Wicked Boy
an excerpt

“Wicked boy! Oh you wicked boy! My Khya, my Khya is dead!” The woman yelled it into the air and Hallorn freezes in the street. His breath labors to bring in air and his head swims as his blood flees his brain. Every muscle is taught and his mouth hangs open as in a loose hinge. It allows the musty and damp breeze to drop bits of the filth into his mouth. Too shocked close it or wipe the stains away, Hallorn watches the woman.

“You wicked, wicked boy!” She continues on, cradling the young lad he had slain, the boy who had gouged at his eyes and had very nearly poisoned Hallorn. “He only wanted some coins to eats, we gots no coins to eat! Wicked boy!”

Hallorn can finally speak and he chokes almost retching, as he tastes the filth of Mallaestaernum for the first time. His dark eyes catch on the shining blade in the dead lad’s hand and his mind begins to work once again. “He had a knife!” It is not much but he is happy to be able to say something.

“For coinz! You rich got coinz! We got no eats!” Hallorn begins to feel his chest tighten and the resolve of a few moments ago fades with his rage. He’s killed this woman’s son. He could have given up a few coins, maybe a few. He begins to tremble in sick fear until his eyes fasten upon the lad’s belt. There are notches there, like the notches of the Guard Captain’s belt. Hallorn had asked the Guard Captain why he notched and the answer had been simple: for the men he killed with his knife. The knife was different but the notches much the same.

And at that moment where his resolve was about to drown in a sea of remorse, a great calm came to him. ‘She called you a wicked boy, like your father did’ a voice says to him. It is him, his own voice and thus it is his own words. ‘You save lives and are wicked. You defend yourself and are wicked. Who are the wicked ones here?’ The voice calms him and Hallorn’s breathing changes. It slows and becomes calm. His hands grip the spear Escha gave to him more tightly then they ever have.

“He is a killer.” Hallorn says in a voice so calm it quiets the wailing woman. “And you are the mother of a killer.”

The woman simply looks up for she is now the one too stunned to speak. Her eyes grow large like saucers and her mouth lies agape. She does not cry for mercy and it would not matter for there is no time. Hallorn’s spear pierces the air between them and there is no movement save the river of blood that runs down the woman’s haggard face.

Feeling nothing Hallorn walks over and retrieves his spear. The woman slumps over on top of her dead son. He only pauses a moment to wipe the blood from his weapon.

“Wicked boy I am.” He says over his shoulder as he walks away. “Yet better that then you.”