A Sea of Broken Glass

by Sonya M Black

  Aeron narrowed his eyes. Ris would never attack someone she trusted. “Why?”

  “We were discovered by a group of paladins.” Michel launched into a story that set Aeron’s teeth on edge.

  He listened in stunned disbelief. If he hadn’t felt the wildness of Ris’s magic, he wouldn’t have believed Michel.

  “Demon’s balls.” Aeron sat on the ground unable to stand while he processed what had happened. “This changes things.”

  “How so?”

  “We can’t let her go into the Bonelands like that. It will eat her alive.”

  Michel stared at the sky. “You won’t be able to stop her.”

  Aeron’s hands curled into fists. “We’ll head toward the Western Wilds. She’ll never—”

  “Figure it out?” Ris finished for him, her tone hard and cold.

  Light, where had she come from? Aeron swallowed hard. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “You already agreed to help me.” She pointed a finger at him. “Are you going back on your promise?”

  Old memories tugged at his conscience. Another face had asked the same question, and he’d given an answer that he would always regret.

  “No,” Aeron murmured. “We’ll do this your way.”

  He would do anything to prevent the past from repeating itself. Worry ate a hole in his gut. How in the Void was he going to keep Ris safe when she insisted on plunging headfirst into danger? Light help him.

  “We’d better get out of here.” Aeron added the packs they’d brought from Hader’s Junction onto the horses. “There’s a pack of ghouls nearby. They caught a group of miners, but that won’t stop them for long.”

  Ris and Michel didn’t argue. They mounted, and without a word, followed Aeron into the darkness. Fear for Ris clouded Aeron’s thoughts. It was fear that led to his past mistakes. He wouldn’t make those same mistakes again.

  15

  Bran glared at the palisade walls that surrounded Camp Restin. The outpost straddled two hills with a guard tower set at the top of each rise and a thick, timber gate that led into the main compound. Night had fallen and coated the hills in inky darkness. Oil lamps lined the outpost’s walls casting them with pools of light.

  The camp would be laid out in the standard fashion with buildings two deep inside the log wall and a drilling yard in the center. Officers’ Quarters were in the southwest corner and the stockade in the southeast. Civilians lived alongside the paladins, doing the necessary day-to-day chores of laundry, cooking, cleaning, and repairs while the paladins patrolled or drilled.

  “Ris is further south,” Bran grumbled. “Why are we here?”

  He’d felt her magic go out of control through their bond. The knowledge that she was in danger had whipped him into a frenzied need to find her. A stop at the camp was a delay they couldn’t afford.

  “We need to know what’s been going on. The paladins here will have the most recent information.” Cre scratched at his chest. His dirty linen shirt and dusty work pants spoke volumes to the time they’d spent on the road.

  Bran swallowed the ready retort. Cre was right. To better protect Ris, they needed to know what was happening in the world. Llyr had been unreachable, which meant something was happening at the Bastion. It made Bran uneasy to not know what it was, especially since Llyr was capable of handling almost any situation.

  “Who goes there?” A paladin stepped from his post by the gate and held a lamp up to their faces. Bran blinked, trying to adjust his eyes to the bright light.

  “I am a Light in the Darkness, that all may see the truth,” Cre answered with the traditional response.

  “Who are you and what are you doing here?” The accusation in the paladin’s words was clear. No one traveled in the Copper Hills without orders.

  Bran ground his teeth together. He didn’t have time for this. “I’m Bran d’Idris, Lord of the Light. Take me to your commander.”

  “Lord d’Idris, you say? The Commander’s been hoping you’d show up.” The paladin’s eyes narrowed. “Gervis and Hal, you know what to do.”

  Two more guards peered out from the watchtower, nodded, and disappeared.

  “Something’s not right,” Bran whispered to Cre.

  Cre’s lips pressed together into a thin line. “Let’s see what we’re up against.”

  “We don’t have time for this,” Bran hissed.

  Cre stared at the guard who twitched impatiently. “Better to not leave an enemy this powerful at our backs.”

  Bran clenched his hands. “Then maybe we should just tear this place down.”

  “Patience.” Cre laid a hand on Bran’s arm. “That might not be necessary.”

  The gate swung open with a groan and Bran reluctantly followed a guide into the compound. Given the late hour, Bran guessed most everyone was in bed. Only the watch wandered around at this time of night.

  A sense of being watched crept over Bran, but when he looked around, he didn’t see anyone. Shadows stretched greedy fingers toward them as they passed, and a frisson of unease made Bran look closer at his surroundings.

  Shutters hung at odd angles. Chipped and cracked stucco covered the walls. Trash heaped in the space between the buildings. A second glance at their guide showed unpolished boots, a stained uniform jacket, and a week’s worth of stubble.

  Bran leaned toward his friend. “Cre ….”

  “I see it,” Cre whispered.

  Their guide led them to the Officers’ Quarters, pausing in the sitting room. A single oil lamp burned dimly on the wall and illuminated the chaos that filled the space. Dirty plates and empty wine bottles covered stained couches and chairs. Stacks of papers sat in piles and threatened to topple over if the slightest breath of air touched them.

  “Commander Merrick,” the guide called, “Lord d’Idris is here to see you.”

  Bran and Cre shared a look. Outposts adhered strictly to the regulation set in place for the paladins. A necessity given their location and duty. The appearance of the camp and the attitude of their guide showed a distinct lack of protocol.

  A disheveled man stumbled down the hallway. His dark eyes narrowed when he caught sight of them. Commander Merrick looked like a three-day drunk, but there was something sharp in his gaze. “Well, well, well, isn’t this a surprise? There’s a warrant out for your arrest. I didn’t expect you to walk right in here. Makes it easier.”

  “What are you talking about?” Bran tensed as the scent of rotting flesh tickled his nose.

  He grabbed hold of his magic and let loose a twist of wind that threw papers into the air. A deep rumble of drums shook the earth as Cre’s magic joined his.

  In the confusion, Bran reached for the taint in Merrick. His whirlwind sliced around the possessed man and built into a golden, raging inferno.

  “Grab them,” Merrick bellowed.

  Noxious magic filled the air, choking Bran’s wind. More corrupted paladins filled the room, and with them came the overwhelming scent of death and decay.

  “We can’t take them all.” Bran retreated to the center of the room, the corrupted men held at bay by a barrier of wind and paladin’s fire.

  “We can.” Cre’s back pressed against Bran’s shoulder. “On three.”

  Kettle drums rumbled through the soles of his feet, shaking the building.

  “Light, I can’t believe we’re doing this.” Bran took a deep breath to steady himself. “One.”

  “Stop them!” Lines of shadow crawled across Merrick’s face.

  Cre’s drums built into a roaring crescendo and the earth rocked. The men in the room fought to keep their balance, the only exceptions were Cre and Bran, who stood firm in the middle of the room. The building creaked and groaned. Dust filtered down from above as spider web cracks appeared in the plaster coating the walls and ceiling. Bottles on the desk danced to the edge and dropped to the floor with a crash.

  “Two,” Cre muttered.”

  Everything ma
de of metal flew into the air. Swords. Knives. Tankards. Plates. The nails in the walls and floors. For a split-second the items hovered in the air before being flung like arrows directly at the men surrounding Bran and Cre.

  “Three.” Bran bolted for the exit, Cre right on his heels, but Bran stopped short once he cleared the door as he ran into a wall of paladins that had gathered to block the street, rifles aimed squarely at his heart. Cre slammed into his back, nearly knocking him to his knees. The building behind them shuddered and lurched as the men inside stumbled out, covered in dust and blood.

  Bran slowly raised his hands in the air, anger burning like a hot coal in his gut. He’d prefer not to get shot while making an escape.

  Merrick brushed debris from his clothes, his eyes glowing red with the demon inside. “Lock them in a cell. I’ll deal with them in the morning and keep your hands off them. They’re mine to feed on.”

  “You just had to investigate,” Bran grumbled.

  Cre’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t reply. Their hands were pulled behind their backs and shackled before they were dragged to the stockade and shoved in a cell.

  The door clanged shut with a ring of finality. Bran paced the confines of the small chamber. Escape looked unlikely. A barred window gave a glimpse of the night sky, taunting them with their lack of freedom.

  Cre slid to the floor and dropped his head to his knees.

  “What now?” Bran growled.

  “Give me a bit.” Cre’s shoulders flexed, then relaxed.

  A low thrum of drumbeats echoed in Bran’s head. “Are you trying to break the chains?”

  “Yeah, but they’re coated in silver.”

  Bran thumped his head against the wall. The silver would stop a modern paladin, but not a Lord of Light. It would take longer for Cre to manipulate the metal, but they still had a chance to escape.

  The silence felt oppressive, and Bran’s thoughts spun in a never-ending circle.

  “I wonder how long Merrick’s been possessed?” he asked. “Do think the arrest warrant is why Llyr isn’t answering?”

  “Yeah. I’m guessing the Voice has finally made his move,” Cre replied through clenched teeth.

  “Do you think all of these men are possessed?” Bran tried to stretch his senses out, but the silver prevented it.

  “A man doesn’t have to be possessed to fall to the Darkness.” Cre’s magic thrummed again.

  He was right. A man could follow the Darkness without any influence from a demon. Bran had been so focused on hiding Ris that he’d failed to pay attention to what had been happening in the rest of the world, and it was coming back to haunt him. He couldn’t do anything about it from a cell. Best to let Cre break their chains and escape.

  “This is going to take some time,” Cre murmured. “You should get some sleep.”

  “How long?”

  Cre shrugged. “As long as it takes.”

  “We need to get out of here before morning.” Bran closed his eyes.

  “I’ll do my best.” The drumbeats intensified.

  ***

  Bran was dragged awake by rough hands. His sleep addled brain barely had a chance to process his surroundings before he was thrown into a chair. Leather straps were drawn tight around his ankles, and another was pulled across his chest. The manacles that still held his arms behind his back dug into his tailbone.

  “Did you touch him?” Commander Merrick’s cold voice asked from the shadows.

  The guard that had dragged Bran into the room offered Merrick a salute. “No, sir.”

  “Good, you can leave.”

  The click of a door closing was the only sound in the room. Merrick tangled his hand in Bran’s hair and pulled hard enough to make his eyes water. He stared at a spot on the wall and focused on breathing.

  “What are you doing in this part of the world?” The sickly-sweet smell of wine mixed with rot assailed Bran as Merrick spoke. “You’re after the girl, aren’t you? You’re her Shield after all.”

  A few strands of Bran’s hair pulled free before the pressure against his scalp eased. He’d never liked Merrick. The man had the same lust for power that ate at Tolbert. The main difference was that Merrick’s taste for wine and women left him little time for climbing the ranks. He was easy prey for someone planting demons among the paladins.

  “I can track her, you know,” Merrick murmured in Bran’s ear. “It’s not hard. Just follow the taint in her blood.”

  Bran’s forehead knotted up. What was Merrick talking about? Had Ris fallen prey to the Darkness? He struggled against his bonds. He had to get out of there. Had to get to Ris.

  “That touched a nerve.” Merrick leaned in close and inhaled, his breath brushing Bran’s cheek. “Ah, there it is. The fear. So lovely.”

  Bran stilled. Breathe. He forced himself to relax. To release his fear and focus only on inhaling and exhaling.

  “Your precious charge is headed south. The only thing that direction is the Bonelands. Is she trying to find the Heart?”

  The question caught Bran off guard, and the Lady’s request came back to him. Unseal her magic and find the Heart. He had refused the Lady, but had she asked Ris as well? Had Ris accepted the request? He had to escape to keep Ris from doing something stupid and reckless.

  “It doesn’t matter if you don’t say anything. I’ll be able to find her, no matter where she goes.” The surety in Merrick’s voice sent a thread of cold unease racing through him.

  “What do you mean?” The question slipped out before Bran could stop it.

  “Ha! The mighty Lord of Light doesn’t know.” Merrick offered a wicked smile. “I can’t believe you haven’t remembered after all this time. Your precious charge is a descendant of both the Lady and the Darkness.”

  “Light,” Bran whispered. How could he have forgotten? He’d been so focused on protecting the Lady’s family line from discovery that he’d neglected to take into account the other side of her heritage.

  Merrick’s eyes sparked with delight. “As long as she is away from her Shield, I can find her no matter where she hides.”

  Fear and desperation coursed through Bran, flooding his mind and body. He couldn’t let Ris fall to the Darkness. Not like Aris. Not like the others.

  Merrick inhaled sharply and leaned closer. “Yes, that’s it.”

  Bran attempted to rein his emotions in, to strangle them into submission, but it was too late. They rampaged through him. Merrick feasted on them as he snaked fingers of shadow into Bran’s mind, dredging forth more memories.

  More fear.

  More desperation.

  Bran struggled to breathe. Image after image. Failure after failure. His body shook with the barrage of blows to his psyche. Aris. Elicia. Mira. His inability to protect them had led to them becoming Ruin, Plague, and War. Then there was Lissa, Aris’s twin sister and Llyr’s wife. She haunted Bran more than any of the others.

  The memory of her transformation felt like razors slicing into his heart. The final moments of terror as he struggled to help the pregnant Lissa up a hill as they fled the Lady’s golden city. The wide-eyed horror on Llyr’s face as the Lady’s curse rushed toward them. Desperation as Bran clawed at his magic and threw up a shield to protect himself and Lissa. He hadn’t been fast enough. She’d changed into a demon before his eyes, becoming a thing of nightmare, full of teeth and rage. In his surprise, he’d let his shield slip the tiniest bit. Enough that the curse touched him and left its mark.

  Bran pushed against his bonds. Against the fear that held him in place. Hours passed. Minutes. He couldn’t tell. The world slipped away and became an endless loop of memories. Pain and fear. It was all he knew.

  “Mm, wonderful.” Merrick caught one of Bran’s tears with his finger, holding it up to catch the light. “All that fear and anger contained in this single drop of water, but I think you’ve had enough for today.”

  The door to the cell swung open. “Commander, Gilber
t returned with a report.”

  “And?” Merrick asked, his tone curt.

  “They’ve found the girl and are bringing her in.”

  “Good. I’ll ride out to meet them.” The cruel twist of Merrick’s lips made Bran shudder. “The anticipation of our next session will make your fear all the sweeter. Besides, my real prey is nearby.”

  Merrick left the room, and the guards returned. They undid the straps that held Bran to the chair and dragged him back to the cell, throwing him into it like so much garbage.

  Bran wanted to scream and lash out. He had to escape. He couldn’t let Merrick get his hands on Ris. Instead, he lay in a heap where they left him.

  “Are you all right?” Cre asked.

  Bran’s response was to drag himself to the bucket in the corner of the cell and vomit. Once he finished, he collapsed, staring blankly at the walls.

  A warm hand rested on his head. “Sleep for a bit while I work on your manacles.”

  Bran lay unmoved, but he refused to sleep. His dreams would be dark, full of teeth and claws. He had no desire to relive what Merrick put him through.

  “They’ve found her,” Bran rasped. “They bringing her here.”

  “I’m almost done. Do you think you’ll be able to run?”

  “Give me a minute.” Bran closed his eyes and focused on breathing. The low drumbeats of Cre’s magic soothed him until his fear and anger slowly melted away. It joined the hum of discordant music that filled the camp. Dark notes filled with hollow sadness and sharp anger. How had they not sensed it when they approached the compound?

  The drums of Cre’s music swelled, and the manacles fell from Bran’s wrists with a clank.

  “Now what?” Bran rubbed at his chaffed skin and flexed his fingers as blood flow returned to normal.

  “After I got out of my manacles, I worked on the mortar around the window. We should be able to pull it free.”

  “And then?” Bran peered through the bars and into an alley which meant they wouldn’t be out in the open, but it was close to noon, and that meant plenty of chances to be seen. “We can’t wait for nightfall. We have to get to Ris before she gets here.”