Child of Sorrows

by Michaelbrent Collings

  One more thing to lay at Malal's feet.

  Tiawan gestured for Meinra to lead on. The tall man led them through the small crowd, which parted for Tiawan and his fellows like a murmuration of sparrows hunted by a falcon.

  Past the first group on the road, more people could be seen. Indeed, they grew thicker as Meinra led Tiawan, La'ug, and Wahy along the road. The land here was ugly and sharp, as it was in all of Fear. The sky was ash-laden, dust an ever-present part of life.

  Meinra was silent for a time, then said, "You freed us? You broke down the walls of Hawal and ended the Walled City of Fear?"

  Tiawan nodded. "I brought down the walls," he said. "They," he added, gesturing at Wahy and La'ug, "destroyed your captors."

  "You're welcome," said La'ug.

  "Welcome?" Meinra spun on her, seeming to forget the danger in his sudden rage. "Welcome? For what?"

  "For your freedom," she answered simply.

  Meinra snorted. "Yes. Free to run out of a burning city and onto a rocky plain that burns just as brightly. Free to leave the captivity of a walled city only to find that there is nowhere to run." He kicked a black stone in something approaching rage, staring at La'ug with a fire in his eyes to rival any that burned in Fear. Then he turned and resumed walking. "At least we had food brought into the city."

  "By an Emperor who wanted you alive, but only as a way of controlling families you left behind." La'ug snorted. "Better to die as men than live as pawns."

  Meinra snorted, "Says the one who never knew what it was to live a pawn."

  "We are all pawns, friend," said Tiawan. "Some of us just have not ever seen the game-master."

  The people grew thicker – and not just the living. Here and there piles of people were stacked like altars of death. Some of them had been set ablaze, obviously piled directly above the vents in the black rock, heated until they simply exploded into flame. Their ash wafted up, joining the greater ash that was Fear's heavens.

  Tiawan was surprised to see so many dead. "Surely these haven't all died of hunger since the Walled City was opened. There must have been food stores in the city, something you could bring to sustain you."

  Meinra snorted. "We had little there. And –"

  "And yet you complain about having less here," interrupted La'ug. She seemed unaffected by the environment, still wearing her heavy coat as though the cold of the northern reaches where she was born had infused her bones with a permanent chill.

  Meinra glared at her. "I don't like you, girl," he said.

  She smiled. "More's the pity. I will weep myself to sleep tonight."

  "What happened to all them, then? Even without much food, why did they die out here?" Tiawan said, hoping to stave off an argument. He loved La'ug, but her acid tongue could cause problems at times. The only people she had been civil to before they Changed had been him and Wahy.

  And come to think of it, she wasn't all that civil to me. Just Wahy and her pet.

  Some things didn't change in us, at least.

  Meinra was looking about him, seeming almost as though he saw the dead for the first time. "We fled," he said. "We saw the explosions, heard the screams. Some of us ran because we saw a way to freedom – we thought. Others because we thought the world was ending." His face drew tight. "Even in the Walled City we hear rumors. The destruction of the Grand Cathedral, Fear itself swallowing up the Acropolis and along with it half the Army." He shrugged. "We thought the end had come for us, and we ran. And many of us," he said, indicating the dead, "were too weak to flee. Or simply too frightened to live in a place without walls."

  Tiawan's chest felt leaden. "I'm sorry," he breathed. "I –" He stopped, choking off the words before he said something he might regret.

  (I'm sorry.

  We shouldn't have done it.

  We're acting as wrongly as any Emperor.

  We killed you all.)

  "No matter," said Meinra. He no longer sounded angry. Just tired. Not only physically, but mentally and emotionally. The exhaustion of someone who has lost everything… and then lost everything again. "We're here."

  He gestured at a tent that sat a few paces off the road. Like all the shelters here it was a cross between a lean-to and a simple ramada – a few stones with a pair of blankets stretched between them. Something to keep the ash off those beneath it, and to block some of the heated wind that occasionally blew across Fear.

  Beneath the blankets, several people had gathered. Three men and a woman were arguing heatedly, about what Tiawan could not make out. But they were all huddled around something on the ground below them, gesturing wildly at whatever was down there.

  Meinra nodded for Tiawan to follow him. Tiawan gestured for La'ug and Wahy to stay behind. "You sure?" asked La'ug.

  He nodded. "I've nothing to fear here, I think."

  The ground was much rougher off the road, but his chair managed it with ease, either flattening out the rocks beneath its weight or climbing them as quickly as any man with two good legs might have done.

  The closer they came to the tent, the better Tiawan could hear what was going on. The men and women were arguing about food.

  "He took it," shouted one man, pointing at another. "He stole my bread!"

  "I did not!" shrieked the accused. "She was the one. She took it. I saw her." He pointed at the woman, who flew into a rage, screaming obscenities and blasphemies that made Tiawan wince. He was not one of the Faithful, but even he knew that some things simply should not be said.

  The third man put a hand on the woman's arm. "She was with me," he said. "She couldn't have –"

  And then the first man went off again, screaming accusations of lies, theft, conspiracy. "They're all out to get me!"

  "Enough." The voice that came from within the huddled people was soft, but it carried nonetheless. Tiawan was reminded of the hiss of a viper upon hearing it. Low, assured, a warning of death nearby.

  The four arguers fell silent immediately. Something shifted among them, and Tiawan got the impression of a person, but he could not see who had spoken.

  "He took it."

  Tiawan couldn't see whom the person behind the voice indicated, but he could tell a moment later as the first accused man began arguing, "I did not. There's no way to prove I did, there's no –"

  "Give him back his bread," came the voice.

  The accused crossed his arms over his chest. "I didn't do it," he insisted angrily, "so there's no way you can –"

  Then all breath emptied from his body as something slammed into him. He bent over, retching, and now Tiawan saw the viper.

  The man was small – surprisingly small, to sound so quietly confident. But there was no mistaking the hardness of his face, the cast of his eyes, or the many brands that covered all his skin. A prisoner many times over, and an escapee at that.

  Tiawan would have guessed he had a weapon of some kind, given the obvious force of the blow that had bowed over the first man. But there was nothing in the small man's grasp. Just hands which Tiawan saw were knuckled and huge.

  A Strong, he realized. Like Wahy.

  But in the next moment the man in the tent showed he was nothing like the kind-hearted Wahy. He brought a fist down on the back of the bent man's head. The man fell, but still the small man kept pounding on him, over and over until there was a sickening crack and the accused was dead.

  The small man nodded to a trio of men who waited near the tent. All of them looked nearly as hard and dangerous as their leader, and they entered and dragged the dead man out, heaping him on top of one of the burning piles of corpses.

  The other two men and the woman stood silent through it all, shocked by the suddenness of the violence and the permanence of its end.

  "Judgment has been rendered," said the man, who was not even breathing hard. He wiped his bloody hands and arms on a nearby cloth. "Do any disagree?"

  The others were silent. The man and woman who had claimed to be together at the time of the crime took each other's hands and sl
unk away. The accuser began to follow, then turned back and said in a lowly voice, "And my bread?"

  The small man sighed and flexed his muscles. There was little apparent strength in his arms – Strongs did not receive their might from their bodies – but the man whose bread had been stolen took a quick step back.

  The Strong looked at him. "You should have kept better track of your things," he finally said. "Count yourself lucky that I don't make an example of you for your carelessness and for the trouble it caused."

  The man nodded jerkily, sudden terror etched across his face. "Yes," he said. "Ye – yes, I mean –" He tripped on a stone, almost plummeting to his back. He righted himself, then managed a twitching nod to the small man before backing away and fleeing.

  Meinra stepped forward as the man ran off. He entered the tent without preamble, then said, "People want to see you, Brun."

  Brun looked over at Tiawan. He sighed. "Who stole from you?"

  Tiawan shook his head. His chair moved forward, and Brun looked momentarily surprised at that. Then the hard look returned to his eyes.

  "No one stole from me," said Tiawan. "Rather, I may have stolen something from you."

  Brun's eyes narrowed. His fingers snapped together as though hungry to choke the life out of something. "What's that?" he said.

  "Your captivity."

  Brun laughed at that. He looked around. "I see no freedom here."

  Now it was Tiawan's turn to sigh. "That's the second time I've heard that today," he said. Disgust filled his voice. "What lowly creatures would rather hide behind their walls than have the freedom to roam the land – even as hard a one as this."

  "I don't like your tone, old man," said Brun. His muscles clenched.

  "I don't much care." Tiawan's chair began shifting, changing to its armored form. Brun's eyes widened, though he didn't move away or even seem particularly afraid. "I'm here to ask your help, but that doesn't mean I'm yours to command or frighten."

  Brun looked like he was contemplating attacking Tiawan. "Brun," said Meinra warningly. "He says he brought down the walls. Alone." His eyes flicked to Tiawan. "I believe him."

  "You did that, eh?" Brun still held himself tense and ready, but he nodded as though the information had been more or less what he expected.

  A cold one, this. But….

  The armor disappeared. "I don't want to frighten you, or make you do as I say," said Tiawan. "I want you to help me of your own free will."

  Brun laughed. "I don't help people, old man. I'm from behind the Wall, and there isn't much help to be found there."

  Tiawan snorted. "Of course you help. You're resolving disputes, keeping order among these refugees."

  "Maybe I just do that because it gives me a chance to kill people."

  Tiawan nodded. "Perhaps," he said. "But there are easier ways to be a murderer, I think." He stared at Brun for a long time. Brun stared right back, apparently not cowed or even intimidated. Finally Tiawan said, "I think you are someone who cares. Or if not, then you are at least someone willing to lead those who need leading."

  Brun finally nodded. He sat on the ground, gesturing for Tiawan to join him. The three men who had taken the body out of the tent came closer, as though to protect their leader. Brun waved them away.

  "You were someone of importance," said Tiawan when he was under the shelter.

  Brun snorted. "I was a farmer – or at least a farmer's son – until I ran away. Nothing special there."

  "No. I mean, inside the Wall. You mattered."

  Brun nodded slowly. "I saw to a part of the city."

  "And in a place where there is no law other than to stay away from the Wall, that is quite an accomplishment." Tiawan leaned back, nearly pressing himself into his chair. "I need a leader."

  "For what?"

  "To lead these people back."

  "To where?"

  "Halaw. The Walled City."

  Brun finally looked surprised. He laughed, hard and loud. "Who's going to make us do that, old man?"

  Tiawan looked around. The young, the old, mostly the infirm. "No one," he said. "You'll do it yourselves. You'll go back to the place where you were captive. Because now you're free."

  Brun clearly didn't understand.

  That was fine. He would.

  The whole Empire would.

  Soon.

  TWO: rise of the fallen

  "When first we saw the land, it was barren and dead. But still blessed were those who climbed, those who rose above the Below and so perched atop Creation. The world lay before us, and that world was ours; so was it, and so always shall it be."

  - Emperor Eka, First Rules and

  Commandments of the Ascension

  1

  It felt like a funeral.

  Even though Malal was still alive, Sword could feel the hopelessness in the room. Could sense the fact that many of those in the room were already planning what to do when – not if, when – he died. When the last of the Patches working on him finally gave the last of their power and dropped from exhaustion.

  Brother Scieran and Father Akiro had been in the room almost constantly, adding their prayers to the magic of the Patches, but Sword couldn't tell if they were praying for his recovery or for his peace.

  "Peace" is a thing only the dead feel. To live is to struggle, and only the dead rest. Prayers for peace were prayers that meant someone didn't want the sufferer to have any more pain, and that was well, she supposed. But she also knew that such petitions amounted to requests that the Gods would end what they had started; would take the sufferer's life.

  Peace. Death.

  She had seen it in the kennels: the look in some Dogs' eyes when they simply decided not to fight anymore. The empty, slack look on their faces. They were at peace, because they had already died. They just had to wait for their bodies to figure it out.

  No. No peace for him. Not while I still draw breath.

  Wind stayed at Malal's bedside. After speaking to Sword and the others about what was happening to him, she had not left him for an instant. Sword found it hard to look at the Emperor, with his skin sloughing away then regrowing, his muscles exposed then covered. The body rotted over and over, and watching it was more than she could stand for long. But Wind kept watch, kept staring at Malal and adding her silent hopes to the murmurs of the priests and Patches.

  Cloud stood behind his sister. He looked up occasionally, taking measure of the world around, but only for a moment. Then he returned his gaze to the two people that mattered most to him.

  "I'm going to Fear," said Sword. The words came without her really thinking about them. She only knew that to stay would be to acquiesce; to give in. She was still a Dog at heart, in many ways. And a good Dog always fights.

  "What's that, my dear?" Brother Scieran looked up from his prayers, as did Father Akiro. His voice was still low. He moved away from the bed, the Patches parting for him.

  Father Akiro cast a last glance at Malal as he stood, too, and Sword saw him restrain a shudder. "What's that you said, my dear?" he asked.

  Sword almost smiled in spite of herself. He and Brother Scieran bickered constantly – almost as much as Brother Scieran and Malal did –

  (had)

  – but in every manner and word, they showed how alike they were. Separated by age, but brothers nonetheless; and not just as priests. Brothers of the heart, mind, soul.

  "I'm going to Fear," she repeated.

  "Why?" asked Arrow. He had been standing behind her, one of his hands resting lightly on her neck.

  She turned to him. "Because that's where he went," she said.

  The others looked at one another. "We don't know that," Arrow spoke slowly. "He flew to the west, yes, but he could have gone anywhere. He could have gone that direction to put us off the scent, then turned once out of sight."

  Sword shook her head. "No," she said. "He blasted a hole through the wall, he shouted for Malal. This is not a man who has time for subterfuge. He pretends nothing."
She glanced at Malal, mostly hidden –

  (thank the gods)

  – behind the men and women who encircled him. "Certainly he pretends nothing of his hate." She crossed her arms. "No, he has business in Fear. And I have business with him," she added through clenched teeth.

  Brother Scieran glanced at the bed, too. "If you hope to find a cure," he said quietly, "I don't know if –"

  "There's a cure," Sword said.

  "How do you know?" asked Arrow. His words were low, as though he did not wish anyone to actually hear him.

  Sword's words were simple. "Because we have to have him alive. So there is a cure because there must be one."

  She looked at the others as though daring them to disagree. Surprisingly, Father Akiro looked as though he understood completely. "Yes," he said.

  Faith. He has true faith – not just in the Gods, but in us. In what we have done.

  Brother Scieran looked at Father Akiro "I'm going to Faith," he said. When Father Akiro cocked a questioning eye, he said, "I'm not as adept as Father Inmil with the Old Books, but perhaps I can be of help with Sword's book."

  "How will the book help us?" asked Father Akiro.

  Brother Scieran shrugged. "It will," he said simply. He looked pointedly at Sword. "It will because it must."

  Now Father Akiro nodded. He sighed and said, "Then I suppose I'm off to Knowledge." Brother Scieran nodded, understanding, but Father Akiro must have seen Arrow's and Sword's looks because he explained, "The High Academics have the entire medical history of the Empire at the Great University." He nodded to the bed. "Perhaps they have knowledge of this poison. Perhaps there is a way to cure him." He frowned. "Perhaps they will also have information about the gem you saw in the big man's chest."

  "I'm going with you," Arrow said to Sword.

  She wanted him to. Gods, how she wanted that. Quiet, never speaking much – but what he said was always something worth hearing. He was solid and flew as true a course of any of the arrows he fired.