by A. C. Cobble
Ben rose early, unable to find a comfortable spot on the hard desert floor. Rhys was up already. The rogue was resting on his haunches, staring at the eastern horizon. Ben settled next to the rogue.
“Waiting for sunrise?” he asked.
“I am,” agreed Rhys. “For a long time now.”
“I’m sorry about Corinne,” acknowledged Ben.
Rhys ran a hand through his hair, brushing the salt and pepper strands behind his ear. Ben looked at his friend’s weathered skin. Veins stood out above the bone and muscle. The creases of the rogue’s face had deepened since Ben first met the man. Rhys was aging.
“I’m sorry about her too,” the rogue replied.
Ben wasn’t sure what else to say, so he sat with his friend quietly.
“I can’t keep track of the people I’ve lost,” whispered Rhys, still looking out at the empty horizon. “There have been so many. Friends I drank with, warriors I fought with, criminals I worked with, partners in mostly unsuccessful business ventures, lovers both long term and short. Even a few women I was all but married to. Ben, I’ve forgotten more of them than I can remember. It’s like they’re gone.”
Ben frowned. “I’ve always heard that when you lose someone and find someone else, you aren’t replacing the first person. Your heart grows larger to accommodate more.”
Rhys snorted. “Bull shit.”
“It’s not,” argued Ben. “Edward Crust in Farview is a double widower. I can tell you for certain he loved both of his wives equally. He would have died for either one of them.”
“I’m sure,” replied Rhys. He sighed. “Ben, I can remember the faces of some women I’ve been with but not their names. I can recall the names of others but not their faces. I can only guess at how many I’ve forgotten entirely. Before the Blood Bay war, I lived in Fabrizo for nearly forty years. I can’t remember a single person from that place. I don’t want to forget these people. It just happens. I don’t want to forget Corinne, but that will happen too.”
“You won’t,” assured Ben, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“You don’t understand,” hissed Rhys. “I’ve been alive for over two thousand years. My memory is gone. My mind is like a murky pool. Sometimes, things float up, and I can recall them clearly, but there is so much under the surface I can’t see. I know it’s there, but it’s lost to me. I can already feel the memory of her slipping away. There is nothing I can do about it.”
“I’ll help you remember,” assured Ben.
“Maybe you can help me remember Corinne,” said Rhys, “but what about the others? I’m stretched too thin. I can feel it now. In my bones and my soul. It’s been long enough for me in this world. It’s time to let go.”
“What are you saying, Rhys!” exclaimed Ben.
Rhys looked at him, and Ben saw the certainty in his eyes.
“I won’t abandon you,” declared Rhys. “I’ll see this through as best I’m able, but I can feel the end coming. I can feel the weight of time pulling on me like it never has before. You should know. An end is coming for me, and when it does, I’ll be at peace.”
Ben opened his mouth to speak but was cut off when Towaal cried out behind them.
“Where is Milo?” she demanded.
Ben turned and saw the mage looking frantically around the campsite. Amelie and O’ecca were sitting up on their bedrolls, peering at Towaal sleepily, not understanding her concern.
“Relieving himself, probably,” suggested Ben.
“Where is his bedroll then?” screeched Towaal.
Ben blinked and stood. She was right. Milo’s bedroll was missing.
The mage dove toward her pack and threw it to the side. Only bare rock and sand was underneath it.
“Damnit!” screamed Towaal.
Rhys jumped to his feet and started circling the camp.
“What’s going on?” asked O’ecca, covering a yawn with her fist.
“The staff,” exclaimed Towaal. “He took the wyvern fire staff!”
Amelie sprang to her feet as well, looking around wildly. Ben rushed to Towaal’s side and stared at where her pack was. He clenched his hands into fists.
Rhys knelt on the northern side of the camp, studying the red sand. Squatting, he moved forward, eyes on the ground.
“Someone feel where his bedroll was,” instructed the rogue. “See if it’s warmer than the ground around it and then pack up. We’ll eat on the move.”
They sprang into action, glad for something to do.
O’ecca knelt where Milo had placed his bedroll the night before and shook her head.
They packed quickly and started off in the direction Rhys went. He’d only made it two hundred paces past a low ridge of rock they’d camped in the shade of. His face was twisted into a sour grimace.
“There are too many rocks,” admitted the rogue. “I can see the occasional scuff that might be from a boot, but it might not be. There’s no way we’ll be able to follow a trail across this ground. We’ve already lost him.”
“Ho there!” called a voice.
They turned and saw Crai trotting toward them.
“I didn’t expect you to leave so early. Are you worried about the demons catching up?”
“We didn’t expect to leave so early either,” responded Rhys. “It’s not the demons.”
“We decided we need to get moving,” added Ben. “We’ve been gone from home a long time. We need to return there, but we must inform the emperor of what is coming before we go.”
Crai nodded in understanding. “My man saw your companion leave a couple of bells back. He tried to hail him, but the boy kept going. He was in a hurry, my man said.”
“You saw Milo leave?” questioned Towaal, interest burning in her eyes.
“Is that his name?” wondered Crai. “Yes, after what happened last time we camped in this desert, we set a watch. One of my men mentioned seeing the curly-haired boy heading out before dawn. Is he going to Shamiil to prepare the way for you with the emperor? He didn’t strike me as someone who could get an audience at the imperial palace.”
“Shamiil,” demanded Towaal. “Your man is sure he is going to Shamiil?”
Crai shrugged. “They didn’t speak, but the boy was headed due north. Where else would he be going?”
“Thank you,” mumbled Ben, shocked at their good fortune.
“I will tell the emperor about you when we see him,” said O’ecca to Crai. “You are a good man, and Ooswam needs all of the good men it can find. I am certain he will find a place for you. If he doesn’t, I will.”
Crai bowed at the waist. “I appreciate that. I spoke to my sister, and we would like to fight the demons, no matter how dangerous it is. Foul creatures like that have no place in this land.”
Ben slapped his hand on the former captain’s shoulder. “I’m sure the emperor will be grateful to have your sword. Stay vigilant, and be ready.”
Crai offered a quick bow then returned to his camp.
Ben looked to Rhys and the rogue broke into a quick trot. They would move fast while the sun was low in the horizon. By midday, the heat of the desert would be brutal, and they would have to slow. They wanted to cover as much ground as possible before then.
The former apprentice would know that at first light, they would be coming for him. He was alone and fit. He wouldn’t rest for bells. Ben knew they couldn’t catch him in a day, but with grim determination, Ben decided they would catch him.
Weapons jingled, and packs were tightened while they ran. Shamiil was a week away, and it was the largest port on the South Continent. If they didn’t catch Milo before he got there, he could disappear into the city or find a vessel sailing to nearly anywhere in the world.
11
Shamiil
From leagues away, giant white stone lions dotted the road to Shamiil. Every five hundred paces, a pair of the creatures reared out of the rolling green hills. They stood on waist-high pedestals, towering above Ben’s head. O’ecca explained
that they represented the emperor’s influence, and with each new emperor, another row of lions would be added, always expanding out from Shamiil.
Traffic was heavy on the road, since the city was both the imperial heart of Ooswami government and the largest commercial center. Streams of wagons passed along both sides of the track until armored columns of men passed through. Everyone would scramble to the side to make way. Highborn led many of the columns, and they were liable to lash out at anyone who caused them to slow their stride.
Ben and his friends kept a sharp lookout for Milo, but they didn’t expect to find the former apprentice in the crowd headed to Shamiil. Milo had stayed ahead of them for a week now, and Ben was certain he was already inside the city.
He was also certain that the young man had always been more than he seemed. His appearance in councilman Rettor’s chambers in Irrefort, his attitude toward Eldred in Hamruhg, the way he’d fought in Indo, his ability with Amelie’s fireball-shooting vambrace, and a dozen other times he’d displayed surprising skill or knowledge. Milo wasn’t some simple apprentice who happened to be in the right places at the right time. That still left the question, though, what was he?
“Let’s spread out across the docks first,” suggested Rhys, holding a hand above his eyes to try and catch a glimpse of the city.
“I could ask the emperor to task his guards with finding Milo,” offered O’ecca.
“No,” responded Towaal. “We do not know Milo’s true ability, and we don’t know the full capabilities of the staff either. I suspect he may know more about it than we do. If he is able to use it, the damage to Shamiil could be catastrophic. We must surprise him or face him away from a large population center. We cannot put so many lives at risk.”
“You think the Librarian taught more than Milo let on?” inquired Ben.
“I’m not sure it was the Librarian who taught him,” replied Towaal grimly.
Ben frowned, ready to press further, but his attention was drawn away by angry shouts behind them.
A horn blared, and a deep voice boomed, “Clear out of the way for the Red Lord.”
O’ecca spun, dropping into a fighting stance.
Amelie grabbed her arm and dragged the girl toward the side of the road, whispering frantically into her ear.
“Over there,” muttered Rhys, directing them into the knee-high grass at the base of one of the lion statues.
Around them, other travelers were doing the same. The Red Lord was evidently well known.
Ben watched as black armored soldiers strode down the wide, dirt road. They wore full armor, but their helmets hung at their sides. Top-knotted heads turned and stared with disdain at the people clustered on the side of the road. Ben saw the haughty superiority in their looks and wanted to remind them how many of their brethren he’d cut down in Indo. These were hard men, child killers, and he would have no qualms about chopping down a few more of them.
In the center, the Red Lord rode a jet-black steed. His bright red, lacquered armor stood in stark contrast to the black-armored men around him. He didn’t mind standing out on the road or on the battlefield. Ben couldn’t help but notice the man wore his helmet, though. Worried about an ambush, maybe.
Behind him, Ben could hear Amelie fiercely admonishing O’ecca. The diminutive lady was prepared to attack, but with three hundred of the Red Lord’s men around him, it would be suicide.
Rhys stepped next to Ben, his hand gripping his longsword.
“Now isn’t the time,” hissed Ben.
Rhys smirked and released his grip. “I know. It’s hard to stand still while those butchers march by. I’m surprised we can’t see the blood of Indo staining their boots.”
“We can’t right every wrong, settle every score in the world,” chided Ben.
“You sound like me,” admonished Rhys.
Ben sighed. “It’s a fight worth fighting, but it’s not ours. We have a larger mission to consider.”
Rhys cocked an eyebrow at Ben.
“Fine,” conceded Ben. “I do sound like you. I’ll give you this. If there’s an opportunity, we’ll do something about that murderer.”
Rhys nodded curtly. “Fair enough.”
The Red Lord’s men passed without incident.
“They’ll be at the emperor’s palace,” stated O’ecca, her voice tight with anger. “That place is filled with lackeys and gossips. Anything I say to the emperor will find its way to the Red Lord.”
“Does that matter?” challenged Ben. “The Red Lord has no reason to object to facing the demons. He has as much incentive as the rest of Ooswam to want them stopped.”
“He has reason to oppose anything I do,” warned O’ecca. “Anything that brings my House closer to the emperor is a threat to him. He will not be a friendly voice in the emperor’s ear.”
“Maybe that opportunity will come up after all,” said Rhys darkly.
They made it to the city gates and stared at two massive white stone lions. These creatures were larger than a building and towered over the low walls that surrounded the city. For a city the size of Shamiil, the walls looked tiny to Ben.
“No one challenges the emperor,” explained O’ecca when Ben asked about it. “Shamiil hasn’t been attacked in millennia. Why would it need tall walls and battlements?”
Ben shrugged. From what he’d seen, the emperor would be wise to assume less about loyalty.
The gates stood wide open and looked to have been left that way for generations. Around them clustered a dozen soldiers wearing bulky, lacquered armor. At first, Ben thought they were the Red Lord’s men, but as they walked closer, he saw that instead of a red stripe on their chests, they had gold. And instead of helmets formed like insects, theirs were formed like lions.
Ben glanced up at the two huge lion statues and then back at the guards. For leagues, they’d been seeing lion statues. The emperors of Ooswam had an unhealthy obsession with the animals, he decided.
“Let’s enter with no fanfare,” recommended Rhys, speaking directly to O’ecca. “I think we should get caught up on the latest court politics before we go barging into the emperor’s throne room and demanding assistance. Remember, the Red Lord is here. If he is able to strike at you to harm your father, he will.”
“You’re right,” conceded O’ecca. “I don’t like it, but it isn’t time to face that monster. Yet.”
The guards made no move to stop or question them, and they easily entered the city as part of a constant river of people flowing in. The streets were teeming with people, all rushing about the normal tasks that made up city life. Merchants were calling out their wares, and vendors sold food out of tiny kiosks on the side of the street. Women bustled about carrying goods from the market, and men poured into taverns or carted around deliveries. Young people clustered on the corners of major streets, gossiping and joking. It was all so normal. It seemed strange after the trip through the desert and the battle with the Purple. The contrast was jarring to Ben.
“Let’s find a tavern,” grumbled Rhys.
“Let’s find an inn and then go look around the docks,” suggested Ben, thinking that once Rhys sat in front of an ale barrel, it’d be impossible to get him going again.
Rhys didn’t argue.
“There’s a nice inn about a block away from the palace,” advised O’ecca. “I’ve stayed there before.”
“We need to go somewhere you haven’t been,” said Towaal. “Somewhere no one would expect you to stay.”
“I know a place,” mentioned Rhys. “It’s been a long time, but I bet it’s still there.”
“Of course you know a place,” Amelie responded with an eye roll.
The place Rhys led them to was a squat building two blocks from the docks. It smelled of fish and men who hadn’t bathed in weeks. Before they could enter the front door, two sailors burst out brawling with each other, fists, teeth, and blood flashing in the afternoon sun.
“I know of another place if you don’t like this one,” Rhys offere
d O’ecca. “It’s similar to that establishment you took us to in Vard. What was it called, the Goat Keeper’s Daughter?”
A flush crept into her face and O’ecca scurried into the inn.
It was as Ben expected. Dirty floor, dirty tables, questionable-looking plates of food, and drunken men shoveling it down in between mouthfuls of ale.
“No one will expect to find me here,” choked O’ecca, narrowly avoiding stepping on a man who had slumped over on the floor.
The party steered around the man and moved deeper in the room, looking for an innkeeper in the mess of harried serving women. When they finally found the proprietor, they hired rooms and stowed their gear. Then Ben and Rhys slipped out to scour the docks.
The tavern was rough, but the women could handle themselves in that place. No inebriated sailor was going to cause problems for any of those three ladies. The fewer of their party on the docks, the more difficult it would be for Milo to spot them.
“Shouldn’t we have at least brought Towaal?” asked Ben.
Rhys shook his head before pulling up his hood. “We want to avoid a battle, remember? This is about stealth. We can figure out how to deal with him once we actually find him. An open confrontation in the middle of a city is definitely not the answer.”
Ben still thought the mage could have been useful, but there was no point in arguing. Instead, he pulled his hood over his head as well and started looking around.
The docks were crowded with porters carrying goods, stacked piles of merchandise coming on or off ships, ropes, animals, and the cacophony of commerce. The harbor and huge merchant vessels sat on one side, rows of expansive warehouses on the other. The space extended along the waterfront as far as Ben could see.
“These docks have to go for half a league in either direction,” complained Ben.
“Maybe we’ll get lucky,” offered Rhys.
Ben didn’t think the rogue had any more hope than he did about how lucky they would get.
They picked a direction at random and started walking, skirting close to the ships where they suspected Milo might be. Wherever he intended to go with the staff, they figured it wasn’t Shamiil. No, he’d only be in the city long enough to find passage to Alcott.