Arrows of Ladis

by RG Long

  Rage was taking over.

  Snart had seen this before. But that had been long ago.

  “Ssstop,” he said, burrowing his spear tip deep into the ground. “Ssstop! Sssharc! Bosss! Sssharc, bossss bosss!”

  It was a risk. A potentially life ending gamble.

  The commotion around them began to subside. Crackling fires and the moans of the dying filled the night air again as the lizards began to calm.

  Sharc was panting heavily. One claw held his wounded side, while another gripped tightly to his spear. With eyes full of hate and loathing, he looked at Snart. He let out a low grumbling hiss.

  “Sssharc!” came the cry of his banner bearer. “Bosss, bosss!”

  The cry was echoed in the mouths of lizards all over the town and into the trees around them.

  “Sssharc! Bosss, bosss!”

  Lizards began to disperse. They were probably heading back to meals they hoped were left unguarded or to fresh meat undiscovered. All colors began to fade into the night as the howls of pain and satisfied hisses of the Veiled Ones sounded out all around them.

  Snart stayed exactly where he had planted himself. His eyes were both fixed on Sharc.

  The lizard boss heaved a great sigh, looking like he winced in pain as he did so. His banner bearer crawled up to him and, holding out a claw to his master, he began to hiss words of light. Red balls of light like small luminescent insects flew from his hand to the mark in Sharc’s side.

  Slowly, Sharc’s breathing became normal and he stood up straighter, glaring down at Snart.

  No healer would come to his aid.

  “Sssnart,” he said, pointing his spear tip at Snart’s triangular head. He turned his head to the side as he spoke. “Ssstrong. But ssstupid. No more troublesss. More trouble? You’re deadsss.”

  With a great bound, the lizard jumped onto a branch nearby, as if he had not been stabbed with a spear at all. His banner bearer, weakened by the magic he had performed on his master, crawled more slowly into the tree, carrying the banner of the Veiled Ones’ Boss.

  Snart smiled to himself, even as he looked down at the remnants of his spoiled meal on the ground.

  He had done what he had hoped to do. He had shown the other colors that the great Sharc of the Veiled Ones could bleed.

  24: Up with the Suns

  “Arise, Jerius,” boomed a voice into his ears, interrupting his pleasant dreams. “We wake with the suns.”

  “As you wish, Your Grace,” Jerius mumbled as he rolled onto his elbow and began the process of ridding his body of nighttime stiffness.

  Prince Farnus was not a cruel taskmaster, but he was an unrelenting one. Every day of their journey they had woken up with the rising suns and made camp only when Jerius found it impossible to see his fingers at the end of his arm.

  He knew there was no sense in fighting it. He had made small protest on the very first morning, only to be reprimanded about his lack of discipline and hardiness.

  Jerius was not a weak man. Given his whip and the odds stacked in his favor, he was a force to be reckoned with. But ever since he had ascended to prophet, he had become accustomed to at least sleeping in until he deemed it necessary to wake.

  It was plain to see that he was the last person to be called forth from sleep. The rest of their group had already begun rolling up their mats and packing away the other supplies from their camp.

  Luca, as she had been instructed, had already made Jerius’ pack ready for him and put away any of the utensils he had used last night. The small comfort did nothing to improve Jerius’ mood.

  They had been marching for a full week now and had not seen one trace of the rebellious general, the witch who accompanied him, or their small party. Jerius was beginning to doubt the voice that had spoken to them in the jungle. At times he even believed that he had imagined the whole thing. But the others had heard it, too. They whispered about it. Luca had even questioned Jerius about the supernatural phenomenon.

  “Demonic powers lie all around us,” he told her. “We must persevere against them.”

  It was a line he had been told over and over again in his training to become a prophet. He and several other young boys from Arranus had sat underneath their aging priest, hearing him repeat such phrases. For hours at a time, they had listened to his droning with rapt attention, scribbling their notes on scrolls. They were never allowed to speak, only to listen. Most boys quit after a few days of this torture. Not Jerius. He knew that to become a prophet was a great honor that came with great power. Power he wanted.

  Prophets in every major city in Ladis served under that city’s priest. They were scribes, assistants, temple wardens, guardswomen and handlers. Or, like Jerius, they were tasked with understanding the land they ruled and sent on missions to better know those lands. Even lands gifted to the city that were out at sea.

  The old priest had been alive during the times of the rebellious wars. He had seen the disastrous effects of magic and often preached against its use, as was custom in their religion.

  Magic was the work of demons. Demons were the dark enemies of their sacred deity.

  They must have nothing to do with it. If they ever saw magic or someone drawing power out of the forbidden stones, they must put the offender to death and smash the stone to pieces.

  Until that girl had come into their city and blown a hole in a wall that had stood for hundreds of years, Jerius had not believed the stories of magic.

  He thought they were exaggerations. Ramblings of an old priest from a long-forgotten time. Ramblings of a priest who had long ago lost his mental faculties.

  But magic was real. It was powerful.

  And it was dangerous.

  Jerius got to his feet and rubbed his back gingerly. The best thing he could say about their most recent campsite is that the ground was not soaking wet. As the voice had instructed, they had traveled north where the jungles became sparser and opened into larger plains.

  Luca was seeing to her own bag. After hearing an earful from Jerius the first morning when she dared to make her own provisions ready before his, this pleased him greatly.

  “Luca!” he shouted, feeling like taking out his anger on someone not his superior or a guard of his. “Discover for me the coordinates of our location!”

  “Yes, Prophet!” she said, saluting him and unpacking her bag to retrieve the necessary supplies. Jerius was aware that she knew the answer he had asked. But he had also yelled at her for her insolence in answering him without checking the charts and maps he had insisted come.

  If nothing else, it pleased him to know their exact location.

  Luca had removed only half of the contents of her bag when Prince Farnus called out to the group.

  “We move now!”

  The guards around him turned to march along with him, already having shouldered their own packs. Jerius turned to follow the wretched horse Farnus rode on and yelled over his shoulder.

  “Do not lag behind, Luca!”

  “Yes, Prophet!”

  The sound of her maps being rolled haphazardly brought him joy. It would be another thing he could chastise her for later.

  ALL DAY LONG THEY MARCHED. The suns rose hot over them and mocked the prophet as he strove to walk from shade to shade without success. Jerius quite forgot about the maps by the sixth hour of marching. He was more concerned for his own aching feet than he was for any pleasure of yelling at his guardswoman.

  The terrain had turned quite foreign to him. He had explored the seas to the west and the jungles around Arranus and the lands to the south, but he had never been this far north. The pure lack of trees was disconcerting to him. A clearing every now and then was common in the jungle. But this much sky overhead surely wasn’t healthy.

  “Luca!” he shouted over his shoulder again. “Find something to shade me with! I detest the suns in my eyes.”

  “Oh, stop pestering the poor wretches, Jerius,” Farnus said ahead of him. “We’re almost ready to stop for a rest.” />
  Jerius knew what those rest stops looked like. A moment to breathe, take some dried meat out of his bag, and then keep marching wherever Farnus thought was the correct direction. Sitting down was almost not worth it.

  Almost.

  He found a rock close by that was just the right height and put himself down on it. Luca came up beside him. Jerius was thinking of the best way to take out some of his frustration on her when she posed a question.

  “If Prince Farnus is listening to the advice of a demon,” she said. “Then how are we...”

  “Shush, fool!” Jerius said quickly. Luca had not asked the question in a loud voice. Indeed, her inquiry had almost not been audible. But Jerius knew what she was going for and where it would lead them.

  It was where he desired to take the argument as well.

  “Not here, foolish girl,” Jerius whispered. “Do not speak of demons again until we are safely within a temple. Have I made myself clear?”

  “Yes, Prophet,” Luca answered, standing up straight again and looking directly at him.

  Jerius eyed Farnus warily. The prince made no sign that he had heard them, or even given them a second thought. He was speaking with two of his guards and pointing out to the open field that lay just beyond the trees.

  They had been following the main road of Ladis that ran from the northern part of the empire to the southern. Jerius had been told that this route would lead to both the very northern and very southern tips of the continent, though he had only traveled it a short distance both ways.

  Until this trip, that was.

  “Keep your eyes open and wary,” Jerius said to Luca in a normal voice. “I have heard bandits often travel the open roads of the north.”

  Farnus laughed and turned to look at them.

  “If I were a bandit,” he said, taking a few steps towards them. “I’d keep to the trees for cover. But who said bandits were smart?”

  Jerius shook his head.

  “Forgive me, Your Grace, but what if the voice we heard telling us to come here was incorrect or, perhaps, misinformed?” Jerius countered. “We have yet to see even a trace of another traveling party, let alone the escaped general and his demonic witch, Your Grace.”

  Farnus looked down at Jerius, undeterred.

  “This is where we are supposed to come.”

  At that moment, the faint sounds of people on the road behind them came wafting over the breeze. Jerius looked back over the road and saw a caravan of carts with horses and several guards. He thought it was strange, they hadn’t heard them so far, how had they been able to come up close behind them? Farnus sent two of his men back to question the travelers.

  Jerius eyed them suspiciously. He had always been wary of those who traveled from place to place, trading and selling at each town. There was no telling who was getting a fair price and who was paying an absorbent amount for the goods to be brought to them. He thought about sharing his concerns with the prince.

  “You’re sure...”

  The rest of Jerius’ statement was cut off. A brilliant red flash of light cut across the sky and landed out in front of them, just beyond the tree line.

  “What in the suns?” Farnus said, turning to face the light. Jerius stood to get a better look and felt his jaw drop.

  “It cannot be,” Jerius said, speechless.

  “It is!” Farnus said, a sound of triumph in his voice. “Quick, guards! Before they escape! The general and the witch are here!”

  25: Twice Unlucky

  Ealrin felt his feet hit the ground and his legs buckle over on top of them. The sensation ended as soon as it had begun. One moment he was floating, almost as if he was suddenly plunged into water and desperate for air.

  Then he was the same as the water. There was no distinguishing between himself and the fluid around him. He was a part of his surroundings, not in them but he was them.

  And Blume, Serinde, Jurrin, and the others were with him, too.

  He felt them all.

  Silverwolf, Gorplin, and even...

  Oh no, Ealrin thought.

  Before he had come to the realization that he was moving over great distances, before he had time to feel the powerful magic at work, he realized they were in danger.

  He barely had time to grasp his thoughts. His hands were grasping at the fresh, long grasses of a field he was nowhere near just moments before. Gasping for a fresh breath, he looked up and saw that he wasn’t hallucinating or imagining things.

  Barton, the old man who had captured them, had gotten caught up along with the rest of them. Blume, for all her magical ability and skill, had somehow managed to bring one of their enemies along with them.

  Ealrin tried to stand but found that he was too dizzy to do so. He heard shouting, noises coming from many directions all at once. One of them sounded like Gorplin, the other like Blume. Then, other voices joined the chorus. Men’s voices. Women’s voices. None of whom Ealrin recognized. It was chaos.

  Hands were grabbing him. Someone was pulling him to his feet. Ealrin felt a shove in his back as someone gripped his arm tightly and pulled him forward.

  “Run!” came the voice that sounded like Holve’s. “Run! We’ll fight them off!”

  Fight? Run? What was happening?

  Ealrin tried to shake his head to clear it. No good. It only made the world spin faster.

  “Run, Gorplin! Run!”

  “Bah! To the darkness with your ‘run’!”

  Ealrin’s feet were just barely clearing the ground. The grass he ran over whipped around his legs as he stumbled along, pulled by whoever had a hold of his arm.

  “Come on, you klutz, or they’ll get us, too!” Silverwolf’s voice rang out in his ear.

  “Get us...” Ealrin managed, regretting opening his mouth. He felt the desire to vomit growing with every step. “Who... Get who?”

  “Keep running!” she shouted.

  “I can’t keep up Miss Wolf! Slow down a bit or we’ll get left behind!”

  “Not my problem, Shorty!”

  Ealrin was trying to put it all together.

  They were with Yada and her army as they were marching onto the beaches of Ladis. Now they were far from any beach, as far as Ealrin could tell. The smell of the sea air was gone. And there were people getting them. Attacking them? Coming after them? Who? And who did they get?

  Wait, Ealrin thought. Where’s Blume?

  “Blume!” he shouted. “Where are you?”

  “Keep running, Ealrin!” her voice rang out.

  A wave of relief flooded over him at the sound of her voice. They didn’t need to worry. They had Blume.

  EALRIN WASN’T SURE how far they ran, or how much time went by. He knew that there was one point when Silverwolf let go of his arm and Blume grabbed his hand. Then they ran together. The ground evened out and soon they were back in the trees again. This Ealrin could tell because of the shade over his eyes.

  “I can’t,” Blume said weakly, letting go of Ealrin’s hand. “I can’t go anymore.”

  Blume fell to the ground, crumbling into a heap. Ealrin landed next to her. Sweating and breathing heavily, he looked up to see who was with them still.

  Silverwolf was standing over them, breathing hard but still on her feet. Gorplin was there. And Barton.

  But...

  “Where’s Holve?” Ealrin said, looking around. “And Jurrin? Serinde?”

  No one answered him. He tried to stand to his feet, but they collapsed under his weight.

  “Stay down,” Silverwolf said as she turned her back on them. “You’re going to pull watch after me, so get rested up.”

  “Bloody fool,” Barton said, hands on his knees and wheezing like crazy. “Nearly threw himself at those filthy royals. Like he knew they were coming and wanted to join them.”

  “Bah. He did it to let us escape,” Gorplin said, balling up his fists and standing in front of Barton, looking ready to fight even though he was breathing hard, too. “He got himself captured to let us g
et away with Blume.”

  Ealrin’s head was spinning. Holve was captured. Captured by who?

  “Who captured Holve?” Ealrin said, his eyes landing on Barton.

  The older man took his hands off his knees and stood up straight, dusting himself, though Ealrin could see no signs of dirt.

  “Prince Farnus,” he said with every bit of hatred Ealrin saw on the man’s face. “The king’s own heir. Blasted Royal and his scum. A prophet was with them, too. Ladism lackey.”

  “Bah, and little Jurrin,” Gorplin said, seeing that Barton was giving up on threatening Holve. “The brave fool tackled a guard to let you escape.”

  At first, Ealrin thought the ‘you’ was directed at Barton. But Gorplin wasn’t looking his direction anymore.

  “What’s with you shorties and these acts of heroics?” Silverwolf muttered as she stalked off.

  “No fires!” she said over her shoulder.

  “Like we have anything to make a fire with,” Barton said, looking grumpy.

  “Ha,” Blume said dryly. “How big of a blaze do you want?”

  Barton’s eyes lit up.

  “You!” he said, hitting his knees beside Blume and taking her by the shoulders. It was like he was seeing her for the first time. Maybe he was so focused on Holve that he hadn’t really thought about who was in their presence.

  Ealrin was scrambling to get in between them, but Silverwolf was already behind Barton with her arms around his neck.

  “I think you should back away slowly,” she said through gritted teeth. Barton’s expression was livid.

  “She brought us here!” he was saying.

  “And you’ll bring that stupid prince and his guards right to us if you don’t shut up!” Silverwolf said menacingly. “Though, I could make you shut up with one little twist.”

  She jostled him, probably more for effect than anything else. But with the assassin, Ealrin never knew.

  “She can take us back!” Barton said through a pained expression. “She brought us here! She can take us back!”