The Sword Falls

by A. J. Smith

  I enjoyed the look on Driftwood’s face. If it wasn’t for Tasha, giving me a subtle elbow in the ribs, I’ve have burst out laughing. I’d been such an unbelievable bitch to him. I wouldn’t blame him if he punched me, but the wily old captain had too many questions to consider violence.

  “Before you say anything,” shouted Kieran, “things were incredibly tense a little while ago. Things have since relaxed. Have a drink, it’s not bad… Light and fruity.”

  The beer hall was mostly empty, with the populace of the Starry Sky unsure about the visitors, but the six of us, including Daniel and Eva Rage Breaker, had sat around a long, rectangular table and been served with mugs of flavoursome beer. I felt surprisingly relaxed, as if an elaborate practical joke had ended with all parties finding it funny. Added to which was the alliance with Rage Breaker and Daniel, and the revelation of an explosive mineral that killed Sunken Men.

  Driftwood stood before us, on the loose gravel between the Tower of Rust and the beer hall. He let both his arms flop to his sides, and tilted his head, as if his brain was heavy with questions. “Somebody end my fucking life,” he grunted, evidently unable to conjure anything more profound.

  “Things have changed,” I said, raising my mug between us, and smiling awkwardly. “Will you take a drink with me?”

  His eyes flickered left and right, as if searching for a reason to say no. “Yeah, okay,” he grunted, directing the twenty warriors behind him to stand down.

  There were a few Sundered Wolves at the edges of the beer hall, who quickly stood, as if to get away from the strange Sea Wolves. I didn’t want them to fear us, and glared across at Daniel Doesn’t Die, conveying my discomfort. He nodded and stood from his chair.

  “We are all friends,” he shouted, as if making a decree. “We are all Wolves. We were meant to be one people… and we will be so.” His voice was loud and powerful, and his words deeply sincere. There were dozens of Sundered Wolves within earshot, and each of them reacted, suddenly looking at the visitors as welcome guests. Without the masked Servants of Fate, the population appeared less strange, perhaps even like normal Eastron.

  It was slow at first, but the two groups began to mingle. At each end of the beer hall was a pyramid of barrels, and a stone bar, from which mugs were filled and distributed amongst the Sea Wolves. The crew of Halfdan’s Revenge were confused, but they followed their captain and began to relax. Within a few moments, the atmosphere softened. It was helped by Siggy, Kieran and I raising our mugs and smiling, and by Driftwood grabbing a mug of beer and downing it in one go.

  Tasha stood from her chair and gave me a hug. “One of these days,” said the Kneeling Wolf cook, “you’re going to tell me what happened to you. But, for now, I’m just glad you’re smiling. But you still need to eat more.”

  I laughed, wanting to forget the stresses of the world, and just enjoy the moment. “I’ve still got things to do,” I replied. “But you are my best friend, and I thank you for believing in me.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly,” she said, taking a sip of beer to hide her blushes.

  “First things first,” I said, as twenty Sea Wolves sat in the beer hall and began to relax. “What do you think of Daniel?”

  She glanced at him, sitting at the end of the table, conversing quietly with Rage Breaker. “What do I think of him?” she mused. “He’s a man who can’t die, in a hold of people who want to die. Hmm, you know he might be really old?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I’d been thinking the same thing. This place is getting a little crowded. Hold my seat, I’m going to go and talk to him.”

  “Be nice,” said Tasha, as I stood up.

  I winked at her, and walked down the line of chairs, playfully punching Siggy and Kieran on the shoulder as I moved. At the end of the table, the Sundered Wolves sat opposite each other, looking with approval at the way their people had welcomed the Sea Wolves. I took a chair and sat at the head of the table, between Daniel and Rage Breaker. The beer hall was now enveloped in a good-natured atmosphere, and I had no intention of changing that.

  “I like your beer,” I said, raising my mug to them both.

  “It’s at least better than your ship grog,” replied Daniel, taking a deep drink. “As I said, it takes the edge off existence.”

  “Though certain old men do drink too much of it,” added Eva Rage Breaker, raising her eyebrows at Daniel.

  “That reminds me,” I said, casually. “Since we met, I’ve not really been myself. I owe a few apologies, and I vaguely recall grabbing you by the throat, so… I’m sorry.”

  He nodded, but before he could reply, I interrupted.

  “And how old are you?” I asked, hiding my face behind my mug of beer.

  Eva Rage Breaker let forth a girlish chuckle and covered her mouth, modestly. Daniel had a wry look of amusement on his face and eyeballed me as his drained his own mug. Three more drinks were placed on the table and my question hung in the air. Around us, the beer hall was filling up, with Captain Tynian Driftwood becoming the centre of much attention. This enabled the three of us to converse in relative privacy.

  “Okay, okay,” said Daniel, after what seemed like an hour. “It’s just not a question I often get asked. These people know, and I rarely see other people.”

  “Forgive me for laughing,” said Eva. “I know how much it embarrasses him.”

  “So... ?” I prompted.

  “Well,” he replied, “it’s the one-hundred-and-sixty-eighth-year of the dark age, and I was born a hundred and eighty-seven years ago. I was nineteen when we arrived here from across the sea.”

  “Fuck off!” I said, without thinking.

  “He’s not even told you the interesting bit,” offered Eva, smiling warmly and cradling her beer in both wrinkled hands.

  “What’s the interesting bit?” I asked, with a bemused frown.

  “My name,” he replied. “I’ve had several. When I raised the Hidden Claw, I was David Fast Claw, called the Wave Dancer. When I returned from the void, years later, and killed the First Whip… and moved us to this delightful hold, I was Michael of the Mountain, Bear Tamer of the Starry Sky. When I gave power to Eva, she named me Daniel Doesn’t Die, Drinks the Death Bear’s Eye.” He paused. “I think I’ll probably keep this name.”

  I plonked my mug on the table and lent back. The chubby, big-nosed man, sitting to my left, had arrived from across the sea with Sebastian Dawn Claw, the first Always King, and had been one of his legendary claws, as important to his people as Duncan Red Claw was to the Sea Wolves.

  “So, you were born in the Bright Lands?” I asked, with incredulity.

  He puffed out his cheeks and rubbed his eyes. “I’m not drunk enough for this,” he grunted, swigging from his fresh mug. “Yes, I was born in the Bright Lands, but don’t ask what it was like, because I don’t remember. I was a small child and my first memories are of a boat. The voyage took fifteen years.”

  “My arse,” I said, again without thinking. “No voyage takes fifteen years. What did you eat? What did you drink? A heavy fish diet, was it? Lots of rain to collect?”

  He slammed his hand on the table, making Eva and I both jump. “That is what I remember,” he stated. “If you ask again, the answer will be the same.” He gritted his teeth, keeping his eyes fixed on me. “I sour of company.” He gave Rage Breaker a kiss on the cheek and stood, taking his beer with him. An instant later, Daniel Doesn’t Die had disappeared into the press of Eastron.

  My eyes followed him, until Eva grasped my hand, making my head turn back to the old woman. She let forth the tiniest emanation of wyrd, evidently the most these Sundered Wolves would allow themselves, and her power calmed my thoughts. Earlier in the day, it would have made me attack her, but now I was grateful for her mediation.

  “Try not to think about it,” she said. “His own existence has nearly driven him mad. He’d rather not take others with him.”

  “So, he’s telling the truth?” I asked.

  She nodded. “About e
verything but the Bright Lands, and if there’s a truth there… he’s never told it.”

  I took another drink and looked around. The beer hall seated a hundred or so, and was now two-thirds full, with clusters of Sundered Wolves wanting to know everything they could about the Sea Wolves. As Daniel had written long ago, when he had a different name, the Alpha Wolf was to lead all of them.

  At the far end of the table, Kieran Greenfire was checking in with his captain, telling his version of what had happened in the Tower of Rust. Siggy and Tasha were adding details, and perhaps making my inevitable confrontation with Driftwood a little easier.

  “So, who the fuck are you?” I asked the old woman. “And where the fuck have the Servants of Fate disappeared to?”

  “Do you always swear this much?” she queried.

  I considered the question, aware that she was subtly dampening my aggression. “I swear, certainly, but… I might be overcompensating. I’ve not really been thinking clearly. But answer the fucking question.” I gave her a cheerful smile.

  “I was his wife,” she replied. “We met during one of his periods of isolation. He used to say that he was between names. He was listening to the Great Phoenix and told me everything he heard… before making himself forget. He was different then.”

  I was about to ask again about the green masks, but a commotion sounded from the far side of the gravelly square. The Sundered Wolves, under the canopy of the beer hall, began to whisper amongst themselves, with several leaving in a hurry. The crew of the Revenge were confused, but answered their captain’s sudden command to stand to.

  “Easy,” I shouted, sensing a change in mood. I stood, joining the captain at the end of the table, and looking across at dozens of warriors in green masks.

  The Servants of Fate were assembled in lines, with short swords and hand-axes at every hip. They wore armour of wicker and woven reeds, and their intentions were impossible to assess.

  “This is a bizarre trap,” said Driftwood, looking at me awkwardly, whilst keeping half an eye on the warriors with green faces. “Though more traps should be sprung with the giving of beer.” He belched theatrically, indicating he’d quickly sunk three or four mugs.

  I pretended not to look at him, and strode out from the stone canopy of the beer hall, to greet the Servants of Fate. I was suddenly aware that I could no longer extend a spectral arm. My wyrd was still strong, but I was now just a powerful Eastron, unburdened by the mighty wyrd of the Old Bitch of the Sea. Also, though it still took a lot to scare me, I wasn’t as coldly fearless as before. I once again considered the possibility of being wrong, and of dying, though I didn’t think the multitudes of green masks were a threat. I trusted that Eva would have done something if they were.

  “If you all want to fight me,” I shouted, “know that I’m not quite as formidable… and I’ve had a couple of drinks.”

  From behind, the crew of the Revenge slowly left the beer hall, forming up behind me. At my left shoulder was Driftwood, and Tasha stood at my right. They were all pensive, with many sword-hilts being grasped, but I desired no fight here, and conveyed this to those closest to me with a smile and a shake of the head.

  “Hey,” I said to the assembled green masks, “you fight… you kill yourselves… but do you talk? Because I’d rather talk.”

  The ranks of servants split down the middle, with the two groups turning inwards and creating a path between them. From the far side of the square, appearing around the base of the Tower of Rust, came a single green mask. It was a tall man, clearly bulky, though his form was hidden by a heavy, green robe.

  “Adeline, the town just woke up,” grunted Driftwood, pointing over his shoulder.

  I turned, looking back up the black cliff, and saw hundreds of people staring down at us. Across the galleries, the winding streets, and before every building, stood Sundered Wolves. I looked higher, and the number grew to a thousand or more, then enough to make me think the entire hold of the Starry Sky was looking at us.

  I turned back, as the robed man got closer, and I saw that his bulk was actually fat. The green fabric ballooned outwards at his chest, making it resemble a dress. If it weren’t for his height, his wide shoulders, and his confident stride, he’d have looked like an idiot. As it was, his appearance through the column of green masks was enough to make me take him seriously. He stopped in front of me, slightly closer than I would have liked, making Siggy Blackeye take a step forwards.

  “Do you wanna fight?” I asked the massive Servant of Fate. “Would you really beat up a one-armed woman?”

  “Attack and die,” offered Siggy. “We were just starting to relax here. Don’t fuck that up!”

  The man was taller than me. Perhaps even taller than Rys Coldfire or Ulric Blood. His wide chest and huge belly made him look like a tree trunk, rooted to the ground and impossible to move without a few hours and an axe. I had neither, and didn’t intend to try a one-armed choke and put him to sleep. Luckily, he just stood there. “Say something,” I demanded.

  The huge man shifted his arms under the heavy sleeves of his robe, and gathered his chubby hands in front of his face. Either side of him, the two dense ranks of servants mirrored his movements. Every man and woman, perhaps five hundred in total, grasped their green masks. In unison, each and every one of them unmasked.

  The huge, fat man revealed pitch-black hair and dark eyes, with chubby, bruised cheeks. There were ugly scabs on his chin and forehead, and he appeared to squint against the light. The other Servants of Fate had similar facial scarring, and many of them had to shield their eyes. But, despite their strange, woven armour, and their choice to don the green mask, they looked like normal men and women.

  “I am Micah Knows Your Name,” said the fat man, “and I have words. I have a decree and I have message. Will you hear them, Alpha Wolf?”

  I took a moment, glancing around at many thousands of Eastron. The unmasking had sent a potent ripple of emotion across the Sundered Wolves. They were shocked, then sad, then happy, then euphoric, until settling on amazement.

  Tasha put a hand on my right shoulder, and Siggy made her presence known to my left. Between the two of them, they reminded a startled woman that she still had responsibilities. “Say your words,” I said, as loud as I could manage.

  “My decree,” he began, “is that the Servants of Fate will become the Servants of the Wolf. We renounce the phoenix, and all spirits, and will put our lives in your hands… This we were told, and this we believe.” He paused, making sure all the other servants heard him. “We no longer seek death. The black dust is yours. In attack or retreat.”

  From the stone canopy and the winding paths, leading up the cliff, hurried dozens of Sundered Wolves. Many of the unmasked turned and ran to meet them, and I saw brothers, sisters, parents and friends, reunited with their families. I couldn’t imagine the hundred and fifty years that had led to this moment. The phoenix knew all things, and these Eastron knew too much. Perhaps it was inevitable for mortals to form a death cult when they knew their future.

  Micah Knows Your Name stared at me, but kept silent, as emotional men and women reconnected. At the edges of his dark eyes, I saw a glimmer of judgement, as if the fat man blamed me for something.

  Suddenly, we were not the centre of attention. “And the message?” I asked, quiet enough that only those closest to us could hear.

  “The message,” he repeated. “Long ago, the Great Phoenix predicted your arrival. Michael of the Mountain was told that you would lead us away from spirits. You would take the black dust and lead us towards peace.”

  “Peace,” I mused. “I’ve not had a chance to think about peace. Everything has been about war. But your black dust will give us an edge.”

  Micah sneered, this time making it clear he didn’t like me. “I don’t fully understand it’s meaning, but I’m told you will. The Alpha Wolf must be told… that war will lead to naught but oblivion. The Alpha Wolf must be told… to listen to the wisdom of the strange man… a
nd his pale god. That’s the message,” he replied.

  The earth will fall into the sky and the sky will turn red.

  The seas will rise and boil.

  Mortal men and women will destroy each other.

  This I was told and this I believe.

  When the Invaders arrived from across the sea, I tried to tell them.

  I surrendered to their Always King and I told them they were strong.

  I bowed before them and pled for mercy.

  They spared the Pure Ones, but cared nothing for the land.

  I talked, then I argued, then I shouted, but I was not heard.

  This land… our land… will consume them.

  From “The First Book of Law” by Moon Blood Claw’s Bane.

  PART NINE

  Oliver Dawn Claw in the Void

  25

  I drew Zephyr and stood from my throne, surveying the Winterlord knights before me. Five hundred had been selected for my personal guard, enduring months of training until they were as strong and loyal as I demanded. Their armour was new, designed and forged for each individual, with a dark green hue to the steel, and a rendering of the vicious Dawn Claw on each breastplate. Their sword-arms and their rotten wyrd were strong indeed, and they would die for Oliver Dawn Claw, the Forever King.

  Many thousands had begun the training, and many thousands had proved inadequate. Each knight and duellist was shown the power of the Risen God, and many did not survive. Others had failed to show sufficient strength and had been publicly executed in Duellist’s Yard. I’d even killed some myself, fighting them one-on-one to remind the citizens of First Port that I was the strongest Eastron who had ever lived. I made them suffer, and had their families enslaved. No one would ever again be in doubt as to who was ruler of the Kingdom of the Risen God.

  Beneath my throne, down marble steps and a lush, black carpet, awaited my closest advisers. James Silver Born wore a white robe of the finest fabric and smiled broadly as I walked from my throne. He was no longer a duellist, for I would risk no harm to him, and he was always at my side. Next to him, clapping my approach as if I were a conquering warlord, was Santago Cyclone, the lord marshal of my kingdom. He implemented my law with absolute loyalty, and a viciousness that made me proud to call him my friend.