Dawn saw them back on the goat path heading north. By dusk, the knights rode down into the plains of southern Aradain. Rantis was still many leagues ahead. Thirteen days remained before the eclipse.
THIRTY-THREE
Mabane
“Listen to me, and listen well, for these are surely days of blood and darkness unlike any in our kingdom’s history. Strange creatures stalk the night. We all know someone who just disappeared, never to be seen again. I say an ill wind has blown upon our fair land, and it’s our obligation — nay, our duty — to stand up to this darkness and cast it from our shoulders!”
The speaker paused. Beads of sweat danced upon his upper lip. His simple robes billowed softly in the spring breeze. They were pure white, marking him a priest of an unnamed deity. His hard eyes stared into each of his listeners, prompting them to look away in shame or stare back boldly in defiance.
“Friends, the question is not if this horror will be visited upon us, nor when. The question is what will you do to confront it? Will you go and hide in your homes, huddled around the fireplace waiting for the dark hands of death to come a-calling?”
Several enraged shouts of “no” rose from the crowd. He smiled inwardly. The crowd continued to grow. Bigger meant more men to fill the ranks of the coming hunt. He’d cast his hook and now waited for them to bite. He held up the stump of his right arm. Those nearest reeled back with gasps.
“You see, I’m no different than you. I’ve gone on the Hunt, and I stand before you humbled in my failures. I wasn’t strong enough. The damned beasts took my hand and half my arm. They took my best friend as well. But while we and the others did battle in those cold caverns, you and your ilk were safe from harm.
“Now, friends, it is your time. Time to do your part in ridding the world of their filth, their sickness. My name is Mabane, and I beseech you to stand. Stand for your honor. Stand for your kingdom. Stand for all you hold holy and dear. For your loved ones. For your friends. Stand! That’s all I ask. Will you stand?”
The crowd erupted in cheers and roars of approval. Whipped into semi-frenzy, they starting lining up to make their marks in Mabane’s ledger. The drive for the next crusade was well underway. This same deed was being performed across Rantis. King Eglios had once again raised the call. The summons had begun in earnest. Mabane knew that many of these righteous volunteers wouldn’t return. That knowledge pained him, almost as much as when he’d lost so much during his own ill-fated adventure last year.
Mabane was no priest. If anything, the guise was a sham. A shameless con in order to end the threat impeding Aradain’s future. It was all because of the ruins, those damned ruined that men had accidentally discovered after a quake one balmy summer night three years ago.
Mabane looked up at a grizzly looking man blocking the sun. Partial recognition inspired him to speak.
The newcomer held up a hand to keep him quiet. “My brother’s the one you spoke of. He’d be proud to hear you speak. Will you be joining us?”
Mabane clasped the man’s shoulder. Of course. Friends often spoke of family, and his best friend was no different. “Indeed I shall. I may not be much good in a fight anymore, but I’ll be damned if I sit back and watch. This is my kingdom as much as it is yours. Your brother gave his life to save mine. That is a debt I can never repay.”
Satisfied, the man grunted and slipped back into the crowd. Mabane sighed. Painful memories resurfaced. His face flashed. He needed to escape and find a drink. His nerves had been shattered since losing his hand. The sweats had returned, and he struggled to fend off the tears threatening to spill. He excused himself from his scribes and slipped away.
Once out of sight, he pulled off his robes and headed to the nearest tavern. Just a few drinks, and all would be right again.
The liquor burned his lungs. At least that way, he knew it was working. Mabane grimaced and poured another drink from the half-empty bottle. He thanked the man responsible for inventing the foul drink and pounded a healthy mouthful. His eyes were screwed shut. When they opened, he found a stranger sitting across from him. Mabane blinked rapidly, thinking it an illusion of the drink. He was rewarded with a knowing smile as the stranger refilled his glass.
“My thannnks, friend,” Mabane slurred.
The stranger remained quiet.
Mabane eyed him more closely, wishing he would stop swaying so he could get a better look. “Do I know you?”
“No.”
The sharpness in his eyes whispered danger.
“Wha…what can I help you wif? A…as you can thee I’m bithee.”
He smiled. “I heard you speak in the plaza. Good words. It was very compelling. I felt myself…moved.”
Mabane spilled tiny rivers of ale down his chin as he drained his glass. “So youf joined the hunt?”
“No.”
“W…hy are you here?”
He leaned forward. “I want to know what you know.”
Mabane righted himself, growing angry. “Look, friend, s’been a long day, an I’m trying to forget abouth it. Stay or go. Don’t matter. I’m in n’mood fer gammmes.”
“This is no game. Too many lives have been lost for that. My associates and I have come to put an end to this evil before the darkness grows.”
“S’what you need me fer?”
“You’ve been down in the ruins. I need to know what you saw, the layout, where the tunnels lead.”
Mabane snorted. “Plenty o’ folks ha’ been down there. Ole Eglios has been having great huntsss for two years now. Find sumon else. I’m not yer man.”
“You’re exactly what we’re looking for.”
“Who are you?”
The stranger leaned back in his chair and poured them both a drink. “My name is Kavan.”
They stared at each other, neither willing to make the next move. Mabane generally had good sense for people and, even in a drunken stupor, recognized trouble. Bravery wasn’t one of his strong suits. He’d tried that once and came away missing most of an arm. Not that he was a coward, by any measure. He was a stand-up man who’d once been a loving father and husband. All that had changed one winter night when the werebeast burst into his home. Their faces still haunted him.
Then he had joined the hunt. Revenge had spurred him on to the point of madness. His beliefs had faltered, for how could any god allow such evil to exist and run about freely? No. The gods were gone or just didn’t care. It was up to men to end the horror. In that blind fervor, he’d strode boldly into the ruins of Gessun Thune and barely come out alive. A ruin of a man, Mabane had turned to the bottle. The kingdom paid a meager salary for his recruiting drives. It wasn’t much, but he had enough to drown his anguish on any given night.
“Tha ruins are a day norf o’ here. I wish you good fortune, friend. I caa help.”
“There is strength in you. You have only to find it again.”
“You some kina priest?” Mabane asked.
Kavan shook his head. “The furthest thing from it.”
“Then why are you s’ damned interested in a drunk wif one arm?”
“That’s my business. Just know that I’m not looking for a sword; we have enough of those. What I need is a guide.”
Mabane stared back blankly.
“Wrong man.”
Kavan dropped his shoulders in defeat. “I guess so. Enjoy your drinks.”
He rose and started to walk away. He made it a few steps before turning back, as if a sudden thought had struck. “My friends and I have a room at the Green Lotus if you happen to change your mind.”
He flipped two silver coins on the table and left.
Mabane stared after him for a moment until Kavan was lost in the crowd. He snatched up the silver and finished his drink. Several other patrons turned to give him awkward stares. They’d caught snippets of the conversation. Mabane was just another drunk. Another casualty in a brutal campaign that had claimed more lives than the last bout of plague. They shook their heads and returned to their ow
n drinks, leaving him slightly drunker and deep in thought.
THIRTY-FOUR
Arrival
Kavan closed the door and collapsed in the aged wooden chair.
“Were you successful?”
He looked up at Pirneon. “I think so. It might take a while for him to come around, though.”
“We don’t have much time for him to reach this conclusion, Kavan. There are but eleven days left.”
Kavan pinched the bridge of his nose. His head ached, a sign of dehydration and the compounding stress they all felt. “I know, Pirneon. We all know.”
Frankly, he was as tired of the older knight’s insistent personality as the others were. Only now was he beginning to show it. Kavan was suddenly reminded of how much he liked working alone. The look on Pirneon’s face confirmed similar thoughts.
“It might be time to start thinking of going our separate ways.”
Pirneon felt right saying the words. Not even Geblin seemed surprised. The more he learned of the Gaimosians, the more he wanted to return to Creidlewein, but the oracle had spoken. Sitting in the windowsill, Geblin returned his stare outside and allowed his thoughts to return to his brother.
Kavan let out a quick laugh. “Will you listen to yourself? You’re not the Knight Marshal anymore. There is no Gaimos. There is no more code. We must fight just to exist. The only way we can survive now is by getting into Gessun Thune and sealing the nexus before it’s too late. After that, we never have to see each other again.”
Pirneon jerked back as if slapped in the face. “Very well. The mission must come first. After that, we are on our own.”
“Agreed,” Kavan and Aphere replied.
“How certain are you this man you found will come to help us?” he asked, driving past his confusion.
“Fairly. He’s been hurt and is partially consumed by the need for revenge. I’m confident he’ll come around.”
“So long as he can get us into the ruins and down to where we need to go.”
Barum looked up from oiling his sword. “It occurs to me that we’ve had all these discussions on the dark gods and the nexus, but none of us knows what to look for or how to close it.”
All heads swung to the squire with approving eyes. At least he was thinking ahead. The only problem with that was that they’d opened an entirely new chain of problems they barely had time to solve. Aphere smiled in appreciation.
“I’d like to say he’ll calm down, but we both know it’s not true,” Aphere told Kavan.
They walked through one of the many business districts in Rantis. Light crowds scattered among the different vendors and peddlers. It was unimpressive as far as capital cities went. There was nothing special in Rantis save the ever-present odor of the surrounding bogs. People were people, no matter what part of the world they lived in. The biggest discerning uniqueness in Rantis was the pall of terror that choked the air. The population was genuinely scared for their lives.
Kavan didn’t know how to take the comment. He’d known Pirneon for decades, and the man had always been the same stalwart character. “He’s a proud man.”
“Pride often turns to arrogance,” she reminded him.
“We all have our vices,” he replied.
“Kavan, he is growing increasingly unstable. I’m concerned.”
Kavan sidestepped a pair of stray dogs marching down the street. “You’d do well to be worried about us all. If the beasts that attacked us in Creidlewein are any indication of what we’re up against, the world is in dire straits. Which brings me to another point.”
“That being?”
“We need more weapons,” he said.
She innocently asked, “More or better?”
“A little bit of both, I should think.”
They continued casually down the street, browsing through many goods and the various conmen associated with them. At last, they smelled the telltale fumes of furnaces. Haze clung to the street just ahead. They’d found the smithy. Both knights examined several shops with an expert eye. A messy shop meant low quality. Soot-covered men emerged from their shops to entice the knights to come and further inspect their wares. Kavan and Aphere kept walking. They knew what they were looking for.
At last, they stumbled upon a plain, unassuming building. It lacked the flashy signs of the other shops, no gaudy displays of illogical weapons in the windows. The knights exchanged a nod and entered. The floor was recently swept. A modest assortment of weapons hung from the walls. Some were for sale, others a quiet display of immaculate craftsmanship. Kavan eyed the black ash crossbow with particular interest. The heavy sounds of a hammer striking raw metal echoed from the back.
A young woman emerged from behind a counter carrying an armload of wood. Any surprise at finding two well-armed and fierce looking warriors in her shop quickly faded as she saw the potential for another sale.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know we had customers,” she said sweetly.
Aphere offered a genuine smile. “We were just admiring some of your work.”
“It’s not mine. Well, not most of it, anyway. My father is the master smith. I’m but an apprentice.”
She met their looks with defiance. Slightly over five feet tall, her jerkin and trousers displayed a natural litheness from birth. Kavan admired her figure and soft, inviting face.
“I’m Aphere. This is Kavan. Could we speak with your father, please?”
The woman brushed a lock of striking red hair from her face. “Wait here. I’ll go fetch him. I’m Phirial, by the way.”
“She’s quite the beauty,” Kavan commented after she’d gone.
Aphere’s eyebrow rose. “Easy, big boy. We came here for weapons, not to find you a wife.”
He ignored the barb. Phirial returned a moment later with her father in tow. He was the typical middle-aged man who’d had a hard life. A growing waistline and thinning hair marked him for what he was. Sweat streaked the charcoal dust covering his face and hands, but his smile was honest. He wiped a meaty hand on his apron and reached out to shake both of their hands.
“Name’s Nik. Phirial says you have need of weapons?” he asked.
“We’d like to upgrade our current stock, yes,” Aphere answered.
“So you’d be joining that fool hunt, eh? Well, I’m not one to tell folk their business, but you’d be doing yourself a favor in leaving this cursed city now and head east. Get as far away from our problems as you can.”
Phirial caught the hint of amusement in their eyes as she studied them. Each wore more weapons than she’d ever seen on a single person before, and they bore the poise of professional warriors. She instantly concluded that they were dangerous. Despite this realization, she had no concern for either herself or her father. Besides, she couldn’t deny Kavan had the type of rugged handsomeness that could melt a girl’s heart.
“We appreciate your concern, but our path is already set,” Aphere replied.
Nik nodded. He’d seen hundreds like them. If they wanted to go off on some damned fool crusade, let them. It didn’t matter to him either way. There’d always be someone else coming along to keep coins in his pocket.
“What exactly do you have in mind?” he asked.
Kavan said, “That crossbow looks inviting. How many more do you have?”
“Just the one. Give me a few days, and we can have a few more. How many are you needing?”
“Three full size and a smaller one.”
“How small?”
“Like for a child?” Kavan said.
Nik looked at him quizzically but said nothing. Their business was none of his. “What else?”
Aphere said, “A few hundred bolts, fiver daggers and three more swords.”
“Plan on going to war?”
“Something like that,” Kavan replied. “What about caltrops?”
“Those are easy enough to make. How many do you think you’ll need?”
“Several hundred would be nice. At least two or three sacks full.”
Aphere answered, “As soon as you can have them done. No more than a week at the most.”
“A week! You’re not asking for much are you?”
“Can you do it?” Kavan asked.
Nik rubbed his thumb and forefinger together as he thought. It wasn’t impossible, but it would put a major strain on his smith. “I suppose so, but it’ll take many long nights. How will you be paying for all this?”
“Gold coin,” Aphere said.
Nik exchanged handshakes again. “Deal. Come to the back, and we’ll discuss cost.”
The man standing in the shadows across the street had seen enough. The knights had been inside long enough to strike an accord. That meant they were getting close to launching an attack. The king needed to be told. It was a dangerous time, having three Vengeance Knights roaming freely about the city on the eve of the great hunt. Their presence only had the chance to make matters worse. He needed to follow this pair back to their inn before reporting to the king.
Aphere and Kavan emerged a short while later. The watcher melted into the shadows and waited for the knights to get a good distance down the street before following. He passed a quick look to catch the name of the smith and hurried off. His master could deal with that threat. His sole purpose was to find the knights. Only then could he get paid and return to a normal life.
THIRTY-FIVE
Secret Meetings
Two days passed before there came a subtle knock. It was Mabane, come to take them up on their offer. His motivations were private. None of the knights questioned them. The pain of losing his family rippled through his drunken stupor to the point where he realized this was his only offer of redemption. He’d be a fool not to accept.
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