The Outworlder

by S. K. Valenzuela

  “You seem more excited about this than I am,” Jared said. Brytnoth flashed him a smile and set off down the hallway.

  When they got back to Rafe’s chambers, Rafe had a fire blazing against the chill and was sprawled in a chair next to the fireplace.

  “So what’s the story?” Rafe asked as Brytnoth dropped onto the couch and crossed his feet on the settle.

  Jared leaned against the mantle. “Sahara said that we would have to be ready for them. This is it, gentlemen. The night of the blood-offering will be the night of our utter destruction…or our freedom.” He couldn’t help the smile that was spreading across his face. “We finally have a chance, friends! We have a chance to liberate Albadir…all of Silesia…and who knows how many other worlds!”

  “But how are we supposed to be ready?” asked Brytnoth. “Do you have any idea?”

  “Yes. And Rafe, you were right…sort of. This does go back to the library. Have you ever been to the Great City?”

  Rafe sat up. “Why?”

  “I’ve never been, myself.”

  “I went once, as a child. I don’t remember much about it except that it was an enormous sprawling place—all tall white towers and buildings that seemed to reach the sky. There were ships anchored near the mouth of the river. I remember my father telling me that they traded with the cities on the other side of the Southern Sea. There was a space port too…and my father told me that our textiles and fabrics were prized by many other worlds.” He smiled at the memory. “But the Great Temple was the most magnificent thing I’ve ever seen…right in the center of the city. My father took me there and presented me to the priests. They gave me a blessing or something, I think.”

  Jared grinned at him. “How would you like to go back?”

  “But the Great City was destroyed, wasn’t it?”

  “Do we know that for sure? And whether it was or not, we have to go.”

  “Why?” asked Brytnoth.

  “There’s a crypt beneath the Great Temple,” said Jared, carefully framing the words. “And in the crypt is an empty tomb that houses a cache of sacred weapons.”

  Brytnoth gave a strange snorting laugh, but then saw that Jared was completely serious.

  “Really?” he asked, clearing his throat. “Sacred weapons? A secret cache? Really?”

  “That’s what the legend says,” Rafe said. “You think it’s true?”

  “Yes, I do,” said Jared. “And I think that those weapons may be the key to defeating the Dragon-Lords. That’s why they were concealed so carefully.”

  “What’s so special about them?” Brytnoth asked with a puzzled frown. “Ordinary weapons won’t work? If Sahara was able to kill the Dragon-Lord Chieftain on her homeworld with a dagger….”

  Jared shook his head. “That was a Dragon-Lord, not the dragon itself. From everything I’ve read, no ordinary weapon is effective against the dragon. Those weapons in the crypt of the Temple are not native to Silesia…they come from Askalon.”

  Brytnoth started violently and his face paled. “Askalon! Are you sure?”

  “What’s the matter with you?” Rafe asked. “This isn’t a ghost story!”

  “Yes, it is,” Brytnoth said in a shaking voice. “Askalon was my homeworld.”

  Jared and Rafe stared at him, and finally Rafe gave a low whistle.

  “I thought you couldn’t remember your homeworld,” Jared said after a moment. “You’re sure your memory isn’t just playing tricks on you?”

  “I’m sure. It’s been coming back to me. Some details are still hazy, but I remember that much.”

  “This can’t be coincidence,” Rafe said. “I bet those weapons were smuggled off your homeworld before the Dragon-Lords forced all your people onto that transport.”

  “I was young at the time,” Brytnoth said. “And I didn’t hear anything about any blessed weapons...or any attempt to get them off our world before it was desolated. But that doesn’t mean you’re not right about that, Rafe.”

  “I wonder if Arnauld knows something about them,” Jared said.

  “Would anyone else know?” Brytnoth asked. “Could anyone else have heard these stories and know them to be true?”

  The three men looked at one another, and then Jared breathed, “Childir would!”

  “We haven’t got a moment to lose,” said Rafe briskly. “It’s two days’ journey down the Alba to the Great City. And we’ll have to travel at night to avoid being seen by the spies and scouts of the Dragon-Lords. We’ve got to go right now, or we won’t make it back in time.”

  “I’ll pack the food,” Brytnoth offered. “As an outworlder, there’s not much else I can do.”

  “Fine,” said Jared. “Rafe and I will collect the rest of the equipment. And it would be nice if we had a boat. There hasn’t been travel down the river in years…the paths are sure to be overgrown, and hiking on foot is going to slow us down.”

  “Of course we need a boat,” Rafe said. “We’ll use Arnauld’s.”

  Jared made a face. “I’m not sure I’m in the mood to ask him if we can borrow it.”

  “But shouldn’t he know the danger that faces the city?” Brytnoth asked. “Aren’t there preparations to be made? In case…I mean, in case something happens to us and our mission? They’ll need to be ready.”

  Jared leaned on the mantle and stared into the flames with a sigh. After a moment’s thought, he said, “Yes, I suppose he should know.”

  “I really hope you’re right about all this, Jared,” Rafe said.

  “Well,” replied Jared, “if I’m wrong, then I guess we’ll all get the chance to die nobly for our city.”

  “That’s very comforting,” said Brytnoth.

  Chapter 20

  “My lord Arnauld, might I have a word with you about your boat?”

  Arnauld raised his head slowly, and Jared folded his hands behind his back, scarcely daring to breathe. Arnauld’s brow creased, and he gestured at Jared’s black battle dress, sword, and the crossbow slung at his back.

  “What are you doing dressed up like that? Going somewhere?” Then his frown deepened. “Did you say you wanted to speak to me about my boat?”

  “Yes, sir. To all three questions.”

  Arnauld crisply replaced the stack of papers he was reviewing and folded his hands together under his chin. “Who told you I had a boat, Jared?”

  “Rafe Margolis. My lord.”

  “Is that so.” Arnauld leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingertips together. “And what, may I ask, do you intend to do with my boat?”

  “Well, sir, if you could answer the following questions about it, I can tell you for certain.”

  Arnauld’s brows arched in surprise. “What sort of questions?”

  “Does she leak, sir?”

  “No.”

  “Has she been properly maintained?”

  “Yes, of course she—”

  “Would she be ready to sail in three hours’ time?”

  “What the devil are you up to now, Jared?” Arnauld demanded. “Your plans to date have not been overwhelmingly successful.”

  Jared hesitated. “This is different, my lord. This venture will be successful…provided the boat doesn’t leak, has been properly maintained, and will be ready to sail in three hours’ time.”

  “And if I said she would be ready, what then?”

  “Then I would tell you what the mission is, sir.”

  Arnauld studied him for a long time, but Jared never flinched. Arnauld hadn’t thrown him out of his office yet, and Jared counted that as a success.

  With a little sigh and a shake of his head, Arnauld gave in. “So? Tell me what you’re up to now.”

  “Rafe, Brytnoth, and I are going to take the boat down the river to the Great City. We plan to secure the cache of blessed weapons hidden in the crypt of the Temple and bring them back here. Sir.”

  “You mean the weapons of Askalon?” Arnauld asked in a low voice.

  Jared nodded. “And it would be a g
reat help to us, my lord, if you could tell us anything you know about them.”

  “They were brought to the Temple just before Askalon was overrun by the Dragon-Lords,” Arnauld said. “We’d been in communication with the Lords of Askalon for years. They were trading partners of ours. And we were working together to find a precious metal, one whose properties would match those detailed in an ancient prophecy. The evil power that animates the Dragon-Lords is no recent arrival, Jared. It has taken many forms. The dragon is only its most recent manifestation.”

  Jared swallowed hard. “So you mean it can’t be destroyed?”

  Arnauld shrugged. “We were following the prophecy in the hope that it could be destroyed. The Crafters’ Guild on Askalon discovered the metal deep within one of their mines and began forging the weapons. Somehow, news of the discovery reached the Dragon-Lord Council, and they descended upon Askalon and overthrew it. Just before the assault, two of the craftsmen escaped with the weapons and brought them here. The priests of the Temple concealed them in the crypt, hushing the rumors to legend. We don’t know if they’ll actually work…but the destruction of Askalon suggests that they will, and that the Dragon-Lords know it.”

  Jared was silent for a long time, mulling over Arnauld’s words.

  “What will you do once you find the cache?” Arnauld asked finally.

  Jared glanced up. “We’ll return to Albadir and then journey to the Dragon-Lords’ old fortress. We’re going to slay the dragon before it comes to destroy us all…and we’re going to save Sahara.”

  “I see.” Arnauld’s fingertips were pressed together so firmly that they turned white. He paused for so long that Jared thought he was finished. “I know you want to save Sahara, Jared,” he said. “But this is madness.”

  “My lord…” Jared began to protest, but Arnauld held up a hand.

  “No, it’s madness. What if this is the wrong time to use the weapons against the dragon? And what if you fail…and they discover the location of the cache? If that happens….” His voice trailed off for a moment. “Have you consulted Childir about this?”

  Jared felt his stomach lurch and he swallowed hard. He hadn’t planned on needing to reveal his suspicions in that quarter, but now that Arnauld brought it up, he had to speak. “We can’t consult him, my lord,” he said quietly. “He’s one of them.”

  Arnauld lowered his hands to the desk and gripped its edge. “What?”

  “He’s one of them.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Jared realized that the longer this interview went on, the crazier he sounded, but he had no choice but to answer. “Think about it, my lord. He chose the day of the attack, and our men were slaughtered and Sahara was captured. There’s only one way they could have known with so much certainty that we were coming. He picked the day, and then he informed our enemies.”

  “This is extraordinary, coming from you. He was practically a father to you, for God’s sake.”

  Jared clenched his jaw. “Well, I suppose that should make my suspicion all the more credible, then. But he has betrayed us, and I won’t seek out or trust his counsel any longer.”

  Arnauld studied Jared long and hard, then gave a short nod. “I’m glad you told me. I wouldn’t want to give him any information that might jeopardize your mission.”

  “Are you saying that we have leave to go, my lord?”

  “The sooner you are gone from here the better,” Arnauld said. He smiled grimly and slapped a set of gold keys on the desk. “Take my boat, but see that you’re secret about it. It seems we are once more in your hands, Jared. Don’t fail us this time.”

  Jared took the chain and bowed his way out of the chamber, mumbling his thanks. As soon as he was out in the passage, Rafe and Brytnoth seized his arms.

  “So?” Rafe asked.

  “We’re a go,” Jared grinned. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “You must be a smooth talker, Jared,” Rafe said as they headed to the oasis at a brisk trot. “Arnauld’s very fond of his boat.”

  “I’ve never seen him sail any boat,” Brytnoth remarked.

  “No, he’s too afraid something will happen to it. And you haven’t even been here a week.” Rafe’s eyes laughed at Brytnoth. “It’s been in the boathouse under lock and key for years. He goes in there every week to polish it and maintain it, but he’s never actually sailed it.” He turned suddenly to Jared. “You did get the keys, didn’t you?”

  Jared dangled the ornately worked keys in front of Rafe’s eyes. “Of course.”

  “Good,” said Rafe.

  A moment later, they were among the bustling cooks and bakers in the manor kitchen. The full rush for the evening meal was on, and their unwanted presence in the midst of the chaos was clearly unappreciated by the staff.

  “Out of the way, master Jared!” hollered the head cook, a fat man with silvered hair and a wizened face. “To the dining hall with you! No scraps for you tonight, you young rascal!”

  Jared, his face all seriousness, answered, “I wouldn’t dream of it, sir!”

  He propelled Brytnoth and Rafe, who was choking on suppressed laughter, toward the scullery.

  “Shut up, Rafe!” Jared hissed. “He still thinks I’m ten years old, for God’s sake!”

  Once safely in the scullery, Brytnoth took over. “I stashed everything in this barrel,” he said. He tipped it on its edge and tossed each of them a duffel bag. The last he slung over his own shoulder. “All our gear is already inside. Let’s go.”

  They slipped out the rear door and made their way along the path through the orchard. The night was coming on quickly and they could already hear the grim crescendo of wind and sand outside the city walls.

  The boathouse lay on the northern bank of the river, some distance beyond the bridge leading to the library. Pleasure gardens full of sweet-smelling flowers and herbs, delicately manicured shrubbery, and smooth lawns had once surrounded the magnificent structure of the Great House, but these had long been untended and now grew in a mazy tangle. A stone bench hulked under an arbor dripping with flowers and vines, and a gate hanging half off its hinges led from the barest semblance of horticultural order into sheer chaos.

  The men quickened their pace and soon stood crowded around the wrought metal door of the boathouse, breathing hard. Jared slipped one of the keys into the lock and let them inside.

  “A light, Rafe?” he asked.

  At the sound of his voice, a light sliced through the shadows in front of them, hard and cold and a little above their heads.

  “No need, Jared.”

  The three men watched in horror as the light grew steadily brighter. It came from a lantern holding an oddly-shaped crystal, and the lantern hung from a hook on top of a staff. Childir held the staff in his left hand.

  “How did you get in here?” demanded Jared, his hand traveling slowly to the smooth and cool metal hilt of his sword.

  “I might ask you the same question, my son.”

  “Don’t bother addressing me as though you had fond feelings for me,” Jared spat. “We both know it doesn’t mean anything.”

  “I see you have discovered some secrets about me, Jared,” the seer responded, taking a step nearer to them. “Prying into affairs that aren’t of your concern is a dangerous matter.” His eyes flickered over them, taking in their dark battle dress and duffel bags. “What brings you here tonight?”

  “That’s our business, not yours,” Brytnoth answered sharply.

  “The door was locked,” Rafe added. “How did you get in here?”

  Childir chuckled quietly, but it no longer sounded wise and indulgent. “Really, Rafe, the question is a bit ridiculous. Why should locks have anything to do with me?”

  “So what are you doing here?” Jared lowered his duffel bag to the ground. “Out for an evening stroll?”

  Again, that terrible chuckle. “I came here to speak with you. To warn you.”

  “How did you know we’d be here?”

  “Again
, such simple questions! As if there could be any secrets in this place! Surely you must know that already.”

  “Yes, I had suspected as much,” replied Jared dryly. “Say what you came here to say.”

  “You are on a fool’s errand. Sahara will be sacrificed as is our due right, and Albadir will be destroyed. You will never leave this place without their knowing. Indeed, you shall not leave it at all.”

  Jared’s sword flashed out of its scabbard, the edges cruel in the pale light of the lantern. “You won’t betray us again,” he ground out. “Don’t make me kill you, Childir.”

  As if on cue, Rafe and Brytnoth drew their swords and the three of them fell on Childir. The sage reeled back for a moment, then gathered himself and began murmuring something under his breath.

  Jared!

  Jared staggered, caught himself. His head reeled as a vision of Sahara’s frantic face swirled with the boathouse around him.

  Jared! Kill him now! He’s calling the others! Kill him! Now, now!

  As Sahara’s voice rose to a shrill scream in his mind, Jared leaped forward. His sword flared in the ghastly light of the lantern. A horrible cry tore from Jared’s chest as the sword grated through flesh and bone.

  Childir’s body toppled to the ground as his head rolled with a sickening splash into the water.

  The sword dangled in Jared’s grip for a moment as he stood, breathing hard. Rafe and Brytnoth stared at him, and Jared turned on them.

  “Let’s go! We haven’t a moment to waste.”

  Rafe and Brytnoth sheathed their blades without a word. Jared stooped and wiped his blade clean on Childir’s robe, then looked frantically around the boathouse.

  “What’s the problem?” Rafe asked.

  “We need to get rid of the body,” Jared said. “But without a weight, it’ll float.”

  Brytnoth crossed to the far side of the landing and returned a moment later with a coil of heavy rope.

  “Here. Use this.”

  Jared obeyed and then rolled the body into the water. After a few sickening moments, it sank out of sight.

  Rafe jumped on board and headed for the steering controls while Brytnoth began untying the ropes that moored the boat to the dock. Jared flung their bags into the stern. As soon as the boat was free, Brytnoth scrambled on board and went astern, rifling through the packs until he had found their night travel gear.