Steel And Sorrow (Book 2)

by Joshua P. Simon

  “I won’t,” she said softly.

  Kroke shook his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come in here and bring you down. I honestly just wanted to catch up.”

  Yanasi shrugged. “It’s fine. I’m really glad you’re back. A lot of the old crew is so busy these days I don’t get to talk to them as much as I would like. It’s not like I can have these sorts of conversations with the men I command, and I put too much on Rygar as it is.”

  “Rygar’s a good man. He can handle it.” He paused. “Look, why don’t you get some rest and tomorrow, after we’ve both had a good night’s sleep, we’ll have a go at that match.”

  She grinned. “Sounds like a plan.”

  “Good. I still have to see someone anyway.”

  Kroke left Yanasi’s tent in a much different mood than he expected. It felt good to be back among his friends, but he felt equally uncomfortable at how things had changed. In years past, he would show up after a mission and just fold himself back into the army with little effort.

  But that was because Jonrell was the glue holding us all together, making sure things never unraveled. I guess I had hoped that someone would step in to fill that role after his death, but I should have known the man was irreplaceable.

  * * *

  The tent flap to the hospital burst open. Drake came charging out carrying a book under his arm and wearing a scowl. With his head down, he nearly ran into Kroke.

  Kroke stepped aside and grabbed Drake by the arm. “Kid, you alright?”

  “Kroke! I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”

  “I noticed. What’s wrong?”

  “You can probably guess since I’m sure that’s why you’re here,” the boy said pushing aside the mop of black hair from his eyes. “I’m done with him. I can’t keep wasting my time on someone who wants to die. I have too much else to worry about.”

  “Is he that bad?”

  Drake nodded. “You’ll see. Look, I hate to just barge off, but I really do have a lot to do and honestly, I just need some time alone right now. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Thanks. It’s good to have you back,” Drake called out as he walked off.

  Kroke stood there for a bit, puzzled. Like Yanasi, Drake had changed a lot since Jonrell’s death, but even more since the army went on the move and he had to stay behind with Elyse. The once bright-eyed boy who seemed to lift everyone’s spirits looked older and more solemn than someone his age should.

  Kroke walked inside the infirmary. Other than a few dim lamps hanging from the poles supporting the canvas, the place felt like a cave. Most of the wounded slept and he did his best to block out their labored breathing or muffled sobs.

  The whole place made him feel uneasy and his hand tickled the hilt of a knife on his belt. Kroke kept his eyes forward.

  He found Raker staring at the ceiling, wide-eyed and motionless. The pale face took Kroke off guard, and for a moment he wondered if the engineer had passed. Then Raker turned his head to the side and spat away from Kroke, mumbling something as he wiped away the tobacco juices from his chin with his left arm.

  Kroke saw the stump and swallowed hard. He caressed the hilt of his dagger and finished the last few steps, plopping on a nearby stool. “You look like crap.”

  Raker leaned over and spat again. He grunted. “I figured it would take someone like you to tell me like it is. I get enough lies from everyone else about how good I’m looking. I know it’s all a load of garbage to make me feel better.”

  “Is it working?”

  Raker finally turned over to look at him. “What do you think?” He raised his stump and Kroke saw where the tobacco juices had browned the bandages in spots.

  "I could see how that might ruin your day.”

  Raker grunted.

  “You don’t seem surprised to see me.”

  “Nah. Hag told me you got in earlier. I figured you had stuff to do and that you’d come and see me when you felt like it.”

  “You could’ve looked me up, you know?”

  “What’s the matter with you? I’m in no condition to move about.”

  “You’re missing part of your arm, not your leg. You can walk.”

  “Why don’t you go fall on one of your knives? I get enough of that from everyone else, especially Drake and Yanasi. I don’t need it from you.”

  Kroke shrugged. “I was just stating the obvious is all. I could care less if you lay here and waste your life away or not.”

  “Good. The only reason to get up anyway is to go find a drink, but Wiqua’s made sure to keep me away from that.”

  “I figured as much. That’s why I brought you this,” said Kroke as he pulled a bottle of whiskey from under his shirt.

  Raker sat up and stared at the bottle. “I take back every nasty thing I ever said about you. You’re an angel! Well, what are you waiting for? Give it here. I might even give you a swig or two in thanks.”

  Kroke pulled the bottle away from Raker’s outstretched hand. “Wait a minute. If I give it to you now, all you’re gonna do is get drunk and I ain’t done talking yet. I’ve got some stuff to get off my chest.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t care whether I wasted my life away or not.”

  “I might not, but others do.”

  Raker fell back into bed. “If I had both hands I’d strangle you. Go on, say what you gotta say and then leave me alone.”

  Kroke stood and looked down on the engineer. “I never thought I’d be the one saying something like this, but you need to get hold of yourself. Jonrell was a good man, a great man, and we all loved him. Even me. But he’s dead. You know as well as I do that if he saw you acting like a sorry sack of horse dung, he’d be here booting you out of bed himself. But he ain’t here. So, I guess you gotta listen to me instead since no one else understands how to talk to a piece of garbage like you.”

  “I think I like Drake’s pep talks better,” mumbled Raker.

  “I ain’t done, so shut it. Now, where was I?”

  “Garbage.”

  “Yeah, garbage. If you stopped feeling sorry for yourself for half a second you’d see people need you. Drake’s taking on way more than a boy his age should have to. He might be a genius, but the kid can’t even grow a beard. He’s been forced to do his job plus yours while working on a bunch of other special projects for Kaz. And he’s doing it because you ain’t there to help him.”

  “I got one arm, Kroke. What do you expect me to do?”

  “Use your head. You’re the one in charge. You don’t need two arms to yell. And I know your mouth still works. That kid looks up to you, and seeing you like this is just bringing him down. He deserves better.” He shook his head. “And Yanasi . . .”

  “What about her?”

  “I don’t even want to try to understand the relationship you two have, but she cares about you. The girl needs something that only we can give her—friendship. And when I say we, I’m talking about the old crew leftover from Asantia. That means she needs you.”

  “So two people need me. Big deal.”

  “More than two need you, but I ain’t about to stroke your ego and name off every one of them.” He paused. “And I lied. I do care whether you waste your life away or not. Everything I care about in the world is right here in the Hell Patrol.”

  Raker grunted. “What did that trip with the queen do to you? You sound like a woman with all this emotional crap.”

  Kroke managed a smile. “I was able to put things in better perspective.” He dropped the bottle of whiskey onto Raker’s stomach. The engineer winced and coughed. “Do what you want with it. I’ve said my peace.”

  Kroke stalked out before Raker could respond.

  * * *

  Elyse followed Kaz to a heavily guarded part of camp. Crusher greeted them at the entrance to the prisoner’s quarters with a bow and a crooked smile. She noticed he favored one side and wore several new scars.

  “Shouldn’t you be resting yo
ur injuries?” she asked.

  Crusher’s smile grew wider. “Half a Ghal is still better than ten Cadonians, Your Majesty.” He stepped aside and held the flap open as Kaz and Elyse entered ahead of him.

  Many of Bronn’s captured soldiers had sworn allegiance to the queen in order to return to their lands. According to Kaz, most had no real loyalty to Bronn and did not care who won the war. Elyse promised herself that once she secured her throne, she would give each of them a reason to be glad that she ruled over them.

  Over fifteen hundred of Bronn’s soldiers sought to join her army—some to follow Kaz, some because of their hate for Bronn, some because they just wanted to be on the winning side. Kaz kept nine hundred of those he felt could be trusted.

  The few men who had not pledged their loyalties to the queen were imprisoned with Bronn. A row of prisoners sat side-by-side in the tent, chained to each other and secured to the ground. Mostly officers. Some slept and others stared through half open eyes. She crinkled her nose at the smell of the foul chamber pots and the lack of air circulating through the musty space.

  Elyse leaned in to Kaz. “This seems harsh.”

  Kaz grunted. “They sought to kill you and steal your kingdom. They committed treason. They have food, water, and shelter. It’s better than many deserve.”

  “Even still, this is unacceptable.”

  “Kaz gave them all a chance to talk,” said Crusher. “Those who talked moved to better quarters. These are the stubborn ones.”

  Elyse saw a man with swollen black eyes sleeping against the metal bars. “Did you torture them?” she asked in a whisper, afraid of the answer.

  “We tried to encourage them some,” said Crusher with a chuckle. “But Kaz hasn’t let me do my best work. Most of what you see is due to injuries on the battlefield.”

  Kaz glanced over his shoulder. “Do you still want to see him?”

  Elyse nodded. “Yes.”

  In the back, Bronn lay on the floor. Grime covered his clothes and blood crusted around his neck. He slept in a ball and with each breath his nose whistled. Crusher took a lantern from a nearby pole and brought it over. The lantern cast just enough light for Elyse to see the rest of Bronn’s face. She gasped in surprise at his condition. The whistle made sense based on the angle of his nose. The rest of his discolored face looked like a giant bruise.

  “Alright, you pompous prick. Get to your feet,” said Crusher.

  “Cut it out,” said Kaz and the Ghal obeyed.

  Bronn balled himself tighter and covered his face when he saw Crusher and Kaz. He let out a girlish yelp as the Ghal stood him up. His eyes opened wider when he noticed Elyse. Immediately, he stood straighter and did his best to appear his old confident and arrogant self.

  “Elyse dear, thank the One Above you’re here,” said Bronn after finally composing himself. His voice sounded more nasally than she remembered. “I understand the need to hire such buffoons for your army, but this is ridiculous. I hope that you will have them punished for the way they’ve treated me and my officers. I tried to explain our relationship but—”

  “Shut up,” she said, cutting him off. For a few moments when she had first entered the tent and seen Bronn lying there she felt sorry for him, but in just a few short words old memories returned to her. “We have only one relationship you need concern yourself with. You are my prisoner and I am your jailor. You raised an army against me. I’ve had enough of you and people like you,” she said, raising her voice so all the others detained heard her. “If you thought that by holding out I might save you, you were wrong. Kaz believes you have information we need. You will give it to him.” She eyed Crusher. “You have my permission to extract the information from Bronn and his officers,” she said louder still, “by any means necessary.”

  She didn’t know who wore the greater look of shock on their face, Bronn or the Ghal. She heard a small chuckle from Kaz that she took for approval.

  “I hope that my commander will bring me good news come morning,” said Elyse as she turned to leave.

  “Wait Elyse!’ cried out Bronn. “In the name of the One Above, wait.”

  She turned, hearing the frightened tone in his voice. “Yes.”

  “Don’t you remember what we had?” he asked, trying to appear confident. “Before your father caught us, I do believe you were screaming in ecstasy,” he said, eyes rolling to Kaz as he smiled wider.

  Without thinking, she punched Bronn flat on his nose and the duke fell limp. Gasps came from the remaining prisoners.

  Crusher’s guttural laugh broke the silence. He looked at Elyse. “You keep this up and I may have to apply for citizenship.”

  Elyse grabbed her throbbing hand and charged out of the tent, both appalled and thrilled by her actions.

  One Above, that felt good.

  * * *

  Kaz allowed Elyse to use his quarters for the night until other accommodations could be made. He left the tent with a grin, still thinking of her reaction to Bronn.

  She won’t be walked on again.

  If her assault on Bronn had not been enough evidence of this, the conversation they shared afterward strengthened his opinion. Elyse was stronger, more sure of herself, and Kaz could not be prouder.

  She is Jonrell’s sister now.

  Kaz had learned that as a young teenager Bronn found a way for him and Elyse to be alone. She had failed to see his intentions until he tried to force himself on her. Bronn had managed to get half her clothes off when her steward, Gillian, walked in on them.

  Although the king dismissed their betrothal, Elyse said that her father also blamed her for encouraging Bronn’s behavior by her constant swooning. Therefore, little happened to Bronn. Adding to her humiliation, Bronn started rumors that she had thrown herself at him.

  Kaz’s anger had risen until Elyse started laughing.

  “If I would have known he would fall so easily from one punch, I would have hit him sooner,” she joked.

  “I might have struck him harder myself,” he answered back.

  “One Above, he wouldn’t have a face left.”

  They laughed harder.

  Months ago, recalling such painful memories would have likely caused a different reaction from the queen. Kaz realized the queen’s newfound strength only heightened the feelings he had for her.

  A familiar feeling tugged at his heart and a faint voice whispered in his ear. “I love you, Kaz.”

  The voice caused his blood to chill and his throat to tighten.

  Who was that? His stomach dropped. Do I have someone waiting for me? He swore under his breath. Why can’t I just get the answers to these questions?

  Crusher came toward him. He wore a large ugly smile.

  “Is he up and ready to talk yet?” asked Kaz.

  “Ready to talk? He won’t shut up. After he cursed both you and Elyse a few times, he started singing like a songbird when he realized he had no other options. His officers did the same. You want to see him now?”

  “Might as well. Though let’s take him to a different tent. Elyse is asleep in the command tent.”

  “No problem. You know, that’s quite a woman you got there.”

  Kaz blinked. “Huh?”

  Crusher looked over at him as they walked. “The queen. Women like that don’t come around very often. I always thought she was easy on the eyes for not being a Ghal, but after seeing her take out the duke with one punch, well that’s just icing on the cake.”

  “She’s not my woman,” said Kaz in a tired tone. “She’s the queen, and I command her army.”

  The giant shrugged. “If you say so.” He started to chuckle.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I was just thinking that if the queen can take out Bronn with one punch, it kinda diminishes the impressiveness of yours.” The Ghal laughed and nudged Kaz with his elbow.

  Kaz grinned. “What does that say about you? Do you mean that the queen could lay you out too?”

  The Ghal’s laugh cut off. �
��That’s uncalled for, you know.”

  * * *

  The sun shone bright the next day, and in the dead air, Krytien dripped perspiration. Mages of all skill levels sweat right along beside him. He still saw a handful of hateful glares, but they did not deter his actions. He at least had won over the majority.

  I only wish I had more sleep. I sure wouldn’t have stayed up with Wiqua all night had I known what Kaz wanted today.

  Kaz had pulled Krytien aside before breakfast and stressed the need to push the mages harder during drills. Although Kaz had been impressed at their progress, all reports indicated that Conroy’s mages would present a tougher challenge than Tomalt and Bronn’s mages. Kaz urged Krytien to stop holding back on a lifetime of knowledge.

  Krytien hated to admit that he had held back in some areas, afraid that he would have many of the mages picking up his bad habits. He didn’t want them repeating his mistakes. But after his discussion with Hag and Wiqua, Krytien concluded that he owed it to the army to do more.

  He combined lessons learned from his former master, Philik, and the exercises outlined in High Mage Amcaro’s texts, with explanations he received from Wiqua. He then put his own spin on those principles so that he felt more comfortable teaching them. Krytien had trained alongside the mages all morning.

  “Lufflin, you’ve got to relax and empty yourself.” He watched the green-robed mage’s jaw tighten and his eyes clench tighter as he strained to control the sorcery. The giant boulder swayed in the air, but at a slower pace than what Krytien wanted to see. “Relax. You’re trying too hard.”

  The boulder crashed to the empty ground with a thud as Lufflin opened his eyes and swore. “What are you talking about? How am I supposed to relax when you keep hollering in my ear?”

  “You shouldn’t be distracted by me. You’ve done this in battle before.”

  “Not by myself,” said Lufflin as he threw up his hands. “We’re supposed to operate in groups. Everyone knows that.”