And then silence.
Haliden looked up. Blood trickled down the wall.
“Get back! All of you!” Grel shouted. “Or I’ll cut that counterweight and we can all burn.”
Something slowly scraped atop the tunnel, a din that sent chills down Haliden’s spine. Seconds later, another guard fell into the mud beside him.
Haliden’s heart sank as the guard rolled over and reached for him, a small, brass key trembling in his bloody palm.
“He’s gonna k-kill all of you.”
Haliden knelt down and pulled the man toward the wall. For a brief moment they stared into each other’s eyes.
“Get them in, runner,” the guard said. “Don’t let… don’t let them all burn.”
Haliden squeezed his hand and nodded.
Seconds later, the man was gone.
Haliden placed the man’s bloody hand across his chest. “Damn this hell,” he whispered as he looked at the mud and blood encrusted key.
“Back to posts!” a voice shouted above. “We stand for another half a call and then it’s inside we go. Unless anyone else objects?”
Haliden stood silent, his breath held as a cloud of ash and sparks slammed against him. The heat was agonizing, the smoke thick and black. But it was the cover he had been praying for.
“Hey! Hey, we got one!” a voice shouted.
Haliden bolted into the open, quarrels snapping and splashing at his heels. But after a few footfalls the smoke completely engulfed him.
“Let him go!” Grel shouted from behind him. “The Breath will find him soon enough.”
Haliden ran on, stumbling over bodies and rocks like a blind fool.
Just find them, he told himself, gripping the key. Find them and then we’ll crack this gate. Crack it wide open.
28
The trapper leaned over him, grinning. “There he is now. Our famous fool!”
Haliden coughed violently as a single candle swayed above him.
He was back in the wagon, the felltower’s foul stench enveloping him.
The trapper grabbed his hands and pulled him upright.
“I said follow me, artist. Not run toward the fucking wall.”
Haliden clutched his aching head and chest. “What happened?”
“You came staggering out of that smoke like a walking corpse,” Gremin said. “Scared the boy so much he nearly put an arrow through your chest.”
“I… I was following you,” he said.
Gremin laughed. “Apparently not very well.”
Jonathan and Brandon sat opposite him, nestled amongst the punchers.
Haliden smiled. He reached up to wipe the mud from his forehead, but realized he still had the bloody key clutched in his palm.
“Where’s Evetner?” he asked.
“He’s having a talk with our new friend,” Gremin replied.
Something slammed against the wagon, accompanied by a groan.
Haliden crawled to the back and flipped open the hide.
“You’re lying!” Evetner shouted. “There’s got to be another way!”
The boy had an armored man pressed up against the railing, his hands curled around the poor soul’s throat.
“What in the hells are you doing?” Haliden asked.
Evetner glanced at him. “Stay out of this, artist.”
Haliden jumped down and pushed Evetner off the man.
“What the fuck, artist!”
The guard slumped to the ground, gasping.
“We’re not murderers!” Haliden shouted.
“I’m just trying to find a way in. He’s one of them. He must know something.”
Haliden shook his head. “They tossed him out.”
“Bullshit,” Evetner replied. “The unlucky fool fell, that’s all.” He drew his sword and leveled it at the cringing man’s throat. “Now he either talks or bleeds!”
Haliden stepped in front of the guard. “I just watched some of his comrades die trying to help us.”
“You don’t know what you saw. When we found you, you were half dead, remember?”
“For the sake of the gods, I was there, Evetner. They tossed him over the fucking wall for trying to help us.”
Sparks blasted over them, millions of firefly-like embers that burned their skin and hair.
“We don’t have time for this,” Haliden warned. He held up the key and turned to the man. “One of your friends gave me this. What is it?”
The guard glanced at it, his eyes widening.
“Well, what is it?”
“The fail-safe key for the main gate,” the guard said. “But only one man held that. Warden Krel. My friend.”
“Your friend is dead,” Haliden said. “Your brothers stuck him with a dagger and tossed him over the wall.”
The man’s eyes trembled.
“So there it is, artist,” Evetner said. “Let’s just be done with him so we can be on our way.”
Haliden shook his head. “Not like this.”
“Then how? Bring him with us?”
“Why not? He knows the men in there. He knows the gates and how it all works.”
Evetner tossed his sword down in disgust. “Fuck it all then!” He turned as if to leave, but then spun on his heels and punched the man in the nose.
The man crumpled to the ground, groaning as blood dripped down his face.
Gremin lifted the hide and frowned. “We about done here?”
Evetner nodded. “It’s his show now.” With that said, he picked up his sword and climbed back into the wagon.
Haliden held the key out before the guard. “You know where the lock is? I mean exactly where it is?”
The man shook his head. “Only Krel knew. It was done that way on purpose… In case any of us were captured on the outside. Or if we deserted.”
“Fuck it all to the hells, then!” Gremin barked. “Let’s just ram the bitch already.”
“Won’t work,” the guard said. “Beggar’s Gate is wrought from Tritan steel. Five inches of it! Ain’t nothing getting through that. Not even the Breath.”
“Just get me to that tunnel and I’ll find the fail-safe,” Haliden said. “But we need to keep the archers off us.”
Gremin laughed. “How? With sticks and rocks? Because that’s about all we got out here. And that scraped together shielding won’t hold long. Not with them archers raining bolts and rocks on our heads.”
“Well it’ll just have to do!” Haliden snapped. “But if you have something better, I’m all ears.”
The guard sat up and spit a wad of bloody phlegm onto the ground. “The Maw is open,” he said. “The counterweight broke up top. Get through Beggar’s Gate and you have a chance.”
Gremin laughed. “Didn’t break, friend. That was our artist’s work.”
The man looked at Haliden incredulously. “You did that?”
Haliden shrugged. “Wasn’t fun.”
The guard laughed. “Bloody hells.”
“So what do we do with him?” Gremin asked.
“We bring him. He can help us.”
The guard nodded. “I didn’t sign on to kill women and children. Fuck ’em all to the hells.”
Haliden pocketed the key and extended his hand. “Haliden Stroke.”
The man accepted it. “Jenner. Jenner Waxguard.”
“Enough!” said Gremin. “It’s time.”
Haliden nodded. “Right. Let’s go.”
29
Howls echoed across the dead plain. Desperate, feral calls unlike anything Haliden had heard before.
“What in the hells is that?” he asked.
“You damn well know what that is, artist.”
They had finished most of the coxil weed before heading off, along with two drags each from one of Gremin’s adreena butts. But it still wasn’t enough. Even the guard, Jenner, gasped as he pushed alongside them, his armor all but discarded.
Several shadows darted past the left side of the wagon, vanishing into the dense smoke.
Evetner threw back part of the shielding and raised the Tritan bow. He had wanted to push alongside them, but the brothers insisted he stay with them in the wagon.
Someone screamed to their left, followed by a strange, high pitched growl. Moments later a figure staggered out of the smoke.
“P-please…”
Haliden’s heart sank.
It was a woman. Or what was left of one. Her right arm hung limp like a broken twig and her left arm was completely torn off.
“D-don’t let it… take me!”
Another howl resonated behind her. Louder. Closer.
“Oh, gods, it’s coming!”
Several shadows appeared alongside the wagon, quadrupeds darting about in the smoke like excited children.
Evetner drew back an arrow and waited as the scope adjusted. When it was set, he took a deep breath and released.
One of the beasts tumbled into the ash and vanished behind them.
“Help!”
Haliden turned to Gremin. “Give me your blade.”
“What for?”
“We can’t just leave her!”
“And me and this fool can’t push this fucker on our own!” the trapper cried.
“I won’t go to the Block with another life on my conscience. Give it to me!”
Gremin grudgingly withdrew his nagra blade and slapped it into Haliden’s hand. “You got balls, artist. No brains, but lots of balls.”
Haliden tucked the blade in his belt. “I’ll see you in the tunnel.”
“Good luck, Stroke.”
The artist broke away from the wagons and backtracked to the woman.
She lay on her stomach, a blood trail smeared in the ash behind her.
“Help,” she groaned.
Haliden slid down beside her and curled an arm around her shoulders.
“Can you walk?”
“I’ll try.”
“Don’t try—do it! They’re right behind us.”
With Haliden’s help, she got to her feet and limped beside him.
Are we even heading the right way? Haliden wondered as heat from the fire singed his neck and arms.
“Wh-where are we going?” the woman stammered.
“The tunnel.”
“But the archers!”
Haliden shook his head. “No choice! The fire is almost here.”
A massive shadow cut them off. As it drew closer, two vulpine eyes glittered in the firelight.
“By the gods!” the woman exclaimed.
Haliden squeezed the nagra blade. The verax’s back bristled with arrows and one of its ears hung by a bloody thread.
“Get behind me,” Haliden whispered.
The verax sniffed the air, its sole ear twitching with excitement.
Haliden’s heart slammed against his chest. Find me, Haliden. Find me…
The beast lunged forward, its needle-like teeth bared.
Haliden pushed the woman down and rushed it.
When they met, the verax pinned him to the ground, slashing at his face as Haliden plunged the blade into its gills.
“Die, you son of bitch!” he screamed.
The verax howled in agony, its feline eyes wide with feral rage. Several of its gills opened as Haliden tore at them, the deadly acid trickling onto his hands and chest.
Haliden screamed as the beast pressed down on him. He could feel the liquid burning through his tunic and onto skin.
“You bastard!”
His life flashed before his eyes: every selfish thing he had ever done, every friend and family member he had ever hurt or forgotten.
And Milane. Most of all Milane.
Find me, Haliden… find me…
He was about to close his eyes when something large raced at them through the smoke.
The verax turned just as the shadow slammed into its head, snapping it back at an unnatural angle.
Haliden cringed as the wagon’s undercarriage rolled overhead, the wheels grinding dirt inches from his face.
When it passed, the woman fell beside him. “Help us!” she screamed.
The wagon turned in a great arch and then ground to a stop a few footfalls beside them.
“Damn fool!” the trapper shouted. “Get them both in here.”
Evetner, Jenner, and Denelby scrambled to their side and dragged them into the wagons.
“Do you have a death wish or something?” Gremin shouted as he helped pull Haliden aboard.
Haliden rolled onto his back, his shoulder throbbing as blood soaked through his shirt. “I abandoned one woman already this week. I wasn’t about to do it again.”
“Save the chivalry for later,” the trapper spat. “Can you run?”
Haliden nodded.
Evetner laid the woman beside him. “Thank you! Thank you!” she kept repeating.
Haliden tore two strips from his shredded tunic and fashioned tourniquets for both of her arms. When he was done, he staggered onto his feet and handed the bloody nagra blade back to the trapper. “Thank you.”
Gremin looked at it and shook his head. “Take it. You earned it. Even if you are a damn fool.”
“Can we go now?” Evetner shouted as he placed a rolled up blanket under the woman’s head.
Haliden nodded. “No stopping until we get inside.”
“You’re damn right,” Gremin shouted. And with that, they began the final approach.
A bell rang atop Beggar’s Gate, followed by a guttural horn.
“Get ready!” Jenner gasped.
Gremin, Jenner, and Haliden were running at full speed, pushing the wagons through smoke and embers like a giant battering ram.
“They’ll be using the crossbows first!” Jenner shouted.
As if on cue, a bolt slammed into the makeshift roof, the tip jutting inches from Haliden’s head.
“Stay down boys!” Gremin cried.
Denelby and his son dragged the woman into the front of the wagon, where Jonathan and Brandon hid inside their little crate bunker. The woman groaned as she slowly slipped into shock.
Evetner lifted a plank and peered outside. “We got company!”
Hundreds of shadows ran alongside them: men, women, deer, dogs, wolves, trench cats. Many were on fire, screeching and howling as they ran for the Block.
“Watch the left!” Gremin shouted.
An enormous shadow charged them, snarling and grunting. But at the last second it turned and charged the Block.
“By the gods!” Haliden breathed.
It was a magnus felltower, the largest breed in all of Alimane. It stood at least twenty footfalls tall, its hundreds of insect-like legs pounding the ground as it thundered across the plain.
“It thinks we’re one of them!” Haliden cried.
As it approached the tunnel, the guards began loosing bolts into its hide.
Enraged, the beast reared up on its centipede legs and spit a stream of saliva across them.
Haliden watched one poor soul dance about screaming, his armor and flesh dissolving in a cloud of noxious smoke.
“Keep going!” Gremin shouted.
Bolts slammed into the makeshift roof, one grazing Haliden’s right arm, another his leg. But before he registered the pain, the lead wagon smashed into Beggar’s Gate, tossing him face first into the rear planks.
For a time, he lay half-conscious on the ground, a loud ringing echoing through his ears. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw Gremin and Jenner dragging themselves beneath the wagon.
“The boys…” he groaned. “Are they okay?”
“They’re safe!” Gremin shouted. “Lost the man and his son, though. Both of them snapped their damn necks.”
Haliden crawled beside them and grabbed Jenner by the collar. “The fail-safe! Where is it?”
Jenner pointed to their left. “It’s buried at the foot of the tunnel… fifty paces down.”
“In the open?”
Jenner nodded. “And that’s not the worst of it. Death holes line the roof. As soon as they see you they’ll either dump rocks on your head or coat you in boiling oil.”
Haliden sighed. “We need some kind of a distraction.”
Several large rocks slammed against the makeshift roof, rattling the wagon’s Tritan shocks.
“Fuckin’ scags!” Gremin growled. “We’ll eat your damn livers!”
Haliden scanned the immediate area. A dead felltower lay a dozen footfalls to their left, a bitter smell wafting off its corpse.
“Damn that’s awful,” Jenner mumbled.
Haliden sat up. ”Gremin… they use felltower glands for hunting, right?”
“What in the hells does that have to do with anyth—” His eyes widened. “You can’t be serious.”
Haliden nodded. “What better distraction is there?” He first heard about the glands as a boy from his father. They were said to contain powerful pheromones used to attract mates. Pheromones that could travel hundreds of leagues if the winds were just right.
Just enough to draw every creature for leagues around.
“It’ll be a shitstorm,” Gremin said.
Haliden nodded. “That’s what I’m counting on.”
“All right, then, artist. Since I’m fresh out of ideas, draw their fire when I say. And don’t fuck this up, got it?”
Haliden nodded.
30
The land was afire, blanketed beneath a wall of smoke and sparks.
Haliden rubbed his charred hair as he hunkered down inside the wagon. Embers had burned most of it off, leaving a few scattered patches of tangled gray. But he no longer cared. He had other things on his mind now. Like the pair of verax fighting over a woman’s bloody corpse fifty footfalls to their right.
The beasts snarled and snapped, ripping flesh from bone as a verax dissolved what remained of the woman’s torso beneath its gills.
Jenner crawled beside Haliden and peered out through the hide. “You know what will happen when they’re done over there, right?”
“So go keep them busy then,” Evetner spat.
Jenner glanced at him. “Want to make me, boy?”
Evetner went for his sword, but Haliden grabbed his arm. “Are you mad?”
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