Warbringer

by Aaron Hodges

  Now, though…could the attack have been punitive? Romaine and the scouts had killed two of their number…but no, the Tangata were prone to rages, but they rarely threw lives away on hopeless causes.

  Romaine found himself shaking his head. He could make no sense of it. And that worried him.

  Movement came from nearby, and Romaine looked up to see Cara approaching. The frown on her face was a mirror of Romaine’s own, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

  “Why the sad face, lass?” he asked as she walked up.

  Cara started at his voice, then gave a shrug. Romaine gestured for her to join him on the wall.

  “I thought you’d be happy, being back here. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

  “I…coming back is not what I imagined.” She rolled her shoulders, eyes turning to the sky. “I never expected…” A sheepish smile tugged at her lips. “To make friends.”

  A lump lodged in Romaine’s throat as she echoed his earlier thoughts, but he pushed it aside. “You’re still young, lass,” he replied. “Nothing wrong with making a few friends.”

  Cara sighed, shifting slightly on the wall. It had been constructed in the same manner as the cottages, rocks fitted one on top of the other, though no mortar had been used here. It made finding a comfortable position difficult, and Cara spent a long moment wiggling before settling again.

  “I…I have to go, Romaine,” she whispered.

  “What?” His heart gave a painful throb. “Go where?”

  “I told you,” she murmured, still looking at the sky, anywhere but him, it seemed. “I have to…find my family.”

  “You’re sure…” He trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence, but it had to be said. “You’re sure they’re still alive, Cara?”

  She shrugged, not saying anything, but he could see the darkness in her eyes. She didn’t know. Maybe she even thought them dead. But until she saw, until she knew for sure…a spark of hope would live on. Romaine knew that feeling well. For too long he had clung to it, like a man clutching to a jagged ledge, knowing it could not save him, and yet…unable to let go.

  Living torture.

  “I understand,” he said at last.

  “Why am I not surprised!” Romaine looked up to see Travis approaching.

  The recruit whistled as he walked; of all the Perfugians, he alone seemed to be unaffected by their predicament. At least outwardly. Romaine’s heart twisted as he recalled their earlier conversation about Cara.

  “Leave it to the Calafe to skirt work,” Travis continued as he reached them, grinning. “Where do I sign up?”

  Romaine grunted. “When you lose your kingdom, we’ll talk.”

  “I…ah…sure…”

  The recruit trailed off, looking awkward, and Romaine laughed. “Come and sit, lad,” he said, gesturing to the wall.

  A smile lit Cara’s face as Travis sat beside her, though now Romaine did not miss the edge of sadness that crinkled the corners of her eyes. He sighed. The lad deserved to know…

  “So when will you go?” he murmured softly, looking at Cara, “Looking for your family, I mean.”

  Cara stiffened at his words and she flashed him a glare that could have melted stone. Beside her, Travis looked from Romaine to Cara, a frown twisting his lips.

  “You’re leaving?”

  Biting her lip, Cara looked at the young man, and nodded. “I have to,” she said. “My family…I can’t stay with you.”

  “I…see.” Travis swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Of course…”

  He trailed off, and an uncomfortable silence fell between them. Romaine cursed inwardly. It had needed to be done, but he should have let Cara broach the subject. After a few minutes, Travis let out a sigh and rose.

  “Well…I’d better see if the others need any help,” he said, rising. He flashed a smile, though even to Romaine it seemed forced, then wandered back towards the village.

  Flashing Romaine another glare, Cara leapt to her feet and chased after him. She did not glance back.

  Letting out a sigh, Romaine rose and set off along the waist-high-wall that marked the perimeter of the village. The sun had set and he wanted to check on the lookouts he’d set before it grew completely dark. All were where he had left them.

  He found the last standing nervously watching the forest, spear and shield held tight to her chest. Recognising her as one of those who had been training with him, he waved her over.

  “Go find yourself some food, lass,” he said. “I’ll take the watch.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked, though her expression revealed her eagerness to be away from the trees.

  Romaine nodded. “Go, I could use the quiet.”

  She left, leaving him alone with the night. Letting out a groan, Romaine took her place on the wall, his joints popping. Cara would get over her anger, if she did not leave immediately. She’d said the ancient site was close to her home; he hoped that meant she would stick around at least another day.

  Overhead, moonlight touched the sky, setting the distant mountains aglow. They hulked like giants on the horizon, reminding him of the stories he’d told Travis. Perhaps that was the true source of the Calafe legends. Had their ancestors after The Fall come to see those hulking peaks as Gods, passing down tales until modern men viewed them as the birthplace of the Divine?

  He almost preferred the idea. For if the Gods truly roamed those remote peaks, how could he not but hate them? It had been their magic, stolen or otherwise, that had given birth to the Tangata. Yet if the legends were true, instead of aiding humanity, the Gods had cast them down, abandoning them to the darkness.

  “We lit the fire where you said,” came Lukys’s voice from the darkness. A second later the recruit appeared, face lit by the cold light of the moon. He held out a bowl made from bark, something Romaine and Travis had prepared before their arrival. “Gruel?”

  Romaine nodded his thanks, then took a spoonful and almost spat it back out. It was saltier than jerky. Managing to swallow the mouthful, he set the bowl aside.

  “Travis…isn’t much of a cook,” Lukys said. He hesitated, standing in the darkness, eyes on the trees. “Cara…told us.”

  “Is she okay?” Romaine asked, turning his eyes towards the trees.

  Lukys shrugged and took a seat beside him. “She’s fine. Travis will be alright,” he hesitated, flicking a glance in Romaine’s direction. “It’s the rest of them I’m worried about. I tried to encourage them today, keep their spirits up. I don’t think it helped much.”

  Romaine grunted. “They don’t need mothering, lad,” he said. Reaching up, he took the axe from its sheath on his back and held it up. Its twin blades shone in the moonlight. “They’re not children; you can’t tell them everything is going to be alright. They know it’s not. Chances are, some of us are going to die before this journey is done.”

  “Then what do I do?” Lukys whispered. “They’re terrified, on the verge of giving up. How do I hold them together?”

  A sigh slipped from Romaine’s lips. Lukys was taking too much on his shoulders, but then…what else could he do? Romaine couldn’t do everything by himself. Someone had to step up.

  Taking a firmer grip on his axe, Romaine drove its twin points into the earth. Lukys flinched, but did not look away as their eyes met.

  “Show them your strength,” Romaine said quietly. “When everything is dark, soldiers need to believe in their commanders—even if they don’t believe in themselves.”

  Lukys swallowed, his eyes wide in the darkness, but finally he nodded. “I understand,” he murmured. “I’ll do my best.”

  “That’s all anyone can ask, lad,” Romaine replied, his heart swelling as he saw the resolve in the other man’s eyes.

  An image flickered into his mind, of another boy, eyes staring up from a bed of snow. He clenched his fist closed around the hilt of his axe, trying to keep the pain from his face.

  “You want me to take over the watch?” L
ukys asked.

  Romaine raised an eyebrow at the young Perfugian. “You think I’m too old to look out for a few Tangata?”

  A wry grin appeared on Lukys’s lips as he stood. “Just being polite,” he replied, “but since you’re apparently happy to sit here in the cold, I think I’ll go see if our second cooks any better.” He raised a hand in farewell, then turned and disappeared into the darkness.

  And Romaine was left alone with his pain.

  24

  The Recruit

  Mountains in a grey sky.

  A blood-red moon.

  Stark slopes of rock.

  Screaming in the earth.

  Desperation, despair, lost.

  Then…hope!

  Life!

  A flash, then an image, not like the others…

  Colourful, blue and green and white and grey.

  Lines of black.

  A star of red.

  Life!

  Lukys gasped as he jerked awake, sitting bolt upright. Curses came from alongside him as the two recruits he shared the tent with mumbled in their sleeping rolls, though neither woke.

  Clutching at his chest, Lukys strained to see in the darkness, but no light penetrated the heavy canvas. The sun had not yet risen, and finally he lay back against the hard ground, trying to force his mind to calm. The dream was already fading, though it had seemed so vivid, almost real. He could not have said why, but it left him feeling disturbed. It must have been his exhaustion.

  They had marched hard their second day, leaving behind the forest and moving into foothills. Despite the lack of trees, there the going had become harder, as the recruits were forced to scramble up slopes of loose gravel. Even the flatter sections were inundated with spiked shrubs that would catch at their clothing and tear their skin, until they were forced to use knives to cut their way free.

  It would have been even worse if not for Romaine’s scouting. Travis had ridden with the Calafe again, though at times the column had caught them as they backtracked from a false slope. Thankfully, their efforts kept the rest of them from hiking up the wrong hills; otherwise, Lukys doubted there would have been a single Perfugian on his feet by the end of the day. There had been a collective groan of relief when they’d finally spied Romaine and Travis waiting for them at a notch in the hillside.

  Romaine said they would reach the Archivist’s plateau by dusk the following day. Though it was half a day behind the Archivist’s schedule, Lukys was just glad they still hadn’t encountered any of the Tangata.

  Finally realising he wasn’t going back to sleep, Lukys stifled a moan and slipped out of his bedroll. Unbuttoning the tent flap, he pulled on his boots and stood, closing things again behind him. Then he went searching for one of the lookouts.

  The night was clear, though the air was so cold it hurt to breathe. He shivered as he saw the moon overhead, recalling the scarlet globe from his dreams, though here it remained a brilliant silver. It illuminated the dusting of snow on the ground, left over from the fall they’d had the night they’d stayed in the village.

  Though Romaine had chosen the campsite for its shelter, a light wind still blew through the valley, raising goosebumps on Lukys’s neck. He pulled his fur cloak tighter around himself, then froze as a noise carried to him on the breeze. Suddenly alert, he scanned the hillside around the tent, but in the darkness, it was difficult to tell rock from enemy.

  Movement flickered in the shadows. Lukys was about to cry out a warning when the sound came again. Voices. The hairs on his neck stood on end. The Tangata did not speak, but who would be out here in the night? Heart racing, he crept through the lines of canvas tents, eyes fixed on the point he’d seen movement.

  “Lukys?”

  He started as a whisper came from nearby, reaching for the dagger on his belt. His hand was on the hilt when he realised it was only Cara. Letting out a long breath, he released the blade. For a moment he thought she’d been the speaker, then the whisper of voices came on the breeze again.

  “Quiet,” he hissed, eyes returning to the hillside. Had they heard her? Stepping closer, he raised a finger to his lips. “What are you doing out here?”

  Her eyes widened. “I…couldn’t sleep?”

  Lukys frowned. “Are you leavin…”

  He trailed off as the whispers came again. This time Cara heard them too and swung around, eyes fixed on the darkness. “What are they doing up there?”

  “They?”

  “Some of your recruits,” she replied softly.

  Squinting into the night, Lukys cursed, still unable to spot the speakers. “I don’t know,” he murmured, “but we’d better find out. Come on.”

  He started forward, crouched low to the ground and taking care not to disturb the loose stones as he moved. Cara followed, her step so light he had to keep checking to know where she was. The voices came from further up the valley, on the slope that sheltered the camp from the mountain winds.

  There was meant to be a scout posted nearby, but they found the position empty. Lukys cursed. If they couldn’t even trust the other Perfugians to keep watch…

  “…only a…of em.”

  Lukys froze as the voices grew louder, allowing him to recognise several scattered words. Beside him, Cara froze, casting an uncertain glance in his direction. He bid her to wait. Blood pounded in his ears as he strained to hear the rest of the conversation.

  “…you seen…that axe…”

  Still unable to make out all the words, Lukys crept closer, trying to make sense of them.

  “Better than the Tangata!” a man exclaimed, far louder than the others.

  Whispers hissed in the night as others quieted him, then silence. Lukys held his breath as he sensed movement above, then a flash of white as someone peered out from behind a boulder and looked down the slope. Crouching lower amongst the rocks, Lukys prayed for Cara to do the same. He wasn’t sure what the recruits above were planning yet, but it couldn’t be anything good.

  A moment later the recruit retreated and the conversation resumed.

  “You know they’re out here,” the last speaker continued in a softer tone. “We’ve been lucky so far, but how long is that going to last? Sooner or later the beasts will find us. I don’t want to be around when they do.”

  “I dunno…” another argued. This time Lukys recognised the speaker—Bradbury. “You think we can survive without them? The Tangata aren’t the only things in these woods, you know…”

  Another of the recruits laughed. “You still on about them wolves, Bradbury?”

  “We have to go,” the first voice repeated.

  “What about the Archivist? If she makes it back, we’ll be branded as traitors.”

  “Then we make sure none of them make it back.”

  Silence answered the speaker’s words. Below, Lukys’s heart pounded against his chest. He shared a glance with Cara. Her eyes were wide, shining in the moonlight, and he swallowed. They were talking about a mutiny, though from here he could not tell how many.

  “We say the Tangata attacked,” the speaker continued. The other’s silence seemed to have made him bold. “No one will question it. You heard the general, he already thinks this is a fool’s errand. Mark my words, he’ll be thankful any of us returned!”

  Lukys’s shock turned slowly to anger. How dare they! Romaine had volunteered to come, to protect them all, yet these recruits planned to murder him. He clenched his fists, though he knew he could not risk a confrontation. With only his knife and Cara for support, he’d be quickly overwhelmed.

  He rose and slipped back towards the camp. If they could raise the alarm, the traitors would not have a chance to enact their plan—

  The moon slipped behind a cloud, plunging the night into utter black. He cursed, stumbling on the uneven ground…

  Crack.

  His foot struck a rock, sending it tumbling down the slope. Lukys froze where he stood, praying the darkness would shield him…but then the moon reappeared overhead, casting its
silver light across the valley.

  “There!”

  Stones rattled above as shadows raced towards him. Stomach twisting in knots, Lukys looked in the direction of camp. They’d come farther than he’d thought. No way he’d make it before the recruits overtook him. He looked at Cara.

  “Go warn Romaine,” he murmured.

  Cara glanced at the approaching shadows, eyes wide, face pale in the moonlight. For a second it seemed she would do as he said. But shuddering, she pulled her cloak tighter around herself and faced the traitors. Lukys nodded. It was probably too late for her to escape anyway.

  The traitors slowed as they approached. There were a dozen of them, each armed with their spears, though they didn’t wear armour. They spread out around him, weapons at the ready.

  “Lukys,” Bradbury gasped, his weapon held awkwardly to his chest.

  “Of course.” Another recruit pushed past the man, a sneer on his lips. It was a moment before Lukys recalled his name—Dyge. “Little bastard, always sticking his nose in other people’s business.”

  Lukys scanned the ring of Perfugians, noting those who seemed doubtful, others who looked ready to run him through. Dale stood amongst the circle, though for once he did not appear to be the ringleader. Drawing in a breath, Lukys faced Dyge.

  “Quite the commotion you lot are making out here,” he said softly, fighting for calm. “Think you’d best return to your tents, before you catch your death.”

  “Is that a threat, peasant?” Dyge snarled, stalking forward until they stood face-to-face.

  Lukys did not flinch away. “It’s a cold night,” he said, spreading his hands. “Anyone with half a brain should know to be in his bed.”

  Whispers came from around the circle as those who had looked uncertain shared glances.

  His foe only growled and grabbed Lukys by the front of his shirt. “What’s the matter?” Dyge laughed. “No Calafe warrior to come to your rescue?”

  Lukys calmly looked from the man’s hands to his eyes, though inwardly his heart was racing. His hand crept to his belt as he spoke. “Release me.”

  “Like The Fall,” Dyge snapped. Then he grinned, the gesture a cold, hungry look. “You know, I think you were right. In this cold, you might just catch your dea—”