And maybe that was true; he didn’t belong on a battlefield. But, as far as he could see, no one did. No one, except, perhaps, for the dead, their still faces, frozen in the pain and disbelief of their final moments, a mute testament to the tragedy that occurred when words failed, when men chose the easier path instead. And dying was easy. Leomin needed only to look around to see the truth of that.
Suddenly, something hissed past him, perilously close, and he cried out before he saw an arrow strike the back of one of the creatures that had become visible in the melee. Swallowing hard, he risked a glance behind him at the dozens of crossbowmen and regular bowmen standing behind the ragged line of infantry, and wondered how he had been so foolish as to not ask for a bow. True, he knew nothing of its use but, then, he knew nothing of how to use the sword which he held either, and if he were back there, he wouldn’t have to worry about being stuck with an arrow from one of his frightened allies.
The arrows the men fired were helping, slowing the creatures, but their effectiveness, just then was a dubious comfort, and the space between his shoulder blades itched as he imagined it all too likely that one of the men would miss his mark and strike him instead. And despite all the archers’ efforts, the creatures’ unnatural speed meant that more than one made it to the line of infantry without any wounds, the proof of which could be seen in the bodies scattered around, most of which belonged to Perennia’s army.
He was pulled from his thoughts as someone shouted nearby. He spun, and saw three of the creatures coming at his small group, scything through the men in front like they were so much wheat despite the arrows that soared past Leomin and the others, finding their marks in the attackers’ flesh. But the creatures didn’t have it all their own way, and one fell, then another. The final one that made it to Leomin bled from dozens of cuts, and when it swung its sword at him, it displayed none of the characteristic speed of its kind. Leomin parried the blade, nearly dropping his own, then with a sound somewhere between a growl and a whimper, he lunged forward, plunging his blade through the creature’s stomach and just managing to avoid tripping as he did.
The creature went rigid as the blade entered, but its free hand gripped the sharp edge, and Leomin watched in horror as it began pulling itself along the length of his sword, oblivious of the sharpened steel shredding its hand to the bone. Leomin grunted, trying to wrestle the blade free, but the creature refused to allow it, edging closer inch by inch despite his efforts, raising its sword in preparation of a strike. Just when Leomin was sure he was going to die, a sword flashed out, taking the creature’s head from its shoulder. With a scream of relief and fear, Leomin planted his foot in the creature, kicking it free of the blade and stumbling backward.
Hands caught him, and he turned to see a young soldier, at least a decade younger than Leomin himself, standing there, his eyes wide as he stared at the headless corpse. “Thanks,” Leomin gasped.
“D-don’t mention it,” the soldier answered, his eyes still studying the corpse.
Leomin looked around and saw to his surprise that he and the soldier stood surrounded by dozens of dead on the ground, their blood mixing with the rain that puddled at his feet. All along the lines, hundreds of soldiers engaged in bloody battle. The young soldier hissed, and Leomin looked in the direction the man indicated with a shaking finger to see more of the creatures emerging from the forest. Leomin was not a man to despair—such an emotion was far too close to the cynical, passionless outlook his people had on the world—but he despaired then.
“W-what do we do?” the soldier asked.
Leomin gazed at the creatures and, somehow, in watching his inevitable death approach, he found courage. Yes, he would die, but then there were worse things than death. Better to die fighting for something he believed in, with his friends around him, than to live a lifeless, passionless existence like the one chosen by his people. “What do we do?” he said, echoing the soldier’s words, though whether he asked the question of himself or the youth with him, he could not have said for sure. And when next he spoke, there was no fear in his voice, only determination. “We go and meet them, lad.”
What? Aliandra sputtered. You can’t go and meet them. Damnit, Leomin, you are not a fighter!
When faced with evil such as this, Aliandra, he thought back, a man can be nothing else.
Not a fighter, but a fool certainly!
“Perhaps,” Leomin said, “and, most times, a coward too. But not today. Today, I am a soldier.” And then he was running, his sword raised awkwardly over his head, stumbling on the wet ground but running for all that.
Three of the creatures stood and watched his approach, and despite their expressionless gazes, he couldn’t help but think he saw something like the incredulity he felt as they waited for him. He was nearly on them, still screaming and never mind the harsh rasp of his throat, when his foot caught on something—a body or part of one—and he tumbled to the ground, rolling in the mud to flop almost directly beneath the foremost creature’s feet.
Not the way I thought it would go, he thought, watching the creature raise its blade and knowing he would be too late to defend himself. Then something blurred across his vision, and the next thing he knew, the three creatures collapsed, their heads sliding off their necks as they did.
Leomin was still blinking in shock when someone grabbed him, pulling him to his feet. He turned to see Seline standing beside him, a sword held in her other hand. She was coated in blood as if she had bathed in it, but she was smiling a fierce, confident smile, and Leomin thought that, even here, in this place, a man might find beauty.
“You don’t get off that easy, Parnen.”
“I…that is…I wouldn’t think of i—” He cut off as a roar louder than any thunder reverberated in the air, and they both spun to see one of the giant creatures, nine feet tall at least, stalking toward them and the soldiers that had now formed up on either side.
“Hmm,” Seline said, glancing at Leomin and raising one eyebrow. “Well, what will it be, Leomin?”
He looked between her and the approaching giant then sighed. “I suppose we’d best not leave him waiting.”
She flashed him a grin, tossing her sword away and drawing two knives from her waist. “Oh, Leomin, but you really know how to show a lady a good time.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
Dark shadows rose all around him, rose and rose until they blocked out the sky itself. They were coming for him. No. Not coming. They were here. Hundreds, thousands of shadows, birthed from darkness, looming over him. Though they were silent, he could feel the menace coming off them in waves. There was no light to be found no matter where he looked, only the darkness, only a perpetual night that seemed to have swallowed the entire world and everything in it. And cold. A cold that seeped into his bones, into his heart.
They had come for him, these shadows, this cold. The world was covered in darkness, all those he had grown to care for, come to love, swallowed by it. Gone. Only he was left, alone and afraid, and any second the darkness would surge forward, bringing with it not just death, but oblivion. He knew this, just as he knew there was no one left to aid him, no one left who he might look to for help. There was no one. Nothing. Only him and the darkness.
I told you this would happen. The voice was like an intruder in his thoughts.
Caleb spun to see a man he didn’t recognize watching him with cold, calculating eyes, illuminated by a fey light that seemed not to banish the darkness but enhance it, define it. “W-what? I don’t…I don’t understand.”
“Yes, you do,” the man said, and this time he spoke aloud. “You have doomed them, Caleb. Doomed them all.”
“N-no,” Caleb said, realizing even as he shook his head in furious denial that there was something familiar about the man. “No, I couldn’t have.”
“But you did,” the man said, his voice merciless and without compassion.
”What…what has happened?”
“You happened, Caleb
. You killed them, all of them.”
“No,” he rasped. “No, I wouldn’t have done that…I wouldn’t. You can’t know—”
“But I can,” the man said, leaning down so his face was only inches from Caleb’s own. “I know, young Caleb, because I am you.” He gestured at the towering figures of darkness and shadow surrounding them. “They come for you now, these things you have brought upon the world.” His voice was dry and without inflection, but it was all the more terrible for that, and Caleb screamed.
He screamed, and he screamed, and the darkness surged forward, swallowing even the sounds of it until there was nothing left.
“… okay. You’re okay.”
Caleb gasped like a drowning man finding air where he had expected none. Something warm and damp touched his forehead, and he opened his eyes to see Adina leaning over him, realized that the sensation he had felt had been the warm rag which she held.
“Q-Queen Adina?” he asked, struggling to order his thoughts.
“I’m here,” she said, and those simple words, so heartfelt and reassuring, were enough to make tears gather in Caleb’s eyes.
He swallowed, and tensed as he remembered what had happened. “We’ve got to warn the army,” he blurted. “There’s an attack coming—the creatures are massing and—”
He started to rise from the bed, but she pushed him back down, at once both gentle and firm. “Relax, Caleb. You’re safe.”
You’re safe. “But…I don’t understand. The creatures…”
“The attack did come,” Adina said, her own expression growing grim. “The creatures came in mass, as you said. But thanks to Aaron—thanks to you—we were not caught completely unaware. There were losses,” she said, her own eyes filled with sadness, “but…it could have been much worse.”
“Thanks to me? But I didn’t—”
“He said he dreamed of you,” Adina said. “He said that, because of that, he knew the creatures were coming, and we were able to prepare.”
Caleb swallowed at that, and another thought struck him. “Tianya. I was carrying her on a litter, when Aaron found me and—”
“She has been seen to,” Adina interrupted. “The healers tell me they believe she will recover. She has been awake for two days now, and though she is weak, she is lucid enough. She is alive, Caleb, and she has you to thank for it.” She shook her head, as if amazed. “You are so brave.”
Caleb didn’t feel brave. He felt like just about the biggest coward anyone could be, but he didn’t dare question the queen, so he only nodded. After a moment, something she had said made its way past his own troubled thoughts, and he frowned. “You said she’s been awake for two days? But…but that can’t be. It was only a few hours ago that…”
“Aaron and the Ghosts found you in the woods four nights ago,” Adina said. “You have been unconscious since then.” She stared down at him, and Caleb was shocked to see tears gathered in her eyes. “We feared that you would not awaken. You had a terrible fever and…” She cut off, shaking her head and putting on a smile, the effort of which obviously cost her. “But you’re okay. Thank the gods, you’re okay.”
“Four days,” Caleb said in wonder. I’ve been asleep for four days. He did a quick calculation. Based on the army’s rate of travel—proven accurate by the fact that he had found their camp at all—and how many miles they had left to travel to reach the city of Baresh…his eyes went wide. “But…but that means that we’ll reach the city in…”
Adina nodded. “Two days. Our scouts report we’ll be within sight of the city walls by mid-afternoon the day after tomorrow.”
Less than two days. Caleb’s heart quickened at the thought. Two days, and then they would discover what the mage, Kevlane, had been up to and that, at least, was knowledge he thought he could do without, never mind that Palendesh said every bit of knowledge a man could find was of incalculable value. For such knowledge as that would not be free, and the learning of it would be paid for in hundreds, almost certainly thousands, of lives.
“I…so soon?” A stupid question, but it was all he could think to say, all he could force past the lump that had gathered in his throat like a stone.
“Yes,” she said, and Caleb thought he could detect a fear similar to his own in her troubled gaze. “Oh, speaking of which…” She rose from her chair and offered him a glass of cool water, which he took gratefully. “Aaron and the others will no doubt wish to know you’re awake. They have been asking after you, and it will do them good to know you’re okay.”
Caleb paused in taking a drink of the water—he’d never tasted anything so good—to blink in surprise. “They…asked after me?”
“Of course,” she said, putting her hand on his where it sat atop the blanket, and Caleb felt his face heat. “We all care about you, Caleb. You have to know that. And when we return to Perennia victorious, the people of the city will owe much of their thanks to you.”
“If we return,” Caleb said, unable to stop the words from coming, and wincing, sure she would scream at him now, would demand to know how a tavern boy would dare question a queen.
She didn’t though. Instead, she only smiled, patting his hand. “When we return, I expect Michael will be very glad to see you. He has missed you, you know.”
Something about the way she said it, so sure, so confident, made some of the worry and fear that had nestled in Caleb’s heart dissipate. Foolish, perhaps, for he knew the truth of what they faced, knew the odds of victory more than he wished, yet he believed her anyway. And this time, thinking of Michael, he didn’t have to fake the smile that came to his face. “I miss him too. Do you think I’ll see him again…soon?”
She winked. “I know you will. Now, the others will be waiting to see you, when you’re ready. And, if you can, we’d love to know anything you can tell us about what happened at the barracks.” She must have seen something of his reluctance in his face, for she shook her head, holding up a finger. “Only when you’re ready, Caleb. Unfortunately, speaking takes a lot out of Tianya, and we have been able to get little from her. But you take your time. I’ll be back to check on you soon.”
Caleb watched her go, blinking furiously in a vain effort to banish the unshed tears in his eyes. We all care about you, Caleb. You have to know that.
Some rulers are made so by design, others by circumstance, but that one, I think, was born to lead.
“Palendesh, you’re okay!” Caleb shouted, unable to keep the grin from his face as the Virtue appeared in front of him, a floating ball of blue light hovering above his bed.
“Well, of course I am,” the Virtue said, but Caleb could hear the pleasure in his tone. “Still—and I do not mean to be alarming, young Caleb, but…I seem to have misplaced a few body parts. You haven’t seen any lying around by chance, have you?”
Caleb blinked. “Palendesh…did you just make a joke?”
“I…yes?”
Caleb laughed. “We’re going to have to work on your humor, sometime.”
“Some believe,” the Virtue went on defensively, “that humor, at its basest form, is a perversion of intellect, a maligning of the truth to make the improbable conceivable.”
Caleb laughed again, but he quickly sobered when he remembered Adina’s words. The others were waiting—Aaron, Gryle, and all the rest. They would want to hear of what had transpired at the barracks, would want to know what happened to the Speaker and the other Akalians. After all, they were counting on them to open the gates of the city, and without the Akalians there to do it…It will be a blood bath.
“Leave tomorrow’s troubles for tomorrow, Caleb,” the Virtue said, “for today has worries enough. I would not count the Akalians out and, even should they not make it to the city in time, we will still find a way. But not now. For now, I wish for you to know that I am proud of you. Because of you, Tianya is alive. Thanks to your efforts, all of the Virtues, save for Adaptation itself, will be brought to bear against Kevlane and his twisted creations.”
Caleb winc
ed, the Virtue’s words causing him an almost physical pain, and he felt his face heat with shame. “I almost left her, Palendesh,” he said, his voice breaking with emotion. “You weren’t there or weren’t answering, and the other…he was there.” He looked at the Virtue, tears streaming from his eyes. “I almost left her.”
“Yes. You almost left her. But you didn’t. All are tempted in such situations, Caleb. It is not a crime to be tempted, just as it is not a brave man’s shame to feel fear. Without temptation, one cannot overcome it, just as without fear there can be no courage. And you, young one, have shown much courage.”
Caleb wiped furiously at his eyes, shaking his head. “It wasn’t courage, Palendesh. I was terrified. I…part of me wanted to leave her.”
“Not courage, you say,” the Virtue answered, his tone thoughtful, as if he were a scholar considering a particularly complex problem. “Very well, then if it was not courage that made you carry her when most would have left her behind, if it was not courage that sent you into the dark and the cold, dragging your burden behind you…then what, Caleb, was it?”
“I…” His shoulders slumped, and he stared down at his hands which sported dozens of scratches from his time in the woods. “I don’t know.”
Don’t you?
Caleb shifted uncomfortably. “He was…persuasive, Palendesh.” He shook his head slowly, remembering the voice. “He was so sure so…confident. I’ve never been like that. My ma…my mother, she used to say I was a coward, that I was scared of my own shadow.”
“And why shouldn’t you be?” the Virtue asked. Though the question was simple enough, Caleb thought he could detect anger in his tone. “It is not cowardice to fear the shadows, young one. For you, unlike most, know well what they might hold, what waits, hidden, in the darkness. As for the other,” he went on, his voice full of disdain, “yes, he is always sure of himself, always confident. But such surety is not gained from wisdom or from intelligence, Caleb. The servant of King Belgarin with whom I shared the bond was an example of one such as this. It is not knowledge which lends their words weight, only the pretense of it, and the tower upon which they sit and judge the world is built of nothing but artifice and illusion. For in such confidence, men show their beliefs—a belief that they are wiser than others, possessed of more knowledge, more understanding, and that they, alone, know the inner workings of the world. Beware of anyone, young one, who claims the possession of absolute truth.”
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