The Seven

by Robert J Power

  “He deserves better than this,” said Denan weakly as all fight left him. He stumbled with the barge’s sway.

  “He left this world a long time ago. We carry a husk towards our death,” Eralorien cried. He struggled under the load, and Cherrie collapsed beside him, her face paler than ever before.

  Arielle dropped her sword loudly before falling backwards onto the glowing form of Iaculous. “This is wrong.”

  “THROW HIM OVER!” cried Iaculous in that strange, terrifying voice. The world went quiet. The wind fell still, and the sea calmed around them. The continuous squeals of the grand cantuses were silent. Iaculous attempted to rise to his feet.

  “It can’t be,” Eralorien said, as though a god had taken form in front of his eyes. Whatever ruin Iaculous had been a few agonising moments before was now disappearing in front of their eyes. His broken, ripped skin was crusting over as though a thousand days’ recovery was happening in mere breaths. That same crust was falling away swiftly, revealing fresh, pink skin beneath.

  Though it ached to stand, Silvious helped the young warrior to his feet. The closer he came, the weaker he felt.

  “I feel better.” It was a whisper, though it felt as if a giant from the lost forests of Velmar had roared each word through his chest.

  “You are taking what is ours. Stop,” gasped Eralorien.

  Cherrie stumbled against the old weaver, and he shielded her from the tearing of her soul. He shielded and embraced her completely as though he was a man in love. She groaned, and only then did Iaculous realise what damage he was doing to his comrades. For a few pulses more, he took deep breaths as though his lungs were reborn. Then he allowed the glow around his body to fade and disappear, leaving everyone on the Celeste struggling to rise from where they fell.

  “What have I done?” he cried out in a voice far more recognisable.

  “What you needed to do,” Arielle said and wheezed and coughed as she caught her breath. She had been closest and was most affected.

  “You took from our life force. You took from all our souls, and you did it carelessly!” Eralorien screamed. Cherrie pulled herself away from his protective embrace, into the hands of the equally stricken Denan. He stumbled over and struck the younger man across the face before falling to his knees once more. “You could have killed any of us. You could have killed all of us.”

  Arielle took Iaculous’s shaking hand and kissed it. “But he didn’t kill us.”

  Dirion was unmoved. “I don’t know what dark enchantments you have done to calm the water, but the beasts will be upon us. The old weaver is right. Sacrifice the body.”

  Both weavers eyed each other as only a master and apprentice could, sharing a silent argument amid miraculous events. Eralorien glared his disapproval, but he softened after a breath. His apprentice nodded and assisted the older man in their unenviable task.

  “We still shouldn’t do this,” Arielle whimpered. “It won’t even change a thing.” She sighed as though the effort of speech was exhausting.

  Somewhere out in the night, there was a fresh cry of frenzied beast, and Silvious’s heart dropped. Whatever Iaculous had done, it had not involved slaying the sea monsters.

  “The smell is just too much, and we have too many miles,” Dirion muttered.

  The weavers carried the body to the edge of the barge. Far away, the screams grew and the waves, wind, and terrible times grew with them. Silvious patted the ring in his chest and dropped his head. This was how it would be.

  “Goodbye, old friend,” Denan said. He took the weeping Cherrie in his arms as both healers dropped the body into the water, and the saga of the legendary Heygar ended forever.

  14

  Day Two

  The body floated across the surface, bobbing in the waves for a time. From the stern, Silvious looked on. He was the only one that would. The rest of the Hounds turned away, disgusted and relieved with what they had done. It was only Arielle’s melancholic mutterings that suggested remorse.

  A large wave took the body and turned it on its side. It looked as though Heygar were sleeping. Then a creature from beneath took it completely. Silvious glimpsed a fin and then he saw nothing at all.

  The Celeste sailed through the storm, and soon enough, they were alone with the waves and their journey.

  Silvious sat beside Dirion as he had little desire to face his comrades after the event. The old barge captain said nothing, and Silvious appreciated the silence. The deckhands returned to their duties as though little had happened at all. Hammers from below deck sang their song of patching up leaks, foot-long metal spikes and careful prayers. They secured the cracked mast to a near-sailing condition. In that time, Silvious did nothing more but stare into the ocean, waiting for the sun to rise.

  Eventually, Dirion took his hands, placed them on the wheel, and pointed south. “Hold her steady there,” he said and left Silvious to steer them onwards.

  With the wind in his face and salt on his lips, Silvious felt the movement of the barge and felt more at ease than he had since he had begun this endeavour. Time passed, though he never watched the moon’s movement. He didn’t want to. The barge in his grip was a fine experience.

  “You did well out there, young one,” Denan blurted and startled Silvious from his sailing. He had not heard the warrior steal up beside him.

  Silvious smiled to himself at Denan’s poor choice of words. Young? He was nearing middle age among his kind. Still, what good was there to point out such a thing?

  Denan shuffled his feet as though offering a compliment was a difficult task. “We may have drowned without you thinking so swiftly.”

  “Nearly drowned m’self. Had I thought on it a moment longer, I might have lost me nerve.”

  “Hounds don’t wait and think,” Denan said and laughed tragically. Was that not one of Heygar’s favourite sayings when action called?

  Silvious smiled and felt the loss anew. He placed his clawed fingers to his chest and touched the ring in his pocket. Would Denan be a better man knowing Heygar’s true intentions? The ring felt heavy, and he said nothing more.

  “And you will have a fine place at my side among the Hounds, little one,” Denan said and patted Silvious on the head as if he were a child. He should have known better. “Denan’s Hounds. It doesn’t sound right, does it?”

  “It has no ring to it,” Silvious said, shrugging. He knew Denan was watching his every move and gesture, but he kept his eye on the way ahead. Easier that than starting an argument with Denan over their lost master. The wounds were still fresh, and Silvious knew well Denan’s pain was probably worse than his own was.

  “Who wants to walk in the footsteps of a giant?” Denan said.

  “At least the road’ll be clear.”

  “If you serve me as you did him, then all will be well, little one,” Denan said.

  “All will be well.”

  Silvious gripped the wheel as though it was the only thing in the world which offered comfort. His world was awry. He knew Denan well enough these last few years, yet he did not know the man. He did not know his own fate within this group, nor whether it was a group worth marching with. What he knew was that the sea was beautiful at this time of the morning, with the storm far behind and the breeze driving them forward. He also knew he needed to complete Heygar’s last mission. After that, perhaps Denan would be a suitable leader. Perhaps he would not.

  “When we make dock, I’ll have a task for you, little one. I need your scouting skills, perhaps differently to what you are accustomed to. Walk the town ahead of us and learn what you can of the land. Learn what you can of our quarry and anything of value beyond. I’m wary of Mallum learning our intentions and warier of him learning that a group of mercenaries have made landfall,” Denan said and placed his hand upon Silvious’s shoulder.

  “As you wish.”

  “Be wary, my friend. Take few risks, and keep your wits about you. All parts of Venistra are treacherous to your kind, and the last thing I want is to
lose another brother. There are some who would happily slit a rodenerack’s throat and serve it as an exotic meat and think nothing more of it,” he said.

  Silvious nodded. He was wily enough to avoid a butcher’s block. Still, “friend” and “brother” had a nice ring to it.

  “I will be wary.”

  “We will meet you in the tall inn at the far end of the town before dawn,” Denan said and appeared happier now that his orders were received well enough.

  A heavy mist hung over the port where they made landing. Silvious’s heart felt heavy for the cost of the voyage and leaving the barge behind.

  With the Celeste moored along the old stone quay, Dirion came to him as he prepared to disembark alone. “The Celeste could do with a man of your talents,” he said.

  Silvious wondered if the old barge captain could read the desire openly upon his face. If Heygar was still with them it would have been like any voyage before, but he wasn’t with them anymore, was he?

  “I can’t offer the wealth of a mercenary life, but it pays enough so you can eat. You have the nerve of a giant, and such things would be welcome. We’ll be here for another few hours, my friend.” The barge captain shrugged as though offering an entire change of life and livelihood was no small matter. “My boys would welcome someone with a little sea to their legs, whatever breed of leg they might be.” Dirion shook Silvious’s hand as though he were an equal.

  “Kind of you, Captain. I’ll think on it a while.”

  Silvious dropped from the barge onto solid ground. The offer moved him. Though his mind bade him accept the role, part of him could not allow such liberating thoughts. He was here to kill Mallum. Nothing else mattered, did it? Did it? His mind spun.

  He bowed to Dirion. “I’ll think on it a while,” he repeated and wondered if he held enough nerve to return to the barge come dawn. Whatever decision he made would wait until he learned what he could for his comrades.

  Silvious walked up along the quiet quay and thought the town similar to the one they had departed from. He had expected creepy lacquered buildings with threatening spikes built into the walls, or ungodly cathedrals decorated in nasty stone gargoyles at every corner. Instead, he saw a sleepy fishing town with a few dozen buildings, just like any other fishing town in Dellerin.

  He couldn’t help think on the offer the barge captain had made. He had known no great kindness from most humans, apart from Heygar and Arielle. Occasionally, Iaculous had feigned kindness, though that may have been to win favour with his future betrothed. He thought on this and tapped the ring in his pocket. He had two missions to accomplish.

  Silvious slipped through the town like the expert thief he was. He was slinking, smooth, and a shadow to any careless observer. Unlike Dellerin under this late hour, where all shops closed with the falling sun, the town of Anbrianne was brimming with energy throughout. Humans went about their tasks as if sleep was a thing to be feared.

  He glided through each passageway and every alley in between, keeping an eye and nose out for any menace. Perhaps he might spot a wandering troupe of assassins just waiting in the wings for the Hounds, or a handful of devious weavers just waiting to do Mallum’s horrible bidding. Or perhaps the mysterious man himself, out for a midnight stroll.

  After a time that may have been an hour, he came upon the most suitable of places to complete both tasks. Though many similar buildings were boarded up, this shop shone brightly with the flicker of candles, displaying shiny valuables in its front window. The outer panelling was black, and the main windows were polished and clean. It stood out from all the poverty in the surrounding buildings. A place like that would have a fine price for a ring like his. And with the money? Well, it would be his parting gift to his comrades. Better the ring bring a little joy to their group and not condemn Cherrie to a life of eternal guilt. Better she never knew the true depth of Heygar’s love for her.

  He stepped through the doorway of Wildrew’s Worldly Wares and slipped the ring onto his largest claw as he did. Trinkets, jewellery, artwork, and a thousand unwanted gifts from lovers, friends or paupers’ heirlooms adorned the walls of the shop. It was both breath-taking and heart-breaking. Silvious rolled the ring on his finger as he eyed shelf after shelf of goblets, tankards, glassware, and trophies. He knew the ring would find a fine place somewhere among the riches and forgotten thereafter.

  “And what brings a rat into my domain?” the owner said from behind his counter at the far end of the room.

  He wasn’t alone. There were two raven-haired men standing on the other side of the counter. It was as though he had stumbled upon some great game of bartering. Between them was a thick sack, and Silvious sniffed the raw meat within. He knew hunger had become a commodity in these lands the last year. Meat was likely a fine currency.

  “I’m looking for a barter,” Silvious said easily enough, though he suspected these men were up to devilment. He would keep his wits about him.

  “The rat wants to barter something nice. Well, boys, I think our business can wait until I see to my customer.” The middle-aged man had short grey hair and stroked his smooth chin as though in great thought.

  Silvious couldn’t help wonder if he could purchase the same shaving kit the man used as part of the deal. His own kit was running a terrible, cutting rust.

  “Wildrew is the name. I have every treasure a little merchant like yourself could ever need,” the owner said.

  His two comrades laughed and made way for the hooded rodenerack at the counter. They busied themselves with perusing through Wildrew’s wares, likely searching for an additional treasure to add to their list of demands. Their feet dragged on the sawdust on the ground. Silvious thought it strange for a wealthy domain like this to carpet the floor so shabbily.

  “I have this shiny thing,” Silvious said and rolled the ring across the counter like a loose chip in a fated battle of cards. This pleased Wildrew greatly, who snapped it up and eyed the pure gold piece carefully.

  “The gems are exquisitely cut. I should lie, but I suspect you know this treasure’s value.” Wildrew held the glimmering ring near the light of one of the dozen candles in his shop. It twinkled perfectly. Silvious smiled.

  “Where is your troupe, and might they have need of precious meats?” one man asked, and Silvious was cautious. Who knew whom he spoke with?

  “I’m walking with no troupe, my friend. In fact, I’m wanting a little work around town,” he said, feigning the wanderer just right. Lull them into a false sense of security.

  He was desperate for a quick sale. Wildrew would offer a paltry sum, he would act indignant and storm out, and the shop owner would gloriously over-offer to keep him from losing the sale.

  Silvious’s eyes suddenly caught sight of a strange thing behind the counter. It was a small leather bandoleer with six glass jars attached to it.

  “A little wandering rat, all alone in the world, looking for a little cheese to chew upon,” he heard a voice mock, but it didn’t matter. He could take the mocking. Besides, he had something far more interesting to stare upon.

  He thought the bandoleer beautiful, though he could not say why. It wouldn’t even fit his waist, yet he felt lured to it. Something instinctive drew him to it as though it was more than a piece of clothing. As though something destined him to be near it. He wondered whether the ring would cover its cost.

  “Now,” Wildrew hissed, and something dragged Silvious from his stupor. It was the clutch of one man. And then the other.

  “Thurken rat!” one of them screamed, and he felt a rope loop over his neck.

  Silvious fought, screamed out, and felt a heavy strike at the back of his head. His senses spun. The rope tightened, and Wildrew appeared in front of him. He tried to claw at his assailant, and another punch knocked him to the side. He stumbled back and fell against a wall, then he caught sight of the ring as it took flight, lost in the melee somehow. He almost thought about grabbing for it, but it was already far from reach.

  “Please.”


  A boot knocked him to the ground, and he thought about the ocean.

  “Not here. Get him in the back. Do you not remember the last time? He’ll bleed everywhere,” Wildrew hissed.

  “Please,” Silvious cried again as they dragged him into a dark room devoid of trinkets and treasures.

  A blade plunged into his stomach and then a second time. Silvious screamed and remembered the waves below his clawed grip on the wheel of the barge. He wanted to sail. He wanted to touch the bandoleer. He wanted Heygar to come save him.

  Not like this.

  They knocked him to the floor, and the smell of raw meat stung his nose. They wrapped a scarf around his mouth to silence his shrill screams. Punishing hands tied a rope around his arms as he gasped for a respite. They tied a hanging rope around his feet and swiftly pulled upwards until he hung upside-down.

  “You’ll have twenty pounds and no more from this one,” Wildrew whispered.

  He placed a bucket underneath Silvious, who had fallen silent as his stomach bled out all over him. With his last breaths, he halted the screams. Instead, he stared at his killers and vowed silent vengeance on them.

  “Twenty pounds of flesh is no fair price,” one hissed, watching the angle of Silvious’s sway. If Silvious’s staring intimidated him, he showed nothing in his cruel features.

  “He walked right into the den. You hardly had anything to do,” Wildrew said and steadied the sway with a careless grip.

  Silvious thought again of the sway of the barge from atop the pouch and his nerve against such terror. He wanted that seafaring life more than ever. He wondered if Dirion would still be waiting for him at the quay.

  His killer slid the knife across his neck and held him steady as he died.

  15

  Pillow Talk