Ez Ozel: Prologue to Perdition

by Dave Oliver

  “All right, go ahead and step on out. Oh, and can you pull the plug in the middle again?”

  He did as he was told, and the water started draining out of the basin and through the hole. He was still in awe of this nifty little contraption. Keeps the water until you’re clean, and then takes the dirty water away for you when you’re done. Incredible. He stepped out of the basin, sloshing water all over the floor. Mair approached him with the small furry carpets, and she started patting him down with them. He noticed that they dried him off really fast. Way faster than any furs he’d used before. These people had such neat stuff.

  “Okay then. You’re all clean. We should really trim your hair and beard too.”

  “Trim? What for?”

  “Well,” she said with a chuckle, “it’s a bit unruly.”

  Fierd smiled. “So am I.”

  She blushed and nodded. He started to walk out of the room and she scurried in front of him to stop him. “You can’t go walking around the house like that, especially with Karedess in the house. Stay here and I’ll go find you some fresh clothes to wear until yours are clean.”

  A couple minutes later she returned with some…strange garb. It was all fitted close to his skin and had little in the way of pockets. At least it wasn’t crazy colorful and stuck to classic blacks, grays, and browns. He’d be able to tie on his hatchet holsters around this, but there wasn’t any place to put his knives. He shuffled a bit as he put it on, trying to get more room for his skin to breathe. He heard a few small rips, which seemed to help. And nothing came apart, so that was good. He strolled out into the foyer to get a feel for how it moved against his skin. He looked at one of the reflecting walls he’d seen earlier and frowned. He looked ridiculous. Nobody in the north would be caught dead wearing this.

  “You look fantastic,” Karedess yelled as she rushed down the stairs. “Those look like my uncle’s clothes, but they fit you pretty well. You look right fancy, Mr. Fierd.” She gave him another slap on the leg and looked in the mirror with him.

  Her clothes weren’t nearly so ridiculous. She wore a comfortable-looking tunic, some breeches cut short above the ankle, and some modest moccasins. Her hair was the biggest change. It wasn’t dirty and matted anymore, or being covered by a dead man’s hat. Now it was golden and voluminous. He’d never seen hair like that before. That shampoo stuff must really work wonders after a while.

  “Well,” Karedess said, looking up at him, “want to go find my mama? I’m sure she’ll want to meet and thank you. The courthouse isn’t too far. Plus, we’ll walk by the barracks. If we’re lucky, some Wardens will be training and you can tell them what they’re doing bad. Maybe you could even spar with one!”

  “Fun as that might be, I’m not looking to start fighting just after I’ve come to somewhere peaceful. Even if it’s play-fighting. I might like to take a look at them, though. I’d like to see what kind of fighting force you folks have got around to protect the place.”

  “Yeah! I’m sure there will be a celebration for the army’s return, too. You might get to see a festival or a parade, which are pretty awesome.”

  “Pretty active place, this Ildia,” he said. “All right, let’s go find your mom.”

  “Hey, Mair,” Karedess called.

  Mair poked her head out from the bathing room, covered in dirt from scrubbing the filthy bath that Fierd had left behind.

  “We’re going to the courthouse to find Mama. Don’t worry, Fierd is coming with me. So I’ll be safe. We’ll be back soon.”

  “Okay…,” she said nervously.

  They walked out the front door and started heading west to the ramp leading to the barracks and courthouse. He could actually see the building from here, so it looked to be only a few minutes away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Aldiess called for order. The courthouse was a madhouse now that the army’s ships were docking. Some of her colleagues had gotten used to this past year without any royal oversight. She didn’t know of anything particularly sordid going on within the Directorate, but she wouldn’t put anything past them. She spun her signet ring on her finger as she readied herself to speak. She wanted to scream like an angry mother at the rowdy patrons filling her auditorium, but that just made her think of Karedess. Her spirits sank. She cleared her throat and gripped the lectern.

  “I encourage everyone to calm down and focus on the agenda. We have a lot of things to cover today.”

  The crowd came to order and started taking their seats. A fit man in ornate show armor stood. He was very well kept, and his armor was aesthetically impressive, no matter that it was more for show than function.

  The scribe to Aldiess’s right announced, “The hall recognizes Kore Belleas, commander of the Ward.”

  Aldiess nodded to him.

  “We need to hold them at the docks,” he said. “Just for a while. We need to process our soldiers back into the city.”

  Aldiess cocked her head. “To what end? You want to make sure they didn’t get infected by religion?”

  A low chuckle came from a few members.

  Kore’s voice remained strong and consistent without any hint of anger. “It’s reckless to let our armed forces march back into the city without a debrief. There could be traumatized soldiers in there, or foreign contagions, or any number of other dangerous things after waging war in a foreign land.”

  Aldiess looked hard at him. He did have a point, but it was something that would’ve been useful to hear yesterday. “I agree with you, but there’s no time anymore. The ships have already docked from our last report, and soldiers will be filing back to their homes soon.”

  Kore sighed and glanced around the room. He raised his hand casually. “A pardon then, please.”

  “Of course.” Aldiess looked down to the scribe. “Make note of the fact that Kore Belleas has been reasonably pardoned to tend to his duties for the rest of this session.”

  Kore gave a bow and marched quickly through the main doors.

  An older woman with remarkably well-managed hair stood next. She was dressed simply and had a patient look about her.

  The scribe spoke. “The hall recognizes Semptiel Quallien, treasurer.”

  Why in the world were these Directorate officials interrupting the agenda to speak here? They’d have a closed session later without the entirety of the patronage looking on. That was the time to discuss this whole army business. Aldiess nodded reluctantly to Semptiel.

  “Has anyone seen the king?” she asked. “Did he make it?”

  Aldiess shook her head. “We don’t have accurate reports of anything yet. The docks are crazy, and we’re getting garbage for correspondence.”

  “Should we send out a search for him? We need his reintroduction sooner rather than later. We need the order he brings with his oversight.”

  Aldiess fumed a bit. “What we need is to exercise some patience. Things will calm down and return to normal. There’s no reason to fret so much over everything right this moment.” She slid her reading glasses over her eyes. “Now then, we do have some official business to tend to until we hear word from King Talis.” She pulled a small brief from the lectern and read the highlights. “A joint spy operation with the Conclave in Ryten has brought to light a research program underway by the Amalgam in Provenance. According to reports, they’re close to perfecting a new combustible, which will create reliable amberarms. They detail the components here, and move that we send a—”

  A loud ringing pierced the ears of everyone in the hall. A blinding light blazed through the stained glass windows and filled the room with an array of vivid colors. Everyone covered their ears and clenched their eyes tight, but it ended after a few moments.

  “What was—”

  The light and sound returned with increased strength, causing everyone to crouch down under their benches to hide. It stopped again after a moment. The air was perfectly still and quiet. Nobody dared speak, and they all waited for a third attack on their senses.

  A
ldiess broke the silence. “Fenwik, please send a runner out to see what’s going on.”

  The custodian bowed and left the hall.

  “Now then.” Aldiess found her place on the agenda again. “When we last met—”

  “How…” The voice came from inside their heads and scraped against their minds. Various members of the Directorate howled in pain, and some doubled over. “How do you resist? You are weak. You belong to me.” The room shook with that last word.

  Another pregnant silence clung to the hall. Shortly thereafter, an explosion shook the building. Everyone froze, though some screamed. Aldiess closed the agenda but couldn’t bring herself to move. She knew they had to flee, but anything could be out there.

  “Lady Prestum!” Fenwik ran in from the foyer, bloodied and limping. “We’re under full attack. It’s an army in white.”

  White? The Holy City’s color. Aggrian forces had sailed in on Ildian ships? What hope was there now? An invading army was inside the walls and already in the August Quarter.

  “You flee.”

  Aldiess looked to her left and saw a large black creature with a giant, bulbous head. Its long and thin arm gestured toward the rear office. She looked the creature over, unsure of whether she should listen to it.

  It spoke in a deep whisper. “You run out of time. You flee to the bunker. You trust Fumetsus.”

  She let out a huff and cleared her throat. “The front doors are unsafe,” she yelled. “Everyone, follow me.”

  She stepped down from the judicator’s plinth and headed through the door to the rear office. Whatever that Fumetsus thing was had disappeared, if it had ever really been there at all. The office was still prepared for the king’s arrival. His favorite foods were laid out across the table, and a gentle glow from the hearth filled the room with a warm welcome. She knelt down by the table and shoved her shoulder into it, her formal shoes scraping across the smooth stone floor.

  Some of the other members saw what she was doing and helped her move the table. It slid slowly to the side of the room as small pieces of food fell from it and onto the floor. Once it was far enough out of the way, she reached a finger between two of the floor stones and pulled out a small hidden hook. She gestured for everyone to back away before pulling it up as hard as she could. A section of the floor rose up, revealing a trap door under the faux stone.

  “Everyone, get in.”

  Without question, everyone filed inside. The bunker was built to hold everyone in the Directorate and everyone in the keep in case of emergencies, so she wasn’t concerned about space or supplies running low, even with all of the patronage here as well.

  “Where does this lead?” someone asked.

  The terrified scribe croaked out, “The hall recognizes Fremen Jilias, head of—”

  “Oh, stop it,” Aldiess snapped. “The underground here is fortified against siege and filled with supplies. We can wait here until we’re rescued. Or we can take the tunnel, which has exits inside Mount Fulsome, inside the keep, and onto a small dock inside a cave if we need to flee.”

  Once everyone was inside, Aldiess climbed up and shut the door. The light fled from the room, leaving it completely black. The sound was strange down there too. There were no acoustics, and the bunker walls absorbed any noise. The only thing they could hear was one another’s breathing, muttering, and panicking.

  Aldiess grabbed the lantern and sparker from where they hung on the wall next to the entrance. In a few moments, she got a light going and took a deep breath.

  “Okay. What’s the vote then? Do we wait or do we head someplace else?”

  One of the patrons spoke up, his voice trembling. “That’s a stupid question. We should go to the docks. We need to get out of here.”

  “We could do that. Then where do we go?”

  “We leave!”

  “Do we walk to Ryten? Do we take refuge at the mill or a nearby farm? What you’re saying isn’t a plan—it’s panic. Now pipe down and let’s hear from the people with their senses left.”

  She didn’t know the name of the man she was addressing, but she didn’t feel bad about barking at him until he shut up. This was an emergency, and there was no place for the weak willed to dictate action to such an important group of leaders.

  “The mines are the best choice, aren’t they?” Fremen asked.

  “Why’s that?”

  “Well, they open up to either the keep or the barracks, either of which should have the most Wardens in the city. Failing that, it’s large and impossible for an enemy to navigate well. We could hide until the Ward clears the city or sends for help.”

  Aldiess took a moment to chew on that. “Now, that is a plan. Everyone, start gathering supplies. There are the shelves on these walls here, and there’s another room behind you all. We need food, water, and blankets.” Her voice grew deep and stern. “Leave the liquor.”

  Bearsby Tomes, the boisterous head of education, blew out a gust of air in childish annoyance, which she expected.

  “We’re not going to be able to carry much.”

  Aldiess waved the lamp near the floor next to the shelves. “There are sacks and backpacks for that. Backpacks will likely be better for us. And don’t mind any of the—”

  A loud clanking noise came from one of the hallways. Everyone paused. They made no sound or movement; instead they listened. It was a rhythmic clanking, like armor jostling on a soldier. Just one though. This wasn’t an army or even a squad. This was one single soldier walking the tunnels.

  Someone handed her a longsword. She took it haphazardly and nearly dropped it.

  “What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?” she whispered sharply.

  “If it’s an enemy, defend us.”

  “I’m no fighter. Give this to Yolo. He’s used to implements like these.”

  Yolo whispered back, “I’m the director of agriculture. Just how many swords do you think I use in building farms?”

  “Turgin?”

  “Your head of commerce can’t help you with this either. We’re passing out swords to everyone else back here, but we need you to stay ready.”

  Aldiess started to shake. Anything could come out of the black, and here she was holding a beacon of light and a piddly ancient sword. She felt so alone and terrified. Her thoughts turned to Karedess; she ached at the idea that she’d never gotten to see her little girl again. And this would probably be it. This was where she would—

  King Talis stepped into the light. Both of his swords were drawn and he was slick with blood.

  “My king!” Aldiess rushed forward and embraced him. She felt her outfit stick to the king’s blood-caked armor, but she didn’t care. “Are you all right?”

  She felt the king’s muscles tighten. His head slowly turned from one side to the other. His eyes were wide, and she saw fear deep within them. She pulled away from him and felt a pressure followed by a pull in her abdomen. She looked down and saw the king’s sword retreating from a gaping tear in her midsection. Blood flooded from the wound and she saw pieces of her insides bulging outward. She dropped the lamp to the ground and it shattered. A wild flare of pain fired through her as she fell to her knees and clutched her stomach. She rolled onto her side and curled as tightly into a ball as she could, trying desperately to keep herself together.

  She heard screams. The entire patronage shouted and howled. Some begged to be spared while others just cried out in terror. One by one, she heard them silenced—some abruptly, and an unlucky few slowly gurgling their way to death’s door. She couldn’t help but cry. She cried because everything was gone. She cried because she’d never see Karedess again. She cried because her stomach really, really hurt.

  The screams stopped in a few minutes. The loud clanking noise resumed and got farther away. The king had left, but what now? She didn’t know enough medicine to have any idea what to do with a wound this size, but she knew it would be fatal without aid. Maybe she could get help? The part of her that called it a stupid idea was b
eaten back by her desperation. She used one arm to crawl on her side toward the stairs while with her other arm she held herself together.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The panic in the streets was palpable. The air filled with screams and smoke as Casselle and Elress marched north on the main thoroughfare in the Market District. Elress had recognized the south wall once they got their bearings, so at least they knew in general where Peltik’s people had taken them.

  The market was in complete shambles as looters, injured citizens, and panicking people fled in all directions. One older couple was desperately attempting to hitching up their horses to a carriage, but people kept trying to rob them or take their vehicle. The old man would flash an amberarm at the assailants, and they’d walk away nervously.

  “Over there,” Elress said. She pointed down the street at a large melee breaking out. On one side was a group of stark-white soldiers in tight formation. On the opposing side was a large contingent of Wardens.

  “We should join up with them and all move north to protect the August Quarter,” Casselle said.

  Elress grunted her agreement and squinted at the fight. “But look at the enemy… Don’t they remind you of the Zahl from the Grand Propter?”

  “I didn’t know you were a believer.”

  “I’m not really, but all the kids in my family read it when we were young. Those things look exactly like how they’re described in the book. And look at their armor.”

  Casselle squinted too. The white soldiers were wearing two distinct sets of armor. Most of them were wearing a smooth, overpolished cuirass with the Holy City’s emblem, a starburst, emblazoned on the chest. The others were wearing more pragmatic breastplates with the Ildian eagle engraved on the chest.

  “Ildian armor?”

  “Those are our soldiers. It’s just like the book. They’ve done holy stuff to our people.”

  “We can talk about that later. We need to help the Ward deal with these things.”

  They both rushed toward the battle line. Casselle drew her rapier and Elress unsheathed her falchion. As they got closer, Casselle noticed the enemy soldiers wore no expression and displayed no emotion. They looked like walking corpses with how uncaring they were as they fought. Not only that, but their formation was impeccable. Their phalanx worked like a machine, the front line of shield-bearers and rear line of spear-wielders working in perfect harmony.