by M. R. Forbes
Eryn reached the flap of the tent and stepped through it. Dozens of soldiers were already dead outside, their throats slashed by Worm's blade. Thousands more were rushing towards the tent from every side.
"Incaendium," Eryn said, spreading her arms wide. A curtain of flame rose from the ground, blasting up fifty feet into the air and surrounding the tent. Hundreds of soldiers were caught in the rising fire while the unluckiest ones made it to safety inside its radius.
They charged at Eryn, frightened and desperate. She moved to face them, to split her magic and attack. She didn't need to. Worm burst from the tent, leaping towards them, dropping three before they even knew what was happening. The woman joined him a moment later, along with Robar, whose face was twisted in anger. They brought the soldiers down in moments.
"You've returned, my Lady," Robar said.
She didn't answer him. She could hear the shouting from the other side of the flames, and an arrow came whistling through. A dozen more followed.
Worm stood in front of her, catching one of them in his shoulder. It pierced all the way through, but he tore it out as though he had been bitten by an insect. Eryn marveled as the wound healed itself in barely more than an instant.
Who are you?
It wasn't the first time she had wondered, but there was always something new to learn about the painted man.
"Now what do we do?" Robar asked.
Eryn could feel the anger still burning, the magic still pulsing through her. Her heart was racing, her body was tingling. She couldn't see the army through the flames, but she knew it was out there, and she knew she had the power to burn every last one of the soldiers to ash.
How many of them were murderers and rapists? How many had taken part in the General's sick entertainment? How many had delighted in burning down villages and ruining families?
How many were like Fehri? Good people at heart who had been driven to the Empire's army because they had a family to care for and the wages were good? How many were followers of Amman, who were simply living the best life they could under his rules?
The anger began to fade. She had already killed the ones who had been directly involved in the prisoner's misery. There may have only been a few good souls out there, but the Empire needed every one of them it could get. Once he was dead, the armies would fall apart, and Worm was bringing her to kill him.
"Amplitat," she mouthed softly. Then she drew in a long breath and spoke, her voice booming out across the camp through the fires. "If you wish to survive, drop your weapons and round up all of your prisoners. Release them into Elling and allow me and my companions to pass. Your General is with Heden. I'm giving you a chance to not join him."
The arrows stopped as suddenly as they had arrived. She couldn't see through the flames, but she could hear the soft thuds of sword belts dropping to the earth. She waited for a few moments, feeling her body chill as the fury and magic waned. She had used a lot, but she didn't feel as weak as she had expected. The garum was warm and tight against her flesh.
The flames dispersed, leaving a ring of the dead between them and the army. The soldiers gazed at her in fear, making no move to change their decision to let them go.
"Go back inside," she said to the women who had come out to fight. They hadn't waited to find their clothes. "Get dressed. We're leaving."
They rushed back into the tent at the same time Sena came out. She smiled when she saw Eryn, walking over and wrapping her in a large hug.
"It's so good to see you alive and well," she said.
"And you," Eryn replied. "I thought you were dead."
"So many are. The troupe... none of them survived."
"They kept us for our music," Robar said.
"And they thought you were funny," Sena said. "Shows how little they know about anything."
Eryn couldn't help but smile. It was good to see they hadn't lost their humor to the hardship.
Robar surveyed the soldiers around them. There was an entire sea of them, and none were moving while they waited to see what Eryn would do next. "You just stayed an entire army on your own. That is the stuff of legend, and a song to end all songs in the making."
"I'll be satisfied for all of us to leave here alive."
"Who's your new friend?" Robar cocked his head towards Worm. "He's giving me the creepies."
"His name is Worm. He doesn't speak. I'd have to tell you the entire tale to tell you more than that."
"I'll look forward to the day that you can."
The women rejoined them, trickling out of the tent one or two at a time. There were twenty total, a wide range of ages and body types. The youngest couldn't have been more than fourteen.
Younger than me.
Eryn shuddered at the thought.
There was some motion in the ranks of the army. A space cleared, and a soldier moved through with a line of prisoners behind him.
He made a face when he reached the line of corpses, picking his way through it to approach them.
"My Lady," he said, bowing slightly. "My name is Captain Arlos Revelane. I have brought you the prisoners as you commanded." He was a darker skinned man with curly black hair and a grizzled face that had been weathered by time.
"Thank you, Arlos," Eryn replied.
"Begging your pardon, my Lady, what do you plan to do now?"
"I intend to go into Elling."
Arlos pursed his lips. "No. I mean, what about the army?" He lowered his voice. "Our orders are to return to the Western Provinces and put down the growing rebellion there. We're also to kill you if we find you." He laughed at that. "As if we could. I've never seen anything like what you just did, and I hope to never see it again."
"Where is your loyalty, exactly, Captain?" Sena asked.
"Where fate leads me, minstrel. I grew up in the north, across the Small Sea. On the coast. I can feel when the winds are changing. Especially the hot ones."
"Are there good men in this army, Captain?" Eryn asked.
"How do you define good?" he replied.
"Not like them." She pointed at the bodies.
"Yes, my Lady. There are."
"Then tell me, what do you think they will do if they return to the west and learn that he is dead."
"Go home, I would imagine. Protect their families from what will happen after. You may not agree with his motives or his means, my Lady. Without him, this Empire will turn to chaos."
"Will it?" Robar asked. "What if Eryn took his place?"
"Robar-" Eryn said.
"Someone will have to," Robar said, interrupting her. "He's right about that. Why not you? Or Silas? Where is Silas anyway?"
"I don't know. The last time I saw him, he was on his way to the Refinery."
"Refinery?"
"Another long tale for another time. I'm not taking his place. When he is dead, I'm going to settle down with Wilem and help teach the Cursed to control their power. Silas, Talon, can become Emperor if he wishes. He was a General. The armies will follow him."
"Wilem? Talon? You have a great many stories to tell, child," Sena said. "For now, I think we should take our leave of this place."
Eryn nodded. "Robar, help me with the prisoners. Arlos, I hope that if I ever see you again, you will be kneeling to General Talon Rast."
Argos smiled. "Better that than what these fools got." He bowed again. "As you will, my Lady."
Eryn turned to Worm, who was standing a few feet behind her. "I saw you get hit. Are you well?"
He shrugged, a small smile splitting his face.
Eryn returned his smile, which seemed to lighten his expression. Then she led the way through the camp, the soldiers parting around them as they made their exodus.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Eryn
They left the army behind, moving east on the Empire Road, which joined up with the Baden River a short distance later. They were a ragged, beaten bunch, a swarm of dirty and tired refugees eager to escape the pain of war, and having nothing to return to
but a scarred land.
There were six hundred of them in all. They were mostly women, mostly kept as personal servants or forced slaves to more carnal desires. The two dozen or so men that had been spared death were mainly artists - poets, minstrels, painters, and the like. The General, Payton, as Eryn was told, had a fine respect for creative minds, even as he set fire to their work.
Eryn walked at the head of the group, her heart stricken with compassion, her mind bubbling with anger. She was growing more accustomed to the people coming to her and offering her their thanks and their service, in whatever way they could provide. She accepted as graciously as she could, though she could think of only one thing.
Crossing to the Unknown Lands and killing the one who caused such misery.
Robar and Sena stayed close to her the entire time, and she did find some measure of comfort in their bickering. No amount of darkness could steal their spirit. Or perhaps it was their way of coping with it. Either way, it was contagious, and it lifted the hearts of the others as they made the long walk home.
Worm was a different story. The painted man shied away from her and the group, ranging ahead of them and returning only to ensure she was still going in the direction he wanted. He didn't seem to enjoy the company of others. Not that he appeared afraid of it. Perhaps he found it too loud or too distracting? Eryn wasn't sure. All she knew was that as the hours passed without sight of him, she began to miss his constant closeness. She had seen what he was capable of, and there was no one she felt safer with. To her, he was the one person she could befriend who she didn't think anyone would or could kill.
"This used to be Ardenfell," Robar said.
They had reached what had once been a small town that sat across the Empire Road. There had been a large square in the center of it, a small barracks on the north side, and a number of homes ringing it. Now it was black and gray, piles of timber and ash, the bodies picked at by scavengers of all kinds, the smell enough to steal the appetite of even the hungriest among them.
It was still smoldering, the embers of the flames that destroyed it still warm.
"They burned it two days ago," Robar said. "On the way out. It was still useful to them on their way to Elling City."
"It was my home."
The words came from the youngest girl who had been subjected to the General's whims. She was only twelve, younger than Eryn had suspected, a small, pretty child with golden hair and a freckled face. Her name was Lottie. She had stayed as close to her savior as she could, immediately adopting Eryn as if she were an older sister. She had been naked in the General's tent, but Eryn had saved her before his man could steal her purity.
"They killed my parents so they could get to me," she continued. "I was hiding in the root cellar. I heard them screaming." Her eyes were distant. "I knew what they wanted me for. Momma always told me I was the prettiest girl in Ardenfell."
"Is it all like this?" Eryn asked, moving to Lottie's side and putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "All of Elling Province?"
"Most of it," Robar said. "There may be some smaller villages that stayed out of the army's path, but they came from land and sea. From the west and east and north. I've never seen so many soldiers. They surrounded Elling City, destroyed all of the crops and livestock on the wrong side of the wall. The Cursed tried to fight them with their power, but they didn't have the control you do. They managed to do some damage, but it wasn't enough. The army had a few Mediators, and they countered most of our attempts without revealing their nature to the soldiers. When they decided to assault Elling City, it fell within a day."
"They went through the city," Sena said. "They killed or took everyone they saw. It didn't matter if they swore fealty to him. It didn't matter if they begged or cried. It didn't matter if they were only children." The tears began to form at the corner of her eyes. "Everyone, Eryn. I would think there are fewer than a thousand souls left on this side of the Killorns who aren't in his army."
"This is my fault," Eryn said. "Mine and Talon's."
"Yes," Robar said. "In part."
"Robar-" Sena snapped. The minstrel put up his hand.
"Hold your ire, love. This world needed to change, Eryn. And all change requires a push from somewhere. You didn't create the rebellion, it's been there for years. You didn't make people hate him, they have for centuries. What you did was take that pressure and turn it into an explosion."
"Which has killed thousands of people," Eryn said.
"Yes. How many thousands have already died in the mines? How many thousands have his Mediators hunted and murdered? Does it matter if all of the families are destroyed in one day, or if it is spread out over years? The end result would be the same. Except now you are here, and Silas, er, Talon, is out there, and the rebellion is growing with each victory you claim. Mourn for the dead if you like, child. Mourn for the world as it was and as it is today. And then shine for the hope of the world tomorrow."
"If we succeed."
Robar laughed. "If you don't, you'll still be with Amman. It's not a bad alternative. In any case, we all saw what you did to that army. How can you fail?"
Eryn could only hope the minstrel was right.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Talon
"It can't be," Talon said, his eyes fixed to the rusted, dented head of the juggernaut. It stared back at him, its remaining eye flickering.
"It is Jeremiah," it said, its voice low. "It is sorry."
They had abandoned the violence of the rotunda for the headmaster's office, on the top floor of the Academy near the front gates. The Carriers were cleaning up the bodies while Wilem and Delia had gathered the remaining students and taken them to get cleaned up. The boy had done a fine job calming them after the fight, talking to them about his own experiences as a Mediator and why he had chosen to support the rebellion.
"It looks like we've started a panic," Spyne said. He was staring out the window, watching the city. "The peasants are holing up while the soldiers are trying to figure out what exactly just happened."
"Good," Talon said. His mind was reeling, his head a confused, painful mess of mixed memories and a race of thoughts that he couldn't calm. "I thought Jeremiah was him. How can this be? How did you wind up in a rusted old juggernaut?" He turned to Spyne. "And you? Of all of the Nine, the last one I would have guessed to be at my side was you."
Jeremiah reached out with an arm, tapping a finger on Talon's head. "It remembers. It hurts."
Talon shook his head. "I don't remember."
"I do," Spyne said. "No, not about Jeremiah. Everything else. I remember Tella and Loene. I remember the time before we were the Nine. Before he changed us. Before he stole who we were."
"It is sorry," Jeremiah said again.
Talon put his hand on the juggernaut's arm. "No. You shouldn't be. Whatever happened after, the Shifters would have destroyed this entire world if we hadn't done what we did. If we hadn't become the weapons the Empire needed."
"Perhaps until it was over, Thomas," Spyne said. "What about after? What about when their armies were rebuked, their leaders killed?"
"Are's Nor," Talon said, closing his eyes. The memories circled him too quickly to catch. "Do you remember what happened then? In the wake of their defeat?"
Spyne growled. "I remember Genesia. I remember his first command. 'Kill them. Kill them all. None can remember what has happened here. This past must be forgotten.'" He paused, lowering his head. "And I did, brother. I did kill them. All of them." A tear fell from his eye. "I killed them. I chased them, along with the juggernauts. I followed them out of the reactor and into the woods, through the woods to the hills beyond. They couldn't outrun us. They couldn't flee fast enough. We murdered them. Every last one of them. Men, women, children. Tella and Loene. I can remember my boot on her neck. I can remember her last breath." He stopped, heaving with sobs.
Talon backed away from Jeremiah, approaching Spyne and putting a hand to his shoulder instead. "It wasn't your fault."
"And yet here you are," Talon said.
Spyne smiled, his pointed teeth ugly in the dim light. "Here I am, Thomas. Because my best man betrayed me and threw me in the pit that I had just thrown Jeremiah into. Because when I awoke, I remembered, and now my hate is turned to him. All of it."
"It is dead," Jeremiah said.
"Because you died," Talon said. "And dying returned your memories. Returned the truth."
"Not all of the truth. I don't know who he is. I can't remember anything between when you killed the Shifter General and when I was given my command to destroy Genesia."
"As I said, I thought he was Jeremiah," Talon said. "Oz... Jeremiah, your assistant, Rossum was in Genesia."
"It is."
"He had gone through a procedure. One to keep him alive all of these years. To repair us when we were damaged and near to death, or maybe even after we had died."
"It is."
"Did you set him to that task?"
"It did not. It remembers. It is not safe."
"Not safe?"
"It remembers it. It is not safe. It is alone. It is studying. It is not alone. It is arguing. It hurts it. It runs. It is alone."
The words came out quickly as a series of grinding huffs.
"It finds it. It is pleased. It is scared. It hurts. It is scared. It helps it. It hurts. It is dying. It is scared. It hurts. It helps it. It is pleased. It is its friend."
"What happened?" Talon asked, trying to make sense of the quick bursts of words. "Who hurt you?"
