“Looks like the menagerie,” Roy said. “Surely the fortress is big enough to store their whole force?”
“Unless they aren’t on the same side.” The truth of the battleground was becoming clear before Harvey’s eyes.
“Where do we go? Where would Kiren have gone?”
“Not to the Lyrinthian army,” Harvey said. “Plus, we can’t show our faces there, or we’re likely to be killed. Normally I’d say that the enemy of our enemy is our friend, and go to the fortress, but I think our best bet is to try the eastern force. It’s a place where we’re likely to find neither friend nor foe.”
“Agreed,” Roy said. The two guided their mounts on a path to the east. They walked briskly over the tundra toward the first of the force’s boundaries. As they neared the second camp, a band of scouts surrounded them.
“State your business,” one of the scouts called out. Her hand was draped over her sheathed sword, the implication clear.
“We’re looking for someone,” Harvey said. “A young woman. An echoer. May have come by this way.” He figured that Kiren would have maintained her cover story and an echoer would be more memorable for them to have heard in a passing rumor.
The guards conferred with hushed voices at his explanation. After a moment, the lead scout motioned them forward. “We’re going to escort you further in the camp, but we’ll need your weapons.”
◆◆◆
“I must say, Gideon, when you mentioned that you had a special guest in attendance, I certainly was not expecting to see the man responsible for my brother’s assassination.” Dorothea’s voice carried far through the open tent. “You do realize that he is an enemy of Lyrinth. And an escaped prisoner, at that. By harboring him, you risk losing any support Lyrinth might offer. And Jackal may find my armies supporting his.”
“Really?” Gideon’s voice sounded unimpressed. The man held himself as though he controlled every string and was not threatened. “You would so carelessly chop off the head of a viper, biting within its nature, while getting into bed with the snake charmer who cast the beast upon you? Were you not the first to find out about Gnochi’s employment? Did you warn your brother?” Gideon laughed, causing the king to squirm in his seat. “I’m prepared to let that treason flow under the bridge if you can overlook Master Gleeman. Otherwise, it may find itself shared among circles of nobility within Blue Haven.”
Dorothea nodded, his face pale.
“Good. Now, we have a matter to discuss. And that matter is one which has defaced your desert with a fortress. I may not be from your backwards western lands, but I imagine that you don’t let just anyone stock arms and enact their own political agendas.”
“Of course not,” Dorothea said, spittle flying from his lips. “It was not done with my knowledge, or the knowledge of the late Providence.”
“It makes sense then, that we would work together to rid this world of Jackal and his ilk.”
“Yes,” Dorothea said.
To Gnochi, it sounded as though Dorothea was overcome with weariness, and his eyes looked stagnant in his head.
“There is just one reparation I require for the use of my forces against Jackal’s,” Gideon said.
Dorothea’s eyes fought against whatever spell of fatigue he was feeling. He blinked, taking a swig of the chilled water placed before him. “What would that be?”
“There is, hidden on Lyrinthian land, a library brimming with first age knowledge and technologies. I want it.”
“Why would you want something like that?”
“To destroy it, of course. I am a Luddite.”
“You certainly don’t dress like any Luddite I know.” Dorothea made a show of looking Gideon head to toe.
“Yes, I’ve heard of how cultish the western Luddites have become. Yet another reason why these lands are polluted. In the east, we Luddites work in cooperation with the governments to ensure that the first age is removed with as little loss of life and land as possible.”
“That’s your only concession? Then you leave? No troops remaining on Lyrinthian soil?”
“That’s it. An old building returns to the Earth and all forces of mine are gone from your land.”
“Then I—”
A hustle of movement interrupted Dorothea. The same page who had entered before with news of the king’s arrival was responsible. He once again whispered to Gideon. The Luddite’s eyebrows rose at the news.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Gideon said before whispering back to the page. “I hope you don’t mind. I’ve invited two guests to join us. I have a feeling Gnochi will want to see them.”
Dorothea steamed. He appeared to have recovered from the fatigue that had plagued him earlier. “More people in this meeting? I thought this was supposed to be—”
Gnochi heard a voice call his name, its familiarity knocking the air from his lungs. He watched as Harvey and Roy stepped into the open-air chamber, his eyes diving through the darkness in their wake, expecting to see Cleo’s quaint frame following them in. The two teens entered alone.
“Well, I’ll say that this meeting has certainly gotten interesting.” Dorothea clapped his hands together. “Harvey and Roy. So nice for you two to finally join up with your king’s army.”
“These are your men, Dorothea? They didn’t tell me that you were soldiers.” Gideon’s gaze hardened on the two newcomers.
“We aren’t,” Roy started saying. “I’m sorry, I don’t quite know who you are.”
“Gideon, Lord of the eastern lands,” he said, bowing his head lightly.
“Gideon? Head of the Pantheon?” Harvey’s mouth opened in shock.
“The very same.” Gideon smiled. “Now, will you answer my question? Are you soldiers? And why did they tell me that you were looking for Cleo?”
“We aren’t soldiers,” Roy said. “We skipped out.”
“Yeah, the bloody lot of you,” Dorothea shouted.
“Cleo?” Harvey asked. “We didn’t tell them that we were looking for Cleo. We said we were looking for a young echoer woman.”
“Pardon,” Gideon said. He turned to Gnochi. “Do you know of any young women with echoes in the company of these two besides my daughter?”
“You’re Cleo’s father?” Roy yelled. He squirmed after receiving a stern glare from Gideon.
Without addressing their question, Gideon said, “If you weren’t looking for Cleo, who were you looking for? And where is my daughter, by the way?” He drummed his fingers on the table.
“A woman named—well, her name is Kiren,” Harvey said. “She could be going by Nora. She’s not actually an echoer, but a terribly smart tactician.”
“You heard that,” Gideon said, addressing his page. “See that word is sent among the rank for her. I’d like her found if she’s among my people. Now, will someone answer me? Where is Cleo?” His voice brimmed with anger.
“She’s fine,” Harvey said. “She should be coming here soon.” Addressing Gnochi, he asked, “You came by the dog sled team?”
Gnochi nodded.
“She and Aarez were tracking your route through the tundra,” Harvey said. “They should have arrived by now, if not soon.”
“The snows would have concealed any tracks,” Dorothea said.
“She’ll be fine,” Roy said. “She knows how to handle herself, and Aarez is fearsome with his snake-like sword.”
“Let’s hope she and this Aarez are able to avoid the savages that frequent the swamp and tundra that far south,” Dorothea said, smiling. “I’d hate for something to befall such a sweet—”
“Speak another word and it’ll be your last, Dorothea,” Gideon threatened. “Should these savages hurt her, I will hold you responsible. You are king, and these are your lands.” He then seemed shocked at the brash nature of his own words. His face softened. A thin smile appeared on his face. “I have a second army coming over the tundra in reserve. I’ll send word to them and order them to make a sweep south to pick her up if she’s gotten herself lost.�
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“I believe we were ironing out a deal,” Dorothea said. “I’d like to secure your help as soon as possible.”
“What deal?” Harvey asked.
“Gideon’s help in ridding Lyrinth of the fortress and its inhabitants,” Dorothea explained. “In exchange, I will allow some dusty first age building to be destroyed. Along with all of its contents.”
“And you didn’t say anything against it?” Roy’s stern gaze was directed at Gnochi. “You’ve butted heads against Luddites in the past. I can’t believe that you’d let this happen without a fight.”
“Oh, didn’t he tell you?” Dorothea asked, smiling. “Silly me. He can’t speak. I made sure of that. Go on, Gnochi. Open that mouth wide.”
Gnochi lowered his eyes.
“How could you,” Harvey yelled, slamming his fists onto the table, knocking over the well of black ink. It ran thin, slipping between the boards like black blood staining the carpet beneath.
“He killed my brother,” Dorothea said. “A king. He’s lucky that he has breath in his lungs.”
“I’m sorry, Gnochi,” Roy managed. “I didn’t know.”
Gnochi offered his hands in a placated gesture to show forgiveness. He dabbed his pen in the still-pooling ink and scratched out a question.
How is Cleo?
“She’s fine. Been fighting since day one to come and get you. We actually traveled all the way down to the swamp prison. Just missed you there, by a day.”
Was anyone still at the prison?
“Everyone there was dead,” Harvey said.
“Well, this reunion is touching,” Dorothea said, making a show of yawning. “But I’d like to wrap this up and return to my own throne. Are we in agreement?”
“Yes,” Gideon replied. The two men shook hands. Gideon waved for a servant and passed the Lyrinthian king a goblet of steaming wine. The two each took hearty drafts. “I’ll send a strategist to your camp within a day to drum up a plan of attack. Keep your men on a short leash. We’ve had people disappear when wandering close to the fortress.”
Chapter 33
When Aarez woke, he became aware of a throbbing pain blooming out from under his jaw. He rolled his head slightly to alleviate a crick that had been pinching his nerves, though he allowed his body to wake without further movement. The burlap sack still sat blocking his vision and insulating his face. In his mind, he replayed the last day, cursing himself for sleeping and allowing them to be captured.
The cot under his body insulated little cold, so within moments of waking, a chattering hijacked his teeth. Aarez pushed an ounce of his life into the bonds digging into his wrists, finding the hemp thin and overused. He pulled his wrists apart and noted how little the rope fought against coming undone.
Aarez stiffened upon hearing the two males approaching and grunting in exertion. They shared their primitive conversation with little concern for their sleeping captives. He could not tell if the matriarch was present and dared not assume either way.
The plop of a loud object dropping in the cauldron drew his attention. A flicker of warm water landed on his hand. He strained to listen, but something had made one of the captors scream. An ounce of his life passed into the burlap sack, willing it to unweave enough for him to look through it.
The first thing he saw was his female captor. As he predicted, she sat observing the two shirtless brutes. A smile of anticipation adorned her face and she licked her lips. Aarez allowed his eyes to fall to the cauldron, where the brutes were stirring and chopping vegetables to add to the broth.
At first, Aarez thought the deep brown shape jutting from the top was a coconut, though when they stirred it around, Cleo’s hauntingly pale face was revealed. For a moment, he wondered why their captors were bathing Cleo with vegetables, then the truth stole the breath from his mouth.
He had to move fast. If the broth was not boiling, she might still be alive. Aarez pried his eyes from Cleo long enough to search for his weapons. The angle of his resting head provided little coverage, though he did spot a cleaver which he could use with no alternatives.
Pulling the life back from his hood, Aarez poured it into the decaying ropes. He strained, then succeeded in pulling his wrists free, smiling at how the display of strength would appear, though he silently cursed his own arrogance. Surprise had abandoned him with the snapping of rope.
Aarez heard the dame howl, and a crashing sound which might have been her jumping from her seat. He pulled the canvas sack from over his head, his eyes confirming that Cleo was indeed being cooked.
Failing to spot his weapons in the instant after freeing his eyes, he lunged and grabbed the cleaver just as the first of the brutes thought to arm himself. Pushing his life into the cooking implement, Aarez grunted at its condition. He felt the blade as he would his arm. It cried out to his mind as though in splitting pain. The blade had seen neither a wash nor a grindstone in years. He held it over a fire as the first brute, now brandishing a knife as long as a short-sword, moved in close, ready to engage.
As the armed captor swiped, Aarez pulled his blade from its fiery bath, slicing it up to intercept the attack. The cleaver, reinforced by his life and the flame, sheathed through the brute’s knife. Aarez snatched the cut end from the ground with his left hand. He snarled and slashed at the captor with the cleaver. The attack left a burning cut down the length of the brute’s forearm.
Aarez’s small body and quick speed afforded him the chance to evade his attacker’s attempts to rush and overpower him. In response to the bullish attack, he rammed his knife-half between the brute’s ribs. A deluge of blood spilled down over hair, thick like beastly fur. In the lull of that duel, he felt a noisome pain across the length of his palm. He had forgotten to trickle life into the blade to dull the edge that pressed into his skin.
The brute collapsed, breath leaking from his wound.
With one swift motion, Aarez yanked the knife fragment from the bloody ribs and sliced through the brute’s neck.
The first bubbles rose to the surface of the broth. A quick test of the liquid revealed it to be hot, but not boiling. He glanced around and noticed that the other male captor looked shocked at the mess that had become of his cohort. Aarez took the opportunity to chuck the still-hot cleaver through the air.
He had hoped to distract the man with a noisome wound, though his luck with the throw came through. The cleaver burrowed itself deep into his skull, splitting the man’s left cheek and ear from his face. He dropped to the ground, dead.
Ignoring the matriarch, who had scampered off, whimpering, Aarez rushed to the cauldron. He winced as his ice-cold hands and arms dove into the hot broth. Hooking under her armpits, he heaved Cleo from the pot.
It was only after he had laid her out on his cot that Aarez noticed her nudity. He blushed, but only long enough for the higher-reasoning part of his mind to point out that she was not in the clear yet. The glistening broth was cooling. A thick mist that smelt of earthy vegetables flowed from where the cold air touched her still-warm skin. Aarez pulled his wool shirt off to dry her. He looked around, finally locating their confiscated supplies. He tucked Cleo into a dry shirt, full breeches, socks, boots and the poncho. It was only then that he realized how cold her body had become.
He willed life into the poncho so that it rippled with heat and warmed her core, though it seemed to have no effect. All the while, he shivered from the cold, his bare chest and arms wet with chilled stock.
Aarez fingered Cleo’s neck, feeling for a pulse while he listened and felt for breath. She lay motionless, warming, but still without a discernible heartbeat. He stooped over her and leaned down, his forehead touching hers. “No,” he yelled.
Tears leaked through his shut eyes. He swallowed a lump of fear, then weaned his life into her forehead. There, in some distant recess of her essence came the will to live. It drunk in his life-force greedily. He felt his mind melding with Cleo’s.
Their memories became enmeshed. Together, they witnessed ma
ssive gardens of flowers golden in color. They saw dozens of servants, cotton wadded in their ears. A man with a cold detachment ordered them around. Others who treated them with disdain. Then, the nauseating motions of a ship at sea turned their shared stomach in circles. Finally, the nausea settled, and they saw a man with a poncho the color of autumn, his smile brighter than the sun in her eyes.
With every passing moment, Aarez felt an impulse to abandon his life entirely to Cleo. Living through her darkest trials and experiencing her happiest moments, he felt inferior. He felt as though his life meant nothing if it could not bring her back from the edge of death. The dread grew, expanding like a plague until it affected every ounce of his being.
Somewhere in the cold distant present, Aarez gritted his teeth, pulling back his life. It struggled against his taut, yet tired muscles, willing him to give in.
He felt a throb through his finger, still snug against her neck. The lightest flicker of life within Cleo finally shone after an unmeasurable minute. Aarez continued to drip his life into her unconscious form, feeling her recover but waiting for her own life to once again beam bright.
As more and more of her body supplied its own life, the fatigue Aarez felt lessoned. Just as he considered pulling his life essence out, he heard the disembodied voice of Pidgeon’s voice in his head.
“Look out, boss.”
Two gnarled hands thrust Aarez from atop Cleo’s body.
A moment of vertigo-inducing disorientation left him with a view of the matriarch’s infuriating face. She hissed and spewed words at him that could only have been curses. Aarez crashed to the muddy ground, a flame of fury spilling through his veins as the life force he had leant to Cleo snapped back to him all at once. He leaned over and vomited a deluge of water and bile, then found himself standing with a strength he had previously never experienced.
After wiping the dribble of vomit and spit from his lips, he rushed at the matriarch’s dirty form, pinning her to the ground. She flailed under his grip and something akin to fear lit her eyes. She clearly had not expected such a fight. Aarez’s hands shifted to her neck, finding it uncharacteristically soft. Surely, she who wielded such brutish fear would be tough as leather. His fingers squeezed tight.
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