by Devin Madson
Malice grabbed my hand, the tips of his fingers digging in hard. “No. No, Brother, you are not going anywhere.”
The connection was not of my making, its touch aggressive, alien, a painful pulse shooting up my arm. My lips parted in a gasp and I tried to pull away, but Malice’s fingers clamped tighter. “Don’t fight me, Endymion,” he said. “Or I will make it hurt.”
I could not fight. I had no shield as Darius had, no control over the Empathy that leached from my body. There was nothing I could do but scream as Malice’s heart rammed into mine with all the violence of a beast in the night.
You’re mine now, Endymion, the whisper said. A god will rule this empire. And I will rule you.
“No!”
I threw everything I had back at him, a tangle of memories and emotions stampeding through the Empathy with which he pierced me. His grip faltered, and I tore my hand free, backing away across the room. Malice slumped onto the table, his cheek landing upon an imperial seal, its crimson wax seeming to ooze from between his lips.
“Shit,” I breathed, pressing a hand to my chest. There was something there inside me, something clenched around my heart, but it felt jagged and unfinished like unhewn stone. “Malice?”
He didn’t answer and I dared not touch him.
“I am not a monster,” I said, backing toward the door. “I’m not. I’m not.”
Malice didn’t move. Didn’t so much as twitch. I had to get out of there. I had to find Darius. He was the only person who could help me now.
I hurried into the empty passage and looked around. Hope was somewhere high in the castle, the call of his soul unmistakable, but even as I started in his direction, I stopped. However he felt about Malice, however he felt about me, he was constrained to obey and I could not ask him to suffer. I needed to escape before anyone saw me.
I thought of returning to my alcove first, but nothing awaited me there except a rumpled sleeping mat. I had owned possessions once, a change of robe, a second sash, and a book of prayers with which I had learnt to read. And my bow. It had been nothing to Hacho but had cost Jian more than he could afford. Archery had come naturally to me as the other six arts had not, and everywhere we went, Jian had scoured morning markets for old arrows and half-used blocks of wax, for worn leather gloves and spools of string. But those things had belonged to a different man. The branding had changed everything.
Whisperer. Was I the only one who could hear the world? Hear its thoughts, its troubles, and its wrongs? Was that what Malice had meant? Oh no, don’t think about Malice. He could be dead. Had I killed my brother?
You’re losing yourself, yes?
Darius had called me a Whisperer too. He knew. But he also knew how to bury his Empathy, had hidden it for years, had chosen not to use it.
I went to the stairs. They creaked beneath my weight, but from the landing to the narrow passage, I knew myself alone. In the main hall, the sound of laughter wafted toward the open doors as I stood beneath the arch, the wind tugging my hair. Avarice was the only soul nearby—outside the stables, talking to the horses. He had thrown off his black cloak but wore his sickle at his side, his broad shoulders squared like a stone statue.
No horse then, but if I was quick, he might not see me leave.
I strode swiftly out into the courtyard. Malice’s wagon sat beneath the oak tree, its windows staring upon me as I passed. Leaves rustled overhead. More danced across the pitted stones, but Avarice did not call to me, did not look around, too busy with the horses to care for men.
A steep slope dropped from the edge of the courtyard, long shadows cutting the rocky scree. Here and there, square boulders protruded from the ground at odd angles, every face covered in carvings. They might have been part of the castle once, but now they were just debris.
From the last buckled flagstone, I stepped onto the loose rocks and my feet slid, stones cascading around me. They scraped my palms as I tried to steady myself, snatching at tufts of grass to slow my pace. No footsteps, no shouts, nothing but the clatter of sliding rocks and the call of cicadas.
When I finally reached the bottom, I stumbled backward onto the track, my sandals full of stones. I took a moment to shake them free while my Empathy flowed. At the top of the hill, the castle looked shadowy in the half-light, owning no individuals, only a mass of souls. I could not feel Malice, nor had anyone followed me.
Dregs of sunlight clung to the trees. The road would take me back the way we had come, past the small collection of towns and villages around Koi, then on to the Willow Road, but my destination was a person not a place. Darius was south, so south I would go.
I walked quickly through the fading twilight. I had brought no lantern, but even as a child, I had not been afraid of the dark. For as long as I could remember, the constant bombardment of emotions had troubled my sleep, and although exhaustion always took me eventually, I had often preferred to roam while Jian slept. The night was benign. It was people I feared.
The breathy sound of my laugh joined the breeze. I had thought my Empathy strong then, with those little dribbles into a closed mind.
I kept walking, unseen creatures scurrying from my steps. It ought to have been peaceful with only the night birds for company, and it was until my chest began to tighten, slivers of pain edging into my awareness. I concentrated on the sound of my feet crunching on the stones and tried not to think about it.
My steps faltered, all sound dying beneath the roar of my pulse.
“No.” I gritted my teeth as the forest spun around me, every tree clustering close. The mark throbbed, owning its own heartbeat. Malice filled my chest, even his smell seeming to cling to me.
I am the only one who can save you from yourself, yes?
I hit the ground, pain shooting through my knees.
You’re mine now, Endymion. A god will rule this empire. And I will rule you.
I crawled forward on hands and knees, deafened by the roar. The mark tightened. And from the night came the sound of Malice laughing.
“You will not… rule me,” I said, forcing the words out, rocks cutting into my skin as I dragged myself along the ground. The pain was like nothing I had ever experienced—like a thousand hands slowly smothering life. I rolled over, wheezing. Twinkling stars laughed down from a patch of velvet sky, and I laughed back, a manic gasp as I thought of Malice slumped upon the table. “Are you dead? Please be dead.”
Time blurred. I owned no sense beyond the pain as I tried to push myself along the road with my feet, stones cutting into my back.
“Looks like he’s come as far as he can,” a voice said, barely audible over the thunder in my ears. I knew the voice. I knew its owner’s scowling features, knew its wide nose and its dark skin and its square-set shoulders.
Lantern light touched the shifting branches.
“The Master must have marked him.” Another voice I knew well, mild and polite, its fine features always melancholic, but he had smiled at me. A sandal crunched on the stones and Hope’s face appeared above me. “Endymion?”
“He won’t hear you,” Avarice said. “We’d best just pick him up and take him back.”
A hand touched mine, and for a blessed moment, the pain rushed out through the connection. It was snatched away, and the pain poured back.
“What did you do that for, fool?”
Hope’s face disappeared. “I wanted to see if it’s the same for him as it is for us.”
“Of course it is.”
“I’m not so sure. It feels different to how mine feels. I don’t think it’s as strong. He might be able to hear us.”
Come on! You’re not even trying. Break it! Hope’s voice sounded in my head.
Hands gripped me under my arms, dragging me away from the tower. The pain was like a thousand silk strings tightening, cutting into my limbs.
“What are you doing?” Avarice growled.
“You saw him kill all those men,” Hope said, breathless by my ear. “He deserves to die.”
; Fight, damn it! Break it! I know you can.
“That isn’t your choice to make.”
Hope went on dragging me, the pain shearing through my flesh. “It shouldn’t have been his either.”
Fill it with hate, he added in my head. Hate is what hurts him most. Hate and abandonment.
“The Master will kill you if you let him die, you fool.”
“Let him,” Hope snapped. “What is life worth if this is all that’s left?”
Do it, Endymion, now!
Hate. I had plenty of that. I pressed my fist to my chest.
Yes! Do it! Break it!
A scream ripped from my lips. Someone tried to prise my hand from my heart but was forced away, the two Vices shouting at one another though I could make out no words. Agony was all I had—no body, no limbs, no heart, just the pain and the dreadful knowledge that I did not want to be alone.
“You are alone!” I shouted. “No one wants you!”
Light flashed behind my eyes. Malice’s grip tightened, his long fingers curling like claws. You’re mine, Takehiko. You cannot leave.
“I can, and I will! I hate you!”
You can’t leave, yes? You’re a monster.
The mark’s shadowy fingers squeezed tighter still, and I poured all the hate I had into it, my heartbeat laboured. “You’re the monster!” Its fingers bent back, bones cracking.
No!
“Yes!”
Don’t leave me.
“Darius already did.”
The mark shattered like glass, its shards slicing through my body. Squeezing my eyes shut, I curled up, clasping my knees to my chest, until slowly, the pain began to ebb. Blood trickled down my side, oozing out with every heaving breath.
When I opened my eyes, I found the canopy shifting amid lantern light. Avarice and Hope stared down at me, their jaws slack. Then Hope smiled.
Run, Endymion. Run.
I rolled, slipping on stones as I scrambled to my feet. Avarice threw out his hand, but I ducked, kicking his lantern as I started to run. It bounced across the track, lighting the edge of a sharp slope before its fragile frame snapped beneath my sandal.
In darkness, I skidded down the slope, dry leaves and acorns cascading around me. I knew there were trees and rocks and nests of saplings, but only the memory of them remained without the light to see them by. Rough bark scratched my arm as I narrowly missed a tree, and rather than run into one, I slowed, listening for pursuit over the pounding of my heart.
Avarice. The pulse of his anger gave him away more surely than the sound of his feet. I could outrun him, but Malice would send more Vices to scour the trees. On horseback, they would catch me before ever I reached Koi.
I let my Empathy hunt their hearts in the darkness. Avarice was nearby, but Hope had not followed, had remained on the track with the horses.
I doubled back, using the call of Hope’s soul to lead the way. Blood was dripping from my chest and every limb ached, but desperation pushed me on. If they took me back, Malice wouldn’t risk me escaping again.
You will need to be chained down before the end.
I broke into a jog, sandals sinking into the soft loam.
At the top of the slope, I slowed again, able to feel the call of Hope’s heart, as loud as the cry of a hawk owl robbed of its prey. He was close. A horse snorted and I crept forward, rolling heel to toe, straining my eyes as the outline of two animals emerged from the night. One snorted and the other backed, but lunging the last step, I touched the closest and pushed my Empathy through its thick coat.
I’d never tried to connect with a horse before, and for a long moment I stood stunned. It owned a soul like no man I had ever seen. There were no flailing strings of memory or emotion, no selfishness or deceit; the horse was everything it was and nothing more, just a neat parcel of instincts and behaviours, easily understood and beautiful to behold. I combed through it, fascinated, and the horse nuzzled my cheek, fear set aside as we learnt to understand one another. He had a name for himself—the One Who Flies.
“Kaze then,” I whispered, running my hand through his mane. “For the clear sky.”
Sharp points dug into the small of my back and I froze.
“I should kill you,” Hope said, his voice low. “That would hurt the Master the most and by the gods do I want him to suffer.”
“I know.” I did not turn or take my hand from Kaze’s mane. “I’m sorry. If I could take you with me, I would.”
Hope lowered the sickle and I turned. In the dark, I could just make out his face, a mirror to his emotions: half sadness, half pain. “Go. Get out of here,” he said.
“But you must obey. Will you be… all right?”
He gave a mirthless laugh. “You think Malice would let me die? I’m too useful. Perhaps I deserve some pain for what I am.”
My heart ached at his words and I touched his cheek, a brief graze of skin because I could risk no more. “You don’t, and I’m sorry. I did not want you to have to suffer for me.”
“No, but that’s my choice.”
He smiled his melancholy smile, and for a long moment we stood there, two shadowy figures in the dark. Who knows how long we might have stayed so had no other soul approached, breaking upon our strange peace.
“Avarice is coming.”
Hope patted Kaze’s neck. “You had better go then,” he said. “Take my horse. I call him Hishan.”
“I like that name, but it’s not what he calls himself. Deep down.”
“Can you read my heart too?”
I had set my foot in the stirrup, but I looked back and held out my hand. Hope put his into it without hesitation, and for a beautiful instant, we connected, the flare of his soul touched with such longing, such painful melancholy that it twisted my heart. Yet I never wanted to let go.
“Your name is Arata,” I said when he took his hand from mine. “You were born this man and you will be him again.”
He did not answer, just stood back and let me climb into the saddle.
“Hope!” Avarice’s shout came through the trees. “Hope? Where are you, you little shit?”
“I’m here, Avarice,” the Vice returned, raising his voice. “With Endymion. He’s borrowing my horse, so I’m taking yours.” He pulled the reins over the horse’s head as he spoke. Avarice snapped harsh words to the night, their foreign syllables failing to hide their vulgarity.
“I’ll see you again,” Hope said, climbing into the saddle with ease. “Keep hope, Endymion.”
“You fucking little—!” Avarice snarled, momentarily blocking a bolt of moonlight as he sprinted toward us. “Vatassa matas! I will break you!”
Avarice’s horse reared, loath to go with its new owner, but Hope had skilled hands and managed to wheel it around. “Go!” he called. “Get out of here.”
Kaze needed no goading. He started forward, breaking into a trot as Avarice lunged for the saddle. A strap slipped through his fingers, and he tumbled onto the track in my wake.
“Get back here!”
Wind whipped past my ears as Kaze sped to a gallop.
“Malice will fucking eat you!”
Chapter 10
Hana
For many days, Katashi’s army made uneventful progress. Every morning the camp was packed, and every day we travelled until mid-afternoon before stopping to set it up again. Every evening I joined Katashi’s council, and every night he came to my tent, though by sunrise he was always gone. Messages came frequently from scouts and informants and the other half of his army, as well as from towns and cities choosing sides in a war that kept growing.
By the time we met our first resistance in the Valley, a clear border had developed. Katashi held the lands north of the Nuord River—Koi, Suway, Jinanton, Ji—Kin those to the south of it, and along the Willow Road fighting had broken out as far south as Yagi.
With Kin’s battalions occupied maintaining this border, it was no surprise that Katashi’s first skirmish was against an outpost garrison. They had been
set up to protect Kisia from the ever-restless mountain tribes and had done well under Kin, their pay and conditions the best in the empire.
We met a combined force of them in the field west of Hamaba.
We was the wrong term, however, as Katashi had been good to his word and left me behind in camp. I had considered riding out anyway, but however much I might hate it, he had been right. I was not trained for war. But I was not trained to sit idly by either. I tried not to worry, tried not to be restless, but hours without word of the battle were enough to wear down even the calmest soul. And then the wounded started to arrive.
At first there were just a few, a mix of imperial soldiers and Pikes who had dragged themselves from the field alone or with the help of comrades. Physicians brought from Koi were ready and waiting, and once more I was able to witness imperial military precision at work. The hundreds of camp labourers who travelled with us were their own little army, supplying water and medicine and clean cloths, but also carrying screaming men and lifeless bodies slung between them. They worked so quickly, I might have been wholly transfixed by their efficiency had I not been watching for Katashi.
“If anything happens to him on the field, we’ll hear about it long before he shows up,” Shin said, joining me at the edge of the camp as more and more wounded soldiers arrived like a trail of ants.
“You’re not worried?”
Shin pulled a face, his scars making the expression harder to interpret.
“You are worried.”
“I am always worried, Your Grace,” he said. “I’ve been with him a long time.”
Happy to take my mind off the battle, I looked up at him. “How long is a long time? I think you said so once, but I cannot recall.”
“Since before his father died.”
“He has told me… some of the difficulties they had after that. You must have been one of the few who stayed with them through the hard times.”
“The only one.”
He said it very simply, but my throat constricted around unexpected emotion. “That’s devotion.”