She watched a throng of Acedens march past her. There were so many! How could she ever hope to get through them all? Not to mention that her body just wanted to give out and be done with this nonsense. No time to worry about that now. She needed to get information, anything that could help their fight against these rebels and uncover the truth behind Iscarius’ regime.
She darted around the building and prowled up the road. She rounded the corner and shot for a narrow alley as the clunk of boots echoed toward her. Adriel entered out into another street and followed its ascent around a ring of stone buildings, eventually coming to a crossroads.
Soldiers burst from the building before her and she leapt for the shadows of a skeletal tower. Men in black and gray armor and great helms barked at the others, “go left!”, “search the woods!”, or “find her!” Adriel slipped into a narrow alley and came out on the other side of the barrack.
Fewer men trickled out of this side, their ranks already dispersing down the arms of the road. A man in full plate and a great helm of dark steel turned his courser in a circle, waving a longsword to direct his men.
He scanned the alleys for a moment, then followed his men down the road.
Adriel raised her sword and stepped into the barrack. Darkness engulfed her. A single tallow candle flickered on a tabletop amid the many beds. Smoke swirled in the air from freshly snuffed torches.
“I’ll be out in a bloody moment!” a man grunted from the shadows. He staggered from his bed, one hand pulling up his breeches, the other yanking on a boot. He glanced up to see steel glistening in the orange light.
He spun for his axe abandoned on his bed but tripped over his leggings. He fell in a tangle and made to crawl away.
Adriel tossed his axe away and raised her blade to his chest. “Scream and I’ll kill you.”
The man perked his chin up. “I won’t scream for no woman.”
His breath stunk of alcohol. Adriel looked about the small barrack and through a window to the quite street beyond. “What is this place?”
“You won’t get out. We’ve got every man on the hunt for you.”
“About a quarter, I would guess. The bells aren’t sounding; your superiors don’t want everyone to know I’ve escaped.”
The man chuckled. “She’s smart and she’s pretty.”
“And she has a sword to your throat.” Adriel pushed the blade against the apple of his neck. A drop of blood trickled down his skin. He sat up straight against the side of his bed. “Now, what is this place?”
“It’s gone by a dozen names; we call it Alkanost.” The cold touch of steel under his neck spurred added words. “It’s a launching point for our fleets.”
“Why was I brought here?”
The man laughed again. “Do I look a man to know the goings on around here?” He smirked. “One look at you, and I could take a venture why.”
Adriel brought her sword’s face across his with a satisfying thwack. He craned his head back to her and spit a glob of blood at her boots. “That wasn’t very lady-like.”
“If you can’t answer my questions, then what use are you?”
The man met her gaze. He gave half a smile before it drooped to a frown, raising a hand to the bloody red welt already forming on his face. “We’re going to attack Brunein.”
Adriel nodded. So, it was true. “What else can you tell me?”
The soldier met her gaze and said nothing.
Adriel sighed. She needed to get as much out of this man as she could, and quick; she wasn’t sure she’d get another opportunity. She snatched his tunic from his bed and held it before him. “Eat it.” The man looked at her, perplexed, but did as she commanded. He stuffed the wool in his mouth.
“Hold still, I’m going to make you scream.” She hefted her sword, and as the man threw up his arms in defense, she swung. A hand made a red spiral and landed atop his bed beside his armor.
The Aceden howled, gripping the stump of his wrist as it pumped blood over him. The wool of his tunic muffled his screams, but even so, they filled the barrack with dread.
Adriel pulled the soaked and bloodied tunic from his mouth. “Now, is there anything you want to tell me?”
His words were equal parts whimper and pained stammer. “Once we claim Brunein… and kill Cain Taran… we will march.” He moaned as blood spurted between his fingers.
“To where? To where, damn it?”
“The whole world!”
Adriel stepped back, and the shadows embraced her. Why would the Acedens want Tarsha? Surely they didn’t have the manpower for something so bold. Did they?
She bounced her sword in her hand, watching the groveling man. She should kill him. He’d sound the alarm the moment she turned around. No. She couldn’t kill a defenseless man.
She turned—ignoring his screams—and made for the narrow pass between two barracks as soldiers made toward the source of the shouting. She’d gotten her information, now she needed to get out of here. She ran along the alley and nearly pitched over a drop off, her foot hanging over the edge.
Adriel peered down at the roofs of shadowed buildings. She swung over the edge and climbed down the wall. Her body screamed in pain. Her fingers pricked at her like a thousand needles, her spine popping under the stress.
She fought her way inch by inch down the wall. But as she neared the bottom, she slipped and lost what little grip she had. She flung from the wall and landed in a trough. A cold, wet slop absorbed her fall. She rolled from the trough as chunks of something slimy squelched around her feet.
A pig rose from the waste and blinked at her with its beady eyes. A dozen other lumps stirred and crowded around her, squealing and snorting. Adriel hid among the pigs as a column of soldiers trotted past, then shoved her way out over a fence and onto the street.
The clop of horses’ hooves and the clanking of sabatons traveled around the bend. She turned and ran back down the road and stopped as a retinue of soldiers marched around the other corner.
Adriel dove for the nearest building. She swung through the door and gingerly closed it behind her.
Several pairs of eyes watched her as she turned around. The candles that scattered the tables revealed the faces of many elderly men and women and even two children. The hard, orange glow of the candles traced like lines of ink in their stained and ragged roughspuns. The shadows flickered and played in their tired eyes.
An old woman hobbled forward. She waved a fleshless hand at the others and they returned to their work, chopping vegetables and preparing pots of stew. A man half-blind and racked with a terrible cough butchered up some kind of bloody carcass. One of the few younger women pointed to any spots he missed and collected the cuts in a deep cauldron.
“Who are you?” the old woman croaked, eyeing the bloody sword in Adriel’s fist. Adriel tensed as boots thudded outside the door. Everyone in the dark room seemed to grow rigid as well.
The woman’s face twisted into something between a smile and a scowl. The many warts on her face jostled with her jowls as she talked. “Running? You won’t get far. They’ll catch you soon enough, they always do.”
“You… you’re slaves?” She’d heard the disturbing rumors. She’d refused to believe that humans would do something so horrible to their own kind. But seeing it for herself…
“Yes, my dear. We are. Aren’t you?”
Adriel tightened her grip on the arming sword. This changed everything. She couldn’t leave these people in their slavery. Still… could she dare try to rescue all of them? What if they were caught?
She refused to leave them. “No.” The edge in her voice seemed to cut through the kitchen’s thick smoke and fumes. Several stopped their work and looked at her, eyes wide. “Come with me, all of you. You may not wear chains, but this place is still a cell.” Soldiers called to each other and a horse galloped past the kitchens.
The woman beside the butcher wiped her bloody hands on her smock. She drew back her mop of dark hair and turned to the other
s. “She speaks the truth.” The woman stepped before Adriel and asked in a lower voice, “Do you really think you can get us out of here?” Adriel nodded. “Let me come with you. I wish to taste freedom again.”
Several others stepped forward at her words, a paltry assortment of old men and women, the ancient half-blind butcher, and a gaunt young girl with a missing hand.
“They’ll kill you. All of you,” the wizened woman warned.
“She looks capable,” the younger woman said, “if we ever had a chance, now’s the time. But I don’t care if I get out. I will kill a dozen Acedens for my husband, a dozen for each of my sons, and a dozen more for every day I’ve spent in their hands. They will pay for what they’d done to our home.”
The group spread throughout the kitchens, taking anything and everything sharp in sight. Knives, cleavers, a prod from a cook fire, even a mallet and a pewter tray.
The group embraced those that remained behind. Farewells and promises and tears followed, but soon, the group gathered before Adriel with weapons in hand. The woman in the bloody smock stepped forward. “I’m Lanaya.” She wagged a cleaver at the frail, old butcher. “That is Henrik the Toothless, though he still has most of his teeth if you care to count. That’s Iryna,” she pointed the knife at an old crone with a gnarled staff in hand. She pointed to the others—a graying woman, a young woman and one likely her sister or cousin, and an even younger girl. Lanaya called out their names in turn. “Erla, Karena … no, Kirsi. I get the two mixed.” She waved her cleaver at the last girl. “She’s Sonja, though we just call her Stumps.” The girl smiled and waved a stump where her right hand would have been.
Adriel frowned at the little girl. The way she smiled with those missing teeth, the way her big eyes shone despite the trials she’d faced. She reminded Adriel of someone.
No, bury the pain. Now was not the time to open old wounds.
Adriel would help Sonja and everyone else, no matter what. “Are there more of you?” she asked, squashing her worries.
Lanaya returned a grim smile. “Many more. In the other kitchens, the stables, shipyards, barracks, places I wouldn’t beg to send my enemies.”
“I’ll come back for them. All of them. But first we must get all of you out. Stay with me and don’t do anything reckless. We will take back your freedom.”
Adriel cracked open the door and scanned the empty street before beckoning the group to follow. She led them down the road and around the bend.
“I thank you, my lady,” Lanaya said as she jogged alongside Adriel.
“Call me Adriel.”
“As it pleases you, Adriel. I would thank you all the same, I can finally taste freedom.”
Adriel peeked down an alley and turned to her. “We aren’t out yet.”
“You have given me a chance to see my sons. I am free.”
Adriel frowned and peered around a building. The others checked each window, alley, and branch in the street. They continued down the road, following the shadows of the buildings. Acedens roamed the wall walks of the curtain wall overhead and peered over the stronghold, but the group went by undetected, hugging the wall.
The group slithered around a corner and continued down the road toward the coast. They stumbled over the bricks and the old butcher shuffled along behind them, chuffing and puffing as he went. Several instances, they paused and waited for him to catch up, even as the creaking of armored boots groaned closer.
They turned a corner and a mounted Aceden and a column of his soldiers climbed the foot of the hill. Adriel gestured to a nearby alley and the group crammed into the narrow path.
They entered out under the curtain wall. They hurried along rows of broken buildings, timber scaffolding, and piles of wood and stone. Ahead, the wall dwindled to barely a few feet tall, surrounded by scaffolding and construction. There it was, salvation.
A door to a nearby building opened. Four men stepped out, laughing at some jest one had made. Their eyes flashed white as the group of slaves leapt over them.
Two Acedens fell in a gout of red, stabbed a dozen times each by Karena and Kirsi. The others descended on the bodies, beating and hacking and slashing. A third Aceden tossed his weapon and turned to run but Lanaya planted her cleaver in the back of his skull. The fourth scrambled for his sword but Henrik’s skinning knife ended his effort.
Adriel pulled them from the bodies and beckoned them to the gap in the wall. A company of Acedens rushed around the corner with weapons raised. They surrounded the small group of escaped slaves as even more Acedens appeared. The slaves cast down their weapons, and Adriel followed suit, tossing her bloodied blade at the hooves of a soldier’s horse.
“Freedom,” Lanaya growled. “It tasted sweet.”
Adriel let out a feeble moan. She managed to open her eyes enough to peer at the cracked gray stones below her feet. She raised her head further, and a cutting pain sheared down her spine.
She crumpled in shock. Blackness. She managed to shake her head, fighting off the blissful slip into unconsciousness. She forced her eyes open and craned her neck to see what held her up. Thick chains contorted her arms behind her and bit into her wrists like icy teeth. The chains pulled her shoulders nearly over her head, twisting her like an old rag.
She tried to curl her knees up to dull the pain, but shackles bound her ankles in place. She sank once more, and the chains pulled sadistically on her limbs, racking her body.
The creaking of a distant door echoed in the hollow room. Adriel ignored the pain and drove her knees up into her chest to prop herself against the wall, allowing her to peer into the darkness. Heavy footsteps boomed in the stillness, each armored footfall sending a clap through the cracks of stone. Then, they stopped.
A big, calloused hand reached out from the dark and slipped a finger under her chin. Slivers of moonlight pierced the darkness to shimmer across the man’s hulking frame and blood red armor. His face twisted in a terrible rictus.
Adriel looked up into those pale, dead eyes. Her heart beat like a drum against her ribs.
“Adriel Ivanne.” The man’s voice was flat and deep, almost booming in the stone chamber. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” She remained silent. “Don’t you care to know who I am?”
“Where’s Lanaya?” Adriel managed to stammer through broken lips. She could vaguely remember the beatings.
“Who?”
“Where’s Henrik, Karena and Kirsi, Sonja, all of them?”
The man’s face contorted even uglier, perhaps in a smile. “The fools from the kitchens? I had them flogged and executed. Their heads ornament the walls; I can’t have others getting any ideas.”
Adriel sagged in the chains. She’d led them to their deaths. That knowledge hurt worse than any beating.
“Don’t you want to know who I am, the man who’s going to kill you?” He fought to smooth the edge in his voice, but even so, her lack of interest clearly frustrated him. He crossed his big, meaty arms, waiting.
“I suppose you’re just going to bore me to death if I don’t ask.”
He stepped from the shadows, the moonlight shining on his scarred, bald head. “I am General Malleus Taraus, leader of the Blood Guard, and right hand to Lord Iscarius.”
Adriel snorted at this.
“Something funny, girl?”
“You’re bald.”
Malleus slapped her across the face with a heavy gauntlet. The blow sent a jolt of agony through her. “Do you know why you’re here?” he asked quietly.
Adriel spat out a glob of blood. “So you can kill me.”
Malleus stepped closer. ““Now why would I do a thing like that? At least right now anyway. You’re nothing but bait. Cain Taran will come for you, and when he does, I will kill him.”
Adriel managed a frail laugh. “Have you ever seen Cain angry?”
“I’ll break his tiny neck.”
She gave the most threatening squint she could muster. “He will kill you.”
Malleus took another s
tep. Adriel drew back and hammered her head into his. He reeled back, gripping his scalp.
“You little bitch!” he cried, a drop of blood trickling down over an eye. He leaned forward, his face inches from hers. “You best save your strength, girl. You’ll need it.” He drew a vicious knife from his belt and dragged the blade’s face along her cheek. She watched the knife scrape across her face, her fearful eyes reflected in the pristine steel.
Broken
Cain watched the waves bulge and curl.
The clouds opened to reveal the full moon and the soft flicker of distant lights. He rushed to the railing, nearly throwing himself over in his excitement.
The dark edge of Tarsha lay before him. Alkanost huddled in its shadow.
A great spire lit their way in the dark, its peak filled with brilliant fires and mirrors that could be seen for miles. The lighthouse stood taller than any of Alkanost’s structures and loomed out on the tip of a jetty. Seven hills appeared over the bay, each with a ring of rubble at their feet and a watchtower at their crest. A half-constructed wall encircled these hills to form a network of roads and battlements. Barracks, stables, smithies, and stores crowded thick around the innermost hill at the heart of Alkanost.
There, that tower. Adriel would be there. Cain turned from the daunting task-at-hand and looked to Aren at his side. His friend remained transfixed on the gauntlet of Alkanost, fear and disbelief in his eyes.
Aren shook his head. “I don’t like this plan, Cain. Not one bit.”
The clanging of signal bells suddenly echoed in the night. At this, the fort erupted with life as the defending garrison burst from their sleep.
“You’ve mentioned that,” Cain replied. “If you have a better plan, now’s the time.”
Aren sighed and turned back to the deck full of anxious soldiers.
The Alliance fleet sailed into the bay. As they neared the shore, archers inside the lighthouse and watchtowers began shooting flaming arrows down onto the ships. The burning projectiles pelted the decks of the transports, setting several sails aflame. A small barrage of arrows rained over the soldiers as they raised their shields, felling men and sending them toppling into the waters.
A New Reign Page 19