Heirs of the Fallen: Book 03 - Shadow and Steel (11 page)

Adu’lin nodded. “All the more reason to make haste. If we leave within the hour, we can reach Armala by dusk. That is,” he added with a challenging grin, “if you Geldainians can keep up with us?” A few derisive hoots met this, and Adu’lin’s grin widened.

Ba’Sel quieted the men with a curt gesture. “What of the Kelrens?”

Adu’lin glanced at the bound slavers, as if noticing them for the first time. “Bring them along, of course. Perhaps, in time, we can tame the hearts of these brutes.” He did not mention what would happen if that plan failed. “Now go, friends, and gather what you will for the journey.”

Before Leitos could join his father, Ulmek pulled him aside, and pressed a near empty haversack into his arms. “Keep this with you at all times, little brother, and guard it with your life. For now, keep your head down, play the submissive slave—I’m sure you remember how. I will tell a few of the others to do the same.”

“Can you do the same?” Leitos asked doubtfully.

“Absolutely not,” Ulmek said. “My role in this game is to do everything I can to keep these Fauthians focused on me and a few others. I will present myself as a potential threat. That will give you more freedom to be my eyes and ears.”

Leitos had never played the spy, but he was glad that someone amongst the Brothers had some kind of plan. “Agreed,” he said, studying the edge of the forest. He saw a faint flicker, and then a shape, there and gone in a blink. Startled, sure he had seen a face peering at him, he searched the forest, but it had vanished.

“Something wrong?” Ulmek asked.

Leitos considered telling Ulmek what he had seen, but instead held his tongue. With all that talk of the Yatoans, he had probably just imagined a person watching them.

After they set out, moving at a fast trot along a stone-paved trail that led deep into the damp green forest, Leitos kept seeing that face in his mind, and began to think it was not something conjured from his imagination. As the day waned and the party climbed higher, he wondered why that face had seemed so familiar.

Chapter 13

Belina streaked through the sun-dappled forest, leaping fallen logs and narrow brooks, scampering up and over moss-covered boulders, tearing down faint trails hung with vines and creepers. She did not give in to the aching burn in her chest until after she had caught hold of a hidden rope, and swung across a plunging gorge.

She landed on the far side, secured the rope among hanging vines, and flung herself down. Gasping and looking up through the dense foliage, she saw only quaking leaves alight with the vibrant red and orange glimmers of sunset. Dusk’s first bats took the place of chattering birds, and wheeled and fluttered after insects. Even those things she barely noticed, her mind fixed on the young man she had seen on the beach.

She had seen his likeness in visions, as far back as she could remember. She feared him more than she feared the Fauthians and the slavers, yet he was the one she had to protect at all costs, even if the cost meant her life. If she failed, she would cease to be, along with her people, and the rest of humankind, all erased from the memory of time.

Belina abruptly sat up. She was supposed to protect him, but instead, shocked at seeing him, she had run off like a girl fleeing a charging boar. “I have to go back and find him,” she muttered.

Always in her visions the youth was older, a man steeped in shadow and pain, a warrior of steel, a bringer of death. The young man she had seen on the beach looked different, as yet untouched by the trials awaiting him … but he was the same. She knew it in her heart.

She stood and looked back the way she had come. Why had he and those others been with the Fauthians? Could it be that they had their own seers, and meant to use the young man against her people?

By now, the Fauthians would be nearing Armala, a sprawling fortress-city built all of black stone. Armala was older than the Fauthians, older than the Yatoans, perhaps as old as the dawning of the world. It was as much a place of death for her kind as the Throat of Balaam, that cavern of howls and blue fire, where the Fauthians gave captured Yatoan women and girls into the hands of Alon’mahk’lar. So, too, was it the place where they bowed to their god, the oppressor of all peoples, the maker of nightmares, the Faceless One.

Belina remained undecided, until the last of the daylight gave way to night. If she was to aid the young man, she must enlist her father. That was easier thought that done, for her father did not believe her visions, and neither did most of her clan. But for the sake of the world, she had to try.

She set out with a clear purpose in mind, her feet dancing unerringly over shadowed paths.

Chapter 14

Armala did not rest so high in the mountains as Adu’lin had suggested, but about halfway to the highest peak. By the time they halted before a high wall, the paved path had leveled out and the sky had grown thick and dark under a shroud of glittering stars and a rising half-moon. Inland, the air was stifling, and fragrant with rotting leaves and mud. Strange calls filled the night, and Leitos heard Adu’lin mention something about monkeys and ferocious cats as large as a man, and black as midnight. He had never seen either creature, but had heard enough descriptions from the Brothers to know what they were.

Torches flickered atop the wall, which was built into a narrow gap in a vertical spine of rock that cut across the path and fell into a lightless gorge. Overhead, guards bearing bows and halberds moved behind a crenelated parapet.

“You claim a dedication to peace and harmony,” Ulmek said to Adu’lin, “but those men have the look of warriors given more to taking life, than preserving it.”

“Alas, the defense of our home is a distasteful burden the Yatoans force us to endure. At one time, when first we arrived to these lands, we gladly sacrificed our lives on Yatoan swords. We hoped our lack of resistance, and our message of peace, would cool their savagery. The effort decimated our numbers so much that even now, after all these years, we are still few. For the sake of preserving and spreading our beliefs, we swallowed our aversion to touching the implements of death. We took up arms, but only as a means of defense, and the preservation of our life. And, for long years, just the possibility that we would defend ourselves has been enough to keep the Yatoans at bay. Of late, that has changed.”

Ba’Sel moved closer to the golden-skinned man. “If you need help, only ask, and my men and I will beat back these enemies for you.”

Ulmek’s head whipped around, his features tight with incredulity. Leitos blinked slowly, thinking he had heard wrong. Glancing at the others, he knew he had not.
We will beat back these enemies for you.
After so long of ordering the Brothers to always run and hide, to always shun their only purpose as free warriors, now he spoke of joining battle against unknown foes. It made no sense.

“I thank you, Ba’Sel,” Adu’lin said with a slight bow. “But that will not be necessary. While we are few, my people have the means to repel those who would destroy us. For now, it would honor me to serve you and your men by providing you with refuge, while our shipwrights repair one of the wrecked vessels.”

Ba’Sel accepted that with a nod, seemingly oblivious of the Brothers’ questioning stares. Adu’lin, Leitos noted, did not seem so unaware. By his estimation, the man’s eyes missed very little.

Adu’lin moved to a small, rusted iron door set to one side of the main gate. A shutter grated open, and a narrow Fauthian face peered through. Adu’lin spoke a quiet word, and a moment later the door screeched inward. Adu’lin led the Brothers and Kelren prisoners through. Behind them, the guard closed and barred the door.

Four more guards emerged from a squat gatehouse, each as tall and striking as Adu’lin and the rest of the Fauthians. Two guards took the unresisting sea-wolves down a paved street, vanishing into a city as dark and still as a tomb. Braced by Adu’lin’s retinue, the other two guards stood fast, halberds held across their chests. Where their leader’s gaze was inscrutable, theirs spoke of open mistrust, if not outright dislike.

Adu’lin bowed with an air of formality. “I bid you welcome to our city, Armala.” His thin smile did not match the warmth of his graciousness. “You will be safe here, and all your needs met.” His tone raised a tickle of suspicion in Leitos’s mind. As far as Adu’lin and his kindred knew, the Brothers of the Crimson Shield might be every bit as troublesome as the Yatoans, yet he behaved as if they could not be a threat.

“To ensure your safety, and to allay my people’s concerns,” Adu’lin went on hurriedly, as if embarrassed, “I must ask that you relinquish your weapons. We will hold them in our armory for safekeeping. And, of course, they will be returned upon your departure.”

Before anyone could protest, Ba’Sel’s sword whispered from its scabbard, and he presented the weapon to Adu’lin. Eyes bulging indignantly, Sumahn stepped forward. The way he clutched his hilt prompted the two Fauthian guards to swing their halberds in his direction. Adu’lin’s eyes widened with fear—the first true emotion Leitos believed he had seen from the man.

Ulmek caught the young warrior’s arm before he could bare an inch of steel. “We are guests here, youngling. Mind your manners.” After Sumahn acquiesced with a reluctant nod, Ulmek released him. As Ba’Sel had before him, Ulmek drew his weapons, and presented them to Adu’lin.

Adu’lin gestured absently to the ground at his guards’ feet. “Stack your weapons there. My men will see them safely delivered to the armory.”

Sumahn was the last to relinquish his sword and dagger. Instead of adding them to the pile, he hurled the dagger at Adu’lin’s feet, burying half the blade into a crack between the paving stones, making the Fauthian leader take a hasty step backward. Sumahn’s sword joined the dagger, the steel throwing sparks as he drove into the gap. His defiance brought a secret gladness to Leitos and, he was sure, to all the Brothers. All except a scowling Ba’Sel.

“Very good,” Adu’lin said, only a little flustered. “Come. I will show you to your quarters.”

When no one moved, Ba’Sel wheeled, his dark face tight with anger. “As Ulmek said, we are guests. Behave as such.”

Many of the Brothers looked to Ulmek, who inclined his head almost imperceptibly. If it disturbed Ba’Sel to see his men look to another for approval, he hid it well.

He abruptly spun on his heel and moved beside Adu’lin. Hesitantly, the rest of the Brothers fell in line. Behind them, the Fauthian guards wheeled a cart next to the weapons, and began carelessly tossing them into the wooden bed.

Leitos moved between Adham and Halan, doing his best to make himself seem the most uninteresting Brother of the lot. More than Ulmek’s order to do so, he wanted to remain anonymous. He did not feel as if he were coming into a place of safety, but rather into an enemy stronghold. It concerned him that Ba’Sel seemed oblivious. Even now, their leader walked alongside Adu’lin as a deferential servant, speaking quietly and smiling a great deal. The Fauthian paid Ba’Sel little mind.

As they progressed through the city, Leitos began to think less about their situation, and more about his surroundings.

Built upon a narrow plateau, the city climbed gently to the south, joining a moonlit ridgeline that meandered down from high peaks, and passed through milky curtains of mist. Leitos guessed Armala stretched north to south for a league, but was only a quarter that in width. A snaking wall surrounded the city. At the center of it all stood a domed palace, with four towers at each corner of its curtain wall. It was the only place in Armala with lights of any sort.

He saw no signs of activity or life beyond the center of the city. In truth, the streets they walked, the buildings they passed, all had the look of long disuse. They reminded him of the bone-towns he and Zera had passed through. The thought of those, and the Mahk’lar that had claimed them for their own, made him uneasy. But other than a familiar feeling of abandonment and a decrepit aspect, he saw no indication of demonic spirits within Armala.

“This city,” Adham whispered, searching the darkness as intently as Leitos and the rest of the Brothers, “it reminds me of Fortress El’hadar and the Black Keep, a place my father spoke of.”

Leitos cocked his head in curiosity, as the party moved through a broad, circular intersection of two streets. His eyes fixed on a feminine figure carved from bone-pale stone, and towering thrice his height. Naked and majestic, she stood frozen between steps, one hand brushing her smooth hip, the other eternally reaching for something unknown. Above her rounded breasts, she ceased to be a woman. The creature’s skull was grotesquely swollen and elongated, and it peered northward with huge, rounded sockets.

Leitos jerked his gaze away. Beside him, Adham shivered, his face ashen in the moonlight. When he spoke again, his voice was rough.

“Since before the dawn of our people, the Black Keep has stood. Many tales say it has been there at the edge of the Qaharadin Marshes since the forming of the world. Walls built around it crumble faster than stone and mortar should, and nothing wholesome will grow in its shadow. Yet the dark stone of that keep resists time and decay. Armala is a city of Black Keeps.”

Leitos realized then that the paving stones beneath their feet, the walls of the buildings around them, the monuments and fountains they had passed, were all built of dark stone.

Before they reached the thin pools of light escaping the high, arched windows of the palace, Adham said quietly, “Watch your step and your back. This city is cursed, every bit as much as Fortress El’hadar. We are not guests here, but prisoners.”