The Book of Wind:

by E. E. Blackwood

  The registrar shook her head. “Nothing here, I’m afraid.”

  “Check the back dates,” said Regina, just before she lost her clutch and slipped back down to the dirt.

  “There wouldn’t be reason to, officer. Everybody signs this book with such regularity that if the peace officer you were looking for were here, his name would have shown up several times by—”

  The heretic placed a gauntleted fist upon the registry desk, leaning into the open slat between him and the clerk. “Check anyway. Spikeclaw: S-P-I-K-E—”

  “Thank you, Barnard, but I am quite able-eyed – I can assure you. What is your business with this Spikeclaw, anyhow?”

  “I told you, it’s classified—”

  “Transport,” said Regina. “To – to Doblah Province, of course.”

  This surprised the heretic. He threw a furtive look down at her while addressing the registrar: “To Lylia, actually – It’s urgent.”

  The registrar’s shoulders brightened. “Ah! Well, why didn’t ye say so? Aye, that’s a load easier to track, then. We won’t be needing this…” She put aside the heavy guestbook with some effort, and vanished below the sight of the desk.

  Regina smiled proudly up at the heretic and struggled to pull herself back up to see where the shrew had gotten to. The registrar reappeared moments later with another tome, and let it slap down onto the desk in a thin veil of dust.

  “Ah – here we go … so, you’re looking for an engineer named Spikeclaw to take you to Lylia Province. Let’s see here: property maintenance; storage and armory; tenant affairs—”

  “No, no, no!” said Regina. “He’s not a, not a whatsit! He’s a warrior, a swordsman, I am sure of it!”

  The registrar blinked at her. “So then this book is no use to us, either. In that case, he would be logged in the guest book, officer. And he simply isn’t listed there. Why do you need a swordsman to take you to Lylia?”

  “Look again, please,” said the heretic with a sigh. Regina could see the impatience drip from his tongue like an overflow of perspiration.

  “You’re sure he’s in Warminister,” said the registrar with a scrutinizing eye on them.

  “Yes!” Regina exclaimed. “All of his letters come from Warminister! Let us into the academy! He’ll be there, more than likely!”

  The heretic suddenly reeled with a look of horror on his face.

  “What? No…!” he whispered.

  The registrar let out a puff of laughter, cleared her throat as she adjusted her spectacles, and leaned forward to regard Regina sardonically. “Why, all letters in Galheist are sent from Warminister. Didn’t … didn’t you know that? No matter where in the world, they’re filtered through Warminister first and dispersed accordingly to the rest of the continent.”

  Regina blinked. “…What?”

  The heretic grabbed her by the shoulder. “Skunk, you said Spikeclaw is in attendance at the academy? Mecia Hall, you mean?”

  “Yes!” Regina exclaimed with a wag of her tail.

  The registrar held back another puff of laughter. “Oh, my. Oh dear, indeed. My, my, Barnard, your little friend here really has lost her marbles, it seems. I’m so sorry to have wasted your time, then.”

  Regina threw confused glances between the both of them. “I don’t – what…?”

  “There is no academy in Warminister,” said the heretic in a low voice that brewed slow, a bubbling cauldron of menace. “There is only one academy to speak of, and that is Mecia Hall – in Cantor Province. Far, far, across the Gabriel Sea. Your Dwain Spikeclaw is not here – never was.”

  Regina’s blood turned to ice. “What…?”

  “Would you like to write him a letter?” asked the registrar behind a wide grin.

  “No.” The heretic grabbed Regina by the paw and dragged her away from the registry office, cursing in indistinguishable canine tongue. “A complete waste of my time. A novice! How could I have been so foolish to put my trust into a rhovla skunk?”

  “Let go of me!” Regina demanded.

  “Shut up. We have to leave – now.”

  “No! Stop it, you’re hurting—”

  “Shut up. We have much to talk about – but not here!”

  The commotion between the two of them brought the attention of several Alliance soldiers and government officials in the vicinity. The heretic ignored them as he drew on quick hind heels back towards the livery.

  Dwain wasn’t here after all… was never here to start? Regina did her best to fight back tears of failure. Self-loathing jabs of foolishness quickly turned to anger and embarrassment. Soon, as she realized the gravity of the situation. It was then that she understood what must be done in order to salvage their journey to Warminister.

  “Help! Help me!” She hollered at the top of her lungs. “It’s the heretic! He’s here! The heretic is here!!”

  “What the hell are you doing?!” The heretic hoisted Regina by the armpits and slung her across his shoulders, now further burdened alongside the weight of the saddlebag.

  But Regina kept on screaming. “Help me! It’s the heretic! It’s the heretic!!”

  This most definitely caught the attention of other mammals. Whistle blares sounded overhead. A number of soldiers started to draw towards them on cautious and curious steps, while whispers of the heretic’s presence passed between mouths and ears all around.

  The heretic drew away from two soldiers who came forward with their weapons partially drawn, blocking the way to the livery. He made a break for the gates that led out of the Alliance compound.

  Regina pounded his steel shoulder, kicked at his mailed arms. “Put me down, you thieving scoundrel! – Help me! He’s got the Crystal! The Crystal of the Wind is with him in this saddlebag!”

  “Shut up!” roared the heretic. “What in the blazing whiskers have you done?!”

  He shoved past everyone in his way. The wrought iron gate slowly rose into sight, and with it two dozen lancers and swordsmammals guarding the threshold with weapons ready.

  The heretic slowed to a light trot. His free paw found Nimbus’s hilt. The air was still, deadly quiet, except for the howl of the wind and the faint flex of quarrels drawn by archers that lined the parapets directly above.

  The heretic swore. He was surrounded with no way to escape, but straight through.

  44. A Great Awakening

  Breathing laboured, the heretic drew Nimbus ready against the threat of those who dared to arrest him. A wide breadth separated him from an expanse of Alliance soldiers who had started to encircle him. Distant whistles blared over shouts of soldiers out in the streets rounding up a ready evacuation.

  “Get back, all of you!” roared the heretic. “If you want to live, get the hell out of my way.”

  Steeled mammals stared him down like weapon-wielding statues, all fearful, stoic, or in shock of his sudden presence. Only the embassy’s heavy flags moved, uttering low thumps as they rippled in the breeze overhead. The heretic was surrounded at every angle, but the soldiers he faced found themselves trapped inside what could easily become a wrought iron graveyard. He was a legend now standing before them. The rumours about his unmatched ruthlessness, his ability to undo the Zuut’s gift of innate healing, had proven true. And now here he was, for them.

  A hushed murmur rumbled throughout the ranks.

  “Is it really him…?”

  “—Look at that sword, Erikson, that can’t be the Nimbus, can it? It’s all chipped and stained—”

  “General Raddix, sir—”

  “—Lieutenant Viggz, what should—”

  “—All right, officers, on my mark—”

  “—That’s the low life traitor they say killed Rudie and those Retainer scum?”

  All the while, Regina continued to pound and kick at the heretic’s shoulder plate. “Put me down, you wretched canine! Put me down, this instant! I said – huh?”

  The sound of creaking door hinges caused her to look up. The heretic swung around, turning Regina’s
gaze involuntarily to a group of terrified soldiers lined up by the compound’s gates. She could just barely make out over their heads, roves of villagers being guided to safety far and away from the heretic’s vicinity.

  Rapid footfalls and clanging steel against chainmail rumbled in Regina’s ears. She strained to look over her shoulder just as a small subset of Alliance troops spilled out from inside the embassy. They lined the embassy steps in perfect battle formation, weapons ready to take the heretic down – or at least try. The little skunk swallowed fearful thoughts when she realized the platoon was totally composed of canines.

  “Wonderful,” said the heretic, unimpressed. “Old and broken toys to play with. So good to see you again, comrades.”

  A familiar voice boomed over the compound: “Heretic! By order of the Company of the Phoenix, you are hereby under arrest! We have you absolutely surrounded!”

  Lieutenant Uriost appeared in the doorframe alongside the canines she led. She pushed aside her navy blue cape, drawing free a scarlet-hilted broadsword.

  The heretic grunted surprise. “Sara…”

  “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but this is beyond even the sanity of a roadside vagabond!” said Uriost. “Free your hostage and set Nimbus and the Crystal of the Wind down at your footpads. Do so, and we shall grant you quarter.”

  The heretic regained himself. “Only quarter? A real bargain. Pity I’m an all-or-nothing sort of fellow. Tell your chess pieces to step aside if they’d like to see the light of the moon tonight.”

  “That’s enough.” Another voice came over the compound, calm and commanding. A new figure appeared at Lieutenant Uriost’s side. He was a fox clad in golden armour. A plum cape flowed about his body, caught in the inescapable touch of the constant Galheist wind.

  The heretic sucked back a deep snarl. “…You…”

  “What brings you to Warminister today?” the golden fox asked. He touched Uriost’s shoulder, a gesture that assumed his command over the situation. “Are you here to make amends with the Zuut, or have you come with plans to bring this city to its knees? It’s no secret to anyone that you – and you alone – wield the power to do so.”

  “My fight’s not with anyone here,” the heretic said behind bared teeth.

  “That so? But just look at yourself! Take a look around, old boy.”

  “Let me pass. That’s all I ask.”

  “And where in the world would you go? Doblah? If so, let Phoenix Company accompany you, at least.”

  “No thanks. Not one for dungeons, Tetra. Did that once, wasn’t to my liking.”

  “Let’s at least discuss this matter with civility. Put the soldier down.”

  “Gladly. Her servitude has been a waste to me.”

  In an instant, Regina felt all blood in her body swell to her head as the heretic swung her in a swift arc back onto unsteady footpads. Sudden exposure to the daylight blinded her as the helmet she wore was discarded, knocking away her spectacles, and echoed hollow bounces across distant cobblestones.

  Cold steel pressed against her exposed throat.

  “Let me through Warminister or she dies,” said the heretic.

  Regina heard Uriost murmur something to her commander. “Master Tetra – that skunk. I think – I think I know her from somewhere…”

  I’ve dreamt of this moment, Regina realized, gazing upon the now indecipherable shapes and shadows of canine warriors. She took in the full sight of them as numbness flowed through her veins. Alone, but with eyes all upon me. Now, a swift knife stroke – this is my death. I will die here, today…

  She awaited with muscles tensed, anticipating, for Nimbus to cut across her throat. Here she was, so far away from the Hollow. Lost and alone in a new world, without those whom she loved close by. She would die here – She would die here and Dwain, nor Master Astral, would ever know.

  Regina closed her eyes, shuddered back the tears that dared to fall.

  Master Astral – please reach my memories. Know what has happened, and understand what may yet come. Dwain must know … the world must know … I don’t understand what purpose you saw in my departure, but know what I’ve come to experience. Know what I now know…

  Small prayers left on wind-blown thoughts that Regina hoped would carry far across the continent. She swallowed hard against the quiver of Nimbus’s edge to her jugular, opened her eyes and kept a firm gaze on the blurs and blobs of soldiers who, in turn, kept a safe distance from the heretic. Peace drew over her body.

  I am ready.

  “Lower your arms. Everyone. That’s an order.” The golden fox named Tetra shifted between a few soldiers and made his way down the stairs towards the heretic.

  “Better,” said the heretic. Nimbus drifted slightly from Regina’s throat.

  Uriost balked at this. “Milord—!”

  “Everything is fine, Lieutenant.” When Tetra reached the compound floor, he drew towards the heretic on cautious heels with both paws extended open-palmed. “Let’s talk about this.”

  “Nothing to talk about. I said my battle’s not with you. It’s not with the Ministry of Peace, and it certainly isn’t with Warminister. Let me pass and no one will die today.”

  “I understand. But you do realize the severity of this unfortunate turn of events.”

  “What do you want, Tetra, for me lay down my blade and let you march me into the Zuut’s throne room? You think he’ll graciously appeal my actions under the guise of a simple, humble, apology? So sorry, my Zuut, for the inconvenience I’ve been to your immaculate design. Please accept my word of disgraced honour, and a home-baked pie, to make up for it.”

  “You really don’t get it, do you?” Tetra slowed, blinking with disbelief. “The Alliance is your family, Doblah is your home! Yes, you’ve strayed from the path, but—”

  “There aren’t enough apologies in the world that’ll repair this mess,” said the heretic. “Don’t you see, Tetra, what our beloved Zuut has done to us? He’s driven even the canines apart.”

  “That was your doing,” Tetra said, darkly. He stepped closer. “Not his.”

  The heretic pushed Nimbus firmer to Regina’s throat. She winced as a trickle of blood rolled down behind her collar plate.

  Tetra’s heels froze to the cobblestones.

  “Back off,” rumbled the heretic.

  “You’re ill. All I want is to help you.”

  “No. You want the Crystal of the Wind. You want the Blade of the Unicorn. I’m a lost cause. We both know it. Speak to me as an equal, but everybody knows once you’ve betrayed the Zuut, no way a mammal can face him again in honest light. Why’d I get jailed last time then, when all I wanted was the same thing the Alliance does?”

  “Your motives don’t meet the Zuut’s design. His design is Mother Azna’s design. What you did went against this. That was different.”

  “Was it? So then, say I go with you. How can you certify Nimbus won’t find its way through my heart by the hand of the very saviour you claim shall forgive me?”

  Anger flashed across Tetra’s muzzle. “That’s not who the Zuut is, and you know it. Rise from the ashes of your ill-led war against those who know what is best for you. Father loves you, even now. How dare you let recent events cloud all the good that he has done for these lands – for us.”

  The heretic snarled. “If what you say is true, announce my name.”

  “…What?”

  “My name. If my reputation isn’t tarnished like you seem to claim – if the Zuut aims to forgive all that I’ve done – renounce this childish title I’ve been given. Reinstate my rank. Who am I, Tetra Blacktail? What is my name?”

  Tetra stared at him with muzzle agape. Though his golden visor hid the expression in his eyes, the discomfort that emanated off his scent told no lie. “It’s not that simple, old boy. You must under … understand—”

  At this, the heretic shrank back with Regina held close, as though ice speared his heart. “…Not even my own will…?”

  �
�As it pains me to do so, you don’t offer Phoenix Company much choice in the matter...” Tetra placed his paws on either side of his golden visor, slowly lifted his helmet off.

  A fox who resembled Regina’s kidnapper, right down to his charcoal fur, stood before them now. Tetra gazed sadly upon the heretic, straightened, and balanced his helm upon one hip as his purple cape fluttered in the wind to one side.

  “…Brother,” he uttered.

  45. Amidst Copper Cobblestones

  Regina gasped. “It – it can’t be…”

  But it was true, and the heretic reacted accordingly to this. In a flash, he threw Regina aside and sprang forward with Nimbus overhead in a sweeping arc so fast, those who were alive to tell the tale would swear that a silver tail of Unicorn’s essence followed in its wake.

  “Master Tetra!” Uriost shrieked.

  But he was ready. A deafening claaaannnggg…!! Filled the air as Nimbus came down upon the gold-rimmed edge of the Alliance Commander’s massive silver discus. His golden helm rolled to a stop between the two canines.

  Their eyes met. Mammal-to-mammal. Soldier to deserter.

  “Don’t do this,” Tetra begged him in a whisper. The arm that balanced his discus trembled just a hair. “It’s not too late, I promise you.”

  The heretic snarled, pushed more of his weight into the blade. “You have no brother. He died when you denied him his identity. There is only your oblivion, now.”

  “Listen to me!” Tetra roared. “We can solve this! Together!”

  Regina watched horrified from the sidelines as the two of them exchanged blows. This wasn’t how my plan supposed to go … “Goddess – what have I done, now?”

  Tetra sent a swift heel into the heretic’s midsection, sent him floundering a safe distance. The heretic stumbled, swirling back around to face him, brought Nimbus back down at the Alliance commander with a dual-wielded overhead strike. Tetra parried the attack easily, using the discus as a combination between blade and shield. Their dance of combat was swift and graceful – These two canines were unmatched in skill, Regina surmised. It was clear from the terror and intensity emanating off of the soldiers who watched from the sidelines with her, waiting desperate for further orders, terrified to engage.