Heir of Hope (Follower of the Word Book 3)

by Morgan L. Busse

  Caleb shook his head. Char had no idea what he had just done to his soul. That kind of blood did not come off with water.

  Endre walked in and went white. “What in the Celestial Halls? Wait, is that—”

  “Yes.” Caleb let out a long breath. “He was one of the Shadonae.”

  “One of? And is he really . . . dead?”

  Caleb shoved his dagger back its sheath and walked over. He knelt down beside Malchus, avoiding the pool of blood, and placed his fingers along his neck. No pulse. Char had stabbed just right, rupturing the one spot he used to aim for during his own assassinations, right above the collarbone.

  Even if Malchus could heal from that wound, the many stabs to the chest had mutilated his heart and lungs. No man, or Eldaran, or Shadonae, could have survived such violence.

  Malchus was dead.

  Caleb brought his hand across Malchus’s face, closing his eyes. There was no sorrow in his heart over the man’s passing. From what he had seen and heard, Malchus was a monster.

  But even monsters could change. In that, Malchus had been wrong.

  Caleb wiped his hand across his pants and stood. “Yes. He is dead.”

  There were no more chances for Malchus. He had reaped what he had sown.

  Chapter

  43

  The rain amplified the foul smell of Cragsmoor. Lore wrinkled his nose and stared at the dark stone walls and tiny barred windows. The rain and dark clouds only added to the gloom of the place. Don’t let Rowen be here. Not in this place.

  Regessus opened the door and stepped inside. Lore followed, the mud from the courtyard clinging to his boots and pants with a cold grasp.

  A torch hung from a bracket, still lit. “Someone has been here recently.” Regessus’s voice carried along the dark corridor. He grabbed the torch. “I’m not sure we will find Rowen here.”

  Did Regessus mean find Rowen . . . or find her alive? He didn’t want to think about her dying in a dark pit like this. “We will still search. If there is any chance she is here, we need to know. ”

  Regessus nodded and led the way.

  The smell grew worse the farther they went. Lore covered his nose and mouth with the edge of his cloak. He clenched his teeth, his insides boiling now. These Shadonae had treated people like cattle. No, even the farmers he knew treated their stock better than this.

  They passed empty cells that looked like they could hold fifty people.

  “When the Shadonae took over Thyra, everyone was rounded up and brought here. Most of the people died.” Regessus started down a set of stairs. “Those who lived were either twisted or left here to be consumed.”

  Lore swallowed the sour taste in his mouth. “Barbaric.”

  “Yes. But no different than how most countries act during times of war.”

  Not the White City. Lady Astrea had treated the Temanin prisoners as humans after the siege, with a goal to negotiate their deportation back to Temanin. He wondered if she had succeeded.

  But Regessus was right. Most countries treated their captives with humiliation, hunger, and torture. Even Nordica did during the great wars.

  They walked along the second floor. More empty cells. He imagined them filled with people, moaning and crying in the dark. His stomach churned at the thought.

  They reached another set of stairs. It was darkest down here, and the smell was the worst. At the bottom was a large room with a single, thick pillar in the middle. Prison cells surrounded the room, their barred doors facing the pillar.

  Regessus held up the torch. “This is where the last of the prisoners were kept. The ones Rowen freed. Simon, the scribe you met, was one of them.”

  “They were kept down here for a year?”

  “Yes. Not many remained by the time we freed them.” Regessus made his way around the room, shining the torchlight into cells. The ground was black with refuse and soiled straw.

  Lore placed a clammy hand against the bars. Dear Word, please don’t let us find Rowen here. He staggered over to Regessus and continued to search the cells.

  Nothing.

  Lore bowed his head and let out a long breath. But if she wasn’t here, then where was she? He looked back up and the knot in his middle returned.

  “Well, that’s it.” Regessus looked back. “We’re out of options and we need to get to the senate tower. The men will be getting ready to attack. Perhaps if we capture the Shadonae, we can question them.”

  “You’re right.” But he didn’t want to go to the tower. He wanted to search every corner of this city until he found Rowen. He had to find her! Every moment she was in danger and if he was too late . . .

  No. Don’t go there.

  Lore pressed a hand to his face. He needed to refocus. “I wander through shadows and light . . .” He dropped his hand and followed Regessus back to the stairs. “And death haunts my every step. I cannot see the way out of the darkness, so guide me, living Word, Speaker of Life.”

  Chapter

  44

  Char dipped his hands into the pool out in the garden behind the Monastery. He might be able to wash his physical hands of the blood, but it now stained his heart. He would need the Word’s touch to remove the stain. Caleb knew that only too well.

  Endre and Simon stood nearby. No one wanted to talk about what had just happened.

  Caleb turned and crushed a small white flower beneath his boot. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way, not with such violence. But did he really believe Malchus would have chosen otherwise?

  Are you trying to convert me, Guardian?

  No. He sighed. I only wanted to offer you what had been offered me.

  Something touched the edge of his senses.

  He frowned and looked up.

  It wasn’t cold, like the shadows.

  There. Again. Like the lightest touch of a feather, only it was unseen, reaching in and caressing the very core of his being.

  In one heartbeat, he knew that touch. The same one from ages ago, when his soul had been black and full of every vile thing. That touch had first appeared in a vision of a woman with a glowing hand.

  Caleb took a step toward the low wall that surrounded the garden. Is it you? He’d only met Rowen once, that night in the field outside the White City. Were they still connected, after all this time? Did their Eldaran blood connect them in an unseen way?

  Simon touched his arm.

  Caleb started and looked over at him.

  “Is there another shadow?”

  “No.” The touch was faint, so faint that if he did not concentrate on it, he couldn’t feel it. “It’s something else.”

  Simon frowned. “The other Shadonae?”

  “I did not feel Malchus.” Strange. Malchus had said they were alike. But perhaps their choices had severed the connection that would have existed between them. But if that feather-like touch really was Rowen, then that meant . . .

  “She’s here. And she’s alive.”

  “Who?”

  “The other Eldaran. Rowen.”

  Simon stared at him. “Are you sure?”

  Caleb came back to the present. He pointed at the garden wall. “That way.”

  “You can sense her presence too?”

  “Yes. Faintly. I don’t know if that’s because she is far away, or she is weak. Either way, we should go.”

  Before any of the men could protest, Caleb headed toward the metal gate wedged in the wall. He opened the gate and stepped out onto the street. He closed his eyes and concentrated. It was getting hard to feel that feather-touch.

  There.

  He didn’t wait for the others. He followed the side street until it met up with a main street and headed north. Ahead, he could see a tower, five times as high as anything else in the city, a beacon in the sky.

  “Wait, Caleb!” Simon caught up to him. “Is s
he at the senate tower?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t feel her anymore. But this is the direction I last felt it.” If the other Shadonae was anything like Malchus, he could well imagine that a tower like the one before him would be the place they would reside. A place where they could look down on all they had conquered.

  He didn’t feel the feather touch again as they made their way toward the tower. He refused to speculate why. Instead, he placed his attention on what was ahead of him, on what he would face next. A shadow, the other Shadonae, he didn’t know, but he would be ready.

  A couple blocks from the tower shouts and sword clanks echoed down the street.

  Caleb held up his hand and sidled up to the wall of a building. Colorful fabric and bits of ribbon blew outside the broken window. He stopped and listened, his fist still up. Simon, Endre, and Char came up beside him.

  “I hear it too.” Char’s features tightened. “Fighting.”

  Caleb nodded, his face set toward the tower.

  “Is it Cargan’s group?” Endre whispered.

  “Could be,” Simon said. “But who are they fighting? Cargan was supposed to lock the barracks. We can’t fight our own men.”

  Char snorted. “Easy for you to say, scribe. They aren’t really your men. Your type doesn’t figh—”

  “Quiet!” Caleb looked back and slashed the air, his eyes wide. Did these men really want to attract attention? He waited until all he could hear was the soft patter of rain. “Now, we need to figure out what is going on. We will stick to the buildings and make our way toward the tower. Silently.” He emphasized the last word. “Understand?”

  All three men nodded.

  Caleb dropped his hand and moved forward. With each block they passed, the sound of fighting grew louder. As they crested a small incline, he spotted movement ahead.

  Like a cat, Caleb crept along the street, as close to the buildings as he could. The rain had now stopped, but the air was heavy with moisture and something more.

  A block farther and he could see. It was Cargan’s group all right, the man’s orange tinted hair and beard amongst them. They were fighting in between a maze of columns set up in front of the senate tower. The area reminded him of sunken arena.

  Caleb stopped at the edge of the last building and watched.

  There were hundreds of soldiers gathered in the street between the columns and where he stood, most of them dressed in chainmail and yellow tabards. They moved with a wooden stiffness, and there were at least three soldiers to every one of Cargan’s men.

  Simon came to stand beside him. “It’s the Thyrian military.”

  Caleb swore. “Looks like Cargan wasn’t able to lock up all the soldiers.” He swore again in his mind when Simon gave him a reproving look.

  “What are we going to do now?” Endre said over his shoulder.

  Simon shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  Something didn’t feel righ—

  Caleb spun around, his dagger out.

  A sword came slashing toward Endre.

  Caleb caught the blade and deflected it. Before the soldier could recover, he kicked out, catching the soldier midriff.

  The soldier went flying back and hit the wall.

  Char went for the soldier’s sword, wrestling the blade from his hand.

  Two more soldiers appeared a block away, moving in their direction with swords raised.

  Char hit the soldier across the temple with the pommel. The soldier slumped across the wall. “That should keep him out for a couple minutes.”

  “Simon.” Caleb motioned toward the fallen soldier. “Use the cord around your waist and tie him up.”

  Simon fumbled for the cord. “And what about the soldiers coming toward us?”

  Caleb drew his other dagger out and stood, legs apart. “Looks like we’re joining the fight.”

  Chapter

  45

  Caleb and Char met the two soldiers seconds later.

  Caleb deflected the first blow, the blade glancing off his dagger. He kicked out and the soldier stumbled back.

  Char dueled the second soldier, their swords clanging.

  “We need to find—” Caleb jumped back as the soldier’s blade cut through the air. He landed on the balls of his feet, bringing both daggers in front of him.

  He caught the second swing between them, twisted the blade away, and kicked the man again.

  The soldier staggered back, winded.

  “We need to find a way to incapacitate the soldiers,” he finished.

  Char grunted, the other soldier’s blade across his and pressing both down toward his face. Last second, he stepped out from the swords, letting the tip of his blade drop, along with the soldier’s. The soldier stumbled forward.

  Char swept around the soldier and hit him across the back of the neck with his pommel. The soldier fell beside the first one, now tied up.

  Caleb’s opponent wheezed beside the other wall.

  More soldiers started across the street in their direction.

  Caleb stashed his daggers and went for the man’s wrist. “Endre, grab the swords.” He dug his fingers into the soft spot underneath and sword fell to the ground with a clatter.

  He pulled the man’s arm behind his back. “Simon, find something to tie these men up with.” He pulled the other arm back. “Now!”

  Simon looked around, then bent down and grabbed the edge of his robe and tore. “Here.” He held up a strip of fabric.

  “Tie him up and grab a sword.” Caleb pulled out his daggers and came up in a defense stance.

  “But I don’t know how to figh—”

  The first wave of soldiers attacked.

  Caleb blocked the first blow.

  Char blocked the second.

  “Char, we need to push toward Cargan.”

  Metal clanged.

  “We need to find out what his plan is.” Caleb jumped back. A blade passed in front of him. He slammed down with his right dagger and reached in with his left, slashing the man’s forearm.

  The soldier dropped his sword, a crimson blotch spreading above his wrist.

  Caleb kicked the sword away and continued through the soldiers, jumping, parrying, and thrusting where he could.

  Sweat poured down his face.

  “Stay close!” he yelled over the din, but didn’t look back. Either Simon and Endre were with them, or they weren’t. He could do no more for them.

  Ahead, he spotted Cargan’s orange hair near the pillars. Most of Cargan’s men surrounded him, keeping the flood of yellow tabards at bay.

  Char parried another blow and kicked the soldier away, knocking over a couple more in the process.

  “Move, move!” Caleb caught another sword and shoved it away, going in with his other dagger for the gut—

  Careful!

  He drew back at the last moment and grazed the man, then moved into the open space and shoved his elbow into the soldier’s gut instead.

  The soldier stumbled back and fell.

  Caleb panted. Can’t . . . kill . . . them. Not easy . . . though.

  A minute later, they reached Cargan’s group. A few men lay on the ground, eyes transfixed, blood running between the cobblestones.

  Caleb bypassed the fallen and reached Cargan’s side. “What the sands happened, Cargan?”

  Cargan grunted as he parried a blow from a nearby soldier. “They knew.” He parried another one.

  Caleb blocked another soldier. “How?”

  “Don’t know.”

  The soldier slashed again. Caleb dodged the blow, brought his leg out in a sweep, and sent the soldier to the ground. Before the soldier could rise, Caleb dropped down on the man’s chest and hit the man’s knuckles with the handle of his dagger.

  The sword dropped.

  Caleb finished wi
th a blow to the head. The soldier’s head slumped to the side.

  Caleb stood and kicked the sword away. Sands, he hoped he had only knocked the man out. No time to check.

  Cargan dispatched his man. The soldier fell with a thud and blood. Cargan swore and wiped his forehead. “This is not what was supposed to happen.”

  “So now what?”

  Cargan looked up. “We push for the tower. With this many soldiers guarding the tower, the Shadonae have to be inside.”

  “Just one Shadonae. We killed the other.”

  Cargan’s eyebrows shot up. “You did?”

  “Yes.”

  Cargan grinned. “Best news I’ve heard all day. And what about the shadows?”

  “I banished four.”

  “Then that’s four less that we need to worry about.”

  Hundreds of soldiers fought between them and the pillars. Swords clashed, men yelled, and rain fell across the wide-open area in front of the tower.

  Cargan pointed ahead. “If we can just reach the tower and take out the last Shadonae, maybe these men will revert back to their right minds.”

  Twisted soldiers began to break through their tiny circle of fighters.

  Caleb readjusted the grip on his daggers. “And if not?”

  Cargan lifted his sword. “Then we hope Lore and Regessus find that other Eldaran.”

  Lore gripped the hilt of his sword. “Looks like Cargan was right. There was more going on than we knew.”

  A battle raged at the base of the senate tower two blocks away, the place where they were to meet up with Cargan. Columns surrounded an arena in front of the tower and swarmed with soldiers dressed in yellow.

  He looked back at Regessus. “Is there a chance there were more soldiers than we knew about? Or did they find a way out of the compound?”

  “I don’t know. Valin’s had a year to twist more men. There is a chance his army increased more than we knew. Definitely looks like more than the fifty or so men Cargan counted back at the compound.”