Death

by Rosie Scott

  “He didn't,” I agreed.

  Calder suddenly chuckled, and when he noticed our resulting attention, he said, “I've been spit at, cursed at, and threatened by dwarves who hate your guts, Kai, and even some of them admit that your love for Bjorn is the only thing they like about you.”

  “Bjorn supports me even in death,” I murmured.

  Hasani's turn was next. “Renovations of the lower district are going well with little Maggie in charge, though she's quite the tyrant.”

  A few of us laughed at his wording as Maggie defended herself from beside him. “First of all,” she began, holding out one finger, “some nerve ya have callin' me little Maggie when you're half my size.”

  Hasani held up both hands in defense. “Marcus said that's what you like to be called. I'm only trying to be polite.”

  Maggie held out a second finger and went on, “Second of all, Marcus is not to be trusted. That man tries his best to dig under my skin and make a home there, and I'm about this close to usin' my hammer on his big toe, and I will make no excuses. And third...tyrant?!”

  “You're working us to the bone, little Maggie,” Hasani said, barely keeping a straight face. “I'm royalty. I can't keep up with intense physical labor.” More laughter sounded out from around the table before he pointed to Nyx. “And Nyx wasn't even aware that such work existed outside of a bedroom.”

  Maggie ignored all of the laughter and stared straight at me with faux annoyance. “What Handsome Samara is tryin' to say is that I'm doin' my job.”

  “It sounds like you're doing it well if the lazy bastards are complaining,” I replied.

  Maggie grinned. “Thank ya.”

  “Lazy bastards?” Hasani exclaimed in jest. “What work have you been doing, sister?”

  I started to reply, but Azazel pulled his logbook out to my left, opened to a page full of lists and notes, and flipped through a few dozen more. “Where would you like to start?” Azazel asked.

  Hasani laughed and stood up to refill his mug. “I should've known better than to ask with him sitting here.”

  “I'm the one doling out work,” Azazel replied. “You all have to be nice to me.” Hasani snickered at the joke from his place beside the kegs.

  “To his face,” Nyx murmured from down the table.

  “I heard that,” Azazel retorted.

  “Of course you did,” Nyx replied with a giggle.

  “In all seriousness,” Azazel went on, “I need updates on the renovations.”

  “So you can record it all in your little book?” Nyx teased.

  Azazel scooted closer to the table on our bench, laid out the logbook to a blank page, and dramatically put an inkwell on the table with a thunk. While staring directly down the table at Nyx, he unscrewed the inkwell's cap and plopped in a quill.

  “Damn. I didn't know ink and parchment could be so intimidating,” Nyx mused, failing at holding in her giggles.

  “It's always been intimidating to you,” Azazel replied smoothly. “You're illiterate.”

  Nyx burst into laughter that nearly mimicked my own. Both of us wiped tears of humor from our eyes moments later. Nyx took a few breaths to calm herself and complimented, “Your zingers are getting better with each passing year, bud.”

  “Are you really illiterate?” Hakan asked Nyx with both shock and sympathy.

  The question only amused Nyx more. “No. I just wouldn't be caught dead near a book, and...” she tapped on her temple to motion to her brain. “This is the organ I like to use the least.”

  “Please don't ask about what that means,” Cerin muttered dryly.

  Hakan huffed with amusement. “I won't.”

  Maggie waited until we were all settled down again to finally give in to Azazel's requests. “The main street's pretty much done, love. I've been bouncin' back and forth between makin' prosthetic limbs, furniture, and weapons for Brigid. There ain't enough of me to go around, believe it or not. Marcus and the giants are takin' care of construction wherever it's needed as long as it don't require 'em to go down the cluttered streets 'cause they can't fit. A coupl'a lil' shops are movin' in near Brigid's smithy. Takin' advantage of all the traffic, ya see. The soldiers got all that gold and are lookin' for places to spend it.”

  “Any estimations on the weapons and repairs?” Azazel asked.

  “Mm...” Maggie twisted her lips to the side and glanced up at the chandelier just above her as she thought. “I'd rather ya not ask so I can keep pretendin' I'm halfway competent.” After Azazel chuckled, she grimaced and said, “We're about midway through repairs 'cause we prioritized 'em. The armor sets for Comercio are complete. We just gotta pack 'em up for transport. A thousand or so weapons were forged.”

  “That sounds competent to me,” Azazel replied, writing down her response.

  “Aye, okay,” Maggie muttered dryly. “Tens of thousands of repairs left and almost five thousand weapons to make.”

  “Considering everything else on your plate, being halfway done with the repairs alone is impressive,” Azazel complimented.

  Maggie exhaled heavily before she smiled. “I'd ruffle that nice mop of yours if I could reach it.”

  “Please don't,” Azazel replied quickly.

  The engineer chuckled and went to take a drink of ale only to find her mug empty. Before she could get up, Hasani grabbed the glass and left to refill it for her. As she waited for her glass, she said, “We're gettin' there, Kai.”

  “You're working hard during the day and drinking hard at night,” I told her with a smile.

  Maggie grinned. “Aye, as it should be.”

  Mirrikh perked up as he realized it was his turn to speak. He rocked back and forth on his seat next to Maggie, overflowing with child-like energy. His eyes sparkled with a youthful innocence he'd never experienced as he began, “I've captured all sorts of fun creatures!”

  “From inside the city?” I questioned.

  “Mm-hm.” Mirrikh put the tip of his thumb between his teeth distractedly as he said, “From the mines. Mostly insects. I'll need a lot of them to have enough blood to play with, but I'll get it soon. I'll make some rats, too! Maybe some beetles. Never seen a beetle-kin before, but they'd probably be well-armored like me.” He snorted a sudden laugh as if entertained by a joke that only existed in his head. “Oh! There was this really odd fish some of the dwarven fishers caught and were excited about. I paid good money to take it off their hands.”

  “It was my gold,” Calder pointed out with faux chagrin.

  Mirrikh giggled. “Yes. Thank you, Alastor.”

  “You're welcome,” Calder replied. “Tell Kai what it was for.”

  “It's this funny looking fish called an eel. Have you ever heard of it?”

  “I have,” I told him. “Slippery and long, aren't they?”

  Mirrikh wrinkled up his nose and nodded. “Yep.” He shivered dramatically and added, “It can shock people in the water. I think its blood will be most compatible with air mages, but I haven't had time to test it yet. So many animals, so little time.” A moment later, he jumped in his seat and exclaimed, “Oo! And I got poisons! New recipes from the dwarves!”

  “That's exciting,” I encouraged him.

  Maggie pulled Mirrikh close to her side and blurted, “I love when yer like this. I could just eat ya up.”

  “Please don't,” Mirrikh replied, his childish mind missing out on her humor. “I'm poisonous.” Maggie laughed at the scientist's current naivety before Mirrikh panicked and pleaded, “I don't want you to die. I like you.”

  Maggie patted her friend's back and said, “I won't eat ya, promise.”

  Mirrikh's spirits lifted, and he looked back at me. “I found a torture chamber, Kai. When I was looking for new poisons. The dwarves don't just torture with alchemy. They have...” he trailed off, looked both ways, and leaned over the table as if to admit a secret. “Machines.”

  “Ah, so you found them,” Cyrus said dryly, before he caught my gaze. “The dwarves are fanatical tortu
rers, Kai. You've heard stories of our prisoners of war being shipped back to us in boxes in wars past.”

  “Many boxes,” Uriel added, emphasizing mutilation.

  “I played with a few,” Mirrikh went on, oblivious to the somber mood of the others. “They all work with gears and buttons and pulleys and metal. One stretches all four limbs away from the body at once until it is left in five chunks. Another secures a body to a slab, and there's a blade...” Mirrikh pointed up above his head. “Back and forth, back and forth! It eventually cuts you in half, but it takes its time. I got bored and turned it off. I guess they like to ask questions while their victim waits for death. There was this other room with all these hooks hanging from the ceiling...”

  As Mirrikh continued to ramble, Dax leaned forward to catch Calder's attention and asked, “Do you really think it's smart to let Mirrikh discover and play with these things by himself?”

  Calder jerked a thumb toward his still-chattering devotee and replied, “Not with this personality, no. But he was just horny at the time.”

  Dax continued to stare and asked, “Isn't that worse?”

  Cerin snorted a laugh but held his tongue. Calder grinned and replied, “I don't know; ask the women he's with.”

  Nyx raised a hand and added, “As one of those women, I vouch for letting Mirrikh have playtime. You'd be surprised at all the things that can expand the sexual imagination.”

  “Please don't ask about what that means,” Cerin said dryly.

  Dax raised both hands in defeat. “I certainly will not.”

  Calder let Mirrikh babble as he informed me, “Between recruitment, ferris campaigning, and helping Maggie with the renovations from time to time, I managed to send some scouts up to that mountain exit Hasani likes so much. Holter's been keeping an eye on both entrances during his nightly patrols, but I thought it was best to have some extra eyes up there in case Sirius sends some unit through the mountains instead of the plains.”

  “Good idea,” I complimented him. “Thank you.”

  “Don't mention it, love.”

  Pressure on the bench beneath me relaxed as Azazel abruptly stood up, causing all of us to quiet and give him our attention. He stared at the door, listening to something we couldn't hear. He stepped over the bench and stalked quickly to it, grabbing the bow from the scabbard on his back.

  “Stay here,” Azazel told me, before opening the door, slipping through it, and hurrying down the hall, his boot steps echoing off of stone from behind the wall.

  “He says that knowing Kai won't listen and will follow him,” Nyx mused. As I scrambled to get off the bench and hurry to the door, she added, “And there she goes.”

  Instead of exiting the room, however, I stood just inside, listening as intently as I could through the door's metal. The echoes of a labored, stressed voice reverberated back to my ears, but I couldn't determine the words. The others behind me were as quiet as they could be, but some stood to prepare for trouble.

  “...to them now,” Azazel's voice finally was clear enough for me to hear as he came back. I backed away from the door, staring directly at Azazel and a frazzled Fremont messenger on the other side when it was opened.

  Cyrus stood up so quickly at the sight that the bench beneath him groaned as it scraped across the floor with his movement. The king of Fremont noted the messenger's frizzed hair and panicked expression and he demanded, “Zephyr...?”

  “Zephyr sent me with an urgent request for support,” the messenger began, and an ache grabbed hold of my stomach, twisting and turning it until recently eaten contents threatened to make a reappearance. “She sent scouts to Sera. Only one made it back a fortnight ago. The scout said the Twelve lied in wait and attacked. They were outnumbered. But before the one escaped, he said he saw Sera's armies moving out of the gates. They have tens of thousands of cavalry alone. Far more than the hyenas and griffons left in Comercio can handle. Zephyr pleaded for your return. Sera outnumbers them. Even with the necromancers, Sera outnumbers them.”

  “Timing,” I requested vaguely, my mind full of a mix of competing thoughts. “Is Terran leading the army? Any intel on gods?”

  “Terran Sera is leading it, yes,” the messenger affirmed. “One of the griffon riders who fell to the Twelve recognized the god Raphael from Hallmar's battle and relayed this information to the others before his death. As for timing, Zephyr estimates they will attack in mid-Red Moon, but she can't be certain. The trip would take a moon for the average army. Terran is leading multiple units of cavalry which travel more quickly, but they also bring cannons.”

  My head suddenly felt light with this new intel. “Cannons? Sera does not deal with siege weapons!”

  “Evidently they do now, ma'am,” the messenger replied regretfully.

  “Mid-Red Moon,” Cyrus murmured, wandering over to the wall and leaning into it with a hand as he thought, calculating dates and timing in his head. “What's the date today?”

  “62nd of High Star,” Azazel replied from beside the door.

  “We have less than a moon to get back to Comercio,” I stated. “Every single person in this room needs to gather their men and supplies tonight. We will leave as many defenders here as we can spare—”

  “With all due respect,” the messenger interrupted, “you can't afford to leave many defenders here. Terran's army is massive.”

  “I don't care how massive his army is,” I hissed with frustration. “I cannot simply leave Narangar to fend for itself when I am now its ruler. Thousands didn't die here for me just to give up this city.”

  “Kai.” Cyrus held a hand out between me and his messenger, looking to calm me. “We will protect Narangar. Do not lose your head. In almost every battle you've ever won you've been outnumbered.”

  A long exhale blew through my nostrils as I tried to rid myself of the stress. “Yes. Even Terran himself has said I am deadliest when outnumbered, and yet he marches his massive army straight to my doorstep to serve as fodder.”

  “That's more like it,” Calder murmured, happy to see resolve settle in my eyes once more.

  “I called us all here for a meeting,” I began, “but we will stay here for now to plan. We will gather our armies and our supplies tonight. We will not eat, we will not sleep, we will not dare to think of anything other than victory until we reach the capital and force the Serans to retreat.” To the messenger, I added, “Return to Zephyr. Tell her we are gathering with haste and offer each soldier in that city ten thousand gold if they take Terran Sera's head and keep his cloak and rings as proof. I offer five thousand for the head of every god he brings with him.”

  I turned to find my companions and allies watching me with widened eyes at my passion, and I announced, “We leave for Comercio first thing in the morning.”

  Thirty-six

  Our armies marched tirelessly east to Comercio under the helpful guidance of the changing seasons using the same path we'd only recently traveled. Red Moon was underway as we left the Golden Peaks behind us. The sun grew bashful, hiding behind the hazy clouds of the sky's new moodiness. Showers fell over us multiple times as we crossed the plains, helpfully washing away grease and sweat. The temperature grew cooler, and each morning after our shortened rest the long prairie grasses sparkled with dew and forming ice crystals.

  Narangar was defended, but not well enough. If Sera sent additional troops to the westernmost city of Chairel through the mountains, they were sure to take it. I had only started to build a court of locals I could trust there before Terran's advance forced us to leave. I reminded myself that all settlements must have time to grow; if I held Narangar until after I became queen, I could throw all my focus into it then. For now, Comercio was our greatest concern. The capital city had belonged to me for nearly a year, and the improvements I'd made to it and its laws were earning trust from its people. Additionally, three allies were still there. Rek and Zephyr would both give their lives to defend Comercio, and Terran would easily capture Chance and even torture him. The g
od of trade already knew enough about my work in Comercio to be a wealth of information to Terran when questioned. It went without saying that I was also beginning to care for Chance. The god had offered me so many benefits for little return just for the hope of an exciting future, and I felt obligated to protect him.

  Only a week away from Comercio's outskirts, we set up camp on the plains to allow our tired men to rest. Though I felt faint with fatigue, I couldn't sleep. I left Cerin to his rest and joined Azazel, Uriel, and Hasani at a small campfire they'd built. All three men appeared worse for wear, but they were worried. Uriel was concerned not only for Zephyr, but for our odds. Hasani seemed convinced he would lose the entire cavalry unit he'd left in the capital. Though Azazel normally slept little, I noticed that he had just the tinges of dark circles under his eyes from a lack of rest.

  Uriel glanced up at me as I sat on a supply crate next to Azazel and leaned my head tiredly into his upper arm. The healer settled his eyes back on the fire, and they glowed with flickering flames. “I keep thinking about those cannons, Kai. The ones we left.”

  I frowned. It took my deprived brain some moments to catch his meaning. “The long-ranged cannons we brought with us,” I surmised. “The ones that use shells.” After a hesitation, I finished regretfully, “The ones we left in Comercio.”

  “If your brother floods the city with his armies, he could capture them and use them against us in Narangar,” Uriel went on, his voice low and contemplative.

  “You worry for Narangar,” I mused softly. “I worry for Comercio.”

  “My overwhelming worry for Comercio is the reason I'm trying to think of other things,” Uriel admitted.

  I said nothing. I reached my hands toward the fire to warm them. The silver of my many rings glimmered in its light.