Beyond the Edge of Dawn

by Christian Warren Freed

  Corso bowed again and excused himself. At last, he sighed inwardly. The wheels were finally in motion. The dawn of the dark gods was quickly approaching, and he was about to reap the rewards from a thousand years of faithful service.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  A Hero Falls

  Rantis was awash with excitement. The hazy sun was barely in the sky, and word had spread through the streets that a handful of Gaimosian Knights had come from half the world away to rescue them from the demons in the ruins. Adding to that, constables and praetors hung posters decreeing the penalty for being a member of the black company of the Fist. The eclipse was ten short days away, not that the general population knew this or cared. The remainder of the week promised to be filled with excitement.

  Huddled in a corner table in the common room away from the scattering of patrons, Kavan could only shake his head in disbelief.

  “How did they find out?”

  Aphere clenched a fist. “They must have spies watching our every move. But why? None of this makes sense to me.”

  Finishing his mug of coffee, Barum said, “It could be the Fist. From what we know of them, it seems unlikely they’ll give up their hunt just because they are outlawed.”

  “True. They could be trying to draw us out, make us expose ourselves,” Kavan conceded. He liked that option even less. That path meant a monarchy-sanctioned public execution. Mercenaries were one thing, but an entire kingdom was another matter altogether. What little he knew of Eglios and Aradain offered no suggestion that they were involved with external affairs. That meant one of the Fist had either gotten to the king or that Eglios himself was their employer.

  Try as he could, Kavan couldn’t find a single reason why a minor king should involve himself with a handful of forgotten people. So why? He asked himself the same question a hundred times and came with no conclusion. What motives could Eglios have for removing yet more Gaimosians from the world? He grew angry at the emptiness reflecting back. Confusion threatened before realization dawned. Eglios wasn’t the one. There was another, hidden in the shadows, pulling the strings. He slammed an open palm down on the smoothed over wooden table.

  Aphere glanced nervously around the room before asking, “What are you doing?”

  “It’s not the Fist,” he said.

  “I don’t follow.”

  Kavan explained as best as he could. Not having time to develop his thoughts, he often tripped over theories and assumptions.

  “Who in Aradain has enough motive to want us dead?” she asked after he fell silent.

  “That’s the part that doesn’t make sense to me.”

  “He does have a point,” Geblin chimed in between bites of toast and bacon. Crumbs littered his shirt.

  Aphere’s eyebrow rose questioningly.

  “Oh, come on,” Geblin continued. “You can’t tell me that you haven’t felt herded since we crossed the plains. You mentioned being hunted several times, but what if we were being pushed in this direction? Whoever hired the Fist wanted us here in Rantis.”

  They stared with the combination of shock and respect. Three seasoned professionals hadn’t been able to decipher the riddle while a relatively inexperienced Gnome had. Kavan looked upon him in a new light.

  Geblin continued, “If I were you, I wouldn’t worry too much about it. We have a bigger problem.”

  “That being?”

  He smiled, his teeth crooked and stained yellow. “Where’s Pirneon?”

  True. None of them had seen the Knight Marshal since the confrontation on the first night. There was no telling what might have happened to him. The bond remained, meaning he was still alive and in the city. His ego may have been damaged, but, truth be told, he needed it. He’d been isolated from the rest of the world for too long. Pirneon had become his own law and executioner.

  The pride of fallen Gaimos haunted them all, but none so much as the former Knight Marshal. He never spoke of it to them, but Kavan had learned Pirneon led the armies of Gaimos during their final stand. Ever since, he wallowed with conflicting senses of guilt and arrogance. Pirneon, more than any other surviving Gaimosian, wanted to see his kingdom reborn.

  Kavan recognized the danger of that power and turned his back on it. He didn’t need Gaimos. It was a myth he’d never known and a heritage he couldn’t escape. Like many of his blood, Kavan eked out a meager living hunting bad people and monsters. He had a feeling this event was the culminating point of his trials. Sadly, Pirneon failed to see it so.

  “He can take care of himself,” Kavan said defensively.

  Geblin shook his head. “That’s not the part that concerns me. It’s our necks if he does something foolish.”

  The knights glanced at one another. Visions of their future crumbling away danced just out of reach.

  Pirneon ran his hand over the smooth flesh of Tamblin’s thigh. She smiled in her sleep, encouraging him to continue. He found himself happy, content, for the first time in years. All thanks to a girl who hadn’t even been born when he was passing his prime. If only she’d come into his life sooner.

  Stretching as he rose, Pirneon padded naked to the washbasin and filled it from a pitcher of fresh water. Sunlight streaked through the transparent lace curtains. He plunged his face into the basin. The cold water invigorated him. He hadn’t felt this alive in decades. It took great control to resist crawling back into bed and taking her again.

  Pirneon dried his face and hands and stared at his reflection in the wall-mounted mirror. Creases filled his leathered skin. Crow’s feet, those telltale signs of aging, crowded the corners of his eyes. His beard and moustache were so grey they bordered on silver. The dozens of scar crisscrossing his chest and arms stood out pale white against his bronzed skin.

  He’d felt used up until now. A growing part of his subconscious wanted to see the long years of strife and toil draw to a close, wanted to move on to the next life in the hopes of finding a better place. The handful of days he’d spent with Tamblin quieted those doubts. He now wanted to live like never before.

  It wasn’t only him. The very air felt electrified. He’d already listened to what the townsfolk were saying. How excited they were that the sons and daughters of Gaimos were come to solve their problems. At long last, he felt vindicated by genuine need. It was all he could do to keep from grinning from ear to ear. He was proud to be Gaimosian, and that pride would surely sustain him to the end of the day.

  “Are you going to come back to bed and wake me properly or just stand there admiring yourself all morning?” Tamblin cooed.

  He turned to see her naked form lying in wait. She was propped up on an elbow, exposing her breasts and side for his approval. She was everything he wasn’t. Supple and comforting. The very smell of her was as an elixir. He felt desire growing as he ambled back to bed.

  “What sane man could possibly keep away from your touch?” he asked as he slid on top of her.

  She let out an impassioned sigh and wrapped her legs around his waist before hungrily accepting him into her.

  Life seemed as if a dream, despite the potential impending disaster. Pirneon was alive, invigorated. His steps were lighter, quicker as they wormed through the crowds in the central market. Normally, he’d be seeking out potential threats or hazard. Today, he didn’t care. He briefly entertained the thought of rejoining his comrades. Somehow, that didn’t feel right.

  It was good to be on his own again. He’d wasted too much of his life tied to the fates of others. Even Barum had been getting on his nerves of late. Since the fall of Gaimos, they’d been meant to be alone, working silently in the dark corners of the world. Between the four of them and that annoying Gnome, he’d felt stifled, handicapped in more ways than he cared to admit. Once again, it was time for him to strike out and make a name on his own.

  “Pirneon, look at this,” Tamblin interrupted his thoughts. She held a dress of purple fabric across her face. It was translucent. Lust stirred in his loins.

  “I think you’d look stu
nning in that,” he said.

  In comparison, his long coat was drab and uninspiring. What it lacked in aesthetic value was more than made up in how well it concealed his weapons. Smitten as he was with her, he was a warrior in a hostile environment first. Pirneon was armed and ready for a fight should the need arise. He was about to say more when he spied sudden movement from behind one of the venders on the opposite side of the street.

  Pirneon unbuttoned the bottom of his jacket and gently slid his hand closer to his sword. The movement, slight as it was, didn’t go unnoticed.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  His eyes never stopped tracking his target.

  “Nothing,” he told her. “Keep shopping.”

  He made out three distinct targets converging from two sides. Pirneon judged them to be no more than common thugs looking for an easy score. None had the air of being part of the Fist. His hand clenched reflexively. This wasn’t good. The situation didn’t concern him so much as a much bigger threat. Too many people seemed to want him dead of a sudden. The thugs stopped a meter away and glared.

  Pirneon faced the one directly behind him. He hardly noticed as the crowd began to thin. They recognized the problem and wanted no part in another murder. He took his enemy in, measuring him against all that had come before. The man had a foul odor. His clothes were torn and soiled. Overweight and dirty, he had a nervous look in his eye. Pirneon gave him a tight smile.

  “Can I help you?”

  The thug jerked a rusted dagger from his belt. “Give me your purse, and you and your lady friend can go.”

  “Come and take it.”

  The thug twitched, marking certain wildness. That made him unpredictable. Pirneon let out a calm breath. The fat one on his right was going to move first. The man in front was a decoy.

  “Last chance, fancy man. You can’t win, not against the three of us.”

  Pirneon stepped forward. “You and I both know that’s not going to happen. You and your friends will be dead before you can flee. Leave now, and I’ll forget I ever saw you.”

  Even as he said it, Pirneon knew they wouldn’t back down. These men were either desperate or extremely well paid.

  “Don’t do it,” Pirneon warned. “No matter what happens here today, you will be the first to die. Choose wisely.”

  The thug attacked before Pirneon finished talking. Fast as he was with his dagger, the Vengeance Knight was faster. Steel whipped free, cleaving through the thug’s arm at the wrist. He screamed once before Pirneon spun and ripped his stomach open. Blood and bowels spilled to the ground. The thug fell in agony, thrashing and crying as death claimed him.

  The other two wasted no time in attacking. Pirneon was off balance. He kicked out, his foot catching one of the rushing men in the stomach. The thug woofed and dropped his weapon as he reeled back. The second man stabbed. His blade sank an inch before Pirneon jerked back and regained his footing. Hot blood trickled down the knight’s shoulder.

  Compared to most of his previous wounds, this wasn’t worth worrying over. He brandished his sword in a high guard and stormed at the thug. The man shrieked and ran for his life. He was too slow. Pirneon’s sword ripped his back open from neck to tail bone. The third man was gone by the time Pirneon whirled to face him.

  He was almost disappointed. He hadn’t even worked up a sweat. With the threat passed, he bent down to the dying thug. Blood frothed around his mouth as the thug desperately tried to move. Pirneon shook his head and proceeded to clean the blood from his sword. The thug shuddered a final breath.

  “That was incredible,” Tamblin gasped.

  He’d half-expected her to be overcome with horror. But here she stood, in awe and wearing a look of sheer adoration. He acknowledged her gruffly.

  “I’ve spent a lifetime butchering men. These two weren’t very good.”

  The crowds started to reform. People were eager to see his handiwork and afraid he might do it again. Gently, they eased in around him. All of it made him uncomfortable. His hand clenched his sword.

  The fabrics vendor was the first to approach. He extended the purple dress with a warm smile. “This is for your lady, brave knight. Consider it a gift for ridding us of these criminals.”

  He accepted the gift with sudden uncertainty.

  “You’re one of them, aren’t you?” A rather plump lady in a yellow dress asked. “One of those Vengeance Knights.”

  “Are you really going to rid us of the demons?”

  “Our thanks and blessings to you, friend.”

  Tamblin snatched the fabric and hugged Pirneon fiercely. His heart soared as if freed from decades of self-repression. Finally, the name of Gaimos was about to be restored. He was a hero again, no longer perceived a murderer or convict. His smile was wide and fierce as he graciously accepted the offered praise and answered questions.

  As before, Corso watched with interest from the shadows. The matching smile on his face grew larger.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Mabane’s Choice

  “Here’s the first bag of caltrops,” Phirial said, handing the sack over to Kavan.

  He set the bag down and pulled one out, pretending not to notice how attractive she looked despite the lines of sweat and soot streaking her face and crimson hair. More than once, he’d found her to be the most striking woman he’d ever laid eyes on. He’d never admit it, but it was, nonetheless, true. If Phirial was aware, she cunningly kept it to herself.

  Kavan was impressed with the craftsmanship. The five-pronged caltrop was razor sharp. They’d do their job well enough, providing it didn’t rain and turn the ground around the cavern mouth into a swamp. He hoped the information Mabane had given them was accurate. Otherwise, they’d be walking into a slaughter tonight.

  “Careful with those,” she cautioned. “They’re sharper than you think.”

  “I’ve handled these before,” he said with a wry grin.

  She offered a mocking smile in return. “I’m sure you have, but these are honed to perfection. Guaranteed to rip a horse’s hoof to pieces.”

  “Perfect, but it’s not horse I’m hunting,” he let slip.

  She froze. “You’re going up there, aren’t you?”

  “Up where?”

  Phirial waggled a stern finger. “Don’t you condescend to me, Kavan. You and your friends are headed up to the ruins to meddle with those beasts.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lied.

  She laughed, the sound a golden song to his hears. “You’re a terrible liar. Besides, it’s unbecoming. A man of your stature is used to telling the truth and being honorable. I know what you are and what you’re up to. At least, I think I do.”

  Kavan didn’t know how to react. He found himself impressed with the young apprentice smith. Normally, he’d have cut his ties and disappeared for a while until people stopped asking about him. The situation in Rantis was unlike any he’d experienced. Word of their arrival had spread down to the lowest citizen, pushing the city into a fevered state. Whether they truly believed the knights had come to save them or were simply clinging to another hope remained to be seen.

  Kavan looked deep into her emerald eyes and decided to take a chance. “Yes. We are the Gaimosians that everyone is speaking of.”

  “I knew it. No normal man comes in here asking for such a large order of weapons.” She jingled the second sack. “Not like this.”

  “We’re going to try and end the threat in the ruins,” he said without knowing why. That was as much as he cared to tell her. The best thing he could do was redirect the conversation and keep her blissfully unaware should the wrong people come calling. They still weren’t any closer to finding out who their true enemy was yet.

  “I don’t suppose you can tell me anything about it?”

  “Who can’t?” she answered. “That place is sheer evil, and only a fool would bother snooping around.”

  “Why do you say that?” he asked.

  “Do you have any idea h
ow many men and women have died doing exactly what you’re planning? Hundreds. Those ruins are a path to the end of the world. All of them were victims of the king’s hunts.”

  She didn’t tell him anything new but confirmed facts. He felt the answers to all of the riddles were close. He just didn’t know how to unravel that key strand that would expose the truth. There were secrets here someone was trying very hard to keep. But who, why?

  “Are you listening to me?” Phirial asked.

  He jerked, taken off guard. “Huh? Yes.”

  She flashed a devious grin. “No, you’re not. Your mind is already focused on getting your fool self killed. Eglios is planning a feast in your honor, did you know that?”

  “He’s doing what?”

  “Word has gone out about one of you killing some brigands in the marketplace today. Eglios wants to honor the brave Gaimosians come to help Aradain.”

  Kavan felt sour in the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t heard this. If what she said was true, and he had no reason to doubt her, Eglios was likely at the center of this mystery. It seemed that enemies were closing from all directions.

  “We came to help the kingdom, nothing more,” he stated.

  “That’s not what people are saying. They think you’ve come to seek glory on your own behalf. Some even hint at you usurping the king — the ones that aren’t fascinated by your presence, of course.”

  He frowned. “We had a kingdom once, and it didn’t turn out so well. You can keep yours. I came to kill monsters.”

  “I believe you,” she said.

  Phirial reached out and gently touched the back of his hand. “The ruins aren’t hard to find. Ride north two hours on the old king road.”

  “You’ve been there?” he guessed.

  She shook her head. Crimson hair splashed smoothly over her shoulders. “We are discouraged from doing what you intend to, but the way is well known. Just follow the trail of bones.”