“They mean to keep us like animals.” whispered Jaquin, looking around the chamber and the captives that lazed in their cells.
Raygar placed a gauntleted hand upon Jaquin’s shoulder. “This is merely a holding chamber for new arrivals.” he said. “Unfortunately, slavers like Garrot don’t always treat their captives well, and the journey here can be long.” Lord Raygar led Jaquin toward an empty cell, and Chazod followed with the others behind him. “You will only stay here until you’re cleaned, fed and ready. Then you shall all have chambers of your own, four to a room with your own beds and your own possessions.”
“Our own beds and our own possessions, huh?” said Chazod.
Raygar looked at him. “There are laws in Duroton about keeping slaves, and those laws include feeding and bedding them well.”
Chazod huffed. “Bedding them well like the women out there who’ll be going to work in a brothel?” asked Chazod. “Feeding us men well before we die fighting in this coliseum?”
Raygar’s eyes turned down for a moment. “Slavery is a new and complicated matter here in Duroton. Some of us don’t condone it.”
“But that’s what we are, right?” Jaquin looked more nervous than ever. He trembled as he looked into the empty cell. “We’re slaves. We’re nothing but slaves now.” He looked at Raygar. “I… I don’t belong here. I don’t want to be here!”
One of the knights in white armor pushed him into the cell. “Come on, move it!”
“I’m sorry.” said Raygar as Chazod and the others filed into the cell. “Few want to be here. But if it is any comfort, you shall be given a chance to prove your worth.”
Jaquin stared at Raygar through the bars. “My worth? I won’t last! Rennic said my blood would…” Jaquin choked on his own words.
Raygar’s face seemed to sour at that name. He shut the cell door and Jaquin flinched as the locking mechanism clanged into place. “It’s best not to hear the words of that creature.”
Raygar took the sack of possessions from one of the knights and dumped the contents onto the floor. Out spilled some clothing and a number of cheap weapons and odds and ends. “Let’s see what we got here.”
“I want my sword.” said Maddox. “I made it myself and it brings me luck in the arena.”
Raygar looked at him. “Made your own weapon, did you?”
“We all have,” said Chazod, motioning at Padraic and Maddox. “Our old master, Grandon Faust, made us learn the smithy. Made us make our own weapons.”
“Interesting.” said Raygar. “But no weapons in the cell. You’ll get good, Durotonian weapons before long.”
“I would like my bracelet back.” said Banden. “It was my father’s. He gave it to me when I was first sold as a boy. I have carried it ever since.”
Raygar rummaged through the pile and found a cheap, copper band, green with tarnish.
“That is mine.” said Banden.
Lord Raygar inspected it for a moment and then tossed it to him. Banden slapped it around his huge wrist.
In the pile Chazod saw his dagger. Raygar picked it up and was about to toss it aside when Chazod said, “That’s mine.”
Raygar seemed to absentmindedly hand it to Chazod through the bars, and neither of the white knights seemed to notice. Banden and the others looked at Chazod.
“I thought you said—” Chazod kicked Maddox in the ankle before he could finish his sentence. Then he slipped the dagger up the sleeve of his smock.
Raygar gathered up the clothing and handed it to them all through the bars. “Save these for later. We’ll get you all cleaned and fed, and then tomorrow you will train.”
“T-Train for what?” asked Jaquin.
“To fight, of course. You are all going to be gladiators for Exalted Lord Balin Yagdril.” said Raygar. “You will take names for yourselves and fight in the arena. Most of you will die. But some of you will win titles for yourselves and have fame, fortune, women, and in time, your freedom back.”
“I’m already trained.” said Chazod. “I know how to fight.”
“Me too.” said Banden. “I will fight today. I am one of those who will earn fame.”
Lord Raygar chuckled. “You may know how to fight, but do you know the battle of King Tharick and Apollyon? Do you know the battle that was the Reclaiming of the Stellarium? Do you know how to fight in ten-feet of water as Lord Graylon did when he fought the serpent of the crags? Do you know how to fight upon swinging chains as the Lords of the Mines did to clear the griffons from the peaks of Mount Yotun?”
Banden’s face seemed to melt with confusion and Raygar laughed. “You are gladiators, men! You are not mere fighters, you are entertainment for the people of Duroton!”
— 28 —
Awake
There was darkness all around. The moon loomed a monolithic god as Etheil drifted before it, as diminutive as an insect. Far away, a single star burned white, steady and bright. Etheil felt entranced by it; drawn to it. He reached out a hand, as if to grab it in his clutches, and he glided forward, the silver, pocked surface of the moon tracing away from him.
And then he realized there was something else in the blackness; something darker than the void of space; something that light dared not touch. It was a serpent—a dragon—and it slithered its way through the endless, empty expanse of the universe. Etheil hesitated to think it a god, for it seemed more primordial, like a founding pillar of the very universe. It was of a magnitude beyond even that of the earth and moon; of a scope no human mind could comprehend. It swam its way toward the final star, but moved as if it counted its minutes in years and seconds in days. Still, Etheil could see that it would be upon the star soon, within the confines of human conception. Its head turned slightly, and blazing, red eyes more terrible than dying suns came into view like stars from orbit.
Etheil froze. Terror engulfed him.
“Etheil Freydir,” rumbled a great voice. “You have come to this place too soon.”
Etheil turned. Resting upon the arc of the moon, as if it were no more than a perch, was Solastron. “S-Solastron? You’re… Where… Is this death?”
Solastron turned his head toward the great, writhing ribbon of blackness at the edge of the universe. “I told you once that my charge comes due.” he rumbled. “The hour is late.” He turned his head back to Etheil. “I told you of the Dragonstones that I must one day retrieve. You promised to be at my side upon the hour of my death. I release you of that bond, should you wish to journey further this day and go to the place of your brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers. Go to the light of the star, but head not for that blackness, for there you shall find no salvation.”
“No,” said Etheil. “Do not release me.” He wanted to reach out and stroke the giant wolf, but he was no more than a speck of dust before him. “If ever I can help bear your burden, I will be there for you. Do not release me of the promise I spoke to you.”
“Very well, Etheil Freydir.” rumbled Solastron. He bounded from the moon, and to Etheil’s surprise, came to stand before him at a scale more recognizable. Etheil reached out to stroke his head, but the wolf flinched back.
“Touch me not while you are here in this place.” spoke Solastron. “Follow me and I shall shepherd you home.” Solastron bounded off, leaving a trail of sparkling, falling, dust.
Etheil ran after him, but came to realize that he had no legs. He was floating, devoid of any body, shape or form. He was but consciousness; a formless spirit. He followed Solastron around the moon until the earth came into view. It was a beautiful, blue marble swirled with clouds, floating in the darkness. Beyond it was the sun, a blazing beacon of pure, white light.
“Come, Etheil.” said Solastron. “You must not dally.” The wolf bounded off toward the earth, and Etheil followed. “You shall not remember what has come to pass this day, for what you have witnessed is knowledge earned only upo
n your eternal visit.”
The disc of the earth now swallowed Etheil and then bright, white clouds enveloped him.
“You are home, Etheil.” rumbled the wolf. “You are home.”
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Breath tore into Etheil’s lungs as he sat up in bed. He felt cold, clammy. He shivered as he wrapped his arms around his naked body. He opened his eyes and squinted against the sunlight that streamed through his bedroom window. He could smell the ubiquitous scent of oily steel that permeated the Grimwatch as if it were a new sensation, and it mixed with the cold, stale air of his chamber. His head spun. A sudden nausea took him and he leaned to the side and vomit spewed from his mouth, splattering on the floor.
Etheil heard the chamber door squeak open as he heaved again.
“I thought you said he had passed?” Mordikir’s voice was unmistakable, like autumn branches creaking and groaning in the wind.
“I… I felt no pulse.” said a woman.
Etheil sat back up, wiping at his mouth. Mordikir came up to him and began poking and pressing at his body. Etheil groaned. “What happened?”
“You nearly died. That’s what happened.” said the old man, the green lenses of his goggles sparkling in the sun as he scanned over Etheil’s body. Mordikir took down his black hood. He was bald in front, his scalp mottled with liver spots, but in back he still had long lengths of gray hair and they fell over his thin shoulders.
Etheil looked down at his bare body. A sheet was over his waist and he could see brown and pink stains where it had been soiled with blood and medicines. He had a number of nasty scars on his abdomen, and the one beneath his ribs had some particularly gruesome stitches. In his wrist was stuck a silver syringe and his eyes traced a thin, copper tube from it to a mechanical device at his side that clicked as steadily as a clock.
“No new parts.” said Mordikir, his thin lips twisting his wrinkly face into a smile.
For that Etheil was thankful. The thought of one day waking up from battle to discover a mechanical arm or leg wasn’t very pleasing to him. Worse, he could end up like Haylon who stood behind the old Jinn.
Haylon was a favorite nurse among the men of the Grimwatch. She was in her early thirties, beautiful and kind, and didn’t mind flirting with the wounded if it made them feel better. She had come to the Grimwatch when she was just ten, seeking lungs to replace her failing ones. On her back she carried a rather large contraption that rasped as a bellows in its center rose and fell with a timed rhythm. Beside that were a pair of brass tanks. Long, thick, flexible metal tubes ran from them and were plugged down through her collarbones. Her sides were slightly wider than normal where brass plates and pipes were affixed to her lungs, giving her a pronounced hourglass shape, even in her white gown.
She smiled at Etheil and handed him a glass of water. “You gave me quite a scare a moment ago. I thought for sure your pulse had ceased.”
“How long have I been out?” asked Etheil. He drank down the entire glass.
“A few days.” said Haylon, taking the empty cup from him. “You were in bad shape when they found you and the others out on the ice. You’re lucky to be alive.”
“What of Brandrir and the others?” asked Etheil.
Mordikir turned to Haylon. “Would you go attend my lab, Haylon? I need some time alone with Lord Etheil.”
“Certainly.” She smiled. She turned to Etheil. “I’ll be back later if you need anything.”
“Thank you,” said Etheil, watching as she slipped out of the room and closed the door.
Etheil hissed as Mordikir slid the needle out of his arm. He began wrapping Etheil’s wrist with a bandage as he spoke. “You are indeed lucky to be alive. Truth be told, I didn’t think you’d make it. I was sure today would be your last. But, miracles happen.”
“What about Brandrir? What about the others?”
“Aries, Braken and Syrus are all fine.” assured Mordikir. “Braken is up and about and Aries and Syrus are both as good as new. Two of the soldiers they found with you weren’t so lucky though. The third should make a full recovery.”
Etheil felt a fear rising in him. He wanted to get out of bed, but Mordikir held him with a firm hand on the chest. “What about Brandrir?”
“He’s being attended.” said Mordikir. “But, like you, he was in bad shape. Worse, really.”
“I have to go see him.” said Etheil. He turned to get out of bed. His side stung from the wounds, but not nearly as much as he expected.
“You can’t see him right now.” said Mordikir as Etheil cautiously placed his bare feet on the stone floor. “And you need bed rest.”
Etheil groaned, holding his side as he stood up. He held the sheet around his waist with his other hand. On the floor, nearby, was his armor. He hobbled over to his dresser for some clothing.
“I’m afraid I can’t allow any visitors to him.” said Mordikir. “He’s been placed in a coma for the time being.”
“I can still speak words of comfort to him.” said Etheil, opening a drawer and pulling out some clothing.
Mordikir sighed. “He’s in my lab.”
Etheil froze. If Brandrir was in Mordikir’s lab, that could only mean things were incredibly dire.
“It’s bad.” said Mordikir, placing a soft, cold hand upon Etheil’s back. “That arm of his was connected very deeply. When it was torn off of him, the wires and rods cut his lung and heart as they sheared away and pulled nerves from his spine. Not only that, but the knife wounds made a mess of the rest of him. His bowels were torn.”
Etheil turned to him, his heart racing.
“I’m doing all I can.” said Mordikir.
Etheil slipped some black pants on. “I have to go to him.”
“I need to speak with you alone in council.” said Mordikir. “Right now, you lead the Grimwatch.”
“We can have council later.” said Etheil.
“Tell me,” said Mordikir. “What was the beast that Brandrir saw?”
Etheil pulled a black shirt over his body and turned to the old Jinn. “What?”
“The others already debriefed me on what happened.” said Mordikir. “I must know what Brandrir saw.”
“I don’t know.” said Etheil. He groaned as he leaned down to pick up his boots. He sat down on his bed, and with excruciating effort, began putting them on his feet. “He wouldn’t tell me. He said something about it being a personal matter.”
Mordikir sighed. He waited silently as Etheil laced up his boots and then followed him out the door.
Mordikir’s lab was in the deepest confines of the Grimwatch but it was neither dark nor dungeonesque. It was a sprawling chamber with many smaller rooms attached to it, all brightly lit by gaslamps. Down the center of the chamber was a row of large beds, each upon a mechanical frame that allowed it to rise or tilt in any direction. Above them hung many-armed apparatuses with different medical tools or injectors attached to jars of colored liquids. Nearby were other mechanical devices on castors. All along the walls were shelves and tables strewn with gears and parts, many of which had half-finished arms and legs on them.
Once, not so very long ago, this lab would have been alive with activity as a dozen or more Jinn and all of their assistants worked upon patients. Now, it was just Mordikir and his two head nurses, Haylon and Gabrella. The silhouettes of the two nurses could be seen behind a thin, white curtain that was drawn around one of the room’s beds. They were attending somebody upon a monstrous table. From beyond the curtains the rhythmic purr of mechanical devices could be heard, as well as the wheezing of a large respirator.
Etheil raced across the chamber to the bed and threw aside the curtain. His hand went to his mouth and he had to turn away. Laying on a cold, metal table, plugged into more than a dozen different machines, was the King of the Grims. Primitive devices pumped liquids of different c
olors into his veins, and a bellows of sorts rose and fell as it pumped air into his mouth. His chest and left ribs were opened wide, steel fingers from the contraption above holding the splayed skin and bones apart. Some sort of device with a white, glowing healing crystal was on top of his heart. It made a terrible, artificial beating sound between the whirs of wet gears. His stomach too was opened, but his bowels were hidden behind a large machine that loomed above, its leather tubing throbbing in an odd pattern to the sound of clacking gears.
Haylon and Gabrella paid Etheil little attention. Gabrella was too busy making adjustments to the various contraptions. Haylon had a white healing crystal in her hand and gently massaged it over Brandrir’s body while she cleaned the blood that leaked from his wounds.
“His heart gave out this morning.” said Mordikir, coming up to Etheil. “The new parts aren’t taking so well. I’ve exhausted my magic hooking everything up. Healing crystals will have to do for now.”
Etheil knew that the magic of the Jinn was in their knowledge of mechanics and biology, and in the crystals they created at the Stellarium. The Stellarium was located atop Mount Cloudborn near Durtania. Before the Age of the Great Falling it was said to be the home of Aeoria and her angels. Today it was the temple of the High Jinn and the place where their entire Order was trained and learned in the ancient arts. There the magic crystals were created, infused with the powers of the sun, stars and moon. The Jinn could channel energies of lightning, fire, water, strength, healing and others into the crystals.
To make lesser crystals, like those that powered bolt-throwers and machinery or held minor healing attributes, the process wasn’t very complex and could be done just about anywhere, given that a Jinn had the proper equipment and time. However, the process to make High Crystals—the crystals strong enough to fuel Crystallic weapons or to fuse a body with parts as intricate as Syrus—was incredibly time-consuming and could only be done at the Stellarium. Unfortunately, High Crystals were another thing the Grimwatch had exhausted, and Etheil was concerned that the lesser crystals Mordikir could make himself were not enough to save Brandrir.
Here Shines the Sun Page 56
