by White, Gwynn
My ears were the first to answer the call, and the most useful. Taste and touch were basically useless at the moment, aside from telling me I was touching the cold metal holding ring of a dead lantern and could taste the dull, wooden feeling of time spent breathing with my mouth wide open, both in the carriage and on the run through the woods. The only smells I could discern at the moment were damp, rot, sweat, and the lingering smoke from the lantern. I should have thought of that last one earlier, I realized, as the scent of smoke would have been an obvious thing to follow, but I could recriminate myself later.
Before all those other senses kicked in, though, it was hearing that dominated. I made out the sound of brambles being brushed aside for someone to pass through them without snagging on the prickly thorns. The absence of animal noises nearby added its own solemn note to the scene, as we’d been accompanied by at least the scurrying of rodents and small nocturnal predators for the last half hour. I heard the labored breathing of Oren and Arwin, fresh from their confrontation. Even Morena gasped at the sound of a snapped twig nearby. It seemed our pursuers had discarded caution, assuming we would still be loud enough to cover their pursuit in our heedless retreat into the woods.
Oren’s eyes still gave him away in the dark, but even as I watched, the pinpoints of light blinked out of existence and didn’t return.
“What did you do?” I hissed.
“My eyes are closed,” he replied calmly.
“Won’t that hinder you in a fight?”
“No more than keeping them open would aid our enemy. Trust in me; I know what I am doing.”
Concern still coiled in my chest, but I nodded tightly. “Morena, find somewhere to hide,” I said.
Arwin looked ready to respond by laying into Morena, but I smothered that rant with a hand on her arm. “Later,” I promised her. “Now we have bigger issues.”
“Mal is right,” Oren whispered. “Morena, take cover.” He reached inside his robe and took out a dagger as long as my forearm and which glowed with the same bright ferocity as Oren’s pupils.
“Oren, your dagger…”
The man opened his eyes and saw the glow, and the reflection of it in his own pupils widened with his surprise. “That…shouldn’t be happening,” he murmured slowly.
“What does that mean?” Morena asked.
“It means the situation just became more complicated for us. Mal, there is a soldier of the Empire lurking among those trees. This blade is enchanted as a mark of identification to those in the service of the emperor. If it is glowing now…”
“Then there is someone we should go to great pains to avoid killing,” I said, followed by a curse. “Why would an imperial soldier be—?”
But the question died on my lips as I considered my question in its entirety. We knew next to nothing about Morena, which didn’t help narrow down the cause, but it would do nothing for us to speculate on who she might have wronged before stepping foot inside our carriage. Oren was at fault with the clerics and the faith of the Lord of Clouds for some reason or another, but again, that didn’t make him culpable with the Empire. That left Arwin and myself, and I knew for certain that we had crossed someone bearing the badge and blade of those who served the emperor’s interests directly. In fact, it hadn’t even been two days since I had spared his life in Mitbas.
And now he was here. As soon as that thought solidified in my mind, I knew it was true. Barring some freak coincidence involving Morena having a past as checkered as mine was short, there was no other explanation for it.
“We brought this,” I muttered, so low that only Arwin heard me.
Her eyebrows knitted together with concern, but she didn’t speak immediately. Instead, she tugged my arm and pulled me away from Oren and Morena.
“Do you think it’s Beyland?” Arwin whispered to me in a low tone as we took cover behind a large fallen tree.
I glanced her way, peered through the tangle of roots stemming sideways from the fallen tree trunk, then turned sharply back to her. “Depths take us, I forgot about him.”
Arwin’s frown deepened. “Forgot about the man who took over our town and banished us under pain of death? How did you—you know what, never mind. So why did you say that, a minute ago? That we’re responsible for the soldier or whoever that’s chasing us?”
“I think it’s that guard from Mitbas. The one who cornered you for stealing a loaf of bread.”
“The one you left alive,” she deadpanned.
“Yes, and I’m starting to regret that. I didn’t think he would follow us out this far; after we left Mitbas, I assumed the matter would be at rest.”
Arwin laughed harshly. “A little late for that now.”
A voice rose out of the darkness to greet us then, one that was familiar in a greasy, uncomfortable way.
“Lay down your weapon, Cleric,” came the order from none other than the blond Mitbas guard, who raised a torch overhead to reveal both his features and his position. I peeked at him through the tree roots; he looked for all the world like a man on a mission.
“Don’t come any closer,” Oren called from somewhere to our right. His call drew the guard’s gaze, and I motioned to Arwin. Together, we crawled carefully leftward, skirting well outside the perimeter of the torch’s light. Oren’s voice took on a deferential tone as he continued. “Identify yourself, soldier, so that I may know who I am dealing with.”
“Imperial Legate Elias Karver, third order. I was stationed temporarily in the provincial town of Mitbas,” the man replied instantly. “I recognize the white robes of an adherent of the faith. What is your name, Cleric?”
Third order? And he was a damned imperial legate, to boot, and not some bottom-rate guard assigned to a neglected edge of the Empire for incompetence. That made him much more dangerous, not only because of the implicit skills he would have to go with the position, but also because he had connections. To be a third order connection with the emperor himself was incredible enough. That would place him just outside the palace walls, someone in command of entire provinces of soldiers.
And Arwin and I had beaten him and fled custody.
I couldn’t see Oren’s face, but I could hear him clear his throat before replying to the damned legate. “My name is Oren. I hold black band legacy with the Lord of Clouds, and have dined at the table of the emperor’s personal chambers.” With each word, even by torchlight, I could see the defiant confidence flee Legate Karver’s face. “If you are responsible for the attack on our caravan earlier this evening, you will find I am no easy match.”
“My fight is not with you, Cleric, but with one who I have it on good information shared your carriage headed east. Two, actually—a young boy and girl, no older than fifteen years.” Legate Karver stepped forward into a small glade that left him exposed on all sides. If we were going to jump him, now was the time.
But Oren didn’t give any obvious signal. No whistling, no fanfare of magic.
So Arwin and I kept to the shadows. If the legate managed to talk Oren out of a fight, I knew there would be no winning this for us—we would have to run. And I wanted the two of us as close to the road as possible in case that was necessary.
“What did these two children do to you?” Oren asked.
I wasn’t sure if he was genuinely curious or just stalling for time, but I urged Arwin along just the same. In the back of my mind, I was worried that we hadn’t seen or heard any other men with Karver. Had he come alone? Or were they lurking unseen somewhere nearby?
“One is a thief. I caught her in the act and gave chase,” Karver explained. “When I cornered her, her partner took me by surprise and knocked me unconscious.” His voice dropped as his face twisted with anger, high cheekbones pressing against the taut skin of his cheeks, and he raised his one fist to the light as if to make a point. “I woke chained to the wall like a dog!”
And then I saw them: the pale scars of recently healed skin. A ring of unaligned circles marked where the barbs of the metal cuff h
ad pierced his flesh after I’d commanded the iron to adhere itself to the brick wall.
“Stealing a loaf of bread is a minor offense, one I am willing to overlook,” Karver continued, his voice raised again. He spun in a tight half circle to address the woods. “I am only here for the boy, the metal acolyte. No one else has to die here tonight.”
Those words sent a spike of fear through my core, and I turned to try and meet Arwin’s eyes in the darkness. I wanted to know where her heart lay in all of this. She had the bag of gold, more than enough to start over. She had her freedom from Beyland, unless the brigadier pulled a Karver and left Pointe in pursuit of us. All she would need to do was turn on our makeshift partnership and hand me over to the vengeful legate who’d been bold enough to walk into the woods without any form of support.
And he wasn’t here to take me in.
Karver was after blood, and only when I stopped breathing would he deem it enough.
Her actions in the moment had saved us back then, but now I was fervently wishing Arwin had never had the bullheaded idea to nick that loaf of sourdough bread that had sent us on this flight from the law.
“Mal, I’m not going to hand you over, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Arwin said suddenly, intruding on my thoughts.
“You aren’t?”
“Not a chance.”
“I…I don’t know what to say. Arwin, I’m touched—”
“Oh, that doesn’t mean it didn’t cross my mind,” she said quickly, overriding me. “Our plan was to get to Cleighton, pawn off the swords and shields you made and smuggled away from whatever forge you ended up at, and then live like kings.” She hefted the coins Pilor had given them. “That plan isn’t necessary anymore; this is enough for one person to live off of for a whole year or more.”
“Then why are you still with me?”
Arwin sighed, then came in close enough that I could see her smile through the gloom. “Because we’re friends, right?” Before I could respond, she leaned back with another gentle sigh, then pulled her dagger free with deliberate slowness. “And besides, I don’t trust the legate. He has no reason to leave any of us alive if he gets the chance to end this now, here in the woods, in total anonymity.”
“So we fight?”
“We fight,” she confirmed.
I rolled my shoulder experimentally. The pale patch where the inchworm had stitched together my flesh felt limber, and none of the discomfort I’d felt the previous day was there now. It would hold up in a fight.
Unfortunately, all I had on me was the snuffed lantern. Its hard metal housing might hold up for a swing or two, but it would dent and warp far faster than whatever blade the legate surely carried with him.
Still, it was the only plan we had. I just had to hope it was enough.
“We’ll go on three, okay?” Arwin whispered.
I squeezed her hand once and then readied myself. My fingers clenched and unclenched around the handle of the lantern. They felt clammy, and my chest grew hollow as nerves took root. If Oren didn’t join us, didn’t see through the charade Karver was weaving, this would be a very short fight.
“One,” Arwin started.
A low breeze kicked up a few scattered leaves and set the upper boughs of the trees to creaking.
“Two.”
I pivoted on crouched feet and felt more than heard the ground crunching beneath my tattered soles.
“Thr—”
“They’re over there!”
Arwin broke off on her count and we both turned to face the new voice. Only it wasn’t a new voice, it was a newly familiar voice—that of Morena Belva. I couldn’t see her from where Arwin and I were crouched, but her voice rang clear and true through the quiet night air.
“By the uprooted tree!” she continued. “Take the boy and please spare the rest of us. We have done nothing to wrong you.”
In the silence that followed her words, I heard the unmistakable shnick of a sword leaving its sheath, and then determined footsteps from the center of the grove coming toward our hiding place.
“That traitorous bitch,” Arwin growled. “We should have let her stay at the carriage to get killed.”
“Like you said, we still have to stand and fight.”
“But now we’ve lost the element of surprise!”
I tried to control the jittery nerves that were causing my limbs to shake. Arwin was right, the whole situation had gone downhill fast, and I couldn’t see any clear path out of it.
“Mal? Are you okay? Mal, he’s getting close.”
And then sudden realization washed over me. I didn’t know if it was the panic in Arwin’s voice that had triggered the epiphany, or if the ceaseless bouncing of my leg was finally recognizable as some indicator of the truth. But it dawned on me that tamping down this excitement was the exact opposite of what I needed to do. The rush of blood, the adrenaline, was precisely what I needed right now.
It made me feel stronger. And I would need every ounce of strength necessary to overcome Legate Karver. We couldn’t run right now; he was close enough that it would only end in our swift recapture. No, it was on us to end this fight here and now.
Instead of fighting my anxiety, I let that nervous energy flow freely, flooding my arms and legs and chest until it felt like my heart would swell to bursting. I was still scared. I didn’t think any other response in that moment would have been acceptable. We were outclassed in every way, and Morena had just sacrificed any final hope we’d had of making it out quickly and quietly.
But Depths take me, I wasn’t going to go down without a fight.
“Let’s do this,” I told Arwin.
When Karver was within just a few steps of peering over the log and discovering our position, Arwin and I sprung out from opposite ends of the fallen tree. She lunged with her dagger and drew his attention first. With almost arrogant ease, he twirled his blade up to parry her clumsy attack, then jabbed with the closed fist of his other hand, knocking her back.
On his blind side, I swung the lantern down with all the force I could muster. Its bottom edge sliced through the air and collided with the back of the legate’s head. The man shifted at the last moment, though, and the blow was only glancing. A thin line of blood sprouted from that superficial wound, but Karver turned on me in an instant.
“The acolyte at last,” he said, sounding triumphant.
I took a step back at the hungry wolf-like gleam in his eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Hmm, pity. To be given such a gift and then cursed with ignorance.”
“Legate or not, you’re not going to take him from us,” yelled Oren, jumping into the clearing, his eyes ablaze. “The boy acted out of desperation, I’m sure.”
“And besides, you didn’t die,” Arwin said, gaining her feet.
Karver paced a tight circle and kept his sword half raised, always holding at least two of us in his sight. “I take that as a small comfort, as I’m sure you can understand.” He turned to face me then, ignoring the other two entirely. “Had I wanted to, I could have cleaved your head clean from your shoulders. But I didn’t, because even though I sensed something was off about you, I still expected you to be reasonable, a law-abiding citizen. Theft. Resisting arrest. Assault of an imperial soldier. Explain yourself however you will, but in the eyes of the Empire, you are a criminal.”
He held our mutual glare for another moment before breaking it off and addressing the other two. “And as for you…harboring a criminal. Resisting arrest.” Karver stared down Arwin. “Assault of an imperial soldier. For these crimes, I cannot allow you to escape custody again.”
“So you’re going to kill us all?” Arwin demanded. “Because we made sure we didn’t starve back in Mitbas after escaping a truly mad bastard who took over our town? Really safeguarding the interests of the Empire, you are.”
Legate Karver stood up straighter, if that was even possible, and crossed his sword over his chest for an instant before bending his knees into a warri
or’s stance. “I never go looking for a fight. But disrespect the law, and you have no one to blame but yourselves. The escalation was all yours; I am merely seeing it to its natural end.”
“They are only children,” Oren tried to reason, but the legate shook his head.
“Stay out of this, Cleric. A man of the faith need not throw in with lowly urchins.”
“Actually,” Oren sighed, gesturing over the body of his robe, “I ceased being a cleric as of roughly twelve hours ago. Even so, I would cast my lot in with theirs. I do not know their full story yet, but I know enough of mine to say that it will not end here.”
“We will stand united against you,” I said to the legate.
“But we would also really prefer not to die,” Arwin said, holding a hand up. “Or fight any longer. We needed that bread to survive, don’t you see that? You chasing me down was your choice.”
“And then your friend attacked me.”
“He defended me,” Arwin argued, her voice softening. “There’s a difference.”
“Enough talk,” Legate Karver growled. “The only way is forward; I cannot go back with this score unsettled.”
Oren was the first to strike—sort of.
He extended a closed fist out in front of him as if punching the air, but as soon as his arm reached its full extension, he uncurled his fingers and threw something at the legate. It flew through the air like a determined swarm of lightning bugs, looking more like one fist-sized orb than individual insects, and then the ball exploded when it was within a foot of Karver. Brilliant white light burst brightly enough that I had to shield my eyes behind a raised hand, and when I lowered it again, Karver had staggered to his knees.
“What did he just do?” Arwin asked, bewildered.
I shook my head and frowned. “I don’t know.” Clerics of the Lord of Light hadn’t been a frequent topic of conversation at the dinner table with Answorth. In fact, most nights under that roof had been spent with me gnawing on leftovers after Answorth had retired for the evening, my thoughts drifting to what life was like outside of Pointe.