The Shadow Of Fallen Gods

by V. R. Cardoso

  “Sorry,” Hagon muttered after a moment, returning his attention to the fire. “Shouldn’t have said that.”

  “It’s fine,” Doric said, pretty sure he didn’t mean it. He looked away, trying not to think about the moment he would finally meet Cassia once again. For some reason, that was the scariest part of all this. What would he say? What if she wasn’t in love with him anymore? Fifteen years was such a long time…

  Around them, merchants hunched over fires of their own, either in groups or by themselves, preparing their dinners. A somewhat larger than average group caught Doric’s attention. There had to be at least ten of them - the darkness didn’t allow for an accurate count - but instead of cooking dinner, they had put out their fire and were busy packing their belongings back onto their wagons.

  “Hey, Hagon, check that out.” Doric motioned his chin towards the large group.

  “What about them?”

  “I saw them arrive this afternoon.” Doric thought for a moment, then added, “Why go to the trouble of laying camp only to leave just as the sun drops?”

  Hagon’s frown told Doric he’d made a good point.

  “Stay here.” Hagon dropped the stick he’d been using to poke at the fire and took off toward the group of merchants.

  Doric followed.

  “You’re not very good at following instructions, are you?” Hagon said over his shoulder.

  “I like to think I follow them creatively.”

  “Good night, friends,” Hagon greeted cheerily as they approached the group of packing merchants. “Leaving so soon?”

  The merchants carried on with their packing. All he got from them were a couple of hard stares.

  Doric and Hagon exchanged a glance.

  “You’ve probably guessed it from my accent, but we’re from Fausta,” Hagon added. Once more, silence. “We’re jewellers. All Faustans are either miners or jewellers, am I right?” He chuckled at his own quip, but this time he didn’t get as much as a glance. “Could we interest you in some fine earrings for your wives?” He walked toward the only woman in the group. “Maybe an arm bracelet for your husband, madam?”

  “We’re not interested,” a broad-shouldered man said as he tightened the leather strap of a horse’s saddle. “You should try your luck with someone else.”

  “Okay…” Hagon said slowly. “A pleasure meeting you. Have a safe journey.”

  Without getting so much as a “good night,” Hagon turned around and walked away.

  “Where are you going?” Doric asked, nipping at Hagon’s heels.

  “Shush!”

  “Those guys are definitely up to something,” Doric pressed, this time lowering his voice to a whisper. “We shouldn’t give up this easily.”

  “I know they’re up to something,” Hagon hissed. “Just trust me!”

  When they were finally out of earshot from the merchants, Hagon halted and grabbed Doric’s arms.

  “I saw under the tarps of one of their wagons. They’re carrying fruit and vegetables—perishable goods. If they don’t sell it quick enough, it’ll spoil. My guess is they know a way to smuggle their goods into the city, but they’re not about to trust a couple of strangers that show up in the middle of the night.”

  Doric nodded. “Right, makes sense. What do we do, then?”

  “First, we get out of sight.” Hagon looked around, searching for any eavesdroppers. “Then, we follow them.”

  * * *

  Fadan decided to find an inn where they could drop their horses. He had no way of knowing how quickly things would develop or how long it would take to persuade General Vardrada, so having a place to stay at night seemed like a good idea. An overweight innkeeper with a bushy moustache welcomed them. Fadan introduced himself as Aric Dolbara, an unlanded noble traveling with his sister and his grandfather.

  “Are you in Aparanta for business?” the innkeeper asked as he wobbled through a corridor lined with numbered doors. “Or did you come for the executions?”

  “Executions?” Phaedra echoed.

  The innkeeper stopped at one of the doors and unlocked it. “Sure. Lots of folk in town to witness them.” He pushed the door open, then stepped aside, waving them in. “As I promised, cleanest rooms in town. You should come down later for supper. My wife’s clam stew is famous from here to Nosta.”

  “Wait a moment, you mean the farmers?” Fadan asked. “They’re executing the farmers?”

  The fat man sighed, then nodded. “Apparently they owe some taxes. Don’t seem enough reason to hang someone, but…” He raised his hands as if surrendering. “I’m just a simple innkeeper. What do I know of these things?”

  “When is this taking place?”

  “Should start within the hour.”

  The three of them exchanged a look.

  “Thank you, my good man,” Sabium said, placing a coin in the innkeeper’s hand.

  The three of them walked into the room and the man gave a small bow before wobbling away.

  “We can’t let that happen,” Fadan said, shutting the door behind him.

  Sabium nodded. “Agreed.”

  “If you take command of the Legions…” Phaedra suggested.

  “There’s no time,” Fadan said. “You heard the man. The executions start within the hour.”

  “What other choices do we have?” Sabium asked. “There’s just the three of us.”

  Phaedra turned around and paced along the room. “I knew we should’ve brought soldiers.”

  “And we’d still be outnumbered,” Fadan told her. His eyes wandered, lost in thought. “Maybe… maybe we can convince Varinian to release them.”

  “You mean the guy who wants you dead so he can become the next Emperor?” Phaedra asked.

  “Exactly,” Fadan said. “We give him something better, a bigger fish to fry.”

  Sabium and Phaedra frowned at him.

  The Prince spread his arms. “Me!”

  * * *

  Crouching behind a wagon, Doric and Hagon watched the group of merchants. After they’d finished packing, the merchants simply sat in silence, doing nothing for hours. Doric’s knees began to ache, and he shifted position about a dozen times until he was sitting on the ground with his back to one of the wagon’s wheels. As the hours kept creeping by, his eyelids grew heavier and heavier until he fell asleep, only to wake up moments later with Hagon’s elbow stabbing between his ribs.

  Doric shook his head, trying to wake himself. “Have they moved?”

  “Not an inch.” Hagon sighed. “What are they waiting for?”

  “For everyone in the camp to go to sleep, maybe.”

  Throughout the camp, most fires had died out and the buzz of scattered conversation had faded, replaced by occasional snores from nearby tents.

  Doric yawned. “Maybe we should sleep, too. We could take turns.”

  “Shush! Something’s happening.”

  Doric looked towards the group and saw one of them stand up. Quietly, the others did the same, each grabbing the reigns of one of their packing mules and horses.

  “Finally,” Hagon murmured.

  Heads low, they followed the group, skittering between wagons, tents, and horses. As the merchants left the camp behind, vegetation and larger boulders was all Doric and Hagon could use to keep out of sight, so they allowed the merchants to pull ahead. The group followed a strange path with no road. The rough, uneven terrain made it difficult for their wagon train, but they pressed on, pilling up behind the wagons to push them every time one got stuck.

  “What if we’re wrong?” Doric whispered as they knelt behind a large, round boulder. “What if they’re just going somewhere. They seem to be getting away from the city.”

  “Doric, if we’re wrong, I’m paying for your drinks for the next six months.”

  “Careful, I could drink you to bankruptcy if I wanted.”

  “Trust me, I know.” Hagon peeked over the boulder. “Look, they’re entering a cave of some sort.”

  Prac
tically crawling, Doric skirted Hagon so he could peek around the boulder as well. The group was trickling into an opening on the face of a hill, a dark stream of water flowing from it. “That’s not a cave, Hagon. That’s a sewage exit.”

  “Really?” Hagon took another look, then nodded confidently. “I knew it! What did I tell you?”

  “So much for my drinks, I guess…”

  “Come on.” Hagon slapped Doric’s chest. “Drusus will have you drowning in brandy as soon as we’re aboard his ship.” He made to get up and leave, but Doric grabbed his arm.

  “Shouldn’t we wait? We found their way into the city. No need to keep following them.”

  “You’re assuming we won’t get lost in there. It’s safer to just go where they go.”

  “I suppose…”

  “Come on.”

  Tiptoeing, the two of them approached the tunnel entrance, a foul smell filling their nostrils. There was no doubt about it—this was a sewer.

  Hagon stopped just before the entrance, his back to the rock of the hillside. With an index finger over his lips, Hagon made a silent shush, then peeked around the entrance. “Clear,” he whispered.

  The stream of sewage water covered the entire width of the tunnel. It wasn’t so deep it didn’t allow them to walk over it, but it was enough that their boots sloshed as they walked inside. The noise echoed in the tunnel and they froze, grimacing. They waited a couple of heartbeats, holding their breaths, but nothing happened. The merchants seemed to be well ahead of them. Hagon gave Doric a reassuring nod and stepped forward, treading as lightly as he could.

  Darkness enveloped them, and Doric stretched his arms in a feeble attempt not to bump his head into a wall. “I can’t see a thing,” he whispered.

  “Quiet!”

  Doric had expected Hagon to be on his right, but the sound of his voice came from the left. What in the world were they doing?

  “We should go back and make a torch,” Doric said. “We can’t keep going like this.”

  “No, you can’t,” a deep voice said. “But you’re not going back either.”

  There were several bursts of sparks in the darkness and an oil lamp came to life, lighting the tunnel. They were surrounded, ten blades glinting around them. Beside Doric, Hagon cursed.

  “I told you to try your luck elsewhere.” It was the same broad-shouldered man from earlier who spoke, and he looked just as unfriendly as before.

  Their horses and mules were nowhere to be seen, and judging by the way they held their swords, these were no ordinary merchants.

  “So, you guys know about this tunnel, too?” Doric asked, smiling weakly. No one else found it amusing. “Well isn’t that a coincidence!”

  “Debra, tie them up.”

  “I speak for myself,” Doric continued, “but I was not expecting to find you guys here.”

  “Shut up, Doric!” Hagon hissed.

  “Yeah, shut up, Doric,” Debra said, then punched him in the nose.

  * * *

  The crowd filling the Imperial plaza of Aparanta stood eerily still. Executions were usually noisy, chaotic affairs where the audience participated in the sentence almost as much as the executioners, hurling insults, stones, fruit, and rotten vegetables at the condemned. Today, however, the silence was such that Fadan heard the wooden boards of the gallows creak as the prisoners were led to the dangling ropes.

  Wearing dark cloaks over their heads, Fadan, Phaedra, and Sabium wiggled their way through the crowd until they were within an arm’s length from the line of Legionaries protecting the gallows.

  Varinian stood atop the gallows clad in steel. He wore the golden Imperial lion on his chest and the blue cape of the Legion flowed down his back. Behind him, five senior officers stood like statues of heroes in some Augustan plaza.

  “That’s your cousin?” Phaedra asked in a whisper.

  Fadan nodded.

  “He certainly looks the part,” she added. “What about the General? Is she here?”

  “Right behind him,” Fadan replied. “The red haired one.” He had never actually seen her, but he had heard her described, and her hawkish features, along with the way the remaining officers seemed to shrink next to her, made it an easy bet.

  “Who are the others?” Phaedra asked.

  Fadan didn’t get to reply, as Sabium shushed them when Varinian stepped forward.

  “Aparantans,” the Imperial Governor started, his voice carrying over the whole of the plaza, “Candians. Citizens of the Empire. We’re here today because terrible crimes have been committed. Taxes are not optional. They’re the lifeblood that keeps the empire alive. Without them, there would be no law, no security, no peace. In failing to pay their taxes, these criminals endanger us all.”

  One of the farmers, a middle-aged man, took a step forward. “We tried paying them. It bankrupted us!”

  An executioner punched him in the gut and he fell to his knees, doubling over.

  “The prisoners will be silent!” Varinian commanded.

  Another prisoner, an older woman this time, broke down crying.

  “I said silence!”

  The poor woman tried to swallow her sobs and the crowd started murmuring.

  Okay, now what? Phaedra’s voice echoed inside Fadan’s mind.

  Now I stop this.

  This is a horrible idea, Sabium added.

  As the murmurs in the crowd grew, Varinian scanned the sea of people filling the plaza. His body seemed to tighten. He looked over his shoulder. “Begin.”

  The executioners stepped forward and pulled black sacks over the prisoners’ heads, then shoved the hanging nooses around their necks. The prisoners began to quiver, yell, and cry, and there was a commotion in the crowd.

  “STOP!”

  Fadan stepped forward, breaking the line of spectators. One of the Legionaries immediately stepped to meet him. He pulled his hood back and looked up, staring into his cousin’s eyes. Behind him, Phaedra and Sabium stiffened.

  Frozen in place, the executioners sent inquisitive looks towards the Imperial Governor, but Varinian ignored them. He looked down at the small man beneath his feet.

  “Cousin,” he muttered, a wolfish grin creeping across his cheeks. “What a wonderful surprise!”

  * * *

  “What should we do with them, Andon?” one of the supposed merchants asked.

  Andon, clearly the leader of the group, thought on it for a moment. Long, blonde hair fell over his broad shoulders and he looked at his prisoners down a sharp, pointy nose.

  “I say we kill them,” the woman named Debra suggested. Her olive skin gleamed under the faint light of the oil lamps.

  They had tied Doric’s and Hagon’s hands behind their backs, then shoved them on their knees in a puddle of what Doric kept telling himself was water.

  “I agree,” another one said. “We can leave them to rot here. The sewer rats should take care of the bodies.”

  Doric shifted so he was facing Andon. “Interesting suggestions, but, in my opinion, you should consider other options.”

  “In my opinion, you should consider being quiet,” Debra told him, showing him a closed fist that suggested she wanted to use it on him again.

  “Tell me your names,” Andon commanded.

  “Hum…” Hagon stammered, eyes darting around. “I’m, uh… We’re…”

  “It is not in your best interest to lie to me, right now.”

  “We’re not merchants. You’ve figured that out,” Hagon said quickly. “But neither are you, clearly.”

  “Clearly…” Doric mumbled.

  “Answer my question,” Andon demanded. “Who. Are. You?”

  Hagon ground his teeth. Doric could almost see the wheels turning inside his head—Protect the secrets of the Rebellion! Protect the secrets of the Rebellion! — What was he afraid of, though? If these people were trying to sneak into Capra, they couldn’t possibly be aligned with the emperor, could they?

  “We’re with the Rebellion,” Doric bl
urted out.

  Hagon glared at him, but their captors just sniggered.

  Debra scowled. “He’s lying.”

  “We’re on an important mission to Pharyzah,” Doric insisted. “We followed you because we needed to get into the city.”

  “You were trying to get into the wrong city, then,” Andon said. “Pharyzah is a long way from here.”

  “Exactly. Which is why we need to find a man named Drusus. He’s a ship captain in Capra’s Rebellion cell.”

  The supposed merchants exchanged a few glances amongst themselves.

  “You know Drusus?” Andon asked. “How?”

  “I don’t,” Doric replied, then nodded towards Hagon. “He does.”

  “Wait a moment,” Hagon said, “you know Drusus?”

  “I’m asking the questions!” Andon snapped.

  This time, it was Doric and Hagon who exchanged a look.

  “Well, go on,” Doric told his friend. “What do we have to lose?”

  Hagon hesitated, then sighed. “We’ve worked together on several occasions, Drusus and I. Rebellion operations. I was with the Augustan cell. Every time we needed to smuggle something up or down the Saffya, he was the man to do it.”

  “Was with the Augustan cell?” Debra echoed.

  “Well, not much of it is left, as I understand it,” Hagon replied. “The two of us were captured almost a year ago, along with other members of the cell. We got rescued shortly after by the prince, and we’ve been with him at the Rebellion’s headquarters ever since.”

  “That’s… quite a tale,” Andon remarked. Debra approached him and whispered something in his hear. He nodded. “You say you’ve been at the Rebellion’s headquarters. Where is that?”

  Hagon grinned. “Mister, you might not believe a word I’ve said, but believe what I’m going to say next. There is no amount of torture that you can subject me to that can force me to answer that question. The emperor has tried. For months.”

  “Yeah…” Doric nodded, not very convincingly. “That is… also applicable to me.”