by Sandell Wall
Back at the gate, Remus stood with the rest of his cellmates and watched the settlement, waiting for the Ethari to bring their chains. He stomped his feet to fight the cold. Devoid of warmth, the feeble light of the sun offered no comfort. Soon enough they came, and not just to his cage. Teams of three Ethari entered each enclosure and secured the captives for travel. No prisoner would be left behind this day.
Again Remus was chained in the middle between Grotius and Ellion. He hissed when the cold metal of the manacle touched his ravaged skin. He worried the wound on his leg, covered in dried blood, would never heal. They shuffled out of the cell and were moved into the open area between the village and the prisons. As the cages were emptied, each line of captives was positioned parallel to the others so that when finished, they would stand in formation ten wide and ten deep.
While they waited to move out, one of the Ethari soldiers inspected the captives, stopping when he reached Remus. He knelt to test Remus’s bindings, and as Remus watched, reached out with heavy blacksmith shears to cut clean through one side of a link in Remus’s chain. The motion was so fast that no one else seemed to have noticed, and the soldier moved away without ever looking at Remus. Remus didn’t say a word. With a little effort, he could twist that damaged link and be free.
So that’s Pikon’s plan. Give me an opening and see what I do with it.
Remus glanced to his left as the next row of slaves filed into formation. He found the crazed eyes of Omen staring back. Unlike the rest, Omen was the only prisoner with his hands bound.
“I give you one chance,” Omen said. “Why did they take you in the night?”
Remus didn’t answer. Omen was no fool. He would have guessed the Ethari asked Remus to cooperate; he just wanted to hear Remus say it.
“After I’ve tasted their blood, I’m coming for you,” Omen said. He turned his gaze forwards and did not speak again.
In front of Remus, Grotius glanced over his shoulder. Remus nodded to allay the concerned look on his comrade’s face. He tried to convince himself that Omen’s threats did not bother him.
When the last row of chained men was in place, the Ethari moved the formation out, leading each column one after the other through the city until there was a single-file line a hundred-men long marching through the settlement. The few pitiful citizens that still called the town home were frantically packing what belongings they could carry. Volgoth barbarians in full battle gear were everywhere, outnumbering the Ethari five to one.
As he passed the armory, a weapon, shield, and piece of upper body armor was dumped into Remus’s hands. The line did not slow. He was expected to put it on while they moved. This time he had been issued a crude iron breastplate that covered only his torso, leaving his arms and shoulders bare. Instead of a sword he now carried a monstrous one-handed axe. He guessed it was a Volgoth weapon. It was heavy, but he could manage to swing it with one arm.
While he was thinking that some men would struggle to fight with the axe he had been given, an idea popped into his head. “Ellion, Grotius,” he said, trying to get their attention. When they were listening he said, “Pass the word up and down the line. Each man swap gear to find what they are comfortable with.”
Remus kept what he already had, but several of the men traded for weapons and armor they were more familiar with. Grotius grunted his approval, and behind him Ellion said, “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Because you’ve been in the Legion half your life,” Grotius said. “You just take what’s issued and say, ‘yes, sir, thank you, sir.’”
Ahead of them, in front of the big hut on the hill, Remus saw Pikon conferring with several other Ethari. Next to Pikon stood an Ethari soldier Remus had never seen. Wearing the same dark chitin armor, a cloak of black cloth covered the newcomer’s armored shoulders and almost touched the ground behind him. Under his arm he held an open-faced helmet that had a tall crest of stiff black hair running from front to back.
Does he fight in that thing? It looks ridiculous!
Fire Hair stood with them and was in heated conversation with the strange Ethari. Pikon noticed Remus and hopped down off of the ledge to walk alongside him.
“Is promost,” Pikon said, nodding to the cloaked Ethari. “Gorgash wants to sacrifice you. Tie you up and let you die, use Ethari to protect villagers. Promost says no.”
“I’m touched,” Remus said.
Pikon gave him an odd look. “I did not touch.”
Behind Remus, Ellion snorted.
“I have given instructions to place you in center of shield-wall,” Pikon said. “Is where my men will be. Be ready for fight. These runebound are nothing like what you saw at stream.” His message delivered, Pikon returned to his position at the promost’s side.
Almost into the forest now, Remus marched past a primitive outdoor kitchen where food was being prepared. He spied Tethana among the other women. She looked up and made eye contact with Remus. Recognition dawned on her face, and she walked over and placed a hunk of bread and small piece of overcooked meat into his hands. He wolfed it down. Grim faced, she nodded at him as he was pulled away. Mercifully, they were not pushed to a jog. The long line of captives snaked its way into the trees, trying to stuff their mouths and pull on armor at the same time.
The pace was easy and the trail clear. After running everywhere, Remus felt like he could walk forever. He counted at least thirty Ethari escorting them. They moved up and down the column, watching the prisoners and the forest. Remus thought it eerie how silent the Ethari were even in full armor.
They’re more focused on protecting us than making sure we can’t escape.
Only a few hours later the monotony of the trail was interrupted by a break in the trees. That break turned into a clearing, and as they entered the open space Remus saw a few dirty buildings in the center. Livestock pens surrounded the wooden shacks on all sides. The smell was terrible.
“By the gods, that stench,” Ellion said. “Of all the miserable places to die.”
“You hear that boys?” Grotius shouted. “Keep your wits or you’ll be pig food!”
Remus ignored the banter, focusing instead on the lay of the land. The pigpens looked sturdy and would slow an infantry charge. On the edge of the clearing he stood on solid, grass covered earth, but for hundreds of paces in a circle around the huts there was nothing but churned mud. The buildings themselves seemed deserted despite the animals rooting around in the filth. There was no sign of the enemy.
There was just enough room in the glade to form a thin shield-wall. Side-by-side, one rank deep, Remus wondered what piddling resistance the Ethari expected from them. Might as well string up twine between the trees and expect it to stop an avalanche. Facing the shacks in the middle, they waited on the edge of the clearing and out of the mud. Remus and his men were dead center. Fifteen paces in front of them stood the nearest wooden fence.
Afternoon wore on and still they waited. At first the stench had been overwhelming, but it soon burned away all sense of smell. Remus embedded his axe in the earth and hung his shield from it. Up and down the shield-wall the prisoners were sitting or lying down. Remus forbade his men from doing so.
“We’re here to prove ourselves, remember,” he said. “And we need to be ready.”
“I was ready two hours ago,” Grotius said. “Now I’m just hungry.”
“Runebound army comes. Soon,” a voice said from close behind them.
Grotius jerked, startled so badly that the chain rattled. “Goat’s breath, you lot are stealthy.”
Pikon had joined the shield-wall.
“Is pigs, not goats,” Pikon said. He looked at Remus. “Enemy wants Hilstaad, has marshalled forces for big push. Scouts say two hundred or more. We meet them here to give Volgoth time to flee.”
“They hide behind the Ethari and imperial slaves?” Remus said, not hiding his disgust. “I don’t see a single Volgoth warrior out here.”
“Volgoth are not rational people. Before we joine
d war, they fled from runebound. Refused to fight their own. At first, when we kill runebound, Volgoth almost slaughter us in fury. Prisoners are solution. We pretend we don’t kill, only observe. This pacifies warchief. For now.”
“But why stand with them? That seems like a one-sided alliance doomed to end in your destruction.”
“Because runebound are not true enemy. Very little can stand against Volgoth in battle rage. The enemy commands many hundred legions. Promost believes we will need Volgoth before the end.”
“Movement, far side,” Ellion said, interrupting the discussion.
Remus turned to look. A heartbeat earlier there had been nothing, but while he watched a line of thralls stepped from the trees on the opposite side of the glade. Coordinated and purposeful, these were not the slavering ghouls they had faced in the brook. Nor were they injured and unarmed. Many of the thralls facing them were normal men armed with only pitchforks or clubs, but scattered throughout the enemy ranks towered Volgoth warriors in full armor.
“Where do the smaller men come from?” Remus said.
“Not everyone likes your empire,” Pikon said. “Wilds are full of outlaws and nomads.”
Remus glanced behind him and saw Ethari soldiers sticking arrows into the dirt where they could be grabbed and fired in an instant.
The enemy ranks parted and a tall, shrouded figure stepped forward. Remus got the impression that the figure was rail thin beneath the flowing charcoal-colored robes.
“Drathani,” Pikon said quietly. “Creators of Ethari.”
Creators? What?
Remus never got to ask his question. Like an executioner taunting its victim, the Drathani raised its left hand and pointed at the shield wall. Remus got a glimpse of a mysterious-looking gauntlet, and then a red light flared from the armored hand forcing him to look away. Every circlet on every runebound skull answered the Drathani’s call. Even from where he stood Remus could make out the furious crimson runes inscribed in the metal crowns. Under the trees, in the shadows behind the first enemy rank, rings of red glowed like the eyes of a hundred hungry predators.
The light in the Drathani’s hand blinked out, and in its place was a clenched fist. Without a battle cry, without any emotion, the runebound army surged forward, going from dead stop to full sprint in three paces.
Remus stuck his left arm through the loops of his shield. He yanked his axe out of the ground. “Death comes for us!” he shouted. “Stand and defy it. Strike to kill!”
Chapter 26
AVENTINE FROZE. The last thing she had expected was to be recognized by governor Wranger. She made eye contact with the governor's wife. Seated to Wranger’s right, his wife had not moved or spoken. A slight woman with raven black hair, the governer’s wife had the look of pure terror on her face. Aventine’s gut told her that the woman was not scared for herself—she was scared for Aventine. When their eyes met, Wranger’s wife shook her head no ever so slightly so that only Aventine could see.
It’s too late for that, lady.
“Come, don’t be shy,” Wranger said as he slowly walked down the dais. His nose wrinkled when he reached the blood congealing before his throne. “I apologize for the mess. We’re having some trouble with local rebels.”
He looked at the door behind Aventine. “Jostin!” he called. When there was no response he bellowed, “JOSTIN!”
The doors behind her burst open and the majordomo hurtled into the room.
“Yes, m’lord! I’m here, m’lord,” the majordomo said.
“Get this filth cleaned up,” Wranger said, waving his hand at the blood.
“At once,” Jostin said, turning to find a servant.
“No, clean it yourself,” Wranger said. “I believe that’s suitable punishment for letting this poor young lady barge in here to be exposed to such brutality.”
Jostin quailed. “Yes, m’lord,” he said. “Let me just fetch the cleaning supplies.”
“Jostin!” Wranger said before the majordomo could take a step.
Terrified, Jostin was on the verge of tears as he faced his lord. “Y-y-yes, m’lord?”
“I didn’t tell you to go find a rag. Those ridiculous silks you wear should soak the blood up.”
Jostin stood there with a stupefied look on his face.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Wranger said. “Get in there and wallow. Like a pig.”
The majordomo was crying openly now. Aventine kept her eyes locked on Wranger, doing her best to not look at Jostin as he lowered himself to the floor and rolled around in the puddle of blood. She thought she was hardened to the sight of gore, but she could feel her stomach wanting to void its contents.
The governor smiled sweetly at Aventine. “Now that business is taken care of, where were we?”
Over the governor's shoulder the look of sorrow on his wife’s face pierced Aventine to her core. Wranger must have seen something in her eye because he whirled around to catch his wife crying.
“Hah!” Wranger said. “You denied it while you watched him die, but at last the truth comes out. You really should choose better lovers.”
His wife wilted, sobbing into her hands.
Aventine’s anger returned, and with it her voice. “What have you done with the Rune Guard?”
Wranger went still, his tirade against his wife instantly silenced. Slowly, maliciously, he turned back towards Aventine. In spite of herself, she took a step backward.
“You seek the Rune Guard, do you?” Wranger said. “You’ve thrown your lot in with traitors and fools?”
“I am no traitor!” Aventine said, taking back the step she had surrendered. “Sir Lorent of Lome betrayed the empire and marches to overthrow the emperor. We come here seeking your aid.”
“Oh. Oh no. This won’t do at all,” Wranger said. “Little Aventine is all grown up and joined the Rune Guard. You see, the blood my manservant is swimming in is that of the late Guard captain of Umgragon.”
Aventine stiffened. “You defy the emperor,” she said, sounding like she did not believe her own words. Her hand went to the hilt of her sword.
“Come now, don’t be obtuse. I’ve defied no one. I merely seek to protect the empire’s treasury. Invaders raid up and down the coast and the poor country folk flock here like I’m their savior. What am I supposed to do, open my gates and let them all in?”
“They are citizens of the empire,” Holmgrim said. “You cannot deny them entry.”
Governor Wranger pretended to notice Holmgrim for the first time. “Your pet Volgoth speaks the imperial tongue!” he said in mock surprise. He continued, responding to Holmgrim’s comment, “Captain Harrod thought the same. He disobeyed my direct order and tried to stage a coup to open the city to the refugees. I took his head for it.”
“The emperor will avenge his own,” Aventine said, her words as hard as her countenance.
“The emperor will avenge nothing,” Wranger said, his voice almost a snarl. “Reports are that the imperial palace is under siege and the emperor has either fallen or fled. A new wind blows through the empire, and I sit in its strongest fortress atop a mountain of gold. I’ll not open Umgragon’s gates until the balance of power is restored.” He paused and then spread his arms wide and smiled. “Perhaps I’ll name myself emperor.”
“The First Legion—” Aventine started, but Wranger cut her off.
“Loyal to me,” he said. “Spending ten years guarding the wealth of an empire changes a man. I’ve made sure that the First Legion cares only about the coin in Umgragon’s coffers.”
Aventine struggled to keep up with the rapid-fire exchange of words. Her muddled thoughts were just beginning to grasp the implications of what Governor Wranger was saying. He was not going to help them. He was the enemy.
Wranger mistook Aventine’s hesitancy for fear. “Let it not be said that I’m not a charitable man,” he said. “You’ve blossomed into a fine specimen since I last saw the little girl from Morn.” He looked her up and down like a butcher appra
ising meat at the market. “Pretty, just like your mother. Come to my chambers. Share the night with me. Words will never convince me to let you scurry away and continue your futile quest. But your body might.”
Before Aventine could react Holmgrim spoke from her right. “Your dogs might kill us, but I can put an axe through your forehead before they can take a single step.”
On the dais the governor's bodyguards tensed. Aventine could tell from their reaction that they knew the truth of Holmgrim’s threat. Apparently, so did Wranger. He turned and started to walk back towards his throne. “Away with you,” he said over his shoulder. “Before I simply take what I desire.”
Aventine saw a hand signal pass between Wranger and his Volgoth guards. Holmgrim did not wait to see what happened next. He grabbed Aventine and propelled her out the door that the majordomo had left open. She made to escape through the great room and into the courtyard, but he stopped her.
“It’s full of soldiers,” he said. “We have to find another way.”
To the right and left of the throne room stone passages disappeared into the bowels of the castle. Holmgrim picked one, and they fled through the empty halls. Aventine shook her head as they ran, trying to clear the haze from her mind. Arched doorways flashed past; torches and tapestries were nothing but a blur in her vision. She focused on Holmgrim’s wide back and trusted him to find a way out. He turned at every intersection without hesitation, like he knew where he was going. At the next corner he skidded to a stop and Aventine almost ran into him.
“This is it,” Holmgrim said.
At least a hundred paces long, at the far end of the corridor she could see the darkening sky and smelled fresh air. They started down the long hallway, but stopped short when two hulking figures emerged from side passages next to the exit. Standing between them and escape, Wranger’s Volgoth bodyguards waited, silent and patient.
“Damn,” Holmgrim said.
Holmgrim did not take another step. He seemed lost, unwilling or unable to raise his hand against his own kind. Aventine stood rooted in place, trying to comprehend the depth of her stupidity. This was her fault. She had led them to this. The emotions she had locked away in the forest, and battled on the road with Holmgrim, tore through her barriers and crashed over her. She could not stop them. Grief, fear, and crippling doubt threatened to overwhelm her. Her despair felt tangible, like a killing weight on her soul. Tears streamed down her face. Who was she to save the empire? Who was she to stand against the powers of darkness? At every turn she had made the wrong decision, and now Holmgrim was going to suffer with her for it. He had warned her about Delgrath. He had anticipated the corruption of Governor Wranger.