No Man's Land

by C D Beaudin

  Revera turns to Idies. “Your foe has been defeated.” She looks back at Karak. “By Crozacar’s death, you are alive.”

  “I didn’t ask you to kill him.”

  Revera rolls her eyes. “You’re welcome.” She turns her attention back to Aradon. “You don’t want to die a mortal man?”

  “I don’t want to die at all.”

  She nods and turns to Saine. “All right.”

  Before Saine can move, she puts her hand to his chest, her other to Aradon’s.

  Saine’s eyes widen. “No, wait—” his voice is cut off.

  “Revera, don’t!” Kepp commands...pleads

  But Revera just mutters something, old and ancient in an elven tongue. When she opens her eyes, they shine the Besged white. It takes a moment for Aradon to realize that Saine’s are the same. His must be white, too.

  Then the power surge hits. Hard and strong. Aradon vibrates, trembling as he feels the power being drawn out of his bones, his blood. It filters into Revera, through her arms, her chest—

  And straight into Saine.

  “No, stop!” Kepp shouts, but Eldowyn grabs him, holding him back.

  The Plainsman screams, and Aradon is helpless to aid him. Saine’s veins fill with red, his teeth clenched, his eyes squeezed shut, and the pain obvious on his face.

  “Revera, please!” Kepp pleads, but she doesn’t stop.

  “Re-ve—” Aradon tries to speak, but his words won’t come out. Debility overcomes him, and he once again crumples to the ground. A thump, and he watches as Saine does the same. He scrambles to him. Ethiah and Kepp doing the same. She frantically touches him, probably trying to figure out how to heal him. But the defeated look on her face sends doubt into Aradon’s mind.

  He looks up at Revera. “What did you do?”

  “I saved you.” She glances at Idies. “He was brought back for a purpose.” Her gaze meets his. “This was it. I never wanted you dead, Aradon. You had your uses during the war. But now you get to rebuild.”

  And she’s gone.

  Aradon’s eyes fill with tears as he looks back at Saine.

  Kepp grips his friend’s limp body, Saine’s slack neck, his head hanging back. “No.” Kepp’s face streaks with sorrowful tears. “No.” His cheeks redden, his eyes darken. He looks at Idies with murder in his eyes. “You did this.”

  Idies’ arms are crossed tightly over his chest. “I did what I had to. I was brought back for a purpose. I needed to fulfill that purpose, or I’d die.”

  Kepp stands. “Then you should have let yourself die.” He charges at him, Eldowyn grabbing onto his wrist, but Kepp easily gets out of it, kicking his brother to the ground. Aradon reaches out for him, gripping his arm. And to his shock, Kepp escapes that as well.

  Aradon stares at him. His friends stare at him. He shouldn’t have been able to do that. Aradon looks at his hands. Frantic, he looks to Ethiah for an explanation, and in her eyes holds the answer, the truth he can’t admit.

  He watches in a daze as Kepp grapples with Idies, Hagard and his brothers, Eldowyn, and Sauriel all trying to get the elf off him. But Kepp doesn’t relent.

  “You killed my best friend! You killed Saine.” Kepp pummels him with his fists, as if wanting to savor the moment before he plunges his dagger into the king’s heart.

  And realizing that the elf is right, everyone backs off. Ethiah turns her back to them, looking at Aradon darkly. Eldowyn is turned away, but still has eyes on his brother. Hagard protectively crowds his brothers together. Sauriel doesn’t watch, and has slipped away, but close enough that she hears.

  “You killed him,” Kepp repeats. “You killed him.”

  “He was going to kill Aradon. So I got him first.”

  Aradon shakes his head, closing his eyes. Idies, you idiot.

  There’s a thud, a grunt.

  When he opens his eyes, Kepp is on his feet, looking away from the dead body. His knuckles are white but bruised and bloodied as he grips his sword. Aradon knows that grip. He knows that stance.

  Too well.

  He gets one step forward when Kepp turns his sword onto Eldowyn.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  There’s no holding him back. Or reasoning with him. Nothing but hatred in his heart, Kepp attacks Eldowyn, beating down on him with Ages of abuse, envy, and anger. Eldowyn can barely get a step in before Kepp attacks, the blond purely on defense. Kepp wishes he’d drop the sword, or his brother would just let him kill him. Let him beat him for once. His father would finally see more than a failure of a son. He’d treat him as he treated Eldowyn. Like a living being. He won’t be a ghost. Unheard. Unseen. He’ll be the prince who killed the prince. The brother who killed his brother.

  “Kepp, stop this!” Sauriel screams at him, only held back by Hagard. “Kepp, please!”

  Kepp keeps his anger-washed vision on Eldowyn. “Did I not beg? Did I not plead?”

  He clobbers him, his fist aching as it connects with his brother’s bones. “I dropped to my knees praying for a reason to live!”

  He punches Eldowyn’s jaw, his twin’s eyes reddening as tears flow. “I stopped eating for a month, hoping someone would notice. Hoping mother or father would worry.”

  He smashes Eldowyn against the mountain face. “But no one did. I withered away until one of the servants force-fed me.” He pounds his fist against his face.

  Eldowyn chokes. “Kepp, I had no—”

  “Of course, you had no idea! You were too busy with father.” Kepp lifts his fist but it’s caught by Aradon. “Let go of me.”

  Aradon shakes his head. “Friends don’t let go of friends.”

  Kepp shoves him to the ground, kicking his ribs.

  Aradon cries out, and Ethiah rushes to him.

  “I’m not your friend.” Kepp turns back to Eldowyn, whose bloodied face holds pity, making Kepp’s anger flame even more. “Do not pity me!” He lunges at him, knocking his sword out of his hand and slamming his head onto the ground. Kepp pummels Eldowyn but is met with a fist to his own face, knocked over onto his back. Eldowyn straddles him, pinning him into submission.

  “You’d kill your own brother?”

  “Haven’t I already tried?” Kepp grabs one of his blades and jabs it into Eldowyn’s shoulder.

  He groans, clutching his arm as he tumbles off him. Scrambling up, they watch each other, their gazes attached. No one moves. No one speaks.

  This is between him and Eldowyn.

  Eldowyn straightens, his face mangled with cut eyelids and swollen lips. Kepp beat him so hard his elven skin doesn’t help him much. “Is this who you are? Who you want to be?”

  Kepp’s eyes narrow. Turning from him, he gathers his breath, and clears his clouding mind. Clenching his fists, he feels as the thoughts leave him, and he blanks. He feels shallow, empty. Looking at the ground, his sword lies at his feet. It isn’t an elf-killing sword.

  But Eldowyn doesn’t deserve a final death.

  Picking it up, he charges at his brother. Eldowyn dodges it, scrambling to grab his own sword. Kepp bears down on his brother, steel singing against steel as they collide. The sound brings Kepp back into a distant memory.

  “Wager you my sword, you can’t jump the river,” Eldowyn had tested, standing on the river’s edge, the city of Radian behind them. Supervision absent. They had been nine when they began wagering one another. Too many bets, Kepp losing too many times.

  But he’d smirked anyway. “You’re on.” Walking back a bit, he’d kept his eyes on the other side as he’d bolted, jumping at the last second. His feet hit the opposite bank, but just as he grasped victory, he’d slipped and fallen into the water.

  Eldowyn had helped him out of the river.

  “You left me behind!” Kepp yells as he smashes his sword against Eldowyn’s, knowing very well that his brother is stronger than him, but Kepp is the one with the military training. A captain in the army. He saved lives. He should have been the one to receive their parents’ praise.

  “You
made me invisible!” Striking again, Eldowyn meets his blow with a flurry of his own, Kepp relying on his footwork to balance himself under the pressure of each hit. Another strike sends Kepp staggering back, Eldowyn offering him a moment to gather himself—something Kepp would never have done.

  “Stand down, brother. I don’t want to treat you as an enemy.”

  Kepp shakes his head, looking at the blood-stained horizon. Gazing at his brother, he sees no similarity in their eyes. Only distance. Years upon years of emotions swell within him. His chest grows heavy, and he feels the tears prick at his eyes. He swallows, burdened. “Then why did you make me one?”

  Eldowyn shakes his head. “I didn’t mean to.”

  Kepp scoffs, then laughs. He bellows, exhausted and hysterical. “You didn’t mean to? Well, then all is forgiven!” he screams, no longer in control of what he says. He has snapped and can’t control his thoughts or actions. Kepp scratches his head sharply, digging in. He scrapes his tongue along his teeth, gripping his sword, looking at its blade. “At least someone gets it!” He throws it, and it hits the ground with a padded thud.

  A cry causes him to turn his head.

  Karak falls to his knees.

  “Karak?” Ethiah looks concerned. “Karak, what’s wrong?”

  “Who cares?” one of Hagard’s brothers says. The taller one.

  Hagard elbows him.

  The First Lieutenant trembles, his jaw clenched, and his eyes squeezed shut. The image reminds Kepp too much of Saine before he died. Glancing over at his friend’s dead body, he’s afraid. Afraid that he’s only angry. Not sad.

  “Get him out!” Karak yells.

  Kepp looks back at him, the Lieutenant’s forehead against the ground, hands over his ears.

  “Get him out, get him out, get him out!” He pounds the ground with his fists, recoiling as Ethiah puts a hand on his head. “Get out of my head! Master, please!” Karak hits his temples, pulling at his hair.

  “Ethiah, what’s wrong with him?” Aradon asks, staring at the sight.

  Karak screams, “No.” He shakes his head, violently and stubbornly. “No, I’m not him anymore. No more. I’m Calen. Calen,” he pants and whispers as if in prayer. Karak’s back hunches, and he looks like a rabid animal. “No. I’m not doing that. I won’t do it.”

  His eyes snap open, and his breathing evens. As if nothing happened, Karak—Calen, whoever that is—stands. Silent and lethal, he turns his gaze onto Kepp.

  He knows what’s coming before the Lieutenant strikes. His brother will intervene, Sauriel and Aradon will try to take control of Karak. He knows Hagard will strike with his ax while telling his brothers to stay back. It’s what a normal brother would do. He knows Ethiah is trying to dig into the Lieutenant’s head.

  And he knows that none of them stand a chance.

  Fighting through the hoard of defense, Karak’s eyes are trained on Kepp’s. He backs away with every step Karak takes forward. He doesn’t even try to fight—why should he? Let the others try to save him, let his brother try to redeem himself.

  He’d better die trying.

  Kepp rushes away from the fray, weaves through the confused wandering of former-Tarken—their transformation astounds him. They’re real men, now. They have real faces, their armor no longer a part of their bodies. Their skin isn’t a ghastly, abnormal shade. Making his way down the slope of the mountain, when his feet hit the main ground, he breathes in but nearly chokes on the strongest scent of blood. He gags, covering his mouth and nose as he puts more distance between him and the First Lieutenant.

  “Kepp?”

  He stops when he sees Brega in her armor, bloodied, her face mangled, hair charred and short. He nods. “Nice hair.”

  She takes out her sword.

  He rolls his eyes. “Seriously?”

  Taking out his own sword, he walks up to her, and she raises her blade. Feeling lazy, he drops his weapon and kicks her leg. The snap makes her cry out, and she falls. Gripping her hair, he yanks her head back to look her in the eyes. One is scarred, white. He sighs. “It’s a shame. I thought you were quite pretty.” He can see her feel the ground for her weapon.

  “Beauty isn’t the only power women possess.” She slashes her sword at his leg, but he steps out of the way, making her fall to her side. Nevertheless, she tries to get to her feet. “We’re strong.”

  He kicks her, and she falls once again. Amusement flickers inside him as he watches her struggling to stand. He punches her jaw, and she flattens. He goes to strike her again, but his hand is caught.

  Nakelle stares at him. “Weren’t you taught not to hit women?”

  “I prefer a more modern philosophy.” He twists her arm behind her, and she grunts.

  Swiftly she strikes him on his neck, and he falls to his knees, her arm locking around his neck. “I never liked philosophy.”

  “Me neither.” He looks up at her. “You’re going to kill me?”

  “Haven’t decided yet.”

  “What’s stopping you?”

  Her eyes thin. “Even though I try not to, maybe I still love you.”

  “Not really ‘maybe,’ right?”

  She hauls him to his feet, inches away from each other. “I tried so desperately to see the good in you, the good I saw when we first met, when I first fell in love with you.” She shakes her head. “What happened to it?”

  Kepp looks past her shoulder quickly as he sees Karak approaching, a dark figure in the midst of struggling, wandering, and dying soldiers. When he looks back at her, her eyes are focused and calm. But still, she’s desperate. “Maybe it was my weakness.”

  “Then weakness can’t be a bad thing.”

  “Since when?” He unsheathes a dagger, slowly and silently so she doesn’t notice.

  She touches his face. “If it was the goodness in you, then I would do anything to bring the weakness back.”

  He looks at her, gaze intense as he handles another blade. “You can’t understand.”

  She shakes her head. “But I’m here, aren’t I?”

  Kepp looks away from her, but she brings his gaze back to hers.

  “Don’t look away from me, Kepp. Don’t give me another reason.”

  “Another reason?”

  She bites her lip. “Another reason to do this.”

  Stabbing pain in his stomach, her eyes never leave his. Her tears flow, drops of starlight onto rich ground. He feels the blood rise in his throat, feel it seep out of his shirt. A blade sticks through his stomach, its tip in front of him.

  He looks at the shocked elf. “Kell—”

  His knees give out as she gasps, wide-eyed, Karak’s blade through his stomach. He looks back at Karak, and the Last Lieutenant removes his sword from Kepp’s body. Shoved to the ground, Karak stares at him, eyes dark.

  Kepp shakes his head. “Whoever Calen is, he isn’t this person.”

  Karak smirks, bends so his face is closer. “Whoever Kepp is, I don’t see him. All I see is Kelberan. Doomed.”

  Kepp swallows, blood dripping down his chin. “Crozacar’s dead, Karak. You don’t have to do this.”

  “Then why does he tell me to?”

  Kepp stares at him. “Is it him?” He closes his eyes, knowing the truth. He knows the lies, now. He shakes his head, knowing how foolish he’s been. “Or is it Revera?”

  Karak’s eyes are blank. Silent.

  “Get away from him!” Eldowyn lunges at Karak, knocking him off Kepp. Hagard and Sauriel hold him back. In the corner of Kepp’s eye, he sees Breel kneeling beside the collapsed Nakelle, but soon his vision is clouded with Eldowyn’s face.

  The anger returns.

  He tries to lift a nearby weapon, but Eldowyn just grabs his hand, holding it in his.

  “Don’t, Kepp. Just…don’t.” His voice is shaky.

  He knows what’s about to happen. Kepp doesn’t need to read minds to know that.

  Kepp coughs, blood spurting from his lips. The pain in his stomach burns, the cold of winter sting
ing.

  Eldowyn moves, laying Kepp on his lap so he’s cradling him. Eldowyn strokes his hair, something his mother should be doing. But as usual, Raea’s nowhere to be found. “You’re all right,” Eldowyn chokes. “You’re all right.”

  Kepp can feel his tears fall. He isn’t sure if they’re of death or sadness. Maybe both? “I don’t know where he got a sword that could kill me.” He scoffs, already knowing the answer.

  Eldowyn grabs Kepp’s arms, moving them over his wound, wrapping his own arm around him. Tighter. Closer.

  Kepp wants to fight. But he can’t. He wants to kill him. But he can’t. He doesn’t.

  “Remember that song?” Eldowyn asks. “About the bird?”

  “The one Aradon and Awyn sang before he choked her?”

  Eldowyn grimaces. “Yeah. That one.”

  Kepp smiles weakly. But his spite doesn’t disappear. “I suppose it’s fitting…” He breathes in deeply, needing air, feeling as it leaves him, his chest tight. “Considering.”

  Eldowyn sniffles.

  “From the mountain I can see the sunrise,

  From the bird’s wing I can see the se—”

  His voice cracks, and he starts sobbing.

  “It’s okay. You were never that great a singer.” Turning his head, Kepp sees the streaks of dawn. “Look, El. The sun does rise.”

  Eldowyn looks at the horizon, shaking. Looking back down at him, he swallows. “I thought I told you not to call me El?”

  Kepp smiles. “And I thought you’d have figured it out by now that I never listen.”

  Eldowyn tries to laugh, but it doesn’t work. “I know.”

  Kepp’s eyes grow heavy. He looks over at the watching Karak. “I hope you got what you wanted.” His voice is weak, and he feels himself begin to slip away. Looking at the sky, he looks at the streaks of orange, gold, and red. Light shades of pink and lavender fade into the dark blue of night. Darkness fades, but so does light.

  “Everything makes sense.”

  “What?” Eldowyn chokes.

  “Doomed. My relationships. Not having your abilities. My whole life…” Kepp squeezes his eyes, tears trailing down his face. “I was always destined to be a villain, wasn’t I?”