Word of Truth

by Rhett C. Bruno

  “Wow,” Sora said, reaching for it.

  He tossed it back into his pocket immediately. “You don’t wanna touch that.”

  “Whit,” Sora said, grabbing him by the arm. He turned to her. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “’Okay’ is a relative statement,” he said. “I’m pretty woozy from blood loss.”

  “Don’t be such a baby,” she said, smiling broadly. She leaned in and kissed him.

  “Now I’m really woozy,” he said, throwing his hand over his forehead.

  Sora laughed and placed her hand over his wound, closing her eyes. Whitney winced, but a feeling of cool comfort flooded him as blue smoke rose from the spot. When she removed her hand, he was miraculously healed. And she didn’t even faint.

  “There,” she said. “Good as new.”

  “That’s some trick,” Brouben said.

  “Thanks,” Whitney muttered.

  “We gotta get goin,” Brouben said.

  They pressed forward around a corner, down a ramp. They were running, but there was no indication anything was following them.

  “I think we lost them,” Tum Tum said as if reading Whitney’s thoughts.

  “Still think we should run,” Whitney said.

  They all picked up the pace.

  “This was us,” Sora said. “She knows where we are.”

  “Nesilia?” Whitney said.

  “Who else?” Tum Tum growled.

  “Lucindur did her thing and sent me somewhere. There was a village on fire. Nesilia saw me in the vision. I came to and not a minute later, the whole mountain was crawling with goblins.”

  Whitney swore.

  “We knew this would happen,” Lucindur said, voice dripping with regret. “Using my magic.”

  “It was my choice, my lady, and mine alone,” Brouben said.

  “It could be worse,” Whitney argued.

  “Halt right there!” a voice shouted from behind.

  “Ye couldn’t keep yer mouth shut?” Tum Tum said.

  Whitney looked over his shoulder to see Gargamane the Gold and his men following behind.

  “There’s an exit. Up ahead,” Brouben said.

  “Did we at least find out where she is?” Whitney asked Sora as they ran.

  “No, but we know where she’s headed. Yarrington,” Sora said.

  “Yarrington?”

  “She’s headed straight there, surrounded by an army, set out to destroy Iam’s beloved Kingdom. I know her mind, Whitney. I can… feel it. Revenge is all she wants. She’s consumed by it. Distracted. It will be the best place to get a jump on her.”

  “Shog in a barrel,” Whitney said. “We have to warn Torsten, then. Make sure they’re ready to fight and win us an opening.”

  “Our thoughts exactly.”

  “I only wish it weren’t so far…” Whitney said.

  “Are ye really gonna complain about a long walk?” Tum Tum asked.

  “I need to get ye away from him first,” Brouben said, thumbing back to Gargamane.

  “Speaking of, are we almost there?” Whitney asked.

  “Right here,” Brouben said. They came to a stop at a small vertical shaft with a ladder leading upward.

  Sora sent a fireball back through the tunnel. It wouldn’t really hurt the clanbreakers in their armor, Whitney didn’t think, but it would buy them some time.

  Whitney held his breath for a moment. He didn’t know what would happen once they crawled up that ladder, but he knew what needed to happen here. He grabbed Sora and kissed her deeply, one hand on each of her cheeks. When they were done, he said, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “All right, all right. There’ll be plenty of time for that if the goddess don’t kill ye.” Brouben motioned to the ladder. He tossed Whitney a key. “Up ye go.”

  “What is this thing?” Tum Tum asked as Whitney climbed. “Ain’t never seen it before.”

  “Hatch leads up to Groblegrook’s blacksmithy,” Brouben explained. “Always thought he was crazy for wantin it to be in the valley, but he said the steel gets its hardest when it cools in the snow. Guess it’s a good thing. Once ye get out, go south about a day’s journey. Ye’ll soon recognize the area if ye’ve got any adventurin under ye.”

  “What—yer not comin?” Tum Tum asked.

  Brouben placed a hand on Tum Tum’s shoulder. “These be my people, and I be their Prince. I can’t leave em like this. Not when I caused it. I’ll rally those loyal to me and drive the beasts back into the darkness, away from you lot. Besides, someone’s gotta hold off Gargamane and his clanbreakers.”

  “But your father—“ Lucindur began.

  “Will do what he thinks he must. And so, will I. I belong here, defendin til death.”

  “Sounds likely,” Whitney said from above.

  “Aye, but I’ll die soakin in the blood of the enemy, not hiding away like gold in a vault. Ain’t a better way to go.”

  “I can think of many,” Whitney said. “But it’s your life.”

  “Thank you,” Sora said to Brouben, taking his hand and staring straight into his eyes. “Make things right with your father. I promise, you won’t regret it.”

  “Let’s hope Nesilia’s claws aren’t in too deep,” Brouben said. “He was a brave man once.”

  Whitney noticed Sora’s features darken at the thought. “Sora, we gotta go!”

  Gargamane was shouting again, this time incensed by the flame.

  “It was good seein ye again, old friend,” Tum Tum said.

  “And ye,” Brouben replied. “If Meungor gives a shog or two, we’ll meet again. Otherwise, I’ll see ye for a pint in his halls.”

  “Rock below, rock above,” Tum Tum said and mimed toasting his goblet.

  “To Yarrington,” Whitney said, throwing open the hatch. “I can’t wait to see how much Torsten has missed me.”

  XXVIII

  The Caleef

  The Black Sands were harsh and unforgiving. Even with the water they could gather in Saujibar, and food scavenged from Nahanab, many didn’t survive the trek. Especially the children and those markless who’d grown so used to the luxuries of Latiapur.

  Bodies were left behind for the gallers and the wolves. Mahi hated every moment of it, but the limited supplies and access to shade needed to favor their army. Not a single warrior was expendable against Nesilia’s darkness. Especially now that Mahi had seen firsthand what she was capable of.

  But, finally, they’d cleared the M’stafu Desert, where the black sand swirled away into the white. Where the air was cooled by moisture and a draft blew in from Trader’s Bay. The Wildlands, as Torsten Unger had called them, was now behind them as well. White Bridge was not far.

  Mahi unfurled the cloth wrapping her half-bald head and breathed it in. She longed to feel the kiss of the wind on her skin but knowing it was there would have to suffice.

  “I never thought I’d be so happy to leave our lands,” Bit’rudam said, riding another zhulong at her side. Mahi wanted to ditch hers like Torsten had, but she knew it was foolish. She needed all her energy for the fight to come.

  “Babrak’s lands now,” she said.

  “They’ll never belong to him. We’ll destroy this Nesilia, and then we’ll drive him out, I swear it, Mahraveh.”

  “One fight at a time,” she said.

  “I know, but… how can you be so calm about this? He was one of us.”

  “Because he’s aligned with a monster,” she said. “First time he steps out of line, he’s dead. And you know him. That won’t take long.”

  “It will not feel as good if we are not holding the blade.”

  “And yet, he’ll be dead,” Mahi said, giving her zhulong a kick. It trotted ahead, leaving Bit’rudam to consider things.

  There was truth to what she’d said, but that wasn’t all. She was calm. Remarkably calm. And it was likely because the further away from Latiapur and the Black Sands they traveled, the more her memory cleared.

  In Latiapu
r, she had to continually fight back the surge of blessed memories from Caleefs past. She hadn’t even realized how incessant it was until now as her head quieted. This was a blank slate, where few Caleefs had previously ventured.

  She raced by the horde of marching people. Torsten offered her a nod, still leading the zhulong carrying his King’s body. His people glowered, though said nothing. Everyone was far too exhausted by then to argue.

  But at least Torsten was right about one thing. Babrak’s army never pursued them. Even as Mahi crested the nearest hill and glanced back, they were nowhere to be seen. She wasn’t sure what that meant, but if Torsten was right about Nesilia’s arrogance, it would be what undid her.

  She should have slaughtered us all when she had the chance, Mahi thought.

  Seconds later, an arrow split the dirt a few feet in front of her. Her zhulong squealed as it spun away, and she reached for her new spear. Armor clanged as Serpent Guards ran to her aid, forming a wall before her and unsheathing their weapons. Torsten mounted the zhulong along with Pi’s body and hurried her way.

  Mahi didn’t flee. She soothed her zhulong with soft strokes behind her ear and stood proud, staring across the field of crusted dirt, toward a trench of wooden spikes filled with Glass archers.

  The line of them had their bowstrings pulled taut, while the man who’d fired stood, awestruck, staring at his hands. The arms of the others all trembled as they held, waiting for orders from commanders who seemed as dumbfounded as they were.

  “Don’t fire!” Torsten yelled, waving his arms as he raced by. Bit’rudam charged out of nowhere, his zhulong skidding in front of Torsten’s and sending it onto its hind hooves. Torsten grasped to hold Pi’s body on.

  “My Caleef, fall back, it’s an ambush.” Bit’rudam said, whipping around.

  “Get away from him!” Sir Mulliner roared. He charged from seemingly out of nowhere and barreled into the side of Bit’rudam’s mount. Mahi couldn’t imagine how much hitting the side of the muscular beast must have hurt, considering he and the other Shieldsmen had ditched much of their plated armor by then to combat the heat.

  Mahi rolled her eyes. While arguing broke out behind her and more Shieldsmen and Shesaitju arrived, tempers flared. She spurred her zhulong forward, remembering the stories of the last battle here. How one stray arrow fired by Nesilia cost hundreds their lives. All because their two Kingdoms couldn’t trust each other. Wouldn’t trust each other.

  “My Caleef!” Bit’rudam shouted. She heard what sounded like a punch, then the squeal of a zhulong. Its hooves crunched dirt behind her.

  “Relax, Bit’rudam,” she said. “It was an accident.”

  “How do you know? This could all be—“

  “Because they won’t shoot me,” Torsten said. He rode up behind them, and as Mahi glanced back, she noticed the lines of opposing forces preparing to skirmish at the crest of the hill.

  “I don’t always need your protection,” Mahi addressed Bit’rudam.

  “I know, I—“

  “And you don’t always need to apologize. Now, go and tell everyone to put down their swords so we can cross White Bridge.”

  Bit’rudam stared silently for a few seconds, then bowed his head. “Yes, my Caleef.” He hurried away without letting her see the shame painted on his cheeks.

  “Sheath your swords!” Lord Jolly shouted as his horse trotted up.

  “They’ve all been through a lot,” Torsten said to Mahi.

  “And we haven’t?” she replied.

  He grunted in response, then turned back to his men. “Sir Mulliner. Lord Jolly. Keep everyone in line, or so help me, Iam.”

  “My pleasure,” Lord Jolly replied.

  Sir Mulliner responded only with a grimace and a half-nod.

  Torsten then nodded Mahi along toward the Glass army’s camp, and they set off alone. The eastern spires of White Bridge rose high above them, the tops charred and broken apart. Trenches with spiked walls were dug in a large radius off the entry, filled with archers and the army’s camp.

  All around it was a dirt field with patches of trampled grass. One swathe of the dirt was a much darker color than the rest, and tips of stray arrows that hadn’t been cleared away glinted in the afternoon sun.

  “That’s where my father died?” Mahi asked, knowing the answer.

  “It’s where we all would’ve died if not for Iam,” Torsten said.

  “Where was your god in Latiapur, then?”

  Torsten bit his lip. “I’m not sure. Where was yours?”

  “Hiding. Or dead. Doesn’t matter.”

  “How could that not matter?”

  “Because in the end, this is our world. Not theirs. Just as no parent should own the future of their child, they don’t own ours. We all have to work together, Sir Unger. That…” She pointed back to their exhausted forces, Bit’rudam and Sir Mulliner still bickering while others tried to pry them away. “…can’t keep happening. They need to start seeing we’re all in this together.”

  “That’s why your father arranged that marriage. Or, rather… you did.”

  “Still, we need honesty between all of us. Otherwise, one more stray arrow will finish Nesilia’s job for her.” She couldn’t help but think about how she wasn’t being entirely honest. The idea for the marriage had been inspired by Yuri Darkings. But anyone knowing that might have called it all into question. Especially after all the evil he’d done to both the Glass Kingdom and her people. Some secrets had to stay buried for the good of everyone.

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  She held her gaze on him for a few lingering moments. He seemed earnest, but ever since they left Saujibar, she felt something different in him. Without eyes, it was hard to get a true read of him, but there was no denying it—he was hiding something.

  “Good,” she said, then sped her zhulong away.

  By then, the Glass archers had lowered their bows and stood at attention. “Sir Unger, we’ve been awaiting you since the scouts arrived,” the garrison commander said, donning the armor of a Shieldsman. He pushed through his ranks, then struck his chest and bowed at the waist.

  “And yet you fire an arrow at our royal guest?” Torsten questioned.

  “I’m s… so sorry, my Lord,” a lowly archer spoke. He fell to his knees before them and groveled. “I meant to hold… I… I…”

  “He saw you alone first and thought the worst,” the commander said. “Every night, someone walks right up to our defenses. They don’t answer. Don’t care about warning shots. One even took an arrow to the knee and simply limped away, cackling.”

  “They’re possessed by demons of Elsewhere,” Torsten said.

  The archer’s face lost all its color. The commander swallowed hard. “I see…” he muttered. “And… how do we know you’re not…” He swallowed again, eyes darting in Mahi’s direction. “You know…”

  “Because we answer,” Mahi said. “And you’d be dead already.” Even more color drained from their faces, along with all the soldiers within earshot.

  Torsten sighed. “The Light is with us, brother.”

  “And the King. Is he really…” he didn’t dare finish the sentence.

  Torsten looked to the dirt as he patted the wrappings of Pi’s corpse, tied across the front of his zhulong. “He is finally at rest. But I know, deep in my heart, that he would want revenge for what was done. Nesilia will pay the ultimate price.”

  “That’s not bein what Dellbar the Holy said,” an archer with an accent Mahi understood to be from the impoverished parts of Yarrington voiced.

  “He passed here?” Torsten asked. He drove his zhulong through the ranks, causing them to part and reveal the man who’d spoken.

  “Aye. Few days back, he did. Said if we all stayed here, we’d die here. Then, he rode right on without sayin much else.”

  “I’m sure you misunderstood him,” Torsten said.

  “No, I was right there. Took his horse for some water.”

  “Then you won�
��t mind fetching more for them.” Torsten pointed toward the mass of survivors. He clapped. “Everyone, on the double. As much as you can get from the lake. Food, too. I want our stores emptied for our people.”

  “Those ain’t our people,” another soldier said.

  Torsten’s zhulong stomped right up to the man before Mahi could do the same. He glowered down, towering over him from atop an already tall steed. The soldier slinked back. Torsten hopped down and approached the man, still taller, even off his mount.

  “They are now,” he growled. “Everyone, get moving. That’s an order.”

  The ranks broke, and soldiers scurried in every direction. Torsten waved back to Mahi’s army, and when she did the same, they marched onward. Then, Torsten led Mahi through the camp, toward White Bridge itself. As they moved, people started to notice the body-sized wrappings on Torsten’s zhulong, and broke out into muttering and whispers.

  “Is that the King?”

  “We’re doomed.”

  “Iam really has abandoned us.”

  All the enjoyment of Mahi’s mind being silent went with it. She could tell how each remark irked Torsten to his core. His shoulders looked to be bearing the weight of this entire bridge.

  There were stories about the place. A great bridge built by legendary dwarves out of immense blocks of stone, reinforced with some precious metal from the mountain near Yarrington. She’d expected more. It was massive, sure, and the damage to its spires didn’t help, but it still had nothing on the Boiling Keep.

  “We’ll set your people up west of the bridge,” Torsten said. “There’s a clearing and a small support village for the soldiers here. They’ll have to cram together, but at least it’ll be safe.”

  “And separate from your people,” Mahi remarked.

  Torsten’s jaw clenched.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Mahi said. “I’m grateful for everything.”

  “You lost your home, Caleef Mahraveh. You have nothing to apologize for.”

  The breath caught in her throat. The way he said it, so straightforward. So honest. She hadn’t even really thought about it that way yet, but he was right. First Saujibar, then Latiapur, even her afhemate. Every home she found in places and people seemed to vanish.