said, “From the high quarter, m’lord. That’s where the worst of it’s been, though the folk up there don’t like to talk about it.”
D’Arden nodded. The young soldier could certainly prove to be useful in his investigation. Bright, obviously brave, and willing to give him information that the captain might not be so forthcoming with. “Thank you, lad.”
“Please, m’lord… call me Mikel.”
“Of course, Mikel. Will you escort me to the high quarter? I will need to have a look around if we’re to have any hope of finding this beast and bringing life back to Calessa.” D’Arden gestured around at the city.
“It’s been this way for years, m’lord,” Mikel said. “To be honest, hardly any of us are ever expecting it to go back to the way it used to be. We’re used to it now.”
“Much longer and there won’t be anyone left to be used to anything,” D’Arden muttered. “Where does your family live, Mikel?”
“They all live down in the low quarter, master Arbiter,” he replied. “I became a soldier, joined in with the captain to give them all a better life. Not much of a life we have here anyways, but at least we can afford to buy food.”
“You’re doing right by them, lad,” D’Arden said, his words carefully calculated to endear himself to the boy. “I’m always glad to see a boy become a soldier and protect his family. It’s a hard choice to make, but it’s the right one if you have it.”
Mikel nodded. “It’s hard being a soldier, but it’s good for them, and it makes my father happy.”
“Have there been many problems with the corruption in the low quarter, where your family lives?” D’Arden asked.
The boy shook his head. “Not many. There’s a few that we’ve had to…” the boy swallowed hard, “…put down, but not too many. One was a neighbor of my family… he just turned one day, started howling about how he was going to eat their flesh off their bones.” He shuddered. “It was horrible, but the captain, he sent some soldiers down and they took care of things.”
“They didn’t hurt your family?”
“No.”
D’Arden nodded. “That’s good.”
“Up in the high quarter, though, they all got their windows and doors boarded up. They hardly ever come out anymore. They got animals up there gone feral, and men and women locked up in their houses, scrabbling at the insides, trying to get out so they can go out and start killing. It’s a madhouse up there – the captain keeps saying we should just board up and quarantine the whole quarter, but there’s still men alive up there who won’t leave. We can’t just leave them up there.”
It would probably be better for everyone if you did, D’Arden thought, but did not say it aloud. Instead, he said, “It could be dangerous. Are you sure you want to come along with me?”
Steadfastly, the boy nodded.
Good then. Perhaps he could earn the boy’s loyalty yet.
“Come then, Mikel. Lead the way to the high quarter. We’ll go see what we can do. Perhaps we’ll find the demon this morning.”
Somehow, that didn’t appear to reassure the boy.
They ventured through the city streets. D’Arden had expected throngs of people to fill them, but instead he found them mostly desolate and empty. There was some noise coming from the trade quarter, the section of the city they’d left behind, but there was little noise as they passed by street after street in the central city. Storefronts lay abandoned, homes were despondent-looking and empty, and there was a pervasive feeling of fear and anxiety looming in the air. Even in the warm light of the sun everything seemed cold, lonely and lifeless. A few faces peered out at them from windows, and though while they did not seem to be the ravening beasts that might have been created from the corruption, they were clearly afraid of both what was happening to their home, and of him.
“How can you touch the manna?” the boy asked idly as they walked along the deserted streets. “If it kills everyone else it touches, how is it that it doesn’t kill you?”
D’Arden sighed, trying to determine the best way to answer that deceptively complex question. “Do you know much about the Arbiters?”
“Not much,” the boy said. “Only a little, that there used to be a lot more of them, and they were the enforcers of the law back in the old days.”
“That’s almost right,” D’Arden said. “The Arbiters were created by the Last King in the days of the empire to serve his will. They were an organization then, a group of those dedicated to protect the manna from turning evil. There are so many ways that it can happen. So, the best and the brightest sorcerers were given the chance to become Arbiters, to protect the world against the corruption.
“When they realized that even though they were great sorcerers, they were still just men and subject to the power of the manna just like everyone else, they knew that something would have to be done. There would have to be someone who could touch the manna, not just see it.
“So, in order to do that, there were great experiments done to determine how men could be immunized against the power of the manna. A great many men, women and children died in the search of that end, until they discovered the way.”
He recited the formula from memory, the same words that had been told to him all those years ago. When he had heard them the first time, they had affixed themselves to his memory in a way that he knew would never fade, not even if he were to live one hundred winters. “To create an Arbiter, a person must be exposed to the manna over a period of several years, in extremely small doses. These must be administered directly to the heart of the person who is being ordained, via a small, rounded blade – known as the heartblade – that is slipped between the ribs and used to touch the heart. Over time, the dosage grows, and eventually a resistance is attained.” They sounded as cold, as clinical to him now as they had the first time he’d heard them. “This process never ends; we must be regularly exposed directly to the manna via the heartblade.” The ritual, though at first painful and terrifying, was now little more than drinking a glass of water to him, although slightly more painful.
Mikel’ eyes were wide as he listened to the story. “So… you have to stab yourself in the heart over and over again?”
“That’s exactly right,” D’Arden said.
“Why would you do something like that?”
“There are many reasons, lad. One is because the world is a dangerous place, and it needs people who are willing to sacrifice themselves to protect it. Another is because my life would be meaningless without this purpose to drive it forward. Mostly, it is because there are those out there who would seek to corrupt the world, and I do not intend to let something like that happen. My pain and my strength are my sacrifice to help keep the land a little safer from those who would seek to do it harm.”
“That’s awful,” Mikel said.
“Perhaps, but it is the truth,” D’Arden said. “Sometimes the truth is horrifying.”
“I don’t think I could ever do something like that,” Mikel said.
“You likely could not,” D’Arden replied. “The reason that most Arbiters are started at a very young age is because it is so that the manna begins its effects on them while they are still malleable, while their souls are still able to be touched by the power without it destroying them. Starting when one is older is far more difficult, and not in the least because the heartblade is excruciatingly painful at first. Some Arbiters, when they go too long without being exposed to the heartblade as they are supposed to, go quite mad.”
“Do you think that’s what happened to the one that came here a few years ago?” the boy asked.
D’Arden frowned. He didn’t know how to answer that question. He wasn’t certain how he could tell the boy that no matter what he’d told the captain, there was a chance that it was that very Arbiter that was either the force responsible for this entire miserable catastrophe here in the city, or that he could be very well working with the demon. There were too many unknowns here, some of which he hoped to resolve with this trip to the most dangerous part of the city.
It wasn't long before D'Arden and the boy stood before the gate. The boy stopped a few steps before they passed under the arch, clearly hesitant to proceed any further. D'Arden slowed to a halt only a few steps ahead of Mikel and stared up at the great stone structure.
CALESSA HEIGHTS, read the spindly, gothic lettering that adorned the front of the city gate. It was similar the one he'd passed through upon entering the city, but for the lack of the heavy wooden doors that kept out
