by Brett Vonsik
“Get him up!” Kantus demanded to the guardsman holding Rogaan. Two more burly figures in light armor rushed over to aid their prone comrade, grabbing Rogaan and pulling him to his knees as painfully as they could manage the task–three blades immediately found their way to poking him in the throat, ribs, and back. Rogaan forced himself to rise, stand tall, on his feet, to face Kantus. He would not cower, not to Kantus. He would not give the bully the satisfaction. Forced to submit, to surrender while under the blade put things in a bad way, but better than willing to surrender without a fight. But...Imtaesus. Bitter was the taste of his poor choices and the consequences...just too bitter. He spat. Rogaan started to become angry with himself. Pax made a growling effort to escape his captors’ grips, but it only got him a painful gut punch from one of the smiling Bandsmen, doubling Pax over as he tried to suck at the air. He looked like a gasping fish out of water, but watching his friend getting rough treatment made Rogaan angry. No, they would not surrender. Nothing good will come from this. His father, mother, Pax, Suhd, and their parents all depended on his being free to make things right.
Kantus sauntered over to Pax, regarding him with a pompous smile, as if looking at a trophy. The dim light of the street lamps cast a sinister shadow on Kantus’ face, making that smile of his seemingly warn of ill things to follow. Grabbing Pax by the throat, Kantus shoved Pax’s head upward and forced him to straighten worsening the pain he was obviously in. Kantus looked every bit as if he were enjoying himself, and Rogaan’s blood began to boil.
“Poor Pax,” Kantus taunted. “Your days of speaking insolently and disrespectfully to me and my family end tonight. You’ll show me the respect I deserve…or you’ll suffer until you do.”
Pax worked his mouth, trying to say something then spit into Kantus’ face before putting on a dark grin. His friend’s defiant eyes told Rogaan that Kantus was not going to get his satisfaction easily and that Pax would suffer much before then. Hatred and contempt would keep Pax going for some time, Rogaan knew, but he doubted they would sustain him indefinitely.
Kantus let go of Pax with a disdainful shove, then punched him square in the face before wiping the spittle from his cheek. Pax slumped limp and looked dazed in the arms of Kantus’ Bandsmen, who caught him before he could collapse to the street. Kantus gathered himself for a moment, visibly struggling with the urge to do harm to Pax. After a few moments, Kantus took on a calm demeanor -- the demeanor of a baraan in complete control. “You will show me respect.”
Kantus punched Pax hard in the stomach, causing Pax to grunt with the air forcibly expelled from his lungs and double over, as much as the pair of Bandsmen holding him would allow. Looking satisfied with himself as Pax futilely tried to fill his lungs with air, Kantus turned his attention to Rogaan. Sauntering over to where Rogaan stood at blade point, he spoke purposely and with a voice rich in triumph. “And you, Rogaan. I’m going to enjoy watching you explain to the Town Council, the Ensi and the Tusaa’Ner why YOU harmed so many guardsmen. Yes. That’ll be a sight. I think I’ll have my father petition the jailers to allow my family the pleasure of your servitude instead of sending you to the quarries.”
Kantus moved close, enough to cause Rogaan’s nose to wrinkle at his rank breath. Kantus’ eyes glinted in the yellow light of the street lamps. Those eyes were filled with contempt, and worse -- shameless triumph and satisfaction. “You’ll beg for the quarries before I’m done with you.”
Rogaan struggled to keep his tongue. Inside he raged...seethed. Have to keep my control, he told himself. Things will get worse if I lose control, he gave himself counsel. He sensed that Kantus was goading him into actions that would provide excuses to mistreat him and Pax. Why does he have to be so smug and arrogant? Rogaan asked himself. Despite his best efforts to remain impassive and unemotional, Rogaan’s temper started to break through. His eyes betrayed him, burning hotly with hatred and contempt for Kantus and what Rogaan admitted to himself as embers of a building murderous rage. Kantus scowled and seemed unsatisfied that Rogaan had not put up more of a fight. He then turned away, only to rear back and punch Rogaan hard in the mouth. Rogaan’s head snapped back from the impact of Kantus’ hide-bound fist. Pain jolted Rogaan’s face and neck, and his chin throbbed as if it were burning. Rogaan felt something trickling down his neck…blood, his own…drawn from the freshly made stinging wound on his neck, cut by one of the blades held against it. The taste of iron and the scent of his blood from somewhere in his mouth made his stomach turn a bit. He raged and raged inside.
Still, Rogaan fought to control his anger. He had won the battle of wills between them so far, but he felt his control slipping fast. Anger, his rage, was rapidly eroding his self-control. How much more do I take? Kantus openly appeared frustrated at Rogaan’s self-restraint and visibly scrubbed at his beard in thought -- of what, Rogaan was unsure. After a few moments, Kantus smiled and made to kick Rogaan in the gut or groin. Gritting his teeth, Rogaan strained tight his midsection and twisted his hips in anticipation of a painful strike in either place. With his foot drawn back to strike, Kantus froze with eyes widened, focused beyond Rogaan. The almost inaudible sound of a blade slicing through air was followed by a lower-pitched “thwop” as it sliced through something solid, repeated so rapidly that Rogaan lost count of the strikes he heard. The din of guardsmen scrambling, some shouting, others screaming in agony raised Rogaan’s neck hairs in anticipation of being the next to fall. He felt utterly defenseless on his knees and with his captors’ sword tips pressing at his neck and back.
I have to escape and defend myself, Rogaan decided. Several quick slices in the air and thwops to both sides of him, followed by the prickling of the sword points disappearing from his neck and ribs, metal clinking on the paving stones, and the guardsmen gloved hands gripping his arms gone, made Rogaan freeze in anticipation of death. He closed his eyes and braced himself, tightening every muscle in him, and waited for it. And he waited. I am alive? Rogaan spun around, rising to a crouch, almost stumbling backward as he did. His eyes widened in shock at what he saw. Bodies of burly, armored guardsmen lay in the street...in pieces, cut in half through the shoulder or midsection and yet there was no blood, not on the paving stones or spilling from the massive wounds of their twitching body parts. The scent of burnt flesh hung in the night air and made Rogaan’s stomach turn. Most shocking were the guardsmen’s eyes -- they still darted back and forth, looking around, as their mouths formed silent words and their body halves twitched. Do they realize they are lightless? Rogaan felt his hairs everywhere raise and his skin prickle. The guardsman that had stood behind him lay on the street decapitated -- an axe blade cut in two lay next to his severed helmeted head. Again, no blood -- just body parts...everywhere.
“Where did it come from?” Kantus asked absently of no one in particular. He sounded as stunned and dumbfounded as Rogaan felt.
Kantus just stood with mouth agape, gawking at the carnage, oblivious to Rogaan now standing next to him. With a start, Rogaan realized Kantus was within arm’s reach, and the dam holding back his anger broke. Rogaan grabbed the stunned Kantus by the shoulder pad of his eur hunter’s uniform and slammed his fist into his rival’s face so violently that he thought he might have broken his own hand. Kantus went down in an unmoving heap. His jaw was obviously broken by the way it awkwardly looked. Rogaan felt no remorse, no regrets; instead, a great sense of satisfaction washed over him. Thuds and clinking of armor and weapons hitting paving stones behind him grabbed Rogaan’s attention. He wheeled around to a scene of more guardsmen lying lightless, or fading on the street as a shadow, dressed in a cloak so black that it seemed to absorb light, quickly yet gracefully moving right to left, not in a rush, slashing blades equally as dark as the cloak, cutting down everyone in its path. Everyone except Pax. As quickly as this dealer of dark death started, he was done. Guardsmen lay in pieces all about the street, their flesh seared by the dark blade. Guardsmen, wounded or prostrated in a position of submission, not opposing the shadow,
were bypassed and spared a grim death. Of those few, most sat watching the shadow with terror etched on their faces. A single guardsman running in the direction of the Hall of Laws, shouting something Rogaan could not quite discern was quickly silenced when the cloaked shadow threw something, striking the baraan at the base of the neck. He went down and lay unmoving in the street some forty strides away. Rogaan stood unable to move, looking at this shadow of death, fearing he was next. Light from the street lamps caught a pair of radiant green eyes, tilted slightly, just before the black cloak absorbed them and disappeared into the shadows between the brick buildings on the north side of the street and the carnage he left behind.
Pax stood in the midst of body parts, looking about with a shock. Flesh, bone, and the armor of the guardsmen had been cut with equal ease. Pax stood motionless except for his slowly swiveling head, taking in everything -- at least trying to. Long moments passed before Pax dared speak. “What just happened, Rogaan? Who or what be that? How...?”
“I do not know,” Rogaan replied.
Several wounded guardsmen managed to regain their feet then hobbled off as best they could toward the center of Brigum and the Hall of Laws.
Rogaan considered stopping them from alerting the town, but found it difficult to stomach any more death this night. He decided to let them go. “Pax, we need to get going. Before the rest of the town is after us.”
Pax looked up at Rogaan, his eyes starting to clear from a cloud of bewilderment and fright. He then hurriedly retrieved several daggers near his feet, then moved quickly to the three guardsmen he had wounded, pulling his knives from their thighs, not caring if he injured or pained them further. Rogaan winced for the guardsmen as painful groans escaped their throats when the blades came free -- though not a one of them raised a hand against Pax. “Now, make this be a good lesson ta ya. Don’t be botherin’ us no more.”
Rogaan knelt next to Imtaesus to check if there was luck that he was alive. His uncle’s eyes were open, but unfocused, and his blood-soaked tunic failed to rise and fall with a living breath. Rogaan’s throat tightened as a pain deep within his chest grabbed him like a great hand clenching his heart. He really did not know Imtaesus well, despite being blood. His pain and sorrow were for his mother. She spoke fondly of her brother often enough to know she was proud of him and loved him. How am I going to tell mother of his death? Rogaan fought back tears of anguish for her as he gently closed the eyes of his kindred.
“You be right.” Pax broke in on Rogaan’s deep thoughts with a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder. Pax had serious eyes when Rogaan looked up. “He fought good and brave. Nothin’ more for ya ta do. Let’s be goin’. Before more of this happins.”
Rogaan agreed with his friend. Nothing more could be done here. In fact, Rogaan felt he had done quite enough in getting people killed, especially his blood. With one last look at Imtaesus’ lifeless body, and suffering another strong pang of guilt, he gathered up his carry pack, quiver, and shunir’ra from where they had fallen sometime during their struggles, then followed Pax into the shadows to the south side of the street.
Chapter 11
Escaping Brigum
They quickly made their way back to where the chaos had started at the edge of Waterside Road, and crossed it after both Pax and Rogaan looked to make sure nobody would see them. On the other side of the road, crouching between two ten-stride-tall cedars, they peered into the dark void of the river ravine below. With only a crescent moon, and it low on the mountains at that, little could be seen below -- even with Rogaan’s sight. The darkness sent a chill up and down Rogaan’s back. Waters rushing over rocks and boulders seemed louder than he expected. He did not care for water of any depth and was not looking forward to this part of their plan; the darkness made his heart race at the swelling fear inside him. Everything about this tested him. Pax pulled off a lashing of rope from his bottom pack and lashed it around a tree, then threw the rest of it into the darkness, then immediately started down the cliff using his feet to steady himself as he disappeared into the darkness below. Rogaan dawdled and delayed at the top of the cliff, not wanting to descend into the abyss. He watched Pax work his way down into the deepening darkness to the base of the ravine, where he barely could make out his friend -- and then only when he moved.
With immense reluctance and countless controlling breaths, trying to calm or at least steady his racing heart, Rogaan grabbed the rope, and with a deep breath took his first step into the unknown. He made his way slowly down the cliff, almost as if he were blind and needed to feel his way along the rocks. Below, Pax cursed him often in hushed outbursts, complaining that he was moving too slowly and that they would be caught before he ever touched bottom. The cliff stood more than ten strides, and its rocky face was slick, giving Rogaan several scares as he slipped, with only the rope keeping him from falling. Once at the bottom, Pax grabbed the rope and shook it in a way Rogaan was unfamiliar with, causing it to come free from the tree above. Rogaan stood looking at Pax incredulously as he wrapped it into a circle and reattached it to his butt pack. That rope had no anchor! Rogaan gave Pax an angry stare. Pax just smiled back at him and started south. They hurried along the river’s edge toward the Wheelhouse, doing their best not to slip on the slick rocks, moss, and lichens and plunge into the swift waters only a few strides away. Rogaan was certain snapjaws lived in these waters despite the assurances of more than a few Kiuri’Ner claiming the animals preferred calmer flows. Rogaan remained skeptical and feared their presence. Hungry killers would make any river crossing dangerous at best, and likely fatal. Pax insisted otherwise, agreeing with the Kiuri’Ner. It was strange for Rogaan to hear such talk from the one person who had nothing kind to say about those governing the town.
As they neared the Wheelhouse’s stone and mortar foundation, Rogaan spotted a thick rope some seven strides above them, spanning the twenty-stride-wide river of fast-flowing water. The rope was anchored above a stone and wood platform attached to the building on this side of the river, and to something on the far shore that he was unable to see in the darkness. A wooden wheel at the side of the platform rotated briskly with the flowing water and was the source of much of the town’s water. Deep water wells spread across Brigum supplied the rest of the water for the town. Rogaan felt a sense of relief once he laid his hands on the cool, wet stone of the structure. He was not certain if it was due to their not being discovered yet, or that he would soon be above the gloom of the shoreline. Pax deftly climbed the three-stride high stone foundation to a small ledge where he had a better perch to look about for guardsmen or workers. He motioned for Rogaan to follow when he was satisfied the way was clear. Rogaan rearranged and secured his carry pack, quiver, and shunir’ra to ensure they would not fall off as he climbed. He found the stones dangerously slick, forcing him to take more care with his handholds and footing than he thought needed. He climbed slowly not only fearing that he would fall, but that someone would spot him. When he reached the ledge where Pax was perched, he looked up to see Pax leaning over the platform edge while hanging from the thick rope and swiveling his head between Rogaan below and someplace Rogaan could not see. Determined to quicken his climb, Rogaan set his jaws and heaved himself up the final stride to the platform.
The platform was constructed of thick-cut timbers, each almost a stride wide, and heavily weathered and slick. Pax impatiently waited for him, clinging to the three-finger-wide rope with both hands. Without a word, Pax started across the river, hand-over-hand, with his boots hooked over the rope trailing behind him as he went. Rogaan glanced up a narrow wooden plank stairway passing between the building’s stone outer wall and the rotating water wheel, toward the only light in sight -- that light barely pressing back the darkness. As enticing as the light felt to Rogaan, he climbed on the rope just as Pax had, and with a deep breath made his way on the damp coils. The going was easier than Rogaan expected, helping to ease his fears and allowing him a moment to pause and take in his vantage point when he was h
alfway to the opposite shore. He looked at the river less than two body lengths below for any signs of snapjaws. Blackness mixed with the foam of breaking and turbulent water met his sensitive eyes. The sound of chaotic waters over rocks told him the river was there, where moonlit white foam did not swirl. Anxious to be out of the darkness and the unknown, Rogaan continued on with haste. Before he realized it, he was over the opposite shore and felt the branches and soft raking of five-point gum tree leaves just before he touched the end knot of the rope. He quickly dismounted with a short drop to firm ground, where he joined Pax. Pax silently gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder then disappeared into the trees heading downstream, forcing Rogaan to follow into the darkness after a hard swallow and deep a breath to try to calm his fast beating heart.
They slowly made their way through gum, hackberry, and cylinder-shaped trees. In some places, thick tangles of underbrush and twisted roots forced them to retrace their trail then work a new path. Most of the time, it seemed to Rogaan they more felt their way through the trees and underbrush than anything else. He could barely discern his dark surroundings and thought it odd that Pax could make his way so well, since he likely could not see at all. The dark outline of the rising ravine on this side of the river and the growing form of a torch-lit bridge against the star- filled sky soon overwhelmed their view. Pax stopped short, causing Rogaan to run into him with a thud. Fortunately, and to Rogaan’s relief, they did not fall or make much noise. When they recovered from their run-in, Pax asked Rogaan to lead, after admitting he was guessing at where to put his feet. Rogaan apprehensively stepped out in front and led them south under the bridge connecting Coiner’s Quarters with the main of Brigum. Above, torches and lanterns cast moving shadows on the ravine wall from the bridge gave sign of heavy traffic – likely guardsmen searching for them, Rogaan feared. He tried his best to be quiet as they passed under the massive stone arch. Once under the bridge, Rogaan spotted torches moving through the trees not far ahead.
