by Luke Scull
‘You never told me what you and the Seer talked about back at the lake,’ Brick said.
‘You sure you want to know?’ Kayne asked.
‘Uh-huh.’
‘A lot of stuff that ain’t worth repeating. And some kind of prophecy about three kings.’ He frowned, remembering the woman’s words. The Bandit King was no mystery, and he reckoned he had a fair idea who the Butcher might be. He was damned sure he would never kneel before that piece of shit, not if his life depended on it.
Which left only the Broken King. The King he would send to his death. A shiver ran down his spine. It couldn’t be him.
It couldn’t be.
‘You really think she could read the future?’ Brick said, interrupting those dark thoughts.
Kayne glanced back at Jerek. The Wolf was limping heavily, sweat pouring from his bald brow despite the bitter chill in the air. ‘I’m not sure anyone can say with certainty what the future holds. I figure if Shara had that kind of power she’d be ruling the world, not slumming it with an army of bandits.’
Brick bobbed his head in agreement. His red hair reached down to his shoulders now, and there was a hardness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. The boy was growing up fast. ‘You don’t mind that I’m travelling with you?’ he asked cautiously. ‘I’ve got nowhere else to go.’
Kayne gave the youngster a companionable pat on the shoulder. ‘You’re a free man, Brick. You can go where you please. I’m glad of the company.’
‘Shit.’ Behind them Jerek stumbled. Kayne was about to go and help his friend but Grunt got there before him, hauling the Wolf to his feet and putting a muscular green arm on his shoulder to steady him. The mute had kicked up a hell of a fuss when he’d found out he needed to leave his egg back at the camp, and for a moment Kayne had been worried the big green warrior would refuse to leave without it, placing them all in grave danger. Fortunately he’d calmed down eventually and fled along with the rest of them. He’d more or less returned to his old self since that morning, though he seemed a tad more glum these days.
‘I thought Jerek and Grunt didn’t get along,’ Brick observed as they neared the next standing stone. This one had a circle carved below the harsh runes of the underfolk language. Though Kayne couldn’t understand the words, he’d learned what the circle meant during his last trek through Mal-Torrad. The tunnel in the nearby hill led to some kind of auditorium – a vast open circle that must have served as a public meeting area.
‘Takes the Wolf a while to warm to new faces,’ Kayne answered. ‘But when he decides you’re all right, you’re all right.’
‘Does he have a wife? Any children?’
‘Not as far as I can tell. He don’t talk about himself much. Don’t think he ever married. If he’s got a son he don’t mention him.’
‘You don’t talk about your son much, either.’
Kayne was silent a moment. ‘Magnar and me, we had our differences. I thought… I thought he did something I couldn’t forgive. But it turns out I might’ve been wrong.’
‘About the thing he did? Or about forgiving him?’
‘Both.’
Brick’s green eyes were so earnest Kayne couldn’t help but feel touched. ‘He’s your son. You should patch things up with him while you still can.’
Kayne rubbed at his bristled chin and stared into the distance. ‘Aye, you’re right. It’s about time I— Hang on, who the hell’s that?’
There was someone watching them from a ridge a little further ahead. Whoever it was, they were garbed head to toe in black and didn’t look much like any bandit Kayne had ever seen. The mysterious figure’s arm seemed to twitch, and then something skipped across the stone just in front of Kayne before coming to a halt near his boots. He reached down to pick it up. It was a dart, the point sharp enough to pierce steel.
‘Get down!’ he roared to the others, but his mysterious attacker had already disappeared over the ridge.
Brick had an arrow nocked and ready and was scanning the hills around them. ‘I think that was just a warning,’ he said quietly. ‘Whoever they are, they just mean to scare us.’
Jerek and Grunt joined them. The Wolf scowled at the dart and then spat in disgust. ‘Coward’s weapon, that. The tip’s poisoned.’
Kayne placed the dart carefully back on the ground. ‘Someone doesn’t want us going any further. What d’you reckon, Wolf?’
‘I reckon they can go fuck themselves,’ Jerek growled.
‘That’s what I thought. We’d best stick close together. Brick, keep a lookout. If you spot movement, fire first and ask questions later.’
The youngster nodded and spat just like Jerek had. It seemed the boy was picking up some bad habits.
When they reached the next standing stone they stopped for a break. Despite a few obligatory grumbles Jerek immediately sat down and stretched out his leg while Kayne and Grunt examined the monument.
Kayne traced a finger down the seven-pointed star carved onto the rock. ‘I wonder what happened to the underfolk?’ he mused. ‘Seems mighty odd for an entire people to just up and vanish.’
Grunt shook his head and ran a thick finger across his throat.
‘They didn’t vanish,’ Brick translated as he checked the horizon again. ‘They’re all dead.’
‘Aye, I figured that much. What made ’em all dead, is what I’m wondering.’
Grunt shrugged and then wandered off to take a piss. Kayne moved to inspect Jerek’s wound, but behind him Brick suddenly hissed and he turned to see the black-garbed figure watching them from a rise less than thirty yards distant – well within bowshot range. Brick lined up his arrow, but with incredible agility the shadowy watcher turned and cartwheeled away to disappear behind a boulder, leaving them staring open-mouthed at thin air.
‘Did… did you see that?’ Brick asked in astonishment. ‘Who is he?’
‘I’m guessing we’ll find out soon enough,’ Kayne replied grimly.
As it turned out it was another hour before they encountered their stealthy observer again, and it didn’t happen in the manner Kayne might’ve been expecting. The sounds of fighting reached Grunt’s oversized ears and he brought a meaty fist down onto his palm to indicate trouble. Then he raised a finger to his lips and beckoned them to follow him. He clambered up a narrow path and led Kayne and Brick around an outcrop of jagged stone beyond which a fierce battle raged. Jerek limped along, unable to keep up.
The black-clad stranger who had been stalking them earlier was surrounded by a half-dozen men, bandits by the looks of it, bristling with swords and clubs and vicious daggers. The stranger at the centre of the melee appeared to be unarmed – but that didn’t seem to hinder him, judging by the man already crumpled on the ground and another cradling a broken arm.
As the companions looked on, the stranger caught a sword thrust between his palms and wrenched the weapon away from his assailant, then punched out with an open palm, hitting him in the throat and dropping him in a heap. The stranger spun as another bandit stabbed, caught his wrist and used the man’s own momentum to hurl him over his shoulder. One bandit managed to creep up behind and get in a good swing. His cudgel slammed into the side of his target, sending the mysterious black-clad figure staggering back. The stranger looked up then and noticed Kayne and the others, and though he wore a veil over much of his face Kayne could see that the person behind the veil was… unmistakably female.
‘I could use a hand,’ she called out in a voice that was strangely accented and slightly desperate.
Grunt growled softly and drew his swords. Brick looked at Kayne questioningly.
The old warrior sighed. This was none of their business: that was the truth of the matter. But he’d always had a weakness for women and children.
‘I’m getting soft,’ he muttered, giving Brick the nod and reaching up to draw his greatsword. The youngster’s arrow took a bandit in the back as Grunt charged down the slope. Soon the mute’s twin longswords were cutting down bandits from
all angles, a display of swordsmanship Kayne would never have guessed the big greenskin capable of when first they’d met. The two remaining bandits quickly realized the tables had turned and made a break for it, fleeing for the hills before Kayne’s creaking knees could carry him to the melee and leaving him looking like a bit of an idiot as his charge came to a staggering halt. He turned to the enigmatic woman in black.
‘You hurt?’ he asked evenly.
‘Just some bruising,’ she answered in her strange accent. Her dark eyes watched them warily. Though she relaxed her stance a little she still looked as if she could spring into action at a moment’s notice. ‘I must apologise for the incident with the dart. I thought you were with them. They were looking for someone.’
‘Aye,’ Kayne replied. ‘Reckon I have a fair idea who.’ He’d taken a good look at their faces during the fighting and thought he remembered one of the men from Fivebellies’ gang. The Bandit King must have sent his cousin to search for them, just as Shara had warned.
A string of curses turned the air blue as Jerek limped down towards them, even more bad-tempered than usual at having missed the fighting. The Wolf didn’t seem the least bit thrilled at encountering yet another wanderer on the road. ‘Who are you?’ he rasped. ‘Show your face.’
‘Very well.’ The woman reached up with a gloved hand and removed her veil, revealing a pert nose and striking features that were very different from any other woman Kayne had ever met. ‘I am Jana Shah Shan,’ she said, pulling off her gloves and extending a bronze-skinned hand towards the Wolf in a gesture of greeting.
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake.’
Jana raised an eyebrow so thin it looked like it had been drawn in ink. ‘Excuse me?’
Kayne cleared his throat noisily. ‘Don’t mind him. You don’t look like you’re from around these parts.’
‘I hail from the Jade Isles.’
‘You’re far from home.’
‘Further than you can imagine. I long to return to my betrothed, but I have a duty and I am sworn to see it done.’
‘Duty, eh? I know or thing or two about that. Jana Shah Shan, you say? That’s an odd name. No offence meant.’
‘None taken. Shah is my father’s clan name. Shan is my mother’s. It is very important in my culture to know whence one came. Whence… Is that word correct? Do you understand me?’
Kayne’s brow creased in confusion. ‘Er… Aye, perfectly. What you doing in these parts, if you don’t mind me asking?’
Jana’s fist clenched in anger. ‘I was sent by the Wizard-Emperor. An item of great value was stolen from the imperial treasury. A key capable of activating a terrible being imprisoned somewhere in these ruins.’
‘Terrible being? You talking about some kind of demon?’
‘Worse than that. A gholam.’
‘A what?’
‘It is a fell weapon of the gods,’ Jana explained. ‘Created during the Age of Strife by the Congregation to annihilate the armies of the Alliance. If the gholam were ever activated, there is no telling what devastation it might unleash.’
Grunt made a low moaning noise to get their attention. He turned to Brick and made a series of hand gestures.
‘He knows this… gholam,’ Brick translated. ‘The gholam devastated the city of Azrath. Grunt barely escaped there with his life.’
‘You must be mistaken,’ Jana Shah Shan replied softly. ‘The city-state of Azrath was destroyed six hundred years ago.’
‘I think a wizard worked some kind of spell on him,’ Kayne explained. ‘I got a feeling he’s older than he looks.’
Grunt nodded at that. He made another hand signal to Brick.
‘The red wizard kidnapped him and put him to sleep for a long time. But he remembers the gholam. He still has nightmares about it.’
Kayne stared at the ruins and felt a shiver pass through him. He turned back to Jana. ‘What makes you believe the gholam can be found here? Or this thief, for that matter?’
‘The gholam was disabled and transported to Mal-Torrad for safekeeping after the Godswar,’ Jana explained. ‘The underfolk sealed it within a great prison in the deepest part of their kingdom. The key was kept in the imperial treasury, which was said to be unbreachable. Yet the thief managed to break in and steal the key. The thief has… peculiar appetites. It is not so hard to follow the trail of desiccated corpses they leave behind. Desiccated… is that a word?’
‘Yeah. I think so.’
‘The last corpse I found belonged to a bandit. I discovered it some distance to the south. The thief is heading north, towards the site where the gholam is buried.’
‘Ain’t no one guarding it now. The underfolk are long gone. They disappeared, just like the Yahan.’ Kayne grimaced, remembering the lake of tar back at Asander’s camp.
Jana shook her head. ‘The fate of the underfolk is no mystery. The death of the gods broke the land and revealed vast treasures buried beneath Mal-Torrad. The seven great cities went to war over these riches. None survived. Now Mal-Torrad is a dead place – the endless halls haunted by the ghosts of the fallen.’
Brick was staring at Jana with a combination of curiosity and admiration. ‘How did you learn to fight like that? I’ve never seen anyone take on a dozen men unarmed.’
Jana Shah Shan smiled, revealing a mouthful of white teeth. ‘Not unarmed. I am a master of Unity, the sacred art taught to all the Emperor’s agents. My body is a weapon, honed through years of practice and a deep understanding of the unseen energies which surround us all.’
‘Would you show me?’ Brick asked excitedly. He sounded like a boy once more, moved to childish enthusiasm at the discovery of another mystery to unravel. Kayne couldn’t help but grin.
‘Even the basics of Unity require many months of study. But if we are heading in the same direction, I could teach you a trick or two.’
‘And here it is,’ Jerek cut in, causing everyone to stare at him. ‘Go on, Kayne,’ he said bitterly. ‘Just say it.’
‘Say what?’
‘Ask her to come with us.’ The Wolf reached up and began tugging on his beard, his jaw tightening in anger. ‘Thought we had a good thing going, just the four of us,’ he said, nodding at Brick and Grunt. ‘No one can say I raised a fuss about them coming along. Bit my tongue and got on with it.’
‘Hang on, I remember you having a few choice words after—’
The Wolf was in no mood to listen. ‘I can put up with a bandit’s whelp what tried to murder us,’ he ranted. ‘Some big green bastard that might be a demon for all we know? Fuck it, he knows how to fight and he’s all right as far as it goes, no skin off my nose if he tags along. But this—’ He jerked a thumb at the attractive young woman staring at him in bewilderment. ‘This is just taking the piss.’
Jerek spat and then limped away, bristling with righteous indignation. ‘My body is a weapon,’ he said, voice thick with scorn. In a fit of anger, he turned and punched a nearby boulder. Even Grunt winced at the sound of Jerek’s knuckles cracking. The Wolf just glared at them all, daring someone to say something as he tried to pretend he hadn’t just busted a couple of fingers hitting a block of solid granite.
Kayne turned to Jana Shah Shan, who seemed perplexed by the whole spectacle. ‘Don’t take it personally,’ he said gently. ‘Jerek’s always a bit on edge around strangers. You get used to it.’
Legacy of Gods
The hooded figure sat in the shadowed corner of the tavern where the light from the globe above failed to penetrate and watched the men enter the common room. They’d been filing in for the best part of a bell now. Every miner who worked the Blight had been ordered to gather at the Black Lord’s ReSpite after the day’s work was ended. The crowd’s apprehension would soon turn to elation when the Mad Dogs delivered their news. Tomorrow they would all be sailing back to Thelassa – or at least that was what the miners would be told.
Davarus Cole knew better.
Another half-bell passed as he waited. The common room was heaving
now, packed wall to wall with sweaty workers covered in filth. Cole received curious glances. A few men tried to speak with him or steal a look under his cowl. He drew back into the shadows and flashed his weapon at them and they quickly left him alone. He replayed Thanates’ words in his head over and over again. He had only one chance to get this right.
Finally the door banged open and Corvac sauntered in. The blonde on his arm glared around the tavern with an air of hostility at odds with the tight, provocative clothing she wore. Cole flinched back at the sight of those two. A moment later he drew courage from the anger that flushed through him, remembering the things they had done to him that night outside this very tavern. He felt his anger turn to rage but quickly checked himself when he glanced at the glow-globe hanging from the ceiling.
Several of Corvac’s lieutenants joined their leader as he made his way to the bar. All wore swords at their belts. That in itself was not unusual, but Cole knew the truth behind the enigmatic smiles on their faces, the eager glitter in their eyes.
He saw Smiler, and Floater, and Smokes, and others he knew well. Even were he to lower his hood they might not recognize him. He had emerged from Derkin’s home a visibly different man after stealing Shank’s soul. He was no longer the Ghost they remembered.
The Mad Dogs ordered a small area cleared around the bar and Corvac climbed onto a table to address the tavern. Goldie gazed at him adoringly, as if he were a king lording it over his subjects. Then she handed him a metal tray the bartender passed her, and Corvac drew his sword and clashed the two together, making a small racket. ‘Silence!’ he barked. ‘I wish to speak.’
