The Name of Evil Chapter 2
The Smuggler
The last fortress island of Charax remains independent of the necromancer. However, the decrepit kingdom holds the Nalith, a sacred object sought by Grymr and the ultimate goal of his control. Unfortunately for those inside the fortress, like the society inside, the walls are just a crumbling symbol of a grand past. Strict social and economic stratification bring misery among most of the population. However, it allows the Chara clan to control the island using the help of pirates who dominate the waters.
Like many trapped in the decaying society that waits for the necromancer to overwhelm the island, Hilko hates everything about his world. He is a nobody with only a single friend who doesn’t know of Hilko’s ability to see and talk with ghosts. When the quick-witted smuggler takes a job with the encouragement of his female friend, Silna, they steal a royal artifact called the Nalith. However, he soon learns that the object holds a power that gathers spirits and can help one foresee the future.
In a forced journey of escape and discovery, the smuggler fatefully decides on a path for him. Can Hilko use the power of the Nalith to escape his fate or change his world?
Hilko ran swiftly through the twisted maze of empty back alleys and packed side streets of Charax with practiced ease. His short stature and thin body weaved through the crowds of people attempting to barter with the merchants who filled the streets with their wares.
It was the eve of the Olnal, one of the holiest of days on the island. On his heels, the young man could hear the panting breaths of Wolk, the large Amryno who tried to catch him. The small, thin man zigged in and out of the parade of people who walked the streets. Hilko slid between the stalls of two vendors, dashing across the street. Wolk slammed through a young couple holding hands, sending the pair into the makeshift stall. Hilko glanced back with a grim smile at the collision while his pursuer swiftly picked up his purple hat. Yelling for Hilko to stop while shaking his club, Wolk showed an unusual tenacity trying to snag him. The fat man usually gave up by now.
Something is going on! Baiters do not hang around by themselves looking for people like me.
In the dark, smelly warren that Hilko called home, the Amryno’s enforced the law of the Chara who ruled over Charax. Known as baiter to the tunnel dwellers of Charax, smugglers like Hilko dealt with the authorities on a nearly daily basis. However, Hilko knew every nook and cranny on the streets for escape.
The young man slid between two carts lining the street after a sudden but graceful feint to avoid an older couple coming toward him. Then, he jumped the short wall and landed inside one of the many dark alleyways of the notorious Soimex’s Nest. His move sent Wolk scrambling past the entrance. Not that it mattered. Wolk would not enter the arrow sliver between the large stone buildings on either side. Baiters realized it often meant a death sentence for them to enter the alleyways alone.
The dark passage opened within a few paces. Hilko slowed and glanced back. He beamed a broad smile as he saw Wolk’s enormous head bobbing above the wall.
“Keep running; you cursed Guryo. I’ll knock your teeth out the next time you’re around the Upper Quarters!”
The fury in the man’s tone surprised Hilko. However, the insult made him stop, then turn back to the sliver of light coming from the street to ensure that the baiter saw him.
“Quit eating so many colaters, you fat inbred!”
Hilko whistled while backing away and displaying an insult. His two fingers held in an upside-down v; it was the tunnel rat’s sign for a dead Amryno. Wolk continued cursing him as Hilko disappeared into the shadows.
Usually, Hilko would not have bothered to insult Wolk. It was a risky move. Wolk had a sadistic history of beating his prisoners. Baiters came from the Amryno caste, working for the Chara to police the streets and fight the fires. They also played the role of the top merchants. The perfect solution for the rulers since the Amryno made their homes in the middle of the island. From their perch, they kept the rest of the island’s residents from removing the Chara who sat on top of the heap.
Stupid move! Learn to keep your cursed mouth shut!
“I’m not a Guryo!” he spoke with a whisper.
Sure, Hilko lived among the tunnel rats. Barely considered human on Charax, the lowest class always got the short end. Guryos were a class unable to climb into the merchant guilds or, better yet, to become an Endye. Instead, they remained Charax’s social outcasts, who lived like the rats they ate. Still, Hilko considered himself above those who lived in the abandoned shafts that covered the lower half of the island.
Following the familiar route, Hilko’s eyes slowly adjusted to the near-total blackout of the backstreets. No oil lamps showed the way for those in the back alleys. However, a good smuggler needed to know each twist and turn like the back of his hand. Besides, Hilko’s eyes perceived things in the dark far better than most people. Few knew of his ability to see like a cat, and he used it for his survival. Hilko spotted tripwires and traps long before others. His ability also helped him find the right places to get lost, and the hidden entrances back into the streets. It also kept food and drink in his belly when he worked for other gangs as a guide through the alleyways.
Unlike many people he knew around the docks and tunnels, Hilko was not born in the tunnels. He was an orphan, from an unknown caste. He had no family. While stories came to him about orphans taken up into the higher castes, Hilko had no luck in his favor. Instead, he ended up in with the tunnel rats. Partially raised by a drunk old man who lost his arm in a mining accident, Hilko hit the streets after his surrogate father died. He remembered the man’s delirium after drinking a bad batch of tunnel water.
That’s why I’m an Endye!
To get away from his station, Hilko smuggled things for the tunnel dwellers and the powerful. Therefore, he resented people like Wolk for assuming that he carried the same cursed lineage. Few the tunnel dwellers could do his work. Hilko snuck items for trading to the pirates who lay offshore. He also returned from the beach with precious goods for the wealthy. His small stature gave him a slight advantage, but the young man carried confidence along with his toughness. Hilko remained dead sure that he could rise above the worst situations.
As Hilko worked his way through the dark alleys, his mind returned to his recent chase. When he thought about the Chara, Hilko automatically spit on the ground. It was a learned behavior taught from childhood when they spoke of the Chara rulers. They mockingly called them Faters from a famous mocking line in a tunnel rat song.
Condemned by chance, Guryos knew justice never came from Faters!
His success at smuggling to the lepers reinforced his belief that he stood outside the island city’s strict social caste structure. He saw people for what they were, not what class they were born into. Hilko held a degree of independence that most only hoped for.
The smuggler slowed as he came to the turn where five alleys met. Occasionally, other tunnel rats gathered there, making it dangerous to anyone not careful. The faint yellow glow from a few windows high above gave him enough light to see into the shadows along the path. Peaking around the corner, he breathed a sigh of relief.
Nothing moved in the dim light.
Occasionally, the lowest dregs gathered in packs along this stretch of the alley to rob and kill. They used tripwires for the unwary who came into the alleys. Once the unsuspecting prey announced their presence, the packs would bring out their oil lamps to encircle the victim like sharks. In the dark of the alleys, those who failed to spot the traps became a toy of the gang, after losing their possessions. Gangs kidnapped, raped, and occasionally murdered those unable to escape or fight back. It was the first rule of survival on Charax. Fight back or prepare to live as someone’s slave.
Hilko noticed the twinkle of a few stars in the night sky. Heavy clouds brought in misty rain to cover the island like a wet, cold blanket most of the time. For the smuggler, the open sky felt like freedom. That was the reason he found his unusual accommodation above a warehouse. Hilko enjoyed looking out at the stars instead of seeing the yellow lights along the top of the island that reinforced the oppression.
Occasionally, he dreamed of a life at the top of the island. In his fantasy, Hilko saw himself as a leader over Charax. Instead of living among those who ate the finest food and bathed regularly, his imagination enjoyed the urge to smash the entire rotten system. Living among the downtrodden left Hilko with a cynical streak, but he kept one thing that many tunnel dwellers lost.
His hope!
Inhabitants of the island knew their leaders had descended from the heavens from the start. Engrained into their worldview by the priests, the rulers remained infallible, even at the loss of their benevolence. Since the first king of Charax brought the miners to this island, the Chara made the rules.
And we’re supposed to grovel at their feet!
Hilko spit on the ground out of habit at his thought as he turned down the path to the tunnels. His thoughts turned back to the reason for his displeasure with Regaar. Aside from the fact that he rightfully feared the king of the tunnels, Hilko also recognized his employer only tolerated him for his smuggling skill. A revelation suddenly struck him.
That theft in the Upper Quarters!
Hilko’s lack of knowledge about the snatch before it happened left him exposed. He was the only one willing to enter the leper colony. Hilko needed to know when to lie low and ensure Regaar told the right people to give him an alibi. Wolk would not be chasing him unless he heard something about the heist. Baiters did not care if you stole it or smuggled the item they caught you with. A nagging worry crawled into the smuggler’s mind as he took the familiar third turn just before the alleyway opened to the street.
What if Regaar found another way to get smuggled goods to the lepers?
As he rounded the corner, the smuggler almost said the words aloud while carefully scanning the area. He knew every crevice and nook in the area that stank of rotten garbage and excrement from broken pipes coming from the buildings. He once boasted to his friend, Silna, that he could have run through the maze of alleys leading to the entrance to the main tunnel while blindfolded and asleep.