Nightblade

by Jason Howard

  Zac’s wrists and ankles were rope burned. She kept his restraints relatively loose during the day, but at night she tightened them up so that he couldn’t free himself. She kept him in a tent and slept outside. Zac had been trying to sleep, but once again the tightness of the ropes made him open his eyes.

  The flickering firelight caressed the tentskin above him. He thrashed futilely, then was still again. He shut his eyes—maybe this time he would fall asleep.

  ‘Zac?’

  His eyes shot open.

  ‘Althos?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve been looking for you. I’ve been following your scent and trying to get close enough for you to hear me. The other scent—the woman’s—what does she want from you?’

  ‘She’s been hunting me—she wants to take me back to that man I told you about, Roen. She can’t hear you right?’

  ‘No, I’m directing my thoughts to you only. Is she awake?’

  ‘I’m tied up in a tent. How am I supposed to know?’

  ‘Do you know where you are?’ Althos asked.

  They talked about landmarks Zac had noticed before they made camp, and finally Althos figured out approximately where he was.

  “What are you doing?” Cera asked as she tossed the tent flap aside.

  He jumped, his skin turning icy. He had been mouthing some of the words he had been thoughtvoicing to Althos. She must have heard him mutter something.

  “Composing the lyrics to epic songs the likes of which will awe and amaze everyone in Ascadell, from the king to lowest commoner. Songs so great they will sing songs about my songs,” Zac said.

  Her face was blank. She backed out, the tent flap ruffling. She moved with such fluidity and grace that she seemed to silently disappear.

  ‘Wait a while, till she’s really asleep,’ Zac thought.

  ‘I will.’

  For Zac the wait seemed to last forever, though he knew it was probably just a short span of stubborn time.

  ‘I think she’s really asleep,’ Althos finally said.

  ‘Okay, but be careful. She’s . . . crafty.’

  Zac listened carefully, but didn’t hear Althos until he could see him. Althos stooped and gnawed the ropes till Zac was free.

  He thought to Althos, ‘Thanks! Now let’s go.’

  Althos took his hint and started to lead the way out of the tent. Then he stopped short.

  ‘Althos? What’s wrong?’

  ‘I’m . . . gonna . . . sneeze!’

  Althos sneezed hard, so hard that he stumbled and tripped into the side of the tent. Half the tent collapsed, and they were mired in the folds of it. They struggled and crawled out from under the fabric and tentpoles to the side of the tent that was still up.

  “What’s going on?” Cera yelled.

  Zac thought to Althos, ‘You clumsy oaf, how did you—’

  ‘Sorry! I’ve got an idea though. Just tie the ropes onto yourself loosely.’

  He heard Cera unsheathing one of her shortswords.

  Zac quickly started re-tying himself.

  She mumbled curses as she pushed through the folds of the tent.

  After he finished tying himself he dropped to the ground. Cera finally managed to throw the last of the tent fabric out of the way. Althos screeched wildly, bull charged, and smashed Zac with his head.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Zac thought to Althos.

  ‘I’m being a wild animal!’

  Then Althos screeched again, this time it sounded like some bestial victory cry. Cera was watching with wide eyes.

  Zac said to Cera, “Get this beast off me!”

  Cera leapt forward with her twin short swords and Althos whimpered in fear as he dodged. Althos ran and knocked down another of the tent poles, then wildly ripped at the fabric, tearing himself a new exit.

  “Stop destroying my tent you stupid lizard!” Cera yelled as she slashed at Althos again.

  The whole tent collapsed and Cera fell, landing atop Zac, her swords lost, tangled in some fold of fabric.

  In the dark, she pushed to get herself up, her hands finding Zac’s chest and shoulders. She lifted herself to her knees, the weight of the tent heavy on her head.

  She paused. His chest broadened as he took in a breath. For a moment, there was only the sound of him exhaling. Later, she wouldn’t be able to remember why she paused there, and would assure herself that it was to catch her breath because of the heavy tent.

  “Well, if this is why you wanted to tie me up, why didn’t you just say so?” he said.

  “You’re a pig,” Cera grumbled.

  Zac laughed.

  She pushed off of him to get up, but then tripped in the folds of the tent, landing again on Zac. She felt his warm breath on her cheek as he let go of another rumble of laughter.

  “Come on, that was funny,” he managed.

  She rolled off of him and stood, that’s when she heard a clattering from outside—her cooking pots.

  “The food!” she screamed.

  She fumbled around, retrieved her swords, and wildly slashed until she was outside. There she saw Althos with one of her saddlebags in his mouth. Althos looked up with wide, fearful eyes. He wore the expression of a child who’d been snoozing in class and had gotten called on by their headmaster.

  Cera let out a cry of rage and sprinted at him. She sliced, but Althos darted up a tree, digging into the bark with his claws.

  Althos ran along a branch and leapt—he spread his small wings—his face was set in determination. For a moment, it looked like he was going to glide gracefully to another tree. Instead, his disfigured wings flapped once (it looked more like a spasm) and then he plummeted, breaking through a bunch of other tree branches. Zac had crawled through the hole Cera had made and was watching.

  ‘Roll right!’ Zac thought.

  Althos rolled to the right as he hit the ground, just out of reach of Cera.

  ‘Run! She’s right on you!’

  ‘Thanks Zac, I had no idea,’ Althos replied sarcastically.

  The two disappeared into the woods, and Zac shimmied out of the ropes he’d loosely tied around himself. He looped the ropes around his shoulder before he ran to the campfire and found his stuff in her pack, taking his gauntlets and Razriel. He quickly put on his leather armor, then ran to Hessia, who whinnied nervously.

  “It’s okay, girl, I need your help,” Zac said.

  Hessia snorted loudly.

  Zac said, “Okay, we don’t need to be friends, but can you help me out?”

  Hessia nickered gently as if to say yes. Zac untied her then leapt to mount her.

  ‘I’m following you, but I’m on the path. You have to go left if you want to come to the path. I have an idea.’

  ‘She tried to burn me with a fireball!’

  ‘Just hang on a little longer. Double back with the path.’

  ‘Aaaaaaargh!’

  ‘Are you okay?’ Zac’s eyes widened as he sent the thought.

  ‘She just froze my tail!’

  Zac desperately urged Hessia to go faster.

  ‘I’m at the path!’ Althos thought to Zac.

  ‘Okay, just keep running.’

  Zac brought Hessia to a harsh stop, then leapt from her and trotted her into the woods.

  “Ssssshhhh,” he hissed at her.

  He strode to the treeline. A moment later a fireball crackled through the air, and he heard the wild commotion of Althos’s thumping feet, his dragging tail, and his ragged breathing—and behind that was Cera’s gentle padding as she gracefully sprinted across the dirt.

  Althos ran by. Zac listened carefully. At what he hoped was the right moment, he leapt from behind a tree and threw himself across the path like a missile. Cera tripped and fell headfirst into a tree. She dizzily started to get up, but then fell back to the ground, unconscious.

  He stopped and looked down at her a moment. Her hair was in utter disarray, dirt clung to her from the wild chase, and a light sheen of sweat was shining from her brow.

 
Still, she was beautiful.

  ‘Zac? Let’s go!’

  He snapped his gaze up, the spell broken.

  After some difficulty, Zac was able to mount Hessia again. Althos sped alongside as Zac brought Hessia to a roiling gallop.

  After they felt far enough away from Cera to return to a more manageable pace they turned to each other in disbelief—they had actually escaped!

  ‘Thank you, I thought she had me!’ Althos thought to Zac. His tail was still partially frozen, but it was thawing out now, leaving a trail of water droplets in the dirt.

  ‘No problem—thanks for the rescue. Except for the part where you sneezed and nearly got us killed!’

  Zac laughed. Althos did too, his a wheezing punctuated by squeaks—it sounded so sounded ridiculous Zac started laughing even harder.

  Althos wheezed and chortled as he thought to Zac, ‘I sneeze when I get nervous, I can’t help it.’

  Zac leapt from the saddle and grabbed Althos into a tight, one-armed hug and playfully shook him.

  Althos rasped happily, then shook Zac off with a wild bucking motion, rounding to fight him. They wrestled, Althos eventually pinning Zac and sitting on his chest.

  ‘Okay, I’ll let you have this one.’

  Althos screeched triumphantly.

  Hessia snorted and started to trot away.

  “Wait!” Zac called after her.

  ***

  Artem forged through the forest, moving steeply uphill. He took footholds in rocky outcroppings, and pulled himself upward with the trunks of the evergreen trees. He leaned forward as the hill got steeper. It was so steep that sometimes his knees found soft earth, and his kneecaps were grimed with mud.

  He came to a stone roadway. After a while following this a traveller in a horse-drawn carriage began to pass him. Artem asked the man if he was close to Sal-Zerone.

  “Yes, quite. In a few miles you’ll come to a hilltop. Straight and slightly to your left you will see Sal Zerone. Off to the right, on the closer side of the river you’ll see Agora Point. Keep Agora Point to your right and you will come to the city with no delay.”

  When Artem got to the top of the hill the traveller had told him about he could see for miles. He breathed a sigh of relief. He was close to exhaustion because he had been pushing the pace. He wanted to get word to the king about the black-armored knights as soon as he could. Artem hoped the king would hear his tale even though he was from an Ajaltan Tribe, and therefore not part of the Kingdom of Ascadell.

  In the distance Artem saw a mountain peak known as Ascadell’s Steeple. It was so named because it was narrow, yet so fearsomely tall it pierced the clouds, shooting up from the center of the city proper of Sal Zerone.

  ***

  Tree after tree dappled in sunlight became an endless blur of green and brown to Zac and Althos. The forest was more than quiet. It emanated a solitude that relaxed their souls. To Zac, this forest symbolized sweet freedom.

  Zac taught Althos how to understand the sounds of speech. Althos taught Zac how to send him images with his mind, and even bits of clear memories.

  Hessia was a good steed and Althos was tireless, so they made good time. Whenever silence stretched between them, and into the sun-warmed scent of the forest, Zac thought of Sal Zerone, the city they were heading toward. Every night, Zac taught Althos more human words. Althos already knew the words, he just didn’t understand the sounds that correlated with them. Althos, because of his sheelak vocal chords, would never be able to speak as a human did, but he enjoyed learning the language of sound nonetheless.

  He loved listening to the inflections in Zac’s voice as Zac told him stories every night, fairy-tales and fables. Most of all, Althos loved Zac’s stories from his childhood Raezaellia. He was sad but attentive when he told his tales being a slave, and of his vague early memories of Raezellia.

  After they made camp under the domed maw of the night sky (its thousands of glittering teeth the stars, its lips the gentle curvature of the night horizon closing against the world like a bowl) Althos settled into thought.

  ‘We should visit Raezellia one day,’ Althos sent to Zac.

  Zac was strangely silent at that, and he looked up at the stars above.

  ‘Maybe. But . . . Raezellia is . . . it’s a wretched place. My people were once fiery and independent. Now this kingdom, Ascadell, has destroyed them. Not only have they raped the land, and taken countless Raezellians as slaves, but worse, Raezellia depends on Ascadell for trade. The farmland has been exhausted, and great dust storms sweep across the plains that were once lush and fertile. We trade our own away as slaves and concubines, because it’s one of the few good ways to make money in Raezellia.’

  ‘How did it happen?’

  ‘During the Fifty Year War, Raezellia was on the losing side, and we refused to sign a treaty with Ascadell. I wasn’t alive during the war, but my brothers in Detren told me all about it. We fought every inch of the way. Raezallians are too stubborn and proud to back down. Ascadell crushed us, burned our crops, and salted our farmland. There are fields where mages enchanted the dirt so any crops that grow there are poisonous. Even our children’s children will go hungry.’

  Althos was quiet for a while. ‘That’s really sad.’

  Zac shrugged. After a couple of moments he turned over and closed his eyes. Althos knew he wasn’t asleep yet—he also knew this wasn’t the time to talk to him. Zac never admitted when something was bothering him. Althos, incredibly perceptive, was already beginning to understand this.

  As Althos drifted to sleep, he turned his thoughts to the future. He had never seen a city before, and so his thoughts were full of wild and ridiculous imaginings, images of infinite wealth and glory, of gold crested shields and rows of guards at the gates, of gleaming spires and immaculate streets.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Conduit

  –noun

  1. the technical term for someone who can access the channels of magic in order to cast spells.

  2. synonyms: channeler, mage, wizard, sorcerer, and sorceress are other commonly used terms for identifying magic users, however, conduit is the most technical, proper term

  3. “witch” or “witch-woman” is a slur against female conduits and is not used in polite society

  4. wulgar is a combination of the words “wizard” and “chulgar” and is a slur usually for male magic users

  5. antonyms: conduits sometimes refer to non-magic users with the slightly derogatory term “nonduits” or by shortening the word “insulators” to “insults”

  –This is an excerpt from Historeum Arcania, a textbook used at Ascadell’s Arcane Academy.

  They walked along a road that cut through a lush meadow. They didn’t speak, they were too awed by their view of Ascadell’s capital city, Sal Zerone. Zac guessed that it was about a thousand Lockridges combined.

  Earlier that day the city had been just a faint shape on the horizon, but like a mountain range it had grown and come into focus.

  The wall was menacing by itself, thirty feet high, with towers perhaps forty feet. There were murder holes, cannons, even catapults. Armored guards paced the battlements, their gleaming helmets catching rays of sunlight and making Zac squint.

  But it wasn’t the wall that awed Zac.

  It was the towers beyond the wall. They rose so high his neck hurt when he craned to see them. Some of them merged with the sunlight, their tops becoming silhouettes that were hard to look at in the brightness. Between these fearsome towers various kinds of bridges and walkways stretched. The people on the web of walkways were so high up they looked like toys. Little wind-up dolls strutting across the heavens.

  As tall as the towers were, even the highest spire, which Zac assumed was part of Castle Sal Zerone, was dwarfed by Ascadell’s Steeple. It was common knowledge that Ascadell’s Steeple had been there before the first written histories of men. Sal Zerone had been built around it. It was comprised of black lavastone flecked with silvery mineral traces. It al
so seemed invulnerable to physical or magical attacks, although no conduit could sense the magic that must be moving through it. Many religious texts, campfire stories, and legends theorized about how it had been created.

  One such myth, told in Raezellia to Zac when he was a young boy, was that Bareloth had told the earth itself to make him a monument worthy of a god. The earth had responded with a powerful quake and the ascension of molten rock rising from its depths that formed into the Steeple.

  The story was that Bareloth then used it to amplify his powers. He commanded the people of his kingdom to visit the Steeple once a year to worship him and show their obeisance. There were many other stories about the Steeple though, and Zac had a feeling no one really knew what it was or how it had come to be.

  Armored guards stood outside a closed portcullis. One was very old and one was quite young.

  “What is that creature?” the younger guard called out.

  “My pet.” Zac didn’t want to sound like the uneducated former slave that he was so he tried to remember how his masters had sounded when they were addressing Temnick formally. “He is quite well trained, and completely docile, sirs.”

  When Zac was a few paces away from the guards he stopped, unsure what they wanted him to do.

  “Go on,” the older guard said to his counterpart.

  “Must I?” the younger guard replied.

  “You want to keep the job?”

  The young guard sighed. “Welcome to Sal Zerone, Ascadell’s most glorious, magnificent, mind-flaggingly incredible wonderwork! A city of splendors wrought by hands guided by the Gods themselves! Beyond these walls you will behold artwork and wizardry unparalleled in all the city-states of blessed Ascadell! History has been bent by words spoken and written inside these walls! All of volumes in all of Ascadell’s libraries could never describe the incomprehensible . . . uh . . . gloriousness herein! In the annals of existence the only higher achievement than the birth of this fine city was when the gods wrought the universe by channeling all the magics of existence into an ever-expanding seed planted in the soil of time!” He then looked at the older guard and grumbled, “Is that enough?”