Soul of the Blade

by Brenda J. Pierson

  “We have to do something about this,” she said, not tearing her eyes from the Entana tendrils. “The Mage General has to be stopped. We can’t ignore him any longer.”

  Stopping him won’t solve the problem.

  “I know, Aeo. But ignoring it will condemn the entire city of Karim to the fate of the -taken.” Aeo started to interrupt, but she cut him off. “We have to fix this first. Once the Mage General is taken care of, then we can talk about Raeb and Saydee.”

  And then we’ll finish this, Aeo added.

  She nodded. “And then we’ll finish this.”

  It wasn’t an actual promise, but it was more than Aeo had hoped for. Smiling, feeling more at peace than he had in weeks, the Bok’Tarong and his bearer stared down at the infested capital.

  His optimism couldn’t stand against the horrible scene. The Entana infestation sucked it out of him like a leech gorging itself on blood. Of course, now we’ll have to find a way to get in there and find the Mage General.

  He felt the worry she refused to show. “Yeah.”

  If the Entana are in control here, it won’t be safe for us, Aeo said. They’d never let the Bok’Tarong take a stroll amongst their slaves.

  Dragana knelt, digging through her pack. She pulled out her cloak and wrapped it around herself and the sword, raising the hood to hide her still-distinctive curls. The shadows emphasized the lines on her face. A casual glance would reveal a limping woman past her prime.

  She shouldered her pack again and made her way back to the road. They joined the throng of people waiting to get into the city and passed through the gates with little more than a glance from the guards.

  Aeo glared at them. Both were -taken. One wore the uniform of an Aratan soldier. The other wore a Halkronian uniform.

  Well, it looks like we were right, Aeo said. I don’t know whether to be proud or horrified.

  I know what you mean, Dragana replied.

  Karim was teeming with -taken. They outnumbered normal people at least three to one. The normally bustling streets were subdued, the way a slave cowered under his master’s whip. The few street merchants out sulked behind their carts, hardly daring to advertise their goods and draw attention to themselves. Aeo had never seen the streets so empty, or felt them so desolate.

  The same feeling of hopelessness and disbelief infused the citizens of Karim, even if they didn’t understand the full implications. They hurried from one destination to another, huddled into themselves as if they expected to be beaten down at any moment. With all the -taken roaming around, glaring at everyone with their Entana eyes, Aeo couldn’t blame them.

  The Halkronian invasion, the -taking of the soldiers, it was all for this. So the Entana can ignore nations and rulers and overpower the people. Aeo paused. I’ll bet the capital of Halkron is just as loaded with -taken soldiers as Karim is.

  And from there they can infiltrate every aspect of humanity. These willing -taken will spread across the world faster than gossip in a small town.

  But where does the Mage General fit into all this?

  Once we find him, we can ask him. Her statement was punctuated by a vision of Aeo’s blades slicing off the man’s head.

  Dragana threaded through the crowded streets, doing her best to avoid bumping into any -taken. Given the sheer numbers of them, it was an impossible task.

  Every contact with the vile Entana set Aeo’s nerves on edge. He knew he should be focusing on the problem and trying to find the Mage General, but he could hardly think with so much evil assaulting him. Every time one of the -taken brushed against Dragana, Aeo had to fight back an urge to reach out of the Bok’Tarong and throttle them.

  And since she was constantly being bumped by -taken, it was a never-ending battle for Aeo to remain calm.

  If you were the Mage General, he said, forcing himself to concentrate, and you arrived in the capital with your own personal army, where would you stay?

  The castle? Dragana asked. After all, isn’t that the whole point of a coup? Go straight to the king, defeat him, and the city’s yours.

  They looked up the hill, where they could just make out the tall stone walls enclosing the king’s keep. It looked high, lofty, out of reach from down here. Just as, Aeo knew, the king liked it.

  We’ll never be able to get close to the castle, let alone inside. You can’t use your authority as the bearer of the Bok’Tarong with so many -taken around. And it’s not like they’d let some random woman in to poke around and take a tour or anything.

  We don’t have a lot of choice here, Aeo.

  I know, he said. But we won’t do much good by getting arrested or thrown out of the city, either.

  Then what do you suggest we do?

  Aeo’s mind raced. They were out of options and out of time. They had to get up to the castle before the Mage General could wreak more havoc on Karim. If he was still in his body, he’d be able to march straight up there and no one would dare to stop him …

  Aeo smiled. Dragana, I need you to trust me. If I tell you to do something, you do it as if it was your own idea. No hesitations, no questions. Understand?

  She nodded.

  Go into the castle.

  “I thought we’d just decided that was the worst thing we could do.”

  You hesitated, and you questioned me. This will never work if you can’t trust me.

  He could sense her fear and feel her hands shake. But she started walking toward the castle gates.

  Faster. Stronger. Walk like no one in the world has the right to stop you.

  She obeyed, mimicking Aeo’s old arrogant gait so perfectly he couldn’t contain his laughter.

  The guards were moving to intercept her. Even from this distance, the anger and disbelief in their eyes was clear. The sun shone off their bared blades.

  Dragana’s heart raced. What do I do, Aeo?

  Stay strong. Keep walking. When they try to stop you, brush them off. Tell them the king is expecting his assassin. Make it a threat.

  She paused. What if the king’s already been deposed, and the Mage General is in charge?

  It’ll be fine. The Mage General gave me my orders as often as the king did. If he’s in charge now, he’ll want to see how I survived after all this time. Either way, we get in.

  But Aeo, I’m not you. I think he’ll notice the difference.

  Let me handle that.

  He felt her nervousness, heard the thousand questions she didn’t ask. But she continued walking, straight to the guards preparing to stop her.

  One raised his hand, his mouth opened to speak. She threw him a glare of such arrogant hatred he took a step back. “The king will have your head if I’m late,” she growled at him. “He’s expecting his assassin, not some jackass guard causing delays.”

  She breezed past him before he had an opportunity to reply.

  I couldn’t have done it better myself, Aeo said. His heart brimmed with pride at her performance, but it was tainted by sour regret. If that was what he’d been like in life, Dragana was right. He had been an arrogant ass. No more.

  She continued forward, out of sight, before letting out the breath she’d been holding. Her posture sagged and her steps faltered, just for a moment. “I’m surprised I don’t have an arrow in my back right now,” she whispered.

  These guys are never brave enough to question the king’s assassin. At least, not to his—or her—face.

  Dragana marched into the castle, and Aeo could feel her trying not to gawk. He’d grown accustomed, or at least immune, to the king’s finery. But Dragana had never seen so many rugs and tapestries and silver in one place. Even the huge gray stones in the walls and massive marble tiles on the floor were extravagant compared to her beloved Taronese temple.

  “So now what?” she asked, keeping her voice as quiet as possible. Even so, it echoed through the corridor.

  The guards will have sent a message to the king’s personal servant warning him of your arrival. He’ll meet you before you reach the throne ro
om.

  Sure enough, a tiny man scurried into view before Dragana had taken another dozen steps. He glanced up, noticed the very feminine outline of Dragana, and waved at the guards lining the hall. They stepped forward, swords bristling.

  “You have five seconds to turn and leave before I order them to attack,” the servant said in a surprisingly low voice. There was no trace of humor to be found anywhere in him.

  Repeat exactly what I say, he told Dragana. She nodded, the words coming from her mouth as soon as he spoke them to her mind. “The king’s last assignment was for his assassin to kill the bearer of the Bok’Tarong. This was just after returning from Halkron. He will remember the occasion.”

  The servant stared at Dragana, saying nothing. He hardly even blinked.

  “The king should have understood what that assignment entailed better instead of taking the word of the Mage General. It cost him his assassin.”

  “Did you kill him?” the man asked. Still, no emotion. Not even curiosity.

  “I will only discuss that with the king.”

  Dragana held her chin high, prepared to meet his glare. Instead, she met the weary eyes of a mourner who sees an end to their sadness. His entire visage changed in a heartbeat as he peered around her, trying to catch a glimpse of her blade. “Could it be …?” His breath caught in his throat. “Is that … the Bok’Tarong?”

  “It is.”

  “Oh, thank the gods!”

  The soldiers lowered their swords and stepped back to the wall. The servant raced to Dragana’s side. He grabbed her arm and dragged her forward. For such a small man, he had plenty of strength to keep Dragana stumbling forward.

  He led Dragana through more plush corridors, elated by her presence but refusing to say anything more. Dragana’s wordless question reached Aeo, but he had no answer or explanation. He hadn’t a clue what had gotten into the man. He’d never seen anything more than a sneer on his face before.

  They reached a lavish sitting room. The king sat in front of a room-sized fireplace, looking lost and forlorn buried in a massive armchair, staring into the flames. He didn’t move when the servant entered or whispered into his ear.

  Only when the man had left did he look at Dragana. His eyes were dark and sunken, his flabby cheeks pale. He looked like a child playing dress-up in his velvet robe.

  “He took everything from me, and worst of all, I let him,” the king said. “And now I have nothing left. Nothing … not even myself.”

  A horrible sense of foreboding chilled Aeo. He sharpened his spirit-vision, peering into the dark room.

  Dragana, he whispered, unable to raise his voice any higher, the king is -taken.

  Shock erased her thoughts and made her heart skip a beat. The king watched her, seeming to understand she saw the truth. After a moment he turned back to the fire, the depth of his misery permeating the room. “The Mage General may be the one to blame, but I granted him his power by not acting. So I suppose this is my just reward.”

  Not knowing how to respond, Dragana fell back on the basics. “Your Majesty, my name is Dragana, and I am a Taronese warrior and the bearer of the Bok’Tarong.” She unsheathed Aeo, bringing his rosy gold blades into the firelight. “And I believe you know the spirit within my blades.”

  Tell him he finally found me a contract that was a challenge.

  She repeated Aeo’s words. The king whipped his head away from the fire, looking first at Dragana and then at the Bok’Tarong. His eyes narrowed, though his cheeks were flushed with hope. “This is a trick. It isn’t possible.”

  “It is possible, Your Majesty,” Dragana replied. “The Bok’Tarong carries the spirit of its former bearers in its blades.”

  “So he succeeded. The Mage General didn’t believe anyone could.”

  Nice to know he’d sent me to my death.

  The king peered at the Bok’Tarong, as if trying to see Aeo’s face in the blades’ reflection. “Is he still an impertinent ass?”

  Dragana laughed. “Constantly.”

  A smile broke on the king’s face. It looked out of place with his frowning eyes. “He always was good at what he did.”

  He lapsed back into silence. When he spoke again, his voice had gone sad and quiet. “The enchanted Bok’Tarong. It cannot be a coincidence that brings you here, at this time.”

  “That is not why we’re here, Your Majesty.”

  “No?” The king didn’t look relieved, but neither did he seem disappointed. He simply stared at Dragana as if she was another torture to be endured. “Then what do you want?”

  “We’re looking for the Mage General.” The king’s face darkened at the title, so much so Aeo braced himself to defend Dragana if needed. She barreled on before the king’s anger built any higher. “He’s been breeding -taken, and we think he’s acting in the Entana’s interests. We’re going to stop him.”

  “You can’t. He’s too powerful.”

  Try us, Aeo—and Dragana—said.

  “Don’t you think I’ve tried myself?” the king asked. He seemed too weary to be angry anymore. “After Aeo failed to return, I contracted a dozen assassins to stop him. Every single one failed while the Mage General just got stronger. His magic is terrifying, but his schemes are even worse.”

  “You underestimate us,” Dragana said. “Tell us where he is, and let us show you.”

  “I don’t know where he is. Once he made it clear he was coming for my throne he’s remained hidden. And once this happened,” he said, gesturing to his head and the Entana tendrils only Aeo could see, “I couldn’t show myself. If Karim learned their ruler had been touched by the Coming Madness, it would strengthen the Mage General’s hold.”

  “We can get rid of him for you. We can get you your kingdom back, if you just help us.”

  “And what good will a kingdom do me?” he asked, his face flushing with anger. The spark lasted only a moment, before he sank back into his depression. “Rule of Arata does no good to a dead man.”

  “Death is not the only option for you,” Dragana said. “We can leave you in peace, to continue living despite your condition.”

  Aeo could hardly believe she was counseling a -taken to live—he could feel her disbelief at the act, too—but her tone held no doubt or remorse. And he found himself agreeing with her. Aeo smiled. Raeb would be proud of them.

  The king shook his head. “No. My life is done. I have nothing left. Arata is lost to the Mage General, and I no longer have any power to stand against him.” He looked at Dragana, his eyes brimming with tears. “Please … I cannot endure this existence. It is the ultimate shame. I beg you … release me.”

  Dragana opened her mouth, prepared to argue, but closed it without a word. She saw it as well as Aeo did. The king had given up. He was already dead in his mind, and nothing would change that.

  Reluctantly, Dragana brought the Bok’Tarong to the king’s chest. She placed the blades over his heart. The king didn’t even flinch at their touch.

  “Just do me a favor,” he said. “If you do find him … Kill the bastard. Free my people from the Mage General. You’re the only ones who can.”

  “We will,” she promised.

  She took a deep breath, then met the king’s eyes once more. “Be at peace.”

  She pushed. The king grunted, his eyes widened. Then a long, slow breath escaped from his mouth and his pierced lung. And then, silence.

  “I am sorry,” Dragana whispered, her voice shaky with tears.

  Dragana wandered down the street, away from the castle. Melancholy had settled itself deep in her soul. “Now what?”

  Aeo shrugged. We start looking somewhere else. The Mage General has to be somewhere close.

  “That doesn’t help much,” Dragana grumbled.

  Hours passed as they scoured the streets and eavesdropped on the -taken soldiers, all in vain. No whisper of the Mage General surfaced. By the time the sun began to set, they were no closer to finding him.

  Weary and footsore, Dragana sidesteppe
d around a pair of large Halkronian -taken and ducked behind a street vendor. It was perhaps the only place within sight where she could rest without being pulled along by the flow of humanity in the street. She leaned against the brick wall of a store with a sigh. Aeo knew her old joints were aching, even though she refused to mention it.

  She’d just gotten settled before the -taken soldiers turned on her. “Oi! Keep movin’! No cloggin’ the street, woman!”

  Dragana levered herself off the wall with exaggerated slowness. She spoke with a rather convincing, rough country accent. “Sorry, sirs. Don’t mean to be a bother.”

  “Course you don’t. But you slow ol’ peasants always are. Shame the Mage Genr’l don’t let us get rid o’ y’all here ‘n’ now.”

  Dragana’s spine stiffened and she clenched her fist. Otherwise, Aeo knew she would have drawn the Bok’Tarong.

  The -taken guards caught her motion. “If you don’t behave, woman, we’ll have to take you in.”

  “I’d like to see you try,” she replied.

  Dragana, what are you doing?

  The larger of the two -taken took a step toward Dragana, clearly trying to intimidate her. Instead of backing into the wall like he’d expected, Dragana stepped to the side, into a more open area at the mouth of an alley. She raised a critical eyebrow at his brutish tactics and didn’t flinch.

  The -taken swore and drew his blade. “One less peasant won’t make no difference.”

  Dragana spun away from his awkward thrust. The twirl threw the hem of her cloak wide, exposing Aeo’s rosy gold blades.

  “Bok’Tarong!” the -taken yelled. He lunged at her while his companion drew his sword and charged.

  So much for keeping a low profile, Aeo said. Now what?

  Dragana drew the Bok’Tarong from her back. The -taken stumbled to a halt at the sight of the sacred blades.

  She pushed the hood back from her face. “That’s right. Take one more step and you’ll meet the end of your abominable lives.”

  “You’ll die first,” the second -taken growled. He stepped forward, raising his sword.