Blades of Fate

by Alledria Hurt

  When the mighty fall, the vultures reach their carcass first.

  She had no intention of allowing anyone to pick the flesh from her bones.

  Her horse shuddered as she placed her hand on its neck. Though she was thankful for the piece of horseflesh, she wondered if it would survive the hard riding between Backaran and the rest of the world. The poor beast might well drop from exhaustion before she reached a settlement. Backaran existed in a wasteland. Even the scrubby grass beneath her boots was lackluster.

  If she wasn't careful, her own life might be forfeit trying to get back to civilization. Returning to the coast meant Larki. Turning inland, however, offered her more places to hide. If news of her death had reached out this far, then she would certainly have an interesting time of it.

  "What do you think?" she asked. The horse swiveled its ears as if listening, but made no motion as if it understood. Just as well. If it spoke, she'd send it back to the cursed city. She grew weary of magic and creatures touched by it.

  Mounting up, she turned the horse in the direction she thought she might find people in a day or two. It trotted along without urgency and she did not urge it any faster. They would get there soon enough, wherever there was.

  Two days later, with her provisions becoming scarce, she reached what had once been in a forest. The area, once prosperous, suffered from a blight which killed most of its trees leaving behind only scraggly skeletal things. The inhabitants moved to other places in hopes of better chances. Leviana rode through ignoring the groaning of the trees sounding so much like diseased people. Beneath her, the horse, Leviana called her Kara, occasionally rolled her eyes and seemed as if she might bolt. Keeping a strong hand on the reins, Leviana steeled her own thoughts against the haunted feeling. In the distance, a stone half-tower struggled to rise.

  As she drew close, a presence shadowed her. The overcast day grew grayer as she drew closer to those stones as if it sapped the energy from the sun. The collapsing tower leaned in a circle of smaller stones.

  Leviana.

  The wind calling her name brought her up short. That voice spoke again, words she couldn't make out. She dismounted at the surrounding stones. Kara turned one eye on her imploring her not to walk away. Patting the creature's nose, Leviana said,

  "Stay. I will return."

  Kara sounded unsure of that.

  Stepping into the ring, the presence threw itself at her, grappling for control of her limbs. With a seizure running through her body, Leviana denied it with everything she had. It dropped her to her knees. In the shadow of the tower, three tall forms waited. As she struggled toward them, Leviana envisioned their faces. One stepped out and offered her its hands.

  Leviana. I've waited for you.

  That was not Vadian. The other two figures disappeared even as she watched, abandoning her with their companion who brought her back to her feet.

  "What's happening?"

  Relinquish the seal.

  The Black King's seal. Vadian's symbol of authority. Let it go over her dead body. She recoiled, her hand going to the seal on a chain around her neck.

  "I can't."

  You must. The time has come. All you protect require it.

  As she watched, the form took further shape and even a face, one she knew well. Those of the Burning Island depicted the warrior God, Ancel, on many things in honor of his patronage. Now she stood in the presence of a God. He stared through her, yet his expression offered no violence.

  Once you stood at my side. You will again. The seal has played its part. Return it to me.

  Long ago, Leviana stood with Vadian at the head of an army bent on conquest full of the knowledge their endeavor was blessed by Ancel. To once more stand at the hand of the ultimate conqueror, nothing exceeded it.

  Yet she clutched the seal hard enough to feel its edges biting into her fingers. Release it and perhaps lose the last piece she had of him with Warden gone. Ancel put his hand over hers.

  All will be as it must. Be strong, Veta. The female form of the word for warrior had fallen out of use ages before. A tear pricked her eye. Gnawing hunger, growing from days on the road, ceased to trouble her. At her back, Kara whinnied in fear.

  Leviana turned.

  The horse stood alone.

  Ancel placed his hand on her shoulder. The warmth beat into her skin.

  The world has changed. You have not. Be ready. The true war comes.

  Without turning around, she slipped the seal off her neck and held it by the chain. In spite of its prominence in the politics of the empire, the providence of the seal was never discussed. It simply was. It swung like a pendulum from her fist.

  She didn't look as she thrust it out to the side and felt Ancel take it away. With the weight gone, she stepped out of the circle, then, finally, looked back.

  Nothing, windswept stone held together by memories of greater times. She pressed three fingers on her right hand to her mouth and then her forehead, a forgotten salute from the days when the Burning Island had not yet achieved an empire. Then she saw it.

  The crumbling stone. The broken trees. If she drew closer, she would find a small altar with a blade hidden inside. Ancel's worshippers dotted them throughout their attempts at conquest in hopes of his favor.

  She chuckled.

  "Three hundred years, a million miles, and you find a forgotten shrine to your God in a destroyed forest."

  Kara shivered under her hand, her eyes rolling.

  "There is nothing to fear. All is well."

  And perhaps it truly was.

  Leviana looked down at the map she bartered off another traveler by letting him use the horse she had finally acquired in Backaran to haul some things to the nearest small village, Ercere. In his gratitude, he gave her an unfinished map of the Imperial territories. Drawing her finger along the edge of the coast, she marked the distance between Denden and Larki. A journey of perhaps thirty days made in a little over a week and a half by boat.

  "There is nothing for me in Denden," she mused. "It's too close to Arathum and for now, I need to avoid there." Glancing up, she noticed a man with a shaved head standing at the door of the rooming house she had chosen. He caught her looking and stared back. His eyes were greenish-blue, a color she found uncommon outside of the mountains near Sartol. When she beckoned him, he drew closer and stopped a foot or so away from the table.

  "Do I intrigue you?"

  "Yes, madame," he said cutting a quick bow. "You seem as if you might be a mercenary and I was hoping to join your company."

  Leviana dropped her gaze back to the map. She hadn't even figured out where she was going or how she would eat in the coming days. What use was it to her to have another mouth to feed?

  "I am part of no company," she said. "Find your employ elsewhere."

  The onlooker, perhaps abashed by his mistake, hurried away.

  Mercenary.

  Of the things she had considered, mercenary had been one. Her abilities were formidable, even with an injury affecting her reach. To make her money by the sword would not be dishonorable. And owning a mercenary company might well help her to find her way back to the throne. A small force could take the palace and put the traitors to the sword before the primary army could be called out.

  She rubbed her chin then put her hands on the map spreading it further. Mercenaries still existed within the Imperial borders. It had never been in her interest to root them out. They did a fair business, selling their services to guard caravans and traveling nobility.

  Could she take one over?

  Tracing the line across the map beneath the names of the plains cities, she considered her options. Take over a mercenary company or build her way up through the ranks. She had time. Lots of it. She could reclaim the throne after the traitors died for all that it mattered. Where would she find such a company?

  Kerlan, a center of commerce and innovation at the foot of the mountains, would have a large company. A good place to start. She could amass more men througho
ut her travels once she proved herself strong enough to make an entire company bow to her command.

  To stand at the head of an army again. Once she did that with Vadian by her side. They chose to have one of them as supreme commander in order to keep from confusing the men, but it was well known she had an equal stake in how well the army did. Over the last three hundred years, she let others command the troops for her. Times changed. Women were no longer warriors as they had been when she was young. Now in her old age, she turned the wheel round and found herself once more looking at commanding a group in battle.

  She smiled as she rolled up the map. Kerlan. Many of the major roads led there from this portion of the empire. A week's ride, maybe a little more if she didn't push the horse. Better to have the animal alive and in good condition. Selling him might be how she financed her way in.

  A ford to cross when she came to it.

  She stepped out of the tavern and into the noon-day sun. She stabled her horse just down the road and had come into the tavern for a drink and food. Now she would shake the dust of this place from her feet and travel on. She could make a warm camp in the wilderness beyond the road.

  Leviana had gone from the tavern into the market square when she recognized she was being followed. The young man with the shaved head was back, but by the set of his shoulders, she knew he was no longer playing the part of the star struck youth. Though he did not wear the livery of the empire, several behind him did and they carried weapons.

  Well, well.

  "Halt," a man called throwing one hand out as if it would stop her motion. "You are hereby under arrest for sedition and treason against the empire by posing as the assassinated Queen Leviana."

  Leviana leveled a gaze at him which would have withered a tree. Did he really intend to charge her with treason when her Voice and Trusted plotted against her? She lifted her hands as her mind went to the daggers at her waist. It would be a close race. The archer behind him had an arrow nocked at her heart. If she made the wrong move and wasn't quick enough, he would pierce her through. The others with him moved around her until they were making half a ring. She could see the edges out of the corner of her eye. The second archer was slower drawing up, but soon he had himself together as well. Two archers, five men with melee weapons and she had only two daggers with which to defend herself.

  So be it.

  With one swift motion, she drew her daggers and dodged to the side of the arrow meant to kill her. Obviously they did not intend for her to make it back to the capital alive if they were shooting at her, unless she misjudged where he aimed. The leader rushed across the distance toward her and thrust a sword at her. She deflected him easily with one hand and felt a twinge in her back as the blades collided.

  Though she had weeks to heal, it still pained her at times. This being one of them.

  Others rushed forward trying to box her in and she skipped out of the way of a flying arrow which buried itself in another's chest. Good. One less to worry about. Turning, she slashed another across his torso hard enough to spill his guts in the street. Onlookers gathered but did nothing to help. Why would they? This appeared to be a legitimate arrest by the Imperial army.

  The young man with the shaved head hung back a few steps waiting for his chance to try for her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him as he brought a small ax out and swung it overhead. She took two hurried steps backward, disengaging from a man with a short sword she fought to make room for the blade to swing between them. He swore an oath and she stepped around him and rammed the dagger into his throat as she went by. Sputtering, he brought his hands up to grab the weapon as if holding it would keep him from bleeding to death from the wound. That dagger was lost to her, but she ducked, rolled, and grabbed the small ax up off the ground.

  An arrow slammed into her shoulder forcing her to drop her second dagger in the dirt. It had gone through the bone and now the head stood against her skin. She didn't stop to pull it out.

  Light flickered around her. When she swung the ax, it left behind a glow and where it hit, fireflies danced. Her breathing grew ragged but she fought on. The archers reloaded. Leviana stood her ground, bringing her injured arm as close to her chest as she could. It hurt. With old words on her lips, she drew the light up around her as a shield. It was weaker than it had been, but then she bled freely from her wounds. The light pushed them back.

  One man said, "She truly is the Immortal," but that was lost in the sound of metal clanging off the barrier she had erected. Gasps ran through the standing crowd and she felt their fear and awe grow. Whatever she may have been, she was more than human now. With her feet set, she waited for another to make the attempt to come for her. The leader stood outside the circle with his sword drawn and poked at it. A ringing bell sounded.

  "I will not fall here," she said.

  "You are under arrest. Cease this disturbance immediately," the leader said. "You will be carried back to the Arathum and tried."

  Out in the crowd, a cry went up.

  "She is the law."

  It carried along from voice to voice like a wave.

  "Be silent," the leader commanded. "She is an imposter warned against by the Voice himself."

  "The Voice lies," Leviana said. "He would rule in my stead."

  "Come with us to Arathum," another urged. "Show the city that you still live."

  "I will not be a prisoner in my own city." Switching the ax to her injured hand, she took the arrow by a spot just past the head and ripped it through, pulling bloody feathers out of her shoulder. "I refuse."

  "Then you will be carried there against your will."

  The light flickered. Bringing a sword down on it and it shattered like glass, leaving her defenseless.

  "Surrender and be spared."

  She spit in the dirt between them. She would not die there in an unmarked village.

  He moved into the space and held her at swordpoint. The archers pulled back on their strings. One of the others stood behind her with a short sword of his own. The crowd breathed. The air crackled with anticipation like a winter storm.

  "Surrender and be spared."

  Leviana rushed forward, swinging the ax as high as she could given her injured arm. Two arrows sprouted from her body and the flat of a blade came down on the back of her head. Darkness consumed her.

  Deals in Danger

  When Warden awoke, the sour tang of bile coated his mouth. He turned over with laborious movement until he stared at the ceiling. Beside him, the light from the window had changed. It was no longer day but night. Clearing his thinking as best he could, he sat up only to be greeted by a splitting headache. His shoulder ached.

  "What happened?" he asked the light. On his hands strings of shadow clung. Uncaring of the floor, he spit the taste out of his mouth. "Leviana." He remembered calling her name. Was she the reason he hurt? Had something happened to her? This far away there was no way for him to know. Whatever happened, he had nothing to do with it. He needed to get out of Kerlan as soon as possible. Otherwise, those who were looking for him would find him. Of course, that assumed they had issued a warning to all of the guild that there was a commission on his life. In his current condition, he couldn't be certain of surviving if he were set upon by more than two at a time. Truthfully, one might have been a bit much given that he could hardly turn without feeling as if the world swung on a cord. He got up off the floor and looked out the window at the stars. The sky here was a little different than the one he grew up under, but he could locate at least one familiar constellation. Enough. He dragged himself over to the bed with his stomach complaining along with his various limbs and laid down. Food sounded like a good idea, but he didn't want to go down the stairs with his head pounding like a cadre of drums. It would have to wait until he felt a little better. If that ever happened.

  Morning came and he swung his legs out of the bed. Aches assailed him. His shoulder burned as if someone had set a lit coal to his skin. Along his back, he felt as if he had sco
urged. Closing his eyes again, he concentrated on those pains and then willed them away. He didn't have time to be injured. He needed to find a way out of town quickly. Whatever else happened, he needed to secure passage out of the city as soon as possible. Going north preferably. Into the wilds of Utica maybe. That would be far enough. Standing up, he went to the window. The light streaming in said early daylight. There would be sellers in the market already, but those who had a more leisured existence would take their time about greeting the day. He could inquire downstairs as to where he might find a good inn for caravaners.

  He was on the street an hour later, his breakfast held in his hand, a slice of bread with some of the night before's leftover goat. It tasted good enough but his stomach balanced on a wire to the point where he was uncertain he would be able to finish it.

  "Damn you, woman," he muttered. If she was the cause of his trouble, then she could go to the hells of the cowards. He had done nothing to deserve being caught in this web of hers. And now he couldn't get out. The market street hung with gay bunting and lanterns. He strolled down it with his hands hidden. If someone thought him armed, they would be less likely to approach him and he wanted to do all the approaching. There were few people he truly wanted to talk to. His inquires at the inn had borne fruit. There were a few inns close to the market that those who employed the caravans used. He would be able to find a berth on one going somewhere far away before the day was out. This pleased him. He grimaced a smile around his food and took another hearty bite. He needed his strength. There would be nothing for him if he didn't keep it up. The ebb and flow of humanity around him buoyed him along and he went with it.

  The inn of the Slaughtered Lamb sat at the end of the market street with its sign on the adjoining boulevard. Coming to the door, he checked his sight lines to see if anyone was keeping track of him. He noticed no one so he went in. Beyond the front door, a bouncer stood. He nodded to the man and showed his hands. The other man nodded back and let him pass. Warden counted him among the possible problems he might have here. Dealing with the bouncer might well be the least of his worries though if he were right there would be private guards for some of the guests. That might very well cause more trouble than he was ready for. His senses still failed him every so often and the headache refused to dissappate. On the stairs, he stopped and listened.