by Kody Boye
The woman with the massive club screamed and reared her weapon around.
It hit Barris’ neck.
Something cracked.
The man went down instantly and did not get back up.
Carmen stumbled to her feet and gimped forward on her throbbing knee as the woman spun to face Lindsey. “I’ll take all of you!” she cried, swinging her club around as Timon attempted to edge toward her. “Come and hit me! I dare you!”
The bark of an explosion sounded for one brief moment before the woman went down—a smoking bullet in her back.
Carmen raised her head.
A series of men, dressed finely in red and gold, ran forward—firing blunderbusses, wielding swords, and taming through the air intricate swirls of magic that lit the world and revealed the last of their fleeing attackers, who went down in a blaze of glory from several of the projectile weapons.
Carmen, breathless, fell to her knees and fingered for Barris’ pulse. “Come on,” she said, hopeless as she felt nothing but cooling flesh beneath her fingertips. She smacked at the man’s stubbly face to try and get him to respond, but when he didn’t—and when she could feel not one breath from his lips upon her fingers—she closed her eyes and let lose several tears. “He’s dead,” she then finally said.
When she opened her eyes again, there was no denying it.
The man’s neck, bent at an impossible angle, could never have sustained that kind of damage without it being a killing blow.
Sighing, Carmen fingered her companion’s eyes closed, stood, and turned to face their saviors. “Thank you,” she managed, nearly unable to stand now that the adrenaline was coursing from her veins.
“Carmen Delarosa,” a man atop a massive armored boar said, drawing forward and lowering his smoking blunderbuss to reveal a gorgeous mane of black hair and a finely-kept beard. “My name is Ignatius Armstrong, leader of the Fifth Battalion of the King’s Watch. We’ve been expecting you.”
Carmen closed her eyes.
They’d almost made it.
They’d been this close to making it to Dorenborough.
She turned her head, opened her eyes, looked back at Barris’ corpse, and sobbed.
There was nothing she could do.
Her friend was dead.
Chapter 4
Barris’ body was laid upon a stretcher and carried from the edge of Xandau all the way to the outskirts of Dorenborough, which rose upon the horizon and was displayed beneath the bone-white countenance of what was undoubtedly the full moon. Captivated by its presence and mystified by the stars twinkling in the distance, Carmen barely looked at the city, regardless of its towering heights and the majestic castle that rose in the far distance.
We were nearly there, she thought once more, glancing back at Barris’ body, which was carried by two men from the Watch along with Lindsey and Arrick.
Given her injury, Carmen was allowed to ride double, and remained silent as beneath her the boar continued to protest against the added weight—grunting, squealing and sometimes barking its displeasure. Several times, the woman commanding the beast leaned forward to slap the back of its neck, which only further served to aggravate the creature and make Carmen’s knee throb.
Timon—her constantly shadow—remained at her side, his poleaxe held steady as he kept pace alongside the boar. “There was nothing you could’ve done,” he said.
“I know,” Carmen said, surprised that the man knew she was harboring guilt from having slipped and fell.
“You did what you could to protect all of us. I mean… if you hadn’t run forward like that and taken out that bowman, we’d probably all be dead.”
“I don’t want to think about that,” Carmen replied, reaching down to finger her swelling knee. She grimaced as the pressure applied by her palm shot needles of pain throughout the bone, but nodded when she could feel no breaks throughout. It was likely only bruised or sprained and nothing more. She would recover within a few days, if that.
Sighing, she lifted her head and looked at the towering city beyond, which glistened white beneath the light of the overhead moon. Its face was so bright, its jagged peaks visible even from such a distance away. It appeared, at any moment, that it would fall to earth; or that they, the creatures who lived underground, would suddenly go flying into the absence of space. She wasn’t used to seeing the sky, much less the things within it, so to see this here—now, at the foot of the greatest place in the world—was almost unimaginable.
Ignatius Armstrong lifted his hand as they began to near the massive iron gate. In response, four men atop the walls began to spin a pair of levers that began to lift the massive ironworks from the cobblestone beneath.
“We will convene your friend in the name of his family’s God and cremate him before sending his remains home,” Ignatius said, turning to look back at not only Carmen, but Timon, Lindsey and Arrick. “The rest of you will be taken to the inn; while you, Carmen, will await further instruction and then carry out your summons.”
“Yes sir,” Carmen said, grimacing as the jarring impact of the pig shifting its weight caused her knee to throb in agony.
They passed beneath the massive iron gate which could’ve easily skewered them and the pigs and began to make their way down the central street that occupied the city of Dorenborough. Flanked by apartment buildings on both sides, the buildings—towering to heights Carmen couldn’t even begin to imagine as a carpenter—shadowed their advance as they made their way up the road. The men and woman carrying Barris’ body were directed down a side road, while Carmen and Timon were led down the main street until they came to a sprawling stone building that read, upon its simple wooden sign, Dorenborough Inn.
“Don’t,” Timon said as Carmen tossed her good leg over the boar and attempted to climb down on her own.
She grimaced as she put pressure on her body for the first time in hours and sighed as Timon pushed a shoulder under her arm to help support her. “Thank you, Sir Armstrong,” Timon said, giving a brief nod to the watchman before turning and helping Carmen toward the inn.
“They’re already expecting you!” the watchman called back. “Simply enter and declare your name, Lady Carmen.”
“Thanks again!” Carmen managed.
As they entered the inn, drawing the eyes of the multiple Dwarves and even bigger humans within, Carmen and Timon approached the front bar, declared their names and business, then received their key before being directed around the corner and into a small suite. This one contained only a single bed, and once atop it, Carmen ripped her boot off her foot and pulled her pantleg up her body.
Her knee, when revealed, was a swollen mass of red and blue flesh.
“Shit,” Carmen said.
“Shit is right,” Timon said, leaning forward to examine her leg. “Do you want me to call for a doctor?”
“I don’t think a doctor’s going to be able to do anything that rest and relaxation won’t be able to,” Carmen sighed, leaning back on her bed.
“Are you sure?” Timon asked. “Because I can go find one if you want. I mean it, Carmen. It wouldn’t be that big a deal. I—”
Carmen reached out and took her friend’s hand. “Please,” she said. “Just… shut up and be quiet. And stay. Please.”
“All right,” Timon said, settling down on the bed next to her. “If that’s what you want.”
Carmen closed her eyes and set her head on the pillow.
Her mind, her body, her tired legs and her throbbing knee—
She passed out before she could even begin to contemplate what had happened.
- - -
She dreamed of nightmarish creatures coming at her in the dark—of drakes appearing from the depths of madness and of men coming to rob them. In these dreams, she always fought; and in these dreams, she always came out victorious, but the people around her always died. Felled by tooth or blade, flame or arrow, they collapsed to the ground and looked upon her with eyes solemn and glazed—as if asking, even in dea
th, Why?
When she opened her eyes later that evening to find herself in the Dorenborough Inn, she sighed and tried to move, but almost immediately was stopped by her throbbing knee.
Shit, she thought, grimacing as she tried to move once more.
When she found Timon sleeping in a chair in the corner of the room, Carmen sighed and lay back down.
There would be no point in getting up—at least, not yet. She needed nothing further from Timon and could wait until Lindsey returned to ask the woman to help her undress. She wanted to get these clothes off—wanted, at the very least, to be free of the pants that threatened to snap beneath her expanding flesh and expose from beneath her long underwear the skin that desperately needed the cooling air.
When a knock came at the door—rousing Timon not only from sleep, but causing Carmen to jerk and aggravate her knee even more—the man rose from the corner of the room, peered out the peephole, then opened the door to allow Lindsey inside. “It’s done,” she said, looking down at Carmen. “How’re you feeling?”
“Like shit,” she said. “And Arrick?”
“A bit sore from being strong-armed, but he’s better than you are.”
“Or Barris,” Timon sighed, reaching up to run a hand through his blonde hair.
No one said anything for several moments. As Lindsey stepped further into the room, however, and stooped to examine Carmen’s knee, Timon made his way through the door and closed it without offering a goodbye.
“Come on,” Lindsey said. “Let’s get you undressed.”
They made quick work of Carmen’s chestpiece, shirt, then her remaining boot and pants before Lindsey went to work cutting the long underwear down until it only came to above her knees. She then made a meticulous effort to fashion bandages from the remaining strips and then wrapped her knee as best as she could before tying it off with a simple knot.
“That won’t help a whole lot,” she said, “but it’ll have to do until I can run into town and get actual wrapping tomorrow morning.”
“What time is it?” Carmen asked.
“Late. I spent a lot of time mourning and praying for Barris as the Brotherhood of Thor sent him off to Valhalla.”
“I could’ve saved him,” Carmen said, balling her hand into a fist as an uncontrollable rage began to fester within her heart. “I could’ve slammed into that bitch and sent her sprawling. If only that bastard hadn’t come at me and severed that guy’s arm. Goddammit!” She slammed her fist into the bed, then back against the wall. Her knuckles protested the effort, but didn’t crack under the pressure, instead merely turning red and then white as the blood rushed through them as she balled her fist.
“There was nothing you could’ve done,” Lindsey sighed. “The woman had the upper hand, the longer reach, the brazen rage. If you would’ve tried to go after her, she’d’ve hit you with her club and you’d have ended up just like Barris.”
Dead, Carmen thought.
How she’d wished for such a thing no more than a few weeks ago—how, at the foot of her bed, and in the depths of madness, she’d cried for any God listening to smite her where she knelt and deliver her into the next life. She’d wanted nothing more than to be gone from this world and the mortal burdens it offered, yet no one had listened. She—Carmen Delarosa, twenty-one, and stricken with grief beyond all measure—had wanted nothing more than to lay down and die. But now… now she wanted to live. It was a strange dichotomy—a twisted inversion of the fates. She’d gone into the Roads fully expecting to die, only to emerge victorious. And now, here, at the capital…
She wanted to live.
She shamelessly, unabashedly, and without a doubt in her mind, wanted to live.
As she looked upon Lindsey, trying desperately to gauge her thoughts and measure the reaction she was about to have, Carmen closed her eyes and sighed. “You’re right,” she then said, allowing her fist to relax and her fingers to uncurl. “You’re absolutely, one-hundred-percent right.”
“Barris was dying,” Lindsey said, settling down on the bed next to Carmen. “He may not have looked it, but he was struggling to draw breath the entire time. That poor man—stubborn as hell, he was. But he never showed weakness. Not even near the end of it all.”
“What was wrong with him?”
“Pneumonia—chronic and never-ending. The healers said that it would just get worse and that there was nothing they could do for him. They even tried magic a few times, but… nothing ever worked.”
“So he died honorably,” Carmen said.
“And is now in Valhalla, drinking it up with the best of them.”
“My mother included,” Carmen smiled.
She closed her eyes and tilted her head to the side. “I think I’m going to try and sleep.”
“All right then. I’ll be going to bed here shortly myself. Goodnight. And Carmen?”
“Yeah?” Carmen asked.
“Don’t ever blame yourself for what happens to other people. You can’t control fate.”
Carmen nodded.
The sad thing was, she knew otherwise. You could control fate. And that was what hurt the most.
- - -
She woke the following morning to the sound of a door opening, then closing as Lindsey let herself inside. “I brought bandages, food, a fresh pair of clothes and an official note of summons for you,” the guardswoman said, assembling the items on bed beside her and looking down at Carmen as she stretched out her legs and grimaced.
“You might want to double back and find me a cane,” she said. “At least until my knee starts to feel better.”
“Are you sure you can’t stand on it?”
“I don’t know,” Carmen said. “I haven’t tried.”
“Try.”
The result was less than stellar, and though she didn’t fall over, it was obvious from her gait that she was injured. Regardless, Lindsey said, she shouldn’t worry, especially not after what had occurred.
“It practically happened outside the front gates,” she said as Carmen leaned down and began to wrap her knee. “How does the pressure make it feel?”
“Much better,” Carmen said, standing. She now felt as though she could stand on her own two feet and walk without a supporting apparatus.
After testing her theory, she looked down at the clothes—fine in their red-and-gold embroidery and simple in that they were merely a pair of pants and a shirt—dressed, then pulled her hair back into a ponytail and looked at herself in the mirror.
Though she appeared tired as ever, she looked every bit as confidant as a warrior—and a potential member of the King’s Watch—should be.
I would walk, Carmen thought, one-thousand leagues to get to this point again.
“And I would face any monster,” she said, “or any man, or demon, to stand in this room.”
“Atta girl,” Lindsey said, clapping her upper arms. “Take a moment to read what the note says before you depart. Your escort’s waiting at the door.”
“Already? But I haven’t even eaten.”
“Not much you can do now,” Lindsey said. “Sorry.”
“They know I’m gimped, right?”
“They’re aware that you were injured, yes. That you’re gimped? I doubt that.”
Carmen playfully slugged the woman, clipped her mace into place at her belt, then opened the official summons.
Miss Carmen Delarosa:
We are pleased to see that you have made it to Dorenborough. Please find, attached to this notice, a permit to allow you into the castle, as well as permission for a butler to escort you throughout.
Sincerely,
The King’s Office
“Well,” Carmen said, wrapping the scroll of parchment and sliding it into a fixture at her belt. “This is it then.”
“Good luck,” Lindsey replied, reaching out to take Carmen’s hand.
“Thank you for taking me this far. And about what you said last night… about Barris.”
“Yeah?”
&nb
sp; “I don’t blame myself for his death. I just wish I could’ve done more.”
“You honor his name by living on,” Lindsey said. “Remember that, Carmen.”
“I will,” she said, then turned to face the door. “Don’t worry.”
She reached forward, hooked her hand around the doorknob, and let herself out into the hallway.
It was here, in the capital of the Dwarven kingdom, that she would meet her destiny, whatever it happened to be.
- - -
Sunlight was the first thing that greeted her as she exited the inn. Blinding in its brilliance and utterly overwhelming to her senses, she raised her hands to her eyes to shield them from the oppressive glare and found that even then she could see spots of lights over her eyes—piercing, endlessly, into the dark spots of her retinas. She waited a moment for them to pass—to see if the endless assault would end—but when it didn’t, and when she found she could not wait—she removed her hands from her bro, bowed her head, and opened her eyes.
At this angle, the light was much less oppressive. She could at least walk like this.
But where am I going? she wondered.
She deduced that they were just down the road from the castle—that, if she continued to walk forward, she would eventually make it to the place where she was supposed to be. And once inside, she would be safe from the damned sunlight. Right?
Maybe, she thought.
She’d never considered the idea that the castle might have exterior windows.
“Oh by the Gods,” Carmen said, shielding her eyes as she began to walk onward, trying her hardest to detect the sounds of people around her and not bump into anyone. “Damn the Gods and their hellish light.”
“First time in Dorenborough?” a deep voice asked.
Carmen looked up as best as she could.
Though she expected to see a Dwarf’s face greeting her, she found nothing but the waistline of what undoubtedly had to have been a—
Human? Carmen thought.
She kept her head as low as she could, but darted her eyes up to try and face the man and immediately regretted it.
