by BJ Hanlon
Then Edin thought of Glustown and Coldwater, both now empty. “There are few towns around here. How could there be this many people?”
“There are few towns to the north. To the south there are farms and villages for at least a hundred miles.” She moved toward a stone windowsill that overlooked the barren garden and the men sowing seeds. With the sun out, it looked like a pleasant day.
“It’s been a difficult few months. Especially after the attack on the dry docks.” She sighed.
“They attacked the isles.” Edin said, “we fought off their attack some months back.”
“I know. Thousands of soldiers and sailors lost, nearly a hundred ships. If only the dematians would’ve attacked sooner.”
“No one knew,” Edin said and sat next to her.
“What do you want now Edin?”
“I need help from someone who can make a difference.” Edin put a hand on hers.
“Now you’re just buttering me up. I thought you were with the white girl, the sweet little princess.” Edin sat quietly for a moment and Yassima must’ve misconstrued it. “Flack sent a letter, told me about your meeting with the FAE…”
“We are. She is elsewhere at the moment.” He paused and looked out of the window though he didn’t remove his hand.
She turned hers over and squeezed it. Her black skin seemed more wrinkled than the last time he’d seen her. “What happened?”
His heart sank. “She fell…” A tear fell down his face.
Edin heard wood creaking from near the entrance. “Boss?” a voice said, “your appointment is in an hour.”
“I will be down shortly,” the Raven said and lifted Edin’s chin. “What can I help you with? What needs to get done?”
Edin explained all that had happened, the fight, the wall, the tunnels, and the defense of Coldwater.
“We need to prepare like you do. We need to seal the tunnel near here and get word down to Calerrat. I’m guessing they’re already seeing skirmishes with the dematians.”
“And how do you expect to seal off the tunnel?”
“The explosives, the ones we used on the dry docks.”
Yassima tapped her fingers against her knee and crossed her legs. “I’m not sure how many are left.” She seemed to be thinking for a moment. “But there were also the ones from the attack on the isles. I know where a storehouse is, though they are heavy and need to be lit by a flame.”
Edin smiled. “I can handle that. I may also need to be snuck out of the city. Despite my connection with the duke, the Por Fen is hunting me.”
“Is there anything else?”
Edin nodded. “The Foci Dun Bornu, I’m unsure if you’ve heard of them.”
“Tribesmen, right? Savages?”
“Tribesmen yes, not savage at all,” Edin said. “They need help to get to Delrot. My companions are commandeering a ship and at least there, they may have a fighting chance.”
She looked around. “Just keep that to yourself,” the Raven said. “Many people would like to get on a boat and flee. Maybe many people could. What a turn that would make if the magi were the saviors of humanity. How the Vestion would be destroyed and the Por Fen nothing but a death cult.” She smirked. “So, what are you going to do, Master Edin, attack and destroy the nearby tunnel by yourself?”
“I had a friend I was planning on attacking it with. But he disappeared.”
“The ginger or the meaty guy you came in with? Doubt highly it was the one-armed wonder or the bookworm…”
Edin raised an eyebrow and started to open his mouth then stopped. Of course, she knew who came in the city, when, and who they were with.
“The ginger.”
“Right, he was taken by the Por Fen.”
“What!” Edin exclaimed and he quickly rose. His pulse sped up. They came after Edin and now took Berka.
“He went to the High Priest and never exited. It is probable that he’s still in the church.”
It took him a few seconds to catch his breath and then he realized he wasn’t shocked by this. Not really.
Heck would anything shock him now? How many times would everything turn out worse than he hoped?
He lost companions, family, allies and now the ginger friend turned enemy and back to friend. He needed his weapons. He needed to know where Berka was inside and how to get in there.
“You cannot exactly go after him,” Yassima said.
Edin knew that. But what could he do? He wasn’t going to let Berka rot in a Por Fen cell. Then he saw Yassima’s foot tapping the ground. Waiting for him to— “Can I ask for another favor?”
“Already have people on it,” she said.
“Thank you.” Edin sighed and moved toward the windowsill.
“By the way, you look like what comes out the back end of a cow. You need rest.”
“That’s not the first time I’ve heard that.”
“Take a nap in the guest room. I’ll get everything settled.” She stood.
“Thanks again,” Edin said.
“We’re on the same side and if you can help stem these attacks, the thanks should be to you.”
6
The Escape Plan
Yassima sent Jicalo to wake him a bit later and then left. After a moment of confusion, he remembered where he was, the fourth floor of the mansion. Edin pulled himself from the bed and stretched.
Outside a large bay window, he saw it was dark with a quarter moon.
Edin took a breath and got a smell of something amazing rising through the floors. A soup or stew. He thought it was a tomato with some sort of meat… and a hint of sawdust.
He left the room and followed the stairs back down. On the second floor, he reached the hall and heard the cracks of hammers pounding and the crunching of saw teeth on wood. Edin poked his head into the dining room and saw the carpenters and their mess. They weren’t paying attention and had two, three-level, beds already up and the men didn’t look to be stopping anytime soon.
They were working hard and fast while they prepared for the guests.
That thought brought back the memory of Berka, he was a guest of the church. Of the Por Fen. Then his stomach grumbled again.
“Master Yaultan,” a voice came from behind him. Edin turned to a well-dressed man in livery. He bowed slightly. “Lady Yassima has requested that you join her for dinner.” He put a hand out directing the way.
“Thank you,” Edin said and went the way he pointed. They headed to a set of stairs toward the front of the house. As he was near the bottom stair, he heard the floor creak behind him. Slowly, Edin began to turn and look.
Then he felt it. The suppression of his talent. A lot of it, at least four stones.
Edin was struck in the head with something. He tried to scream but a moment later, something was shoved into his mouth and a black bag was thrown over his head.
He was pushed to his knees and took a kick to the side, then another to the back of his skull. He thought he could see stars. A moment later he felt manacles slammed around his wrists in front of him.
Disorientated, he tried to shout through the thing in his mouth. Another hit.
He wobbled.
“A moment,” A woman said. Yassima.
Edin gargled when he heard her. She’d took their side. She’d doom the world, everyone...
Then she grabbed his wrist with a vice like grip and yanked it up as pain ran through his arm and he was forced to stand.
“No more magi.” Then she slipped something between his wrist and the manacles. Something small and key like. “You get to join your traitorous friend in the dungeons.”
He was still woozy from the hits but could understand, at least partially, what she was saying. He felt strong fingers digging into his bicep then and someone pushing him forward. “Move you dirty abomination.”
Edin was pushed through a door and knew he was outside and under arrest. He heard metal jangling. Then someone pushed him hard from behind. He stumbled and nearly fell until someth
ing hard caught his gut and he nearly doubled over. Then his feet were grabbed and lifted and he landed on his chest on a flat surface. A moment later he was shoved forward and heard a metal gate slam shut.
“Just an abomination. Nothing to see here,” one of the Por Fen said. “Do not worry, your children and families are safe.” Then he growled, “do not move, abomination, until I tell you.”
He heard the thwap of whips on horses or donkeys, and the jail cart jerked forward. The wheels rumbled over the cobblestones and made his bladder scream for relief. There were soft splashes outside as well as if it had just rained.
As he went, he tried to remember the turns that were made but then remembered there was no need. He knew they were headed to the church and the Vestion was near the castle.
In most cities they were near each other. Like fraternal twins.
Though the Vestion’s cathedrals or churches were not as grand as the estates of the kings of men, the gods’ grandness was said to be the entirety of the sky and the afterlife.
Edin pictured the church. Tall towers, pointy spires, and carvings of demons, monsters, mages and men around the exterior. Great stained-glass depicting dead abominations or the gods performing miracles tended to be in at least one window.
Sure, it was okay for the gods to have powers like the magi, but give them to man and you’re evil and destroying the world.
Edin thought of what Yassima said. Joining his friend, then she gave him something. She shoved it in between his manacles and wrists. A key he hoped.
The cart jerked to a stop and Edin was yanked to his feet, the manacles digging into his wrists. Edin bit back a yelp as the door behind squeaked open and he was pushed out. He dropped about three feet and landed on the hard ground. He barely caught his balance as he landed.
A voice to his right said, “blast it, I hoped he’d faceplant.”
Then a foot caught him in the back and he flew forward. His covered head hit the ground; the cobblestone scraped his chest. Everything that touched the ground became wet and damp.
“Now he did,” someone else said, and there was laughter.
Then he was pulled to his feet again and spun around. Edin could feel a presence in front of him. He was dizzy and sore but at this point didn’t care. The wan stones were still suppressing him pretty well, but he felt like he had to deal something back, to make sure these people knew what hit them.
Edin leaned back slowly, and then flung himself forward. He slammed his head forward and felt it connect. There was a spurt of blood and a wild, girly scream. Someone tried hitting him in the spine but he knew it was coming. Edin ducked and thrust out a foot. It caught soft, meaty flesh and someone yelped.
The whinny of a horse came from his front and then the cart’s wheels started to rattle over the ground again.
Edin reached up and ripped off his hood.
There was a wet sheen to the world with small lanterns and streetlights reflecting off the glaze on and the puddles in the cobblestone.
He was in a small courtyard behind the grand Vestion cathedral. Two Por Fen were on the ground, another two were racing toward him. Edin felt the key slip between his wrist and the cuffs and heard it clatter to the ground.
He didn’t have time to pick it up. Not with the two Por Fen coming at him and drawing their weapons. One pulled out a pair of long knives like Dephina, the other a mace with a monstrous face for the hammer.
He glanced toward the cathedral and saw a small closed door. It was maybe the size of a regular home’s entrance, not like the grand front doors he was certain were on the other side of this place. The gate they’d come through was closed. Nowhere to run.
Edin glanced down at the key again. He couldn’t run will with the heavy manacles.
Then the one with the mace got there. Edin dodged a downward blow by ducking left, then the man swung it around in a great arc around his head to bring it back.
Edin shifted his weight back right as the knife wielder approached. He felt the suppression in his body and the soft connection to his talent. It wasn’t enough. He drove a shoulder into the Por Fen still swinging the mace. The man lost his balance and tumbled. Edin heard a sickening smack as he drove the attacker into the ground. There was a thud and a wicked gasp.
Edin rolled off to the right, ready to dodge the knife wielder when he saw the other wasn’t standing either. Edin glanced around and saw the body a few feet away. Perched where the head should’ve been was what looked like a smashed watermelon.
Then there was noise. One of the Por Fen, the one with the broken nose, was racing toward the door. The other one was crawling toward the gate. He turned toward the door and ran. Edin caught up to the man just as he was reaching for the handle. Edin leapt and threw the manacles over his head and rammed a knee into the man’s back. They both crashed into the door with a thump and dropped.
A moment later, the Por Fen was unconscious. Turning back to the one with the broken leg, he saw the man was on his feet and hobbling slowly. He was still ten feet from the gate.
Then a black shape appeared to leap over the stone wall and land next to the Por Fen monk. A moment later, the monk was on the ground and the black shape was coming toward Edin.
Edin looked around for the key. Where…
The black figure stopped near the dead man, bent down, and picked up something. It turned toward Edin and tossed the object. Oil lamp light reflected off it making it twinkle like a star. He tried snatching it, but the throw was short. A pair of tinks came as it rattled on the cobblestone and then settled.
Edin snatched it up and looked back at the mysterious helper but the person was gone.
“Thanks, Raven,” he whispered and then looked at the metal piece in his hands. It was almost a key but not. It was too thin and had much more rounded edges.
Edin started digging it into the lock on one of the manacles. Sweat tickled his scalp and dripped into his eyes. It seemed to take forever. Then it popped open like a coconut after a hardy slash.
Edin worked on the other and after a few moments he was free. He looked back toward the monks. Only one was certainly dead, killed by his brother Por Fen monk.
The other three he guessed were alive.
He glanced up at the towering cathedral behind him. It rose higher than the library. It was also darker and quieter.
That had always seemed odd as the gods were said to be more outgoing than the quiet servitude that the priests showcased. Who knew what they did behind closed doors though?
Edin looked back toward the gate for the Raven—he was certain it was her or one of her men—and then to the rear door. He had to be quick. There was no telling how long it’d take before these zealots woke from their slumber. He quickly searched them and found keys and wan stones. He kept the former and threw the latter far over the walls in different directions.
Fortunately, the rear entry to the cathedral was unlocked. They were probably waiting on the delivery. As Edin entered, he realized he should’ve put on one of their ugly black cloaks.
Beyond the door was a gray stone room decorated with metal U-shaped sconces. There were wooden benches lining the walls with other things above them: shields with scorch marks, broken swords and staves, and there was a door on every wall. Maybe he attacked too quickly. Maybe he should’ve waited until he was closer to Berka.
Using his gut, an instinct that was usually more right than wrong, he chose the right door.
He was wrong. It was nothing but a small pantry. For a moment he thought that there could be a dungeon somewhere below them and then remembered there was another city down there.
Then he tried to think about what the building below would look like. It’d have to be strong, unfathomably strong, to hold up the entirety of this monolithic building.
Edin closed the door and looked toward the other two. The left door and the one opposite the entryway. He went to the left thinking it was better to not delve deeper into the cathedral. Not unless he had to. He really did
not like being here. It was one of the worst places for a person like him to be sneaking around. His palms were sweaty and he wished he would’ve grabbed at least one of the weapons from outside.
Edin rushed across the room and put an ear to the door. There was no sound coming through the thick wooden slats.
He tried the handle and found it locked. Edin grumbled as he started to dig into the lock with the pick. It popped in barely a second. Pretty good.
As it opened, he was certain that this was the right door. Not that he saw anything, it was a dark and eerie corridor lit by the same sconces as the other room. But something said it was right.
Edin went inside. There were no other rooms on either side and the corridor ran for twenty yards before turning right.
As he approached, he began to hear voices. His chest pounded in his throat. He stopped at the edge and peered around the corner. Spiral stone stairs but no people. The voices were coming down the stairs like a debutant at her ball.
Carefully and as quietly as he could, Edin scooted around the corner and began to climb. The stone was quiet under foot and he made a full circle and a half before he appeared at a door at that bookended another corridor. Ten feet away, he saw a pair of Por Fen monks. They were seated casually on either side of a table laying down cards and drinking from shiny metal tankards.
“Ah-hah. A straight,” one said and grinned.
The other groaned as the first rounded up the coin at the center of the table and pulled it to his side.
“Come on, I’m not giving up that easily,” the loser said.
“Glad to hear it fool, I mean friend.” His words sounded like he was grinning.
They’re gambling, Edin thought. Gambling was frowned upon by the church in the outside world. Apparently it was another do what I say, not as I do type rule. Politicians, nobles, and the church all seem to abide by that saying.
He didn’t feel any wan stones in the area and had only his hands and the talent. Past them, more firelit sconces lined the hallway. It was a long hall with five sconces in total.