The Lord of Death (The Age of Dawn Book 2)

by Everet Martins

  “Walter,” Nyset said, bringing Ashes beside him and Marie. He regarded her, remembering how it felt to kiss her. He wanted to relive that experience in the guard house again. To hold her in his arms, unabashed, was a wonderful moment. He noticed his armpits were now feeling a bit wet and the blood flow increased to his loins. Why am I so nervous? Relax, it’s just Nyset.

  “Hey Ny, you’ve been quiet, that’s not like you.”

  “Juzo is dead, Walter,” she said quietly, looking at him from the side.

  “What?” Walter said, hand slipping from his pommel.

  “We have to face reality Walter. If he’s out here… if he was taken by one of The Wretched, how could he possibly be alive?” She shifted in her saddle, limpid gray eyes peering at him.

  “What are you saying? How do you know?”

  She looked down at the reins in her hands and bit her lip, then looked back at him. What if she’s right? No.

  Walter felt tears welling in his eyes. “How can you give up on him?” he said softly. “Do you all feel this way? Do you all give up on your friends before exhausting any possible way of finding him?” Baylan inhaled deeply and Grimbald shifted uncomfortably. The Blood Donkey let out a blubbering bay that echoed between the plateaus.

  “We have a lot more ground to cover. We’ve been only here half a day and you already want to give up. What if it was you? What about his parents? Shouldn’t we try to give them closure?”

  “Who are you?” a hoarse voice croaked from behind Walter. He twisted in his saddle to see a man. No, not any man. It was his friend, crouching on the rounded apex of a boulder. Walter gasped and his eyes bulged.

  “Juzo! I knew it! You were there,” Walter said with a bark of laughter. Walter rolled from his saddle and ran towards him, arms open for an embrace. Juzo nimbly rolled off the side of the rock and fell into a fighting stance. Walter skidded to a stop, tentatively smiling, open arms faltering. There was something wrong, he looked so different. His cheeks were sunken and his hair had gone completely white. One of his eyes gleamed with a brilliant red and the other was covered with an eye patch.

  “Juzo?” Walter asked, mind instinctively tracing the edge of the Dragon’s flames. It was effortless to touch the Dragon now, like blinking an eye. It was a reliable source of strength, a comfort when he felt threatened.

  Juzo unsheathed a sword with a blade so black that it seemed to swallow some of the sun. That sword, he still has it. Blackout, that damn sword. Walter took another step towards him, gravel crunching beneath his foot in the quiet.

  “I — I am Law. No, no, no you are Juzo, I am Juzo,” he muttered, looking at the ground. Walter looked over his shoulder at Nyset, who was rubbing her chin and wrinkling her brow. Grimbald and Baylan had started moving to his flanks. Walter looked back at Juzo, noticing the cat o’ nine tails lash that coiled around his other forearm.

  “Juzo, it’s me, Walter. Don’t— don’t you remember me?” Walter said, palms held to the side.

  “You should leave!” Juzo shouted at him, his intense red eye boring a hole into Walter’s soul. “I am a monster,” he said softly. His face had bits of dried blood on it and his jacket was crusting with gore. Tears slid from his eye, washing a clean line through some of the blood.

  “Juzo…” Walter said, taking another step forward. Juzo thrust his head back, staring into the gray sky.

  “You!” he screamed, savagely stabbing his sword towards Walter. Walter flinched at the violence in the movement. “You are not my friend. You left me in this fucking wasteland!” Juzo stabbed his sword into the ground, resting a hand on its guard, and releasing a ragged breath.

  “You are not Law. You’re Juzo, my old training partner. The guy who taught me everything there is to know about girls, the guy who helped me fight that cruel bastard, Osgor, who threw rocks at me in school,” Walter said, stepping closer. Juzo stared at his hand resting on the sword.

  “You took too long.” Juzo said, shaking his head. “He ruined me, you don’t know what I’ve seen, you don’t know what he made me do,” he said, voice quavering. “You are not my friend, you are nothing!” he growled, revealing his menacing teeth.

  Juzo’s arm’s swung in a blur and before Walter realized what was happening, his body exploded with pain. The crack of the lash against Walter’s flesh split the air. The lash recoiled and jets of blue light sprung from his wounds. Walter closed the gap between them, dashing towards Juzo as the whip cracked the ground behind him in a vicious snap.

  “No! Stop!” Walter yelled, hand pushing forward.

  Walter intended to tackle him, but Juzo was too fast and easily dodged his attack. Walter touched the Dragon and its chaos filled his muscles with strength, and he caught himself as he rolled. As he came out of the roll, Juzo kicked him in the back, sending him flat onto his face. He twisted just in time as Juzo slammed his sword into the ground, aiming for his head. Shit!

  Juzo extracted the blade with a predatory growl. He stabbed again, and this time his sword struck true, plunging through Walter’s shoulder. So fast, he thought.

  Walter screamed as the wound hissed and burned around the blade. Walter saw into Juzo’s fevered face, eye glittering, lips curled into a grimace. The healing light of the Phoenix blasted the sword from his shoulder, throwing Juzo back a step. Walter scrambled to his knees as a burst of fire tore through Juzo’s knee and side. Juzo stumbled back, letting out a bestial scream that vibrated in Walter’s chest. Nyset. Juzo sprung into the air with a yell, landing on a narrow foot hold at least twenty paces up a plateau. His coat fluttered in the wind and fire danced on his wounds.

  Walter looked back at Nyset as she readied a barrage of burning discs, her face hard. The pain in his shoulder was excruciating, much worse than the Skin Flayer’s poison. It felt like his bones were burning from the inside. A translucent shield materialized over his body, obscuring his vision of Juzo clinging to the plateau’s face.

  Grimbald stomped up beside him gripping, Corpsemaker and Nyset’s volley whizzed through the air.

  “Ny, no!” Walter shouted. He watched as the burning rings split at the last second, veering around Juzo and slamming into stone. Walter couldn’t see clearly because of the shield, but he knew Juzo was looking at him. The discs sizzled as the stone around them became blobs of magma.

  “Just leave me alone!” Juzo screamed.

  “Wait—” Walter cut off as Juzo grunted with another incredible jump, landing on another foothold. He leaped vertically again, grabbing onto a small notch in the rock and then vaulting himself to the top of the plateau with an explosive pull of his arms.

  “Juzo! Juzo! Come back! I came for you. I never forgot you… come back,” Walter said, as the pain spread from the front of his shoulder to the middle of his back. Baylan’s shield evaporated and Nyset crouched beside him, eyes and hands probing his face and shoulder.

  “Juzo is gone, Walter. He’s not the same man anymore,” she said, putting a handkerchief over his wound.

  “When did you get so wise? No, he’s just confused. He just doesn’t remember us, he will.” Right? What the fuck happened to you Juzo? “We should’ve come earlier, I knew it,” he said with a groan.

  “That thing was your friend?” Grimbald said, his voice sounding distant, yet there he was, standing beside him. Something felt wet on his face and he rubbed his cheek, pulling his fingers to find them red with blood.

  “That’s not necessary,” he said, eying Nyset’s hand on his shoulder. Walter slowly rose to his feet and took a few steps. The pain in his shoulder magnified like the beat of a drum. His mind was swimming and his stomach fluttered. “I don’t understand, why did he go?” he said slowly, staring at his dusty boots.

  He wanted to be alone. He stared up at the top of the plateau, imagining himself falling from its heights onto the rocks below, head exploding into a bloody mess, soul drifting into the Shadow Realm. It all ends the same, doesn’t it? No. Get it together, he thought. There are men marching into battle a
nd this the path you allow your thoughts to travel? Erudition, strength, leadership, discipline, courage, do not forget the tenants, Noah’s voice beat in his mind.

  “I don’t get it, why? Why did he fight me?” He turned, staring at Nyset. My best friend almost killed me.

  She put her hand over her mouth, and then reached out to take his hand. Her hand felt warm and seemed to fit perfectly in his. Why is it so cold? Wasn’t it hot before?

  “C’mon, let’s set up camp over here,” she said, leading him to a flat rock to sit on. Grimbald and Baylan gathered the mounts and tethered them to a dead Cypress.

  Inhale. Exhale. Calm the mind and cleanse the spirit with your breath, Noah’s words said in his mind. He curled up on the rock, laying on his side. His eyelids felt heavy and Baylan’s hand gripped his shoulder. Walter looked up at him, eyes deep-set and crow’s feet sharpening with a soft smile. Baylan’s hand glowed with a soft blue and Walter felt an overwhelming sense of calm wash over his mind and body as he felt himself drifting into sleep. The pain in his shoulder softened, though not entirely. The pain was a strange comfort, a reminder that Juzo was still out there.

  The sound of a tent being set up and the cook fire being prepared were a distant background noise. Juzo. A memory of him teaching Walter how to perform the perfect lash carotid artery choke flashed across his mind. Another image appeared, one of them laughing at the Cerumal‘s legs dangling from a hole of the Shiv Fang’s den. Another appeared of Juzo caressing the sword Blackout, whispers coming from the blade. Whispers from the blade, the blade speaks. How did I miss it before? His tired mind asked. It’s the blade that corrupts his soul.

  Chapter Fifteen

  War

  “The Lord of Death is a hulking humanoid creature with more intelligence than would appear for a beast with such a hunger for blood. It seems to derive strength from the dying and therefore surrounds itself with weaker allies that it can easily slay when not in combat. The latest reports detail that it took hundreds of men to kill this specimen.” -from the Death Spawn Compendium by Nazli Tegen

  A horn sounded in the distance and Walter awoke with a start. It was just a nightmare, we didn’t find Juzo yet. Did we? Waves of reality came crashing back along with the pain that wracked his shoulder. He shielded his eyes as Grimbald pulled the tent flap open, white light washing across the dark interior.

  “What’s happening? What’s that sound?” It blew again, louder and longer this time.

  “The sound of war. Here drink this,” Nyset said hurriedly, kneeling and handing him a cup of amber colored tea. “It will help with the pain and give you some energy. It’s no elixir, but it will do.” Walter rubbed his eyes and groaned as he sat up, taking it from her hands.

  “What is this?” The blade, it’s the damn blade. I have to separate Juzo from Blackout to get him back, he thought.

  “Baylan thinks the Falcon has ran up against the Death Spawn, He’s preparing the horses.”

  Walter’s mouth became a deep frown as he stared into the cup of hot tea. Death Spawn. Not just a few of them, but potentially thousands. He downed the cup of tea and almost gagged on its horrific taste. He grabbed his shirt and stepped from the tent into the light. The tent’s heavy fabric felt coarse between his fingers, well made. Walter held up the shirt, examining the three angular tears from Juzo’s lash attack. He looked to the sky, it was clear now, but the remnants of ash still littered the ground.

  “Are you sure that swill was good for me?”

  “It was actually my urine, tastes the same at least,” Grimbald chimed in. “Finally decided to wake up sunshine?” he said with a grin, stropping Corpsemaker with a sharpening stone.

  Walter turned to Grimbald, “It’s incredible, your piss should be bottled. I feel like the Phoenix just fucked me all night,” he said with a chuckle.

  “Get your things together. We need to go help the Falcon, they’re going to need it…” Baylan said, tying a tent pole on his mare. Duty is a heavy burden, Noah had said.

  Walter looked at his shoulder, inspecting the wound. The skin around the wound site was black and a ring of angry red surrounded that. No time for that now, I can worry about that later. This may be the day we die. A heavy quiet hung on the group as they dismantled the tent and put away sundries.

  “Who brought me in last night? I thought I fell asleep out here…”

  “I did, you’re heavier than you look,” Grimbald said.

  “Oh, thanks. How far do you think are they?” Walter said, stuffing his cotton bedroll into his pack.

  Grimbald scratched at his beard that had become more gnarly as the days passed. “I’m not sure...”

  “I tried to heal your wound a few times, you might have to try your method of healing, but perhaps later. Don’t drain yourself too much now, unless you feel you must,” Baylan said. The deep horn sounded again, this time with a pulsing fervor. Walter rubbed the back of his neck as he watched Baylan and Grimbald strap the last tent pole to Grimbald’s donkey.

  Will the Falcon be a slaughtered mess when we get there? How can we help without getting ourselves killed? Bloody Dragon, thousands of Death Spawn. Walter inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. All men need to follow before they can lead. The time will come when you will need to lead. He nodded as he remembered Noah’s advice. What would I have done without his tutelage?

  “Alright everyone, gather around,” Walter said. Leather rasped against steel as Baylan slid his long dagger into its sheath. Grimbald sauntered over to Walter with a nod and Nyset strode up beside him, tightening her belt, which was now filled with vials of various colors. Walter twisted his torso a few times, feeling the vigor return to his body and mind.

  “We don’t know what we’re going to see when we get to the battle, or even if there will be any fighting. I estimate that we’re no more than a half hour away. With our abilities, we have no choice but to help. We stick together, stay close, and don’t lose one another.”

  “Sound good to me, Walt. I’ve got Corpsemaker sharper than she’s ever been. I’ve been sharpening her for the past three hours, could slice a damn hair in half,” Grimbald said, running a finger along its edge.

  Walter couldn’t help but grin at his adoration for the weapon, feeling the same about Stormcaller.

  “We need some type of tactic, don’t we?” Baylan asked.

  “We’ll move in a two-by-two configuration. Grimbald and I will take front, you and Nyset provide support,” Walter wiped his hands on his pants and cleared his throat.

  “By the Phoenix, I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Nyset said. “Is there any other choice?”

  “I wish there were, truly I do,” Baylan said, fingering his dagger.

  “We may die today and… and I want you to know that I love all of you. And that if I do die today, there’s no other people I’d rather do it with,” Walter said, eyes glowing with a vivid green in the morning sun, highlighting a bright gold starburst that surrounded his pupils.

  Grimbald put a strong hand on his neck and gave it a squeeze. “Aye, same to you, Walter. It’s been a great adventure and I wouldn’t have had it any other way, you fucking sap,” he laughed.

  “And thank you, all of you, for coming with me to find my friend…”

  “I love you,” Nyset said, her face red, eyes stricken.

  He smiled and gently tilted her chin, kissing her soft lips. Baylan and Grimbald stepped away, finding the horses more interesting.

  “Get a tent, you’re gross,” Grimbald said.

  “Ah, sorry about that,” Walter said.

  “It’s been a pleasure, Walter,” Baylan said, taking a quick note, no doubt transcribing his words.

  “Alright, we’re not dead yet, and given our luck so far, we may not be. Don’t forget the plan, let’s stay close.”

  * * *

  They made their way north, riding hard towards the sounds of blowing horns and beating drums. The Blood Donkey was surprisingly nimble at this speed. Cypress trees flashed by on
either side, and the road tumbled beneath him. His ears filled with the clopping of hooves and rattles of harnesses, punctuated by horn blows. The air pushed its way into his mouth, dry air stinging his eyes.

  As they drew closer, the fury of men screaming and beasts shrieking carried through the air. The distinctive sound of steel against steel crashed between the plateaus. Yes, today we will most certainly be fighting. Walter’s heart beat almost in tune with the distant drum and his armpits felt sopping wet. Time seemed to endlessly drag on as he kept waiting for the next bend to reveal the battle. They’re all going to be dead. The Falcon was notorious for their harsh training, they’ll be able to stop them, right?

  They came upon an oversized tent on the path, white with red patches. The putrid smell of death bit his nostrils. Walter surveyed the tent, bracing for an ambush as they drew near. No ambush came and Walter brought Marie to stop. They’re not red patches, they’re blood stains.

  “Let’s check it out,” he said, dismounting, his body tense.

  “Do we have time for this? We should go,” Baylan said.

  “Look, there are weapons over there,” he nodded towards a bow and three swords that stood point first in the sand. “Falcon weapons… maybe there’s something we can use.”

  “Be careful, I’ll cover you guys,” Nyset said, jumping from Ashes, eyes glowing with the amber glow of the Dragon.

  Grimbald grunted and dismounted, catching up to Walter as he marched to the tent. Walter held his nose, trying not to gag. He pulled the tent flap aside, turning his face at the grisly site. Walter counted six bodies mutilated and ripped apart. No man did this. There were two women and four men, partially clothed.

  “These were scouts,” Grimbald said, pulling the pin free from one of their collars. Walter met his eyes and they both shared a hard expression.