by Rob J. Hayes
I turned away from the battle on the tower top, trusting Josef to protect me, to be my shield while I did what I did best; attack. Reaching out to the Other World I brought hellions back with me. Five winged monsters travelled through me and burst out of my chest. Once they were through, I gripped at my tunic and gasped, breathing through the pain. But it was only pain. It felt like they had ripped their way free of my rib cage, but it was an illusion. No magic comes without a price, and the price for Impomancy is pain. I gave my hellions a target and ordered them to attack. With claws that can shred armour and spittle that hardens as strong as solid rock, hellions are quite well-suited to war.
When I turned back to the tower top, I saw two of our guard were down already. They were hard pressed to deal with the portals that kept snapping open and Josef was better suited to a true battle than to that sort of fight.
We didn't know it at the time, but it was all a distraction, really. The Terrelan forces were already inside the fort, making their way to the war room to kill the emperor.
I remember seeing a portal open above us and arrows flew through it. Josef, always faster than I, brushed them aside with a wave of his hand. The portal closed and then another opened behind us. This time I was ready. I snapped open a portal of my own and rained the enemy's own arrows down upon their heads. I'll wager they didn't see that coming.
It was a losing battle from the start. We were two Sourcerers and a handful of soldiers against an army of both. Josef and I were strong, especially side by side, but there were only two of us, and in truth we were still all but children. The Orran Academy gave us all the training they could, but the tutors themselves knew so little about Sources and how to use them. The Terrelans didn't know much better, but they didn't need to; they had numbers.
Josef and I took turns throwing destruction down upon the ranks of the enemy, but we spent more time looking to our own defence. Our guards soon found themselves overly taxed and they fell quickly. Time is hard to keep track of during a battle, but it did not feel like long before Josef and I were surrounded by Terrelans. They were a mixture of Sourcerers and those trained to fight us.
I would have fought them to the death, if not for Josef. He saved my life by betraying me. And I hated him for it. I look back now, and I love him for that same betrayal.
We struggled up the steps at the side of that great hall, moving as fast as Hardt could drag Isen. The younger brother's leg hurt too much for him to put pressure on it, and the steps were barely wide enough for two to walk abreast, especially when one of them was as broad as Hardt. I have seen the man struggle to fit through doorways before, and I have seen the scars on the crown of his head also. The man has faced down armies with nothing but his fists, yet he is constantly defeated by low ceilings.
After following the stairs as far as they went, we ducked through into yet another corridor. The wind was weaker there and I asked Tamura if perhaps we should find another way. He laughed and shook his head.
"Many streams make a river," the crazy old Terrelan said. "All lead back to the mountain." It was about as much of an answer as I expected, and even better that it was one I understood.
After a while of listening to Isen grunt with every step, I called a halt. We ducked into one of the nearby rooms and backed into the corner. Yorin and Tamura watched the corridor while Hardt took another look at his brother's leg.
"We need to sew it and splint it," Hardt said. I have been on the business end of his needles many times and I know now how skilful he is. Doesn't stop the surgery from hurting like a bitch, though.
"I don't see any handy sticks nearby," Isen growled through the obvious pain.
"Then we'll use your sword." Hardt was already undoing his brother's belt to take the weapon. It was sheaved in soft leather and was easily long enough for the job.
"I'll need that if those little monsters come back." Isen argued, but there didn't seem to be much conviction in his voice.
"You can use mine." I pulled my short sword free and laid it by Isen's side. The dark blood of the Damned I had slain was still slick on the blade. "We both know I'm no good with it yet. I'll do just as well with the knife." It was another little weapon I picked up from the armoury, though in truth I think it is better served to carve apples than flesh. I still have that knife. One of my few keepsakes from a time I've often considered trying to forget.
Hardt pulled down his brother's trousers and Isen covered himself with his hands. I think I blushed. Strange to think of it now, and not just because these days it would take far more than the sight of cock and balls to make me colour. I caught a glimpse of it, my first, if truth be told, and couldn't help but think that not too long ago it had been inside of me. I think I covered it well, but honestly it made me queasy to imagine it.
"Over here, Eska," Hardt said as he began unwrapping bloody bandages. "I'm going to need you to hold the wound closed while I sew. It's going to be slippery." He paused and looked at his brother. "And it's going to hurt."
I moved around to kneel next to Hardt and got a good look at the wound. At the academy, I had done my required studies into anatomy and I remember seeing pictures of muscle in the books, but this was the first time I saw some standing out in an open wound. I swallowed back bile. The flesh was ripped open and jagged, and bloody muscle seemed to be trying to push its way outward. I was reminded of a sausage, the skin torn and the meat inside trying to escape its confines.
Isen glanced down at his leg. "Oh, bouncing goat sucker."
"It could be worse," Hardt rumbled. I wonder if he felt as confident as he made those words sound. I've seen him fix up worse wounds since, but I suppose things are different when it's your brother you're trying to save.
"Seen wounds like this make people lose legs, brother," Isen said, gritting his teeth. He took his hands away from his cock, and gripped hold of the hilt of my sword hard. Some men find it reassuring to hold a weapon in their hands.
"On a ship, sure," Hardt said. "If we sew it up. Keep it dry. You'll be fine, little brother."
Isen groaned. "Get on with it then."
I found myself staring at his cock. I've never liked the sight of them, but it was preferable to staring at the wound.
"Here." Hardt pointed at the red flesh surrounding the wound. "Grip here and here and pull it together. Don't be gentle. Try to ignore the screams."
"I won't scream." Isen proved himself a liar with that statement.
"He'll slow us down," Yorin said from the doorway. "He's slowing us down right now. We leave him to the imps, maybe he'll slow them down instead." There was no emotion in his voice. I knew he wasn't saying it out of malice or any desire to see Isen dead. He simply stated it as an option.
"Go fuck a slug," Isen growled. He was sweating and pale. I wondered if maybe Yorin was right. I wasn't certain Hardt could even save his brother. But I was certain he'd try. "Wish we had something stronger than water," Isen said, fear plain in his voice.
"Are you ready?" Hardt asked. I think the question was directed at both of us. I nodded and gripped hold of Isen's leg, pulling the wound closed.
Many years later, down in the Red Cells, the Terrelan Emperor once told me that a ruler needs to be savage. Needs to enjoy the screams of their fellow man. He said there were twenty-one different screams a person could make depending on the stimuli. I lost count of the number he drew from me. I have never been partial to screaming myself. I find it to be an assault on my hearing. Isen screamed. As Hardt sewed his leg back together, Isen screamed himself raw, and I wondered if the Source in my little pouch was a Vibromancy Source. It would have killed me in minutes, of course, but I thought it probably worthwhile just to create a bubble of silence around myself. To block the hideous noise out, even for a few moments.
There was a lull in the sewing when Hardt snapped off the hair and took a minute to set up another. I wiped sweat from my forehead and left a smear of Isen's blood in its place. I was shaking. It's so strange that Isen was wounded and Hardt w
as doing all the work to fix him, and yet, I was the only one trembling.
"You said you weren't going to do that anymore," Isen said. I think it was a wonder he was still conscious.
Hardt didn't pause as he threaded a new hair through the needle. "I didn't want to. Didn't have a choice."
Isen stared at his brother, eyes red from tears and sweat standing out on his face. "It's always a choice to kill, Hardt. Your words, not mine." They shared a look then. I was more than a little curious to know what passed between them. I managed to drag the story free years later, though not without a fair amount of social lubricant. But that one isn't my story to share.
"Again, Eska," Hardt said. I pulled the flesh together once more.
By the time Hardt was finished, we were all exhausted. I've often thought it takes as much effort and energy to heal a person as it does to be the one healed. I have developed a great respect for Biomancers over the years, and an even greater respect for physicians who rely on skill and knowledge alone.
We let Isen sleep and Hardt drifted off as well. Our position was as secure as it could be with only one way into the empty room. Yorin and Tamura continued to watch the hallway. Yorin wasn't pleased, but he kept quiet about it. Tamura had a grave look on his face and said nothing; I think that scared me more than the amount of Isen's blood on the floor, and on my hands. I considered trying to sleep, but I knew I wouldn't. Couldn't.
We were close to the surface, close to freedom. I could feel it. I had no proof, but I knew it all the same. I itched to move on. More than once I glanced at Isen as he slept and part of me, a horrible insidious part of me hoped he'd die.
Chapter 33
There were rumours about Josef and I at the academy. Not to begin with, we were both too young, but after a few years they started to surface. I would bet every fortune I've won and lost over the years on the bitch-whore starting those rumours. Lesray took every opportunity to make my life harder.
Josef and I spent almost every moment together. We trained together. We ate together. We slept together. I suppose it was inevitable that, once puberty kicked in, people would start to question our relationship. The tutors didn't care. No, that's not true, I think the tutors did care. I think they approved, as they did of anything that would strengthen the bond between us. They were always so scared Josef might defect, especially given his outspoken views about the war. I think it might also have been because of how close he grew up to the border. He knew just how little difference there really was between the Orrans and the Terrelans, which is to say nothing but the name.
Josef was always angry about the war. It's not really surprising given the things he had lost, and the things he had seen. He told me about them once, stony-faced and seething with rage. Of the parents that had loved him and treated him like a little miracle. Of the big sister who tormented him in a hundred playful ways and was always there to protect him when he needed her. Of the village that worked the swampland close to the nearby river and were as poor as the mud they sifted through. And he told me of their deaths at the hands of the first Terrelans to cross the border. I cried for him, even as he refused to cry for himself.
He blamed the Orrans for the war, claiming it was all their fault. I've always thought war more of a mutual effort. If one side didn't want to fight, they would have used more words and fewer swords.
At the academy, I heard the rumours. We both did. At first, we laughed at them, maybe even adding fuel to the fires by holding hands and showing more public affection. But those rumours and innuendo soon outlived my patience. It became a chore watching people whisper as we walked past, seeing sly eyes glance our way. I always got the rougher end of those rumours. I caught the odd word whispered behind my back; harlot and slut. While Josef was praised, more often than not, for years of hard work finally paying off. I was just twelve years old and innocent, but the rumours branded me a whore and made me a pariah amongst my peers. Only Josef didn't seem to care what was said about me. He was praised for that generosity.
No matter what the rumours said there was never any romantic feelings between us. We were siblings in everything but blood. Closer than siblings, even. The pahht call it soul bonded. Two people linked together by their very essence. Two halves only ever whole when they're together. I felt that way down in the ruined Djinn city. I felt broken in two, a part of me missing. I couldn't help but feel I'd pushed Josef away to pursue my infatuation with Isen, and now that that was ended, I wanted my best friend back. I wanted to tell him I was sorry and feel the comfort and solace in his compassion. I wanted to feel whole again.
The Damned didn't attack again. Yorin claimed he heard noises, the scuff of feet on stone in the distance, yet we saw nothing. We all hoped they had learned their lesson. I don't think any of us were prepared for another fight.
When Hardt woke he checked on Isen again and the younger brother started to come around. He was alive, but his pain was obvious and I caught Hardt looking worried more than once. I silently wondered if Isen would ever walk without a limp again, and I discovered a hard truth about myself. I didn't care. We stuffed ourselves with shrooms and picked Isen off the ground. Hardt half carried his brother as we moved on.
We were out of oil, so we left the lanterns behind. One more thing we didn't need to carry. Luckily, we were all eating shiners and the shrooms gave us passable night vision even in such darkness. Tamura led the way again, following the breeze against his skin.
Anticipation can be a horrible thing and I was nervous with it. We were moving slowly, both because of the darkness, and because of Isen. Every step was torture. Every pause was even more torturous and we paused often for Isen to rest. I found Yorin watching me more than once during those breaks, and every time his gaze flicked to the younger brother. There was an unspoken question there; Yorin was asking if we should leave them. Move ahead and find our own way out. I don't know when or why Yorin had come to rely on my opinion, maybe because I took the lead when no one else would, but I wasn't about to argue with the decision. We needed Yorin. We needed someone willing and able to kill. I didn't think Hardt had it in him to go on another murderous rampage. Or perhaps it was that he didn't have it in him to pull himself out of it once more.
Wandering down those ruined halls became a drudgery, all of us moving along with exhaustion and determination in equal measure. We were all so fucking tired. We almost missed the hole in the wall. Perhaps the others thought it just another doorway leading to the wreckage of a room that had once served a purpose, but not me. I dragged my eyes from the floor in front of me and saw a crack in the wall, leading out into broken rock beyond. I felt my heart beat faster and hope sprang alive inside of me anew. It was the way out. I knew it, and I didn't need the wind or Tamura to tell me. I knew it was the final stretch to freedom.
Isen groaned as Hardt lowered him to the ground in a nearby room. The cave opened out from a hole in the wall. It sloped upwards slowly, barely large enough for us to walk single file. The walls were rough and looked as though they had been scraped away. The breeze was stronger and it carried something on it, a fresh smell like the first rains of spring. The scent of life rallying to take back what had been stolen by a harsh winter.
I stared up into the darkness of the cave and smiled, drawing in deep breaths through my nose and enjoying a scent that almost covered the rancid odour of our unwashed bodies. You learn to forget the pleasure of being clean when trapped underground in a prison surrounded by others who barely remember the feeling. But it soon comes flooding back when the prospect of finally ridding filth from skin presents itself.
"We should send someone ahead to explore," Hardt said. "Make certain it's the way out."
"I'll go." Yorin's offer sounded genuine enough. I think we all knew he wouldn't come back if the cave led to the surface.
"We'll all go," I said. "Together. It is the way out. Tamura agrees." The crazy old man nodded.
Hardt drew in a deep breath before arguing. "Isen is..."
"Isen can make it," Isen said, interrupting his brother. "He just needs a quick rest. And the last thing Isen wants is to be left down here in the dark while the rest of you go and see the sun."
It was settled. We decided to wait for Isen to be ready. I'm not going to say it was a pleasant delay, and I longed to charge headlong into the passageway, but I swallowed down my impatience. Isen wanted to be free as much as the rest of us, I knew he wouldn't delay us any longer than he had to. Also, I had to admit to myself that, as sure as I was the cave was the right way, we had no idea of how long a journey it might be to the surface.
There is an art to doing something foolish. It often involves deciding upon the smart choice, the safest choice, and then doing the opposite. In my case it often involves believing myself to be safer than I am, or untouchable. That is why I snuck away from the others to relieve myself. Privacy was a notion the Pit quickly scraped away from its prisoners, but so close to the surface and with Isen's gaze still lingering on me, I felt the need to take myself away from them.
I found a large room, stone and other debris scattered all over the floor. There were two doors, one leading back to the corridor and the other to a connecting room. I think the rubble on the floor might have been a stove once, I saw a metal grill rusted almost to dust. The gloom was thick enough that from the back of the room I could barely see to the doorway. I crouched down in the corner and pulled down my trousers. I was still sore and the bandages were bloody, but I had stopped bleeding. I was just starting to pull my trousers up when the mistakes of my past caught up with me.
I stood up and saw a figure in the doorway. I startled, tripping in the legs of my trousers as I struggled to pull them up, and landing heavily on the floor. I'm afraid to say, there are very few things quite like falling arse first onto a rock. I yelped; hard not to with sudden pain like that, and scrambled back to my feet. The figure in the doorway just watched for a moment longer. I thought it might be Tamura or Yorin come to fetch me. Then I realised that they were carrying a hooded lantern, shining my way.