Heirs of the Fallen: Book 04 - Wrath of the Fallen

by James A. West

  “Why?” Nola asked, shaking her head in disbelief.

  Leitos’s jaw clenched. “Doing so earns them station and peace, bread and leisure.”

  Ba’Sel’s mad cackle drew every eye. He sat in the shade of a tipped boulder, arms tight around his knees, rocking and rocking. “Was the same even before the Upheaval. The highborn rule, and the lowborn wear chains of servitude.” He cackled again. “It’s the same now, and will be the same forever. The faces of our rulers change, but that changes nothing. Better to accept and bow and hide....” his words gradually trailed off to a muttering whisper.

  “We should never have brought him,” Damoc grumbled.

  No one disagreed, but Leitos found in his heart a measure of pity for his old mentor. A moment later, the idea of giving Ba’Sel to the sea flashed through his mind, and he quickly tramped it down, mortified by the callous thought. Mortified, but at the same time sure that getting rid of Ba’Sel was the right thing to do, at least for everyone except Ba’Sel.

  “Are we ready?” Ulmek asked, as he came around a jumble of spiny brush. Adham stood at his side, adjusting the straps of his haversack. Everyone else wore one, as well.

  “Zuladah awaits,” Sumahn said. He cut his eyes toward Leitos. In a quiet voice, he added, “I hope you’re right about the folk there, little brother, or we are taking a great risk for nothing.”

  “I don’t consider losing my head or ending up in chains nothing,” Damoc said.

  “They will join us, once we show them they can,” Leitos said.

  After sending a few scouts ahead, Ulmek led the rest of the company to the east, and soon brought them to a gulley where all but Ulmek and Leitos would stay under cover. The day’s heat increased, but no one complained aloud. Leitos was sure that they, like himself, had more important things to think about. Things like starting a war with an enemy that had never lost a significant battle.

  Chapter 27

  Although he had first come to the city from another direction, and in far different company, Zuladah was much as Leitos remembered it.

  Dismal and dusty under the setting sun, the city sprawled like a trash heap within the confines of a shallow basin. A disorderly string of mudbrick shanties sprouted up just outside the city wall, and followed a serpentine road down to a large crescent harbor, where small fishing boats swam timidly around a score of sleek Kelren galleys and slave ships.

  Closer by, folk were still entering the city, but at this time of day, most were trudging away, their pushcarts and rickety wagons empty, the baskets and panniers they carried barren.

  “How do you mean to get us in?” Leitos asked Ulmek.

  “We walk.”

  Leitos frowned. “We cannot simply walk in. There are guards at the gates and on the walls, if you haven’t noticed. Likely, there are also hidden Alon’mahk’lar. And since we are not farmers or crafters, we have nothing to pay the king’s obligations.”

  Ulmek smiled. “You, boy, underestimate the power of deception—and where that fails, there’s always intimidation.”

  “You mean to threaten your way in?”

  “I don’t believe it will come to that.” Ulmek stood straighter, put on his fiercest face. “I fancy that I make a fine Hunter, don’t you? And you, little brother, will be my apprentice.”

  Leitos thought of the Hunters he had known: Zera, Sandros, Pathil. They had all been changelings, but when not showing their demon-born faces, they had looked as human as anyone else. If there was a difference, it was in their bearing—confident to the point of brazen. He and Ulmek might pull it off, but.... “What if they see through our disguises?”

  Ulmek chuckled grimly. “Then a lot of gate guards will miss the setting of the sun this evening.” When Leitos didn’t share his humor, Ulmek added, “Trust me, boy, Hunters are not so few in Geldain that a lowly gate guard can recognize them all. Just leave the talking to me.”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Just stay quiet and look very, very angry. You can do that, yes?”

  Leitos wasn’t so sure, but he nodded.

  They were about to make their way down to the rocky road below them, but froze at the dull clanking of a bell. “Hold,” Ulmek said, motioning Leitos to hide behind a thorn bush.

  The racket grew louder, and a small herd of wooly sheep came around a bend in the road. A man and two young boys in roughspun tunics used sticks to goad the animals along.

  After the shepherds had gone by, Ulmek and Leitos hurried down to the road. “I see no reason for us to dance around sheep dung or eat dust,” Ulmek said, quickening his stride until past the shepherds, who looked neither left nor right.

  Leitos had seen similar beaten expressions when he came to Zuladah with Zera. It angered and saddened him, and made him wonder why no one had ever risen up against their crushing servitude before now. He thought maybe they feared death, but amended that. For them, death and life were the same. It was the manner in which they would perish that kept them groveling. Also, like his own enslaved people, they believed the lies about their ancestors’ disobedience to the Faceless One, and so accepted their fate.

  Before Leitos and Ulmek reached Zuladah’s southern gate, a familiar refrain rose up from the few folk they shared the road with.

  From the darkness between the stars,

  Came He, the Lord of Light,

  To deliver peace and safety upon all lands.

  Praise the Faceless One,

  He who suffers the unworthy.

  Praise the Faceless One,

  He who blesses the contemptible.

  Bow to His wisdom,

  Bow to His righteous judgment.

  Praise be to the Merciful One,

  Praise be to the Lord of Light and Shadow.

  Ulmek shook his head. “I wonder what these pathetic fools would think to learn that their Lord of Light and Shadow is actually Peropis, the Eater of the Damned?”

  “It would change nothing,” Leitos said, sure of that.

  “And you still believe these cowering wretches can become a conquering army?”

  “Not all of them,” Leitos admitted, pushing down his doubts. “Not even most of them. But enough will.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Ulmek said.

  “If you doubted,” Leitos said, “you wouldn’t be here with me.”

  “Ah, you’ve become a true, cocksure brother,” Ulmek chuckled, as they came to halt behind a crookbacked old man with a pushcart heaped with assorted baskets.

  None too gently, a hollow-cheeked guard pulled the man aside, while two more guards lifted the lids on the baskets to reveal a pathetic harvest of wilted vegetables. After emptying seven of ten baskets into the back of a stout wagon already heavily burdened with assorted goods, they sent the farmer on his way. By his gap-toothed smile, the farmer seemed to count his losses a fair bargain.

  Munching a withered fig, the first guard’s eyes shifted under the brim of his open-faced leather helmet. Those eyes stopped when they fell on Ulmek and Leitos. A queer hesitancy came over his face. “Never seen you around here ... Hunters.” The way he said Hunters made it into a question.

  The two other guards turned to look at the newcomers with open suspicion. Like the first guard, they wore voluminous trousers the color of sand, and boiled leather breastplates that bore no insignia. The spears they carried had steel blades as long as Leitos’s forearm, with edges that glittered red in the dusky light.

  “Were I you,” Ulmek said, fingering the hilt of his sword, “I would name that a blessing.”

  The guard went rigid when he looked at Leitos, who belatedly put on a face of pure fury. “By the memory of the Three, have you lot taken to recruiting ice-born?”

  “Seems fitting,” Ulmek drawled, “since Izutarians are an unruly breed and known, on occasion, to escape the mines. Fitting or not, I never make it a habit to question my master’s orders.”

  The guard stared blankly at the insinuation to his failings, then sudden alarm washed over his
face. “What, me, question? No! Never!” He abruptly pressed his lips together and scampered aside, gesturing for Ulmek and Leitos to pass. The other two guards made busy investigating the wares stowed in the wagon.

  After moving into the city, Ulmek put on a smug grin. “Not so hard as you feared, eh?”

  Leitos glanced over his shoulder. The three guards had come together and were speaking in an animated hush. When they noticed him looking, they cut off and made a show of accosting the shepherds he and Ulmek had passed earlier.

  “Not so hard,” Leitos agreed, turning his eye on the litter-choked streets. A good many folk were wandering about in small groups or alone, their shuffling gait giving rise to a shroud of stinking dust. There was no joy in their conversation, no hope in their eyes. All wore tattered garb over wasted bodies.

  “What now?” Leitos asked. “I expect you must know someone here.” He glanced at his leader, a sudden suspicion in his heart. “Or will we go straight to the puppet king?”

  “No kings for us, at least not this night. We Brothers know of a few helpful folk hereabouts, but there’s only one of consequence.”

  Leitos had long ago guessed the Brothers must have eyes and ears within living cities, but had never asked how. He did so now.

  Ulmek’s eyes widened, and he answered with a question of his own. “Why wouldn’t we Brothers know folk? It’s not as though we can fill our ranks by wandering about in the desert, now, is it? As it happens, Zuladah is where we found Sumahn and Daris. They were urchins, of course, and feisty as sewer rats—as they were living in the sewers, they also smelled like rats.”

  “I never knew,” Leitos admitted.

  Black eyes roving over the aimless throngs, Ulmek said, “I sometimes forget that you became a Brother under different circumstances than most of the rest of us.”

  “Sumahn told me that Ba’Sel helped only those he was certain could become Brothers.”

  “To a point, that is true,” Ulmek said. “And more’s the pity that I trusted his judgment on that score as long as I did. Over the years, there were many hundreds we could have recruited, but didn’t. If I had known all along that the man’s wits were crumbling, things might now be different. Perhaps we would have built an army long ago, and Geldain would already be in the hands of humankind.”

  “Things can still be different,” Leitos said. “But that will depend on who you are taking us to see.”

  “A particular smuggler—”

  “Smuggler? Last time I trusted one of those, he betrayed Zera and I.”

  Ulmek snorted. “If Zera was involved, you must mean that scandalous old cur, Suphtra?”

  “Yes,” Leitos said, remembering Suphtra’s warehouse, and all the folk within drinking and smoking swatarin. It had been those people, who were willing to risk their lives for a moment’s pleasure, that had first got him to thinking about harnessing that small defiance, and growing it into full rebellion. “Zera killed him.”

  “Well,” Ulmek sneered, “I suppose even a demon-born can do some good, on occasion.”

  Leitos let the man keep his hatreds. After all, Zera had betrayed the Brothers, even if she had done so because of her love for him.

  “Be that as it may,” Ulmek went on, “the smuggler we seek is far more secretive and dangerous than that snake Suphtra. More importantly, this person has never bowed to the Faceless One, or King Rothran.”

  “How can any man stay truly hidden here, or anywhere?”

  “Muranna is a woman,” Ulmek corrected, leading them into an alley heaped with rubbish. The light of the setting sun burned like a river of molten iron above the gap between two leaning buildings. Down low, all was dark and rank. “As far as keeping out of sight, it’s not so hard as you might think, if you’re willing to make certain ... sacrifices.”

  Ulmek absently swatted at a cloud of swarming flies, and halted over an iron grate sunk into the cobblestones.

  Leitos groaned when he heard and smelled the sluggish trickle running below the city. “She lives in the sewers?” he said, incredulous. He had wandered in Zuladah’s sewers once before, and did not relish the thought of going into them again.

  Ulmek toed open the grate. “No, little brother, Muranna and her band of ruffians live far deeper than the sewers ... far deeper, in truth, than any Alon’mahk’lar would dare go.”

  “No doubt for fear of falling into the Thousand Hells,” Leitos laughed uneasily.

  A grim smile played over Ulmek’s lips. “Precisely.”

  Chapter 28

  In the quiet after dusk became night, Belina could hear the steady rumble and rush of waves breaking and retreating far away. The company had taken shelter in a deep slash in the face of the desert, and the thick brush and piles of rock littering its sides provided excellent cover to keep watch for marauding Alon’mahk’lar.

  Belina had tucked herself up under a prickly patch of brush near the mouth of the gulley, but wished she had gone higher, where she could look down on the moonlit surf. In this arid land, in seemed crucial to keep within sight of water, even if it was water you couldn’t drink.

  At least I can hear it, she thought, tracing a finger through a spot of sand, surprised how cool it was so soon after nightfall. While the sun had shone bright, she thought it would roast her to a husk. Now she felt almost cold—a rare sensation for a Yatoan. She hugged herself, longing for a heavier tunic.

  Low laughter drew her attention. Close at hand, but too far to see clearly, Nola and Sumahn were sitting close enough to touch shoulders and whispering to each other. Belina felt a pang in her heart, but it took a while to recognize it as jealously. When she did, she pushed it away with a muttered oath.

  “I wouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” Damoc said, moving to kneel at her side. Like Nola, the worst of his wounds had healed in the days since leaving Yato.

  Belina slapped his arm. “You should know better than to sneak up on one of your daughters. It’s a good way to end up with a knife poking your guts.”

  “Ah, well, if I’m to suffer such a fate, I’d rather it be you or Nola who does the deed.”

  “Don’t say that,” Belina snapped.

  His chuckle cut off. “It was a jest, daughter.”

  “This is no time for jests,” Belina said. “And besides, I thought you were watching Ba’Sel?”

  “He’s safe enough where he is,” Damoc assured her, and gestured vaguely back the way he had come. “Truth told, all that muttering babble of his, and the way he rocks and rocks, makes me nervous. We never should have brought him along.”

  “What if it were me or Nola who had gone mad?” Belina grated. “Would you be so willing to abandon us?”

  “Of course not,” he said defensively. He peered closely at her. “Are you feeling well?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  Damoc settled his backside into the sand next to her. “I could just as easily ask why you would be feeling well? Here were are, hunkered in the dirt of a waterless land, leagues from home, all but abandoned by our people, and preparing to start a war without an army. Those are not things to settle a mind.”

  “We’ll have an army,” she said. “Leitos and Ulmek will see to it.”

  “Will they?”

  “Seems a bit soon to start losing confidence,” she said.

  “Perhaps,” Damoc said meditatively.

  Belina turned her mind to what he had first said. “What makes you think I’m being hard on myself?”

  “I’m your father, girl. I see the way you look at Nola and Sumahn. You should be happy for them.”

  “I am,” Belina said. She added a beaming grin to show him how happy she was.

  Damoc snorted. “Normally I’d not hold with outlanders getting close to my daughters, but Nola has always been headstrong. Like as not, if I forbade her to speak with Sumahn, she’d drag him off into this sun-blasted land, and never return. But you’re not like your sister, you are ... a good girl.”

  Belina scowled. “I’m no better th
an Nola.”

  The elder reached out to smooth her hair the way he used to, when telling her the visions she had were only bad dreams. He had never believed her, and still didn’t, despite the proof of Leitos’s presence.

  “Better is the wrong word, daughter, and perhaps so is good,” he said. “But you two are different. Where Nola is reckless and wild, you are content. When this is all over, you’ll find a good man who appreciates that simple goodness.” He favored her with a sly grin. “Robis fancies you, and a fool though he is, he would make a fine, loyal husband.”

  Simple goodness? Robis! Belina shoved his hand away. “You mean to wed me to that slinking coward, who is even now sitting back on Yato?”

  Damoc cleared his throat. “Ah, well, you have a point. Still, there are plenty of others to choose from—”

  “What if I’m not content, Father? What if I want more than to pick from a brood of craven wretches who let us sail off and fight their war?”

  Even in the dark, she could see Damoc’s eyebrows climb in surprise. “Well,” he blustered, “I suppose there’s nothing wrong with that, either. Do you have someone else in mind?”

  You have to ask? she thought. Belina scrambled clear of the bushes, and left her father where he sat.

  “Belina, you’re on watch,” he called after her.

  “I’m done watching rocks,” she flared. “Why don’t you have a turn at it!”

  Belina swept past Nola and Sumahn, and they both gaped at her. She kept on climbing until the breath burned in her chest, and her legs had grown a hot, shaky ache. By then, she was high enough to see the waves breaking far below. Seeing those silvery lines crawling inland calmed her some, and she picked a likely rock and sat down. She was just catching her breath when a figure came out of the darkness below her.

  When her sister was close enough to see the glitter of her remaining eye, a stab of guilt pained Belina’s heart. How could she envy Nola, who had found a man she cared for, a young man who was untroubled that half her face was ravaged by a terrible scar? Nola was healing, but the evidence of that grievous wound would never fade, and the beauty of the rest of her face somehow made it more grotesque.