Beyond The Vale

by Brian D. Anderson

  “I said I want you safe. Me? This is where I belong.”

  “That’s nonsense and you know it,” he snapped, weaving for a moment from the gravel path. “You stay, you die. And if you stay, I stay.”

  Dorn placed a loving hand on his son’s shoulder. “I’m an old man. It’s far too late for me to start over. And from the way Zara described it…all those trees and bugs, I wouldn’t be able to stand it.”

  “You’re making excuses.”

  “You could be right about that. But I’m not leaving.”

  “Don’t you understand what’s going to happen? Not what might happen. What will

  happen.”

  “Of course. I’m brilliant, remember?”

  Bane felt like banging his head on the steering wheel. “I take it back.” “Too late.”

  “So what will you do? Just sit here and wait to die?”

  Dorn cocked his head. “I was discussing that with Zara, actually.”

  Bane huffed. “I bet you were.”

  “She’s a remarkable woman. A pity I’m not ten years younger…well, twenty. Anyway, whatever you said to her got under her skin. But then you always did have a way with people. She’s determined to save as many as possible.”

  “I’m glad she’s come to her senses.”

  “You might not be so glad when you hear how she plans to do it.” Bane eyed his father, dreading his next words. “Tell me.”

  “The way we see it, the hellspawn will take time to cover all of Vale. If people knew there was somewhere to run, they’d do it.”

  He knew what was coming. “So you plan to run around Vale telling them, am I right?” “That’s one thing we’re thinking about.”

  “And what’s the other?”

  “Ride in to where the hellspawn are and save as many as we can. Bring them to the barrier.” “Are you insane?”

  “Quite possibly. But if we can save lives, it will be worth the risk.” “You can’t. Father, no offense, but you wouldn’t last a minute.”

  He gave his son a lopsided frown. “I think I would do just fine. But as it happens, there’s nothing to worry about. I won’t be going.”

  “Then why do you have to stay?”

  “Did you see the state of those vehicles? Someone has to keep them running. Zara is already sending a crew to get my tools.”

  Bane let out a feral roar, slamming his hand repeatedly on the wheel. “I can’t believe you.” He pressed the brake and turned hard left, spinning Shel back in the opposite direction. “And I

  can’t believe I’m doing this.” He glared over at his father. “I swear if you try to go anywhere near the hellspawn, I’ll tie you down and throw you on the other side of the barrier myself. You work on the vehicles, and that’s it.”

  “You have my word.”

  “And another thing – if the hellspawn come here, you’re leaving. Not staying to fight.

  You’re just leaving.”

  “So what are you going to do?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

  “If you and Zara are stupid enough to go anywhere near the hellspawn, you’ll need Shel.” He pressed the accelerator to the floor. “And Shel’s mine.”

  “I take it you’re staying?” “You knew I would.”

  Dorn laughed. “You would have stayed with or without me.” “The hell I would have.”

  “Really? Tell me about Clara.”

  “She has nothing to do with anything,” he shot back.

  “From what I’ve heard, you’re quite taken with the young lady.” “Is that a problem?”

  Dorn held up his hands. “No, no. I think it’s wonderful that you’ve found someone. From what Zara said, she’s a remarkable young woman. Brave, caring, loyal. You think she’d have left?”

  Bane did not answer. He knew convincing Clara to leave would have been difficult. After all, she had been with Exodus for a long time. She had friends; people she cared for.

  “Would you have left without her?” Dorn pressed. “Is that why?”

  “Is that why what?

  “Don’t play dumb, father.”

  “Is it why I’m staying?” He reached over and took Bane’s hand. “Like I said, I want you safe. But I can’t get what I want. You’re like your mother, Samuel. You don’t give your love easily. But when you do, it’s genuine.”

  “I barely know her,” Bane protested.

  “Yet still you wouldn’t leave her behind. You know what that tells me?’ “What?” Bane grumbled.

  “That I should get to know her too.”

  “Well, she’s wounded. So you’ll have the chance.”

  They pulled in front of the facility, where two men were chatting near the entrance. “Get the vehicles in a long row,” ordered Bane. They gave him a dismissive look then returned to their conversation.

  Tiny sparks flew from his fingertips, striking both men in the backside. They leapt with a yelp, shouting curses and threats.

  “I said, get them in a line,” he yelled. “Or I swear both of you will spend the rest of the day paralyzed.” His hands glowed to punctuate the threat.

  Without need for further prompting, they scurried away.

  “I’ll stay out here,” said Dorn. “I need to take a look at what I’m working with.”

  Bane made his way through the halls with long determined strides, his expression a stone mask of severity. Zara was still in the conference room, and a heavy-set balding man now sat across from her.

  “Fisk,” said Bane, then took a seat beside Zara.

  Zara did not appear surprised to see him and offered no objection to his presence, looking in fact as if he was expected.

  “I never took you for a revolutionary,” said Fisk. His clothes were stained, and his face bore several scrapes.

  “And I never took you for a beggar. What happened? The king decide he’d had enough of

  you?”

  Fisk affected a smile that Bane had seen him wear many times. He thought he was in a position of advantage. “The king and I…had a disagreement. Tragically, it ended our relationship.”

  “So he left you to die with the rest of us. Or am I missing something?” “Why so hostile? I was always good to you, wasn’t I?”

  Bane leaned forward and locked eyes with his former employer. “You work with King Salazar to slaughter everyone in the provinces, and you ask why I’m hostile?”

  “You think I had a choice? Bribing local officials is one thing. The king could have buried me with a snap of his fingers.”

  “So instead you helped him bury everyone else.”

  Fisk shrugged. “You can be angry. But that doesn’t change that you need what I have to offer.” He turned his attention to Zara. “I believe we were nearing an agreement.”

  Zara leaned back, rapping her fingers on the table. “I may have been premature.”

  “You need medicine and food. I have entire warehouses filled with enough to last for

  years.”

  “I’m sure you do,” said Zara. “Tell me, Mr. Fisk. How many people starved while you had all this food stored away? How many sick people died for lack of medicine?”

  “You’re wasting your breath,” said Bane. “He doesn’t care that people died.”

  “And you do?” Fisk countered. “Don’t pretend to be better than me. Don’t forget. I know

  you.”

  Bane cracked a smile. “No. You don’t. If you did, you’d never have come here.”

  Fisk sniffed. “Don’t try to intimidate me, Bane.” He looked at Zara. “If you want what I have, you’ll tell him to leave now.”

  “No.” She pushed back her chair. “I think I’m the one who should leave.” Nodding to Bane, she crossed over to the door. “I’m sure the two of you have plenty to discuss.”

  Once she was gone, Fisk cleared his throat and straightened his back. “You can’t kill me, Bane. You need me.”

  “You keep saying that. Who are you trying to convince? Because I absolutely can kill you.” “Then you’
ll get nothing.”

  Bane chuckled. “We’ll talk about the supplies in a moment. Now…from the look of you, coming here wasn’t your first choice. And as you came alone, your men must have turned on you. Or they ran away. In either case, you’re here because no one else will have you. You’re cunning enough to have secret stores that only you know about, and desperate enough to use that to find somewhere to hide, hoping to wait it out. But you need protection, am I right? You’ve hurt so many people that you have no one you can trust.”

  “This is pointless,” said Fisk, tiny beads of sweat running down his forehead. “We both know how this ends. So, go ahead and give whatever little speech makes you feel good about yourself, so we can get down to business.”

  “You’re wrong, Fisk. I have no idea how this ends. At least not for me. I thought I did, but now I’m not so sure. But I do know how it ends for you.”

  “So you’d sacrifice the lives of these people? Why? Because I’m not a good person? What does that make you?”

  Bane rose, eyes fixed on Fisk. “I’m not doing anything to spite you. If I wanted you dead, I’d have killed you the moment Zara left the room. No. You get to live. You even get to stay here if you want. But first, you’re going to tell me where you’ve hidden the supplies.”

  Fisk jumped up and ran toward the door. Bane’s hand flew out, and a green ribbon of mana wrapped itself around the terrified man. He fell to the floor, rigid and eyes wide.

  “I’ve only tried this a few times,” said Bane, kneeling down and placing his hands on Fisk’s brow. “But it was enough to know that the more you resist, the more…damage it does.”

  “I’ll tell you,” he cried. “Please. I’ll tell you were it is.”

  Bane closed his eyes, ignoring the desperate pleas. Mana flowed through him pouring into Fisk’s mind, urging him to reveal his secrets. He would try to be gentle. Not because he cared about Fisk, but because Fisk had been right about one thing. There had been a time he was no better. But that had changed.

  * * *

  Bane found Zara in the infirmary, sitting at Clara’s bedside.

  “Four silos,” he announced, wearily. “Fifty miles from here, give or take a few. Filled with weapons and provisions.”

  “I’ll send my people to get them,” said Zara.

  “Already taken care of,” he said, taking a seat on the other side. “What changed your mind?”

  She didn’t seem to care that he had assumed some authority. “Clara.”

  Clara coughed a laugh, wincing at the pain it caused her wound. “Me? I didn’t even know you planned to leave.”

  He smiled. “I’m still leaving. And so are you. So is everyone.”

  Zara eyed him knowingly. “We’ll need to take as much as we can with us.”

  Clara frowned. “What are you saying? You’re not planning to leave Vale? You can’t.” “We’re going to the barrier,” said Zara. “We can’t stop the hellspawn. But we can try to

  save as many people as possible.”

  “But Vale is our home,” Clara protested.

  “True. But I won’t let it become our grave. King Salazar has won. It’s time we accept the

  truth.”

  “But what about Princess Lenora? The Nelwyn? They’ll come, won’t they?” “It’s been months. We can’t wait.”

  Bane took her hand. “Even if they came today, what could they do? You can’t kill hellspawn with mana.”

  Clara lowered her head for a long moment, eyes distant and filled with grief. “I really thought we stood a chance.”

  “We do,” said Bane. “Salazar may have won. But we’re not beaten.” “It feels like we are.”

  “I know,” said Zara. “But Bane’s right. We’re not. We’re still alive, aren’t we?”

  Clara nodded, forcing a weak smile. “I guess so.” She looked up at Bane. “But one thing: stop calling him Bane. His name is Samuel.”

  Zara excused herself and left them to talk alone for a time. Clara was excited to hear that his father had arrived, and made him promise to make formal introductions.

  “That’s a big step,” he teased. “My father will assume it’s serious between us. And to be honest, you don’t know that much about me.”

  Clara reached up and placed her hand around his neck. “I’d say we should take our time.

  But when the world’s coming to an end, who has time?”

  Samuel leaned in and kissed her, only parting lips when the door opened and a young man entered to change Clara’s bandages.

  “You should go help Zara get everyone ready,” she said.

  He hated to leave her, and found himself smiling as he exited the room. Here he was, in the midst of the greatest tragedy in the history of Vale, and he couldn’t stop smiling. With each step, the words he had spoken to alleviate Clara’s sorrow were burning their way into his heart. They were not beaten. And somehow he would find a way through this.

  He didn’t care about revenge or justice. If Salazar wanted Vale, let him have it. For the first time in his life, he knew what he wanted. And nothing would prevent him from getting it.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Drake had been called to the General’s tent at least half a dozen times over the past week. Mostly Gorlan asked about Vale. At first, he seemed more curious about the weapons and defenses than anything, and was surprised how readily Drake was willing to tell him.

  “The Bomar aren’t a threat,” he explained. “Telling you wouldn’t endanger us. Five members of the royal guard could beat back a hundred of your soldiers.”

  “They are that fierce?”

  “No. But their weapons are that much better than yours.”

  “So you’ve said. But then why do you carry only a sword? Perhaps you want me to think this; to make us fearful; keep us away.”

  “Even were that true, given my friendship with the Nelwyn, it makes no difference,” he pointed out.

  “Yes,” Gorlan conceded. “But that is the most puzzling of all. Why would you need them? You told me it was one of your people who taught them to use their power for war. It makes me think that like us, your people are diminishing. You lack the numbers to defeat your enemy. And if so, why not enlist the Bomar? Surely you can see that we are more alike.”

  “Yes. And that’s why. What does it say to you that the Nelwyn had no concept of war before they met the Bomar?”

  “What are you suggesting? That my people are evil and they good?”

  Was he? Maybe. But Drake would not say it aloud. “Your people and mine share the same weakness. The Nelwyn, as far as I can tell, live in harmony with the world around them. Can you say that about the Bomar?”

  Gorlan regarded him closely. With this man it was impossible to tell at times if he was angry or not. “I am Bomar. So I will not say that my people are evil. Nor do I believe it. But I cannot deny that there is some truth in what you say. I wish we would have seen what we were becoming.”

  “Maybe it’s not too late,” offered Drake. “Your city is gone, but there are thousands of Bomar still alive. You can learn a new way to live.”

  “Is that what you hope for your people?”

  “I don’t know what I want for Vale,” he admitted. “I guess in the end it won’t be up to me.

  They’ll have to decide for themselves what comes next.” “Whereas the fate of my people is not in their own hands.”

  Word had spread throughout the camp that General Gorlan was to seek terms from the Nelwyn. All three of their villages were surrounded, though none had been attacked, and the one train left intact and still running that carried news, reported seeing Nelwyn watching as it went by.

  Gorlan assured his soldiers that this was a good sign. That the Nelwyn desired peace. But there were those among the Bomar who did not want peace. And as the days passed, their discontent was becoming ever more pronounced. The guard around the Nelwyns’ tent was tripled, and Drake was escorted by four men whenever called to the General’s quarters.

&nbs
p; Drake was not in the mood for another one of their dark talks. They always ended the same way – with Drake being told to get out by an angry, desperate man whose future was uncertain.

  He paused in front of the entrance and took a long breath. At least there would be wine. Hopefully this time courtesy would last long enough to have more than one glass. The morning fog was still thick and the camp slow to rise, with only the few sounds of metal pots clanking in the background as breakfast was being prepared. The horn, which blared at sunrise to rouse the

  soldiers, had not sounded. Drake reached out to push back the tent flap when a familiar scent reached him, flooding him with emotion.

  He rushed inside. Sitting at the table across from Gorlan was Lenora. She was wearing Bomar clothing and her hair was tucked beneath a cloth hat. She leapt to her feet upon seeing him and their bodies crushed together in an urgent embrace. He kissed her deeply, the taste of her lips and the warmth of her touch bringing joyous tears to his eyes.

  Gorlan cleared his throat conspicuously. “I see that you know one another.”

  Drake stepped away, his hand slipping down to clasp Lenora’s. “Look at you. Beautiful even in this.”