by C. M. Hayden
He tried to cheer Sikes up by playing cards with him. Back when they’d been friends in Ashwick, Taro was the only one who really had a chance at beating him. This was mostly because Taro had a quick eye and could easily tell when he was being cheated. Still, Sikes’ fingers had a magic nimbleness all their own. They could shift cards around effortlessly, ensuring he got whatever card he needed. This had (on more than one occasion) led to him getting beat to a pulp and barred from many establishments altogether.
They played for pennies, and by the time the caravan entered the winding mountain pass, Sikes was up nearly a full noble. This was the first time Taro had been this far northeast and so close to Caelis Enor. Strictly speaking, Helia and Endra did not share a true border. A sliver of Caelis Enor sat between them and belonged to the dragonkin. However, no dragon had been sighted there for over a thousand years, and it was now effectively neutral land separated by Endran and Helian fortifications on either side. Taro wasn’t exactly sure of the reason for this, but he knew that far to the north was Castiana, the flying brood-city of the dragons. Legend said that it hovered high above the clouds and that no human had been there since Essos the Great.
“Taro, it’s your deal,” Sikes said, pushing the deck toward him.
Taro was in another world. While playing cards, he’d also been looking over the map Magister Veldheim gave him, trying to determine where, exactly, they were on it. “Let’s take a break,” he said absentmindedly. Sikes obliged.
“So we’re here,” Taro continued, pressing his finger against the vellum and dragging it along the snaking road and to a blot beside the Shaldre Mountains. “What’s this?”
Vexis peered over. “The Dragon Wastelands.” She continued with her eyes fixed on the dirt road. “It’s a sacred site for the dragonkin. They say it’s where the last battle against Nuruthil took place, where Craetos the All-Seer fell. The skeletons of a thousand dragons litter the sands.”
Taro saw a way to bring up a few questions and jumped on the opportunity. “You seem to know a lot about the area.”
“I came through here a lot when I was a kid,” Vexis said.
“With your parents?” Taro asked.
Vexis scoffed to herself, almost laughing. “My father’s not the traveling sort. No, I used to come with my brothers and sisters. Kadia, Praxis…” She held on that last name for a long while.
“And your mother?”
Vexis shrugged. “Wouldn’t know her if I saw her.”
“You’ve never met her?” Taro asked, surprised he was actually getting answers.
“Can’t say. Maybe I have. It could be any bar wench or guttersnipe my father happened to be screwing at the time. Doesn’t really matter.” She straightened her back. “But no, not with my parents. I used to go hunting with my older brother Praxis in these mountains a very long time ago.”
“A brother, a father, a mother. It’s almost like you’re human,” Taro said flatly. “It’s a good cover.”
Vexis’ mouth creased into a smile. “You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”
“Then educate me.”
“It’s pointless. In the end, it’s my word against the Magisterium’s, and I already know which one you’ll choose to listen to.”
An image of Pipes’ frozen, dead body flashed in Taro’s mind. “Oh, so you’re the good guy in all this. Poor, innocent Vexis,” he said mockingly.
“I’ve never pretended to be a good person.” Her eyes darkened. “And I can honestly say I would gladly kill every single person in that wretched tower if I had the chance. They deserve whatever comes to them.”
“Pipes didn’t deserve it. Or Antherion. What were they to you? Just roadblocks?”
“Sometimes hard lessons require sacrifices,” Vexis said with an edge to her voice. “That’s one thing my blessed father taught me.”
The wagon shuttered as it rolled over a loose stone in the road, and Taro became more aware of his surroundings. For miles in front of them was nothing but rough, cracked ground and thin bits of sand intermixed with hundreds and hundreds of enormous dragon skeletons, and what appeared to be the remnants of some vast battle many years ago. Ancient spears protruded from the ground beside a gruesome array of armor so covered in soil that they seemed almost fossilized. The dragon bones were bare, dry, and white as ivory. Ribcages jutted out of the disturbed earth beside varieties of small desert life, and huge skulls lay separated from their bodies.
There were other skeletons present beside those of dragons and men. They were horrid amalgamations of limbs and teeth, and Taro recognized them as the varied skeletons of void apparitions. Some of them were the size of a man, others larger than a dragon. Even centuries later, the latent touch of void magic was still hot on the air.
“I can see why the dragons don’t come here,” Taro said to himself.
What had first appeared as flatland actually dipped down into a canyon beset on both sides by vertical cliff walls. There were layers of different colored sand going all the way to the bottom, and dragon bones lined the sides as if their bodies had been melted into the layers. As the caravan crept through, Taro felt an intense unease in the pit of his stomach. Vexis and Sikes seemed to feel it, too; both sat up at full attention, as if they were listening for something.
Vexis leaned into Taro’s ear and whispered. “There’s something wrong.”
The wagons came to a stop, and looking forward Taro saw that the road was blocked by a massive dragon femur. Rodrick and his men inspected it with groans, bemoaning the fact that it would take hours to clear the road of the obstruction.
“I guess we’ll make camp for the night,” Rodrick said, scratching at his beard.
Taro hopped out of the wagon and approached him. “We can’t stay here,” he said.
“Eh? What’s that?” Rodrick said. “We won’t be usin’ none of your witchcraft to do the job, lad. Keep that business to yourself. This close to Helia that kind of nonsense might get you burned at the stake.”
“Let’s just turn back and go around,” Taro suggested. “Back up the cliff side and through those rocks a few miles down.”
“That’ll add twenty hours to our trip. We gotta stop sometime; this is as good a place as any,” Rodrick said dismissively. He walked toward his wagon and started to unpack materials for a tent.
Taro didn’t let up. “You don’t understand.”
“I understand just fine. You’re a young lord that’s used to bein’ in comfort and safety. Afraid of a snake bitin’ you, or a scorpion stingin’ you, or afraid to sleep on rocks. Well, this ain’t—”
“Shut up and listen to me,” Taro snapped. “We’re not alone.” His eyes traced back toward the walls of the canyon.
Rodrick finally seemed to understand and took a casual survey of the bone-filled ridge. Silently, he signaled each of his men, maintaining an aura of casualness that belied a hurried pace.
“Gregor,” he said to one of his men, “unhitch the weapons from the wagon. If we’re quick, we can—”
The swift swoosh of a soaring arrow sounded from the ridge. The arrow swept passed Taro and struck Rodrick in the shoulder. There was a smatter of blood, and the man fell back into the dirt.
Arrows began to rain down from the edge of the ridge, and Taro scooted as fast as he could toward the side of the nearest wagon. Rodrick’s men grabbed him by the legs and dragged him to safety as clusters of arrows fell.
Sikes and Vexis tumbled over the edge of the wagon to sit beside Taro. A moment passed, and the arrows stopped. The sound of galloping horses came from nearby, and a voice followed shortly thereafter.
The voice sounded grizzled, and he had a thick Low Helian accent. “Those were warning shot,” the man said.
“Warning shots my ass,” Rodrick spat, pressing his hand against the wound on his shoulder. The blood was trickling down his clothing, turning the entire arm of his off-white shirt red.
“There’s at least a dozen of them,” Taro said, looking a
round the wagon wheel at the approaching horses.
The leader of the bandits spoke again as he clutched the reins and brought his horse to a trot just a few feet from where they were hiding. He made no motion to conceal or protect himself.
“We don’t want your lives, just your cargo,” he said ritualistically, as if he’d repeated the words a hundred times before. “Surrender and we’ll leave you with one wagon and one pony to take yourselves onward.”
Rodrick, apparently stricken with pain and still bleeding heavily, shouted back through his grizzled beard. “And if we tell you to screw yourselves, you motherless bastards?”
“Then you’ll get a matching arrow between your eyes,” the leader said with deadly seriousness.
Taro’s eyes met Sikes’.
“Think we can take ’em?” Sikes whispered.
“Not a chance. They only need to get one lucky shot in,” Taro said. “And it’s not our cargo, after all. Let them have it.”
“They’re full of shit,” Rodrick said. “We surrender and they’ll kill us and stuff our bodies down some hole so we won’t out them to the Shahl.”
Vexis pulled up her sleeves and tapped her magistry cuffs. “Let me handle them for you. I promise, there won’t be any ‘lucky shots,’ and we can move along.”
Taro shot the idea down immediately. “Absolutely not.”
The leader of the bandits dismounted and approached the wagon beside a half-dozen of his men. “You’ve had enough time to chat. What’s your decision?”
Taro stood up with his arms in the air and limped toward them. “I surrender.”
One by one, the others did as well until only Rodrick was left, looking utterly defeated. “Traitors.”
“Are a few bundles of silk worth your life?” Taro said, still keeping his hands in the air.
Finally, Rodrick acquiesced and stood beside the others with a grim look in his eye. He didn’t raise his hands, instead keeping them clenched over his wound.
“Can we tend to him?” one of Rodrick’s men asked the bandit leader.
The leader nodded, and the man who’d spoken retrieved a cloth bundle from one of the wagons. He unfurled it onto a rock; inside were medical scissors, rubbing alcohol, and bandages that looked like they’d been used once before and been cleaned.
The man removed the arrow with some difficulty and dressed the wound. Rodrick was clearly in a great deal of pain, but his temperament and body language were not those of pain but of aggression. He was frustrated that they’d been bested so easily; and as his eyes glanced around the canyon, it was clear he was looking for any way to gain the upper hand.
But there was none. None that would work, anyway. Sure, Taro and Sikes could put up a significant fight, but there was no way they could fend off a dozen armed men, magic or not. Vexis certainly could, but removing her cuffs was an unacceptable risk that would likely lead to her killing Taro, Sikes, and everyone just out of spite. Taro had seen her casual disregard for life before, and the moment she was free, he’d lose control of the situation.
All in all, the robbery was strangely civilized. From the looks of it, the men were seasoned professionals. Despite the location, each was reasonably well dressed, groomed, and bathed. Taro suspected that this was not where they lived, but rather just one of many locations they frequented to avoid the law. Each was Helian, but with tanner, slick skin slightly red from the beating sun. Their clothes were the same color as the sand and many of them had crafted dragon-bone necklaces and bracelets.
They searched through each of the wagons with a calculating methodology, taking note of the contents. They then searched each of Rodrick’s men and removed any loose coins and valuables.
A sharp jolt shook through Taro’s heart. His gold aurom, the map, the dowsing compass. He couldn’t part with any of those things. One by one the men continued, until they got to Vexis. One yanked her hood down and ogled her with creepy, heavy breathing.
“Looks like we got a pretty one here, Senly,” the greasy man said.
This was apparently the bandit leader’s name, as he answered to it. “Hands off,” he said. “Valuables, and move along. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”
“I dunno,” the man continued, eyeing her in a way that Taro found unsettling. “Her clothes look pretty valuable.”
Vexis smiled widely, a smile that on the surface looked pleasant and friendly, but Taro knew it harbored a dark, deep malice that sent a chill down his body. She was up to something.
Vexis put a hand on the greasy man’s shoulder and ran her fingers, one by one, down the dragon knucklebone necklace he was wearing. “You’re a gentleman, right? You wouldn’t take advantage of a girl, would you?”
Before he could answer Senly shouted another admonition his way. “Hurry it up.”
“I suppose you have to do your job,” Vexis said. “If you want, we could find a private spot and you could search me a little more thoroughly.” She bit his ear and the man shuttered.
In a flash, Senly was beside her and seized her hand by the wrist. He lifted it up over her head, and the sunlight caught the glint of a steel dagger. Senly looked at his man, who was dumbfounded, and pushed him away. “I should’ve let her gut you right here, you idiot.”
“S-s-sorry, boss, I was just—”
“I know what you were doing. Be glad you’re still alive.” Senly took the dagger from Vexis and tucked it in his belt. He lowered her hands and noticed the cuffs around her wrists. “Gods below, what do we have here?” He tapped the metal. “Remove them, love.”
Vexis gave a half-smile and tilted her head. “I’d love to, believe me. But I’m afraid they don’t come off.”
“If you want to keep your hands, you’ll find a way to make them come off.”
Vexis smiled. “If you want to keep yours, you’ll encourage me to keep them on.”
“Big words for such a tiny thing. Maybe you think I have a problem harming a woman?” Senly motioned to one of his men (a huge man of at least three hundred pounds). The man grabbed Vexis and held her arms against a rock. Vexis didn’t squirm or resist, and Senly unsheathed a wide-ended sword and held the blade over her wrist.
Vexis looked unconcerned. She stared at Senly unwaveringly and a small smile cracked on her lips.
“Something funny?” Senly said, positioning his sword. The metal just touched her skin.
“I was just thinking about what my father will do to you when he finds out about this,” Vexis said.
“You think Daddy’s going to save you? Isn’t that sweet.”
“He’s rather single-minded. Me and him don’t get along especially well, but he’s rather protective of things that are his.”
“I’m positively terrified,” Senly said.
“If you had any sense, you’d start running now and pray that he never found you.” Vexis spoke as casually as if she was conversing with a friend over tea. “When I was younger, Helia had a lot of problems with bandits on the roads. As I recall, my father put an end to most of it when he sent in the Helian army and lined their headless bodies along the road city gates. Steal a single copper, lose your head.”
“Your father?”
Vexis blinked innocently. “The Shahl. Valros Andurin.”
Senly and his men laughed out loud. “And I’m the Sun King’s bastard.” He held his sword up and made a few practice chopping motions. “You’d save yourself a lot of trouble if you’d just removed the jewelry.”
“I told you, I wish I could.” She nudged toward Taro and Sikes. “Those two are the only ones here who have the key, though.”
Senly ushered them over, and the boys hesitantly stepped forward. “That true?”
“No, sir,” Taro said quickly.
Sikes glanced at Taro, then down at his feet. “Don’t know what she’s talking about.”
Taro suspected the man was bluffing about chopping Vexis’ hands off; but even if he wasn’t, it was no more than she deserved. He was much more worried about them searc
hing him and taking his tracking tools. While most everyone’s attention was focused on Vexis, Taro silently slipped his inscriber and aurom out of his pocket and surreptitiously etched the proper runes on them: etin, ko, and vae.
“One way or another, they’re coming off,” Vexis said to Taro. “If you take them off and I get to keep my hands, I’d be much more inclined to continue helping you, Taro dearest.”
“Maybe we should—” Sikes began.
Taro shushed him. Making a bit of a show, he shook him by the collar with one hand and passed him his inscriber with the other.
Taro looked to Senly, trying to appear as confident as possible. “Sir,” he said, “we’re not with these men. We’re just passing through. Take what you want from them, but it’s in your best interest to let us through unharmed.”
“Is that so?” Senly said with a smirk.
“Yes.” Taro held his aurom forward, holding it for a long time in front of Sikes. When Sikes seemed to understand what he was hinting at, he held the side with the Sun King’s seal toward Senly. “I’m an advisor to the Crown, all three of us are representatives of the Magisterium, and she most certainly is the Shahl’s daughter.
“Now, you might be thinking that that makes us fine hostages. You’d be wrong. What that means is that you would have three of the most powerful cornerstones of the world bearing down against you, and that’s something you don’t need. Let us pass, and we’ll pretend we never met you. Rob us or harm us, and I assure you there will be no place on Arkos for you to hide.”
Senly waited as if he wasn’t sure Taro was finished. Then, he paced around and tapped Taro’s prosthetic foot with his heel. “Bullshit.”
Taro grabbed Senly by the arm and focused his templar. The man tried to pull away and realized that he wasn’t nearly strong enough. As gently as he could, trying not to break his arm, Taro pulled the man to the ground and held his hand into the dirt with his ring finger. Senly struggled and fought but couldn’t escape him.
“I could crush every bone in your arm.” Taro released, leaving a deep purple welt on the back of Senly’s hand. He rubbed it and gave Taro a dirty look. “The cuffs on her hands,” Taro continued, “if you remove them, she’ll kill you all and probably us too.”
