by Sandell Wall
When Aventine and Holmgrim had entered Umgragon for the first time, he had been confused for one of Governor Wranger’s bearded bodyguards. Now he went clean-shaven so that no one would make the same mistake again. He looked ten years younger, and Aventine had to admit that with his square jaw, rugged face, and long gray-streaked black hair, Holmgrim looked heroic.
Under the light of the rising moon, they made good time. Holmgrim led them parallel to the mountain range, heading toward the flatlands to the east of Umgragon. Within two hours, they reached the end of the foothills. Before them stretched farmland and plains as far as the eye could see. It was almost perfectly flat, and the only trees were few and far between. Holmgrim paused at the top of the last hill next to a stone pillar of the Umgragon aqueduct. They had to make a decision about what to do next.
“So we’ve failed?” Saffrin said, her voice bitter. “The resistance was for nothing?”
“We’re still alive,” Holmgrim said.
“I count my life a small thing,” Saffrin said. “If all we can do is run, I should have fought and died in the mountains.”
“What would you have us do?” Holmgrim said.
“The First will be occupied in the mountains for several days. It will be no easy task digging that many corpses out of the rubble. Maybe we can infiltrate the city and make contact with the resistance on the inside.”
“Forgive me, lady, but no,” Aventine said. “There’s more at stake here than the fate of one city. I don’t mean to make light of your loss, but Emperor Pontius must know of what’s happened here, and there’s no one better than you to tell him. We did everything we could to survive in the mountains, and yet we were defeated utterly. That we live is a miracle, and we cannot now throw our lives away and spurn this blessing from the gods.”
“Aventine’s right,” Holmgrim said gently. “You may not value your life, but you won’t help anyone by throwing it away.”
“You will not aid me, then?” Saffrin said, her voice pained.
“To try and enter Umgragon now would be madness,” Aventine said. “You barely escaped with your life a month ago. What do you expect to accomplish? Do you truly think there are still rebels on the inside?”
Saffrin paced away from Aventine and Holmgrim, lost in thought as she stared at the engineered lines of the Umgragon aqueduct. A thousand stone arches carried water as it raced into the dark horizon. For a long time she said nothing. When she did speak, her voice was full of sorrow.
“Wranger holds my brother in his torture pits beneath the castle. As long as I’m free, he will keep my brother alive. Every day, Crell suffers because of me.”
Fists clenched, Saffrin turned to face them. “What would you have me do? Abandon him to misery and suffering? A month ago I watched as the only man I’ve ever loved was murdered in front of me. I tried to avenge him, and I failed. My brother sacrificed himself so that I might escape. Everything I hold dear has been taken from me, and now the few friends I had left are dead because they believed in my cause. My story was here. It ended here. I should die here. I know that Umgragon was just a detour for the two of you. You never had to stay and fight, but you did, and I am grateful, but now you must continue on. Leave me here with my sorrow. Let me find a way to die.”
As she talked, Saffrin’s voice weakened until she was crying openly. She managed to croak out one final word. “Please,” she said as she sobbed.
Aventine’s heart hurt for the woman, but the path forward was clear. Too much time had been lost fighting in the mountains. She had to return to the emperor, with or without Saffrin. She looked at Holmgrim. The big barbarian had a far-away look in his eyes. Aventine had seen that sadness on Holmgrim’s face before, although he had never spoken of it.
“There are many ways to die, but only one life to live,” Holmgrim said. “You can give in to your sorrow. You can find the death you seek, and if you must, you must. But you can also find purpose again. Instead of ending your story, you can start a new chapter.”
“And leave behind all that I’ve ever known?” Saffrin said. “What manner of life would that be?”
Holmgrim knelt on the hilltop and stared out over the dark plains. He was silent for a long time, so long that Aventine did not expect him to speak. But when he did, his voice was quiet and full of emotion.
“Thirty years ago I was the son of the chieftain of the Volgoth,” he said. “Goregash, my bloody minded younger brother, provoked the empire by raiding a village and slaughtering every man, woman, and child. He started a war we could not win. The Legions marched into the Wilds and put our people to the sword. They set fire to the forest, driving our people from their homes. My father, mother, and two of my sisters burned when the fires raged out of control.
“Upon the chieftain's death, I became the leader of the tribes. I wanted peace. I wanted time to grieve, to bury our dead, and to rebuild. Goregash wanted blood. He rallied the tribes against me, and upon threat of banishment, demanded that I lead them to war. I refused. Goregash banished me, and told me that if I ever returned to the Wilds, he would kill me with his own hand.”
Aventine and Saffrin listened in stunned silence.
Holmgrim looked up at Saffrin. “My story should have ended there, but the gods had other plans. As I walked out of the Wilds, I saved the life of a Legion soldier who protected me and gave me a purpose. For the next thirty years I learned a craft and have done my best to live a life of peace and service. If I’d given in to my anger and sorrow those many years ago, none of that would have ever happened. In truth, I’ve come to believe that my banishment from the Wilds was the beginning of my story, not the end.”
“You never returned?” Aventine asked.
Holmgrim stood before answering. “Although I thought about it many times, I stayed away. To go back now would only cause war and strife. Better that I pass from memory. I know my story may not be what you want to hear just now, but your brother sacrificed himself so that you might survive. So that you could be free. Don’t throw that away. If you enter Umgragon, you will only end up in a cell next to him, or worse, and then his pain will have been for nothing. Travel with us, and perhaps you can learn to live again.”
Saffrin was silent for a long time. Aventine saw the woman’s moonlit shadow square her shoulders and stand straighter. When Saffrin finally spoke, her voice was hard. “You speak as though my brother is already dead. You speak of your people as if they are a thousand miles away. But my brother yet lives, and your homeland is within three days’ journey from here. Your story is remarkable, but you’ve done what I cannot. There’s no new life to be found for me. The only reason I would leave is so that I can someday return and rescue Crell. And if on that day I find my brother slain, I will drown Wranger in his own blood.”
“I’m no coward,” Holmgrim said. “I will return with you. You have my oath. If you leave with us, I will follow you back to Umgragon when the time comes. Let us seek allies within the empire. When others hear of Wranger sealing the treasury district and calling it his own, the great houses will march to topple him from his false throne. We only have to tell them what’s happened. The three of us cannot fight the First Legion. We held out as long as we could in the mountains, and they crushed us in the end. You’re no use to your brother dead or captured. Let’s live to fight another day.”
Saffrin did not respond for a long time. When she finally did speak, the fire had gone from her voice. “There’s truth in what you say. Wranger has claimed the imperial fortune as his own and locked down the province so no one can get the word out about his treachery. The empire must be warned. I will travel with you to deliver this warning, but not without first trying to get a message to my brother. No doubt he will be told I perished in the mountains. He must know that I still live so that he does not give up all hope.”
“You think you can get a message to him?” Aventine said.
“The resistance had contacts in the mob of people living outside the city walls. Perhaps they w
ill still help us. It should be no great thing to deliver a message to my brother. Holmgrim will have to stay behind, but if you and I stow our weapons and armor, we should be able to approach the city without being noticed.”
“I want you to understand what you’re asking of me,” Aventine said, her voice hard. “My duty is to the emperor alone, and this duty requires that I return to his side. Rather than abandon you in the mountains, I fought to protect you and lost a month of precious time. And now that we’re poised to leave Umgragon behind us, you’re asking me to wait one more day to help you on what might be a suicide mission.”
“I can never repay you or thank you enough for what you’ve already done,” Saffrin said. “Without you, I’d be dead or rotting in the dungeon next to my brother. Please, give me one more day, and no matter what happens, I’ll go with you to the emperor and tell him everything that has transpired here.”
“One day,” Aventine said, holding up a single finger. “Swear to me you will leave Umgragon behind in one day.”
“I swear it,” Saffrin said.
“I don’t like it,” Holmgrim said.
“Like it or not,” Saffrin said. “I’ll not leave without trying.”
“By all the gods of sky and sea,” Holmgrim said, exasperated. “How did I get stuck with the two most stubborn women in the entire empire? Fine, we’ll do things your way.”
“We can reach the city before morning,” Aventine said. “Here’s as good a spot as any to hide our gear.”
“No,” Holmgrim said. “The First will be all over these hills come daylight.” He removed his cloak and laid it out on the ground. “Place your equipment on this.”
Aventine and Saffrin stripped their armor off and piled it on Holmgrim’s huge cloak. When they were finished, they wore only plain cloth undergarments. They looked like poor refugees who had fled for their lives with only the clothes on their backs. Aventine buckled her runeforged dagger under her shirt. There was no way she could hide her twin rune-powered daggers in the camp, so they went into the pile along with her runeforged sword. Holmgrim scooped up the giant square of fabric, folding it into a carrying satchel that he slung over his back.
“Don’t attempt to leave the refugee camp during the day,” he said. “Tomorrow night I will wait for you along the southern road.”
“Be safe,” Aventine said.
“It’s not me I’m worried about,” Holmgrim said.
Aventine and Saffrin slipped away in the darkness, starting out across the plains in the direction of Umgragon. Above their heads, water rushed through the aqueduct, carrying the life-sustaining liquid out of the mountain heights and across the many miles of open plains to the province capital. Aventine glanced behind her and saw Holmgrim silhouetted on the hilltop. The bulging sack on his back made him look like some crazy mountain hermit carrying loot back to his cave. He waved once and then ducked away out of sight.
“He’s never told me about his past,” Aventine said. “I had no idea.”
“He tries to dull the pain by separating himself from his history,” Saffrin said. “But it still torments him. I will not walk that same road.”
“Don’t judge him too harshly. He did what he thought best.”
“Why do you care? What’s he to you?”
Aventine thought about the question, and then to her surprise said, “He’s the only friend I’ve got.”
Saffrin did not respond. They journeyed in silence, moving across the dark flatlands toward the fortress of the enemy.
Chapter 4
REMUS ROSE BEFORE THE DAWN. He slept in the fort’s barracks with his squad. The cold, clammy stone under his bare feet made him hiss—it felt like corpse flesh. Not wanting to wake the rest of the men just yet, he crept through the room to the armor rack and got dressed as quietly as he could. After pulling on his boots, he slipped out the door and into the courtyard. Outside, Grotius and Ellion were already up and waiting for him. Standing in a circle of torchlight, they were talking with a third person that Remus did not recognize. When he drew near he realized it was Tethana dressed in imperial-style armor.
“Up before first light,” Grotius said when Remus neared. “We’ll make a Legion soldier out of you yet.”
“He’s more than proved his worth,” Ellion said. “Cut him some slack. The Legion would be glad to have him.”
Grotius grunted.
They spoke with hushed voices, like wakeful intruders in the realm of dreamers. No one else stirred in the garrison, except for one Volgoth guard who watched their quiet discussion from the shadows of the battlements.
“Grotius makes the Legion sound so wonderful,” Remus said. “I can’t imagine why anyone would ever want to leave it.”
Ellion chuckled and Grotius glowered.
“He’s a crusty old bastard,” Ellion said. “Military life is all he knows, and he thinks it’s all there is.”
Remus did not respond. It was time to discuss the mission. “I had you rise early because we march into the empire today. Goregash wants us to scout Delgrath. He wants us gone before the sun rises.”
“Tethana here was just telling us that,” Grotius said.
Remus struggled to contain his annoyance. She had no business discussing their orders with his men. Especially before he had done so himself. He glanced at her, and then quickly away. She was watching him.
“Goregash sends his niece with us so that she can confirm our report,” Remus said. “And the Ethari require that one of you remain here.”
“Bleedin’ figures,” Grotius said. “After all we’ve done for them, you’d think they’d trust us to not split and run.”
“You wouldn't try to escape?” Remus said.
Grotius did not answer.
“Ellion will stay behind,” Remus said.
“As you wish,” Ellion said. “But if you leave me to rot, may the gods curse you with a festering pestilence for the rest of your days.”
“They already have,” Remus said. “They gave me Grotius.”
Grotius laughed, the outburst of sound echoing harshly around the quiet fort.
Remus grinned. “Wake the rest of the men,” he said. “I’ll go rouse the armory.”
Tethana fell into step with Remus as he walked across the cold stone floor of the courtyard. “I have a name, you know,” she said.
“Get this through your head,” Remus said. “I don’t want you here, but I can’t tell you to leave. So stay out of the way, don’t bother me or my men, and we’ll make sure you get back to your uncle without getting dirt on your pretty little face.”
Remus heard the whisper of a blade leaving its scabbard. He whirled, only to find the point of Tethana’s imperial sword pressed firmly against his chest.
“I could run you through and lead the squad myself,” she said with a sniff. “Don’t like the sound of that, do you? I don’t know what the women are like in your empire, but if you ever speak to me that way again, I’ll thrash you myself. I don’t need my uncle for that.”
Had she been a man, Remus would have slapped the blade aside and buried his fist in her stomach. But in the flickering torchlight her eyes flashed with an indomitable feminine fierceness that completely unmanned him. For the first time, a new thought popped into his head.
By the gods, she’s beautiful.
He recoiled from the idea. The last thing he wanted was to like this frustrating woman.
“No words for me, then?” she said with a smirk.
Remus stepped away from the blade. “Just stay out of the way,” he mumbled, unable to compose a stronger retort.
He stalked to the armory. Inside, the guard was dozing, slumped over on the table next to a stub of a melted candle. The man snored so loud that Remus was surprised anyone else in the fort could sleep. He slapped the table.
“Up!” Remus said, “wake up and do your job.”
The guard jerked so hard at being startled that he almost fell out of his chair. When he had recovered from his shock, he eyed R
emus with distaste. Over Remus’s shoulder, the man saw Tethana and his face brightened.
“You snore like an old bear,” Remus said. “You know who she is. We’re here on orders from the chieftain. Now get your lazy arse up and bring out the weapons.”
The guard muttered something Remus could not understand and hobbled his way to the locked armory gate. Remus had never seen an injured Volgoth. Most of the warriors had terrible scars that were evidence of horrendous wounds, but none of them ever seemed to be in less than perfect health. However, some bore defects from birth. Unable to fight, these deformed Volgoth survived by performing menial duties so that no warrior had to debase himself. The guard was one of these servants. Twisted and useless, his left foot dragged behind him as he walked.
“You must have many friends,” Tethana said, clearly amused. “I’ve never seen such charm.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been fighting for my life during the day and trying to avoid being skinned alive by your uncle at night.”
Remus turned to move back to the courtyard. He ignored the smug look on Tethana’s face. On the other side of the courtyard the men from his squad were starting to file out of the barracks. He stood by as they entered the armory and received their weapons from the attendant.
Grotius and Ellion stood with him as they waited for the last man to be equipped.
“Are we the vanguard of an invasion?” Grotius asked.
“We’re ordered to scout, not engage,” Remus said. “If we meet opposition, we turn around and come back. Pikon wants an estimate of the enemy’s strength.”
“That ‘enemy’ is our empire,” Ellion said. “Our home. The home of my family.”
