Heirs of the Fallen: Book 03 - Shadow and Steel

by James A. West

  Before they reached the thin pools of light escaping the high, arched windows of the palace, Adham said quietly, “Watch your step and your back. This city is cursed, every bit as much as Fortress El’hadar. We are not guests here, but prisoners.”

  Chapter 15

  We are not guests here, but prisoners….

  Days had passed since Adham spoke those words, and each new dawn stole away a little more of their grim portent. Armala was indeed a city built of black stone, but during the day, when sweltering under the hot sun, or dripping after one of the rain showers that soaked all with fleeting ferocity, those stones were, in the end, simply dark by the nature of their creation. And though many of the city’s monuments and fountains were terrible to look upon, they were only small blights.

  While Adham stayed on edge, always casting about with a mistrustful glare, Leitos and the others settled in. Sumahn and Ulmek seemed to forgive Ba’Sel’s order to surrender their weapons, and so did the rest of the Brothers. Those were not the only changes.

  While hesitant at first, everyone soon accepted Adu’lin’s offers of Fauthian delicacies. Of the copious amounts Fauthian fruit wine, only Leitos and Adham abstained. For Leitos, the sickly-sweet drink curdled in his gut, where Adham refused to imbibe any spirits other than jagdah—the only liquor, he insisted, potent enough for those of Izutarian blood.

  When not feasting, all the Brothers save Ulmek and Ba’Sel luxuriated in the palace’s large, colonnaded bathhouse, fed by hot springs that bubbled up from deep under the city. After much cajoling, Adham and Leitos joined them, learning why the Brothers had taken to bathing three and four times in a single day.

  “It is not cleanliness these fools seek,” Adham growled, hastily toweling himself off.

  Leitos followed his father’s gaze, and nearly swallowed his tongue.

  At one end of the bathhouse, a train of Fauthian women, clad in diaphanous silks of every bright hue, swept through an archway. When all had gathered round the edge of the bath, some of them pressed wooden flutes to their lips and struck up a trilling melody. The bathing Brothers began clapping a slow beat, to which the rest of the women danced. It was a dance, Leitos noted with shock, that involved shedding a strip of silk every few twirling steps.

  Like Fauthian men, the women were tall. Where the men were given to gangly builds, Fauthian women were sleek of limb, and generously rounded at hip and breast. And to the last, each was breathtakingly beautiful, with cascading waves of red-gold hair falling to their waists. Seeing them that way, naked and smiling playfully, brought a pang to Leitos’s heart.

  When he had been on the run from the changelings Sandros and Pathil, Zera had taken him to a secret cavern in the desert. There had been a pool there, as well, but cold and deep. She had worn the same kind of mischievous look as the Fauthian women did now, putting him terribly out of sorts. Though nothing had happened between them, afterward she had promised never to try and seduce him again. She had named them friends, but he had loved her as much then as he did now.

  “Time to go,” Adham ordered, snatching Leitos out of the steaming pool, and then heaping his clothing into his arms.

  “Where are you off to, little brother?” Daris hooted.

  Juggling his boots and robes, Leitos waved awkwardly. The Brothers looked his way just long enough to shout a few good-natured taunts, then returned their attention to the giggling women, who by now had doffed all their silks in favor of throwing themselves into the bath and the eager arms of the Brothers.

  In a chamber beyond the muggy confines, Adham paused long enough for Leitos to get dressed—a tricky affair, since he was still wet. After that, they strolled outside into the heat of the day. Only when Leitos noticed that they were heading toward the main gate in the palace wall, did he speak.

  “We should turn around, go back to our quarters. I’m sure Ulmek and Ba’Sel are in the gathering hall. Maybe we could get something to eat—”

  “I’m finished with gathering halls and rich food, and all this accursed Fauthian friendliness,” Adham snarled. When he caught Leitos eyeing him uncertainly, he halted and shook his head. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. But there is something wrong here. I have felt it in my bones since the night we arrived. Gods good and wise, I felt it the moment those snaky yellow bastards crept from the forest, and all but begged to lay hands on Ke’uld.”

  Leitos did not know what to say to that. He did not overly trust the Fauthians, but other than Adu’lin’s occasional lingering looks and sly smiles, none of them had done anything to make him as uneasy as his father was.

  Two guards came together on the wall walk arching over the open gate. When the pair glanced down, Adham spun Leitos in the other direction. Once they were well out of earshot, he said, “The time has come to search this city.”

  “Are you sure that is a good idea?”

  “Has Adu’lin denied us the chance?”

  Leitos thought about it. “No, not exactly. But more than once I have gotten the impression that we ought to keep to the palace grounds … for our safety from the Yatoans. Besides, how would we get past the guards?”

  “If these guards are any indication, the Yatoans are not the frightful warriors Adu’lin claims.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you feared an attack at any moment, would you spend so much time watching the palace grounds, or would you look to the streets beyond, in the direction that the enemy would come?”

  Instead of answering, Leitos cast an eye over the grounds. Wherever a guard walked, he looked inward, not out. They did not behave like men in fear of anything. Truth told, they seemed bored to the point of collapse. Here and there, he actually saw a guard slouched against his grounded spear or halberd, apparently napping.

  “And if we get past the guards,” Leitos said cautiously, not wanting to encourage his father into doing something rash, “what do you expect us to find?”

  Adham peered under his brows, his eyes hard and gray as old ice. “Not us—you. I do not have your skills. If I leave, it will be behind my sword. So far, things have not yet gotten so bad as that. At least, I hope not.”

  Leitos did not like where this was going, but at the same time, the idea of sneaking through the city, hunting for answers to unknown questions, filled him with a sense of purpose he had not known he missed. “I’ll do it. But again, what am I searching for?”

  Adham sighed. “That, my boy, I do not know. Something, anything, that tells us who these Fauthians really are.”

  “You mean, other than who they say they are?”

  “Exactly. Adu’lin is hiding something, and I want to know what. We need something to give to Ba’Sel and Ulmek … something that will pull their heads out of that disgusting fruit wine long enough to see reason.”

  And if I find nothing? Leitos resisted speaking that question aloud. A part of him truly did not want to find anything against the Fauthians. It would be a pleasant change if a stranger did not prove to be an enemy in league with the Faceless One.

  “Here,” Adham said gruffly, pressing a sheathed dagger into his son’s hand. It was a Kelren blade, but a weapon just the same.

  “Why do you still have—” Leitos began, but Adham cut him off.

  “We Izutarians learned, long before the Faceless One rose to power, that giving over your sword to a ruler hastens a man’s journey to the grave.”

  Leitos tucked it into his belt. “But now you are unarmed.”

  “Never, my son.” Adham drew back the edge of his robe to show the hilt of another Kelren blade. With a last word of caution, Adham stalked away.

  Getting free of the palace grounds proved as easy as Adham had suggested, a simple matter of waiting for the footfalls of a guard to fade in the distance, and then slipping through the open gate and making for the nearest crop of shadows.

  Leitos followed empty streets and alleys, always sure to keep buildings between himself and the palace wall, until he was far enough away that there was little cha
nce anyone would see him. Not that he feared that overmuch. As Adham had said, the Fauthian guards only seemed interested in the palace grounds, not the city. Still, he kept a wary eye for any Fauthian patrols. He was not sure if there were any, but something in the back of his mind suggested that having them catch him beyond the palace walls would prove troublesome.

  Leitos crept along, poking his head into a building here or there, or fully investigating those that seemed the most interesting. After several hours of discovering only dust, cobwebs, and rotted furnishings, he began to doubt he would locate any of the damning evidence his father wanted. He had found more things of curiosity in the bone-towns of Geldain.

  Gradually moving toward Armala’s southern wall, he kept on until dusk, when he came to a tall, needlelike watchtower ringed about its crown with arched openings. An iron-banded door set in its base was the only way inside.

  He gazed at those openings, so far above. If there was anything incriminating to see, it might stand out from on high. And, if nothing else, the view might give him a better idea about Armala and its defenses.

  He tried the door’s latch. Like nearly every other door he had tested, this one was unlocked. Inside showed more untouched dust and spiders’ leavings, all lit by golden bars of sunlight slanting through the windows. The tower’s center was hollow, with a wooden stairway turning its way up to the top.

  After testing the first few wooden treads and finding them sound, he began to climb. It was slow going, for the higher he went, the more cautious he became about the ancient steps. They creaked and groaned, but otherwise seemed solid.

  The stairway ended at trapdoor set in the tower’s only floor. Hand on the iron handle, he hesitated. If there were guards standing watch on the other side, there would be no way to get away. Save for those he left behind him, there had been no tracks in the dust. Unless Fauthians could fly, he reasoned, no one had been in this tower for a very long time.

  He eased the door up a crack, searched the gap for any traps or dangers, then pushed it all the way open. In one corner he found a large bird’s nest, but nothing else. Staying in a crouch, he moved to the nearest window and looked out.

  From so high, Armala seemed small, barely deserving to be called a city. He spied the palace straight away, even saw guards striding the wall walks. Due east rose a twin to his tower. To the north, near the gate they had used to first enter the city, two more towers overlooked the city. Between those four landmarks, lay Armala. Much as the bone-towns he had passed through, Armala seemed bereft of life and all hope. Of anything his father sought, he saw nothing that he had not seen during their march to the palace.

  He moved to the opposite opening. The city wall, secured by a handful of guards, followed the curves of the land. From a closed gate, braced by two squat gatehouses, a narrow road ran a short stretch—no more than a hundred paces—through a field of tall grass, before vanishing into the forest. By its direction, it followed the ridgeline that began its ascent soon after the field ended and the forest began.

  He was wondering if that road led to the top of the mountains, or maybe over them, when he heard a faint scream. Another followed, louder and longer, and filled with agony.

  Silence fell with disturbing abruptness. Not one of the guards below him so much as twitched. They have heard those cries before … and often.

  Leitos did not move for a long time. The sun settled its girth behind the cloud-draped horizon, and a deeper red covered the land. Soon after, darkness thickened, welling up out of the forest’s ravines and hollows, and spilling out over everything.

  Had he left the tower and fled back to the palace, he never would have seen the faint blue glow, high upon the slope beyond the city. That was where screams had come from, he had no doubt. And it was the place to which he could not keep himself from going.

  Chapter 16

  Even stopping often to listen for patrolling guards, Leitos quickly reached the southern curve of the city wall. Fast as the trip was, it still felt too long. He was sure that someone out in the forest, caught within that strange blue light, needed help. And as far as he could tell, he was the only one willing to offer it. It crossed his mind that the Yatoans were trying to lure the Fauthians into a trap, but the utter lack of concern he had seen from the guards made him doubt that.

  Climbing the wall unseen, he judged, and vanishing into the waiting forest without being noticed, were his only true challenges. That, and his return. But if he made it out undetected, then getting back in should be no more difficult.

  The moon had not yet risen, and the Fauthians began lighting torches along the wall. Soon their flickering glow created numerous islands in the darkness. Guards walked between those glowing points, spears resting on their shoulders. They appeared no more alert now than they had earlier.

  Leitos picked the spot he would scramble over the wall, waited until a guard passed into shadow, and ghosted to the wall. He put his back to the stonework, as the first guard returned and met another above him. They spoke briefly, then moved apart.

  Listening to the footfalls, Leitos began counting. He did not stop until the guard had completed his full circuit. Twice more he counted, gauging how much time he would have to get over the wall. He knew the time was too short to go without stopping, and the only place to stop was under the wall walk. That meant clinging there and waiting. After scaling the cliff on Witch’s Mole the night of his testing, besting Armala’s wall would prove easy.

  When the guard passed by again, Leitos began climbing, using the finger- and toeholds provided by the wall’s undressed stonework.

  In short order, he heard approaching footsteps, and paused under the wall walk. When the guard passed, he heaved himself up, spared a quick glance in either direction, then crawled on his belly over the wall walk, and through a notch in the parapet.

  A moment later, he stood on the ground. Keeping up his count, he ran in a crouch through the tall grass, and vanished into the waiting forest. Under the cover of towering trees, he straightened, listening for an alarm that never came.

  “That wasn’t so hard,” he said under his breath, and angled toward the narrow road that wended up the steep ridgeline. It felt good to stretch his legs and fill his lungs with deep breaths. After less than a mile, the road topped a rocky knob bare of trees. He paused to get his bearings. Back the way he had come, the outline of Armala was marked out by a string of torches along the city wall, and the city itself was a slash of darkness surrounding the glowing palace. He hoped his father would not worry over his absence, but it was too late to go back now.

  Leitos was about to set off when a shriek burst from the trees up ahead. His heart thudded at the horror contained within that voice. For the first time since climbing down from the watchtower, he could just make out that faint blue light peeking through dense foliage.

  Moving with more caution than before, Leitos left the road and crept in that direction, the night air heavy with dampness. He searched the forest. Trees with broad trunks loomed, their leafy boughs spreading high above. Night creatures, usually active with wild hoots, howls, and murmuring calls, had gone quiet. The darkness provided him with good cover, but it also concealed watching enemies.

  He moved with slow deliberation, making himself one with the landscape, until he fully entered the forest.

  The scream came again, closer. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. The voice belonged to a woman. His fingers clamped tighter around the hilt of the Kelren dagger. Eyes narrowed, he saw only darkness. Something waited for him ahead. He felt its presence, like outstretched fingers a hair’s breadth from touching his neck. Sweat trickled over his skin, raising a rash of gooseflesh.

  The woman cried out, begging. Another voice answered, too softly to understand.

  The tenuous thread holding him in place snapped, and he set out at a reckless pace.

  He pushed through brush tangled with great spider webs. Dew that had collected on wide leaves and within trumpet-shaped flowers soaked
his robes. Trailing vines and thorny creepers caught his feet, determined to trip him. He pressed on, mind bent on the woman.

  He finally came to rocky outcrop draped in gnarled tree roots. Above the outcrop, the blue light shone brighter than ever. Leitos clamped the dagger between his teeth, and began to climb up the roots, causing dirt, moss, and crawling things to dribble over his head. At the top, he scrambled up and hid behind a huge tree trunk.

  Settling the dagger back in his hand, he edged around the tree. Through the azure glow, he saw a cliff rising into the night. At the base of the cliff, a path led into an arched opening, the source of all that glaring illumination. As his eyes adjusted, and he made out a terrible visage carved into the rock above the arch. Narrow and long, it was a Fauthian face, but engraved all over with angular glyphs. Similar engravings decorated the arch’s stonework.

  A low moan drew his eye back to the opening. He crept farther around the tree, breath caught in his chest. If anyone guarded this place, surely they would see him. When he stepped fully into the open the radiance fell over him, and a prickly sensation crawled over his skin. He drew back, and the feeling vanished. “What is this place?” he murmured.

  His answer was a blade pressed to his throat. An instant before he smashed aside the weapon and brought his own dagger to bear, the keen edge pressed harder against his neck, and a female voice cautioned, “Do as I say, or I’ll have off your head.”

  She sounded young, but no matter how he rolled his eyes, she remained out of sight. Leitos weighed his chances of escaping without earning a severed windpipe, and found the odds against him. He grunted in answer, and relaxed.

  “Very good. Now, step back before someone sees you.” With the utmost caution, guided by the girl’s firm hand, he backed up until lost in deep shadow.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  Leitos decided the truth might persuade her to ease the blade from his neck. “I heard screams, and came to help.”