The Wall of Darkest Shadow (Nysta Book 5)

by Lucas Thorn

  “Send for reinforcements,” Melganaderna said, studying the field with glinting eyes. “Plenty of roads out.”

  It was Ironthorn who spoke. “We tried. Fucking bastards have a cleric. Some say maybe a mage. Magic, anyways. They caught everyone we sent. Sent them back to us in bits.”

  “Surely you can run along the Wall? There's towers all along, right?”

  “That's how we started,” Asa said. “But the corridors aren't working anymore. Not properly. They're erratic. The Keeper tells me even his key can't control them. Given time, maybe your lover can find an answer in his book, though I doubt Lornx made it that easy for us. The Keeper is not well. The initial fighting left him damaged and weak. He used what little was left of his energy opening and closing the Doomgate for you. Also-”

  “And there's the goblins,” Ironthorn supplied, not noticing Asa's look of frustration at being interrupted. “They've taken the upper rooms. Reckon they've lost their fucking minds. They kill whoever they find and toss whatever's left of their bodies out a window. They think it's funny.”

  “Assholes,” Arvid growled. Then flushed as Asa's yellow eyes swept over him. “Sorry, Your Highness. We didn't mean to speak.”

  “I tell you over and over to wait your turn,” she said.

  “Sorry,” Ironthorn said, managing to look sheepish.

  “Over and over,” she sighed. Looked at the elf, unable to hide a sudden rush of hope. “What do you think?”

  “I ain't a courier.”

  “I don't want a courier,” she said. “There's no time for that. If you got here a few days ago, maybe. But not now. Even if you could make it to Fort Ghostfear in less than a day and managed to convince them you weren't mad, it'd take them two or three days just to get back here. By then, we'll be dead. No. I want you to get into the town. Inside Lovespurn.”

  “A lot of them fellers between me and the town. Probably more inside.”

  “There's only one who matters.” Asa leaned against the stone with both hands, looking out at the town below. Her face intense. “General Dav Buckinum. Bucky, his men call him. He's who's leading them. How he inspired so much loyalty in them is something I'd give my teeth to know. From what I hear, they'll give their lives to him. And that's the key, you see. In more ways than one. They were all Freemen. Some of us call them Oathsworn for the oaths they took to defend the Wall. Oaths which will be their undoing. This battle has been going for days now. It was worse on the first day. There's been a lot of dead. You see over there? They've been digging mass graves. How many have we killed already, Arvid? A hundred? Two?”

  “Thousand,” he said without hesitation. “We killed more than a thousand.”

  She half-turned, aiming a look at Hemlock. “He's the General. Leader of the Freemen. Only his choice can pass that title on. He was given this by General Maleoin. Bought and paid for, I'm told. But this plays in our favour, because Bucky has no idea what the oaths were for. The Freemen swore oaths to serve him, Hemlock. His men. All of them. It is an oath which was created with the Wall. An oath whose wording was very explicit. You see, even in death they're tied to him. Tied in blood and soul.”

  The necromancer cocked his head. Then his eyes widened. “You don't mean-”

  “It would be fitting, don't you think?” Her smile was feline, white teeth glinting. “How long their oaths hold power, I don't know. But surely they persist some time after death, wouldn't you say? Lornx said it would hold for as long as the Wall needed it. Now we will have the chance to test his words.”

  “I'm not sure I can do it,” he said, face almost as pale as his hair. “I mean, I've tried it before. I raised a number of dead in the Deadlands. But they were a small group. It was a small town compared to what you're asking. Besides, it nearly killed me. It took months to recover. Months to even walk without Melgana holding me up. And this is bigger. You're asking more than I think I can give. The power needed...”

  “The Keeper, Vuk, tells me there is a way to augment your power. He can assist.”

  “Augment?” Hemlock leaned forward, eyes sharp. Suddenly more interested. “Really? If he's right, then I can't wait to meet him.”

  “I wouldn't be so quick to say that,” Chukshene said. “He's a deathpriest. They're not usually very pleasant.”

  “You'll work with him, too,” Asa said, not looking at the warlock. “You will do what he says.”

  “Of course, Your Highness.”

  Hemlock tapped his book thoughtfully, unconcerned by the slim black tentacles weaving around his fingers and wrists. “We still need the makings. It won't matter how hard we work, or if we burn out casting it. If we don't have what we need, it won't work.”

  “As I said, I've already been advised on this. Jagtooth offered to send the best of our men into Lovelost to retrieve the most vital component. But I've assured him he will not be required.” Her yellow eyes flicked to the elf again. “There is one thing holding the traitors back right now. Though they outnumber us, they never commit all their force to the Doomgate. They hold back. We don't know why. Some of us think he's waiting for something. Perhaps more traitors are on the way. Perhaps Rule has made him promises of aid. I don't know why, but I do know that Bucky is not used to war. He's never held command of an army. He hoped to open the Doomgate without conflict. He did not expect me to be here. In truth, I shouldn't be. But the Empire's reach is long, and there have been rumours. Rumours of Bucky calling those who were loyal to Rule's cause. I arrived in time to rally those who were true to the Empire. This made him waver. Made him doubt. He was forced to act too soon, and this led to the situation we're in. With him on one side, the Caspiellans on the other. And us, in the middle, holding them both apart. With time, his men grow more afraid and he bends to their fear. Grows more cautious. We've been using this. I've had Ironthorn yelling at our side to be strong. That support is on its way. That it'll be here soon. That we've heard from my father's elite guard. I think enough of the traitors believe it, so they watch the rear walls with greater number. They are divided. They bicker. I've bought us a little time. But soon, when they see no soldiers coming to our aid, they'll regain their confidence. Or they will turn their fear to desperation and expend themselves in one final surge. If this happens, we will die. We cannot hold them all. The Doomgate will open.”

  “Over my dead body,” Ironthorn growled.

  “I think that's the idea,” Arvid pointed out.

  Asa ignored them. “I want you to find him. Wherever he is, find him for me. And bring him here.”

  “Even if I could get inside. Even if I found where he's holed up, kidnapping ain't easy. Getting him back past all that? Impossible.”

  “That's fine.” Asa's grin showed sharp teeth which glinted fiercely. “I don't need to see all of him. That's not what your friends will need. Bring his head in a sack. Preferably one from the stables. His head, Nysta. You can leave the rest of him, but it's vital that we get his head.”

  Chukshene sighed. “I hate horses.” Then blinked when he saw everyone looking at him. “What? I do! Fucking things can bite your arm right off if they wanted. Nobody thinks about that. Nobody. Just me.”

  “I'll go with you, Nysta,” Melganaderna said. Glanced at Hemlock. “I think it's time we earned our keep.”

  “Then I'm coming, too.”

  Chukshene groaned.

  “Don't sweat it, 'lock,” Nysta said. “I ain't taking any of you.”

  The warlock licked his lips, suddenly nervous. His eyes drifted from the elf to the imperial princess. Back again. “Look, Nysta. Remember when I said there's other things to fight for? Well, this might be one of those times. I think you should-”

  He was cut short as the elf moved with fluid speed. Draw and aimed Unsolicited Advice at his throat, the point hovering against a droplet of sweat above his skin. “I ask for your opinion?”

  “No, but-”

  “Then shut the fuck up, Chukshene. Kind of getting sick of your voice. One reason I don't want you with me.�
�

  Asa's voice was tight. “Then you'll go?”

  “Reckon you were right about one thing,” the elf said, sheathing the knife. Rubbed at the scar on her cheek and turned to face the town again. Scouring the view for something she couldn't name. She told herself there was always a way inside any town. Always. “I owe you. But I don't owe you that much. You told me you didn't let us in to save us. You let us in to use us. You should know, I don't like being used. You were also right that I ain't Jukkala now. Ain't any Jadean. Makes me a free agent, I guess. And one who needs to eat. So, it'll cost you.”

  “Cost?” Chukshene's voice was a strangled gasp. “Uh, Nysta...”

  “She told you to shut up, apprentice,” Asa said. Her voice was clipped, but there was something else in it. Something eager. She tugged a ring from her finger. Tossed it at the elf who caught it with a deft snatch at the air. “I don't have any gold left. We had to pay the mercenaries with all we had. But this is worth more than his head. A hundred times, maybe. It isn't something I want to lose, believe me. Giving it to you is like giving you my heart. But, given the situation, I give it without regret. Take it, Nysta. Take it. But just bring me his head!”

  The elf juggled the heavy ring. Gold and emerald. A few flecks of diamond. Some writing in an alien language on the inside of the band. Though she'd never sold such things before, she guessed it could pay her way for a while. She sighed. “If I do this, we're even. No debts owed. Not for the opening of the gate, nor the change on this bauble.”

  “Agreed,” Asa cried. “It's a deal. You kill Buckinum and we're even. Nothing owed by either party. A perfect deal. Witness!”

  “Witness,” Ironthorn said, touching a hand to his heart. He didn't look happy and his jaw was tight as he glared at the elf.

  Melganaderna stepped up next to her. “Let me help you. I proved what I can do. And I can do more. You can trust me.”

  “Ain't about any of that,” Nysta said, not taking her eyes off the town and its jagged walls as she tucked the ring away. “Figure you did okay with that oversized piece of shit you like to swing. And if this was about fighting our way in there, I'd take you along in a second. But what I need to do here is get in without being seen. Without being heard. Can't do that with you.”

  “I can help,” the young axewoman insisted.

  “You can help by getting these two spellslingers ready. Chances are when I take this feller down, they'll try that push the princess here reckons they've got on hold. Reckon it'll be heavy. You'll need everything at that gate. Everything Chukshene and Hemlock can pull out of their asses.”

  “We'll be ready,” Hemlock said quietly.

  Asa grabbed Nysta's arm. Her small fingers clenching tight. “Anything you need to take with you, it's yours.” She spoke over her shoulder. “Arvid? Pass the word. Whatever the elf wants, she gets. Anything.”

  “Got it.” The man had been frowning at the elf since she took the ring.

  “What's your name, Child of Veil?”

  She saw no reason to lie. “I'm called Nysta.”

  Asa hesitated. “Nysta? Arvid. Did you hear that?”

  “I heard, Your Highness. I'll pass the word.”

  “Before you leave, Nysta, speak to Jagtooth. He's in charge downstairs. He knows more about Lovespurn than anyone. He grow up here. He might have some ideas for you. I've also heard his scouts have been searching for a way through the trenches and past the gates.” The princess, her ancient eyes more weary than ever, followed the elf's gaze toward the town. Rooftops shielded by sheets of rain. “It looks peaceful from here, doesn't it? You can't see the swords in their hands or the hate in their eyes. If we fall here, Nysta, you won't have time to spend the gold you get for that ring. Rule will walk in and drive us to the glaciers. We'll die there. Against the ice. Our bodies left to freeze through eternity. A reminder to those who are left of what happens to the enemies of the Lord of Light. He won't be merciful. Not to you. Not to me. When I saw you walking across the plains, I began to believe in miracles. That uniform? Of all the places. All the times. When we really needed someone like you, here you are. I truly wonder if my Dark Lord is reaching from beyond the grave. I wouldn't put it past him, you know. He was a stubborn fool. You have to find this rogue general, Nysta. Find the traitor quick! It's a maze down there, I know. It won't be easy. But find him. And bring his head!”

  “Doesn't look too bad,” the elf said. Already she could smell the filth of unwashed alleys. The stink of rancid food and discarded scraps. Shit. Piss. Stale beer. Her voice was soft. Almost distant. “I grew up in a place just like it.”

  Asa's expression wrinkled in disgust. “This one, however, is full of stinking bandits. And they must be destroyed.”

  “Makes sense,” the elf allowed. “Heading home alone in this weather, there's bound to be a few wet bandits around.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The ork who'd first spoken to them was waiting for her when she left the room. Leaning against a wall. Jaw working furiously like he was chewing emotions he didn't like. Massive arms crossed.

  “Reckon you're Jagtooth,” she said.

  “And Arvid says you're Nysta,” he said. Voice rumbling and deep from within his cavernous chest. “Heard about you. We got a few fellers here who came in from the Deadlands. Looked beat up. Tough bastards, though. They ran across the Bloods with the Black Blades halfway up their arses. When they got here, a few did nothing but bitch and moan about how it would've been so much easier if you'd stayed with them. Guess I'm saying you got a few admirers already. Maybe a couple of enemies. They lost more than they liked and need someone to blame. But all that means nothing to me. Just giving you fair warning is all. Same warning I just gave them. If they got grudges, they can settle them after. Not now. Right now I need every fighter I can get. Even if they do fight for a few bits of silver.”

  “I won't be here long,” she said. “Aim to rest up a bit. Wait for evening.”

  “Figured you would. So, I got you a place to hole up in. Ain't much, but the Wall ain't safe. You probably heard the rooms have been moving around more than usual. And we've got a bit of a goblin problem. Nothing we couldn't normally deal with, but we ain't got the time right now. Bit pressed for it, as you can see.” He led the way down. “Guess I'm trying to say don't go wandering. Which is about the only good advice the Keeper's given us so far. Smug bastard. But I reckon all deathpriests are like that...”

  She tucked her thumbs behind the jutting handles of A Flaw in the Glass and Go With My Blessing. “I got enough shit in my life,” she said. “Ain't looking for any more.”

  The ork let out a snort. “That's what I figured. You got trouble attached to your bootstraps, and there's more violence than blood inside you. There's a lot of fellers who'd say you look for it, but I'd say you're more like a lodestone. From a distance, you don't look like much. But close up? I reckon you can take care of your own.” The ork eyed her weapons with grudging respect. “While I wouldn't want you around at the best of times, this ain't the best of times. So, as far as I'm concerned, you got the run of the place. Her Imperial Highness, she says you get what you want. Must mean she's got work for you to do. Important work. Guessing it'll be shit. Something you want to share?”

  She let him lead the way back down to the bottom of the stairs. Considered what to tell him and figured Asa wouldn't have sent her to him if she didn't trust the ork.

  But trust didn't come easy for Nysta.

  Looking back over her shoulder as they passed the two ork guards, she wondered at how easy it'd been to walk out of the room. To leave Chukshene alone with two Caspiellans and the most powerful woman in the Fnordic Lands.

  Mostly, she thought of Melganaderna. The young woman reminded her of the soldiers she'd fought beside many times. Cunning and meticulous in manner. But slightly naïve. In a few years, given the chance, she'd grow into a capable leader. And the elf found herself wondering, for the first time in a long time, at the possibilities and burdens of friend
ships.

  Twisting her lips into a snarl, she bit her thoughts loose.

  She couldn't be soft.

  Not now.

  She had to be hard. Like steel.

  So, when she answered, her voice was flat and cold. “She wants me to kill a man.”

  “Ah.” The ork's heavy head nodded. Broad shoulders rolled and stretched his hulking arms as though eager to assist. “Figured it'd be that. All the knives you got on you. That's close-up work, that is. And no one uses those unless they're good at getting right inside. And good at opening a vein. Well. I'll help you get into the town if you like. From there, you're on your own. Which I guess is what you're used to. But I have to ask, because if you fuck up we'll be the ones taking the damage. How good are you? Are you good enough to slit Bucky's scrawny little throat?”

  “She doesn't want his throat cut,” the elf said. Unconsciously brushed her fingers against the stone wall. “She wants his head. In a bag. And yeah, I'll get it. Bring it back for her to piss on if she wants.”

  “She should've been born an ork.” His laugh was a blast of noise in the hollow corridor as he turned her through into another small chamber. This one had a few rows of cots, some of them already used. Most of them were empty, though. He waved toward them. “Take your pick when you're ready. I'll come back this afternoon. Then you can tell me what you need.”

  “Just need to get inside.”

  “I got someone working on something. You'll get inside.” He said it with conviction, and the elf nodded.

  She made her way through the aisle between the cots, moving toward the back of the room. To where the shadows were gathered. Away from most of the other shapes.