Dragon (A Histories of Purga Novel)
Chapter Twenty-Nine

The proceedings continued on as if no interruption had been made. The bodies of the Behemoth’s victims were quietly taken off the landing and disposed of. The clothes and ashes of the soldiers were gathered together and then trashed.

All the while, Wilhelm continued his eloquent rants and speeches. He whipped the crowd’s emotions into a frenzy again with such laughable ease. It seemed they would do anything, say anything, kill anyone, destroy anything if their psychopathic leader decreed it.

He walked confidently around his little stage. His hood still covered his head. His features were still a dark, shadowed mask. His voice still carried that odd mechanical sound. Yet, still he was able to control the entire situation.

Liza watched from her hiding spot a little while longer, her disgust growing by the second, before she decided to abandon it for a safe haven about fifty yards away. She wouldn’t be able to see as well, but she could still hear and the distance would afford her more safety.

She waited until Wilhelm was facing away from her and then bolted. She ran as fast as she could, her heart hammering in her chest. She could feel the adrenaline coursing through her, making everything seem slower and making her feel as though her body were trying to conduct live electricity. She glanced around nervously, but no one was paying attention. Which was good, considering she was basically out in the open, exposed to everyone present.

She looked back to where Wilhelm was but couldn’t really make anything out so she decided to leave the area altogether. She wanted to be far away from Wilhelm and whatever weird influence he seemed to have.

Enough was enough.

She couldn’t take the savagery and killing anymore. Besides, she didn’t see the point of staying. Prince Rone would either come, or he wouldn’t. It didn’t really matter one way or the other. If he did come, then he would be killed right along with the Terra. If not, then the girl would be burned alive. It was horrible, and barbaric, but there was nothing she could do to prevent either event from happening.

So instead, she walked away.

She felt guilt rise up in her, but she forced it away from her thoughts. She was too tired to care. She was too exhausted. She had tried to do what she could to end this nightmare, but Wilhelm was too strong. The deadly creature she created should’ve been enough to destroy him forever, but instead, the Behemoth had been stopped in its tracks and forced away.

What more could she do?

She didn’t have an answer.

She thought about her daughters and her husband. They were still being held captive, but she didn’t know where. She had tried so hard to get the information from Wilhelm, but every time he dangled them in front of her, he ripped them away again and forced her to do one more thing.

She half ran, half slid down a hill that led to the street. She got as far away from that display of outright fear-mongering as she could. She came to the hill’s end where a wall of blue colored brick was cut into its side.

By that time, she’d gathered quite a bit of speed and she couldn’t stop herself. She went over the side and plummeted to the sidewalk four feet below, knocking the wind out of her. She flipped onto her back and gasped like a fish out of water. Her eyes bulged slightly, and there was a terrifying second where she thought she wasn’t going to be able to get air back into her lungs.

Then, blessedly, she was able to breathe again and she picked herself up. She got to one knee, took another deep breath, and then got all the way up.

Her head was slightly dizzy but it faded quickly. She looked around, her body suddenly filled with fear, but no one was around. The rebel soldiers were closer to the grim proceedings and had left this area alone.

She started walking in the direction of where the Behemoth had gone. If anything, she had to replace it. The monster was, after all, her responsibility and if it hurt or killed anyone else because she set it free, then their blood would be on her hands too.

She slipped down the street, staying hidden in the shadows and alleys.

She walked for a long time and eventually went back into the area occupied by the rebel army. Blak Soldiers were everywhere, but thankfully, all of them were glued to the proceedings at the Citadel. The ones that couldn’t see directly could view the events live via vid-screen. Giant ones hovered everywhere, some in mid-air and some attached to the faces of buildings.

In each one, the view was the same. It showed a wildly gesticulating Wilhelm with his oddly mechanical voice. He cried out again and again to Prince Rone. He taunted him and mocked him. He called him a heretic for cavorting with the enemy.

Liza could still hear the shouts of anger from the Blak Army. She didn’t really care about Prince Rone and she definitely could care less that he was cavorting with the enemy. Compared with what Wilhelm had done, a man who killed literally hundreds of thousands of his own people, Prince Rone was practically a glowing angel. Even if he did spend time with the savages.

Liza turned a corner and melded into the deep shadows of yet another alley. She heard footsteps behind her and watched as ten Blak Soldiers, all of them marching in complete blank-eyed synchronicity, walked past. She held her breath instinctively and only let it out again when they were past.

She turned to slip deeper into the alley when she crashed into something hard and immovable. She stumbled back and fell on her butt.

Before she could so much as think about getting back up, a thin, razor-sharp blade was pressed against her throat. Fiery pain burned there and she could feel something warm spreading down her neck. The cut, however, was too shallow to kill her or even sever an artery.

She looked up into the lumpy face of her Behemoth. It stared back at her with hate burning in its eyes. Its lips were pealed back in a snarl, showing perfectly white and even teeth.

“S-stop,” she said, breathlessly.

The mere word coming out of her mouth seemed to upset the Behemoth. It let out a quiet roar of anger and stepped closer.

Liza gasped as the sharp bite of the sword went a little deeper into her neck.

“W-why shouldn’t I just k-kill you?” it asked. Its voice was hoarse from disuse and it stuttered slightly.

No, Liza thought to herself as she looked into the Behemoth’s eyes and saw the man he used to be staring back at her. Not an it. Him. He. Not a monster anymore, but a man.

“I never wanted this,” she replied, scooting back a bit. “I didn’t have a choice. That maniac took my family!”

“Th-that maniac took everything from me!” the Behemoth yelled back, still managing to keep his voice lowered enough to where it wouldn’t carry. “You both turned me i-into a monster!”

“It’s true. I did what I had to do to ensure that my husband and my daughters would be safe. I’m sorry for what I did to you.” She was crying now. Her tears ran down her face in a steady stream. “I’m sorry that I created you and turned you into…into…this thing. But I did what I had to…”

She couldn’t go on. Her voice was catching and she was hyperventilating. The Behemoth hesitated but she wouldn’t let it. She looked up at him with equal amounts of rage burning in her own eyes, but it wasn’t targeted at the monster she made. It was all for Wilhelm Coran, General of the Blak Army and her own personal monster. One that gradually, and relentlessly, turned her into a monster as well.

Pretty soon, all the world will be monsters and the truly good people left will be hunted and killed off, one by one, she thought to herself. She looked at the man in front of her and couldn’t help but feel that was true. Wilhelm was the start. His Blak Army was his tool. Pretty soon, all that would be left were the human monsters.

“Kill me!” she shouted. She wanted to end it all, right here and now. She didn’t want to live in a world like that. She didn’t want to spend another minute in a world where Wilhelm had control of everything. “You want to kill me for what I did to you, so do it! Kill me!”

The Behemoth growled at her. He leaned forward, his blade going a centimeter or two more into her throat, and then he wrenched it free.

Liza let out a breathless gasp and fell to her knees, her hands splashing into a puddle of cold rainwater. She looked up at what she created, her tears blurring her vision.

“Why?” she asked, crying harder. “Why couldn’t you just kill me?”

“Because, d-despite what you did to me Dr. Taren, I’m not a m-monster,” the man replied. He held out his misshapen hand to her and she grabbed hold of it with both of hers. His one hand was so big it easily swallowed both of hers. He folded his fingers over them and gently lifted her up. “I’m not a murderer.”

She looked at him, feeling a wave of guilt and shame race through her.

“I am Lord Milo Rosburg.” He lifted her chin so that she could see into his eyes and judge the truth of what he said. “Do you understand?”

She nodded her head.

“Yes.”

“As much as I would like to hate you for what you did, I can’t. Because I can’t really say that I would’ve done anything different than you if it was F-Fiona that had gotten kidnapped. But, if there is one thing that will never happen again, it’s that I will be under that m-madman’s control. Can you promise me that?” he asked Liza.

His voice was strong now and barely had a trace of stutter. More than that, Liza thought, he talked like the confident, deadly soldier he’d been before she re-created him into the Behemoth.

“Yes. I erased all the control commands that were subconsciously implanted in your mind. The last one, Free, was designed to give you back the rest of your identity and simultaneously destroy whatever was left. You are truly free and your mind is your own again,” she explained.

“That’s good,” he replied. He was hunched over now so that he could look at her, more or less, eye to eye. He was so tall that his head was still about a foot above her own. “When I attacked him on stage, he did something to me. I’m not sure what. It was like he was trying to push his mind into mine. I know how that sounds, but it’s the only way I can think of to describe it. He was trying to take control that way, but I wouldn’t let him. When he touched me, it was hard for a moment. He was stronger when he touched me, but I still managed to push him off. The longer I fought the more exhausted I became, so I fled. What do you suppose that means?”

Liza thought about it for a moment but had no idea. She’d never heard of anything like that before and if half of what Lord Rosburg said was true then she thought she might know where he got his army and why he was able to gather one so quickly. Somehow, he was going inside people’s minds and taking over. He warped them and twisted them until they were obedient servants.

She wanted to laugh at how ludicrous that sounded. The very thought was just insane. No one had that kind of power.

Right?

She shuddered as fear rolled through her. She wasn’t convinced at all that it was impossible.

“I don’t know. Not yet,” she responded.

But she knew if it was true, it wasn’t good.

It meant no one on Purga was safe.