HE WHO FIGHTS (Nathaniel Rane Book 1)

by Mike Morris

  He muttered his Legionnaire's oath under his breath to help him focus. He was doing the right thing. He had to do the right thing. He was in control, not Kibon.

  The smoke grew thicker, choking them with every breath. Scarfs and handkerchiefs were tied around mouths to try and keep the worst out. The horses grumbled even more but kept their pace. The pilgrims grumbled but kept at their prayers. But there was no sign of their quarry. Occasionally Rane thought he saw movement out of the corner of his eye but when he looked, there was nothing there. The last thing he needed was his mind playing tricks on him.

  A building murder of crows followed them, circling and shrieking, amused at the convoy's folly in entering the Dead Lands, eagerly anticipating when the convoy would become their next meal.

  Myri slowed down so Rane could draw level with her. "Getting dark. Might be a good idea to stop soon while we can still see enough to set up camp."

  Rane stared down the Crow's Road to its endless horizon, wishing their journey were somehow over. "You're right. Let's do it." He held up his hand, signalling the stop and was answered by the creak of wagon brakes. "We're going to camp here for the night," he called out, turning in his saddle. Worried faces watched him, their prayers silent on their lips. "William, Douglas — let's clear some of the bones away from the side of the road so we can circle the wagons and give ourselves some protection."

  Douglas spat onto the road, made a show of wiping his face. "Ain't you gonna get off that horse and give us a hand? Or are you just good at tellin' others what to do?"

  Rane locked eyes with the man, felt the urge rise to do him harm. "Myri and I are going to take first watch. We're a day in and the Gods only know what's out there."

  "Ain't nothing but a bunch of old wives' tales been scaring folks away from here." Douglas slapped William's arm. "Ain't that right?"

  William didn't look quite so convinced. "Let's just do what the man says. I've had enough for one day." He jumped down from the front of the wagon without waiting for Douglas to replay.

  Olivik in the next wagon along stood up. "I'll help too. Sooner we get it done the happier I'll be."

  Douglas cursed away to himself but he joined the others and the three men got to work.

  "Come on girls," called out Fia as she too clambered down from her wagon. "Let's get a fire built and some food cooking."

  "Why don't we camp around one of those fires?" asked Joassa, pointing out into the Dead Lands. "Plenty to choose from without us wasting our wood supply."

  "Those fires were started using blood magic, and blood magic keeps them burning still," said Rane. "I don't recommend getting to close to them if you can help it. And I wouldn’t be keen to eat anything that was cooked over them either."

  Hazia drew Odason’s sign over her chest and said no more.

  The familiar routines and roles everyone knew of setting up camp seemed to ease everyone's jitters. Even the horses calmed down once they were tied up behind a wagon. Soon the smell of stew bubbling away countered the burnt air.

  "What are we doing here?" muttered Myri as they watched the pilgrims take their seats around the fire. "They'll be singing fucking songs next."

  Rane smiled. "It's been a hard day. With harder ones to come. Let them enjoy what they can."

  "Well don't expect me to join in."

  "I wouldn't dream of it."

  "Get some food. It doesn't need two of us to look for trouble."

  "I'll make sure they save you some."

  "Can't wait," said Myri, turning her back on him.

  Rane wandered over to the fire and sat down. Douglas glared at him but the rest looked happy enough to see him. Hazia was to his right, staring into the bowl of stew in her hands but not eating. Joassa had her arm around her, but Hazia was beyond comfort. She'd lost her son and Rane knew only too well the pain she was suffering.

  Fia came over to Rane with a bowl of stew. "Here you are. It's not the best but it’s warm and filling."

  "Thank you," said Rane.

  "The ride seem stop have done you some good," said Fia. "Your burns look almost healed."

  "It didn't feel like that earlier." Rane pinched his brow in an attempt to ease his headache. The pain was getting worse. "So what waits for you in Napolin?"

  "We answer the call of Odason. His priests are few and far between since the war, and most of his temples nothing but ruins. My order has called all who wish to retake His word back out into the world and we have answered." Fia gestured at the rest of the pilgrims. "We’ll be assigned a new town, so we can build a new temple and care for a new congregation."

  Rane took a bite of stew. It tasted better than anything he'd had since Kara had died. "Where are you from originally?"

  Joassa leaned forward so she could see around Hazia. "Donaston, down by the Balrus border. Wasn't much left of it either after the war, so moving seemed an easy choice, especially after the crops failed for the second year running. The children need to eat."

  "We knew the roads were dangerous," said Olivik. "But William and Douglas had experience. They were soldiers once, but no one was prepared for..." He glanced over at Hazia. "...What happened."

  "It weren't our fault," snapped Douglas. "We're trained to fight men, not demons. We're lucky he didn't kill us all."

  "Be quiet," snapped Myri.

  Douglas jumped from his seat, veins in his neck bulging. "Who are you to tell me what I can..."

  Rane stepped in, placed a hand against Douglas’ chest. “What is it, Myri?”

  “There’s something out there.”

  They all heard the sound of bones snapping out in the darkness.

  "What the fuck was that?" shouted Douglas, fumbling his pistol from its holster.

  Fia held out her hands, trying to reassure everyone. "Odason will protect us. Odason will protect us." Rane wasn't so sure — whatever was coming was big. He scanned left and right, searching for the source. The red flames of the undying fires dotted everywhere gave little help, throwing shadows here and there amongst the bones, ruining his night vision.

  "Nathaniel — get your arse over here," called Myri.

  "Stay by the fire. Watch the children," ordered Rane as he grabbed a burning branch from the fire. He raced over to join Myri, Kibon already in his other hand. His headache was gone. His aches were gone. He was ready for whatever came their way.

  He raised the torch up, trying to see what lurked amongst the bones, straining to hear where it moved.

  Minutes passed. And nothing attacked. Still Rane and Myri stood sentry while the pilgrims huddled in fear behind them.

  “See anything?” whispered Rane.

  “Nothing. But that doesn’t mean something’s not there. There are a million places to hide amongst the bones.” Myri’s sword shook in her hand as she watched the shadows.

  “Could it be Marcus?”

  “Or something worse. We shouldn’t have fucking come here.”

  Rane glanced back at the pilgrims. Had he lead them to their deaths? “There’s no going back. We stand our ground.”

  20

  Rane sat by the fire, running his thumb over Kara's locket as the new day broke. He'd not slept, waiting for an attack that never came. The endless soot and ash of the Dead Lands only made the tiredness worse, drying out his throat and blocking his nostrils. He wasn’t alone in that. After a day and a night, half the convoy had hacking coughs — no doubt the rest would join them by evening.

  A wind had picked up from the north-east, dragging the dirt up and throwing it around to make things even more uncomfortable.

  Around the fire, the other pilgrims were shuffling to their feet, stretching, yawning, whispering words of encouragement to each other. They’d survived a day and a night but there was a long way to go still.

  Rane pressed down on the locket and tried to let thoughts of Kara fill his mind but she was an elusive ghost, little more than a shadow. The more he concentrated, the harder she was to see. By the Gods, how he missed her. To feel her
touch once more, her warmth, her love. She'd be five months pregnant if things had just continued as they were. Probably just starting to feel the baby kick and move around. Another dream lost.

  It seemed another life, belonging to someone far luckier than Rane. What would Kara have made of what was happening there and then, of her husband chasing her brother — her brother turned demon, her husband facing the same fate? Truth was he was grateful she wasn't around to see it, to know of their fall. And who knew what effect the magic would have had on their child?

  He could feel the anger growing in him, a flicker, then a flame. All the good things in his life taken away because of what he'd done. Kibon lay next to him. How he hated that sword now. Hated it as much as he’d once loved it. Resented it as much as he needed it. Would he have agreed to the Lord General's plan to bond his soul with the sword if he'd known the real consequences? Were the lives saved worth the cost?

  Yes. He’d followed the oath. He’d done what was needed to protect the weak and save lives. Once he got to Orska and cured himself of the curse, the doubts would go with it.

  "You ready to move out?"

  Myri was standing next to him, her sword strapped to her back, the stump of her right hand held awkwardly against her chest. Her scarf covered her half her face, but there was no hiding the black rings under her eyes.

  "Sure," he lied, not feeling ready for anything. Better to be moving though. Better to be heading north. He climbed to his feet and arched his back. "How’re you?"

  "Been better." Myri pressed her finger to the side of her nostril and snorted mucus out onto the ground. "But that's not to say things can't get worse."

  Rane couldn't argue with that. "Let's get on with it then."

  Overhead the crows circled, urging them all to move on. Others loitered, perched on broken ribs and shattered spines, squawking away. They hoped the convoy would provide their breakfast and they weren’t in the mood for any further delay.

  "A word, please." Douglas marched over, musket in his hands.

  "Everything okay?" asked Rane, knowing that it wasn't.

  Douglas chewed on what he was going to say, as if he didn't like the taste of the words, but knew he couldn't force them back. He was shaking too, underneath all his bluster, scared but determined to tough it out. "I know who you are. Took me a while to place you both." He tapped the side of his head for effect. "But the old mind still works sometimes."

  "And?" replied Myri, managing to make the word sound like the worst kind of threat.

  Douglas wagged his finger at them. "Fucking Legionnaires, the pair of you. Fought with you back in the day, in Candra. I was there when you massacred the Rastaks, pushed them back from the walls." He coughed, then spat whatever had come up at Rane's feet. "Thought you were a blessing from the Gods that day, I did. But now I know different."

  His musket wasn't pointing at them yet but Rane wasn't so sure it would remain that way. He glanced over at Myri, hoping she wouldn't react before there was a chance for things to end peacefully. She stared daggers at Douglas but that was all — for now.

  "We're just trying to help," said Rane, holding both hands up.

  "And that's why we're talking. There's a little girl that needs saving and, as much as I hate it, the fact is you two are still her best hope." Douglas jabbed his finger towards Rane. "But that don't mean I'm going to let you put the others lives at risk. You got Heras' magic in your blood so maybe you can't help yourselves, so first sign of any trouble and I'll put a bullet in your heads before you can hurt Fia or any of the others. I promise you that."

  Myri stepped forward. "I'd like to see you try."

  Rane pulled her back, tried a smile instead. "We understand. Believe me, we just want to get the girl back too. Your friends will be safe from us, at least."

  "You remember that," said Douglas. "Now let's get on our way." He headed back to his wagon under William's watchful eye in the driver's seat.

  "Piece of shit," spat Myri. "Lucky we don't leave them on their own. See how long they last then." She clambered up onto her saddle as best she could, gripping the reins tightly in her one good hand.

  "You can't blame them for being scared," replied Rane, mounting his horse. The road stretched endlessly ahead, a grey gash through the sea of bone. "Of us. Of this place. Of this world. We swore an oath to protect people like them — the weak, the needy — and it's us who have failed them."

  "I know. I know." Myri moved her horse level with Rane. "It's just the sword plays on my mind. I want to fight. I want to kill. Doesn't matter who or what. Who's to say I won't turn on them when the time comes? Every day — every minute gets harder to hold the urge back." She held up her stump with its dirty bandage, shaking. "Ever since I lost this, I've needed the sword more and more. I need a hit of its magic just to get up. Just to take a step forward. But even that's not enough anymore."

  "You need to try to do without it," said Rane, feeling the itch himself, hearing the voice whisper away. "Bad enough we have to carry them with us but we have to resist the temptation to touch it, to use it. That's our only hope."

  Myri laughed, a laugh as cold as death. "Resist using it? Have you seen where we are? Do you remember whom we chase? What are you going to do when the next demon shows its face? Or we catch up with Marcus? Whisper sweet nothings? Or draw your steel and fight with every ounce of strength you have?" She kicked her horse forward. "We both know the answer to that."

  Rane watched her, knew the truth of her words no matter how hard he wished it wasn't so. He kissed the locket dangling from his wrist. "Kara, watch over me." The prayer brought little comfort but it was all he had. He turned in his saddle and saw the convoy waiting for him. He gave Douglas a nod and then squeezed his horse with his thighs, moving him on. The wagons rattled into motion behind him and they were on their way once more. A crow shrieked with glee and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the black cloud above turn around in response and follow.

  As he rode, he turned their situation around and around in his mind. Two days to reach the other side of the Dead Lands, a week from there to Orska and the cure — possibly a cure. Myri was already on the edge — could she last that long? Could he? He was too scared to look at Kibon to see if the taint was in its metal. The headache was back, as was the voice. That told him enough.

  They couldn't destroy their swords or hide them out of sight. When they found Marcus, they'd need them quickly enough, had to use them. A bullet wouldn't stop Marcus, or an ordinary blade.

  But what if the Lord General didn't have a cure, couldn't reverse the mage's magic? What then? A slow, painful, inevitable transformation into one of the tainted? By the Gods, no. He’d rather die than submit to that fate. If the time came, he’d kill himself.

  The ride was harder than the previous day's. The wind saw to that, adding to the discomfort caused by the heat. Sweat ran down Rane's face, dripping off his nose, soaking the scarf that covered his mouth, doing its best to get the billowing ash into his lungs. His poor horse suffered more as it laboured along the Crow's Road, with nothing to protect it. Rane patted its flanks and whispered words of comfort, but they had little effect.

  They stopped more frequently to give the animals some rest and water but the slow going added to Rane's frustration, his life ticking away second by second. And still no sign of Marcus or the girl.

  On and on they went, the only sound the clop of hooves and the creak of wheels. Even the pilgrims' prayers had stopped. No doubt they were feeling far from Odason's gaze.

  The wind picked up, rattling the bones of the dead and dragging even more muck into the air. As the ash danced across the road, any tracks Marcus might have left were swept away with it. There was no luck to be found in the Dead Lands, no break from the misery.

  The day was nearly done when Myri called out that there was something lying in the road.

  Rane held up his hand to stop the before riding over to Myri's side. "What is it?"

  She gestured with her stump. "S
ee for yourself."

  Something lay dead twenty yards away, watched over by the crows. Several perched on the corpse, digging their beaks in for a mouthful of flesh. One thing was clear though, it wasn't Marcus or the girl. Rane would've been thankful if it wasn't for the fact he was looking down on a dead Bracke.

  He jumped down off his horse. The crows scattered as he approached, furious at being disturbed.

  “Do you think that’s what made the noise last night?” asked Myri.

  Rane shrugged. “Could be. Or it could be just one of many.”

  "What killed it?" asked Myri, scanning the bones.

  A cut ran from its groin to its neck. "Marcus."

  "How long's it been dead?"

  Rane placed a hand against the Bracke. Not warm, but the flesh hadn't begun to harden. "Maybe four or five hours."

  "He's still far enough ahead of us."

  Rane rubbed his temples. The damned headache was getting worse. "How many hours before dark?"

  Myri looked up, sniffed. "Maybe two if we're lucky."

  "What's going on?" called out Douglas, standing up in his seat.

  Rane ignored him for a moment, tried to blink some life back into his eyes before turning back to Myri. "We push on. Maybe we find Marcus and the girl. Hopefully the Bracke hurt him enough to slow him down. If not, we try and find somewhere to camp down for the night."

  "Agreed."

  "I'll tell the others." Rane left Myri and headed towards the wagons. His head pounded and, without thinking, his hand drifted to Kibon's hilt for a hit of magic to take the pain away. Kara's locket caught his eye and he stopped himself in time. He kissed the locket instead, and thanked Kara for watching out for him. The pain was still there but he felt better. The voice called him a fool but he ignored it as best he could.

  Douglas and William watched him approach, giving their best tough stares to hide their fears.

  "What's dead up there?" asked William when Rane got close enough.

  "A Bracke. Killed by the man we're chasing," replied Rane.

  “I Thought they didn’t exist anymore,” said Douglas. “Thought we’d killed them all.”