Knives of Bastion (An Empire Falls Book 2)

by Harry Leighton

  “Wait,” and Zedek raised a hand. Held it up and flat. A stop.

  “I'm Vesek.”

  “Zedek.”

  “Why are you in Bastion?”

  “I'm an exile. A rebel. I disagreed with our history.”

  “But your ears…”

  “Carved off by humans.”

  Vesek sneered. “I hope you killed those animals.”

  Zedek frowned. “You kill people then. It’s you killing people.”

  “Yes!” Vesek cheered proudly.

  “You’re the Nightwalker.”

  “That I…” Vesek stopped. His face fell now too, as he finally realised. There was another elf here, but one with a spear in this hideaway, an elf asking about the killings. This elf had come to stop him.

  “Why are you killing them?” Zedek asked.

  “You don’t know?”

  “No,”

  “How can you not understand? Don't you see them? Don't you live among them?”

  “Tell me.”

  “They are sinners. They are corrupt. They are vain and arrogant and lustful. Terrible, gluttonous monsters and I punish them, I remove them, I kill these beasts.”

  Zedek sneered now. “You have been butchering people because you think you are better than them?”

  “Because elves are better than them!”

  “Elves do not kill. Life is sacred.”

  “Elves do not kill elves. Elven life is sacred. Human life is short and wasted on these creatures. We hate humans Zedek, or have you forgotten that.”

  “You hate humans. Obviously. I … I do not. I know humans, I have lived with them, yes.”

  “And you have seen their crimes!”

  “No.”

  “Don't lie.”

  “Alright, I have, but not all of them. Not all the time. They do not deserve to die. And not by you.”

  “You traitor.”

  “Why are you here Vesek? What brought you to Bastion?”

  “A rebel elf. Who likes humans,” and Vesek spat on the floor. “You traitor.”

  “How did you end up here?”

  “What do you intend to do Zedek…”

  “Do?”

  “You have a spear. You are standing with a weapon and you have found the Nightwalker. What will you do now?”

  “I…”

  “Are you so much of a traitor you will kill me?”

  “I am not a traitor.”

  “You’ll kill me then.”

  “I am not a traitor!”

  “Then what? Let me go?”

  This is it, Zedek thought. This is where I make a decision. He gripped the spear, and began to lower it.

  “I'm your brother Zedek, and you will try and kill me still?”

  “You are not my brother. And I do not want to kill you. But we are among humans and must respect their ways, which means stopping you from killing any more people,” and Zedek had shifted into a combat stance, point forward. “And in this instance, that means I must kill you.” His voice had been hoarse, but at the end it was firm. He had made his decision. He would kill.

  Vesek saw the other shadows. Two people emerging from the darkness, weapons out, willing to come forward now a personal decision had been made.

  Vesek smiled. Everyone else in the room felt a chill. There was madness in his face. To meet another elf, finally, and find … betrayal. When Vesek stepped forward, he stopped with the spearhead against his stomach.

  “Will you kill me? Will you step back?”

  Zedek did not yield as Vesek stepped forward again, the point sinking into the elf’s stomach as if it was soft and raw.

  It was.

  When Vesek stepped back, blood began to ooze from the hole. Still Vesek smiled. Zedek had become horrified … but he held the spear firm.

  “I'm not a traitor, Zedek. I am an elf. I will not kill an elf. You are the traitor. You just killed me. Remember that, as you live your life, I would not kill you because I am the real elf and you are a traitor!”

  Vesek lunged but not forward. His hand wrapped itself round the oil lamp, pulled it close.

  “You wouldn’t burn my body would you, Zedek. You’d let them gibbet me. You wouldn’t follow the old rules. I'll do it for you, traito—” His final syllable was cut off as he smashed the lamp into himself. Burning oil splashed all over him, and then he was a burning, screaming inferno.

  Zedek screamed too, in fury, and he felt Trimas and Daeholf and their hands on him, stopping him from trying to go forward.

  “It's over,” Daeholf said.

  “Is it?”

  “The Nightwalker is dead. Regis is dead. The killers are gone.”

  “And me? I killed him.”

  Daeholf turned Zedek and looked at him, right in the eyes. “What he said was a revenge trick. He knew he couldn't get past us all. He's trying to destroy you. Please Zedek, ignore what he said. What you said, everything you said, that was the right thing.”

  The body had collapsed to the ground, and fire had started spreading.

  Trimas looked to the door and back. “We need to put that out. And then leave. Much leaving.”

  Epilogue

  Zedek wasn’t looking. His head was pointed forward, where he’d stopped on the road, and his eyes were open and pointing forward. But he wasn’t looking, as his mind had retreated to a different time and place.

  Retreated to home.

  He stood there, still, feeling the cold air bite into his lungs, allowing it to bring him back, and he thought of the people he had left. The people who had birthed him, and the maniac he had just killed.

  Behind him stood Trimas, a few steps behind, letting his friend think. What else could he do but give him space? In a short while he’d step forward, put a hand on an arm, offer some words. But for now … space.

  Trimas turned back instead to see where his other friend was, and saw Daeholf walking cautiously up the road.

  Cautious, because he had a handful of papers taken from the warehouse.

  Not even he would make a joke now, so Trimas just asked, “What have you got there?”

  “Come and have a look.”

  Trimas walked over, saw the look of puzzlement on Daeholf’s face. “Alright, I’m seeing … sketches.”

  “Yes, look at this one on top…”

  “The outline of a painting.”

  “Yes, and look at the one below.”

  “Detailed drawing of a guard building.”

  “And this one.”

  “Detailed drawing of a gatehouse.”

  “Yes…”

  “Oh.” Trimas began to feel something odd. “It’s like I’m looking at … a scouting report?”

  “This could be art. This could be preparatory sketches. But ever since I saw this one, a detail of the wall, just laying in that warehouse, I’ve wondered.”

  “It could almost be… Was he spying? Was he a spy?”

  “I thought the same. Why was he here, drawing things in detail?”

  A voice from the front, cold and harsh, now spoke. “He wasn’t a spy.”

  Daeholf and Trimas turned to Zedek. “You sure?”

  Zedek now turned, his face dark. “Elves do not scout human cities, they do not draw up charts of human defences. They do not do this, because we are cowards who will not attack.”

  “Cowards might be…”

  “We are creatures brought up to hate you, to be prepared to fight you, but to never attack, because we hide in our cities and wait for our gods to come back and lead us. There are no elf spies, because there are no elf plans to attack. There is just waiting, praying, that those overlords will return and wipe you out.”

  “So why was he here?” Daeholf asked.

  “He was insane. I don’t think we’re going to find a logical reason.”

  “What do we do now?” Trimas asked.

  “I need to sit. And think.”

  “Okay Zedek, that’s what we’ll do.”

  *****

  Zedek knocked
on the door, and waited. He knew he could just have gone straight in, such was his bond with Trimas and Daeholf, but he waited for the call and went into the small bedroom only when bidden.

  “Everything alright?” Trimas asked.

  “We need to talk,” came Zedek’s reply.

  “I thought we did…”

  “Not about Ves… About me.”

  “Oh. Oh!”

  “Everything alright?” Daeholf asked.

  “I want to talk about death.”

  “It’s been that kind of…”

  “Sorry, my death. When it happens.”

  “Oh,” Trimas said again.

  Their elven friend had gone very pale. “One day I’ll die, and given the way we have been living I am likely to be with you. Not back with my people.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry Trimas, this is how I want to live my life. But it is likely I die away from them and … there are certain things I want to happen.”

  Daeholf nodded. “Something to do with burning your body?”

  Zedek, wan, now smiled. “Yes. We don’t bury our dead, we cremate them. We have no fields of graves. If I die here, out here, far away, will you please cremate me?”

  “Of course,” Trimas finished and realised he hadn’t. “What do we do with the ashes?”

  “I suspect you won’t want to go on an epic journey to return them to my family, so please scatter them as you feel appropriate.”

  “It’s not like we’ve got a lot else on,” Daeholf conceded.

  Zedek saw the slight smile on his friend’s face and knew they were trying to cheer him. “I wouldn’t want you to risk a journey there whatever the situation.”

  “You could have told us this before,” Trimas pointed out.

  “I ... it felt like tempting fate. That and I wondered if I would be satisfied with human procedures. You … you might have wanted a focal point to visit.”

  “I would,” and Trimas leaned forward and clapped him on the arm, “but we’ll still have one. And don’t worry about fate, we make our own.”

  “I… Seeing him die, so broken and angry, but still sticking to the basic rituals of our people … it affected me. I think it might even have changed me.”

  “Strong words.”

  “Yes Trimas, but I think…” A new thought, a strange one, “perhaps I need to think of myself differently. Perhaps I need to think of myself as someone who will one day go back.”

  “Your exile is self-imposed…”

  “And maybe I should think of this as a journey, not an exile.”

  Trimas clapped the arm again. “That sounds like a very good way to think. I’m just going to stick with disgraced exile for myself, but you go for it.” By the end Trimas was laughing.

  “Why did I have to fall in with a pair of lunatics.”

  “That’s us.”

  “It is indeed.”

  *****

  A carriage was moving through the city, and the residents were getting out of its way. You couldn’t actually see inside, the curtains were drawn, but it was the Governor’s carriage, so he might be inside, and that was incentive not to throw old fruit at it.

  The Governor wasn’t inside. But the four people who were had been silent, until one finally spoke.

  “So,” Zedek began, “we make jokes when we’re on the way to fight a mage, but when we have been summoned to dress up and visit the Governor for thanks we act like someone jus…” He paused, realising someone had just died, and the deceased's sister was now looking at him with a mix of annoyance and interest in how he’d dig out of this. “Sorry. Social talking has never been a strong point.”

  Elena turned away. “It’s alright. You had a shock too.”

  Trimas decided to change the subject. “Nice of the Governor to send us all smart clothes to dress up in.”

  “My uniform would have been fine,” Elena noted, “not this strange military thing I’ve been given.”

  “I suspect you’re being promoted,” Daeholf offered.

  “I suspect half the guard will try and get me sacked the next day.”

  They fell into silence.

  The carriage now completed its journey, came to a halt, and Elena and her comrades stepped out.

  A glass of wine was immediately offered to each, and then they were walked through the Governor’s building and into his office, where he also stood with a glass. He also had on his smartest clothes.

  “I’m so glad you could be here,” he said, smiling and raising the glass, pausing as he saw the strange looks on all their faces. He had organised a party to thank them all and present medals and a promotion. Instead they looked on their way to an execution.

  A few gears quickly turned, and the Governor realised on this he had misjudged. The foursome in front of him were not celebratory, despite stopping two killers. They were sad and damaged and needed time.

  Trimas turned and looked out of the window. The Governor took a step forward to say something, and suddenly the angles aligned and with an almost punch to the stomach the latter man recognised the former.

  General Trimas.

  This was General Trimas, one of the empire’s most able and now most disgraced commanders… Standing here in his office, about to get an award his old career dwarfed.

  In theory, the Governor should arrest Trimas on the spot, ship him to the Emperor and pick up his own set of medals.

  In theory.

  “Everything alright?” Daeholf asked, at the slightly strange look on the Governor’s face.

  This is my city, the latter thought, and these four have just stopped the inhabitants being sliced up…

  I’m not going to report Trimas, am I. Instead I’m going to attend a party with him, and pin a ribbon on his chest. No doubt the other two had just as interesting histories. But there was such a thing as a debt to be paid, and today the Governor would pay his.

  “The party awaits, ladies and gentlemen.”

  “Any chance we can sneak out halfway through?” Daeholf asked.

  “I suspect I couldn’t stop you even if I tried, but I’ll guide you away from the more onerous bores and keep moving you to the people who three bounty hunters and a guard sergeant might find interesting. Then of course, the ceremony.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “A gift of thanks. The medals are worth a little, but the cash sum we are giving you should … smooth your paths for a while.”

  Trimas smiled. “And we can always wear the medals and impress people.”

  Daeholf rolled his eyes.

  *****

  A pair of carts were moving along the road to Bastion, pulled by two horses each, and with two men on each. A pretty ordinary sight, the same as several other carts which were doing their best not to run over the civilians walking down the road.

  Well, in theory doing their best, tempers frayed.

  This pair looked so different, and their riders were quietly confident.

  “So the Thieftaker is dead?” one said.

  “Yep.”

  “And the Hood is dead?”

  “As dead as the Thieftaker.”

  “So…”

  “Must you question everything?”

  “Nothing wrong with questions,” came a defensive reply.

  “There is when they’re only being asked for constant affirmation.”

  “Harrumph. Still, the way is open then for us to get back into Bastion?”

  The other man sighed. “The way is more open than a whore’s legs.”

  “You have to pay for that. That’s a bad example.”

  “Oh dear God save me from this idiot.”

  The carts approached the gate, where two bored looking guards were taking only cursory glances at the people passing through.

  One man winked at another, and the carts passed through into the city of Bastion. They both felt a sense of relief.

  Until they realised there was a woman in a guard uniform standing in front of them.

 
; “I don’t think so gentlemen.”

  As the men began to quickly react, the rest of Elena’s task force stepped forward, letting their cloaks fall off to reveal guard uniforms.

  “What is… Who are you?”

  “My name is Elena, and I am in charge of a new unit, one that stops people like you returning to our city. But you’re lucky…”

  “Oh?”

  “You’re going to go back, and tell your bosses the Hood’s threats still stand. Only this time they have the power of the law behind them. No gangs are welcome in this city.”

  The men on the carts knew when they’d been given a second chance.

  “Alright, we’ll turn these round and take the message.”

  “The carts stay.”

  “What?”

  “I am confiscating the carts and everything on them.”

  “But if we go back without them we’ll be killed.”

  “If you stay here I’ll hang you.”

  “Like that’s a fair choice.”

  Elena smiled, and looked at her team. All hand-picked because they would actually work with her. This was going to be very interesting.

  *****

  Erik peered round a corner, and saw the people who had just called him.

  “Yes fellas?” Erik asked.

  “Have you seen Daeholf?” Trimas asked.

  “Yeah, left earlier.”

  “Any idea where he went?”

  “Oh, yeah, east gate. Went to see, er, something happening.”

  “Something?”

  “He mentioned a woman. Something a woman was doing…”

  Trimas nodded. “He’s gone to see Elena’s unit make their first, well it’s not an arrest is it, more like scouting.”

  Zedek looked confused. “What?”

  “Well you have an army, and they tend to fight in rows, and you have your scouts who sneak ahead and do all the tricksy things. Elena leads the scout unit for the guard.”

  “I think, perhaps, we should find Daeholf before you make anymore poorly thought out military analogies.”

  “I see you’ve regained your good humour Zedek,” and Trimas led him to the door.

  They walked briskly through the city, until the east gate rose above them. There were no halted carts, no guard beyond the normal, but on the wall, looking down from where he’d observed Elena’s action, was Daeholf.