“Can you walk?” he asked.
Raelyn took a couple of tentative steps. He blocked the agony out of his mind, forced himself to push through the pain. He turned and looked at Archeo. “I can walk. But I need a drink.”
Archeo laughed, in spite of himself. Then he looked at Raelyn, and his laughter faded.
“I’m serious,” Raelyn said. “I need something to kill the pain. If I have to fight, I’m going to need something to take the edge off.”
Archeo’s face turned to a grimace. “I’m sorry, Raelyn. I don’t have anything.” He pulled a sword from his belt and handed it to Raelyn. “But I do have this.” Raelyn realized it was Tempest.
“I’m going to get Genevar,” he said, gesturing toward the door.
Archeo put his hand on the doorknob, but paused. “I need you to hit me, Raelyn. Hard, in the face. I need to make it look like you managed to take me by surprise. If they find out I helped you, they’ll hang me for it.”
Raelyn nodded, then hit him with the guard of his sword. Archeo crumpled to the ground, then started to shake it off. There were cuts on his forehead and cheek, and his eyes were unfocused. He looked like he had a concussion.
Archeo staggered back to his feet, and managed a weak smile. “Good shot,” he said, opening the door. “She’s right down the hall, the door on the right. Keep going down the hall and up the stairs, and you’ll be in the gatehouse. Bendro’s at the door. He’ll make sure you get out.”
Raelyn nodded, then walked out of the room. A torch burned at the end of the hall, and Raelyn walked with quiet steps until he reached the first door. He had to set his sword down to turn the knob. When the door swung open, he picked up his sword again and looked in. The wet lipped man turned and looked at Raelyn, and Raelyn stepped into the room and ran him through. The fat man put up no resistance. He staggered back and sat down on the floor, blood pouring through the gash in his leather apron. His smile was blissful as he slowly closed his eyes, and then stopped breathing.
He turned from the man and looked at the figure strapped to the table. She was naked, her body covered with small lacerations. Raelyn looked in horror at her face. Acid had burned holes in her cheek, burning out her eye and the side of her face. Her breast had been burned as well, her nipple burned or carved away, as well as the side of her abdomen. Raelyn could see fatty tissue and muscle, exposed by the holes in her skin. The right side of her face was still mostly untouched by the acid, as if the wet lipped man had been interrupted in the middle of his work. He remembered when Perinor had left, remembered the screams he had heard, remembered what he had imagined. He couldn’t have imagined something so horrific.
Her good eye was closed, and her face was contorted in an image of pain. Her body was shaking, trembling in silent sobs. Raelyn set his sword against the table and reached out, touching her upper arm. She flinched. “It’s me, Genevar,” he said to her. “It’s Raelyn. I’ve come to get you out of here.”
Her eye opened, slowly, painfully. She tried to smile, but it hurt too much. “I never talked,” she whispered, wincing with the effort. Raelyn began unbuckling her from the table, taking care not to hurt her any more than she already was hurt, murmuring soothing words to her. Slowly, gently, he helped her sit up.
“Is it bad?” she asked. Her voice told him she already knew the answer.
“Yeah,” he replied. “It’s bad. It’s real bad.”
She nodded, very slowly. “I’m ready to go,” she said, moving her mouth as little as possible. She winced with every word, and moved like someone twice her age. He helped her down off the table with his good hand.
When he bent down to pick up his sword, she noticed his arm in the sling. “What did he do to you?” she asked. Her voice sounded like his, and he noticed her lips were burned and starting to blister.
“He burned me, where I was wounded in the fight with Trevan,” he told her.
“Is it bad?” she asked again.
“Yeah.”
She looked down at the wet lipped man on the floor, then turned away, into Raelyn’s chest. “Go,” she said, and he realized speaking hurt too much. “Now.” She staggered a couple of steps, and he noticed that her knee was swelling up. He wondered what had happened there.
They stepped out into the hall, she behind him. Raelyn looked up and down the hall, but saw nothing. It was a short trip to the staircase, but Genevar had to stop. She was wheezing and out of breath. Raelyn wondered how much of that was because she was exhausted from what she had endured, and how much was from inhaling the fumes from the man’s bottle. He had seen men on campaign die from lesser wounds than these, and he wondered if they would survive theirs.
When they reached the top of the stairs, she had to open the door for him so he could hold on to his sword. They were in the gatehouse. Bendro was there, waiting nervously for them. Raelyn’s eyes met his, and he saw the look of horror on the man’s face. Bendro turned to the side and doubled over, trying not to vomit.
“It’s alright, Bendro,” Raelyn croaked. Bendro kept his eyes averted, and opened the door to the gatehouse. He saw the Market Bridge before him. Without another word, Raelyn and Genevar stepped out on to the bridge.
The pre-dawn air felt chilly, even though it had been a hot day, and Raelyn felt Genevar shivering next to him as they staggered, naked, across the bridge. They were about half way across the Market Bridge when they heard a cry of alarm behind them. Genevar sobbed, but whether from exhaustion, agony, or simply a sense of defeat, Raelyn could not be sure. “Keep moving,” he said to her. “If I have to hold them off, I will. Get to the temple so they can take care of you.”
Moments later, men began to pour out of the gatehouse, swords drawn. With them was Corlwyn. Raelyn didn’t pay attention to what they were shouting—he was only focused on Corlwyn. He knew if he could take him down, the others would lose heart, and he would only have one chance to do it. “Go,” he said to Genevar, and turned to face their pursuers. He heard the sound of Genevar’s frail body collapsing on the bridge behind him.
The first man to reach him was a member of the Watch, and Raelyn parried his blade to the side, thrusting into the man’s chest. The thrust was weak, but Tempest was good, sharp steel, and the man’s momentum made it a killing blow. He dropped dead in front of Raelyn, and the rest of the men quickly came to a stop.
“Corlwyn,” he called out, his voice still hoarse. “Face me man to man. Don’t hide behind these men. Have the courage to kill me yourself.”
Corlwyn stepped to the front of the group, his sword leveled at Raelyn. “You’re half dead already, Raelyn,” he replied. “I saw what you did to Archeo. Drop your sword and it will go easy on you. No more torture. Just a quick, clean death.”
Tempest’s point did not drop. I have to focus on small moves, he thought. I can’t let him know how bad off I am. Raelyn smiled, although it hurt him, badly.
“I took down Archeo,” he said, letting his bravado show through. “What makes you think I won’t be able to kill you as well?”
“Archeo isn’t dead, but I suppose you know that,” Corlwyn said with a sneer. “You were too afraid to kill him. You know how badly that would go for you.”
Raelyn laughed. “No, I didn’t kill him because I didn’t have to, and I don’t hate him.” He leveled his gaze at Corlwyn. “But I don’t have the same compunctions about killing you, Corlwyn.”
Raelyn stepped forward, flicking the tip of his blade at Corlwyn’s center and drawing back abruptly. The feint worked, and Corlwyn blocked down hard. Tempest’s point circled around, landing in Corlwyn’s right shoulder, in about the same place that Raelyn had been wounded. Raelyn was amused by the irony. But this is your sword arm, he thought.
Corlwyn stepped back, grimacing in pain. He was taller and had a longer reach. He used it to his advantage, fencing with Raelyn, trying a number of small cuts and thrusts which Raelyn parried lightly, smacking out of the way. I have to be careful, he thought. I’m already much worse off tha
n he is. I can’t afford any mistakes. I need to get him to extend himself, appeal to his pride. I can’t lunge in this condition, and I’ll never be able to get inside of his reach if he doesn’t come in on me.
“You can’t out fence me, Corlwyn,” Raelyn said with hollow bravado. “I’ve bested children better than you. Hells, Trevan was twice the swordsman you are, and I put him in his grave.”
It made Raelyn sick to use Trevan’s memory like that, but it had the desired effect. Corlwyn snarled and came at Raelyn viciously, swinging hard. Raelyn parried the blow to the side, but it rattled his teeth. He was quickly losing strength, and for a moment he wondered if he hadn’t made a mistake.
Corlwyn slashed twice again, driving Raelyn back and coming dangerously close to disemboweling him. But as he gained ground against Raelyn, he got overconfident. Raelyn slipped to the side on his next cut, and saw the side of Corlwyn’s throat exposed. His words to Trevan came back to him in that moment: If you’re aiming at someone’s throat, a light cut will kill.
Tempest flicked out, a killing blow. But at the last instant he turned the blade, landing the flat across Corlwyn’s temple. A bit of the edge caught, though, and Corlwyn’s cheek split like a ripe melon, from temple to chin. Corlwyn dropped to the ground, stunned and reeling.
Raelyn stepped forward and kicked the blade away from Corlwyn, looking up at the crowd. The tip of his sword went down to rest on the back of Corlwyn’s neck. “Back away, or he dies.”
The men of the Watch started backing away. Corlwyn was very, very still. Raelyn looked down at him. “I’m going to take Genevar, and we’re going to go. If you send anyone after me, they will die. If you come after me, you will die. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Corlwyn said. His voice was low.
Raelyn stepped back, and Corlwyn made no move to rise. He walked over to Genevar, who had collapsed on the bridge. She was unconscious. He rolled her over gently, and she stirred, her eye opening.
“I can’t, Raelyn,” she said. She was defeated.
“I can’t carry you, Genevar. You’re going to have to stand.”
“No,” she said.
He set his sword down at her side and reached around her, shrugging her arm over his shoulder. Pain was still running through his arm and neck like fire, but he ignored it. I’ve had worse, he told himself, although he knew he hadn’t. He grabbed his blade again, point down, and awkwardly lifted them both to their feet.
He looked over and saw that Corlwyn had risen to his feet. He had also picked his sword back up. Blood covered his face from the slash, and even in the dark Raelyn could see that it had soaked the front of his black shirt. Raelyn realized that he was in an untenable position. There was no way he could defend himself from any attack from Corlwyn.
Corlwyn looked at him, appraisingly. “She’s going to die,” he said, matter of factly.
“Not if I get her to the Temple of Erosan,” Raelyn said.
“You’ll never make it alone,” he replied, and turned and walked back to the Gatehouse.
Raelyn was surprised that Corlwyn hadn’t run him through, but he wasn’t about to question his fortune. He started walking across the bridge. “One step at a time,” he told Genevar, and her feet shuffled along, only half supporting her weight. It was a long walk to the end of the bridge, and Raelyn realized that they had to make it another mile or so to King’s Square. At this rate, it would take more than an hour.
Boots rang out on the bridge, and Raelyn turned back to look towards the Gatehouse. Two guards were jogging towards him. Instead of swords in their hands, Raelyn saw cloaks. When they got close, they slowed, and approached tentatively.
“Sir Corlwyn sent us out to escort you,” one said, holding out the cloak. He also had a sword belt in his hand, which had Raelyn’s scabbard and belt pouches strung on it. He recognized the belt immediately; it was Corlwyn’s.
The other man offered to take Genevar, and Raelyn let him, grateful for their help. The man who’d addressed him had to help him with the cloak, as well as with his belt. He looked away, obviously embarrassed to be tying a belt around the waist of a naked man. “It’d be a shame if we had to arrest you for being naked in public,” he joked weakly, and Raelyn smiled in spite of the situation.
One of the men carried Genevar gently in his arms, the cloak draped over the unburned parts of her body. She drifted in and out of consciousness as they walked through the Market District, occasionally whimpering in pain. Raelyn stumbled a few times as well, and the other man of the Watch had to help him keep his feet. The adrenaline was wearing off, and Raelyn suddenly realized how exhausted he was. I’ve barely slept the past two days. No, three days. He saw the dawn sky beginning to lighten. I’m amazed I can still walk.
When they reached the gatehouse between the Market District and the Garden District, Raelyn was surprised to see men of the First Division standing guard. These men were not like those in the Watch, men who went home to wives and children every day, but rather battle hardened soldiers, like Raelyn had once been. The man helping Raelyn saluted one of the soldiers as they approached.
“We have been sent by Sir Corlwyn to escort these two people to the Temple of Erosan. They are gravely injured.” He held out a small brass rod bearing the mark of the Gatehouse. It was one of the batons carried by the Watch on official business.
The soldier inspected the rod and handed it back to the man of the Watch. He stepped out of the way, letting them pass.
“What’s going on?” Raelyn asked, turning to the guard that was helping him. He knew the First was being called in to quell the riots, but the Garden District was a long way away from the Coscan District.
“Lord Elotarn has imposed martial law,” the guard said. “The First is guarding every gate in the city. They’re patrolling, too. Especially in the Wharf District and the Garden District. Corlwyn told us that they’re pulling rank on us now, so we have to listen to them.”
“The First giving orders to the Watch?” Raelyn couldn’t believe it. The Watch won’t know what to do with the First. They have no discipline, no military training!
“I know, pretty amazing, right? They think that just because they know how to use a sword they can do our jobs?” His escort had a completely different perspective on it than Raelyn. “They’re treating it like an occupied city, like we’re part of the Vashtik States! And seizing the docks might be making the city money, but it’s going to make a lot of merchants real mad, especially if the army keeps running things.”
“They seized the docks?” Raelyn asked.
“Yeah,” he replied. “The Council of Lords decided to reclaim the docks for the city. They’re taking the fees and tariffs for the coffers. The city’s going to be paying the owners for the land, but everybody knows they’re not going to get near what they’re worth. But it was either that or let the Lords pay for the uprising out of their own estates, so most of them agreed. Besides, up until about ten years ago the docks were city property anyway.”
They were only a few hundred yards into the district when they saw a procession of torches come around the bend. Raelyn’s first thought was that Perinor’s men had found them, and his hand dropped to his sword. But then he recognized the golden chalice on the tabards of the women and grey disks on the men walking towards them. He sighed in relief; Devotees of Thelorin and Erosan, gods be praised! The men were carrying two litters, and Teldra was at their head.
“Put her in the litter,” she barked without a word of greeting, addressing the guard carrying Genevar. She glanced over at Raelyn, saw he was on his feet, and immediately started looking Genevar over.
Raelyn stood there awkwardly while Jinna, another of the Ladies of Erosan, came over to inspect his wounds. She asked him questions and Raelyn answered, but he was focused on Teldra and Genevar. How in the name of the gods did they know we were coming? What’s going on here?
Finally Teldra walked over to Raelyn. She looked exhausted, as though she had just been woken up. “In t
here,” she snapped, pointing to the empty litter. “If you’re half as bad as she is, you’re in no condition to be walking about.” She turned to the men of the Watch. “You can go now.”
She turned back to Raelyn and looked at him expectantly. He realized he was standing there, gaping. She raised one eyebrow. “The sooner you lay down, the sooner we can get back to the temple. Your friend’s half dead, and you’re not much better off. I want to get a look at that shoulder.”
Raelyn laid down in the litter, and the procession started to move. The rocking of the litter was lulling, but the shooting pain in his shoulder prevented him from sleeping, so he drifted in and out of a twilight state. He saw Perinor floating in front of his eyes, and the wet lipped man, and he realized he was hallucinating. He was talking to Lord Elotarn, explaining something to him, but he wasn’t sure what. The words kept slipping away from him. Then there was Rennard, with a sword in his hand and a wound in his side. None of it made sense.
Astal was standing over him, saying something, and he realized he wasn’t hallucinating anymore. He focused on the words.
“You’re going to be okay,” Astal was saying. But it wasn’t Astal—it was Gray. His shirt was off and his ribs were bandaged. His face was pinched, and he was paler than usual, and he had a calm, calculating demeanor that Astal would never have had if he was dealing with death.
“What happened?” Raelyn tried to sit up, but the litter wasn’t firm enough for him to push himself up. He gave up and stayed laying.
“I got Karduk,” he said in low tones. “I ended up having to fight my way out. Took a couple of shots, but I made it back. By the time I showed up, you were already on your way out. I was coming in under the Nobles’ Bridge when I heard the fighting. By the time I got around to rescue you, Corlwyn was already down. I shadowed you until I figured out where you were going, then ran ahead to get help.”
Raelyn wanted to shout at Gray, to blame him for not coming in time to save him, to prevent Genevar from being maimed. But he knew it wasn’t Gray’s fault. And he was too tired to yell, anyway.
Erosan's Tears Page 22
