Dustfall, Book Five - What Lies Beneath

by J. Thorn

  “I can’t ignore him.” Jonah continued to rise and stared down at the man now just forty feet away.

  “You.” The warrior lifted a large hammer and pointed it directly at him. “Are you Jonah? He who leads these people, these clans?” The man waved his hand across the barricade, indicating all that stood behind it.

  “I am.” Jonah lifted his chin and shouted. “I am Jonah, war leader of the clans.”

  “Then it is you that I have come for.”

  Chapter 40

  “Are you the leader of the Elk clan?” the man asked. “The one who commands these forces?”

  “Two whom do I speak?” Jonah called back as he stood up straight and stared down at what he presumed must be a champion of the Cygoa. “If you are to be so bold, you will identify yourself.”

  The man raised both arms, one still gripping the hammer. “I Morlan!”

  In response to this, the Cygoa battle line erupted in a roar. “I am high war leader of the Cygoa clans. You suggest I am bold. If you are the one they call Jonah, then it is you that I seek, and you that I must settle with.”

  Jonah was quiet for a moment, studying Morlan. The man was either brave or a fool. He stood within bow shot of more than a hundred of Jonah’s men, and he hadn’t known that the earlier attack had spent most of the arrows the clans had left.

  “We, the Cygoa have come back to the southlands to claim our ancestor’s lands, and we have already taken it. Every inch of land to the north of here, all the way to the breach, is now ours. And yet here you still stand.”

  “And we shall stand.” Jonah looked at the Cygoa battle line and then back at Morlan. “If you seek to annihilate us, you will only find doom. But, we are not the T’yun. Go back to your lands and seek war with us no more. We will not die easily and we will take back what is ours.”

  “So you may think,” said Morlan. “Your blood is still T’Yun. Your ancestors drove ours from our lands and we merely take back what is rightfully ours. No, we will not run away again. We are far stronger than you now, and the tide has turned. Time for the T’Yun to be forgotten for good. This place is all you have left. You have nowhere else to run.”

  “If that is so, then we have but one choice, to stand here.”

  “Will you, though?” Morlan paced back and forth, pointing at Jonah with his hammer. “Will you stand? For how long? Your walls won’t keep us out. We have more arrows than you have people. You can hide behind your wall as long as you want, but you will fall. As we speak, my warriors are surrounding you, and you do not have the time or the numbers to defend yourself from every direction.”

  “As your forefathers had also done, you underestimate us,” said Jonah. “Ask your dead war leaders how that went for them.”

  Morlan stopped pacing and seemed to consider this. “You are correct, in that at least. We underestimated the numbers of your people, and your strengths. We respect a strong enemy and I commend your stamina so far, but it ends today. I could send another volley of arrows, if you wish, and pick off a few more of your folk. Or we can see if you are truly a warrior who cares for his people. I’ve heard that you are.”

  Jonah stood silent, trying to judge this Cygoa leader that he had heard little about from his scouts, knowing only that he was unrivalled among his own people.

  “And how loyal are your people to you, Jonah? If I ask them to send me your head in return for all of their lives, would they offer you up? I wonder if they would?”

  “What do you ask of us to end this?” Jonah felt a flicker of whispers move through his tired and bloodied warriors. “I’m sick of war. We sought no battle with you. We never have.”

  “Oh, but you did. Your father is dead, I know, but decades ago he led the T’Yun as they swept across the land and slaughtered our people, causing our fathers and mothers to flee with their children to the barren north, where we slowly healed and gathered in numbers. Just as we have had to live with the actions of your fathers, so do you. You cannot shrug this off just because you wish no part of it. While your folk split into many clans and bickered and warred among each other when you had no one else to war upon, we stayed united and began to rebuild. But we have achieved what we came to do, and I see no need for further unnecessary slaughter.”

  “Then I say again,” said Jonah. “What do you ask of us to end this?”

  Morlan stared at him. “While we reside here your clans will never be strong again. We could slaughter every last one of you. Or you can take up that ax that you’re so famous for wielding and face me out here. Show that you’re truly the leader you claim to be. Stand alone for your people.”

  “Don’t do it,” said Ghafir. “This is but a ruse, a trick. They will cut you down if you step out there.”

  “He is right,” said Rav. “We can withstand this. Do not go out there.”

  But Jonah shook his head. “You can see how many of them are there are. We can’t defend indefinitely against that.”

  “Then we die here to a man,” said Solomon. “At least the young ones are safe in the base.”

  “For how long?” asked Jonah. “They will be sent out eventually. They won’t keep them in there forever.”

  Jonah turned back to Morlan. “What if I face you as you ask? What guarantee is there for my people if I fall to you?”

  Morlan laughed. “When I have defeated you, they will be left alone. This forest, this city. It will be named for your people and they will be left alone here so long as the clans do not expand outwards ever again.”

  “What if I win?” asked Jonah.

  Morlan laughed louder at this. “If you win, my ambitious young warrior, then you will have a claim to the leadership of the Cygoa. The strongest war leader rules, the victor takes the spoils. That is our way. It was the T’Yun way once. I will give you a minute to make your choice. Face me, or we will remove your people forever. I will slaughter every man, woman, and child if I must, but remember, it will be you who made the choice that led to their deaths.”

  It was Jonah’s turn to be silent as he watched the man on the road below.

  “I will deliver the vengeance of my ancestors,” continued Morlan. “They will be satisfied with the son of the T’Yun leader. Your father murdered mine. I will murder his son in payment and it will be an end to this.”

  Jonah looked down at his feet and then began to stride across the barricade toward the steps. He was surprised to find Sasha at the bottom of the steps and raised his hands as he reached her. Her long hair had been pulled back to expose a dirty and tear—streaked face. Her lips quivered, and she held her hands in front of her face before throwing her arms around him.

  “Don’t go out there. We can fight.”

  He could smell her warm scent, feeling her heart racing against his chest.

  “We can,” said Jonah. “And we can lose many more people. I don’t want you to have to bury our children.”

  Sasha pulled back, glancing over her shoulder at the clanspeople watching her and Jonah. She shook her head and wiped a tear from her eye.

  “How can you guarantee that they’ll keep their word?”

  “I can't. But I don’t think I have any other choice.” Jonah looked deep into Sasha’s eyes. “He made the challenge in front of the gathered warriors of his clans. If he goes back on that it will surely shame him.”

  Sasha held him at arm’s length, tears pouring from her eyes. “Come back to me. Promise me you won’t die.”

  He pulled her into a tight embrace. “I’m not planning to die just yet.”

  He couldn’t think of his children. Jonah feared it would weaken his heart and put him at a disadvantage when facing Morlan. Leaders had to put their emotions aside and make sacrifices for the people they served. He hoped his sacrifice would not be the ultimate one, but if it had to be that way, then he would die for his clan.

  “Open the gates,” said Jonah.

  With a grinding of gears, the gates swung slowly outward. Jonah stepped out from behind the barricade and w
alked into the open space between the defenses and the mass of waiting Cygoa.

  He walked across the open ground until he stood twenty feet from Morlan. The man was maybe six inches taller than him, but he looked even bigger with the armor he wore. Jonah knew his own ax could be deadly, but the man wore chainmail underneath plates. There were gaps, though. That he could see.

  He took one step forward and held his ax tight. The fight would end in blood. Of this he was certain.

  Chapter 41

  Jonah almost didn’t react fast enough to dodge the first blow. Morlan stood well over six feet tall but was also fast, closing the gap between them in a heartbeat. Jonah hesitated for a moment as the hammer came sweeping towards him, but he managed to dodge, rolling away over the blacktop. He felt the air move behind him as he came back up to his feet.

  A roar came from the lines of the Cygoa as Morlan spun, moving with a swiftness that made Jonah feel the edge of fear beginning to cut at his nerves. The hammer swung towards him again.

  How could a man wearing such heavy armor move so fast? He had no time to consider this as he took two steps backwards to dodge another strike, this time more easily, but he was still stunned at the speed and ferociousness of the attack.

  Morlan swung the hammer two more times, one swing thudding into the ground inches from his foot, and still Jonah had not tried to strike back. He hadn’t had the chance, too busy moving, backing away, dodging. He had been on the defense since the fight began.

  Then the attacks stopped, and Morlan paced once more, ten yards away, circling him, smiling through the gap in the faceplate of his helmet.

  “I can see where your reputation comes from,” said Morlan. “You are fast.”

  I’m fast? wondered Jonah. The man just had me rolling and dodging for my life, and he says I’m fast?

  “Yet, you doubt yourself.” Morlan didn’t seem to be out of breath, so there was no other reason for the pause. “I can see the fear in your eyes. I could almost smell your sweat.”

  “Your senses mislead you,” Jonah said. “You think this is fear? You are mistaking it for contempt.”

  Then it was his turn to leap forward, the ax swinging rapidly in one direction, feigning a strike, then swinging back up as Morlan dodged away. The feigned attack had been a clever move on Jonah’s part, and Morlan was not expecting it. The ax swung up and clanged against the metal plate guarding Morlan’s left knee.

  Morlan jumped back, swinging the hammer in a circle above his head as he crouched, and Jonah found himself throwing his weight in another direction as his momentum drove him forward with a strike that should have been dangerous. But Morlan was not where the ax was swinging, and had Jonah not managed to shift his direction he would have taken the hammer in his ribs.

  The tall warrior got to his feet as Jonah used his momentum to move away, to swing round and face him from ten feet away. The two warriors moved into defensive stances and stood facing each other. This time, Jonah was panting, but he could see that Morlan was still not tired. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Morlan removed his helmet to show not a drop of sweat,

  Morlan’s smile had not left his face. “A clever move. I can see why many have fallen to you. Few have survived this long against me. I suspect it is the same for you. I see now why your people admire you.”

  “And I can see why your people fear you.”

  “Fear?” Morlan straightened up, his hammer lowered for a moment. “You think it is only fear that causes them to follow me?”

  “I can’t see why else.”

  “Then let me show you,” said Morlan.

  He leapt forward again, the hammer coming down hard and fast, but Jonah was ready, sidestepping, lifting his ax in defense. The hammer clanged off the wooden shaft, and Jonah was backing away once more as a flurry of blows swept toward him.

  Then he felt the first connection as the hammer glanced off the leather that protected his shoulder, but he was moving away, and all the blow did was tear a hole in the leather and graze his skin. But the power behind it. He’d felt that as it struck even a glancing blow, and he knew that if this man managed to connect a good strike with his hammer, he would break bones.

  Then Morlan was on him again with two more lightning—fast strikes, and Jonah found that he wasn’t moving fast enough. The gap between them closed. He had to go back further, and somehow sensed that was what Morlan expected, but he remembered his fight against Tikal of the Bluestone, and the flashback of his father teaching him to fight differently, to be unpredictable.

  Jonah moved toward Morlan, sidestepped and spun, moving forward instead of backing away from the torrent of attacks. It was the surprise move that won him the fight against Tikal so many moons before, but now, instead of performing the maneuver in blindness as his mind switched off, he was fully awake, his eyes open.

  Everything slowed as he moved past Morlan, who stepped forward, widening the gap as Jonah moved to the side. He swung the ax with a backhand strike but Morlan turned at the last moment, and also moved sideways so that the head of the ax snagged in the metal links that held his shoulder armor in place. There was tearing sound and a screech of metal on metal, and then the two opponents moved apart again.

  Morlan was not dead, and the ax was not embedded in his back. Instead, the man danced away as his metal shoulder armor fell to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust. There were several cries of rage from the Cygoa horde, and cheers from the ranks of his own people behind the wall.

  The smile had vanished from Morlan’s face, replaced now with anger.

  “Clever indeed. And a worthy opponent.” Morlan spat on the ground. “But this battle will still end the same way.”

  Then Jonah noticed something that made his heart jump, just before Morlan was about to launch another attack. A necklace, hanging visible now that Morlan’s armor was in pieces on the ground. His neck was now unguarded, and Jonah recognized the trinket that hung from a leather string.

  But where had he seen it before? He recognized it but couldn’t place it. His mind raced. Then, Morlan was on him, raining blows down like his hammer was as light as a stick, and all Jonah could do was back away, dodging, blocking, until he was able to leap and roll, place some distance between the two of them.

  He saw it again. The trinket that hung from the necklace now swinging side to side as Morlan paced around him like a circling predator.

  Where had he seen that before?

  Then he realized.

  Morlan had the locket his mother had always worn. He couldn’t mistake it. Bright silver, gleaming in the sunlight. It was the same shape, the very same half—moon. After his mother had died in the accident, he had only seen it once, around his father’s neck in the same fashion that Morlan now wore it. The last time he had seen it had been as he placed it upon his father’s chest just before they sent him to the Dustfall.

  Jonah pointed at it and spoke, surprised at the malice in his voice. “Where did you get that?”

  Morlan was about to launch another attack, but instead took a step back, seeming surprised at this change of events. He reached up with his empty hand and touched the locket that hung from his neck. “This is none of your business.”

  “That belonged to my father. And before that it was my mother’s. She always wore it. Where did you get it?”

  “If you must know, it was in the ashes that we found in a village in the forest,” said Morlan.

  “My father’s ashes. His funeral pyre. We burned him, honorably. With him went his possessions. That was his.”

  “That’s a lie. How could he have had this? Unless...” Morlan’s eyes went wide. “Your father also killed my sister,” he said, his face twisting into a burning rage. “Not only did he murder my father, but he murdered my sister too.”

  “I know not of that,” said Jonah. “I only know that my mother always wore it.”

  “There were two halves. Where is the other half?”

  Jonah lowered his ax. “My mother only ever wor
e one, but she said there was another half to it, and that it had been lost in the forest when she was younger.”

  “I gave this to my sister as a gift when I was very young, and your mother wore it.” Morlan cursed. “You add insult to insult, again and again. Was it a spoil after your father murdered her? Did he kill her and then give her necklace to your mother as a prize? Was this taken from my sister’s body?”

  “She was given it!” Jonah shouted, the blood rushing to his face. “Not as spoils of war, no. She always said her brother gave it to her when they were children.”

  “That’s impossible. I was a child when gave it to my sister. She was lost when we fled the attack led by your father. He killed my father. I saw it, and my sister fled. I also fled. I was young. Now I know what happened to my sister after all these years. Judas murdered her. Now I get to kill not only the son of my father’s murderer, but my sister’s also.”

  “It wasn’t taken as spoils of war!” The realization came down upon Jonah like the weight of Morlan’s hammer. “My mother never accepted any such things Judas offered her. It was a gift from her younger brother.”

  At this, Morlan lowered his hammer. “What do you mean a gift from her brother?”

  “My mother had a younger brother. She didn’t mention him much, but once she called him Mo. He gave it her it.”

  Jonah noticed how these words seemed to strike Morlan harder than any ax or hammer. The man visibly staggered.

  Chapter 42

  “Did you hear me? It was not loot from a kill!” Jonah was about to rush forward and raised his ax, but Morlan raised one hand, palm out.

  “Stop.”

  Jonah took just one step forward. He looked Morlan in the face and could see that the rage had fled. In its place, the tall warrior looked confused.

  “Say that again,” said Morlan.

  Jonah felt the anger burning through his veins begin to wane, his breathing, heavy from exertion, slowed. Now he was confused. This raging, arrogant opponent was, in an instant, a different man. His face had paled.