The Massacre, Eric K. Hasler [e book reader for pc TXT] 📗

old man had said. “Yes,” said Fabariel, “It was made for him by a brilliant young man, some of the best metal work I’ve ever seen.” Fabariel smiled and let out a little chuckle, “Judging by the blood stained sword in your hand you have, shall we say, a similar gift. My advice is that you should use the gift wisely. Hone your skills with every opportunity that presents itself.” Semjaza thought the old man had just given him some sound advice. He clenched the sword in both hands, swung it above his head and brought it down crashing onto Fabariel’s skull almost splitting it in half. Semjaza smiled to himself, “You’ve just had your last wish granted old man.” “Excellent,” said the voice in tone that suggested it was both impressed and amused by this execution. As he struggled to wrench the sword free he wondered whether Fabariel had any other forms of weaponry. It didn’t seem possible as there was nowhere to hide anything. The only thing in the hut was the cupboard in the corner and he already had the only thing stashed in it. ‘Maybe I should rip up the floor boards,’ he thought. “Time is running out! Forget about searching the hut. Instead, move along to the next hut. There I will tell you how to exterminate the people inside,” said the voice. “Everything must be completed before sunrise.” Understanding the sense of what the voice had said, Semjaza picked the breastplate of mail off the floor and put it on. He was surprised; it was almost a perfect fit. A little roomy around the shoulders and maybe a little bit heavy, but he was certain he’d get used to the weight quite quickly. Heading for the door he felt relaxed. His mind was clear of all thoughts; his conscience was clear with no hint of remorse or feelings of guilt. He was feeling invincible within the knowledge that the relief from his tormented past was just one hut away. He smiled to himself as he strode through the door.

Outside the moon was still glistening, but it had moved towards the western side of the village. The eeriness was still thick as mud, but Semjaza didn’t notice. His attention was focused on the next hut. Smoke was spiralling out from the chimney, though it hadn’t been when he entered Fabariel’s hut. He concluded that the fire must have rekindled itself from one of the hot embers. Approaching the door the words Fabariel had spoken about him unlocking the doors came to his mind; he started to wonder if it was wise to execute Fabariel. His inner voice spoke up, convincing him that if he continued thinking along those lines he would drive himself insane. Smiling to himself and nodding in agreement he opened the door and walked inside. Wasting no time looking around the hut he headed straight to the main bedroom where he found a surprise. Frederick was asleep in the bed all by himself. ‘Where is his wife Larissa,’ he thought. “Never mind her just yet. This is what you must do. Use the butt of your sword and bash him on the temple, but do not kill him,” said the voice. He drew his sword, spun it around so the blade was pointing upward passed his right ear. Gripping the handle tightly with both hands he stabbed the butt of the handle into Frederick’s temple knocking him unconscious. ‘He never knew what hit him,’ Semjaza thought as he smiled to himself. “In the closet you will find a rope,” said the voice. “Cut it into four even pieces. Then tie Frederick to the bed.” Inside the closet was a rope, like the voice said, it looked to be around twelve metres long. But instead of cutting the rope into four even pieces like the voice told him, he cut the rope down to eight one and a half metre pieces, and then craftily he tied the feet and the neck separately to the bed with the knots underneath. There was no hope of escape. Semjaza smiled again. “Now find the wife,” said the voice. ‘She will be easy to find,’ he thought, ‘all I need to do is go to the children’s room.’ There she was as expected, asleep with the children. Without hesitation he held the handle of the sword in both of his hands and bashed Larissa on the temple as well. As he started to drag her out into the main bedroom to tie her to the bed beside her husband, the voice said, “Whack the children as well.” “What for?” he said, “They mean nothing to me!” “Wrong,” said the voice forcefully, “what you should be thinking is that you mean nothing to them! If you leave them alive they will have the same upbringing as you had. Hate and the retribution being burnt into them until they are despised by the whole village, do you want that for anyone else?” “By the fates, no!” he stated louder than he should’ve, “They must die if only to save them from the trouble I had.” He picked up his sword and bashed both children on the temple. Now that the whole household was knocked out he could take his time and do things correctly. As with Frederick, he slowly and carefully used a piece of rope and tied Larissa to the bed, with her feet and neck tied separately and the knot underneath. He then proceeded to do the same with both the children. While standing back looking at the family the thought of stuffing something in their mouths came to his mind. So he searched the hut until he found something suitable. There were four apples in a bowl on the dinner table, he grabbed them and walked towards Frederick’s room. Opening Frederick’s mouth was easy, trying to push the apple in proved to be difficult because Frederick was a freak, probably due to the inbreeding. His eye sockets were unusually large; his nose looked like a vulture’s beak and his mouth was abnormally small. His top teeth on the other hand were something similar to that of a sabre tooth tiger mixed with a rabbit. They were large and pushed forward. Semjaza had to force the apple up and underneath the top teeth then gently thump the fruit in an upwards angle with the palm of his hand to get it as far into the little gap as possible without breaking it. After a few moments he had the pome wedged in as far as it would go. “Just try and scream now Frederick,” he said aloud through his own big toothy grin.

He then walked back into the children’s room and forced a fruit into Larissa’s gob in the same fashion as with Frederick, although the job was much easier. Standing there looking at Larissa he couldn’t help thinking how beautiful she is. He remembered the first time he saw her, three cycles and eight moonths ago, the first time she set foot in Kiota. Standing in the village square wearing a white dress that hung half way between her thighs and knees. The slight breeze flowing through her thorn coloured hair causing it to waver away from her face showing the magnificent bone structure of her jaw line. The cute button nose which rested just above robust red lips and between two slightly rounded blushing cheeks which sat firm and perk under two deep dark blue eyes. He wondered how a woman so beautiful could be deceived into loving a person as mean and vicious as Frederick. His mind started swim with thoughts of how things could have been if Frederick hadn’t embarrassed him that day he first saw her. Frederick had come up from behind and pushed him to the ground, then kicked him in the stomach while shouting “homeless wood trash have no right being in the village, let alone perving at the new comers who are obviously too good for the likes of him.” Frederick had kicked him until blood started to flow from his mouth. But the smile Larissa had given Frederick was what hurt Semjaza the most; she walked over to Frederick with a broad smile tapped him on the shoulder and said “do you mind if I have a go?” Frederick was stunned, not by her question, but her beauty. Tongue tied he managed to stammer out the words “y-yes d-do w-what y-you w-want.” She smiled at Frederick, took a step back and then quickly stepped forward swinging her right foot fast and hard into Semjaza’s groin. He screamed loudly while both Frederick and Larissa laughed at him.

“Do it,” said the voice. Semjaza smiled and a noise somewhere between a groan and a cackle escaped from the pit of his stomach. Pulling himself away from her beauty he wandered over to the children. Holding the first child’s mouth open he encountered a problem, the mouth was too small for the apple. ‘Frederick’s children are as deformed as him,’ he thought as he carefully and forcefully thumped the apple with the palm of his hand. This took some time to accomplish, and eventually the apple split, but it went in deep enough that the split didn’t really matter. The second child was a little older, and bigger, so the apple fitted easier; less thumping was required. “Now, cover everybody with blankets. Then go to the fire place, take some of the fire and set fire to each one of the blankets,” said the voice.

He searched the bedrooms and found nothing. So he scoured the rest of the hut until he found an unlocked chest. Inside were six blankets, two woollen and four cotton ones. He took the cotton ones into the bedrooms and covered each family member, then went looking for the hearth. After finding the fireplace, which was not fully ablaze as expected, he wondered how to remove what little flames there were. He gazed around the room in a state of perplexity not exactly sure of what he was looking for. In the corner was a spade. ‘That will do nicely,’ he thought. Grabbing the scoop he noticed that it was dirty. He started to moan and complain to himself about how people have such a blatant disregard for the wellbeing of their tools. While uttering his misdirected vilification he went back to the chest, got one of the woollen blankets and returned to the fireplace. He picked up the spade, sat in one of the chairs and used the blanket to clean the dirt off, all the while continuing with his bellyaching about the carelessness and disrespect that these foolish villagers have. Once finished he used the iron piece to gather a load of red hot coals, then treaded carefully into Frederick’s room, where he scattered the coals over the unconscious man’s blanket. He stood there a moment waiting for the coals and the blanket to produce fire, which caused him to smile. He then went back to the fireplace for the second load. When Larissa was covered with coals he debated with himself whether it would be worth smothering the children as well. “Cover them all, but you will not need as many coals for the children. One shovel load should be enough,” said the voice.The voice was right; one shovel full was enough. After completing the task he began to consider leaving, however as he was manoeuvring himself towards the door there was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind about checking to see if the fires had fully taken hold. He decided that it would be wise to see if this family was truly burning before leaving the village forever. Walking into Frederick’s room he could see quite plainly that the unconscious spiracle was burning, in fact the whole room had caught ablaze. The smell was putrid, but the fire he considered to be a beautiful thing. The way