by David Ekrut
“You sound as though you admire her.”
“What? Of course, I don’t. I mean. I do in that she is the daughter-heir, but not—”
“The daughter-heir? Of what? Justice?”
He’d said far too much, but it’s not as if it would matter now. Zarah was probably safely in the palace by now. “Look. None of this matters. There is no army. She is not coming for us. Make peace with the Lifebringer. I know that I have. I’m a soldier. It is my duty to lay my life down for my kingdom. I’ve done that. My daughter-heir is safe. I’ll go to my grave knowing she made it out. That’s all I could ask for.”
Petrus stood up and moved to the door. Instead of making water, there was a knock on iron. Petrus called, “I need to speak with the high inquisitor.”
Slowly, Feffer stood. His ribs ached from the effort. “What are you doing?”
“You should have stayed in Justice,” Petrus said, voice apologetic. “I have nothing against you, mind. I think we could have been friends in a different world. You seem like a decent bloke, but times have changed. You’ll hang. There’s nothing I can do about that, but I’ll see to it they don’t torture you much. Just enough to please the crowd.”
A faint light outlined the door and grew stronger by the heartbeat.
“What in the abyss? You are one of them?”
“Aye,” Petrus said with pride. “We are making Arinth a better place.”
“Not for me, you’re not.”
“From what I know about you, I’m probably wasting my breath, but don’t fight. It’ll go easier.”
Iron scraped against stone, and brightness like the sun flooded the space. Feffer was forced to close his eyes and shield his face.
“Wait!” Feffer shouted. “Don’t do this.”
“Don’t fight,” Petrus said, as strong hands gripped Feffer’s arms.
Feffer punched out and felt his fist connect with something, a shoulder maybe. He kicked and scratched, trying desperately to see. Pain flared in the back of his skull, but he still fought.
He opened his eyes. He was sitting in a chair and could see again. He didn’t remember going out, but he must have. How else had he gotten here?
A man in high inquisitor robes sat on a table, staring down at him. Six guards were to his left and six more to his right. Each was armed and wore the crest of the guardians.
“Jorus Teblin,” Feffer said, recognizing the man.
“I am Highest Inquisitor Jorus Teblin, the Lifebringer’s Voice of Alcoa and elected king of these realms. You may address me as Highest Inquisitor.”
“Go thump yourself, Jorey.”
One of the men moved forward to strike Feffer, but Jorus raised a hand to stall him. “No, Hormuth. We expect this sort of behavior from one such as this.” Then to Feffer, he said, “Feffer Hanck Madrowl, you are far from home. Why are you here? Petrus was unable to ascertain your reason for coming.”
Feffer shrugged. “I’m just a soldier.”
“You are far more than a simple soldier to be in the company of Elizabetta, and you consort with elementalists. Tell me, how is Edgar? My last report of him says he fled Justice after bringing down a dragon on the goodly citizens of your city.”
“Dragons take you all.”
“Just tell them,” one of the guardians said. Feffer would know Petrus’s voice with his eyes closed, but he was not at all as Feffer had envisioned him. The man’s blonde hair held just a touch of red. His eyes were green. He was shorter than the others and a handful of years younger.
He felt moisture welling in his eyes and would have wiped at them if his hands weren’t bound. Feffer looked away from the man, trying his best to keep his tears from falling down his cheeks.
“Very well,” Jorus said. “We have what he knows of any worth. Take him up to the gallows. Rough him up a bit. I want him good and docile by the time I come up to put the noose around his neck.”
“Yes, Highest Inquisitor.” Petrus grabbed the end of the rope binding Feffer’s hands and gave a tug.
Feffer didn’t move.
Petrus leaned in and whispered. “Please. Just make this easy on yourself.”
In reply, Feffer slammed his forehead into the man’s nose. Petrus fell backwards, eyes rolling in the back of his head. Feffer braced himself for the beating that would surely come.
“Hold,” Jorus said, as the guardians moved to strike him. “Save it for the crowd. We need twice as many to join us this tenday. Numbers have been dwindling rapidly with our assaults on the castle and those bandits in the forests.”
Rough arms took hold of him. Feffer thrashed against them, but it was no use. There were too many. When he refused to stand, they lifted him and carried him out of the room. He was taken up two flights of stairs and into a courtyard. The sky was still pink with the morning’s sun. There was a cool breeze. Birds chirped. He could hear people hocking wares nearby.
He craned to see a large gate. They carried him through it to a market. The people turned to regard him, some with expression of pity, but most appeared angry.
The wood creaked beneath the guardians’ boots as they stepped onto the gallows. As they settled him back to a standing position, he could see children playing near the fountain. A few gave curious glances, but most didn’t even look up.
“This,” a guardian yelled, “is Feffer Hanck Madrowl. He is guilty of murder and conspiring with elementalists. He has killed Captain Duggly of house Edkarte on the southern road and half a squad of soldiers just outside our gates. From his own lips, he has confessed to coming here with Zarah Lifesong of Justice, a known elementalist, a foreign usurper here to make war against the Guardians of Life, protectors of Arinth.”
With every word, the people grew more angry. Feffer flinched as rotted fruit bounced off his chest, but he held his head high. He would be with his mother and father soon. For all he knew, Wilton was also dead.
As they quieted, the guardian yelled, “How should we treat this vile creature?”
They all yelled at once. Though Feffer could not make out their words, their meaning was clear. A guardian held each arm. Three of the men moved in front of him. Feffer held his breath and tightened his muscles as they pummeled his stomach. Their strikes to his face were weak, as if they were holding back. Maybe Petrus had kept his word. No. Probably, they wanted him to be conscious when they hanged him. Would make for a better show.
They stopped the beating to address the crowd again, but their words only added to the roar of insults. Feffer looked at their faces, baffled by their rage. He’d never hurt any of these people. Killing those guardians had been in self-defense. How could they do this to another person?
His breath caught when a woman with auburn hair scurried from an alley opposite him. With the crowd between them, she couldn’t hope to reach him. Not without taming.
No. She couldn’t do this. He’d given himself up to save her.
“Dragons take you, Zarah. Get out of here.” But he couldn’t hear his own words, and she didn’t look as though she planned on walking away from this.
~
Zarah heard the cries of the guardians in the distance and quickened her step.
“Please,” she begged the Lifebringer, “don’t let it be him on the block.”
Aside from needing time for her lost essence to regenerate, she had not been able to plan his rescue. Without her visions and her essence all but drained, she couldn’t hope to save him, but she couldn’t sit by and do nothing.
Zarah stepped from the alley into the square as though she belonged here in the market.
Despite what Jera had told her, she was surprised to see so many people trying to buy or sell wares. There were even children playing by the gallows. Dozens of guardians mingled with the citizens, and at least a hundred more stood around the perimeter of the market. The gallows were modest, just a rope hangin
g from a beam atop wooden poles. The onlookers threw rotten fruit and vegetables at the man standing atop a small crate.
The noose had not yet been fitted around Feffer’s neck. He stood with his head high, blood trickling from his nose and over his lip. His cheek was bruised, both eyes blackened. Beside him, another man tried to quiet the crowd. One last cabbage hit Feffer in the chest.
An eerie silence fell over the market.
The crowd from the guardhouse parted. Two rows of guardians formed a barrier. A man wearing the robes of a high inquisitor stepped forward. Many of the people were awestruck by Jorus Teblin, but not Zarah.
She wanted to form a lightning hurl and end the man.
He still carried a simple shepherd’s crook. But more intricate gold embroidered his attire, and he wore a crown atop his bald head. When he stepped up to the gallows, two more of the guardians restrained Feffer. The onlookers spoke in hushed voices, many calling praises to the high inquisitor.
Jorus raised his hand to quiet the crowd. After they grew silent, he lowered his arm and looked out at the faces of his people. Zarah held her breath as the man’s gaze swept over her, but if he recognized her, it did not show in his expression.
“You see this man?” Jorus asked.
Several “ayes” and “yeses” came from the crowd.
“This man is the greatest threat to our ways. Do you know why?”
“Seeker-spawn!” a few people cried. From others, “Murderer!”
“Yes,” he said in a mockery of humility. “He is both of these things and more. What he represents is a far greater threat to us than his crimes. He is a dissenter from the way of Life. He cannot listen to the voice of the Lifebringer and see truth. Even the best of us can fall ill to the Seeker’s temptations. That is why we must all serve. Each of us owes servitude to the Lifebringer, because he is merciful and wise. But also because he demands it of us. This man,” he struck at the air, aiming his fingers at Feffer, “only serves himself, and by doing so is part of Abaddon’s designs.” A gasp came at the Seeker’s true name, but Jorus pressed on. “Yes, I said his name. And now he is watching us, as I would have him do. Let him see the death of his servant. Let him bare witness to our glory in the Lifebringer’s name. So be it.”
Jorus took the noose and tried to settle it around Feffer’s head, but Feffer jerked away. One of the guardians slammed a fist into his already battered face. Feffer’s eyes lulled long enough for Jorus to get the rope around his neck and tighten the slack.
“No,” Zarah breathed, looking about desperately. But what could she do?
Her Vision had showed Feffer in the strange city. He could not die here. But her Visions had always been symbolic. What if that city had not been a real place? Could her interpretation of the dream be wrong? Seeing herself as a bronze statue could mean she would die here, trying to save Feffer.
The man next to her was looking at her now with an expression somewhere between curiosity and accusation. She wanted to plead with him to aid her. Feffer did not deserve this.
Jorus raised his crook to the sky, and the mutters cut off again. When he slammed it onto the wood, a hollow sound filled the square. Twice more, he banged his crook.
“Feffer Hanck Madrowl, prepare yourself to face the judgement of the Lifebringer. May he show you the mercy you have shown to Duggly and my squad, so that your soul may rot in the abyss for all eternity.”
Zarah’s heart lurched as Jorus kicked the stool from beneath Feffer’s feet.
She seized Air and tamed flight before she fully realized what she was doing. Immediately, she understood the dire situation she’d put herself in. She had at most ten seconds until her essence was depleted.
She flew toward Feffer. As she reached the gallows a sword swiped at her. She dodged, forming a lightning hurl. She feinted as though to throw the crackling energy at Jorus. As he jumped aside, Zarah spun and threw the lightning at Feffer’s rope.
The energy burned right through the hemp with a thunderous crash. Feffer fell. As his knees struck the ground, Zarah caught him beneath the arms and flew upward with as much speed as she could muster. Twangs from bows followed her path. Arrows whizzed around her.
But she moved too swiftly. She felt her essence diminishing but forced herself to fly faster. She clung to Feffer, hugging him against her. Once the buildings blocked her from the market, she slowed just enough to buy her a few more seconds of taming.
Zarah flew toward the palace, hoping she could reach King Alcoa before her essence was gone. Her vision waned. The streets blurred.
Her feet struck the top of a wall, and she tumbled toward a large garden. Pain erupted from her side. The breath was knocked from her. She lost her grip on Feffer. The ground struck her, and she rolled. When she stopped, nothing would move. Not her legs or arms. Somehow, she was looking at the sky.
Just as she lost consciousness, she saw the dragon appear above.
Chapter 34
Chasing Coin
Partial Spending, Day 432 of experimentation
As I suspected, Abaddon knows the incantation of Partial Spending. He has finally confided in me the means of his transcendency, without giving actual details of how to achieve this feat. I convinced him, I could not hope to reverse the process without first knowing how he rose. From his description, creating a new dimensional plane and transcending would cost an estimated 2942 Berats. Referencing my previous results, this is an incredible sum.
Now that we have all of our cards on the table, I can truly begin experimentation. And I have enough subjects that I no longer fear spending Berats. Our first step will be to procure a body to transfer his consciousness to.
~R., 2996 A.S.
~
Jesnia breathed in the crisp air and looked toward the forest hugging the gulf. The trees were taller this side of Alcoa and densely packed, but the increasing number of fishermen’s huts meant they were nearing Shallow Shores.
With a sigh, she steered the ship off the speedway toward the embankment. Once clear of the Elementally driven current, the ship slowed. When she felt the keel scrape bottom, she dropped anchor and held steady. She’d never do this to her own ship, of course, but desperate times and all. She didn’t want to walk the rest of the way to Shallow Shores, but she didn’t want to show up in a stolen ship either. Regardless of who controlled the city, they would ask for papers at the docks. So far as she’d heard, the only city still in chaos was the capital. The rest were either firmly controlled by Alcoan soldiers or the guardians, so it was business as usual. For now.
Bain would be coming soon. Without coordination of the king’s army, Bain’s forces would sweep right over the rest of Alcoa. With a three-sided war in the capital, organization between cities seemed unlikely. When this job was over, it looked like she would be going to Norscelt for a while. So long as dragons hadn’t destroyed it, she owned estates in Karsdale.
“Why are we slowing?” Landryn asked, looking at the position of the sun. “It isn’t even midday.”
“This is our stop.”
“But where is the city?”
“No more than a few miles up,” she said, tying off the sails.
“Why would we abandon the ship? Walking will be much slower.”
“Last I checked, dock masters don’t take kindly to stolen vessels.”
“Do you think they’re still checking?” he asked. “Surely they know about Benridge by now and are making ready for war.”
“That is precisely why they’ll look. But even at a leisurely walk, we would reach Shallow Shores by nightfall. And I aim to push us.”
“I’ll get the young ones,” he said.
“You do that.”
When Landryn called for them, they lined up and followed him like good, little soldiers up to the deck. Jesnia had been surprised by their discipline. Not one had complained or argued with Landryn’s c
ommands at any time on their journey. They obeyed. Even the youngest ones. They all carried an acute understanding of the danger they faced, which spoke to the hard lives they’d endured. Each understood the worst of it was yet to come, but none shied away or cried for a mother who would never show.
She had to admit, she admired their strength. Not that she’d say as much aloud. Words were cheap. In their downtime, she’d given some of the older children lessons with daggers. Nothing too difficult. Just basic skills and some throwing techniques. Those she’d instructed had turned around and taught their newly acquired skills to the younger children. To Landryn, she’d given pointers with his bow.
They were all staring at her, she realized. Waiting for her to give them an order, curse it all. But they wouldn’t be her responsibility for much longer.
“This side,” she told them. “I dragged her close enough to the shore that most of us will be able to wade with ease.” She pointed to Landryn’s quiver. “You’ll want to keep those out of the water. Getting them wet will thump up their accuracy.”
He moved it from his hip and slung the strap over his shoulder, like Jesnia carried hers.
Jesnia dropped the rope ladder over the side. It hit the Element-crafted landing beside the ship, designed just for this purpose. She climbed into the shallow water. Just a stride over, the ship sunk far beyond where she stood. If the landing and speedway current weren’t enough, she could tell the floor had been shaped by elementalists because there were rivets in the ground for easy movement.
“It’s shallow here,” she called to Landryn. “Send the little ones first.”
A girl, named Britonya, climbed down. Her hair was pulled back in a warrior’s tail, and she hadn’t taken off the dagger since Jesnia had given it to her for practice. She moved down the rope ladder with a look of deep determination.
Jesnia offered Britonya a hand, but the girl looked to the water, only coming to Jesnia’s waist, and ignored the offer of help. Which was why this girl was her favorite of the orphan pack. Well, not favorite, as in she wanted to have the girl around all the time. But as in, if she must suffer a child, it should be a child who wanted to pull her own weight. That was all.