Warlords Rising

by Honor Raconteur

  They drew him almost naturally into the conversation as they discussed the best way to improve the walls. Trev’nor learned more about their defenses in an hour’s conversation than he had in three days of observation. Aletha was right: when in doubt, keep them talking.

  He finished up with the fire pit, much to Noogre’s excitement, then Trev’nor dutifully followed them through the town and to the headquarters for Rurick. As a slave, he was not allowed to step inside and speak to the commander, but he didn’t need to. Knowing the building’s location was enough. The Rikkana went in with one of the guards to put in the request. They were in and out in five minutes, which was probably all it had taken to explain the idea and get a hearty approval.

  Stepping back out, the Rikkana informed the waiting men, “It has been approved. You start immediately.”

  Guard B actually smiled, and before that moment, Trev’nor hadn’t thought that possible.

  A relaxed smile on his face, Trev’nor said, “Alright then. Let’s go get bedrock. Where should I start?”

  “Let’s do east section first,” Guard A suggested. “Thank you, Rikkana.”

  She inclined her head to them, the three men bowed back—Trev’nor had quickly learned to treat the woman with full deference and decorum—and then she left as quietly as she had come. Her work was done, after all; she didn’t have to troop after them for the rest of the afternoon.

  It took some skill and substitution, but Trev’nor kept his guards talking as they exited the city and he farmed up some bedrock, and they were happy to suggest improvements to him as he worked. They were also just as happy to complain about their warlord. The more Trev’nor heard about him, the more he realized that Rurick wasn’t an exception when it came to corruption and callous treatment of human life. The whole province was this way.

  And that thought made him boiling mad.

  He didn’t let his anger show, but instead looked sympathetic and lent a willing ear as they moaned and bickered about which place was the worst one to serve in. He learned a great deal that afternoon and had every intention of carrying every single word back to Nolan and Becca.

  He stopped working when the light failed and they dragged him back to his cell. After being in the suns a full day with little to drink or eat, he was exhausted, and his plan to talk to his friends failed. After eating dinner he fell fast asleep next to Nolan.

  Ah well, morning would be soon enough.

  By the tenth day, they stopped talking to each other except to pass along information they had learned. Roskin would draw one of them out, sometimes, having them tell stories about what life outside of Khobunter was like. But in their own group, they didn’t say anything to each other. Everything that could be said had been in the first three days. They silently moved to accommodate each other, curling in close for warmth and comfort, but they had become as silent and withdrawn as Orba. It was exhaustion that made them act so, or so Trev’nor believed. After working a full day under the blistering suns, he felt drained in more ways than one, and usually fell asleep as soon as he had eaten.

  Becca started having terrible dreams, memories of those days when she had been only eight years old and abandoned by her parents to face the Star Order Priests on her own. The cave she had found as shelter reminded her of this place the pens were in. She woke up many a time with a silent scream in her throat. Nolan or Trev’nor would grab her, hold on to her, until the dream had left and the shaking had passed. Sometimes Nolan would even purr, like a mother cat easing a baby kitten. But sleeping became an uncomfortable thing for her and she avoided it as much as she could, just drowsing while sitting up, avoiding true sleep altogether.

  Trev’nor became very, very worried about her. Becca was taking this harder than either he or Nolan. Being detached from the sky for most of the day was highly uncomfortable for her. It was as bad as Nolan being cut off from most of his magic. Between being cut off from the weather and having severe sleep deprivation, she wasn’t holding up well at all. She was becoming more fragile with every passing day, although her spirit and determination to win free of the cages hadn’t changed. Trev’nor just wasn’t sure if her strength would hold out much longer at this rate.

  Guard A came to stand in front of their cage and he had a highly unhappy turn to his mouth. “We just received word. You’ll be taken to Trexler the day after tomorrow. So whatever projects you started need to be finished tomorrow. We won’t let you eat or rest until they’re done.”

  With that said, he turned on a heel and left as abruptly as he’d come in.

  Trev’nor watched him go, an uncomfortable tightness in his chest. Moving to Trexler would not be good.

  Nolan moved, jarring Becca out of her comfortable spot, and stood. It was the first time in days he had fully stood up instead of just crab-walking to one side or another of the pen. It drew Trev’nor’s attention completely and he stared up at him in surprise.

  Nolan lifted his chin, projecting an aura of confidence that no one in these abysmal pits had. In spite of the dirty clothes, the grime on his skin, the oily hair hanging around his face, he looked like the prince he was. “It’s time.”

  Trev’nor and Becca both looked at him blankly, not understanding at all what he meant by that statement.

  “It’s time to go, don’t you think?” the Prince of Chahir clarified.

  Becca frowned up at him, words coming out uncertainly. “We don’t have an accurate count of the guards right now. I thought we needed to do that before we moved.”

  “I’d normally agree and wait a little longer but if we don’t move now—”

  “—we get separated,” she finished, chewing on her bottom lip. “We’ll have to do this by the seat of our pants if we go now, but you’re right, that’s better than possibly being separated tomorrow.”

  “I agree, but we have a slight problem, remember?” Trev’nor objected. He pointed to the five amulets still hanging about his chest. “What about these?”

  Nolan smirked. On his grit-streaked face, the expression was more macabre than he probably intended. “We are students of Riicshaden, the best soldier Chahir has ever seen. We can’t use our magic. So what. I look around me and you know what I see?” He splayed his hands to gesture in every direction. “Weapons for the taking.”

  Trev’nor looked around as well but didn’t see what his friend meant. At first. Then the lessons that Shad had taught him, the methods of fighting that didn’t have anything to do with a proper staff or sword in hand, but in using everything in their environment to fight came to mind. They came slowly, through a fog of half-remembrance, but they came. The second time he looked around him he saw slave chains hanging on hooks, iron food trays, stakes for nailing the chains to the floor, and oil lamps that were already on fire. He saw weapons.

  “I can tell from your face,” Nolan said softly, triumphantly. “Now you see it too.”

  Well, if he was serious, and Trev’nor was inclined to agree they needed to go now…. Shrugging, he deftly pulled out two slender picks made from granite and pulled them free from his braid. Reaching around, he put them both into the lock and wiggled them a little, springing the lock free.

  “Now when did you get those?” Becca demanded.

  “I made them a few days ago,” he answered absently, his mind debating on what would make the better weapon. “While I was working on the wall, I slipped a little granite away and crafted them before they put the fifth amulet on.”

  “If you had those, then why haven’t you used them earlier? Or mentioned them? I’ve been racking my brains for days trying to figure out how to get out of this thrice-cursed cage!” Becca’s voice rose uncontrollably at the end.

  “I was waiting for the right timing,” he defended himself.

  “We will have a long talk about your sad communication skills later, don’t think we won’t,” she muttered, aggravated. Becca cracked her knuckles against each hand, then her neck to either side. “I call chains.”

  “That’s t
he spirit.”

  Nolan went for the nearest stack of stakes on the ground, arming himself the way he would have two daggers.

  Orba grabbed him by the arm, dragging him to a halt. “Don’t,” he pleaded. “You’ll be killed. We’ll be killed.”

  Nolan looked down at him with one of the saddest, gentlest smiles Trev’nor had ever seen. “You live worse than an animal would, Orba,” he said quietly. “If you’re willing to keep living like this, it means that means you’re already dead. Your body just hasn’t stopped moving yet.”

  Trev’nor met Becca’s eyes for a moment, feeling a shiver go up his spine as he realized that Nolan might be more right than not. Fighting, no matter the outcome, was better than just sitting here.

  For the first time in ten days, Trev’nor walked out of the cell like a free man. It was a liberating feeling. Becca eyed the door with mixed emotions, trepidation and eagerness at war on her face. “How do we do this? It’s, what, a few hours after dinner now?”

  “We don’t know how many are in the guardroom,” Trev’nor started.

  “Four,” Nolan instantly replied. At their looks of surprise, he grinned. “My magic is shut off, not dead. From here, I can tell at least that much.”

  “Four in the immediate vicinity.” Trev’nor wished he had more information about the guards’ schedules, but all he knew was what he could see, and they always locked them away in this room after dinner. The little he did know was what they did in the daylight hours. “We know what the guardroom looks like. Should we fight as far as there and then decide?”

  “If we can fight and escape the city completely, I vote we do so,” Nolan confirmed, stretching his arms high over his head. Even from here, Trev’nor could hear his joints pop. “Ow. Hunching over like that is not good for the back.”

  “Tell me about it,” Becca grumbled, also stretching, although she focused on her waist. “If we can’t escape the city completely, what then? Find a defensible position and hold until the amulets drop off?”

  “Sounds like a plan to me.” Trev’nor grabbed iron bars so that he had one for each hand. Tearing off his vest, he ripped it in half, then tied off cloth on both ends before grabbing a lantern and soaking it with oil and igniting them.

  “Nice,” Becca approved, holding chains in both hands. “We ready?”

  “I am,” Nolan replied, stepping to join their sides. “Are we taking prisoners?”

  Trev’nor snarled the word, “No.”

  “Good.” Nolan strode forward, stakes in hands, then paused. “Come to think of it, Becca, you’re going to have the most reach with those chains. You’d better go first.”

  “Gladly.” She didn’t have an ounce of hesitation in her as she entered the short tunnel.

  “—hearing some strange noises,” one of the guards ahead was saying.

  “They’re in cages or weighted down with amulets, you kabat, what do you think they can do?”

  “Quite a bit,” Trev’nor responded conversationally.

  Becca breached the door like a whirlwind, spinning on her toes in a never-ending pirouette that sent cast iron slicing through the air and connecting to anything and everything around her. One cuff on the edge of the chain found the jaw of a guard as he jumped to his feet in alarm. The other solidly hit someone else in the head with a meaty thunk, sending him instantly to the ground.

  She didn’t stop until she ran out of room, almost at the wall, and then she put her back to it, changing her grip on the chains so that she could whirl them vertically instead of horizontally.

  Her pause gave Trev’nor and Nolan the time they needed to come inside. The guardroom wasn’t much—a single square with four men on duty—and slaves had never revolted, so they were ill-prepared to face three armed and very upset teenagers. Trev’nor tackled one guard with his flaming bars, Nolan the other with his stakes, and the guardroom went completely still within minutes.

  Nolan put his stakes down and looted a sword from one guard. He eyed it critically and made a face. “Not the best quality or condition. But better than what I had, I suppose.”

  Trev’nor made the same evaluation and declared, “I think I like my bars better.”

  “I would. If there had been more than two of them, I’d have grabbed those instead.” Nolan inclined his head toward the doorway. “What’s our plan for out there? Becca, want to go first again?”

  “I can? But it won’t be as much of an advantage as it’s all open air outside. I can only give you enough clearance to get out the door without a fight.”

  “That’s enough,” Nolan assured her.

  Trev’nor propped up his bars against the table, making sure they weren’t going to accidentally set something on fire, then found cuffs for the guards. He didn’t check if they were alive or dead. He didn’t want to know that yet. Shad, Chatta, Aletha, and Garth had all taken lives in the line of duty. He knew that. They’d been very frank about how rattling and awful it felt afterwards. Right now, they couldn’t afford to be sick or have any hesitation. So he just made sure they couldn’t cause trouble if they woke up again, and stood. To Becca, he said, “We’ve got your back, go.”

  She didn’t so much open the door as kick it aside and stride through. Trev’nor and Nolan were at her heels. In the few seconds it took to clear the doorway, Trev’nor kept his bars held high in a guard position. But it turned out that everyone outside was so stunned to see three slaves come out that no one knew quite how to react.

  Becca took advantage of their hesitation. She rushed toward the nearest group of slavers and attacked with such savagery that one would think she was a starving wolf.

  Trev’nor swore aloud and raced to her, spinning and putting his back to hers, making sure that nothing could attack her from behind. He did leave enough distance between them that she didn’t accidentally brain him, though. Just in case. Nolan moved with him, positioning himself on her other side, forming a triangle.

  “Move as a unit!” Trev’nor yelled to them over the clangs and shouted orders of panicking slavers. If they tried to go their own directions, they’d be cut down in short order.

  Trev’nor had never gotten a good headcount, but he knew that the ratio of slaver to slave was very unequal. He saw just how disproportionate it was when slavers and guards started pouring out into this narrow courtyard they were in. There were far more slaves than guards. It made sense, after he took a second to think about it. Even slavers had to sleep and the Night Watch would have fewer guards. People rushed him from all sides, and he had to focus to guard his right even as he attacked with his left, but he still got a rough idea of what they were up against. If there were more than twenty men in there with them, he’d eat his boots.

  Shad had stacked the three of them up against worse odds than this during their training. Was this really all that had been holding him back in there? Twenty men that weren’t particularly well trained in combat, and having their magic sealed off? Granted, they’d had little information about what they were up against the first few days. But still, they could have moved sooner than this. They should have. He let out a bloodcurdling war cry and watched them flinch back.

  He couldn’t watch his friends, couldn’t turn to check on them, but he kept his ears open, and Becca’s chains never faltered. They constantly whirled through the air or hit something with a hard cracking sound. Nolan’s breathing was a little ragged, but steady, his borrowed sword clanging against others’. Those sounds let him know that they were alright and it gave him the strength to fight that much harder.

  An arrow of magic and fire whizzed past his nose, barely an inch away, and Trev’nor flinched and rolled in sheer instinct. He came up ready to roll again, head snapping from one direction to the next as he tried to spot his attacker. There, in between the guards. Trev’nor wasn’t sure in this dim lighting, but the man looked familiar, one of the magicians the guards trusted to keep the rest of the slaves in line.

  Staying low, he put on a burst of speed and went directly
for the man, which scared both the magician and the two guards next to him. They stood their ground well enough, but he could clearly see the whites of their eyes. Trev’nor was ruthless and quick, utilizing every skill Shad and Aletha had taught him on how to combat another magician. One of the guards fell to Nolan’s sword, the other to Trev’nor’s staves, and then the magician tried to turn and flee.

  Ha, wasn’t very confident with his magic, was he?

  Trev’nor tried to dredge up some pity from somewhere. It seemed he was temporarily out. He’d have to gather some up later. The man was more or less out of reach at this point so he used a little magic to scoop up a handful of street and chuck it at the man’s head. The magician went down without a whimper of sound.

  Turning, he reclaimed his spot next to his friends. It became a blur of faces, and hands with swords, and bodies falling one after another. The pounding tempo of his heartbeat in his ears almost drowned out everything else, and the sweat pouring off his temples threatened to fall into his eyes. Trev’nor blinked furiously and kept moving even when he couldn’t see clearly. His bars swept one side, then another, and didn’t encounter any resistance. He stopped, breathing hard, and swiped quickly with a sleeve to clear out the sweat enough to see.

  No guard was left standing.

  He stared incredulously at the litter of bodies on the ground. “Did we…win? That couldn’t have been all of them.”

  “Everyone in this city we have to fight…” Becca trailed off uncertainly. “Or at least, everyone in this section of the city that got word we broke out. Most people have already reported in for the night and gone to bed, I don’t think word is going to spread very fast. Trev, go build us a nice wall to block the entrances until we can get these amulets off.”

  “I can’t,” he reminded her sardonically, “until the amulets are off.”

  Becca closed her eyes, aggravated. “Right. Sorry.”

  Nolan stared down at the ground, sometimes using a boot to flip a body over. “Do you remember who it was that always put the amulets on us?”