by AC Cobble
Rew did not respond.
“Prince Heindaw isn’t any better, Ranger,” hissed Baron Barnaus. He watched, seeing Rew’s shock, then added, “Yes, I know who you are. All of you. After Carff and Jabaan… How could you not think I’d have your descriptions, that Heindaw wouldn’t have alerted his people that you would be coming for him next? One of the king’s rangers, a necromancer, a berserker, a thief, and an empath. There was another, a woman with bronze armor. She is gone? No, first, tell me, Ranger, why did you come to Olsoth?”
“It wasn’t my intention,” admitted Rew.
“You’re going to Iyre. The hunters disrupted your journey?”
Rew stared at the baron, not responding. The man was a vassal of Prince Heindaw. He ought to be clapping them in chains and shipping them north, with or without their heads attached, but he wasn’t. He seemed… curious.
“Iyre is a long journey. You—and your party—need rest,” said the baron. “Stay here for the night, and we will talk again in the morning.”
“I don’t think that’s—” began Rew, tensing his body for a fight.
“I understand that given who my liege is, you will not trust me no matter what I tell you. You shouldn’t. I shouldn’t trust you either, eh? But what choice do good men have in this world? Pfah, not even good men. I know who you are—who you were—Ranger. We are not good men, but perhaps we are better men than others? Are we to let this happen, let the princes commit their atrocities and fill this kingdom with nothing but the dead and those who’d be better off dead, or are we to do something?”
Rew blinked in surprise.
“I don’t have the strength to challenge the Mordens,” continued Baron Barnaus. “I don’t even want to be associated with anyone trying, truth be told, but given an opportunity to assist, I can’t turn away. Did you see any of the villages out on the plains, what is happening there? They’re burning most of the evidence, but not all of it. Those people are free spirits, but they are my responsibility. The same will happen if those hunters ever breach my walls. I cannot allow it. Maybe I can help you and then you help me?”
“Help you how?”
“Tomorrow we negotiate,” declared the baron.
“Negotiate what?”
“The overthrow of the kingdom, Ranger,” responded the baron, standing from his chair, a wolfish grin on his lips. He gestured to Rew’s companions, who were swaying drunkenly on their feet from the last day and a half of flight and terror. “I’ll venture to guess from the state of your companions and your history over the last decade that you’ve no desire to rule, but someone must. Allowing this kingdom to descend into chaos is no better than allowing the Mordens to continue occupying its highest seat. You don’t want to be the one on that throne, and I don’t want to be the one to face the king and his sons. You see where I am going with this?”
Rew gave a harsh chuckle. “I think I do, but I do not know you, Baron.”
Baron Barnaus smiled broadly. “Not yet, but that doesn’t matter. I think you must agree we have something to talk about but in the morning, when you’re rested. If nothing else, accept succor for a night, and then you may leave. I understand you distrust me, but Ranger, what other choice do you have? You cannot plan to leave here while the wyrms are hunting or Valchon’s men are loitering within view of my gates, can you?”
“You make a good point, but you’re putting a lot of faith in us, saying what you are saying.”
Shaking his head, the man offered a hard smile and replied, “I am not. Who would you tell? The king? Speaking to you is a small risk for me, but perhaps we can turn this chance encounter to our advantage. Think about it, Ranger. If I were to turn you over to Heindaw, what good would it do me? Valchon’s men are swarming the Northern Province, and Heindaw does nothing. He’s weak, and he’s going to lose. When Valchon prevails, what is there for me? The best case is he forgets about Olsoth, and I can finish my rule quietly. More likely, he throws me off these walls and rewards one of his minions with my barony. So, why not talk to you? As long as no one realizes who you are, I risk nothing.”
Rew scratched his beard. “I see.”
“It’s unlikely that you’ll succeed in your quest, but if you do, I hope you remember this meeting when it comes time to put someone on the throne. Perhaps you do not think I can marshal the surviving nobles to support my claim to the throne, but if I don’t, you lose little. I’m no worse than any other nobleman you could turn to, am I? It might be a stretch to say we’ll become allies, but that doesn’t mean we are enemies. We both may give little to gain much.”
“Not enemies. I’ve been hearing that a lot, recently,” grumbled Rew.
“You’ll tell me about it in the morning?”
“Maybe.”
“I’ll have my people show you to rooms and bring you something to eat. That hunter nearly ran you into the ground, and bold plans require clear heads. We’ll talk again soon.”
The baron turned and rang a small gong beside his seat. The door to the throne room opened, and he gave instructions for a valet to see to their comfort. As if moving through a dream, Rew and the others followed the servant out of the throne room.
On the way, Rew thought furiously, fighting through the fatigue that clouded his thoughts. They couldn’t trust the baron, of course, but what the man had said made sense. Barnaus would give little and hope for a lot, and they could do the same.
Slowly, Rew realized their plan was working. They’d planted seeds of truth and tried to scatter them across the kingdom. Those seeds were beginning to grow in the cracks of distrust and suspicion that wracked Valedon. The nobles wouldn’t support Rew outright, but all he needed was for them to get out of the way. It was something. It was a start.
A small smile curling his lips, Rew followed the baron’s valet and breathed deep, for the first time in days feeling a little optimistic. He looked around, taking in Olsoth as they walked to their rooms.
The inside of the monolith mirrored the outside, with a spiraling pathway twisting its way from the base of the open well to the top of the towering walls. Lush vegetation crept up that pathway, spilling out from every opening, filling the air with a verdant scent that was as close to the wilderness as Rew had ever experienced inside of a city. They could see people moving about, performing the same errands they would in any place. Children ran and called to each other, their voices echoing within the stone confines of Olsoth. Vendors, mercifully, were quieter, and the vegetation did its part to muffle their cries. It was like a secret garden, hidden from the world. It was peaceful.
Cold meats, bread, and butter arrived along with a basket of dried fruit. Rew and the others fell on the food, famished, then quickly finished and collapsed on the beds adjacent to the sitting room.
Rew, in a sole concession to the risk he knew they were still in, fell asleep on a chair in their common space, one boot wedged against the door that led to the hallway. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to stay awake long, and the others were already lost in slumber, but with his foot propped where anyone opening the door would wake him, his longsword laid across his lap, he felt comfortable enough to lean his head back. Moments later, he was asleep.
Chapter Seventeen
Terse shouts and confusion woke Rew. He yawned and blinked. The room was dim, the fire dead. An hour until dawn, he thought. He dropped his leg to the ground and rubbed it, flexing his knee, trying to relieve the ache from how it’d been awkwardly bent for hours. He cracked his neck, thinking perhaps he should have considered a different plan than sleeping in the stiff chair all night, but it was done.
The shouting continued as he pushed back his chair and began to stretch his aching body. He left his longsword drawn and luckily had not unpacked anything the night before. The sounds from outside the door were panicked, but they weren’t close. Not yet.
Moving on quiet feet, he began opening the doors to the chambers the others were sleeping in and roused them. They looked tired but unsurprised at being woken
to shouts. Rew gave them enough time to blink the sleep from their eyes, to check their weapons, and to relieve himself in Raif’s case. Then, the ranger cracked the door open and peered into the hallway. He saw nothing, but the tone of the shouting was clear. Olsoth was under attack.
“I’d rather run than hide, and we avoid a fight if at all possible,” he told the others. “But first, I want to know what’s going on. Baron Barnaus seemed sincere in his offer to help.”
“Help with what?” asked Raif, covering a yawn with a fist. “Sorry. It’s all a blur since… uh, since we started running from Valchon’s men, I guess.”
“He offered to help overthrow the princes and the king—or, I should say, he offered to stand out of the way. He meant to talk further on it this morning.”
“Oh, right.” Raif shifted, stretching his legs, and wincing as he rubbed under his armor where it must have chaffed him the day before. “The throne room, then?”
“That’s a good place to start,” agreed Rew, silently wondering whether he recalled how to get there from the rooms they’d been assigned. He’d been more awake and aware than Raif the night before, but not by much.
Walking cautiously down the hallway, Rew led the others out, peeking carefully around each corner, noting that, so far, the hallway used for guest accommodations seemed quiet. Whatever was happening was happening several levels below them. The way Olsoth was designed, there were few passages that led directly up and down. As long as they didn’t stumble across the wrong one, they ought to have fair warning of anything coming their way up the main corridors.
It seemed his recollection held, and Rew led them unerringly to the throne room. There, they found several dozen of Olsoth’s soldiers milling about.
Rew grabbed the arm of one who was passing by, not seeming in a hurry. He asked the other man, “What’s going on?”
“Who are you?” demanded the soldier.
“Does it matter?”
Frowning, the soldier shrugged and looked around as if hoping to spy a superior officer. When he didn’t see one and must have realized Rew wasn’t going to let go of his arm until he answered, the soldier replied, “Hunters. Several of them, we think. They broke in the lower levels. The baron and his elite guard have gone to face them.”
Rew stared at the man, confused.
“You don’t want to send too many against a hunter,” explained the soldier impatiently. “They’ll drain ‘em for power. It’s best to send your most dangerous men and let them deal with it.”
The soldier, it seemed, was not one of the baron’s most dangerous men. Rew pressed him, “What spellcasters does Baron Barnaus have in his court?”
The soldier looked askance at Rew then tugged at his arm. When Rew still didn’t let go, he answered, “He’s got two enchanters of decent talent and an invoker of hardly any talent at all. The baron himself knows a bit of conjuring, but he relies on our steel.”
Rew released the soldier and turned to his companions as the man scurried away on whatever errand he’d been attempting when the ranger had grabbed him.
“Enchanters are next to useless in combat unless they’ve prepared in advance. An invoker may do quite well, depending on what these hunters are capable of, but Valchon wouldn’t have risked his new cadre of spellcasters on this attack unless he thought it would be successful. Spellcasters with unknown abilities would be an incredible advantage against Heindaw. Valchon would want to keep their skills secret as long as possible.”
“They tracked us here,” remarked Anne. “They must be looking for us.”
Rew nodded. “If these hunters have preternatural abilities to follow us, we may as well face them now. I, for one, am not looking for another endless chase across the plains. At least in Olsoth, we’ll have the baron’s men and spellcasters at our side.”
“What are we waiting on then?” asked Zaine, drawing an arrow from her quiver and setting it on her bowstring.
Raif unslung his greatsword and stretched his arms above his head. “I suppose we’re not breaking our fast until this is done, so we’d best get on with it, eh? I’m hungry.”
Her eyes shimmering with subtle green, Cinda turned to Rew. “I’m not going to hold back, Ranger.”
Grunting, Rew shared a look with Anne then led the others from the throne room, heading down Olsoth’s long, curving passageways. The clamor of battle rang ahead of them, but before they reached it, they rounded a bend and found Baron Barnaus with two dozen of his soldiers, his invoker, and one of the enchanters.
“We need more men!” cried the baron. He jabbed a finger at one of his soldiers and demanded, “Tell the commander, Blessed Mother, tell everyone you see to get down here with everyone they can bring. I want a wall of steel blocking this passageway.”
“But, m’lord,” said the invoker, flexing his fingers and staring down the hall, “you said earlier we shouldn’t bring too many bodies in front of these… hunters. Allow me to—“
“I don’t care what I said. We need more men!” bellowed the baron. “If you were going to do something, you should have the last time we saw them.”
“I wasn’t ready, m’lord. My fault, and it won’t happen again.”
Baron Barnaus glared at the soldier he’d addressed, and the man skittered up the hallway, eyes wide, looking at Rew and the others as if wondering whether he should instruct them to join the fight, and then, he was past them. The baron was staring down the hall, following his invoker’s gaze, where the sounds of fighting were still thick, coming from somewhere below. The enchanter appeared shocked, and it took Rew a moment to notice the woman’s robes were splashed with bright crimson. Presumably what remained of her partner.
“Barnaus,” called Rew, striding toward the man. “What’s happened?”
“Hunters,” spat the baron. “Three of them, I’m told. They got in somehow, I’m still not sure how, and they’ve been slaughtering soldiers and citizens, working their way up the tiers of the city. We managed to erect a barrier for a moment and evacuated most of the citizens behind it. The soldiers at least are dying with blades in their hands and aren’t any use to the hunters. Those common people would have been like oil on a fire. Unfortunately, the hunters were at work before we realized what was happening, and they drained hundreds. It’s like fighting… Pfah! Like fighting ghosts. They’re fast, and they’re dangerous.”
“Drained… You said something like that before.”
Baron Barnaus looked into Rew’s eyes. “These hunters take power from their victims. They leave them empty and worthless. The hunters themselves… They’re strong and fast, unlike any mortal man. Ranger, there are hundreds of people below, and three hunters will slaughter them all.”
Rew grunted. He asked, “They’re using mundane weapons?”
“So far. If they have other capabilities, they haven’t shown them.”
“They’re farther down this passage?”
“So far,” repeated Baron Barnaus, glaring at Rew. “It’s been a quarter hour since any runners have come back to report. You can hear as well as I how it’s going. It’s only a matter of time until we see them.”
Rew glanced at Cinda, and she nodded, understanding his look. The ranger told Raif, “Watch her, will you?”
The fighter looked confused, but he followed his sister several dozen steps back up the hallway and stood beside her when she sat in a chair against the wall and closed her eyes. Baron Barnaus crossed his arms over his chest and must have guessed what she was attempting, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he tapped his foot impatiently and began directing his men as they started to trickle down from above.
It seemed he assumed the barrier they’d fashioned on the lower level was going to fail soon, and he was preparing another line of defense. In the raw stone of the city’s corridors, there was little they could do quickly, but the baron arrayed two score of men across the passageway with long halberds pointed down where they expected the hunters to come at them.
“Where are those
archers?” growled Barnaus, shouting so that his voice echoed up the hall behind them. “We need the archers!”
While everyone was distracted, Rew sauntered over to Cinda and crouched beside her.
“I see two of them,” she whispered. “They’re fast and strong, like he said. They’re coming up, and—pfah! Hold on. Let me get another vessel. They must have realized I was watching them.”
“Valchon will have warned them of your talents after Jabaan,” said Rew quietly. “See if you can spy the third hunter that Baron Barnaus mentioned. Then, leave off with the, ah, the spies. Just concentrate on drawing power. Your corpses will be too slow and clumsy for these things, and if they already took out one, they know what to look for. They must have some ability to sever your bindings, or maybe they just obliterated the thing. Filling the hallway with the breath of death will be more effective. No matter how fast they are, they can’t avoid it if you blanket the corridor wall to wall.”
“Understood,” said Cinda, her eyes still closed, a frown on her face. “They got another one. You’re right. They’ve been trained to combat the undead. A precaution against me or the king, do you think? And, Ranger, we might have a problem. I haven’t found the third hunter yet.”
Rew scratched his beard, wondering if there had been a third. Soldiers were as bad as fishermen when it came to exaggerating what they’d seen. Did running terrified from three men sound better than running terrified from two?
“Ranger,” added Cinda. “There’s a well of power I’m drawing on. Hundreds have died below us, but… these souls are weak. They’re diminished. It’s not life those hunters are devouring. It’s the very souls of their victims. I don’t know what that means.”
“Neither do I, but it doesn’t sound good.”
“What happens if you die without a soul?” asked Cinda rhetorically, her eyes closed, her jaw clenched tight.
