Chapter 54

 

It feels as though the less things I have to worry about when I’m awake, the more horrible my dreams are. Or maybe it’s because I’ve killed a lot more people these past few days and now that the war is over, the reality of what I’ve done is finally sinking in. Who am I kidding? I didn’t feel an ounce of sympathy when I killed them and I don’t feel an ounce of guilt now that they’re dead. But then why do I keep tormenting myself with these dreams? 

 

Maybe I really do feel guilty for killing them deep down and I’ve convinced myself that I don’t feel anything instead. Are these dreams my way of subconsciously dealing with the guilt in my own strange, clumsy way? If that’s true, dear gods what’s wrong with me? How do I fix myself? I don’t think I can keep it together for long if I have these dreams every night. 

 

Tonight was an amalgamation of pure suffering, fear, and excruciating pain. I dreamt from the perspectives of the people I’ve killed thus far, including the man with the split belly and the spilled innards, the man with the missing ear, the dozens of men from Midriver’s Finest I’ve killed in the last two days, and finally the death of Reed himsel- wait, he doesn’t deserve me remembering his name. In my dreams, he’s no longer Reed but the man who sold drugs instead.

 

It’s more than just a final fuck you to his memory because I feel like if I remembered the names of all the men I’ve killed and what they were like as people when they still lived, then I’d lose my identity. What an odd thought. Why would I lose my identity if I remembered their names and their personalities? I don’t know. I honestly don’t know but it’s a lingering feeling at the back of my mind that I can’t seem to get rid of. 

 

I don’t think any of this matters. All I know is my dreams are getting worse. Before the war with Midriver’s Finest, I’d normally only dream about one death per night and that would be the end of it. When I died in my dream, I’d wake up and I could shake those feelings away. Except for the night when I killed Jerome. 

 

On the night I killed Jerome, I dreamt of the city and every step forward I took, I’d dream of a different death. Tonight’s dream was like that except I only took a single step in the city this time and I was baraaged by reliving the deaths of every person I’ve killed recently in the past two days all at once. Imagine dying over two dozen deaths simultaneously and feeling the anguish, the hatred, the misery, the terror, and the sheer pain all at once. For a moment there, I couldn’t remember who I was. Which one of these poor people was I before I died? I can’t remember. And then I woke up. 

 

…

 

“Big brother Isaac, wake up! It’s morning! Time for breakfast!” It’s a little girl around five or six winters old with dirty blond hair and deep blue eyes shaking my arm to wake me up. For a second, her name slips my mind but the next second I remember and I smile at her before patting her on the head. 

 

“Good morning Leah. Thanks for waking me up.” She smiles at me when I pat her on the head but a moment later recoils in horror, disgust, and anger.

“Big brother Isaac! Your hands are so dirty!” Turning my hands back towards me and spreading my fingers, I can see why she’s mad at me. My hands are covered with blood and dirt. 

 

These past two days have wrecked any semblance of routine I had before and I need to get that daily routine mindset back. I still haven’t taken off this leather armor since I bought it but I feel slightly naked without it. I can’t be the only one. I saw everyone else in Candle wearing leather armor too, though they were just in a gang war. Fuck it, I’ll keep it on and I’ll bring my sword with me but I don’t think I’ll need my shield. 

 

Before heading to the pantry, I stop by the well outside to clean myself up while Ilya and Mary make their way to the other rooms, waking up everyone for breakfast. They’re sweethearts. Wraine’s already at the well with his shirt off, washing off the dirt and grime that’s accrued these last two days using the bar of soap we bought. While we’re cleaning ourselves off, we tell each other what happened to us when we split up yesterday. 

 

Wraine says he and Anglene made it out of the compound and hid themselves in one of Candle’s empty houses outside of the compound until they were sure no one was following them. They checked the city’s southern gate and outside of it but couldn’t find Derriv which Angelene thought was weird. Even if he didn’t arrive yet, she still should have seen him from a distance. 

 

Following her hunch, they checked the west gate and then the north gate. It turns out Derriv and the rest of Candle were stuck outside of the north gate because the city guards were inspecting them for contraband. They couldn’t really do anything and were held there for hours until they were finally let in the city. Angelene filled in Derriv on what was happening at the compound as they made their way to the entertainment district when they ran into a huge group of Alira’s men. 

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Wraine didn’t know who their leader was but based on the description he gave me, it could only be Nars. He really was working with Reed like Bertrand thought. Nars was trying to stall as much as he could by welcoming Derriv back to the city and inviting him to a banquet he was hosting but Derriv wasn’t having any of it and instantly unsheathed his sword, pointing it at Nars. This caused a chain reaction as all of Alira’s men took out their weapons in response and Derriv’s men responded to their response with their own weapons. After a few silent moments of them locked in a stalemate, Nars smiled and laughed, patting Derriv on the back before saying it was just a joke and leaving with all of his men. Derriv and the rest of them hurried back and started fighting with Reed’s men. 

 

We have a pretty odd relationship with Alira and his men but I already knew that. It might not be a good idea to ask someone here about it directly as there might be bad blood between them and I might need to ask someone outside of Candle. When we’re finished cleaning ourselves and feel like we’re fresh and clean for the first time in days, we make our way to the pantry. 

 

There’s quite a few people there already and when they see me, a lot of them call me golden boy. Confused, I take a seat at the counter next to Bafal and ask him what that’s about. He tells me it’s my new nickname someone came up with on account of the coins and the jewelry I tossed out of the window last night. I’m a little dismayed at my new nickname and hope that it doesn’t stick. Wraine’s having a great time and keeps calling me golden boy, ignoring my dirty looks. At least I’m not the odd one out and everyone’s wearing their leather casually too. 

 

Uriah’s moving around the fireplace in the pantry, tossing chopped meat and vegetables into the iron pot before giving it a taste. It looks like he’s the main cook around here but from what I saw last night, he’s no slouch with his knife either. When the food’s done, he serves out wooden bowls of thick meat and potato pottage. This pottage is completely different from the pottage at The Sleeping Hornet because Uriah didn’t skimp on the meat. At Farland’s place, I could maybe find a sliver of meat once in every five bowls if I was lucky while Uriah’s pottage is filled with meat and vegetables. Just one bowl and I was stuffed, amazing. 

 

Derriv arrives in the pantry right as I finish and approaches me asking, “Finished eating yet? I heard you got cut up last night and Quinn had to bandage you up. Let’s get Riane to take a look at you.” 

 

He leads me to the compound’s backyard where the bloodstains on the ground haven’t finished drying yet and we stop inside one of the rear buildings. When I step foot inside the place, it’s like I’ve entered a different world. Instead of a house where the other members of Candle reside in like the other buildings, this place feels more like a shop. There’s drying herbs and plants hanging on metal hooks from the ceiling, the various shelves on the walls are filled with glass vials and jars of different colors, there’s books scattered messily all around the tables and the floor, and there’s a scent in the air that makes me feel refreshed and alert. 

 

Derriv and I carefully step around the books on the floor and head to the back room. The back room is another whole new world because it’s the complete opposite of the front room in that it’s entirely clean and neat. There’s eight clean beds covered with white linens in the room with four on each side and seven of them are empty. 

 

The first bed on the left is occupied by Bertrand propped up on his right side with a white blanket covering his lower half while a middle aged woman with dark burgundy hair and brown eyes in a dark green linen dress takes a look at his injured leg. Her glasses give her an air of maturity and knowledge that I haven’t seen before. I’ve seen glasses before and the people who wore them, albeit rarely, but this is the first time that I felt like they complimented their wearer, rather than detracting from their appearance. As though I can’t imagine her face without them. 

 

Next to the chair she’s sitting on, there’s a wooden island table with wooden wheels that’s separated into four shelves. There’s various sharp looking iron tools, a few glass jars filled with colorful liquids, a handful of herbs, a copper basin filled with water, and a mortar and pestle on the various shelf levels. I take a seat on the bed right behind her so that I don’t disturb her as she works on Bertrand. 

 

When it looks like she’s finished, she gets up while saying, “Well, it could have been worse. An inch deeper and you wouldn’t be able to move your leg again so you’re lucky in that regard. You’re also lucky you had a mage who could cast Rejuvenation close by because if you didn’t and had to rely on my remedies, you’d be stuck in a bed for the next two months with how long it took you to get treatment. But lucky you. Next.” 

 

The woman with glasses turns her chair around and starts unwrapping the bandages on my left flank without a word. Alright, she’s all business, I can respect that. When she sees the cut, she grabs a handful of herbs from her island table and grinds it down into a fine dust in her mortar and pestle before adding in some water from the basin. She repeats the grinding and adding water until the dust turns into a dark green paste like substance and then applies it on my cut with an iron ruler. 

 

I wince slightly at the pain but it soon turns into a cooling sensation that makes me feel really comfortable. As I’m basking in the relaxing feeling, she wraps the wound again with a clean linen bandage and does the same with the scratch on my hand before telling me, “Neither of your wounds are too deep nor too serious. I applied an herbal paste to prevent infection and it will also help with the healing. You’ll be good as new in a day or two. Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have a month’s worth of dried flora I need to attend to.” 

 

Without giving us a second look, Riane heads into the front room and starts to busy herself. Derriv calls after her, “Thanks Riane.” Bertrand and I do the same but it looks like Riane’s already absorbed in her work. Derriv takes a look at me and fishes something out of his pocket before tossing it to me. When I open my hand to see what it is, Derriv says, “That’s what we found off of Reed’s body. It’s all yours.” 

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