by C S Vass
“Well that makes two of us,” Martin said as he ripped a piece of black bread in half and dunked it into his stew. “I thought that leaving the city guard would be the end of my problems. I thought that as soon as I left I would be able to put it all out of my mind. But that hasn’t been the case. I guess it takes more than quitting your job to make you happy.”
“What did you want to put out of your mind?” Fiona asked.
“All of it,” Martin replied immediately. There was a bitter look in his eyes. “There was so much stress and trouble. Everybody calls on you when there’s disaster and blames you when you can’t fix it well-enough to their liking.”
“The common criminals are really getting bad, aren’t they?”
“That’s not half of it,” Martin complained. “Common criminals are the easy part. What’s worse is when my own men get out of line. They get rowdy and get into mischief. Get drunk and brawl it out in bars. Several times there were actual deaths—murders a lot of folk would say—coming from my own people. What am I supposed to do when that happens?”
“Justice,” Fiona said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Martin shook his head. “You just don’t understand, Fiona. It’s easy to say no man’s above the law. It’s harder when I have lieutenants above me threatening me from eight different directions if everything isn’t handled to their liking. And we haven’t even gotten to the worst parts of the struggle yet. It’s not just about my own men. The Forgotten—they’ve made my life and the lives of so many people in this city a living hell.”
Fiona had a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach that she couldn’t quite identify. She sipped on her own beer and said, “Tell me about the Forgotten.”
“They’re stronger than we are.” A shadow had grown over Martin’s face. “Nobody understands how very real of a threat they have become. I hate the Vaentysh Boys, and I hate the Empire. But the Forgotten are the only group that truly scares me. They’ve struck a balance between some of the raw power the Empire seeks and the blind loyalty that the Vaentysh Boys try to cultivate. You know their founder—”
“I know about their founder,” Fiona said as she suppressed the urge to vomit. “But what do they truly want?”
“Power,” Martin said. “Money. Their own people in the right positions so that they can make the rules. It’s a game to them. Part of me sometimes thinks that they’re not doing this for any secret revenge, but simply because they’re bored. It would make sense to me, truth be told. Why does anybody do anything? Life in the Forgotten is probably more interesting than life as a farmer.”
Martin’s bitterness as he spoke was so intense that it made Fiona’s heart ache. This was who that awkward boy with the laughing eyes grew up to be.
“But all of that is behind you now,” Fiona said. “You don’t have to worry about it anymore. In essence, you’re actually free.”
Martin scoffed. It was an angry and belligerent noise.
“Free. What does that mean Fiona? I’m starting to realize that you can’t always run from your problems. Surely you’ve learned that lesson after two years of gallivanting around the Lordless Lands and gods know where else. Did a change in location make you any happier?”
“I wasn’t running from my problems,” Fiona said, cool herself now. “I was running towards them. And when I catch him, then I can worry about what comes after that.”
“I understand. Truly I do. There is a woman in the Forgotten, a vicious killer. She’s a plague upon the city and has caused untold harm to many good people. I’ve been chasing her shadow for the last year, but without so much as getting near enough to catch a whiff of her. If there’s one regret I have about my time in the city guard, it’s that I was never able to bring her to justice.”
Fiona felt a growing sense of understanding. Smiley’s latest offer came flashing back to her. But what were the chances that Martin was speaking of the same woman? There was only one way to know.
“Aiyana,” Fiona whispered.
A fevered look came into Martin’s eyes. “So you’ve heard the rumors.” His voice was so low that she could barely make out his words.
“Martin, I know what it’s like to chase a shadow. I know what it’s like to be possessed by the image of a person who has done great evil. You know in your bones as much as I do that even if you do end up leaving the city, you will never find peace while you know that Aiyana is here, weaving whatever terrors she can into the fabric of Haygarden’s existence.”
“What are you saying?” Martin was looking at her the way a starving man looks at a bowl of food being offered by some kind stranger.
They talked for many hours while the snow piled up on the windowsill next to them and the sun sank beyond the horizon. Fiona told him everything about her meetings with Brandon and Smiley. There were times when he took her story in silent disbelief, and times when he openly shouted at the prospect of her working with such uncertain allies.
In the end though, Martin Lightwing was her friend, and he understood. He didn’t fault her for doing what she had to do in order to pursue her brother. She left out all details of the manjeko (the thought dawned on her as she made that decision that she might not ever be ready to share that with anyone) but otherwise gave him a full account of her time in the underworld of Haygarden.
Of course, Martin was eager to push Fiona towards accepting Smiley’s offer. Should she turn assassin and kill the woman Aiyana then she would be doing Haygarden an enormous service and at the same time getting one step closer to Rodrick. After all, if Smiley really did have Yondril then who knew what they might learn about the Vaentysh Boys?
By the end Martin had transformed into an entirely new person. He had none of the innocence of his youth, too much pain had been written into his face over the years, but there was something else now too. A determined light. He had a purpose again. There was a chance for him to redeem himself even if his time as Captain of the Guard was over. Together they would kill Aiyana and in doing so come one step closer to ending the painful chapter of their lives that has started two years ago when the Commander of the Brightbows plotted to overthrow his Duke.
Chapter Eighteen
It took her mere moments to find Brandon. She was so accustomed to slipping in and out of the manjeko that Martin hadn’t even noticed her do it. He was in a house not far from them, alone in front of a hearth with its fingers of flame reflected in his brown eyes. The two sped off as another bout of snow descended on the city.
“Well well,” Brandon grinned without rising. “You’ve come to see me, and you’ve brought my favorite captain. So tell me, Fiona, are you here to work with me, or to kill me?”
“It’s time for me to meet Aiyana,” Fiona said.
“And your friend?”
“He wants to help,” Fiona said.
“Captains of the local authorities are more helpful to me in the bottom of the river with punctured lungs and a strong belt of stone. Why would I take him?”
“I’m not a Captain of the Guard, as I’m sure you know,” Martin said. To his credit he didn’t so much as flinch when meeting Brandon’s eyes.
“I am indeed aware,” Brandon conceded. He was twirling a knife in his right hand very delicately. “Why don’t you go ahead and tell me then why you’re here?”
“I’m here because the city guard is worse than your group and pays far too little. Corruption is everywhere and I don’t have a problem doing dirty work, but I want to be compensated appropriately for it.”
Brandon laughed, a harsh hacking sound. “So, it’s as simple as that? A little disillusionment and the motivation of money is enough to turn a captain of Haygarden’s guard?”
“Why wouldn’t it?” Martin asked. “It’s like I’ve told you. I’ve already quit. I’m planning on leaving the city soon, and I’d rather have some gold in a coin purse before I do. Believe it or not, I don’t really care. But I may be able to help you with some of the information I’ve gathered dur
ing my time in the guard. I think we both know Aiyana would be upset if you made such a unilateral decision without her.”
The smile never faded from Brandon’s face, but something unpleasant and beastly crept into his eyes. “Confident, aren’t you? I suppose you’ve learned enough about the Forgotten in your time chasing us that you think you have everything figured out. Very well, Martin. Come with us. But don’t be surprised if Aiyana decides that you’re better off at the end of a rope.”
They walked through the Stone District in silence. Brandon, leading the way, would sometimes stop and whisper a few words to the beggars on the street, occasionally slipping them a piece of silver. When they reached the front of a blacksmith’s forge with a large rust-iron sign in the shape of an anvil he stopped. “A friendly house,” he said without turning to look at them.
They walked inside, past a lumbering slump-shouldered fellow with an eyepatch and a thick black beard that fell to his waist. He didn’t so much as glance as they walked past him downstairs into a basement cellar that had been transformed into a meeting room.
The first thing Fiona thought when she saw Aiyana was her startling resemblance to Sandra Redfire. It wasn’t in the appearance, though they were roughly the same build, but rather in the sharp look and powerful silent demeanor she carried. Her eyes were a metallic grey that held a grave intensity, and her hair was midnight black.
To Fiona’s surprise Martin’s face drained of color the instant he saw her. For the briefest moment it twisted into the most hateful rage-filled scowl she had ever seen him wear—and just as quickly vanished into a stiff mask. Fiona wasn’t sure if she had imagined the entire thing.
“Fiona Sacrosin and Martin Lightwing,” she said. “We meet at last.” She gestured for them to sit in front of her. Fiona and Martin glanced at each other. There was no clear indication of how this would go down. They had no plan but to act when the moment presented itself. She imagined plunging a sword into Aiyana’s soft body and shuddered.
“We have a common enemy,” Aiyana said without sitting. “That should be enough to ensure that we work in our mutual interest to see the Empire out of Haygarden. I do not love the days of old when the banners of the Empire flew above the city though I was just a child at that time.”
“Here we are,” Fiona said. “What would you have of us?”
“Nothing at all if I had another choice,” Aiyana said. “But Donyo Brownwater is of the utmost importance. He’s working on something big. Something that could put all of us in danger. I need to know what it is.”
“We need more information,” Martin said impatiently. “I’ve spent a great deal of time with Donyo Brownwater, and the only thing he’s been working on is how to flood his body with every beer brewed between here and Laquath.”
“Then you’re a fool and the city guard is lucky to be rid of you,” Aiyana said, coldly. “Had you maintained your post, Martin, you could perhaps be valuable to us in other ways, but now this is all that we need of you. Donyo is working on a project, there is no doubt about that. Who he’s doing it for and what it is are the questions we need answered.
“But there is another issue now, that you seem not to realize the importance of. Your loyalty is highly dubious at the moment, and I’m not quite certain that we haven’t made a mistake in choosing to work with you. The Forgotten have been walking a knife’s edge for years. In many ways we have done more for the protection of the city than your own guards have.”
This time there was no mistaking it. Martin was completely losing control. His face burned scarlet and there was murder in his eyes. Aiyana looked at him curiously as he took great heaving breaths in and out. Fiona didn’t know what to do.
“So that’s the way of it,” Aiyana said simply. “I feared as much.” She looked absurdly like a school-teacher scolding a student after class.
“You killed him.”
The words were whispered so low that Fiona couldn’t be sure she heard him right. Uncertainty filled her. Martin was trembling worse than ever. She was positive he was about to rupture.
“The boy has gone mad!” Brandon said, rising abruptly. “Jacob! Jacob! We need—”
Fiona had a good guess what Brandon needed, but he never was able to get the words out because Martin had shrieked like a banshee and swung his blade so viciously that he sent Brandon’s head spinning off his shoulders like an obscene bloody orb.
“Oh fuck.”
Fiona was on her feet, blade drawn. Jacob, the one-eyed man from upstairs, and another man who looked like he could be Jacob’s twin, ran towards them. Fiona jumped between them, swords crashing together over and over as she barely was able to fend them off.
“You killed Jamie! You killed Jamie!” Martin was screaming as he barreled down on Aiyana. She stepped as carefully as a dancer and soberly deflected his blows.
“You killed Jamie! He was my best friend, and you killed him!”
“Yes, I killed your little cunt friend Jamie,” Aiyana said coldly. “He shouldn’t have gone sniffing around my business. He was as much to blame for his death as I was, and now the same can be said for you.”
Fiona was trying to cut her way through to Martin but the two men were stabbing and slashing at her with the fury of a hurricane. It was all she could do to keep her sword spinning defenselessly and avoid being cut to ribbons.
“You could have held him! You could have ransomed him! I would have paid!”
“Your anger blinds you, Martin,” Aiyana shouted. “Your anger blinds you and you fail to see the bigger picture.”
Whether Martin could even hear her or not was impossible to tell. He was still in a blind rage trying to cut her down, screaming the whole time. Fiona narrowly pulled back in time to avoid the tip of an axe that swung for her head. She couldn’t worry about Martin. Jacob and his companion were slowly gaining momentum on her and she had to keep her focus if she wanted to survive.
“STOP THIS MADNESS AT ONCE!”
Fiona heard the voice echo throughout the room, but even as she digested the words she leapt up from a forward somersault and felt her blade puncture Jacob’s stomach. Everything seemed to happen in a blur. There were men everywhere in the room. Geoff Hightower was there, saying something, but Fiona couldn’t quite make it out as she was cornered by two men with longswords.
Aiyana was yelling. The soldiers were yelling. Jacob was pointing at her saying, “That bitch stabbed me,” with more disbelief than pain in his voice. Through all the voices Martin’s screams were the only that came through perfectly clear. “You killed Jamie! You killed Jamie!
“YOU KILLED JAMIE!”
* * *
It took quite a bit of effort for everything to calm down enough for them to make sense out of what was going on. Geoff Hightower was there with his band of men and had their weapons taken. Martin, whose rage had not yet left him, was struggling against the ropes that they used to bind his arms to his chest. Jacob was white-faced and bandaged, and every now and then would look at Fiona to shake his head and say, “You stabbed me.”
“You have all engaged in a circus of folly,” Geoff said, his emerald eyes shining with anger. “I cannot understand why you are so set upon self-destruction, but it ends now.”
“I thought you were in Sun Circle,” Fiona said.
“I was heading there,” Geoff said. “But then I received some rather devastating news on my way. There is a crisis that all of us must be concerned with. We have had our attention diverted by the Empire too long. Rodrick and the Vaentysh Boys have used that distraction to their advantage.”
“Why don’t you be direct, old man,” Aiyana said. “What’s he doing?”
There was something in the way that Aiyana addressed Geoff that made Fiona realize they knew each other.
“Rodrick has whatever weapon that he’s been after. The Vaentysh Boys have been gathering in Haygarden secretly. One of my spies was uncovering information about it, but has since been discovered. We cannot be squabbling in basemen
t cellars right now. Whatever differences there are between the Forgotten and Haygarden are on hold. If we don’t act decisively and aggressively right now, then everything will be lost. Do you understand? The Vaentysh Boys will not be kind to the Forgotten should they gain control of the city!”
“When have we ever asked for kindness?” Aiyana said.
Geoff gave her a long cold stare, and Aiyana sighed. To Fiona’s surprise Aiyana said, “Very well. Tell us what you know, Lord Hightower.”
“How is it that you two know each other?” Fiona asked.
“There is nobody within arms reach of a lever of power in Haygarden that I do not know,” Geoff responded. “But we have more important things to discuss. Rodrick has the Tome Vaenti.”
Whatever impact Geoff expected that to have was lost on them.
“I asked you about the Tome Vaenti,” Fiona said. “You told me you had never heard of it.”
“I was not being honest,” Geoff said. “I didn’t want you getting any ideas and rushing off to do something foolish.” Hightower gave her an angry look. “Clearly I needn’t have worried. In any case the Tome Vaenti is an ancient text used by the mages in service to the Vaentysh Kings long ago. It is said to have originated from the swamp witches of Morrordraed, and after the Vaentysh Kings were overthrown long ago by the Empire the book was lost.”
“Not lost,” Aiyana said. “Simply returned. I know my history on this. The Empire wanted to use it, but could never figure out how. Eventually they decided it would be safer to send the Tome back to its proper land rather than risk somebody in Tellos finding it and using its power against them.”
“But what does it do?” Fiona asked.
“Total devastation,” Geoff replied. “It’s magics are said to be used in a wide variety of ways, but to give you an idea of just how powerful it is the Tome Vaenti was the source of the magic that the godlings used to create the Moonwood. What Rodrick can do with it…gods only know.”