by Ben Cassidy
There was a stairway right in front of Kara. One flight led up to the second story, the other led down.
Harnathu came right at her. The intense heat from his mouth was like a hundred furnaces. The wooden floor of the trading post blackened and scorched from the searing waves.
There was no time to shoot, no time even to notch another arrow.
Kara got to the top of the staircase and jumped.
Harnathu smashed into the top of the staircase. One of his super-heated paws tore through the upwards flight of steps. He bellowed in pure rage and fury.
Kara’s side slammed hard into the steps. She rolled to the bottom.
Boards and pieces of wood showered down all around her. Most were charred and blackened from heat.
Kara could taste blood in her mouth. She was sick and dizzy. Her side throbbed from where she had hit the hard edge of the steps. She looked back up the staircase.
Harnathu was in a fit. He clawed and bit wildly at the narrow staircase, trying to find some way to get down at her. Each massive swipe of his clawed paws tore huge chunks of wood and plaster out of the ceiling and staircase.
Kara wobbled to her feet and lifted her bow.
Pain ignited in her upper right leg.
She gave a cry and almost fell. Instead she slammed hard into the wall beside her. Taking the weight off her leg, she glanced down.
A great splinter of wood jutted out of her leg, just above her knee. It was more than six inches long. Blood was already soaking her trouser leg.
“Foolish girl,” Harnathu growled. He stared down at her, his fiery eyes filled with rancor. “You seek to defy me? I will destroy you.”
Kara reached for an arrow.
Harnathu gave a mighty sweep of his arm.
The upper staircase and most of the ceiling came down with a crash.
Kara threw herself back against the doorway behind her, sheltering as best she could.
A mountain of debris and dust poured down onto the staircase, blocking Harnathu from sight. Dirt and sawdust choked the air, billowing out and filling the lower room.
Kara dropped the arrow, coughing in the clouds of dust. She reached a hand down for the massive splinter of wood, then pulled hard.
She didn’t scream, though she did almost pass out. The room spun at least twice before she felt the sharp wood come out of her leg. Then she collapsed onto the floor.
Yelling came from behind her, out on the street. The smell of smoke and plaster dust was heavy in the air.
Kara tore the edge of her cloak, then wrapped the cloth as hard as she could around her leg. It was a poor bandage at best, but it might staunch some of the flow of blood. She reached for her bow and glanced behind her.
Through the yellowish clouds of dirt and dust that filled the room she could just make out a door that led out onto another street. It looked like a back entrance of some kind.
Kara took another breath, preparing herself for the pain, then hobbled over to the door. She pushed out onto the street.
The street sloped steeply downhill.
Worse, there were Jombards, at least twenty of them, on the other side of the street.
They were hooting and hollering, smashing apart the front of a store and dragging the contents outside onto the mud-spattered boardwalk. Already several had discovered whiskey and beer bottles. Others were tearing apart a side of smoked bacon.
Kara took a cautious step back towards the back door of the store. She didn’t feel so courageous now with her leg on fire and her side black and bruised.
One of the Jombards looked up and spotted her. He dropped the parasol he had been holding and pointed directly at her with a shout.
Kara notched an arrow to the bow with trembling fingers.
More Jombards turned and saw her. Almost half of the group leapt up and began to run towards her.
She couldn’t go back. The stairway leading back up to the trade store was a disaster. Nor could she outrun them with her injured leg.
Kara tripped backwards and raised her bow.
The lead Jombard gave a warbling shout. He raised a javelin to throw.
Kara bent back the string. She didn’t have time to shoot more than once or twice before the Jombards reached her. Not if—
The top half of the trade store ripped apart in a thunderous storm of broken wood.
The flying debris rained out across the street, pummeling the oncoming Jombards with splinters, nails, and glass. It tore into the mud and mire of the street, chopping it into little explosions.
Kara jerked back with a cry, covering her face with her arms.
Harnathu slammed down into the middle of the street with the force of a hurricane, crushing half a dozen of the Jombards under his enormous bulk. Hissing mud and water exploded out onto the surrounding buildings. Steam rose from his super-heated metal form.
The Jombards gave frightened yelps and retreated.
Harnathu flattened three of them as they ran, as casually as a person brushing a spider from their sleeve.
Kara still had the arrow notched to her bow. She lifted it again as she moved backwards, and bent back the string to her ear.
Harnathu whirled around. He saw her and grinned. “There you are.”
Kara swallowed. Her injured leg was shaking and pounding with pain. She could feel warm blood on her lower trousers.
Harnathu started forward.
Kara fired.
The shaft zinged through the air. It struck Harnathu in his upper right chest.
The Seteru lurched backwards with a roar that all but deafened Kara. More molten ichor dribbled from the arrow wound.
Harnathu looked down at Kara and smiled. “You’ll have to do better than that, little girl.”
Kara stumbled back, feeling a rising panic.
She was hurting Harnathu, but she couldn’t seem to kill him, not even with the blessed arrows that somehow seemed to cut through his metal skin. Perhaps a head shot—?
Kara reached for another arrow.
Harnathu lashed an arm forward.
The clawed paw cut through the entire side of the trade store, gouging out most of the wall and boardwalk.
Kara saw the boards and debris fly up to meet her, along with gleaming claws and an intense wave of heat.
Then she saw darkness, splotches of color, and the ground spinning around and around.
Dizzy, she was dizzy. She could taste mud, sawdust, and blood all at once. Her right leg was almost totally numb. Her whole face was wet. No, it was lying in something wet. Her ears rang.
Kara raised her head, blinking and trying to fight the lances of pain that came from almost every part of her body.
She was in the middle of the street, half-covered in fragments and rubble from the ruined store and boardwalk.
Kara groaned, pushing a large section of plywood off her. Her bow was in the mud just a few feet away.
Harnathu loomed above her. Liquid metal streamed from his puncture wounds, burning the ground black where they fell. He flexed the claws on his paws. “Death will come to you, girl. And then it will come to the nations of the west. I will drown them in fire and blood.”
Kara snatched her bow and struggled to her feet. Between the dizziness and the severe pain in her leg, she almost fell down again. She could feel the heat from Harnathu’s metal skin burning her face.
Harnathu looked down at her, his eyes mocking and vile. The Soulbinder jangled around his neck, the red darkness of the gem sucking in the light around it in a way that defied reason.
The Soulbinder.
Kara reached for an arrow. To her horror, she realized that her quiver had spilled when she had been sent flying.
Harnathu stepped forward. Wooden boards exploded into flame and embers under his foot. “Come here, little one. I will make your end quick.”
Kara grabbed desperately into her empty quiver. Her fingers found something.
An arrow. One single arrow that somehow managed not to fall out.
Harnathu reached forward a clawed hand. The heat that radiated from his body became more intense than the open door of an oven.
Kara pulled the arrow out and notched it.
Harnathu’s nostrils flared. He raised his fist with a growl.
The shot was a hard one for the most skilled marksman to make. A tiny target, dangling and dancing as the creature moved, nearly twenty feet off the ground.
Kara pulled back the string and fired. She didn’t bother to aim. There wasn’t time. She simply felt the shot.
And prayed.
Harnathu’s fist began to come down. He roared.
The arrow slammed into the center of the Soulbinder. The red crystal shattered into pieces. The shaft buried itself deep into the Seteru’s metal skin.
Harnathu froze, his arm still half descended. “No,” he said in a strangled voice. “It’s not possible.”
Kara limped backwards. She instinctively reached for another arrow. Her hand met nothing but empty quiver.
“No,” Harnathu wailed.
Kara blinked, wiping the mud and blood out of her eyes.
Harnathu was changing.
Steam billowed from his form, as if someone had dumped an ocean of water on him. His body was turning slowly black and rigid. The lines and waves of heat were vanishing.
Kara tripped back onto the boardwalk behind her. She felt her back hit the wall of the building. She stared at the Seteru in front of her, mesmerized.
Harnathu’s eyes went cold and dark. His metal, iron body was frozen in place. It tottered for a moment, then pitched forward and slammed into the mud of the street. Then it lay still.
Kara continued to stare in disbelief.
No more heat. No more life. It looked like a metal statue, dead and lifeless, toppled over in the middle of the town.
Kara limped down the boardwalk. She was exhausted. Her right leg stabbed with pain at each step. A dozen bruises and cuts over her face and body seemed to suddenly sting and hurt all at once.
Halfway down the boardwalk her leg gave out and she crumpled to the wooden boards. Despite her best effort, she couldn’t pull herself up again.
That was when she heard the war cries.
She twisted her head to the right, behind her to the street.
Three Jombards, their faces twisted in anger and weapons in their hands, came right at her.
There was nothing she could do. Her dagger was gone, and there were no arrows for her bow. It was ironic. After all that, she was going to die here, like this.
Kara pushed herself up on trembling arms, but collapsed back down again.
The first Jombard reached the boardwalk. He gave a satisfied smile and lifted his war axe to smash in Kara’s skull.
Kara watched him with bleary eyes. She had saved Kendril. Just like her dream. That was all that—
A throwing dagger hurtled from the right. It caught the first Jombard in the throat.
The barbarian went down, twitching and gushing blood.
The other two Jombards turned, surprised.
Joseph vaulted over the railing of the boardwalk and attacked. His rapier gleamed bright as he swung it at the two Jombards.
Kara struggled to keep her eyes open. She felt a fog descending on her body. Suddenly the boardwalk felt strangely comfortable.
Seconds later two strong hands grabbed her and lifted her up. Kara found herself looking up into Joseph’s bearded face.
“Kara?” He ran a hand down her face. “Are you all right? You’re bleeding.”
She managed to smile. “I’m fine, Joseph. It’s mostly my leg.” She gave a heavy blink. Joseph’s arms seemed incredibly strong wrapped around her. “Kendril? Did you—?”
Joseph nodded. “He’s safe. We got him down to the ship. The town’s not safe, though. We have to go now.” He glanced back at the lifeless husk of Harnathu in the middle of the street. “I can’t believe what you did. We’ll have to start calling you Kara Demonbane now.”
Kara gave a weak smile. “Just Kara is...is...”
Her world turned into a hazy purplish haze, then faded to black.
Kara woke to the gentle rocking of a ship and the sound of water swishing past the hull. She lay still for several minutes, her body protesting at the return to consciousness.
Her whole body hurt. But she could feel a proper bandage around her leg, as well as smaller ones on her arm and head. The sweet smell of Joseph’s healing herbs filled the air.
Joseph had seen to her wounds. Kara knew from long experience that they were as good as healed already.
“Are you awake?” It was Joseph’s voice, right next to her and in a whisper.
“Yes.” Kara opened her eyes, and saw that she was lying in the hold of a large ship. Joseph sat beside her. “Are—” She licked her lips, her mouth strangely dry. “Are we at sea?”
Joseph nodded. “Cleared the harbor about an hour ago.” He looked up at the inside of the ship. “It’s a grain ship, though most of the grain is back at the bottom of Dancing Harbor now. They dumped it to make room for more passengers.”
Kara moved one of her arms. It felt stiff and sore. “Where’s Kendril?”
“Safe and onboard,” Joseph said. “Along with that miserable donkey of his. He was still unconscious the last time I checked on him.” He caught Kara’s anxious look. “Don’t worry about him, Kara. I used enough healing herbs to heal his injury swiftly, and also prevent infection. He’ll be fine.”
Kara reached her hand over and found Joseph’s hand. “Thank you,” she said with a cough. “For coming back for me.”
Joseph smirked. “It’s me, Kara. I would have come back for you even if it meant cutting through the whole Jombard army.”
Kara closed her eyes and smiled. “Then you’re an idiot, Joseph.”
The man smiled. “Guilty as charged.” His face grew more somber. “Redemption was burning when we last saw it. It’s sad, really. I doubt that Jothland will be colonized again for years. Maybe never. The barbarians have pushed us out for good.”
Kara squeezed his hand. “At least we’re safe,” she murmured.
Joseph nodded. “With Harnathu gone, I doubt it will be long before those different tribes are back to battling each other.”
“Fangs in the east,” Kara said suddenly. She opened her eyes.
Joseph raised an eyebrow. “Pardon?”
“Fangs in the east.” She looked up at him. “In the oracle.”
Joseph whistled softly. “Harnathu.” He looked down sharply at Kara. “Do you think—?”
Kara gave a short nod. “I do. The shadow in the south. The fire in the west.” She took a deep breath. “Somehow I think the worst is still ahead of us.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” Joseph squeezed her hand. “But for today, we’re together again. All of us.”
“Except for Maklavir,” Kara said in a small voice.
Joseph didn’t answer. He looked away. “Get some sleep,” he said softly.
He got up and moved down the center of the hold.
“Wind’s gone bad,” Beckett said. He stood on the deck, staring towards the north. Wind tugged at his clothes and twirled the tail of his coonskin cap.
Joseph walked over across the pitching deck, his stomach starting to feel its old queasiness once again. “What does that mean?”
Beckett nodded towards the line of black clouds that were growing in the north. “Take a look yourself. Storm’s a brewing.”
Joseph frowned as he pulled his hat down against the wind. “That can’t be good.”
“No,” Beckett said. “It can’t. We’re not out of it yet, I’m afraid. Best tell your friends to prepare for a spot of rough seas.”
Joseph felt his stomach lurch at the thought. “Wonderful.” He turned to go.
“The General,” Beckett said quickly. He glanced north as lightning flashed in the clouds. “How is he doing?”
Joseph gave a sad smile. “Fine. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Kendril, it’s
that he has a hearty constitution.” He pulled up the collar of his greatcoat against a sudden drizzle of rain. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s up on his feet in a few days.”
Beckett nodded and gave a relieved smile. “Good to hear, sir. After all that’s happened—” He gave an awkward shrug. “Well, let’s just say it would be a shame if we lost him now.”
Kendril opened his eyes.
He felt pain, but he was expecting that. He also had the cotton-headed feel of a slight fever. From what little he could piece together about what had happened to him recently, that didn’t surprise him either.
At least he wasn’t dead, and Bronwyn was nowhere in sight.
The floor underneath him seemed to be tilting violently, reeling and rolling with jarring crashes that shook everything. Wind was howling, sounding like all the demons of the Void crying out at once.
A ship. He was on a ship.
Kendril closed his eyes again, biting back the pain that pulsed from his chest wound. Some hero he had turned out to be. He was no savior of Redemption. And now he was running away like a coward. A dog with his tail between his legs.
The ship jolted violently. The sound of water raging over the deck echoed through the hold. Whatever was going on outside, it must truly be a nightmare of a storm.
Somehow, it seemed appropriate.
“You were my friend.”
Kendril opened his eyes. He rolled over with a groan and peered into the darkness.
It was Atherton. The man stood leaning against the nearby bulkhead, staring down at Kendril in disgust.
Kendril swallowed. “You’re...dead,” he managed.
“You were my friend, and you betrayed me,” Atherton said again. “You killed the woman I loved.”
Kendril pushed himself up to a sitting position, gritting his teeth against the sharp pain. “She was...my wife,” he gasped.
“Maybe,” said Atherton. “But you didn’t love her, did you? You ignored her, neglected her, treated her like a painting to be hung on the wall of that cursed manor house of yours.” He shook his head. “And you had the temerity to call yourself Lord Ravenbrook again.” Atherton turned and walked away.
“Atherton,” said Kendril, “wait.” He got up to his feet, staggering and almost falling again. “Wait.”
