by Scott Moore
Miles and Sammy didn’t get another word in as the man in charge of the journey yelled a command to begin the march. The pace started slow, the old horse that Miles walked behind trotted, and that meant Miles could drag his feet behind him. Sammy traveled a few paces behind Miles.
Sammy hoped that the king’s city didn’t treat them like this one. He didn’t know the importance of the king or why these soldiers were in such a gripe to get to him, but he hoped they were nicer there. The only man who didn’t seem excited to see this so-called king stood beside him Miles always seemed to ball into tight fear at the mention of the king.
That alone made Sammy think a second about meeting the man called King. Sammy had witnessed Miles slaughter men, kill demons, and be beaten to a pulp, but the mention of the king brought out the most emotion in him. Even the fear of the creatures that came from nothing elicited less emotion than the king’s name. The fear of death paled in comparison and that made Sammy wonder. It didn’t bring any real emotion to Sammy, however. Sammy still couldn’t bring himself to feel fear. He just felt an overwhelming curiosity, but not a strong urge to fulfill that curiosity.
They walked in silence until the city gates were well out of view. Miles walked with his head down and his eyes on his feet. Miles could have been asleep for all Sammy knew. The rhythm of his legs carried him at such a lazy pace.
Until the soldier walking near them slapped the gray horse in its flanks and caused it to jolt forward. Miles lunged forward stumbling and trying to keep his balance. The horse didn’t run long, and that saved Miles from eating the dirt. The soldiers all laughed at the jest. Miles looked up with his blood crusted face and seemed to have a new hatred building behind those swollen slits he called eyes. Sammy had seen the look before and it meant death came, but Miles didn’t make a move to pull on his restraints. Instead, he tucked his head and continued to walk on in silence.
They repeated the joke several times as the walk grew tiresome. Sammy could see the soldiers growing restless and bored. The more boredom filled them, the more they messed with Miles and the gray horse. Miles continued to keep his balance and refused to fall for the soldier’s amusement, but Sammy noticed the hatred continuing to grow with each passing hour.
Sammy didn’t bother with the soldiers and they didn’t bother with him. Almost like they didn’t notice his presence or didn’t care. They didn’t pass him the water skin as it made the rounds. They didn’t pass it to Miles either, but they taunted him with it, spitting water into his face. Sammy felt no desire for the liquid, but noticed the men needed it more and more as time passed.
Houses and farms sprouted by midday. The small one or two bedroom homes housed farmers and people too poor to live in the city. Sammy noticed that the folk came from their homes and stared long and hard at Miles. Some followed them for a short distance and heckled Miles, seeing him tied to the back end of a horse made them braver. The more courageous of the children and men threw rocks, hitting Miles in the head and shoulders. Miles didn’t speak a word to them, like the soldiers who had hit him; Miles only looked at them as if etching their faces into his mind. Sammy knew that the look was more than one of hatred. It promised that if he ever saw them again, they would not breathe another breath.
The further they parted from the city gates, the more ragged the roads became. Sammy noticed that the way Miles had led them to Delvi seemed to be much better kept and didn’t understand why this area was so downtrodden. The soldiers didn’t make a comment on the conditions and Sammy refused to make conversation with them. It seemed there were many things he wouldn’t understand along this trip. He wouldn’t know why the people hated Miles, or why the soldiers tied him behind a horse, or who the king was, or why they were going there. So many questions with no answers.
At the end of the first day, the men untied Miles from his horse. They put a small piece of rope around his feet and threw him up against a tree.
“Run if you feel the need, but you won’t make it far. Not out here and not with us behind you.”
The men all gathered about ten yards away from Miles. Miles could have gotten up and ran off. He may have even made it a good distance before being caught, but in his state, Sammy didn’t know for sure if he could even move. Miles said nothing as Sammy came near him and sat down. The grass cooled after a long day of walking and it felt good against his skin. Miles groaned and scooted back into the tree, leaning his head against the trunk. His eyes were shut. He could have been sleeping, or they were too swollen to hold them open any longer.
They sat this way for several minutes. Sammy watched the soldiers gather up sticks from the surrounding trees and make a fire. He had witnessed Miles do the same thing on their first night together. The men cooked meat and swilled the strong, smelling liquid that Miles drank at the village bar. None of them paid any mind to Sammy or Miles. They seemed to have nothing on their minds but loud laughter and the drink.
Miles groaned again beside him.
“Why are you here?” Sammy asked him.
Miles groaned and didn’t answer. Sammy stared at him for a moment, waiting. Then asked another question instead. “Who is the King?” Miles groaned again and turned his head away. “Where does he live?” Sammy asked. Miles turned a moment and looked at Sammy with his swollen eyes.
“He lives in a fucking castle,” he said and turned again.
This time he wouldn’t answer another question and there would be no point in asking. So instead, Sammy turned his attention back to the group of men around the fire. Their cups were still being filled with that strong, smelling liquid. The more they drank the happier they became. Sammy leaned against the tree. He didn’t grow tired or feel the need for the food or drink. He just sat there in silence awaiting whatever came next.
31
Nov had nothing left but the panic formulating inside his chest. His life forfeit, his honor eroded, and loyalty closed in a room far from his reach. He had failed Earl, failed the city of Sera and failed himself.
The Groundborn had tramped through the city streets. Doing less damage than a hundred of those bastards could have. They toppled carts, killed horses, broke store front signs, but did not kill a single vagabond or merchant.
A stroke of luck that the streets had been built to guide the gates into the soldiers' barracks. Right after the soldiers and merchants were the winding streets, streets that broke off in seven directions, one toward the homes of the middle-class citizens, one toward the pleasure district–where men avoided their wives–then the tavern district, the nobles district, the council quarters, the poor district—but no one talked about this sore of the city—finally the entertainment district, which in reality became a place for those with coin and ambition to gather. Tonight, everyone gathered down that winding path of the entertainment district, and the Groundborn piled down it in hordes.
They had known, Nov and Alti, that the noise and lights would call to them like a beacon. They had streamed to the ball tower as if a ship called by a lighthouse—at least that is how the history books remembered ships.
The guilt roiled Nov’s insides. He had vomited several more times on his way down the stairs. He had eaten very little the last week and the act of bringing it up burned his throat and racked his sternum. Nothing to do to help ease his mind. All he wanted to do was reach the Groundborn.
Even as he ran toward the ball, he thought of the promise to the woman. He had promised himself too.
Then he thought of the promise he had made to the city of Sera long ago; to protect her from those bastards, and he had broken that promise already. What was another promise now?
Nov heard the first screams from the party goers. He had expected panic and screams. Nothing that his mind had not hardened for, but the wall of his emotions broke down like a mud hut in a rainstorm. He was filled with regret and self-pity, something he had never allowed himself before.
Earl had told him that self-pity stayed reserved for the weak minded, but Nov didn’t feel weak
. He felt sick, but not weak. He could still make it to the ballroom. Could wield his sword alongside the woman and take his fair share of those fuckers to the afterlife with him.
Sure, he would perish, but after today his life meant nothing anyhow. Better to go out with the sword than on the end of a rope.
He looked out over the street before him. These streets were his home and the last civilization of man. The only place that these people, surrounded by these walls, would ever know; unless they could win this night. If they could win this night, then they could amass and become strong again. Fear would drive them.
Nov heard the sound before he saw the claws. A lifetime of preparing with Earl had him always ready. Even in his haggard state, he knew what came. He turned, ducking under the overhand swipe. His sword came out and hung in front of him before he regained his feet. Blood dripped from the monster’s mouth. Human blood. Someone had caught the attention of this Groundborn before he made it to the party. Nov had been right to break the promise, or at least he convinced himself of that now.
With a steeled hand Nov drove forward. The Groundborn were strong and had weapons on their hands and in their mouths, but they lacked the most basic fighting skills. Earl had always said that even with all their tools, they lacked the most important one; a brain.
Nov pushed the claws to the side with his sword and twirled into the guard of the Groundborn. The creature yelled and the hot breath filled Nov’s next inhale with the stink of death. He moved under the creatures other outstretched arm and came up right behind the back of the howling beast. Nov did not hesitate to drive his sword into the Groundborn’s back. If there were one thing, he was confident about at this moment, he had to kill this thing.
The Groundborn hailed a last cry into the dark. Nov drew out his sword and shoved it in a second and then a third time. The beasts weren’t smart and while that provided an advantage, Nov had always told Earl it made them harder to kill as well, because they were just too stupid to realize when they were dead. A fifth slash severed the creature’s spine, and it fell to the pathway. Nov could taste the black blood of the creature on his lips. Funnily enough, this did not make him want to puke. It only drove him on. He turned from the fight and looked toward the noble district. From where he perched on the streets he could not see past the homes and buildings, but he knew where they went and he started to let his boots take him there.
***
Alti had to take a moment to think. Something had gone wrong with her plan. It should have been just her and the Groundborn. The screams behind her grew louder. The Groundborn were swarming. One lifted a petite girl from her feet and ripped at her arm with its teeth. The meat and muscle tore away as if paper cut with a sword. She did not scream, could not scream, the creature moved quickly and clawed at her throat. Her blood soaked the others around her and fell to a puddle on the floor.
She had already failed. She could no longer hold her promise to Nov. With that death everything she said became a lie. [CF7]She could have beaten the gremory. Could have vanished them all, but not her siblings. The black holes would wink out as quick as she could make them. Four against one. Not good odds, at least not for her.
“What are you doing here, Alti?” The voice familiar and smooth made her shiver. Her youngest brother had always had a sweet tongue. He moved his hand, pulling down his hood and revealing his long, black, curled hair. Eyes pierced her with accusation. How had they known she would be here? How had they known the gates would open?
Her father wouldn’t waste them on a scouting mission. Sera was nothing to her father, not anymore. He had conquered its people long ago. Sera was dying. Sera to her father already died. That is why she had started here. She thought she would be safe in Sera, away from her father’s prying eyes. But the time she thought she would have ended before it started.
“Alti,” her brother’s voice echoed in her ears.
She watched all four of her siblings as best she could. Would they kill her? She doubted her father would enjoy that too much, but she had disobeyed him. Maybe he had sent them to kill her.
“Myko, you do not understand what is happening here,” Alti replied.
She knew he didn’t care, but it was the best tactic she had. She would stall them. Another woman died in front of her. Only Hamms had pulled his sword from its scabbard. He no longer had the body of a soldier, but Alti knew that at a time he had been trained, even if ages ago. Hamms killed the creature as it tore into the woman’s stomach.
“I do not, sister. That is why I ask again. What are you doing here, Alti?”
She had no answers to sooth them. She couldn’t beat them all could she? It had to come to that. They were here, and they weren’t leaving until Sera faded. Her fault. She had been sloppy.
“I have to save them, Myko. You don’t understand what I have promised.”
Myko didn’t care what she had promised. Her father’s second favorite child. Her mother had no bearing on his conscience.
“Sister, if you go home now Father is more apt to let you walk unrestrained in the kingdom. If we must force you home, you will suffer, and no one here wants that.”
With his charm she almost believed him. She could almost hear the sympathy in his words. But she knew him. She knew his capabilities. She knew the wounds he had inflicted on those who were unsuspecting. He wasn’t the strongest of her siblings, not by far, but he had a certain way with people that made him very dangerous.
“I can’t go back. Not yet.” She used all her effort to stay calm. Her mind raced, and she had but one choice to make.
The light shot from her hands like a dart. It hit Stil—Alti’s older sister—in the chest. Stil crumpled to the ground. She wouldn’t die from the dart alone, but she wouldn’t be in the rest of the fight.
Alti blocked a dart from Myko. She shot one in return which he pushed to the side, it hit one of the Groundborn and stopped the creature in its tracks. The Groundborn would die from the dart, only those who practiced the way of her father could withstand the lethal darts.
Another dart flew past her head. Shot from behind which would have been another of her sisters, Uli. Alti rolled from the center of the floor and put her back to the Groundborn. They would not come into this battle, not with the easy feast of nobility in front of them.
Alti just hoped more had brought swords to the party. She could still hear the grunts of Hamms [CF8]as he fought to save the entire room. That man would fall and fail, but at least he had tried.
Alti dodged another dart and threw one back. If captured, Alti didn’t doubt where her siblings would take her. What would her father do? He was not the type of man to forgive and forget. She doubted he would kill her. Eternity was such a long time that he would try to forge her into a model daughter. He would torture and shape her with pain, but she doubted he would give her a quick death.
Alti rolled and threw another dart and then another. The first batted away, but Uli misread the second and had to fall to the floor to avoid it.
“Stop fighting, sister.” Myko had moved across the room. He tried to use the cover of the Groundborn and nobles.
Alti took a quick glance at the crowd. The Lady Duchesses had moved from their tables. They stood in the back of the room shielded by a wall of nobility and hopefuls. Only Hamms [CF9]had drawn his sword still, and he fought with some vigor, but his energy wouldn’t hold up forever.
“We can end this now. Sera will fall with ease, and we can tell father it was your doing. He will reward you for this, Alti.” Myko still moved through the crowd.
Alti knew throwing a dart would kill the humans and Myko knew it too. He played at her weakness. Uli took the time to get back to her feet. She did not bother throwing a dart, instead she charged at Alti full speed.
Alti could stand and try to combat her sister, but it wasted time. Time that Myko would use to subdue her, and time that the Groundborn would use to end this fight.
Alti threw up a shield on her mind, the void entered, and a
black hole appeared in front of her; she stepped through it. Something only she could do, a power her father had not meant for her to learn. She could control the locations of her own movement. She did so to bring herself out at another location in the ball room. A location right behind Myko. He didn’t have the slightest chance of blocking as Alti threw a right hook into his exposed jaw.
Myko stumbled forward into the crowd. Alti could see the building carnage caused by the Groundborn. Bodies lay open and exposed in death all around the ballroom. The vicious creatures tore with their teeth and claws into flesh. Blood pooled all around, reminding her in each drop how much she had failed.
Alti paused for too long. Uli moved slowest of her siblings, but she still moved much faster than a human counterpart. Her dart breezed over the shoulder of Alti—bad aim—but her boot met the small of Alti’s back, sending her to a knee. She couldn’t lose, not here, not now. She watched as a young man fled behind his wife. The Groundborn ripped her throat with its claws and jumped toward the man feasting on his face. Her fault.
Uli moved to her side and drove a fist into her ribs. Alti bent forward and gasped for breath. Hamms with his sword danced into her vision. He still moved gallantly and drove his sword through another Groundborn. The man knew enough to dance in and out of the crowded room, using the others as cover. He couldn’t save everyone, and he was smart enough to realize this. How many of the creatures had he been able to kill? She didn’t have time to count as Uli pulled her foot back for another kick.
Alti watched the boot stream for her face, but she didn’t stay dormant, she rolled onto her back. It only took seconds for her mind to clear and the void to open behind Uli. Uli’s kick missed, swinging through the air where Alti had been moments before. Alti took advantage and shot two quick darts into her sister’s shoulder and midsection. Uli stumbled back and went right through the void. She disappeared.
