Groundborn

by Scott Moore

  Without Miles, Sammy would have gotten nowhere. As the sun started to dip into the ground, Miles slowed up the horses. Sammy hadn’t noticed, but the trees had thinned out here. An open expanse stretched before them with nothing but hills for as far as Sammy could see. The road stopped moving straight and jutted into two separate directions.

  Miles hopped off his horse and moved toward a wooden post. There were two arrows. One of them said Helmen, and the other said Delvi. Sammy didn’t know what either of them meant.

  “We can’t go back here,” said Miles, pointing to the sign that said Helmen. “That is death, destruction, and beasts that pop from the ground.” Miles looked toward the other sign. “So, I guess we shall try our luck in Delvi.”

  ***

  Miles had never visited the city of Delvi. Far too low for an aspiring lord of the kingdom. However, he did know a bit about it. He knew that if he was to live any longer in this world his best bet was the City of Desire. In Delvi one could find anything.

  Top of the line women. Assassins, Disappearers, sell-swords, the works; if someone could dream it up then Delvi could provide it. Every guard in the kingdom yearned for a placement in Delvi. Finding a lump of gold in your boot may have been the only thing better. If placed in Delvi, guards didn’t guard ever again.

  The king said one thing about Delvi. “Every kingdom must have a place for rebellion and distrust, such that it doesn’t run out into the world, we trap it in the walls.”

  A place for thieves, whores, and murderers, but that didn’t stop people from being drawn into the idea. The city grew and grew as the word got around that anything went. People packed their bags and traveled from all links of the world just to see the City of Desire. To never want again became the motto. More likely that most of them found death, robbery, and pillage. However, the select few that prospered in the city prospered beyond belief. Some were even said to own more than the king himself, but wives’ tales traveled far.

  Miles didn’t plan to stay too long in the city. He didn’t look for riches or whores. He searched for a way out. A way to become someone else, maybe a merchant, or a farmer in the depths of the country; it all sounded dreadful, but it beat the alternative of being dead.

  So, he traveled toward the city with the desire to become a no one. To hide the rest of his years in someone else’s identity. To be forgotten. The group there called themselves the Disappears and claimed that once they moved someone were never heard from again. The only hope Miles had to escape the king would be to find them. His last resort and if it failed, then Miles would disappear for good. Another creaky rope on the walls.

  He tried to push that image from his mind. Driving his boot into the side of the horse. He could feel the creature flinch with the pain of the heel. The bastard started to run though, faster toward the city. He heard Sammy do the same thing behind him. Poor simple bastard didn’t even know what he got himself into.

  21

  Nov agreed to see Alti one last time before going through with the final phase of her plan. He wondered if she trusted him. He wondered if he trusted himself.

  He hadn’t even gone to visit Earl to say goodbye. By now he would have missed that chance.

  Nov turned the corner to the local tavern. He didn’t drink much. Unlike the typical soldier, Nov had spent his late nights clanking swords with Earl. Earl didn’t believe in having a good time. He never phrased it that way, but it might as well have been his motto.

  Nov pushed open the wooden doors to Al’s Place. Nov didn’t know Al or know if Al existed, but when Alti suggested they meet the only bar he could think of happened to be this one. It proved to be as good a place as any to wallow in sorrow.

  Nov pulled up a chair. Alti hadn’t arrived yet, so he had a little time to steel his nerves. He would paint a good face for her and pretend that his skin didn’t crawl. The wooden legs scraped across the flooring leaving ruts in the dirt. Nov humored that Al’s hadn’t even bothered with the more conventional wooden planks.

  “Good evening, Nov.”

  Nov about toppled over in his chair. Alti stood before him with her caped hood over her face.

  “How do you keep doing that?” Nov tried to act like he had expected her to pop out of thin air.

  Alti chuckled, the first time he had heard humor from her. Once Nov’s heart stopped skipping, he offered Alti the seat across from him. She sat and stared over the crowd.

  A quiet night. Most people would be at the entertainment district bars. Those were where the drinks were up charged for the fact someone may accidently rub shoulders with someone ascending to power.

  Those that were real nobles had their own set of watering holes. They wouldn’t frequent any of the local establishments. Nov didn’t care to see anyone who tried to excel. He had his lot in life, and after tomorrow night he would probably be swinging from a very high perch anyhow.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Nov almost chuckled. He felt like death.

  “I feel great,” he said.

  A waitress walked over to their table and held out a list for Nov to take.

  “Pretty much the only thing we actually have on that menu is ale and whiskey, but Al says we have to give the menu to everyone.”

  The waitress seemed to hate her lot in life about as much as Nov did.

  “I think I will have a water,” Nov said. His nerves were running high enough without the added paranoia of whiskey and ale.

  “What about you?” the waitress asked Alti.

  “I think I will take some time to look over the menu,” Alti said.

  The waitress scoffed. She wouldn’t be back to the table. Al may come over and usher them out for not buying anything, but they would never see the waitress again.

  “We have to do this,” Alti said.

  Nov drew his attention back to their table. He knew he had to do this. That didn’t make it any easier to do it. Nov drew in a deep breath. Maybe he should have ordered an ale. The numbing properties may have not made this worse.

  He thought about waving the remorseful waitress back over to their table, but he didn’t have the gumption to do it.

  “I know,” Nov said, finally answering Alti.

  She looked away. “I have been here before, just one time.”

  “To Al’s?”

  Nov wondered what Alti would have been doing in a rundown place like this.

  “Not to the bar,” Alti said, turning back toward him. “I mean the city.”

  “Where did you come from?” Nov asked, ignoring her prompting.

  Alti looked hard at the table, thinking about her answer. Whatever she told Nov wouldn’t be the full truth, but he would have to live with the answer. It didn’t matter anyhow. Whatever she said wouldn’t change what he had to do. Even if she lied about everything they had ever talked about, he had to trust that she would follow through with her side of the plan. If he didn’t, then his only other option would be to believe he could do nothing.

  “Far away,” Alti said.

  Nov didn’t press. She had her secrets and she could keep them. If she did what she said she would do tomorrow, she earned those secrets and many more.

  “I do want to help this city, Nov.”

  He believed her. Out of necessity more than her character, but he still believed she would help them.

  “I hope it goes the way you plan. For every ones’ sake,” Nov said.

  He had never been so nervous in his life. Everything felt hard to imagine. It felt like someone else pushed his body through the motions.

  “I will do what I said I would do. Can I count on you to do the same?”

  Nov hoped so. He told himself he would do it. He had tried everything else. The council said no, Hamms laughed at him, and the soldiers ignored him. All he had left to hang his hopes on was Alti. A woman he knew nothing about and a plan that scared the shit out of him.

  What would Earl have done? Nov pushed the notion aside. He didn’t get to ask that question. He was a
coward. Nov tried to put on a smile of confidence.

  “Nov, I need you to be fully committed.”

  Alti’s voice grew stern. Nov didn’t feel any more confident, even if she threatened to be mad at him for his faltering commitment.

  “I plan to do it,” Nov said. “I plan to do exactly what you said had to be done.” Nov ran his hand through his hair. “Then I plan to suffer the consequences knowing that you will gather the troops and save the city.”

  Alti didn’t look pleased at his surety of death.

  “You will lead the troops and they will see why this is important.”

  She believed in the people a lot more than Nov did at the moment. Failing so many times really put a damper on his mood. Still, he tried to convey that he would follow through with things.

  “I changed the names. I will be where I am supposed to be. You can count on that much.”

  Alti sighed. “I will count on you doing your part. Stay on the wall and don’t sway from the plan. It is important that we follow it through completely.”

  Nov shook his head. He would do his best, but that wouldn’t be enough for Alti. She readied to sacrifice her life, so he had to be willing to do so as well.

  “I will do what we talked about,” Nov said.

  “And if you don’t?”

  Alti asked the hypothetical question of what would happen if he got scared and bailed on the plan. He imagined the walls coming down. The splintering shards of wood littering the base of the gates, the claws coming through, the Groundborn storming the masses. Nov pressed his thumbs into the bridge of his nose.

  Nothing he could do to stop it. No sword alone would be able to conquer the beasts. Sera would fall and human life would wink out of existence.

  “I will,” Nov said.

  He didn’t feel like talking about the death of humanity. He had read enough of the histories to know the fear that had traveled from city to city. The pictures were enough to make his hair stand on end and his skin prickle. He wanted those thoughts far from his mind.

  Alti leaned forward. “You need to rest.”

  She stood from her chair. This call had been only to remind him of the importance. She didn’t trust him, but she had no choice. Mutual standings. They were left with no choice. They worked together and hoped for the best, or the world fell, and they died together.

  Nov stood to tell her goodbye, but she left before he could manage it. He chuckled, she was a mystery.

  Where does pleasure come from if not from selfish desires?

  22

  Two days passed on the backs of their new horses before Sammy saw the city. It grew before him, a massive array of stone. Large, loud, and smelling funny. Miles grew happier when it came into view. Miles seemed to be ready for the chance to enter the gates. Hundreds of people were as ecstatic. Sammy missed the open road already. He even missed riding the horse; now they led them by two ropes coming from their mouths. The horses didn't like this much, but they came without a fight. Sammy felt much the same. He went without a fight. Miles must have known better than he did.

  “What a beautiful horse,” said an older man, missing his front two teeth. The man reached out to touch Miles’ horse, but a quick look deterred him. Sammy thought another body for the count, but the man smiled his gapped smiled and backed away hands in the air. It seemed some people in the world were smarter than others.

  Miles continued forward leading Sammy through the dense crowd of people. The smell grew worse and worse as they moved further in. The sounds grew louder, and Sammy couldn’t imagine how anyone could pick out a single thing in all this noise. Yet, it seemed as if hundreds of people were conversing with one another. Guards lined the pathway and held their swords and spears lazily, but they stopped people with loud voices and pretended to give a damn what they were doing.

  “Just keep your head down and don’t say a damn word.” Miles moved in close to Sammy and yelled in his ear. Over the noise, Sammy could barely make out the words. Don’t look at anyone in the eye and don’t draw attention to himself. It seemed easy enough; no one seemed to give a care that he existed anyhow. He could have walked through the entire city and he doubted anyone would say a word to him.

  Miles fidgeted with his sword, like he itched to use it all the time. He feared the crowd, Sammy could tell. He waited for someone to recognize him and draw their swords. Here in this city Sammy doubted Miles could fight off everyone. In the village there had been a few with common tools fighting him, but here the steel shone, and the men looked like they could at least heft the sword’s weight. With so many of them it was enough to fend off even a good sword like Miles.

  Sammy decided that he didn’t like the city. He decided he didn’t like the crowded streets, or the smell, or the sounds. He kept his head down. At least until the spears dropped in front of his chest. Miles had stopped. Two guards stood in front of them with their spears.

  “Welcome to Delvi.”

  ***

  It wasn’t a welcoming sort of greeting. The voice tried much too hard to sound intimidating. Miles reached for his sword, but there were too many of them. Even if they were all out of shape and pudgy around the edges. He waited for the guard to get bored.

  “What is your business here?” the second guard asked. He tried the same edge to his voice, but he looked even softer around the middle, like a pig ready for slaughter.

  Miles didn’t answer. He didn’t have an answer to give. He was here to disappear and even in the city of Delvi—the City of Desire—he didn’t feel the need to announce his intentions to the surrounding crowd.

  The guard tried puffing his chest. Only a certain type of man became a guard. It took some courage, some bravado, but mostly they had to be full of shit and blind to it. Miles decided not to acknowledge the obvious show of size.

  “Dressed for war, friend. Are you here to cause some trouble?”

  Miles almost opened his mouth. They were standing at the edge of the kingdom’s killing grounds. A place where assassins and sell-swords drank with the lords of the manor. Miles glanced at himself, however, covered in day old blood. Even Delvi guards needed to pretend they gave a damn at some point, right?

  Miles looked up and straight into the eyes of the guard. He couldn’t fight them all, but if he went down, then he would go down with a fight. Poor Sammy behind him wouldn’t know what hit him. Maybe the bastard could get away into the crowd and never appear again, but Miles doubted he would even realize the blade when it killed him.

  “Miles Tiro, you crazy motherfucker!”

  Miles didn’t recognize the voice, and he didn’t know the face. It belonged to a younger man than Miles, made clear by the lack of whiskers on his chin. The man moved forward, with a gaping smile plastered on his face. Too happy to be a soldier, but just happy enough to find a post in Delvi. Miles scanned him again, looking for a weakness in his gait, but the boy stood straight; trained with the sword at his hip.

  “It’s me Private Dant,” the man said, extending his hand. Miles didn’t take it right away. “Well now it is Captain Jack Dant.” The man noticed Miles would not shake his hand and moved it to take hold of the guard’s spearhead. “Don’t you two know who this man is?” he asked moving the spear away from Miles’ chest. “This is Miles Tiro.”

  The boy kept talking but Miles couldn’t place him. Miles worried that Dant seemed to know him. That Miles had been a soldier in the king’s army. He had to know that Miles traded the king’s cause, and that Miles had joined the rebels. This was an exercise in futility coming to Delvi. Miles had doubted that he would make it out of the kingdom alive, but Delvi had been his only shot. Caught before he entered the gates and by a boy who hadn’t even fucked a woman.

  “New guys,” the boy continued. He still smiled, but Miles didn’t know why. The boy placed a hand on Miles’ shoulder and guided him toward the gates. Sammy followed wide eyed with wonder. Miles set his hard eyes on the boy and felt the hand slide down, but he didn’t eye his sword or call f
or backup.

  “Delvi is an easy post, but I understand the need for structure.” The boy continued with his mindless dribble of words.

  Miles focused on figuring out who this boy could be and why he hadn’t been put in chains. Not that he wouldn’t go without a fight, but the silver polished metal on the boy’s hip showed him an indication that their weapons weren’t evenly matched.

  “So, are you here to inspect the quarters then?” The boy had stopped in front of a small barracks just inside the city walls. This would be where the men climbed the walls to watch out over the southern entrance to the city.

  Did the boy not know that Miles had fought with the rebels? Was Miles so insignificant that no one knew? He doubted the king would forget, but maybe the smaller soldiers hadn’t heard a damn thing. Miles looked around and saw hundreds of men with shining steel on their belt buckles. Steel that had never seen use a day in its life. Soldiers that wouldn’t know combat if it slapped them in their smiling faces. Miles bit his lip a moment. Play along with the charade or admit he committed treason.

  “Exactly what I am here to do,” Miles said. “But first I have something to take care of in the city.”

  23

  Part three of the plan, his finale. Take his post at the top of the wall and watch the events unfold. Simple. He turned the crank and propped up his feet. Nothing to it, and yet, it felt like the hardest thing he would ever do.

  Harder than the rigorous training with Earl. Harder than his first kill. Harder than losing his parents and joining the ranks of soldiers at fourteen-years-old.

  It made every step toward the wall feel like he pulled his boots from a deep mud puddle. He could feel the sinking. With his hands shoved in his pockets and his head down, he walked at less than a stroll. The haggard beggars would have passed him by.

  Still, he moved toward it. He would really do it. He would go against everything he had ever fought for. Everything that Earl had ever taught him. His stomach felt like several large stones had been deposited into his bowels. His forehead sweat with nervous anxiety.