by David Bokman
“Who was that?” asked Na, after the door had closed.
“Don’t rightly know!” said Filippa. “He came in earlier, didn’t order anything. Just went to the table and sat down. Slow night tonight, so I had no reason to tell him to leave. Perhaps he just wanted some protection from the cold.”
“Perhaps.”
“Anyway!” said Sam, “I think it’s best if I… if we went to bed. Your ale… your not-ale, it’s good! Whatever it is, I like it.”
The other heralds agreed and excused themselves from the dining room before heading up the stairs, some of them with more trouble than others. Their first night with a proper bed and proper ale meant none of them had trouble falling asleep.
The dining room was as empty in the morning as it had been when the heralds had left it last night. Save for Filippa, who was busy preparing today’s breakfast, the heralds had the room to themselves. “So,” said Na, “are we actually going through with trying to close the rifts?”
“I think the alternative is getting executed?” said Sam. “With those options, I’d have to say I’m in support of the former.”
Cad nodded. “Agreed. Fun as it was to jump into rifts, it is funnier to have your head attached to your shoulders.”
“But how do we go about it, then?”
“Who makes the portals we saw in the Townmaster’s Tower?” asked Samson.
“I’m not sure, which typically means it’s The Archive,” said Mae.
“The Atlas said he was once in The Archive, and he had a portal, so it adds up!” said Na. “Why, Sam?”
“Well, the portals seem to do roughly the same thing as the rifts, don’t they?”
“I thought the same thing!”
“So maybe whoever created the portals would also know something about how the rifts work?”
Mae sighed. “Well yes, maybe, but if you recall, we’ve already tried The Archive. They weren’t especially interested in speaking to us.”
“But if we have the Townmaster on our side they won’t have a choice, right?”
Mae and Cadwell laughed almost in unison. “If you think Zena has any power over The Archive just because she runs the city, you’re mistaken.”
“But surely she—”
Florianna was interrupted by a hard, singular knock on the door to the inn, instantly followed by the door being opened. Four members of the Townsguard entered the inn. They were, as always, dressed for battle. “You four are the rift heralds, right?” one of them asked, nodding towards the table at which the heralds were seated. “Commander said to get you. We are to escort you to your new base of operations, from where you will have one week to close the rifts.”
“Let us finish our breakfast in peace,” said Cad.
“New base of operations? What? Where?”
“Not too far. The Commander and the Townmaster want to keep this hidden from the public, so we’re taking you somewhere a bit more remote. It won’t take long.” The soldier indicated for them to follow, disregarding Cadwell’s order. The man could not have been much older than twenty-five, his three friends equally as young. None of them looked like they had seen too much battle; their faces were unscarred, and their eyes looked alive.
“Why don’t you eat with us?” asked The Dart. “I’m sure you have a long day ahead of you. Some good food won’t do you any harm. On the house, right, Filippa?”
“Of course.” The innkeeper's voice was not exactly brimming with joy.
“We’re okay. You really should come—”
Cadwell stood up. “We are eating our breakfast. We will join you when we are ready. Go complain to Dovan if you want to.” He pierced the young guard’s eyes with his own, and the four guards quickly decided that it was probably best not to argue back.
“Very well, heralds. Join us outside when you are ready. Swiftly, if you please.” The guardsman threw a golden sun to Filippa before leaving. “You didn’t hear a word.”
Cadwell remained standing until the last guard had left the inn. “Bloody Townsguard. Can barely hold a sword the right way, and they want to tell us what to do? Go fight a war or two, then come back. I’d rather have one good man than a hundred of them.”
“Settle down, Cad. Let’s finish our breakfast.”
“I’ll order a second serving, see how they like that,” Cad muttered to himself.
By the time the heralds left the inn, the four men of the Townsguard looked like another second of waiting would kill them. “Ah, there you are! Now, shall we?”
“Where are we going, exactly?” asked The Dart.
“South-west. We’ve emptied out a building for you there, given you some space.”
“Who said we needed a building to work from? We do most of our work on foot.”
“Sorry, Commander’s orders, that’s all they told us. We’re just the messengers.”
“Right. And you’ll escort us there?”
“That’s right.”
The Dart looked at her colleagues. Sam shrugged, Na smiled, and Cad frowned, but none of them said anything. “Fine. Let’s move.”
The guards led them through busy streets and narrow alleyways, working their way south-west, as promised. The streets seemed a bit less active than the heralds had remembered them to be, but this was a welcome surprise. They walked past the tavern in which they had stayed on their first night and continued westward. This far away from the center of East Kardh’Ao, activity was scarce. The people they met were simple folk going about their duties, be they work-related or simply survival-related. For the heralds, work and survival had seemed intertwined for quite some time now.
They wandered on, two guards in front of them, two behind, until they reached an alley unfamiliar to all the heralds. “How much longer?” demanded Cadwell.
“Not far at all now. Just through this alley and one more, then we’re there.”
“You weren’t joking when you said they wanted to keep us hidden, huh,” said Sam. He doubted he would even be able to find his way back into central Kardh’Ao from here if he wanted to.
“It’s just like the Commander said: a secret hidden is a tool, but a secret revealed is a threat. We want to keep you a tool.”
“What did you say?” The Dart stopped in her tracks, forcing the party to a halt.
“That we want to keep you a tool and not a threat, metaphorically speaking. As long as only we know what you know, it is useful to us. If everyone knows about it, it will become harder to control. Makes sense, don’t you think?”
“The Commander, did he use those words, exactly those words?”
“Sure? Maybe? I don’t know, I don’t write down everything he says. Don’t tell him that, though.”
The Dart looked at her friends, confirming that they had all heard the same thing. “We have to go.”
“We really can’t let you go; we have to see you safely to your headquarters.” The guard put a hand on his hilt, and his friends did the same.
For several heartbeats, nobody moved. They all just stood there in the empty alley, all of them waiting for the others to make a move. “You’d cut us down if we didn’t come with you?”
“Too many people have seen you already, they would start asking questions. We need you to come with us.”
“But that’s not really the reason, is it?” Sam followed suit and placed his hand on the grip of his dirk.
“What was it you said, Cad? A hundred of them for every one of us?”
“Aye. Easily.”
The Dart looked at the two guards behind her. She and Sam were standing at the back, while Cadwell and Na were next to the guards in front. “So it’s probably best if you remove your hands from your hilts and let us go.”
“That’s not going to happen.” The guards, as if guided by an invisible puppetmaster, all took a step closer.
Cadwell took another look at the guardsman’s helmet, which, while it offered adequate protection from the sides and the top, did not include a visor to keep the face protected
. “That’s a shame.” With a quick extension of his underarm, Cad brought his closed fist into the nose of the guardsman standing in front of him. That’s for interrupting my breakfast, he thought, quickly turning his attention to the other guard. Instead of going for his sword, the guard reached for a whistle. Before Cad or Na had time to strike, the guard blew the whistle, sending a high-pitched tone ringing through the alley. “We’re gonna have company!” Cad shouted, drawing his broadsword, and quickly realizing the narrowness of the alley would be an obstacle for his large blade.
His warning seemed warranted; within moments of the whistle being blown, the heralds could hear what sounded like dozens of heavily armored men running through the streets, coming towards them. The two guards next to Sam and The Dart seized this moment of disruption. With their hands already prepared to draw their weapons, it did not take them long to get their swords out. One of them lunged at Samson, who just barely managed to draw his dirk and parry the blow. The force, though, was enough to make him lose balance, and he staggered back a step, almost colliding with Cadwell’s back.
The other guard tried his luck against The Dart. He brought his blade up high, struck down towards his prey… and watched in shock as she went from being unarmed to armed. As The Dart instinctively brought her arm up to shield herself, her blade of Undying Ice manifested itself in her grip at the perfect angle to block the blow, creating a terrifying noise as the guardsman’s steel struck it. The sound was similar to that of the claws of a wolf being scraped against thick, strong ice, but far louder and more ear-piercing. As the guard pulled his blade back, he could clearly see the cold, frostbitten part that had made contact with The Dart’s icy sword. He doubted his sword would survive much more contact with that cursed ice, whatever it was.
At the end of the alley, Cad and Na could now see armed members of the Townsguard rushing towards them. They just keep coming. A dozen came running, and another dozen followed them. They were preparing quite an ambush, huh? Right now, though, they had to focus on the guard that was standing in front of them, unsheathing his sword. The guard swung at Cadwell, who deflected the blow, but not without trouble. Neither man backed down, and their swords remained intertwined, both men trying to push for an advantage. “Na!”
Florianna pulled out her dagger - the only weapon she had armed herself with - and took a deep breath. You can do this. Her target had his hands full with Cadwell, so he would not be able to defend against her strike. All she had to do was make it.
“Now, Na!”
With her breath stuck in her throat, the young arcanist half-thrust half-threw the dagger at the guard with as much force as she could muster. The strike would have been a good one, if it had not struck the guard’s armor, two inches too high.
Damn it, girl.
Although the stab had not weakened the guard, it served to shift his attention, allowing Cadwell to break the deadlock. He swung again, but this time, not at the guard. Instead, he purposefully directed his strike towards the guard’s sword. Let’s see if you can deflect this. For the young guard, keeping hold of his weapon as it was struck by a bigger man carrying a bigger sword was an impossible task. The force threw the blade out of his hand and onto the ground. This time, Cadwell directed his strike at the guard, and had no trouble taking care of him. Two down, ninety-eight to go.
Behind Cadwell, Sam was unleashing a barrage of strikes against one of the guards, none getting past his longsword. They did however seem to weaken the guard’s resolve, while Samson barely looked tired at all from the effort. The Dart, too, was on the offensive, crossing blades with the second guard. Every time the blades met, the same terrible sound echoed through the alley, and every time they did, the guard’s blade weakened further. After four or five strikes, it inevitably gave way. As the blade of Undying Ice struck the longsword, a cracking sound flew through the air and the longsword shattered into a million frostbitten pieces, leaving the guard defenseless. The Dart barely had to do anything to finish the job; the blade attacked by its own volition.
The Dart looked over to Sam, and found him still hammering away at the guard, who was losing more and more ground. She did not know what it was that was fueling Samson, but it seemed almost as potent as whatever it was that drove her own blade. The Aeni unleashed another flurry of blows, then feigned high. The guard defended, and Sam found a gap near his knee. The guard, with a scream, fell down, resting his weight on his other knee. “Please! We were just following orders!”
“Sam, deal with him! We’ve got more incoming!” Cad shouted over his shoulder.
Samson looked at the guard once more, who must have been a year or two younger than him, if not more. He looks terrified. He doesn’t deserve this. Does he deserve this? Sam was not sure. The Dart, on the other hand, was. With one fell swoop, The Dart finished what Samson had started, and disposed of the final guard.
She looked over towards Cad and Na and saw the army of guards rushing towards them. “I’m not sure we can handle that many!” she said.
“We can’t run away, either!” said Sam. He was right; neither he nor Mae had fully recovered from their injuries suffered when fighting the ice wolves. If they ran, the guards would catch up to them in no time.
Cadwell judged the onslaught of guards was perhaps thirty or forty yards away now, and closing fast. A hundred of them for one of us, he reminded himself. Damn it, Cadwell, you know what you have to do, so just do it.
“Cad? What’s our plan here?”
Do it. There’s no other way. Cad took a deep breath and turned his head over his shoulder. “You run away, out of the city! I’ll hold them off.”
“This isn’t the time to play hero, Cad! There’s a damn army of them!”
“The alley is only wide enough for two at a time, I’ll be fine. Do as I say, or we’ll all die here!”
“Cad—”
“He’s right,” said The Dart. “He’s the only one who can hold them at bay long enough.”
“So we’re just going to sacrifice him?”
“You’re going to run away south-east, out of the city. And you’re going to continue investigating the rifts, regardless of what you’re told. Now go. We’ll meet again.” Cad’s voice did not leave room for debate.
Sam, looking at the approaching guards, said, “Cad, you’re—”
“I know, Sam. And you are, too. Good luck.”
“No,” said Na, “we can—”
Mae took a step forward and put a firm hand on Na’s shoulder. “We have to go.”
And so they did. The three heralds, as quickly as they could, began running away from Cad, away from the guards, away from Kardh’Ao, turning their head around every other step to check on Cadwell. On their eleventh step, the guards were upon him.
Just a few steps more, Cad thought, readying his blade. He had placed himself in the middle of the alley, making himself as large as humanly possible. Between him and his broadsword, the guards would be hard pressed to make their way past without first cutting him down. And I don’t intend to be cut down. The guards, as he had hoped, were approaching two by two, not leaving them much space to maneuver. Just don’t let them overrun you. Fight them. Delay them. For the first time in years, Cadwell’s military mind was doing all the thinking. As soon as the first guardsmen came within range, though, he stopped thinking altogether. From now on, it was only instincts that could guide him to victory.
The guard prepared to attack, but Cadwell’s reach was greater. The broadsword made contact with armor, knocking the man to the ground, stopping the guards behind him. The second guard made it within range and lunged with his longsword. Cadwell knew he could not dodge too far to the side, lest he create an opening for the guards to run through. Instead, he absorbed the blow, feeling the blade plunge into his left arm. He paid it no mind. Count your scars tomorrow. He brought his broadsword back, striking the guard in his side, finding flesh between the plates of armor. This guard fell as well, but unlike his friend, he would not rise again.
From here, the battle lost all semblance of structure. The guards began climbing over their fallen comrades, and Cadwell did his best not to lose too much ground. You’ve survived the first onslaught, he thought. Now to survive the rest. A hundred of them for one of me. The last words were more akin to a prayer than anything else. The next guard struck. Cad dodged backwards before mounting an attack of his own. Again, he valued brute force over accuracy. Brute force has always been your specialty anyway, hasn’t it? Let’s just hope this steel is up to the job. Townsguard steel killing Townsguard men. His blade struck armor again, sending vibrations through both broadsword and chestplate. The guard staggered but remained standing. Damn it. Another guard, screaming as he went, attempted a big overhead swing. Longsword met broadsword, and Cadwell used his blade and his strength to shove the man into the wall of the house standing next to them, rendering the guard momentarily dazed.
The battle felt almost methodical to the old Lieutenant. A guard would approach, and he would dodge a step backwards before striking them with as much force as he could, either staggering them or making them fall to the ground, sometimes both. Every now and then the guards would get coordinated strikes in and Cad would take a blade to the side or arm or shoulder, but his adrenaline did not allow him to feel the pain. I won’t be able to keep this up forever, though. But they will. After dealing with another guard, Cadwell quickly looked back over his shoulder. He saw his friends close to the other edge of the alley, close to freedom and safety. Good. They’ll make it. He looked back at the guards…
...And realized he had looked away for too long. Two guards had approached and were already bringing their longsword down upon him. One of them only caught his broadsword, but the other one caught the hand holding it. No amount of adrenaline would be able to mask the pain Cad felt searing through his hand, or rather, where his hand had once been. His right hand, as well as his broadsword, both fell to the ground. For a moment, everything stopped. Cad looked at the stump on his right arm, and the guards looked at Cad.
Not good.
Cad took a few steps back, and the guards, climbing over their fallen allies, followed. Cadwell guessed he must have felled a dozen or so. It’s not enough, though. Not nearly enough. You’ve gotten old.
