Dead Men Walking

by Raquel Lyon

  The curse. Yes, she’d read about that. “So, basically, I’m going to be killed. Great. Then I have to escape.”

  “There is no escape.”

  That couldn’t be true, Piper thought. A little lock picking, compelling any weapons the guards might have out of their hands, a few fireballs thrown if necessary; it didn’t seem too hard. She could do all of that when her magic recharged. “Can you explain where we are?”

  “The Tenerie.”

  “I meant describe it.”

  “Oh. It is a pit, a hole in the ground. There are no doors or windows, and no way out except up.”

  Up? No problem. She could do up.

  She craned her neck. Above her the sky had turned to a dark inky-blue. Dawn was coming, and with it, a new day that might well be her last. The pit walls were high, more than fifty feet, she estimated, but fortunately, there didn’t appear to be any bars covering the top.

  “Fine,” she said. “As soon as my magic comes back, I’m out of here. I’ll find my friends and we’ll come back for you, okay?”

  Weak light was beginning to filter down the shaft, illuminating Rhea’s face and dark hair with a pale-grey glow. She was pretty and couldn’t be more than twenty. “It will not come back. Not down here,” she said.

  “Why not?”

  “Do you think if I had my magic I would not have tried to escape? The shield suppresses it.”

  “Shield? What shield?”

  “Up there.” Rhea pointed up to the sky, now a shade lighter. “It is more noticeable in the sunlight, but if you look closely, you can see the edges where it clings to the earth. The Shield Maker renews it every morning and each time somebody comes in or out.”

  “I didn’t know the Voltignis had magic.”

  “They do not. The Shield Maker is a prisoner, too. I heard this one is quite new to the post. The last one died.”

  Piper squinted until she saw a line of blue faintly glimmering about halfway up. It reminded her of one of Lambert’s shields. She pictured his face, and a hollow feeling gnawed at her insides as she scanned the small area and realised they were the only occupants.

  “Rhea? Did you see me arrive? Was I alone?”

  Rhea’s head shook. “I was asleep. I did not know you were here. Were you with someone?”

  “My brother. I have to know if he’s okay.”

  “He might be in the men’s pit.”

  “There are two?”

  “Yes. It is a few feet in that direction,” Rhea said, pointing over Piper’s shoulder.

  Piper looked to the sky. “Lambert! Lambert!”

  Rhea’s hand gripped her arm. “Shh. They always take the loud ones first.”

  “Who does?”

  “The guards.”

  “I don’t care. I need to know if my brother’s alive.”

  “Even if it means you die sooner?”

  “According to you, I’m dead anyway.”

  “Not if you are a descendant.”

  “I doubt that very much. I’m not even a pure blood. My mother is human.”

  If Rhea was surprised by her statement, Piper never found out. Rhea retreated into the shadows as the sound of footsteps crunching over stones grew louder overhead, and a face appeared in the opening.

  “Quiet, down there. Your turn will come soon enough. Shield Maker, do your work.”

  As Piper watched, a man came into view, and her breath hitched. She wished she could see his features better. His face was dirty, his hair and beard longer, and he walked with a limp, but it had to be.

  “Dad?” she shouted.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  A LIGHT RAIN FELL over the land as Septamus stared out of the window of his chamber and secured his belt. He had chosen the day well. The weather was his ally and would offer a small hindrance to the inevitable enemy fire. On a nearby hill, dark dots amassed in the light of the sunrise, as eager as he was to put their plan into action. He could picture them now removing the stash of secretly commissioned aerpilas from their hideouts and psyching themselves for what was to come. He was almost jealous. He missed the days of nervous excitement before a battle. For him, those days had quelled and merged. When it came to killing Voltignis, he was permanently primed.

  He smiled as he turned to exit. Today was going to be a good day.

  In the corridor, he met King Oban coming the other way, looking far too pleased with himself.

  “Ah, Septamus, I was on my way to see you. As you know, today is a very special day. My wife wishes to mark the occasion by taking a ride through the woods where we met. Perhaps you would be good enough to join us?”

  Regardless of his prior schedule, the anniversary of the king’s marriage was something Septamus had no wish to be a part of, and if the king thought his general was going to miss out on a good fight to watch the happy couple cast doe eyes at each other all morning, he was sorely mistaken. “I fear that will not be possible, Your Majesty. A full day’s battle training has already been planned.”

  “Is that really necessary? The army is already well practised.”

  “You do not think the protection of our people necessary?”

  “Twisting my words does not become you, Septamus. I was merely stating that a postponement would not cause detriment.”

  “I beg your forgiveness, but the men are already waiting. I will appoint another guard for your protection.”

  “Very well. If you insist, but be sure to make him a good one, and I shall expect you at the feast tonight.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  The words stuck on Septamus’s tongue as he left his king’s side and headed down the stairway. It became harder for him to say them with each day that passed. Oban did not deserve the title. It belonged to a man of strength, a man who could lead his people to victory, a man such as he, and this day would bring him one step closer to it.

  He entered the armoury and suited up with an impatient haste before issuing the protection orders to a soldier he knew to be loyal. “I want a full account of everything they do: where they go, whom they speak to in passing, even what they say to each other.”

  “May I ask why, sir?”

  Septamus chose his words carefully. “You know the danger the Crown is under. Some of that danger may well be of their own making. Do I have your word on this?”

  “Of course, sir, as always.”

  “Excellent. Meet with them at the stables.”

  Septamus’s feet could not move quickly enough up the winding trail to the meeting point, where the men stood to attention awaiting his arrival. Word had spread. There was a good number, enough to take out any resistance. Flicking a finger to call his seconds in command to his side, he chuckled softly to himself at his choice of the word. If only the king knew.

  “As we discussed, gentlemen, the element of surprise is the order of the day. Burok, you will take the first contingent west. Ramon, you will approach from the east. I will lead the third regiment and station north. You know my signal, and when you see it, we attack. Take out anything that moves, and I mean anything. I want nothing and no one left standing.”

  *****

  The worsening weather could not prevent the wide smile that spread across King Oban’s face as the royal party trotted towards the woods. In a matter of days, he would discover if all his years of planning and secrets had been worth the sacrifice.

  At his side, the long, blonde hair of his beautiful wife flowed behind her in the wind. He had always found it striking. It had been the first thing he had noticed about her when they had met by accident, splayed out over the forest floor as she lay unconscious by his hand. He had often pondered over how different his life would have been had his stun ray hit its actual target and not an innocent girl, but the time they had shared together after the effects had worn off had sealed his fate and made him determined to find peace between their two lands, and he was as much in love with her now as he had been then.

  Those first lonely years of secret meetings and l
ong absences had been agony. His father had paraded woman after woman before him in an attempt to see him suitably matched, but his heart had known what it wanted, and immediately following his father’s death, he had claimed his Voltignis lover for his bride. He had not regretted it for a second.

  The Resistance wanted her dead. He knew that, and he worried every time she left his sight that it was the last he would see of her, but once the royal line was secure and their lands at peace, she would be safe. Until then, he had to ensure she came to no harm from the increasing threat. Septamus had promised that the army had it under control, and every day more members were captured and thrown to the Genicerem, but he couldn’t help thinking some had been missed, if the whispers and stares of his subjects were to be heeded.

  He looked over his shoulder to the soldier following closely behind. His proximity prohibited posing an important question he’d forgotten to put to his queen. He glanced over to her and smiled, thinking she seemed troubled, but he kept his tongue until they made camp on the very spot they had met, all those years ago.

  The inclement weather necessitated the need for more than the blanket they lay upon a short while later, and Oban took a brief peek through the opening of the tent. Noting the soldier leaning against a nearby tree, Oban kept his voice low, unsure as to whether his guard could be trusted.

  “Did you dispatch the last package as planned?” he asked, placing a finger over his wife’s mouth to indicate discretion.

  “I did,” she whispered. “It should be safely in our friend’s hands by now.”

  “Good, good.”

  “And when it is over, Oban, will you promise to pardon his son?”

  “I hardly think that worthwhile when his whereabouts are unknown.”

  “Even after all your friend has done for you and the unfortunate circumstances of the boy’s mother? A pardon would surely ease her passing.”

  Agitation had caused her volume to rise. Oban laid a hand on her arm to quell it. He spoke softly and slowly. “His light is almost certainly extinguished by now. You know as well as I, my darling, a pardon cannot be issued after the candle is spent.”

  Aemylia averted her eyes and flicked a beetle from the blanket. “I do, but it may not be too late. A pardon would free him wherever he may be. Speaking of which, what of the boy in the mines?”

  “He is a thief.”

  She looked up sharply and her brow creased. “A thief of good intent.”

  “But a thief nonetheless.”

  “For which he will have been punished enough come the Revelation.”

  Oban could not bear to see his queen’s beautiful face marred by anger. In his grand scheme, two boys mattered little, and she should not be concerning herself with trivialities. “Perhaps. But let us not talk of such disagreeable things on this auspicious day. I am eager to relive our first meeting, and I order you to speak only happy thoughts, for soon that is all there will be.”

  “I wish I held your optimism, but our dreams have already led to much sadness, and I cannot shake a baleful feeling.”

  “How so, my dear?”

  “I do not trust Septamus.”

  The king huffed. As much as he loved her, she was being absurd. “He is my greatest and most loyal protector.”

  “The way he looks at me, sometimes.”

  “It is true he has never embraced our union, but he has accepted it, as our people have.”

  “Not all of our people,” she mumbled.

  Oban cupped her cheek. “They do not know what you have sacrificed for their future, but all those who have doubted will soon be consoled.” His eyes lowered, and he stroked her protruding stomach tenderly. “And then everyone will embrace you for who you are... their true queen.”

  Chapter Thirty

  EVER SINCE HER father’s disappearance, Piper had imagined his return, and every time, it was different. Now, all those scenes melted away. Finding him like this had never been on her list of scenarios. It couldn’t be him. She’d seen him in her visions wearing opulent clothes and meeting with other men, equally well-dressed. How could he possibly be here wearing rags and working for the Voltignis? She held her breath as she waited for his reply, but it was the guard who spoke.

  “This is your daughter? How interesting.”

  Piper could tell from the angle of the bearded man’s head that he wasn’t looking at her. “That girl is not from my loins,” the man grumbled, his hands twisting as if continuing with his task unaffected.

  “Are you certain of that?” the guard asked. “It would please the emperor to know we have procured another descendant. The other has proven worthless.”

  “I have no daughter,” the man said, dropping his hands. “It is done.”

  Piper’s elation shrivelled in her chest. He looked so much like her father—sounded like him too, if you took away the hoarseness. She couldn’t believe it wasn’t him, but it was clear her mind was playing tricks on her and she was mistaken. Even if the man did look like him, her father would never be so cruel.

  “Pity,” the guard said as the men turned to leave. “Then we will proceed as planned with the boy.”

  Piper’s breath left her chest as she realised the guard was probably talking about Lambert, or maybe Connor, but then wouldn’t he have said ‘one of the boys’ if that were the case? No, it was Lambert. It had to be. She could feel it in her heart. He was about to be put through some sort of ordeal, he probably wouldn’t survive, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  Somewhere in her periphery, she heard a small voice. “They are going to send me to the Arena.” She turned to find Rhea crouched with her hands covering her face.

  “What arena?”

  “Where the type twos train for fighting. All the failures are sent there for target practice. None of them survive.”

  “Well, you’re not going.”

  “You heard him. He was talking about me. I am useless. I cannot do what they want,” she said.

  “I won’t let them take you.”

  “You cannot stop them.”

  Piper placed her arms around the girl’s shoulders. “They have to take me out from under the shield at some point, and when they do, I’ll fight them.”

  *****

  Connor glanced at the horizon. Dawn was approaching, and around him, the first signs of life had begun to emerge for the day. High on the lookouts, new guards replaced old, and shutters were opening on dwellings. He passed the female returning to her laundry with her cart now empty, and market traders setting up stalls in the central square, but kept his head bowed as he wove through the alleyways towards his destination. He’d made a promise to see Piper safely home, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

  When he reached his objective, he hid behind a pile of barrels—wine, if he wasn’t mistaken. Its sweet smell filled his nostrils and made his mouth water. He couldn’t resist turning the spigot and taking a mouthful.

  As the alcohol warmed through his chest, he surveyed the area and noted that the pits were conveniently located in a quieter part of town near a rocky hillside containing a large iron door. Only one guard tower overlooked both the holding area and the fields beyond, and two men were standing beside one of the pits, one dressed in armour, the other in rags. The ragged man was holding his arm out over one of the pit’s edges, and as Connor watched, Lambert was drawn up into the air, contained in an orb of energy. He beat his hands against its confines as he was propelled towards the iron door.

  When he and the two men had disappeared behind it, Connor tripped to the top of the guard tower, landed behind the guard and snapped his neck before he could react. He propped the body up against the wooden post as if it were looking out over the fields, then quickly tripped back down to the pits. Two sleeping men were lying at the bottom of the one Lambert had been taken from, but there was no sign of Piper. He crept over to the other and peered into the depths. Exhaling a breath of relief, he saw her huddled next to another girl. His luck was in. He le
t out a soft whistle to get her attention, and her head jerked up with a frown.

  “You might be keeping us here like caged animals,” she shouted, hugging the other girl closer, “but we’re not dogs.”

  “Piper, it’s me... Connor,” he said, checking behind him to ensure he hadn’t been spotted.

  “Yeah, and I’m the queen.”

  “Then you’re missing your grey curls and a rather fetching hat,” he said.

  She eased the girl out of her hold and stood up, shielding her eyes from the light as she studied him closer. “Connor?”

  “The very same. Sorry about the disguise. Hang fire. I’m going to get you out.”

  “I wish it were that easy.”

  “Not a problem. Stand back. I’m coming down.”

  She held her hand up. “Wait. There’s a shield about halfway up the shaft keeping us in.”

  “Really?” Connor looked hard. “I don’t see it.”

  “It’s kind of hard to spot.”

  “I’ve got pretty good eyes. Look. Let me try it, and if it bounces me back up like a trampoline and I fall on my ass, you have my permission to laugh.”

  “Not really in a laughing mood right now,” she shouted up, but Connor didn’t have time to argue with her.

  Bending his knees, he sprang into the opening... and landed at Piper’s side. He cocked his head and grinned.

  Her mouth fell open. “What the...?” Her gaze flicked between him and the opening. “It was there before, I swear.”

  He held out his arms. “Grab hold. No time to waste.”

  “Hang on a second.” Piper flicked her fingers, and a small flame erupted. She smiled and swung it before him. “The Shield Maker must have messed up somehow. God, you look ugly. What is that on your face, cow dung?”

  “Boar. Come on. Look sharp.” He beckoned.

  “I’m good. You take Rhea,” she said, pushing her hands down at her side and lifting into the air.

  Connor waited for Piper to shoot up the shaft, and then bent to scoop Rhea from the ground. As he bounded after Piper, he wondered how long the girl he was carrying had been down there. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had one quite so cute in his arms, but he was damn sure she wouldn’t have been such a pungent one. Depositing her on the ground, he noticed Piper already running to the neighbouring pit. She sank to her knees and peered over the edge.