Nightborn

by Anders, Lou

  Desstra glanced at the shining blade.

  “Put that away,” she said. “Breakfast is on me.”

  —

  “Will you look at that?”

  Karn pointed over the heads of people crowding the streets to the procession beyond. At a time like this, he wished he were as tall as Thianna. Still, most of what there was to see was raised high above the crowd.

  A line of pageant wagons was being slowly pulled down the street. These were two-story structures mounted on six-wheeled wooden carts. The lower room was a dressing area for the performers, while the upper floor served as a small stage. The whole thing was pulled by people or, in some cases, horses. Karn thought it was a wonder they didn’t tip over.

  He noticed a wagon featuring a model of a creature that seemed to be half rooster, half reptile. The animal had the head and legs of a bird, but the wings and tail of a dragon. He recalled seeing the creature emblazoned on banners about the city.

  “What is that?” Karn asked another street fisher.

  “Cockatrice,” the dwarf explained. “Nasty animal. But it’s sort of a Gordashan mascot.” Then he got a tug on his line and turned his attention to his work.

  “And there’s the horn-shouldered guy again,” said Thianna.

  Sure enough, they saw an actor dressed as Mensis doing battle with fierce creatures with enormous tusks in their mouths. The monstrous figures were dressed in animal skins and had rusty armor and weapons.

  “Those aren’t supposed to be the Uskiri, are they?” Karn asked.

  “I think they are,” said Thianna, whose head was almost as high as the foot of the stage. “Not a very good likeness, is it?”

  “Not at all,” agreed Karn. “I guess they don’t want to go making your enemy look too impressive, but still.”

  “Speaking of enemy,” said Thianna, “look out.”

  Karn followed Thianna’s gaze to the other side of the street. There, he saw the dark elves, Desstra and Tanthal. The elves’ attention was directed on the pageant wagons. So far, they hadn’t noticed the two friends.

  “Well,” said Karn. “Now we know they made it into the city.”

  “Do we try to take them?” Thianna asked.

  Karn looked at the cruel elf boy.

  “It would feel good to wipe the sneer off Tanthal’s face,” he said.

  Then he looked at the pale-skinned slender girl he thought had been helping him. It was still painful to think of her as the enemy. Then his attention was caught by the sudden twitching of Desstra’s ears. He’d seen that before. He knew what it meant.

  “Duck,” he whispered, pulling on Thianna’s arm in an effort to get his tall friend to bend. Unfortunately, they weren’t fast enough. Desstra’s eyes went wide as she saw them. He saw a glimpse of resignation pass across her face, then the elf’s hand dropped to her satchel.

  “Forget ducking,” Karn exclaimed. “Run!”

  Desstra rolled an egg sac across the street. She timed it perfectly with the gaps between cart wheels and pedestrian feet. The projectile came to a stop, and a choking, debilitating gas billowed out.

  Several Gordashans began to cough, eyes watering fiercely, but Karn and Thianna weren’t among them. The Norrønur pulled his friend through the crowd as, behind them, the dark elves ran across the street.

  When they had gone a little distance, Karn turned. The elves had vanished amid the throngs of people. In a fair fight, Karn thought, he and Thianna stood a decent chance. But the crowd added to their danger. It was the knife in the back he feared, or the gas bomb arcing out of nowhere.

  “We need to get away,” he said. “Somewhere open where we can see them coming.”

  “Somewhere open,” said Thianna. “Okay.”

  She reached and gripped the stage of a passing pageant cart, hauling herself up. Then she turned and held a hand for Karn.

  Another costumed Mensis and a man with lion and bull sock puppets on his hands stood gaping at them.

  “You aren’t supposed to be up here,” the puppeteer said, moving the mouth of the lion sock puppet as he spoke.

  “Sorry,” said Karn, scanning the crowd for signs of the dark elves. “Won’t be here long.”

  “You need to get down,” the man said, now speaking with the bull puppet.

  “There they are,” said Thianna, pointing.

  “There who are?” asked the lion and bull together. Karn gave the man points for staying in character even if it was pretty ridiculous.

  There was Desstra, arm poised to throw another egg sac.

  “Don’t try batting at those,” Thianna warned. “Trust me, it doesn’t work. If only we had something soft to catch them in.” She glanced around the stage.

  Desstra lobbed the egg.

  Thianna ripped the lion puppet off the shocked performer’s hand. “Hey,” the man protested. She inverted the sock, catching the egg sac inside the leg cuff. Then she twisted it closed, trapping whatever gas might come bursting out, and swung the sock puppet around her head. She let go, sending it coursing to a rooftop, where it could do no harm. A purple cloud erupted where it struck.

  “What was that for?” the man said, speaking with the bull.

  “She’s, uh, not a fan of puppet theater,” Karn replied with an apologetic shrug.

  “True.” Thianna nodded. She gestured at Karn. “Come on.”

  Thianna ran and leapt from the stage. She landed on the pageant wagon next in line. It was a longer jump for Karn, but he managed it.

  He turned and saw a second projectile heading their way. On impulse he hurled Whitestorm into the air. The sword struck the sac, which exploded harmlessly high over the heads of the crowd. This drew appreciable oohs and aahs from the onlookers. They thought it was just part of the festival.

  “Whitestorm!” Karn called as the sword began to drop. It swooped back into his hand.

  “Neat,” said Thianna. “But how many more of those explodey things does she have?”

  “Don’t know,” said Karn. “She never seems to run out of them.”

  The jump to the next cart was too far to make, even for Thianna. Then help came from an unexpected source.

  A new cart emerged from a side alley. It was slightly longer and lower than the others. And possibly not as well made. Its stage featured a dwarf in a crown confronting a dragon prop. This new entry drew cheers from the crowd, but frowns from the guardsman among them. The cart forced its way into the procession, right ahead of them.

  “They’re not supposed to be here,” called the bull puppet from the previous wagon.

  Karn nodded.

  “The Marble King.”

  “Go away!” shouted the bull. “You’re ruining the festival!”

  But as the longer, lower wagon turned to join the line, Karn and Thianna jumped together, landing on the new stage.

  “Well, hello,” said the dwarf dressed as the Marble King. “Where’d you two come from?”

  Karn gestured at the previous wagon. Then he peered at the dwarf.

  “Idas?” he said.

  The street fisher smiled.

  “Guess I’m more of a believer in the Marble King legend than I let on,” the dwarf said.

  “Hey there.” Thianna greeted Idas. Then she pointed. “We’ve got company.”

  Desstra and Tanthal had climbed onto the back of the stage.

  “Friends of yours?” Idas asked.

  “Not really,” Karn replied. “You might want to stand back.”

  “I’ll just nip downstairs,” said the dwarf. He lifted a hatch in the stage floor and ducked through.

  “I’ll take this one,” said Thianna, moving to face off against Desstra.

  “Thanks,” said Karn, relieved not to be fighting the girl.

  “Don’t thank me,” said Thianna. “I’m eager for a rematch.” She drew her arming sword and flashed her characteristic grin.

  Not taking her eyes off the giantess, Desstra nodded and drew out her slender darts. She welcomed the fight as well
.

  Karn turned to face Tanthal.

  “Let’s finish this,” said the Norrønur, glaring at the dark elf.

  “My sentiments exactly,” replied Tanthal. He held aloft his mace and dagger. Then the time for talking was over and weapons clashed.

  Fighting an opponent who had two weapons was a challenge. Karn wished he still had the Gordion shield. Tanthal was on the offensive with his mace, using his dagger for parrying and for quick counterattacks. The longer reach of Karn’s blade, not to mention the dragon’s touch, kept things even, but only just. The Norrønur was being driven slowly backward. Despite Karn’s months of practice, Tanthal was the better fighter. Karn’s trick with Whitestorm had surprised and unbalanced him when they battled at the lumber mill. The Norrønur wouldn’t catch the dark elf off guard again, and Thianna wasn’t able to lend any help.

  The giantess had her own problems. Furious, she was pursuing the little elf around the stage, but Desstra leapt and dove like a skilled acrobat. Thianna grew angrier and angrier as her strikes failed to connect. Meanwhile, her own clothes were being rent from near-misses of the slender darts.

  “Stand still, why don’t you?” the larger girl growled.

  “I’ll stand on your head if you’ll just fall over, you big oaf,” the elf replied.

  Thianna dove at her and came up empty.

  “Troll dung! Where’d you go?” she exclaimed, looking around.

  Just in time she saw Desstra atop the dragon. Thianna kicked it hard with her boot, sending it toppling sideways. Desstra slipped, catching a wing with one hand. She dangled perilously over the street.

  Cheers erupted from the crowd.

  “This isn’t a performance!” the little elf cried as she swung back onto the platform.

  “Then stop dancing!” Thianna roared.

  “A little help here!” Karn was fending off all of Tanthal’s blows, but he was out of room with nowhere to go.

  “Kind of busy myself,” Thianna answered, whose sword missed Desstra but clipped a chunk off the dragon’s wing.

  The procession reached the gates for the grounds of the enormous basilica, the great dome of which dominated the Gordashan skyline. The road led through the gates and up the hill to the doors of the church. The strategist in Karn wasn’t crazy about entering an area with only one way out, but he had more immediate worries.

  Tanthal increased the speed of his blows. Karn’s guard was weakening as he tired. Then the trapdoor flew open. Idas climbed out, bearing a wooden sword. Behind him, a half-dozen other dactyls emerged, similarly armed.

  “Time to return the favor!” Idas yelled. The dwarves charged the dark elves. They whacked Tanthal mercilessly with their pretend weapons. With relief, Karn joined them in their assault.

  Desstra was surrounded on all sides, unable to leap and jump.

  “Show’s over,” Thianna said. “Time to take your bows.”

  Suddenly, the pageant wagon rocked. City guards were clashing with the dwarves towing the cart. The stage swayed precariously.

  “Can’t you see we’re fighting here?” Thianna yelled.

  Then the pageant wagon tumbled over and Thianna, Karn, dark elves, and dactyls crashed to the ground.

  Karn leapt clear as the cart collapsed, landing on the soft grass of the parkland. He saw Tanthal under a pile of dwarves, Desstra atop the remains of the dragon, Thianna picking her way out of the wooden wreckage. More guardsmen came running up. He counted at least twenty of them, all armed with spears and shields. No one was going anywhere.

  “I’m sorry, Idas,” he said to the street fisher. “We’ve wrecked your parade.”

  “That wasn’t your doing, kid,” said the dwarf. “I told you the authorities weren’t big on the Marble King’s legend. I’m surprised we got as far as we did.”

  “Well,” said Thianna, joining them, “fun’s over now.”

  —

  “Those dreadful cannons have my teeth on edge.”

  The man on the golden throne looked like he was having a bad day. Karn thought that the enormous jeweled crown on his head looked too heavy to be comfortably worn, while his expensive clothes and fur-lined cape must have made him incredibly hot in this southern climate. He was speaking in Common, though with an accent not that different from that of the dwarves Karn had met in the city.

  The sound of a cannon erupted. It was followed seconds later by the noise of a projectile striking stone. The Uskirians had begun their bombardment at the close of the festival, firing at both the land walls and the northern seawalls.

  “It’s hard to think straight with all the cacophony,” the Gordashan imperator said.

  Karn and Thianna were in a large, marble-floored and marble-columned room, the most exquisite chamber either of them had ever been in. They, along with the dwarves and elves, had been brought to the palace, an ancient structure dating from the time of the original Gordion Empire, now the seat of power for the current ruler.

  “Can’t we close the windows?” the imperator asked. When no one rushed to obey, he scowled and ordered, “Close the windows or throw yourselves out of them!” This got the attendants scurrying.

  Not nice, Karn thought.

  The imperator plucked a date from a tray, bit into it, made a sour face, and discarded it to the floor. A servant immediately appeared to pick up the chewed fruit.

  “Well,” the imperator said, “I suppose you had better bring forward the rabble-rousers who ruined my festival.”

  The guardsman prodded Karn and Thianna in the backs, as well as the elves, and thwacked the shorter dwarves about the head to drive them forward.

  “Kneel,” the captain of the guard said.

  Karn saw the dactyls drop immediately, and he started to do likewise. Then he noticed Thianna hadn’t budged. Neither had the dark elves.

  “Kneel before the imperator,” the guard captain repeated.

  “He’s not my imperator,” said Thianna. “Didn’t even know what an imperator was this morning.”

  Karn groaned. Antagonizing their captors probably wasn’t wise.

  “I said, kneel,” ordered the man. He was growing red in the face.

  “Make me,” growled the frost giant’s daughter.

  Guards kicked them from behind, causing their legs to buckle. Rough hands on their shoulders forced Karn, Desstra, and Tanthal to their knees. Karn fought it, but he was held down and couldn’t rise.

  Thianna, however, was still standing. Despite his reservations about the wisdom of her actions, he felt a surge of pride for his friend.

  “Kneel!” The guard captain was shouting now. Thianna stared him down, unflinching. The man gestured and two more guards joined the ones already trying to bend Thianna’s knees.

  It was comical, four grown men tugging and shoving at the giant girl. She glanced at them hanging off her limbs, then raised her chin.

  “I prefer to stand.”

  The guard captain drew his sword, preparing to run her through.

  “Thianna,” Karn warned.

  “Oh, enough of this,” said the imperator, rising from his throne. “Let the barbarian stand. We can cut her down easily enough later.” He strode forward. “So this is the group who wrecked the Mensis Imperativae?”

  “Yes, Your Eminence,” the guardsman replied.

  “Two barbarians. And aren’t you a nasty lot?” he said, turning his attention to Desstra and Tanthal. “Elves, but not a type I’ve ever seen before. You four are a bit of a curiosity.”

  The Gordashan imperator stopped before the dactyls and sighed.

  “You people need to give up this ‘cult of the Marble King’ nonsense. Really, it’s not doing you any good. Look where it’s gotten you now.”

  “Well, I’ve never been invited to the palace before,” said Idas.

  The imperator gave a tight-lipped smile.

  “Take them away and cut their heads off,” he said, indicating the dactyls.

  “They weren’t with us,” Karn spoke up. “They h
ad nothing to do with us. We just jumped on their stage.”

  The imperator raised his eyebrow at the captain of the guard.

  “True?”

  “Yes, Your Eminence,” the man replied. “While the dactyls joined the procession without proper authorization, we don’t think they were involved with the foreigners.”

  “They weren’t,” the boy said suddenly. “Whatever you think we were doing, the dwarves had nothing to do with it.”

  “Curious,” said the imperator.

  “Your Majesty,” an older advisor interjected. The ruler motioned him forward.

  “The cult of the Marble King has a lot of followers in the city,” the advisor said. “Perhaps now is not the time to make a public spectacle of them.”

  “But the festival has been ruined,” the imperator complained. “We needed a morale boost, and now we have a disaster.”

  “If we can separate the dwarves from these four, we can deal more harshly with them without risking the disfavor of the population.”

  The imperator brightened at this.

  “So you say your squabble has nothing to do with the dactyls?” the ruler asked Karn.

  “Nothing at all,” Karn continued. “We just leapt onto their wagon when we were fleeing those two.” He indicated the two strange elves.

  “Very well,” the imperator sighed. “Give the dwarves a whipping and send them home.”

  Several of the guardsmen moved to carry out this order.

  “Good luck, kid,” said one of the dactyls as he was led away.

  “Now,” said the imperator. “Suppose you tell me what you four are doing in our fair city.”

  “It’s very easily explained,” said Tanthal. “I’m sure we can come to an understanding. If only I might approach your throne…”

  “You might not,” said the imperator. “Not without a sword in the gut, that is.”

  Thianna snickered at this.

  “Please, sir,” said Karn. “We don’t have anything to do with your war. We’re very sorry for your situation—”

  “Our situation?”

  “Being under siege.”

  “My boy, Gordasha has been under siege many, many times in its illustrious history. The Uskiri will give up and go home after a few weeks. We will weather this siege as we have all others.” As if to disprove his point, a particularly loud cannon shot boomed outside. The imperator winced.