Son of the Black Sword - eARC

by Larry Correia

  He’d been ordered to obey the false prophet, not every petty criminal. “No.”

  “Fine, you smug bastard. We’re landing soon. Stay down here and let the warriors find you for all I care.” She climbed back up the ladder.

  “Oceans…” Ashok waited a moment, and then followed her.

  It was the first time he’d been outside since being pulled from the river. The night air was crisp and it felt good to fill his lungs with something that didn’t stink of mold. Ashok glanced around. Lanterns were mounted on each corner of the barge, both to light their way, and also so other barges could see them. The casteless were still poling, though there was a stutter in their rhythm as some of them spotted him and stopped to stare. There were lights on both sides of them, small villages along the banks. The river was very wide here, which meant they had to be close to Red Lake. He’d crossed plenty of rivers in his life, but it was a little uncomfortable being on a few pieces of lashed together timber in the middle of so much water. He couldn’t help but reach for his sword to confirm that it was still there.

  “Easy there, Protector. There’s no demons below us. We’re a long ways from the sea now,” Thera said.

  “I know where we are.”

  She was hunched over, rummaging through a crate. “Then you know we’re getting off soon. No locks into Thao lands, and you can’t hardly poll a barge up waterfalls. From here on, we ride, but we won’t get anywhere with you looking like that.”

  The only clothing he had left was a burned, blood-stained pair of prison-issued pants. “I’m casteless. This is sufficient.”

  “Not carrying that sword around, it’s not.” Keta joined them. The Keeper of Names leaned on the railing next to Ashok, seemingly unafraid of falling into the river. “If we’re to make it to Akershan safely, you’ll need to blend in. Casteless can’t have weapons and they can’t freely cross house borders. Not to mention you’ll get frostbite where we’re going.”

  “I’ll be fine. Keeper.” The tallest mountains of Thao were hills compared to the Order’s training grounds in Devakula, and really, who cared if an untouchable froze his nose off?

  “No, you won’t. We need you to avoid notice, Ashok. Can you do that for us, please?”

  In truth, he had no more desire for conflict either. Ashok nodded. “All right.”

  “I have some things you can wear,” Thera said as she shifted through the contents of the crate. “You’re about the same size as this barge’s last overseer.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “One of your Order suspected him of smuggling and stabbed him in the heart.”

  “Was he guilty?”

  “Yes, but that’s beside the point. Here you go.” Thera pulled out a bundle of clothing and handed them over. It was the first time he’d ever seen her in the light. Large, dark eyes in a face that was a bit too round to be considered beautiful among the first caste, but she was still rather attractive. For a criminal. “Don’t put them on yet. You’ll need to look casteless until I get our new papers.”

  Ashok took the clothing from her. They felt sturdy and well made. He held the long coat up to the torchlight. The canvas sleeves bore a green worker’s insignia, specifically that of the merchant sub-caste. “I can’t wear this.”

  “Sure you can.” Thera touched the same insignia on her sleeve. For a woman, Thera’s clothing was remarkably drab in color and cut. “I’ve got a man in Apura who can forge traveling papers to match, and even say you’re authorized to carry a sword to defend yourself from highwaymen. Easier than trying to hide that thing, and sheathed it looks normal enough. I figure if you have to pull that evil creation out for the world to see, we’ve got worse problems than getting caught with fake documents.”

  “Fake documents…” Ashok trailed off. Forging an arbiter’s stamp was punishable by death. It took all of his self-control not to strike her down on the spot.

  Keta reached out to place a calming hand on Ashok’s arm, but then he saw the dark look on his face, and must have thought better of it. Logically, Ashok knew that he was no longer of status, and that he and Keta were equal nobodies, but he wasn’t used to being touched. The Keeper slowly withdrew his hand. “Please, Ashok. If you wish to meet the prophet, this is the only way. If you draw too much attention to my people, you will endanger them. I can’t allow that.”

  “But this is fraud.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Thera snapped, then exasperated she turned on Keta. “What’s his problem?”

  “It takes time to adjust to a new sit—”

  “The problem should be obvious,” Ashok said through gritted teeth. No barge-riding lawbreaker could possibly understand that lying left a taste in his mouth worse than the fish he’d tried to eat. “I’m an untouchable. I can’t use forged papers. I can’t wear the insignia of another caste.”

  “But you can slaughter whole villages? You can execute women and children!” she snapped. “A monster who can slice the limbs off the relatives of lawbreakers, just to send a message, can’t wear someone else’s shirt? To hell with your Law, Protector.”

  Ashok couldn’t believe his ears. In his world, no one openly disparaged the Law. In his mind’s eye he saw her severed head bouncing across the deck and into the river, but his mission required him to keep his anger in check, so he did. Thera remained there, glaring at him, strangely defiant.

  “Thera, stop,” Keta implored. “There’s no need—”

  “It is fine.” Ashok took a deep breath. This was so hard. She had no idea how thankful she should be that he always followed orders. When it came to punishment, Omand was an artist. It wasn’t just the big things, but the indignity of the simple. “Thank you for the clothing.”

  Thera stomped off without another word.

  Ashok watched her go. Keta looked like he wanted to say something, perhaps make up some excuses, but he refrained, which was a good thing right then.

  “What’s her purpose here?” Ashok asked.

  “She keeps me safe.”

  “Since she tempts me to kill all of you, she’s very bad at it.”

  * * *

  The city of Apura was the last Vadal holding before entering Thao lands. Borders shifted as the houses rose and fell in power, constantly struggling for land and resources. Before the Thao had claimed the hills to the south, the violent Somsak had ruled the region, and many battles had been fought against Vadal over ownership of Red Lake. The huge lake had earned its name centuries ago after a terrible raid had turned into a slaughter through the city and the Somsak had hurled thousands of corpses into the lake. It was said that they had spilled so much blood in the water that it had attracted demons all the way from the sea.

  There could be no doubt that Bidaya’s messy end and the shocking revelation that their bearer was an untouchable had weakened his old house, but for now Vadal remained stronger than their southern neighbor. However, seeing how tense the locals were indicated that something was going on. The soldiers patrolling the docks were nervous and numerous, as if they expected a raid at any time.

  Ashok hadn’t been keeping up on current events. Spending a year in prison had that effect on a man. He watched a squad of gray-clad soldiers jog down the cobbled street. They were wearing all their armor, but with none of the frivolous ornamentation typical of the warrior caste in peacetime. Their packs were heavy, as if they were expecting to be cut off from resupply and would have to make a go of it on their own for a long time. House Thao wasn’t normally very aggressive, but Sarnobat and Vokkan were, and it wouldn’t surprise him to see the poorer house try to take territory while Vadal was distracted.

  “It smells like there’s house war brewing. I suspect there are troops massing on the other side of the border,” Ashok warned Keta as the two of them walked along the wooden planking of the river docks. “We should find out before trying to crossing into the hill country.”

  “Thera knows who to ask. As a Keeper of Names, I’m supposed to be far beyond petty
partisan politics.” Keta sniffed.

  “Don’t start putting on airs. If I recall the history I was allowed to learn, wasn’t the old priesthood cast down because they turned to evil and made asses of themselves?”

  “Something like that. Pride leads to wickedness, even for those who start with the best intentions,” Keta said pointedly. “But I was trying to make a joke. Come. Sit, we’ll wait for her here.” Ashok put down the box concealing Angruvadal, and the two of them sat in the shade of some ragged tarps, killing time until Thera returned with their fraudulent papers.

  Apura was an old city, but it was a clean and orderly one. Since the fall of the Somsak it had become a bustling hub of trade. It was predominately a worker city, devoted to traffic and business, so it was crowded, loud, and busy. Most of the city’s decoration came in the form of garish painted advertisements for goods and services. The two of them watched as hundreds of casteless moved cargo back and forth.

  “I never understood raids,” Keta said after a few minutes had passed. “You people are always attacking each other. The untouchables usually remain beneath notice. Their masters change, but the day to day misery of life goes on. I don’t know why you bother.”

  “I suppose the warriors need something to do, but there are rules. The Law sets limits on the frequency and numbers involved. A house war is different. It is total war without constraint. Nothing is held back. If gains are to be made, then they must happen before the Capitol becomes involved. If Vadal is seen as weak or distracted, it wouldn’t surprise me to see Thao try to claim this lake.” Ashok waved his hand toward the multitude of barrels and crates being loaded and unloaded. “Then all the taxes on these goods would fill Thao coffers instead of Vadal’s. You only risk an unapproved war if the rewards are greater than the potential sanctions.”

  “Sanctions?”

  “Protectors…No one breaks up a fight quite like my old Order.”

  “The firsters and their rules, even rules about murdering each other and stealing their land, well, as long as everyone remains polite about it then, by all means, carry on.”

  Ashok was weary of killing his peers, especially when he didn’t see a point to it. “We’ll be careful. I’ve no doubt I could destroy a small raiding party, but you asked me to keep a low profile. I don’t think you want me to cut my way through a legion.”

  “That’s very considerate of you, but according to what I’ve heard since we’ve landed there haven’t been any raids. Yes, Ashok, even the casteless can pay attention to politics when those politics mean their huts might get burned down.” Keta gave a small nod toward where several soldiers were walking along the planks, examining the laborers. “I think all those extra patrols are looking for you.”

  With his hair long and unkempt and his beard grown out, it was doubtful anyone would recognize him. The only people who knew him well enough like that to give a good description would be Jagdish and the Cold Stream guards. “They’ll have no luck with me looking like any other casteless scum.”

  Keta snorted. “Yes, because the casteless have such a problem being heavy with muscle from all that extra meat they’ve eaten over the years. You call yourself casteless, but you don’t carry yourself like one. Considering your early years were spent as malnourished as mine, I’m amazed you’re so tall.”

  “Yes. I am bursting with good fortune.” Ashok continued studying the patrol until one of the warriors noticed the attention.

  “Don’t look directly at them! Are you trying to get caught? Casteless keep their eyes down when their betters are around.”

  It was difficult, but Ashok did so. One of the basic principles of combat was to always be aware of your surroundings. It was hard to imagine going through life staring at his feet all day. But perhaps it was for the best, because if the casteless got in the habit of looking around they might see something they wanted.

  “Great. You got his attention,” Keta whispered. Only a few steps away, Angruvadal was waiting for him inside a crate. It would be so easy to take it up and teach those warriors that he could stare at whatever he damned well felt like, but that was only the bitterness talking. The Law-abiding didn’t deserve his wrath. “Look busy. Help me move these boxes.”

  Ashok turned from his sword and effortlessly hoisted up a crate full of ore.

  “Act like that’s hard, damn it. Malnourished casteless aren’t supposed to have super strength!” Keta hissed. They went to work. Hopefully the actual owner wouldn’t come across them messing with his property. The observant soldier watched them for a bit, until he was satisfied their guilty appearance was due to them being caught in a moment of sloth and not something more nefarious. The two of them kept moving boxes, pointlessly shrinking one pile and growing another, until the patrol moved on out of sight.

  “Couldn’t you have used your magic to hide us from sight, like the first time we met?”

  “I’m no wizard. I just hired one to sneak me into the prison so I could see you.” Keta wiped his brow and sat on the box he’d just moved.

  “Oh…” Unlike many of his former brothers Ashok had never had the gift for sensing if someone possessed magic or not. “You are even less capable than I suspected then.”

  “Deceit doesn’t come naturally to you, does it, Ashok?”

  He pulled up a crate next to the madman. “I never saw the point.”

  The barge they had arrived on had left as soon as its new cargo had been loaded. Ashok had expressed concern that the casteless aboard might talk. After all, when he’d been enforcing the Law he’d never had a lack of informants willing to sell their loyalty for a handful of notes, but Keta had assured him they wouldn’t speak. The Keeper had far more faith in the strength of casteless’ tongues than Ashok did. Despite Keta’s assurances to the contrary, he couldn’t help but notice that many of the casteless were looking their way, as if they’d been recognized.

  “I think your crew might have talked. You should have let me silence them.”

  “There was no need,” Keta said. “They’re all faithful believers.”

  “I’ve dealt with plenty of your faithful over the years. I’ve not been impressed.”

  “Oh, but you will be. Wait until we get to Akershan and you see the great and glorious future which is being constructed there. We’ve never been organized before. Things are changing. Trust me, those pole men won’t tell anyone about you now, because in their hearts they believe that someday they’ll be able to tell their children and grandchildren about how they once helped the great Ashok.”

  “Yes, I can imagine.” Ashok shook his head. “Gather ‘round children so I can tell you about how I helped a horrible criminal escape justice.”

  “Your existence gives them hope.”

  “Hope stirs them up to pointless rebellion, so they can die futile deaths.”

  Keta shrugged. “They’ve lived futile lives. What is some death in exchange for freedom? It is mankind’s natural inclination to desire freedom, and the tyrant’s natural inclination to control them. Your very existence gives hope to people who have had none. In you, they see someone born just like them, a non-person, but you took up the strongest magic in the world and ruled the highest levels of the Capitol.”

  “I took nothing. The sword picked me. And I didn’t rule anything. I served. I had a place in the Law, just like every man should.” That place was gone now. Now he was nothing. Just like the casteless.

  “That’s not how they see it. If you could rise up and do so much, why not them too? Why should they have nothing, just because of the status of their birth? You have demonstrated that they can achieve greatness, that they can be whole men too. Together, you, me, and the prophet, we will restore all that has been forgotten. We’ve been waiting a long time for you.”

  “Oceans, Keeper. Will you listen to yourself? That’s nonsense. I’m the unfortunate byproduct of a lie, nothing more. Nobody’s been waiting for me.”

  “The Forgotten spoke through our prophet and said that a great
general would rise, strong as Ramrowan of old, to save our people from evil, build an army, and lead us to reclaim our birthright. He would be descended from the Sons and wielding a sword of black steel. That’s why I sought you out in prison. I had to see for myself.”

  “You traveled a long way for nothing.”

  “No!” Keta shook his head vigorously. “The Voice of the Forgotten told me how I would know when I’d found the right man. When the rest of the vision is fulfilled, I’ll know for certain, and then I can take you to the prophet.”

  The foolish priest just wanted someone with an ancestor blade to join their rebellion. Ashok was certain any bearer would have done. “So what else must I do in order to satisfy this vision? I’d prefer to just get it over with.”

  “Well, keep in mind the Voice can be a bit cryptic, because the visions only come when the prophet has fallen into a dream state, a trance if you will, where the gods take hold and speak through what the prophet experiences. So sometimes the prophecies may sound strange, but they always work out somehow. On this particular revelation…” Keta looked at his sandals, awkwardly trying to phrase it. “Well…”

  “Spit it out.”

  The Keeper of Names sighed, obviously aware that Ashok wouldn’t believe him. “We will know for certain who the Forgotten’s chosen general is when the prophet and I witness him willingly sacrifice his life to protect the innocent, while fighting a mighty battle against a demon in the body of a man atop a bridge made of crystal.”

  Ashok laughed. “Let me amend my earlier statement. No one sane has been waiting for me.”

  Keta grew red in the face. “Ratul was.”

  That took him off guard. “What do you know about Ratul?”

  It seemed Keta regretted saying that name. “I meant to tell you eventually. He was my teacher, the first who exposed me to the truth. It wasn’t until later on that I learned what a great man he was. I know the Protectors like to pretend Ratul never existed.”

  How had Keta met him? Ratul was one of those who had a powerful gift for magic, but eventually it had driven him mad. He’d turned against all that was right and good and actively fought against the Law. Ratul had abandoned his obligation and fled, ranting about gods. The Capitol had simply been told that he’d gone missing and was assumed to be dead. It was a common enough fate for Protectors, and it had spared them the public embarrassment of having one of their leaders turn fanatic. “We don’t like to speak about Lord Protector Ratul.”