by V. C. Willis
“About that…” I watched as Kayman sank to the ground, holding his head in despair. “I don’t think it’ll be safe to take him with us.”
“No, Fallen Arbor will be looking for the last man standing in the Berserk Brigade. Grave news waits for him.” Valiente whistled, and Colonel started to trot closer. “Let’s get … shit…”
“Basque is following him—” A shiver rolled over me as I looked beyond where the horses were left. “Is that flesheaters or … the Faceless?”
“I don’t know. Both maybe, but are there enough Faceless to make an army battalion?” He swallowed, turning to pluck his blade off the ground. “Get ready. I have no idea what’s going to happen.”
“I have a guess.” A chill snaked up my spine. This better not be another bullshit fairy tale, Old Farmer. I find myself facing them and not in the position to fight. “Kayman!” I roared, grabbing my claymore and tossing his chains to him. “You need to tell me about your father’s cleaver, now.”
Kayman stared bitterly at the chains on the ground, just out of reach from where he sat. “A corrupted gift from Landon.” He pulled himself up, furrowing his brow to see us backing up closer to the yurt. “It had a spell on it, some dark magic. Anyone who was cut and died came back as a flesheater. This wasn’t like the Madness, but similar, one that would force the body to move as long as the heart and head were … the Faceless.” His gaze at last had swiveled to where we stared at the horizon with such intensity.
“I think it was a soul weapon. Destroying it will help, but the spell takes time to undo.” Looking all around, I saw black cloaked figures were moving in on all sides. “I saw a few of them dead on the road. Who went on a rampage picking them off?”
“They weren’t supposed to…” Kayman glared down at the passed out, pale Mythe. “Son of bitch. I suspect Mythe and Betty had a day of it.”
“Well, hope you’re not too attached to your buddy over there.” Valiente shot an angry glare at Kayman. “The Faceless sort of serve as the law on the road. Though they believe in mercy, they show very little of it for those who dare break the peace on the road.”
“Fuck Mythe. Fuck Fallen Arbor.” Kayman spat on Mythe and readied his chains. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not completely on your side either.”
I grunted, watching as the Faceless came closer. Archers downed the last flesheater between us and the unit that moved forward. Only one sat on a horse, their wide brim hat holding a bright red plume, and they wore a plague mask of white and gold.
The Cardinal, leader of the Faceless, he’s the talker. You’ll know’im when you see him, boy. He is the tallest, the only one with gold and a flair of red in his hat. You need to make a deal with them, you deal with him. But I warn you now, I think he’s been walking this earth a long time. Not sure if he’s human, daemonis, or something completely different.
“Put your weapons away.” Recognizing the Cardinal, I sheathed the claymore and smacked their shoulders. “Drop them. Trust me. Then kneel.”
They shot one another a glance and caved to my request. The Cardinal halted his unit and tilted his head as I dropped to one knee.
Valiente scoffed. “But he’s not royalty.”
“On your knee, Valiente,” I growled, pain surging through my body to hold the position.
Kayman followed my posture, and as the unit started forward again, Valiente joined. They came close, and the Faceless spread out and began securing the yurt and assessing the bodies. The Cardinal dismounted and approached until he was at arm’s reach from me. He squatted, and I met his goggled gaze.
Again, a tilt of his head as he took me in before the deep rasping voice whispered, “You are not Ashton.” The statement came with a knowing tone. “So, who are you, imposter?”
“Dante, the little brother.” This man held power and smelled nothing like anyone I had met. You pegged it, old man. This man isn’t a human or daemonis. “I could never be my brother, not to those who knew him personally.”
“What game do you play at, little falcon?” He glanced at the other men and laughed, adding, “And why do you travel with the nightingale and a crow? So strange.”
The naming of birds was strange, but I answered in honest. “I am pretending to be Ashton to draw out Fallen Arbor. If my actions have caused—”
A loud scoff escaped him, and he flicked my forehead. The strength behind it stung. “Falcons can’t be eagles, don’t you know?”
Standing, he flicked a finger at two Faceless and pointed to Mythe. “We only want this man. The rest of you we will escort you to Captiva City. Any chances I can get the name of the Fallen Arbor woman?”
“Betty. That’s all she ever gave us. She serves Landon if that’s of any consolation.” Kayman didn’t hesitate to out his former companion. “I hold no allegiance to anyone.”
“Ah, the crow caws.” The Cardinal stood and started for his horse as they dragged Mythe over. “Landon shouldn’t let his peons meddle in his elder’s affairs. If any of you see him, tell him the Cardinal will not allow Fallen Arbor on the road anymore.”
“Cardinal!” I rose to my feet, my heart racing. This man is stupid strong … but what the hell is he? “Is it true you owe Lord Knight Paul a favor?”
“Ah, yes.” There was a sense of amusement in his voice as he mounted his horse. “But I would imagine the old Owl has found death by now. His kind seem to find it quicker than he ever did though.”
“Y-yes.” Swallowing, I glanced back at Kayman and inhaled deeply. What the hell am I thinking? “Can you take in Kayman to serve the Faceless?” But every fiber and instinct tells me this may help me out in a time of need. My father’s words slammed into me: Dante, never pass an opportunity to protect those in a hopeless situation. Nurturing the weak will only gain you surprising strengths later when allies are hard to come by.
“What?!” shouted Valiente and Kayman.
“You don’t just ask something without discussing this!” Valiente threw out his arms, waving them in disbelief.
“I think I like that idea, to be honest.” Kayman looked around and took in the Faceless, their numbers matching or surpassing any army. “They don’t pick sides, just protect lives, right? Granted, I’m shit at archery.”
The Cardinal trotted his horse closer, taking in the blood covered brute. “I like the idea of owning a crow. It’s been a while since I nurtured one. I’ll take him, but this isn’t an exchange of favors, little falcon. Now tell me, Crow, you’re from Balmueth or close to it, yes?”
“I-I am.” Kayman shook his head, excitement in his voice as he added, “Does that mean you know the Old Continent?”
“It was once home.” Another raspy chuckle and he motioned for Kayman to follow. “This place is too wet and green. I miss Balmueth, but alas, I found a new clan to lead here in Grandmere.”
Kayman circled back as I rose to my feet, grabbing my hand and shook it. “Thank you.”
I gave him a bewildered look. “We were just trying to kill one another.”
“It never crossed my mind I had another option, another cause more in line with the teachings I once treasured.” Kayman’s eyes were filled with a sense of hope. “One day, I’ll pay this forward, this act of mercy and salvation. I take back what I said. Perhaps I could support your cause if this is the way you treat your enemies.”
Huffing, I waved at the Cardinal. “I don’t know what you are, but something tells me our paths will cross again!”
“Yes, little falcon! I will find you when you outgrow the eagle’s shadow.” He whistled, and the Faceless began to retreat besides two archers. “Let my bluebirds escort you. I wish to see more of those fighting skills—reminds me when Ashton and I crossed blades, but that’s for another time. May the Nameless Prophet grant blessings to the falcon and nightingale.”
I turned to Basque, and he flipped an ear back as if to say, you’re a mess. Ev
erything hurt. Unbuckling the halter to the claymore, I strapped it to Basque with help from one of the Faceless. My shoulder blade had at last locked up, and I couldn’t bear to lift my arm without sharp pain. Valiente removed the dented chest plate to reveal bruises from the impact. Grabbing the saddle, it took the last of my energy to get onto the saddle, and Basque bobbed his head. Colonel snorted, making him stop as he held steady for Valiente to mount. Without a word, the Faceless took the lead, and the horses followed. I leaned down onto the saddle, exhausted and weak.
“So, the leader is called the Cardinal?” Valiente broke the silence, waking me from the shallow rest I had slipped into.
“Yes,” I confirmed.
“And you’re little falcon?” he asked, furrowing his brow.
“Yes,” I scoffed.
“And if Kayman was the crow, then that makes me the… nightingale?” he questioned.
“I suppose so. And my brother must be the eagle. The Old Farmer an owl… it’s a fascinating system he has going there,” I confessed, pondering further on it. “I know owls mean wisdom, but they can also forewarn death. Falcons are related to royalty but … I don’t know if that’s part of the naming system.”
“You’re a clever one, little falcon.” One of the archers snickered to herself.
“Wait, I thought they don’t talk to anyone?” Valiente sounded offended over the disruption.
“Oh, we can,” answered the other archer, his voice making it clear he was young under that mask. “But the Cardinal says only to other birds.”
“Huh.” Valiente straightened himself in the saddle and at last demanded, “Tell me what nightingale means.”
The two archers giggled, and the girl replied, “The secret lover.”
My face turned red, and I locked eyes with Valiente. “Don’t you dare tell John.”
“Nope!” He grinned. “But I have to admit, the name is fitting for me, no?”
“If it implies you like to sleep around and steal kisses, then yes.” I turned my head the other way, trying to reclaim some rest once more.
“Oh, c’mon. Don’t be that way,” Valiente fussed as the archers laughed.
Who would have thought so much of what Lord Knight Paul told me would ring true? So many bittersweet memories, but they all serve a purpose. How many of these did he share with John too, I wonder? Or did he mean for me to take them and use them at my will? Did you see me today, old man? I almost cleaved a man in half today, just like you said I could do … but I don’t find this comforting. This was one small battle, and I may have served as his shield today, but when I see him, will I be able to keep my hunger at bay? Would he even stop me when he sees the mess I have become?
Chapter 25
Captiva City, Capitol
City of The Tower
“By the Divine Father, is he even alive?” guffawed a voice.
I stirred from my rest to the smell of kerosene torches and the sight of the stonewalls outside Captiva City. Everything hurt as I grunted to sit up properly. The blood had dried, crusted and sticky across my entire body and invading my senses with a souring stench. The city guards paled, but Valiente called their attention back to him, and after muffled whispers, we were allowed to pass. I didn’t realize the Faceless had left us in my slumber. Rubbing my torso, I found that the bleeding had stopped, even healed some, but an open wound lingered. I should be healing faster. Scoffing, I tried rolling my shoulder, but I had only regained some of the range and was still limited in how high I could raise my arm.
“You doing okay over there?” Valiente’s voice was low as we rode side-by-side, tight through the narrow back alleys. “We could have gotten to the canal faster down the main street, but with you covered in blood … I thought maybe you’d like to take a moment to clean off.”
“I’m alive.” I swallowed, the dryness building in my throat made me far more uncomfortable. So thirsty. “Yes, I’d like a moment to clean off.”
“Not much farther.” Valiente hadn’t even glanced my way, focused on leading us through the turns.
Valiente pulled Colonel to a stop, and Basque snorted and clacked a hoof on the cobblestones in an effort to complain. With a whistle, a back door opened, and a haughty woman came out, clothes loose and her breasts nearly hanging out of her shirt. I deadpanned Valiente as he got off his horse, greeting her with a kiss on each cheek. Looking down the alleyway one way then the next, it became very clear we were in the backstreets of the shops and docks. You’ve got to be kidding me… We’re at a Scarlett House.
“Monica!” Valiente waved his hand to me, and I straightened my posture on the saddle. “My friend would like to wash the blood of his enemies off, but we are in a bit of a rush to our next destination.”
“And here I thought you were swinging in to give me and the girls a fun time. Looks to me you both need a good scrubbing.” She winked at me, licking her lips and groping a breast. “My, who is your new friend?”
“A mercenary I’ve commissioned to help me get through the battlefield.” His tone shifted, grin falling into a stern expression. “As promised, and thanks to him, the Berserk Brigade is no more.”
Her hands covered her mouth, eyes wide bouncing between us before hugging Valiente. “Thank the Knowing Mother! You did as you promised! My ladies and I are safe to wander the streets again!”
So thirsty and tired… I need to find John. Managing to dismount, body burning with my injuries, I interjected, “Forgive me, but I’m in a rush.” I need to know he’s safe.
“Ah! Yes, this way!” She threw the door open and shouted into the hallway. “We’ve got a request for a hot scrub, girls. Get these boys right as rain! The Brigade has fallen!”
I followed close on Valiente’s heels as he travelled down the corridor, insisting on kissing every girl on each cheek as they came out of the doors on either side. Monica continued shouting and squealing in celebration of the news he had brought. It all was a mangled, blurred flurry of sounds and figures with the pain rolling through me. I feel drunk … or as if I’m stumbling through a dream of sorts. The building smelled of sweat and sex. My face flushed as thoughts of John took hold of how hungry I was to be with him again. With each inhale, my fangs ached, and I ran my tongue over them each time as if to soothe the sensation. Are they bigger? A girl took me by the hand, my eyes averting away from her when they caught her shirtless torso and pink nipples. Of all the places he could have taken me to… a brothel. I should have known coming from the Nightingale.
Smells and touch distracted me, sending my eyes searching only to drop my gaze at the lewd scenes found all around. I could hear every panting body in the building it seemed. I want blood… The beating of hearts all around, some racing in the moment of a climax, thudded like a stampede. So thirsty… I struggled to chase the conversation unfolding between Valiente and Monica. Is it because I’m injured? Or hungry? The dryness in my throat grew to being more painful than the throbbing in the open wound in my gut and back. I need John. Taking a turn down a hall, I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror and froze. Or is this how things will be? Chest aching, I was covered in black and red blood, shirt in tatters and flesh laid open or bruised. I can’t let him see me like this. I was a broken monster. Tugging at my shirt, I didn’t recognize myself anymore.
“What would John think of me?” My mind raced, lost in where I had ended up in the building. “I’m a monster.”
“It’s okay, sweetie. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Grabbing my hand again after a few tries, at last she tugged me through a door, shutting it behind us. “Strip down so I can start scrubbing, dear,” she demanded as I took in the tight quarters of the one-man tub, the room narrow enough to stretch both arms out to touch the walls. “Not sure if I’ll be able to get all the blood off with wounds like those.” Her voice carried a heavy accent I’d never heard before, but I was eager to wash my face as I stumbled to the tub. “You�
�re a bloodeater, right?”
I stiffened and stuttered, “Y-yes.” Technically.
“You need blood?” My heart skipped a beat at the serious tone in her voice.
“No,” I began stripping down. I need to get to John. That’s all that matters.
“But the wounds—” she started.
“I don’t need it,” I interrupted, yanking the buckles of the manica free as the armor fell to the floor. This fucking thirst for John makes me so angry.
“It’s okay. We serve your kind here, and we’re discreet,” she reassured. “Consider us always available for—”
“I’m too thirsty,” I blurted out, surprised at my confession. Shit! Maybe if I…
“Oh.” She fell silent, grabbing what I shed onto the floor and began to scrub it in a bucket off to the side. “Perhaps after you calm in the tub, you’ll want to give me a taste.”
Hesitant, I stared at her frail neck with the smattering of scars from previous bloodeaters. Perhaps I could try… Shaking my head, I shed the last article of clothing and rushed to dump myself into the scolding hot water. Dunking my head under the surface, everything was muted.
I hate this. All the moaning and racing hearts had added to the thirst and want to feed. I hate myself.
Each time the thought of hunger and thirst rose, the answer landed the same. John. It’s all I crave, all I want, and all I live for. Exploding to the surface, I gasped for air, sour for returning to the noise and scents against my will. I need to feed… My gaze fell on the girl who froze a moment before rushing back to her task.
John’s words came back to me, and my heart fluttered. But don’t ever avoid me if you’re feeling … hungry? Need me? Whatever that look you give me from across the room that makes me feel like a filet.
“You’re a handsome one,” she mumbled, stealing another glance at me with her eyes lingering. “We don’t see bloodeaters of your station here ever.”
