His Ancient Heart

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His Ancient Heart Page 22

by M. R. Forbes


  "No. I'm not a hero. All I want is justice. Please, on your feet, all of you. I am no better than any of you are. My name is Eryn. Eryn Albion. That is all I ever want to be."

  "It's too late for that," a new voice said.

  It was one she had heard before. She turned, seeking the speaker. He got to his feet near the center of the gathering. She knew him. She and Talon had freed him from the Washfall mines.

  "You are the Hero of Elling, and now the Champion of the Cursed," Loshe said. He smiled. "Word has already spread of your escape from Varrow, and how you killed over a hundred soldiers singlehandedly."

  "That isn't true."

  Even if it had been, Fehri had died, and the Overlord as well. Or worse, if Spyne figured out that she was helping them. It hadn't been worth it.

  "Aye, it is true," Trock said. "I was there. I think it was more than that."

  Eryn glared over at the Commander. "Trock!"

  "You," Loshe said. "I know you. And you. I was in the palace dungeon for three days before I was brought to the mines. You're the jailer who watched over me. A soldier."

  "An ally," Eryn said loudly, before the rest of the group had any chance to anger. "They helped me escape."

  "Well then," Finch said, getting to his feet,"you have our gratitude." He motioned for the rest of the people to rise. "Eryn, this is my wife, Elena. Elena, our guest appears to have need of a bath and some fresh clothes. All of them do."

  "I can't promise you a proper bath, but we have buckets and rags. I'll go and see what we can spare," Elena said. She curtsied to Eryn and moved into the gathering, pausing to talk to others in the crowd.

  "All of you, please, return to what you were doing," Finch said. "I will bring Eryn around to meet you once she's had a chance to clean up a bit."

  The people followed Finch's request, returning to their prior activities.

  "Who are you?" A boy asked. Eryn saw he was standing in front of Oz, looking up at the metal man.

  "It is Oz," Oz said.

  "What happened to your arm?"

  "It is lost. It is damaged. It must be repaired."

  The boy stared up at the juggernaut.

  "What is that thing?" Loshe asked, joining Finch and the others.

  "It's called a juggernaut," Finch said. "Or so Eryn tells me. A thing of metal and the Curse, which she says was once called 'magic'. A relic of our past. One of the many things he doesn't want us to know about."

  "How come you don't have a nose?" the boy asked Oz. His mother came along and picked him up, taking him away before Oz was able to answer.

  "The others from the mines," Eryn said to Loshe. "What happened to them?"

  "Toren is here in the camp, scouting the other side of the fields. A dozen more of the faces you see are people from the mines. The rest... Some tried to go home, others were captured and killed in the woods, a few more went on to the larger camps in Portnis."

  "Larger camps? There is safety in numbers. Why are you here?"

  "The mine," Finch said. "He means to reopen it."

  She remembered Patmos' haggard face. "I know, I saw the prison camp. I wanted to help, but-"

  "You barely escaped from Varrow alive. No one would expect you to attack the prison camp, too," Loshe said.

  "I don't know. The way you are all talking about me... I'm not anything special. I'm really not."

  "You are to them," Trock said. "The rebellion needs heroes that are larger than life. That's why your exploits get exaggerated. That's why I just helped make it larger."

  "I don't need your help," Eryn said.

  "No, but they do."

  If that is the path Amman has set for me, who am I to question?

  "Elena should return with some good news shortly," Finch said. "I must ask, Eryn, where were you headed?"

  "It is this way," Oz said, as though the question had been addressed to him.

  "East," Eryn said. "Talon went north towards Edgewater, but may be in trouble and heading that direction. We're trying to catch up to him, to help him."

  She didn't mention they were almost blindly following the juggernaut. She had put her faith in the metal man, in hopes that his ancient design gave him some kind of perception that she lacked.

  "We could use horses if you can spare them," Wallace said, looking at the pen near the back.

  "You'll need more than that," Loshe said. He turned to Finch. "They'll need a guide if they're going to get past the patrols unseen."

  Finch was hesitant. "I barely have enough horses and men here as it is."

  "Men you wouldn't have at all, if the Heroes of Elling hadn't rescued us from the mine," Loshe said.

  Finch gathered his breath and held it, letting it leak out slowly while he considered. At last he said, "Yes. You're right. Frieda has ranged the furthest. Loshe, go and find her. Tell her the two of you will be accompanying Eryn."

  "Me?" Loshe said, surprised. "I wasn't suggesting-"

  "You're our best archer, and I hate to lose you, but I have a feeling she will need you more."

  Loshe started to argue before thinking better of it. He bowed to Finch, touched Eryn on the shoulder, and then went off to find Frieda. Elena returned as he left, two other women trailing close behind her.

  "Sarai and Lilith were were warming some water over a cook fire for their husbands," she said, waving her hand at each as she said their names. "It is a poor replacement for a nice soak, but it's the best we can do."

  "It is more than enough," Eryn said. The bath in Ember had been wonderful, but she didn't need that kind of pampering. The people in the camp had little enough, and they were offering it to her.

  "It's an honor to meet you," Sarai said, doing her best to curtsy to Eryn. She was seventeen at most, with long brown hair that fell to her waist in a braid. "I have some riding clothes that I think will fit you, too." Her face was red, and her eyes darted everywhere but at Eryn.

  "I, too, am honored," Lilith said. She was an older, matronly type, with a large bosom and thick hips. She bowed to them all. "My husband Roen will be returning soon, but I'm sure he'll understand the need to care for the Hero of Elling's retinue." She looked at Trock. "If your men want to follow me?"

  Trock, Wallace, and Gesper all bowed to her. They looked relieved to have a chance to clean themselves up and rest.

  "Thank you both," Eryn said. "Though the honor is mine." She reached out and took Sarai's hand, causing the girl to stiffen in surprise. She looked back towards the juggernaut. "Oz, go up to the top of the hill and stand guard."

  "It is pleased to stand guard," Oz said. It didn't march back up the hill but instead started walking backwards, navigating the terrain without sight of it.

  "Please, lead the way," Eryn said. She did her best to sound confident and in control. The idea of being special, the idea of being so honored and revered didn't suit her. She was doing was she was supposed to do, what she had to do.

  No more, no less.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Eryn

  They were in the camp for three hours, just long enough for each of them to bathe and eat a hastily prepared but fresh meal, and for Finch to lead Eryn through the camp and introduce her to each and every one of the rebels. To a person, they were honored and awed to meet her, bowing or curtsying, taking her gloved hands and in some cases kissing them. A few even gave her tight hugs. She was reunited with the people from the Washfall mines as well, who thanked her again for their freedom, while vowing that they would see the newly rounded up prisoners freed as well. For her part, Eryn made sure to tell them how the Overlord had helped her to escape, and how she should be honored by them in her death.

  They had sent them off with saddlebags filled with food, with what weapons they could spare, and with bright, hopeful eyes and words. It was the last that was the most energizing to Eryn. They believed in her, believed in what she was doing, and wanted her to succeed. Knowing that they were a little less alone was the greatest gift of all.

  "We have to cut
further north, to the Rubin Bridge," Frieda said. Eryn had been expecting her to be a tomboy, a slight girl with short hair, wearing boy's clothes, like her. Instead, it turned out that she was the daughter of a former noble. whose parents had been ordered to the mines by Overlord Prezi after it had been discovered that they were stealing tax money from the Empire. In fact, her family had once owned the massive fields of corn where the rebels now hid. There was a large stone mansion over the crest of the second hill where she had once lived, a mansion that had been claimed by the Overlord for the Empire in restitution, and now sat abandoned.

  They had both died in the mines during Talon and Eryn's rescue.

  To hear Frieda tell it, the Overlord had tried to get her, and her brother sent to her uncle in Rubio, a smaller province to the south of Varrow. Her brother had gone, while she had taken to the streets, found her way to Waverly's, and from Waverly's to the rebellion.

  She was large for a girl, with thick arms and wide hips, a large chest and legs like a man's. She had long flaxen hair that she wound into a bun on her head, and a big face that might have been pretty if it had been less obvious. She wore a dark brown frilly dress, a heavy thing not typical for someone who wanted to stay silent and hidden, though she was somehow able to move as if it was a shirt and pants.She also insisted on riding sidesaddle, like a lady, somehow immune to the discomfort of the position. She had a knife tucked into each of her boots, and according to Loshe she knew exactly how to use them.

  "It is this way," Oz said, pointing east.

  Frieda wasn't impressed by the juggernaut. "We need to cut north. There are about two hundred soldiers camped five miles east of here, and they've been sending outriders as they've approached."

  "It is this way," Oz said again.

  "Oz, we go where Frieda says we go," Eryn said.

  Oz was silent. He lowered his arm and followed them as they spurred their horses and moved north at a light gallop. The metal man ran behind them, its legs whirring and creaking.

  The Rubin Bridge was barely more than rows of wooden planks. It that had been dropped across a six foot expanse of rushing water that flowed down from the Gorge River, and then bolstered to support the weight of horse and carriage. It rested in the middle of a field of wild poppies that grew on either side, an unmarked and mostly unknown crossing that the rebels had been using for months. Rubin was the name of the man who had constructed it, using techniques that he told most he had invented himself. Those he trusted knew they had in truth come from an ancient book he had found, a book he had memorized parts of and then burned in fear of a visit from the Historians.

  "Will it support Oz's weight?" Eryn asked. She wasn't sure how heavy the juggernaut was, though she believed it had to be more than a horse.

  "It is safe," Oz said, looking at the bridge. "It is wood..." It trailed off, as though confused by the use of the material. "It is good. It remembers."

  They crossed the bridge one at a time. When Oz stepped onto it, they could hear it creak.

  "Are you sure it is good?" Trock asked, mimicking the juggernaut's speech.

  "It is within specification." It took another step and was answered with two more sharp cracks.

  "I think you should hurry," Frieda said. "If your weight destroys the bridge, the rebels will have to go another twenty miles north to cross safely."

  Oz stared down at the bridge and then shifted its legs wide so that they rested on the outer edges of the expanse. Two more creaks sounded, but then it shuffled across without further incident.

  "It is within specification," it repeated.

  "Now where?" Trock asked, bringing his mount up to Frieda.

  "It is this way," Oz said, pointing directly east.

  "That way," Frieda replied, pointing in the same direction. She lifted her head slightly. "Oh no."

  "What is it?" Eryn asked, at the same time she saw the answer for herself. Beyond the poppy field was a small, grassy hill. A cloud of dirt was rising behind it. Framed by the cloud was a single rider, who had just finished cresting the hill to get a better look at the surrounding countryside.

  He was only there for a moment, before spinning and racing back down the other side.

  "He saw us," Trock said.

  "An outrider," Frieda said. "They must have started moving north not long before we did."

  "They must know Talon is headed towards Edgewater," Eryn said.

  Could Spyne have caught up to us already?

  She looked at Frieda. "Did you see a man in their camp who was covered in tattoos?" She wasn't eager to cross the General again.

  "No. No Mediators either. I saw one Colonel."

  "A regular company," Trock said. "Still outnumber us thirty to one."

  "Not good odds for them," Wallace joked, glancing at Eryn.

  Eryn looked out at the hilltop. The cloud of dirt was beginning to dissipate, signaling that the company had stopped their advance. She reached down and put her hand on the necklace the Overlord had given her. A red crystal on an ircidium chain. She had enough of the cure that she could afford to be less cautious. Talon needed her, and she knew he would do the same to come to her aid.

  "Form a line," she said. "String your bows. Frieda, move to the rear."

  "Eryn?" Trock said, his voice nervous.

  "They'll be expecting for us to run." Her words were firm. "I'm finished running. String your bows. Now." He was pushing her to be the hero they wanted her to be. She would push him to follow.

  "You heard her," Trock said, pulling his bow from his shoulder. Finch had outfitted each of them with a bow and a dozen arrows, the most he could spare. They all prepped their weapons, notching an arrow and holding them at their sides.

  They stood at the edge of the Rubin Bridge. Eryn watched the hill. The cloud of dust had vanished for a few moments, and then began to rise again. They could hear the pounding of hooves.

  "How many riders?" Eryn asked. Frieda had moved to the back of their line.

  "Twenty or so," she said.

  "Do your best to hit them. Don't worry if you miss." She lifted the pendant from her neck, holding it in her hand by the chain. She took a long breath, feeling the tingle of the Curse begin to run in her ears and down her back. "Charge!"

  The jailers and Loshe spurred their horses forward, while Oz drew its sword and fell into step alongside them. They were a hundred feet from the bridge when the riders appeared, soldiers in full metal armor, riding heavy chargers with protection of their own.

  "Fire," Trock said, loosing an arrow. The buzz of bowstrings surrounded them, and Eryn watched the shots bounce harmlessly off the metal. Even so, the riders didn't expect them to be attacking, and they pulled up their assault in surprise and confusion.

  Eryn pushed the magic into the pendant. "Augue," she whispered. The crystal glowed at the end of the chain, and then a dozen fireballs blew away from it in a harsh whisper, thrown through the air by an invisible hand. The riders saw them coming, and they did their best to turn and run, wheeling their mounts around and heading back up the hill.

  The infantry had caught up behind them, and they met at the crest of the mound, foot soldiers charging forward, cavalry trying to get away. The whole attack became tangled, even as the fireballs dissipated to nothing before reaching their targets.

  "Hold," Eryn shouted, ordering her charging group to a halt. They fired one more salvo of arrows and pulled up their mounts, coming to a stop still a half mile away. Eryn's eyes grew brighter as she felt the magic flowing through her and into the pendant. "Incandeum!"

  There was a woomph of air, and the entire hilltop vanished in a massive rise of flame. Soldiers began to scream, as the protection of the heavy armor that prevented the arrows from reaching their flesh suddenly became their undoing.

  Eryn's eyes crackled with energy, at the same time her heart fell. So many dead. Were they like Fehri or Trock? Or were they cruel and cold like him?

  The fire consumed the grass and poppies; dark smoke rose into the sky
, and the smell of burned flesh became paramount. Eryn closed her eyes, the magic falling away, the pendant losing its glow. The flames vanished as quickly as they appeared. When she opened her eyes, she could see the destruction she had caused.

  "Oz, make sure there are no survivors," she said softly. No one deserved to remain alive in such a condition.

  "It is pleased to follow it," Oz said. It ran ahead of them, sword in hand.

  Eryn gathered the sleeve of her shirt and used it to wipe the blood from her eyes. She looked back at Frieda and saw the girl was crying.

  I certainly don't feel like a hero.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Talon

  "Where is the stone?" Wilem asked when Talon returned to the deck. His shirt was soaked in blood, his breathing labored.

  "Broken," Talon said. "Shattered and useless." He looked over to where Curio had fallen, only to discover the body was gone.

  "We threw all of the creatures over the side," Delia said. "Wilem helped me bring Curio up to his study."

  "The blood isn't mine," Wilem said.

  "Did you know your father was keeping a Cursed girl down there?" Talon asked. "Did you know what he did to her?"

  She looked away from him, refusing to meet his accusatory gaze. She nodded. "I didn't approve of it, but what choice did I have? He was kind to her. Gentle." She paused, looking at the ground. She knew her father was a monster, didn't she? "Rosalei wasn't always in the cage. He put her in there after she became pregnant. She had an attack on the deck one day and killed one of the deck hands. It was for her protection, as well as ours. Where is she?"

  "Dead. Both she and the child." He looked over at Wilem. "He had another shard of ebocite down there."

  "What does that mean?" Delia asked.

  "She was going to suffer a fate worse than death had she survived," Wilem said. "Her loss is a blessing from Amman. Did you know her well?"

  "She was like a sister to me. A shadow. Before, she would follow me everywhere I went. She watched when I trained with Dal, and would come to me whenever she was lonely or sad, or missed her family. She said he was always gentle." She repeated it again, as if to convince herself that gentility made it acceptable. "After, I would go to visit her every day, bring her food and dolls. I sat with her when she cried. I tried to make her life better. If the soldiers had taken her, she would have been dead long ago. My father gave her another option. Does that count for nothing?"

 

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