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Rated: 18+ · Chapter · Action/Adventure · #2179114
Chapter Two
Chapter 2
Poisoners
Ublin lugged Justin into the back of the cab, lying him down, and sat next to the Brownie,
“Nice to see you Bim.”
“Wish I could say the same, Ublin.” The Brownie driver said in dismay, “This more Fair Fighters business?
“Not me this time, Bim. It’s this lad here,”
“God, he looks almost human! Magic was it?”
“Magic,” Ublin nodded, “and humans.”
“Ublin, if this involves the Poisoners…” Bim said warningly,
“It doesn’t Bim – not yet anyway.” Ublin replied, “Don’t worry, no one will know you got me home tonight.”
“Good. If the boss finds out…”
“Aye, I know. I know.” Ublin grumbled.
Justin’s fingers throbbed painfully, he was only dimly aware of what was going on.
“I’m sorry…” He moaned, “I’m sorry…”
“Not your fault lad. Accidents happen,” Ublin said.
“Rudimancy was it?” Bim said quietly.
“Aye,” He replied,
Bim looked into the mirror at Justin and said “This’ll be all over the newspapers tomorrow,” with a hint of discomfort in his voice, “So what did you do, burn down a few trees?”
“No." Ublin said. “I don’t think you should know, Bim. If the Poisoners come knocking…”
Bim sighed, “Fair enough, Ublin. One of these days I’m going to stop driving for Fair-Folk. It all gets too political for me.”
Ublin apparently ignored him and looked over his shoulder at Justin. “Sorry about the blood.” He said
Bim exclaimed, angrily “You'll be paying for that Ublin!”
“Glad to.”
The cab driver grumbled again in response.

They pulled up outside Justin’s flat. His body throbbed with pain as Ublin hoisted him out of the car, the world was swaying. Somehow he could still smell burning flesh. He grunted the number of his flat and Bim waved them off and sped away. Thus began a long and painful trip up four flights of stairs,
“Come on! One foot after the other!” Ublin commanded,
Justin felt his mouth go dry, the filthy black and yellow tiled floor under his feet was swaying, “I think I’m going to faint,”
“No you’re not, cos you’ll go toppling down the stairs and you’ll take me with you.” Ublin replied, “That’s it, keep going,”
Justin’s ribs were on fire, every step was agony. Even with Ublin’s support he felt that he couldn't keep going for much longer. Then after a long while, they finally came to Justin’s door. It opened a mere moment after Ublin knocked on it. “Justin!?" George exclaimed. He looked at Ublin, "What on earth have you done to him?”
“He's done it to himself, lad. Out of the way, now.” Ublin said and barged his way into the room, pushing past George. Ublin dropped Justin onto the battered sofa, and he grunted in pain as he landed.
“I think I know you.” George said, suspiciously. “You’re Ublin Drukliss, leader of the Fair Fighters. What on earth is going on here?"
“He attacked some humans. Young ones.” Ublin said, gravely.
“He…what?” George looked down at Justin in disbelief, “This young man right here? Just attacked them?”
“One of them may have been a Poisoner’s son. It was an accident, a retaliation, if you like.”
“I didn’t even know he could do magic!” George exclaimed in surprise.
Justin couldn’t keep his eyes open. "I'm sorry," He groaned.
George lifted Justin’s hands carefully,
“That’s bad Rudimancy. Was it explosive?”
“No.” Ublin shook his head,
George looked confused, he examined Justin’s hands again. “These wounds suggest it was a short spout not a fully controlled wave, well that’s good. Surely the victims will only be a little...
“Three are dead, one scarred for life.”
George pursed his lips as he examined Justin’s wounds, he glared at Ublin, “You’re sure? You’re sure they died?”
“I was walking back to the Fair side through the park. That’s what I saw, what’syername?”
“George.”
“Aye. I know what I saw,” Ublin said. “He’s for it if we don’t protect him,”
George glanced down at Justin, “I think he’s passed out,” he gently tapped his friend’s face. And he was right, Justin was aware of nothing more for a while.



Justin woke with a start, he gasped and tried to sit up. Someone forced him back down,
“Keep calm, lad,” A husky, northern voice barked, “Don’t want us to go up in flames.”
Justin panted, he gripped the sides of the sofa and looked around wildly. Then he examined his hands, he had felt certain they were on fire, or had he dreamed it?
He became more aware of himself, began to feel the dull ache of his ribs, the sharp pains that throbbed on his eyes, his mouth, his nose. He looked up to see George, wrapped in a blanket on the ripped old armchair next to the sofa.
“Your hands should be healed completely now. I've done my best for the wounds from the beating, but it’s been a while I’m afraid. And the reason you’re not waking up in the hands of the Poisoner’s is this imp’s doing.”
Justin suddenly realised he recognised the grizzled imp standing over him, “You, again!?”
“You’re welcome, lad.” Ublin replied,
Justin looked at George frantically, he tried to sit up, Ublin pushed him down again, “This imp’s been following me around all day, George! He was on the bus, and then at work and now I wake up here and…”
George frowned, “You don’t remember how you got here?”
Justin shook his head, “I remember leaving work…then, nothing.”
Ublin glanced at the concerned brownie, “ Are you going to tell him or am I?”
There was a pregnant pause as Justin looked confusedly at George, then back at Ublin,
“What’s going on?” He asked,
George glanced at Ublin, “Well…I’m not sure exactly what happened.”
“You attacked some humans, lad. Left them in a bad way, one of them was a Poisoner’s son.” Ublin said coldly, straight-to-the-point.
Justin absorbed the news for a moment then shook his head, “I wouldn’t attack a human…”
“You would if you were angry.” George tried to reassure him.
Justin put his head in his hands, “No…not again…not again!”
“Make a habit of this do you?” Ublin asked, sardonically.
George stood up. “Justin, you need to remain calm for at least the next 24 hours. If you lose control again…”
“I won’t!” Justin exclaimed, he glared at him, “Since when were you a healer?"
“A long time ago in the North, but that's irrelevant. How many times has this happened?” George asked.
“When I was 7, one of the teachers at the orphanage in St Austell was beating this young imp changeling. I intervened and she started beating me instead, I ended up freezing her.”
Ublin burst out laughing, and George rolled his eyes.
“Do you know what it’s called?” He asked, he sank back down onto the armchair.
“What it’s called?”
“The magic you exert when you’re provoked.”
“Rudi…rud…” Justin faltered, he shook his head, “I know it's something like that.”
“Rudimancy.” A look of immense burden flickered over George’s face suddenly, he laced his fingers and sat back in the chair, which creaked under his weight. He looked up at Ublin, and in a quiet voice said, “I’ve failed him, haven’t I?”
Ublin frowned.
George put his face in his hands, “You just looked so human, Justin. When they put me in this flat with you, I saw you were a pixie-changeling. I never considered that you might have magic…Rudimancy killed my wife you know. He paused, his eyes shone as he stared ahead for a few moments, Then he excused himself and hurriedly left the room.
“There’s still time for you to be taught, lad.” Ublin said, as soon as George had left.
Justin frowned.
“It’s too late for me to go to an academy,”
“You don’t need an academy, lad. I can teach you." The imp shoved his hands in his pockets “You know anything about the Fair Council?”
"No. And I don't want to if I want to carry on living." Justin said stalwartly.
“You’re the perfect little Changeling aren’t you? Get a work-permit, live your life invisible while the Poisoners do their nasty work right under your nose.”
“Hey! Look, I don’t like it either…it’s just, I can’t deny my human blood…”
“But you’re quite willing to deny your pixie blood,” Ublin looked disgusted, “How’s this for a proposition? I teach you our ways. In return you work for my organisation,”
“Organisation?”
“A simple political movement of like-minded Fair –Folk, we’re approved by the Council too. After tonight you'll need our protection anyway,”
“Are you with the AHC?” Justin asked.
“No!” Ublin exclaimed, scandalised. “Who’d want to rule over humans anyway? No, I gathered the Fair Fighters thirty years ago now. We’re wiser than Dain Cedarwood and his horrible lot. They just make things worse. So what do you say? My teachings, for your service.” Ublin briefly glanced to the door that George had exited.
Justin paused, it sounded much more attractive than working at O’Kelly’s. Yet there was still something that stirred a deep discomfort in him.
“I just don’t think it’s me…you know, fighting…”
Ublin looked at him for a moment, he grinned, “Neither did I, lad.”
Silence fell, Justin felt a terrible knot of guilt in his gut.
“I don’t remember killing anyone…” He said. “I don’t remember it at all.”
“You won’t last long on these streets on your own, lad. They’ll be out in droves to hunt you down, Poisoners and citizens alike.”
“Can I at least think about it?”
Ublin chuckled again, his black eyes sparkled towards him, “Aye, lad. You have a good long think…plenty of time…”
He crossed the room to the window, and twitched open the mouldy blinds a little. Outside, he noticed a small green light, flashing on the balcony of the flat opposite. He narrowed his eyes, and saw a full-blooded pixie, white with fear, waving his arms desperately over the tiny beacon. His lips were moving silently, desperately as he cried out the warning all Fair-Folk in the republic dreaded to hear.
“Shit…” Ublin whispered.
George came back in, he looked drained. Ublin beckoned him over, pointed towards the window,
“I don’t think you need to tell me what that means,”
George’s eyes opened wide, his mouth fell open, “How did they…how…?”
Ublin shoved him aside and pulled Justin to his feet, who cried out in pain.
“The Poisoners are coming, lad. They’ve found us.”
“What?! I thought we were safe!”
A look of terrible realisation flickered over Ublin’s face,
“They must have got Bim.”
“What are we going to do?” George asked.
“We’ve got to get him out, now! I know where we can go, I know someone who’ll keep us safe, and she’s well off the Poisoners’ radar.” Ublin pointed at Justin “Go, get essentials, we’re leaving now.”
“But…but!”
“You idiot, just go!” Ublin turned Justin around and shoved him forwards. He limped towards his bedroom, grabbed a battered, ancient bag that had been with him since his admittance into the St Austell orphanage and put all the items he’d ever owned in.
Most importantly, under his pillow was the golden acorn necklace, his oldest possession.


“I can’t come with you,” George said, when Justin had re-entered the room,
“You’re an idiot if you stay. A dead idiot.” Ublin said.
“I need to help get the neighbours out. Mrs Nightshade upstairs – she won’t leave unless someone tells her to. ”
George, what do you mean you’re not coming?” Justin asked,
A few vehicles pulled up outside, then there was the slamming of doors, and angry shouting. Ublin looked out of the window, and saw Bim in the grip of Legion officers.
“We’re out of time,” Ublin looked at George.
He placed his hands on Justin’s shoulders,
“I hope you stay safe. We’ll meet again soon, when things have calmed down, I’ll try and come back North.”
“George…come with us,” Justin begged. “It’s safer with Ublin,”
A doubtful look flicked across George’s face.
There was the crash of the door a few floors down, the shouting intensified, followed by screaming and the Poisoner’s guns firing. George glanced at Ublin and narrowed his eyes,
“Be careful, Justin. Until we meet again.” He said, quietly. Then all three rushed out, George clambered up the stairs to Mrs Nightshade’s flat. Ublin thrust his hand towards the light above the centre of the stairwell and it flared orange and went out, plunging the halls into darkness. He pulled Justin into a shadowy corner and waited. The shooting intensified, the air was thick with wailing. Justin felt sick, shaky, he could feel a starkly familliar white-hot poker of wrath in his gut. His palms started to itch, started to heat up. Ublin seemed to sense this, he whispered furiously in Justin’s ear,
“You’d better keep a lid on that, lad,”

Justin tried to block out the noise of the massacre, put his hands over his ears, closed his eyes. Then Ublin dragged him further against the wall and Justin opened his eyes to see one of them. She was dressed in a lime green jacket and trousers, with a scarf over her mouth and nose. It only served to frame her piercing eyes, that gleamed like orbs in the darkness. The Poisoner looked around wildly, pointing her gun into the dark corners, then she turned and stared right at Ublin and Justin. A strange feeling came over Justin then, the world went hazy as though they’d slipped out of it slightly. The Poisoner was staring right at them, yet the outline of her form was wavering, as though they were looking at her from above the surface of the sea. The Poisoner turned around, again, as though she had seen nothing. Ublin started to manoeuvre Justin silently, through the hall, and down the stairs. Everything could still be heard, but it was dulled, the screaming, the shots, there was a roaring in Justin’s ears that blocked out everything. They managed to avoid the Poisoners without being seen, despite walking right in front of their faces. On their way down to the second floor, Justin glanced inside the open door to number 15 and saw the grizzly sight of a dead brownie, a bullet hole in his head. He yelped in shock and shuddered. Ublin squeezed his shoulder, threateningly. They left the building out of the back, walked quickly out into the cool night. Once Ublin had released Justin, the strange veil that had filmed his vision and hearing disappeared. Ublin panted, doubled over, he didn’t speak for a moment. Then he straightened up, and wiped away the blood that was streaming from his nose, Justin stared at him in disbelief,
Ublin got his breath back, he looked up at the building, and saw that flames had begun to grow. Justin was silent, unable to speak, he glanced up at the scene of destruction and felt numb,
Justin looked up at Mrs Nightshade’s flat, where George was hiding, and felt sick.
“He’ll get out, won’t he?” Justin asked.
The flames climbed higher and higher.
© Copyright 2019 Martha Callaghan (mcecallaghan at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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