“Don’t worry, Giles,” Warrick gave him a hangman’s grin, “your end is near enough.”
“Let me at the purple-eyed bastard!” Captain Giles’s eyes bulged, and he worked an arm free, clawing at the Captain Haines’ arm. “I’ll kill the demon spawn! Cut his head off and shit down his neck!”
“Everyone clear the room!” General Louis snapped the crop on the table again. It took three men besides Haines to drag Giles out. “Not you.” She put a hand on Warrick’s chest, her voice softened. “You stay here.”
General Louis pinned him in place, her green eyes locking his purple ones. She looked tired, dark bruises under her eyes. He could enter her mind, break through the barrier and plant the seed of doubt. She would call it all off. Allowing him to go to the doom that awaited them all. Alone. Except, he couldn’t. What was seen could not be unseen.
“What’s wrong with you?” General Louis said. “You act as though we are already dead.”
You are. We all are.
“Are you going to talk to me?” She reached out and took his hands. Hers were warm in his cold ones. She was always warmer. The blood flowing closer to the surface. When he kept quiet, she stole them back and crossed her arms. “Or stonewall me until after the attack?”
“You’re right,” Warrick said, turning to the map sprawled across the table. “I am more stone than flesh.”
“Stop putting words into my mouth,” she said and collapsed into a chair. She rubbed her temples, one of her great headaches forming. It would cause her to be bed-ridden, hiding from the painful light for days until it passed. “I know you had a vision. A Seeing as you call it. Tell me about it.”
“I can’t.”
“You can!” General Louis struck the table with a closed fist, jostling empty cups. “If I’m going to die, I want to know how. It’s my right, Plainswalker.”
The formality of the word cut him. Her hubris scorched his heart much worse. They always felt entitled to know their death. They thought they owned it, and by proximity, owned him. When he told them their doom, they would turn pale and sometimes sick up the contents of their stomach. Some would even try to defy the Seeing, striking the messenger for the message they demanded from him. He never lied. Every word he spoke true and no matter how the hearer tried to avoid death, to game the system, it always found them. The bright light of knowledge soon darkened as their soul passed on to the beyond. To places that even he couldn’t access, though the bereaved begged him to do so. Bribed, threatened, cajoled, he had heard it all. None moved him more than General Louis’s demand.
“Out with it,” she said.
He swallowed the bitter words. Holding them back, the acidic bile burning his throat.
“So you will tell everyone else but me?” She bared her teeth and glared. “A direct order from your general.”
“Louis,” he said.
“Don’t, Warrick, don’t patronize me.” Angry hot ember threatening to flame. She clenched her fists and looked away from him. “What we have, what we had does not exclude me from knowing. I am like any other poor mortal, doomed to slough off this fragile form to rise above to a higher plain. You knew this when you first touched me. At least respect me enough now, to trust me with the knowledge of how I will transcend.”
Transcend. He hated that word. It depicted for them a rising to a higher form, but it was all an illusion. There was no transcendence. That piece of wisdom he was sworn to keep silent about unless he wanted to suffer the same fate as these mortals.
“You really want to know?” He tried to keep his voice even, prevent the trembling current slicing through his nerves from dissipating in his words. This was part of the invocation. Once the ignorant consented to enlightenment, he was free to release the weight of the sentence, delivering the proclamation without appeal. They carried the sentence with them for however long their lungs drew breath.
“That’s why I asked.” The sardonic tone made him ache to hold her. She would never allow it, not after their first tryst. They never truly understood. Not until it was too late, and nothing could be stopped. Once spoken, prophecy was cut deeper than the bones of the earth.
“You die at the Spark,” he said.
Her eyes widened for a moment. Joy and Fear joined as twins bloody in their afterbirth.
“How—”
A young boy entered the tent and knelt. He clasped his right arm across his breast, head bowed as he addressed Louis.
“Urgent news from the front, my liege.”
“What is it now?” General Louis asked.
“Captain Halverson requests immediate assistance since the front is buckling,” the boy said, speaking to his boots. “He says within the hour the enemy will surround and obliterate them.”
General Louis scrubbed her eyes. There weren’t any more men to send to the front. Either they pull back in a rout that may cost hundreds of lives or risk losing thousands, ultimately dooming the fate of the realm. Not just the realm, but the entire web of Possibilities connected to this one.
“Advise, Warrick.” Her voice sounded weak, ready to crack. “Please.”
“It’s time to lead the remaining men across the gap,” Warrick said. “We need the Spark before it implodes and ends us all.”
General Louis gave a shuddering sigh, almost like a cry.
“Tell Captain Halverson to hold the line,” she said. “Not to let a single godsdamn wraith past. No matter the consequences.”
The boy repeated her instructions, nodded, and left.
Warrick knew he wouldn’t make it back to the front. The boy would die a heroic death, his belly torn out by something resembling a giant centipede ridden by a black-cloaked wraith. He would continue to crawl along the red rock for several yards where he would shrug off the frail form. Captain Halverson wouldn’t require the message to hold. He will fight on, holding back the nightmarish horde, but the center would split, and they would bend, breaking as trees under the power of an avalanche. Captain Halverson would also die, split from clavicle to groin. A barbed tail flicking off his bloody, ruined body like a nasty bit of nose goo.
The vision passed Warrick’s mind, leaving him helpless to say or do anything. Their deaths, and thousands more, were embossed on the reams telling the story of this When. Any attempt at their salvation placed and the other Whens and Wheres at risk. He wouldn’t forget their sacrifice, no matter how often he saw their faces or heard their voices. They would always be there at his next destination, either as a helper, or someone he had to kill.
“Don’t think this conversation is over,” General Louis said, poking his chest with her riding crop. The heat left her tone, leaving behind tempered steel. “You will tell me everything I want to know.”
“As you wish,” Warrick said. The saying from his mentor went: Not by words alone does one gain insight; words are dust kicked up by the boots treading the land. Sometimes it’s the bones we crush beneath the heels we learn from the most.
Two thousand mounted men and woman rode beneath the red sun. Thousands of hooves made a clamorous noise on the heat-packed soil, generating a thick cloud. They were two leagues south of the front line. Hangman’s Pass, aptly named for the rows of criminals’ corpses that lined the Pass for three leagues, rotted bodies picked over and left to dry out on the dead trees. The sides of the mountains collapsed when the Targian Wraith broke her chains from deep in the earth, clawing her way to the surface, great wings battering the rock, crushing it under the immense force before she perched on the ruinous peaks. The skeletons danced on their ropes and eventually broke free to join the ranks of the Wraiths forces. Hangman’s Pass became the Gap of Life and Death, or vaginal gap some men jokingly called it, because once you passed through, they spent the rest of their lives trying to get back in.
Warrick smelled the Targian Wraith less than a league from the Ruined Mountains. A fetid stench of rotted carrion and sulfur. He stared up at the mountain, hoping to catch a glimpse, to see how far they had to go to escape her g
aze. Happy had made it to the lip of the gap before being incinerated. A thin layer of ash speckled the red soil this far off, the remains of him and many others.
“How much farther?” General Louis asked. Fear tightened her mouth, and her eyes bounced from one peak to the next.
“Soon enough,” Warrick said. They had to reach the same point as Happy. There the portal between spaces would be. Happy and the four hundred served as the blood sacrifice to open a doorway to the In-Between space. Warrick hoped it would be wide enough to fit the remaining regiment. If not, then more sacrifices would have to be made.
A warning shout rippled inward to where Warrick rode beside General Louis and the other captains. Warrick sat taller than any other soldier in the saddle, able to peer over their heads. He watched their flank peel off and planted his feet in the stirrups, standing up to see what had caused a portion of their cavalry to disengage. At first, he thought a pack of feral dogs was attacking, but then he noticed the yellowed bone and ragged clothes. They came like skeletal primates, bony knuckles dragging, spines arched, as they scampered across the hard, red surface. The first of the cavalry wedged through the undead rogues, smashing bone beneath the pounding horse hooves. That was a mistake. As soon as they created a gap, it was filled immediately, skeletal creatures leaping up to tear down rider and screaming mounts.
“Don’t engage! Don’t break formation, godsdamned fools!” Captain Giles spun his horse around and screamed more orders. At least a hundred horse from each side broke off, leaving a sizeable bite in their flank that were filled by the center.
“We have to go,” Warrick said. “We need get to the gap, quickly, before there’s nobody left to fight.”
General Louis lifted a horn and blew a single loud bleat. The horses in front moved slowly at first, gaining momentum as the next group turned from a canter into a gallop. The screams of dying horses and men got closer. A foul stench of decay closed in as the skeletal warriors tore through flesh on the sides and the rear.
“They’re hemming us in,” Warrick said. He fought to control the reigns of his gelding. The blood and screams made it froth at the mouth, teeth nipping at the nearest horse. There would be no retreat. Their only course was forward to an unknown horror, while behind them was death. Warrick heeled his gelding forward, passing several riders. He needed to reach Happy’s gap before the others, to complete the opening. General Louis cursed and shouted his name. He ignored her. Nothing mattered except the shimmering air only he could see, marking the opening to the In-Between. He clung to his gelding, urging it to run faster. He couldn’t see it yet, but sensed the portal, a sharp metallic scent, marking where lightning struck the earth.
It’s close. He glanced up at the rising peaks. Jagged rocks silhouetted against the red sun. Nothing else moved, the worse was behind. We might escape—
A loud screech shredded his thoughts. His gelding skidded to a halt, eyes bulging and blood bubbling. The very peak he stared at trembled, giant wings thundering in the air. The Targian Wraith rose above the Ruined Mountains, more hideous than the vision of Happy’s death had revealed. It was a black-scaled, reptilian beast. Large claws crushed stone when it landed. A sharp snout, almost beak-like, opened to release another horrifying shriek. Several horses dumped their riders and smashed into the rocky walls, breaking legs and dashing brains in their attempt to flee the horror.
Riders collided with those in front as their mounts tried to stop. Warrick heard the weak shouts of the captains and General Louis attempting to regain order. Warrick couldn’t take his eyes from the massive creature, leaping from one smashed peak to land on the next, closer to its prey.
The Targian Wraith was a creature of pure chaos and could shatter a Seeing like knocking a crystal goblet onto a stone floor. If Warrick died here, a crushing wave would ripple out, destroying every When and Where as though the Sparks had ignited. He was the key, and without him, every door remained locked. Nothing would, had, or will ever exist.
Warrick tore his eyes from the creature and cast about for the ripple. A sea of frightened horses and men blocked his view, so he closed his eyes and followed his nose. The gelding refused to move, so he leapt from the saddle and began to run to the burning, electric smell. His nose tingled, and the hairs rose all across his body. When he opened his eyes, the air shimmered before him. A shadow fell over him as the sun was blotted out. The Targian Wraith landed on the small mound of rubble, yellow eyes darting about.
Warrick froze. He was out in the open, and any movement would attract the beast’s attention. The Targian Wraith’s neck jerked up, snout raised, sniffing the air. Warrick crouched, hand reaching for his dagger. Not that a dagger would be much good against the crushing beak. The Targian Wraith rumbled a deep growl and lifted its wings. Its head shot forward, powerful legs launching off the rock. A great whoosh of air passed over Warrick. Behind him, terrified screeches began and were cut off. Horse and rider were carried off in the beast’s beak.
Hungry. No wonder we weren’t all turned to ash.
Slipping the dagger from his sheath, he ran the sharp blade across his palm. A few drops of blood would open the portal. Something struck him from behind, the ground knocking the air from Warrick. He tried to turn over, but his face smashed into the hard ground.
“This is your fault,” Captain Giles said and punched him in the ribs. “You led us into this trap. We won’t be your blood sacrifice! Not like Happy.”
Warrick’s face lifted off the ground, blood trickling into his right eye. Then it crashed down again, and white pain burst from his nose, which also felt like it burst. His vision blurred, and his body went limp.
I love you.
No, don’t say that.
But I do. You have to believe me.
“Warrick!” The voices slipped away under a dull thud. The world seemed to shake. “Wake up! We need you.”
Warrick opened his eyes, and Louis’s blurred face stared down at him. Slowly it came into focus; her smooth features wrinkled, looking older, paler. A cut above her cheek leaked red, a single red tear dripped down her chin.
“Get that godsdamn portal open,” General Louis said and shook him. “Now!”
Warrick stumbled to his feet and nearly tripped over Captain Giles’s body. He kicked the exposed back. “Fucker blindsided me.”
“Forget him for now,” General Louis said. She turned him by the shoulders to face the south. “That thing is coming back for more.”
The Targian Wraith swooped from the sky, fire spreading from its open beak. It was a good three hundred yards away and gaining. Warrick tested the cut in his palm, wincing at the burn. Dirt and pebbles clung to the congealing blood. He swiped them away, releasing fresh crimson. He held his hand out to the shimmering energy rising off the hot rock like steam. An electric current ran through his arm, stiffening his body. Warrick clenched his fist around the current. His bones vibrated from the power.
“Ex veritate. Est illustratio,” he said, the words echoing across time and space. The electric steam took shape, expanding outward, shaping into the image his mind commanded it to. Anyone with less control of the power would be incinerated, cooked from the inside out. A large gateway, as wide as the gap formed. It would remain as long as he held the power and disappear as soon as he released it. He had not made one this large before, and beads of sweat bubbled on his forehead. Burning hair stung his nose. “Hurry through.”
General Louis blew the war horn. Soldiers running, soldiers mounted on terrified horses, streamed past. He could see their haggard looks, their hesitation to move forward, but too afraid to go back. Ahead lay uncertainty, though behind was certain death. The flapping wings grew louder. Warrick risked a glance over his shoulder. The Targian Wraith would be on them in a matter of moments.
“Get through before that thing burns you to a crisp,” General Louis said. Captain Haines helped her flop Captain Giles’s unconscious body over a saddle. “Don’t wait. Not for anyone.” She led the horse through the porta
l.
The Targian Wraith was near enough for him to feel the heat of the flame. A lone rider shouted for him to wait. Warrick quickly assessed the speed of the horse-rider and Wraith would reach the gateway at similar instances. Warrick grimaced, holding out a bit longer. He was only delaying the inevitable. As the flames rushed toward him, Warrick watched the hopeless face of the rider, cursing him, and then he stepped through the gate and released it. As the gateway sealed, the rider pushed his horse, bloody froth flying off the bit. They drew almost to the portal and were cut off, lost to the flames. Another death to haunt his dreams.
“Why did you bring this ass?” Warrick asked. The bruised sky lit up by silent chain lightning, bouncing from thick cloud to thick cloud. Every visit he made to the In-between and not once had he seen a sun or any other source of light, but it was bright as twilight, and everything was a shade of purple. To the east, sharp peaks rose, and the west was deep gulf, an endless drop, or so Warrick was told by his mentor—though he never tested the validity of the story. They shuffled along a lavender-grey road, empty of life except for what tread on it now. A quick count showed the butchers tab to be over two-thirds of what they started out with. A high, though fair price, for surviving an undead ambush.
“We need every able body we can get,” General Louis said. She winked, adding: “Might use him as bait.”
“Where does this place end?” Captain Haines held a kerchief to his nose. Some people reported a bad smell from the In-Between, describing it as a shit pile sweetened by rotting vegetables, but to Warrick, the place had as much scent as dry dirt. A bit old and musty, nothing worse than a shuttered house that hasn’t been aired out in a few centuries.
“It doesn’t.”
“I didn’t believe this place existed,” General Louis said. “Thought you were some demented Necro… until you brought me here the first time.”
“I shouldn’t have.” He tried to forget about his anger at being denied by a woman he’d loved and who had loved him back. Another event he couldn’t take back, or change. It made convincing her of events easier, but at what cost? Rule number one, his mentor had said, never get emotionally involved. It makes everything harder, more complicated. Warrick wished he’d obeyed that rule, though he seemed destined to always mess it up.
Blackest Knights Page 11