“Good girl,” he whispered as tears trickled down his cheeks. “Good girl…”
20
Instar was dying.
The garron’s powerful, fluid gait had become a mere limp, and her lungs wheezed with every breath.
Haliden sat silent, staring at her back as she stumbled along. He had killed his only friend. And for what? A few more calls of life?
I betrayed you, he told himself. My only friend.
Disgusted, he pulled back on the reins.
“What are you doing?” Nate asked.
“She needs a moment.”
“Piss on that!” Nate jumped into the front wagon. “We ride! And we ride now!”
Haliden stood fast as the larger man drew his dagger. “I’m not doing a damn thing,” he replied.
“Pick up those fucking reins, you twit, or I’ll do it for you.”
Evetner and Brendle stood, their swords drawn.
Nate’s group did the same.
“She rests,” Haliden said.
“Or you’ll deal with us,” Brendle said.
Nate looked at them and laughed. “You think those oversized toothpicks frighten me you little shits?”
Evetner climbed over the crates and met the man face to face. “We can always find out.”
“Enough of this!” Brendle shouted. “The Breath is coming for us all.”
“Shut your fucking mouth, old man!” Nate shouted. “I didn’t see you raising a fuss when the council tossed us out like so much shit. What’s to keep me from cutting all of your fucking throats and finding my own way to the Block?”
“Me.” Brendle raised his sword.
Nate chuckled. “And when was the last time you were sober, old man? Hell, when was the last time you even used that thing? While plucking the bones of our dead from your greasy maw?” He turned back to Evetner. “And you, boy… are you so ready to die?”
Evetner stared at him, his sword hand trembling.
Nate watched it and nodded. “That’s exactly what I thought.” He turned to his companions. “Kill them all!”
The three men drew their weapons and climbed into the lead wagon.
Haliden lunged forward and wrapped an arm around Nate’s throat. But the man broke free and drove a fist into Haliden’s gut.
Brendle met the closest man head on and parried his attack. He was the weaker of the two, but as steel met steel and sparks flew, the old guard’s skills quickly awoke.
The remaining man pushed several crates over and rushed at Evetner. He took a swing at the boy’s throat. But instead of connecting with flesh, the blade sliced clean through the harp’s steel strings.
The woman crept into the lead wagon, her eyes locked onto Jonathan and Brandon. But the brothers retreated into the crates beyond her reach.
Brendle pushed his attacker against the railing and drove his blade through the man’s chest. Behind him, Haliden and Nate continued to wrestle across the floor, punching and clawing at one another as Nate tried to grab his fallen dagger.
Evetner lopped off his attacker’s hand and kicked him over the side of the wagon. He then turned to the woman, who was trying to squeeze between the crates toward the boys.
“Leave them, bitch!” he cried.
The woman turned to him, her eyes emotionless and wide. “You fucking fool! I’ll be doing them a favor.”
Evetner rushed forward and tackled her onto the floor. As they struggled, though, she rolled on top of him, clawing at his eyes and cheeks until he finally punched her in the nose.
Haliden rolled on top of Nate and grabbed the charger by the throat. “What’s wrong with you people?” he cried.
Nate laughed even as his face turned blue. “You’ll all die. They’ll have… no need for weaklings and children… in the new world.” He tried kicking Haliden aside, but the artist held firm.
“Go to the hells!” Haliden hissed before biting Nate’s nose clean off.
The charger screamed as blood gushed down his face.
Haliden scrambled onto his feet and kicked the man in the stomach. He was about to kick him again, when a voice cried,
“Stop!”
Haliden turned.
The bloody woman stood with a knife to Brandon’s throat.
“Step back, you sons of bitches or I’ll cut him!”
Haliden raised his hands. “Okay. Just take it easy.”
The woman glanced at Nate and her dead companion. “You fuckers,” she hissed.
“Let him go!” Evetner cried. “He’s just a boy!”
“So was my Daniel!” she screamed. “And Ethan there too… but that didn’t stop you both from murdering them.”
Brendle tried to move around her flank, but she only jerked Brandon closer. “I said stop right there!”
Brendle froze, his hands raised.
“You took my brothers,” she hissed. “So now I’m taking your boy.” She leveled the blade across Brandon’s throat.
“Don’t!” Haliden cried.
Before she could do anything, though, her eyes widened. and a blood stain blossomed across her chest, soaking through her tattered rags.
Brandon broke away from her and ran to Evetner’s side.
The woman touched the blood, her lips trembling. She tried to speak, but nothing came out accept a dull hiss. She then fell forward, revealing Jonathan standing behind her with a bloody dagger dangling from his trembling hands.
Nate rolled on top of Haliden and screamed, “Bastards!” He tried to scoop up his dagger, but a sword erupted through his throat.
Brendle pulled the blade free and kicked the man off Haliden.
Haliden nodded. “Th-thanks.”
Evetner rolled the dead men over the side of the wagon and stowed the boys back amongst the crates. “Stroke. Get us on our way!”
Haliden climbed into the driver’s seat, numb and exhausted. “We stop for nothing now.”
Brendle wiped Nate’s blood from his face and sat down. “There’ll be more trouble, you know. This wagon… it’ll draw every freak and zealot for leagues around.”
Haliden looked at Instar and sighed nervously. The garron stood hunched beneath her harness, bloody froth dripping from her mouth. “She’ll just have to be faster than them.”
“Are you sure she can still do that?” Brendle asked.
Haliden hesitantly nodded. “I’m sure.”
But in his gut, he wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
Instar ran into the night, her hooves drumming a violent war song atop the ashen ground.
Flames snapped and crackled beside them as they passed burning motte and bailey fortifications. Crucified mummies stood watch from rough cut posts, and rusty crow cages dangled above smoldering embers. And all the while, the Breath bathed everything in shifting gold, as if commemorating some dark holiday.
Those too frightened to run hid in the shadows, watching as the wagons rolled past. Occasionally someone chased after them, cursing or pleading for them to stop.
But Haliden ignored them. There was nothing he could do to help. Instead, he sat silent as league after league of desolation and death drifted past. Too much had happened in too short a time, and now he felt cored of everything he had ever held dear. When will it all end? he wondered. When would there be peace again in this place he had called home?
When they reached the top of a small hill, Instar came to an abrupt stop.
“Come on, girl,” Haliden said, slapping the reins. “Just a league or so more.”
But the garron ignored him.
Haliden stood, both reins in hand. “Instar, we don’t have time for this.”
“She’s broke, artist,” Brendle said. “Best to give her a peaceful end now.”
Haliden shot him a venomous look. “You just worry about yourself, old man.”
Instar sat down, wheezing and snorting as bloody mucous clotted around her nostrils.
Haliden jumped down and knelt beside her. Her eyes were half closed and blood covered her
nose and mouth.
Tears trickled down Haliden’s cheeks. “I’m so sorry, girl.”
Instar stared off into the distance, a muted death rattle echoing in her chest.
“Forgive me,” Haliden whispered. “Forgive me.”
The garron’s head drooped to the ground, a final breath escaping her lungs.
“Girl?”
Silence befell the hill as Haliden hugged his friend’s still face. “Don’t go, girl. Please don’t leave me alone here.”
But she was already gone.
Evetner wiped tears from his eyes. “She’s gone, Haliden. We have to let her go.”
Haliden shook his head. “She was the finest garron in all of Alimane.”
Evetner nodded. “She was.”
“She deserved better.”
Evetner looked at the wagons. The lives and histories of two cities now rested inside both. “We’ll have to take what we can carry and leave the rest.”
Haliden shook his head. “We can’t just abandon the venermin. Not after she died to bring it here.”
“What do you suppose we do then? We’ve two boys to look out for.”
“We take everything.” Haliden reached into his pocket and withdrew the jar of coxil weed. “And we keep going until we stand in the Block’s shadow.”
“By the gods, you’re mad, artist.”
Haliden tore one of the buds in half and tossed it into his mouth. As he chewed, he handed the jar to Evetner. “You’ll have a hell of a tale to tell your children someday.”
Evetner shook his head. “And how far do you think we’ll get? Ten… twenty leagues? Then what?”
Haliden swallowed. “Then we run some more.”
They removed Instar’s harness and began rigging the ropes over their shoulders. Brendle worked between them, checking the straps and buckles as he donned his own set.
“We go in five turns,” Evetner said.
Jonathan and Brandon watched them from the wagon, their pale faces covered in ash.
Haliden looked up at them and smiled. “You two just keep your heads down, okay?”
Both brothers nodded.
Instar lay a few footfalls away, covered in a white blanket Evetner had found in one of the wagons. Haliden glanced at her one last time as he tugged on his harness. Goodbye, friend.
Evetner stretched his legs, groaning as the newly formed muscles twitched and ached. “Bloody hell, let’s go! I can’t stand still anymore.”
“All right.” Haliden leaned into the ropes, pulling up the slack behind him. “Ready, Brendle?”
The old man tugged at his harness and laughed. “Would be if I had a drink.”
Haliden turned back to the road. The rutty trail was obscured by ash and sagging, ash-covered pines.
“Right then,” he said. “Together… and… pull!”
The trio grunted as the wagons slowly inched forward.
Haliden’s heart raced. He could feel the coxil weed coursing through his veins, feeding his every muscle. We need to go faster, though, he thought.
After one sloping turn, they passed the body of a young man lying half-covered in ash. His throat had been cut ear to ear, blood pooled around him in a large crescent. Haliden glanced at his lifeless eyes and quickly turned back to the road. That will be us if we stop.
More bodies soon appeared. Some lay beside the road, their backs bristling with arrows, others dangling from distant trees, their eerie silhouettes swaying in the breeze.
Haliden shivered. They were the desperate and unwanted, the enfeebled and elderly. And they had all run in search of shelter… just like us, he thought.
Jonathan and Brandon watched nervously as the dead drifted past. They had said little since Instar’s death, keeping close to Evetner’s side. And it will be a miracle if they ever speak again, Haliden thought.
Plumes of smoke rose above the northern horizon. At first Haliden thought it was smoke from distant chimneys. But as they drew closer, the plumes grew larger, and soon he realized what they were.
Villages. Three of them, to be exact, every structure completely ablaze.
“Work of firewalkers?” Evetner asked.
Haliden nodded. “More than likely.”
Screams echoed to their right as dozens of figures emerged from a burning stand of pines.
“Take us! Please take us!” a female voice cried.
Haliden’s eyes widened. They were all women, their bodies bloody and torn, their hair on fire.
The closest girl reached out to them. But before Haliden or Evetner could grab her, an arrow took her in the head and she collapsed violently behind them.
Cheers and laughter echoed from inside the burning forest.
“What the fuck is this!” Haliden shouted as an arrow whipped past his head.
“Madness,” Evetner spat. “Keep going!”
The remaining women were quickly cut down, their screams fading beneath the marauders’ laughter.
The trio picked up speed. In the distance, three burning farmsteads illuminated the night sky, the flames tickling the clouds like golden, devil fingers.
“Take the easterly road!” Evetner shouted. “We need to avoid any more towns!”
A hundred footfalls ahead, four bodies swayed from the branches of a massive willow tree. Haliden’s stomach turned as they passed beneath them. Crude signs had been wired to their bloated chests, all with the same message: HEATHENS’ JUSTICE.
“Turn away, boys!” Evetner’s shouted at the brothers.
Haliden swallowed. Would they end up the same, five corpses hanging from some ash-covered tree?
To the north, the sky was a deep purple, crisscrossed with bands of pink and red.
Sky, Haliden thought, his heart alighting. A clear sky free of ash and smoke. By the gods, there may still be hope.
As they crested a small rise, tall grass and brush spread out before them.
“Rumnay Fields,” Evetner’s gasped. “It’s only another five or six leagues till the Stretch.”
Behind them, great clouds of ash sprawled across the sky, casting the realm into purgatorial gray. Every now and then flashes lit up the gray underbelly.
“What is that?” Haliden asked.
“Sulfur beacons,” Evetner said. “Set by villages and cities to warn of the Breath’s approach.”
Brendle stumbled, his right knee skipping off the ground before he righted his gate.
“You okay?” Haliden shouted.
Brendle nodded. But after only a few more footfalls, he collapsed onto both knees and was dragged across the rocky ground
“Stop!” Haliden shouted to Evetner.
Both men dug their heels into the ground, plowing mini trenches through the ash as the wagons ground to a halt behind them.
When the dust cleared, Brendle slumped in his harness, pale and barely conscious.
“Just give me a moment,” he breathed. “I can keep going!”
Haliden glanced at his knees. They were soaked in blood, several strips of flesh hanging loose like wet paper.
“Get me some rags,” Brendle grunted.
“You’re mad,” Haliden said. “Look at you! We’ll put you in the wagon with the boys.”
“I ain’t riding to the Block in the back of some godsdamn wagon,” he spat. “I may be a drunk old bastard, but I pull my weight. Either I run or you can just leave me here.”
Evetner reached under his breastplate and tore off a piece of his sweat soaked tunic. “You know you’ll only slow us down,” he said as he began wrapping it around the man’s wounds.
“If I do, cut me loose.”
Haliden turned to the boys. “Jonathan. Get me one of those bottles under the seat. The red one.”
The older boy shuffled amongst the clutter until he found a wax-sealed bottle.
Brendle laughed as Haliden cracked the seal. “You know how much that’s worth?”
“Twenty leagues?” Haliden replied. “Maybe more if you hurry.”
Brendl
e took the bottle of amber colored wine and smiled. “Willow Whisper. The finest wine in all of the seven continents.” He closed his eyes and took a sip. “By the gods… that’s good.” He then poured the rest onto his destroyed knees.
His cry tore across the desolate forest, startling several crows from their ashy perches. When he was done, he dropped the bottle and finished tying off the rags.
“You sure you can do this?” Haliden asked.
The old guard nodded. “Sure as shit.”
They ran through the night, even as their lungs burned and blood and pus squished between their blistered toes.
Find me, Haliden, the familiar voice whispered. If you love me, come find me at world’s end.
Haliden winced as pieces of burning debris whipped against his face. The zealots had burnt just about every village to the ground and everywhere one looked, flames and smoke tickled the sky.
“We have company,” Evetner said, gesturing toward their left.
Several horse-drawn wagons moved through the forest beside them, all heaped high with crates and valuables. A few forlorn figures sat silent atop them, watching as their wagon drifted alongside. One man shouted a prayer to them, tossing a skin of water to the brothers as they passed. But the other riders watched them defiantly, tossing the occasional rock or curse at the trio’s feet as they vanished into the night.
“You feel that?” Evetner said as they exited the forest and entered a sprawling, rocky plain.
Brendle nodded. The old guard had grown pale and gaunt, his eyes sunken in pools of charcoal black. “Cold,” he wheezed. “Felt it a few leagues back. Thought it was just Father Death breathing down my neck.”
A riderless horse slowly approached from the north. Its saddle hung loose and its body was covered in blood and frost.
“By the gods,” Brendle said as it staggered past them.
Soon, enormous snowflakes began drifting down, clinging to their clothes like hungry parasites.
“What in the hells is this?” Brendle wheezed. “Winter is still months away.”
Evetner nodded. “Elementals. Someone must be laying them to slow the fire. Won’t work, though.”
Haliden closed his eyes and sucked in a chilled breath. It’s all ending, he thought. He’d only seen such weather once before, far across the Acid on a trip to Denway Keep. He remembered watching children mold the white ice into fat little men, using coal and carrots for eyes and noses. Some had even borrowed shields from the Keep’s drunken quartermaster and used them to slide down the snow covered hillside.
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