The False Martyr

by H. Nathan Wilcox

  “Are we ready?” Kian asked as he came into the room. He tapped on Dasen’s chest with his knuckle listening to the knock of the inch thick boiled leather beneath. “That will stop anything,” he assured. Teth scowled at him. He backed away and produced an arrow. “Just to reassure you, this is one of the bolts I’ll be using.” He held it up so that they could see it. It was short, designed for a crossbow and thick with small feathers at the back. The point was a wicked looking double head made of two triangles forming a cross. It was a vicious weapon.

  “The Order be merciful, you can’t shoot him with that!” Teth gasped. “From a crossbow? You’ll kill him.”

  Kian slammed the bolt onto the table. The point exploded. Shards of seeming metal scattered across the top of the table. Dasen jumped as a few of them hit him but was only startled. They did not even scratch his skin.

  Kian picked up one of the larger shards and put it in his mouth. “Care for some?” He offered a shard to Dasen then Teth. “It’s sugar mixed with ash. One of the people who’s supporting us is a confectioner. He hasn’t had much to do seeing as there’s not a grain of sugar to be found in the city – except for that in our storerooms, of course – so he was happy to have a special project. I have two more just like it.” Kian pulled another bolt from his quiver. “I will shoot you with this. The point will break apart when it hits the leather. There’s not a chance in the world that a simple shaft gets through that vest.”

  He looked at Dasen seriously. “Trust me. It’s gonna hurt. You’ll have a bruise, and it will put you on your ass, but that’s what we want. We want it to look real. And that’s where this comes in.”

  He held up a bag the size of a small pillow but not nearly as thick. “Pig’s blood. You wear this around your neck.” He produced a loop and placed it around Dasen’s neck then proceeded to push the bag down his dress next to the leather. “I’ve always wanted to put my hands down the dress of a noblewoman,” he said as he groped. Dasen rolled his eyes, but did not otherwise feel the need to answer. “The arrow will pierce the bag, releasing the blood. You will look a mess. Garth, Lareno, and Jaren will handle the rest. You just spasm a few times, maybe whisper some last words, then lie still. Got it?”

  Dasen sighed, adjusted the vest again and pressed on the sack. It squished. He shuddered. “Alright. Then what?”

  “Garth brings you back here, and you wait. If it goes as Lareno said, the city will be ours before the sun is down. Then your job starts. Until then, keep your head down.”

  “And Teth will be with me?”

  “No,” Kian said, eyes shifting. “I have something else for her to do.”

  Dasen opened his mouth to protest, but Kian stopped him. “She’s the best shot in town, and we need this. There is a caravan of supplies stuck outside of town. A report came in last night. One of the wagons broke an axle and the others can’t get around it. And they’re loaded with weapons, armor, and food. We have to have them, but they’re guarded like the Chancellor himself is riding in one of ‘em.”

  “So you’re sending Teth to attack it?” Dasen tried to keep himself from yelling. “You can’t. There’s no way. It’s too dangerous. You just said it.”

  “Hold on!” Kian held up his hands, but his eyes shifted and he licked his lips. “There’s heavy cover, and she’s only going to use a bow. We’ve got a bunch of men to do the fighting, the twins among them. And we’ll have surprise on our side.” He turned to Teth, clearly hoping for a more receptive audience. “Teth, all you have to do is fire from the cover of the grass. You can have a half-dozen men down before they know what’s on them. No joining the fighting, got it?”

  Teth took a deep breath but looked determined. She nodded.

  “Garth said you were ready, that we would see the same girl that saved my life and so many others outside Thoren.”

  Teth’s face darkened noticeably at that. Her eyes dropped, resolve seemed to fade. Dasen was almost glad to see it. Maybe it meant that Kian wouldn’t be able to use her.

  “You don’t have to kill them,” Kian added quickly. “Just put them out of action, so we can take the wagons. We’ll surprise them, so they’ll probably surrender pretty quick. We just need you to encourage them, alright?”

  “Alright,” Teth agreed. Dasen felt his heart plunge. Teth reached out, took his hand, and squeezed it.

  “You need to get going,” Kian said to Teth. “The others are heading out now. When you’re done, we’ll make sure you get back here to your man. And, by then, he’ll actually be a man again.” He seemed to think that was funny. No one joined his nervous laugh.

  “Okay,” Teth said, but she chewed her lip and stared at Dasen. He held her hand but could not do anything more as Mrs. Tappers had him trapped with a tiny brush, terrifyingly close to his eyes. “Can I say goodbye to Dasen?”

  Mrs. Tappers jumped slightly then looked at her. “Of . . . of course, my dear. I am sorry. Please.” She moved from Dasen, and he rose.

  Teth was crushing him almost before he was to his feet. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed with all her might. If not for the leather vest, she might have strangled the very life from him.

  “Careful with the bag,” Kian interjected. “If that bursts . . . .”

  Teth eased her grip but didn’t let him go. For a long time, she just stared at him. Dasen did not know what to say or do. She looked sad, like she might cry. A tear coursed down her cheek. “Goodbye, Dasen,” she whispered finally. “Remember that I love you.” She buried her head back into his chest, soliciting a gasp from Kian.

  “I love you too,” Dasen managed through his surprise. “Don’t worry. The Order can’t take you from me this easily. Once this day is done, everything can return to normal.” He heard his words and scoffed. “Well, at least as normal as they ever are for us.” He laughed. “At least, we can be a man and woman again. I mean, we can be ourselves. It will all work out just like it always does. You’ll see.”

  Teth snuffled and wiped her tears. She seemed to want to say something. She opened her mouth then closed it again. She watched him then looked away. Her hand came to his face.

  “Careful of the powder,” Mrs. Tappers said.

  Teth pulled her hand away and put her head on his chest instead. She seemed to be building herself up to something, but apparently never got there. She stepped back, took a deep breath, and left.

  Dasen watched her go, wondering what it all had meant, but he had said it, the Order could not separate them. After everything they had been through, it just wasn’t possible. They were meant to be. The Order had done too much, put them through too much, and still they were together. No matter what happened today, Dasen was sure that constant remained. In a few hours, they’d be together. Gorin would be behind them, and everything would be exactly as it should be.

  #

  Even bouncing in the cart, Teth could feel Dasen’s arms around her, could feel him pressed close, his breath on her neck, hand on her stomach, legs intertwined with hers. She gripped the bow in her hand, fingered the fletching on the arrows at her side and thought about waking to find his arms in the same place, his legs caught in hers, his body warm against her. He had done exactly what he said he would. She knew how hard it had been for him, knew how hard it had been for herself, but he had just held her in the deep of the night when neither of them could sleep, had just held her close and been. That was exactly how she wanted to remember him, and exactly how she wanted to be remembered.

  She sighed, nearly allowing the fear, the sorrow, the anticipation to rise up and claim her. She pushed it down, felt it roiling around in her stomach until she thought she might heave over the side of the wagon – not that she’d been able to eat anything to throw up. Instead, she watched the great floodplain pass – tall, thick grass as far as the eye could see. The land was undeveloped here. Too prone to flooding to be any use in farming, it had been left to the river, and the grass had grown taller than a person. If not for the raised road and height of the wag
on, Teth doubted she’d be able to see ten feet through it.

  And that was the key to Kian’s plan. They were to take the wagons from the grass, from the sides where they could surprise the guards. The lead wagon was disabled – axle broken according to the reports. The others had not been able to get around it on the narrow road, so they all had waited through the night until a new axle could be brought out. There was more too it, but her mind had been too scattered to follow it. Something about a bow. Something about cover. Something about scared guards. Something about staying out of sight. She did not know or care. She knew what the end result would be. There was nothing more to know, so she sat on the axle in the back of the wagon, surrounded by a dozen men, most of whom she had never seen, none of whom seemed in the mood for conversation. She gripped her bow and thought about Dasen, about anything other than what would happen when they reached the caravan.

  Driving the wagon were the twins, Jax and Torin. They wore the simple brown robes of acolytes, but Teth knew what waited under those robes. She also knew how they had looked at her that morning, knew that part of their mission was to make sure she never returned. She almost wished that they would just do it and be done with it. She had accepted her fate weeks ago, had said her final goodbye. The only thing left to do was see it through.

  “Time to get out,” Torin called from the bench. “They should be just around the bend in that valley. Come at ‘em quiet from the north and wait for the signal. You all know what to do?”

  Teth looked around at the men who accompanied he as they piled silently from the wagon. They seemed overcome by the gravity of what they were about to do. The patriotism and bravado Kian had summoned to recruit them seemed to have leaked away as they rode toward their fate and realized what their ideals had gotten them. They were hard men, but they were not soldiers. They were dockworkers, porters, rivermen who Kian had recruited to his cause. A few of them had bows, but Teth doubted they could hit much with them. The others had dock hooks, pole blades, and fishing spears. Long knives were tucked into their belts. Around the bend would be real soldiers – twenty by Kian’s estimate – with real weapons: spears, swords, axes, and crossbows. The wagons they guarded held weapons, armor, supplies that the city would need, but first these men had to capture it despite being outnumbered, out-armed, and out-trained.

  Teth adjusted the quiver on her back, twenty-five arrows, felt the knife in her belt, took a deep breath, and ran into the grass. She nearly fell. The heavy grass – if you could even call it that – barely moved as she pushed through it. Thumb-width stalks held it so that it rose straight and tall to a height above her head. It caught her feet, held her arms, and resisted her body’s attempt to push through it. Recovering from her initial miscalculation, she caught herself and changed tacks. She wove through the stalks, sliding around them as if traversing an especially thick grove of higg trees back home. The others followed, silently cursing, stumbling, and occasionally falling. Teth could only hope they made that much noise when they found the wagons. It would make the fight all that much shorter, all that much more certain.

  It took them twenty minutes to push their way down the shallow hill to the valley below. They did not rush, especially at the end, so as to maintain the surprise that was their only possible hope. As they entered the valley, the ground became muddy such that it clung to their boots and slowed them further. Teth now saw how the wagons had become trapped. To divert from the road was to be lost in quagmire. Many of the men, whispered that it was the Order working for them, that it was ordained that they succeed. Teth had no doubt that it was the work of the Order but had a very different view of its motives.

  By the time they could see the first of the wagons peeking above the top of the grass, Teth’s heart was beating as if it might break through her chest. She could barely breathe. She was terrified, heart broken, and elated all at once. It was time.

  She crept forward until she was nearly to the side of the road, moving so slowly and carefully that the grass barely stirred around her. She cursed. She was too far forward, had lost track of herself in the grass, and was ten paces in front of the first wagon. It would have to be good enough. From her perch, she could see ten of the guards through the grass. They stood in a clump, helmets and armor off in the heat, leather shirts open, white chests waiting for her arrows. On top of the first three wagons were more guards, likewise stripped of their armor and helms. In their arms were crossbows as big as their chests. Their attention was on the road and the approaching wagon. They did not even glance toward the grass. Teth found an arrow and brought it to her bow, those would be the first to fall.

  Up the road, Torin was driving the wagon slowly into place. Teth took a breath and waited. Knowing what to listen for, she heard the other men moving into position. They had tracked better than her, were all well down the valley from her, along the side of the caravan.

  “Ho,” a soldier on top of the first wagon called. “State your business.”

  “Sir,” Torin called back. “The governor’s sent us with an axle for one of your wagons. We’re from the temple, but every other wagon and man in town is busy.”

  “The Order bless you, it’s about time. Lieutenant, a wagon’s come with the new axle.”

  “About damn time, get them . . .”

  A scream from the grass to the side cut off the lieutenant. An arrow flew, hitting the side of a wagon. Another wobbled through the air and hit a guard in the arm. He began to scream and flail. The others looked at him in shock then turned to the grass.

  “Attack! Attack! Defend the wagons!” the lieutenant ordered, voice rising to a scream that almost matched the injured man at his side.

  Disaster followed. Teth watched, stunned, as Jax and Torin ripped aside their robes and pulled out the short swords beneath. The plan was for the attack to start after they were among the guards, so that they could use the confusion to hit the unprepared guards from behind. Instead, they had to charge from their wagon. Crossbow bolts found them before they made it two paces. Torin fell back with a bolt in his chest another in his stomach. His brother was hit in the thigh. As he fell, a fourth struck his head. To the sides, arrows flew, dropping a handful of guards as others fought to pull their weapons. The remaining crossbowmen fired into the grass. Battle cries, curses, and screams rose in a cacophony from both sides.

  Teth pulled her bow and sited on the closest man. Cranking with all his might to draw the string back on his crossbow, his face was fear, eyes to the side, body angled away from the attack, exposed to her. He was a young man with a sparse growth of beard. He wore a joining pendant, a bird superimposed on a flower. Undoubtedly, he had carved it, had given its match to his love, had joined her, had children with her. And now Teth was about to kill him? Why? If she was going to die, why did he need to die as well? Defy the Order, she reminded herself. Act against your nature. Do what the Weaver would never anticipate.

  She lowered her bow and walked to the road. She held her hands out to the side as the man and his fellow gawked. They loaded bolts onto their crossbows and brought them up to fire. Behind them, arrows flew from the grass and back into it. But the fight was concentrated several wagons back. The soldiers there were scrambling to get behind the wagons, to get some cover and force their opponents to show themselves. The attacker’s cause was hopeless. They were outnumbered, unskilled, and had lost their only advantage. And Teth would not be there to help them. These two men would see to that.

  She spread her arms and watched the men as she approached, silently cursing the Weaver and all his plans. “Fuck you,” she breathed. “I am not your tool. I will not play your games. I’m done. You lose.”

  Her eyes closed and she waited to feel the bolt cut through her, to feel the pain that would end it all, that would deliver her to nothingness.

  Death didn’t come. She opened her eyes. The men just stared at her. They held their bows up, fingers on the triggers, bolts aimed at her heart, but they did not fire.

  “Do
it!” she screamed. “Kill me! The Maelstrom take you, do it!” She felt the tears run hot down her cheeks as she screamed, felt her emotions rising. She threw her arms out, inviting them to end her. Still, they did not act.

  The bow came back in front of her. She pulled an arrow from her quiver and raised. “Just do it! I will kill you if you don’t!”

  The men looked at each other. Behind them, a half-a-dozen of their fellows were down and screaming. Attackers were charging from the grass and falling just as fast. They were under attack. Their friends were dying, but for some reason, these men would not fire.

  Teth drew the arrow back, aimed at the man on her right, the one with the pendant, and screamed, “Kill me!”

  His fellow was the one to comply. Teth saw his finger twitch. She took a breath, expecting it to be her last. The bolt released. She saw it tremble, saw the dust rise from the fletching, saw the air shimmer around it. “Goodbye, Dasen,” she whispered as she watched the bolt come. She could feel it piercing her, crashing through her chest, tearing open her heart, throwing her to the ground, and ending it all.

  A bird lit from the grass at the side, streaked across her path, and intercepted the arrow in midflight. It fell, tumbled with the force of the blow and landed at her feet, just as she shuddered from the death blow she had not received. She breathed. She was still alive. She looked down, still wondering how there was not an arrow in her chest. She saw the bird, saw the spasmodic beating of its wings, the loll of its head, the shock in its eyes. Me, she thought, that was supposed to be me.

  She looked back at the men on the wagon. They were gap jawed, every bit as shocked as her, but that did not stop the second man from pulling his trigger. He jerked as he did so. Teth would never know why – the sting of a bee, glint of the sun, the spasm of a muscle. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that the Weaver was in control. What mattered was that even here, even now as she acted against everything the Order had made her to be, she was not allowed to escape, was not even allowed to die.