Fallen Warrior (Fallen Trilogy book 3)

by Williams, Tess

  But that day, I'd done it so thoughtlessly, I'd done it without even hesitating. I'd owned it up then to the anger I felt over all that had happened, or the desperation, or even the will to survive; I knew now it hadn't been any of those things. I'd done it because Ellia had been there—because she needed to be protected. And I'd known, even then I'd known, that protecting Ellia could never be the wrong thing to do. Even killing a man, even being like my father; protecting Ellia was always right. Just like I'd saved her in Karatel. Just as I would do now.

  I kicked a soldier over with my boot, then ducked a swipe. There weren't more than eight left around me. The clanking metal had finally settled down its deafening chorus, and perhaps that was what had made it so easy to hear the other footsteps. In one of the tunnels, two of them, connecting to the side of the chamber—silver plate lit bright with torches, and swords. They were already surging forward; it wouldn't take long for them to reach me and the others. I didn't have the luxury to stop and count them; I didn't think it mattered.

  I looked to the cave door with my brow low and my body shaking. It slammed—in that deafening way, quaking dirt loose—as it had begun to some minutes ago, at some point in the battle, likely caused by the shouts. It took more strength than I thought I had left to slash a path to it. I reached it with only seconds on the men behind me. The door's front was blocked with all heavy chain, one lock for a key at the center. I held no delusions that any of the guards would have that key. I'd already pulled it from around my neck, yanking the chain free and stuffing it into the lock. I twisted it in timing with a loud screech beyond; I saw a shadow against the door and ducked just in time to avoid a blade. But the door slammed and I watched the lock fall clear to the ground.

  I took up my own sword to jab at my attacker. I couldn't tell how, but somehow it only took a few strikes, then he was down. He was the only one that had reached me yet. I turned back to the cave door, pulling out chains. It continued to slam and screech. I hadn't gotten but a few feet of the thick iron out when a blade slashed across my arm. Another hand grabbed my wrist. I swung with my sword; they were all around. I slashed out, shouting, willing her to respond to me, and fight harder— even as I knew I hadn't taken nearly enough of the chains away. I pulled the knife from my boot and defended with both blades. I could hold them off but just barely. I killed them when they got too close.

  About the same time I realized it wasn't going to be enough, a soldier landed a heavy kick to my knee; my leg buckled, but before I could fall another caught me with a sword to the shoulder. It stabbed clean through. I screamed and the door behind me screeched. The blade locked into the chain behind me, holding me tight. They struck my weapons away, but there wasn't a second to realize what they would do next before I heard the sounds outside. Like a pop and then a fizzle. Crack, and the heads of all the soldiers turned. And those who'd been shouting demands to me for what I was doing, now shouted demands to know what the sound was. There was a muffled chorus of noise from outside, those groggy cries. And then a rumbling in the ground, in the earth, and in the cave all around us. Soldiers' faces narrowed in confusion. There was another crack and some of them started running for the tunnel that I'd come from. I didn't have the presence of mind to think of Nain and Tarful escaping—or worry for them any longer. Not them or the behemoths. The door's pounding was sending shocks of pain through my shoulder, but the man in front of me was distracted. I took the hilt of the sword with both hands and got it from his grip, then pushed it off of me, then turned to struggle with the chains again. I tore at as many as I could, with all the strength I could. It sent my every muscle screaming. And then I heard a third crack.

  But this time it was just in my own head.

  Chapter Six

  CYRIC:

  The morning of my father's execution, the sky had been blue and silver. I remembered well because it was the same color as the clothes I'd worn. All the orphans cared for by the scholars wore pale blue and silver tunics, and at that point I'd been with the scholars for years. Executions, especially hangings, weren't a usual thing in Uldin Keep. It was held outside, on one of the stone walls that connected the inner parts of the Keep. The level was somewhere near the middle, accessible by both the lower residents, where his victims had resided, and the higher courts, where anyone interested could watch. Plus the royals, who were required to. Savras, of course, who had given the verdict was present. He witnessed it from a high section at the back of the crowd. And his daughter stood beside him. But the only thing I watched that day was my father. At that point, I hadn't seen him for months, and even then in passing. What conversations had we ever had? None. So, I wanted to see if he even knew that I existed. I ignored the looks aimed at me, the pointing, the crying victims, and those from my mother's family who I also hadn't seen in months. Not successfully did I ignore all of them, because I could have described the entire scene. But I tried.

  When they brought him out... he was already shouting. It was as I remembered him, those times I'd sought after him on the streets: just to watch him. He was almost always shouting, always fighting, always angry. He had dark hair, and long, pulled back into a ponytail that knotted together. He had a well-defined face, and a thick square jaw, a roguish handsomeness that had kept him accompanied through the years, despite his temper and lack of worth. And he had coal grey eyes, dark and silver when he was laughing, flat and empty on days like today.

  The spectators, who had remained in hushed and resolved silence before his arrival, reacted to his shouting with gasps, tears, or some prayers to the maker of the granted. I wished, and even thought, that I was just watching it calmly, but my chest kept rising and my nose burned. They gagged him so that he would stop shouting. And then they pulled him up onto the gallows, and everyone was silent as they read his crimes. Deaths. Many. Things he should have been caught for years ago, but murders were so rare in Shaundakul, particularly repeated, that he hadn't been caught until the fifth.

  I wanted, just the same as then, that now I could be still, that now I could calmly watch the spectacle, waiting for the finish. I even felt like I was, was sure myself that I was. But my nose burned, and my chest was straining. Nothing else was the same as that day. It was strikingly hot. The sky was a clear and vivid blue. The sun white and beating rays down on my back. There was a smell in the air of smoke, and metal, and dust. Red dirt was all around me. Even off behind me, where the platform cut off into nothing, even ahead, where the dirt grew up and formed a cave, and the highest part of the mountain. And on top of that, stood a soldier, tallying off my crimes.

  Forcefully releasing Rackham Tarful of Akadia, traitor to the kingdom, guilty of treason against the late king Molec. Abuse of rank, releasing Prince Nain of Karatel, traitor to the kingdom, and guilty of violating the treaty formed by the late king, Aldus. Forcefully releasing the behemoths, granted animals of Akadia, servants to its use, into the desert, and on to the foreign lands beyond.

  I smirked at this, even chuckling a little, already bent over as I was with my hands locked behind my back. I thought it was funny, because they couldn't quite make that sound like I'd done something wrong. Releasing animals into the desert? Into the home that had been given to them at creation? Or farther back than anyone could remember at least?

  I risked a glance at Lox. He, like the other spectators—some on the high section of the mountain, some on the platform around me, craned far against the edges—had gone silent for the reading. He wore a flat scowl that didn't quite match the variety of glares and smiles he'd been displaying the rest of the morning. It seemed that being reminded of what he'd lost, what I'd taken from him, made it too difficult for him to maintain his posturing.

  The list of offenses went on.

  Trespass into restricted chambers of Akadia. Thievery against a ruling commander. Thievery against the mines. Treason against the kingdom by abuse of rank, harm to the good of the city, deception against your superior officers, and the murder of fellow soldiers.

&nbs
p; The speaker's voice broke most sternly at this. And my smile left, thinking that the paltry number of murders counted on my father was nothing to mine. The soldiers in the crowd, which made up most everyone, shifted, frowned, grew even quieter than they had been. Perhaps they were considering that I deserved to be punished after all; none of them had shown much enthusiasm over the ordeal thus far. No cheering, uncertainty more than anything. Slark was among the crowd. He stood on the upper mountain, somewhere near Lox's gang. He wore his full Sergeant's uniform, just like I'd made him on the day we met at high-hill. And he was frowning, with his brows knit together, obviously liking what he saw as little as anyone else. But I knew that he wouldn't do anything about it. What loyalty he felt towards me wouldn't reach past risking his life, probably not even past risking his comfort. That's why I hadn't told him anything of my plan, why his expression was confusion now more than anything. I'd ordered him to come to high-hill, and I'd told him that Malatos Lox would take heed of him, and—though he'd doubted this—I'd asked without explanation that he treat Lox to one of his bouts of banqueting. Something he was very good at. And it always included much drinking, and late nights, if not a night spent out altogether. So it had been easy then to go to Lox's quarters and steal his key, and there had been no risk of him getting in the way of anything else.

  Silos was also here. He stood down with those on the lower levels. He wore his full robes of black. I couldn't form much of an opinion on his thoughts, because I couldn't even see his eyes, but I found myself hoping that he was pleased with the state of the behemoths.

  I couldn't move to interact with anyone. Not only were my arms locked behind me, but the cuffs that bound them were attached to a chain, and the chain was attached to a stake a few feet back. I could move in a diameter of about ten feet, with everyone else much farther away than that. I'd been stripped of my armor down to leather pants, but that had been days ago, when I'd first been caught. Since, I'd been held in a cell, and treated for my wounds. Now, here I was surrounded and being read my crimes, and I had no idea what Lox was planning for me.

  The speaker finished his report. And immediately Lox stepped forward. He looked... the same as always, the same as he had the first moment I'd seen him in Uldin Keep. Gold armor, thick plate. A red tabard of Akadia. Larger than everyone around him. Dark hair, dark eyes. But to me, ever since I'd realized who he really was, more like what he really was, the eyes weren't just dark, they were liquid, slimy even. And empty. He felt nothing real. All that I'd wanted from him. What I'd thought I had, it wasn't even there. Maybe Savras hadn't ever accepted me, but at least he'd existed as a person. Lox, he was just a monster.

  But I wasn't thinking about Lox. And even if I did notice the people around me, they weren't who I thought of either. It was too easy, or too hard to resist. Because, even if I was the only one that knew it, I was in the same place where I'd seen her last. Right here, on the largest platform of the red mountain, was the last place Ellia had set foot in Akadia. So they could all go onetalking, but that was all I could see and all I could think about.

  Lox stepped to the front of his high cliff, looking down at me with a grimace. "We in Akadia," he began slowly. "We've had our share of betrayals haven't we. But who would have expected it to come from one of our Lieutenants?" His voice carried loud enough for all to hear. There were murmurs, but the loudest sound was the flapping of flags in the wind. He raised his head high and addressed the crowd. "But we should have expected. All of us. It wasn't so long ago that Tarful turned with Karatel, and with him Raand, and Jaxom. And who could forget the good captain Tobias." Lox's expression, even his tone turned snake-ish. "I've heard enough about undue penalties falling upon these men. Don't some still say that Tobias Denathar should not have been slain? Yet we find out only months afterwards that his mother hails from our enemies. His brother fights against us, killing our men daily. And Tarful, Raand, and Jaxom? There are those here who knew them, who thought that the penalty against them was too great. What do you say now? How many more will we watch turn before the proper price is laid to dissuade others? This man," Lox pointed down at me, still addressing the crowd. "Who trained you. Who fought against our enemies in the eastern kingdoms. He has betrayed us. Now, who among you believes that he should go unpunished? Who believes the injury he has done against our city should be ignored?"

  Lox's voice rose loudly, even to a high challenge. But there was no reply. The crowd was as silent as ever. Soldiers stood their ground. Councilmen watched with fearful reserve.

  There was something she'd said to me before she left. She told me that she wouldn't forget who I was supposed to be. In this, and so many things about her, the way she looked at me, the way she said my name, the way she always spoke to me, it was so easy to see who she thought I was. This person that she believed me to be. She'd always done it. One glance across the great hall and I saw myself as a prince, just as wise in matters of court as great in battle, and loved by everyone. But then in reality, I couldn't even get her father to look twice at me, and I was continually spurned by the nobles. I despaired at politics. I couldn't advance as a soldier, and the only thing the people of Shaundakul did was compare me to my father.

  When she'd left me on the mountain, and when I'd realized who Lox really was, I didn't really think she was any more accurate. Or at least I'd doubted it. But it didn't matter. It was, from then on, who I would be. The way I saw it, that was my only choice in the matter.

  So when I planned to free the behemoths, and free Tarful, and Nain, it wasn't to redeem for my mistakes, or because it would hurt Lox, it was because they were the things that the me that she saw would have done. And I'd found, even when it was hard, that I liked it much more than anything else I'd ever done. Only now, it made sense, that I couldn't really ever succeed. Maybe because I'd taken too long to start, and done too many things wrong. I thought of Carceron, what he'd said about being punished for my crimes. I didn't disagree with him, and I thought this was probably that.

  I only hoped that I'd done enough. And I hoped, if I never got to tell her, that she understood why I'd done it all.

  Lox had stepped down from his higher precipice. He'd spoken on, using me and what I'd done to further control the Akadians. To make them afraid. To make them doubt the stability of leaving any military power outside of his hands. To fill them with hatred for both of Molec's heirs, alive and dead.

  He came to stand right in front of me—just out of my reach.

  "Look around you," he said, his eyes tightening, an ugly glower already on his face. He spoke loud enough for only me to hear. "Did you think that you could challenge my power and succeed? These people despise you now. I offered you everything, and now I've taken it away."

  I started laughing, ignoring the ragging in my chest.

  "What have you gone mad?" For a moment, Lox's anger melted enough to show the slightest glimpse of fear.

  I was trying not to wince at it all. "I'm not crazy. I just can't figure out how I ever thought you were all that I did." I was thinking just now of things that Ellia had said about him, and how right they all were, and how stupid I must have seemed to her. "I really wish I could watch it all again. I wish I could replay the things you said to me, all the faces. I want to know what you were thinking, how you knew just what to say. Was it so easy to tell what I wanted?"

  He scoffed. "When you came to Akadia, you didn't know what you wanted. I set your vision. I put you along the track that would make you great."

  "You used me. You used me just like you used Veera. Like you use everyone."

  "Is this the part where you blame me for your circumstance? How very original."

  I shook my head. "I wish I could." I tried to keep my shaking together as I met his eyes, smiling widely. "But you're not that powerful, Lox."

  In a flash of metal, he raised his forearm and backhanded me across the face. It was hard enough to knock me even further into my hunch. "In all my years as a commander," he hissed, "in all my years al
ive, I've never met a more pathetic case. You want to know if it was easy to see what you wanted? It's never been easier for me. I've never tossed my words with so little care and gotten such high results. Perhaps I stopped paying you the attention necessary to keep you under control. But there was a time when I could have told you to slit your own throat and you would have. I snapped my fingers and you turned on your own country. You make your regard for your princess so apparent, but how long did it take you to betray her identity to me? All because I asked. With barely a word. You're not just pathetic, boy. You're nothing. You're so worthless that you may just as well not exist."

  I strained against my chains, strong for only a second as they clashed tight, then hardly able enough to stand.

  He regarded me with a distasteful frown. "Your only value was in your ability. That might have been the only thing I would have regretted giving up, but you've already spoiled it. Now I wonder, in your planning, if you truly sought to stop me, why you didn't go after me?"

  His gaze was dark and full of challenge, while I worked to keep my eyes expressionless.

  "Are you afraid to fight me?" he asked, nodding to his sword.

  My brow dropped low. "Is that to be it, then? You plan to kill me yourself? Fine then. Give me a sword, and remove these chains, and we'll see how well you do."

  He laughed. "You're avoiding the point. I'm asking you why you wasted your time freeing half-dead animals, and forgotten prisoners, when you could have done away with all your problems simply by killing me? Was it that you thought you'd fail?" he smiled broadly. "Or is it, even after all this time, that you can't stomach dealing out a sentence yourself?"