Michael

  Michael made it to the two-story wooden dwelling that was Luke's home without running into Emma or anyone else on the way. The grey house had glass panel windows, a roofed porch, and a simple grass garden with a stone path and no flowers. The place seemed empty, just as the houses around it. He couldn't even tell if there were people inside or everybody was still at the shrine, discussing what the village was going to do to celebrate the Pact Day. Above the front door hung an old, yellowed sign that read, “Luke and Molly’s General Store.”

  Michael looked at the name. Molly was Luke's deceased wife. She used to run the store while Luke worked in his carpentry workshop behind the house. They had this arrangement since they moved to Rodford decades ago. Michael had no memories of her, as he never met her personally. He was nine years old when she died and rarely visited the village at that time. All he knew about Molly was how loved she was by everyone. Even Emma remembered her fondly.

  The store, as expected, was closed, and no one could be seen inside through the glass windows. Michael crossed the stone path that led to the front, as he glanced around him for curious eyes. He peeked through the windows, then tried the door after confirming that no one was inside, but found it locked. He walked to the corner at his right and glanced down the side yard that led to the back of the house. He spotted no one. The house was deserted and silent, so silent that it gave him a bad feeling.

  I’m not used to the village being this quiet. Even the dogs seemed to have disappeared, he thought. He remembered that one of the nearby houses had a loud dog, yet he hadn’t heard it since he arrived.

  He felt tempted to go to the workshop behind the house and look for the boxes right away, but he knew that would be a grave mistake. First, he had to ensure that all obstacles were located and accounted for. Luke and Justin may have changed their minds at the last minute and didn't go to the city. Bastian and Elisa could have skipped the meeting at the shrine and decided to return early. He needed to know where these four people were before acting, or risk being caught. He walked away from the house and took the road.

  A couple of houses further down, he stopped by a Zegoto tree, whose bulging trunk, resembling a pregnant woman's belly, stood in the front yard of a house. The tree, as was typical of its species, grew not only in height but also in width, which made it highly prized for the shade it provided. Thick logs lay scattered under its branches like makeshift chairs. Michael sat down on the log closest to the tree. From there, he got a full view of Luke's house and a nice shade against the sun. Now all he had to do was wait for Julie.

  With nothing to do, Michael spent his time observing his surroundings. The day turned hot, just as his faithful squire had predicted. The sun was so strong that he could feel the heat emanating from the dirt road in front of him. Being in the shade offered little relief. Above, beyond the branches of the Zegoto tree, an eagle flew in circles across the blue sky. He wondered if it was the same eagle he had seen on the way to the village. It seemed to be still hunting, or perhaps it had already found its prey, judging by the short circles it made.

  It’s right above me, he thought. I wonder what it would feel like to see the world from up there. Feeling the wind on my face must be way better than baking in the shade with a headache.

  Michael noticed a group of young men approaching on his right. They came with swagger, spreading out across the road as if they owned the village. His mouth twisted with irritation as he recognized them. It was Taylor and his gang, a bunch of farmers’ sons with too much free time on their hands and not enough gray matter on their heads. He knew they were coming to ruin his day.

  Milo, a small, thin boy with malicious eyes, took the lead along with two others and ran up to where Michael was sitting. He stopped and then spat a wad of phlegm near Michael's feet and raised his chin as if challenging him to respond. His companions did the same.

  Michael remained indifferent. He merely stared at the tadpoles before him with a serene expression. He found their silly provocation rather cute.

  Milo snorted and turned to his companions. “See? As I told you, he’s not doin’ anything without Victor and his aunt around. He’s a bloody coward. I bet he shit his trousers when he saw us.”

  They laughed and spat at Michael’s feet once again, then began to hurl insults about him and his family, calling them a house full of cowards and whores. The rest of the gang arrived and formed a semicircle around Michael and the tree. A young man with brown hair and a face covered in pimples stood next to Milo.

  “What’re you doin’ here?” asked the one with the pimply face.

  “What’re you doin’ here?” Michael asked in the same way, though mockingly.

  The young man, Taylor, growled, baring his teeth. “Cut the shit, Michael! What are you doin’ here, alone?”

  Michael said nothing.

  “Aren’t you Emma’s dog?” Milo asked. “Shouldn’t you be with her? Peein’ on her legs.”

  The gang laughed, while Michael remained calm, staring at them.

  “Answer, damn it! Not only are you a coward, but you're also a bloody twat,” Milo said.

  “I’m alone. And as you can see, I’m not doing anything,” Michael replied.

  Taylor and the others grinned. Milo practically jumped with joy. “So you're on your own, eh?” Milo said in a sinister voice.

  “I am,” Michael retorted casually. He knew from their faces what they were up to. Unfortunately for them, however, they chose the worst possible day. “Although I recommend that the kids think carefully about what they are going to do. I don’t want any regrets later, or your mothers crying at my doorstep.”

  They all laughed. The warning only made them more excited. They looked eager, frantic. Milo licked his lips and laughed like a madman while Taylor cracked his knuckles. The gang began to slowly tighten the semicircle around him, making it impossible for him to flee. But then, Taylor raised his hand and stopped the forthcoming assault.

  “Just so you know, you brought it on yourself,” he said.

  Michael watched his opponents with a bored face. He wasn't the least bit afraid of the situation he was in, since his grandfather and Natalia had already cured him of the fear of fighting. He saw Taylor and his gang as spoiled little children playing at being adults. They were small and weak compared to him. The tallest of them barely reached his shoulders, and none of them could match his muscular build. He noticed that they were unarmed, only having their feet and fists to fight with. They may outnumber him, eight to one; however, none of them had the years of training and experience he possessed. The only thing that saved them from a life of disability was Eric's order to leave the villagers alone.

  “Are you still angry about what happened?” Michael asked Taylor, looking for a way to avoid a fight.

  Taylor suddenly turned red and pointed at Michael with a shaking hand. “You bastard! After what you and Victor did to us, did you think we’d just let it go, that we’d stay quiet?”

  “You're overreacting. Y’all look healthy to me.”

  “You attacked us, you sons of bitches! You and your cousin should be in prison. Nobody does anything ‘cause everyone is afraid of your family.”

  “But not you and your boyfriends, of course. Y’all got the biggest balls in the village.”

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  “Stop babblin’, Taylor!” Milo shouted. ‘Let's just fuck ‘im once and for all.”

  “Are you sure you want this, Taylor?” Michael asked. “Once you walk through that door, don’t come crying about the consequences. I’m alone today, sure, but what about tomorrow, or the day after? You know my family. Rest assured, your life will be worth less than cow dung after we’re done with you. Not even your parents will want you around. But of course, who am I to advise you? That’s what the little weasel beside you is for.” He glared at Milo. “I heard he’s always getting you into trouble. I bet he’s the one who convinced you of this brilliant idea of ??coming to pick a fight with me. But whatever…”

  Michael slowly rose from his seat. His 6.5 feet and 200 pounds of size and muscle made the gang instinctively back away. “If you want to fight me ... I'll gladly accept,” he said with a deep voice.

  The gang's courage froze, and their balls shrank. They all looked at each other with petrified faces. At that moment, Michael noticed Milo slip to the back of the group while hiding his right hand behind his back. His dominant hand. He was staring at Michael.

  “If you had left Helena alone as you were asked, we wouldn’t have bothered you,” Michael said, looking at Taylor but keeping an eye on Milo at the same time. “Victor warned you, but you didn’t listen. You left us no choice.” No one in the gang seemed to have noticed Milo positioning himself at the back of the group.

  “But she never told me I was bothering her!” Taylor cried. “She never said anything!”

  "Of course, she never says anything. That's just how she is. She doesn't like to make other people feel uncomfortable. Just forget about her and about what happened. Doing this will only make her hate you."

  “But I, I…” Taylor fell silent and averted his gaze.

  Milo stopped looking at Michael to check his surroundings. He was acting strange. His hand was still behind his back.

  “Hey, Taylor, you ain’t goin’ to chicken out on us, are you?” asked one of the gang.

  “Let’s screw this bloody bastard,” said another.

  “Everyone’s at the shrine,” Milo said. “Let’s use this chance to rip him a new arse.”

  Michael smiled as he finally understood what Milo was plotting.

  “What are you laughing at?” one of the gang members asked angrily. “You think we ain’t goin’ to fuck you over?”

  “I'm laughing at you morons,” Michael replied. “I don't know why you want to waste your time here with me when you could be playing together in the river right now. It’s a good idea with this heat.”

  They all frowned. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?” one of them asked.

  “Well... I heard an interesting rumor about you the other day. It said that Taylor and his mates love going to the river to beat each other with their clubs.” Michael looked at them, smiling. “You know what I mean, right?”

  The gang's faces turned livid red. "You bastard! You son of a bitch! We're going to kill you!" The gang screamed like rabid dogs. They all stared at Taylor, their leader, waiting for the order to attack, but he said nothing. Something was making him hesitate.

  Milo didn't join in the chorus of insults. He continued to stare at Michael with his hand behind his back.

  “Relax, relax, my chaps. To be honest, I never would have imagined that you have those tastes. You could’ve used a goat or something, or maybe you did and became bored of it, that’s why you accepted that weasel into your gang, right?”

  “What are you talkin’ about!?” Milo shouted.

  The gang turned toward him, finally realizing that he had slid toward their back.

  “I heard they keep you around so you can work on their cocks,” Michael said, grinning. “They even force you to wear makeup and your sister’s clothes; otherwise, they can’t get it hard.”

  “Damn you! That's a lie!’ Milo screamed. Everyone was staring at him. “Take it back! Say that is not—”

  Michael suddenly bolted forward, pushing his way through the distracted gang. He grabbed the surprised Milo by his right arm and the collar of his shirt and dragged him into the middle of the road.

  A gang member managed to react quickly and threw himself at Michael, but the latter responded with a back kick to the stomach, sending his attacker to the ground in a squall of pain. The rest of the gang watched in astonishment at what was happening.

  Milo struggled, trying to break free from Michael's grip, but the difference in size and muscle was immense. Michael broke Milo’s balance with a leg sweep and drove him to the ground, then turned him face down and placed a knee on his body to subdue him as he twisted the boy’s arm behind his back. With a free hand, Michael began to search Milo’s body.

  He found what he had suspected, a knife tucked inside Milo’s trousers. He took it and threw it far away. The gleaming weapon flew in an arc through the air, then fell and rolled on the ground.

  The rest of the gang finally snapped out of their daze and rushed at Michael, except for Taylor. He was staring at the knife.

  Michael got up quickly and positioned himself to receive them. The first one threw a right hook, which he deflected with his left arm and answered with a punch of his own. The attack landed cleanly on the other's face, breaking his nose. Michael felt the cartilage give way before his knuckles. The boy fell to the ground, clutching his face.

  The next attacker arrived soon after, but this one was fat and slow. Before he could even raise his arms, Michael had already landed two punches to his face, knocking him to his knees. The young man quickly got up and ran away, mewing.

  The third one went for Michael's back with a kick, but he dodged it by turning his body and caught the boy's leg in the air. The idea of striking him in the balls came to his mind, thus ending the boy's descendancy before it even began, but he gave up on the thought out of pity. He elbowed the boy in the stomach, grabbed him by the shirt, and threw him away.

  After that, Michael took a few steps back, with his guard up, creating space between himself and his opponents. He smiled and gestured with his hands for the next loser to come forward.

  The gang was stunned seeing how quickly they lost four of their members. They all looked at each other, waiting for the next idiot who would dare to dance with Michael. Fear had frozen their legs.

  Michael understood perfectly what was going through their minds. He had experienced before that same fear that turns into despair, and then into total surrender. He felt it the day Natalia managed to convince him and Victor to challenge Eric to a duel, thinking that by joining forces, they would finally be able to defeat him.

  Eric swept the floor with them in less than five minutes, leaving Michael for last only because he was the youngest. From that day on, he decided to never listen to Natalia's crazy ideas again.

  Milo got up and searched everywhere for his knife. He finally found it and ran to pick it up. Taylor glared at him.

  Suddenly, a white flash engulfed everything, and Michael felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Danger was imminent.

  He jumped backwards, narrowly avoiding the thrust of a spear that plunged deep into the ground in front of him, raising dust and pebbles.

  Taylor and his friends backed away, frightened, but then became mesmerised when they saw what the spear was made of.

  “Is… is that water?” one of them said with his mouth open.

  “Wow, look at that,” said another, reaching for the magic weapon. It was the boy whose nose Michael had broken. There was blood on his shirt.

  I wouldn't touch that thing. It could have a second phase, Michael thought, knowing very well the person who created the weapon. He looked everywhere for Emma but couldn't find her.

  The boy with the broken nose touched the water spear, running his fingers along the handle. “Look at this. The water is… What, what’s happening?! No, I can’t get free! Help! Help me!” the boy shouted.

  ?“Stop right there!” a voice commanded in the distance.

  “She finally decided to show up,” Michael said.

  As if brought down from the heavens on a beam of sunlight, the Eagle landed on the road. Emma wore an immense straw hat and her white and gold priestess uniform. She watched Michael and Taylor’s gang with her arms crossed.

  “Shit, it’s Emma. Let’s run!” Taylor shouted to his mates.

  “Hey! Don’t forget about me!” screamed the boy attached to the spear.

  So it glues itself to everything it touches, Michael thought. He shuddered at the image of being pierced by such a weapon. Only a healer could devise such a perverse method of hurting someone.

  Seeing Emma approaching, Taylor and the others fled, leaving their trapped companion behind.

  Emma strolled to the boy caught by her spell and studied him closely with her hands behind her back.

  “You need medical attention,” she said. “I have to straighten that nose.”

  As she said this, the water spear shattered into a mist of a million droplets, and the droplets vanished before they could reach the ground. The boy breathed a sigh of relief as he regained the freedom of his hand.

  “I know who you are, so there's no point in hiding from me,” Emma said. “Go and tell your friends that I'll be waiting for them at the clinic to examine them. And that's an order. Don't make me go to your homes, or you will all regret it. Understood?”

  The boy nodded shyly and ran off. Now and then, he glanced back to see if she was following him.

  But she didn't. She remained motionless under her enormous straw hat, with her hands clasped behind her back. She waited for the boy to leave and then turned to look at Michael.

  She was mad.