by Dan Neil
It passed. Scipion slashed the man’s throat in a quick motion. Within seconds, the wounded man was dead, with a serene look about him. The two walked back to their group and mounted their horses. Their group waited silently.
Denna twirled her war ax. “What took you so long?”
Matalo replied, “We found someone claiming to be with the Lost Prince.”
“That’s impossible. He’s just a myth,” interjected Douglas Hari, a cool-headed young jack-of-all-trades. “I doubt anyone survived the Sack of Sophegion—especially those of royal blood. The Black Heart saw to that.”
“If a Barradi were still riding around, we would know,” Zel Yano Kanem, a former Valkhar to King Barradi, said. “We have scouts riding at all hours of the day.”
“I think we do have reason to doubt it,” Scipion mused, “But we cannot discount it, either. This man was traveling with a group of people who could withstand New Dawn’s sheer numbers. No matter who leads them, it may help to have allies.”
“Probably just a pretender,” Zel Yano scoffed. Scipion’s lip pulled downward as he watched the old Valkhar wring his hands nervously.
He was there, at Sophegion. He remembers.
Zel Yano had been badly injured and left for dead during the battle. He still carried the scars from that day with him, though his missing eye was covered by a makeshift patch. “We must not follow a pretender king and draw the attention of Bhothar before we are ready. He hates kings. And we all know what the Black Heart does to his prisoners.”
Douglas scratched his short hair and chipped in, “Feeds them to his abominations.”
Denna added, “Or burns them at the stake. Some even speak of using people’s blood for shadow magic.”
Scipion interrupted their guessing. “We have little time to spend debating rumors. Allies may be in the area—but we know for sure that our enemies are. Scouts reported sightings of a village a few miles down the road earlier today. The outskirts are far enough off the main roads that we won’t be found. If they allow us, we will break camp there for the night.”
The mood was dampened as they continued their march. Zel Yano rode to the front to be with Scipion and Matalo, while Denna and Douglas made wagers on who was more accurate with a bow as they scavenged for food in the surrounding area. Silence hung over everyone else as night settled in.
Zel Yano asked, “What did that man say?”
“The group he was traveling with was attacked by New Dawn,” Matalo told him. “But they were targeting us.”
The Valkhar released a sharp breath. “Good fortune, then—at least, for now; we both know that if bodies are still that fresh after a battle, there must be at least two armies within a day’s march.”
“Yes, and fortunes can change quickly; we must not be caught in the open.”
The Valkhar pressed, “This—person, you found. How do we know he’s not with Lord Mornwas? New Dawn could target them as well. He could have been a spy meant to inform them of our movements.”
“He asked for death, which I granted,” Scipion informed Zel Yano. “He could not have passed anything on.”
“Perhaps. But they say Arno can raise the dead. If he can, perhaps Lord Mornwas can as well.”
“The commoners say many things,” Matalo replied. “They say the Black Heart fuses animals with foul magic to create monstrosities—or sacrifices infants to drink their blood. Rumors don’t matter. We know that New Dawn is gathering their harvest in the south; it needs to be a smooth trip for them. Why else would they send men to kill us?”
Zel Yano smiled. “It means we’re doing something right.”
Scipion nodded. “Agreed.”
“So what do you think we should do?” Zel Yano asked. “Do we move to meet the Day brothers, or do we look for this Lost Prince’s group—if he truly is the Lost Prince—and seek an alliance?”
Matalo replied, “We should seek an alliance with anyone who hates New Dawn and the Black Heart. We’re on a path to intercept at least one of the Day brothers, and we could use the help.”
Zel Yano scowled. “I do hope our scouts are accurate, then. With as few of them as we have, there’s little to be done, I know, but still—we didn’t even know Lord Mornwas was on his way east until Jomar Day told you. Now there’s a phantom army running around that we didn’t know about? I don’t like this.”
Scipion replied, “Our scouts are currently out looking for nearby armies; they will return to us tomorrow, with any luck.”
“There’s no luck in this land, boy.” Zel Yano shook his head before continuing. “And no hope, either. No, I think we’d be better off praying—not that it would do us any good.”
Zel Yano turned his steed and rejoined the others in the back. Scipion frowned as they carried on. Matalo eventually asked, “Why do you seem so down, brother?”
“He’s right,” Scipion replied. “If we’re wrong about one thing…”
“Then, we will die.” Matalo shrugged. “That’s life here: ready to fight, ready to die.”
Scipion countered, “I think not being ready to die helps to win fights.”
“That may be true,” Matalo admitted, “but in a fight like this, someone has to.”
They rode on through hilly land until they came across a small village with seven wooden houses and two large wagons with merchants’ wares. The village was perfectly nestled in the valley of three hills and bisected by a babbling creek. Over the crest of the furthest hill lay a forest, but within the small valley were fields of wheat and potatoes between pastures of grass. A full moon illuminated the town. Nobody was outside—not a light to be seen or a sound to be heard.
Scipion’s mind raced. Is it abandoned? Did the Day brothers already come here? Is this a trap?
“Is anybody here?” Matalo shouted as their horses approached. “We mean no harm if they are—unless you’re with New Dawn.”
Scipion looked at him incredulously, whispering, “Why did you just shout out that we’re here? What if it’s a trap?”
A house’s door flew open, and a woman emerged, followed by an armor-plated man. Her brown eyes burned with intensity, and her expression was stern as she wordlessly approached. Her thick, curly hair was tied with a small, fine rope, and the multi-colored jewelry that adorned her face and ears accentuated her beauty. She wore a long, flowing robe with purple, green, and gold fabrics woven together and carried a ceremonial stick with many dangling golden tokens.
“I am the leader of the Green Creek Settlement,” the woman said in a steady voice. Her bodyguard stared intently, his hand on the hilt of his blade. “My name is Lady Anasia. Why have you come here?”
“We seek shelter,” Matalo explained, “and allies, if any are willing.”
“And who do you seek alliance for?”
Matalo flashed his cocksure half-smile. “Madros Relia.”
Once the name was spoken, the armored man by Lady Anasia shifted his weight.
Her eyebrow raised. “Yes, but who commands your soldiers?”
“We do, of course.”
“You do not represent anyone but yourself?”
Matalo’s head tilted, his eyebrow raising. “Who else could I represent?”
Anasia placed a hand on her hip. “You could fight for New Dawn, the Oathsworn, or the Bhothar. You could be raiders from the Slaver’s Guild. Maybe you’re common bandits or worse—another would-be rebel army making promises you can’t keep and marching our young people off to ‘noble’ deaths. Words are words.” She looked them up and down as if she were seeking a reason to mistrust them.
Matalo proudly said, “We fight for the people.”
“I see that you do not have many people.” Anasia shook her head. “How are you supposed to fight for us? Are there more of you?”
“That’s why we need alliances. We have a brilliant commander—really, we do.
”
Anasia chuckled. “I’ve spoken to you long enough to know that you’re far from brilliant.”
“No, not me—him.” Matalo pointed to Scipion.
Anasia crossed her arms and frowned. She then said, “If we ally twenty men to forty, they still lose to thousands. I cannot send my people to die. I’m afraid that however noble your intentions, you will not find what you seek here.”
Matalo leaned in. “How do we know it can’t be won if we never fight it?”
“Because I’ve seen what happens,” Anasia coldly replied. “Friends, family—they all marched off, never to return. It never mattered what they swore to me or believed could happen. There’s nothing noble about ending up in a ditch with all your friends and leaving everyone else behind to fend for themselves.”
Scipion interjected before Matalo had a chance to speak. “My lady, I completely understand your reservations. In that case, we ask only for a place to camp for the night.”
She examined Scipion closely. “So long as you do not make a disturbance or harass my people.”
“Our soldiers will be on their best behavior; isn’t that right?” Matalo addressed the group before he turned back to her. “Thank you for allowing us to stay here, my lady.”
“I am not your lady.” She gently corrected him with a smile, her cheeks flushed with blood. “You may sleep on the outskirts. The grass should be soft enough, and you can use our stables to rest your horses.”
“Much thanks, Lady Anasia.” Matalo smiled. “We will not be a bother.”
She shook her head as she turned and walked back into her house. Anasia’s bodyguard approached them.
“Ho, brothers,” he greeted. “I am Zel Xaen Flanders. You say you’re looking for men to fight New Dawn?”
Matalo answered with a warm smile. “Always. Do you wish to pledge your sword?”
“I want to,” Xaen replied sadly. “I was a Valkhar back in Elduston before—well, you know. Now I serve Lady Anasia and these people. Do you have any news about New Dawn or Lord Mornwas?”
“Lord Mornwas is returning to Sophegion,” Scipion told him, “and the Day brothers are traveling south to Grythos. We have a small opportunity to defeat Anton and Julius while they are separated from each other.”
“Good luck.” Zel Xaen chuckled. “Many have tried; all have failed. You’d do best to stay here. With all these people you brought, we could raise more houses—maybe even some walls. Have a place—with ample protection—to call home.” He pointed at Matalo. “You—Lady Anasia likes you. She won’t say anything, but I see it.”
“Sophegion is my home,” Scipion responded. “Was, I should say.”
Matalo nodded. “We want to restore our home. If we expel Bhothar and New Dawn and all the others who prey on our people, we could make this land whole again.”
Xaen shook his head. “If you will not stay here, that is your choice. Given your mission, I do not think you will last long out there. I don’t mean to offend—just speaking from experience.”
“Perhaps you are right,” Matalo said, “but that does not matter. If Madros Relia is truly gone, I wish to join it.”
“Madros Relia.” Xaen’s eyes glimmered as he stared into the stars. “Knew you two weren’t with Mornwas the moment I heard that. Yes, I remember that land; it was beautiful—the Mother’s Gift. Shame what has become of it.”
“Shame indeed,” Scipion said. “Now, I do believe we should get some rest. We leave in the morning, after all.”
“I hope that Aion is with you, brothers,” Zel Xaen said before standing guard outside Anasia’s house. Scipion led their group to the outskirts of Green Creek Settlements, where they set up their tents and ate their rations.
Scipion stared at his bread as he sat next to Matalo. “They will not join because we do not have enough men—quite ironic.”
“We’re in for some good luck, brother,” Matalo insisted. “The gods can only kick us for so long before something good happens, right?”
“I hope you are right,” the Scorpion Knight replied.
Chapter 8
Inwards
Day 110 of the Season of Aion, 1020 YAR
Keia dodged a vicious gust of wind and scrambled behind a tree, clutching her wand. Gasping for breath, she tried to keep from panicking.
One of the veterans on the opposing team taunted her. “Is that all you got, newbie?”
She sighed. Good thing Lorinal isn’t on their team; this is bad enough.
The division had run team drills for over a week now. Oliver was careful to make sure that Lorinal and Keia were always in separate games.
A rush of wind impacted the tree, shaking Keia from her reverie. Her opponent shouted, “You can’t hide forever!”
Keia peeked out and saw the young man pursuing her. His head darted about madly, but he held his wand steady. She took a deep breath and steeled herself, excited to see if all her practice had paid off.
She jumped from behind the tree, alerting her foe. In an instant, he leveled his wand at Keia, exuding a stream of rapid wind from the tip. She held her wand with both hands and cast a ward. It was misshapen and weak, but it held. Vibrations ran up her arm as the gale impacted.
I did it!
His second wind burst shattered the ward and crashed into Keia, knocking her onto her rear. The young man took a few steps forward and yanked the wand out of her hand with telekinesis. He then leveled both wands at her.
“Surrender.”
So much for that. Small victories.
Keia raised her hands. “Yeah, yeah. I give up.”
After handing her wand back, the young man shook his head. “You’ll have to get a lot better if you want to stay in the division.”
Keia grumbled, “Thanks for reminding me.”
The young man extended a hand and helped her up. He said, “My name’s Claude. Yours?”
“I’m Keia.”
“Well, it’s good to meet you. I hope you keep practicing. I saw you on your first day; I didn’t think you’d last a week.”
Keia mustered a half-hearted smile. “Thanks.”
Claude nodded. “No problem. Go on, get back to your camp, and wait for the others. It should be over soon. I’m on a roll today.”
Keia rolled her eyes. “Oh, congratulations. Stepping on a bunch of—newbies, was it? Don’t dislocate your shoulder patting yourself on the back!”
Claude was about to reply when a crackling noise broke out from a nearby tree. He readied his wand and said, “Duty calls.”
With that, he ran off. Keia made to cast a portal when someone stepped out from between the treeline.
Lorinal emerged with a malicious smirk. “Hey, Keia.”
Keia’s hand tightened around her wand, her heart constricting. “Lorinal—what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be—”
“As far away from you as possible. Isn’t that right?”
Keia gulped. “What are you talking about?”
Lorinal moved her hand to the dagger sheathed at her hip. “You told Oliver about what I said. It makes me sick to think he’d protect criminal scum like you—you, who murdered two completely innocent people to save your own life.”
Keia winced.
Lorinal continued, “And rumor around the division is that you can barely cast a spell, but they keep you around anyway—how far backward are they going to bend for you?”
Keia pointed her wand. “So what—you want to kill me?”
Murder glowed in Lorinal’s eyes. “I’ve thought about it for years.”
“Here’s your chance,” Keia said through gritted teeth as her hand trembled.
Lorinal’s entire torso shook. “To be honest, now that I know how weak and pathetic you are, there’s almost no sport in it. All I have to do for you to fail is get out of your way! But then again
,” her fingers twitched, “where’s the justice in that, right?”
Keia’s heart pounded faster. Every scenario played out in her mind, and most of them weren’t pleasant.
Lorinal’s hand hovered over her dagger, pure malice in her stare. Keia’s stomach lurched. There was genuine hatred in Lorinal’s stare. Worse, Keia wasn’t sure if she deserved it or not.
Another crackling came out of the brush as a wind burst crashed into Lorinal’s back. She hurdled forward and landed awkwardly.
“Finally got her!” a veteran member of the division said.
“Why the hell’d she even come out this far?”
That was a good enough chance to leave. Keia lowered her wand and cast a portal beneath her. She fell through and emerged at her team’s camp next to Lesteria, Vhalia, Erisim, and Hitch. After a few heaving breaths to quell her racing heart, Keia sat by her team, trying to act nonchalant.
She asked, “You all surrendered, too?”
“Hell, no!” Hitch said. “Although Claude did throw me against some trees. Pretty sure I tweaked my back in a few places. In hindsight, I probably should have surrendered.”
“I got jumped by three of them,” Erisim said coolly. “I took out two, but the third one got me. I’m sorry, guys.”
Vhalia blushed.
I’m guessing she surrendered.
Lesteria refused to show any emotion whatsoever.
Within a few minutes, the other veteran members of their team began to arrive, each in a huff about their rookie teammates blowing their chances. Keia ignored them.
I don’t have time to care about what they think.
Oliver approached their camp. “Delta Team, all fifteen of your members were captured or killed. Alpha Team still had seven soldiers left. Your communication was clearly lacking; you let members of your own team walk blindly into traps. This was a failure of leadership.”
One of the veterans Keia didn’t recognize, a middle-aged man, gestured toward her. “I can’t work with rookies like this. We’d never allow her on the battlefield back in my day.”
Keia replied without thinking, “Well, fuck you, too!”
Oliver frowned. “Exactly as I believed: a failure of leadership. Do you know why you failed?”