The Redstar Rising Trilogy: (Buried Goddess Saga Box Set 1: Books 1-3)

by Rhett C. Bruno

  By the end of the walk, he no longer swayed. Reminding him of what he used to be seemed to sober him up, and it got them through the dense crowd faster than Rand could have wished for.

  “Tell Valin I’ll take double,” Father Morningweg said when they stopped a short distance from the crypt’s guards.

  “You’ll take what was agreed upon,” Codar said.

  “Yeah? Why don’t I mosey over to those guards and tell them what you’re planning then?”

  Codar’s hand shot forward, fast as a crossbow bolt, to clutch the father by his robes. Murmuring broke out around them just as quickly. Rand didn’t need to hear the words. A Breklian grabbing a priest in obvious anger on the day of the Dawning... it was bound not to go well.

  “Valin wouldn’t hurt a priest now, would he?” the Father said.

  Codar’s bushy, white mustache wriggled as he grit his teeth, and he released him. “You god-worshippers are all the same. He reached into a pouch and drew a few gold autlas. “For your trouble, Father,” he said as he pulled the man close and slipped them into his hand.

  Father Morningweg bowed and circled his eyes. “Bless you, child of Brekliodad,” he said. “May the light of Iam guide you on your journey in sending that bastard Redstar straight to exile.” He flashed a grin, then strutted off.

  All the pride Rand felt at helping the priest regain a fragment of his poise instantly melted away. Men who took the vow of sightlessness swore off all wealth and finery, and evidently, Morningweg had been changed too much by the horrors of war. Or perhaps, he had always been corrupt, and Valin Tehr was there to feed that darkness, to prey on his weakness to accomplish his goals like he had with Rand.

  “Did you hope his kind was above greed?” Codar asked.

  “I hoped many things weren’t as they are,” Rand replied.

  “The old gods have abandoned us. Soon, you people will see as mine have, that all we are is flesh and desire.”

  “How much is Valin paying you to try and coax me toward loyal service to him?”

  Codar didn’t bother responding. “Come. Tell the guards you are here to see Foreman Orebreaker. That we are more masons to help finish the job.” He gestured to Valin’s three thugs accompanying them.

  “And if they recognize me?”

  “The Rand they knew wasn’t a drunk with a beard patchy as a goat with mange.” Codar again poked Rand’s jaw to lift it. “Head up. Avoid their gaze like you’re above them. Breklian emissaries are not renowned for being on the winning side of deals because they are special, but because everyone thinks they are.”

  Codar continued along with Valin’s men. They strolled right up to the guards at the fence as if they were invited in until two spears closed before them.

  “Sorry,” one of the guards said. “All revelry is to be kept east of the break.”

  “We are here to help with repairs,” Codar replied.

  “On the Dawning?”

  “I’m not a Glassman and they’re masons from east of Crowfall. Wouldn’t know Iam from Meungor.”

  The guards exchanged a confused look. “Sorry, we have orders.”

  Rand took that as his cue to step in or risk failing. They’d given him a loose sense of the plan, but Codar didn’t speak much when Valin was around.

  “Now you’ve got new ones,” he said, stepping forward. He did his best to sound commanding, drawing on his memories of Torsten and Wardric.

  “Sir,” they both saluted.

  “The Crown doesn’t want construction to stop on account of the holiday, and there aren’t enough dwarves alone,” Rand said.

  “I ...uh... we heard nothing about it,” one of them stammered.

  “And that’s why you’re out here. Now let us through to the foreman.”

  “Yes, sir... right away, sir.”

  Their spears parted, and Rand walked through first. Codar and the others followed. He knew the way many Shieldsmen spoke to their underlings even if it had never been how he treated other men of the Glass. He’d been a meager guard before, been spoken to the same.

  “Well done, knight,” Codar said, the title oozing with mockery.

  “Keep walking.”

  Inside, a barricade retained massive hunks of fallen rock on the mountain-side of the trail. On the day of Pi’s rebirth, it was said Mount Lister split open as if bearing him from her womb. The metaphor was apter than Rand expected. A gash ran down a portion of the mountainside all the way to the base, ending directly above the buried Royal Crypt.

  They climbed over and through a pile of boulders, then arrived at the construction site. A handful of dwarves stood in a clearing surrounded by piles of rough, jagged stone, the size of which made the dwarves seem even smaller. A few of their construction machinations sat beside the gap in the earth leading down to the Royal Crypt—huge contraptions able to lift stone into place with a system of pulleys and levers. A few more Glass guards stood around the area, making sure no curious pilgrims tried to sneak in and disturb things. One of them wore glaruium armor, a Shieldsman Rand didn’t recognize.

  “For such small folks, everything they build is huge,” Rand remarked.

  “Whatever it takes to prove they’re better than us,” Codar replied.

  “Aye, who let you pass!” the Shieldsman called, rushing over. The two Glass soldiers took their time following.

  “They’re here to help with construction,” Rand said. He purposefully turned his body and head to face Codar, and never turned all the way back.

  “Today?”

  “No delays.”

  A lift rose to the surface out of the maw, a burly dwarf perched atop, chest thick as an iron keg and beard full as an oak in summer. He noticed Codar and the features on his grime-covered face lit up.

  “There ye be, lazy bugger!” he exclaimed. “Been waitin for you.”

  “Why didn’t you mention anything?” the Shieldsman asked.

  “Last I heard, I report to the Leuvero Messier, Master of Masons, who reports to the Prime Minister,” the foreman said.

  “You report to the Crown, of which I am an extension.”

  “So is he.” The dwarf stuck one of his stubby, calloused fingers toward Rand. “Found him this morning and sent him to fetch this crew by the gates. Barely a soul working today, festivities tomorrow; you lazy flower pickers hate work.” He and his crew burst out in laughter.

  The Shieldsman wasn’t entertained. “We don’t fall behind on our work.”

  “A mountain filled with metal makin iron seem like parchment split open and collapsed on a crypt. Ye try stickin to a deadline.”

  The Shieldsman groaned. “Fine, get them working. But anything goes wrong, and it’ll be your head on the Prime Minister’s spike.”

  Even the Shieldsmen are recognizing Redstar’s new position, Rand noted.

  Codar approached the dwarf, and they exchanged some quiet words as the dwarf invited Valin's men onto the lift. Nothing passed between hands like with the priest, but that arrangement was likely already taken care of.

  Rand took a step toward them, but the other Shieldsman did the same and got in between them. “What are you doing, knight?” he questioned.

  Rand stopped. He kept his gaze fixed on Codar, refusing to look the Shieldsman in the eye. “Taskmaster Lars asked if I could fill in at the dungeon today,” Rand replied. Lying wasn’t his forte, and with all the turnover he wasn’t sure that the old scribe in charge of organizing the day-to-day affairs of the King’s Shield barracks was still in place. The name didn’t appear to surprise the Shieldsman.

  “There may not be a new wearer yet,” Rand added, “but we still have to work, right?”

  “No new Wearer?” the Shieldsman’s brow furrowed. “They named Sir Nikserof co-wearer just the other day.”

  Rand’s throat went dry. Codar had mentioned that in their prep over the last few days and it completely escaped his mind. “Sir Nikserof? Really? I just transferred down from Crowfall, and nobody bothered to tell me?”

>   The man gave him another look over, then sighed. “Not surprising. It’s been a mess since Sir Unger lost his mind.”

  “Were you there?”

  “Aye. He was like a mad bull, never seen anything like it. Would have killed me if I were in the way but I was lucky to be behind the giant.”

  “By Iam...”

  “These are strange times sure. Rebellion, warlocks on the streets, a Wearer sharing the white with a barbarian...” Rand nodded along with the man until his train of thought seemed to end. “Anyway, what were you saying?”

  “I was hoping to pass through the crypt. Just got stationed back here so I’ve got dungeon duty on the Dawning of all days.”

  “Well, that’s an active work zone,” the Shieldsman replied, pointing. “Only masons allowed while they finish the dome. You’ll have to head back to the castle the long way.”

  Rand gestured back to the northern gate. “Back though that crowd? It’ll take me all day.”

  “You should’ve thought of that before taking on an escort that any guard in Yarrington could have handled.”

  “C’mon Sir...” Rand made the mistake of locking eyes with the man momentarily as he lingered on the word, waiting for a name.

  “Childress,” the Shieldsman said.

  “Sir Childress. I didn’t even know about the new Wearer, let alone how best to get around the city these days.”

  “And you didn’t think that the Royal Crypt might still be dangerous?”

  “To be honest, I figured it was done by now.”

  The man grimaced. “Then you haven’t worked with dwarves. Only thing that gets those short runts to move is gold, and the war in the South has the coffers low.”

  Rand thought back to the man’s earlier conversation with the dwarven foreman and remembered the constant butting heads between the Glass and the dwarven kingdoms. He wasn’t used to his mind being so sharp as it was of late. He could get used to it.

  “You’re telling me,” Rand said, acting exhausted. “It’s amazing any of us in Crowfall has a bronzer to spend with how many of the little-men live near there.”

  Sir Childress' stance appeared to relax. “Fine, I’ll let you through just this once, but don’t tell anyone.”

  “Thank you, Sir.” Rand saluted and took a step, but the Shieldsman wasn’t done talking.

  “How is the old snow city?” he asked. “I grew up there myself.”

  “Did you, now?” It wasn’t hard to feign the excitement in his tone. Of all the cities in the kingdom he could’ve picked, of course, he chose the one where the Shieldsman grew up.

  “Aye.” He snickered. “You probably came up a few years earlier than me, green as you are, but I’m Crow through and through. Trained under the Sir Barvadi. He still up there?”

  “Still a pain. Barely made it a day in training without him screaming at me.”

  “You sure it was him? Sir Barvadi lost his tongue to Drav Cra raiders.”

  Rand cursed himself inwardly. Another slip up. All he needed to do was get out of this conversation. “Of course, figure of speech. His glare was worse than words.”

  Sir Childress took a step forward and looked Rand straight in the eyes. “What did you say your name was?”

  “I didn’t.” Rand forced a smile to mask how hard he swallowed next as if all moisture left his mouth. “I really ought to be going. Thanks for letting me through. Always a pleasure to meet a fellow Crow.” Rand banged his chest-plate in salute again, then moved for the lift. Childress grabbed his arm.

  “Wait, I know you, don’t I?” he asked, leaning in close.

  “Maybe we trained together one day up there?”

  “No, that’s not it, I... wait. You’re...” He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. A knife stabbed through the back of his neck, the point dripping red through his throat. As he fell, Rand saw Codar, arm outstretched, hand open like he’d thrown it.

  The two soldiers in the clearing reached for their weapons, but Valin’s men bolted into action. Rand wasn’t sure where they drew knives from, but two of them gutted a soldier so fast he collapsed at Rand’s feet before he could step back. The other was able to get his sword from its sheath in time and cut open the third thug’s belly. Valin’s man crumpled, pawing to hold his innards in before toppling over.

  In the confusion, Rand nearly betrayed his feelings, thrilled to see the brute get cut down.

  “Traitors!” the soldier barked. He charged at Rand, but Codar slipped between them. He was both incredibly quick and elegant, like a dancer in a southern troupe. He deflected two blows, used the guard’s weight against him to affect his balance, then spun low and kicked out the soldier’s feet. In the same motion, Codar brought the tip of his blade around and shoved it through the soldier’s eye.

  The Breklian wiped his blade off on the end of his tunic as he stood.

  Rand was stunned by the carnage. Foreman Oarbreaker and the other dwarven masons were similarly dumbfounded. The Shieldsman still gurgled, somehow having risen to his hands and knees. One of Valin’s men kicked him over and released a chuckle.

  Rand shot forward, seized Codar, and threw him to the ground. “We said no killing Glassmen!” he roared. He heard metal scraping, then felt something sharp at his belly, but it didn’t stop him.

  “I didn’t,” Codar replied.

  “Your boss did.”

  “But I didn’t,” he repeated. “That man recognized you. We do not have time for this.”

  “Time for this? You murdered a Shieldsman. He never even reached for his sword, he might have just thought I was someone else.”

  “Well, next time you try to deceive a well-trained man, don’t slip twice. Now release me before it’s too late.”

  Rand’s fists squeezed tight, then he shoved Codar down for good measure and stood. The Breklian kicked back up to his feet and pointed at Foreman Oarbreaker. “Get these bodies down into the crypt. I don’t care where you bury them.”

  The dwarf remained frozen, staring at Sir Childress' now twitching body.

  “Now, dwarf!”

  Foreman Oarbreaker shook out his head. “Aye lads, ye heard him. It’ll be our heads too if these're found.”

  The dwarves grabbed the bodies of the soldiers and Valin’s fallen thug and dragged them onto the lift, grumbling to each other the whole way. Codar hopped up some rocks to take a look beyond the construction site.

  “Nobody saw,” he said. “You’re lucky, Glassman.”

  “Lucky that you killed these men?” Rand said.

  “We. Like it or not you’re one of us now, and it was them or us.”

  “I…” Rand lost his train of thought. He wasn’t sure why he was shocked that foul men like these would do something so horrid beyond the gaze of their equally monstrous boss. “You could have knocked them out.”

  “Incapacitation is a risk. Death leaves no room for regret.”

  Codar backed onto the lift alongside his men, the dwarves, and the bodies. Rand had no choice but to join them. He was in too deep now. All he could hope was that saving Torsten would be enough.

  One of the dwarves climbed onto the pulley, and the lift began its descent. Now that the initial shock was out of the way, the little men seemed peculiarly calm amidst all the death.

  “Valin’s gonna be payin a lot more for this,” Foreman Oarbreaker griped.

  “I’m sure he’ll be happy to renegotiate,” Codar replied.

  “Renego... I’ll be visitin him on our way out. Soon as yer through, this is the last time ye’ll see us in Yarrington.”

  “What about finishing the Royal Crypt?” Rand wasn’t sure why that was a concern at a time like this, but he’d only been down once before during training. Sir Torsten and Sir Wardric liked to show new recruits the incredible breadth of history they protected.

  As they descended into the massive, domed space, it was impossible for its majesty not to overshadow Rand’s anger at Codar. Caskets made of glass wrapped the walls, allowing the preser
ved bodies of former kings to be viewed. Every inch of stone was carved with imagery from both the history of the Glass Kingdom and Iam himself. Flawless work that only the greatest artisans in history were capable of. The very floor was a mosaic telling the story of how Iam ended the God Feud, took man under his wing, led them all those centuries ago from the wintery wasteland of Drav Cra, and inspired the first King of the Glass, Autlas Nothhelm, to found Yarrington at the foot of Mount Lister.

  The damage from the quake which ruptured the Mountain above was nearly all repaired. Some scaffolding still lined the walls, as some of the low, arched openings within which the caskets were slotted had collapsed. A portion of the domed ceiling was ruptured, and an area of the vast hall encasing the space had its columns knocked out, supported temporarily by wood. The scepters of old Kings sat in alcoves along it, and some were now damaged and could likely never be replicated. Hallways shot out between them toward lesser crypts for the families of the kings, some of those blocked off by rubble.

  “Good enough job for me,” the dwarf said. “You humans want to keep burying people underground, maybe you should learn how to build down here.”

  “Quiet,” Codar demanded. “Are there any guards in the crypt?”

  “The softies preferred the fresh air until they got too cold.” He glanced down at the Shieldsman’s corpse and stuck his tongue out in disgust. “They’ll be awful cold now.”

  “What about Drav Cra? Have you seen them in the castle tunnels?”

  “This a quiz? I come, I work stone, and I go home. If ye wanted me spyin on the castle, ye should have made an offer, Breklian.”

  “Dwarves,” Codar grumbled. The lift clanked to a stop in a cloud of dust, and he stepped off. “Hide them in one of the family crypts.”

  “Which one?”

  “I don’t care.” Codar removed his entire purse of autlas and flung it at the dwarves feet. “Just don’t let them be found, and consider that final payment.”

  Foreman Oarbreaker kneeled and pulled back his beard so he could peak into the bag, then snatched it up. “Aye, boys. Ye heard him. Got one more thing to bury before we head off.” He and his crew slung the bodies over their shoulders, two per man, like they were carrying logs, then headed off toward one of the lesser crypts.