The False Martyr

by H. Nathan Wilcox

  What about Teth? Dasen stopped again at the window and stared out without seeing a thing. He had barely seen her in the past two weeks. He had been so busy acting the saint, and she spent all her time training with Garth. But wasn’t that what you wanted? Weren’t you glad to come home and find her asleep? To rise and find her already gone? The thought made him sick, but he knew it was true. They had become like two strangers forced to share a room without anything to connect them beyond that. Before Thoren, even when they argued there had been a connection, shared goals, a common link. Now, there was nothing to bind them, nothing to keep them going, leaving the conversations they did have as clumsy, awkward, and insubstantial.

  Dasen thought about that gap for the hundredth time. He considered Garth for the ninety-ninth. Could she be having an affair with the Morg? The very thought struck him as absurd, but they spent so much time together, seemed so comfortable around each other, seemed so aligned. Maybe she’s moved on, found someone she can relate to, someone strong and capable like she always wanted?

  The door rattled behind him. He jumped, felt his pulse rise and breath stop as if his terrible thoughts had been yelled out the window. He turned in time to see Teth sneak through the crack she had made in the door. Even here, in the middle of the day, it looked like she was trying to sneak into the room, trying to avoid him.

  She looked up as if surprised to find him there, though there were two armed men at the end of the hall to ensure he did not leave. Her shirt was soaked, hair dripping, pants stained with grass and dirt, but there was something beyond bones beneath. She had recovered dramatically from where she was when they arrived, had regained the certainty of her movements, the power and grace that marked her. She looked like Teth. But what lie underneath was different. The mischief, the confidence, the fierceness, the caring were gone, and without them she felt like a stranger.

  For a moment, she just watched him with the wary countenance of a woman first meeting her betrothed. But she was not wary even then. She had been cautious, but she had talked to him, had toyed with him, had gotten angry at him. After the Muldon’s, when she had been so angry with him that all her words were terse and spiteful, he had thought they could go no lower, but he now realized how much worse silence was than anger. When you are angry at someone, at least it means you still care.

  “How is your training going?” he asked as a means to break the ice, still finding it difficult to believe that he had to do so.

  “It’s good,” Teth responded but barely caught his gaze. “I think I'm almost back to where I was at Thoren. Garth is trying to teach me the sword.” She laughed, but joy barely touched it. “I'm lousy at it. I can almost beat him with a knife, but he has the sword out of my hand just about as fast as I can pick it up.” She forced another laugh. Dasen wanted desperately to say something that would build that laugh, that would get them back to where they were, but nothing would come. Awkward silence filled the void.

  “I brought you some food,” she said finally, pulling a bundle from the pack slung over her shoulder. “The men out there wanted to search my bag, but I slipped beneath their hands and was in here before they got themselves untangled.” She smiled, and it was almost legitimate, almost contained the same life as the mischievous smile he remembered from the forest.

  Dasen would have given anything for the words that would complete that smile, that would make her laugh as she had before Thoren, but “Thanks” was all he could manage. He walked toward her, pulled the cloth back from the bundle, and looked at the pile of bread, cheese, and smoked fish. “I thought I’d actually have to keep my hunger strike today.” He had hoped she’d find some humor in that, but the words just hung in the room.

  “I wonder if Valatarian was like this?” Teth asked out of nowhere. “Do you think all his ‘powers over the Order’ were really just tricks?”

  “Does it matter?” Dasen leapt, glad to finally have a topic he could handle. “The message and results are what count. Isn’t that what the Church has taught since the Reinterpretation? That all the mystical stuff is metaphor . . . .” Dasen realized what he was saying and cut himself off.

  “I wish they were metaphors.” Teth's voice fell, her gaze turned away, distance growing in her eyes. “Do you think that's why they killed the Weavers? They didn't like being called metaphors?”

  Dasen choked at the thought and looked at Teth. She was smiling. They were close, almost there. Either way, I stand by what we've done here.” He picked up when he could not think of anything clever to say. “Even if it was all lies, at least we saved those people. We brought a city together and stopped a massacre.”

  “I suppose.” Teth’s smile faded, and she looked back at the door. “I should get back. It seems like things are drawing to a close, and I’ll need to be ready.”

  “We should get out of here,” Dasen blurted. “Even if everything goes as Kian plans, it’s going to get ugly. A lot of people are going to get hurt . . . and . . . “

  Teth closed on him and clamped a hand over his mouth. “Stop,” she whispered in his ear.

  “We can’t,” she said louder. “Where would we go? And it is exactly when things are happening that we will need Kian and the others to protect us.” She said the last not to him but to the desk as she leaned over it and started writing.

  She held up a note that said, Kian is listening!

  “Whatever comes, this is the safest place for us to be,” she continued speaking as she wrote another note. Her words stuttered as she tried to speak and write at the same time. She made a motion to Dasen to pick up the conversation.

  “I . . . ah . . . you’re right, Teth,” he said. The words came out too loud and sounded staged. The indiscretion earned him a glare. “I guess I’m just worried about what’s going to happen in the city. I don’t really want to be part of any more fighting. But you’re right that we can’t leave. I . . . I guess we’ll just have to weather the storm and do our part.” He looked around the room as he spoke, trying to understand what Teth had written in her note.

  Finally, she grabbed his shoulders and pointed him toward a painting of flowers hanging on the opposite wall. “Good,” she said. “I’m nervous too, but I don’t think we have any alternative. Besides, you started this. What would all those people in the camp do if you left now?”

  As she spoke, Teth held up another piece of paper. This one said, working on a plan with the Tappers. They will help. When the city falls, we escape. More later.

  Teth pulled the paper from his hand and motioned to the picture, indicating that he should say something. “You . . . I mean . . . you’re right. I have to see it through. No matter what, I can’t leave those people now. And when the city falls, I’ll be the only one that can defend them from the invaders. I . . . I can’t let them down.” The words still sounded forced to his ear, even as he tried to believe them, he just hoped that whoever was on the other side of the wall thought they were true.

  Beside him, Teth was looking around the room, holding the papers. “Fire” she mouthed, but it was the middle of the day and no lamps or candles burned. Eventually, she dunked the papers into the pitcher of water beside the bed and watched the ink run into illegible smears. She wadded the papers and ground them under her foot until they were mush. “We are bound to this city,” she said as he disposed of the paper. “I think this is where we can start to turn the tide against the invaders. We just have to be strong for the next few days, and trust that Kian and Lareno know what they’re doing.”

  She sounded so confident in the words that Dasen had to look at her twice. Her frustration showed at the pause, and she motioned him to say something. “You’re right, of course,” he replied. “Who knows how it will all end, but we have to make a stand somewhere.”

  “Alright,” Teth said. “I’m glad that’s settled. I should get back to Garth.” She grabbed her bag from the desk and turned toward the door.

  By some impulse, Dasen caught her arm and spun her to face him. “I don’t
know what’s happening, Teth,” he whispered, “but I will never abandon you. I will never give up on you.” He closed on her, ran his other hand along her cheek to the back of her sweat-matted head. “When you work through whatever this is, I will be waiting for you. I don’t know what’s happened to us, but I want you to know that I haven’t stopped loving you.” He moved to kiss her.

  She turned her face away. He stopped just before his lips met her dripping hair. “I’m sorry,” she said into his chest. Her hands found his hips and held him from getting any closer. “I know I’ve been distant, but it’s not you. You’ve done nothing wrong. You have been . . . everything.” She paused, brought her hand to his arm, then looked back up at him. “I love you, but sometimes that’s just not enough. Do you understand? Sometimes . . . .” She stopped and looked away.

  “Teth,” Dasen barely managed the word. “Teth, what are you saying?”

  “Nothing,” she finally answered. “Nothing. You’re right. I love you. No matter what happens, I want you to know that.” She brought her face up and kissed him, the merest brushing of their lips, but it filled Dasen with the memory of everything he had been missing, left him longing for more. Before he could have it, she pushed him gently, numbly back and opened the door. “Goodbye,” she whispered. “I will see you again soon.”

  “Teth,” Dasen called after her, not caring that there were guards listening at the end of the hall. “What . . . what did you . . . ?” She was gone before he could get the words out. Gone. Leaving him to wonder and pace and worry and wonder.

  #

  The arrow hit the straw bale and might have gone out the other side if not for the tree at its back. A crowd of onlookers gasped, but Teth paid them no heed. She brought another arrow to her string and pulled. She was standing at the farthest end of the courtyard, back nearly against the wall, fighting a bush with her elbow, firing over a bench, and through the overhang of the tree to the target leaned against its trunk. The distance was less than twenty paces, but it still felt good to fire the bow. She released and sent another arrow through a blank space in the paper where Garth had drawn a circle with charcoal a few minutes before. It was the only area of the paper with a blemish, and every scrap of black was now gone.

  People lined the courtyard, at least three score in all ages and sizes, happy for the entertainment. Teth did not disappoint. Garth had not allowed her to shoot in days. You don’t practice things you’ve already perfected, he would say. But today, he had suggested it of his own accord, and Teth had not hesitated to agree. The breath slowly eased from her lungs and with it another arrow found the target.

  To her side, there was a rustling then the onlookers began to murmur. Teth did not bother to look away. She was in her element and would permit no distractions. She brought another arrow slowly from the quiver at her side, enjoying the anticipation.

  “Stop,” a voice said from her side. “I have a message from the governor. Put down the bow and come with me.”

  Teth recognized the voice if not the formal tone that accompanied it. She eased the string back, dropped the arrow into its quiver, lowered the bow, and turned to look at Kian standing a step away in the livery of a city guard. “What is this about?” she asked.

  “I am to deliver the message to you in private,” Kian announced formally, though Teth saw the slight turn of his mouth that showed his amusement. “The innkeeper has offered the use of a room. Please, follow me.”

  With a sigh, Teth leaned the bow against the wall and stepped back onto the path. “I would like my man to accompany us.”

  “Of course, Master Esther. Please, this way.” Kian extended his hand toward the door of the courtyard, and, with a great breath, Teth proceeded him through it. As soon as she had stepped from the courtyard, the entire area erupted with rumor and conjecture.

  “What is this about?” Teth asked when they were in the hall.

  “I have been instructed to deliver the message privately.” Kian maintained his guise of formality as he led them through the inn to the private dining room. As soon as the door closed behind them, he turned on Teth. He smiled like a wolf welcoming a cub, like he had found his kindred spirit rather than a girl he had threatened to rape two weeks before.

  Teth studied him warily. She had barely seen him in the weeks since Garth had threatened him and he had joined the guards. “You got a promotion, I see,” she said gesturing toward the stripes above the emblem of the city on his uniform. “Is that sergeant?”

  “Still a demotion,” Kian chuckled, “but it’s amazing what experience can do. And it doesn’t hurt to have a purse that keeps spilling ration papers at opportune times.” Garth grunted at that. Teth just shook her head, obviously he hadn’t changed. “The governor doesn’t really pay his soldiers, so they’re surely happy to have a little extra. As long as I keep my requests to a minimum and don’t raise suspicion, I can take on just about any duty I desire.” He smiled, the wolf appearing again in his eyes.

  “So what’s your duty today?” Teth asked, lacking the patience to play his games and confident in her position as long as Garth was at her side.

  “Things are going to start happening soon. Tomorrow, the troops from Dorington will arrive. They’re just passing through and taking the men from here with them. That will leaves us with a small window to take the city while it is relatively unguarded but filled with all the supplies following the army. It will go fast, and I have to know that I have both of you with me.”

  Teth opened her mouth to speak, unsure what she would say. Kian saved her the need. “I know. I was an ass. You have every reason to distrust me, and I am sorry.” He looked at Teth without any of his usual bravado. “I just . . . when you ran off, I thought the whole thing was going to come crashing down. I thought the governor’d come bustin’ in on us at any minute and we’d all be on a gallows before morning. Still, I shouldn’t have treated you that way, especially after you saved my life outside Thoren.” He looked at her beseeching, such that she did not know what to think. “Can we move past that? Can we work together to save this city?”

  Teth considered. She certainly didn’t trust Kian. Even if she could overlook what he’d said in the hall or the Tapper’s residence, she remembered what he’d said outside the temple, remembered his real plan for her and Dasen. At the same time, her own plan required that he see them as complicit. If he became suspicious, it was all over. “It is forgotten,” she said, trying to be as earnest as Kian. “I shouldn’t have run off. It was selfish and disrespectful. You have kept Dasen and me safe when the whole world was against us. We owe you our lives for that and will do whatever is required to repay you.”

  “I am honored,” Kian said with a beaming smile. “And may I say, I am so glad to see that you are back to your old self. I was worried when we found you, but it seems Garth has restored you to every bit the girl we saw outside Thoren.” He spared a glance at Garth, who grunted again. “At least, I hope so. We are going to need every bit of our goddess of war in the days the come.”

  Liar, Teth thought. She forced a smile and nodded. “I am feeling much better.” She cleared her throat as the truth behind the shared lie rose in her chest like bile.

  “And you, Garth?” Kian asked, seemingly satisfied that his lie had not been returned with another. “I know we have had our differences, but we did pull you from the river. Are you still with us?”

  Garth looked at Teth, eyes almost forlorn, and shrugged his shoulders. “I will do what is required.”

  “Straightforward as always, Garth. Mostly we need you to protect Dasen. He’s the key to all this, so we need to make sure he’s safe when things get crazy.”

  “I will take care of him,” Garth rumbled, but he looked at Teth when he said it. She wanted to hug him for it. They had said nothing more about it since their conversation a week ago, but Garth had seemed different since then, more distant, more terse (if that was possible), less attentive. She had started to wonder if she had done something to upset him, i
f he would keep his promise when the time came. And if he didn’t, how could she find peace without the certainty that Dasen was safe?

  “Alright, we’re all set then.” Kian walked past them to the door. “We’ll talk again soon, but be ready. When it happens, it’ll go fast. Now, are you ready for the crowd?” He looked back at Teth then Garth. “Remember you just received a warning from the governor, maybe even a veiled threat to your dear sister.”

  Teth thought about that, considered what her reaction should be. Before she could decide, Kian had thrown the door open. “Just be sure you do not leave the inn, not even for the Teaching Day lessons tomorrow,” he announced to the common room. “The governor has made it clear that there will be no exceptions, even for you and your sister.”

  “Yes, sir,” Teth answered. “Sounds like our time is almost done.”

  Teth felt the moisture leave her mouth. Her head swooned. Only a few more days, she thought. A few more days and it will all be over.

  Chapter 64

  The 46 – 47th Day of Summer

  How could there possibly be this many crows in the world? Cary thought as he looked down on the valley. How were there any left to pick at the men on the side of the lodge? Every crow on this side of the Clouded Range had to be in that field. There must have been a million of them like a great black blanket had been spread across the plain, perfect except for the few brown snags where the vultures had carved out a place for themselves at the feast.

  The prince and his entire company had been ambushed, Cary mentally traced through the massacre. Nearly two hundred men had been murdered without the slightest warning. They had seen the Morgs coming, had thought them there to escort them to the lodge, had greeted them as friends, and had been cut to pieces instead. And their bodies had simply been left for the crows. Somewhere down there was Prince Winslow, the king’s youngest son, the finance minister for the world’s wealthiest nation. The Morgs had killed him simply for being of the same nationality as the rapist monster, Cary Lanark. The fact that he was second in line to the Liandrin throne had not saved him from Cary’s crime, had not even afforded him a burial.