Horrified, Gus bolted forward, crossing the square in a matter of seconds before falling to his knees beside the still form and shaking it with horrified eyes. Sure enough, it was a little boy...
"Oi! Kid, are you all right?" he hissed, shaking him even harder when he didn't move; his head lolled, revealing a face he knew, and he gasped. "Kirby?! Oh, Gods, what did he do to you?!"
Kirby whined a little when the jostling persisted and sleepily tugged his shoulder away from his trembling hands, which confused him so much that he could only stare stupidly. Still mostly asleep, the kid scooted closer to the cage and curled up, letting out another grumpy whine.
Gus blinked at him for a long moment, but it was only when that he looked beyond the little boy's prone form that his pulse went glacial and his jaw dropped. Xaphile's face was calm and relaxed, mouth open just enough to reveal the tips of his incisor-like fangs, long-lashed eyes closed, and breathing very deeply and evenly, obviously fast asleep.
However, this wasn't what shocked Gus... it was the fact that Kirby's small hand was resting in both of his, and more than that, it was the way he'd curled up around the child's limb, holding it gently even in his sleep, as if it were a small baby.
His mind was completely blank for so long that he vaguely feared the shock was too great. He could do absolutely nothing but stare, since he truly couldn't believe his eyes, because no demon of any sort, half-blooded or not, would ever hold the hand of a child like that.
The boy couldn't be a demon, but that still didn't explain what he was since he had horns.
He wracked his brains, trying to think of a solution to what he might possibly be, and it was only then that something dawned on him, something that made his heart nearly stop, if only because it made everything about this so horrible and wrong and shocking.
"This boy," he muttered, staring at Xaphile's horns and tail with a stunned expression. "Asgrog's forge... it can't be..."
He didn't resemble a demon, or any know species of faery, and he didn't act like any of them, either, but... could it really be? Gus shook his head, then stood up and abruptly turned away, heading straight for the tavern that Ella often frequented. She needed to see this for herself, otherwise she wouldn't believe it, either, and she needed to, direly.
After all, if his sudden suspicions were correct, they were in very, very serious trouble.