by Scott Moore
Alti didn’t have time to celebrate. As she started to stand to her feet, she felt the tip of Myko’s elbow meet her jaw. It took everything not to crumble. Another blow sent her to her knees. Alti scrambled away from Myko, turning to face him.
She would lose. She had been so close to overcoming the odds. So close to succeeding. She had lost the battle, but almost won the war. Now Sera would fall, Nov would die. Alti punished herself beyond belief. She wanted to just give way to her swimming thoughts. What did staying awake accomplish anyhow?
Alti turned her head fixing her eyes and blurring vision onto the man who fought with all his might. He would die, but at least he saved his dignity.
It is best to remember what should not be forgotten, and to never run from that which cannot be escaped.
32
The bastards were swilling ale, ripping savory meat from the bone, and having a jolly good time. All the while, Miles lay bound and thrown against a tree. Dealing with a migraine that he couldn’t decide the cause. It could be the alcohol, or the beating he had taken. He settled on it being a combination. Miles shifted, pushing his back farther against the tree; it didn’t help to change position, his entire body hurt. The boots, fist, and random bits of fruit had bruised more than just his ego.
The men started their ravenous laughter, and it grated on Miles’ ears. The bastards were sitting in the middle of fucking nowhere, eating noble leftovers, and still they were enjoying the night more than him. It wouldn’t have been a stretch to believe that those leftovers could have been his three months ago. Oh, how the times were not kind to everyone, especially those too weak to follow directions.
Miles glanced over at Sammy. The man had followed without heed. He had not been chained, tied, or beaten like Miles. In fact, Sammy still seemed rather indifferent to the entire situation. He still followed. Aside from his question of the king, he had not said a word on the journey through the hamlets and small farming villages. Miles found comfort by his presence. Sammy wasn’t a friend, but he wasn’t an enemy either.
Miles glanced back at the men around the fire. The soldier had been right about one thing. Miles wouldn’t make it far hopping away from those horses. However, if he could get one of those beasts for himself, things might change a little for him.
Sammy hadn’t done a thing for him in the city. He hadn’t opened his mouth about the creatures. He hadn’t told them how Miles hadn’t killed a single man in that room. Sammy had disappeared into the background, just like he did with those bastard monsters. Not a single scratch upon his body. Miles couldn’t hold it against him. A dimwitted man couldn’t fight. It wouldn’t have mattered anyhow; Miles had already been sentenced, and that outweighed any amount of dead guards in Delvi.
He wouldn’t hold it against Sammy, and Sammy would have the opportunity soon to help him. Miles couldn’t get the ties off and wrangle up a horse alone, but no one seemed to give two shits about Sammy. Sammy only had to untie the knot around his hands and Miles could do the rest.
Miles shifted, and the pain split his head and the world spun. It would have to wait at least a few hours. The plan would be simple, but it would fail if Miles couldn’t stand without stumbling back down on his face.
Miles would sleep. He would stop the world from spinning, and then he would sleep. He would sleep some ache from his muscles. Then he would rise before the men around the fire. He would instruct Sammy on how to free him from his bonds and then he would flee this damn place. He would go back to Delvi.[CF10] Or maybe he would just ride for the border, going back to Delvi may be too risky. Even a city of criminals had its limits.
Miles felt his stomach lurch. He needed to stop thinking. Needed to clear his mind and sleep. Without it nothing would work anyhow. Miles started to doze, but the men grew louder; the damn drink would keep them up for many more hours. Miles tried to block them out and tried to shut off his mind, but it raced with thoughts. The more he thought of turning his mind off, the more he thought, and the more he thought the faster the world seemed to spin. He placed his hand on the ground to balance himself in his seated position. He felt Sammy stir beside him but didn’t open his eyes for fear of losing the contents of his stomach. He doubted the meat and drink would taste as good on the way up.
The cries from the fire grew even louder as Miles sat there fighting himself. The men almost sounded like they were afraid of something. Miles wanted to shift to look but the drink and pain prevented him from moving or opening his eyes. He swore Sammy said something to him, but Miles didn’t hear what he said, nor did he care. He wouldn’t fall into the trap of conversation, not at the moment; he needed sleep to escape.
The sleep seemed to pull at him, and he longed to find it. The damn cries continued, however. They grew louder and then Miles heard men yelling and fighting. Did the guards drink too much and begin a brawl? Miles thought it could be his best opportunity, but he could barely move. He opened his eyes, not because he wanted to, but because he heard something that couldn’t be made by a man. A deep-throated roar sent Miles scooting back against the tree. The thought of throwing up or dying from the aches in his bones faded, but fear replaced it.
…
An odd sensation ran through his body. He had felt it before, just days ago in the bar when the girl died. He had felt the tingling then, and he felt it again now. Not sure what it meant, but he was almost sure it had something to do with the creatures that popped up out of nothing.
His thoughts ended up being right on cue as the creature popped from the ground around the fire. Their claws were as long as one of Miles’ daggers. The teeth and eyes were as yellow as the moon and the former were sharp as the swords at the soldier’s hips. Their bodies didn’t tower over the men, but they stood eye level with them. These creatures were bigger than the last batch had been.
The men, who were just moments ago laughing with joy, silenced. Their jaws opened wide and their eyes wider. Not a single sound emitted for a fraction of a second, and then the night came alive again.
The first two men yelled out and spilled their cups down their front. Two others stood and ran toward the tree line but fell in their excitement; their pants were wet as well, but Sammy couldn’t remember them spilling their drinks. Two others didn’t have the chance to run or yell, as the creatures reached out with their sharp talons and lopped their heads clean from their shoulders.
Sammy felt nothing. Staring out into the night as if the stars shone just as bright as they had minutes before. He didn’t care about the men around the fire. He found it unfortunate that the creatures had returned, but he couldn’t explain why.
More men unleashed screams into the night. The creatures moved around the fire now. The screams pierced Sammy’s ears. Beside him Miles came to, his eyes shooting open.
Miles looked afraid. That look of hatred had fallen from his eyes. The thought of killing more of these beasts seemed beyond even his lust for death. His body looked tired. Tired beyond moving and fighting.
The men who had yelled, poked, prodded, and punched Miles were now being torn to shreds.
Sammy could hear the breath of Miles getting louder and deeper. How long could Miles sit frozen in the fear? The screams dwindled as the men were torn apart. They died without a fight. The creatures moved through them with ease.
The creatures seemed to feel none of the emotions the humans felt. They did not look joyous or afraid. They chewed on the dead men’s bones like they were another piece of food. One man was unlucky enough to still be alive as one creature crunched his knee between its teeth.
Not a single man had pulled his blade to fight. When Miles had fought them, he had always broken out of the stupor and fought. These men were not like Miles. They were not born killers. They were all much more afraid, or not as willing to live.
Miles had an anger about him. Something visceral that always appeared in his eyes. Something that let Sammy know he would kill and not stop until the killing was done. These men lacked that sense of urgency, th
at primal instinct to live. Miles would have bitten, clawed, poked, and prodded to stay alive. These men screamed and wet the fronts of their pants with a mysterious liquid.
Sammy noticed that the labored breathing of Miles had stopped. When he turned, Miles had pushed himself up to a seated position and reached toward a low-hanging branch. He caught Sammy’s eye and held it for a moment.
“Sammy, I need you to do something for me now,” he said while grabbing the branch and pulling himself up.
Sammy didn’t reply, he just waited for Miles to continue with his request. He hated taking his eyes from the slaughter, something about it pulled his interest. Miles gave a sigh as he made it to his feet. He looked off toward the carts and then back at the men being slaughtered.
“I need my blade,” Miles said.
Sammy sat for a few more seconds. The look in Miles’ eyes that made him move. The look that said he wouldn’t die here today, not like those men. Sammy got to his feet but didn’t bother to move fast. He walked toward the carts without purpose.
To Sammy, time was a silly concept. It made little sense at all. If he stopped it all felt the same, nothing felt any different from one step to the next, only the location changed. Time stayed the same. Miles didn’t share his opinion it seemed, as he yelled for him to hurry, well not quite a yell, more like a strong whisper. Miles still feared the beast, but his will to not be ripped to shreds seemed to conquer it a little.
So, Sammy picked up his pace. He didn’t run, but he made a brisk walk toward the wagon. When he reached it, he scanned the contents, food, liquid, barrels of something unknown, and then the weapons. An array of different blades, bows, spears and more weapons that Sammy didn’t have any idea about scattered across the cart. He glanced over them, none of them were Miles’ blade. He continued to scan and found it in the corner, the rusted tip sticking out under a small tarp. It was covered in blood, and black ichor, and a layer of rust, but Sammy thought Miles would want his own weapon. He seemed to have a thing for it.
As Sammy turned away from the wagons, he noticed that the scene by the fire wrapped up. The creatures had killed the last of the men. No more screaming, no more running, just the creatures scanning over their carnage. It seemed to Sammy that they would not be visiting the king. At least not with these soldiers.
Miles grabbed the blade from Sammy’s hands. “You couldn’t have picked a better one?” he asked.
Sammy shrugged maybe he had been wrong about the love for his rusted blade.
Miles looked down at his cuffed hands. The rope frayed already, and Miles flipped his blade, putting it between his wrists. It should have been a simple heave and cut Sammy assumed. The look on Miles’ face told him that wouldn’t be the case.
“Damn rope is covering chain. Bastards wanted me to try to run. They were trying to get me to attempt an escape. Another damn excuse to beat on me. Well the fuckers got theirs.” Miles stopped talking a moment and looked toward the fire. The creatures were not moving with any purpose. Sammy knew they could if they chose to, but their bellies seemed full and they seemed more sluggish. “Seems I will get mine as well,” Miles said in a hoarse whisper.
Sammy looked toward the beast. He could feel their relaxed nature. He could tell that their hunger had been sated by the skin and insides of the soldiers. However, Sammy could feel that rage behind the lethargy. He knew that soon enough the creatures would be ready to attack again, and when they did Miles wouldn’t stand a chance in chains.
Lucky for Miles, Sammy remembered who had placed him in the ropes. He remembered the man’s face. Sammy moved toward the fire. The creatures didn’t bother Sammy. Like all the others, it seemed as if Sammy didn’t exist to them.
As Sammy approached the creatures, he felt the squish of blood, flesh, and organs beneath his feet. Then he felt the bones of the men’s shredded bodies. None of it affected him. He was indifferent to the men who had died.
When he felt the fire touch his skin, he knew that it must have been chilly, but he had not noticed before, or cared. He found the man who had tied Miles to the horse. He approached him with wonder at how his body sat so lifeless and destroyed, when minutes before he had been drinking and laughing with his friends. The leader of the bunch, he wondered if he led them to wherever they went after their bodies died.
Sammy knelt next to the lifeless corpse. He fidgeted around in the man’s front pockets. It was a few moments before he felt the coldness of the metal. His fingers grasped it and pulled out a small silver key. Sammy closed his palm around it and stood, looking back toward Miles.
Miles hopped around with both of his feet still tied together. He wouldn’t make it a minute in a fight with the creatures. At least not without Sammy and his help. Sammy wondered if even the key and the chains being taken off could help. Miles looked to be fighting pain with every hop. He looked to be trying to keep his balance just standing still.
Sammy walked back toward the creatures. As he passed, he stuck his hand out trying to touch a creature’s shoulder. His hand moved right through. Sammy continued walking, and the beast continued not to care that he existed.
Sammy moved passed the creatures and back toward Miles. Miles seemed to be losing hope or strength as his hops came less frequently than before. Soon he would be face down on the ground and then soon after that he would be dead, just like the soldiers around the fire. Sammy moved in closer and grabbed the chains. Miles looked down with fear and determination in his eyes. Not ready to die, no matter his words, he wanted to live Sammy thought.
Sammy held open his hand and showed Miles the key.
“Where did you get that?” Miles asked.
Sammy didn’t reply. Instead he put the key into the hole and turned it opening the chains.
Sammy watched Miles look up at the beasts who were now making their way toward them. The look of death had left Miles’ eyes. Replaced with a look of resignation. Then Miles reached out and grabbed Sammy’s hand and took off running. His sword still lay in his grip, but he didn’t run toward the beasts. Miles made his way, as fast as he could, toward the horses. The horses were screaming and kicking as Miles and Sammy approached them. Miles put a foot in the nearest saddle and hoisted himself up. He held out his free hand and pulled Sammy into the saddle behind him with one motion. Then he reached out with his sword and cut the tether from the tree.
Miles kicked the horse in its ribs. Sammy doubted the horse needed the extra motivation, as it took off at a gallop. Miles redirected the horse toward the road and kicked harder at its side.
Sammy turned and looked back at the creatures. They were still coming, but they had not renewed their energy. They seemed to know that no matter how far Sammy and Miles ran they could catch them. They could show up at anytime and anywhere.
Sammy turned back around. The creatures wouldn’t catch them and that made them the safest they could hope to be.
33
Nov pressed through the growing crowd. His sword waved in front of him, dripping from the black blood of the Groundborn. People jumped out of his way. They hadn’t been willing to listen to him days before, but now they moved when he yelled. If only they would have removed their heads from their asses.
Nov turned onto another street, not stopping to navigate the paths. The Council Hall guided him, always in view. Always towering over the rest of the city like a menacing beast. It blocked out the sights behind, but Nov could use his imagination to understand what happened.
The Duchesses were seeing firsthand what he had told them would come. They understood now what the Groundborn could do to their way of life. Nov still had to save them. If he didn’t, the whole show would be for nothing.
Another road clogged with people. Everyone clamored from the bars and Nov moved past them. The Groundborn hadn’t stopped here to slaughter, and he thanked the heavens for that. The panic across the city grew more and more the deeper into the city he went. Screams should not have traveled this far, but still they trailed to him. Or maybe they
didn’t. Maybe he only heard what he assumed.
Nov didn’t have time to worry about the real and the imaginary. He turned into the entertainment district. Hovering above him, the council building pressed its power onto his shoulders. They had said no to him. They brought this. He had opened the gates, but those men had forced his hand. Still it did nothing to alleviate the pang of guilt growing in his chest.
Nov sucked in a deep breath. He shouldn’t have neglected his training. By the time he made it to the tower he would be gasping for air and be of no use to Alti or anyone else. If Alti still lived.
Nov imagined he heard the growls of the Groundborn. They were close enough now to make his eardrums rattle. He pressed harder. The city thinned around the Council Hall. Even in a time of strife the world followed the rules. No one entered or came near the hall without a prior engagement. Nov ignored the yelling guards. He hoped they did follow him. He could use their swords. Although he doubted they were sober enough to care more than a shout.
Nov passed the hall and continued on past the noble mansions. Homes large enough to house half the city. Normally Nov would have been disgusted at the show of bravado and ego. At the time, he couldn’t stop to think about it. Stopping meant death for hundreds of people. Nov’s hand trailed to his side, the pain building below his left ribs. Just a bit further he kept telling himself. Then the hard part would begin.
Nov turned the last corner. There, placed behind the shield of the great Council Hall stood the tower of Lady Mankamp. It didn’t have the size of the Council Hall, but what it lacked it size it made up in grandeur. The Council Hall was solid gray and ominous. The tower of Mankamp sprouted flowers and spread a sense of wealth. Mankamp and the others on this side of the hall could pretend all they wanted that the city didn’t exist. They could hide behind their power, wealth, and greed, but tonight that wouldn’t save them.
Nov took a last deep breath and pressed on.