His Ancient Heart

by M. R. Forbes

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Spyne

  "Open the gate," Spyne roared at the squad of guards standing watch outside of it. He was tired, hungry, dirty. All he wanted was to get to the palace, have a bath and a meal, and get back out on the road.

  North. To Edgewater.

  That's where Worm said Talon was headed. The painted man had informed him that he had already reached Doovan and that there was some kind of battle there, a battle involving use of the Curse.

  At least, that's what he thought the Historian was trying to say, with his hand gestures and pantomime. How he knew anything about it was beyond Spyne's understanding.

  The soldiers didn't open the gate. Instead, they put their hands to swords, the ones on the walls picking up their bows and taking aim.

  "On whose authority?" Sergeant Olms asked. He could see the man was wearing soldier blacks, but anyone could have the blacks made to pretend to be a solider. The bear of a man in front of him was filthy and haggard, and not even riding a horse. The one with the tattoos... they looked like bandits to him. Or rebels.

  "General Spyne, by Heden," Spyne said, not slowing his approach towards them. He reached into his pocket, trying to find the signet ring that would identify him to the few ignorant bastards who didn't already know who he was. It had sunk to the bottom, and his patience was thin enough already. "Open the gate."

  Sergeant Olms started to draw his sword, until one of the archers called down to him.

  "Sergeant, open the gate. That's him, General Spyne. I seen him before. Know that face anywhere."

  Spyne glanced up at him for the comment, and he lowered the bow and bowed his head.

  "Open the gates," Olms said, suddenly panicked. "Hurry, now."

  The gates swung in, the soldiers working hard to appease the General.

  "My apologies, General. We can't be too careful, since the incident with the false Liar."

  Spyne had been planning to go right through the gates and make a line to the palace. Now he drew to a stop. Sergeant Olms shook visibly when the General turned his attention to him.

  "False Liar?" he asked.

  Olms bowed his head, looking at Spyne's feet. "Yes, my Lord. A man was hanged a few nights back, looked just like the Liar. Tall, blue eyes. He and a hulk of a man killed three soldiers right out in the open, before the city guard surrounded them. We thought it was the Liar until the Overlord set us straight. The big one was killed trying to escape, the other one hanged."

  General Spyne pursed his lips in interest. He remembered Talon as he was. He never kept his hair long, because it tended to get sweaty and uncomfortable in the heat of the metallurgic furnaces. "Did you see the hanging, Sergeant?"

  "No, General. I was on duty."

  "I seen it, my Lord," the same archer called down again. "If the Overlord hadn't said it wasn't so, I would've taken him for the Liar right away." He paused and met Spyne's gaze for only a bare instant. "I heard his companion was carrying the biggest sword anyone's ever seen. Nearly cut Pelham and Dunn right in half with one stroke."

  The General was even more intrigued by this bit of news. The description could certainly match that of the missing juggernaut, but it had to be a mistake. The Overlord had served him loyally for almost sixty years. She wasn't about to fake the death of their greatest threat.

  Was she?

  Everything he knew had been turned upside down in recent days. His memories flooded back to him, with all the pain and anger they carried with them. Who was to say she remained as loyal today as she had been in days past? Who was to say she wasn't? There was only one way to find out.

  Spyne didn't say anything else to the soldiers. He motioned for the Historians to follow him, and they made their way through the gates and into the city.

  The commoners kept a wide berth around Spyne and his men, even if they didn't know exactly who they were. They looked dangerous, and it was enough. Merchants calling out their wares silenced as they passed, beggars backed into alleys, and even the patrolling soldiers gave them extra room.

  Worm grabbed a small pastry from a cart as they walked, making a face that dared the young girl selling them to question his thievery. Spyne didn't stop him, or reprimand him. He never cared about such petty things, and he cared even less about it now.

  The biggest sword anyone has ever seen? A tall man with blue eyes? A hanging? Murder in the streets of Varrow?

  Spyne had never been a smart man. In Genesia he had been responsible for keeping the plants healthy, a gardener. It was Tella who was the important one.

  At least, until they had needed someone compatible.

  Still, he wasn't completely stupid. How could the Overlord think she could get away with something like that? Perhaps because no one but a General would question her words, and he was one of only nine.

  Six.

  He knew when they lost a brother. He could feel it when their light went out, as though each was an ember from the same fire. He knew Talon was still alive. For now.

  Let her tell me what happened. Let her lie to me, if she dares.

  They were at the palace gates when Worm came up to him and smacked him on the shoulder to get his attention. He was the only one who could get away with such an action and survive it.

  "What is it?" Spyne asked. He didn't slow, and the guards bowed to him, recognizing him right away.

  Worm pointed to the palace, making the closed-to-open palm motion, like pantomiming an explosion, that he used to communicate 'Curse'.

  The Overlord was using her power? Why?

  Spyne put a hand to the hilt of his sword, and ran towards the main entrance to the palace. The Historians followed behind him, and he heard the sound of their swords leaving their scabbards as they did.

  He charged up the steps and into the small antechamber before the assembly room. The old hag, Reema, was sitting behind her desk as though everything were fine.

  "G... General Spyne," she said, recognizing him even with her poor vision. She did her best to get to her knee in front of him, her face frightened at the sight of his Historian's blades. "Is there a problem?"

  "Where is the Overlord?" Spyne said.

  "She's in her private office, welcoming her niece to the city," Reema said.

  "Niece?" Spyne looked over at Worm. The man wore no expression, and didn't react to his gaze.

  "Yes. Lady Valerie, from Portsmouth."

  "I should like to meet this Lady Valerie," Spyne said, his words oozing from him. According to Worm, someone was using their Curse somewhere inside these walls. Whatever was happening, he didn't need to fill tight hallways with obstructions. "Historians, stand down."

  His men returned their blades to their hips and waited behind him.

  Reema pulled herself to her feet. "I'll go and tell her that you're here, my Lord."

  "I'll go and see to her myself," Spyne replied. "Worm, with me. Peyn, no one comes in or out. Understood?"

  "Yes, General," Peyn said.

  Spyne hurried off towards the side door at a brisk walk, with Worm trailing behind him. Reema backed far away as they passed, terrified of the tattooed man.

  They had only taken a few steps when a man rounded the corner, nearly slamming into the General.

  "Your pardon, my Lord," the man said. He was a soldier. A Captain, by the marks on his uniform. His brow was sweaty, and he seemed like he was in a hurry.

  Spyne clamped his hand down on the man's shoulder before he could get by. "Captain. What's going on?"

  The soldier looked at him. He saw the recognition catch in his eyes. He also saw... fear? Worry? A hint, just for a moment. "General Spyne. We weren't expecting you."

  "Is everything well?" Spyne asked again.

  The soldier took a few seconds to answer. "No, my Lord. It isn't. I was escorting the Lady Valerie to meet with the Overlord. When she came in to greet her niece, she suffered some kind of exhaustion, or something, and passed out. I was going to get help to bring her to her apartment."

&
nbsp; It sounded like the truth. Why had he paused in answering?

  "My man and I will help you, Captain."

  The soldier glanced back at Worm, his face paling slightly at the sight of him. "I can get the guard to assist me, my Lord."

  "We don't want the others to see any weakness in the Overlord, do we?" Spyne asked, squeezing the Captain's shoulder tight. He was impressed that the man didn't cry out at the pressure. "We will help you."

  "As you command, General," the Captain said, still not showing any signs of pain. Spyne respected that.

  "Lead the way."

  They followed the soldier down the corridor towards the back of the palace, to a heavy wooden door. When they reached it, Spyne looked back at Worm. The man made the same 'magic' motion again. He appeared eager to see what had caused it.

  "I don't want to frighten the Lady Valerie," Fehri said, lifting his hand to knock on the door.

  "Don't," Spyne said, his arm launching out and grabbing the Captain by the wrist. He didn't test him again; he simply pulled it away and released it.

  The Captain bowed his head. "As you command, my Lord."

  Spyne reached out and took the door by its handle.

  He gathered his strength and wrenched it open.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Talon

  Talon and Wilem rode hard for the next two days, covering a lot of ground on the backs of the Portnis stallions they'd taken from Doovan. The roads north were quiet, and the few patrols they encountered had been easy to skirt around. Firth had loaded their saddlebags with food and water for the journey, and they had travelled with a level of comfort that had been rare enough in the past days.

  They stopped at one of the many small farms that dotted the landscape here, leading the horses into a small barn where they found feed and shelter. They were approaching the Kregin Gorges, which split the province of Edgewater from Varrow, and which would be the most dangerous part of their crossing.

  There were two ways into Edgewater from where they were currently sitting on bales of hay, eating bread and allowing the horses to rest. The overland route, the Bridge, was in truth a series of bridges connecting narrow plateaus between the Gorges, the biggest and longest of which was some three hundred feet across and nearly a mile over the water. It was a fast, straight line across the Bridge and into Kregin Town - a large settlement that fed prisoners to the nearby Kregin mines. It was also the main reception point for water bound trade along the Gorge River, with goods being passed on large boats that moved through the network of tributaries and fingers that spread throughout the area.

  It was also the perfect place for a blockade or an ambush.

  The other option was to head further west to Fulton, another small town that rested in one of the wider gorges, a waypoint for the barges transporting goods back and forth. Once there, they could sell the horses and purchase a berth on one of the ships. They could ride it down the river to Kregin Town, avoiding the obvious checkpoint and disappearing in one of the many boats that arrived there each day.

  All of which were sure to be searched.

  It was the reason they were even questioning which route to take at all. While the water passage seemed safer on the surface, there was no way to know who or what would meet them when they reached Kregin Town. At least if they took the Bridge they would be able to count the numbers before they had to encounter them, and hopefully come up with some plan to either attack or sneak around. The overland passage would also make it easier for them to get into and through the town without drawing attention. They couldn't say the same for being discovered hiding on a boat.

  "I still prefer to take a barge," Wilem said, popping the final bite of cured meat into his mouth. He chewed quickly, and it was clear to Talon that he was eager to be back on the move. "Mediator Canlin's staff will be helpful, but I can still only use so much magic without the cure. Enough to punch through an army? I might die trying."

  "We won't need to punch through an army. We have more control of our confrontations on the Bridge," Talon said. "If we choose our targets correctly, if we are patient, I can get us over and through."

  "How patient?" Wilem asked. "How much time will we need to spend hiding and plotting? Or, what if we arrive at the Bridge and his forces there are more than any man could hope to defeat, even one of the Nine?"

  It was the same argument they had been having for the last hour. At first, Talon had been annoyed with Wilem for questioning him, for testing his logic. As the words had been exchanged, and the minutes had passed, he found himself being swayed by the wizard's perspective. He found that he was becoming reckless in his eagerness to reach Edgewater. A recklessness the boy was helping him to reign in.

  Murderer.

  It was the young Cursed girl from Doovan that was driving him. He saw her dead in his arms every time he closed his eyes. Sometimes she had Eryn's face.

  "They will be searching the boats," Talon said.

  "There is a chance we can bribe the captain to keep quiet. Or find a sympathizer to smuggle us in. You can't say the same for the Bridge."

  "No, I can't. It will take two more days to reach Fulton, and then another four to reach Kregin Town. If we can get fresh horses there, it will be two more after that to make Edgewater. That's eight days, Wilem. If we take the Bridge, we can be there in four."

  "If we survive the Bridge. If the Bridge is passable. I want to reach the Refinery as much as you do, probably more. If I need to use too much of the Curse, I will need the cure as well. I've been exposed to the ebocite just as Eryn was. Four or eight doesn't matter if we never arrive at all."

  Talon bit on his lip and stared at Wilem for a moment. Then he smiled. "I knew there was a reason I dragged you along with me, my boy. We'll take a barge through the Gorges, and leave the rest to Amman."

  "Thank you, Talon," Wilem said as they got to their feet and gathered the horses.

  "For what?" he asked.

  "You're General Talon Rast. You have a thousand years of experience in tactics and strategy. Even son, you let a boy's opinion matter."

  He closed his eyes, seeing the girl there once more. He could not avenge her. He could not avenge any of them. Not if he was dead.

  "I understand that I'm not always right, and I don't know everything. Thank you for not assuming that I do."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Talon

  There were two paths that led down into the gorge where the town of Fulton rested. One was wide and winding, a smooth grade that allowed for horse and carriage to make the descent without issue, though it was a journey that took a number of hours to make. The other was a set of stairs, carved directly from the stone and wide enough for three men to pass abreast.

  Since they wanted to sell the horses at the bottom, Talon and Wilem were forced to take the slower route, winding up stuck behind a second wagon laden with barrels of ale. As Fulton was predominately a rest stop for the barges traveling lazily up and down the waterways that passed through the gorges, the bulk of its business came from alcohol, women, song, and game. It was a lucrative place to be an entertainer of any sort.

  It was also an easy place to vanish from his attention.

  Not because there were no guards here, but because the soldiers that collected the entry taxes at the bottom of the descent were comfortable with their assignments, and always had plenty to do once their shifts were over. A tall man with a razor-shaved head, blue eyes, and carrying a sword traveling with a boy holding a wrapped ircidium staff was suspicious anywhere. The difference was that while the soldiers knew that perhaps they should confront the pair, the cost far outweighed the benefit. With so many soldiers in his army, even he had no way to ensure they were all in agreement on priorities. At least, that was Talon's hope.

  It was early evening by the time they reached the guard post. Having spent the bulk of the afternoon trailing the ale wagon, Talon had made fast friends with the driver, a potbellied man of good humor named Gerland. He owned a farm not ten
miles from Fulton where he raised bees and processed the honey into mead. Once a week he and his son brought the mead to the town and both sold to the local inns, and shipped it over to Kregin. His busy and fairly isolated life meant he had never heard of the Liar, and he had no idea who Talon really was or might have been. Instead, he received the standard tale - that Talon was bringing his son to Edgewater to join the army.

  "Name and business in Fulton?" the guard asked. He was tall, with a round stomach that seemed as though it were ready to burst from beneath his chain shirt. Talon made no effort to conceal his face or his eyes, instead looking right at the soldier, daring him to question his identity.

  "Rollo of Portsmouth," Talon said. "Bringing my boy up to Edgewater to trial for the army. He wanted to travel the Gorges."

  The soldier eyed Wilem. "You want to be a soldier?"

  "Yes, my Lord," Wilem said.

  "Look a bit skinny to me."

  Talon laughed at the remark. He leaned in close to the guard. "I also wanted to introduce him to the... experience... Of becoming a man, if you understand my meaning."

  The guard laughed. "That I do. Try the Willow, down near the docks. Finest girls along the Gorges."

  "I'll do that. Shall I mention your name?"

  "Tiles," the guard said. Talon knew he would get a commission for sending a patron their way. "Two men and two horse is one deca."

  Talon produced the coin that Gerland had given him, an advance on the horses. He had gotten much less than their worth from the man, and he was certain the merchant would simply sell them himself once they were inside the town. It was worth it to keep questions to a minimum.

  "The Willow, yes?" Talon asked.

  Tiles nodded. "That's the place."

  Talon urged his mount into a slow trot.

  Fulton had no walls, but it didn't need them. It was positioned at the base of one of the larger gorges, and surrounded on three sides by a hundred feet or more of solid rock. On the other side was the Gorge River, two hundred feet wide and a dozen feet deep. The town itself sat on a bed of reddish brown sediment that seemed to cling to everything around it, and was arranged more like a camp than a permanent settlement. Everything was erected in a haphazard, unorganized fashion, the thought of roads abandoned. An inn sat at the far end of the town near the water, while a second building had been erected adjacent to it. A stable had been added at some point behind both. Other merchants had erected wood or canvas pavilions within the space, and even the constable's office was little more than a large tent with a stockade and a noose outside of it.