War of Men

by Rhett C. Bruno

  “Do you know how long we were in the Well?” Kazimir asked Whitney.

  “I don’t know, a few minutes?”

  “Hours.” He gestured to the light filtering in through the closed front gates. “It is now dawn.”

  Hours, Whitney thought. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. Time always worked differently in Elsewhere and the realms beyond. Frustratingly so.

  “All he needs to do to escape is make it outside, and he’ll be beyond our reach until nightfall. No. He stays tied up.”

  Whitney exchanged an apologetic look with Kai.

  “We will get the bar guai, and then Sigrid and I will have to last here until nightfall,” Kazimir decided.

  “You’ll what?" Kai asked.

  “What about Aihara Na?” Whitney said, ignoring Kai.

  “I can’t say when she’ll be back. But we will need the assistance of your Lightmancer friend once more.”

  “Bar guai? Lightmancers?” Kai shook his head in disapproval. “You can’t be serious. You’re trifling with things… you can’t even begin to imagine the power.”

  “I don’t know… have you noticed the yigging upyr in front of you?” Whitney asked.

  “Even the Children of the Night are babies compared to the magic of Lightmancers! And the bar guai—they were created to have dominion over Elsewhere and its power.”

  Kazimir let a sharp finger trace a small line on Kai’s face. A trickle of blood streamed out, and Kazimir licked it. Sigrid groaned, pouting.

  “Chi tse wei lo,” Kai said, and immediately, the wound sealed up.

  It was now Kazimir’s turn to let out a deep, longing moan. “Too bad.”

  “Kai, we need your help,” Whitney said.

  “Why should I help you anymore when it’s clear these two don’t listen to you?”

  “We think the bar guai is the only way to save Sora,” Whitney offered. “She saved you once, you said. Now, it’s time to finish paying her back. You said you wore one? You must have another.”

  When Kai didn’t immediately respond, Kazimir said, “Hesitate any longer, and I’ll remove my apprentice’s mouthguard. We will see how long you last.”

  “They are sacred,” Kai said. “Inhabited by the souls of the greatest of our Order. Even Sora’s own mother.”

  “Is your life not sacred?” Kazimir asked. “Your Order can’t suffer another loss.”

  “Kai, don’t do it for us,” Whitney said. “Do it for Sora. The Well worked, but she needs you.”

  Kai paused again, but then regarded Kazimir with a new resolve. “Okay, untie me.”

  Kai took them upstairs. He was reluctant, at first, to allow anyone into the Ancient One’s chambers, but Kazimir and Sigrid’s unique means of persuasion left him very little choice but to comply. They passed many floors of tiny dwellings. Most were empty, but a few more ragged-looking acolytes who weren’t unlucky enough to die downstairs locked themselves behind paper doors. The last, pathetic remnants of their Order.

  Aihara Na’s chambers were perched at the top of the tower, and on the modest end of a queen’s bedroom—not that Whitney had ever seen the insides of any. In the same way the wealth present in the entry hall could have fed an entire kingdom, the Ancient One’s room could have kept Yarrington supplied with provisions for a month.

  Whitney whistled and shook his head. “These are some accouterments” he said, lifting a small, but incredibly heavy broach.

  “Don’t touch anything,” Kai said. He didn’t even lift his head as he, himself, sifted through the mystic’s stuff. “Defensive enchantments target the living, and Aihara never was a trusting woman.”

  Whitney lightly placed the broach down and turned to Kazimir, who stood in a thin stream of light which poured in through an arrowslit window.

  “How are you not, you know, going explody?” He mimed an explosion with his hands and made the accompanying sound effect.

  “Mystic blood,” Kazimir said. “Even what little I took from Kai can do wondrous things. It won’t last much longer. Allow me to enjoy the warmth, even if I cannot feel it.”

  “Who knew you had an imagination.”

  Kazimir didn’t answer, but Whitney thought now he understood why the upyr had been so intent upon Sora in Winde Port. He felt pity grow inside at the thought of Kazimir being damned to live in darkness, feeding on human blood.

  Thinking back to the many times he’d found himself imprisoned, and when he’d been in one such situation without hope of escape, he considered the feeling akin to being forced to murder. He’d felt it more times of late than he ever imagined he would. Killing was a thief’s final resort. In all his years traveling Pantego from Crowfall and Westvale to Lilith’s Mill and beyond the borders of the Glass, Whitney never once found himself in the position required to take another man’s life.

  War, however, had made killing a necessity to remain breathing.

  “Why don’t you drink something else?” Whitney asked. “Why human blood? Have you considered cow blood? Goat?”

  “This doesn’t seem like a good time for this discussion,” Kazimir said.

  “What better time? We’re all probably going to die soon anyway.” Whitney meant it as a joke, though for one of the few times in his life, he feared it might be true.

  “Animals don’t carry with them the knowledge of good and evil,” Kai answered. “They don’t experience the fear that humans do. In truth, the Sons and Daughters of Night feed off fear as much as the lifeblood that carries it.”

  “That true?” Whitney asked.

  Kazimir grunted. “You can smell fear. Taste it. It is enough to drive an upyr mad. Especially one so young as my apprentice.”

  Whitney turned to appraise Sigrid, alone in the darkest corner of the room, bloodlust nearly turning her eyes red after being with Kai alone so long. She squeezed the edge of a nightstand, and the wood compressed in her iron-grip. Whitney was surprised she hadn’t torn him to pieces.

  After a bout of funereal silence, Kai cleared his throat. “This is the only one I know of,” Kai said, holding up a gaudy looking necklace, removed from a glass case. "The rest were drained training me and those you…” He cleared his throat. “…killed. It may work, but they have not been blessed by the Ancient One.”

  "What does that mean?" Whitney asked.

  “It means nothing,” Kazimir said. “Superstition and ‘horse shog,’ as you would say.” Kazimir snatched the bar guai from Kai's hand and shoved it into the folds of his cloak. “This will do just fine."

  "Hey! Careful with that," Kai protested. "We mustn’t handle sacred things as though they are common. There are entire lives within those stones.”

  “Worthless,” Kazimir said under his breath.

  “What was that?” Kai hissed.

  "What you consider sacred, I consider worthless. Drawing on the dead is no different than blood magic. Leaving their souls lingering in this realm. What a fine legacy you foul mystics left.”

  “I think you have your history messed up,” Kai said.

  “It’s all just stories,” Whitney said. “That’s why I never bothered with books. Now, it sure would be nice if we could stop arguing and remember that we are in a bit of a time crunch—you know, Sora being possessed by an evil goddess and threatening to destroy life as we know it and all that.”

  He crossed the room. “I should take the bar guai back with me to Tum Tum’s place now.”

  “No,” Kazimir said.

  “What do you mean, no?”

  “It is safer with me. Such power can corrupt the minds of mortals, and Nesilia feeds on such vulnerability.” Kazimir returned to the window. He winced when he reached the ray of light, and Whitney heard a sound like water boiling. When the upyr turned out of the sun, his face had become a mottled mess of blisters.

  Whitney opened his mouth to argue, but Kazimir stepped out of the light and continued.

  "We have all that we require,” he said. “Return to the dwarf’s pub, and hope they
remain alive. Sigrid and I will meet you there when night falls."

  “I don’t feel comfortable with this at all,” Whitney said, looking to Kai for support. “I really think I should take the bar guai—”

  "You made this blood pact,” Kazimir interrupted. His face was contorted into something halfway between pain and fury. “It is not just your life on the line. Go, and don't move until you see me at nightfall."

  “Fine, then I’m taking Kai with me.”

  “What?” Kai said.

  “Don’t be a fool,” Kazimir spat.

  Sigrid looked like she might lose her mind at the mere mention of taking the mystic away. She charged Whitney, stopping just before entering the stream of light coming in from the window.

  Whitney wished she would’ve continued. Maybe where Kazimir had only been scorched, she’d have burst into flames. Then he would have had one less problem.

  "Mind your dog!" Whitney said.

  “I’ll drink yer heart,” Sigrid hissed.

  "The boy stays here," Kazimir said.

  "With her?”

  “With me.”

  “Are you out of your bloodsucking mind?” Whitney said. “I see how you’re both looking at him. He helped Sora. Kai comes with me, or you'll have to explain to the Sanguine Lords why the job was never done."

  A deep, echoing wail filled the room. At first, Whitney thought it was Sigrid, then he saw the specter in the corner, wearing robes. Aihara Na was a barely perceptible spirit, but she was returning.

  “Return the soul of my daughter!” she howled. Her nebulous form soared across the room and with it, furniture upturned.

  Whitney grabbed Kai by the wrist and pulled him out the door, slamming it behind them. He heard the sounds of battle ensuing as they descended the circular staircase.

  “This will not end well,” Kai warned.

  “Nothing I ever do does,” Whitney said.

  It took a few minutes in the tall stairwell before reaching the first-floor entry. A few surviving inhabitants of the tower peered through the cracked doors of their dwellings along the way, but Kai shooed them to hide.

  In the entry hall, Aihara Na’s otherworldly moaning was even louder. Towing Kai to the doors, Whitney did his best to ignore it and threw them open. They were met with harsh sunlight that temporarily blinded Whitney after spending so long in the dim light of the tower. When he raised his arm to block the sun, he felt something sharp against his lower back. “Shog in a barrel, Kai,” he cursed. “Betrayal? Is this what I get for sparing your life?”

  “Don't ye move a muscle." The voice was gruff and uneducated, the very opposite of Kai. The smell that came from the man's breath was pungent, something akin to fish and ale regurgitated.

  “Aye, look what we have here,” another man said.

  Once Whitney’s eyes adjusted to the daylight, the sight before him became perfectly clear. An immense wooden ship was anchored some distance away, flying white sails, but also bearing the same gilded mermaid Whitney had seen inside of Tum Tum's pub. Two smaller rowing boats rested on the beaches around the Red Tower, just beyond the gates.

  The ship, the pirates, Whitney recognized it all. Even though they were flying the false flags of traders, it all belonged to Grisham “Gold Grin” Gale, and because any ship belonging to the Glass army was moored, handling the cultist riot and helping tend to still burning buildings, nobody had stopped them. They’d just waltzed right into Panping, undeterred.

  As if the notorious pirate heard Whitney’s very thoughts, his heavy boots pounded across the sand. The many gold chains draped around his neck and wrists jangled like distant church bells. Worst of all, the broken half of the Glass Crown Whitney had stolen from Liam’s head sat crooked atop his graying head. Two men, ugly as the day is long, flanked him with bows drawn.

  “Whitney Fierstown!” Gold Grin exclaimed. “Ye gods-damned, ship-stealin rapscallion.”

  “Oh, hey, old friend, old buddy, old pal… listen, that was a long time ago,” Whitney said with a smile on his face. And it was true. That had been years ago, and Whitney thought they were well past such absurdities. “Bygones be bygones. Water under the proverbial bridge. What do you say?”

  Gold Grin returned the smile, golden like the blinding the sun. He grunted, and then said, “Aye, mayhaps. But one never does forget being stranded in the middle of the sea on a ship he ain’t used to with a whole crew lookin down their noses at ye. Ye deserve to hang for it, but I ain’t here for that, boy.”

  Gold Grin sauntered forward, swinging his gaudy boots one in front of the other, picking at his fingernails with the tip of a knife, then sucking the cuticle.

  “What are you here for?” Whitney asked as the dagger at his back jabbed deeper. He felt his shirt getting wet with blood.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Kai asked. “We will not sully the sands of this place with your ilk.” He didn’t wait for a response before he began muttering. He lifted his hand, laced with energy, but before anything could happen, blood spattered Whitney’s face, and Kai stumbled backward. The salty taste of copper on his tongue, he spat and watched as Kai thrashed around in the Red Tower’s threshold, an arrow protruding from his throat.

  “Yig and shog!” Whitney yelped. “If this isn’t about the bloody ship…”

  “Shut up, or yer next,” said the pirate on Gold Grin’s left, already nocking a new arrow.

  The pirate king stalked, adjusting the crown with his blade and said, “I met yer friend Sora, beautiful Sora.”

  Whitney lurched but felt a hand on his shoulder pulling him back.

  “Next time ye do that, I’ll run ye through,” said the pirate behind him.

  “Fortist?” Whitney asked, finally recognizing the man’s voice.

  “Oh, the great Whitney Fierstown remembers me, does he? Shut yer face flap.” Fortist gave him another rough prod.

  “Sora killed Hestor… ye remember me first mate?” Gold Grin said. “Shame she had to go do that…”

  “If you hurt her!” Whitney shouted.

  Gold Grin laughed, and his lackeys joined in. “Hurt her? I'm here to help her.”

  A minuscule speck of hope fluttered in Whitney’s belly until his mind told him there wouldn’t be a dagger against his back if Gold Grin truly meant to help Sora. Maybe Gold Grin helped her reach Panping like Tum Tum had said, but she’d never throw in with pirates. Thieves like him stole. Pirates killed.

  But Whitney had to admit he was more than a little confused until…

  Nesilia, Whitney thought. But out loud, he said, “Help her with what?”

  Gold Grin stood directly before Whitney now, his thumb and forefinger squeezing the spot where Whitney’s earlobe used to be. “She told me… that she wanted ye dead.”

  At once, Whitney heard three things: bowstrings stretching, a loud clatter behind him, and a scream. Then, Whitney was shoved aside and hit the ground in a flurry of sand. Arrows thrummed one after another. They bounced off the stone tower, thunked into the sand.

  Gold Grin grunted and said, “Quit firing!”

  When silence came, Whitney lifted his head, and turned it, blinking away sand. Fortist lay unmoving, Gold Grin had an arrow sticking out of his right shoulder, and Kazimir stood behind him, forearm wrapped around the pirate’s neck just as he’d done to Kai near the Well. Sigrid, still unmuzzled, licked her bloodstained lips. She rose from Kai’s punctured corpse, his cheeks now gaunt, shriveled, and colorless.

  “There you two are!” Whitney exclaimed, pretending like he hadn’t left them to fend for themselves against Aihara Na’s whatever-she-was now.

  “Thank you for our meal,” Kazimir said, ignoring Whitney. “It was as if you packaged the mystic and delivered him inside just for us. His blood was just fresh enough… and delicious. Luckily for you, after tasting him, you’d taste like rotted sewage.”

  “Still wouldn’t mind a nibble,” Sigrid said, still licking her lips. As she did, she pulled closed the doors of the Red tower, silencin
g Aihara Na’s wailing.

  “What do you think, Pirate?” Kazimir flicked his forefinger and drew blood from just under Gold Grin’s eye.

  The upyr might have been one of the only men Whitney had ever known who came even close to Gold Grin’s stature—Torsten Unger being the only one to exceed it.

  “Fierstown, I knew ye were traitorous, but I never pegged ye for a friend of bloodsucking fiends.” Gold Grin said, his voice betraying a slight tremble.

  “Ye know this brute?” Sigrid asked.

  “Yeah," Whitney said. “He’s always been a monster, but never like this.”

  “Says the friend of these things,” Gold Grin said.

  Kazimir tightened his grip on Gold Grin’s neck.

  “Dade, bring me the boy,” Gold Grin struggled to say as Kazimir’s sharp nails began to dig into his flesh.

  “Wait!” Whitney said, clambering to his feet. “Boy, what boy?”

  The man Gold Grin called Dade trudged down to one of their rowboats. Sigrid hissed that beastly hiss, but Kazimir kept her at bay. Dade reached into the boat and returned with a small body in his arms. Whitney had no doubt what he was looking at.

  An unconscious Gentry bounced helplessly on Dade’s shoulder. The pirate threw him down onto the beach. Whitney didn’t know sand could sound so hard and unforgiving.

  “Found him followin ye on a raft,” Gold Grin said. “Told him we were old friends. Didn’t think twice about tellin me yer whereabouts. Kids are so special, ain’t they?”

  “Is he—”

  “Not yet,” Gold Grin interrupted Whitney “He’s livin. For how long, is yer choice. Tell this walkin nightmare to let me go, and maybe I’ll suffer the boy to live.”

  Whitney kicked sand. He’d had enough of Nesilia messing with everyone in his life. Now he knew that’s what this was “Gold Grin, this isn't you! You had one rule, remember? No children, no matter what.”

  Turning his attention to the pirate king’s men, Whitney thought he saw a hint of agreement pass over their faces. It bolstered Whitney’s resolve. “I don't know what she's done to you… but that wasn’t Sora. Not my Sora.”

  “Yer right about that!” Gold Grin grunted, trying to free himself from Kazimir’s preternatural strength. “She’s mine now. Every soft inch of her.”