The Way Into Darkness: Book Three of The Great Way

by Harry Connolly

  “Stamp line! Pincer!” Tejohn shouted again, hoping the noise would distract the grunt from the three men it was about to tear apart. The soldiers were not stamping their feet--had not stamped even once, in fact--and the ends of the line were not closing in on the beast. Did they not know the most basic maneuvers?

  He was about to shout orders for the archers to re-form, but they had vanished. They’d run into the towers at the end of the wall and had not re-emerged.

  The spear-thrower did not even bother to draw his short sword. He turned and ran back toward the line. The grunt leaped onto him, bearing him to the ground and biting him hard on the shoulder. Dead. Whatever else the beast might do to him, that man was dead.

  Then it turned back to the two it had knocked over. The man it had thrown at them lay broken on the gravel; the other two struggled to get to their feet. One man cried out as he shifted his leg; even from where he stood, Tejohn could see it was broken.

  The grunt leaped onto the man with the broken leg, sank its jaws into his shoulder, then clubbed him aside. The last one, the youth who had led the charge, held up his shield and short sword defiantly.

  The grunt leaped onto him, knocking him hard to the stony ground and pinning the shield low against his body. After it sank its teeth into him, it lifted him and worried him like a dog with a rag. The boy’s scream was shaken out of him, and he was thrown to the ground.

  In Finstel lands, Tejohn had seen a much smaller blue grunt single-handedly defeat five spears with its uncanny speed and strength. What’s more, it had been content to bite its victims lightly. A small nip was enough to spread the curse, after all, so there was no need to be vicious.

  But this creature, one of the grunts that had come through the portal in Peradain, fought with a viciousness that chilled him. It tore off limbs, broke bodies, ripped flesh. It wasn’t enough for it to simply defeat and infect humans with its curse. It had to break them, too. What’s more, the arrows sticking out of its body didn’t seem to slow it at all.

  Tejohn was helpless. The archers had fled. The spears could not form a line and hold it, and neither could they do the most basic maneuvers. He watched as the massive grunt turned its attention to the line of spears and the people behind it. It didn’t roar. It didn’t have to. The soldiers’ courage had faltered, and their line came apart like wheat stalks before a flood.

  The grunt crouched low to bound after them.

  “Blessing!” Tejohn shouted. There was no point in shouting orders to the Twofin spears and bows, so he might as well try the enemy. “BLESSING! BLESSING!”

  The grunt turned its attention toward him suddenly, its eyes wide. He had gotten its attention. He shouted the word again as he drew Snowfall’s sword. It turned toward him as he advanced across the yard away from the steps of the holdfast.

  When it bared its long teeth, he thought of Laoni. He had not, in truth, ever really expected to succeed in his quest, nor to see his children again.

  No matter. If this is my death, I welcome it.

  The grunt, a creature that had just killed more than a dozen fighting men, charged at him.

  Chapter 7

  At almost the last moment, he thought again about how that final soldier had fallen. His shield pinned to his hip. The man been unprepared for the way the beast would leap up on him.

  Tejohn had no time to think clearly or formulate a strategy. The grunt was nearly upon him. I can not throw my strength against a grunt’s. He lifted his shield high and, as the creature leaped on him, fell backwards.

  He shrank himself as much as he could to protect his head and shoulders. When the beast hit him mid-fall, the momentum it added was astonishing. His shield slammed against his ribs at the same time the sharp gravel dug deep into his bare, lacerated back.

  His vision went cloudy for a moment, but the pain kept him focused and he didn’t hesitate. He stabbed upward with his short sword, feeling feathered shafts scrape against his wrist. Great Way, but he needed all his strength to force the blade into the beast’s flesh. It was like trying to stab someone with a spoon.

  The grunt shuddered and slid sideways just a bit. Tejohn gasped at the pain the beast’s shifting weight caused him, but it sharpened his senses, too. The metal rim of the shield where it pinned against his helmet blocked his vision, the beast reeked of offal, and he heard the grunt’s painful rattle. He couldn’t see it reach for his sword arm, but he felt it moving on top of him. Tejohn lowered his weapon and struck higher, directly into the grunt’s armpit.

  The point ground against bone, and this time, the beast actually screamed. Song would remember that Tejohn actually laughed aloud to hear it. Then he felt the grunt pull his shield away from his face with irresistible power, exposing his head.

  The thing’s hot breath blew through the eye and mouth slots in his helm; it smelled like iron, blood, and goat piss--then he felt its mouth on him. The ridiculous red comb twisted, rotating the helmet and covering his eyes. Stupid, Fire-taken ornamentation. I should have stayed on my feet and died like a spear of the empire. Not that he could see with the shield over his face anyway. Tejohn stabbed blindly again and again, but it was no use. The grunt’s jaws slowly, inexorably crumpled Snowfall’s oversized iron helm, and Tejohn had to squirm free of it or have his skull crushed.

  He rammed the sword home one more time and, to his surprise, the grunt threw back its head and bellowed with pain and grief. Tejohn pushed against the blade with all his strength; the creature shifted away. He barely managed to keep hold of his sword.

  The grunt rolled onto its side, back to him. Its breath was quick and shallow. When it tried to roll onto its stomach, he could see that its left foreleg--left arm?--hung useless behind it. Still, it managed to get up onto three trembling limbs and slowly shuffle away from him. Gray blood soaked the lilac-colored fur on its left side.

  Fire and Fury, what would it take to kill this thing? Tejohn forced himself to sit up Monument give me strength to endure the awful pain in my side and back. He pushed the point of his sword into the gravel to help get to his knees, then he was on his feet, somehow. His shield hung on his left arm in two pieces. The grunt had cracked it down the middle. He let it fall away.

  The thing was just a few paces away, crawling toward the village. It had a stubby little tail as long as his hand; he hadn’t noticed that before. Tejohn lifted the sword and looked at the bloody point. The creature was terrifying even on the verge of death. He didn’t want to get any closer.

  Unfortunately, his short sword was the only weapon he had. Where was his spear? He never went into battle without one; had it shivered? He flicked the sword, spraying the creature’s awful gray blood onto the ground. No matter. He had to use the tool he had.

  Tejohn glanced at the grunt’s rib cage and froze. Were those wounds closing? They were. The ragged edges of the cuts in the beast’s side were slowly, slowly closing.

  Rocks crunched beneath his boots as he rushed toward the creature. It growled and, with what might have been its last burst of strength, spun toward him, jaws gaping. The move was so sudden that Tejohn struck with a last panicky rush of will and muscle, stabbing the point directly into the creature’s throat. The iron burst through the fur at the back of its neck and it fell away from him, yanking his weapon from his hand.

  Tejohn circled around and pulled out the sword. The killing wound to its throat was slowly knitting shut. He then plunged it in again, this time angling upward into the brain. When he pulled the weapon out this time, the wounds did not close at all. It was dead this time. Fully dead.

  Great Way, how could something be so beautiful and so ugly at once? Fury, thank you for giving me the strength to kill this enemy. Please don’t ask me to do it again.

  Some time later--an hour? A moment?--Tejohn looked up to see Redegg standing beside him with a look of utter shock on his face. “I should have expected,” Tejohn said in a shaky voice, “that commander Snowfall would not bother to sharpen his sword.”

  Tejohn
plunged the weapon into the grunt’s brain again and left it there. Just to be safe.

  A sudden roaring sound seemed to come from everywhere at once. What’s trying to kill me now? When he looked up, he saw Twofin spears sprinting at him from the far side of the courtyard, and they weren’t even keeping a decent line. Behind them were wild-eyed citizens, cleavers still in hand.

  Don’t touch me. He slapped his hand on his empty sheath but it was too late; hands grabbed him from behind and lifted him up. The incredible roaring noise became cheers.

  They were cheering for him.

  The crowd carried him toward the holdfast. Their hands rubbed hard against the many raw lash wounds on his back, and every time they moved him brought a grinding agony in his rib cage. He curled up and tried to roll onto his right side so their hands wouldn’t push against his ribs, but he did not have much control over what they did to him.

  “Stop!” The voice was deep and loud, cutting through the noise of the crowd. “Stop, good people! Stop!’

  They did. Tejohn could see that the magistrate blocking the entrance to the holdfast. He had a surprisingly deep voice for someone so small and slender. Tejohn wanted to pass out, but he couldn’t control that, either.

  When the crowd had grown quiet, the magistrate began to speak again. “Good people, you don’t understand! This is the man who murdered Tyr Iskol Twofin!”

  There was an awful moment of silence, then a second cheer--even louder than before--sounded out. Tejohn was carried into the great hall on a tidal wave of hands. “Gently!” someone shouted, then others took up the call. The people bearing him became more careful. “To the sleepstones!” someone called. “To the chair,” went the counter.

  Someone finally had the wit to ask him what he wanted. Tejohn told them to put him down. The pain in his ribs on his right side had become bright and nearly unbearable, and he could feel the blood from his whipping soaking the clothes over his backside. What he wanted was a sleepstone, but others might have needed it more.

  After they had lowered him--as gently as they could manage, which wasn’t gently enough--into the Twofin chair, he did his best to control his breathing. The crowd of people withdrew several steps. “Redegg, Lowtower, and Bluepetal,” Tejohn said, his voice sounding awfully shaky. “Bring them here.”

  Two young civilians ran out into the crowd as if excited to be taking his orders. Tejohn glanced at the faces arrayed before him and saw the magistrate standing there, his face pinched.

  “Why?”

  The man knew what he was asking. Before he answered, he turned his face away. “Because it was a fair verdict.”

  One of the soldiers stepped forward and knelt before the chair. “My tyr, we have no medical scholars of our own, but we do have sleepstones available.”

  “The soldiers outside,” Tejohn said weakly, “the ones who’ve been bitten. You can’t put them onto the sleepstones.”

  The crowd moved back and then forward. He could see the happiness going out of their expressions. “Why not?” the soldier said. It was practically a challenge, and Tejohn knew he wouldn’t have dared ask a question of the last man to sit on this chair.

  “Because the grunt’s bite passes on its curse, and a sleepstone will speed the change.”

  The crowd began to talk among themselves. They sounded like a flock of geese. “Change? What change?” “What curse?”

  “It’s true!” a voice called from the back of the room. The crowd stilled and turned toward the woman speaking. It was Granny Nin. Tejohn couldn’t believe it. Why was she supporting him? “It’s been happening all over the lowlands, from the coasts to the Finstel lands. The creatures have been making more of themselves, and they do it by biting. That thing out there was once a human being, just like one of you.”

  That wasn’t true, but Tejohn didn’t think there was any need to argue the matter. The truth would be too complicated to explain “That’s why the creature had to be stopped before it could reach the buildings. The people.” His head was swimming. “Those bitten soldiers need to be cared for, but the magic in the sleepstone will only feed their curse and make them transform all the sooner. Any that are injured but not bitten can be healed.”

  “There are none,” a soldier said. “They’re all dead.”

  “All?” Tejohn thought he sounded old as he said it. “None who were not bitten survived?”

  The young man shook his head. “And the ones who were bitten are in terrible pain, my tyr. The pain they’re suffering…”

  “If you must see it for yourselves,” Tejohn told him, “bring one to the sleepstones. Just one. Keep a guard on him of six men, with axes. When he begins to change, they have to strike through the skull. Do you hear? As soon as he starts to change.”

  “We understand,” the soldier said. He stood and pushed through the crowd toward the doors.

  “I understand, too,” Tejohn muttered.

  Suddenly, Redegg was standing beside him, with Bluepetal at his shoulder. “My tyr, you called for us? We are, of course, at your service.”

  “The people put me on this chair,” Tejohn said, “but I can’t stay.”

  “Tyr Twofin had a private sleepstone. Perhaps--”

  “Take me,” he said, hoarsely. “Where is Lowtower?”

  “Here, my tyr,” the commander said, pushing through the crowd.

  “Good.” Tejohn stood unsteadily. There were traditions in the lands of Kal-Maddum, but for the moment, Tejohn was too dizzy, too wracked with pain to care about them. Why should there be one man to rule over all? He spoke to the crowd with all the strength and command he could muster. “These three men will rule while I heal. They are your council. They will prepare your soldiers for the defense of the walls, provision for a siege, and make sure Doctor Twofin is caught and tried for his crimes. They will also see to it that Iskol Twofin’s heirs are kept safe. As for me, I still await my sentence. Magistrate?”

  The small man was still standing by the wall. The crowd drew away from him as though he was contagious. He looked into their faces and remained stoic. “For destruction of public property, the accused is to pay a fine of not less than three silver bolds to the royal chair by sunset three days from now.”

  “I’ll pay that fine!” a man shouted from the back of the hall. Several other joined the shout to contribute.

  Tejohn couldn’t help it. He smiled. How strange it felt to receive kindness. “Thank you all,” he said. “But there is still much to do.” He sat again, then turned toward Redegg, Lowtower, and Bluepetal. “We have a few things to discuss before I sleep, but I need to get to that sleepstone.”

  Lowtower stepped forward as though he was about to take Tejohn’s arm. “Shall I--” Tejohn warded him off with a look. The tyr stood out of the chair and stepped down onto the floor.

  Redegg seemed to understand and began to lead the little group toward a nondescript door in the northern wall. The crowds parted for them, and Tejohn heard the murmurs behind him as they saw his back. Ridiculous. How many of them had laid their hands on him as they’d carried him out of the courtyard? Hadn’t they seen?

  The cuts on his back were ugly but shallow. That he knew. If they’d been more severe, he could not have forgotten about them in the excitement of battle. It was the bleeding that was debilitating. “I’ll need something to drink before I sleep. Preferably something without poison in it.”

  They passed through the door and down a flight of black stone stairs. Here, out of the sight of the crowd, Tejohn accepted Lowtower’s help.

  “I’ll see to it, my tyr,” Bluepetal said. “What... Er, what is your symbol? We should waste no time in taking down the Twofin banners and--”

  “Leave the Twofin banners,” Tejohn said. How many times did he have to say it? “I’m not taking over these lands, not even if the people want me to. I still have important work to do. However, if we’re going to win this war against The Blessing, I’m going to need to return to find a stable holdfast and capable soldiers. That
means you three have to hold this land together. Everything you do has to be for the greater stability. No reprisals. No looting the treasury. Understand?”

  “I think the people would be happier if they thought you were going to return to take command.”

  Bluepetal clearly didn’t like the idea of serving on a ruling council, especially since he seemed to have guessed that Tejohn planned to make it more or less permanent once he set out to complete his quest. As for what the people wanted--

  Actually, that wasn’t a terrible idea. Isn’t that how the herding clans and some of the Durdric communities did things? The people chose their own leaders. Of course, they were small groups of people, while a tyr--even a tyr of a small land like the Twofins--ruled over thousands of people. Could rule by popular acclaim work at that scale?

  Tejohn nearly laughed aloud. Not a year ago, he would have thought those ideas were treason.

  For the moment, it was irrelevant. If they won this war, they could experiment with new ways of picking leaders. Daydreaming about it now was just a waste of time. They turned a corner, moving deeper into the black rock. “About that magistrate…”

  Lowtower interrupted, his voice sharp. “The one who ordered my family arrested at the tyr’s urging? The one who refused to hear even a single petition on their behalf? Do not worry, my tyr. His family will be returned to him. Not right away, but within the next few days.”

  Tejohn realized that Lowtower might have been arrested before he had a chance to join his family. It wasn’t his place to ask after them. “What are you planning?”

  Redegg cleared his throat. “I would suggest to my colleagues that we must locate the rogue scholar and repair the gate as our most pressing bits of business. Then we should send out messengers to contact the peoples around us--not just Bendertuks to the south but the cliffside Durdric villages to the west as well. If our neighbors are warned against these creatures, they will better resist them, to our benefit.”