The Truth of Shadows

by Jacob Peppers

  There was no answer, but then, he had not expected one. Frowning, he bent and gently picked up the girl. Then he rose, looking back the way he’d come, into the darkness. The light of the Evertorches was bright, and he considered picking them up. After all, most considered them priceless artifacts. In the end, he decided against it. For one, he did not want to jostle the girl any more than was necessary. Besides, the Evertorches might be famous to some, worth a small fortune for their ability to keep nightlings away, but to him they were worth an afternoon or so, no more, for that was the length of time it took him to build one. After all, building things was what he did. It was why they had once called him Larin the Builder.

  He snorted at that, in disgust at those who had once practically worshiped him and at himself as well. Then he started back down the dune, leaving the light behind him. The nightlings would not bother him, Evertorch or not. They had learned long ago that to do so was to die terribly. Even the damned beasts learn their lessons, he thought. He glanced down at the girl in his arms and heaved a sigh. Why then, can you never seem to?

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Alesh led them through the streets at a run, glancing behind him from time to time to make sure the others were keeping up. He was curious about the girl that was with them, but he would ask about her later, if they survived. For now, he was only focused on making it out of the city alive, and that was more than enough to worry about without adding to it. He would trust that the others wouldn’t have brought someone along who could put them in danger.

  “Do you know where you’re going?” Rion panted.

  “Yes.”

  “But how? For that matter, how did you find us? And who was that tattooed bastard back there?”

  Alesh paused at an alley mouth, holding his hand up for silence and peering into the street. He could see Redeemers at the end of it, but they were far enough away not to notice them. Or so he hoped. “Come on,” he said. “And hurry.” They ran across the street, Alesh expecting to hear a shout of alarm from the Redeemers at any moment, but they reached the alley without incident.

  He turned on Rion. “Look, we don’t have time for this, alright? I was hurt when I got here, and I looked for a healer’s. I patched myself up as best I could and had just left when that ‘tattooed bastard’ as you call him, came on me. We fought, and I managed to get away before any more Redeemers showed up.”

  “Your arm,” Katherine said, “you would have been able to take him if not for your arm.”

  Alesh said nothing to that. He wasn’t sure he could have taken the man even if he’d have been the healthiest he’d ever been. In fact, he was pretty sure he couldn’t have. He’d gotten lucky, that was all. It had been a brief encounter, and one he’d barely escaped from with his life.

  “And what of Sonya?’ Katherine said. “How do you know they took her further south?”

  Alesh sighed, starting forward through the alleyway. “I asked one of the Redeemers.”

  Rion snorted. “Yeah? Just volunteered the information to you, did he?”

  Alesh turned, meeting the man’s eyes. “I asked hard. Now, enough talk—we’re close to the southern gate, or at least what stands for a gate in this town. I can’t expect the Redeemers will be stupid enough to let us go without a fight.”

  They reached the end of the alley, and Alesh poked his head around, peering to the south. As he’d expected, four red-cloaked men stood in the road, their swords drawn.

  “What do we do?” The voice came from right behind him, and Alesh turned to see the girl standing there.

  “Darl,” he said, turning to the Ferinan, “can you fight?”

  The Ferinan nodded, hefting his spear and walking up to stand beside Alesh. “Good,” Alesh said. “Now, we’ve got to get it done and fast. If we waste any time, the others will come up from behind us, and we’ll be surrounded.”

  “Yes.”

  “Alright then,” Alesh said, eyeing the motley group, all of them save the Ferinan studying him with wide, terrified eyes. “You all stay close but don’t get in our way.”

  Then, knowing each second brought their doom closer, he charged out of the alleyway, the Ferinan a step behind him. The Redeemers let out shouts of surprise at their appearance and rushed to meet them. Alesh side-stepped the overhanded blow from the first and plunged his blade into the man’s side. He heard footsteps behind him as one of the man’s comrades charged him. Alesh tried to pull his blade free, but it wouldn’t come loose, and he was forced to abandon it, leaping away and narrowly avoiding his new opponent’s attack. The wounded man, however, wasn’t so lucky, and the blow that had been made for Alesh clove deep into his side.

  Alesh started forward, but something flew out of one of the alleyways, whistling through the air only inches from his face, and a quick look showed a crossbowman in the alleyway, knelt on one knee, reloading his weapon.

  But before Alesh could make a move toward the crossbowman, the second Redeemer was on him, swinging his sword in a wide, vicious arc, meant to cleave him in two. Alesh rolled under the flashing steel, past the man’s guard. Olliman had trained him extensively in unarmed combat—something Alesh had always thought was just an excuse to make him Kale’s punching bag—so when the Redeemer tried to raise his blade for another strike, Alesh knew what to do. His fist lashed out, striking the man in the pressure point at his elbow.

  The Redeemer’s sword fell from suddenly nerveless fingers, clattering to the ground, and Alesh’s second strike took him in the temple. The Redeemer staggered, but didn’t go down, and Alesh was preparing to finish it, when he heard a shout from somewhere behind him.

  “Watch out!”

  He lunged to the side by instinct—or at least he tried to—but the Redeemer had recovered enough to grab him, pulling him close and meaning to bury the dagger he’d drawn from his waist in Alesh’s stomach. Alesh heard the tell-tale click of a crossbow release and winced in expectation of the pain the bolt would bring even as he held the man’s knife at bay with his good hand, trying to break free.

  But no pain came. Somehow, the crossbowman had missed from less than a dozen feet away. Alesh grunted in a surprise he saw shared in his opponent’s face, then he slammed his head forward with as much momentum as he could. The Redeemer’s nose crunched, and he howled in agony, dropping his blade and stumbling away. Alesh followed, pivoting and landing another blow to the man’s temple. This time, he collapsed to the ground as if his legs had been cut out from under him and remained still.

  Panting for breath, Alesh spun, meaning to deal with the man with the crossbow, and was surprised to find him lying sprawled on the ground. The young girl stood over him, a blood-stained rock in her hands. Satisfied that the man was dealt with for the moment, Alesh turned to witness the Ferinan spitting the last of the two Redeemers he’d faced on his spear.

  The Redeemer’s body stiffened, and when the Ferinan pulled the spear free, he collapsed to the ground. Alesh started toward him then stumbled, nearly falling, as the wound in his arm throbbed agonizingly. He had done what he could to clean it at the healer’s, but he knew it wasn’t enough. The infection had already set in, had spread, and it would take someone of far greater healing ability than himself to cure it. If there even was a cure anymore.

  Still, there was no time to worry about it, not now, for if they stayed here, they would all be killed—that much was certain. Giving his head a shake to clear the dizziness from it, he shambled toward the first Redeemer and grasped the handle of his sword, pulling it free. That done, he walked to the girl where she still stood, gazing down at the Redeemer she’d struck, the rock held loosely in her hands, a look of vague confusion on her face.

  He knelt beside her, taking the rock and tossing it aside. “Thank you,” he said. “For saving me.”

  The girl blinked and finally turned to meet his gaze. “Does it…get easier?”

  Alesh followed her gaze back to the Redeemer, knew well enough what she meant. He found himself thinking about t
he past days and weeks spent slaughtering the men as they came at him, one after the other, their faces no more than a blur. But their blood…that he remembered all too well. It had been a simple thing to become that creature, that monster that cared only for death and pain. Simple. But not easy. “No,” he said finally. “Nor should it. Still, I do thank you for saving me—I would have died, otherwise.” He offered her his hand. “I’m Alesh.”

  She smiled a small, almost shy smile, taking his hand. “I’m Rose.”

  “Rose,” Alesh said. “That’s a pretty name.”

  “Thanks. That’s why I chose it.” Alesh frowned at that, but she spoke before he could. “And, I guess I did save you, huh?”

  “Yes, you did.”

  She nodded, her face somber enough, but her eyes danced mischievously. “I thought you would be mad, you know, since I got in your way and all after you told us specifically not to.”

  Alesh paused, then remembered the words he’d said before they fought the Redeemers. He turned to look at the others who had come up to stand behind them and saw an amused expression on Katherine’s face. Then he laughed. A great, bellowing laugh that felt good. He did not remember the last time he’d laughed, felt almost as if he had forgotten how, and the girl grinned widely, clearly pleased. “Well, Rose,” he said, rising, “you can get in my way anytime, alright?”

  “Rose?” Katherine asked.

  “That’s right,” the girl blurted. “It’s a pretty name. He said so.”

  Rion snorted, saying nothing.

  “Alright,” Alesh said, looking up at the sky. “We’ve got to get out of town as quick as we can, but it’ll be dark in a few hours. We should check the nearby buildings, see if we can find any lanterns or—”

  “Alesh.” Rion’s voice, and there was an unmistakable edge to it.

  “Yes?” he said, turning to the man who said nothing, only pointed down the street.

  Alesh looked in the direction he’d indicated and saw men gathering. They were still far away, but they were close enough for him to make out the black of their armor, the red of their cloaks. Dozens of them, possibly as many as a hundred, but it was the one who stood at their front, holding the staff with a blade on either end casually at his side, that drew Alesh’s attention.

  For several seconds, the two groups only studied each other, neither making a move. Who are you? Alesh thought, staring at the tattooed man. He was an Ekirani, of that much Alesh was certain. But Ekirani—though famous for their prowess in combat—were also known for their strong sense of honor, of morality, all of it tied up their art form with the sword, the one they referred to as “the Dance.” During his interminable hours spent in the castle’s library, Alesh had read about the Ekirani—not much, as there was not much to read, the Ekirani being a reclusive people, at least regarding their own beliefs—but enough to have some vague idea what the tattoos meant.

  “Come on,” he said, his eyes never leaving the figure. “We’re leaving.”

  “What about the lanterns?” Rion asked.

  “There’s no time,” Alesh said. “Let’s go.” He ushered the others ahead of him, relieved and more than a little unnerved by how easily they accepted his role as their leader, as if they believed he knew exactly what he was doing, that he had a plan. The truth, though, was that he had no idea what he was doing, and his plan consisted of only surviving the next few minutes. He followed them as they started down the path.

  They were close now, close to finding help. They needed only to make it to the Ferinan’s lands, and there they would find allies. Darl had said that his own tribe numbered in the hundreds, and if they were half as good in a fight as their chief, they would be a great help indeed. If we can only make it there.

  The others disappeared around a curve in the path, and Alesh turned to glance back. The Redeemers and the man with the staff stood where they had minutes ago, making no attempt to give chase, at least not yet, only watching them. Alesh frowned, then turned and followed after the others.

  ***

  The Broken watched the small group disappear around the path, watched the one turn and look back. And in that gaze there was none of the fear he had grown used to seeing in the eyes of men when he came upon them, only determination, a willingness to see the thing through. And that was no great surprise.

  One of the few tenets of his people the Broken still held to was that a man could learn much of another by the way he fought, and his brief scuffle with this one had been enough to show him the length of the man’s resolve, his strength. Even with one arm clearly useless, the man had not fallen as so many others had, but had fought well, fleeing not out of fear but out of an understanding that the battle in which he was engaged could not be won, not then. And that, too, earned him the Broken’s respect, for while many men were cowards, many others threw themselves into battle and, once undertaken, took no heed of whether they had any chance of victory, enslaved by the emotions—anger and lust, chief among them—that such a contest often conjured up.

  This one, though, was different. Special, just as the Broken’s new god had told him he would be. But all the courage and honor in the world could not ward off infection, could not defeat the poison that even now coursed its way through the man’s veins. He would fall and soon. The Broken only hoped that he would be there to give the man what he deserved—a noble death. That, at least, he would do.

  “Sir?”

  The man had disappeared around the path, following his companions, keeping himself between them and the danger that the Broken—and those men who now served with him—represented. The Broken turned, silently regarding the red-cloaked man who had spoken.

  The man shifted, obviously discomfited by the Broken’s steady gaze.

  “E-excuse me, sir, but…what are your orders?”

  The Broken studied the man for several more seconds. “We follow.”

  “But…sir, if you don’t mind me saying, they’re as good as dead. That one fella can barely stand, let alone fight, and the others…well, the nightlings’ll take care of them soon enough.”

  “You are saying that he can barely stand, yet he killed two of your men with ease? No. They go to the Ferinan lands, and we will follow.”

  “But, sir,” the man said, swallowing. “I…I mean, there’s nothing there for them. The Ferinan have been dealt with. There’s nothing for them out there, in the desert. They’ll all be dead before the week’s out.”

  “Then we will bear witness.”

  The man’s mouth worked, and, reluctantly he said, “We’ve got wounded…sir, the—”

  “All men are wounded, don’t you understand? All men are dying. Now, those who cannot follow will be left—we go. Now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “—so that’s how I stole the diamond only to put it back again. What do you think?”

  “Sounds great,” Alesh said.

  Rion snorted from somewhere behind them, but either Rose didn’t hear or chose to ignore him. In moments, she launched into another story, one that quickly shaped up to be just as improbable as the last.

  Alesh didn’t mind. The truth was, he was glad to listen to the sound of the girl talking, glad to be hearing a voice in his head besides the one that had spoken to him over the last few weeks, the one that demanded blood and death, that knew nothing of joy or pleasure or amusement. For the girl’s stories were amusing—they were that if nothing else.

  Besides, the girl’s incessant chatter—he was fairly sure she’d yet to take a breath since they’d left Celadra over two hours ago—also served as a welcome distraction from the pain in his body, particularly that of his arm, as well as the fever that he could feel spreading through him. His vision had begun to blur badly over an hour or so ago. Now, the few trees and bushes they passed were little more than vague shapes, indistinct as if seen through water. He said nothing to the others—after all, it wasn’t as if they could do anything about it.

  The Ekirani and the Redeemers were coming—of
that much he was sure—and stopping to try to do something about the wound, about the infection and the fever it had caused, would only put Alesh’s companions in more danger. And that, of course, was assuming there was anything to be done, a fact which he was growing more and more certain wasn’t the case as the fever found purchase in his body and began to run rampant.

  He thought he would probably die—there didn’t seem to be another way for it to end. But he told himself with each shuffling step that he would, at least, get them to the Ferinan. Sonya was there, he believed, somewhere among that desert wilderness. And once he found her, and she and the others were with the Ferinan, they would be safe. Or, at least, they would be as safe as anyone could be, in such times.

  So he listened to the girl. He kept silent. And he walked. And, thanks to the fever, he burned.

  “You’re a good listener, you know that?”

  Alesh gave her a smile. “Thanks. Sonya has told me as much.”

  The girl got a strange look on her face, one he couldn’t quite identify. “Who’s Sonya?”

  He thought of Sonya, of the countless times she’d come running into his room, excited about one thing or the other the way only children could be. He would get her back—he had to. “A friend,” he said quietly.

  A sour expression crossed the girl’s face, as if he’d said something to offend her. “I had a friend before. A good one. Until he stole all my coin. You have to be careful, you know. About friends.”

  Alesh laughed. “Well. I don’t think I have to worry about her stealing my coin, anyway.”

  “You never know,” the girl said, then she abruptly turned and stomped back to where Katherine followed at the end of the line.

  Alesh glanced at Darl who had been walking on the other side of him, and the Ferinan watched him with an amused expression on his face, as if he knew something Alesh didn’t. But if he did, he didn’t seem to want to share, so Alesh only grunted and turned back to the trail.