by Mike Morris
The voice inside told him to draw the sword, kill Jahn, kill Edward and anyone else foolish enough to get in his way, take Kara and get out of there. He all but shook with the force of the emotions clashing inside him. But no, these people were his neighbours, not his enemy. They were good people.
"Nathaniel? What's going on?" asked Kara.
Rane ignored her, and kept his eyes on Jahn, aware of the sword on the sheriff's hip; a short doubled-edged weapon so different from Rane's own. He uncurled his right hand and presented his marked palm, ready for whatever happened next.
They both stared at the scar there.
Jahn sighed. "Thought as much." He looked back up at Rane, searching his eyes for something but only the Gods knew what.
Strike now, urged the voice. Kill the fool.
Jahn moved his hand and Rane almost drew then, almost cut the man down, but the sheriff only offered him a hand to shake. "Glad to see there's no scar. I told them you weren't one of the Legion. I'm not sure what they've done to get the world out hunting for them, but that's not your problem."
"Thank you," said Rane, taking Jahn's hand.
"I like the pair of you and I consider myself a good judge of character so I hope this nonsense blows over without affecting you none. In the mean time, I'd maybe get rid of that sword. Wouldn't want a souvenir getting you into trouble. And maybe stay out of town for awhile." Jahn nodded at Kara. "Mrs Rane. Nice seeing you all. I'll let you get back on with your business now. You can keep that." He tilted his head towards the poster in Rane's hand, smiled and walked back down the street.
"Nathaniel?" said Kara.
Rane showed his wife the poster. "I think we'd best head home. The others might not be as reasonable as Jahn."
"You in trouble, Mr Rane?" asked Edward, watching from the doorway.
Rane shook his head. "No. Just some folks mistaking me for someone else. I'll be seeing you soon."
"What about this?" said the shopkeeper, holding up the bolts. "You won't find any finer."
"I'll be back to pick them up in a day or two," said Kara as they unhitched their horses and climbed back into their wagon. "See you soon."
Edward watched them, looking none too happy at losing their business.
"Maybe we should've bought those bolts," said Kara as they headed in the opposite direction to the sheriff's office. "Might stop him from telling the world what just happened."
"What's there to say?" replied Rane. "He couldn't have seen what was on the poster."
"That's never stopped him before. The man can sniff out gossip from a hundred miles away."
"It'll be fine," said Rane and not believing it.
"This is a bounty on the whole Legion, signed by the five nations," said Kara, clutching the poster and rereading it as if that could change the meaning of the words on it. "Ten thousand gold pieces. That's a fortune. I can't even imagine that much money."
"That's per head. There were four hundred and fifty of us at war's end."
"Is there that much money left in the world?"
"I don't know. I don't understand any of this," said Rane. "It makes no sense."
"I thought the scar on your hand was just an old wound. The Gods know you have enough all over your body — but this says you all have the same mark on your hands."
"We do." There was a tightness in Rane's chest as he forced the words out, his eyes fixed on the road but seeing nothing but the past. He couldn't look at Kara now. "We all made a blood oath. It was towards the end of the war and we all thought we were about to die."
"What were you doing? Swearing allegiance to each other or something?"
"Something like that." The lie was like ash in his mouth. It was that and far more. Far worse.
Kara folded the poster. "Well, you've got to get rid of that sword now. Destroy it or hide it until this whole mess is cleared up."
"I can't get rid of the sword."
"Why not? I know it's important to you but it's not worth keeping — not if it's going to get you killed."
"It's not that simple."
"Are you worried about that beast you killed yesterday? You've still got your pistols — you don't need the sword as well." Kara sighed. "You heard Jahn — people will see it and see ten thousand gold pieces waiting to be claimed. We'll have bounty hunters and the Gods know what else coming after us. We'll never know a moment's peace. We've got a baby on the way. We need to think about what's best for it."
"Getting rid of the sword isn't an option." There was an edge to his voice that was uncalled for, but he couldn't help it. He just wanted the conversation over.
"Not an option? Haven't you been paying attention? I know you love that bloody sword, sometimes more than you love me, but people are going to try and kill you because of it. Surely that outweighs some stupid sentimentality you have for an old war relic."
"I'm asking you to just accept it, Kara. It's just the way it is." He steered the wagon through the narrow streets, taking a circular route out of town. He didn't want anyone following them home.
"By the Gods, you can be a stubborn fool," hissed Kara. "Burying your head in the dirt isn't going to make this go away."
"I'm not suggesting that. My brothers and sisters are being hunted. I can't just leave them. I need to find out what's behind all this, try and help if I can."
That got her attention. "What are you going to do?"
He looked at her then, knew she wasn't going to like his answer. He wasn't sure he liked it himself but he had no choice. "Once the bounty hunters have gone, I'll head up to Candra. Try and find the Lord General, get some answers. See if I can help fix things."
"You've got to be joking. Tell me you're not serious."
"I took an oath. Just because I left the Legion, doesn't change that. I can't just turn my back on my brothers and sisters. Not if they need my help."
"What about me? What about the oath you swore to me?"
"I haven't forgotten that but those bounty hunters aren't going to be the last ones to come calling. If they found me, others will. Maybe Jahn won't be able to put off the next ones. If we're going to have a future, if I'm going to look after you and our child, I need to find out what's happening and deal with it. Otherwise we'll never be safe."
Kara shook her head, angry as he'd ever seen her. "Fine," she said through clenched teeth. "We'll leave in the morning."
"We? We're not going anywhere together. You're staying here where it's safe."
"It doesn't work like that, Nathaniel. We're a team. If you're going, I'm going. I'm certainly not going to sit at home, knitting by the window, wondering if you're ever going to come home. I'm not that kind of woman. You'd never have married me if I was. No, if you're going, I'm coming with you. You'll be less conspicuous if we travel together. And afterwards we'll head to Rooktown and find Marcus. Make sure he's okay."
"It'll be dangerous. Too dangerous."
"I'm not some bloody kid. I've ambushed Rastak troops. I've killed collaborators. Don't tell me what's too dangerous."
Rane held up his hands in surrender. "Okay. We'll leave in the morning."
"And you'll leave the sword behind."
"No."
"No?"
"No."
Kara's face reddened. "By all the Gods in the Heavens, if you keep the sword, you might as well just hand yourself in to Jahn right now. You can give the reward money to me if you're so keen to get caught. At least then I'll get some compensation for your stupidity."
The wagon rolled over the last hill before their home. "I'm not getting rid of the sword. End of discussion."
Kara glared at him for the last few hundred yards and when he drew the wagon to a stop outside the house, she jumped down, giving him one last look that said that he was a fool and he hadn't heard the last of the matter before marching inside. Still sitting on the wagon, Rane rubbed his face as he took a deep breath. He should tell her everything, then she'd understand. It was the right thing to do, he knew that. But some secrets
needed to stay buried no matter what. Even though he’d no doubt Kara loved him, he wasn't sure she'd forgive him for what he'd done, for what the Legion had done.
He picked up his sword and pulled just a fraction of the blade free from its sheath. His eyes looked trapped in the pristine steel. Some things just couldn't be undone.
3
Rane woke screaming. His body was on fire. A thousand injuries roared in pain. He opened his eyes, snapped out of his dreams of the war. It took a moment to register he was at home, alone in his bedroom at the back of the cottage. The brook bubbled away outside his window as early morning light chased away any lingering shadows. Just another day and yet...
He shuddered as another stab of pain struck in his stomach. His hand went to the spot where he'd taken a spear fighting outside Hallington, felt an open wound. His hand came away stained with blood but already the pain was spreading across his body, the memories of a thousand knives and a thousand swords attacking him anew. They cut and sliced across his body, from head to foot, shallow and deep, fast and slow. Killing him.
He pushed himself up, reached for his sword. But his hand flailed in empty space. The sword was gone.
"Kara!" he screamed.
He stood up, desperate for his sword, hoping that it had simply fallen down, or rolled under the bed, wanted to believe it was anywhere but gone. Another wave of agony punched him in the gut, knocking him to the ground, spitting blood.
"Kara!" A sob this time.
The pain intensified, driving all thought from his brain and making it hard to breath. Blood poured from all his old wounds, leaking down his torso, his arms, his legs. He was bleeding everywhere.
Panic flared as he tried to get out of the bedroom, half-stumbling, half-falling as he did so.
His sword. He needed his sword. He groped along the floor but found only empty space.
He screamed as the agony reached new heights, forcing him into a ball on the ground. Blood, his blood, blossomed out from under him, staining the floorboards.
Somewhere, far away, he heard a door open. He looked up, saw Kara, hands covered in dirt, dress filthy.
"Nathaniel!" Kara rushed to his side. "By the Gods! What's happening?"
"Sword." The word was but a whisper, forced out through shallow breaths, all he could manage. He prayed she understood. "Where?"
Kara stared at him, horrified. "I buried it. I hid it."
"No." Rane closed his eyes. The pain began to fade. He began to fade. He knew he was dying but he hadn't the strength to fight it. It was long overdue. He’d been living on borrowed time. Heras came for everyone in the end. Faces drifted through his mind of comrades long since gone, people he'd not thought about for years. The fallen. He was going to join them, united again.
Kara. By the Gods, he'd miss her. Miss their child.
The darkness grew, embracing his thoughts, cushioning his fall, snuffing the fire. Even the voice was quiet at long last. No longer interested in him now his sword was gone.
The world went black. Rane died.
* * *
A jolt of energy hit him, as powerful as the pain, pulling him back. His eyes snapped open as air rushed into his lungs. His sword lay in his hands and Kara stood over him. She was shouting at him but he couldn't take in the worlds, not caring. He gripped the sword, as its energy flowed through him. As life pulsated back into him. Let it do its work. Close the wounds. Heal all the damage done.
He had no idea how long he lay there, waiting for the pain fade, his injuries disappearing once more into the past.
Cold touched his face.
He became aware of Kara wiping the blood from his skin with a wet cloth.
"Kara."
"By Odason’s belessings, you're alive." She hugged him, tears running down her face.
"What happened?"
"Nathaniel, I'm so sorry. I took your sword. You wouldn't get rid of it so I did." He saw his pain reflected in her eyes, her fear of what had happened, of him. "I thought if I buried it, you'd see you didn't need it. That we'd be safe from anyone looking for you. They'd not think you were a Legionnaire."
He groaned, his body sore, tingling with residual pain. "Don't… don’t do that again."
"Why were you were bleeding and... by Odason, what's going on? Please tell me?"
He pushed himself up with one shaking hand so he could lean against the bed and catch his breath. "It's the sword. Its why I have to keep it near."
"Why? I don't understand."
Rane reached for a cup of water near the bed, took a sip, then another. Everything ached. He gazed at Kara, sitting next to him, covered in his blood, wondering if she'd still love him after he confessed. Knew he wouldn't blame her if she didn't.
"Did you know my sword has a name? It's called Kibon; in Naijin, it means Hope. Before I tell you what we did, it's important to know that. Because at one point we didn't have any hope of any kind. Candra was about to fall and Ascalonia with it. Things were as desperate as they could get." Rane took a deep breath, felt a little bit more of his strength returning. "I was on the wall, getting our defence ready for the Rastaks' final attack when Marcus returned from a mission — with a man called Babayon. The whole Legion was later called to the great hall of our barracks and we were told we had a chance to change the war, change everything — if we were prepared to make a sacrifice."
He paused as the memories dragged him back to that night and the despair they were all feeling. "When you think you’re going to die in the morning, it's easy to agree to anything. What did it matter? We were dead anyway. Some hope was better than none."
"What did you do?"
"The man Marcus had brought — Babayon — was a mage."
Kara sat back. Even after everything she seen, somethings could still shock her. Mage, magician, wizard, witch. It didn't matter the name they practised the dark arts under. They were all outlawed, feared, declared evil. To practise magic was to sin against Odason. Magic carried an automatic death sentence. Guaranteed a visit from the Inquisition. "What? Why would Marcus bring such a man to you?"
"Jefferson knew him from somewhere. Knew what he could do. Babayon promised to make us stronger, faster and almost impossible to kill, make us more powerful than the Rastaks. But the price was terrible. We were led deep into the bowls of the castle, underground. The blackness covered everything, eating our torchlight. I remember wanting to turn back, questioning everything, being so scared, but I just marched down with the others, following on like sheep."
Kara stared at him, silent.
"I don't remember much after that. Just images, flashes. There was a ceremony. Babayon ordered us to cut our hands with our swords. Used our blood..." Rane paused, sifting through his memories. "Even telling you now, I almost don't believe it and I was there. Most of the time, it feels like a dream I once had instead of something I did. Sometimes the only way I know it happened is when I look at the scar on my hand."
"Why?" asked Kara. "Why did this Babayon need your blood?"
"Powerful magic needs blood to fuel it. And this was magic on a scale unheard of." Rane's mouth went dry. He was scared of how Kara would react to the truth but there was no hiding it now. "Babayon took part of our souls and merged it with our swords."
"What?" Kara's eyes darted from the sword to Rane and back again. She edged slowly back from him as if really seeing him for the first time, and not liking what she saw. "He did what?"
Rane held up his sword. "Part of my soul is trapped within this blade. Every time I use it, it makes me stronger than a normal man, faster. It's all but impossible to kill me with it in my hand. Almost any injury will heal in seconds. However, if I'm separated from it, if it’s taken away from me or destroyed, I'll die. All its magic is undone, and my soul is lost."
"So all the cuts that were bleeding on your body..."
Rane nodded. "They were all injuries from past battles, healed by the sword, reopened once more."
"Is that why you take the sword with you everywh
ere? Why you won't get rid of it?"
"Yes. It’s magic stops working if it’s more than twelve feet away from me. Without it, I’ll die."
There was no hiding the disgust on her face. Her reaction hurt more than anything he'd just endured. "Why didn't you tell me about this?"
"I wanted to forget about it, pretend it’d never happened. I didn't like who I'd become by the end of the war.” He looked away. “At first, we were all excited. We defeated the Rastaks outside Candra. Killing them was so easy — even the demons — and each death fed the sword. There's a jolt of energy, a rush. It feels... amazing. Addictive. It heals any wounds, makes you stronger still. I liked it too much. Needed it too much. We all did.
“When the war ended, I wanted to feel it again and again. I killed anything or anyone who crossed my path. It was driving me insane. I'd sworn an oath to protect and serve those weaker than myself and suddenly I was a danger to everyone. I became a monster. Better to leave the Legion, get away from anyone I could hurt."
"But it was all right to be with me? To put me in danger?"
Rane shook his head. "You make me a better person, make me feel like the person I used to be. The urges have all but disappeared since I met you. I'd never hurt you."
Kara was about to reply when another thought struck her. "By the Gods. Marcus too? My brother did this as well?"
"The whole Legion did." He reached out to touch her, to reassure her everything was going to be okay, but she pulled away.
"Is this why they want to arrest you all? Because they found out what you did? No wonder."
"I don't think so. Why would they? We were told we did it with the Queen's blessing. With the whole allied Council's agreement. Why would they turn on us now when we gave everything for them?"
"I don't know. Maybe because magic is against the law? Against Odason’s will?"
"It's not like that," whispered Rane. But he knew it was.
