Belrand didn’t seem to care enough to stay. Freya followed him back into the camp, deciding that she couldn’t take watching it till the end. She knew Vanik would last some time.
Only Barknar watched with indifferent mien to the very end. It was a good preparation of things yet to come.
“I’M NOT SURE if you understand the severity of what happened tonight, Freya,” Belrand explained. “The Kolanthel managed to be among us. They can wreak utter havoc if they want to. The attack was not aimed at one siege engine, that was just collateral damage. It was aimed at the five young conscripts that were burnt down to ashes.” He stroked through his sweaty hair. “And that on the night before we set out. A major blow to morale. It is a bloody mess. That’s why I have to cull out the weak.” Belrand sighed. “Are you familiar with the concept of predicting someone’s death?”
Freya was confused by the sudden change of subject.
“Pardon?”
“If you know with all certainty when someone will die, that makes them immortal until that certain point in time,” Belrand said. “Are you with me?”
Freya nodded slowly, not sure where this was leading.
“I want you to do me a favor,” Belrand said. “Tomorrow we will march into weapon’s range of Skybridge. Allow every member of the warband double the amount of mead and vodka that would normally be allowed this evening. This will restore morale. Let them feel invincible and like kings. Tonight, we shall all be immortal, for tomorrow we will die!”
He glanced back to the place in front of the palisade. “And send someone to clean up that mess.”
THE SMELL IN THE INFIRMARY was that of alcohol and burnt meat. Not the slightly sweet alcohol scent from mead and vodka but the more sterile and stinging tang of the much stronger antiseptics. They used it watered down, but Soma Ice-Veins was still glad that they had enough left. As cleric, she had received a fresh dose of lesser drugs from one of Barknar’s men earlier, mandrake and swamp-weed that were on the verge of forbidden substances. Soma had used some of them on one of the burns victims who was unfortunate enough to be still alive when he was brought into her care. Soma knew there were other substances circulating from the drug cartel that she wouldn’t want to know of. Some drugs killed more people than they benefited. Raven’s Bread was one of them.
Behind the cleric were the beds of two newcomers who were involved in the action of bringing back the scouts from Skybridge. They had needed light attendance and would stay here the rest of the night. The curtains around their cots were drawn shut to allow them their intimacy.
BEHIND THE FABRIC, Dryston sat on his bed with Jade beside him. His waist was laid bare, showing the marks of years of fighting. Scars stretched over his stomach, thin streaks and deep, badly healed slashes and star-shaped punctures. Jade touched the scars and ran her fingertips over them; they were like mountains on a landscape. Her body was slender, with no fat reserves and only the minimum functional but deadly muscles.
SHE UNSCREWED A FLASK containing a green, unhealthy-looking fluid.
“I don’t think I need another shot,” Dryston said to her. “I’m going back to the crypt.”
“YOU NEED A SECOND SHOT, otherwise your body won’t be able to acclimatize and will be left in shock from the poison,” she said. “Drink it!”
He took the flask and knocked it back in one sip. It tasted like acid and rotten herbs and felt like dry sand scratching down his throat. Once in his stomach, it evolved into a bitter aftertaste and formed into molten lava running through his intestines. His eyes instantly watered.
Jade touched his twitching muscles, trying to ease them. She laid her arms around his neck and pulled him close to her body. The warmth between them was comfortable at first but heated up after a few moments. The blood rushing through both of them from their pumping hearts was like a hearth-fire inside the spartan tent. They had been close to each other for some time now, but this night it felt different. There was an air of uncertainty about what the future might hold that made Jade fear that she would lose what they had.
Jade felt Dryston flinch as their bodies rubbed against each other. She looked up at him with her long eyelashes, questioning if he was all right but understanding if he wasn’t.
“I won’t be there for you for long,” he said.
She shook her head, as if it didn’t matter to her. “Don’t worry about me. This could be the last night for both of us together.” She had spilt oil into her hand and spread it carefully between her palms and fingers. “I gave up hope for the future long ago. All I have left is the moment.” Her wet hands touched Dryston’s shoulders and caressed his neck in circling strokes. “Everything more I get is just a gift.”
She buried her fingers deep into Dryston’s muscles. They were remarkably strong, with joints and bones like a tiger’s claws. Her pressure made Dryston cringe, but the motion formed his lips to a crooked smile. He took her hand firmly to prevent her from hurting him further. Then he turned to face her and gripped her at the back of her head. He let go of her and ran his fingers over her temple, brushing her hair behind her ear. The strand revealed her eyes in shock at first but soon after, in anticipation of what would happen next. It was only a question of what you decided to do with the time you had left in your life.
Dryston lifted her hand and touched it to his lips. He let the kiss linger on the back of her hand before he wandered his mouth over the inside of her wrists, then her inner arms. The sensation made her blink and convulse her toes. She opened her eyes again, and he was already at her armpit, brushing over her collarbone up to her neck, breathing over her skin. His eyes were glowing, like in the middle of a fight, the same passion, the same being in the moment. Jade let her head fall back and gave in to his touches. This was almost like a memory from a past life. It was as if she had forgotten how good it felt.
She could feel a weight on her head, as her hair was being pulled down even further, delivering her to his advances—almost brutally, like he held the scalp of a beaten enemy. She shook off his hand and clutched his head before diving too deep.
Like escaping out of her hold, he bent over and touched her legs, running his hands over her ankles, shins, and thighs, gripping them firmly, making her feel the weals he had obtained from wielding his hand weapons. He manhandled them as if he knew he was about to lose them soon. He knew everything he wanted to take for himself was limited. He had to take it and never let it go. That was the feeling Jade loved. She needed someone who took care of her, be it only for that precious moment, that would show her she wasn’t alone and heal her broken soul. She leant over him and gripped his shoulders tight, pressing her long fingernails into his flesh and tearing them down his back. He came up from the pain, but her smile settled him. She was on the cot on all fours, wetting her lips as she began to slowly unbutton his pants.
A NEW DAWN WAS BREAKING. The camp had embarked for the most part and left abandoned tents, barrels and left-overs behind. The smoke of several burnt down fireplaces hung in the air. The infirmarians with their slow walking wounded were among the last to leave.
DRYSTON WOKE UP WITH JADE GONE. When he stepped out into the cold sunshine, he realized only then the big footprint the warband had left in its wake. Phantom limb pain stung in a finger that was missing from his hand. He wished it were a bad dream, but it wasn’t. They were still there, on the brink of war, and he had to leave.
Through the smoke, he saw a figure he hadn’t expected to see walk towards him, a black-skinned necromancer, dreadlocks hanging deep into his face, where a tattooed tear clung to his cheek.
“Gabriel,” Dryston said, shaking his head. “I must say, I’m not happy to see you here.”
Gabriel Werdum showed a set of satin-white teeth.
“You have yet no idea, Dryston of Decia,” the necromancer said in a croaky yet agreeable voice that seemed to penetrate the mind. “Where are the others?”
“Thaena will be on the way to her family right now. Cormack is going to join the sacki
ng of Skybridge. And Jade, I hope, is still around somewhere. I have a bad feeling about asking why you are here, though.”
“You remember how I said you had to do your thing, and I had to do mine?” Gabriel asked. “Well, it seems that they may meet together now. I broke riddles inside the crypt shortly after you left. The others are working on it in my absence, or at least guarding it as best as they can. But you had to hear it from me to really convince you. That’s why I followed you.”
“About the end-times?” Dryston assumed.
Gabriel bowed his head. “With the records that I found inside the crypt, I could refine my calculations. We are now at fifty-two hours before the ending of the cycle.”
“So, two days left,” Dryston said.
“Yes, but the important question is not when, but where,” Gabriel answered.
“Where? I thought it was a stellar constellation,” Dryston said.
“Right, but the alignment will point at one spot if you draw a line between all involved celestial bodies,” Werdum said. “Look, no one knows what will happen, as this is the first time since our civilization has written down its history that the stars will align themselves again in this formation. But think about what influence the moon has on the tides, and every living being, then a hundredfold increase by the back-up of several other celestial bodies. It may shift the alignment of magic in the world, because this is something we don’t even fully understand on its own. We just have to wait and see it with our own eyes.”
“Where is this one spot?” Dryston asked.
“You may laugh, Dryston,” Gabriel chuckled.
“I’m really not laughing, Gabriel,” Dryston said, feeling his heart pounding up to his neck.
“The stars will point to Skybridge,” Gabriel said. “So I would advise you to avoid being there by the time the hourglass runs out of sand. Dryston?”
The necromancer took a step closer to his friend, holding him at the shoulder, but before he could say anything, Dryston convulsed.
“Dryston? Is everything all right?”
Gabriel had to support him with all his weight to prevent him from slumping down. Dryston felt foam coming out of; his mouth.
“That bitch!” he swore with a last effort, seeing her appear out of the smoke behind Gabriel’s back: Jade Cyrus.
CHAPTER TEN
SKULLTAKER
GHOST CARRIED KYRA ON THROUGH the forest. Beside her ferns and leaved branches passed by in a manner too fast to catch with the human eye. They smacked against her face and arms in consecutive rhythm, making her hold on tighter on the Ghost’s headgear, reminding her that falling off the stallion at that speed would result in serious injuries. A broken leg or foot would mean death in the company of wolves in these parts of nature.
The hooves of her horse stirred up deer and elk as she strode through the undergrowth. The closer she came to the water, the more mysterious and dangerous the animals became. There were primeval lizard-like predators snapping at her that were slumbering by the creek, their hides colored like the moss-grown wet stones, and amphibious night-creatures lurking under tree-stumps and aerial roots, which followed her with big, glossy, nocturnal eyes.
Kyra steered out of the brook bed and climbed the slope leaving the undergrowth. She found the way again, back from her shortcut, a trampled path with cairns and shrines, not all of them built by humans, by the wayside. The house by the lake could be seen between the tree trunks. The lake at first, with its mirroring but dark surface, then at its shore, Gold Dust Lodge, her home.
Kyra spurred Ghost on unwittingly. She kept looking out for her love, and her horse felt her nervousness. Her glances passed the waist-high wooden fence and swept over the patch behind it. A lone scarecrow guarded over a field of pumpkins, some picked over by ravens or maggots. The garden door to the estate was open and swinging, creaking in the breeze. Ghost jumped over it nonetheless. Every peek into the backyard revealed to Kyra more and more that something wasn’t right. The lumberjack axe her fiancé used for cutting wood nearly every time she had come home in the past was thrust in a tree stub. Unfinished logs were lying around it.
“Connor?” she called, swinging her hips out of the saddle and landing on the earthy ground. Animal voices from the forest responded to her call. “Connor, baby!”
There were tracks on the ground from two horses and the imprints of heavy metal boots leading into and out of the house.
Kyra entered Gold Dust Lodge. All the memories she had from building it up to celebrating her home time with Connor by candlelight, all the mornings stepping out and taking a swim together in the lake, or warming by the fireplace, all was wiped away by fear of confirmation that he’d been taken away.
Kyra arrived in the empty lounge, shelves full of small items and past life around her. Whatever it was, it didn’t bring life back into the room. She drew out her sword and let herself fall into the cozy armchair. There was no reason to wait until he came back. She had come too late to warn him. Connor Wyle had most likely been forced to serve in King Tancred’s army as reserve corps and would be marching to Skybridge by now. The king gave and the king took. You sold your soul to him as soon as you were born in his realm and would be damned to pay him back till your last breath. Kyra looked back out of the door she had left open. This would never end.
DRYSTON DASHED AGAINST JADE.
“What have you done to me?” he shouted.
Her eyes were in shock seeing him in this state.
“I swear I haven’t done anything!” she replied. Jade looked at the flask she had given to Dryston that night. “Oh no! Back in Skybridge, in the burning house, I lost this flask for a moment. It was in the hands of the murderer Haddock! Good gods, he must have tainted it!”
Dryston felt like collapsing any second.
“Gods no, Jade!” Gabriel exclaimed.
Jade turned and waved over someone from the infirmary personnel. “Cleric!” she yelled. “Over here, quick!”
Soma Ice-Veins came running from the infirmary tent.
“What is it?” Soma asked, but seeing the state of Dryston there was no doubt. “You were poisoned.”
The remnants on the field were suddenly in turmoil. Members of Menja’s group, who were punished to sleep outside of the barricades of the army camp had grabbed their gear and were fleeing back to the palisade.
“Kolanthel-raid!” Menja cried, carrying weapons and armor pieces in each hand. “Take cover!”
A hail of dozens of arrows rose from the edge of the forest and drew itself against the background of the bright sky.
It took everyone a second to observe the spectacle before they could act.
Dryston fell forward and grabbed a shield that was leaning against a wooden box. He tore down Jade with him. Gabriel took the petrified cleric and threw her flat on the ground, seeking shelter behind the cover of the box.
There wasn’t any more time. The arrows hammered down around them, making Dryston and Jade take cover under a shield that would have been small for only one of them to begin with.
“There’s no way you are going to survive if you eat another bit,” Soma told Dryston.
“So as long as I don’t eat, I will live?” Dryston asked.
“You are truly an optimist, Dryston,” Jade said. “What are you going to do?”
“Get the antidote,” Dryston answered.
“But Haddock’s dead,” Jade said.
“I’ll get it from someone else,” Dryston said. “His employer, Argis Cairn-Breaker.”
“We don’t even know if this man exists,” Jade said.
“It’s the only chance,” Dryston said.
“You need my attendance,” Soma told him. “So that I can find out more about the poison.”
“Well, there is no time for that, cleric, because I’m leaving and I don’t give the poison two days till it kills me, I give it two days left to exist,” Dryston said.
Menja’s group reached their position. Some of them had picked up shi
elds on the way back. Others took shelter, pressed against the inner side of the palisade wall.
Soma recognized the man hitting the ground beside her from Menja’s pack.
“Weren’t you the one bringing me the medicaments tonight?” Soma asked him.
The incoming second salvo of arrows bailed Joric out. Soldiers were cut down left and right from them. First among them were the wounded that fell victim to the cowardly Kolanthel attack. The clerics were busy tearing cloth pieces from their clothes to fabricate makeshift wound compressions.
ASUKARA URYAH’S GROUP was setting up counter-fire with their bows. Asukara was commanding and advancing against the incoming fire, still out of range with his Chu-Ko-Nu repeating crossbow. He would make sure the non-human scum wouldn’t dare come closer because of this weapon.
With every jog, his helmet shook, but he didn’t think about taking it off for a second.
He was alone in this, but he had brought a hundred of his little friends. A barbed quiver swayed on his back, filled with a multitude of bolts, smaller than the normal standard crossbow bolt. Another heavy quiver dangled on his hip. His hands were itchy under the razorspike bracers, his fingers covered in etched gloves yearning to activate the release of his sophisticated weapon. He would show them something this side of the world hadn’t seen.
Menja’s gang rallied under Asukara’s heartening shouts and followed him under the covering fire. Joric had no difficulty leaving Soma’s position before more uncomfortable questions would be asked.
“Inconstant shots!” Asukara ordered his archers to answer the salvos of the Kolanthel. He had a point. Salvos made the moment of the incoming projectiles predictable, whereas the inconstant shots applied permanent pressure on the enemy. Menja’s melee specialists won ground under the barrage.
Asukara knew that what had prompted them to fall back in the first place had been the element of surprise and an uncertainty of enemy strength. You never knew how many there were in the woods, but he had a feeling that they weren’t outnumbered against the unseen enemy. It was just a hunch. The nature of the attack didn’t speak of great numbers, but more of misdirecting the enemy. Of course, he could have been totally wrong and running into a trap. But then, it wouldn’t matter anyway. Warfare was all decided through allocation of strength. When you stood against innumerable odds, you lost. When you came in superior numbers, you won.
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