by Sandell Wall
This revelation brought cries of disbelief from the captives. “No way am I swinging steel for these savages,” one man said.
There was a harsh whisper from the cage to Remus’s right. “If they give us weapons, we band together and fight our way out. Pass the word along.”
From across the cage, Omen made eye contact with Remus. Despite the animosity between them, they shared a common awareness. There was no way they were fighting their way out of here, and the two of them had no intention of being executed for the attempt. As darkness fell, and Remus curled up on the cold, hard ground, he tried to think of a way to survive one more day.
Chapter 18
DEATH HAUNTED THE FORTRESS. Dead bodies were everywhere. Dried gore painted the floors and walls with a palette of dark reds and browns. Splashes of crimson were splattered on the walls where killing blades had slung the lifeblood of the Legion defenders. The buzz of flies was starting to fill the air, and hints of the stench to come tweaked her nostrils. Aventine did not know how she had been able to sleep in a room full of corpses, but it was late afternoon when she stirred. Famished when she awoke, she had scavenged dried foodstuffs to take the edge off her hunger. When she was satiated, she had searched for water to clean the dried mud from her eye. Now she was picking through the stronghold, equipping herself for the journey ahead. She felt vile looting the bodies of her fellow soldiers, but she had to be pragmatic. All that mattered was reaching the emperor.
Relief flooded through her when she found the fort’s armory. There was enough armor in storage that she could outfit herself without having to strip a corpse. When she stepped out of the dark room and back into the evening sunlight, she looked like a down-on-her-luck mercenary. The gear was dull and tarnished, but she could feel that it was solid and trustworthy.
It’s a far cry from rune-glowing glory, but it will keep me alive.
Without armor she had felt naked. Comforted by the barrier of iron between her and the world, she continued to search through the fallen legionnaires. She refused to admit it to herself, but she was looking for familiar faces amongst the dead. Hating herself for it, she took bits of silver and copper from the purses of the slain until her own was filled to bursting. In the commander’s quarters she found a matched dagger and sword tucked away in a corner, locked within an ornate display case. Glass shattered when she plunged her gauntleted fist into the wooden box. Both blades were in impeccable condition, the edges razor sharp and unblemished. As she inspected them, she noticed an odd shimmer, like light, was captured by the metal instead of reflected. She strapped these weapons to her side, hoping they were not soon looted from her own body.
Aventine wanted to put the fort behind her, but she had not yet checked the ramparts. Forcing herself climb the slick stone steps, she made a circuit of the walls. One fallen soldier clutched a bow that had not been destroyed. She took the weapon, along with the quiver of arrows that were lying next to the dead man. Aventine used to hunt for food in the wilderness of Morn, and she could do so again. When she checked the last cadaver, she felt a tension in her chest release, a tension that she had not accepted as real until after it abated. They were all strangers to her.
A clatter sounded behind and beneath her in the courtyard. She whirled towards the sound, dropping into a crouch. Hidden on the battlement, she was able to see the entire interior of the fort, all the way out through the smashed gate. Crouched near that open portal, a man inspected a corpse. The noise she heard was armor on stone as the man flipped the body over.
He stood, and an alarm triggered in Aventine’s head. This was no citizen of the empire. He was not dressed as a soldier, and she did not recognize his rugged clothing. And he was massive. Calm and careful, she nocked an arrow and raised her newfound bow. She did not hesitate. In one smooth motion she loosed the arrow and reached for a second projectile.
She aimed at the center of the man’s back. But when the missile leapt across the short distance, it buried itself in his right triceps. Aventine swore under her breath. She was out of practice. Her target’s reaction was immediate. With a roar of surprise he lunged into a nearby doorway. She swore again. The last thing she wanted was a standoff. Now he knew she was in the fort, and he was angry.
Change location. He’ll guess that arrow came from the wall.
Aventine crept along the fortification, trying to find a position that would let her see through the doorway her quarry had dived into. So intent was she on the hunt that she almost fell off the wall in surprise when a voice boomed out from the small stone room.
“Are you friend or foe?”
Wary, she kept an arrow strung. “I’m a soldier of the empire. Who are you?”
“I’m a blacksmith from Delgrath. Can I come out?”
“Come out slowly, with your hands on top of your head. Test me and I’ll put an arrow through your face.”
The big man stepped out of the room, slow and cautious, with his hands resting on the crown of his head. His face was hidden by a great, bushy grey beard. Embedded in muscle, her arrow jutted upwards from his right arm. Blood soaked the fabric around the wound. He scanned the ramparts until he found Aventine, who was crouched low, bow pulled taut, and ready to shoot.
“I’m a citizen of your empire,” he said. “If you are what you say, you’re supposed to protect me, not shoot me.” His deep voice echoed inside the small fort.
Aventine did not lower the bow. “What are you doing here? Defiling the dead?”
“They would need to be undefiled for me to manage that,” he said, nodding once at her.
Anger surged through Aventine. “You dare accuse me?” she said. “Choose your next words very carefully.”
The fight went out of the man. His shoulders slumped. “I’m looking for a friend, a boy. He joined the Legion in Delgrath and I was told he marched out here.”
Aventine paused. Of all the excuses she expected to hear that was the last. “What was his name?” she said.
“Remus. His name is Remus.”
She lowered her bow, too shocked to realize she was letting her guard down. “He’s not here,” she said.
The man looked up, hope putting the strength back in his posture. “You know him?”
“Aye. I met him in camp at Delgrath. I marched out here with his century. I went into the forest and he stayed behind at the fort.” She looked around the garrison, realizing how that sounded. “He’s not among the fallen,” she added.
The bearded man dropped his arms to his side, favoring the injured one. “You were thorough, then.”
She bristled. “I’m not looting the dead, old man. Our allies left us to die in the forest. I barely escaped captivity with my life. When I made it out of the trees, I found the fort breached, and everyone inside slain. I must reach the emperor, and I can’t do that naked and empty-handed.”
“You’re not with the Legion soldiers who left Delgrath yesterday?”
“No. And if they were led by Sir Lorent, I fear they are returning to the empire to overthrow the emperor.”
“Lorent is no friend of mine. I had to flee the town when he returned from the border. They hunted me for a day before giving up and marching away. If you call him enemy, you can call me friend.”
“Why did he hunt you?”
“Because I took something of great value to him,” he said, patting the sturdy leather satchel he carried. “You were captured?”
Aventine nodded. She had moved down from the wall, but was fifty paces from where the man stood, bow still in hand. “I was. Many of us were taken captive. The barbarians seemed more interested in taking prisoners than killing.”
“Remus may be in the forest then,” the man said. He turned and looked through the destroyed gate towards the trees. So forlorn was the look that Aventine felt a pang of sympathy for the stranger.
“You could go after him,” she said.
“No,” the man said, “to enter the wilds alone is madness.” After a few heartbeats he added, “And I a
m forbidden.”
Before she could ask what he meant, he turned to her, looking like he had made a decision. “My life in Delgrath is over. I’ve followed Remus as far as I can. You’re going to warn the emperor? I’ll go with you.”
“What?” Aventine said, caught off guard. “No. Why would you, and why should I trust you?”
“Because I owe the emperor a debt that I’ve been taking for granted, and I’ve nowhere else to go. You don’t have to trust me, just don’t stick me with any more arrows.”
“But you're an outlander!”
“You mean I’m one of them?” the man said with a nod towards the forest.
“Are you not?” The question was a challenge.
The old barbarian sighed. “I can’t change my heritage, but I’m not your enemy. I’ve worked as blacksmith in Delgrath for the last fifteen years, and I raised Remus from the time he was a young child. Come, lass, the road ahead of you is dangerous. You need all the help you can get.”
“I'm no ‘lass.’ And I can take care of myself.”
“Damnation, girl, at least let me travel with you as far as the town. Lorent left guards, probably in case someone like you survived.”
Brax would tell me to use whatever resources possible to achieve my objective. This old man might not be what he says he is, but he could also be a valuable ally.
“Fine,” Aventine said. “You can travel with me as far as Delgrath. But if you’ve lied to me, I’ll finish what I started with the arrow.”
The bearded man made a pained face. “I won’t soon forget.” He made an attempt to remove the bloody arrow with his left hand, but could not find the leverage needed to yank it out. “Would you mind lending a hand?”
“Lie down on the ground, facedown. Spread your legs and arms,” she said.
“You’re mad.”
“Or you can let it rot in your flesh, your choice.”
Muttered curses echoed off of the stone walls as the man dropped to his knees and then went spread eagle on the cold earth. When he was immobile, Aventine darted forward and knelt beside him. Dagger now in hand, she dug its tip into his rib cage, a warning against sudden movement. With the weight of her body she pinned down the injured arm. She investigated the wound. Scar tissue and heavy, corded muscle had prevented the arrow from reaching the bone. Even she could tell that it was a superficial injury.
“It’s just a nick,” she said “Hold still.” With her right hand she gripped the arrow at the base of the shaft, and without warning yanked backwards with all her strength. She felt flesh rip and then was sent sprawling across the courtyard. Her new traveling companion had swatted her aside like a bothersome fly when the pain shot up his arm.
“By the thundering gods, you could have warned me!” he said, on his feet now. He rummaged in his satchel and removed cloth and bandages to bind the bleeding gash.
“I can help with that,” Aventine said, feeling contrite. The adrenaline that had been surging through her was beginning to fade, and she felt foolish. She had ambushed an innocent man, shot him in the back without warning.
“No, thanks. You’ve helped enough,” the man said, tearing the bandage into sections using his good hand and teeth.
Aventine stood and waited awkwardly for him to finish. When he was done, and the bandages were stowed away in the satchel, he looked at her and said, “Have you got a name? Or should I call you she-who-waits-in-forts?”
“My name is Aventine, of Morn,” she said.
“Noble born? What are you doing all alone on the edge of nowhere?”
“I’m in the Rune Guard. I was separated from my partner in the wilds.”
“You look awful young for a Guardsman.”
“I graduated training a little more than a week ago.”
Stupefied, the man stared at her in disbelief. Finally, he grunted. “The fate of the empire rests in the hands of a neophyte Guardsman and a fugitive blacksmith. My name is Holmgrim.”
While he was talking, Aventine unstrung the bow and stored the string in a pack she had found. “If Lorent left men behind to look for me and Brax, they’ll know what I look like,” she said. Not waiting for a response, she took her dagger and sliced off her long braided hair. Free of the braid, her golden hair relaxed and was just long enough to cover her ears.
“If you keep a helmet on, and no one looks closely at your face, you could pass for a man,” Holmgrim said.
She tossed the dirty plaited hair down the well in the center of the courtyard. “Just in case someone comes looking.” She shouldered her pack and walked towards the gate. “Let’s go.”
Holmgrim fell into step beside her. The empire stretched out in front of them, now as hostile and unknown as the wilds behind them. At their back, the forest stood silent and uncaring. Unchanged by the two-legged creatures that struggled and died beneath its mighty canopy.
——
It was midnight when they saw the distant lights of Delgrath. They had moved through the darkness in silence, both of them occupied by their own thoughts. But when the town appeared on the horizon Holmgrim spoke. “If we go around, we should be safe in the night.”
“I need to enter the town,” Aventine said.
“That doesn’t seem wise.”
“There’s a runestone in the academy that will send a warning to the imperial palace. I have to risk it.”
Holmgrim was not happy about it, but she convinced him of the necessity of sending an advance warning.
“You’ll have to go alone,” he finally said. “If you’re seen, you might slip by unnoticed. They would be on me in an instant.”
Aventine nodded, handing her pack and unstrung bow to Holmgrim.
“I’ll meet you on the other side of the city,” he said. “Make your way down the road and I’ll find you.”
She moved to leave, but Holmgrim stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. When she turned to face him he said, “Fate be with you, girl.”
“I make my own fate,” she said, and turned away, leaving the old barbarian behind in the gloom.
Delgrath was quiet as she approached. A few streetlights were lit, flickering flames instead of glowing runes. The academy loomed dark in front of her, and she used the building to shield herself from the rest of the town as she moved closer. There was no rear entrance that she could see, so she circled around to the front. She paused for a long time in the shadows at the corner of the building, straining to detect any noise or motion. As far as she could tell, the town was asleep.
If Lorent left guards, they’re not very vigilant.
Aventine darted across the front of the academy and tested the door. It was unlocked. She slipped inside, her armor clinking quietly as she moved. Within, the building was dark. Only the faint light of the moon and stars shining through distant windows allowed her to move through the unfamiliar hallways. Hands held out in front of her, she managed not to crash into any walls. She did her best to retrace the route Brax had showed her a few days ago. When she found the stairs, she moved slowly up them, trying to find a spot on each step that would not creak and groan with her weight.
On the second level she moved easier. The rooms were larger, and she remembered the way. When she reached the casting room she hesitated; the large windows were covered by thick curtains and the room was pitch black. She knew the signal stone was in the far corner of the room, so she moved along the wall until she reached the pedestal. With a tentative hand she searched for the runestone. It was gone.
She did not get the chance to consider the significance of the missing stone. In the center of the room, blinding white flashed, eradicating the darkness. It was like the birth of a star. Aventine covered her eyes and dropped to her knees. The onslaught of light felt almost physical. Even with her eyelids screwed shut, her shocked retinas still burned. Tears leaked from her overloaded eyes.
“My uncle told me to watch this room, but I expected the big bastard, not the little bitch,” an ominous voice said.
Aventine squi
nted around her hands, trying to identify the source of the voice. Dranzen stood in the center of the room, his rune-wrought armor shining with the fury of a sun. Behind him in the doorway were his casters. He held a flaming sword, and a wicked smile twisted his face.
Chapter 19
THE PREDAWN STILLNESS FELT HEAVY, the sense of foreboding almost tangible. Remus and the other men in his cage were awake and restless, impatient for the sunrise. He eyed the racks of weapons outside with uncertainty, a hard knot of fear in his gut. Nightmares of blood and death had haunted his dreams. His best guess was that the captives would be tested in combat. What chance of survival did he have pitted against veterans of the Legion?
He was jolted out of his macabre musings by a presence that materialized from of the shadows. Silent and lethal, he knew instinctively who the dark shape was.
“Brax?” he said, his voice a whisper.
“You’re awake. Good,” Brax said. “I don’t have time to explain. I’m leaving, heading deeper into the wilds. But you need to know what I’ve learned, and if you can, escape with the knowledge.” Brax paused. Remus held his breath, straining to hear what Brax said next. “This isn't our true enemy. There’s a greater menace deeper in the wilds, and it’s pushing the Volgoth barbarians towards the empire. The grey men call themselves ‘Ethari.’ Their race escaped slavery in a distant land, and they have allied themselves with the Volgoth to try and mount a resistance. I go to find the region the Ethari escaped from and assess the nature of this new threat. If you can, work with the Ethari, not against them.” And then he was gone.
Remus stared at the empty space Brax had vacated. Tears stung his eyes. He punched the wooden slats in agonized frustration.
What the hells am I supposed to do? Why tell me, out of everyone else here?
Daylight crept over the treetops, but it brought no hope or illumination to Remus’s troubled mind. With the sun came action. Ethari soldiers, the most Remus had seen yet, marched out of the town and took up positions in front of each enclosure. Every soldier wore a full suit of chitin armor that glinted like wet stone in the sunlight. He could see evil-looking weapons at their sides, not blades, but vicious-looking claws the size of swords with jagged barbs and notches along their length. Again, the exotic armaments seemed familiar to Remus, and in the full light of day he realized why.