The Shadow Age (The Age of Dawn Book 7)

by Everet Martins

  A dozen stone towers had been erected over the years, hemming in the bridge’s mouth. They were two-tiered and topped with ornamented roofs like spear points. The bottom levels were essentially platforms to accommodate the throwing of spells, the higher levels all archer’s slits. They won’t be enough, she thought, lips pressing into a hard line. She felt her hands going clammy against the iron of the spikes, readjusting her grip. “How will she come?” she asked the wind, and it responded by lifting her hair.

  She spotted figures among the towers, milling about and likely enjoying the same breeze. They should enjoy it while they could. Bold men and women were told when they volunteered for the posts that they were unlikely to survive if the Shadow came this way. Beyond the towers and before the city grew in earnest, staggering trenches had been dug and occupied by groups of Armsman. Even at this distance, she caught the occasional twinkle of spears and helmets resting against the edges.

  There were other ways into the Tower, none of them easy. Portals, of course, could be opened, but unless the Shadow Princess spent a significant amount of time there, it would be impossible for her to accurately place them. The hallways were guarded, and the alarms would be sounded if the Shadow Princess was that foolish. Nyset started tapping a finger against her full lips, eyes narrowed in contemplation. That’s assuming her portals work like those born of the Phoenix, she thought with a frown.

  “Hello? Ny? Nyset?” Grimbald asked, clasping her shoulder with his giant hand.

  She turned to face him and gave a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I get lost in my thoughts sometimes.” She cast her eyes about the others, all watching her with a mix of expressions, more expectant than worried. That was good.

  Juzo leaned his back against the wall, regarding her with a wolfish smile. He spread his arms wide and comfortably draped them over the merlons. His scarlet eye glowed like a beacon in the full brightness of the sun. The wind lapped at his white hair, tugging it back to expose his narrow jawline. “Some things never change, eh, Ny? Back here again. I must admit that I’m a little excited to work the rust from my joints.”

  Grimbald grunted and folded his enormous arms. “Easy to say if you can self-heal.”

  She smiled back at Juzo, nostalgic warmth filling her chest. She and Juzo were the only two from Breden, Walter’s Breden, that still lived today. “I’m glad you’re here, Juzo,” she said with a nod. “And about last night, thank you again.”

  “Last night?” Isa asked with a snicker and an arched brow.

  Her cheeks burned while she shook her head. “It’s not what you think. I asked Juzo to do something, and he did it. I suppose you should all know.” She hesitated, steeling herself for the ensuing reactions. Out with it already. “Juzo, at my command, created a small group of Blood Eaters.”

  “You’ve gone mad.” Grimbald blanched, arms dropping to his sides. “Shipton, my home, what they did!” He stabbed a finger toward Juzo. “He… they can’t be trusted. I’m sorry, Juzo, but this isn’t right. All the dead. The disrespect.” A low rumble brewed in the man’s barrel chest.

  Nyset tilted her head to the sun, searching for guidance where she knew none would come. She stepped within a pace of Grimbald, the captain of the Tower’s Armsman and her friend. His expression wound down tight with hurt. She risked placing a hand on his wrist. “I’m sorry, Grim. I knew you wouldn’t approve, but there are some things where the risk to reward is in our favor, and I am bearing the responsibility if it goes wrong. Juzo assures me he has them controlled, don’t you, Juzo?” she asked, regarding her long-time friend.

  Juzo wasn’t hearing her, instead staring at the ground wide-eyed. The corners of his eye twitched and lips curled into a snarl. “Juzo?” she asked again, cutting through his trance, his eyes snapping to her.

  “Yes. Got them under control,” he said with a wan smile.

  “Well, that’s fucking reassuring,” Grimbald said, tone filled with anger. He scoffed with a disbelieving shake of his head. “This is your Tower, Ny. I can’t deny that. If this is how it’s going to be, then so be it. Just tell us one thing, Juzo. I already know the answer, but they don’t. What is the proper way to kill a Blood Eater if they get out of control?”

  Juzo frowned, looked to Grimbald, and licked his lips. He hesitated a moment, looking at Grimbald as if searching for some hidden subtext. “Fire,” he finally said. “Dragon fire seems to work best, decapitation works too.”

  Murmurs swept over the group. The patrolling Black Guards had stopped and were openly gaping. Nyset raised her voice. “Tell everyone. They should know how to manage them if they do become a problem. Grimbald is right about that.” She eyed Grimbald, who was fuming.

  “And how will you control them when they decide feeding upon their fellow man is more enjoyable than fighting beasts of Shadow?” Grimbald growled.

  Juzo ripped his sword from the sheath, the naked blade gleaming in the bright. “This is how. I’ll know if they feed. They’ll be with me and kept close.”

  “Very well.” Grimbald let out a sigh of resignation. “We’re all glad to have you back, Ny. We’ll need you.” Grimbald dragged a meaty hand down his mouth and left it to cup his chin. “Now I wanted to make sure you heard me, Ny. Don’t much like repeating myself especially after doing it all day with the Armsman. There is a lot we have to cover.” His eyes went murky, gazing into the distance.

  He shrugged one shoulder, his plate armor gleaming bright and adorned with sigils of the Phoenix on one pauldron and the Dragon on the other. Great plates of Milvorian steel covered his body from throat to toe, ready for war at a moment’s notice. His helmet was propped against the back wall of the ramparts, resting beside Corpsemaker. The axe was truly a thing of beauty, the blade broad and sharp enough to cut hair. The flat of the blade was ornamented with inscribed vines and the pommel a grinning skull inset with rubies for eyes. The back of the axe blade held a long pick for piercing through armor and bones. Her friend appeared to have grown in width in the previous year, not in fat but in ever-thickening muscle. She knew he’d been training hard for this day, but never noticed how much bigger he’d become until now.

  If they weren’t friends, she might’ve considered his comment a slight. She couldn’t help but raise an annoyed eyebrow at him. “Go on.” She gestured to the room.

  “Right. Where was I? Sorry, hadn’t had much sleep lately with the Tigerians and fortifying the defenses.” Grimbald’s cheeks pinked, and he started stroking his beard. There was a part of her that had always been fond of his constant humility, bringing a smile to her lips.

  “Her location perhaps,” Isa prompted, arms crossed. He leaned against the back wall, one foot raised and pressing against its surface. A dark cloak shredded at the bottom floated around his narrow figure, bulging on his many weapons. He and Juzo appeared strikingly similar in skin color standing so close. Why the magic of the Test of Stones and the Blood Eater curse changed one’s skin pallor would remain a mystery she wished to someday uncover.

  “She’ll be here in a day’s time, assuming she doesn’t change course and travel by portal,” Grimbald said, clasping his hands together. “Our fastest scouts have been following her progress. It appears she hasn’t left Helm’s Reach yet, but that’s about how long it will take her to get here. A day. A single day.”

  “Must be saving her strength, or waiting for the newly infected to transform,” Nyset mused. “Ezra, can you provide any estimation regarding their numbers?”

  The king flinched as if struck, then visibly trembled. “Thousands, maybe twenty thousand or more. I can’t say. Mathematics was never my strongest talent.” The king had discarded his regal garb for lightweight leathers, though he had discovered his head could once again support the crown. She was glad for that because she would need his experience and thus his confidence. Around his hips was a sword belt half falling off on one side, despite it being pulled into the tightest notch. The sheath and hilt were both heavily jeweled, likely built for presentation and not
combat, she reckoned. “Farak. I know you have a penchant for these things. Do you care to comment?”

  “That seems like a fair guess to me,” Farak, one of the two Black Guards nodded his agreement. The Black Guards stood a few feet away from the group now, arms held at their backs and chests raised. Farak was bewhiskered with narrow dimensions. There was a grayness to his skin beneath the thick facial hair, the complexion of a fellow nearing the end of his stamina, perhaps a veteran.

  “How many arrows do we have, Isa?” Nyset asked, tonguing the underside of her teeth.

  “About as many,” he gruffed, cheeks seeming more sunken since she last saw him. “Not twenty thousand. Maybe five thousand. But enough to buy us some time.” An oppressive silence fell over the group.

  Nyset sniffed and took a glug from a water skin draped across her shoulder. Every swallow resounded in her head. “Remember, we have wizards. Just shy of a thousand veterans now. We’ll call fire, earth, wind, and lightning to crush our enemies. Do not despair.”

  Nyset set her gaze on Senka, her hands resting easily on her blades. She stood with one hip jutted to the side. She recently shaved her head down to the skin, citing hair as a vulnerability the enemy could use against you. Her scalp had been adorned with a few new scars marking the scrapes and nicks earned from her bout against Bezog. Nyset considered doing the same but admittedly liked her hair far too much for something that drastic. If she let a foe get close enough to seize her hair, she would be a poor wizard indeed.

  “Senka. I know you’ve been working with Lena to develop some novel defenses for the Tower. Please share your inventions with the group.”

  “Gladly,” she said, eyebrows bobbing with excitement. She turned around and carefully opened a satchel resting in the shadows of the back wall. She slowly rose, proffering a leather-wrapped globe the size of Grimbald’s fist. Emerging from its top was a long bit of twine that curled over her hand. “This is our latest iteration of the previous bombs. This is an acid bomb. In addition to bathing those hit with fire, it also naturally throws a highly caustic acid over them, cutting through flesh in seconds. Naturally, you must be quite careful with it, as it can even sear through armor,” she snickered excitedly.

  “Looks like the herbalist and their silly guild have finally made themselves useful,” Isa said with a wry smile.

  “I’m part of the sisterhood.” Nyset tilted her head and rolled her eyes at him. “These things do take a fair amount of research, testing, and experimentation. The sisterhood helped us the in the past too, taking the Tower back from Asebor if you recall with the first iteration of firebombs.”

  Crugen’s feline eyes widened with horror, and he shifted a few steps away from her. “Such a weapon…” he whispered. If not for his stark appearance, Nyset would’ve forgotten he was there, wordless and only listening.

  Senka saw his fear and shook her head. Her voice came out strained. “Don’t worry, for this weapon cannot hurt you without fire. This is the wick, which must contact fire before the bomb can blow. You simply light it… and then hurry up and throw.”

  “Once again, you’ve left me impressed, Senka.” Nyset grinned at her. “How many do we have now?”

  “Not as many as you wanted,” she said, voice lowering. “They’re slow to make. Extreme caution must be taken so the artificers don’t hurt themselves. We’ve only had time to train a few to help us… and it’s been difficult to speed up production. We could train more, but I’m not sure we’ll have the time.”

  “How many?”

  “Just under fifty,” Senka muttered.

  “That’s good, Senka. You put them in the archer’s towers as I requested? We’ll use them as a first line of defense. It will let the wizards save some of their strength.”

  Senka gave a quick nod, lips wordlessly working.

  “Such horrors would be outlawed in Tigeria,” Crugen said, shaking his head and his catlike ears twiddling.

  Senka scoffed in his direction, then carefully placed the bomb back into her satchel. She turned to face him, hands tightening around her dagger hilts. “Crugen. I’m sorry, but please tell me, how does one who condones slavery call this a horror? Do you…” She turned her head into the wind, expression tight as if waging some internal war.

  “Senka…” Nyset cautioned, seizing the Dragon and the Phoenix, fire and ice flowing through her limbs. She swore she could see the air around Senka shimmer with her roiling anger. Senka was holding the Dragon, but did she know? Her eyes faintly glowed. It was easy to miss in the bright of the day if you weren’t looking for it.

  Senka ignored her. “Do you have any idea what it’s like? To be treated no better than cattle? To be bought and sold like a cured Sand Wolf?” Her forearms flexed, jaw clenching, and her words got lost.

  Crugen stood tree still, regarding her with a predatory stare. Everyone went silent as the scene unfolded. A foot scuffed and a throat cleared. Isa was a stalking cat, coming up behind Senka and placing a calming hand on her neck. He leaned in and whispered into her ear, his voice brushed away in a gale. Whatever he said seemed to have worked to diffuse her rage because the muscles relaxed around her jaw. Nyset noted an artery still pulsed at the side of Senka’s throat, looking as if it wanted to leap from her skin.

  Crugen solemnly nodded and started in a measured tone. “I understand. Our cultures differ, but our enemies are the same. And I—”

  “You understand? Our cultures differ!” Senka laughed, throwing her face to the sky. “You enslave men!” she yelled, swatting Isa’s arm aside. Senka shifted her ire to Nyset, her dark cheeks pinked. “And you? How can you? After all we’ve suffered in Tigeria.” She pointed at Crugen. “Why does he stand before us, not strung up and gutted like the animal he is?” Senka’s voice held a tremble.

  “Senka,” Nyset said in her best voice of command, meeting the woman’s eyes, now glossed with tears.

  “No.” Senka shook her head, stepping back from the group and breaking eye contact. “Isa,” she snapped, stabbing at him with an index finger. “You were there too. Tell them how they treated us, how we were almost sold at auction! An auction!” she screamed, voice breaking into a rasp. She turned her attention to Juzo. “Have you nothing to add? Just going to sit there, enjoying the fucking breeze? Or did you maybe enjoy your time in the slave caravan?”

  Juzo slowly lowered his arms from the merlons with a groan and started to rub his hands together. “These are strange times with a savage enemy. I think you need to relax.” Juzo’s empty expression spoke of the thoughts warring in his head. He was fighting to be present, she realized.

  King Ezra let out a soft whistle from beneath his beard, eyebrows reaching for his crown. “Tigerians… don’t belong here,” he muttered.

  “You’re not helping,” Nyset said to the king with a pointed glare.

  Isa flicked his gaze between Senka and Nyset. He took a step closer to Senka, brow drawn down tight, seemingly torn between his duty to the Tower and his loyalty to Senka. He raised his hand, imploring her to take it. “Senka, my love.”

  “If you only knew what it was like, what they did to us, and what they still do to men. You wouldn’t be standing here like cowards!” Senka screamed, sweeping her malice about the group. “Tigerians eat, rape, and use men like tools! They. Eat. Us.” She seethed. “Crugen here. This… this is indefensible!”

  “Senka! Please collect yourself!” Nyset raised her voice, opened palms raised in a gesture for peace.

  “No,” Senka growled, ripped a dagger from her sheath, and in a blur, lunged for Crugen. Nyset’s mind was faster than Senka’s body, lashing out with the Phoenix to lift her from the ground. Senka had already committed her blow, arm flashing to pierce his heart and missed Crugen’s chest by inches, but still cutting across his face. A line of ruby droplets sprayed across the air as Crugen staggered back with a yelp. Isa gasped, Claw shouted, and King Ezra let out a shrill squawk.

  “Senka, why?” Claw gruffed, gazing up at her with a sad smile.
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  “You can’t understand unless you were there!” Senka said to him.

  Crugen’s hand went to his cheek, blood weeping between his fingers and into his fur. He stared up at Senka, squirming in her telekinetic bonds.

  “Let me go, Mistress!” Senka squealed, arms pinned and wriggling at her sides.

  “I apologize, Crugen. I’ll heal you in a moment,” Nyset said flatly.

  “Allow me,” Claw said, striding toward the Tigerian king, his hand glowing with bluish light.

  “No. I don’t want to be healed,” Crugen said, rising on wobbling legs. He backpedaled and pulled his hand away from the wound and clenched his bloody fist. Blood fell freely from his cheek, pattering onto the stones. Nyset spared him a glance as she carefully lowered Senka a few feet away from him, though still restraining her movement. Claw shifted uneasy glances between Crugen and Nyset.

  “A criminal,” Farak smirked. The pair of Black Guards started for Senka, but King Ezra called them down.

  A deep slice had been carved from Crugen’s forehead to his chin, showing the white of bone, fortunately skipping over his eye. Crugen gave a grim nod to Senka. “I deserved that. We all deserved that and more. What I had started to say earlier… I’m not in a position to change our culture. Myself and others of the High Council disagree with the practice of enslaving men. You heard me well. We don’t approve. It is however deeply ingrained in Tigerian society.” He lowered his head. “It’s impossible for me to change alone. If we tried, they’d overthrow us. Much of our commerce relies upon the backs of the enslaved. I’ve been a coward, your appraisal is correct,” he said, raising his visage to look into Senka’s eyes. The more he spoke, the harder the blood fell. “I’m sorry for what you’ve suffered. I know it isn’t fair and wasn’t right. But I want you to know all of humanity will likely never have to worry about it again.” Crugen’s voice broke, and he started to laugh. “Because we upon your shores are all that remains of our race. I suppose you could easily finish the work and wipe us out of the histories. But there is another option I propose. When she comes, let us fight at the front lines. Let our deaths be an attempt at redemption for our crimes against humanity. Do us at least this honor, Arch Wizard.” Crugen kneeled, lowering his head.