Steel And Sorrow (Book 2)

by Joshua P. Simon

  “No. Everyone assumes that we’re supposed to operate in groups. That limits what we can do. We don’t have as many mages as Conroy and Markus so we need to be able to operate independently.”

  “You’re crazy. We’re not ready for something like that.”

  “He’s right,” whispered a black-robed mage that came up beside Krytien. “You’re trying to teach them techniques they aren’t ready for. One Above, many at our level can barely do some of the things you’re showing the green robes. And you’ve got the yellow robes doing things they’re still years away from.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I was doing some of this stuff long before I ever got my black robes,” said Krytien.

  The black-robed mage grunted. “Then you’re an anomaly.”

  “I doubt it. I’m not having anyone do anything they aren’t capable of doing.”

  Krytien faced Lufflin. “Look, I promise that you can do this.” He inclined his head. “Janik isn’t giving in.”

  “Don’t compare me to your pet,” hissed Lufflin.

  “I’m sorry,” said Krytien, straining for patience. “I didn’t mean it like that. Look, how about we alter the exercise and do this together.”

  Lufflin folded his arms. “Use someone else.”

  Krytien suppressed an urge to slap him. Now isn’t the time for that.

  He caught Nora watching the exchange. She quickly looked away. “Nora, come here a moment.”

  “No, that’s alright. I’d rather watch.”

  “No,” said Krytien in a stern voice.

  “But I’ve mostly been helping Wiqua in the infirmary. I haven’t been practicing battle tactics.”

  “Even better. Come over here.”

  Krytien stepped between Nora and Lufflin so she wouldn’t be able to see Lufflin’s reactions. “Now, we’re going to do exactly the same thing as you were doing before with your boulder.”

  “But I was barely able to swing it with any speed at all,” she protested.

  “And this time you’ll do much more. We’ll start the process together, but gradually I’ll stop assisting you. Then we’ll see if you can keep going by yourself.”

  She nodded nervously. “If you say so.”

  “Take a deep breath and let’s begin.”

  Krytien felt her reach out toward the boulder with invisible hands. Having done the exercise countless times over his life, he followed suit. The boulder rose shakily from the ground. “Stop fighting the object,” he said softly. “Imagine it’s as light as a feather. It should bend to your command not the other way around.” He felt her resistance lesson. “Good. Now, let’s start slowly. Left to right and back again.”

  The boulder swung in the air, some twenty feet off the ground. It swayed in a wide, arcing motion, sixty feet to either side. “Alright,” Krytien added. “Let’s pick up speed.”

  The boulder increased speed—the whooshing air kicked up dust from the ground. Audible gasps of amazement came from behind.

  Lufflin called out in a smug tone. “Let’s see what happens when you stop helping her.”

  “Actually, I haven’t helped her since the stone came off the ground.”

  “What!” the mage exclaimed.

  “What!” said Nora.

  Krytien felt her lose control and the boulder sailed through the air. Krytien grunted and caught it midflight before it flew into the trees bordering their camp. He eased it down.

  “One Above, I’m so sorry,” said Nora.

  “It’s fine. I expected it,” he told her.

  “You were serious. You weren’t helping me, were you?” she asked in wonder.

  “No, I wasn’t. You just had to get past the mental barrier you placed on yourself.”

  Nora’s face lit up and she hugged Krytien. She stepped away. “I’m sorry. I just can’t believe it.”

  Krytien chuckled as did many of the other mages watching.

  Nora looked to Lufflin. “Did you see . . .”

  She frowned and her question trailed off as Lufflin pushed through the crowd. No one sought to run after him.

  “What do you say we keep practicing?” asked Krytien.

  Her face hardened as she watched Lufflin sulk away. “Yes, I’d like that.”

  Krytien repeated the exercise with her as other black-robed mages did the same with others of lesser skill.

  * * *

  “C’mon, what is with you? We don’t drill for a few days and you forget everything you ever learned!” yelled Drake.

  Truth was it had been more than a few days. Drilling had slipped as he spent time with Raker in the infirmary. Senald, who he had put in charge, held a different set of standards than Drake.

  A good soldier, but he’s not ready to lead.

  For the third time that morning, he had the men disassemble and reassemble the trebuchets in a plot of open land he found outside of camp. Their time had suffered greatly since he last ran the drills. Men sprinted between the equipment, stopping only to puke their guts up or gasp for air. Sitting on their rears and drinking each night had done them no favors.

  It’s my fault. I should have stayed on them rather than worry about Raker.

  It was an awful thing to think, but Drake had finally given up on the man. His men needed him too much to waste any more time in the infirmary.

  I’m sure Kroke learned the lesson a lot sooner last night.

  Four men struggled with a massive beam as another failed to tightly secure the rope. Men scrambled as the beam tumbled to the ground.

  Drake opened his mouth, ready to lay into them again when a familiar voice cut him off.

  “One Above, you piece of garbage. Who taught you to tie rope like that? It sure wasn’t me and I know it wasn’t Drake.”

  Mouths hung open as Raker stomped toward the group. He wore a mail shirt, the left sleeve shortened. He already looked out of breath as he squinted into the morning sun. Raker pushed his way past several soldiers before stopping and spitting at the engineer’s feet whose rope skills caused the mishap.

  “What’s your name, son?”

  “Clarnat, sir,” said the soldier, confused.

  “I know I’ve been as good as dead, but I don’t recognize you or the name.”

  The soldier looked around for help, but everyone stared at Raker, including Drake, too dumbfounded to say anything. Finally, Clarnat responded. “I came over from Bronn’s forces after the last battle. I’ve sworn allegiance to the queen and to Kaz.”

  “Ah, that explains it. Well, I could give a horse’s backside who you swear allegiance to. All I know is that if you’re gonna be working on equipment like this, you better learn how to tie a decent knot.” He started barking orders. “You four, close your blasted mouths and pick up that beam again.”

  Men hurried and obeyed. Within moments Raker worked the rope around the beam with one hand, using his weight and legs to tighten it. Once he got to the end, he looked back at the soldier who watched him.

  “Cletan, get over here.”

  “It’s Clarnat, sir,” the soldier said as he came over.

  “Close enough. You haven’t done anything yet for me to remember your name. Here, take this rope.”

  “What do you want me to do, sir?”

  “Listen to me and tie it just how I tell you. I’d show you myself, but I’m missing the necessary tools,” said Raker, raising his stump. “Now pay attention, because I hate telling people the same thing twice. Ain’t that right?” he called out.

  Several grunts of agreement and “yes, sirs” sounded.

  Drake listened to Raker explain the knot. It was almost like the engineer had never left.

  What did Kroke say to him last night?

  Upon completion of the drill, Raker called out, “Now go again. We’re gonna drill until dusk unless you get it right.”

  The men started up again as Raker strode toward Drake.

  “Looks like I still got it,” said Raker. He spat a wad of tobacco to punctuate the statement.

&
nbsp; “So that’s it?” asked Drake, staring out at the field. “You act like a mule for months, nearly drink yourself to death, treat everyone who cares about your sorry behind like crap, try to get yourself killed, and you think that just magically showing up one day and doing your job again is going to set things right.”

  “I guess not.”

  “No, it won’t.”

  “You want an apology or something?”

  Drake turned and jabbed his finger into Raker’s chest. “I ought to kill you myself. Want has nothing to do with it. I deserve an apology. Without me, this whole division would have fallen apart. You think you can just come in and take it from me? Well, think again. I’ve earned the right to lead them.”

  “Look kid, I ain’t here to take command from you, if that’s what you think.”

  Drake glanced back. “Then why are you here?”

  “To help you lead. Here’s the thing, you suck at being me. Not saying you can’t muster out a bit of grit from time to time, but you do better with all that technical mumbo jumbo and being yourself. Face it, there ain’t no one here who can do what I can and you know it.”

  “So, what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying you’ve done good while I’ve had my head up my butt. But I’m ready to contribute again. Kroke talked some sense into me last night and its time I moved on and lived. I talked to Kaz before I came over here and we’re straight too. You and I are going to co-lead the division.” His face got sterner. “Now, if that ain’t a good enough apology for you, then too bad. I ain’t about to get all sentimental with a hard leg like you. Got me?”

  “Yeah, I got you. But just so we’re clear, you better not have another meltdown. Next time, if you want to die, just let me know and I’ll do it. It would save me a whole lot of trouble.”

  Raker spat. “Fair enough. So, we’re good?”

  Drake slowly nodded. “We’re good.”

  Raker cupped Drake on the back of his head with his right hand. “Now, I got five gold coins in my pocket that still says I can outshoot you with a ballista.”

  Drake grinned. “You’re on, you old fart.” He took off toward the nearest equipment as Raker began a tirade about showing respect for your elders.

  Drake felt the weight of the world lift from his shoulders.

  * * *

  Raker walked back to camp lighter by five gold coins. His old self would have been bitter about the loss, but truth be told, the money meant little to him. The kid had gotten better while he had been in his stupor and it felt good to see Drake win.

  He smiled. Besides, I swiped the coins from Krytien anyway.

  Though Wiqua had healed his arm, the old Byzernian hadn’t done much to strengthen his muscles or lungs. Since Raker had lived for too long in his own misery, both had become a shadow of what they used to be. To his surprise, he didn’t mind the soreness in his legs or burning in his chest. It made him feel alive.

  Raker swallowed hard as he neared his destination. He had not been worried about smoothing things over with Drake. The common ground they shared helped fill in the gaps of their relationship.

  But Yanasi’s another story.

  He took a deep breath and walked through the open tent flap.

  Yanasi looked up confused. “I didn’t know you were out the infirmary,” she said.

  “Well, now you do. Mind if I sit down?” he asked.

  “Go ahead. I’m glad to see you’re doing better. I was really getting worried about you.”

  “I know.” Raker heaved a sigh as the weight came off his legs. “Man, I’m out of shape.” He looked her over. “You look too tired for someone your age. Rygar wearing you out?” Yanasi kicked his leg and Raker let out a yelp. “What I say?”

  She scowled. “I spent all that time keeping you company in the infirmary and when you get out, the first thing you do is say something like that?”

  He rubbed his shin. “Sorry, you’re right. Thanks, alright? You know I haven’t been in my right mind for some time.”

  “No, you haven’t.”

  He grunted. “What’s today’s date?”

  “The tenth. Why?”

  “Cause I’ve known you since you were about as tall as my waist and I think that’s the first time you ever agreed with me. Thought I should mark the occasion.”

  She smiled and Raker saw how exhausted Yanasi truly was. He had spoken with some of her men and learned that she had been pushing herself night and day. Rygar confirmed as much, but like Kroke, believed that the real cause for her weariness had little to do with the work and more to do with Jonrell and the current state of the Hell Patrol.

  “You know, you don’t smile enough. Long as I’ve known you, you barely ever show those pretty whites.”

  After a long a pause she raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

  “Well what?”

  “Well, where’s the rest of it?”

  “You lost me, girl.”

  “You never give me a compliment without saying something dirty or sexual afterward.”

  Raker shook his head. “That’s not why I’m here. You saved my life by getting me to Wiqua and I’m here to return the favor.” He extended his hand and put it on hers. “We both have some healing left to do.”

  “Huh?”

  “Kroke came to see me last night after he talked to you. I think he helped us both cope a little better with Jonrell’s death, but I know I ain’t done yet. From the looks of things, I doubt you are either. Am I right?”

  A tear fell down her cheek. “Yes.”

  “Well then. What say you and me take a walk into the past and visit him? I’m willing to bet he’s still there waiting for us.”

  She squeezed his hand. “I’d like that. But you go first.”

  “Alright.” He paused, thinking of a good place to start. “I met Jonrell and Cassus when them two strolled into The Orchid on Slum Isle thinking . . .”

  Chapter 31

  Practically alone on deck, with little more than a sliver of a moon to keep him company, Tobin still felt self-conscious. He had rarely shown his face during the trip home, preferring to come out at night as the stars seemed to scrutinize him less than the unforgiving light of day. Other than a few updates from the captain or word sent from one of the many ships sailing in their wake, Tobin kept to himself. Even Nachun disturbed him little, except to ask an occasional question about the Kifzo’s strength. Tobin used the extra time alone to question his recent actions, trying to determine how he had become a shadow of his former self.

  The more he reflected, the more he questioned his own sanity.

  Nightmares had haunted Tobin’s mind for as long as he could remember. Acts of violence, malice, and horror had always crept into even his most pleasant of memories. He thought he knew all of those miseries—the viciousness of his father and brother, the ridicule from the other warriors, the atrocities he had unwillingly participated in under Kaz’s command, and now the ones he had added since becoming warleader.

  But foreign images from his past had also begun to infiltrate his thoughts—images that confused and distorted some of his oldest memories.

  The one time Tobin stood up to Kaz, his brother left him for dead after turning him into a cripple. But, new dreams from his childhood showed Tobin as the aggressor. At first Tobin thought his brain had begun to flip the roles of him and Kaz, but then he realized the images were different than those he had known before.

  We were just boys then. Yet, I can hear Kaz’s cries for me to stop as I beat him. Who would have thought that was possible?

  The new memories had one thing in common. Based on the ages of Tobin and Kaz, he knew they all preceded the death of his mother.

  * * *

  Tobin tried to continue his trend of introspection by ensuring they reached Juanoq’s bay in the middle of the night. He knew the thousands of warriors he brought back with him might be upset by not enjoying the city’s welcome after a successful victory, but Tobin’s guilt would not allow him to suffer t
hrough such an event.

  After pulling into the bay, Tobin actively sought out Nachun. He found him busy with three shamans.

  “. . . I don’t care what time it is. Make sure everything is ready by the time I get there.”

  “Get where?” asked Tobin.

  Nachun turned, and smiled. “My room. I have something that needs attending to tonight.” He gestured to the shamans. “They’re assisting me.” He dismissed the three men.

  “Your plans will have to wait.” Tobin lowered his voice. “You’ll be assessing the damage Soyjid did to me tonight.”

  Nachun shook his head, turned his back to Tobin and began walking. “That’s impossible. If I do that, I won’t have the energy afterward to take care of my own concerns.”

  Tobin’s anger flared. He snatched Nachun by the arm and spun him around. “Then you’ll need to reschedule your concerns.”

  Nachun looked down at his arm. Tobin let go after a moment. The shaman scanned the busy deck. “This isn’t the place to have this conversation.”

  There is nothing to discuss, Tobin wanted to say, but Nachun had already moved away from him. He closed his hands into fists and followed.

  When Tobin closed the door to Nachun’s cabin behind them, he finally blurted out. “There is nothing to discuss.”

  Nachun chuckled. “What’s your sudden hurry? I had to talk you into returning home.”

  “I feel worse. I’m having visions of things that I had no previous memory of. I’m struggling to understand them.”

  “I’m sorry, but one night will not make a difference. We can handle this tomorrow evening after I’ve done what I set out to do.”

  Tobin slammed his fist into the door behind him and splintered the wood. “No. That isn’t how it works. We will do this tonight. I’m Warleader and you’ll listen to me or—”

  “Or what!” erupted Nachun. His body glowed and Tobin dropped to one knee, gasping for air. “What will you do to me, friend?” He spat the word. “What’s happened to you? Have you forgotten all that I’ve done for you?”

  “Have you forgotten all I’ve done for you?” he grunted. “I don’t know what’s happened to me. That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” gasped Tobin. He took a deep breath as the air returned.