The logs around the fire were now full, leaving no place for Quinn to sit. Instead, she stood near her tent and ate in quiet while listening to conversations between various groups of girls, catching bits and pieces of chatter ranging from speculation about the war to which men were the most handsome in other regiments. In her head, she mentally recited the names of the girls who shared her tent.
The tall woman with short hair and tilted eyes was named Bernice. The brunette with a braid and broad shoulders, Evian. Tilly was the short red-head. Last was Ilsa, who matched Quinn’s height with an average build and dirty blond hair tied in a tail. When introduced to them, the girls had been cordial but showed little warmth toward Quinn. In fact, she had found little welcome from anyone in the squad. She wondered if their behavior toward her was a result of her mistake during drills or something else.
The crunch of footsteps on dirt drew Quinn’s attention and she found Cleffa emerging from the darkness. The squad leader stopped beside Quinn and stared at the fire.
“You lied today,” Cleffa said it as fact.
“Yes.”
Cleffa narrowed her eyes at Quinn. “Why did you cover for me?”
Quinn shrugged. “It seemed the right thing to do. I’m new and was less likely to receive harsh discipline – at least for my first offense. You might not have the luxury.”
The woman sighed. “I shouldn’t have allowed my anger toward Juvi influence how I treat you.”
“I heard the name mentioned before. Who is Juvi?”
Cleffa’s lips pressed together as she stared at the fire. A beat later, she responded. “Juvi was among the more skilled girls in Squad Three. She was even our best duelist. However, she disgraced us, and we still carry that shame.”
“What did she do?”
“Deserted.”
Quinn’s brow furrowed. “She left your squad?”
“Worse. She abandoned her duty – her commitment. They caught her south of Yarth and brought her back here for a public trial. The procedure was brief with Rorrick declaring her guilty as a deserter and for treason. He claimed that anyone deserting would be treated as if they intended to sell secrets to the enemy.
“Juvi was stripped down to her small clothes, as was the entire squad. We each received three lashings with a whip. She received far more than that. They then hanged her blood-covered body from a noose and left it in the middle of camp for three days for everyone to see. I suspect any soldier who had been present will think twice before attempting to run from his or her duty.”
Quinn continued to stare at Cleffa, as she had done during the entire story. “Why did the rest of the squad receive lashings? You had done nothing wrong.”
Cleffa nodded. “It’s because Rorrick is clever. He wants us to know we are responsible for the behavior of our squadmates. If we all risk punishment for the act of one, we have cause to ensure that others obey orders.”
Quinn turned toward the fire where other Harriers were sharing stories. The sight left her feeling singled out. She realized that the others blamed Juvi and Quinn was now the subject of their anger as Juvi’s replacement. The mistake Quinn made during drills had only made things worse. She needed to do something to gain their trust.
“Do you really have dueling experience?” Cleffa asked. “You mentioned it on the field today.”
“Yes.”
“Are you skilled?”
“Some might say I am.”
“Good,” Cleffa said. “Our weekly inter-squad duels happen in six days. I’d like to have you represent Squad Three. While Juvi wasn’t able to defeat the champion, she had come close. In the weeks since Juvi’s offense, we have fared quite poorly. In all honesty, it has been embarrassing. Perhaps you can change our luck.”
Quinn remained silent, knowing this was her chance.
8
The Gibbet
A creak from the dungeon door stirred Parker from his sleep. The night had been long and restless, filled with troubled dreams spurred by the knowledge of what was to come.
“Wake up, you slime!” Jerrick the jailor shouted.
Normally, Parker would exchange quips with the man. Today, he lacked the fire to play that game or any other.
He rolled off his pallet and stood, groaning at the aches in his joints. When he peered through the bars in his cell door, he saw six armed guards surrounding the big jailor. Jerrick unlocked the door to Hex’s cell and scrambled backward. The door swung open and Hex charged out with a roar.
At a height exceeding six feet with broad shoulders, thick arms, and a barrel chest, Hex often caused other men to fear him. In this case, the big sailor rushing out sent the armed guards backward with terror on their faces. He dodged the first blade, grabbed the man holding it, and lifted him into the air. With a howl and wild eyes, Hex tossed the guard into three of his cohorts, smashing them into the wall before they crumpled to the floor.
Hex turned toward the next guard as the man thrust his sword, the blade slicing through Hex’s stomach until the tip emerged from his back. A deep grunt came from the big man’s mouth and he swung his meaty fist, backhanding the soldier with a solid crunch. As the guard fell to the floor, the jailor leaped forward and swung his cudgel, striking Hex in the head with a crack Parker felt from his cell. Hex fell to the floor with the sword still stuck in his midriff.
Jerrick turned toward the cells as the guards climbed to their feet – all except the man who had run Hex through. The guard remained on the floor, out cold.
“Does anyone else want to try an escape?” The jailor asked. “I highly recommend it. Not only will you feel the pain of my cudgel, but we will heal you and still send you to the gallows.”
Neither Parker nor Pretencia responded. The jailor knelt and held Hex’s wrists together behind his back, shackling the big man. He then stood and unlocked Pretencia’s cell.
Dalwin emerged wearing a frown. “This is wrong, Jerrick, and you know it.”
“Right or wrong isn’t for me to decide,” Jerrick said. “Our betters give us orders. We follow them. It’s as simple as that.”
The man shackled Dalwin’s wrists behind his back and turned toward Parker’s cell.
“Don’t make this difficult, Parker. I’m just doing my job, as are these men. It’s nothing personal.”
“I know, Jerrick,” Parker said. “Let’s just get this over with.”
The man unlocked the door, opening it for Parker.
Jerrick gave Parker a nod. “That’s the spirit.”
Parker spun about, holding his wrists together behind his back. “I’m looking forward to seeing the sun again, Jerrick. If I must die, then I just want to see the sun, and, perhaps, the aqua waters of Wayport bay.”
“Aye, Parker.” There was an undeniable affection in Jerrick’s voice. “That, I can offer.”
With Jerrick’s hand on his shoulder to guide him, Parker walked out of his cell, through the dungeon doorway and down the dark corridor. The clanking of armor trailed behind him as a guard walked Pretencia and the others carried the unconscious Hex.
Climbing the stairs, Parker turned at the landing and found welcome light ahead. He emerged into the receiving hall where Captain Sharene waited with a dozen armed guards. The woman watched the others emerge, her brow rising when she spotted four men carrying Hex with a blade still sticking from his stomach and a trail of blood dripping on the floor.
“So, the big man resisted. I’m not surprised.” She turned to the side. “Dryfus.”
A short man in a purple cloak stepped out from behind the cluster of guards. The man’s eyes were round with fear, and he refused to look at Sharene, even as he spoke to her. “Yes, Captain?”
“Please heal the prisoner. He is to be publicly hanged. We can’t have him dying before his performance.”
“Yes, Captain.”
The man scurried over to Hex as the guards set the big man on the tiled floor. One guard put a foot against Hex’s chest and pulled the sword from his stomach. Blood
gurgled from the wound. Kneeling beside him, Dryfus put his hand on Hex’s bald head and closed his eyes. A moment later, the bleeding stopped, and a massive shiver shook the big man. His eyes flickered open, and he gasped for air. Panting, he turned his head and his eyes met Parker’s.
“Sorry, Hex,” Parker said softly. “There’s no way out of this one.”
“Rex, Turk, Hammond, Yuli, Fern, get him up and keep him in line,” Sharene commanded.
The five guards scrambled around Hex, lifted him to his feet and took position as the two biggest guards each took one of Hex’s bound arms and the other three leveled blades at his back. One glance at Hex’s downcast eyes made it obvious he lacked the fire for further resistance.
“Chadwick is a traitor, Sharene,” Parker said. “Why do you follow him?”
The tall woman scowled at Parker for a moment before a smile crossed her face. “A rising tide floats all ships. You know that. With Chadwick’s advancement comes opportunity for the rest of us.”
“Is that all you care about, Sharene? How you might benefit, regardless of how it impacts others?”
She sneered. “Don’t get righteous with me, Parker. Everyone puts themselves first, and if they say otherwise, they lie.”
He shook his head. “I’m saddened to hear you say such a thing.”
The sound of horns arose outside the castle, blaring the song meant for a king. The horns settled and Chadwick’s voice arose, calling out to the crowd.
“That’s our cue.” Sharene said in a firm voice. “Let’s go.”
A shove in the back spurred Parker toward the door. When he reached it, Chadwick’s speech became understandable.
“…Empire will bring a new age to Wayport, to Kantaria, and to all of Issalia. Without Chaos magic to threaten our lives, we will thrive and prosper. Your taxes will be lower, and the healing abilities of the Ministry will be available to everyone while those who can channel Chaos are executed – the same fate awaiting anyone who betrays the Empire.”
Chadwick turned as Parker, Pretencia, and Hex strode onto the landing atop the stairs. Below, the plaza was packed with people surrounding a newly constructed wooden platform.
“Behold!” Chadwick said in a loud voice. “A trio of traitors who resist our cause!”
A roar arose from the crowd, cheers and jeers that drowned out whatever Chadwick said next. The duke’s gaze shifted to Parker, meeting his glare. I would skewer you before all these people if I could, Parker thought. Chadwick blinked, his grin dropping away as if he had heard the threat. The guards pushed Parker forward, ending the silent confrontation.
Down the stairs Parker went, toward the hungry, angry crowd. If not for the line of armed guards standing at the bottom of the steps, Parker suspected the mob would have stormed the stairs to get to him.
A narrow wooden ramp ran to the wooden platform. Parker led the way across the ramp, trailed by guards and his two cellmates. Atop the platform were three nooses, dangling from a wooden frame ten feet above. A trap door ran the length of the platform, and the lever for the door waited at the far end.
Two guards gripped Parker’s upper arms and forced him toward the first noose. One guard held him in place while the other pulled the rope over his head and cinched it below his chin.
Parker’s armpits were damp with sweat, and his breaths came in rapid gasps. The crowd shrieked curses and words of hatred as if he were the reason for every malady inflicted upon them. They know nothing about me, but they despise me. I have done nothing to deserve their hatred, yet they thirst for my blood. The realization left Parker doubting his faith in humanity. Would they even care if they knew about my role in the Battle at the Brink – an event that saved every one of their lives?
Turning his head, Parker saw Dalwin staring toward the crowd with defiance in his eyes despite the rope about his neck. Beyond Dalwin was Hex, wearing a deep grimace. Beyond Hex, Sharene shifted to stand beside the trapdoor lever.
The crowd quieted and Chadwick’s voice arose, drawing their attention.
“These three men have been found guilty of treason, sentenced to a gruesome, painful death. Let this be a message to any who seek to betray my rule or the Empire. This or a worse death will await any who dare to defy me.”
As Chadwick spoke, his voice had drawn closer and closer. He then appeared at Parker’s left, standing atop the gallows platform opposite from the lever where Sharene waited.
“For the glory of Wayport, Kantaria, and the Empire, I condemn these three men to death.” Chadwick turned toward Sharene. “On my word, let them hang…”
The thump of his own pulse hammered in Parker’s ears, joined by his own rapid, desperate breaths as they drowned out Chadwick’s voice. He closed his eyes and thought of Tenzi, wishing he could see her one last time.
As Chadwick’s speech ended, the crowd cheered, the noise drawing Parker’s attention. He opened his eyes to fists pumping in the air, the bloodthirsty crowd cheering for his death.
A flash of movement caught Parker’s eye, followed by the glint of sunlight off a thrown blade. Sharene jerked backward, and she stumbled with a dagger hilt sticking from her chest. The woman gripped the tall lever beside her as another blade slammed through her left eye. She slid to her knees, twitching as blood ran down her face. Her arm wrapped about the trapdoor lever, using it to hold her upright until she collapsed, pulling the lever with her. The floor panel fell open, and Parker fell with it, knowing he had reached his final moment.
9
Traitor
Despite the Kantarian helmet and armor she wore, Tenzi Thanes resisted the urge to turn around, fearing Chadwick or Sharene might recognize her.
Keeping her back to them took everything Tenzi had, knowing Parker stood behind her with a noose around his neck. She had caught a glimpse of him when they brought him out. The image remained in her mind – his clothing soiled, his hair ragged, and a full, scraggily beard on his face. Parker had lost some weight, but he was in better shape than Pretencia. The former king was in poor condition before Chadwick arrested him. Now…
Come on, Brock, Tenzi thought. We don’t have much time.
Beyond the crowded plaza were the guard towers, square structures that stood three stories tall. Upon each, five guards holding crossbows watched the crowd below while the gate between them stood open to welcome the people of Wayport to the public execution. If Tenzi had her way, it would be Chadwick on the gibbet with Sharene beside him.
Tenzi peered down the line of guards to her left, all dressed in Kantarian armor – Black leather with gold and red trim, the metal plates on their chests and shoulders tinted with a golden hue to match the bracers on their arms. She wondered if their loyalty was to Chadwick or to the crown. The answer would come soon.
Movement atop one of the towers drew Tenzi’s attention. A scuffle ensued, but lasted mere seconds. The same occurred atop the other tower. It was time to act.
She drew the daggers strapped to her thighs, spun, and launched the first, the knife plunging into Sharene’s chest. The second dagger followed, piercing the hateful woman’s eye. Sharene fell to her knees. A thump drew Tenzi’s attention as a cloaked figure landed atop the far end of the platform, sending Chadwick scrambling away. Tenzi then panicked when she spied Sharene hugging the gallows lever, pulling it down as she collapsed to the floor. Quick as lightning, Tenzi reached behind her back, grabbed the dagger secured between shoulder blades, and made a desperate throw just before the nearest guard tackled her and drove her to the ground.
Broland and seven soldiers waited in the alley, all dressed in Kantarian armor, each with a red ribbon tied around his or her left bicep. Eight arcanists, including Stein, waited with them.
When cheers arose from within the nearby citadel, Broland turned toward Stein and nodded. “It is time.”
Stein and the other arcanists closed their eyes as Broland’s stomach fluttered in anticipation. Chaos gave them an edge, but the plan to spare the Wayport guards’ lives put him
and the others at risk. While a Power augmentation might make him super human, death remained just a well-placed arrow or sword point away.
The arcanists began opening their eyes, their irises filled with crackling red energy. The rune on Broland’s hand began to glow, as did the symbol marking each of his fellow soldiers. His vision whited out, and he stumbled as a surge of energy wracked his body. The spots fell away and he stood tall, feeling as if he could take on the world.
“Arcanists, you head back to Gulley’s and wait. If all goes well, the city will soon be ours.”
The four men and three women spun about and scurried down the alley, toward the city center, leaving Stein, Broland, and the guards behind. Broland turned toward his team and the fluttering in his stomach returned. As a prince, he was used to others obeying his orders. However, the lives of these soldiers depended on him.
Broland flexed his arm, tested his shield straps, and confidence stirred inside him. The shield felt solid and familiar, reminding him of countless hours he had spent training. With surprise on their side, this was a fight they could win.
“Remember to watch your strength. Our goal is to overwhelm, capture, and interrogate, not to kill.” He gestured toward the three men and woman to his left. “You four take the north tower. The others are with me as we take the south tower. Send two swordsmen to the top. The other two go through the door and disable anyone inside.” He turned toward Stein. “Trail discreetly and be prepared to heal in case any of us is wounded.”
“Try not to get killed, Broland,” Stein said. “I’d rather not be on Brock’s bad side.”
“I don’t blame you.” Broland had never seen his father so focused, so intent on something. “The Duke of Wayport is about to find out what that is like. I almost feel sorry for Chadwick. He is about to have a miserable day.”
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