The Last Smile in Sunder City

by Luke Arnold

  “It doesn’t matter.” I managed to get to my feet. My knees and elbows were bruised from the scuffle and it hurt to bend them back out. I didn’t want another fight. I was still in pieces from The Rose and the river, but I knew it wasn’t going to be my choice. “You had your revenge. This has turned into a slaughter.”

  He pulled back his lips, revealing half a mouthful of snarling teeth.

  “I knew you only ever cared about your own, from right back in the days when—”

  “I don’t care about them and I don’t care about you. I just know that if they track you down, then they’ll come for me next.”

  “So what?”

  “So that can’t happen.”

  “You think I owe you, Human? I don’t need to do you any favors.”

  “This isn’t a favor.” I kept my eyes on his face full of hatred and picked up the kid’s knife from the gutter. I pointed the blade at my friend with my left hand and showed him the brass wrapped around my right. “This is a threat. Get out by sunrise or I put you down. You know I’ve dealt with meaner creatures than you, Pete. It’s time for you to move on.”

  His golden eye looked me over for a long half minute. There was no way to read the expression on that hanging face. My fingers flexed in the brass rings as I waited for his move, wondering what it would feel like to lose my jaw while I was still awake.

  Eventually, he hung his patchwork head and brushed the dirt from his jacket.

  “How come you didn’t kill yourself?” he asked. It wasn’t the question I was expecting. “When you got out of jail and saw what you’d done. Why didn’t you end it?”

  He didn’t look up when he asked me and I didn’t loosen my grip on the knuckles.

  “I was going to. But I made a promise to someone that I’d try and do some good here instead.”

  The Dog-man smiled wide, like a laugh but without any sound.

  “And this is your idea of good, is it?”

  I shrugged, and the weapons were heavy.

  “It’s better than what I can do if you get me busted.”

  Pete gave himself a shake.

  “There’s nothing good here, Fetch. Especially not you. If you’re the one looking out for this town, then everything is lost already.”

  His smile closed like a handbag with a broken zipper, then he turned and walked away.

  I dropped the brass into my pocket and let my fingers stretch. He didn’t have to listen to me, of course, but even before I saw him, he knew he’d be leaving. I hadn’t changed his mind; I’d just made his whole vigilante act a lot less fun. Fetch Phillips: professional party pooper. If there’s a thing he can’t ruin; buddy, we ain’t found it yet.

  The fourth mark was made for my end.

  After we killed the Chimera, my role in the army evolved. Unlike the Opus, the Human leaders valued my opinions and my talents. After a year, I was placed in command of a few new recruits. General Taryn took me out to celebrate and while I was drunk on whiskey and praise, he asked me, for the first time, if I knew how the Magum got their power. I shrugged.

  “I know some of the stories but I don’t even think they know what’s true. I’ve seen different species argue with each other about whose gods are real and whose people came first. It never really felt like my business.”

  Taryn nodded and topped up my glass. He left that topic alone and changed the conversation back to how amazing I’d been performing in the field. I like to think that if he’d pushed me any further, I would have realized what he was trying to do. The truth is, I was young and gullible and he was far more careful than he needed to be.

  My unit traveled the land, protecting Human towns from wayward beasts. In the south-east corner of the continent, Gryphons and Wyverns bred in healthy numbers and their territory would occasionally spread into Human settlements. We’d thin out the population and drive them back from the borders.

  We fought a mad Wizard once. Luckily, he was a loner who had already been ostracized by the Opus so taking him down didn’t cause any diplomatic problems.

  After certain strenuous battles, Taryn would show his face again; generous with congratulations but always slipping in the lamentation that we were destined to lose the fight.

  Over beer and tobacco, he would tell me how the Human Army were designing new weapons and building up their defenses but that the power of the Magum would always surpass us. As long as that was true, our people would never truly be free.

  I nodded and listened but didn’t offer up any thoughts of my own. Soon, I would be promoted again, given more responsibility and more investment in our success. It was a steady rise to power and the challenges were modest.

  Then, our people were getting killed.

  Reports came in from all across the continent that Human-only towns were being targeted by some new kind of magical weapon: elemental attacks that came from nowhere and could surpass city defenses. The top minds of the Human military were brought together to work out how to retaliate. For the first time, that included me.

  One of the leading Human scientists laid out her hypothesis on what she believed was happening. Something she called Counter-magic.

  “The Magum, as we all know, are a secretive bunch. Wizards like to believe that their methods are beyond our understanding, and have always maintained a code of silence regarding their skills. Nevertheless, we have been able to put together a strong estimation of how ditarum works. Wizards do not create magic from their fingertips. They transport it. There is a commonly held belief among the Magum that pockets of pure magic – a “river” of magic, to some, exist deep inside the planet. The Wizards, somehow, are able to teleport pieces of that magic up to the surface. Different spells pull their power from different pockets, or so the story goes.

  “If, for argument’s sake, we believe this myth to be accurate, then it seems the Magum have found a way to evolve their talents.”

  There was a map projected on the wall behind her. It was all of Archetellos in black and white, but with a number of red Xs painted on specific locations.

  “All of these attacks happened in Human-only cities and the survivors have told the same story: no visible assailant, no obvious Magum fleeing the scene. It was” – she looked at the piece of paper in front of her to accentuate the fact that she was quoting from a source – “as if a hole opened up in reality and pure magical power tumbled out.”

  I’d stayed in some of those cities myself. Met the locals. Been welcomed with open arms.

  “So, it’s the same essential process as ditarum but from the other side. Instead of summoning energy from the source of power to a Wizard’s hands, this is a Wizard sending magic from the source out to a specific location. A Human location, full of civilians and families and innocent people who have no way to protect themselves. In Braid and New Lanfield, we lost Human lives to pure magical energy that arrived from an unknown location.”

  The room of Generals muttered in sadness and concern.

  “So, what does this mean? This means that a Wizard is able to summon a spell to a location away from his physical self. This must be a new talent. If Wizards had these abilities in the past, they would have used them untold times over the last century.

  “Therefore, we must ask ourselves: what would the next evolution of ditarum be? One possible theory is that the Wizards can now create two portals, both of them away from their bodies, both unseen, and transfer magic between them. A terrific jump in their abilities if it were true. The other theory is that their talents have not changed at all; just the direction in which they use them. One portal in their hands, the other at a distance, same as always. But rather than bring the power from the source to their fingertips, they stand at the source and use the portal to push the magic somewhere else. This, I think you will all agree, is a far more likely explanation.

  “The obvious next question is: ‘How can a Wizard stand at the source of magic when all the pockets are deep underground?’ To find that answer, I combed through the pages
of every Magum document brought in by our intelligence team, and I found this…”

  She opened up a leather-bound book and read from a marked page.

  “The creator stepped out of the river and put her feet upon the world. In her wake, she left an open gash in the earth; a well of pure energy where the river kissed the air.”

  She closed the book and took off her glasses to show that she was serious.

  “You may think I’m desperate. But we are desperate. Our people are dying. Our children are dying and we have no way to stop these attacks. There is no evidence. No attacker. The only conclusion I can come to is that the Magum are working from this place, this gash in the earth, and they are using its power to destroy our cities without consequence. If we can discover this place of legend we can find the perpetrators, stop the attacks, save our citizens, and prove to the rest of the world that these Magum are trying to wipe us out.”

  I expected the room to collapse into outrage; wild shouts of anger or support. But it didn’t. It stayed silent, as if everybody was waiting for someone else to make their move.

  They were. They were waiting for me.

  I’m sure it’s obvious in hindsight that everything was a lie. Not the “gash in the earth” (that turned out to be true), but the attacks, the evolving ditarum and the idea that we were protecting ourselves from anything at all.

  But back then, I had no idea. Maybe in the back of my brain or deep in my withered, weak little conscience, I sensed that something wasn’t right. But I blocked that information out because I recognized the moment for what it was: my chance to do something meaningful.

  Of all the things I’d ever done in my life, only one thing had ever earned me real congratulation: murdering the Chimera that killed my parents. I was craving that high again. I’m not trying to excuse what I did in any way. I promise you, I will never ask for that. But I just want you to understand that I had been trained to believe that this kind of thing was right. We were going to stop the Magum who sent these attacks. We were going to protect innocent people. I was going to be a hero.

  When I was in the Opus, Hendricks kept me at his side at all times. I would stand behind him in every meeting. Some were official, others were just nights on the drink with other officers. I stood beside him in Dwarven kitchens and in Werecat castles and in sacred, Elven chambers. So, I knew the place they were talking about. Not because it was ever explained to me, but because I saw how nervous the others in the Opus became when Hendricks made mention of it in my presence.

  The most memorable time was when Hendricks, Fen Tackman and other Opus leaders were standing around a grand, canvas map of the world, discussing food distribution with the Faery elders. Hendricks’ finger fell upon the image of a mountain in the south and when it did, every eye in the room hit me like an arrow. I kept my gaze up and unwavering, like I didn’t even notice.

  If they hadn’t reacted that way, I never would have remembered where he was pointing or wondered why it was so important. Over time, I pieced it together from parts of conversation. Sometimes they called it the well. Sometimes the source. From my limited understanding, they believed it was the place where the world began.

  Taryn had been preparing me for that moment from before I enlisted; buttering me up with compliments and dropping hints about how valuable any inside information would be. He’d done such a good job of it that I didn’t need any more prompting. When my moment came, I got up from my chair, walked over to the pile of documents beside the scientist and pulled out a map of the south-western corner of the continent.

  Then, I paused.

  I’d like to say that there was a moment of hesitation. But no. It wasn’t that. I was savoring the feeling that finally, after all my homes and all my failed attempts to be someone important, I was going to make a difference.

  And boy oh boy, didn’t I do just that.

  I picked up a pen and circled the mountain that the Opus had been so careful to protect. For the next hour, I was celebrated again. I soaked up the praise without a single thought dwelling on what I’d done. Then, we prepared for war.

  They grilled me after that. First, it was with excitement. I was happy to fill them in on the rumors I knew, adding in any details I remembered about the land or inhabitants. Then, as the days of preparation went by and we got closer to the operation, the tone changed. I was being interrogated. They triple-checked what I’d told them, becoming angry and violent if I contradicted myself. The men who served under me were handed off to other units and I inexplicably became a grunt again.

  The morning before we left, I was waiting around in my fatigues with sickness building in my stomach, when Taryn poked his head in the door of my tent.

  “It’s going to be cold up there,” he said. “You should wear your coat.”

  He went over to my locker and pulled out my navy-blue jacket with the Chimera lining.

  “But that’s an Opus uniform.”

  “Exactly.” He opened it up behind me, flashing the crimson fur, and I obediently lifted my arms so he could dress me. “I don’t know what we’re going to encounter up there. If it’s some of your old gang, I can’t imagine anything more unnerving for them than seeing one of their own charging in to attack.” He gave me an unsettling wink. “Let’s move, Soldier.”

  The small squad I usually traveled with was nothing. We went out with over a hundred men, marching towards the mountain. It was the middle of winter; a terrible time to begin an assault, but the leaders didn’t want to wait.

  I was kept close to Taryn and the other Generals but not as an equal any more. As an informant. Whenever they brought out the maps, I was dragged over to answer impossible questions about the terrain. The soldiers that had once been allies now acted like enemies. I already regretted handing over the information, but I was so desperate for approval, still wanting to be part of the team, that I worked as hard as I could to help the army up the mountain.

  The landmark I’d identified was one of the tallest peaks on the continent. Due to snow and untamed forest, vehicles and horses couldn’t get anywhere near it. So, we made our way on foot for just under a week. We traveled across frozen marshes and through leafless woods, surviving off dry rations and melted ice. Our troop was attacked by bears, Trolls and Giants. On the second night, our sleep was interrupted by a pack of wild Werewolves that found us unprepared. Twelve of our men were killed in the skirmish.

  By the time we’d made it to our position on the mountain, we were already going mad. Everything looked like an enemy: the weather, the wind, wild animals and even the prickled plants that scratched our ankles. The world was out to get us and we were ready to fight back.

  The battle began almost by accident. We came over a ridge, and there they were. The enemies. Their faces were painted with mud and their long white hair was pulled back and tied with leather. They were already scattering; moving into hidden caves or under outcrops, as our archers fired arrows at their backs.

  The arrows used by the Human Army were a wickedly effective invention. Not only pointed at the ends, their sides were cut like razor blades so they wouldn’t only stab, but slice, even as you tried to pull them out. The slivers of sharpened metal cut through the enemies like high-divers into a pool. Our foes wore no armor. Hell, they barely wore clothing; just enough to brace against the cold.

  I charged forward, readying my sword, but the force was too overwhelming; not from the opposition, but the army that ran by my side. The strength of my allies was unstoppable, even with the exhaustion of the previous week. I couldn’t find a target. Wherever I turned, each body was already struck-through or fleeing from the wave of swinging steel. The jagged walls of the cliff hid secret passages that offered some chance of escape, but we were working too quickly. A dozen enemies almost made it into the cover of a tunnel before their backs erupted with arrows and spears.

  I was carried forward by the momentum of the attack. Under rocky arches, between boulders and crystal ridges, there were already bodies b
leeding into the snow. With screams and explosions echoing around me and dead enemies underfoot, I had my first taste of the disgust that would become my daily meal.

  Our adversaries attempted to fight back but their spells took too long to summon. These were not trained Wizards. Their fingertips flickered with blue light but before they could conjure any power, one of my kind would cut them through. Only occasionally did a flame or beam of light come back in our direction. We probably lost a soldier or two but it made no difference to the flow of the fight.

  My path was split in two directions by a sheer cliff that curved up over my head. To my left, soldiers were easily outnumbering a group of enemies. To my right, ten of my allies were passing under a ridge unopposed. I followed the second team around a corner, hoping we were running out of people to kill.

  The passage opened up into a huge arena, carved from shining black rock. The floor and walls were layered with circular formations of stone, like huge granite lily-pads, stacked on top of each other, descending down to some kind of stage in the center.

  If this room was a theater, then someone was making the most of their final performance. Standing center stage was a tall body shining with blue light.

  The soldiers were almost on it, weapons raised and ready to strike. The figure flashed like it was full of lightning and, lost in the brightness, I tripped and landed on my knees. Still gripping my sword, my fists cracked against the rock floor, shaving the skin off my knuckles.

  I blinked a few times, till I was able to bring my fellow soldiers back into focus. They’d stopped moving. Frozen like statues. Then, their bodies broke apart.

  Pure energy swam between their armor, filled their flesh, and pulled the layers from their bodies like bark off a tree: metal, cloth, skin, meat and bone, falling to the floor in pieces.

  The figure stood still. There was no weapon in its hand. Nothing at all. I have spent years searching my memories, but I don’t remember the color of its hair or the look in its eyes or any particularly remarkable thing about it. I got to my feet and for the first time since the invasion started, the world fell silent.