Bones of the Empire

by Jim Galford

  A faint chuckle from outside the hut’s door preceded it creaking open. Standing silhouetted against the light outside was Ceran. She walked slowly into the hut, pausing to study Yoska, before turning to face Raeln. “I will ignore the wanderer’s comment for now,” she announced, keeping her back to Yoska. “I have come to ask a question of you, Raeln.”

  Slowly looking up at her, Raeln had to suppress the desire to attack. He knew his tension was likely visible to her in the way his ears sat, but he managed to keep himself still and put on a show of patience.

  Sitting in the middle of the hut, Ceran thought a moment before speaking again. “My people do not kill anyone without giving them the chance to know who they were facing and why, should they wish it. We also allow those who were dishonorably wronged to face their accuser in a trial of wisdom. I lied to you about who I was when I first came here. That was dishonorable and it entitles you to face me in a trial of wisdom…which you may wish to do, as you were found guilty of murdering a clan member.”

  “You intend to execute me,” he thought aloud, lowering his eyes.

  “Intend, no. There are calls for it, though. This is your one opportunity. Would you strike me down while you have the chance? If I give you the right to strike at me, would you take it? Answer honestly. Our people do not punish anyone for honesty.”

  Before Raeln could reply, Yoska was on his feet, one arm around the Turessian woman to keep her from running and the other holding a knife to her throat. She seemed unsurprised, her lips a tight line as she watched Raeln.

  “Stop!” Raeln barked at Yoska. “If you kill her, that only makes matters worse.”

  Yoska muttered something and pushed the knife harder against Ceran’s neck, drawing a line of blood that ran to the tip of the weapon.

  Ceran stared at Raeln with an almost bored expression, daring him to act. She had to have known Yoska would strike at her. She was choosing not to act, instead forcing the decision of what to do onto Raeln.

  “Yoska, I will kill you myself if you disobey me in this,” Raeln said, slowly standing on shaky legs.

  “You lie, friend. We disagree on much, but you would not act against me for killing her. Many weeks you will be mad at me. You will not strike me.”

  Raeln tensed his muscles all across his body, knowing the intimidating effect it had on most people. Even Yoska seemed to shrink back slightly, as though he were debating whether he had misjudged. “Yoska, I put honor and duty above all else. That is one thing I think the Turessians and I agree on. In this, I did kill the man and so I am guilty. If their law mandates my death, I will die as they see fit. Drop your weapon.”

  Turning his head to spit on the floor of the hut, Yoska abruptly released Ceran and threw his knife aside. He stepped away but still looked ready to attack if given the chance. Raeln could see Yoska’s mouth working through some angry curse, directed at Ceran, but he kept his tone low enough that even Raeln could not make out the words.

  “An honorable way to handle yourself,” Ceran said to Raeln, touching the bloody nick on her neck. She lifted her hand and stared at the blood on her fingertips, as though surprised the knife had actually broken her skin. “Far more honorable than many of my own people these days. Is there anything else you would ask of me before the decisions are made? Ask anything you wish. If it does not dishonor either of us, I will attempt to grant it.”

  Raeln looked over at Dalania and found she would not look him in the eye. “Free my friends. If they can go free through my death, it was worth it.”

  “A request of a truly loyal man,” Ceran noted, smiling gently. “Would you not ask for your own life? Perhaps a plea for mercy? I gave you leave to ask for anything. Ask for all the world, and I will tell you if I can comply.”

  Looking around at the other two, Raeln shook his head. “If your people find me guilty, then I am guilty by your law. I have never run from responsibility, and I won’t start now. If you spare me unjustly, I’ll always know I was guilty. They have done nothing to deserve this sort of fate. I would ask for them to be spared, not myself. If I have to give you specifics, I ask that you forgive Yoska’s attempt on you today.”

  “I can do that and will gladly,” Ceran replied, bowing her head. “Are you certain you wish to accept punishment when you could as easily fight to escape? You could kill me and run. It would be hours before they knew you were gone. They would never know what you had done. You could even plead to the other preservers for mercy. This is not an offer I make lightly.”

  Raeln looked over at Dalania, who appeared ready to burst into tears. He then turned his attention to Yoska, who had retrieved his knife and was pointing it at Ceran’s back, giving Raeln an expectant stare and smirk. When Raeln did not give him any signal, Yoska made a half-hearted stabbing motion at Ceran, as though Raeln had not understood the more subtle gesture.

  “No, I can’t do that,” Raeln finally admitted, and Yoska nearly dropped his knife. “I’d know I’m guilty, no matter where I go. Killing you would only compound my guilt. I don’t expect anyone else to understand.”

  Ceran nodded and got up, giving Yoska a glare as he hid his weapon. “The three of you may rest for the next day. I will come for you the following morning to bring all of you to the place where Raeln is to be executed, if I cannot talk Nellic’s clan from their current demands. You may watch your friend’s last moments, should it come to that. There will be many arguments yet, so do not give up hope.”

  “Why wait?” Dalania asked angrily. “It is even crueler to make him spend that long worrying. You would not have come down here if you thought there was any chance of them changing their minds.”

  “I apologize,” Ceran said, and Raeln thought she looked sincere. “The council’s representatives will want to be present for his death. Despite the lie we already told them, they must be here for this. Our runners will attempt to bring them back as soon as possible. If we spare Raeln, they must be here to destroy our clans. If we execute Raeln, they must be here to witness.”

  Without another word, Ceran departed, closing the door behind herself.

  “I am going to stab that woman in face,” Yoska muttered once Ceran was likely well out of earshot. “You have my oath on this, Raeln. She so much as pets you funny, she will be dead before she can pull her hand back. I swear this by my mother’s mother, and she was not woman for me to swear lightly on.”

  Chuckling at Yoska’s bravado, Raeln answered, “Don’t bother, Yoska. She’s doing what her people’s laws require. I cannot fault her for that.”

  “I can,” Dalania snapped, pulling her knees up under her chin as she glowered at Raeln. “I can also blame you for not fighting to get away.”

  “Would you fight, when you know this is right?”

  Dalania’s expression told him she would not, but did not want to admit it. For once she wanted someone else to fight when she would prefer a calm solution.

  “I would never forgive myself, Dalania. Let me die how I feel is right.”

  Closing his eyes to meditate, partially to pass the time and partially to keep from having to see the pain in his friends’ faces, Raeln took and deep breath and waited. He would face his end proud and calm, as Greth had. Right up to his last moment, he was still learning from Greth, even this long after his death.

  Chapter Five

  “Old Friends”

  I will never get used to having friends, allies, and loved ones. It seems absurd to admit, but I spent most of my early life alone on the streets of Altis. Now, even with three more of my friends gone or dead, I somehow find myself with company I can rely on.

  Feanne will slap me around as willingly as any enemy, but her love is unquestionable. I have long since come to grips with the way our relationship works, and I will forgive nearly anything. She, too, has become accustomed to my quirks, and though I anger her far more than is probably wise, her frustrations rarely last long. She is my truest friend and most trusted ally.

  Turess is a strange one. I do
not fully understand why he is helping us, but I see sadness in his eyes each time he looks at us. I had no reason to trust him and even less grasp on what motivated him until the day he forcibly intervened in an argument Feanne and I were having, demanding we stop. He would not let us continue until we stopped bickering and admitted the stupidity of our words, since we clearly loved one another. Turess is kind beyond words and hates conflict in those around him, even as he is ready to charge headlong into warfare. How he could have conquered the world, I cannot imagine. That contrast in his personality is why I have begun to trust him with my life.

  With these two at my sides, I have hope that we might actually find a way to attack the heart of Turessi. Surviving is another matter. If I manage to put these writings in your hands myself, it will be quite the tale.

  “Are we sure about this?” Estin asked, hunkering down in the alley not far from the city gates. He could see at least a dozen armed soldiers waiting at the gate and far more archers above. It looked the same as it had every day for the last week. The last time he had tried to slip through those gates, he had the priests helping.

  “The whore told us this would work,” Feanne replied. She lay on the ground to watch the same group from beneath a wagon. “I have no reason to distrust her, except when it comes to my mate. Are you certain she washes her hands before serving meals?”

  “I’m not going to leave you for a human prostitute, Feanne,” he insisted for the tenth time in the last hour. He regretted explaining the purpose of a whorehouse and letting her wheedle out his own experiences with them. Each day had only grown worse, with her assuming far more about the employees of the place than was probably healthy for anyone.

  “No,” she agreed and he swore he saw her smirk. “I would not let you. That female would be dead before she could get out of that absurd dress of hers. I have no fear of her taking anything from me.”

  Rolling his eyes, Estin returned his attention to the guards. Jealousy was not something Feanne came to naturally, so he had to assume she was goading him. If not, he would have to keep an eye on her around the house’s prostitutes or she might hurt someone. The last thing any of them needed was Feanne ripping someone’s head off for asking Estin if breakfast was pleasant or offering him a cup of tea.

  “There!” he noted a minute later, pointing at the man from the whorehouse who was moving closer to the gates. “Get ready to move.”

  Looking over his shoulder, Estin saw Turess leaning against the side of a building, his mostly black clothing allowing him to blend into the shadows nicely. He barely understood their plan, but he was going along with it, letting the two of them make any decisions. At Estin’s glance, Turess straightened and nodded, letting Estin know he was ready.

  From what Estin could see, the man they were watching was trying to market the whorehouse to the guards. Estin knew that was pointless, as Jnodin’s soldiers were like any others—they would not leave their post until the end of their shift. Despite that, within minutes, all eyes were on the loosely dressed man. Estin wanted to know what he had said to draw that many eyes, as it might come in handy someday. He honestly could not even be certain if the guards were intrigued or upset.

  A moment later, two women Estin recognized from the house—now dressed in commoner’s clothing—slid along the wall to one of the smaller doors that allowed individuals in or out without having to open the main gate. The two women descended on the single guard left there, striking him from behind with what looked to be a small club. The soldier dropped like a leaden weight, and the women motioned for Estin’s as they propped the man in a chair.

  “Go!” Feanne announced, hopping to her feet. “Turess, hurry up. Estin…do not touch those females.”

  Giving her an annoyed glare, Estin ran after Turess, making his way across the road to the door. They crossed without incident and soon ducked into the shadow of the doorway, the three of them and the two prostitutes all crowded into the small space. Feanne made a point of putting herself between Estin and the nearest woman and let out a very low growl Estin doubted the humans could even hear. He knew that sound to be a warning and so did his best to ignore it.

  “We will close the door behind you,” explained one of the women as she adjusted the guard to make it harder to see he was unconscious. “Hurry!”

  Turess opened the heavy door out onto the northern plains and went through, hugging the wall to be sure he was not seen by the archers above.

  Feanne followed Turess before reaching back and grabbing Estin’s arm as he tried to give his thanks to the two women. “This one is still not allowed to speak to either of you,” she warned the women, who seemed utterly amused. “Thank you for your help.”

  With a powerful tug, Feanne yanked Estin out of the city and nearly threw him to the ground. The humans closed the door behind them and locked it. There was no going back.

  “That was rude, Feanne,” Estin said once they were flattened to the wall like Turess.

  “No, that was making matters clear for females who have issues with staying a proper distance from someone else’s mate,” she replied sharply, moving quickly westward along the wall after Turess. “If I were being rude, I would have killed one and warned the other. I was as diplomatic as I ever needed to be in the pack. They seem oblivious to my quieter warnings.”

  “They aren’t wildlings.”

  “All the more reason to spare them. Humans may not know better about when they have entered another’s territory. Besides, I saw the males who visited that place. Most smelled of another female. They had no place being there. The females might have expectations that they can claim another female’s mate. That may work for Yoska’s people, but not for mine.”

  “I’m not territory…or property, for that matter, Feanne.”

  Grinning toothily, Feanne replied, “Of course not, my love. Keep reminding yourself of that while we run.”

  Before Estin could come up with a retort, she ran along the base of the wall, with Turess lifting the bottom of his robe to try to keep up with her. Estin had no desire to be left behind, so he gave up on the argument and ran after them, skirting the edge of the city.

  They continued that way, using the lip of the wall to hide themselves from the archers for most of the afternoon, until they finally reached a section of the wall that was less well-maintained and looked more like a natural formation. From there, Feanne led the way toward the plains and away from Jnodin. Their pace gradually slowed over the course of the day, once they no longer had to worry about arrows hitting them. Near sunset they finally moved into the open and walked more freely.

  “Where are we going?” Feanne asked as the sun began to descend behind the mountains in the distance. “It’s time we got better directions. I have followed the direction you pointed, but that may not be wise to do forever.”

  Trudging along beside Estin, Turess looked up at the sky and then down at Feanne. “To sun’s resting. You call…west?”

  Feanne came to an abrupt stop midstride and turned on Turess. “Where in the west? Mountains? Beyond them? Where? We have been hundreds of miles past those mountains. The world is too large for little more than a direction.”

  Turess opened his mouth and briefly closed it again, shrugging. “Mountains, yes. Where, do not know. Maybe I see place in memories after we are close. May wander few days until knowing.”

  “We’re traveling by vague memory?” Estin laughed as he sat down. “This is going well. The mountains are only about twelve hundred miles north to south and a few hundred deep. I know they end in an ocean in the south, but no idea where the northern reach goes. How could we possibly miss our destination with those odds?”

  Scowling, Turess thought a moment before replying. “Your words are jest. The tone makes familiar. The meaning of jest not see in head. For direction, we follow compass I left. Without compass, we not find anything in span of lifetime and certain not before war is over.”

  Feanne gave Estin a questioning glance that told him
she was as confused as he was. “What compass, Turess?”

  “I made item I had on me drawn to place I was at, so I could find it again,” he explained vaguely. Lifting his hands, he tapped the bracelet and chain together. “Item lead us back like compass, yes? We find ally there who did not want me finding way. Compass was trick to make her not know I could find again.”

  “Wait, we are going to someone who does not want to see you?” Feanne asked. “And where is this compass? I have not seen any of our allies with a compass.”

  Pointing at Estin’s waist, Turess smiled broadly. “Man has compass. I saw compass when he was looking for flint other day.”

  “I do not,” Estin countered, opening up his pouches so the contents were visible. “Show me a compass. I know every item in these pouches, and there’s nothing like that.”

  Chuckling, Turess reached over and plucked a simple metal chain from one of Estin’s pouches, from which dangled a worn old coin. It had been on the corpse of an elven woman far south of Jnodin, who had likely been meaning to join up with their group as part of the army On’esquin had expected them to meet in the north. Estin knew it was a relic from Turess’s time, but he had not given it any thought in weeks.

  “Compass,” Turess repeated, pointing at the coin as he held it up, the tarnished metal still managing to catch the sun’s rays and cast long beams of light westward.

  “That…is a coin,” Estin said, closing his pouches. “It leads us nowhere, except maybe to an enthusiastic shopkeeper.”

  Scowling, Turess beckoned Feanne over. When she walked up to Turess, he moved to put her between himself and the setting sun. She shied away from his touch, and he smiled vaguely, pointing instead. Despite her position blocking the light, the coin continued to cast a beam to the west, creating a bright spot on Feanne’s heavy cotton shirt near the center of her ribcage.

  “Compass,” Turess insisted. “Father once say money leads too many people. I take him at word when I make this. Was joke to me. Regular compass not find person we need, anyway. Magic find her and nothing else.”