He’d come into the world as a grown man, stocked with preternatural knowledge, even if that wisdom didn’t always match the environment in which he lived. Most times, the trouble came from simple words—the language spoken in most of the Wasteland was called Straightspeak, but Abe knew it as English; the second weapon he’d been given when sworn into the knighthood was labeled a blitzer, but his brothers called it a railgun. Then there were the odd feelings he sometimes experienced when doing tasks as simple as relieving himself. In those moments, his surroundings seemed alien, as if there was some other place he should be.
Abe sighed, staring at the dying fire and the husks of corpses that burned within. He wasn’t content, and it bothered him. He had spent thirty years wandering this desolate land, protecting the innocent from brigands, tyrants, and the demons that crawled out of the Nine Hells, yet he craved more. Reverend Garron had told him long ago that the Knights Eternal were the most blessed men in all of creation, beings brought into the world instinctively understanding a separate form of art, and yet over thirty years he had watched three Shadrachs and five Meshachs die, men who had been just as much brothers to him as Shade and Meesh were now, each with their own distinct personalities and appearance. Why would the Pentus allow so many of his most blessed creations to perish? And why had each of his past brothers admitted to a strange emptiness inside, like Abe was feeling now?
Abe wanted clarity. He wanted the strange dreams that haunted his sleep to end. Over the last half-year he had begun wondering if something else existed out there for him, questioning if Reverend Garron had told him the whole truth. He recalled the last words of the second Shadrach he’d called brother: “Fantasia para dois pianos…” There had been such lucidity in his eyes even though the words were gibberish. Abe wished he could experience the same sort of clarity, but all he had to show for his efforts were a sore back, aching knees, and fingers that had begun to grow stiff with age—ailments that only left him when he held that wicked Eldersword in his hands. He knew that he was closing in on a time when even that wondrous singing blade wouldn’t help him. Would he be given answers then? And if so, would those answers simply be a mirage brought on by imminent death?
Stop thinking this way, he told himself. It’s blasphemy!
Instead of heading back into the village, he walked straight past the corpses smoldering in the pyre and toward Barrendale’s main source of food, positioned behind a rocky outcropping. It was a field of short corn, the only crop that would take root in the Wasteland’s hard-packed soil. Another plume of smoke curled skyward behind the field. Abe cut through the stalks.
He emerged on the other side and stared down at a second heap of bodies. The people of Barrendale had tossed the dead Scourgers in a pile and used them like dried dung to fuel the flames. Their flesh had blackened and melted into one another, making the mass look like a single hellish creature of multiple arms, legs, and heads that had crawled out of the Nine Hells. Abe smiled softly. He had actually seen a beast like that once, up near Sal Morrow about fifteen years ago. Defeating that demon had been a feat worthy of legend. He thought for a moment that he should go to Shade and reminisce. Perhaps that would lift his brother from his funk.
But the current Shade hadn’t been there; it had been a previous incarnation. Abe’s smile disappeared.
He squinted at the bulk of roasted flesh and stared at a single blackened, eyeless face. “What’re you doing so far from home?” he asked quietly. He pivoted toward the west, where the misty rise of the Rocklaw Mountains blotted out the horizon. The deep red of the rising sun infused the mist with eerie crimson and gold hues. His heart thudded. I’m too old for this, he thought for the second time that night. His hand brushed aside his coat; his fingers touched the hilt of his Eldersword. His edginess melted away, if only for a moment. He appreciated it, even though he disliked the weapon. To Abe, the sword was as much blight as it was blessing.
I should pray. Cleanse myself.
A shrill whistle caught his attention just before he knelt down. Abe looked toward Barrendale and saw a woman atop one of the many rock formations, arms flailing above her head. Even from a distance he knew it was Lilah Nolan, Quint’s wife.
“Damn,” he said aloud.
Abe put one foot in front of the other and edged his way back through the beige corn. He remembered something he’d been told by the first Shadrach he’d known, a doomed man with a chiseled chin, flowing gray hair, and an almost ethereal talent for woodwinds. “It’s best to stay busy. Keeping your mind on the moment is the most effective way to stop thinking about all the things you’ll never understand. Let the Pentus take the rest.”
There was certainly a beautiful truth to that, even though his brother hadn’t taken the advice himself.
Meesh’s eyes flicked back and forth as he watched his brothers speak with Quint Nolan.
“I told you,” Quint said, eyes showing a hint of madness. “You said there’s no way, but I told you.”
“You did,” Abe replied. “But you do understand that we had to witness an attack first, correct? I’ve been policing the Wasteland in the Pentus’s name for more than thirty years, and I’ve never once heard of Scourgers straying from their own lands.”
“Why would I lie about it?”
Behind Meesh, the red light of the early morning sun ratcheted up the desert heat. He, his brothers, and Quint stood on the western edge of the village; the Rocklaw Mountains, home of the Scourgers, loomed ominously in the distance.
“Because we’re used to people not liking us,” Abe said. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone made up a story to put us in a situation where they’d be rid of us.”
Quint’s mouth drew into a thin white line. “Well, that’s not us, thank you very much. We rather like having you around. But now you have your proof. Only took the deaths of six of my people to get it.”
Meesh rolled his eyes. “Would’ve been less if the scuds you had keeping watch on the mountains didn’t fall asleep on the damn job.”
“They were tired,” Quint retorted. “Life ain’t easy down here.”
“Life? You call this life?” Meesh let out a laugh.
Quint frowned at him. “Might not be much,” he said softly, “but it’s something.”
“Brah, you’re nutty. Trudgin’ in the dust all day and sleeping in caves at night ain’t no way to live.”
“Yes, it is.” The man turned away, regarded the settlement he governed. “At least brigands and demons don’t come down to the borderlands. At least we don’t have to live in fear.”
“’Course not… not with Scourgers running around all over the—”
Abe yanked on Meesh’s shoulder, silencing him. Meesh held up his hands in supplication and backed away. Quint shook his head.
“Herr Nolan,” said Abe, “can we have a moment of privacy?”
The man nodded and stepped away.
With Quint out of earshot, the three brothers gathered close together. Meesh chuckled as Abe eyed him with disappointment. “Sorry, Dad,” Meesh said.
“Do you have to provoke them?” the older man asked.
“Why not? Where’s the fun in being so serious?”
“There’s a time and place. Now’s not it. The Pentus wouldn’t approve.”
“So says you.” Meesh slapped Shade on the shoulder. “I like to think our creator’s got a sense of humor. How ’bouts you, brah? You think I’m outta line?”
Shade stared at him coldly.
“Fine,” Meesh said with a sigh. “Remind me why I’m still with you guys?”
Abe smirked. “Because as odd as it might seem, we’re brothers.”
“Touché,” said Meesh. “Got me there.”
At times Meesh did find it odd that he would think of two black dudes as his brothers, but he couldn’t figure out why he felt that way. Not that he worried about such things. He didn’t question much about the way he came to be; he enjoyed life too much to question much of anything at all. Best leave t
he pondering to Abe. It’s what he’s good at.
“So, the Scourgers are coming down off the mountain,” Shade said. Meesh nearly jumped at the sound of his voice; Shade hadn’t spoken a word since the scuffle in Burrell’s tavern. “Does that fit in with what the Oracle said?”
Abe put his hand under his chin, appearing deep in thought. “Not sure. Let’s look at the riddle again.”
Both sets of eyes turned to Meesh, who exhaled deeply and reached beneath his leather vest. They had gone over this countless times already. He pulled out a folded piece of paper, opened it, and read Old Crone’s message aloud:
“Seek out the lifeblood that fits in your hand,
find the collector at Cooper’s command,
to the sterile valley at the edge of the world,
where beyond is a darkness that billows and swirls,
where beneath the soil eternal light does shine,
the enslavement of man, the end of all time.”
Damn, Meesh thought, shrugging as he stared first at the words on the page, then his brothers. Why does the Pentus’s Oracle have to talk in riddles and bad poetry? Their job would have been so much easier if the Crone were a little more straightforward.
“So?” said Abe. “What do you think?”
Shade ground his teeth together. “It’s a stretch. I don’t really see the connection.”
“Well duh,” Meesh said. “Of course there’s a connection. We’re in a freaking sterile valley at the freaking edge of the world.” He pointed south, where black clouds constantly hovered. “There are the Unknown Lands. Storms aplenty. Darkness that billows and swirls, anyone? I’d say it’s pretty obvious.” He’d said this same thing at least eight times before, but no one seemed to listen.
Abe’s eyes flicked toward Shade. “It’s possible.”
“Maybe,” Shade said.
Meesh folded the paper and tucked it back in his vest. “Maybe? Damn, brah. You’re a month older than me. Don’t be a dick.”
That last word was said with a wink, and the corners of Shade’s mouth lifted ever so slightly. It was good to see the man smile.
“Fine. But what else?”
“Well, like I said last week, the ‘lifeblood that fits in your hand’ part is obviously a Heartcube,” Meesh said.
“Perhaps,” Abe said. “But you already asked around. No one knows of any around here.”
Meesh jutted his chin at Quint, who paced back and forth fifty feet away. “Then you ask this time.”
Abe squinted. “Fine. Herr Nolan,” he called out. “Could you come here, please?”
The tall, slender man approached in a waddle. He looked up at Abe, who said, “My brother asked you something before, but I need to ask you again…”
“Yeah?”
Abe cleared his throat, and Meesh stifled a chuckle. Abe was such a stickler for protocol; he almost broke out in hives if he had to bend the rules. He and Meesh had gotten into an argument about whether to disclose anything about what they were doing here to the populace before Meesh went out and did it on his own. ‘The Crone’s instructions are for our eyes only’ and all that. Dumb. So dumb.
“Do you by any chance know of any Heartcubes around here?” Abe asked. “We feel the Scourgers might be searching for them.”
“And don’t lie this time,” Meesh added.
Quint eyed him warily before saying, “We had some here. Not anymore.”
Abe jerked with a start, making Meesh grin.
“You had one?” Abe asked.
Quint shrugged. “Three, actually. Found ’em when we went scavenging in the ruins just east of here. Brought ’em home, thinking maybe, Pentus willing, we’d be able to barter for an irrigator up north when we harvested. Looks like that ain’t happenin’ now.”
“Why’d you lie to us before?” asked Shade
Quint kicked at the ground, raised a cloud of dust. “Didn’t know you. What if you were bandits and thought we had more? And besides, what use are they to Scourgers? The bastards are dumb. They steal just because—Cubes, corn, vats of drinking water, anything. They’s just nuts… and desperate.” He gulped and averted his eyes. “I guess they’re not so different from us. We’re desperate too.”
“I understand,” Abe said.
“And you don’t have more?” asked Shade.
Quint dipped his eyes and kicked at the sand again. “Er, no,” he said.
He’s lying, thought Meesh, but kept it to himself. The others seemed to accept the answer as truth—or maybe they understood that the man was just protecting his assets.
“Very well,” said Abe. “Now we know.”
“And what’re you gonna do about it?”
“We’ll make sure the Scourgers never attack you again.”
“How?”
“We’ll march up there and ask them to stop.”
That drew a cynical smile from the man. “Okay.”
Meesh stepped forward and quickly asked, “Hey, you ever heard of anyone named Cooper?”
The man shook his head.
Abe frowned.
“Why?” asked Quint. “He important?”
“He might be,” Abe said. “But I think we should tackle one problem at a time for now, and if we’re going to solve your problem for you, we need our horses. Could you please have your wife retrieve them for us?”
Quint gawked at him. “Sure.”
“Now would be nice.”
“Oh. Okay.”
The man sauntered away with more pep in his step than he had displayed since they arrived. Meesh’s excitement grew; he could actually feel his Eldersword hum on his hip.
“So a no on Cooper,” Meesh said. “That might be a problem.”
“Maybe not,” Shade replied.
“No?”
The bearded brother raised an eyebrow. “Think about it. The Scourgers leave the mountains for the supposedly first time ever and the first things they steal are Heartcubes? If they’re truly destitute, why would those be what they went after? Cooper and his Outriders have been traipsing across the Wasteland doing the same thing for a year now. He’s been known to bribe locals to do his work for him. It’s possible he did the same with the Scourgers.”
Shade appeared to grow angry as he spoke. Then again, he always seemed to get that way when he spoke of Ronan Cooper, a formerly good man who had turned into a notorious brigand and religious extremist. Cooper had recently begun building a small army he called the Outriders. Even the isolated masses in Sal Yaddo were worried about him.
“That’s just what I was thinking,” Abe said.
“’Course you were,” laughed Meesh. “You always gotta say you thought of the best ideas first.”
Abe shook his head. “I swear, Meesh, if you weren’t my brother…”
“What, you’d kiss me?” he said with a grin. “Sorry, I don’t swing that way, brah. Not anymore.”
Abe narrowed his eyes and raised his fist mockingly. Shade glowered while staring off into the distance, obviously still thinking about Ronan Cooper.
“Okay then,” Meesh said, clapping each of his brothers on the shoulder. “Enough talk. Let’s pack up. There are a buncha ugly bastards out there who need a good killin’.”
Shade grunted and strode ahead as the three of them headed back toward the tavern to retrieve their bags. Abe sidled up to Meesh, sweat beading on his shaved brown head.
“You’re too eager,” Abe said, voice low. “We’re not going to them as executioners. We won’t fight unless we have to.”
“P’shaw,” Meesh said as he flicked imaginary water on the cracked earth. “Those savages won’t listen. It’s gonna end up being a fight, and you know it.”
“You’re wrong about that.”
“Have I ever been wrong?”
“You really want an answer?”
Meesh cackled and kept on walking.
2
“I SEE THE LIGHT! I SEE HER! MY COSIMA, MEINE LIEBE!”
—SHADRACH THE 9TH
/> 8 SECONDS BEFORE DEMISE
Sweat saturated nearly every inch of Shade’s body. His poor mare moved with an exaggerated limp, one of her hind legs being shorter than her other three, which constantly jostled his spine. Despite that, he didn’t detest the poor creature, for when prodded she could run like the wind. He called her Gypsy, a name that, for some reason he didn’t understand, made him grin every time he spoke it. The horse had been with him for five years now. She had carried Shade from coast to coast, from the Unknown Lands to the mountains of the north. Gypsy had brought him to her.
His vision grew red. Don’t think of that, he thought.
It was hard not to, given the circumstances. Abe and Meesh rode ahead of him, wary of his sour mood and chatting quietly, leaving Shade with only his thoughts for company. His frame of mind swayed constantly from anger to sorrow. His hatred for Cooper grew by the second, and he touched his Eldersword, let it satiate his rage. He hoped the Scourgers would rush from their mountain homes and attack them, not caring if he died in the process. He needed a release.
The sun slipped behind the misty Rocklaw Mountains and brought a welcomed gust of cool wind. They had been riding west from Barrendale all day, and the journey was monotonous and boring; rolling tumbleweeds, cracked red earth, random rock formations, and the occasional cactus were all they could see. Their destination mocked them, seeming so close yet so far away. No matter how long they traveled, the scope of the mountains in Shade’s vision never seemed to change.
“I think we should make camp now,” Abe said from up ahead. “It’ll be dark soon.”
“Wow, brah, you’re observant,” laughed Meesh.
Both brothers pulled back on their reins and stopped their horses beside a shoulder-high protrusion of cherry-colored stone. Shade sighed and did the same.
“Feeling any better?” Abe asked him after Shade dismounted.
Shade glowered as he hobbled Gypsy.
Abe shook his head. “Sorry I asked.”
The eldest brother’s horse, a huge, temperamental stallion named Greenie, snorted and tugged against the ropes binding him. Abe gently stroked the animal’s back. “Easy, boy,” he said before hefting his saddlebags. He then raised his solemn eyes to Shade.
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