Phileas brushed his fingers through his expansive beard. “Uh, not exactly. There was talk of me being demoted, but that didn’t pan out because there’s no one else who would put up with all these lowly, lizard-eating layabouts they call recruits. I did have to forego leave and got extra duties for it, though.”
Kate’s mouth dropped open. “You…you were punished?”
“I reckon you could call it that.”
“That’s ridiculous. You saved the lives of at least half a dozen Blacks.”
“The Blacks who have been disbanded and scattered to other units in the Order, you mean?” He waved his hand toward her, indicating her red clothing.
Kate’s shoulders drooped. “Yes. I understand. It is a poor way to reward heroic action.”
“And you should know,” he said. “Look at what they’ve done to you. For example, why are you here? Travada wanting to get you out of the way for a while?”
“How did you know that?”
“Just a guess. It’s no secret that he’s been clamoring for the Black to be disbanded for a long time. He seems to have a particular aversion to you and the way you heroically throw yourself into battle. Doesn’t take a genius to figure he’s poking you with a stick.”
Kate wanted to tell Phileas about what was happening, but something told her not to be so free with the information. She couldn’t think of the man as one of those trying to destroy the Order, but she couldn’t be sure, either.
“He does seem to like making things tough for me. He sent me to deliver a message to Commander Derksen. It ended up being a request for bottles of wine.”
“Yeah,” Phileas said. “Like I said, poking you with a stick, sending you on worthless errands.”
“I don’t know what is happening with the Order,” she said, testing the waters. “It doesn’t seem the honorable organization I once thought it was.”
Phileas leaned forward, eyes intense. “Let’s not bandy words, Kate. There is something seriously wrong in the Order right now. It’s been coming for some time, but in the last few months, it’s intensified. I don’t recognize the Order anymore. When I was at Gateskeep, the mood seemed…strained. I don’t know what’s happening, but if it allows the Black to be dissolved, it can’t be good.”
“And this strain, is it here, too?”
“Not as much as at Gateskeep. There have always been those with ideas rubbing up against the Order’s mission and how it’s carried out, but now they’re more vocal. It seems they think their ideas can get a foothold now. Maybe they’re right.
“I’ll tell you this, nothing much scares me after all I’ve seen and done, but this, what’s happening in the Order, it scares me to my bones.”
“Me too,” Kate said solemnly.
“I know you probably can’t tell me all of what’s going on, Black secrets and all that, but I want to tell you something. The Order is based on, well, order. There is a chain of command and a structure, and all of that is well and good.
“You have to remember the mission, though. You have to remember what the Order was created for. If something seems to be hindering that mission, then appropriate action must be taken. It is not only your right and duty to do something about it, it is a privilege in a way. Do you understand me?”
Kate nodded slowly. The urge to tell him more about what was going on rose in her again, but still something held her back. “I appreciate it, Phileas.”
The big man leaned back and smiled again. “I’m your training sergeant. It’s my job to teach you things. Maybe eventually you’ll be worth something.”
“I surely hope so.” Kate chewed on the words for a moment and then continued. “Phileas, there may be something happening at the next new moon. Something grand and dangerous. We’re not sure exactly what, but it could mean the end of the Order. I wanted to let you know.”
His big, shaggy head nodded. “I see. Thank you for the warning. You take care of yourself, Kate Courtenay. The Order doesn’t have nearly enough of your type.”
“My type?” Kate laughed. “What, red-haired women?”
Phileas joined in her laughter. “Well maybe that, too, but you know what I mean. Heroes are not plentiful, never have been. The trick is to find them early and to nurture them.” He winked at her and stood. “Are you leaving right away?”
“No. I’m going to get some food and then sleep for a few hours. The commander said there are bunks for messengers?”
“Don’t waste your time with those. Smelly, crowded bunks where there are likely to be two or three men already abed. My current class doesn’t have any women. Go and sleep in your old bunk—you know, for old times’ sake. You won’t be comfortable, but there won’t be anyone in there to bother you, either.”
“That sounds fantastic. Thank you so much, Phileas. For everything. Don’t forget what I said about the new moon. I’m not sure what it will mean for you here, but better warned than not.”
“I’ll not forget. Go about your business now. We’ll talk again, sometime after the new moon.”
“I surely hope so.”
26
Kate ate her evening meal while trying to ignore the looks and the whispers. It didn’t help that there were only three other people in the entire hall wearing red. She stood out like a blemish on a forehead.
After eating, she headed back to her old bunk but detoured when an idea struck her. Strolling through the fortress, she passed all three of the large firestones protecting the place.
There were no guards stationed around them. At first, it shocked her, being so used to seeing the guards at Gateskeep, but then she remembered that Faerdham never had guards around their firestones. Thinking of the account she had been told, she wondered if it wouldn’t be better if they did.
She passed through familiar halls and found herself at a door she had hoped she would never have to go through again. The odor had been progressively getting worse as she strode down the hallway, but she knew it would assault her like a rain of fists when she opened the door. She reached for the latch.
“Here, now. What’s this?” a familiar gravelly voice said. Kate recognized it instantly.
Laskaris Brendel limped out of a side door, the portal to his chamber. The demon keeper still looked plainly horrible. He had new wounds, a few new scars, and a missing finger where he’d had one when she last saw him.
“Laskaris,” she said, nodding to him. “You’ve been injured again. You should be careful with these. They’ll eat you if they can.”
“What, what?” He eyed her, confusion in his eyes. Kate could almost hear the demon keeper’s mind turning, trying to figure her out. “You!” he finally said. “You it was that killed my pretty pets. These new ones don’t take to the training as easy.”
Kate sighed. “I am sorry about that, Laskaris. It wasn’t my fault. I was trapped and it was either kill them or be eaten. I preferred not to be eaten.”
“Yes, yes. I can agree. But what are you doing here now? Are you here to kill my new pets?”
“No, nothing of the kind. I was simply here and decided to stop by to see your new pets.”
“Will you clean up, feed them? Are you to be my new helper?”
“Uh, no. I am assigned to Gateskeep. I am merely here for a short time and then I will depart. May I see them?”
“Yes, of course. For a hero, I can let you see my pets. Don’t kill them. Please.”
“I will not unless they’re free and try to eat me.”
“Not free. In their cages, they are.” He turned and limped back into his room, closing the door after him.
Kate shook her head. She still wasn’t sure about the man. Was he sane? Did he even understand what the Order was doing? He knew well enough that she had distinguished herself, or was the remark about her being a hero regarding what she had done in the very room before her? Shrugging, she opened the door to the demons’ room.
As expected, the demon stench nearly staggered her. It was like a mixture of rotting meat and feces
, with other foul things thrown in. She did not miss it at all. In fact, she hoped her brief time in the room would not cause it to stick to her clothing. She had no change of clothes.
She thought better of actually stepping into the room. It wasn’t because she was afraid they would get out and attack her, but simply because she didn’t want to be engulfed by the malodorous demon cloud.
She took her spectral peeps from their case and fitted them to her face. The entire room flared into life with surprising intensity. After a moment, her eyes adjusted and the purple glowing lines and clouds dimmed to a more manageable level.
She scanned the room, seeing tracks and the familiar horizontal pillars. The demons looked at her quizzically, one of them cocking its head in a too-human fashion. They threw thoughts at her, but they were pitiful things after the sendings of thousands of demons at the gate and in Hell itself. She scoffed and one of the demons blinked at her. If she didn’t know better, she would say the look on its ugly face reflected offense.
What really interested her—the reason she had come here at all—was how the demons themselves appeared through the glasses.
They glowed purple, as she expected, but she could see striations, like levels, of different intensities of the color, from plum to mauve. They gave her the feeling of different degrees of heat, with the brightest color right in the center of the demons’ chests, where their hearts were, and then progressively less intense as she inspected their bodies outward.
She wondered if demons that could use magic showed up differently through the peeps. Were they a different color, or were they more intense? She hoped to find out, but she couldn’t do that here. These were simply grunt demons. None of the magic-using demons would be kept here. They were much too dangerous.
She reached for her glasses to take them off, but decided to try something.
“Kellmanach xurki,” she said, trying her best to pronounce it as she had heard Peiros do.
All five of the demons’ heads snapped to her, and a barrage of unintelligible sendings assaulted her. It seemed that the term meant something even to the lowly fodder demons. She filed that information away to tell Molara and Peiros when she got back to Gateskeep.
She removed the glasses and stowed them in their case, then closed the door and left. Sleep, another quick bite to eat, and she would head back to where she belonged. Time was running out, and there was a lot of work to be done.
Early the next morning, before sunrise, she was up and out of the barracks. She suffered through another meal with people watching her, though there weren’t many breaking their fast at the early hour. By the time the sun peeked over the horizon, she was on her way back to Gateskeep.
It would take longer to get there than her trip down the mountain to Faerdham, but she was content at least to be returning. Nothing would delay her now but her own walking pace.
As she traveled, she thought about what Phileas had said. It was true that the most important thing was the Order’s mission. There were bound to be disagreements as to how the mission should be carried out, but what was happening was not simply a disagreement. Someone was trying to destroy the Order itself.
What could she do? The Infirium had tried finding the head of the beast, but it was too well hidden. Fighting an unknown opponent was not an effective way to wage war. They would need to identify their enemy to efficiently fight.
The thought occurred to her that knowing who they fought was not the only thing they needed. They needed allies as well, someone to help shoulder the load the relatively small Infirium had taken up. But where could they get them?
Captain Achard hadn’t been able to see Berart de Maligny before he was discharged. Could the Infirium get in contact with him? Reports suggested that the Supreme Commander was ill and unavailable. It all seemed suspicious, but a simple meeting of a few minutes could resolve many questions and mean the difference between success and failure. Kate promised herself that she would bring it up with Molara and Peiros and see what could be done.
The day passed quickly and night fell. Kate traveled to what she thought might be the halfway point, or a bit beyond, and then she selected a suitable place a stone’s throw from the road to make camp. It was sheltered by a small hill—she chose the leeward side—and a small copse of trees. Its location would block her from the wind that sometimes kicked up and was often chilly.
After starting a fire, she sat near it, soaking in its warmth, thinking. One thing that could be said for a long trip: it was a good opportunity to organize her thoughts and make plans for the future. There was barely over a week left until the new moon, and that had her anxious. She forced herself to think of anything else she could do to make a difference. It wasn’t easy when they didn’t know what the glory of the darkness really meant.
After setting more wood on the fire, Kate settled down to sleep, her sword and shield within reach and a dagger clutched in her hand.
27
Kate’s eyes sprang open. Something had woken her, though she wasn’t yet sure what. Trying not to move her body, she shifted her eyes to scan the surroundings. All that remained of the fire was a pile of glowing lumps. The waning gibbous moon cast some light on her, but though she could see the silhouettes of trees and the hill, she saw nothing else.
A flash of inky movement to her left caught her attention. She looked through the side of her eye and made out a shape slithering toward her.
It was man-sized.
Another bit of motion twitched to her right. Two, then.
She heard the soft scuffle of a footstep near the top of her head but couldn’t see in that direction without moving.
She was being surrounded. At least they seemed to be human. Not demons.
Kate waited as long as she dared, lest they get too close. When she judged the time as right, she jumped to her feet, throwing the dagger left-handed at the same time she pulled her sword from its scabbard. There was a groan from the direction she had thrown her knife.
The darkness exploded with motion as at least half a dozen figures charged her. She ducked a sword slash from behind, snatching up her shield as she turned the duck into a roll. As she came out of it, she slashed the leg of an attacker with the sharp edge of her shield and thrust the point of her sword into the belly of another.
“Get her before she gets too much space,” one of the figures shouted, and five more materialized from the darkness. Just how many of them were there?
Kate’s night vision was good, but fighting in the dark was not like fighting in the daylight. Dante had told her that many foes, even demons, relied too much on sight when there was no light. He trained her to fight using more than her eyes. She had thought it ridiculous at the time because the gate was always well lit for the Red to battle, but again, her trainer’s foresight just might save her life.
The men fought together with uncommon unity. Most people, even most soldiers, grew overconfident when they outnumbered a foe, and they reverted to one-on-one combat, ignoring their allies. These men did not. One would try to draw her out as two more attacked where they thought she was vulnerable. They avoided each other but worked together to take down their enemy. Her.
The attackers were well trained. There was not a shield among them, but a few made motions as if automatically trying to block a blow with a shield. She had no doubt where they had received their experience.
She whirled, sharpened edges of her shield keeping several of them at bay. When one came too close, she would engage with her sword. They were positioning her so they could take advantage of their numbers, but she was determined not to fall prey to that strategy.
She widened her eyes to catch as much light as possible, but also focused on her hearing and on the combat sense she had trained so hard to develop. If she paid attention to it, she could sense when something—or someone—moved near her.
One of the attackers got too close trying to cut at her with his sword. She batted it away with her own and bashed him full in the face w
ith her shield, stunning him. She ducked a slash from another and punched her sword through the stunned man’s throat.
Turning, she ripped the blade from the corpse she had just created and tore a deep cut into another man’s shoulder, following with her shield to slice out his throat. Continuing her spin, she swung her blade horizontally toward another attacker while blocking an overhand blow from her left side. Her strike was caught on the attacker’s blade, but the power with which she swung forced it away with a clang. The strike continued, but merely scored across the man’s breastplate.
Armor. They were wearing armor. Indeed, no bandits, these.
The remaining four rushed her at one time. She crouched, bringing her shield up to block two downward slashes, and cut at another’s knee, wedging the blade between the greaves and the poleyn protecting the lower leg and knee. She pulled back forcefully, slashing the sensitive area, and the man fell.
Rolling backward, away from the assailants, she regained her feet in an instant and jumped toward them as they prepared to chase after her. They couldn’t get their swords up in time, and she tore gashes in the midsections of both, one with her sword and the other with her shield. Not all of them wore armor, it seemed.
As she lurched past the man whose knee she had cut, she rammed her sword into his eye. The blade punched through the back of his skull and into the dirt beneath until Kate pulled it free and faced the last opponent standing.
The man’s head swung back and forth, surveying his comrades. He turned and fled. Kate pulled her hand from her shield’s straps and threw it at the man. It struck him in the back of his legs, toppling him. Kate was already standing above him when he came to rest after sliding several feet.
“You don’t have to die,” she said. “I can take you prisoner.”
The man didn’t speak, only tried to stab her with the sword he’d managed to keep hold of. Kate parried the blow easily and stabbed downward into his heart. This one did have leather armor on, but it could not withstand the point of her sword pushing down with such force. He gave a final, wheezing breath and then lay still.
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