by Sandell Wall
Testing her strength, Aventine sat up and threw her legs over the side of the bed. When she stood, she wobbled a bit, but she was able to keep her balance without being overcome by nausea. She took small steps at first, but soon she was able to walk to where a table of food had been prepared. Her stomach informed her that she was famished. While she devoured the meal in front of her, the door cracked open, and Alypia poked her head into the room.
“Captain, you’re awake!” Alypia said, pushing the door wide open when she saw Aventine on her feet.
“Aye, I feel like I’ll live now,” Aventine said. “How long have I been off my feet?”
“Three days,” Alypia said.
Aventine winced. “That long? What’s happened in that time? Where’s Commander Narin?”
“That’s why I’m here,” Alypia said, her face grim. “Your friends told me not to disturb you, but you must know.”
“Know what?” Aventine said.
“The traitor’s army was decimated. The few who survived surrendered to Lady Athlain’s forces. With the emperor dead, Lady Athlain has taken control. She is holding Commander Narin responsible for the emperor’s murder. Commander Narin is set to be executed this morning.”
The food in Aventine’s hands dropped to the floor, slipping from numb fingers. “What? Executed? By the keeper of the abyss, she cannot do this!”
“There’s no one to oppose her,” Alypia said. “She rules now.”
“I’ll oppose her!” Aventine shouted. “Where is she? Take me to her.”
At her order, Alypia turned and darted out into the hall. Aventine tried to follow just as fast, but stumbled when she tried to run. Alypia doubled back and offered Aventine her support. Together, they half-limped, half-jogged through the empty hallways of the castle.
“Everyone’s at the walls,” Alypia said. “That’s where Lady Athlain has taken the commander.”
With Alypia’s help, Aventine exited the castle and navigated the city streets. Bright sunlight gleamed off of the white stone buildings of Amalt. The splendid dawn seemed a mockery of the tragedy Aventine raced to prevent. She was breathing hard when they neared the walls. The wound in her side felt like it was on fire. Ahead of them, she saw the edge of a great crowd. It looked like every citizen and soldier had assembled under the city walls. Every face was tilted upward and every eye trained on Lady Athlain, who stood atop the battlements.
Clad in her grotesque, spiked rune armor, Lady Athlain was a vision of terror. She towered on high like a warrior queen, coiled whip in her hand. Beside her Narin stood bound. Clothed with nothing more than a simple white shift, Narin looked small and weak. Even from this distance, Aventine could tell that she was injured. There were blood stains on her flimsy white garment, and Narin carried herself gingerly, like she was in pain. Despite this, she stood with her head held high. The Commander of the Rune Guard looked out over the crowd, her face as hard as the white stone wall she stood on.
“Emperor Pontius is dead,” Lady Athlain said, addressing the crowd. “He died, protected by those he trusted—his precious Rune Guard. They failed utterly, and in their failure, they have brought about the end of the line of emperors. There can be only one punishment for this tragedy. Death, and with it, the end of the Rune Guard.”
Aventine pushed her way through the crowd, trying to reach the stairs to the battlements. Around her, the crowd murmured in discontent. Not everyone hated the Rune Guard as Lady Athlain did.
“Before he died, Emperor Pontius placed a grave burden on my shoulders,” Lady Athlain continued. “He instructed me that if anything should befall him, I was to take up the mantle of leadership, and do my best to preserve the empire. It is with heavy heart that I pick up this burden, and with my first decree I condemn Commander Narin to death for failing in her duty to preserve the emperor’s life.”
“That’s a lie!” Aventine tried to shout, but all that came out was a pitiful gasp.
Against all odds, Narin found Aventine in the crowd. The older woman made eye contact with her and smiled. Aventine’s heart broke in two—Narin had accepted her fate. Aventine put her head down and used the last of her strength to put on a burst of speed.
She was about twenty paces from the door to the stairs when a huge hand grabbed her shoulder. Alypia was knocked aside. Against her will, Aventine was pulled into a powerful embrace. It was Holmgrim. Aventine struggled, slamming her fists into his chest.
“Let me go!” she railed. “Let me go, damn you. She’s going to kill Narin!”
“There’s nothing you can do, lass,” Holmgrim said. “She’ll kill you too.”
Alypia drew a dagger and came at Holmgrim, only to be stopped short by Saffrin who appeared behind her with a sword in hand.
“Don’t,” Saffrin said. “We’re saving your lives.”
Aventine twisted in Holmgrim’s grip to look back up at the wall. Narin still watched her. When she saw that Aventine was restrained, she nodded.
“She told us to make sure you didn’t try anything foolish,” Holmgrim said. “She doesn’t want you throwing your life away.”
Aventine was weeping openly now.
Lady Athlain finished her proclamation, her voice booming out over the crowd. “For your crimes against the empire, and for allowing the blood of emperors to be spilled, I cast you from the white walls of Amalt to be broken on the earth below.”
“Glory to the emperor!” Narin shouted, her voice clear and strong.
Lady Athlain struck her across the mouth. “You do not get to speak!”
Blood spilled from Narin’s mouth. The crowd rumbled, angry at the treatment of Narin, but Aventine noticed House Drackon troops surrounding the crowd. They were armed with glowing rune weapons. No one would dare oppose those soldiers.
Two soldiers of House Drackon grabbed Narin by the arms and wrestled her to the outer edge of the battlements. Lady Athlain positioned herself directly behind Narin. When the soldiers backed away, Lady Athlain raised a booted foot and slammed it square into Narin’s back. With a flutter of her white gown, Narin shot out over the wall and disappeared from view. The crowd groaned.
Aventine sagged in Holmgrim’s grip, knowing that Narin lay broken and dead on the other side of the great white wall.
“The gods know, I’m sorry,” Holmgrim said. “We couldn’t save her, but maybe we can save your father.”
“My father?” Aventine said, jerking away from Holmgrim and standing upright.
“Keep your voice down,” Holmgrim said, casting a wary eye toward the House Drackon soldiers. “Your father and Sir Ignatius are in the castle dungeon. Lady Athlain intends to execute them for treason tomorrow.”
“I’ll die before I let that happen,” Aventine said.
“Aye, I told Saffrin you would say that. This may be the only chance we get. Lady Athlain and most of her troops are out here, leaving only a token force to guard the castle.”
Aventine glanced up to where Lady Athlain was once again addressing the crowd. Atop the shining white wall, adorned in her dark, spiny rune armor, Lady Athlain looked like a blot of corruption on a pristine work of art. Aventine felt disgust well up inside her. She did not wait to hear what the leader of House Drackon had to say.
“Let’s go,” Aventine said, turning away from the wall. “The emperor is dead and the empire destroyed. We’ll rescue my father and leave this city to the vultures.”
Chapter 30
TETHANA DID NOT WAKE. Cradling her still form in his lap, Remus struggled to hold himself together. Deep inside him there was an emptiness that hungered for pain and destruction, a madness that wanted to tear the world asunder. In their brief time together, Remus had discovered that he could rely on Tethana to hold that hunger at bay. Without her, the rage in Remus’s heart burned hot enough to consume the sun. The tears dried on his face as fury eclipsed his sorrow. Propped up against the wall nearby, he noticed Crell watching him.
“What happened to her?” Remus said, his voice full of fire
.
“Calm yourself,” Crell said. “I had no hand in her plight. I don’t know what foul evil struck her down, but one instant she was treating the wounded, and the next she screamed and dropped to the ground. It looked to me as if she was attacked on the inside, ambushed in her mind or soul.”
The connection to her vessel stone did not escape Remus. He had sensed Tethana’s anguish immediately after using her stone to wake the Black Citadel. In his heart, he knew that the strange link that connected Tethana with the stone had also exposed her to the cruel workings of the ancient entity that slumbered within the castle.
I did this.
Remus recoiled from the thought, unwilling and unable to face it. But it repeated in his mind, over and over again, until he could not deny it. So great was the guilt he felt that he had to lower Tethana to the stone floor, unable to bring himself to touch her. Self-loathing washed over him as he condemned himself, judging his own actions to be those of a shortsighted fool. Fists clenched, he knelt over her body, shaking as his soul tried to tear itself apart.
“Idiot,” a voice whispered from the dark corners of his being. “The love of a woman cannot redeem you. Man cannot change his nature. She saw the danger and pride that lurks inside you, yet she trusted you anyway. Heedless of the cost, you used her like you use everyone else.”
No!
In his anguish, Remus did not trust his own mind. The voice could be his own sinister imaginings, or it could be Savaroth preying on his weakness.
“Everything you touch turns to ash,” the voice continued, rending Remus’s soul. “You’ve brought chaos and ruin to everyone that’s ever cared for you. Better for them that you never existed.”
A choked sob escaped Remus’s throat. Something inside him snapped. He reached a trembling hand toward Tethana and then stopped short of touching her. Above and behind him, a voice spoke.
“When you activated the power of the castle, the Drathani prefects quit the field,” Pikon said. “The battle is won, but they left thousands of runebound in the city below. Free of their masters, the thralls are starting to hunt the citizens hiding in the rubble.”
Remus’s head snapped up—Pikon took a step backward when he saw the look on Remus’s face.
“And you want me to save them?” Remus snarled. “You want me to call down lightning and deliver the poor, trapped citizens of Umgragon?”
“Easy, lad,” Crell said from where he sat. “We know you’re upset about the girl, but we can’t leave all those people down there to die.”
Remus stood up. The power of the gauntlet had returned, recovered from whatever damage the lightning attack had inflicted. On the back of his hand, the vessel stone glowed a vibrant red. Since linking with the citadel, the power of the stone had increased tenfold. With this new power, he could feel thousands of simple, tiny minds in the city far below. He felt like a god, looking down from on high at a colony of ants.
“I’m not the hero you want me to be,” Remus said.
With a silent command, he instructed the flying fortress to land in front of Umgragon. A mountain’s worth of stone creaked and groaned as the massive citadel soared through the sky. Dirt and rocks rained down onto the city below, pelting rooftops and empty streets. Free from its earthly prison, the Black Citadel floated across Umgragon, its shadow blotting out the sun. In its wake, buildings crumbled, collapsing into the crater left behind.
Ignoring the looks of confusion and concern from around the courtyard, Remus moved to the gate he had almost fallen from. He stood, staring out into the sky as he waited for the Black Citadel to orient itself as he had instructed. When the castle was in front of the city, it rotated in place so that Remus faced the broken gates in the wall. Satisfied, he ordered the citadel down.
A hundred feet below, the abandoned refugee camp sat in the flying castle’s shadow. Huts and wagons splintered and shattered as the black stone of the fortress slammed into the earth. The unyielding obsidian stone of the Black Citadel gouged a great wound in the dirt. Pressed downward with terrible weight and force, the dungeons were thrust deep below the soil.
Braced for the impact, Remus kept his feet, but behind him the others were tossed to the floor of the courtyard. When the stronghold settled, the muddy ground was about ten feet below where Remus stood. Without looking back, he jumped down. He drew from the power in the gauntlet and landed upright—he could have jumped from three times the height.
Remus strode toward the gates of Umgragon. When he was a hundred paces away, he stopped. He could still sense the runebound behind the walls. Simple thoughts and ideas flitted across his mind. The thralls saw the world in very simple terms. Some were in pain, others hunted human prey with the frantic excitement of animals. Most of them were bored, but there was one overwhelming need that they all shared: hunger. Without a master, they would tear themselves and the city apart. In several days, Umgragon would be a wasteland.
The power contained in the gauntlet reached out for the thralls. He felt the pull, the desire to take control. Remus lifted his gauntleted hand above his head as he passed a simple command through the stone. Eight thousand minds turned toward him in the same instant. No matter what they had been doing, every thrall stopped dead in its tracks and paused to consider Remus’s intrusion into their thoughts.
“Come,” Remus sent the command out across the city. At the same time, his fingers flickered, ordering the thralls to obey. The longer he stayed connected to the citadel, the more intuitive using the gauntlet became. If his mind formed a question, before the thought finished, the answer was supplied. It felt as if gaps in his knowledge were filled in as fast as he could find them.
A savage smile spread across Remus’s face as the runebound answered his summons. To hold absolute power over so many people was an intoxicating feeling. He was the master now. He stood before the city, gauntlet raised, as the thralls poured out of the city. They came at a run, only skidding to a halt when they were ten paces away from Remus. Without prompting, they formed orderly rows and columns. Eyes that burned with pain and insanity peered at him from beneath glowing rune circlets.
They’re filthy.
Covered in dirt, bleeding from open sores and wounds, the runebound horde stank like the foulest pit of the abyss. As the front ranks filled, the dying and broken dragged themselves through the gates, compelled to come to him or perish in the attempt. Soon, the city was empty of runebound, and before Remus stood an army of thralls.
Pricker stepped up on Remus’s right. Monstur appeared on his left, carrying the weakened Crell. Remus glanced behind him to see Pikon and Promost Lister approaching.
“By the gods above,” Crell said in awe. “What unholy bondage is this?”
“Only a fool would cast aside this opportunity,” Pricker said in his mind. “You will not defeat Savaroth alone and here are the troops you need.”
“Get out of my head,” Remus snarled in reply, lashing out in his mind at Pricker. “Speak to me only when spoken to. I want no more of your poisoned counsel.”
The corners of Pricker’s mouth turned up, but the Drathani did not respond.
“Are they still human?” Crell asked. “Can you release them?”
“If I could free them, how many do you think would stay and fight?” Remus said. “Half? A quarter?”
“What are you saying? You would keep them enslaved to use as your own personal army?”
“If I liberate them, they will scatter to die of starvation or banditry. A hardy few may survive, but they will have only delayed the inevitable. When the legions of the enemy pour into our land, they will be enslaved again, or worse. But if I keep them under my control, I can protect them, and someday they will again be free to live their lives without the threat of destruction looming over their heads.”
“To wield so dark a power seems sacrilege, but you speak the truth,” Crell said. “The citizens of Umgragon may not survive as it is. To add eight thousand additional souls to their number would seal their doom.�
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“We cannot stay here,” Remus said. “Our only chance is to rally what’s left of the empire and prepare for the invasion. Will you come with us? You may find your sister if you do.”
Crell considered Remus’s question before answering. When he did speak, his voice was quiet. “There’s nothing I want more than to see Saffrin again, but these people will need my help. This is my home now, and I cannot abandon it. Saffrin would understand. If you see her, tell her I await her return at Umgragon.”
“As you wish,” Remus said. “I’ll free the weaker and injured thralls and leave them in your care. I’ve no wish to spend their lives cheaply.”
“They’re not thralls, Remus,” Crell said. “They’re people.”
Remus paused, caught off-guard by Crell’s statement. When he had thought it over, he said, “You’re right. They’re people. I’ll do my best to remember that.”
“This is not the way,” Monstur rumbled. “The gods would not have us befoul ourselves with the dark powers of the enemy. Come, Remus, turn away from this path. This is not the vision Shim foresaw.”
“If your gods exist, they have abandoned us,” Remus said, not caring if he hurt the big barbarian’s feelings. “Shim is just a cat. Did he foretell his own injury? Did he tell you that Tethana would fall? I’ve no use for blind faith, Monstur, so don’t seek to bind me to your own.”
“I hear your grief,” Monstur said, pain in his voice. “But Tethana is not yet lost. She might still be saved.”
Tears sprang to Remus’s eyes. When he spoke, his voice was raw. “No, she’s not gone yet, but what good is saving her only to bring her back to witness the end of the world?” He raised his gauntleted hand and clenched his fist. “In my hand I hold the power to both save her and deliver us from Savaroth’s wrath. Fight with me or stay here, you decide, but know that I will allow nothing to stand in my way.”
Monstur stood silent and still as he pondered Remus’s words. Shaking with emotion, Remus faced down the giant barbarian.