by Shae Ford
“Eh, that’s no good. You’re going to have to hit him with something else.” Declan swooped an arm out to the side, nearly flattening his branded benchmates. “Grab one of those chairs and smack him over the head with it. Go on — give him a proper walloping!”
Jake frowned at him. “Have you been drinking?”
“So what if I have? Even a drunk giant still knows his brawling.”
With a heavy sigh, Jake pulled a chair out from under one of the bandit’s unconscious companions and drew it over his head. “Sorry about this,” he muttered. Then with a cry, he brought it down.
It struck the top of the bandit’s head with a hollow thud. For a moment, it looked as if Jake would have to hit him again. Then quite suddenly, the bandit began to tilt. His cackling stopped mid-stream as his eyes rolled back. He tumbled from his chair, flopping hard onto the ground.
Declan guffawed heartily and pounded his meaty fists onto the table. The bandits, on the other hand, seemed far from impressed. They hardly glanced at Jake before going back to their tankards.
Just when it looked as if they weren’t going to get their brawl, Declan’s bench groaned and finally gave out. It snapped under his massive weight, sending him straight to his rump. His benchmates tumbled on top of him, swearing the whole way down. With one side suddenly so light, the table flipped — dumping a whole bench of mountain bandits directly onto the heads of bandits from the forest.
That did it.
Swears became insults, insults became punches, and soon they’d started to brawl. The two tables grappled with each other; their cries drew bandits from all corners of the room. They rushed to the center in a swell of shouts — pulling hapless bystanders in along with them. Soon every bench was emptied and the tavern’s belly was a writhing, tangled mass of flying fists.
Elena and her serving girls stood behind the bar as the chaos unfolded. At her signal, they separated: the three sisters went upstairs while Elena ducked into a room behind the bar. Moments later, three cloaked figures drifted down the stairs and out the back door — full rucksacks across their shoulders and heavy purses at their belts.
The moment they’d disappeared, Elena emerged.
Her tavern clothes were gone. She wore her black and scarlet armor once more, with the slitted mask tied firmly around the lower half of her face. She grabbed several bottles of dragon spit from behind the bar and uncorked them. Then she headed for the hearth … leaving a trail of murky liquor on the planks behind her.
“You should leave,” she said when she reached Lysander.
He and Jonathan had been throwing themselves desperately at the edge of the wall of brawling bodies, trying to force their way inside. His eyes widened at the sight of Elena. “You? What in high tide …?”
“You need to go.”
He shook his head. “Never — not without my battlemage!”
Elena rolled her eyes as he went back to shoving. “You there — giant!”
Declan stopped laughing and paused, a wriggling bandit hanging in his grasp.
She snapped her fingers. “Put that down and get your friends out of here. I’ll find the mage.”
Declan slung the bandit into the sea of fists and gathered Lysander and Jonathan under his arms. “Hold tight, wee things!” he slurred. Then he charged sideways into the fray, scattering all in his path.
Elena followed in his wake for several feet. Dragon spit trickled out of the bottles in her hand and onto the floor behind her as she walked. It wasn’t long before she spotted Jake.
He’d taken refuge beneath a table. His thin arms snapped over his chest at the sight of her. “I don’t care what you say — I know you aren’t happy. And I’m not leaving here until you admit it!”
She ripped the table onto its side — along with the handful of bandits who’d been warring on its top. “Get moving, mage.”
He scrambled to his feet.
Elena shoved Jake out in front of her, smashing bottles of dragon spit behind them. When they neared the front door, she grabbed a lantern from among the ruins of a toppled bench.
“Come with us,” Jake pleaded.
Her brows cut low over her eyes. “Are those my gloves?”
“Ah,” he flexed his hands, “yes. I thought you meant for me to keep them.”
“I’d hoped you would keep them. I didn’t realize you’d want to … wear them.”
His face turned slightly pink. “It’s not that I wanted … nobody was more surprised … and how do you think I feel about it?” he sputtered when she raised a brow. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to walk around with a leather impetus? Leather. Other mages will think I’m some sort of gutless, slimy warlock —”
“Gripping,” Elena interrupted. “Would you light this for me?”
Jake snapped his fingers over the lantern’s wick and a small flame blossomed on its end.
The dark of Elena’s eyes reflected the light like a mirror. “Thank you,” she said. Then she hurled it to the ground.
Flames sprang from the shattered lantern in a roar, following the path of the dragon spit. Elena shoved Jake out the door and slammed it shut behind them. She clamped the bolts down and snapped locks onto the latches.
“I put these on weeks ago,” she said as she worked. “It’s strange, but not one person ever asked me why there were latches on the outside of the door.”
Jake’s mouth hung open. “You’ve been planning this all along, haven’t you?”
She shrugged. “I suppose the peaceful life was beginning to get a bit dull. Now come on,” she grabbed him by the arm, “we’ve got to save my Braver.”
*******
Declan thundered through the crowd and out the gates — Lysander under one arm and Jonathan under the other. Most scattered from his path, though an unlucky few struck his massive shoulders and were knocked aside.
Only when they were a safe distance from Crow’s Cross did he stop.
“Put us down!” Lysander cried. He beat his fists against Declan’s massive arms but the giant only laughed. “Jake’s still in there! We have to —”
Jonathan reached across Declan’s middle and smacked him in the face. “I think it’s too late for that, Captain.”
Lysander looked to where he pointed and gasped when he saw smoke rising from the city. A ball of fire erupted from its middle. It bloomed violently, scattering bits of the inn in every direction, spreading as its flames caught to the roofs of nearby houses.
“Jake …” Lysander’s mouth parted in disbelief. “No, it can’t be.”
A thick stream of tears ran unchecked down Declan’s face. “Poor wee mage!” he bawled.
Fire leapt from one house to the next, lighting their roofs like torches. A crowd of bandits swelled between the gates. Screams filled the air as they tried desperately to escape the flames. They beat each other, crushed heads beneath their heels and climbed over bodies in a panic.
Lysander watched dully for a moment more before his head sagged low. “Jake …” He hung there for a moment, limp beneath Declan’s arm. Then a second blast made his head snap up.
Something like a mighty gust of wind struck the crowd. It ripped the frayed gates off their hinges and sent the bandits flying — spewing them into the night in a flailing, terrified stream.
A dapple-gray horse charged through the empty space left behind. On his back were two riders: one dressed in night-black armor, and the other …
“Jake? Jake!”
Lysander and Jonathan waved their arms and the dapple-gray horse galloped towards them. More cries split the air. A force of pirates and giants charged over the hill and struck the bandits who’d managed to squeeze through the gates. The pirates darted in with their swords drawn while the giants moved their scythes in steady, sweeping lines — felling their enemies in rows.
With an army standing in their way, the bandits had nowhere else to turn: they stumbled drunkenly towards the mountains, leaving the Valley behind.
The flames ri
sing from Crow’s Cross grew so furious that the pirates and giants had to move further down the road to avoid being overtaken by the smoke. They charged to the top of a nearby hill and watched as fire dragged the city to ruin.
The moment she caught her breath, Nadine marched straight for Lysander. “What happened? You were supposed to go in quietly!”
“Yes, well, things got a bit out of h — oh by Gravy, put me down!”
Declan opened his arms, dumping Lysander and Jonathan onto the grass.
Morris chuckled as he watched the city burn. “That’s more than a bit, Captain. I suppose we’ll have to add this to the list of places you aren’t allowed back.”
“That’s probably for the best,” Lysander agreed, grimacing as he massaged his ribs.
Jonathan’s hand uncurled slowly from around his fiddle. “Oh, my poor fingers. They’re burning worse than a desert bloke’s backside!”
Nadine jabbed her spear into the ground. “You were supposed to go in quietly and get him out. Instead, you set fire to everything!”
“Oh, calm yourself, wee mite,” Declan said.
Nadine gaped at his uncharacteristically silly grin for a moment before she narrowed her eyes. “You are drunk.”
He shrugged. “A little bit, yeh. That mountain ale is heady stuff. But it’s a wonder, I tell you. There was battling all around me and I didn’t go mad!”
“I cannot believe y — let me go!”
Declan spun her around by the shoulders, laughing when she tried to kick him. He’d gone to lift her higher when the pommel of a knife struck his head with a thwap.
“Set her down,” Elena growled as she pulled another knife from her bandolier, “or I’ll hit you with the pointy end.”
Nadine let out a cry at the sight of her. Elena slid off her dapple-gray horse just as Nadine hurtled into her chest. “I knew you would come back to us.” She pulled away and took both of Elena’s hands in hers. “Did you find your peace?”
“Briefly,” she said with a sigh. “Then Jake set fire to my inn.”
“I did no such thing,” he said indignantly. He’d been trying to dismount, but wound up with one foot on the ground and the other tangled in the stirrup. Braver stood patiently as Jake tried to tug himself free. “You were the one who started the fire —”
“Odd. I seem to remember you were the one who lit the lantern.”
“Well, I had no idea you were going to use it to burn down a city. Otherwise I never would’ve given — could somebody please get me free of this confounded beast?”
Nadine pulled his boot out of the stirrup and he stumbled backwards.
Elena crossed her arms. “Consider this, mage: because of your spell, we’ve purged the land of a bunch of murderers and thieves. Is that such a bad thing?”
Jake turned back towards the city. For a moment, his spectacles reflected the dancing flames. “I’m not your tool, Elena. I won’t be used. There’s too much blood on my hands already.”
Elena glared as he stalked away, shaking her head. Then she turned to the waiting crowd. “So, I hear you lot are on some sort of hopeless quest to free the mountains … mind if I come along?”
Chapter 25
Where the Darkness Began
Life in the mountains followed a harsh rhythm.
The gray hours of the morning stretched longer here than anywhere else in the Kingdom, simply because the sun had so much further to climb. Daylight passed above them briefly — though by the time it’d fought its way through the clouds, there was very little warmth left to it. When the sun fell back behind the peaks, the long, cold night began.
Kyleigh often woke to the sound of the mountain’s voice. It was fainter this far from the summit, but no less menacing. Winds howled through the darkest hours of the night. They rattled under her door and made bumps crawl across her skin. She wasn’t supposed to be there. The mountains wanted her out.
It was like living each day with a knife pressed against her throat.
Her task was only half-finished — for now, there would be no escaping the voice. So she spent her time at the forge, letting the noise of her work drown out the mountain’s ghostly taunts.
The things Kael had taught the craftsmen took their skills to extraordinary heights. They had no need for the anvil or flame: they shaped swords with their hands and pounded out armor with their fists. It wouldn’t be long before the wildmen were suited and ready for battle.
There was just one problem.
“I’ve acted rashly,” Gwen said as she clomped around the forge. “I see that, now. Were it only my own life at stake, I would gladly risk it — I would fight until I had nothing left to give, as I once did. But things aren’t how they used to be, are they?” The words were almost spiteful. She took a deep breath. “My father would’ve thought first of his people. The wildmen are happy here. And more importantly, they’re safe.”
“You’re camped right in the middle of his great bloody road, Gwen,” Kyleigh said through her teeth. “Rest assured that Titus knows exactly where you are. If he hasn’t attacked you yet, it’s only because he’s got something worse in mind.”
“Why would he come down? He has the summit. He won’t bother us again.”
“He’s not a bear — he’s a man. Territory isn’t the only thing he cares about. One of these days he will attack you, and then his game will begin.”
She thrust a red-hot blade into the water trough. It hissed and spat as it cooled. Gwen watched the steam rise, smirking. “I’m not afraid of him. The day he strikes us here will be a very sore day, indeed.”
“Sore for you, perhaps,” Kyleigh muttered under her breath.
Gwen turned. “What would you have me do, pest? My craftsmen are useless, my army is a ragged strip of what it was, and each day more of these soft-skinned downmountain folk come to my village, begging for shelter. Sometimes being Thane means you’ve got to do what’s best for your people — even if it costs you your home.”
The swirls of paint on her face twisted as she pursed her lips. Kyleigh couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for her. “Kael will think of something.”
“Really? Is he going to carve a thousand warriors from the trees?” Gwen shook her head. “He’s taught my craftsmen some entertaining tricks. But he isn’t like our last Wright — he can’t fight worth anything.”
“I think you’re scared.”
Kyleigh didn’t move when Gwen stalked over. She leaned in until their faces were hardly a hand’s breadth apart. “What was that, pest?”
“You heard me. Stop dragging your arse, Gwen — you know what he’s capable of.”
“I know only what you’ve told me. I haven’t seen it for myself. And until I’m convinced, my people will stay put.”
Kyleigh struggled to keep her voice even as she growled: “How do I convince you, then? Tell me what I have to do, and I’ll do it.”
“Well …” Her eyes brightened as they scraped down Kyleigh’s throat. “Perhaps if the mutt could manage to do something I never could, something I’d always wanted to do … I might find that impressive.”
She knew what Gwen meant — she read it in a dark, glinting corner of her stare. And she bristled against the thought. “I’m not doing that.”
“Why ever not?”
“You’d win either way.”
“Don’t act as if you didn’t see it coming, pest. You knew I wasn’t going to let you off so easily. I want to see you truly, thoroughly punished. I want you to suffer the same humiliation I’ve suffered. I want you to know my pain.” Gwen pressed a thumb against Kyleigh’s chin. She turned her head this way and that, smirking. “I’m looking forward to adding you to my collection. I’ve already got a spot picked out.”
“Provided I don’t snap you in half before then. Or maybe I’ll swallow you whole — that way you’ll have plenty of time to think about what an absolute pain you’ve been while you’re melted down.”
Gwen slapped her. It was more playful than anything: just
hard enough to give her something to think about. She grinned over her shoulder as she strode from the room.
It was nearing midday when an obnoxious scratching sound drew Kyleigh back to the door. “Why can’t you go for a walk in the woods like a normal creature?” she muttered as she let Silas in.
He stretched quickly into his human skin, gasping as if he’d been holding his breath. “I would have to walk for hours to escape their eyes. These Marked Ones are always sneaking about, lurking behind boulders and high up in trees. Is there nothing they can’t climb?”
“I doubt it. Just have a look around before you do any changing.”
“Their human scent mixes with the animals they wear. I can never get a clear smell …” His words dissolved into grumbles as he paced about the room. Every few steps he would shake a leg out behind him — as if he had something sticky on the bottoms of his feet. “These pants only have a few changes left in them. Soon they’ll be so tight —”
“Just take them off, then. You were always moaning about how you’d rather run around in your skin. So find yourself a quiet patch of forest and have at it,” Kyleigh said distractedly.
She was trying to measure a hilt for fitting, but her mind was so lost on other things that she could barely concentrate. It was several moments before she realized that Silas hadn’t replied.
His pacing steps were suddenly much lighter. He walked as if he feared he might tumble through the floor — which Kyleigh thought was rather interesting. “Why are you still here?”
“Why do I do anything? It’s because I choose to. Save your stupid questions, dragoness.” He was quiet for a moment. Then he blurted out: “Your Marked One angers me.”
She hadn’t been expecting to hear that. “Why? What has he done?”
“I don’t know,” Silas growled. His fists clenched and his pacing grew even more dangerously light. “He’s done nothing. Yet, he angers me. I want to kill him — but in the same breath, I feel that crushing his body will never rid me of his spirit. My anger will not burn out. It will haunt me always. I feel it … in here," Silas said, gripping at his chest in surprise. "I didn't know my chest could be empty. What is this feeling?"