by Martin Gibbs
You could break the lock or the door, but the door may be too big. I’d ask you to use the sword, but that could break it and we’d be stuck. Best to hope Ar’Zoth has left this open. No one comes over the Spires this way.
I did! I came over the Spires! It was a very long way. And I was going to be warm soon.
The door was not locked. It was big and heavy. I had to be very quiet. What if Ar’Zoth heard? When I went inside, it was quiet, but I thought I heard a noise. What was it? I didn’t ask Lyn. He didn’t notice. My skin felt funny, like when my arm would fall asleep in the night. And I felt happy, but I did not want Lyn to know that, either…he seemed sad.
Chapter 22 — Dawn
While we must undo the knots of the Dark, there are knots we sometimes must tie. No action can be free from shadow, but it is sometimes necessary to create a knot to solve a problem. Tie a knot and undo another. Undo a knot and tie another. Self-preservation depends on it. So does self-destruction.
Cleric Archean, Order of the Knot
Three Knights of the Black Dawn settled around a campfire as the autumn sun fell quickly off the horizon. No stars were visible given a thick blanket of clouds. They were about three miles from Pale Pass, well off the main road, and almost exactly parallel with Zhy, Torplug, and Qainur, although still south of the tree line.
One of the three Knights tossed another log on the fire and leaned back on his bedroll. In the dark, he felt comfortable in removing the cloth over his mouth and chin. The log crackled and the fire eagerly consumed the dry wood. The log spit and hissed; sparks shot into the night sky. Beyond the firelight, he could make out the tops of the mighty balsam trees—black against an even blacker sky. The Knight yawned. “We need to dispose of these blundering travelers. They are dangerous.” He glanced to the west.
“They are fools. Barely men,” a gruff voice responded from the other side of the fire—a voice belonging to a man named Huyen. The men never used their real names, even when among themselves, though their leader often found it hard to restrain himself.
“That makes it that much more dangerous. As I said, we should double-back and take care of them before they kill any more of us,” said Gryn, the youngest of the three. He was perhaps the most brash and needed to be reined in from time to time.
Their leader stared into the fire while he cursed under his breath and addressed Gryn. “The mage is the most dangerous of the three, but he’s not the leader. There had to be a reason that we lost our man—whether that village idiot said something or the mercenary engaged him in battle. And—”
“But you said they were fools! And now you call one danger—”
“I said, he’s the most dangerous,” the leader snapped. A pocket of gas inside a log popped loudly and blue flame jetted up into the night. “Bolt of Sacuan is a deadly spell, but it’s not like he will go flinging that around at will. It took a lot out of him, I’m sure, and surely his companions are wary of his using it again—as he should be. No…” He paused, digging out a piece of food stuck in his teeth. “Let us leave them well enough alone.”
“I wish I knew what they were up to as well.” Huyen’s voice floated up from his spot at the fire.
The leader uttered an oath. “We all do, but what is the point of knowing…? What good would it do us? And what would we do with that knowledge? No, no, we will break camp and return south. The snows are not far behind.”
“It isn’t right!” Gryn spat. “How can this happen? How do three completely useless citizens kill two of the Knights of the Black Dawn? How?”
His leader’s voice was ice. “Nobody is useless. Even demons have a purpose. If a warlock can keep it in complete control, and his deeds are noble.”
“But—”
“No!” he barked. “Our work is to protect everyone in Belden and Welcfer. That means everyone. Including the very people who try to kill us. You knew that when you joined. And you apparently need to be reminded of it again.”
“You are correct, but it does seem senseless.”
“Of course it is senseless! Demons are senseless! Starvation, floods, hurricanes—they are senseless. We live in a senseless world, but we still have to protect that world. Every day I wish that demons weren’t real, but every day I have to remind myself that finding them—and fighting them—is going to help everyone. Even ‘useless citizens!’“
There was a tense silence as they stared into the fire. Finally, the leader spoke quietly, having recovered from his previous outburst. “Still, we need to move on and away. We’ve gone too far north for any real purpose, and it is time to return. The fat man will have a new mission for us. Best not to fight this fight.”
“But—”
“We don’t practice revenge! It will blind us. It breaks the covenant of our Order and leaves us open. You know that…No, we are going to move south. That is the end of the discussion.”
The young Knight had a sudden, horrible thought. “What if they are demons themselves? Very well disguised demons? No gherwza, no rickety old man with eyes of the deeps…?”
A cloud of steam rolled across the firelight as the leader sighed. “That is a very dangerous accusation. Dangerous and unbalanced.” He took a long look at his underling—the firelight cast an odd glow to his features, and in that look, their leader saw a blinded, dangerous young man. “Tell me,” he said slowly, his voice a sharpened dagger. “Do you honestly believe these men are demons?” Where was this nonsense coming from? Was Gryn trying to start a fight?
Gryn shook his head slowly. The thought had been fleeting, but what if it was possible? “It is possible, but would it matter?” he asked in a cold voice. “Would it matter if they were ten years old or sixty? Would it matter if they were women? No! They killed our men, and for that they must be punished!”
“I will not allow you to exact our revenge. We must let them—”
“Let them find their warlock and have their fun,” Huyen said suddenly.
The leader spun. “H-How dare you!” he blurted. How dare the man give Gryn any more ideas…this was turning into a very dangerous situation.
Gryn turned and faced him. “A warlock? They are going to see a warlock? How long have you known this?” He glared.
“It had been mentioned, yes, but that does not change—”
“Of course it changes everything! What warlock?”
Huyen cleared his throat. “His name is Ar’Zoth, I think I heard one of them say. Or did I read that back at our headquarters—might have been one of the fat man’s books…”
“I’m assuming he was exiled up there,” the leader said softly. “He is not dangerous.”
Gryn snorted. “No, demonic magic is harmless, I’m sure. Listen to me! How can you still want to go back south, to turn your tail away from them?” he said, his voice dark and grave. “I fear the opposite—that it makes them far more serious and far more dangerous…and you want to run away?”
“I—”
Upon seeing Gryn’s reaction, Huyen shot a quick glance at the leader, one of apology. He had not expected Gryn to be this unstable. “He has a point,” Huyen said. “A flimsy one, but a point. I assume, however, that the warlock is warded and protected, and that they are simply on some sort of adventure.”
“Travelers don’t kill Knights of the Black Dawn!”
“And Knights of the Black Dawn do not practice revenge!” the leader spat. Sacuan bless him, he was being drawn into the fray. He had to stop this.
“I tire of that phrase.”
“I tire of you.” No sooner had the words come out that he regretted them. The leader sighed and opened his mouth to apologize, but Gryn was already spewing out his madness.
“So three men get lucky and kill men of an elite Order with ease. Well, at least one of us put up a fight. They just happen to be traveling north to see a warlock, who we hope has no power, and it just happens to be the beginning of winter, a time when everyone has hunkered down—not traveling to see a warlock! And we need to simply tu
rn up our hands and run away from the wasp nest? Is that what you are saying?”
“That is what I am saying. You are seeing more to this than—”
“I see enough! I see more than enough! What kind of warlock is put up in the north, beyond Pale Pass?”
The leader glared at Huyen, but the gruff Knight merely stared in the fire. “Am I alone in this? Should I leave you two to go off chasing village idiots while I get on with a real mission? Or will you fall in line like you have sworn to?” He rubbed his forehead.
“I am not going to go anywhere near those three,” Huyen said softly. “He—” He pointed to Gryn. “Seems to want to kill himself in the attempt. If the boys got lucky, or are skilled, I don’t want to take the chance of being fried—Thank you.” A log suddenly tumbled off the fire and he kicked it back. A shower of yellow-orange flashes burst into the air. “Let him.”
“You are both cowards!” Gryn spat. “If we are to protect the world, we must—”
“Enough!” the leader bellowed. “This ends now. You are under my command, and you will remain so. I do not believe Ar’Zoth a threat…if H—” He nearly blurted Huyen’s name. “He agrees that there is no threat. and that is how it is. He’s smart enough to know not to continue chasing them. We move south, that is an order.” He waved off another protest. “We will go south, and talk to the fat man. He may have information for us, and yes, he may decide to send us right back up here. But we do not go blindly! And you are blinded by thoughts of revenge—you need time to calm yourself.”
Gryn balled his fists and scowled. With an oath, he stormed to his feet, retrieved a large log and tossed it unceremoniously atop the fire, which erupted in a spray of sparks. He remained standing, his arms crossed. “I will kill them,” he said, staring into the fire.
The leader stood to face him. Perhaps there was something to the warlock and the desire for these boys to find him, but he was not going to give into Gryn’s desires. No. He needed information, and the fat man would have it. If only he could talk Gryn way from the precipice, he could maintain order. Why did the young ones always have to be so difficult? “You may get the chance in the future, but right now we are moving south.”
“I said I am going to kill them.”
“And I order you to drop this.”
“I think you had best pay heed,” Huyen barked.
Gryn’s jaw was set, and in the glow of the fire, his eyes were points of glowing rage. “I will kill them.”
The leader’s hand drifted to his sword, but Gryn merely stared at him, daring him to draw. Revenge. We do not practice revenge, the leader reminded himself. But this would not be revenge, this would be dealing with insubordination.
A fleeting image of the fat man, his multiple chins wobbling, came to the fore. How often had he heard the voice of the obese leader of the Black Dawn spout off about warlocks and the “dark arts,” even though several warlocks were indeed members of the Order? Though they had worked as one Order alongside warlocks, many Knights hung gladly onto prejudice and fear when it suited them. What if these boys were in league with a warlock in some sort of demonic undertaking? Ar’Zoth…Ar’Zoth…A dark name, but most warlocks had dark names…what if Gryn was right, and he was wrong?
No! He chastised himself. Gryn was wrong—these travelers were not experienced fighters like the Knights. They had been lucky, and the Dawn unlucky one time too many, and that was that. No, they would not continue. He had to maintain order. We do not practice revenge. We will not act without more information. I am in command! And, Sacuan bless us all, I can’t kill Gryn to stop this foolishness, can I?
Gryn continued to stare. The leader dropped his hand. “I order you to remain with us. Failure to follow that order will remove you from the Knights of the Black Dawn.”
“I will kill them,” he whispered.
The leader scowled. He sat at Gryn’s place by the fire and stared into the dancing flames. Gherwza were running around, the stench of the reversal had been palpable for miles, and yet his members wanted to chase boys with sticks. He felt weak and beaten. He should kill Gryn…kill him outright, Sacuan forget his prior ranting about revenge. This was insubordination! The worst he had ever seen—and he sat there, powerless. He was a member of a supposed elite force, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to kill the man here. Why?
By sitting in Gryn’s place, he thought the insult would be too much, but he forgot in a moment of haste that he had given up his illusion of authority. Now Gryn stood over him, and he had won. The brash young man had won. He nearly leapt to his feet, but something seemed to keep him rooted. Something greater was happening, something far beyond—the number of gherwza they had seen had been too many, the reversal seemed far too strong, and there was a distinct shift in…what? He could not put a name to what he was feeling, but something was happening, something dark and destructive. Had the Temple been compromised? No, they would have felt that for sure. If he fought Gryn, Huyen would surely support him, but the fighting itself put them at risk—himself and Huyen, at least, a risk he could not afford. But it still sickened him to have to allow Gryn even a minute more of his pathetic life.
He tried to sound hard and in command. “Go. Go and do not return. If I see you again, I will kill you.”
He needs to go. That is best. He was not going to take any more risks with these travelers, on that he was determined. But if Gryn wanted to risk his life for a phantom, then what was the difference if he killed him now or let him be killed later? The man was going to die—for his actions tonight or at the hands of a warrior and a mage. Or a warlock.
Huyen only scowled, but Gryn laughed softly. The young man had won.
“Leave us, Gryn.” The name snapped off his tongue, like a dead branch breaking underfoot. In a brief thought of red, he reached for his sword, but stayed his hand, albeit reluctantly. He had lost. He had lost all control…and he might as well have been the one leaving the Order.
Hearing his name aloud, Gryn nearly gasped. Naming members of the Order was akin to a death sentence, a curse against the person named. It meant removal from the Order. It meant that he could no longer be a truly anonymous hero of the world who fought the base and utter Dark on a daily basis. True heroes should never be named, he had heard countless times. Though he believed himself correct in hunting down these boys, being named had surely assured his doom. All of that was pointless, now—removal from the Order meant death.
At the same time, however, he nearly collapsed—he had survived. For now. There would be a knife in the back or a sword in his gullet, but not yet. He was convinced these boys were acting under an ulterior motive. Huyen’s proclamation of the warlock only added to that conviction, but there was no convincing his leader who was bent on retreating—there was no convincing a coward who had more loyalty to the Order’s true mission of protecting Belden: a leader who cared nothing for murdered members of the Dawn. Gryn alone held full loyalty to both the citizens of Belden and his brothers in the Order—they would never have survived the Ages had they not remained as one unit. And Huyen, the crony who followed him around like a lost ox. It would take most of the winter to return to their building and then ski back to the warlock. And who knows what Sacuan-cursed evil the warlock and the travelers would be engaged in by then?
He turned and walked away, though he wanted to run.
Looking back at the glowing fire, his pack on his back, he called out. “Farewell, Yulchar.”
Yulchar stiffened and turned his face slightly to the side. In the firelight, Gryn saw the man smile a mirthless smile, a curling of the lips that betrayed no humor, but a frighteningly calm hatred.
It was going to be a cold night.
***
“Did you at least take his spell-shatterer?” Huyen growled later that night “His blanket…” he whispered with a scowl.
Yulchar cursed. “I should have, Sacuan bless us. I should have…in my fury—H—have you ever seen such an impetuous boy? I should kill him now! Stalk him t
o the road and bury my sword in him!”
“Such is beneath you. Let him hunt them…they are probably harmless. But he may need that medallion.”
“It didn’t do the others any good.”
“I know,” Huyen said softly. “He just might need it. You did the right thing.”
“I did?” He didn’t feel like he had done any good. Now he had a renegade Knight of the Black Dawn out hunting civilians. The fat man was not going to be pleased. “What do we tell—”
“That Gr—that he abandoned us. Turned tail and went his own way.” Gryn’s name was halfway out of his mouth, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.
“And we’ll be asked why we didn’t follow him and hunt him down!” Yulchar exclaimed.
Huyen scowled. “We can say that he was killed.”
“That would be a lie. A lie!” Yulchar buried his head in his hands. “I’m a failure…an utter failure.”
“Bah, he was worthless…always seeing demons where they were not. Let him go. You’ll make up for it, I’m sure you will. You have much more good to do, and by returning, we are assuring that. Listen,” he said, leaning forward. His permanent scowl was in sharp contrast to the softness of his words. “It will not be lying to say that Gryn was killed. I’m afraid he will not survive.”
“And I am afraid that he will.”
* * *
The sky was still black when Gryn rose, and even the false dawn was but a hope on the horizon. Black Dawn, indeed, he thought with an edge of bitterness. He knew of the Guiding Star and its northward position—at least one could get close following it. But there was no hint of a star tonight. He hoped he would not get lost. All that remained of his roaring fire was a tiny red glow the size of a mug of ale.
Gryn rolled up his belongings and slowly edged away from the campsite. He started walking slowly in the direction he assumed was north. Earlier in the day, they had followed a small trail along a river. A slight parting in the black trees was the only indication that there was a trail at all; once he got to the river, he could follow it north and west.
