“Neither do I.”
Valerik gave the order to furl the sails. Across the fleet, the soldiers began to draw up their sails and ready the gangplanks.
Valerik approached Cain. “Shall I give the order to dock?”
Cain scanned the port of Ekran. He didn’t like the way the place felt. Was it still abandoned? The quiet buildings. The barren roads.
“It’s about time!” a voice burst from the silence. A man stepped from a side road and approached the ships with a flourish of his arms. “We’re going mad with boredom here!” He chomped into a fruit pastry as he walked.
Cain watched the man approach. He turned to Valerik, and with a flick of his hand, soldiers lined the edge of the deck with bows ready.
The man’s eyes flashed wide and he raised his hands. Spitting out his food, he cried, “Easy now!”
“Where is your armor, soldier?” Cain asked. “You trade steel for rags?”
“Can’t a poor bastard take an afternoon nap?”
“Where are the rest of your men?” Cain called to him. At this, soldiers appeared from every building and road. They gathered by the dozens along the docks, some in Inveiran plate and mail, others in roughspun cloth.
“We couldn’t be sure if you were friend or foe, what with all the rebels running around nearby.” The man returned his attention to his lunch. “We’re a small force—we couldn’t take chances. Better to play it safe, you see.”
Cain glanced around the dilapidated buildings. “Why are you here? This place has long been abandoned.”
The man shrugged. “We figured it was the safest place to be after we were ambushed on the march from Killu. We’ve been hiding out for a few days now, waiting for friendlies to come around.”
“Killu. The Acedens hold the city then?”
The man spat. “The bastards.”
Cain waved for his archers to lower their weapons. “What’s your name, soldier?”
“Soren Hathsir, the Half Helm, if it please you.”
“Well met, Soren Half Helm. Are these men yours?”
The man inclined his head. “Most of them are, anyways. Our captain is dead in the woods with a quarrel through the throat, killed by rebel raiders. I’m third on the list, though with Gerik bleeding out his innards, I suppose I have the honor now.”
“Very well, soldier. King Branim summons your garrison for the defense of Brunein. We sail to Galenth to gather reinforcements. Make ready, we have a long road ahead. Next time, don’t take a nap.”
Cain glanced around the broken town again. Something about this place seemed off. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Perhaps he was being paranoid, but he’d learned long ago to listen to his gut.
He ordered his men to set sail, eager to be gone from this place.
Cain, Aren, and Adriel leaned over the ship’s bow, heads together over a map. “We should be at the landing zone by tomorrow,” Cain said. “It’s another day’s march north to Galenth from there. Let’s end this quickly and get back to the real war.”
Aren muttered, “This is the real war for all we know.”
Cain opened his mouth but a gasp from Adriel silenced him. He turned to see her gazing down the river, her eyes wide with astonishment.
Before them were the great mountains of Northern Inveira, their snowcapped peaks sweeping up into the blue sky. They stretched endlessly in every direction, engulfing the Eraeos. The thin strand of sapphire sliced through the edge of these mountains.
And there, among the mountains, was a strange impossibility. A great, bearded face extended from the mountain directly opposite them, several hundred feet in height and carved out of the flesh of the rock. Crystalline waters rolled from its mouth and crashed into the wide lake below in a shower of foam. The Eraeos split this lake and continued toward the northeast, winding through the maze of mountains.
The cogs carved through the lake’s pristine waters. As they neared the head, they noticed spires rising from the lake’s sides, almost hidden among the sheer mountain slopes. Upon closer inspection, however, they realized they were bony fingers of stone. The hands cradled the lake, its palms and half its fingers dipped in the waters, its fingertips stretching far above the treetops.
“This is incredible!” Adriel gasped as they neared the colossal statue. Everyone aboard the transports looked on in awe.
“Stop the ship!” Cain ordered to the nearby soldiers. They saluted before rolling up the sails and dropping anchor.
“Why’d we stop?” Aren asked.
Cain ignored him and turned to a man. “Soldier, what is this place?”
“I’ve heard of it once. I don’t think anyone knows, sir. Before our time though, that’s for sure.”
Aren stepped in front of Cain and raised a brow. “What’s going on? We need to get moving. Galenth isn’t far.”
“Relax,” Adriel answered, “let the men stretch their legs for once. We’ve been on these ships for weeks.”
Aren relented with a sigh. “Fine. But I don’t feel good about this. Let’s just get to Galenth soon, alright?”
“Live a little, Aren,” Adriel said. Aren shrugged and nodded to Valerik. The soldier hurried off and rang a signal bell. The other transports dropped anchor beside the shoreline and their soldiers left the ships, stretching and yawning.
“Shall we find some dinner?” Aren asked, moving for the gangplank.
The two nodded and followed him down the gangplank and onto the rocky shore.
Adriel pointed to a grove of nearby evergreens. “Search those trees. There’s surely rabbit or squirrel there.” Aren clambered over a pile of rocks and slipped through the trees.
Adriel drew her bow and led Cain along the lakeshore, working their way through rocks and roots and trees. She stooped to the dirt to study a trail pounded into shape by small hooves. “You are distant,” she said.
Cain blinked, unsure if that was a question or observation. He decided on the latter. “I can’t hide anything from you, can I? How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “How do you not lose it? You’re always so damn happy.”
She smiled faintly. “I try not to let things get to me. If I let my past tear me down, then Abaddon has won. There’s no need to destroy us when we destroy ourselves.”
“There are parts of me that I’ve already lost. And those that remain…”
She turned to him with a sly smile. “You know what your problem is? You don’t know how to have fun. I think you’ve forgotten what that word even means.”
“I know what fun is,” Cain grunted, watching her as she slipped off her boots and stockings.
“Oh, do you?” She then stepped forward and gave him a push.
“What are you doing?” he cried, pushing her away.
“Having fun.” She pushed again.
Cain tumbled with a curse and splashed into the lake.
He tossed his head above water, gasping for air as he flailed. “Shit, it’s cold!”
Adriel cackled as she watched him flounder. She took a step over the edge and dropped into the lake in an elegant arc. She burst from the waters and tossed back her hair with an exhale. She swam toward him, and, annoyingly, she was grinning.
Cain managed to tread water, albeit barely. “What’s so funny? You could’ve killed me!”
Adriel laughed again. “But I didn’t.”
“How did you know I could swim?”
“I guessed. Not very well though, mind you,” she added as Cain nearly sank again. He choked on the cold water and gasped for air. She turned on her back and swam in leisurely circles around him.
Her green and ivory clothes clung to her frame in the numbing waters. Her hair swirled around her like seaweed and her shadow danced along the pearly rocks of the lakebed. She parted the waters with a skilled grace, tossing beads of water and foam into the air.
Cain shook his drenched hair as he watched her, his dark locks falling about his face
. He eventually followed her to the nearby waterfall.
Its waters churned with a dull roar and broke the glass-like surface. The two admired the stone head from this vantage point, gazing up at the cracks and pits that scarred its face.
“Maybe it’s a monument to the Forgotten,” Cain said. “Or a relic of some long dead civilization.”
“I don’t know. But it’s beautiful somehow.”
The now setting sun glistened off the waters that poured down around them, shimmering gold in every drop. The light refracted in the mist to form a lustrous rainbow that arced along the water.
Adriel dove into the waterfall., the torrent washing over her in a wave of colors. Her form broke on the other side of the falling waters. Cain sighed and pushed through the water. The cold wave crashed over him, nearly forcing him under. He burst free, spitting and blinking.
“Cain,” she whispered, “promise me that you won’t let things get to you.”
“This cold sure is getting too me,” he shivered.
She laughed, splashing him with water. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
Cain treaded in place for a moment, watching her. “I don’t know if I can make that promise. Or any promise. Not anymore.”
“Just promise me. Promise that you’ll let yourself find happiness. You’re too hard on yourself.”
“I don’t…” Cain began but trailed off as she swam forward, stopping just before him. Her eyes glistened in the rainbow’s light, a brighter blue than the lake.
“Adriel,” he stammered.
“Hey, Cain!” Aren’s voice boomed in the quiet. The two jumped back in surprise. Cain turned to see Aren standing on the shore, waving a bushy-tailed squirrel. “I got us some food!”
Cain turned to Adriel who smiled up at him. “Promise me, Cain,” she said. “Just promise me.”
Cain met her gaze. “I promise you, Adriel.”
The Black Arrow
The storm dwindled and left an eerie stillness in the soft patter of rain. The notes of Moran’s instrument echoed in the tranquil evening.
Silas moaned and threw down his cards to Isroc’s amusement. The ungrateful man. He didn’t even know how to play cards until Silas had shown him, the least he could do is lose once in a while! Silas fell quiet, listening to the soft drumming of rain on the canvas overhead. Isroc gathered their cards, saying something and laughing, but Silas drifted off, focused on the haunting notes.
“It makes me… sad.” Silas looked to Moran as he finished, the last long note hovering in the rain. “How did you learn how to play the, uh, whatever that is?”
“Lyre,” Moran said. He began to strum a gayer tune, with sharp staccatos. His dark eyes grew darker. “I didn’t become a general out of high-born status. No, I worked my hands to the bone and crushed many skulls. In Inveira, we don’t have to fight by law like your southern lands. Ours is a cold and cruel mistress, and her fields take many men to keep her pleased.
“I was young once, apprenticed to a bard in another life. I traveled with a troupe across Inveira to entertain soldiers and civilians. I played this very lyre and told the tales of old; I was honored to give my people something to hold onto in these dark times.” The lyre’s pleasant notes seemed a sharp contrast to the huddling, morose soldiers around them.
“But one night, much like this one, I returned to my hometown. Expecting my family and a warm bed, I found only fire and death. An andred raiding party attacked my village…
“Being but a bard, I had no weapon and was forced to watch my home fall around me. I began to look for my family and for a sword. I scoured my village for a blade while everyone I ever knew and loved died around me. I never found one. When the carnage was over; I discovered my family, butchered by those monsters.” His hand fell still and the song stopped, leaving them in a weighty silence.
“Since then I vowed to avenge my family’s deaths. I joined the Cavalry, perhaps so I would always have a sword.” He gestured to the great sword at his back and the two arming swords at his sides.
Silas blinked in surprise. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“We all know loss. Mine is no more, no less.” He returned to his merry song.
Revenge. Silas knew it well, the loss it followed, the pain. The desire to kill every last Aceden was the only thing that kept him going. He knew how Cain felt now.
Just thinking about the Acedens made him want to stab something!
Silas took a stone from his rucksack and spit on it. He began to sharpen Sitare, running the stone along the curved blades. “So how long were you trapped in Hesed?”
“Two months, give or take. We weren’t expecting to hunker down there so we didn’t have nearly enough supplies for a siege. My men and I were defending the supply roads near Hesed but then the andreds just… disappeared.” He pulled a water skin from his cloak and took a hearty chug.
“After the lull, my men and I were preparing to bolster Habbard and Galenth. That’s when they came. You know the rest, Warrior.”
Hearing this, Silas looked up from his weapon. “Galenth? That’s where our friends are going!”
Isroc raised a hand to him. “Assist Galenth with what exactly?”
The general took another swig from his skin. “Galenth is a trade city that sits on the intersection of several roads; it’s an important hub between the north and south. I assume the Acedens know this as well. Their rebellion will need it if they’re to continue.” His eyes narrowed. “Your friends face an overwhelming force—if they haven’t already.”
Silas spat into the fire, its ruddy lights dancing in every scar and line of his rough face. His friends wouldn’t just walk into something like that. They’d be prepared, they’d win. Still, the thought was unsettling.
“They’ll be fine,” Isroc attempted to comfort. “They’re tough. And Cain’s too stubborn to die.”
Silas shook his head. “I can’t lose anyone else. I won’t let that happen.”
“Aye,” Moran sniffed, “but that’s the price we pay. We fight to win, but we all lose in the end. Death just comes for some quicker than others.”
Silas tossed Sitare aside and lunged at Moran. He grabbed the neck of his breastplate and glared at the general, their faces mere inches apart. Nearby soldiers reached for their weapons but Moran waved them off. “You think it’s that simple?” People aren’t just born to die, to be casualties or victims. They all had a purpose, whatever that was. My brother didn’t die for nothing.”
Moran shrugged. “People die. That’s the shit we call life. If your friends die, then they die.”
“You don’t know shit!” He pushed the hefty man to the ground. Silas stepped over him and stomped out of the tent.
“Hey,” Isroc cried as Silas continued through the camp. “Hey!” Boots splashed in the mud behind him and Isroc grabbed his arm, forcing him to a stop. “What was that? You don’t go beating on our allies, he’s not the enemy.”
Silas paused, realizing how far he’d walked. They’d left the camp and now stood at the valley mouth. “He may as well be. It’s thinking like that that keeps this war going.”
“You’ve got to hold your tongue. Our alliance with Inveira is frail as it is, we can’t afford to lose it.”
Silas stooped his head. “What are we doing here, Isroc?”
“What do you mean?”
“Look around. We’re in our enemy’s country, fighting their war, fighting their battles, losing our men. We shouldn’t even be here!” He dropped to his knees.
Isroc stepped back in surprise but quickly regained his composure. He knelt and rested a hand on Silas’ shoulder. “Look, I feel the same as you do. I want my daughter back, my home, my life. But what’s done is done. This war has taken everything from all of us, but we can’t let it take our hope. Hope is the only thing we have. You can’t let them take that too.”
Silas slammed a fist into the mud. That bloody hope shit again. “And what are we supposed to do? We’ve fought this war for four
hundred years. Why? If this is all because this Forgotten son of a bitch is punishing us like Malecai’s stories said, then why does he hurt us? Haven’t we suffered enough? Tell me!”
The mud splashed in the trees. They turned to see four of their soldiers approaching through the rain with a man captive in their grip. The soldiers stopped a few feet from their leaders and shoved the man forward. He fell to the mud, his arms bound with rope.
One of the Inveirans stepped forward with a salute. “We found this man on the outskirts of our camp. We think he’s a spy.”
“Is he now?” Isroc eyed the silent man. “Thank you. You may return to your posts; we’ll handle him from here.” He knelt, trying to get a look at the man’s face hidden by a tangle of wet, dark hair.
“Who are you?” he asked. The man continued to kneel in the mud, head down. “Are you a spy?” He didn’t attempt to respond.
“So be it, I didn’t want to resort to this.” Isroc pulled his glove tight and turned to Silas. “Ready, my friend?”
Silas answered with a grin. “Let me handle the bastard.” He stepped forward, ready to kick the man.
Steel rang free of scabbards.
Oh, shit. Silas looked up at the four soldiers with swords drawn. Of course. If they could imitate the enemy, then the enemy could imitate them.
The four Acedens charged with swords raised. Isroc cursed and shoved Silas aside to meet a blade with a clang of metal.
The spy shook free his bonds and leapt, thrusting a long dagger up toward Isroc’s gut. Isroc stumbled back and knocked into Silas, throwing the two of them away from their attackers. They recovered their footing, backs to each other as the Acedens surrounded them.
The spy raised a hand toward the others and sheathed his dagger.
He shrugged his great cloak of white wolf furs to reveal patched leathers and a large recurve bow. A strange gauntlet of scaled steel formed around his right hand like talons. He pulled two yatagan swords from hidden sheaths, their swooping curved blades shimmering in the rain. He watched them with a dark eye from his gaunt face. His other eyelid was sewn shut with crude stitches.
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