Warbringer

by Aaron Hodges

  He broke off as Lukys pressed the point of his knife into the man’s groin. Dyge’s mouth opened but Lukys pushed the knife harder.

  Death, death, death.

  “I suggest,” Lukys said again, “that you return to your tent.”

  “I…” Dyge swallowed, then nodded eagerly. “Yes, you’re right. I think I’ll do that.” He released Lukys’s shirt and raised his hands, gesturing at the knife.

  Lukys lingered, holding the man’s gaze before finally drawing back. Dyge licked his lips, still appearing nervous, while Lukys turned to look at the others.

  “We’re all afraid, remember,” he said, “but our only hope is to stay together. Alone, we don’t stand a chance out here.”

  The others said nothing, unable to meet his eyes, and Lukys nodded his satisfaction. In silence he shared a glance with Cara, then led her towards a gap in the circle.

  “I’d rather die alone than stand with the likes of you,” Dyge’s voice came from behind them.

  Die, die, die.

  Lukys spun, knife still in hand, but his foe now held a spear. The razor-sharp point flashed for Lukys’s throat…

  …and was knocked aside as another recruit leapt to his aid. A roar of anger came from Dyge, but before he could bring his weapon around to attack again, the newcomer slammed the tip of his spear into the man’s chest.

  A stunned look appeared in Dyge’s eyes as he looked up at the recruit that had stabbed him.

  “Da…Dale?”

  Blood burst from his lips as Dale yanked back his spear, allowing the traitor to slump to the ground. He stepped back, eyes still on the body, spear clutched at the ready. Lukys could only stare at the man, unable to believe it had been Dale who had come to his rescue.

  Finally Dale lowered his spear. He still did not look at Lukys, but instead turned to face the circle of recruits. They stared back at him, open fear on their faces.

  “Dyge was a fool,” he said softly, “and if any of you think the same as him, you’re fools as well. None of us would last a day out here without the Calafe. The Tangata would have you by suppertime.”

  “The Tangata will have us anyway,” Bradbury said, looking despondent.

  “Maybe,” Dale replied. Finally he looked at Lukys. “But I’d rather die with honour than as a traitor.”

  “Dyge was the only deserter here,” Lukys said, his voice hard. He ignored the others who’d looked ready to murder him—they could not fight them all. “Go back to your beds and speak no more of this.”

  The eyes of several flickered to Dyge’s body, and Lukys caught a glimpse of anger there. But it faded as they looked again at Lukys and Dale and Cara, giving way to resignation. Without further word, they collected up their spears and started off towards the camp.

  Lukys let out a long breath as he watched them go, and allowed the mask to slip. He swallowed, legs suddenly trembling as he realised how close he’d come to death.

  “Thank you,” he said, offering a hesitant smile to Dale.

  The young noble grunted. “Don’t take it personally,” he replied. “Like you said, doesn’t matter if we’re friends or enemies. We need to stick together this side of the Illmoor.” With that he turned and followed the others, leaving Lukys standing alone with Cara.

  They stood there a while, saying nothing. Lukys stared out into the darkness, replaying the moment again and again. Inevitably, his gaze was drawn to the body of Dyge. He’d underestimated the man—but had it been his hatred, or his desperation? A shiver ran down his spine and he forced himself to look away.

  “I’m sorry,” Cara whispered, drawing Lukys’s gaze.

  She stood with her arms wrapped around herself, eyes staring into the distance, tears streaking her cheeks. Surprised, he shook his head.

  “Sorry for what?”

  “I should have stopped him,” Cara whispered. Her amber eyes flickered to Dyge’s body, shining in the moonlight. A shudder went through her. “So much…blood.”

  Blood, blood, blood.

  “Hey, it’s not your fault,” Lukys exclaimed, stepping close and opening his arms to hug her.

  She flinched away, eyes wide, and he remembered her fear of being touched.

  “Sorry,” he said, turning his hands palm out. Then he smiled. “But I’m okay.”

  Cara watched him for a long while before responding with a nod. “Okay.” She yawned, stretching her arms, before a grin appeared on her face. “Guess we’d better head back to camp them.” She gestured at the mountain slopes around them. “Who knows what else is out roaming in the moonlight?”

  Lukys started as his dream came rushing back to him, the scarlet moon, the shadows rushing across a barren slope, the thumping of blood in his ears.

  Not seeming to notice, Cara started off towards the camp. Lukys followed after a moment’s hesitation, though his mind was elsewhere, lingering on the dream, on that moon. The same moon that hung above them, though without the red…

  …he glanced back towards where Dyge lay, though in the darkness he could no longer make out the body.

  Nor the blood that now stained the rocks.

  25

  The Archivist

  Impatient to be going, Erika had the Perfugians break camp in the dark so they could be on the road at dawn. She was surprised there had been no complaints, though there had been a sullen mood about the soldiers as they set off. Too bad; they were already half a day behind schedule—she’d wanted the afternoon to explore the area, hopefully find the unknown entrance.

  Perhaps if the recruits increased their pace, they might still reach the site with daylight to spare. She sought out the young man who seemed to take on the role of officer while the Calafe was absent. What was his name…Lukys! She spotted him marching at the front as usual and edged her horse alongside him.

  “Lukys,” she said, drawing his attention. Eyes ringed by shadow glanced at her from the road, and she hesitated a moment before continuing: “Your soldiers need to pick up the pace. I want to reach our destination before we lose the light.”

  A groan came from behind her, but Erika ignored the other recruits.

  An extended moment passed before Lukys shook his head. “No,” he said, and returned his eyes to the road.

  “What…” Erika’s mouth fell open, shocked at the man’s disobedience. She was in charge here, not this upstart of a soldier. Clenching her fist, she took control of her emotions. “That was not a question, recruit,” she said, voice cold now.

  “I know,” the man replied, eyes fixed straight ahead.

  “Then just what do you think you’re doing?” Erika hissed, losing control despite her best efforts.

  “Keeping us all alive,” came the response. He glanced in her direction. “With all due respect, Archivist, you don’t have a clue.”

  “How dare—”

  “I dare!” the recruit snapped, swinging on her. She flinched in the saddle and tried to pull away, but he snatched the reins, bringing the horse to a stop. Angry eyes glared up at her. “I dare, because if you push them any harder, we’ll have a mutiny on our hands.” He sucked in a breath, and seemed to calm somewhat. Releasing the reins, he stepped back. “If you didn’t notice, we’re already a man short today.”

  He started off again, leaving Erika sitting stunned on her horse. Cursing, she shook herself and kicked the beast after him.

  “What do you mean, a mutiny?” she hissed.

  “It’s taken care of,” Lukys replied, eyes ignoring her again.

  Erika swore beneath her breath, but decided it best not to press the man. Suddenly, she wished Romaine had not ridden so far ahead. Clutching her fist, she sought out the power of the gauntlet, feeling its warmth as it began to glow. She let out a long breath, the pressure in her chest relenting a little. It came racing back as she remembered the forty-odd soldiers marching behind her. Even with the magic of the Gods, she could not fight them all.

  “Are you okay, Erika?” Cara asked, approaching on Erika’s left.

/>   “I’m fine,” she said shortly. Clutching her reins close, Erika tried to quell her racing heart.

  Laughter came from the Calafe girl. “You look like you woke up on the wrong side of the tent.” She leaned closer in a conspiratorial manner, eyes dancing. “Or just found out about the excitement in the night.”

  “I…” Erika glanced sharply at the woman. “You were there.”

  Cara only shrugged and began to whistle.

  Erika opened her mouth, then decided it was best to forget about the whole thing. She couldn’t cope with the strangeness of these people. The Perfugian spoke of a missing man and walked as though he carried a boulder on his shoulders, and meanwhile the Calafe woman…whistled?

  No wonder Erika’s mother had decided to return to Flumeer after her father had died. If all the Calafe were as strange as Cara, or stoic as Romaine…not to mention the boredom of life in this wild, untamed world. Erika couldn’t understand how anyone could live in a village such as the one they’d camped in for the night, so far from the pleasures of civilisation.

  Sure, she had enjoyed that life as a child, when the forests and mountains had been an unending land of adventure…but children were easily entertained. A true Flumeeren could never have been happy with such an existence.

  The weather warmed as the day passed on, melting the last of the snow from the slopes—and turning the ground to mud. To Erika’s frustration, their progress slowed further, though she decided to keep her mouth shut for the moment. By the time the column stopped to lunch, they had barely covered five miles.

  Erika was just dismounting when a distant sound carried down from the slope they were about to traverse. Lukys was on his feet in an instant, swinging the shield from his pack and holding his spear at the ready. A moment later the noise resolved into hoofbeats as a rider topped the crest of the nearby hill.

  The man, Travis, riding hard.

  “Perfugians, at the ready,” Lukys bellowed.

  The rattling of steel came from behind them as the recruits clambered to their feet and clutched at their weapons. Some even seemed to know what to do with them.

  Heart racing, Erika eyed the crest of the hill, reins clutched tightly in one fist. Travis was racing down the slope towards them, seemingly uncaring of the uneven ground. There was no sign of Romaine. She cursed beneath her breath. Had the Tangata finally appeared?

  Movement came from the top and Erika released a breath as the Calafe warrior appeared. His axe remained undrawn and he was riding slower than the recruit. She took it as a good sign and edged her horse forward alongside Lukys.

  “What is it, recruit?” she called as the woman rode up.

  “Travis, are you okay?” Lukys asked at the same time.

  The man’s face was pale as he pulled to a stop, his horse drenched in sweat. They must have ridden hard and for some distance. Blood thundered in Erika’s ears and she wanted to scream as the man sucked in great lungfuls of air.

  “Tangata!” he gasped finally.

  Erika’s blood ran cold.

  No, no, no.

  It couldn’t end like this, not when they were so close, just a few hours from triumph. The secrets of the Gods, of their magic, she could almost feel it, pulsing in her fingertips…

  …she started as the others looked at her, foreheads creased in concern. Light pulsed from her fist and she realized the magic of the gauntlet had arisen unbidden. Ice touched her chest and she forced herself to exhale. The light faded slowly.

  No harm done, she thought, hoping her face did not show her shock. Out loud, she said:

  “How many?”

  The man swallowed as he met Erika’s gaze. “Twenty, at least.”

  Gasps came from behind Erika and she gritted her teeth. Twenty was an army, far too many for one regiment, even had they been properly trained. A curse slipped from her lips before she controlled herself.

  “Where?”

  “Heading towards us,” the recruit said shortly. “They don’t seem to know we’re here, but…we’re right in their path.”

  Erika cursed again, though the pounding of hooves as Romaine rode up covered the words. She looked to the Calafe warrior, hoping against hope he would refute the recruit’s claims.

  “You can put those away,” he said as he dismounted, looking past Erika to the recruits formed up behind her. “We’re not in danger—yet. They’ve set camp for the day.”

  “What is your assessment, Romaine?” Erika said, remaining in her saddle.

  “The Tangata are ahead of us,” he said as though their path was clear. “Too many for us to fight. Thankfully we were downwind. The horses sensed them before we did and we weren’t seen. But they’re definitely heading in this direction.”

  “We have to turn back!” called a voice from the recruits behind Erika. Others rose in agreement. She ignored them, fixing her eyes on Romaine, waiting for him to continue.

  The warrior spread his hands. “I’m sorry, Archivist. We have to turn back, and quickly, or there’ll be no avoiding crossing their path.”

  “Unacceptable,” Erika snapped, no longer bothering to contain her anger. “The fate of humanity is at stake. We must press on, whatever the cost.”

  “The cost will be your life,” Romaine replied bluntly.

  A shudder went through Erika at his words, and suddenly she was back in the throne room, standing before the queen, subjected to her displeasure.

  Do not fail me.

  Erika didn’t need to ask what would happen if she returned without new treasures. The queen had been promised the magic of the Gods and she would have it—even if it meant cutting the gauntlet from Erika’s corpse.

  No one else had moved at Romaine’s words. They all looked to her, waiting for her to speak, to accept her fate.

  “The cost of failure will be my life regardless, Romaine,” she said softly, forcing herself to meet the warrior’s eyes. “So I will go on, alone if needs be. Maybe I can slip by them, though without you, I doubt it.” She hesitated, before adding: “You and I both know how it would look to General Curtis should you return without me.”

  A moment of silence answered her words, followed by the angry buzz of voices. Erika’s heart pounded hard in her chest but she held the Calafe’s gaze, determined not to be the first to break.

  “Are you truly so selfish,” he whispered, without a trace of anger in his voice, “that you would sacrifice us all for your folly?”

  Erika lifted her chin, defiant. “I…” She hesitated, the words stumbling on her tongue before she recovered her composure. “For the fate of humanity, I refuse to turn back.”

  Romaine shook his head. Stepping from the path they had been following, he slumped onto a boulder. Erika was shocked to see the despair in the man’s eyes. The Perfugians fell silent as they saw the hero who had led them this far bowed low. A cold wind blew across the mountainside, sending shivers down Erika’s spine, but still she did not retreat.

  “What if just a few of us cut through the hills?” a voice said from alongside Erika.

  She started as the recruit, Lukys, stepped into her path. There was a determined glint in the man’s eyes as he faced her, spear held firmly in hand, head high. Where Romaine looked ready to give up, somehow this recruit still radiated strength.

  “What are you suggesting?” she asked, intrigued.

  “Romaine is right; the entire regiment cannot continue unnoticed. When the Tangata continue in this direction, they’ll pick up our tracks and follow. Whatever we do, it will be a race to reach the Illmoor before they catch us.” He drew in a breath before continuing. “But they might miss a few of us if we split from the rest and took another trail to reach the site.”

  “Another trail?” Erika pressed, heart throbbing painfully in her chest. Could there really be another way?

  Lukys gestured up the mountain. They’d been cutting across the hillside, making for the pass Romaine and Travis had returned from not long ago. “We’ve been following the easier passages th
rough the hills,” the Perfugian continued, “but what if we cut straight over the mountain?”

  Glancing up the slope, Erika wondered if such a thing was even possible. These foothills were mere shadows of the Mountains that loomed beyond, but the slope Lukys had indicated was still steep, and covered in loose gravel. It would be a terrible, dangerous climb. The horses certainly could not pass that way. And even if they reached the top, there was no telling what else awaited. The way down might prove impassable.

  She glanced at Romaine, waiting to see what the warrior would say, but Cara spoke up instead: “There is a path down the other side.”

  Erika’s breath caught in her throat as she spun to face the woman. “Truly?” she gasped. “You’ve been that way before?”

  Cara hesitated. Her eyes flickered in her face as she bit her lip. “I’ve seen it from afar,” she said at last. “A path between the cliffs—steep, but passable. I think.”

  “Then we try it,” Erika said, turning to Romaine.

  The warrior looked back at her, eyes still hard, and she saw now his anger. He hated her for making him consider this option, for making them take this risk. She didn’t care. They had a chance!

  “Very well,” he said, rising. “Let’s be about it then.” Turning, he cast his gaze over the column of recruits. “Travis, do you think you could find the way back to the trees?”

  The man hesitated, but after a moment he nodded. “I think so.”

  “Good. You’ll take the horses and lead the recruits back to the Illmoor. Leave everything behind you don’t need and don’t stop except for sleep; once the Tangata find your scent, you can be sure they won’t. Once you reach the river, signal the other side. The forts all know to look for us. Don’t wait; hopefully the Tangata don’t notice our scent, but if they do, we’re dead.”

  Travis hesitated, but after a moment he nodded. Drawing in a breath, Romaine turned to the other recruits.

  “Lukys, Cara…” He paused, eyeing the Perfugians lined up across the hillside. The recruits shifted nervously on their feet. “Dale and Groner,” he named two of the recruits Erika didn’t recognise, “you’re with us.”