by Ben Cassidy
Harnathu bunched his clawed hands into fists and raised them towards the sky, then slammed them down into the ground in front of him.
A wall of flame exploded outwards from Harnathu’s hands in an expanding ring, sweeping across the mud and puddle-strewn ground.
Beckett grabbed Kara around the waist even as she was readying her bow. He yanked her back behind the corner of the building.
Colonel Root and Captain Markus both ducked into a nearby doorway.
Olan and the other two Ghostwalkers ran for the corner of the street.
And then the fire swept in.
The town was practically deserted. The few people that Joseph saw were running hard for the sheltered causeway that led down to the beach and the docks.
So this was Redemption. How long had Joseph been here? Less than twelve hours? So much for that. Something told him he wasn’t going to be coming back anytime soon.
Assuming, of course, that he managed to make it out of here alive.
Joseph turned the corner of one of the streets, skidding in the mire.
The large town stables were directly ahead.
Joseph caught his breath, then jogged towards the building. He could only hope that Kendril’s blasted mule was there.
Why was he even doing this? Once again, it was Joseph the errand boy to the rescue. Joseph the man who would follow the woman he loved halfway across the known world just to hear her tell him that she didn’t know how she felt about him.
Tuldor’s beard, why did he even care about this stupid animal, anyways?
Joseph reached the entrance to the stables. Unsurprisingly, there were no signs of any stable hands or guards. He made his way back into the stalls. Most of them were empty. Joseph cupped his hands to his mouth. “Simon!”
There was a braying sound towards the back. A familiar gray head poked out of one of the stalls.
“We’re leaving, you big brute,” Joseph shouted. “Come on.”
The mule brayed again, then backed out of sight.
“Talin’s ashes,” Joseph spat out. “I don’t have time for this.” He strode down the center of the stalls, kicking up hay and straw as he went. “The town’s coming apart out there, you stupid beast. Now come on!”
The mule pushed the tip of his muzzle out, then showed his teeth.
Joseph stopped in his tracks. “Great Eru. I am not going to take that from you.” He stopped, and gave a deep sigh. “Great,” he said under his breath, “now I’m having conversations with a dumb animal.”
Simon stuck his head out again and gave Joseph a plaintive look.
“It’s like this,” Joseph said angrily. “Your precious master has been shot and is a hair’s breadth from death. There’s an army of Jombards just outside of town, and they’re going to come crashing in here to kill everything in sight, if they haven’t already. If you don’t come with me then you’ll be left behind. Do you want to be left behind?”
Simon looked down miserably at the floor .His ears drooped onto his head.
Joseph spread his arms. “I’m here, aren’t I? I came back for you, even though I’m risking my life to do it, and even though you’re just a dumb mule.”
Simon lifted his head and brayed.
“Well you are,” Joseph said irritably. He turned and leaned back against one of the stalls, a defeated look on his face. “And why am I here? Because I’m a sap, that’s why.” He gave the mule a forlorn look. “I’m always doing what’s right, even when it costs me. Like helping a woman who apparently feels nothing for me. And pulling a bullet out of a man I swore I could never forgive. And I’m tired of it, Simon. What has any of this gotten me?”
Simon whimpered. He lashed his tail in an understanding fashion.
“Maybe it’s time I started thinking of myself,” Joseph said. He stared down at the ground, and shook his head with a self-deprecating scowl. “It’s been so long I don’t even know what I want anymore.”
Simon trudged over. He pushed his muzzle into Joseph’s side.
Joseph reached out and rubbed the creature’s muzzle. “I can see why Kendril talks to you all the time. It’s strangely...comforting.”
Simon sniffed down by Joseph’s greatcoat pocket.
Joseph sighed. “Oh come on. I was saving that.”
Simon looked up at him with big eyes and swept his tail again.
“Fine.” Joseph dug a hand into his pocket. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.” He pulled out a bruised apple, and handed it over to the beast.
Simon grabbed it in his teeth and chewed it noisily.
“There I go again,” Joseph sighed. “I’m always the nice guy, Simon. And nice guys finish last, don’t they?” He scratched the beast’s muzzle. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
The buildings were burning.
Flames leapt and crackled up their sides, licking the wood and engulfing the boardwalk.
Screams and howls of pain sounded from the dragoons and militiamen who had been unable to get out of the way of the wave of fire. Several were on fire, groping and thrashing about as they burned to death.
Many others were already dead.
Harnathu threw back his smoking head and gave a bestial roar. The sound shook the ground itself.
With whooping yells, Jombards began to pour through the shattered remains of the gate.
“Fall back!” Colonel Root yelled over the din. “Everyone fall back to the causeway!”
Kara took a deep breath, then whipped around the corner. She bent back her bow, the arrow still notched at the string. The familiar stab of pain came in the middle of her chest, causing her eyes to water. She ignored it, aiming down the arrow shaft.
“Are you crazy, lass?” Beckett said in alarm. He started towards her. “Get back to—”
She let go of the string.
The arrow hissed out through the smoke-filled air, straight toward Harnathu’s head. It slammed into his metal skin and splintered apart.
The Seteru didn’t even wince. He stepped forward and swung one of his massive claws at a group of fleeing dragoons.
The men were cut apart by the monster’s slashing claws.
Beckett tackled Kara around the waist and physically dragged her back behind cover.
“Get off—” Kara said, squirming against his grip.
Dragoons and militiamen went running down the streets, shouting and cursing as they went.
Kara fit another arrow to her string.
“We have to go!” Beckett yelled. He pulled Kara back from the corner. “Come on, lass!”
Kara glanced back at him. “Don’t—”
The building in front of them disintegrated.
The pieces of wood exploded out into the muddy street, falling like rain in the puddles and mire.
Beckett and Kara stumbled back together, staring up in complete terror.
Harnathu towered above them, his metal body glowing with intense heat. He swung his head around and looked directly at the two of them.
“Now,” he said in a terrible voice that seemed to echo through their skulls, “you die.”
Chapter 22
The docks and beach were almost deserted. The crowd of refugees, the ships that had been harbored here the night before...almost all were gone. It had been a mass exodus, a retreat on the morning tide.
Joseph couldn’t really blame any of those who had fled. Frankly, he was astounded that any ships were still left in the harbor at all. With the Jombards threatening the town itself, it was amazing that any of the captains would have the courage to stay behind. And yet some had.
Simon snorted uneasily and sniffed the air, twisting his ears about as they strode over the beach.
Joseph patted him soothingly on the flank.
The beach and docks were covered with discarded items of all sorts. Furniture, chests, clothing, broken bottles. Even weapons. There was little doubt that the retreat that had occurred here earlier this morning had been panicked and chaotic.
The largest of the s
hips still left in the harbor was the Arbelan grain ship. It was pulled up to the longest and widest of the docks.
Joseph hurried his step, pulling Simon along behind him. He got onto the dock and moved down towards the gangplanks.
A dragoon wearing a sergeant’s insignia came towards him, his carbine on his shoulder. “Just you?”
Joseph gestured back to the mule. “I have an animal, if there’s room.”
The dragoon scowled. “Not much room in the ship’s stalls, especially for a mule.”
“It’s Lord Ravenbrook’s mule,” said Joseph, searching for a moment to remember Kendril’s name. “If that makes a difference.”
The sergeant sighed. “We’ll see if we can make room.”
Joseph looked up at the large vessel. “I’m surprised this ship is still here.”
“The regiment’s taken temporary possession of it,” the sergeant responded. He took Simon’s bridle and handed it off to a young sailor. “We’re taking off the wounded and the last of the refugees.” He lowered his voice. “After these ships leave the harbor, there’s no telling when the next convoy out could be.”
Joseph gave a sober nod, his eyes lingering on the grain ship. The point was clear. This ship was the last line of escape for the foreseeable future.
“If you need to get on, sir, I suggest you do it now,” the sergeant said with a jerk of his thumb. “Can’t promise a comfy ride. But a crowded trip will be better than staying here with the Jombards.”
Joseph nodded. He had an uneasy feeling he couldn’t quite shake. He glanced up at the railing of the grain ship. “I should check on Lord Ravenbrook. Make sure his stitches are holding.”
The sergeant gave a confused look. “Lord Ravenbrook? The militia general?”
Joseph gave the man a sharp glance. “Yes. I had two militiamen bring him down here earlier.”
There was a fateful pause.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the sergeant said. “He never came this way.”
Olan came out of nowhere, his sword held in both hands. He dashed between the monstrous form of Harnathu and Beckett and Kara.
Kara reached for another arrow.
“Run!” Olan screamed over his shoulder.
Kara started to fit the arrow to her bow.
Beckett grabbed her and pulled her towards a nearby alley.
“Stop—” Kara gasped. The arrow fell from her hand.
Beckett picked her up off the ground as if she had been a child, still dragging her towards the alley.
Olan turned back to face Harnathu. “Go back to the Void, abomination!”
Harnathu turned his head towards Olan. He looked down at the Ghostwalker like a lion looking at an ant. “You are not the Demonbane,” he growled.
“Give me thirty seconds,” Olan snarled. He leapt forward, his sword flashing as he swung it at the creature with both hands.
Harnathu rose with an earth-shattering roar, steel teeth and claws bared.
And then Kara and Beckett were in the safety of the alley.
“Put me down—” Kara squealed.
Beckett didn’t answer. He charged down the narrow alley like a bull, pounding through foul-smelling mud and brackish puddles.
Another ear-splitting roar echoed down the alley. A wave of heat overtook the pair, as if the air around them had been suddenly cooked.
They crashed out into the next street over. Panting, Beckett put Kara back down on her feet.
Gunfire and yelling filled the streets. Somewhere came the sound of glass breaking, along with the shouts and war cries of the Jombards. Smoke blossomed up into the sky from the burning buildings like a giant black wall.
Beckett drew his sword, glancing back down the alley. “We’ve got to move, lass,” he said, still breathing hard. “Redemption is lost.”
Kara fumbled with her bow, fitting another arrow to the string. Her cheeks burned with hurt pride. To be carried, of all things—
A group of dragoons rushed by. One or two stopped to shoot back behind them at the oncoming Jombards. Most had thrown their weapons down or dropped them in their headlong flight.
Colonel Root appeared, waving his sword. “Fall back to the causeway!” he shouted. “All men fall back!”
Harnathu’s roar tore through the air again, loud and filled with fury.
Kara nodded. She didn’t want to imagine what had happened to Olan. “Alright,” she said after a second’s hesitation. “Let’s get to the docks.”
“Kendril?”
The world slowly swam into focus. Something like a gray mist seemed to lift from Kendril’s vision. He felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his side, like a hot knife being twisted. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry.
“Come on, Kendril, I don’t have all day. And I really think you should be awake for this.”
That voice.
Kendril opened his eyes, fighting back a groan of pain. He blinked, trying to clear the fog.
He saw sky above him, and a line of rooftops. He could feel the cold, hard jutting of wooden planks in his back.
“You know,” came the woman’s voice again, “it’s funny how often we get into this situation. You wounded, me with the power to end your life. It’s getting to be a regular occurrence.”
Kendril twisted his head, feeling the red-hot pain in his chest. He opened his cracked lips, trying to speak. “B-Bronwyn.”
She sat against the railing of the boardwalk, a dagger in her hand. Her dark hair flowed down over the shoulders of her robe. She gave him an understanding smile. “Good morning, Kendril. Good to see you again. It’s been forever, hasn’t it?”
Kendril flicked his eyes to the right and left, trying not to lose consciousness again.
He was on a side street of Redemption, lying on the boardwalk. The bodies of two dead militiamen lay nearby.
Bronwyn noticed his gaze. “Oh, them.” She twisted the dagger around in her hand with a sigh. “Really, Kendril, you need to get better soldiers. They all seem to fall for the same trick.” She cupped her hands around her face. “Oh, please, I’m a helpless female in need of a strong man! Someone protect me!” She chuckled. “Hardly the cream of the crop you have here.”
Kendril didn’t answer. He reached slowly with his hand to the holster at his belt, wincing at the tearing pain in his chest.
Bronwyn giggled. “Please, Kendril, I’m not stupid. If you had any guns on you, I would have taken them before I woke you up.” She smiled and leaned in. “Sometimes you can be positively insulting.”
Kendril closed his eyes and let his hand fall back down. The pain in his chest was intense. His memory was blurred and fuzzy, but he recalled tackling Kara just as Yvonne had shot—
Shot. He had been shot.
“You know,” Bronwyn continued, “I thought for sure you saw me on the road into Redemption. You looked positively gallant, with all that armor and riding on your horse.” She smiled. “I missed the black cloak, though. I have to say, you look much better with it on again.”
A bellowing roar echoed through the streets of Redemption. It was huge, massive. Not a werewolf....
Kendril opened his eyes, struggling to stay conscious despite the cloud that was over his brain. He glared up at Bronwyn. “What...are you...waiting for?” he managed to say.
The raven-haired woman turned the dagger over in her hand. “Ah, yes. Believe me, Kendril, if it was up to me I would just slit your throat right now. But Harnathu wants you for himself.” She giggled. “He’s going to be so disappointed when he discovers that you can’t even stand up. I think he was expecting some epic battle.”
Kendril took a rattling breath. The pain was intense. “H-Harnathu?”
Bronwyn leaned her head back against the railing. “Oh, right. You missed that part, didn’t you?” She glanced down the street. “All of this, the invasion, the attack on Redemption...it’s been to summon Harnathu. The Great Fang discovered a Soulbinder somewhere in the ruins of the Forbidden City. Goddess only knows where exactly
. He wouldn’t tell me.” She tested the edge of her dagger with her finger. “When the right rituals are performed, and enough people die to power the Soulbinder—” She shrugged. “Well, it enables the Seteru to break into the material world.” She nudged Kendril with her foot. “You remember all this. The same thing happened in Vorten. And now it’s happening here. Harnathu has come.”
Kendril felt his mind reel from the information. He tried to lift himself to a sitting position. Pain exploded across his chest. He dropped back down with a gasp, his body shaking.
Bronwyn clucked her tongue. “The great Demonbane of Vorten? Pathetic. When Harnathu finds you it will be a massacre.”
A gunshot echoed down the street, followed by another, then another.
Bronwyn lifted her head up at the noise. She sheathed her dagger and raised the hood of her robe. “Well, that’s my cue. I should be going before the fighting gets down this way.” She leaned down and gave Kendril a quick kiss on the cheek. “Always fun, Kendril. Sorry you’ll be dead in a few minutes.”
Kendril stared up at her, his teeth clenched together against the pain of the gunshot wound.
Bronwyn smiled one last time, then stood and turned around.
Joseph stood on the boardwalk right behind her, his rapier in his hand. “Hello Bronwyn,” he said. “I’m not sure if you ever got my name. It’s Joseph.”
Kara cried out in pain as she released the string of her bow.
The arrow shot through the air, catching a Jombard right in the chest. He staggered back and collapsed into the mud of the street.
Without pausing Kara whipped another arrow out of her quiver. She tried to ignore the pulsing burn that cut across her chest.
Beckett swung hard with his sword, roaring like a wild animal. Two Jombards went down in front of him, staining the puddles of the street with their blood.
And still more Jombards came, howling and shouting as they ran through the streets of Redemption. The fire that Harnathu had started was spreading quickly, engulfing the eastern section of the town. Black smoke blotted out the sky.
Kara pulled back the string of her bow, fighting back a curse as the pain shot through her upper chest again. She aimed at a Jombard that was running up behind Beckett, a war-club raised high. Then she fired.
