Reaver's Wail (The Legion of the Wind, Book One)

by Corey Pemberton

  “To be fair,” said Willow, “most of those are old wives' tales.”

  “How should we know? No one's seen a healthy sorcerer or sorceress roam the world since my father's father's time. Prove it, woman! If you truly are what you say.”

  She stepped closer, oblivious to the driving rain, and her green eyes burned brighter than the fires behind her. “I'm not sure you want me to do that.”

  “I've seen it, Brenn,” Argus said. “I saw her sculpt a bench out of the earth in the Founder's Garden.”

  “Did you? Did you really—or was that just one of the powder's tricks?”

  Argus told him how his cravings were what had gotten him into this mess in the first place. He and Willow had made an agreement: a dead emperor for his released soul.

  “And now the hussy brought Reaver right back to you! Great!”

  “I'm giving him another chance,” she said.

  Brenn crossed his arms in front of his chest. He refused to look at them. Argus watched the anger crawl up him like a swarm of ants, tickling the Nalavacian's legs. That anger worked its way higher. It didn't stop until his entire body quivered.

  “Do it now.”

  “What?” she asked.

  The Nalavacian glared at her and said, “If you can release him from that sword, do it now.”

  “That's not how the bargain works.”

  “I don't give two shits about your bargain!” He unfolded his arms and rose to his full height, towering over them. “You don't know how much he's suffered. I've seen Argus driven to madness—past madness. All for that buggered sword.”

  “I'm sorry. I can't—”

  Brenn lunged at her, hands out, screaming. His mind was gone. There were only two pale blue daggers where his eyes had been. Water droplets sprayed off his beard as he landed on her and reached for her neck.

  Argus tried to wedge between them, but they rolled away, a tangle of hair and limbs. For a moment he couldn't see Willow at all…

  Until Brenn jolted up, trapped in some kind of seizure. He convulsed, eyes to the sky, and fell off of her.

  “Stop it!” Argus yelled. “You're killing him!”

  Willow crawled to her feet and studied the Nalavacian, whose limbs flopped about like fish on a pier. “It isn't lethal. Just uncomfortable. And it will continue indefinitely unless I make it stop.”

  Brenn tried to speak, but there were only groans.

  “Disagree with me all you will,” she told him, “but raise your hand to me again, and I'll end you. Do you understand?”

  He groaned again.

  Willow reached down, closed her eyes, and touched his shoulder. One last convulsion passed through him, this one worse than all the others. Then his limbs fell limp.

  Argus rushed over to his old mercenary friend. “Are you all right, Brenn?”

  “Get away from me. I should have let you rot in that cell.” Trembling, he crawled over to a bench and pulled himself up. He turned to Willow. “What did you do to me?”

  She watched Bank Road. “Not a whole lot. The rain did most of the work. All I did was light the spark.” The confidence in her eyes had disappeared sometime during their scuffle. She held a hand to her heart, steadying herself like she was the one who'd been shocked.

  “Farewell,” said Brenn. “I'm not the sharpest ax on the battlefield. But I have enough sense not to get involved with murdering emperors and magic.”

  Willow walked over to him slowly with her hands held low. He winced when she reached for his arm, but this time she didn't do him any harm. “How about family?”

  “What are you going on about?”

  Just then her eyes drifted to the bottom of Bank Road. “We should go down there.” She glanced at Argus. “Your friends are here.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Are they still my friends? Argus thought.

  Unlikely.

  Not after he'd left them alone in Azmar. Somehow they'd pulled it off—the Eldwhisper spoke loud and true—but he felt their wrath gathering like one of the storm clouds above.

  They reached the bottom of the hill just as Harun led them ashore. The captain they'd hired had stopped well out in the water, so they had to wade in through the wreckage.

  Argus and Brenn and Willow waited for them. While the new arrivals waded in, Willow gathered wet wood in hopes of starting a fire. She laid logs into a hollow where a merchant tent had been, and to Argus's amazement, dried the wood and sparked a flame even in the downpour.

  Brenn found a piece of canvas—it might have been a sail, once—and rigged up a few poles and stretched it overhead near the fire.

  By the time the others came ashore, shivering, a nice shelter was waiting for them. The trio collapsed under the canvas and rubbed their hands by the fire.

  “Greetings, traitor,” Harun said.

  Argus held up his hands. “I know, I know. Just give me a chance to—”

  “To what? Convince us to set off on some sort of doomed misadventure?”

  Argus looked for a hint of sympathy from either Nasira or Siggi. He found none. “Let me explain…”

  “Bugger that!” Siggi said. “What in Blegga's name happened here?”

  “In due time,” said Willow.

  Their eyes darted over, noticing the woman for the first time.

  “Who's this?” Siggi asked.

  “You three look like you've nearly frozen to death,” she told him. “Let's get you warm.” She reached over and laid a hand over his shoulder, whispering.

  “What's that?” said Siggi. “That tongue is strange to—oh, Blegga! You're so warm. That feels wonderful.” Willow warmed him a little longer. Then she moved on to Harun and Nasira.

  “What's happened, Argus?” asked Nasira, her eyes the size of quail eggs. “Who's your new friend?”

  Harun shoved the strange woman away from him and sprang to his feet. “She can wait. We have to get up that hill. Search for survivors.”

  Brenn shook his head slowly. “We've been here for hours. Most everyone up that hill is dead and gone.”

  “Tell us what happened here,” said Harun. “Tell me why we're surrounded by death.”

  They told them everything they knew about the fire. When Argus asked the newcomers why they'd returned to Davos, Siggi said, “It was a fool's errand, I suppose. We meant to collect the rest of our dragons. Though I can only assume the Builders Bank is empty?”

  Argus and Brenn nodded.

  “It will make a nice war chest for the emperor,” Nasira said, scowling. She looked at Willow. “You still haven't told us who this woman is. Or why you betrayed us.”

  Harun snorted. “Like he needs a reason!”

  “There is a reason,” Argus told them, adding a few logs to the fire. “I doubt you'll consider it a good one. But it's a reason all the same.”

  “We're waiting,” Siggi said.

  He told them how the sorceress had approached him last time they were in Davos, and the deal they'd made. At first they interrupted a lot and made snide comments, but after he told them about the earth bench, he had their undivided attention. Then he shared what had happened in Azmar.

  “So you managed to betray everyone,” Harun said, nodding. “I'm sure there's some other scheme afoot. Why else would you have killed the king of Leith instead of the emperor?”

  “You should have put a knife in his chest when you had the chance!” said Siggi, pointing to the ruined city. “Now look what's happened.”

  “I know,” he said. “But there's no going back. And if you put me in the same situation again, knowing what I do now, I probably would have stabbed Belen again.”

  Brenn, who'd been quiet up until this point, stood up and asked, “Why? When we were in that dungeon together you said you had your reasons. Why did you hate that bastard so much?”

  Argus took a deep breath and sighed. They were asking for a story whose every twist and turn rent his heart. It was a story he carried with him. A part of him had thought killing the king would end it
, but the pain lived on.

  “I've… never told anyone this,” he said.

  They watched him and waited.

  Argus stared into the fire, listening to the rain. Finally he spoke. “Those of you whom I served with in the Legion of the Wind know I'm from Leith. But that's all you know. What you don't know is why I left—why I joined the legion.”

  “We don't make a habit of inquiring about the past,” Harun said.

  “No. I don't even know why you left Tokat. Or why Siggi and Brenn fled their homelands. I was perfectly fine with keeping it that way, too. Until I saw that bastard's face at the feast.

  “That was the same face I'd defied when I was a boy. Fatter and uglier, though. The worst part was how he didn't remember me. The man who'd driven me from my home, my mother into a watery grave, and my sister into domestic slavery. And he didn't even remember my goddamn face!”

  “Why did you defy him?” Nasira asked.

  “He was just a prince back then,” Argus said. “Weaselly little bastard was looking for a bride. So he invited the prettiest girls from all the villages and had fancy balls. Kyra loved it at first, wearing fancy gowns and imagining she'd become a queen. When Belen spent more time with her she realized just how disgusting of a swine he really was.

  “He told her her duties were threefold. Look pretty, don't speak too much, and bear him many children. If she couldn't or refused to do any of those things, he'd find a new bride and send her into exile.”

  Nasira picked up a stick and started poking it in the fire like she was stabbing Belen herself. “I can imagine why she'd hate a man like that! Not even a man at all. He certainly wouldn't get too far in the Comet Tail.”

  “Leith is a contradiction in many ways,” Argus said. “It's said our island was created by a pair of lovers, Leith and Val. For centuries they were as happy as songbirds… until an interloper called Voga along and stole Val's heart. Their marriage fell apart. The west side of the island, where I'm from, took Leith's side in the dispute. It's completely different east of the Riven Mountains. In Valcrest, women rule and men have little say.”

  “What happened next?” Harun asked. “With the prince?” He was smoking again. He'd somehow managed to keep his tobacco dry during the wade to shore.

  “After a lot of hemming and hawing he chose Kyra. She cried all night when we got the letter. Told our mother she would run away if she had to, but my mother locked her in her room and watched until morning. That's when the prince's men came. With my father gone, I was the man of the house. I didn't know a clue about the world—I hadn't picked up a sword or kissed a woman—but I knew that wasn't right. I couldn't let them take her like that.

  “So I told off the guards. When they laughed at me I ran up and punched one right in the breastplate.” Argus winced. “I can still remember how much it hurt back then. They took Kyra and loaded her up in a carriage, and we thought that was that.”

  “But it wasn't,” Siggi said, leaning close to the fire to warm his hands.

  “No, it wasn't. The next morning, Prince Belen's men came back. He'd gotten word that I'd challenged his soldiers. I'd insulted the crown, and there would be a punishment. My mother talked to them out in the garden while I watched through a window. She started to scream… to cry…” Argus's words trailed off and they listened to the fire crackle. “She told me to run as fast as I could, run out the back and for the mountains.”

  “What happened to her?” Brenn asked.

  Argus shook his head. “I got away, but she wasn't so lucky. It wasn't until years later when I heard about her fate. Because she'd raised such a headstrong boy—and helped aid my escape—they'd put her in a boat and sent her into exile.”

  “How's that any worse than what happened to you?” Nasira asked.

  The former members of the Legion of the Wind groaned. “You've never heard the minstrels sing of Leith,” Siggi said. “Of the harsh waves and jagged rocks that line its western shore.”

  Argus nodded. “Those rocks are so many that they've protected Leith for thousands of years. The Shipbreakers, we call them. Those natural defenses have allowed us to avoid countless battles. They're the strongest weapons we have.

  “But they're also tools of execution. The pacifism decree in Leith forbids weapons or causing physical harm. Yet it doesn't prevent the king from stuffing criminals onto a tiny boat and setting them adrift. They let the Shipbreakers do the rest. That keeps their consciences clean.”

  “So that's what happened to your mother,” Nasira said, her eyes lowered. “She died somewhere among those rocks.”

  “Aye. And I wasn't there for her. Wasn't even able to give her the proper burial she deserved.” Argus studied the stars as if searching for the woman up there. “It's something I'll regret until my dying day.”

  Brenn laid a massive hand on his shoulder. “Well the bastard's dead now. Better late than never.”

  “You had your reasons, my friend,” said Siggi. “No one can deny that.”

  “Did the prince's men come after you?” Nasira asked.

  Argus nodded. “For weeks they followed me. I didn't know a lick about fighting back then. But I was good at hiding. I traveled by night and covered my tracks, working my way east until I reached the foothills of the Riven Mountains. That's where I met the Vogath tribe.” He chuckled. “They nearly killed me before deciding to take me in. Taught me how to fight and become a man… but that's a story for another day.”

  He got up and stretched his legs, felt his friends' eyes on him. They watched him differently now. He'd been trying to ignore the bodies, pale and floating in the shallow water under the moonlight, but they were everywhere he looked.

  I hope you're happier now, Kyra.

  “Sit down, Argus,” Willow said. “You'll catch a cold.”

  He dragged himself back toward the shelter, unable to look at the others surrounding the fire. She laid her hands on him, lending him her warmth, and her eyes softened. “I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I didn't know what I was asking of you.”

  “No,” he said, looking at the other faces. “I suppose we know very little about each other when it comes down to it.”

  Willow found his hand and squeezed it. “Allow me to start. I know you have a lot of questions about who I am and why I'm here.”

  “I've got a few bloody questions!” Brenn said. He turned to the new arrivals. “You should have seen what she did to me at the top of the hill.”

  Willow offered him a faint smile. “We'll get to that, cousin.”

  “What in the blazes are you—”

  “My name,” she said, “is Willow.”

  “Which kingdom are you from?” Harun asked, studying the smoke ring he'd just blown across the fire. “I can't place your features.”

  “I'm anchored to no kingdom.” She looked at the canvas rustling above them, searching for answers somewhere in that dirty fabric. “My blood is of the Kingdom of Eld. Though I've spent almost my entire life up above, floating on the Cradle.”

  The others looked at her, their faces a mixture of amusement and scorn.

  “The Cradle of Eld?” said Siggi, with a wistful smile. “That's just an old story, lady. Nothing more than a children's tale.”

  “It is an old story,” she said. “But I can assure you it's very real.”

  “I've read about the Cradle,” Nasira said. “Heard it in bards' tales and minstrels' songs.”

  “I met a man once,” Harun said, “back in Tokat. This man was a well-respected merchant known for acquiring the finest silks. If you got him drunk enough, he'd tell a tale of being shipwrecked when he was young, and how all the crew died. He swore he would have drowned too, if it weren't for the Cradle floating down out of the sky and its inhabitants dragging him back to shore.”

  Brenn laughed. “It's a sailors' tale as old as time itself. What else are we supposed to believe? That mermaids and krakens are real too?”

  “Believe what you will,” Willow said. “If you want to know the
truth, you'll come and see it for yourself.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Argus pulled away from her, unable to bear her beauty and oppressive warmth. “Who are you? Truly?”

  “Just who I said. Willow of Eld. I belong to the last surviving line of the Cradlekeepers, the last survivors of the old kingdom who fled to the sky during the great fall. Before the Blight.”

  Argus looked at the others. Their faces said they knew the legend just as well as he did. He'd heard it ever since he could remember:

  During the last hour of the Kingdom of Eld's reign, the most powerful sorcerers and sorceresses took to the sky on a platform they made. They took with them their great library of lore and history and magic. And until this day they float above us, hidden in the clouds, preserving the greatest treasures of civilization's golden age, waiting for the right time to return to us and save humanity from the Blight…

  “It can't be true,” Argus said. “I don't believe it.”

  Willow shrugged. “Of my one hundred and seven years, I've spent all but one on the Cradle. It was only last summer when I touched land for the first time.” She closed her eyes and smiled. “To feel the sun upon my back, to walk barefoot on the seashore…”

  “Why return now?” Nasira asked. “The Blight has endured for almost a thousand years. Now can't be the right time. Not on the precipice at war.”

  “Not on the precipice,” Harun said, pointing to the destruction around them. “It's already started.”

  Willow's face darkened. “For my entire life I've watched kingdoms fracture and would-be rulers struggle for power. I've watched people turn away from the true gods…” She looked at Siggi pointedly… “and I've seen this once great world fall even deeper into despair. I can't pretend to have an answer for that question, friend. Not now, when the darkness is heavier than ever. But this is the time fate has chosen.

  “Why?” Argus asked.

  She jerked her head away as if she'd been slapped. Wiping at her eyes, she said, “It's our fault. It takes energy to keep the Cradle afloat. It was only a light burden when we were many. Yet over time, the older descendants died off and our numbers dwindled. We were encouraged to breed and marry, to ensure the line continued. Yet many of the babes were born broken or stillborn. Finally, the load became too much to bear. The Cradle crashed to earth for the first time in one thousand years.”