THE “FEAR AND HATE” ARC CONTINUES…
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Squinting, George forced open his bleary eyes…to see the grim face of Valiant staring back at him. With a start, he made to leap back but found he couldn’t. It was then he became aware of the bindings fixed around his wrists and ankles. Unlike the rope bindings the Red Dragon Warriors had ensnared him in, these were made of cool metal. His arms and legs were stretched wide and clamped to the wall to make an “X” shape. As he gradually recovered from the shock of seeing Valiant’s face, he noticed the mercenary was in a similar predicament on the opposite wall.
‘These your reaver friends?’ Valiant jibed. ‘Either these aren’t great friends, or they like the kinkier side of things.’
George frowned, trying his best to shut Valiant out. He could not remember exactly what it was that had led him here – in fact, trying to remember only rewarded him with sparks of pain shooting through his mind. He vaguely remembered the confrontation in the pipe, the Red Dragon Warriors, the smoke, the flashes of purple light…and that man.
That very same man who, as George tried to recollect his thoughts, had entered the room where he and Valiant were being held. The man with blue eyes, dark-grey hair, and a blue uniform with a gold star on the chest.
As the man entered the room, Valiant’s face fell. ‘Reuben?’ he asked tentatively.
George frowned. Valiant knows this man? The other man was a reaver, of that much George was certain. Then how and why did he know the burly mercenary?
The blue-eyed man – Reuben – nodded. ‘Hello, Grimoire. Long time no see. I take it you forgot that this part of town is where Taskforce Delta operates?’
Taskforce Delta…George recognised the name. Hugh had mentioned it once or twice. Reuben saying it confirmed his suspicions he was, indeed, a reaver. But why is he holding me like this? I thought reavers were supposed to be the good guys? As his confusion-soaked mind whirred, another thought blossomed. There are no good guys and bad guys, George, just look at your father.
But your father was a good-for-nothing who could not provide for his family, came the counter-thought. In fact, he was responsible for tearing your family apart. His death, Mum’s death, and Arthur’s disappearance were all his fault!
As George’s head span with conflicting thoughts, Valiant – or was it “Grimoire”? – nodded slowly. ‘Something like that,’ he grunted. He glared at Reuben. ‘I won’t tell you anything about my employer, before you ask.’
Reuben smiled. ‘So even mercs have some sense of honour.’
‘It’s not honour,’ Valiant retorted. ‘This employer just likes to throw big money around – and I want to be the one collecting that money next time they throw it around.’
‘Ah. I was mistaken.’ Reuben paused, his face suddenly growing solemn. ‘You could have been so much, Grimoire. So much…but instead you chose this.’
‘Instead I chose this,’ Valiant echoed, his words equally as hard as Reuben’s face was solemn. ‘I made the right choice – no one but power-addled lunatics would even consider becoming a reaver.’
Reuben cocked his head. ‘And you think I am one of these “power-addled lunatics”?’
Valiant ignored him, keeping his voice as hard and cool as steel. ‘What did you do to my men, Reuben?’
‘Scared them off, that was all – mostly. Cosmic Weaving does that very well, I find. A couple of them may be missing limbs, but don’t worry, I didn’t kill them. It’s not the reavers’ way.’
Valiant glared at him. ‘You know who we are, the master that we serve. You’ve heard the legends. You know those men missing limbs might just as well be dead.’
‘Yes,’ Reuben mused, and there was something dancing in his eye. ‘The Dragon must feast, after all…and what better prey is there than the weak?’
Valiant scoffed. ‘Those men, I know, even without limbs, would hardly be considered weak.’ He sniffed. ‘You bloody reavers…you and your codes…You think you’re so much better than the rest of us, but you’re not. You could’ve given my men mercy – mercy, Reuben, would have been to kill them. They will not have any mercy from the Dragon, only a long and painful death.’
‘They endangered the Reaver Society,’ Reuben said simply. ‘They got what they deserved.’
‘No one deserves to be eaten alive.’
The final comment caught Reuben off-guard; he hesitated for a second, his cool demeanour fracturing slightly. He straightened himself in an attempt to regain his calm, and it was as if he had never faltered at all. ‘Your grandfather would not be much pleased with you,’ he said, electing to ignore Valiant’s previous comment. ‘Gorgo Valiant was a hero, the man who led the Society against the Seven and their Ov’l armies in the War of the Mad God; and now his grandson, his last living heir, is nothing more than a dishonourable, money-grubbing merc.’
It was now Valiant’s turn to be put in the crucible, and judging by the fire that sparked in his eyes at Reuben’s remark, George estimated he would be quick to melt. The buzzcutt-donning merc made to bite out a retort, but caught himself, instead choosing to angle his head down at the floor in silence. George nodded to himself. He’d been right: Valiant had melted in no time at all.
Apparently victorious, Reuben gave Valiant a final look-over before turning sharply on his heel to fix his blue-eyed gaze on George. ‘Now, Ov’l.’ His voice was sharp, his eyes keen. ‘I kept you alive only for one reason: I need an answer from you. It’s about Hugh Fisher.’
George’s eyes widened. His mind raced as it tried to predict what Reuben would ask.
The blue-eyed reaver smiled. ‘Years ago, there was another Ov’l working with Taskforce Delta: Sinchara Khan. At the time, only a precious few knew he was an Ov’l – myself included. It had to be this way, or there would have been panic and dissent throughout the taskforces of the Reaver Society. We’d heard the legends about the Ov’ls, of course, but we hoped he would be different. He was a good man, a very good man – but that didn’t stop him from being Turned. He was corrupted by the Powers of the Ov’l and went on a killing spree through his old home, Windermere Heights. During the battle there, the place was all but destroyed.’
So, Windermere Heights wasn’t bulldozed, it was destroyed by an Ov’l, George realised.
‘Sinchara had been Hugh’s student,’ Reuben continued. ‘Hugh had trained him right from when he’d first joined the Reaver Society, up until when he’d Turned. As such, Hugh blamed himself for Sinchara’s fall to darkness. It was for this reason he decided he would face Sinchara – alone – on the roof of Windermere Heights. In the battle, Hugh was forced to kill Sinchara Khan. From that point on, the Reaver Society vowed never to let a tragedy like this happen again. Battlemaster Val made it a rule in the Reaver Society that any Ov’ls encountered would be memory-wiped on sight, or killed; of the eleven Ov’ls we have encountered since, only one has survived.’
His brows furrowed as his eyes levelled on George. ‘You. You are the only one. Hugh, for some incomprehensible reason, spared you. Of all of us, Hugh is the one with the most reason to follow this anti-Ov’l doctrine. Therefore, it does not make sense why he allowed you to live. What answer I need, Ov’l, is the answer to this question: why did Hugh Fisher spare you?’
George froze. He fumbled his words; they came out only as a series of incoherent mumbles and murmurs. The truth was he didn’t know why Hugh had saved him – and from what Hugh and Reuben had told him, it seemed to him that Hugh had made a mistake. He should have killed me. “Loose cannon,” he said. I could go off at any time, and it wouldn’t be pretty. Better they kill me now, while I’m still weak, before I Turn.
As George struggled to get the words out, he heard the sound of laughter and looked up to see Valiant chuckling loudly. ‘You done messed up good this time, Reuben,’ the mercenary said as Reuben turned to look sharply at him. ‘You reavers and your rules – imagine bragging about the deaths of ten innocent people.’
‘Their deaths protected us all,’ Reuben bit back. ‘One Ov’l caused Windermere Heights – imagine what ten could do.’
‘Assuming they all Turned,’ Valiant retorted. ‘Assuming Sinchara Khan was the norm and not just a coincidence.’
Reuben’s jaw clenched. ‘Is this why you abandoned us, Valiant? Over Sinchara Khan?’
Valiant’s returning nod was swift and sharp. ‘Certainly. You may think the Powers of the Ov’l as an unrelenting and unbeatable force that no one can oppose. You say there is no one good enough – I disagree. Sinchara Khan Turned because, other than Hugh, everyone else expected him to Turn.’
‘That’s a nice theory,’ Reuben replied coldly, cocking his head. ‘Tell me, Grimoire Valiant, why I should listen to you? You are a mercenary and a hypocrite.’
Valiant frowned. ‘Hypocrite?’ He barked a laugh. ‘Your precious Reaver Society is full of hypocrites – and you’re the worst.’
Reuben ignored the attack. ‘You are a hypocrite, Valiant, as you claim to hate rules and societies and any organisations, yet have chosen to work with the largest mercenary Weaver organisation the world over: the Red Dragon Warriors.’
Valiant shrugged. ‘Got to go where the work is. The Red Dragon asks for some service, and in return, I get the cash-cows.’ He smirked. ‘Money is truly a beautiful thing.’
‘You’re a very simple man, Grimoire,’ Reuben crooned.
The reaver’s words were meant as an attack, but if Valiant noticed, he did not show it. The merc grinned broadly. ‘Took the words right out of my mouth.’
Reuben scowled. He looked as though about to snap something back, but having seemingly given up on winning the verbal duel with Valiant, instead turned back to face George. Certainly, George concluded, he was the easier opponent. ‘You still haven’t answered me, Ov’l.’ George could practically feel Reuben’s contempt for him – and it was no small wonder why, given all he had heard about Sinchara Khan and Windermere Heights. ‘Why did Hugh spare you your life?’ Reuben asked again, rather harshly.
‘All I know is that he made a mistake doing so, but I don’t know why.’ George’s answer was steely – or so he hoped it was, at least.
Reuben’s pale face twisted into the barest hint of a smile. ‘Yes, it is good that you acknowledge that your being dead would be much better – much simpler – for everyone.’ Though the man maintained his composure as he said the words, George could sense there was something different now as Reuben spoke. The words seemed more mechanic, lacking any true feeling or resonance behind them – unlike how they had done just moments prior.
‘I’m a danger to the Society, to England, to the world. And I’m too weak to have a chance in stopping myself from Turning.’ George gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to counter his own points, though he knew it would do no good. He’d seen the destruction at Windermere Heights, wreaked by Sinchara Khan. If he Turned as well…He shook his head firmly. He couldn’t let another Windermere Heights happen. He had to die.
MORE REAVERS:
- (Previous) Reavers #10: Fury of the Flames Pt II
- (Next) Reavers #12: Captain’s Call
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