The Brothers Three: Book One of The Blackwood Saga

by Layton Green

  “Just the one, and I don’t think she’ll make it. But there could have been others.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up. That’s one of the many reasons war is so horrible, because you’re forced to make choices that will haunt you forever.” After a few moments he said softly, “I thought we’d lost you, Blackwood.”

  Will turned his head towards him. “To be honest, I thought we’d lost you. You’ve been so . . . remote. Different. But I think I understand now. Something as terrible as what happened to me . . . it does something to you. Breaks you down. And when you try to build yourself back up, you’re never quite the same, are you?”

  It was Lance’s turn to stare into space. “No,” he said quietly. “You’re not.”

  “What happened to you in the war, Lance? I thought you’d gone native over here, but you’ve really just gone back there, haven’t you?”

  Will noticed Lance’s hands tightening on the reins. “What I saw, the things I did, was nothing like that web. That was something out of a horror movie. But over there . . . it was about real people, you know? It was human beings doing those terrible things to each other.” He tensed up, and his jaw worked back and forth. “You remember the year after I got back,” Lance said, “when I told you I was seeing that crazy girl?”

  “Yeah, the one I never met. You disappeared three nights a week.”

  “There was no girl. I was in therapy for PTSD. I was the crazy one.”

  Will processed that information. He was seeing his oldest friend, the uber-confident and indestructible Lance, in a whole new light. Will knew how much it had cost him to admit to therapy, and he had chosen to reveal that fact to ease Will’s burden.

  “I love you, man,” Will said.

  “I love you, too, Blackwood.”

  “Welcome back to the real world. Or the real fantasy world. Or whatever.”

  “While we’re rubbing each other’s nuts,” Lance said, “there’s something else you should know. You’re a better fighter than me.”

  Will’s laughter had a dark edge. “Keep your pity to yourself.”

  “Maybe not right now, but you’ve got more potential. Why do you think I never wanted to wrestle you in high school?”

  “Because you outweighed me by fifty pounds.”

  “Because you always refused to quit, and because you’re good. I think I always knew that with some training, you’d be better than me. I’ve been watching you, man. Mala’s turning you into a warrior.”

  “A warrior who has a panic attack every time he has to fight.”

  Lance let loose of the reins to crack his knuckles. “Somehow, after last night, I think you might be on the road to recovery.” He lowered his voice. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. Mala’s the real deal, no doubt—but I don’t trust her. Or any of them.”

  “What do you mean? She’s saved our lives multiple times.”

  “Have you noticed her huddled conversations with Alexander and Hashi? They stop talking whenever one of us approaches. I don’t know what her game is, but I’m sure as Christmas she’s got other motives.”

  Will snorted. “Her motive’s called one thousand gold pieces. And she’s paying the others, remember?”

  Lance shook his head. “It’s more than that. I’m a cop, remember? I may not be as smart as you, but I know people. They’re up to something, and those other motives, whatever they are, may not be in our best interests. And if forced to choose between the two, well buddy, let’s just say I know our gypsy princess well enough to know she’s not afraid to make tough choices.”

  Will stared at the back of Mala’s head and didn’t respond.

  They reached the border of the Southern Protectorate just before dusk. By the time they settled into camp, Will’s mood wasn’t exactly light, but they were closer to finding what they needed and returning home to help Charlie.

  He decided not to think about the fact that the most dangerous parts of their journey, exploring Leonidus’s Keep and finding their way home to confront Zedock, still awaited.

  Everyone gathered around the fire to enjoy their first cooked meal in days. Mala addressed the group with her sharp features backlit by the flames. “It’s a two day ride to Limerick Junction, a day more to the isle.”

  Will thought she might continue with an inspirational speech or at least some words of encouragement, but he should have known better.

  “You should all rest,” she said. “We ride at dawn.”

  -35-

  The next few days passed without incident. The training sessions resumed, and as Will clung to his horse after a particularly grueling regimen, he found himself reminiscing yet again on the embarrassing encounter with Mala on the beach.

  The thing was, she could have thought of a thousand different ways to test his panic disorder. She was a very calculating woman.

  Or was she? Maybe she was like Val, just random sometimes.

  His brothers thought he was a dreamer when it came to women. Yet when it came to certain things, his dream girl included, Will was more like Val. He was willing to wait as long as needed, work as hard as it took. He wanted it all and he wasn’t willing to settle.

  Was Mala worth fighting for? He didn’t yet know if the humanity he detected underneath that hardest of exteriors was real or just his own projection. And, of course, he had no idea why she would ever go for him.

  But my God, Will thought. What a woman.

  A whistle from Hashi drew Will from his thoughts. He smelled the sea again and saw a dirt road leading to the right, marked by a signpost.

  Limerick Junction.

  The town of Limerick Junction marked the intersection of the Southern, Eastern, and Fifth Protectorates. It wasn’t much of a town; two dusty roads bisected the settlement, each sporting a contiguous string of taverns, flophouses, and low-rent casinos. Drunken brawls spilled into the street as they passed.

  “Classy joint,” Lance muttered.

  “There’s a quieter tavern with a stable on the other side of town,” Mala said. “We’ll stay the night and depart at dawn.”

  The party’s route led them past a small harbor and some rough-looking docks. They garnered plenty of stares as they passed, but with Hashi and Mala in the lead, the stares didn’t linger. Mala was hardly an imposing physical presence, but Will had yet to see a thug who could match her gaze. She radiated competence and danger.

  On their walk through town they saw adventurers and ruffians of all types, including a few non-humans. Will blinked when he saw a group of dog-faced gnolls drinking through a tavern window, and he stopped, mouth agape, when a snarling troll waded through the crowd, complete with spiked club and a piece of fur draped across its enormous torso.

  The only person out of place was Alexander, whose affluent appearance drew attention, both from starry-eyed observers and ruffians scouting a potential mark. Or maybe everyone was just wondering what a wizard was doing walking the low rent streets of Limerick Junction.

  The only structure of any size in town was a circular brick arena near the center. A sign informed them it was a gladiator’s pit. Next came a bustling marketplace, full of merchants and hawkers selling goods out of wooden stalls. Food vendors dotted the bazaar, and when the party stopped to eat and replenish their supplies, Will gorged on a paper basket stuffed with fried oysters and fish, as well as a bowl of sweet, breaded morsels that tasted like corn fritters.

  A crowd had gathered in the center of the marketplace, a huge open-air space filled with shouting voices and hands jabbing skyward. As they skirted the edge, Will saw a man standing on a block in the middle of the square, next to an auctioneer. The man on the block wasn’t in chains, but he was standing very still, eyes downcast. He had curly dark hair, olive skin, and tattoos on his chest and arms. Behind him waited a group of similar men and women, surrounded by armed guards.

  Will looked at Mala. Her face was rigid, eyes averted from the square.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Will sa
id. “Are those slaves?”

  “Indentured servants,” Alexander replied. He spat, which surprised Will. It was the only time he had seen Alexander exhibit ungentlemanly behavior. “It’s despicable the Protectorate allows this.”

  “It’s this or the Fens?” Val said.

  “This or gaol, though most will end up there anyway. These are people who’ve taken the Oaths. The Fens are a special kind of Hell, reserved for non-citizens.”

  Will started to reply that freedom was always better than chains, but then he remembered the filthy, disease-ridden Fens.

  Of what use was freedom, he thought, without hope?

  They reached the inn as darkness settled over the town. After Mala secured their lodging, Will joined Lance and his brothers at a table in the common room. It wasn’t nearly as cozy as Mattie’s place, the ale below average. Val stared into the fire during dinner, deep in concentration.

  Caleb and Marguerite slipped outside after the meal, Allira and Mala retired soon after, and Val headed to his room. Will and Lance made small talk with Alexander.

  Hours later, as Will and Lance finally rose to head upstairs, Marguerite burst through the door. “I need help! Caleb’s in trouble.”

  “Should we wake Mala?” Alexander asked.

  “No time! Come now!”

  Will, Lance, and Alexander dodged down the crowded street behind Marguerite.

  “What happened?” Will asked as they ran.

  “Your brother and me were at a tavern a few blocks away, and we ’ad a lot to drink. Some men in the pub started playing gypsy darts—”

  Lance cut her off. “Playing what?”

  “They pull a desperate person off the street,” Alexander explained, “usually a gypsy, and pay them to be a human dartboard. You earn more points the closer you come to the live target without hitting it. Everyone bets on the outcome, and it’s not illegal since the poor sap plays willingly. Oh, and knives are used instead of darts.”

  “Caleb didn’t like it one lit’l bit,” Marguerite said. “I told ’im we should just leave, but after a gypsy kid was struck in the arm, your brother volunteered to go next.”

  “What!” Will said. He found himself in surprisingly good shape as they skidded around a corner, able to speak without gasping. “That doesn’t sound like Caleb.”

  “Maybe you don’t know ’im as well as you think you do,” she said. “Your brother is brave but has a bit of a death wish, if ye ask me.”

  Will swore. “What happened?”

  “Caleb carried his beer mug to the board, swilling as they threw knives at ’im. He flashed those bracers and shattered the first six they tossed. The natives got restless and I couldn’t persuade ’im to leave. So I went for help.”

  Will pushed the pace even harder. They rounded another corner, and Marguerite led them to a muddy side lane full of taverns with cracked windows and flaking paint, rife with the smell of rotting fish. Will heard shouting as they approached the middle of the street.

  Marguerite pointed out a saloon twenty feet away, just before the double doors flung open. A group of men burst outside, and Will glimpsed the chalk outline of a figure on the back wall, surrounded by numbers in various colors.

  The mob poured into the street, carrying Caleb on their shoulders. He grinned at Will, his face bruised and bloodied. Will drew his sword and screamed at the crowd. “Put him down!”

  There were far too many, but Will charged them anyway. Before he took two steps the first dozen men tumbled backwards as if caught in a gale force wind, dropping Caleb in the process. Will didn’t need to look behind him to know what had happened.

  “Get your brother. Quickly, now!” Alexander said.

  As Will and Lance scrambled to retrieve a dazed Caleb, the group of brawlers staggered to their feet. One of them gasped and pointed at the geomancer. “A wizard!”

  “The lit’l guttersnipe broke ’alf our daggers,” another of the men said, though his voice was more whiny than assertive. “Give ’im back!”

  Someone from the middle of the crowd threw a knife, and Alexander stopped it in midair. The knife rotated, returned through the air, and thwanked into the tavern door. “The next one goes to the sender,” Alexander said evenly.

  Will and the others backed into the alley behind Alexander, Will dragging Caleb in his arms. Alexander raised a hand, and the group of men shrank back. “Return inside,” Alexander said, tossing a few stone balls in the air, “and I might forget this ever happened.”

  The balls rotated menacingly in front of the geomancer. The crowd grumbled but, one by one, they slunk inside.

  When they returned to the inn, Val ran his hands through his hair and asked Caleb what the hell he was doing. Still drunk and battered, Caleb waved Val off and stumbled to bed. Will and Marguerite tried to follow, but Caleb shrugged them off as well.

  As Will lay in bed, worry for his brother keeping him awake deep into the night, he had the shocking realization that he hadn’t felt a twinge of panic during the entire incident.

  The next morning they traveled north on a dirt road paralleling the coast. By nightfall they reached a collection of thatch-roofed houses perched right on the ocean. A green space lined with storefronts filled the middle of the village, though most of the shops looked abandoned.

  “This used to be a thriving village,” Mala explained as they rode in, “before Leonidus was executed. Most avoid it now.”

  “Why?” Will said.

  “The village carried the stigma of supporting the rebels.”

  “So we’re close to the island?”

  “It’s just a few miles offshore. We’ll stable the horses, camp, and find a way to the island in the morning. If all goes well, we should arrive at the keep by midday tomorrow.”

  Will cracked his knuckles and swallowed.

  -36-

  At first light they broke camp, stabled the horses, and walked to the deserted ferry dock. Mala spotted a fisherman heading out for the day and offered to double the value of his daily catch in exchange for transport to the island. He spat when Mala told him which island they wished to visit. Val stepped forward and bought the skiff outright for five gold pieces.

  They reached the shore of Leonidus’s island thirty minutes later. Sloping golden sands eased to the shore, and behind the undulating dunes lay the ruins of a village. Beyond that a thick forest stretched into the distance.

  “This must have been the Keep’s village,” Alexander murmured, as they approached the collection of stone and brick houses overtaken by vegetation. He was more pensive than Will had ever seen him.

  Will eyed the sturdy houses. “Quality construction. Your cousin was good to his people.”

  Mala was toeing the ground, searching through the foliage. At one point she stooped to pull vines off a flagstone set into the ground. Further clearing revealed a pathway leading into the forest. “The Keep is on the other side of the island,” Mala said, “on a more defensible shoreline.”

  Val planted his staff on the ground. “Any idea what we’ll find when we get there?”

  Alexander grimaced. “There’re things you should know about my cousin. He was the brightest wizard in our family, but also a consummate game player. He loved puzzles and enigmas of all kind. I’d wager the keep’s defenses are of the devious variety, and if Leonidus was trying to protect the keep from fellow wizards . . . then we must be prepared for anything and everything.”

  Lance grunted. “What if someone’s occupied the keep? A larger force?”

  “No one sane would dare,” Mala said, “for fear of reprisal by the Congregation.”

  They entered the forest, an old-growth wilderness of live oak, pine, and hickory. Moss and decaying leaves infused the breeze with a musty odor. A hundred yards inside, the canopy thickened even further, dimming the light and spreading ominous shadows through the trees.

  It was slow-going. They often had to cut their way through blockades of creepers and vines, or stop to locate the path. Everyone kep
t a careful watch for unwanted visitors, and just ten minutes inside the woods, they stopped in front of a string of giant webs blocking the trail.

  Will reared back, heart pounding. His palms moistened and his head whipped back and forth, searching for more of the spider creatures.

  Allira laid a calming hand on his arm, and Mala pointed out a plate-sized arachnid near the center of the web, and then another. Will looked around and saw them dotting the web. “An unpleasant sight,” Mala said, “but nothing to fear.”

  Will licked his lips, then hung back while Hashi and Lance cut a path through the glistening strands. Will hurried through the web, praying none of the dreadful things would plop on his head. He knew he would never again be comfortable with spiders, no matter the size.

  Snakes were omnipresent as the party continued through the forest, draped across tree branches, slithering into the undergrowth as they approached, sunning on the path where daylight peeked through the canopy. Beetles the size of Will’s palm marched alongside them, and giant lizards fixed beady eyes on the party from the trees.

  After trekking for another hour they heard the faint whoosh of the surf, and a few minutes later they broke through the forest. Will realized the path must have sloped uphill, because the forest ended at a rocky promontory.

  Squatting at the edge of the headland was a fortress-like keep, granite-walled and imposing. A hexagonal tower jutted upward from the center of the keep. At the top, a flag snapped in the wind, flag adorned with a multi-hued octopus set against a midnight blue background.

  The symbol of the Congregation.

  Silver-tipped waves surged in the distance. It was a misty day, the horizon lost in the fog. A vulture eyed them from atop the tower, and a small army of gulls circled the fortress, cawing in the wind.

  Alexander’s face tilted towards the flag, his eyes hardening. “Leonidus’s Keep.”

  The party approached the fortress in a tight cluster, weapons drawn. They could hear the surf crashing against the base of the cliff, but except for the birds, there was no sign of life.