The First Champion

by Sandell Wall

  “Captain,” one of the seplica said, concern in her voice.

  “I know,” Pynel said. “May as well paint a target on our backs. There’s nothing we can do but see this through.”

  The concentrated miasma pooled in Mazareem’s lungs. He bit his tongue to stop from having a coughing fit. It had a weight now, and he felt it pressing down on him. The ancient sentience was still there, wary of him now, but greedy in its desire to possess Mazareem. He had thought he could withstand it. He had not anticipated walking straight into the belly of the beast.

  Chapter 15

  LACRAEL LAY WITH HER head on Brant’s chest. His strong arms surrounded her like a bulwark against whatever horrors hid in the miasma. They were both awake, and the others would soon rise to begin the day’s journey, but neither of them wanted to pull away just yet. Lacrael reveled in the warmth of Brant’s body. The fire that usually burned in the center of her being had all but gone out. For the first time in years, she knew what it felt like to be cold again. In the chill desert nights, she snuggled up as close as she could get to his heat.

  Their relationship, which they both admitted they wanted, was held in a weird sort of limbo by the harsh reality of their current circumstances. Before entering Vaul, Lacrael had fantasized about tearing Brant’s clothes off, and since his transformation and freedom from the demon inside of him, he had not been shy about his own desires.

  But the stress of Vaul, the subtle, sickly influence of the miasma, and the constant presence of their companions robbed Lacrael of any carnal appetites she might have otherwise acted on. She sensed the same reservations in Brant. They had not discussed the subject directly, but he had said enough that Lacrael knew he shared her disappointment.

  Despite this damper on their relationship, Lacrael knew that she was in love with him. She had not told him yet, had not even considered how and when to reveal the true depths of her feelings for him, but she had admitted it to herself. The seeds of this love had been planted years ago in Oakroot, back when they were too shy to even speak to each other. Since then, they had endured so much together, and his constant and reassuring friendship had become a comfort that Lacrael had grown to cherish.

  Lacrael admonished herself. It was more than just his friendship that she was in love with. If she was honest, she was a bit in awe of Brant. He had lost his home, his family, his livelihood, and even his own personhood for a time. Brant had spent the better part of a year doing battle in his own mind against a demon that Mazareem had summoned to possess him.

  Through all of this, Brant had been faithful to their cause, even when Gustavus and Kaiser wanted to abandon him on a deserted island. And now that he was himself again, he harbored no bitterness or anger towards the fate that brought him here. He got up each day, faced the challenge ahead of them, and got to work.

  And now that Lacrael, Kaiser, and Sorrell had lost most of their powers, Brant had become the source of strength for their entire group. Without his strange abilities, abilities that none of them fully understood, they would not have lasted a week in the Ravening.

  At this thought, Lacrael used her fingertips to trace the golden dragon amulet that was embedded in Brant’s chest. She had fashioned the chain that circled his torso and held the amulet in place—she had never intended for it to become a permanent part of him. Somehow, the demon that had possessed him was bound in this amulet, and its powers were now Brant’s to control.

  Brant stirred at her touch. Nearby, Kaiser climbed to his feet and went through his morning routine of checking on Tarathine.

  “We’d best rise, or he might leave without us,” Brant murmured into Lacrael’s hair.

  Lacrael gave Brant one last squeeze and pulled herself away. While he went to check on Gustavus, she busied herself with heating up the snail meat they had saved from last night’s hunt. It was a pitiful way to break a night’s fast, but it was all they had. Fortunately, she and Niad had been able to find snails in abundance every night thus far.

  It had been five days since they left Sadreed’s village behind. Niad was certain that they were well inside Palacostian territory, and that they would soon encounter a city or settlement. This prospect filled Lacrael with dread. She focused on her work and tried not to think about it.

  Sorrell came and sat on the sand next to Lacrael while she warmed up the food. Like Lacrael, she had her own morning chore. Sorrell concentrated on filling their one canteen with enchanted ice.

  “It gets harder every day,” Sorrell said. “A few weeks ago, I could conjure enough ice for everyone to drink more than their fill. Now, I have to pace myself just to be able to keep this container full.”

  “My flame gets weaker every time I draw on it,” Lacrael said. “I actually feel the cold now. It takes every bit of power I have to cook snail meat.”

  Concentrated as she was on her task, Sorrell did not respond. Lacrael glanced at the other woman out of the corner of her eye. An uncharacteristic shadow of pain marred Sorrell’s countenance.

  “Are you okay?” Lacrael said. “You’ve been quiet the past two days.”

  Lacrael’s words broke Sorrell’s concentration. Sorrell let the canteen fall with a frustrated sigh.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” Sorrell said. “Why must you always pry?”

  The annoyance in Sorrell’s tone made Lacrael sorry she had said anything.

  They sat in awkward silence for a moment, listening to the snail meat sizzle at Lacrael’s touch.

  “I’m sorry,” Sorrell said. “That wasn’t fair. I don’t know what I am right now. I find myself wanting to cry most of the time, and when I’m not about to fall apart, I’m so angry I want to smash my fist into a rock. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with you,” Lacrael said. “You’re pregnant.”

  “Yeah, well, that doesn’t make me feel any better.” Sorrell wiped unshed tears from her eyes. “Kaiser hasn’t spoken to me in two days.”

  “You told him?”

  “It’s not like I could hide it for much longer.”

  “He’ll get over himself. Kaiser takes a long time to process things, but once he does, he puts it behind him.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  Lacrael looked up in surprise at the question. Sorrell was not kidding about the mood swings. She had gone from annoyed and angry to on the verge of a breakdown in the span of two breaths.

  “If Kaiser holds your unborn child against you, then you’re better off without him,” Lacrael said. “Who’s he to take issue? He’s got two kids of his own.”

  Sorrell’s response was cut short by Kaiser announcing that they would set out in five minutes. That left just enough time for everyone to choke down some lukewarm snail meat. Kaiser approached Lacrael and Sorrell. He already had Tarathine secured on his back. Sorrell mumbled an excuse to move away as Kaiser drew near.

  Lacrael could not help but notice the look Kaiser gave Sorrell, and the tension between the two of them was clear, but she did not have the energy to involve herself in their mess. She had more pressing concerns on her mind. Kaiser took a strip of the offered meat and stuffed it in his mouth.

  “Do you want to try to feed her?” Lacrael said, nodding to Tarathine.

  Kaiser shook his head while he swallowed the leathery flesh.

  “I was able to get some into her last night,” Kaiser said when his mouth was clear. “I’ll try again when we stop for the day. She seems to be more receptive to food in the evenings.”

  By receptive, Kaiser meant that by jamming pre-chewed food into Tarathine’s mouth and massaging her jaw and neck, she could be forced to swallow. Lacrael hated what had happened to the poor girl. She had been thin before, but now, Tarathine was skin and bones. If the poison in her body did not kill her, starvation surely would.

  Lacrael got to her feet and carried what remained of the snail meat over to where Brant, Gustavus, and Niad were crouched in quiet conversation. Gustavus grimaced, but he accepted the food wh
en Lacrael offered it.

  “We’ll reach a city today, I’m certain of it,” Niad said between bites. “Either Sendren or Atmal, if I remember my maps correctly.”

  “She says you should start wearing your forsaken disguise,” Brant said to Lacrael. It was clear by the tone of his voice that he was not happy about it.

  “We’re well into imperial territory,” Niad said. “If we happen upon a patrol or settlement, you won’t have time to change into your robes. It’s better to be prepared.”

  “I don’t like it,” Brant said. “The way you make these people sound, they’ll cut her down just for sport.”

  “They might do the same to any of us,” Niad said. “The risk isn’t hers alone. We’ve already discussed this. We can’t change the plan now.”

  “It’s okay,” Lacrael said. She placed a hand on Brant’s forearm. “She’s right. This is our best option. Other than Niad, I’m the only one that can speak the language. And the disguise might give me a sort of freedom. As long as I’m careful, I’ll be beneath the notice of most people. It also removes the risk that anyone might recognize me. I was the empire’s number one fugitive only a few years ago.”

  “You don’t have to keep the mask on all the time,” Niad said. “Just keep it close at hand. Forsaken captives are branded on the face before being allowed to serve in the empire. This ensures they can’t escape being identified by removing their mask and robe. If you’re seen wearing the robe while your face is revealed, your unmarred skin will mark you as a pretender.”

  While the others ate, Lacrael untied the tattered robes she carried on her back. She unrolled the bundle to find the plain gray mask staring up at her. A few sharp shakes unfurled the ragged garment, and Lacrael lifted it over her head to let it settle around her shoulders. She let the hood fall back for now. As long as she carried the mask in one hand, she could quickly draw the hood and don the mask to complete the disguise when necessary.

  Lacrael looked down at herself. The frayed mantle hid her form. She could tuck her hands inside the garment and almost disappear completely. With the mask on, no one would be able to identify her.

  “Aren’t the rest of us supposed to be slaves?” Brant said. “How are we going to convince anyone we’re your prisoners if we’re not bound?”

  “The story we’ll tell is that you came with me seeking help for Tarathine and Gustavus,” Niad said. “You gave up your freedom for a chance at a cure for their sickness. It’s not uncommon for a slaver to make similar bargains to convince a fugitive to return to the empire.”

  “I still don’t like it,” Brant said.

  “Your reservations are noted, lad,” Gustavus said. “Now stop harping about it. You’ll give me a headache if you keep it up.”

  “Let’s move out,” Kaiser said, his voice loud enough to override their conversation.

  Brant looked like he wanted to say more. Instead, he picked up Gustavus and fell into step several paces behind Kaiser. Lacrael and Niad got to their feet and moved to take the lead. Sorrell brought up the rear.

  Lacrael pulled the guidestone from a pocket and raised it over her head. To her relief, it glowed with a strong blue light. They were still on the imperial highway. The robes swished around her feet as she walked, and the extra weight of the garment took some getting used to. Despite the added layers, Lacrael was surprised to discover that she did not overheat. The raiment was designed to flow around her rather than constrict, which let the air move freely around her body.

  In comparison to the first few days of their journey, they made good time. The road was smooth and well-defined. They were able to walk without fighting the shifting sand for every step. This supported Niad’s assertion that they were deep inside Palacostian territory. Lacrael found herself on edge, half expecting a patrol to appear out of the miasma at any moment.

  Every time they stopped to rest, Niad insisted on preparing them for the trial to come. She painted a bleak picture of their chances. The culture and people she described were brutal. According to Niad, pride and glory were valued more highly than life in the Palacostian empire. If they were to be perceived as slaves, they must act the part. Any hint of disrespect would be met with swift and terrible retribution.

  Time was impossible to track with any sort of precision under the oppressive miasma. Lacrael guessed they had been walking for several hours when Niad stopped in her tracks. The rest of them froze, their eyes automatically scanning the mist for threats.

  Niad turned to the side, and in four long strides, reached the border of the highway. Curious, Lacrael followed the other woman. She found Niad inspecting a stone marker embedded in the earth. It was a black obelisk that came up to Lacrael’s waist. Niad interpreted the symbols carved on its side.

  “This is a distance marker,” Niad said. “We’re about an hour out from the next city.”

  “Do we enter or go around?” Kaiser said from behind them. He had come to see why they had stopped.

  “We enter,” Niad said. “We have to test our story to see if it’ll work, and we have to create a believable trail as we travel through the empire. If we were to appear at the capital without warning and having not been sighted in any other settlement, our presence would be met with extreme suspicion. Only those with something to hide would avoid the outlying cities on the way to Orcassus.”

  “So be it,” Kaiser said. He shrugged his shoulders and adjusted Tarathine on his back. That done, he turned from them and set out down the road once more.

  Lacrael and Niad exchanged a look before following. This close to civilization, Kaiser no longer needed the guidestone to find the road. They walked in silence. Lacrael counted eight more stone markers, and after the ninth, Niad moved back into the lead. She motioned for Lacrael to walk alongside her.

  “Put on your mask,” Niad said. “If we’re going to pull off the ruse of you being my personal servant, you’ll have to do as I say, no matter how bizarre the request might seem. Can you do that?”

  “I’ll do my best,” Lacrael said.

  “I hope that’s enough.”

  The last bit of road before reaching the city seemed to stretch forever. Lacrael could not see more than thirty paces in front of them, but even so, she could not take her eyes from the horizon, expecting every step to reveal the city. Fear gnawed at her insides. She felt cold, and she longed for the heat that had once burned inside her.

  Ahead of them, the miasma darkened, and after a few more steps, it appeared to solidify. It took Lacrael a few seconds to realize that they had found the city walls. She looked towards the sky, but the walls stretched so high that they disappeared into the miasma. The size and scope of the fortifications took Lacrael’s breath away.

  The highway terminated at a set of massive doors in a gateway so large that a ship could have sailed through it. There were no torches on the outside of the wall, and they approached with only the guidestone for illumination. It cast its eerie light against the dark stone, highlighting the imperfections in the rock.

  “Where are the guards?” Kaiser said when they stood before the gates.

  “Palacost isn’t like the lands you’re familiar with,” Niad said. “There are no random travelers to guard against. Anyone who arrives here knows how to get inside. The Ravening takes care of everyone else.”

  Niad gestured for Lacrael to give her the guidestone. Lacrael handed it over.

  “I’m sorry for whatever happens next,” Niad said. “I’ve done my best to prepare you. Remember: you’re my property. Defer to me in all things. Don’t even make eye contact with someone unless I give you permission.”

  Before anyone could reply, Niad stepped up to a small doorway set in the massive gate. She pressed the guidestone into a socket that was an exact match for its size and shape. Blue light flashed once, and Niad removed the stone and stepped back.

  “Now, we wait,” Niad said.

  Niad used the opportunity to wrap her head in a length of cloth, taking care to tuck every strand of h
er long red hair out of sight.

  “It’s best not to draw unnecessary attention to my ancestry,” Niad said when she saw Lacrael watching her. “I have no idea what the political climate in the empire is. It might be that my family would be accepted now, but I doubt it.”

  They did not have to wait long. A few minutes later, they heard the unmistakable sound of a door being unbolted on the other side of the wall. The single door set into the bigger gate swung outward, and a squad of soldiers filed through. They wore embossed armor of overlapping plates. Helmets covered their faces, the faceplates connected to tanks on their backs by twin hoses. On their feet, they wore sollerets with sharp, pointed toes. Swords hung at their sides, and their leader rested her hand on the hilt of her weapon.

  “Identify yourselves,” the soldier said. Her voice echoed slightly from behind her helmet. “You used a sanctioned guidestone, but you look like vagabonds. By what right do you claim entrance to Sendren?”

  “My name is Niad Parsemon,” Niad said. “I’m a slaver from the forsaken lands. These people are my property. I’m taking them to the markets in Orcassus.”

  The soldier cast a critical eye on Kaiser, Brant, Gustavus and Tarathine. Her gaze slid right over Lacrael. After a few seconds, a sharp laugh exploded from behind her helmet.

  “This pathetic lot is your haul?” the soldier said. “We’d be doing a favor to take them off your hands. What sort of slaver deals in cripples?”

  “My business is my own,” Niad said. “May we enter?”

  The lead soldier took a step forward.

  “‘Parsemon.’ I don’t recognize that name,” the soldier said. “Where’s your armor? Where’s your breather? You navigate the Ravening without protection? You don’t even have a weapon.”

  “My family fell on hard times,” Niad said, her voice strained. “I do what I must to survive. My possession of this guidestone is proof of my right to travel these roads.”

  “By law, you’ve the right of it. But those same laws don’t say I have to let you pass these gates. Perhaps if you make it worth my while, I’ll reconsider.”