Heir of Autumn

by Giles Carwyn

  The fight for the plateau was over. Only the Hall of Windows resisted Physendria now. A pack of Ape guards in tight procession appeared around a cluster of burning trees, moving closer. Brophy paused, watching. Phandir emerged behind the Apes, resplendent in his golden breastplate and crimson-feathered crown. Ossamyr walked next to him, radiant in her gown of fiery feathers.

  Brophy’s sight had never been so clear. Even from this lofty height, he saw every curl of copper in Phandir’s beard, saw the lines at the edges of Ossamyr’s eyes, those lovable lines he had kissed once upon a time.

  Now, he said to himself. It must be now or I will never do this thing.

  Brophy yanked the music box away from Lewlem’s wife. The sling tipped and the baby tumbled out, but Medew caught her before she hit the ground. The music stopped.

  He hurled the box at Phandir.

  “Brophy, no!” Shara screamed, lunging forward to grab it, but it sailed beyond her reach. He caught her arm before she slipped. “Brophy!” she yelled.

  He pulled her back, crushed her to his chest as the box flew through the air. “Stay close, my love,” he murmured into her hair. “I need you close.”

  The box shattered at Phandir’s feet, silver twisting, gears and wheels skittering across the stone.

  “Hold tight to me,” he said louder, as he set Shara on her feet. He scooped the baby out of Medew’s arms.

  The child scrunched up her face, her little fists flailing weakly. She rubbed her blackened eyes and yawned. Her tiny fangs shone in the light.

  Brophy raised the child over his head, facing Phandir’s entourage. The King of Physendria looked up and pointed. Phandir said something to Ossamyr and laughed at his own joke. The queen’s eyes went wide. She shouted to Brophy. He could see her perfectly, her ruby lips, her large eyes, her dark skin, but he could not hear what she said.

  With a kick of her little legs and a plaintive cry, the baby opened her eyes.

  26

  SHARA SCREAMED and fell to her knees, clinging desperately to Brophy’s leg. She closed her eyes as a howling wind spun past, pushing them this way and that. A thousand separate screams of terror were carried upon that wind. Shara’s voice was lost in the ocean of suffering, but she couldn’t stop yelling, couldn’t take a breath.

  Brophy turned in a slow circle. Shara and Medew stumbled with him. If they stopped touching him, they were lost.

  Shara put her fist to her head. The screams wanted in, they clawed at her eyelids, her lips, at the tips of her ears. It was like being touched by a hoard of Victerises everywhere at once, but Brophy held the chaos at bay. Through her closed eyes, she could feel his heartstone shining like a red beacon.

  Slowly, the screams faded, echoing off the distant walls. Shara realized she had stopped shouting. The absolute silence terrified her more than the screaming. It was as though the soul had been ripped from the world.

  Shara opened her eyes and stared at the city. A seething wind whipped around them, threatening to knock them off the stairs. Dark clouds roiled and spun overhead, blotting out the sky.

  She looked down to the Wheel below. Physendrian soldiers twitched and flailed their limbs. They scrabbled across the ground like wounded crabs, tearing at their clothes, at their faces.

  The infant began crying. Shara looked up at Brophy. He stared unblinking at the city below, mouth open, arms down, barely holding on to the baby.

  The child drew a shuddering breath and wailed again. Brophy shook his head, looked down, and brought her to his chest. He cradled her there, slowly turned to look at Shara.

  “We have to hurry,” he murmured, as though sleepwalking. The baby balled her fists and screamed. Little tears beaded at the corners of her eyes. Medew was on her hands and knees, staring down, panting as if she were going to throw up. Baelandra and Scythe clung to one another on the steps, shaking in the aftermath.

  “We are lost…” Baelandra mumbled, her head twitching. At the base of the steps, a mottled, long-limbed creature flipped to its feet, scratching claws along the stone. It ripped a Serpent helmet from its head and shook its body like a wet dog. Turning its muzzle skyward, it howled. Other animal cries rose all over the city.

  The creature looked up at them with glowing red eyes and began climbing. Bloody saliva dripped from its mouth. Behind it on the courtyard below, a grotesquely enlarged man with bladelike claws leapt upon a misshapen beast that had fallen on all fours. The clawed man tore bloody chunks from the other beast.

  Shara turned around, watching all of the corrupted people rise and roar. The battle lines had disappeared. Ohndariens turned on Ohndariens. Jackal fought Ape fought Serpent. Swords clashed and claws ripped.

  “Shara.” Brophy’s steady voice broke her away from the grisly sight. “Bae. I’m going to need you both. Scythe, you must protect us as long as you can. The corrupted will come for us. They feel us, hate us. Mother Lewlem,” he said, holding out the baby, “please watch over her. I don’t want anything to happen to her. She’s been through enough.”

  Lewlem’s wife took the baby in shaky arms, held her tightly. The child continued crying.

  The long-limbed howler finally reached them, scrambling up the staircase like a ladder. Scythe leapt in front of it. The Sword of Autumn flared, and he hacked through its arm. It clawed at him with its other arm, never noticing the missing limb. Scythe blocked the strike with his sword and sliced open its belly.

  The howler fell upon the Kherish assassin, snapping its jaws at his neck. He cried out and backpedaled, bringing the Sword of Autumn down on its head. The blade cleaved through the creature’s skull, spilling brains onto the landing. Still it came on, biting into Scythe’s leg. He growled through clenched teeth.

  Medew leapt forward, hacking into the monster’s back with the Sword of Winter. With two quick strikes she severed it in half. Its legs slid away, bouncing down the stairs. Scythe yanked himself free. With his other foot, he kicked the beast. It slipped down a half dozen steps, holding on with its one remaining arm. Medew severed its hand, and it tumbled down the steps out of sight.

  Brophy reached down and picked up the Heartstone. It swirled with rainbow colors, the only spot of light under a dark sky.

  A spiny man crawled like a spider up the steps toward Scythe. Light and quick, the creature feinted left and came right. Scythe barely dodged and slipped on the bloody steps. He spun away as the man-spider lashed out, raking his ribs with long claws.

  With a grunt, Scythe raised the Sword of Autumn overhead and hacked into the monster’s shoulder, narrowly missing its neck. It hissed, snapped at Scythe’s face.

  The Kher jerked back, escaping the fangs by inches and rolling to his feet. The thing leapt straight into the air and sailed over Scythe. He shouted, but his sword flashed in the light. The beast crashed to the landing, missing a leg. Scythe stepped forward and hacked its head off. It thrashed as the head bounced off the landing and thumped out of sight.

  Scythe kicked the blind body after, then stood breathing hard, his eyes wild.

  “Brophy, what have you done?” Baelandra said, her eyes wide and her auburn hair a twisted tangle.

  “Bae, please. You’ve trusted me this far, trust me one step further. We need to do this together as Brother and Sister. We need to take everything I have loosed and put it back into the Heartstone, like sucking the poison from a wound.”

  Baelandra shook her head, her gaze going out to the snarling city. “Are you sure? There are so many of them, Brophy, how can we help them all?”

  “They will help themselves. Those who hate the corruption will fight it.”

  “They don’t seem to hate it, they seem to love it.”

  “Some will be seduced by the darkness. We just have to hope there are a lot more of us than them when it’s done.” He sat down cross-legged in the center of the landing, setting the Heartstone between his legs.

  “Show me,” she said. She sat down opposite him, put her swollen hands on the diamond.

  “Brophy,
let me help,” Shara offered, kneeling next to them. Brophy’s distant gaze refocused on her. He looked into her eyes and smiled, beckoned her closer. She leaned in, and he kissed her.

  “Thank you, Shara. For everything.”

  “Brophy, please…How can I help?”

  “Your part is the most important. Find your breath. Gather your magic. I will tell you when.”

  “What am I to do?”

  His hand lingered on her cheek, then slid off. “I will tell you when.”

  Another monster charged up the stairway. Its grotesque head grew two faces, and two extra arms sprouted from its ribs. It keened like the wind, charging for Scythe. He twisted to the side, drove his sword through the thing’s guts. It screamed and slashed him across the neck. With a gasp, Scythe went to one knee.

  Medew darted in, spearing the two-faced monster through the eye with the Sword of Winter. With a gurgling growl, it charged at her. She danced back lightly, keeping her footing, the baby cradled in the sling. The monster charged past her off the edge of the stairs. The glass shattered, and it plummeted into the Hall of Windows.

  Brophy and Baelandra leaned forward, their fingers overlapping on top of the Heartstone. Brophy nodded. He started chanting, barely louder than a whisper.

  “What are you doing?” Baelandra asked.

  “Listen to her song,” Brophy said. “Sing with her.”

  Baelandra nodded, and the two of them began to sing.

  “Can you feel it?” Brophy asked.

  “By the Seasons! It’s everywhere, all around us.”

  “That’s the black emmeria. Pull it into the stone. Draw it in with every note.”

  “I can’t. It’s horrible.”

  “Give it to the Heartstone, let it flow through you.”

  They continued to sing with their eyes closed. Baelandra calmed as her voice grew louder. Her crippled hands relaxed and pressed against the Heartstone. Brophy’s eyebrows furrowed in concentration. His blond curls whipped around him as the furious wind blew straight through him, disappearing into the Heartstone.

  Shara cycled through her breaths, taking herself from the first gate to the fifth in moments. Her power hovered about her like the air before a lightning storm. She longed to use it to help Scythe and Medew, but she waited for Brophy’s signal.

  The wind roared toward them from every direction. The swirling colors in the Heartstone slowed, then dulled. They became lighter and lighter shades of the rainbow, fading to gray.

  Another creature slowly approached Scythe on all fours. Thick, stiff hair burst from one side of its neck. Its ears had become thin and pointed at the top, thrusting through a mane of wild brown hair. Its eyes shimmered like gold coins. Letting out a purr, it skittered closer and stopped. Its claws clicked on the stone.

  Scythe pointed the Sword of Autumn at its nose. Its head twitched as though it had heard something, and it let out a thin mewl, looking frantically at the sky. Its ears drew closer to its head, shortening and rounding out. A howling gust of wind flew out of the creature’s mouth. Its eyes lost their metallic luster. The bristle of fur grew backward, pulling into its neck and disappearing. Claws retracted and became fingers.

  The corruption fled and the creature became a woman. Bewildered, she slipped and began to fall down the stairs. Scythe reached out and caught her hand.

  “Climb,” he said. “You are safe now.” Sobbing, she scurried past him and crouched at the far corner of the landing, staring at them all with wide eyes.

  The noise of the city changed. The clash of swords continued, but the snarl of corrupted creatures was met with the shouts of people. Those who had expelled the corruption in themselves now fought for their lives against those who had embraced it.

  “Too much!” Bae shouted. The Heartstone had darkened, swirling with an inky blackness.

  “I know,” Brophy intoned. “Keep going.”

  “We can’t—!”

  “Keep going.”

  The Heartstone trembled.

  “Brophy!” Baelandra shouted. “You’ll destroy it!”

  Brophy opened his eyes and took his hands off the Heartstone. “No. I won’t.”

  “We can’t put any more in. It will shatter, and everything will escape.”

  “I know.” Brophy paused, looked at Shara, then back at Baelandra. “I’m going to take it into myself. I’ll hold it as the baby did before.”

  “What?” Baelandra shouted.

  “No!” Shara’s breath caught in her throat. She reached for the Heartstone, trying to take it away from him. She began crying. “Brophy, please. We’ll use…”

  “We’ll use what? The baby? No. This is my path. I will follow it to the end.”

  “You don’t know what you are doing!”

  “Shhhh…” He put a gentle finger on her lips. “Don’t fight me. Help me. I can’t do it alone.”

  Tears streamed down Shara’s face. Baelandra was crying, too. “No, Brophy,” she said. “I will do it. Let me do it.”

  He shook his head. “The Heartstone chose me. I’ve known I was meant for this since I was a boy. Just do as I say.”

  Baelandra set her jaw and fell silent. Tears streaked through the blood on her cheeks. Scythe leaned over, resting a hand on one knee, his sword touching the steps. He stared down the slope of the Hall, waiting for more of the corrupted.

  “All right,” Shara sobbed. “Tell me.” She put her shaky hands over his, began breathing evenly. Brophy lay down and set the Heartstone on his chest, touching it to the red gem embedded there.

  “Remember on the Kherish ship?” he murmured. “The dream? How we flew over the city?”

  Shara nodded as she sobbed.

  “Take me back there. If I have to be somewhere forever, that’s where I want to be.”

  She sniffled, blinked her tears away.

  “Can you do that?” he asked, closing his eyes.

  “I…I can do that,” she said.

  “We’ll lock the black emmeria in my dreams,” he murmured. “I will keep it there. But you must never let me wake up. No matter what.”

  “Brophy—”

  “Promise me.”

  “Oh Brophy!”

  “Promise.”

  She hesitated so long that he opened his eyes again. His gaze burned. She knew every moment she hesitated was a battle for him. “I promise,” she sobbed. He closed his eyes again.

  “Bae, finish what we started,” he said, his voice sounding far away already. “We have most of it. We must get the rest. Send it all through the Heartstone, into me.”

  Baelandra nodded. “I will do it,” she whispered. “I love you, Brophy.” Her voice caught in her throat, and she fell silent. She put her hands on the Heartstone. The black swirled within, and she closed her eyes.

  “Finish what we started,” he murmured, softer. “Keep Ohndarien safe. Don’t let her die.”

  Shara breathed with him, touched his forehead with both hands. She swirled into his thoughts, found him as she always did, bright and beautiful. She slipped into his mind, brought him back to their shared dream.

  “Come,” she said. “Let us fly.”

  They floated out from the Hall of Windows. They flew over the Ohndarien they had known as children, untouched by the black emmeria or the war.

  “Forever…” he murmured.

  They flew over the surface of the lapping waves. He caught her and pulled her to him, kissing her fiercely. Their bodies entwined, and they flew upward again.

  Brophy’s arms slowly relaxed and fell limp at his sides. His eyes darted underneath his eyelids. Shara sang to him, keeping her hands on his forehead as Baelandra leaned over the Heartstone. The swirling black became swirling gray. Faint colors appeared, growing brighter.

  The sky slowly returned to normal, gray clouds scudding off into the blue.

  “It is working,” Shara said.

  Mother Lewlem knelt next to them and pointed to the west. “The Ohohhim have entered the city,” she said. Shara looked
up.

  A swarm of soldiers scrambled over the Sunset Gate, running over the ramparts.

  Baelandra gasped and sat back. The Heartstone swirled brilliantly. It slid off Brophy’s chest and rolled to a stop at Shara’s knee. Brophy’s own heartstone was dark as congealed blood. His eyes twitched underneath their closed lids, but his body was still.

  Scythe slowly limped over to join them. The tip of the Sword of Autumn hovered an inch above the stairs. His bare arm was painted red, and blood dripped steadily from his clenched knuckles, dotting the blue-white marble. His neck was a ragged mess where the two-faced monster had clawed him. He stopped, swaying. Baelandra leapt to her feet and rushed to him.

  “Is it done?” Scythe slurred, his voice as unsteady as his feet.

  “It is done,” Baelandra said.

  A faint smile turned the corner of his mouth. He dropped the Sword of Autumn from limp fingers, and it clattered at her feet. The red diamond flickered and went out. He gave one last shuddering breath and collapsed.

  Baelandra lunged for him, but his body rolled all the way down the stairs to the ground far below.

  epilogue

  A HOODED WOMAN walked carefully through the Night Market. It had been three weeks since the Nightmare Battle, as they were calling it. Most of the cafés and brothels were open again. Clusters of drunken Ohohhim soldiers wandered about the shops in little lines, each holding the sleeve of the man in front of him. Giggling Ohndarien children made a game of joining their rows. The pale, black-haired soldiers couldn’t go anywhere without dragging half a dozen children along with them.

  Despite their serious faces, the soldiers from the Opal Empire took it in good humor. They knew they were well loved in this city. Their skill and courage fighting the corrupted during the Nightmare Battle had made an impression that would last for generations. The Ohndariens had treated them as royalty since the purging of the city. There was little food or drink to share with them, but there certainly weren’t any virgins left in the foreign army.