by Dave Skinner
“Get the gates closed!” he yelled. “You are under attack.” He started pulling at one and swinging it closed. The guards were standing staring at him. “Get the other one!” he yelled at them, and they jumped to obey.
The gates were heavy, and all three of them were puffing when they got them shut. The two guards had just hoisted the locking bar into position when Nails slipped his sword from its scabbard and cut them down. He sheathed his sword and turned to look around. No one had noticed the gate being closed. The overseer had told him that the barracks building was to the right. After dragging the dead soldiers out of sight, he started that way. An officer exited the building he was headed for, looked at the closed gate and started towards it. As he came alongside him, Nails brought an elbow up into his face. Before the man fell, Nails grabbed him, threw him over his shoulder and carried him back to the barracks. Pushing through the door, he walked into the building, looking around as he went. This was the weakest part of his planning. He knew nothing about where the off-duty soldiers would be, but he knew he had to deal with them before he continued.
As far as places for soldiers to live went, this was impressive. A large area by the door he had entered led into another space open to the sky. Two steps led down to a grassy, park-like area with small trees and other plants growing all around, and benches and tables everywhere. On all sides, he saw doorways. Many were open, and he could see rows of beds inside the rooms. Nails knew what he must do now. He carried the soldier to the grassy area and put him down.
“There is a hurt man here,” he called, then stomped his foot three times and headed back to the door. His rough plan had been to use a fire spell, but the growing spell was better. It would draw less attention in the rest of the city until he finished at the palace. He stepped through the doorway and pulled the door shut. From outside, he could barely hear the screams. Someone pulled at the handle, trying to open it, but he held it closed. The screams died away, and Nails continued towards the palace. The nine wizards were again standing at the place where they had ravaged Andoo.
“What are you doing back here?” one asked.
“I have a present for the Emperor,” Nails said, indicating the sword hilt sticking up above one shoulder.
“Give it to me,” the wizard ordered.
“No, I have to deliver it in person.” They were all around him now. He knew what was about to happen, but it still shocked him when their magic hit. Pain flooded through him, he felt like he was burning. The dark core within him came awake, and it reached out hungrily for the energy. He let it. Through the haze of the magic, he could see the smiles on the wizards’ faces. Their energy tore into him, and the magic within him expanded. He screamed, but the scream turned to a deep, full-throated, feral laugh. Nails stepped towards the closest wizard, reached out, closed one hand on the man’s shoulder and drove his knife into the man’s belly. He jerked the knife back and forth, being careful not to hit the man’s heart. Letting any of these wizards die quickly was not what he wanted. He dropped the man and turned to the next. Eventually, he had disemboweled all nine and left them dying on the ground. The last two had tried to escape. They didn’t make it.
“Andoo sends his regards,” Nails said as he turned towards the palace.
Ahead of him, he saw the soldiers among the columns draw their swords. He stopped and concentrated on the pillars that held up the palace. He had never been able to direct a blast of energy with precision, but it didn’t matter this time. Nails gathered all the energy the wizards had given, every ounce of magic within him. If no one could take his magic away, maybe he could eject it from his body. The blast he sent disintegrated the pillars and, for a heartbeat, the palace hung in the air before it came down. This was the vision he had seen before, but this time Brayson and his other friends were safely away. When the dust cleared, Nails walked forward.
The floor of the palace was only one step above the rubble, and he climbed easily onto it. The roof and most walls were down, but he could see that the throne room had survived. He made his way through the rubble towards it. Soldiers staggered towards him here and there but he cut them down. He found the Emperor’s Chamberlain on the floor with a beam from the roof across his leg and swiftly removed his head.
As Nails came close to the Emperor, he sheathed his sword and drew the Sword of Sacrifice. The two metal clad soldiers came towards him, but their movements were cumbersome, and he had no trouble sidestepping their swords as they struck at him. He swung the Sword of Sacrifice and removed first one and then the other’s sword arms as the blade slashed through their armor without pause. One tried to club Nails with his other arm. Nails grabbed the arm and held it away as he pushed the Sword of Sacrifice slowly into the man’s body. Then he removed the head of the other one before turning to the Emperor. A booming voice laughed at him.
“I am encased in magic, you fool. Your sword cannot—”
The Sword of Sacrifice slipped through the magic shield and into the Emperor’s body as if both were air. He slashed the sword one way and then the other. The Emperor’s entrails spilled out, and Nails held him up on the sword, watching the man.
“I am going to destroy this city and your Empire,” he promised.
It didn’t take long for the Emperor to die. He wasn’t much of a man without his magic shield.
Nails turned to leave and then stopped in thought. He turned back to the throne and, using the Sword of Sacrifice, he cut all the gems from it and dropped them into his pouch. On the way out, he took the large gem from the top of the Chamberlain’s staff and any other small items of value he saw.
Chapter 49
Reese stood outside the doors to the fortress. Her job was to evaluate the refugees as they came through and direct them according to their needs. She sent them either straight ahead to the food area or left, to where Andoo and Feenatay worked to help those with injuries. For two seven-days, the freed slaves had been arriving. Feenatay, who shared a tent with Reese, cried each night because of what she saw as she tended to the injured. Conner came back and stood by Reese’s side, he had been helping the injured over to Andoo and Feenatay.
When he had awoken after Nails knocked him out and then killed everyone in the fortress, Conner had sworn he would rather die than help them. Reese had debated killing him, as Nails suggested, but she remembered how much pain sudden decisions had cost her in the past. She was still debating killing Conner when the first of the refugees started to arrive. On the third day, she had dragged Conner out to help her instead of leaving him tied to a tree. She told herself that she would kill him when he was no longer useful. At the end of his fifth day carrying broken fey over to the wizards, as she was tying him to the tree for the night, he finally spoke.
“I am sorry,” he said. “I had no idea they were being treated like that.”
Shawn returned the next day with help. He had ridden north after Nails left and brought people and food back. Both were needed. Reese was no longer reliant on Conner’s help, so the next day she left him tied to the tree. At midday, she brought him food and water and, after untying him, she squatted and watched him eat. When he finished, she started to secure him to the tree again.
“I want to help you,” he said. She stopped tying his hands. “Please, Reese, I am a soldier. I have a code of honour I live by. This treatment of slaves...I never knew things were like that.”
“You rode to the city with us,” she replied. “I saw what was happening as we rode. You saw the same things. You must have known.”
“I saw it, but...it was just the way things were. The fey are not like us. They are different...inferior. Keeping them as slaves is the way it has always been. I never thought about it. Anyway, I was travelling with the most wonderful, beautiful woman I had ever seen. I saw nothing but you.”
“Where I come from, the fey are respected, although I have heard stories of mean-hearted men who take advantage of them. Most people do not come into contact with them, but th
ere are a number of families who they consider to be true friends. My family is one of those.” She paused as she considered him. She wanted to believe him. He was the second man in her life she had been attracted to, and she did not want to lose him. “I will let you go. I won’t tie you up anymore, but if your words are false, you should scurry back into your Empire and hope I never see you again.”
Conner was still there the next morning. He helped her all day, and at night she saw him helping out in the refugee camp.
A new group of refugees were coming through the gate. These were different from most because they were using two horses. The first horse was loaded with a large number of fey riding on its back. It was led by a young woman who, judging from her size was of mixed blood. Behind her was another horse pulling a wagon full of people and also carrying fey on its back. Reese ran forward when she saw who was leading them.
“Brayson!” she called to him as he smiled at her. She wrapped him in her arms and heard him grunt.
“Easy, Reese,” he said. “I have some injuries that have not healed yet. How is Andoo?”
“He has recovered enough to help Feenatay mend the injured.” She looked behind him. “Is Nails with you?”
“No. He saved me and then went to the city. If he was coming, he would have caught up to us. We have travelled slowly.”
“Do you think they captured him?” she asked. “Should I put a force together to go back to the city and get him?”
“The city is gone. We saw it burning for the first three days of our trip. Nails is gone, Reese. He stopped fighting his magic and accepted it. He is no longer the well intentioned giant we knew, and my heart aches for him.”
That night, lying in her bed, Reese spoke to the trees around her. “Mother, please take care of Nails wherever he goes. He wants to be a good person and not hurt anyone. Help him control his magic and give him peace.”
***
The flow of refugees dwindled over the next few days before it picked up again. These newcomers were better dressed than those who arrived before them. Reese asked them about it and learned they had been slaves in the city. The second day after they started arriving, a Cross who came through the gate approached her.
“I am searching for a person named Feenatay. Is she here?”
“She is tending to the injured,” Reese said. “Is there something I can help you with?”
The man opened his cloak. A sword hung at his belt. “I was told to return this sword to her.”
“By whom?”
“By the man who saved us. When the city started to burn, many of us were locked up in the prison. We were screaming to be set free. This man opened the doors and cut our shackles and chains away with this sword. He led us out of the city while killing any soldiers who came against us. When we were free, he asked me to bring this sword to Feenatay, and this pouch to a man named Brayson. He said the pouch contained compensation for the way he had been treated.”
“Where did the man go?”
“He said he was heading south.”
***
Nails sat his horse at the edge of the trees. Below him, a caravan of exiles was creeping along the road. He had blasted and burned the City of Shining Light before leaving it. After travelling south through the crumbling Empire, freeing slaves everywhere he found them, he had finally reached the southern border five days ago. The fortress he found there was under siege, and he had slipped by in the dark, leaving the Empire behind. Word of the Emperor’s death had spread faster than the fires he had set in the city. A soldier he had found dying just before he crossed the southern border told him that three different generals were fighting for control of the Empire, but neighboring countries to the south had invaded as soon as they heard the Emperor was dead. With their forces divided, the generals were losing the war. Nails had sat with the man while he died and then moved on, keeping to the trees.
Now, he saw a flash of reflected sunlight far back along the road, followed by a dust cloud rising into the air. So far, Nails had seen soldiers in two different coloured uniforms and bands of renegades using the road. The riders who were making the dust cloud were too far away to make out details, but whoever they were, their presence did not bode well for the people below. Nails nudged his horse into motion and rode down the hill, pulling his packhorse after him. He rode up to the caravan and took a position at the rear. Two young children were trudging along, far behind the rest. They didn’t even notice him until he rode up beside them. Nails estimated the boy had nine or ten name-days behind him, and the girl was younger and half his size. He stepped down from his saddle and walked beside them.
“There are riders coming up the road,” he said. “You should catch up to the others.”
“Can you walk faster?” the boy asked the girl. She shook her head. There were tear streaks in the dirt on her cheeks. Nails untied his waterskin from his saddle and passed it to the boy.
“Share some water. Maybe it will help.”
The boy took the skin and held it while he squirted water into the girl’s mouth. After she had drunk, he drank some himself. Nails looked behind them. The dust cloud was getting closer.
“I’m going to put you both on my packhorse,” he told them. Carefully he lifted the girl, put her on the horse and did the same with the boy before he swung back into his own saddle. “Are your parents up ahead?”
“Dead,” the boy said flatly.
Nails urged his horses forward and caught up to the end of the caravan. He pulled the children off the horse and put them down.
“Try to keep up with the group,” he advised. He stopped walking and watched the caravan move on before he mounted his horse and walked it slowly forward. The sound of running horses found him and grew louder. Nails stopped his mount and turned it around. They were not soldiers, they might have been at one point, as there were a number of mismatched uniforms among them. He figured deserters, six of them.
“That is a nice horse,” the man in the lead said. “How much do you want for it?”
“Not for sale,” Nails said.
“What about the packhorse?” the man asked.
“Not for sale,” Nails repeated.
“That’s too bad,” the man said. “We need your horses and everything else you have.”
A short time later, Nails rode up to the end of the caravan. The children were starting to fall behind again, and the boy looked at him and then back down the road.
“Where are the riders?”
“They went away,” Nails said, “but they left their horses for us to use. Would you like to ride a horse of your own, or sit on my packhorse again?”
“On yours, please,” the boy answered.
“All right, I’m sure there are others in the caravan who will find the horses useful.”
Epilogue
Brayson let out a sigh of pleasure as he sat. The inn was running smoothly. Although he would never admit it, he had been worried about business when Megan assumed her management duties. His daughter had a head for numbers, but she could be abrasive with people, her two brothers would testify to that. If Moiya had not insisted, he would never have agreed to hand his duties over to her. Now, he was glad that he had. He had been operating the Great Deer Inn since he bought it sixteen years ago, using one of the jewels Nails had provided, on Megan’s first birthday. What a glorious day that had been. All his friends, big and small, had attended the opening. He smiled at the memory.
The inn was very much like it had been back then. There was no reason to change it despite the fact that the clientele had expanded and changed since he and Moiya had taken possession. Before his time, the inn had been primarily for fey customers. The rooms had low ceilings and were smallish. Now, the inn catered to mixed-bloods and big-people as well. Even the occasional goblin visited. Instead of changing the original design, Brayson had added a wing for larger customers. It had worked well, and the inn had flourished. The credit did not all go to him. Muc
h of their success was due to the city that had grown up around the inn.
Most of the refugees from the Empire needed support to start a new life. The gems Nails gave him allowed that to happen. The others were unsure if Nails meant for him to use the gems to help others, but Brayson was. His friend had a large heart, he was positive that was his intention and he had made sure it happened.
When they took over the inn, it was the only establishment in the area. Now, the town of Nailsville stretched out in every direction around them. From where he sat in his favourite chair, he could look straight down the town’s main street. The variety of architecture was amazing. Nailsville contained people of all the fey races, mixed-bloods and pure. It was unique in that way, reminding him of the different-sized chairs around Ran and Manda’s back table. Not all the fey that had come from the Empire had settled here. Some had gone to more traditional communities where the fey lived only with others of their kind. Some had gone to Crosstown. Many had not survived, despite Feenatay and Andoo’s efforts; there were those who were too beaten to recover. There were even some who stayed close to the Empire. Brayson had thought about that for a long time. He decided that, after so many generations as slaves, they were lost without their masters. Brayson shook his head to clear away the depressing thoughts that had crept in. He could understand the people that stayed behind. Even after only a few seven-days in the Empire, he had been changed. Brayson squirmed around in his chair to scratch his back. It was itchy. It happened when he thought about the Empire, so he looked away from the memories.
The sun was hot, and it caused the road through town to shimmer as he looked along it. In the far distance, he saw something moving up the road. Through the shimmer, it was impossible to tell anything other than the size, which was big. Brayson’s first thought was that a goblin was coming. He strained his eyes, trying to make it out. Slowly, the shape materialized. It was a man on a large horse.