Salatis and the Dark King - Veneficus (Last Resort, Chapter Three).

Chapter Three: Last Resort

Salatis’ mind was racing as he made his way to school. He had a good idea who was to blame for Tristan’s attack and the three thugs were already seated, laughing and whispering when he walked into the class. The cowards had waited three years for a chance to get under his skin and had chosen Tristan because of their friendship. Miss Marsila was nowhere to be seen and most of the children had still not taken their seat.
“Where is your friend?” Fenderal asked, smaning to his pals. Salatis sat for a moment with his fists clenched thinking through what he was about to do and he slowly got up from his seat, turned and walked towards him.
“Tristan; your father; neither of them would agree with this,” Nuto said trying to calm his rage and save his neck.
“Have you got something to say to me; Fenderal?” he asked in a primed tone. The other children in the class became aware of the tension building up in the room and fell quiet.
“Nothing, Salatis; it was just a question.” He laughed again. Salatis was now certain it was them and wanted to unleash a world of hurt on Fenderal’s face, but Nuto’s influence had caused Tristan’s words to repeat in his head and he decided against confrontation. His father always said violence was a last resort and he was willing to make him proud.
“Coward,” Mikhal muttered provocatively, as Salatis returned to his seat with his anger subsiding.
“Oh no,” Nuto said despondently.
Mikhal’s word’s caused him to stop and he felt his blood boil. His mind began to prepare for a fight and he was unable to calm himself. He quickly spun back around and saw Mikhal’s hands on the table; Tristan’s blood still on his knuckles. Fenderal had reached under his top and pulled out a necklace with Salatis’ initial on it. He saw him look at the gift from Tristan and smirked.
“Do you like my new necklace? It was given to me by my dear friend Tristan. Fenderal’s tone gave Salatis no other option and his father’s teachings could not force their way thru the red mist that had taken over his thought process.
“You will pay for what you have done,” Salatis threatened.
“Anytime,” Mikhal scoffed, taking his threat lightly. Mikhal had underestimated his frame of mind and did not have time to say anything else as Salatis was on him like a flash, throwing three straight punches into his face. His nose cracked and he fell backwards off his chair into a heap on the floor. It was now 2 against 1 and Salatis had lost any control over his thoughts swinging his arms freely; one of his haymakers missing Fenderal’s jaw by centimeters. Decha and Fenderal rose quickly to their feet and came over the tables with everybody else in the room making for the door, trying to avoid the mayhem. Decha was first to reach Salatis and went to grab his arm, but as usual his bulk was slow and Salatis managed to evade his grip; launching Decha over a table. He flew through the air with little grace and hit the chairs on the other side hard. He was still conscious, but he was in no hurry to get to his feet. The move had been elegant, but it caused Salatis to momentarily lose sight of Fenderal and he turned to face him unaware he was walking straight into Fenderal’s man sized fist. The punch was perfect and delivered with all his weight behind it, knocking him to the floor. The blow numbed his face and his vision became blurred. Fenderal without any concern for his actions picked up a chair and swung it at his head. Salatis was still not able to focus, but managed to block the strike with his arm.
SNAP.
The noise was what followed the impact, as Fenderal shattered Salatis’ right forearm with the strike. The pain was unbearable and he swallowed the scream, not wanting him to hear his agony. Fenderal was now enjoying himself and was far from finished. He had suffered for three years of humiliation because of Salatis and he grabbed him by the scruff of the neck dragging him to his feet like a man would a boy. His knee came up, striking him in the torso and again he felt and heard a crack as his ribs broke.
He was unable to breathe.
“Is that all you have got Salatis? I am going to enjoy this,” he growled, throwing him over the tables. Salatis’ body slammed into the wall and fell to the floor with a thud, but the tables he had put between them gave him enough time to get to his feet. His bones ached as never before and he still refused to show Fenderal any fear. His arm was a mess and he fought back the tears, trying to compose himself. He glanced to Decha and he had backed off, unsure how far Fenderal was willing to take the fight. His body and Nuto were telling him to quit, but his courage grew and he forced back the pain, pushing it deep into his stomach. He could feel his heart burn and he pictured the fire of a red dragon’s breath.
“You are weak Fenderal,” he mocked, playing with his under developed mind. Salatis comment was meant to cause confusion and it did; rushing him into action. Fenderal bent down, picking up one of the chair legs that had broken off during the scuffle. His eyes were clouded; rage had engulfed him and he moved towards Salatis, swinging the leg at him as if he was holding a sword. He was like a man possessed, screaming with every blow and Salatis backed off ducking under his wild swings as he tried to stay calm. He was always a step ahead of his attacker evading his attention with quick feet and an even quicker mind and took only a moment to spot the pattern in his swing. He anticipate one of his attacks, timing his own to perfection and threw an upper cut that caught Fenderal on the chin. The strike caused Fenderal’s next swing to go high and he followed up with a punch to the ribs which brought him down to his height. Their eyes met and Fenderal’s were now full of fear, but Salatis was unwilling to stop. Tristan’s bloody and bruised face was all he could see and he sent his elbow crunching into Fenderal’s face. He hit the floor like a felled great oak, and lay unconscious as Salatis stood over him half expecting the Sustantivian to jump up and continue their fight. Fenderal did not and he turned his attention to Decha ready for more, but Decha hastily left the room. The other children were stood around the edge of the room, open mouthed and completely silent. Their faces simmered the fire within him and brought him back to earth with a bump. He was now going to have to face the consequences of his actions and he left the school behind knowing he would be in trouble on his return. That for now was the least of his worries and he was under no illusion that his father was going to punish him as never before.
The walk home was long and he was left alone with his thoughts as he ran through all his excuses: none of them in the cold light of day seemed a decent defense for his actions. There was nothing else he could do other than return home and take what was coming to him. Hobbling into the front room, he saw his father sitting relaxing, unaware he was about to have his mood altered dramatically. He looked around and was about to question why he had returned home so early when he noticed his face. His father rushed from his chair and knelt before him.
“What has happened, are you ok?” he asked in distress.
“I am sorry father; I have let you down,” he replied breaking down into tears.
“Son, tell me what happened and I am sure you have nothing to fear.” Salatis went on to explain the day’s events as his father tended to his wounds. He grasped his broken arm and within moments the pain was gone. Salatis was still out of sorts and rubbed his arm with his hand trying to remember if it had actually been broken. If he had been of a sound mind he may have asked his father how he had healed him with just water and a few bandages, but his father spoke and his mind missed its opportunity.
“When you are ready we will return to your school and sort this out once and for all. Now you must rest while I organize a meeting with Adhelm and Fenderal’s father.” His father’ reaction had been in complete contrast to what Salatis had expected and as soon as he was settled his father left the cottage and headed straight to the school. Salatis’ eyes closed and he could feel the bracelet on his arm. It was fending something off and he could feel himself being consumed by a black mist. A black mist that wanted to squeeze his soul. It filled him with dread and he was awoken covered in sweat by his father’s return.
“How are you feeling?” he asked rubbing his forehead.
“Fine father,” he replied taking his terrifying dream as just that. What has been said?” He was desperate to know how much trouble he had got his father into and wished he had been able to control his anger.
“We are going to the school and will be meeting with this child, Fenderal, and his father to discuss a way through this.” The words did nothing to calm Salatis nerves, knowing Fenderal’s father was going to be extremely angry with him and could probably squash his father like a bug. The last thing he wanted was to get him hurt, because he was unable to walk away from a fight. The hours that followed went as minutes for Salatis, but his father seemed calmer than ever and was not fazed at all by what lay ahead.
“Come Salatis; it’s time,” his father said, moving to the door.
“Father…” he replied before pausing, unsure what to say next.
“Tell him we will wait here,” Nuto begged.
“What is it?” he asked, eager to get underway.
“He is a Sustantivian. His father will be big.”
His father smiled.
“Do not worry about such things; we are going to have an adult discussion that is all. No harm will come to him.” It took Salatis a moment to work out what his father had said and he did not get the chance to reply, as he was already out the door and half way up the road. They spoke very little on the journey, arriving at the school much sooner than he would have liked and were greeted in his class by Adhelm.
“Hedric, Salatis; come in, take a seat.”
“Thank you Adhelm,” Hedric replied grasping his arm as if they had known each other for years. Had the situation been less tense, Salatis would have asked them how they knew each other. His father was a few years older than Adhelm so they would not have grown up together and Adhelm had also served as a legionnaire before becoming a teacher, so again they would not have moved in the same circles. It was indeed peculiar that they had no reason to be familiar, but they almost acted as if they were brothers. The speculation and intrigue was a welcome distraction, helping to take his mind off the situation at hand, but he was brought back to the room as Fenderal and his father arrived. Fenderal walked in first looking as if he had run into a wall more than once and his father behind, angling his body to get through the door.
“Welcome Bil, Fenderal; please take a seat,” Adhelm said gesturing to a chair set up for him.
“I will stand,” Bil insisted in a growl. He glared directly at Salatis and he wished he had worn clothes the same colour as the walls. At least then he could have blended in to avoid Bil’s attention. His stance was one of aggression and everything about him screamed angry man. It was emanating from his whole persona and it was obvious any wrong word could end in bloodshed. Salatis had never felt such fear, Bil was nearly twice the width of his father and even his head seemed to have muscles. Adhelm began to speak to get the meeting on its way, but Bil did not have time to listen and interrupted him mid-sentence.
“You are telling me this boy bettered mine. How is this possible? He is weak.” He looked Salatis up and down, and then turned to his son giving him a look of disgust. At that moment Salatis realised where Fenderal got his bad attitude from.
“Looks can be deceiving,” Hedric replied mildly. For the first time Nuto could not find words and Salatis sat frozen to his seat unable to breath. Bil was fuming that Hedric had the nerve to speak up. He looked towards his father who was still sat there, looking relaxed enough to nod off and his lack of fear did not help Bil’s mood.
“Do not speak out of turn Hedric or our children will not be the only ones with a problem,” Bil threatened putting his hand to the hilt of his sword. He stepped towards Hedric doing as all Sustantivian men did, using his aggression and size to try and intimidate. It would have worked on most, but his size did not seem to concern Hedric.
“Please let’s keep the meeting amicable, there is no need for such posturing,” Adhelm demanded hoping his status as a teacher would have some influence.
“I have only come today to warn Hedric to control his child. Next time I will not be as understanding.” Hedric had heard enough and sat up in his chair, taking a more aggressive posture. His voice became unrecognisable to Salatis as his father spoke with the courage and authority of a Legionnaire.
“Do not come into this school and disrespect the authority of Adhelm. You will sit and talk this through as a man or leave this place without honour.” Now using the word silence does not do the moment justice. Bil stood shocked at Hedric’s nerve and began to look him up and down in disbelief, probably wondering if the world had gone mad.
“YOU DARE TO THREATEN ME?” he shouted, anger overflowing and forcing its way out in his voice. Hedric still did not flinch and Salatis started to worry for his father’s sanity.
Had he gone mad?
“You misunderstand me Bil. I am a reasonable man and expect you to be the same; sit down as you have been asked.” The words took a few seconds to register in Bil’s already raging mind and Hedric’s delivery of them was too blunt to have been trying to calm Bil’s condition. Salatis almost felt as if his father had purposely poked the beast. Bil had nothing else to say and the Sustantivian blood rushing through his veins forced him to defend his distorted version of honour.
“I will do you the favour of not striking you down in front of your boy. We will leave the grounds and sort this out as men,” Bil demanded.
Hedric smiled mischievously.
“As you wish,” he replied calmly, to Salatis’ obvious shock. Bil completely entangled in his fury gritted his teeth and left the room, nearly ripping the door frame away from the wall and Hedric went to follow.
“Hedric are you sure you want to do this? I could call for the guard,” Adhelm asked in an unconcerned manner.
“That will not be necessary,” Hedric replied as if he had not a care in the world. Salatis throughout the whole argument had sat silent, but eventually found is tongue, realising his father really was going to go through with it.
“PLEASE FATHER; DO NOT GO OUT THERE,” he begged unsure why his father was so keen to die. His father put his hand on his shoulder and spoke calmly. His hand was steady and his eyes gave away no fear, as if he really did not have any.
“Do not worry Salatis, I will not be harmed.” Adhelm held on to him as his father left the room to meet his end and he glanced over at Fenderal, who had a smug look on his face. For a split second thumping him did spring to mind, but he chose to ignore him and made his way out to the front of the school. After all punching him is what got them into this mess in the first place. He arrived outside the school with his father stood opposite Bil; toe-to-toe as opposed to face-to-face given their height difference. He could not imagine an outcome that boded well for his father. Bil was prowling from left to right clearly agitated and his hand was on the hilt of his sword. His father all the while stood there perfectly still looking fearless. They were too far away from Salatis for him to hear any words, but whatever his father said next was enough to cause Bil to unsheathe his sword. Salatis’ heart almost exploded, knowing his father was unarmed and he turned to Adhelm in a panic.
“Please sir, my father will be killed. You were in the legion do something, please do something.” Adhelm lacked any tone of worry in his voice.
“Salatis, calm down. Believe me when I say your father will not come to any harm. He is a great man and has dealt with far worse than Bil.”
Had he got the right man?
His words made no sense and he looked back out to see if his father was still standing or had already been killed. He was sure the last image of his father would be him lying lifeless on the floor with Bil’s sword embedded in his flesh and he considered running over to beg Bil not to hurt him.
Nuto prevented him from doing so.
Why is my father not a great warrior the likes of Lagos? He wished.
He would have no problems dealing with an out of shape Sustantivian bully like Bil. He turned to look at Fenderal who was now outside enjoying the show being put on by his father, but the smile suddenly fell from his face. Salatis unsure why turned back to the standoff and could not believe his eyes. Bil had fallen to his knees and had dropped his sword into the dirt. He had only looked away for a second and was sure his father had not touched him. Bil was struggling for breath; his hands were around his own throat and his face carried panic. Hedric slowly leaned forward and spoke into Bil’s ear. They were still too far away to hear and Salatis was desperate to know what was being said. He had no idea what was going on and before his mind could work out any answer it was happy with, his father turned to him as if nothing had happened.
“Salatis come let’s get home,” he said as he moved towards Adhelm. “Thank you for your time my friend, I will see you soon.” Adhelm replied by grasping his arm and giving him a friendly smile. Salatis rushed to his father’s side unsure what to say.
Was there anything he could say?
It did not matter. He was just pleased to be returning home with him unharmed. He put his hand up and his father grasped it, holding it tight all the way to their home. That day Salatis made a promise to the Gods that he would always listen to his father’s advice and he was abruptly awakened by the legionnaires close by who were still talking of the Dark King and his army of Dredgers.
He looked up to the stars wondering if his father was doing the same. He was desperate to have the courage his father had shown as he stood toe-to-toe with Bil and his skin tingled as if touched by his father’s hand. He smiled at the thought and then blamed the sensation on a breeze that had passed over him at the exact moment he felt the touch. Lying back down and closing his eyes, he took a few deep breaths. His heart beat was strong and he fell back to sleep dreaming of a powerful red dragon. He was called Viribus; Salatis as a boy had named him. Well he was pretty sure he named him, after all a figment of your imagination cannot name itself...can it?