by Aaron Bunce
“Where did you find the weapons?” Tanea managed to ask.
“Gaston found a gate hidden beneath the Chapterhouse. This was there,” he said, patting the armor, “along with crates of weapons and armor.”
“Ee think there is a way out ahead. Ee can hear its song,” someone yelled just ahead of them.
Tanea looked to El’bryliz, but he shook his head. “I will have to explain it to you later. If we have a later,” he said, and together they ran.
* * * *
Julian shut a door behind him, felt his way forward in the dark, and pushed through another door. The servants’ passage was long, the narrow windows set high overhead. Cabinets lined the walls on either side of him, fine clay dishes and glass goblets lining the shelves.
The space reminded him too much of his father’s dining hall at home – only its lack of activity setting it apart from his more recent memories of home. Those memories brought on a sudden wave of nostalgia. The longings for home turned dark quickly, however. His father did not embrace his decision to enlist in the Silver Guard, and unfortunately, Julian’s last memories of home were of heated arguments and disappointed looks.
The door on the far end of the passage opened up into the kitchens, the cavernous space dark and cold. He passed wide tables, still covered in flour, knives, and spoons, twisted braids of bread dough and piecrusts sitting forgotten. Rats scurried for the shadows as he passed, utensils scattering and rattling to the ground in their wake.
Julian approached the half door leading out to a courtyard, the top section unlatched and partially open. The bottom remained securely shut. He snuck a glance out the open door, catching sight of a small courtyard, bordered on two sides by stone buildings.
Flies buzzed behind and to his left, the air tinged by something foul. A pan sat in an open oven, a dark lump of decomposing meat rotting away. Julian quietly unlatched the bottom of the door and swung it open, before tentatively stepping outside.
Up, over, down, and down, to where the dark underneath meets the sun, the handmaidens’ voices echoed distantly, repeating the strange puzzle.
Remaining in the shadows, Julian made his way around the courtyard, finding concealment wherever possible. A small alley cut between the buildings to his left, the space so narrow his shoulders scraped against both sides.
Tanea, show me where you are. Guide me to you, he thought, dropping to a knee and pressing a hand over his chest. He focused inward, her heartbeat instantly syncing with his. White Lady, help me! he pleaded, addressing Tanea’s goddess directly for the first time. He’d been unsure of the bond between them before, refusing to accept the larger hand at work. However, his encounter with the handmaidens in the cave changed that. He tried to make sense of their puzzle.
“Up up, over, down, and down, to where the dark underneath meets the sun,” he whispered. But it still didn’t make any sense.
Julian tipped forward as everything tilted around him. The stone at his feet went fuzzy and he plunged straight into the ground. Darkness gave way to heavy shadows and finally narrow passages. He felt Tanea before he could see her. A bright light flared in the darkness, pushing shadows back. His ears filled with strange noises. A rush of air, or thunder? No! It wasn’t shadow at all, but a sea of dark, evil creatures pressing in on the light.
Panic and determination hit Julian at the same time. He reeled back, the ground flashing up and nearly knocking him from his feet. Tanea’s heart beat a raging chorus, their connection still heightened, a ringing filling his ears. A shadow, perhaps a cloud, passed over the sun above, snow and rock rattling down between the buildings behind him. No, not a shadow. Something large moved above his head.
How do I find you? he thought, pressing his hand flat against the ground. He could feel her, somewhere beneath him, and turned to track it. He backtracked down the alley, the ringing in his ears gaining slightly in intensity.
Julian paused, a boom sounding beyond the alley. He turned sideways in the tight space and dropped a hand to Nightbreaker’s handle. The sword hummed at his hip, and when he cracked the blade free from its scabbard the metal glowed with a gentle, white light.
Of course. Ama’lik, your fool! he thought, chiding himself. He lifted the sword up, pointing it down the alley and away from the courtyard. The blade grew dim, its song fading away. He turned, pointing the blade back towards the banquet hall. The glow returned, the hum echoing off the stone. Nightbreaker would be his compass.
Julian ran back down the alley, but stopped as a shadow passed over the entrance. Something hard struck him in the chest, pushing him backwards. Blood spattered his breastplate, neck, and face. He reached up and wiped it away, keenly aware that it was warm against his skin.
“You made me do it, you made me kill all of them,” Boar bellowed, his wide form filling the end of the alley, the eye slits of his mask pulsing with angry green life.
An icy dagger plunged into Julian’s innards as he looked down at his feet. A head lay not two paces away, the straw colored hair matted with blood, the woman’s eyes frozen open in an expression of absolute shock and horror.
“Their time as fleas was over. They were soon to be reborn…reborn to a glorious new purpose and you stole that away from them. Stole it!” the faceless howled.
Julian stumbled back a step and stammered, trying to form words. He thought that he was buying the prisoners some time, perhaps even affording a few of them the chance to slip out and escape. But he never thought they would bring them harm. Surely, they were too valuable.
“Now I got ta’ end you, flea. I’m gonna pull you apart, first your toes and fingers, and then your arms and legs. I’ll burn your parts and make you watch,” Boar yelled, turning his large body and wedging his bulk into the space.
A shadow passed above them, leaping between buildings. Tile shingles crumbled and rained down behind him.
“No!” Julian cried, planted his foot, and took off at a run. Enemies were above him, circling. He was sure of it. If he allowed them to surround him, his quest would end, and Tanea would die.
Nightbreaker grew dim as he ran down the alley, his gaze flicking to the gap above and behind him, his armor scraping against stone as he bounced against the walls. He was running in the wrong direction, but could double around easily enough.
Julian erupted from the end of the alley, skidded to a halt in the street, and leveled the blade before him. He turned south, and then slowly north, the blade humming loudly once again. With a cursory glance to the rooftops, Julian took off at a run, Boar’s angry growls echoing out of the alley behind him.
Charging up the street, Julian cut suddenly down a side lane, hugged the buildings on the right, and then ducked down a plant-filled byway, turning north once again. He gasped for breath, his heart hammering in his chest, but refused to slow.
Julian staggered into a square, a bakery sitting on the corner, the road sloping up and away from him. He suddenly knew where he was. He’d stopped at the baker’s window many a time for a sweet roll. The Silver Guard keep was just up the lane. Did they still hold it, or had his brothers fallen?
Momentarily energized, Julian held Nightbreaker up before him, the blade glowing brighter as it pointed up the lane, the handle vibrating angrily in his palm. I feel you, Tanea. He was so close. He could feel it.
He leapt forward, sprinting up the hill and mounting a steep hill, his breath gone by the time he reached the top. He glanced back to check for Boar, and ran over the elevated bridge, one of Mount Bahlman’s many deep fissures spanning beneath him.
He stumbled down the first few steps on the other side of the bridge, but managed to regain his balance, and ran down the rest. Up, over, down, and down, to where the dark underneath meets the sun, he thought, looking back at the expansive bridge. Could it be?
He turned right onto the first lane and passed a market stall, just as forms emerged from the building ahead of him. Julian swerved, just missing the first man, but ran bodily into the next. They tumbled forw
ard, the man sprawling straight back, Julian’s momentum carrying him over him and into a clumsy roll.
“What the…?” the man shrieked, a chorus of confused shouts rising up.
Julian stumbled to his knees, keenly aware that his hands were now empty. He looked around frantically, spotting Nightbreaker a dozen paces up the lane.
“What in the hells are you on about?” the man asked, one of his counterparts hefting him off the ground.
“Forgive me,” Julian said, dropping his head and turning away. He made for the dropped blade, moving as casually as possible.
“Come back here,” one of the men yelled, the telltale ring of steel splitting the air.
He bent low and subtly scooped Nightbreaker off the ground, but the blade was glowing bright white, and hummed like a struck bell. The men could hear it, and worse, they could see it.
“What’s that?” the man yelled, his voice harsh and thick with a strange accent. “I told ye to come back here!”
Julian strode forward, but half-turned when the man screamed again. Shutters flew open on the buildings above him, faces appearing in windows, curious and seeking out the source of noise. The man stood not ten paces behind him, a crowd standing just behind him, more piling out from the alleyway with every heartbeat. There were easily a score, maybe two already. Julian’s stomach tightened, expecting to see the glint of a metal mask appear through the group at any moment.
“I ain’t gonna say it again,” the man screamed, the murmur of voices filling the street like crashing ocean waves.
Julian froze, turned a little to his right, Nightbreaker vibrating so hard his hands tingled, and then he ran. Julian didn’t have a plan, his mind grinding to a painful halt; he only knew that he had to move.
His feet slapped hard against the cold stone, sending jolting waves up his legs. He slipped and skidded around a corner, the gradual decline of the street and the icy stone treacherous under his feet. His armor absorbed most of the shock, and he struggled back to his feet, the wave of voices not far behind.
“Down and down, to where the dark underneath meets the sun,” Julian grunted, hoping with all his being that he was moving in the right direction.
A man in hide armor burst from a door straight ahead, falling forward into an awkward tumble. He lunged, swiping at Julian’s legs with a hand axe, the blade falling just short as he kicked to his right and bounced off the clapboard siding.
Glass broke behind him, and again before him. Bodies were emerging from doors, windows, and alleys. A woman kicked off a low roof ahead and to his right. Her knees buckled, but she didn’t fall, bringing a short sword quickly to bear. Julian brought Nightbreaker up, catching the swinging blade head on, the jolt of the strike buckling his arms. He allowed his weight to carry him forward, and bowled the woman over, her shrieking war cry turning to a grunt as she tumbled.
A large rock bounced off the building to his right, while another struck his left calf, staggering him. Julian righted himself, pushing off the wall, catching sight of an alley full of bodies right behind him. They looked like savages, painted and ready for war.
Nightbreaker bounced and jostled before him, swinging left to right, Julian making his decisions on the fly. He went straight, then left, and cut diagonally, the streets and alley growing smaller, their surface rougher. Mount Bahlman loomed straight above him, the towering mountain face closer than he’d ever seen it. He’d never been this far mountainside, and knew why. The structures were more shanties than anything else, the streets barely more than worn paths on the moss covered stone. The place smelled of open sewers and unwashed bodies.
Nightbreaker’s hum suddenly changed pitch, the blade almost singing. He leapt over a rubbish cart, caught his boot, stumbled and pitched right as a weight fell onto him from behind. His boots landed in a gulley carved into the stone, sleet, mud and gods knew what else sloshing beneath his boots, the man’s arms hooking around his neck and sword arm. Their combined weight carried Julian forward and into a rickety wood fence, the sewer gulley disappearing beneath it.
Timbers splintered and broke, the jolt banging his head aside and knocking his wind away. Julian tumbled forward, the man’s arm locked in a strangle hold, the ground catching him in a cold, hard embrace. They rolled several times, Julian ending up on his back with the man beneath him. He drove his elbow down into his side again and again, feeling his ribs contract with every strike.
Finally, with a violent, gagging cough, the man’s arm fell away and Julian tumbled free. He rolled, Nightbreaker scraping against the ground, but found his feet. He took a wide, uneasy step forward, but skidded to a halt. The gulley continued forward forty paces, before disappearing under a three-sided iron cage riveted to the mountainside. Beyond that stood a dark cave, iron grating affixed over the opening.
Nightbreaker glowed as brightly as a full moon, its cry so eager he almost couldn’t hear it anymore. His left hand came to rest on the iron cage and he hefted himself up, catching the lowest bar with a boot and pushing hard.
“To where the dark underneath meets the sun,” he hissed, desperately, and wrenched his body upwards. He made it another rung before hands latched onto his legs and his boots pulled free. He fell.
Julian slapped hard against the ground, hands clawing against him violently, pulling him up and shoving him back against the iron cage. He caught sight of a crowd of people, their hide armor and gnashing teeth making them look like wild animals.
There were easily fifty of them, maybe more. So many he couldn’t count. He tightened his grip on Nightbreaker and lifted the blade before him. If he was going to fail Tanea, he was going to do it fighting.
“You made us run. That ain’t propa,” one of the men yelled, stepping forward out of the crowd, his accent thick and unrecognizable.
“I don’t lie down and die for mindless slaves,” Julian growled, defiantly. He watched their weapons wearily, and noticed that none in the group wore bracelets, and they weren’t fitted with collars either. Were these the men Spider spoke of before? The free men living in the mountains?
“Yer a soldier, heh?” the man cried out to the group behind him. Some booed, others hissed, and a few screamed, but they all shook their weapons. “We took care of yer soldierly fellas. They was hiding in their fort, thinking they was comfy and safe. Until we brung their walls down!”
“Animals!” Julian yelled, sliding into stance and leveling Nightbreaker at the man’s chest. He would be the first to die.
“That’s what they called us. But we ain’t. We gave yer fellas more than dey deserved. We let some of ‘em die by the blade. One by one. Single combat. What did they call it? Wif honor! We’ll even give you the same curtsy,” he drawled, grabbing an eager man from the crowd and shoving him forward.
Julian set his feet as the first attacker rushed in.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Too Good to Be True
Roman leaned back as Noble dropped a basket onto the counter before him. It was overflowing with smoked sausages, roasted garlic bulbs, herb bread, aged cheese, and Lucilla’s cold weather liniment. The basket was a small treasure all on its own.
He looked to Alina, but the young woman was too preoccupied staring out the window. Bits of ice and snow were still stuck in her hair, evidence of his attempt to dump snow down her back.
“I can’t take all of this,” Roman argued, but the butcher instantly started shaking his head, his cheeks a healthy pink.
“You’re a part of this town, Ro. We owe you this and so much more. You take it, or Lucilla will ne’re let you hear the end of it!” Noble countered, shoving the basket back into his arms. “And you take these, to keep that starving dog of yers fed,” he added, grabbing a sizable handful of jerky and stuffing it into one of the canvas bags.
“Thank you, Noble,” Roman said, his insides warm and his heart light.
Noble and Lucilla’s shop hadn’t been their first stop, but all those before it had followed a strangely similar pattern. People,
some he barely knew, welcomed him heartily home. Men showered him with gifts, and women, hugs and kisses. It felt surreal.
Noble shooed him off, mumbling about having to get back to work, and promptly disappeared through the swinging door in the back. Roman pushed the door open for Alina, waited, and tripped over Tusk as the dog bounded between his legs at the last moment.
“You turd!” he yelled, trying to pin the dog, and succeeding only at belly flopping into the snow.
“Graceful,” Alina laughed, watching with an amused grin.
Roman stood and brushed snow off his clothes before fetching the basket from the ground. His gaze lingered on Alina, his eye catching on the graceful curve of her neck, the smart line of her jaw and her slightly pouty lips. She abruptly turned, her pale brown eyes snapping to his. Roman immediately looked down at the basket, his face flushing with warmth.
“So, where to next?” she asked, “Anywhere in town. Gilli’s for some hot bread to go with that sausage…maybe the tanner for some new gloves? Just name the place!”
“We have already been all over town,” Roman said, stamping prints into the snow, “there is one last thing I would like to do before we head back, well, maybe two. I need to check on my friend and see how she is doing. And then I would like to see the old winter barn. I haven’t been there since the…well, since the fire and all that.”
Alina’s smile vanished, her eyes moving down the lane and back to his. Roman followed her gaze, worried that she had picked up on something approaching, perhaps something dangerous.
“What is it?” he asked, but she moved closer and laid a hand on his arm.
“The winter days are short. Darkness is soon to fall. A hot meal at Marna’s, maybe? A cup of mulled wine instead?”
“That sounds nice,” Roman said, truthfully. “After? It will just be a short visit to help put the place out of my head for good.”