His Ancient Heart

by M. R. Forbes

  After what seemed like an eternity, the foot fell away.

  Wilem dropped the light and stumbled to the ground, his body shaking, hot, and tired.

  "It must be cut," Oz repeated, pointing to its foot. "It must not wait."

  Wilem took a deep breath. He was getting tired, but he had to do this. He stood up and summoned the light again. "Lychnus."

  Once more he compressed it. Once more he dug it into Oz. The ircidium on the older juggernaut was only a thin plate on top of a separate alloy that supported the creature's mass. It was much easier to cut through, and he removed the foot without difficulty.

  "It must give it the foot." Oz put his hand out, and Wilem retrieved the juggernaut's foot. Despite being made of ircidium, it was heavier than he was expecting, forcing him to use both arms to shift it over. Oz took it and showed it to Wilem. The inside was filled with a number of tubes and both solid and flexible metal poles. "It must connect it." It lifted its stump and pointed at the similar tubes and poles inside.

  Wilem examined it. He could see some of the metal inside had been fused together, and after cutting the leg off with his magic, he understood what he needed to do.

  Oz pushed its bent foot away and put the new foot directly in front of the stump. It picked at the larger tubes and poles, putting them together so that Wilem could fuse it.

  It was delicate, detailed work. There were dozens of connections, and putting the whole thing back together was exhausting. He could barely keep his eyes open by the time he had secured the foot to Oz's ankle, and the juggernaut had declared itself repaired.

  "It must cut," Oz said, pointing at its missing arm.

  "I can't. I'm too tired." Wilem looked away from the metal man, to where Silas and Eryn were resting. Silas had moved them to the base of a tree and was sitting against it with Eryn's head in his lap. He was still awake. Wilem stood and walked over to him.

  "How is she?"

  "It is hard to tell. She hasn't woken, and I don't think she will. She was calling for you."

  Wilem put his hand on her cheek. It was rougher than he remembered, and cold. "How long have you been sitting here?"

  "Six hours, at least. My ancient heart... I believe it has healed the wound to my leg." Silas' voice was both grateful and sad. "I watched you the entire time. Well done."

  Wilem followed his gaze to Oz, who was standing on the new foot. It was half the size of the old one and looked strange beneath the creature. It was hopping from one foot to the other, testing it.

  "It is repaired," Oz said. "It requires attention." It pointed to the missing arm.

  "Forget about the arm. You need to rest," Silas said. "Oz, keep watch. Wake us if anything approaches."

  "It is pleased to follow First of Nine."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Silas

  Silas allowed Wilem to sleep for a few hours before waking him. It was important that the Mediator had time to regain some of his strength. It was also important they get out of the valley before any of his other generals could arrive.

  Silas knew they would come. He would send whoever was closest, with all of the soldiers and Mediators he could gather. They would do their best to keep Silas from getting out of Genesia, and back into the Empire to resume his search for him.

  He wondered if they were prepared to handle a dragon.

  He wasn't sure where the beast would go or what it would do now that it had fled the valley. His only experience with dragons had come during the war, and they were always under the command of a Shifter General. This one was alone in the world, the only one of its kind, and it would need to feed.

  Under the watch of the Shifters, that task fell to the Generals, who would channel the power of the ebocite to them. Without them, could it survive at all?

  It was the least of his worries at the moment. Eryn needed a place to rest, and there was only one that Silas could think of in all the Empire that might be safe.

  He needed to bring her back to Varrow City.

  He needed to bring her to Overlord Prezi.

  They had been close once. He remembered that the first time his eyes had touched the city. More accurately, she had been close to General Talon Rast. It was merely a hope that he could find some level of understanding in her as Silas Morningstar. She was a wise woman, intelligent and thoughtful. She would hear him out if he presented himself to her. He would tell her the truth of things and allow her to decide their fates.

  There was no other choice.

  They made the trip from Genesia. Oz was upset that they didn't spare time to repair his lost arm, and the creature displayed an almost human personality in lamenting the decision. It was only once Silas promised they would repair it with the next juggernaut arm they found that was compatible that it quieted and focused on the journey.

  The end of the first day found them scaling the slope of the valley. The mist hadn't completely dissipated yet, but it had succumbed enough that they could see the vast field of the dead and decayed. The inhabitants of a once great reactor who had been struck down by the juggernauts when they attempted to flee. Silas knew he was responsible for that massacre as well. Once the Nine had succeeded in defeating the Shifters at Ares'Nor, he had done his best to keep the secrets, all of the secrets, from getting out.

  Jeremiah.

  He could find him in his memories as little more than shadows and echoes. One of the scientists who had come to Genesia to study the ebocite and tune the resonances. He remembered they had been friends as well as comrades, spending late evenings drinking and plotting the next day's work.

  Where did we go so wrong?

  They spent that night camped at the top of the valley, where Wilem had left their bundle of things. They loaded everything back into the pack with the metal canisters for Oz and slept while the juggernaut stood watch.

  At least, Wilem and Eryn slept.

  Eryn didn't wake. She shivered and burned, tossed and mumbled. Her skin grew more sickly and ashen with each hour that passed.

  Wilem stayed by her side, sleeping so lightly that every motion she made woke him and caused him to stare at her with a look of concern. It was clear to Silas that the boy loved her, or at least believed he did. Young love could be such a fickle thing, and yet he hoped for the best for both of them.

  Since they had escaped the reactor, since he discovered that his true heart was made of black crystal, Silas had felt no compulsion to sleep. Though his body tired, his mind remained sharp, his eyes alert.

  Then there was his leg...

  It had healed in hours. He knew it was sprained at the least, an injury that should have taken a week or more to resolve. He could almost feel the cold magic of his ebocite core flowing through his veins to the area, and working to repair it.

  He spent the night questioning whether he was human, juggernaut, or something else.

  The night passed slowly.

  The following morning had them moving back east, skirting the roads and towns and stopping often to avoid the eyes of random patrols. Most were single riders, scouts on fast Portnis stallions, their bows held in their grips, ready to defend themselves should the fugitives appear. One had been headed by a Mediator, and Silas had spent an hour crouched on a low branch of a tree, sword in hand, ready to ambush the entire retinue had he somehow sensed Eryn during her restless sleep.

  He didn't.

  Wilem led them back to the hole where they had stayed with Davin and Saretta. He helped Silas carry Eryn inside while Oz waited under the night sky, too large to enter. It was tempting for him to leave her there, to use this place as their hideout while he found more of the cure. It was tempting for him to forget about speaking to Overlord Prezi because he knew it was a risk.

  In the end, he decided that wasn't possible. Jeremiah would step up the patrols. He would send the remaining warriors of the Nine, and sooner or later the hole would be discovered.

  He knew the only safe place was under his nose.

  "Wilem, you need to stay here
and take care of Eryn. Oz and I will sneak into Varrow City and retrieve more of the cure."

  "How are you going to sneak into the city, never mind the palace, and with a juggernaut?"

  "The same way I snuck out. That will bring us within a few blocks of the palace. From there, I can disguise Oz well enough as a farmer, or a woodcutter, or a smith. They tend to be quite large."

  "So you get him to the palace walls. Then what? He can't climb with one arm."

  "I'll climb the wall and open the gate for him. I need Oz with me. He is made of ircidium, impervious to magic. If Overlord Prezi catches me..."

  "If she catches you, one juggernaut won't help. There is an entire army behind those walls. Anyway, it isn't impervious. I cut through its leg to help repair it."

  "He will have sent them out in search of us. It will be a small garrison at best. And, you had to focus your power into the smallest point to get through the metal. Even if the Overlord did the same, it would take hours."

  "I don't like it." Wilem looked back at Eryn. She was laying on the simple mattress where Davin and Saretta once slept.

  "I don't like it either. The truth is... there is a very good chance I will not succeed. If that happens..." He didn't want to say what he knew he must. "If that happens, don't let her change. Do you understand?"

  Wilem's face paled, and tears pooled in his eyes. He put his hand on Eryn's. "I won't."

  "Swear it, my boy. Swear it on all our lives. That General wanted her for a reason. He wanted her to change, and to have control over her once she did."

  "I know. I... I understand. I have a dagger. If I must, I will."

  Silas nodded. "If you could give me a moment alone with her."

  Wilem bowed slightly and left the small hole, climbing out to stand with Oz. Silas knelt down beside Eryn and clasped her cold, rough hand between both of his.

  "Forgive me, child, if my efforts fail. Forgive an old fool for the ruination of this world." The tears dropped from his face onto the straw. He sat with his eyes closed for a minute, and then rose.

  There was no time to waste.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Spyne

  "I will ask you again. Have you seen him?" Spyne asked.

  The villager was young and pretty. She cowered before him and his Historians, clutching her arms across her chest to hide her body, bared with the tip of a blade.

  The one they called Worm hovered next to her, dagger in hand. He was the youngest of the Historians, the coldest. He was small and slight, his entire body marked in ink - patterns and pictures, sharp angles and lines, skulls, bones, blades, and blood.

  He was expressionless, emotionless, while he waited for Spyne's orders. The General sat on his charger a dozen feet away, five other men and Worm's horse aligned behind him. His Historians, the most well-trained, capable, and hard men culled from his army of thousands. They all shared the same thick beard and cold eyes. They all rode in full armor at all times, just like their General. All except Worm.

  Dozens of the residents of Chaston stood around them, crowding tight together, ready to aid her once the General was done with his questioning. The villager's father was at the head of the line, his eyes raining tears, his face red with anger and embarrassment.

  Spyne's eyes flicked across them. He knew the girl hadn't seen Talon. He knew none of them had. The key to control was fear, and by scaring them now they would be more honest with him later, perhaps even sending someone to him should the Liar make his way through the area.

  Cutting away her bodice... He thought he would have enjoyed that. There was a time when he had, but time had stolen his simple pleasures. Now it took more, so much more to overcome the darkness that stirred inside him. The uncontrollable anger. The overarching hate.

  "I... I haven't, my Lord. I swear on my life."

  "Do you swear on your chastity?" Colonel Peyn asked from Spyne's right, following it with a rough laugh.

  The question alone caused the girl to fall to her knees and sob.

  "We would know if the man you described passed through here, my Lord," her father said from the crowd. "Please, leave her be."

  Peyn slid easily from his mount and stormed over. "Are you giving me orders?" he screamed in the man's face.

  "N..no... no, my Lord. My apologies." The man knelt on the ground, his head lowered.

  Spyne watched as Peyn drew his bright ircidium blade and removed the man's bowed head. He could feel the entire crowd hold their breath while they watched the body collapse. The girl screeched and passed out, leaving herself exposed. Worm's eyes shifted down for only an instant, and then regained their straight, blank gaze.

  "Colonel," Spyne said. "Did I give you permission to draw your weapon?" His eyes remained on the girl's prone body. He studied the soft skin, the smooth rise of her chest, the wrinkled flesh at the tips of her breasts.

  He felt nothing.

  "No, my Lord." Peyn returned his blade to its scabbard. He turned and knelt before his General, his foot resting on the decapitated head. "These villagers need to learn respect, my Lord."

  Spyne looked them over again.

  "I think your lesson has been effective, Colonel." He raised his voice so the gathered crowd could hear. "If ever I hear that the Liar has passed through this village and I have not been informed, you can be assured that all of your men will find themselves missing their heads, and all of your women will find themselves missing their purity. Is that understood?"

  They were silent around him. Worm made his way back to his stallion, while Colonel Peyn regained his mount, his face curled into a predatory smile. Spyne flicked the reins, and his heavy charger snorted and turned. The villagers scattered as he ordered it into a full gallop. It was a risk to have wasted these minutes frightening these people, but he wasn't taking chances. He had remembered that there were two routes out of Genesia, and one of them spilled directly towards this hovel.

  "We should have stayed a while, General," Peyn said, bringing his warhorse alongside. "She was a pretty young thing, I think she could have held up for an hour at least."

  "If we had, and we missed Talon Rast for our dalliance, you would be the first one I killed."

  Peyn laughed, not because he doubted the General's words, but because he didn't. "It might have been worth it for that one."

  Spyne allowed himself to smile. He recruited the hardest of men from his armies, because hard men were the kind of men he needed. A book, a map, a scrap of paper - these were easy things to hide, easy things to deny. They could be secreted away anywhere, and he would rarely be the wiser. It was fear that brought them all in line. None wanted to risk the wrath of the Historians. No tome scribbled in a language they couldn't read was worth watching their wife or daughter be defiled. No ancient clue measured the value of their home remaining unburned, their head remaining connected to their neck. His soldiers did the same for the Cursed, but even the Cursed weren't as dangerous as the truth.

  He took their threats, and he carried them a step further. He made them more palpable, more real, and more terrifying than simple destruction. He promised pain and anguish, drawn out to his satisfaction.

  He was a very hard man to satisfy.

  Such actions required the most soulless of men. The threats were meaningless without those who wouldn't hesitate to make good on them. Men such as Peyn, Rose, Cain, Ash, Ollie, and Worm.

  Spyne glanced back at Worm for just a moment, checking on him and yet trying not to be noticed. That one never spoke, not a word, and in his silence he created a fear far deeper than terror. Even Spyne rarely issued him an order, preferring to let him ride, his tattoos hiding every thought and emotion.

  Spyne was sure he was a demon in human skin. Born in Heden itself, and dropped from the womb to the world of man because he scared the damned who lived in eternal torment there. He hadn't wanted him as a Historian, but he had commanded it, and in time he had seen the wisdom of the decision.

  Still, he often wondered where the man had come from,
certain that he would never know.

  He fixed his eyes ahead, scanning the thicker trees rising from the horizon and the small mountains behind them. He felt a small something in his heart. Not anger. A feeling he didn't recognize.

  Genesia. Home.

  It had been a long, long time.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Silas

  It was a faster, easier journey for Silas, now that he knew Eryn would be safe for a while. He moved forward at a light jog, the juggernaut easily keeping pace on its new limb. They skirted the forest between Varrow City and the mines, retreading much of the same ground Eryn had covered on her way to the Dark.

  Silas hadn't found the answers he was seeking. In fact, he had left with even more questions, the most important being why. They had won the war. They had defeated the Shifters. They could have returned their world to glory while there was still some glory left to it. Why had Jeremiah become a cold-hearted tyrant of a ruler? Why had he agreed to follow?

  Murderer.

  The word spilled into his mind, and he put his hands to his head. It was a word that never left him, even after renouncing his past life. Even after sacrificing himself for Eryn, so that she might see to his destruction.

  The innocents he had slaughtered...

  If only he knew why.

  Murderer.

  "It is near." The burst of steam through Oz's grated mouth pulled Silas from his thoughts. His hand fell to the hilt of his sword.

  "What is near?"

  "Wizard. It comes." The juggernaut pointed to a small hill. "It is near." Even as it spoke, it lifted the massive sword slung across its back.

  Silas scanned the trees. He didn't hear or see anything.

  "It is near," Oz repeated.

  He didn't want to get into a battle with any of his soldiers. Not yet. He didn't want them to know they were anywhere near Varrow City.

  "This way," he said, leading the metal man away from the hill. "Be quiet."

  "It is pleased to be quiet." Oz followed behind him in the strange, shuffling gait that allowed him to stay almost silent, despite the shifting plates of metal and the gears that spun with every motion.