Where Serpents Strike (Children of the Falls Vol. 1)

by CW Thomas

  “Piss off, swine,” Nash said, even as the soldier’s grip around his throat tightened.

  “I’ll rip his eye out!” the viper snarled. “So all of you stop or I’ll cut his face wide open, I swear it!”

  “Kill him, Brayden,” Nash cut in. “Rip his head off!”

  “Silence!” the viper shouted.

  Brayden strode toward the soldier, clutching his sword, debating on whether he’d slide the blade through his neck or his ribs. He knew Nash was about to lose an eye, but that didn’t matter. This battle needed to be won. After too many years of losing, it was time for the enemy to suffer a blow.

  “I mean it,” the soldier said, shaking. “I’ll do it!”

  “Go on then, you decrepit lag!” Nash shouted. “Do it! Do it!”

  Brayden started running toward them.

  The viper drove the knife into Nash’s eye and tore the bloody orb free from its socket. Nash wailed and fell, clutching his face as Brayden’s sword swiped up through the soldier’s wrist, taking his hand. A backward slash cut through the man’s innards, and an elbow to the side of his head drove him toward the cliff’s edge. The viper stumbled to his knees, coughing and screaming in wide-eyed horror at his missing limb.

  “S–stop,” he murmured, his face dissolving into a rheumy mess. “Please. Have mer—”

  Brayden crushed his heel into the side of the man’s head, plowing him off the ledge and into the blackness beyond.

  Rage burned in his chest as he wheeled around to face the remaining vipers. There were six of them, six pairs of eyes gaping at him in wonder, confusion, and fear. Behind him he heard the footfalls of his companions gathering. Yori and Preston and Clint and Broderick. They stood at his back, ready for whatever came next.

  Raising his sword, Brayden leveled it at the closest soldier. “Go,” he said. “Go and tell your high king that the sons of Aberdour are coming for him. The children of the Falls want their homeland back. We will bring war. We will bring death. We will bring Edhen to its knees until your king surrenders or we paint the throne with his blood.”

  Quivering, the vipers retreated off the mountain’s ledge.

  Brayden lowered his sword. As it sank to his side, he felt the drain of battle overcome him. His shoulders slouched. His lungs gasped. The pain of a thousand tiny wounds sparked like embers in his brain.

  “Graceless,” Yori said. He knelt to examine Nash. “You lot fight like brawlers, and without honor.”

  Brayden’s brows drew down in consternation. “Without honor? These swine got what they deserved.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Nash sat up against the rock cliff, clutching his face. His teeth were clamped tight as was the lid of his remaining eye.

  Yori unpacked a long bandage from a pouch on his satchel and wrapped it around Nash’s head. “You must keep it clean.” He looked at Preston, who was kneeling by his brother’s side. “Start a fire.”

  Brayden helped Yori lift Nash to his feet. Together they escorted him up the path to the inward curve of the cliff’s wall.

  Ty was waiting there, a broken arrow protruding from his shoulder. Once a fire was going Yori helped the young Efferousian remove the bolt. Then he sealed the flesh with the tip of a hot blade.

  Broderick had removed his shirt and was nursing a knife wound in his ribs. The cut wasn’t deep, but it did need to be sealed.

  “It is feeling good, yes?” Ty said as Broderick grit his teeth through the pain of Yori’s hot knife.

  “You know what’d make me feel good right now?” said Nash. He had been lying on his back so still that Brayden thought he had passed out. “A woman, and not some girl of the marrying kind. One of those whore girls, like the kind at Gilly’s House. You know the place, right—on the borders of southern Aberdour?”

  “Like you know anything about Gilly’s House,” Clint remarked, rubbing a bruised shoulder.

  Nash didn’t seem to hear him. “Just a smooth skinned, long-haired, long-legged, warm… I don’t know. An experienced girl, you know.”

  Preston rolled his eyes. “How romantic.”

  Yori sat down cross-legged and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Where I come from we seek to honor our women.”

  “How?” Preston asked.

  Yori took a moment to think, and then a rare smile crossed his face as though he had just remembered an old joke. “In Krebberfall, often times after battle men’s thoughts turn to those they love most. We talk about our women, praise them, try to outdo the other men with tales of our wives’ greatest deeds.”

  “Did you have a woman?” Broderick asked.

  Yori nodded. “Yes.” His expression grew sad. “Once.”

  “What happened?” Brayden asked.

  But all he said was, “She was taken from me.”

  For a moment no sounds disturbed the small camp except the snapping and popping of wood as it burned.

  Ty’s tender voice cut through the night. “We should be honoring him. Khalous.”

  “We will,” Broderick said. “When we take the throne from the Black King.”

  Mention of Khalous brought a wave of heat up from Brayden’s stomach. He swallowed back his grief, but not before a single tear escaped his eye.

  “What did you mean that we fought without honor?” he asked.

  “You fight with anger,” Yori said. “You think this gives you strength, but it only serves to make you weak.”

  “These bastards deserved everything we threw at them,” Broderick said.

  “When an enemy asks for mercy, he deserves nothing less.”

  “Did they show mercy to Khalous when they severed his limbs?” Brayden asked. “Did they show mercy to my father and mother, or anyone anywhere on Eden?”

  “In battle there is little that separates us from our enemies,” Yori said, “but our capacity for mercy is one of them.”

  Brayden looked down into the fire, not sure if he agreed with the warrior’s comments on mercy. He had enjoyed killing the black vipers, and his only regret so far was that he hadn’t killed more.

  “In truth,” Yori said, “you all fought bravely. You have my respect. I will recommend to our leader that you be trained as Kriegellian warriors.”

  “Really? You’re going to train us?” Preston asked.

  “No, I said I would recommend that you be trained, but the decision lies with the leerah.”

  “The who?”

  “Our teacher.”

  “Why?” Brayden asked. “Why are you helping us?”

  “To honor the wishes of my friend Tenri, along with those of your captain.” He paused, then added, “And your father.”

  Yori’s words struck Brayden’s heart like a dagger and sent the blood rushing to his ears. He felt a wave of heat rising to his face and his eyes widened.

  “You knew my father?”

  Broderick sat up a little straighter.

  Yori nodded. “And your grandfather. The Falls have always been good men.”

  “How did you know them?” Brayden asked, drawing closer.

  Yori looked away. His mouth opened to respond, but then he paused in careful thought. “That is a tale you will hear soon enough, but not from me.” He uncrossed his legs and stood. “Rest, my friends. We have a long journey ahead of us.”

  Brayden remained awake for a long time, watching the boys drift off to sleep and listening to the soothing sounds of their slow and easy breathing.

  For him, sleep would not come. He sat on the ground, his arms hugging his knees, until the first gray light of dawn tinted the eastern sky.

  Astonished that he had forgotten, Brayden reached under the collar of his dirty tunic and withdrew the necklace Khalous had given him. The thing looked old, the bone charm worn smooth from years of wear. It was small, about the size of a finger bone, hollow, and tied to a braided leather strap. He turned it around in the firelight, trying to figure out what significance this keepsake had for his family.

  Brayden sat up when he noticed that t
he bone wasn’t hollow at all. Leaning closer to the firelight he saw what looked like a tiny piece of paper rolled up and tucked inside. With eager fingers, his heart shivering, he tried to pull the paper free, but he couldn’t get a grip on it. He shook it, hoping to dislodge it, but the paper had been rolled inside the bone for so long that the two were almost a part of each other. Using a small stick he managed to push the note through the hole. He unfurled the tiny piece of parchment, revealing two small sentences written in his father’s handwriting.

  Fire melts not where the blade is frozen,

  Where the sun ignites the snow at dawn.

  Confused, Brayden read it again, whispering the words to himself. He mulled them over, then read them again, scratched his head, and read them again. No matter how many times he looked at them they didn’t make any sense.

  Disappointed, he sat back on his haunches and sighed.

  After a few moments he rolled up the tiny piece of paper and placed it back in the small hollow bone. He lay down on the ground, examining the bone in the firelight while wondering why Khalous thought it was so important.

  Weariness took him. He slept deeply, but awoke a short while later, his limbs stiff, his body exhausted, and his eyes heavier than they were before he had fallen asleep.

  Yori was already up, collecting his belongings. “Rise, my friends. We need to move quickly. The lands ahead are filled with natives who will take advantage of lingering trespassers.”

  Broderick limped to his feet, his left arm curled protectively over his ribs. “Where are we going?”

  “We’ll pass over the mountain into the Wilds,” Yori said.

  “The Wilds?” Ty repeated, shock and fear edging his tone. “Cannibals there. Demon worshippers. Them are the ones who paint themselves with blood.”

  “Some,” Yori said, unconcerned. “From there we go to the land of my people.”

  “No,” Brayden said. “We need to go back to Halus Gis. We promised our sister we would return for her.”

  Yori shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. If your captain told the lord of Thalmia about Halus Gis then the high king of Edhen knows where you’ve been hiding. He will be sending soldiers there, if he hasn’t already.”

  “All the more reason we need to go,” Broderick said.

  Ty rose from his spot on the ground. “Yes. Senona is there.”

  Yori leaned back, crossed his powerful, tattooed arms, and glared at them. “Is this how all of you feel?”

  Nash nodded, followed by Preston.

  “You?” Yori asked, looking at Clint.

  The beefy young man shrugged. “I suppose.”

  “That’s his way of saying yes,” Broderick said.

  Yori nodded. “Very well. I will help you do this, but it is a waste of time. Everyone at Halus Gis will soon be dead.”

  “Then we better hurry,” said Brayden.

  DANA

  She sat up on her cot in the girl’s dormitory, her eyes unwilling to stay open. Sweeping her hand over the top of her head, she pulled back her long mane of brown hair and rubbed her face. She had not slept well. She had spent half the night rolling from side to side until the blankets lay half on the floor and her nightgown bunched around her waist, leaving her pale legs exposed to the cold night air.

  Dana pulled her knees to her chest, wrapped her gown around her legs and tucked the hem under her frigid toes.

  She noticed Nairnah, her tender eyes peeking out from under a large bundle of blankets. “Are you all right?” the girl asked.

  Wiping her eyes, Dana replied, “I just didn’t sleep very well.”

  “Anything I can do?” Nairnah offered.

  “Thank you, but no.”

  “Will you cuddle with me?”

  Even though Dana admired Nairnah’s servant-like qualities, her neediness had become tiresome. Ever since Brayden had left the girl acted as though she didn’t know what to do with herself. Her spirit deflated. Her motivation seemed sapped.

  “Sorry, love. I need to get up.”

  She set her feet on the stone floor and cringed. Picking her way through the dark, she staggered to the communal privies where she relieved herself before washing and dressing. By the time she reached the breakfast table, she still felt as though her head was in a fog. Something in her heart felt raw.

  In the dining hall, Ariella and the cooking staff were chatting about the new duktori who was scheduled to arrive today.

  “Waylaid by bad weather, Gravis says,” said Sister Marleenious as her suety fingers chopped carrots. “Seems winter has come at last in some parts east of here.”

  “It will be upon us soon enough.”

  Ariella hoisted a large metal colander out of the sink. She shook it a few times, draining it of the last few drops of water. “He should be here this afternoon.” She noticed Dana standing in the doorway and her face grew concerned. “Good morning, love. Are you all right?”

  Dana hugged her arms around her stomach. “Just didn’t sleep well.”

  She didn’t know why, but she felt restless inside, nervous. Halus Gis had not fared so well the last time significant new changes were introduced. Granted those changes were at the hands of the less competent Prior Gravis, still she couldn’t help feeling leery of whatever changes the new duktori would bring.

  “You need some breakfast in you,” Sister Marleenious said. “Come have your fill, love. You’ll feel right as a bud in spring.”

  Dana didn’t feel hungry, but she ate anyway.

  Prior Gravis found Dana and Nairnah after breakfast. He strode over to them in a long brown robe and red sash, his hands tented pensively in front of him. He instructed them to give the abbot’s bedchambers another sweeping, much to Dana’s displeasure. “And do make sure the shelves are free of dust, the books are organized, and that there is wood available for the fire. I wish to make the new duktori as comfortable as possible.” He strode away without waiting for them to acknowledge what he had said.

  “He seems determined to impress the new duktori,” Nairnah said as Dana followed her out of the kitchen. “Pompous scoundrel.”

  Since Duktori Bendrosi’s death, Prior Gravis had governed Halus Gis with as much cheer as one could find in the crypt below the chapel. His words were as hollow as its old bones, and his demeanor as cold as the walls upon which they hung. Both Dana and Nairnah, along with many others, were looking forward to the day that Gravis was relieved of his place at Halus Gis.

  Dana stepped outside behind Nairnah and followed her to the dormitory. The hem of her skirt bobbed around her heels with every lucid step while her hair, drawn back in a jaunty bow, swung like a horsetail behind her.

  “You’re in a bouncy mood,” Dana remarked.

  “A new duktori is coming, which means Gravis won’t be in charge much longer.”

  “Maybe, but there’s a chance the duktori could appoint Gravis the new head of Halus Gis.”

  “I don’t think so. Gravis has no cheer, no softness, and an abbot needs to be soft.”

  The girls entered the dormitory building and climbed the stairs to the duktori’s private chambers. Dana pushed open the bedroom door. She realized that she hadn’t set foot inside since the night the abbot passed. She remembered watching his convulsions from the doorway, the way his muscles contorted his limbs against his will. She couldn’t tell if the faint whiff of human excrement in the air was real or if it was just a figment of her imagination.

  Nairnah grabbed a dust rag and went to work on the shelves.

  Dana walked to the window, a latticework of small square panes that curved outward to provide a broad view of the northern sea. She stood there a moment, taking in the view, unable to shake the queasy feeling in her gut.

  “Do you ever miss it?” Nairnah asked.

  “Miss what?”

  “Castle life?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “I think I’d miss it a lot.” Nairnah simpered.

  “In what ways?” Dana picked up a broom and sta
rted sweeping.

  “I remember seeing you once standing in the sunlight in the town square. You had on a fine linen dress dyed pale yellow, with white lace along the hem and embroidered flowers. I always wondered what it would be like to have a dress that beautiful.” She paused a moment to laugh at herself. “If I were a princess, I’d probably have a new dress made for me every day.”

  Dana thought her whimsical notions were amusing. “Believe me, it all gets quite tiresome after a while.”

  “You didn’t like being a princess?”

  Now it was Dana’s turn to laugh. “I didn’t say that. It might look like a life full of riches and nice dresses, but for all of its abundance it lacks many other things. Simple things.”

  “Like what?”

  Dana brushed a few rolls of dust into a wooden bin that she dumped in the trash. “Friendship. How many times did your parents ever tell you not to play with certain children, or act certain ways?”

  “A few times.”

  “Well we heard it every day. Little princes and little princesses need to know how to behave, and we have an endless line of attendants at the ready to remind us the moment we err. There are many expectations put on us, many responsibilities. Take Brayden, for example. As the eldest son it was his duty to learn to govern the kingdom from the moment he was able. Books and studying and tutors and mentors. Not always as wonderful as some assume.”

  “So do you prefer this?” Nairnah asked, gesturing toward Dana’s broom with her dusty rag.

  Dana stopped sweeping and thought for a moment. She had to admit, the past few years at Halus Gis had given her a purpose she’d never felt before. The lifestyle was simpler, and she was making a difference in the lives of orphans and widows every day.

  She opened her mouth to give her answer when the bell within the chapel’s tower sounded throughout the monastery. The girls ran to the east window and looked out toward the southeast hills where a group of riders could be seen cresting the grassy dome.

  “The duktori!” Nairnah exclaimed. She pulled herself away from the window and trotted down the stairs, beckoning Dana to follow.