I peeled the younger boy off my feet and rose picking up the scimitar I had recently acquired from the black commander. “Would the commander of whom you speak be the owner of this rather fine scimitar?” I asked amiably. The boy’s expression told me it was. “Well,” I smiled, “he will not be using it to flay me or anyone else.” I pointed to the puddle of slime that was congealing on the grass just beyond our bivouac. “And if you think the remainder of your company will come for you, well—unless there are more of you in the vicinity,” and I pointed to the headless corpses strewn over the meadow, “I very much doubt anyone will be coming to rescue you. Now, shall we talk openly and honestly about the soldiers for whom you work or shall I have Karyn here employ her skills?”
“So they are just boys pressed into service,” Dthor-Aid’n stated glancing over to where we had tethered the youths.
“So it would seem,” Markos said. “You played them very well, Ez’n,” he remarked smiling at me. “I was certain we had you convinced that Karyn would torture them. When did you discern the ruse?”
“The moment she told me the fire would concentrate the poison in the thorns. I am fully aware that the volatile principals in forest briar are neutralised by heat and that she intended to make field needles of the thorns.”
“So we know nothing more of these soldiers other than they can be killed by your magic,” Maegor said pulling Faedron down next to him at the hearth.
In point of fact we knew a good deal more than that. We knew, for example, that they could be killed by conventional weapons. Kylos had more than adequately demonstrated that fact. But I was far more interested in the breastplate that had disintegrated to dust when Kylos’ dart found its mark.
“There is nothing magical about them,” Kylos told me, handing me the very dart he had just retrieved from the dead soldier. “They are cast from bronze like all of our other weaponry, Ez’n.”
“But with one slight, possibly significant difference, Kylos,” I replied, examining the dart carefully. “This has been dipped in gold.”
“That is only because I am a member of the royal house and a member of the Crown Prince’s guard,” the archer responded. “All of the weaponry for the Royal House is dipped; all others are simple cast bronze or beaten steel as I have said.”
I returned the dart watching as the young man slid it back into the loop on his belt. Time for an experiment, I thought.
The experiment went much as I expected. No amount of battering, stabbing, slicing or slashing with bronze, steel or even a crystal blade would damage or penetrate the black armour:
“This is madness,” Aenar snorted, returning his blade to its scabbard,” What chance have we if we cannot get a clean strike at a vital point?”
“Well, ‘b’zaddi, he fell to my arrow,” Kylos said pointing to one of the fallen.
Aenar flicked the golden flights before pulling the arrow from the dead man’s forehead. “Yes he did, my little demon,” Aenar agreed handing the archer his arrow with a sardonic smile, “but we are not all marksmen,”
“Well you are not,” Kylos agreed twitting the veteran’s ear. He turned quickly his right hand a blur as he seemed merely to flick a dart from his belt, The projectile flashed red gold in the morning sun and a scant heartbeat later the black breastplate exploded in a cloud of soot leaving only Kylos’ gold dart vibrating in the centre of the post we had been using as a sparring rack.
“Very impressive,” Aenar said dryly, “for a little boy,”
Kylos gave a look of fake indignation before striding around to square up to the older man, He thrust the palm of one hand into Aenar’s chest before throwing open his cloak with the other. “You cannot fool me, ‘b’zaddi, you reprobate. You call me boy and all the while you dream of uncovering the man!” He gave Aenar a wink before turning away and swathing himself in his cloak. “Now you can dream longer.” he said and walked off towards the horses.
We gathered ourselves together, loading the captured armour on to the pack horses and arming ourselves with the crystal swords, At least we would give ourselves a half decent fighting chance should we encounter more of the black soldiers as we journeyed to Delos which was still the best part of a day away. I glanced up at the sun.
We had lost a good part of the morning to the skirmish and it was unlikely that we would make the fortified town by nightfall even if we rode hard for we still had to negotiate the Forest of Zendra; and there was the complication of the two young prisoners, If they were made to walk it would delay us greatly and if the rode at pommel with two of the cavaliers we would still have to ride more slowly to spare the horses.
“We should kill them,” Markos suggested.
“They are just children,” I responded,
“With respect, Ez’n,” Ursus offered, “they were man enough to bear arms. It is not our way to give or seek quarter,”
“Ursus speaks true, Ez’n,” Markos offered,
I looked at the youths where the stood bound by the picket. “That is as may be, my friends,” I answered,” but this is neither a Zetan nor Morlan force of arms, it is the Ez’n’s Guard and I will not allow the slaughter of prisoners.”
I walked over to where the boys were standing, signalling Markos and Ursus to follow. I stood for a moment examining the youths carefully. The youngest, Kurt, was quaking in his sandals while the older boy, who called himself Vel merely stood glaring at me.
“My two officers here think I should order your deaths. Can you give me any reason why I should not take your heads?”
“Do as you wish,” Vel said, “Neither of us will turn cloak and I will cut your throat the first chance I get.”
I turned to Kurt, “And you?”
The youngster said nothing, he just stood and shook. “Very well,” I said, “You will ride with these two men. If you make even the slightest move to escape or demonstrate anything even vaguely resembling treachery, make no mistake they will end you and,” I made a gesture lifting the pair off the ground by their necks, “if they do not—I will.” I stilled my power abruptly, dropping two boys and sending them sprawling. “See to it,” I ordered, leaving the Morlans to organise the boys, despatching Malek, Thaze and Kylos to scout ahead.
The sun was moving lower in the sky as we finally broke the cover of the Zendran forest and I had just given the order to set camp when Karyn raised the alarm.
“Rider! Rider coming in fast!” she shouted, “It is Thaze.”
Thaze reined in his mount tumbling out of the saddle as the horse slewed to a halt. Dthor-Aid’n and Maegor were on the ground beside the cadet before I was scarcely out of my saddle.
“They fell on us before we knew it Ez’n,” the cadet gasped, wincing and then crying out as the men made to lift him, Black slime oozed out from a gash in his chest.
“How many? “I asked.
“Ten that I counted Ez’n, “the young man gasped, heaving in a pain-wracked breath, “Malek is dead,” he cried, “all burned up. They thought I was already dead and left me.”
“And Kylos—what of Kylos? “Aenar demanded pushing to the cadet’s side.
“I think they took him. They said something about giving him to their wizard as tribute.” The cadet pointed to his horse. “I found his cloak, but nothing else so I do not think they burned him as they did Malek.”
The sound of laughter behind us brought as all abruptly about. Vel was sniggering at us.
“Gorgoth will give your pretty archer to his men first so they may make him more receptive to their master,” he sneered, “and when Gorgoth has violated him to his content he will tear out his heart and eat it.” The youth laughed out loud at Aenar’s expression. “You will all pay the . . .”
“Be silent!” My thoughts gripped Vel’s throat and closed it. “Another word from that cesspit you call a mouth and I will hand you to the Zetans under my command who will doubtless take great pleasure in acquainting you with as many new demonstrations of violation as they can think of.” I made a grab
bing gesture dragging the boy forward until we were face to face. “Trust me when I say that my men take great pride in their inventiveness and by the time they have finished with you, you will wish I had handed you to Karyn at the outset!” My mind flexed throwing the boy back to his place beside Ursus. I turned to Orrin.
“Can you track them?”
The kayet nodded. “Consider it done, my lord.” He said and rode off toward Delos laying low on his mount as he retraced Thaze’s route.
Markos dismounted calling Karyn as he went to see Thaze. The healer opened the cadet’s tunic carefully her skilled fingers probing the edges of the wound. At length she rose and came over to me. “I can staunch the wound, my lord, but it is beyond my hand to close it.”
“Do what you can, my lady,” I said as she pulled a jar of foul-smelling paste from her bag.
“Now what, Ez’n? Aenar asked quietly.
I looked the Provost straight in the eye. I could see that every part of him was calling for him to ride off in pursuit of Orrin and rescue Kylos. “I also have a warm spot in my heart for our young friend, Aenar,” I said softly, “but hard though this is, we now wait for Orrin to return with whatever intelligence he has for us.”
Aenar gave me a doubtful look. “And if he does not return?”
“Then we ride in all haste to Delos,” I replied, “for, like as not, we will have three deaths to avenge.”
†
CHAPTER 19
THE CAGE
ORRIN LEAPT down from the saddle and hurried to our rally point pausing only to place a reassuring hand on Aenar’s shoulder. From the Provost’s expression I gathered he was bearing news that was at least good in part. Aenar looked over to me nodded and smiled. Kylos was still alive and the black soldiers were not so far ahead that we could not catch them. Confident that they were safe the men had set camp in a cave just over a secta’s ride from our position.
Orrin scratched a map into the frozen ground using his dagger. Faedron leaned over Maegor’s shoulder to get a closer look. “This cave,” he asked, “was it cut into a hill beneath a megalith in the centre of a wooded area?”
“It was, Faedron. Why?”
The corporal smiled. “I think know this cave, Meriq. If it is the one I think it is then it is the old siege passage. You know,” he prompted looking around at the Morlans’ puzzled faces, “an escape route for the populace if the town was ever besieged.” He paused as if digging around in his memory. “If I remember correctly, the passageway is large enough for us to ride down. We could get into Delos very quickly and undetected.”
“How in Zoar’s name would you know that?” Maegor asked.
“My father’s architect designed the fortifications and had the passageway cut when the town was built. I used to play in the passage and the cave when I was very small. The passage is about four cords long. The cave is really an exit chamber.”
From Orrin’s intelligence it seemed that we would only be slightly outmatched by numbers as he had counted but fifteen men at the cave, although it was entirely possible, if Faedron’s knowledge of the area was sound, that others might join them from Delos if the town had already been overrun.
The gods of fortune seemed to be smiling on us when we arrived at the woodlands for there was no sign of a watch. It seemed that the dark soldiers were so confident in their wizard and their enchanted equipment that they saw no need to take even the most basic of precautions. We tethered the horses in the deepening shadows of the trees and moved slowly towards the cave.
Yet again it seemed the gods were smiling on us for the floor of the cave was littered with wineskins and the soldiers were as well-lit as the cavern.
Kylos was at the far end of the grotto suspended by his wrists. He had been stripped of his battlewear and was hanging naked against a jagged slab of rock. Two of the black cohort were taking it in turns to make small cuts on his chest with their crystal daggers for no other reason than for sport it seemed for they were not questioning him. After each cut the men would wait a while before sprinkling the wounds with a black powder that flared bright blue briefly before flaking away to leave narrow gold scars. The young man’s chest was latticed with such marks but all he would do was curse the men to the dark realms and beyond.
Movement behind me brought me around. Aenar was donning battle claws, leather gloves plated along the backs of the hand and along the fingers terminating in razor honed, often poisoned talons. He slid the clasp of his sword belt and shed the weapon, making his intention to tear the men to pieces with his gauntlets more than clear. Faedron regarded the action with a mixture of horror and excitement. Markos caught Aenar’s eye and made the Morlan sign for victory. His preparations complete, the Provost set his face in a grim, vengeful mask, his eyes never leaving Kylos and his tormentors. He paused briefly in his preparations looked once again at Kylos before raking the talons of his gauntlets across his chest and drawing his own blood. “Those two are mine!” he growled, dipping each claw in turn in the small flask of Bane Briar juice.
I nodded. “As you wish.” I whispered. “At my word.” I said quietly. “Now!”
We poured into the grotto yelling and shrieking causing a momentary panic before the soldiers gathered wit enough to grab their weapons. Across the hearth a rack of javelins stood to attention in response to my thoughts before launching into the men. Six fell to the spears and a seventh to my own crystal blade.
Kylos’ warning shout came a breath too late and even as I turned I saw the yellow blade cutting an arc towards me. I managed to throw myself back but not before the soldier had landed his blow. The sword sliced from my shoulder across my chest to just above my last rib leaving a long, black oozing cut. My mind seemed to flex on its own hurling the attacker to the opposite side of the room. He struck the wall with such force that his ribs exploded through his chest and he fell twitching across the main entrance.
A barrage of black shurikans shot past me screeching like stooping falcons, finding their marks in the unprotected heads of several of the soldiers. Then all was silent save for the harsh rasp of the fighters’ breath as they stared around at the carnage, and the rush of my own blood in my ears as I staggered to a bench and sank on to it.
Markos and Dthor-Aid’n were at my side in an instant, Markos holding me while Dthor-Aid’n bathed the wound with fresh water. Yet as fast as he washed the black slime from the cut it returned with renewed vigour and fresh pain.
“Here! Here!” I vaguely recognised Karyn’s voice as I teetered of the edge of unconsciousness. She was standing over me holding a pouch of the black powder one of the torturers had been using on Kylos.
She tore open my tunic with very little ceremony and threw a handful of the power over the cut. Suddenly it was as if every nerve in my body was on fire. The wound lit up with bright blue fire that became icy cold almost in the same instant that it burned hot. The extremes were gone leaving only a vague soothing warmth. My head cleared almost instantly and I pushed myself up, staring round that the carnage and watching as the men busied themselves collecting up swords and armour and stacking it all against one wall by the weapons racks.
Over by Kylos, Aenar stood with one of the archer’s torturers pinned against the wall by his throat as he tore the flesh off his chest strip by strip before starting on the musculature. The second was lying face up with Aenar’s heavy war boot on his throat. I turned away. I had heard of the practice of flaying but I had never thought I would see it practiced. Finally as the man began to weaken and was swaying on the edge of death Aenar drove his hand up into the man’s rib ribcage, tore out his heart and showed it to him before ramming it into his mouth. He threw the man aside as if he was disposing of refuse before stooping and dragging the second man to his feet, careless of the ripping sound as the soldier’s scalp began to tear. Turning the other to face Kylos he dug the talons of his gauntlet into the man’s neck. “You put him up there,” he hissed, “now let him loose.”
Kylos almost dropped to h
is knees but Aenar grabbed his arm steadying him. “Not this day, ‘b’zaddi,”
Kylos let out a shuddering breath as he steadied himself against Aenar’s shoulder. “Let him go, ‘b’zaddi,” the young man rasped.
No sooner had Aenar released his grip than Kylos took a swift step forward and kicked the man in his genitals. “That is for losing me my cloak,” he growled as the man sank gasping to his knees. The young man turned slightly to retrieve his coverings and turned back to his tormentor. “This,” he said with quiet menace, “is for daring to uncover and look upon me.” With one rapid jab he pierced the man’s eyes with his bare hand. The man’s screams had barely subsided when the Morlan dragged him to his feet by his bloody eye sockets. Snatching crystal blade from a nearby Morlan Kylos sliced the soldier’s sword hand off at the wrist. “That is for touching what was not yours to touch. “And this is for transgressing the First Right of my beloved.” Another lightning fast blow with the heel of his hand drove the stricken man’s nose backwards into his skull in an explosion of blood and mucus.
The soldier dropped and lay writhing and choking for a few moments before falling still. Kylos turned to where Aenar stood gaping at the battered corpse, He swayed uncertainly for a moment and started to fall. Aenar jumped forward to catch him, heedless of the slime that smeared him from the archer’s open chest wound. Kylos smiled weakly. “An vyahn abbadth t’zi annath—‘b’zaddi. I knew you would not let me fall.”
“Not in this life,” Aenar replied. With practised deftness the veteran unfastened his cloak and wrapped his companion in it to cover his nakedness before scooping him up and carrying over to where Karyn was treating our injured with the powder we had found in the soldier’s stores.
Kylos winced as the wound in his chest closed and when he had come more fully to himself he held out his battlewear to the man kneeling beside him. “I am grieved that you were not the one to remove this, Aenar. It would honour me greatly if you would be the one to replace it.”
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