by David Ekrut
“He’s awake,” the deep voice said.
“So he is,” replied the other man.
Feffer tried to sit up but felt a heavy weight begin to press on his chest. When his eye finally focused, he saw a black boot on his chest. The boot was attached to a leg covered in dark robes. He could tell the body beneath the robes was heavily muscled.
The man’s head was shaven, and his face carried a scar extending from the back of his skull to his dark eyes. Whatever had made the scar had missed the eye by a hair’s width. The man’s smile showed too many teeth. Feffer wasn’t sure if the smile was intended to frighten him or to be reassuring.
The other face came into view. Zeth’s dark eyes looked down at him.
“Fortunately for you,” Zeth said with a casual tone, “King Bain wants you alive. Otherwise I would destroy you piece by piece.”
Feffer could hear footsteps approach.
“Savant Lifesbain,” a young female voice said, “the ship is ready for sail.”
“Fasuri,” Zeth said, “please take your foot off the prisoner.”
The larger man complied.
“On your feet,” Zeth commanded.
Feffer did not move. He knew he should have been frightened, but Zeth had already said Bain wanted Feffer alive. Besides, his muscles were too sore to move. His head pounded like gongs ringing in his skull, and his face and left eye felt like a giant had struck him. He touched his face and forehead gently. His forehead had a knot the size of a plum. When his finger found his left eye, he winced away at the touch. It was swollen shut.
A boot kicked Feffer’s leg, but he couldn’t feel any pain over the fireworks sounding in his head.
“I said on your feet,” Zeth said through his teeth.
“Go thump yourself,” Feffer said. “I wasn’t finished napping.”
“Get him up,” Zeth said.
Fasuri’s rough hands lifted Feffer to a standing position. Feffer was forced to either stand or allow himself to fall. He chose to stand. A fall wouldn’t do his head any good.
The large man held Feffer’s arms from behind. And, as much as he hated a dark savant touching him, he wasn’t sure he could stay upright without the support.
Now that he was standing, Feffer had a better view of his surroundings. They were on a cliff. A few small, pearnut trees provided the bluff with shade. Beyond the cliff face, there was a long drop, where waves crashed against the rocks below. The waters looked deep, but a swimmer would be forced to take caution or be smashed between the waves and the cliffside.
He blinked. The sea?
He must have been unconscious for days. If he remembered his map, the Tranquil Sea was a tendays’ ride north of Goldspire.
Jasmine Lifesong laid face down a few paces beside him. She wore a plain white dress, which had a few drops of blood on the neck. Her hands and feet were bound behind her back with a rope tied around her neck that joined to her feet. Her auburn hair was disheveled and her face had a long red welt. But, Elwin wasn’t there. The Lifebringer be praised, Elwin wasn’t there.
A girl stood behind Zeth. Her black hair rested a hand above her shoulder, which was much shorter than most women he had seen. He could make out the shapely curves of her body beneath the black robes. Her skin tone was tanned, darker than any natural tan Feffer had seen. Her high cheek bones rounded her face in such a way to highlight emerald eyes. Her smile made her eyes dance in the morning light. It was her, he realized. The one who had fought Zaak.
“Look at me,” Zeth said in a calm voice.
Feffer tore his eyes away from the girl to look at Zeth. The man’s glare could have set wet leaves on fire.
“You will speak to me with respect.”
He felt a giggle try to rise in his throat, and he made himself cough to disguise it. What had gotten into him? A man with the power to take his soul stood in front of him, demanding respect. Still, his gaze wanted to return to the girl’s green eyes. The giggle escaped and became barks of laughter.
The motion made his ribs hurt and head spin, but he couldn’t stop laughing.
Zeth took a step closer to him. “Care to share your musings?”
The irritation in Zeth’s voice made Feffer laugh harder. Why was he laughing? There was nothing to laugh about. He had been betrayed by his brother. All the people he loved were dead. His father was dead. He had saved Elwin from Zeth to become lost in the woods. He had been chased by giants and lost Haven.
She was his horse. He had paid for the mare with the coin he had earned. For all he knew, the Life-cursed giants ate his thumping horse. After escaping the wilderness and reaching Goldspire, he had been taken captive. He was prisoner to the man who killed his father.
Anger built up in him like a well during a storm. He balled up his fists, ignoring the pain in his swollen fingers.
“You do not deserve my respect!” Feffer spat at him. The spittle scattered and rained Zeth’s face. “You killed my father and stole my brother’s will. The Lifebringer as my witness, I will kill you. Somehow, I will kill you.”
Feffer’s heart raced. What was he saying? He couldn’t kill a dark savant. He didn’t have a sword, and he could barely stand. Feffer wanted to cry, scream, and shout at the same time. What had gotten into him? His arms started to tremble. He clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from clattering.
Zeth calmly wiped his face with the sleeve of his robes.
“This one has potential,” Fasuri’s breath was hot on the back of Feffer’s neck, like sludge running down his spine. He could smell spiced wine.
“Silence,” Zeth said and stepped closer to Feffer. “Wilton chose to sacrifice you and your village to save himself. He has seen the power of the Father and chooses to serve rather than be slaughtered. Soon enough, you will see the right of your brother’s choice.”
Feffer clenched his fists even tighter. One solid swing to the man’s throat. The Lifebringer help him, but that’s all he asked for.
“The Awakening is upon us,” Zeth continued. “Elwin will serve his purpose. Now that we have you, he will come to us. When he has accepted the Father’s gift, you will serve at his side.”
Feffer’s hands stopped trembling, and he began to breath more easily. This man wasn’t going to use him. Elwin would remain free.
Feffer looked into Zeth’s eyes and announced each word with care. “Go. Thump. Yourself.”
Zeth swung a backhand at Feffer’s face, but Feffer had anticipated the strike. Dodging Zeth’s hand, he threw his head backwards into Fasuri’s face and felt a satisfying crunch. The impact on the back of his skull was dizzying, but he felt the grip on his arms loosen.
Pushing off of Fasuri, Feffer leapt from the cliff. His shaky legs had not carried him as far as he had hoped, but he cleared the rocks. The deep, blue sea rushed up at him and struck like a boulder thrown by a giant. The water struck his feet and enveloped him like a grasping hand. The force of the water’s grip closed around him, and he sank beneath the waves.
Chapter 33
Traitor
Wilton touched the wall above, feeling for the next groove. He was careful to place each foot before moving his hands up farther. The waxing moon did not shed enough light to betray his position, but his night vision could not see the grooves of the stone ladder.
Still, he preferred the darkness. It was better not to be seen. Thief-catchers were denied few places in the city, but he would have been hard-pressed to provide an explanation as to why he needed to access the outer wall this time of night.
The soldiers walking the streets below announced the battle to come.
He had arrived to Justice the previous day, and the city had long since received word of the approaching army. The gates had been closed, and the portcullis had barred access to the city. The villages surrounding the castle walls had been abandoned, and the villagers had taken to the city c
ommons or fled west toward Paradine.
Wilton had not known the men at the gate. Had they not recognized his raqii dath at his hips, they would have denied him entry. Being perceived as a thief-catcher still had its uses. At least, it would for one more night.
The larger part of him wanted to betray Bain. He could have gone to Sir Gibbins to warn him of the dangers outside the walls. But, they had Feffer. Zeth had promised Feffer’s safety. He only had to do this one last thing for them, then he and Feffer would be free of this war.
Besides, what use was it to warn the grains on a beach of an oncoming tsunami? The beach could do nothing to avoid the powerful waves. Soft shores would be destroyed or formed into something new. The knowledge of their doom would do nothing to stop their demise.
Reaching the top of wall, he peeked over. Every four paces were sconces for torches, but only every other one had been lit to reduce visibility from the fields below.
There would be patrols atop the wall, but most of the archers were under the protection of the watch towers, evenly spread every thirty paces. Two to a patrol marched back and forth between each pair of towers.
A dozen paces to his left, the door to the closest watch tower was closed. If his source had been trustworthy, there would be three archers inside watching the eastern fields.
He knew what the archers would see.
Black fog filling empty eyes. Like twenty thousand scarecrows propped in a field, the skeletal warriors stood facing the walls of Justice without flinching or swaying. Grouped in rows of one hundred, each line had a black savant commanding the charge. Behind the savants, dozens of catapults were loaded with spheres of rock that had been ripped from the soil by the power of the Elements.
It wouldn’t be long now.
Wilton saw the dark armored figures atop the wall walking toward him. Their chain shirts clanked as they moved. He pressed his body closer to the wall as they passed by him. Both were looking away from him, over the parapets.
They stopped outside the tower and watched the fields.
Wilton could not see their faces, but he could see their weapons. Both carried halberds and wore swords at their hips.
“Abominations,” one spat. His voice shook with the word, betraying his fears.
“The Lifebringer save us,” the other said. “You think it’s the Awakening?”
“Life, I hope not.”
The first man began to walk in the direction they had come, and the other man followed.
“Priest Braist was out last Lifeday, and Inquisitor Teblin gave a special sermon on. I never thought I’d live to see it. But, he warned us.”
Once they were well past him, Wilton climbed atop the wall and followed them. Neither moved with real purpose. They walked their patrols, staring out at the undead army.
He could kill them both and no one would be the wiser, but he wouldn’t. His actions made him a traitor, but he only killed when he must kill.
“It can’t be the Awakening,” the other said. “There ain’t no thumping dragons.”
Wilton stalked the one in the rear and unsheathed his raqii dath and slammed the butt of his hilt on the back of the man’s head. Wilton caught him as he crumpled.
The other man turned, his mouth opened as if to say something. His eyes widened just as the flat of Wilton’s blades struck the sides of his temples in rapid succession.
The man’s head knocked into the parapet as he fell, his halberd clanking against the ground. Wilton froze for several moments, waiting to hear a sound of alarm. When none came, he sheathed his twin blades and moved toward wooden rungs that controlled the portcullis.
He would need to remove the bars from the gate in order for the gate to be battered down. The walls of the city and bars of the portcullis had been crafted by the Elements to resist destruction. They would withstand a giant’s hammer without a dent and could absorb Elemental blasts.
The gates, however, were made of redwood. They were strong, but the black savants had the power to rip through them in moments.
There were over two hundred black savants readying to take the city. They had an army of skeletal warriors. And they had the soulless one. The soulless one, Wilton feared most of all.
Drenen Escari would spend an eternity in servitude because of Wilton. He was no longer a man, but his mind was still intact. Every time Wilton looked into Drenen’s eyes, hatred burned in those dark eyes. If Drenen’s will was ever his own, Wilton would die by his hand. He had no doubt.
Wilton reached the wooden rungs. It looked like the wheel of a ship.
He grabbed a torch from its sconce and began to wave it back and forth. He watched over the wall. Wilton could not hear the command, but he could see the skeletal warriors become animated. Each foot fell in unison, making the sounds of marching echo into the stillness of the night.
It had begun.
Wilton would have to move quickly. The portcullis was on the outside of the gates, but moving the ancient metal would make noise. The skeletal warriors would distract the watch, but they would soon realize the portcullis had been compromised.
He replaced the torch and moved to the wheel, turning the rung. Forty paces below, he could hear the metal portcullis lift. It was heavy and slow to move. Wilton put all his weight into each turn, glancing back and forth to watch each tower for motion.
Neither of them stirred, but it was only a matter of time until someone realized what was happening.
“Alarm!” he heard a voice cry. To his surprise, it had come from one of the guards he had knocked unconscious. Heavy boots stomped in his direction.
Sweat began to cover his brow. He continued to turn the wheel until he heard a heavy thunk, the sound of the metal safety bar falling into place. He kicked and stomped on the bar until it bent around the rung. He kept kicking to bend the spokes of the wheel. It would take several hours to fix. By then, it would be too late.
“Alarm! Alarm!” The voice was closer.
Wilton drew his raqii dath.
He did not want to kill the guard, but he might not have a choice. Perhaps death by the sword would be a more merciful fate than the one that awaited many this night.
The man came into view. Wilton raised one blade in front of him, one high and one low with his legs in fire stance. The guard had reach with his halberd and the offensive stance was more practical on the walkway.
“Yo-yo-you’re a thief-catcher!”
“I do not wish to kill you,” Wilton said. “I have not held these blades very long, but I know how to use them.”
“TRAITOR!” the man yelled. He held his halberd defensively in front of him. “OVER HERE! DEFEND THE PORTCULLIS!”
Wilton saw a large, spherical shape fly overhead and crash into the city below.
A loud crash echoed in the city, followed quickly by another. Then another. Cries of pain erupted in the streets below as soldiers were overrun by flying boulders. The boulders continued coming without any discernible pattern. He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the screams from the city.
Wilton spared a glance over the parapet toward the eastern field. Below, the skeletal warriors reached the gates. Even at this distance, he could see the discoloration of rotted flesh holding swords at the ready. Rigid bodies ran without hesitation as the soldiers of the White Hand clashed into the front of their ranks.
The scuff of a boot warned him, and Wilton jumped back in time to avoid a downward strike. The blade of the halberd sparked against the parapet where Wilton’s head had been.
“Last chance,” Wilton said, keeping his voice calm. “Please don’t make me kill you.”
“OVER HEAR! TRA—”
Wilton feinted toward his right. When the soldier dipped his halberd toward him, he spun to the man’s middle, slicing through his throat just above the chain gorget. The soldier dropped the halberd and clutched his throat, st
umbling to his knees.
Wilton continued forward not wanting to watch the man die. He sheathed his blades without bothering to wipe the blood from them. His raqii dath would see more blood before the night was done.
He made his way back toward the ladder. The door to the watch tower was still closed. Wilton heard bowstrings snapping from within. The archers inside were too busy to answer the other man’s call.
He looked over the parapet. Arrows were loosing into the darkness. Even if the archers hit their targets, it didn’t matter. They could not kill men who were already dead.
For a moment, he considered telling the men inside they were wasting their lives. He wanted to tell them to run and hide.
“You are defeated,” he whispered. “There is nothing you can do. The world belongs to Bain. And Bain belongs to Abaddon.”
A whisper. That was all he could give them.
Wilton moved down the ladder and slipped into the darkness, watching the fall of Justice from the shadows. The world would fall to Bain, and Wilton would watch from the shadows. That was the only way he and Feffer could survive. Whatever the cost, he would keep that promise to his father.
Bain sat on a large rock by the shore watching the ocean’s morning tide. His usual spot on the sandy shore was overrun by the high waves. But from his perch atop the rock, he had a better view of the southern horizon.
Dark clouds merged with the ocean’s distant tides. The gathering storm had an energy that didn’t feel natural. Storms could be crafted from the Elements, but they were not easily controlled. Without an artifact of power, a storm wrought from the Elements could become a hurricane over the sea or a tornado by land. However, that could have been the purpose.
The question was, why would someone want to cause such a storm?
The dark tides would bring his son home to him. Elwin sailed on a ship called the Dancing Lady, and storms were ever a hazard of the sea. A mishap while traversing the deep waters would not be amiss. Few would suspect a storm as a weapon of murder.
