Meesh exhaled through his nose. “You actually want us to go? You realize this is probably a trap, right? And how did the dude know we were here?”
“Does it matter?”
“A little.”
“Well, it doesn’t to me,” said Abe. “And I don’t care if it’s a trap.”
“Why not?” asked Shade.
“Because we’re going to have to deal with him sooner or later… and we’ll be outnumbered either way.”
“So… what, brah? Your plan’s just to go there, talk to him, and then what?”
“Then we make up our minds whether he lives or dies.”
Shade jacked his thumb toward the door to their room. “And what of him?”
“He proved his case,” Abe replied gravely. “He’s too important to leave behind. He could be an asset.”
Good, Shade thought, and followed his brothers back into their room.
11
“I HAVE BORNE WITNESS TO OTHER WORLDS, BROTHER…I HAVE DRIFTED THROUGH THE STYGIAN MISTS…I HAVE LAID EYES ON DEMONS SO LARGE A CITY COULD RESIDE ON THEIR AMPLE BACKS…AND NOW THEY ARE HERE.”
—ABEDNEGO THE 2ND
19 SECONDS BEFORE DEMISE
The morning temperature was thankfully bearable and the road ahead was smooth, but Abe couldn’t appreciate either. He felt like garbage for the second day in a row. With a grunt he looked up, to where a group of vultures circled a few miles away. They might as well have been circling his soul.
It was difficult for him to reconcile what Asaph had said the day before. His tales had huge implications, both for Sal Yaddo and his own piousness. He didn’t want to believe, yet he did: his thoughts were a battlefield, one side clamoring to hang onto the known, the other side crying out for the freedom of truth.
Are you the man to give that truth to me? he wondered, gazing at Asaph. And he felt it again: that strange, almost familiar sort of trust. Asaph had said it seemed like he had known Abe for years, and Abe sensed the same. It wasn’t something Abe found to be a comfort, not when the rug was being pulled out from beneath him. He cursed under his breath.
“What’s wrong?” Asaph asked.
Abe glanced at the man sharing his saddle. “Nothing.”
He turned about and watched his fellow knights. Shade rode atop Meesh’s mare, his lips pressed shut, his eyes focused, while Meesh jogged briskly beside the horse, gripping tight to the saddle. He sweated profusely and seemed exhausted, but he still smiled.
That was Shade and Meesh in a nutshell. One determined, the other mischievous, neither devout. In a lot of ways, they couldn’t care less about the Pentus, especially Meesh. Of all the Shadrachs and Meshachs he had known, they were unique in that regard. All who’d come before had been just as devoted as Abe thought himself to be. He wondered if his brothers’ attitudes signaled a changing of the guard, if he was a man beyond his time.
Perhaps that’s the truth. In the history of the Knights Eternal, only one lived longer than me.
That could explain the visions. Perhaps his brain was fragmenting, reaching its eventual expiration date. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, since now more than ever, Abe just wanted to live.
Asaph leaned against him, and minty breath wafted across his nose. “If I’m bothering you, please let me know,” he said. “I think I’m well enough now to walk for a bit.”
“I will,” Abe replied. Perhaps that’s a good idea. I could use some space. Asaph had strolled out of Loretta’s all on his own, after all, had even climbed up onto Greenie’s back without assistance. It was an amazing recovery given how weak he had been only two days ago.
But no, Abe wanted him right where he was.
“All right. Good.” Asaph cleared his throat. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
Abe shrugged.
“I’m curious how this works with you knights.”
“How what works?”
“You know, the regeneration thing.”
“I thought you knew about us?”
“I do, but only from what the good people of Breighton told me.”
“You said your king’s histories were extensive.”
Asaph chuckled. “They are. However, your order has only existed for two and a half centuries. The Elders weren’t exactly around when you first appeared.”
“Ah.”
“So…?”
“Oh. Oh yes,” Abe tightened his grip on the reins when Greenie started drifting to the side. “It’s not regeneration. More like replacement. There’s a sacred place on the banks of the River Butte. When one of us breathes our last breath, our brothers lug the body there. The dead knight disappears, replaced by a new one.”
“Easy as that?”
“Easy as that.”
“And you always appear as fully matured adults?”
“Yes.”
“And always a blank slate?”
“Yes.”
“And it has to be one of you who does it? One of the knights?”
Abe nodded. “It doesn’t work otherwise. Others have experimented, to no avail.”
“Huh. Interesting. But what happens if you get into more than you can handle, and you all die? Then the order would cease to be, right?”
“No,” Abe said, pivoting ever so slightly. “That could never happen.”
“Why not?”
“Because our order is safeguarded against such an outcome. It’s happened three times in our history, and in each occurrence, the remaining brother and the corpses of the dead were whisked away to safety.”
“What happens if a body is destroyed? Such as, burned in a fire until only ash remains?”
“Ash works,” Abe replied. “Or, in the most extreme case, something cherished by the deceased can be used. We keep our closest personal effects locked away in the Temple of the Crone back in Sal Yaddo for just that possibility.”
“Temple of the Crone?”
“Yes. The temple of our Oracle. She’s the one who predicts where trouble will occur; it’s her orders we follow.” When we understand them, he thought, but didn’t say. “She’s called Old Crone.”
“Ah, I see. What’s she like?”
“Don’t know. Never had the opportunity to meet her. She remains in a locked room beneath the temple, to conserve her purity and her Sight, lest she be tainted by the outside world.”
“Huh. Is she accurate?”
“She’s never been wrong.”
“I guess she is then.”
Abe breathed deeply. “Now I have a question for you,” he said.
Asaph gazed at him, his tired gray eyes growing suddenly wary. “Go on,” he said.
“Do you believe the Pentus is real?”
“Hrm.” Asaph sucked on his bottom lip for a moment. “My people worshiped a different god, but I guess your deity has just as much chance of being real as anyone else’s. It would be presumptuous to assume otherwise.”
“That is well and good, but—”
“Please, not now,” Asaph said, suddenly weary. “How about we sit back and enjoy a moment of peace? This might be the last chance we get.”
Abe grunted in frustration and returned his gaze to the circling vultures. Lovely as it sounded, he didn’t think he would be enjoying peace any time soon.
The road stretched onward, and stumpy, warped trees dotted the countryside. The road curved over rolling taupe hills. The grass shrank to ankle height, nibbled that short by the sheep for which Lambswool was named. Great flocks massed on either side of the road, heads down while they fed, oblivious to the newcomers in their midst. Meesh drew a pistol and aimed at one of the beasts, then mocked shooting it. Abe almost yelled at him to stop, but a shepherd on a distant hilltop whistled, which did the job. Meesh sheathed his weapon and cackled into the late morning air.
“Hold up,” Shade said, raising his hand. “Riders.”
“Here we go,” Asaph whispered.
Four horses approached, riding abreast on the road. The men sitting atop them each wore r
ed tabards, and even from a distance Abe could see the image of a fish in blinding white emblazoned on their chests.
“Would ya look at that,” Meesh said. “Cooper’s gone got himself a sigil.”
“Bully for him,” Shade muttered.
“Stay focused,” Abe told the two of them.
Meesh’s horse seemed jittery, and Shade was having a tough time calming her. “Hop off,” Meesh said. “Pam gets nervous when we’re stopped and I’m not on her.”
Shade complied, and Meesh held the mare’s leads in his left fist while resting his right hand on the butt of the revolver on his hip.
“Stay here,” Abe told Asaph, then slid out of the saddle. He unhitched his blitzer, ready to yank it out if need be. To sharpen his nerves, he clutched tight to his Eldersword. The Rush washed his headache away, but he knew he had to be careful—curing your ills this way only made the symptoms come back with twice the potency later, after the Rush abated.
The four riders drew closer, and Abe was surprised to see that two of them were women. All four were hardened, their expressions like stone. They all had a sword dangling from their belt. Abe stroked the barrel of his blitzer, knowing that if Cooper’s messengers tried something, the fight would be over before it began.
The riders pulled up twenty feet away, and for a long moment no one said a word. The man on the far right gave Asaph an odd stare. The one on the far left, a woman with skin as black as Abe’s and a sweat-soaked red bandana around her head, squinted hard and flexed her hand.
“You’re late,” she said coldly.
“Late?” Abe said. “Your messenger told us high noon. It’s still morning.”
“You’re still late,” she replied. “Come with us.”
“What, you’re not even gonna buy me dinner first?” Meesh said, grinning. “I ain’t that easy.”
The woman glared at him, looked to the man beside her, who shook his head.
“This isn’t funny,” she said. The woman jutted her chin at her three cohorts, and each of them pivoted their horses around and headed back down the road.
“I think it’s hilarious,” Meesh sang.
Shade stared after the departing envoy, his face a blank mask, but Abe knew there was a fire raging below the surface. Whatever had happened between him and Ronan Cooper was about to be laid bare, and Abe hoped his brother didn’t do anything foolish.
Meesh snapped his fingers. “Do we follow?”
“We do.” Abe looked up at Asaph. “Stay wary, my friend. If things get out of hand, jump off and cover your head.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine,” Asaph said. Abe wished he could share the man’s confidence.
The knights progressed on foot, the horses trotting behind. The four riders stopped every so often and turned back to make sure the knights were following. Abe could see the irritation on each of their faces, but he wasn’t about to hurry up for their sake. If the Knights Eternal were going to walk into an ambush, they would do so at their own pace.
After a half-mile, the riders led them off the main road and onto a thin dirt path. The grazing sheep were less plentiful here, as were the stumpy trees. Abe glanced to his right and spotted the outline of Lambswool a mile off in the distance. It looked like a town of miniatures, as if he could pluck the tiny homes and place them down wherever he wished. Then I’d be a god. He squirmed at the thought.
The dirt path led them to the base of the hillock, and Abe’s eyes widened in astonishment. There had to be two hundred people lingering down below, all wearing the same crimson tabards as their guides. Cooper’s Outriders. Abe didn’t know why he should be surprised, for it was well known Ronan Cooper was building an army, but still, hearing was one thing, seeing quite another.
As they neared, virtually all eyes in attendance turned to the newcomers. Abe couldn’t read their expressions, and was shocked to see that, just as with those sent to fetch them, half of those in the crowd were female. Just as Asaph had said, there were representatives from nearly every village and township in all the Wasteland present. Abe had no idea how a man like Cooper could draw so many different types of people to his cause.
The area the knights were brought to was at the back end of the hillock, where the landscape leveled out behind a low, man-made stone wall and stretched beyond it for seemingly miles. There were no trees here, even the stumpy kind, and no sheep either. It was only boring, uninhabited flatland.
Just in front of the low wall, sitting high atop a majestic stallion, was a tall, well-built, middle-aged man. His shoulder-length hair was red with flecks of gray, his flesh pale and marked with freckles, and pronounced creases ringed his eyes. Ronan Cooper wore no tabard like his underlings; instead, he had boiled leather armor on his arms and legs and a chainmail vest. His gaze was fixed on a distant point beyond the wall. Next to him was a large wooden cart that rocked on its struts.
Abe led his brothers on a beeline for the leader of the Outriders, but those standing on either side of Cooper rushed forward, at least twenty men and women blocking their advance while they were still thirty feet away. Many of them produced weapons, and Abe came to an abrupt halt, his breath catching in his throat. Both his brothers stopped as well, just as shocked as he.
The honor guard of the king of the crazies had guns, and these weren’t homemade hand cannons or bolt-action rifles stolen from the Pentus’s missionaries. There were thundermakers like Shade’s, burners like Meesh’s, and a half-dozen other types of shooters he had never seen before. Each weapon was slightly different from what he’d seen in the Sal Yaddo armory, somehow more primitive, their metal black instead of the usual silver, but they didn’t appear any less deadly.
“I told you it was a trap!” Meesh shouted, with no amusement in his tone this time. “But did anyone listen? Of course not. Bah!”
Abe made the symbol of the star on his chest, closed his eyes, and offered a quick prayer to the God he hoped existed. This is where we reach our end, he thought. I wonder which of us will be the survivor.
But no one so much as pointed a muzzle at them. A man with a soft, almost pretty face stepped forward, proffered his side-sitting cap, slung his black thundermaker over his shoulder, and extended his hand toward Shade. Shade stared at it, teeth gritted. The man hastily withdrew.
“Thank God, you’re here,” the man said as he looked at each knight in turn, and there was no disguising the relief on his face. He lifted his eyes and waved at a point behind Abe. “Oh, hi Asaph. Glad you made it back.”
“Me, too,” Asaph replied. “Feels good to be back among friends. But do I have a story to tell you…”
“It can wait. Oh, and Ronan has your pendant safely tucked away like you asked.”
Asaph chuckled. “Good to know. I really could’ve used it earlier…”
Abe swiveled around, stared up at the bald man. “What…?” he began, but words failed him.
“I guess I left out some things,” Asaph said.
“Why…”
“He doesn’t matter right now,” the man who’d approached said.
Abe spun on him. “What’s the meaning of this?” he snarled. “I demand to speak with Cooper. Now.” He glanced at Shade and saw a bit of red marring his cheeks. His brother was on the verge of exploding.
“Sorry, but that’s not possible,” the Outrider replied. “I’m Bertram, by the way. Bertram McAdam.”
“I know who you are,” Shade barked.
“Hey to you, too,” Bertram said with a shake of the head. “Long time no see, Shade. I wish it was under better circumstances.”
Shade went to charge him; both Abe and Meesh blocked his way. Abe lifted his chin to stare over the throng, and saw that Cooper was now speaking with an attractive blond woman on horseback. The leader of the Outriders pointed at something out along the flat expanse.
“I don’t know what game you’re playing at, but you’ll let us speak with him now,” Abe said in his best stern voice.
“No games,” said Bertram. �
��And no speaking with the boss until the deed’s done.”
“Deed?” Meesh said. “What deed?”
Bertram gestured to those around him, and the crowd formed a path so the brothers could reach the low stone wall. Abe, still wary, walked toward it slowly. In his periphery he saw someone help Asaph down from Greenie. And to think I felt a kinship with him. That’s that last time I trust my intuition.
Abe placed his hands atop one of the wall’s cold stone flags and gazed out at the field. There was a gigantic impression in the earth a half-mile ahead, and Abe realized where he was. This was Folsom’s Crater, a huge basin where, twenty-two years ago, deposits of iron ore had been discovered, ore that was mined and then refashioned in Sal Railen’s refinery. The many outbuildings, shacks, and warehouses that had become permanent fixtures around the crater were now gone, flattened, reduced to dust.
Bertram appeared next to him. “What’s going on here?” Abe asked.
“We seem to have a bug problem,” the man answered. “And the bug is restless… and hungry.”
Without another word, Bertram stood on his tiptoes and whistled to Cooper. The chief brigand met his gaze and then signaled to the woman sitting beside him, who undid the latch on the wagon. The hinged gate fell open and four sheep emerged. Another man dashed forward holding a whip, the leather cord snapping as he forced the sheep through a gap in the wall. The man cracked the whip again, and the sheep ran even faster across the field toward the crater. After a few more strides the whip-bearer spun around and sprinted at breakneck speed back to the wall, tripping when he tried to jump over it, and he spilled onto his face with a grunt. Meesh chuckled.
“Here it comes,” Bertram whispered.
A high-pitched trumpeting filled the air, and all two hundred in attendance cowered, hands held over their ears. Abe’s eyes bulged in his head. He knew that sound very well, though he’d never heard it so damn loud before.
“Oh shit.”
He straightened up and braced his hands against the wall as the trumpeting sounded again. Shade and Meesh joined him, and together they watched as terror lifted itself out of Folsom’s Crater.
Soultaker Page 16
