by Mike Morris
"But what about those soldiers?" asked Zee.
"They're already dead. We'll need all the luck we can get to save ourselves."
"Shit," said Zee, her strength crumbling in the face of the onslaught of the Legion.
Rane took her elbow, helped keep her steady. "We can do this. There's only Jefferson and a few guards left. We stay out of their way and we'll be fine."
Zee took deep breaths. "Okay. Let's go."
They sprinted along the battlements. There was nothing to slow them down now the cannons had stopped firing. Still, it was hard not to look at what was happening out on the field but there was nothing to be gained by standing witness to a slaughter.
It was quieter inside the keep, away from the sounds of battle and the screams of the dying. To their left, stairs ran up and down and a corridor waited straight ahead.
"Which way do we go?" asked Zee.
"We go down.”
Down the stairs they went, Rane all twitchy and eager to fight, still high on magic, and Zee, quiet, following on his heels. When they reached the next floor, Rane put out a hand to stop Zee. A guard watched the war outside from the window at the far end of the corridor, his back to them.
Rane broke into a run. Kibon came free in his hand. The guard never knew what hit him. Death was instantaneous.
As he stood over the body, he looked out the window. The view caught the breath in his throat.
The moon shone down on the battlefield. No more than thirty minutes could have passed since the gates of Orska were opened and the Legionnaires had sprinted out to meet the assembled armed forces sent from Napolin and yet the devastation they had wrought was incredible. The Legion had hit the army at its centre and was now spreading out in a growing half-circle of death. Even from a distance, the piles of corpses were clearly visible.
"By the Gods," whispered Rane.
Zee put her hand on Rane’s shoulder. "What's going to happen when they’re unleashed them on the rest of the world?"
"A friend of mine murdered nearly a whole town on his own," replied Rane. "An army of tainted warriors could burn the world to ashes.
I've got to stop them. I can't walk away from this."
"Yes, we can," interrupted Zee. "Right now. While they're out there. We get as far away from them as possible. Save ourselves."
Rane watched the battle — saw the weak die at the hands of the Legion, feeding their swords, tainting them further. He could so easily be one of them, his oath forgotten, his humanity lost. The anger burned within him. How dare Jefferson have damned the Legion like this? "The old man's in the tower. Probably watching this from his study."
"Who cares?" Zee grabbed Rane's arm, tried dragging him towards the stairs going down. "It's not our problem. Let's get out of here."
Rane took Zee's hand, squeezed it. "Do you remember the way Samuel brought you?"
"Yes, but..."
"Go. Down the stairs and out of this castle. Head into the hills away from the battle, then find your way back." Rane let go of her hand, kissed her forehead. "I need to stop the Legion, stop Jefferson some how — or the deaths will never stop."
Tears ran down Zee's cheeks. "I can't. Not alone."
Rane wiped a tear away with his thumb. "You can."
"What about you?" she asked.
"Our lives are on different paths. You’re free of your master. I still have to be rid of mine." Rane smiled. "Now go."
Zee's eyes popped open. "Behind you!"
Rane spun around, Kibon flying from it’s scabbard instantly, as two Legionnaires came at them hard and fast from the stairs.
The Legionnaires were on them in a flash. Even with his enhanced reflexes, Rane only just managed to dodge an overhead swing that would have split him from side to side. He wasn't fast enough to avoid the Legionnaire's shield as it followed through, battering him to the floor. Rolling with the blow, he came up swinging, aiming Kibon at his opponent's knee, only to be blocked by the man's black sword.
Rane danced back, letting the Legionnaire hack at thin air. A iron helm covered the man's face, his eyes visible through a slit in the metal.
The other Legionnaire joined in, pressing the attack. Steel kissed steel as Rane frantically defended himself. Sparks flew in the darkness as they hammered each other, the sound echoing through the corridor.
Zee rushed to Rane's aid. She fired her pistol at his opponent’s back from a foot away. The boom of the gun was deafening in the confined space. The Legionnaire screamed as the bullet struck home but it didn’t kill him. The man clubbed Zee across the face and she dropped like a stone.
But Rane didn't waste the opportunity. He plunged his sword through the Legionnaire's visor and into his brain. Now it was his turn to roar, as the magic surged through him.
The other Legionnaire came at him again, but this time Rane was ready for him. With gritted teeth, he let the Legionnaire get close and offered his neck as a target. As the Legionnaire's sword swung towards it, he ducked under the blow.
Kibon slashed out and the Legionnaire went down, blood spraying, as Rane opened up his guts to the world.
Rane staggered over to Zee. She was unconscious but he found a steady pulse. "Lucky girl."
He picked the girl up and placed her on a bed in one of the rooms and closed the door. Hopefully she’d be safe there until he could return for her. He set off, took the stairs at a run, eager for the fight ahead. Two steps at a time, heart racing, mouth dry. Up one flight, then the next and the next. To Jefferson’s quarters.
He slowed only when the top floor was in sight and stopped just before the last step. Rane peered around the corner. Two guards.
Kibon twitched in Rane's mind, eager for what was to come. It knew there would be no holding back. No time to worry about damnation and taints. It knew it would be fed.
Rane took a deep breath, aware of the madness buzzing in his mind. Wished there was another way but knew there wasn’t. He sprinted up the last few steps, and headed straight to the guards.
The first guard managed to get to his feet and his sword half-drawn but Rane dropped down and slid the last few yards towards him. Kibon sliced through the guard's knee. He collapsed, spraying blood but Rane already had his hand over the man's mouth to stifle his screams before plunging Kibon through the man's throat and into his skull, twisting it for maximum damage. The magic hit him as the man died but the rush was calmer, more controllable. Rane didn't want to think about what that meant.
The other guard came at him but he was nothing compared to the power within Rane. He was fire. He was fury. He was death. Kibon took the man’s head from his shoulders with a whisper.
Rane kicked the door open to Jefferson's office. The door flew off its hinges and he rushed into the room, sword ready. Moonlight flooded the room through the windows, painting the empty room silver.
There was a door in the far corner and Rane headed to it.
He paused by it, listening. All was still silent. Doubt raced through Rane's mind. Would that room be empty too? If so, where was Jefferson?
He turned the door handle, releasing the lock and slowly pushed the door open. The room was half the size of his office but just as well furnished, dominated by a four-poster bed with the curtains drawn. Myri sat in a chair by the bed. Her black sword sat across her lap
"Hello Nathaniel," she purred. "Don't be shy. Come on in."
Rane stepped forward, filled with horror at what his friend had become. He had no fear though. Not now, now when he had such power at his disposal. “Myri.”
"I told them you'd not join us, Nathaniel. They laughed; said everyone turned, but I know you." Myri stood up, letting her sword point to the floor. "But the Lord General was happy for me to wait here in case I was right. I suggested he stay with me, make use of the bed. Perhaps we will another time."
"Where is he?" asked Rane, holding his fury in check.
"Somewhere. Watching men die." She pursed her lips and shook her head. "You really should've just gone w
ith the plan. Become one of us."
"I'd rather be dead," replied Rane.
"My pleasure," said Gregor, pulling back the curtains on the bed. He had a pistol in his hand. The Legionnaire grinned as he pulled the trigger.
Pain exploded in Rane's head.
40
Rane lay on a cold stone floor, dimly aware of the sounds of fighting far away. Something warm and sticky covered his eyes. Blood. He was so tired it was hard to work out what was happening, remember where he was. Someone cried out in pain. He didn't know who. It could've been him. Why was it so hard to think?
He moved his hand. Dragged it more like. Managed to wipe the blood from his eyes and get them open. It took awhile to focus, move past the swirling spots and dark shapes. All he could see was the stone floor, cold, grey, polished. And the blood. Was that his blood?
Sleep tugged at the edges of his mind, telling him to stop, give up, rest for a minute, an hour, a lifetime. Where was Kibon? He could hear it calling him. Promising to make the pain go away, save him, warning him not to give up.
He lifted his head, saw it only inches from his hand. So close.
A wave of nausea slammed into him and he only just managed to stop himself from puking. He blinked more blood from his eye. It was coming from somewhere, leaking out of him. He wondered how much had already been lost. How close he was to dying.
He reached out and dragged Kibon to him, felt that beautiful pulse of magic countering the pain. Not nearly fast enough. By the Gods, no.
A battle raged somewhere. He could hear it. He turned his head and was rewarded with more pain for doing so. He might have passed out, he didn't really know but then he saw her. Myri. He had to stop her, tried to move, couldn't, and slumped back on the ground, face down in his own blood.
Myri was the enemy. Myri was the one he had to stop.
He caught his reflection in the blade, all mad-eyed and covered in blood, a nasty black mark on his forehead. Had he been shot?
He pulled Kibon tighter to him, both hands wrapped around its hilt. Pulled the magic from it as if he was breathing air into his lungs. Energy rippled through his body, pushing back the fog, softening the pain.
Myri watched. “I told you it’d not kill him.”
Gregor sat on the bed, reloading his pistol. He looked over at Rane and laughed. “But it was fun.”
Rane managed to push himself up and get his legs back under him. He swayed for a moment as he sat up, but
Kibon sang with power, demanding revenge, filling Rane with all the magic it had, fixing him. He staggered to his feet.
Gregor raised the pistol once more. “I like hurting him.” He pulled the trigger and the gun spat its bullet towards Rane. But Rane wasn’t going to get shot a second time. He swerved and came at them, closing the gap between them in a couple of strides. He was fast, faster than any normal man could hope to be. He brought Kibon down in an arc and all Gregor could do was watch it descend. Rane put all his strength into the blow. Kibon's razor sharp edge did the rest. He barely felt any resistance as it entered Gregor's shoulder, none as it carved a path through the Legionnaire's body before slipping out just above the hip, with a splash of blood, so red against the stone. More energy kicked through Rane as Kibon fed. The last of his pain disappeared and everything clicked back into place.
Myri hissed as she lunged at his heart, and he only just managed to stop her riposte.
There was no time for words. He went low, aiming for Myri's leg, but her black blade knocked Kibon from its path. She countered with impossible speed, driving her sword up, hoping to split Rane in two, forcing him to flip out of the way. Rane struck back, swinging Kibon at her neck. This time it was Myri who skipped back, trying to gain some space. Holding her sword horizontally across her chest, she retreated into centre of the room, and Rane followed.
He moved to the left, hoping to get behind her guard. Myri countered by twisting her body so she faced him side-on. Rane feinted a strike at her head, drawing her attention, then switched, aiming for her stomach. She dropped her sword down over her shoulder, taking the sting out of his blow but not doing enough to stop him drawing blood. Even though it was just a scratch, the sight of it made Rane smile.
Myri came at him, launching a series of overhead strikes, fuelled by rage and hatred. He blocked them, feeling the force of each one vibrate through Kibon and into his arms. She came again but Rane stepped out the way of her and she flew past. Rane was far too an experienced soldier to let such a target pass. She screamed as he struck, arching her back as his sword bit deep into it.
Rane pressed the advantage but Myri's leg shot out, slamming into his chest and sending him flying. Kibon had him too fuelled with magic and he bounced back off the ground onto his feet. However the magic worked both ways and, as he raced back to join the fray, he could see Myri's powers already healing the bloody red streak across her back.
Her movements were getting faster and faster until it seemed like they were fighting a blur. Her sword was everywhere, blocking, striking, slashing. She was tireless and it was taking all Rane had to keep up with her.
Myri caught Rane on the forearm, opening him up and then sliced a gash across his chest. She slammed her elbow into Rane's jaw and he only just blocked the sword strike that followed. Her sword skittered along Kibon's edge, sparks flying as the two blades kissed, drawing the nemeses together. Rane powered his head into hers, crunching her nose. As she staggered back, Rane drove his sword into her gut.
Her scream came straight from the underworld. She punched Rane, sending him sprawling. He was back on his feet in an instant, only too aware his sword was in her gut and not in his hand. She swung her sword towards him, stopping him from attacking. With her other hand, she reached for Kibon blade and dragged it out of her. Blood gushed from her stomach as she threw the sword to the floor. Myri wavered on her feet but she never once took her eyes off Rane, knowing if she did, it would be the death of her.
"This isn't the end of it," she spat. For a moment Rane thought she was going to attack again, but she raced towards the window and, before he had a chance to react, threw herself through it. Glass shattered in a thousand directions. There was still a sprinkle of glass falling down like rain when Rane reached the window, but no sign of Myri in the darkness below.
She must be dead. A fall like that would kill anyone — even a Legionnaire. Somehow
though, Rane didn’t believe it.
He’d look for her body later if he could — for now, he had to move on. He still had Jefferson to kill.
Pausing only to strip Gregor of his pistol and more ammunition, he headed for the door.
Rane glanced out the window one more time. The battle looked all but over. Fia's army had been routed. Those not already dead were running for their lives. The Legion pursued but they’d be back all too soon. Rane had to hurry.
Outside, no guards walked the battlements, or manned the cannon. Their powers were making them slack. They were all too confident of their victory. Even so, Jefferson had to watching somewhere. If he wasn't in his study, he'd still want to savour his moment of victory.
Rane stopped in his tracks. He knew where Jefferson would be. The siege tower. But if he was there, Rane had no hope of getting to him. There was only one way in and they weren’t going to open the door to him.
He’d just have to knock bloody hard.
Rane raced along the battlements, along the curtain wall, through the square mural tower and then back out on to the battlements above the upper bailey, excitement building. It was time to make Jefferson pay for all that he'd taken from him — his soul, his wife, his life.
He reached the arsenal tower next, where all the Legion's weapons were stored. The door leading from the battlements was locked but a good kick stopped that from being a problem.
Two guards waited for him inside. There was a flash of silver as Kibon swept forward, clashing with a black blade once more, but Rane's limbs surged with magic. His fear of the tainted and tran
sformed was gone because he knew he had the strength to defeat them. He attacked with speed and aggression, forcing the men back. His sword slipped past one man's guard and bit deep into his chest. Blood spurted from the wound as more magic hit Rane. There was no stopping him now. Not even Odason or Heras had the might.
He thrust his sword into the remaining guard. And roared at the rush that followed.
The main arsenal was stored one floor below, rammed with every kind of weapon and barrels of gunpowder.
He sheathed Kibon on his back and began searching amongst the boxes. He found what he was looking for in the third box he opened; small iron balls lay carefully amongst straw, with short fuses sticking out of each one.
Grenades.
He filled a pouch with a dozen and slung it over his shoulder. It was time to see the Lord General.
Back on the wall, Rane peered into the distance. Already the gloom of the night was lifting as another day approached. The cursed crows circled the battlefield, picking their next meal. The Legionnaires still fought, slaughtering stragglers but it wouldn't be long before they returned to Orska, high on blood.
“Rane!” He looked up at the sound of his name. Four Legionnaires were on the battlements. Rane recognised two of them — a Naijin called Dewei and a woman called Amjad from the Balrussian borders. Old friends from the war, good people to have on your side in a fight, Amjad had saved his life once — but they both had the look of the tainted and Rane had no doubt about their intentions. They sprinted towards him with frightening speed, hungering to kill.
Rane drew his pistol, aimed and fired. The oncoming Legionnaires disappeared behind the gun smoke for a heartbeat but when it cleared, they were almost upon him. He dropped the pistol and drew the second one just as Dewei leaped at him. The Naijin's sword swept down as he pulled the trigger. From such close range, the bullet punched a hole through the Legionnaire's chest, throwing him backwards and over the edge. Amjad's sword was at his throat a moment later and Rane blocked frantically with Kibon.
