Slight and Shadow (Fate's Forsaken: Book Two) (42 page)

Kael braced himself against the guard’s arms as he spun, trying to keep his neck from breaking. With his hands trapped above him, he couldn’t reach his satchel. He strained to see through the billows of smoke, searching for any sign of Declan. The pathways around them were empty. No cry answered the guard. For a moment, Kael thought he might very well be on his own.

Then a shadow caught his eye — a silhouette of a man burned through the smoke. He was crouched some feet away, perched on top what appeared to be a chunk of broken wall.

Kael didn’t know if it was Declan or not. It could very well have been another guard. But he decided that he had nothing left to lose.

He stretched his hand out to the shadow, flexing his fingers, asking for something. For a long moment, the shadow didn’t move. And Kael was afraid that he’d been left to have his neck broken. But then with a grunt, the shadow’s arm came up, tossing a clod in his direction.

Kael caught it gently, careful not to break it. He hoped to mercy that the smoke would block what he was about to do from the eyes above him. Though he supposed that if he didn’t act now, he’d be dead anyways. So he took a deep breath, reached behind him — and smashed the clod into the guard’s face.

Green swarmed over his vision. The guard coughed and sputtered violently as the poison enveloped him. He grasped for his throat, and Kael fell to the ground. He lay there for a long moment with his eyes closed, not daring to breathe. Then someone grabbed him around the ankles and yanked him backwards.

“Steady, wee rat!” Declan said, half-laughing as Kael tried to pummel him away. “It’s only me.”

He pulled Kael to his feet — only to stumble backwards as a blast of wind swept across the arena. It extinguished the fires, carried the smoke up and out into the night sky. The crowd reappeared, craning their necks to see which of the fighters was left standing.

They booed at the sight of Declan and Kael.

“Quiet!
Quiet
, blisters!” Dred shouted over the top of them. He hurried down the ramparts behind Hob, who was busily putting out the last of the flames. A menacing company of guards followed at his back.

“I’m sorry, Kael,” Declan whispered. His eyes were locked on Dred’s. Black began to seep into them as the General got closer; Declan’s voice grew more furious. “I’m sorry — but I might not get another chance.”

Then without warning, he charged — flinging clods from his satchel as quickly as he could draw them. Terror filled Dred’s mangled face as he held his shield up to defend himself. Clods erupted across it, spraying fire and poison in every direction. His shield turned to stone and for a moment, it dropped — leaving his head exposed.

Declan’s next shot likely would’ve killed him, if Hob hadn’t stepped in. Chains snaked over Declan, strapping his limbs to his sides. He toppled onto the ground as the crowd roared. His chin struck the dust hard.

Once his opponent had been safely hobbled, Dred suddenly found his courage. He stepped up to Declan and raised his pike overhead.

Kael reached into his satchel. Dred could try to bring his weapon down, but Kael’s shot would reach him first —

“Stop.” Gilderick took the handkerchief away from his mouth and stood calmly from his chair. His boney arms stretched out at his sides, making him look like some underfed gull.

Dred’s pike hovered over Declan. “But, m’Lord —”

“Curb that defiant tongue, General. Or I’ll feed it to the crows.”

It was amazing how quickly Dred took his weapon away. He pawed nervously at his chin. “Please, m’Lord — I meant no defiance. Don’t cut my tongue out.”

“I didn’t say anything about cutting it out,” Gilderick said, and an amused smile stretched across his pasty lips. When his chin began to turn in Kael’s direction, he quickly looked at the ground. “Odd … the slaves have never won before. I don’t think we have any rules for this. I suppose I could’ve offered you both a place in my army.” His voice changed to point at Declan. “But I’m afraid your outburst is going to cost you dearly. Twelve lashes each — and then tuck the little beasts back into their barns.”

All of the warmth dropped from Kael’s face when Hob pulled the wench-tongue from his belt. Gilderick declared that Kael was to be whipped first — and for his outburst, Declan would be made to watch.

Kael hardly felt it when the guards tore the satchel off his shoulders and bent him over the nearest crate. A guard held his arms over the edge, leaving him no way to shield his back. They propped Declan up beside him. His eyes were still dark and crazed, and he bellowed unintelligibly into the chains around his mouth.

“Now, I trust there will be no more attempts to escape,” Gilderick said from above them. “If there are … you will not die quickly. I shall have plenty of time to think about how to drag it out. Hob — you may begin.”

Kael closed his eyes tightly. He knew there was no way out, not this time. There would be no hardening his back against these blows. Every bite of a wench-tongue was supposed to draw blood — and if he didn’t bleed, he’d be found out.

So he would have to grit his teeth and take it.

But as he watched the shadow of Hob’s arm come up, fear suddenly gripped him. Kael realized that he didn’t trust himself not to cheat. Every instinct in his body screamed for him to use his powers — to protect himself against the coming pain. He knew he wasn’t brave enough to face the lashes on his own. And so, in the moment before the whip came down, he found himself thinking of her … of Kyleigh.

It was so easy to draw her up. He felt as if she was branded into his memory, burned so deeply that he could never forget her … he had no hope of ever forgetting her. He saw her smile, heard her laugh … he remembered the way her eyes glowed in the firelight.

His strength began to fade as he thought of her, and the black beast rose up inside his chest. It wrapped its terrible wings about his limbs, strangled the cords of his heart … and his sorrow finally crushed him.

The first lash bit easily through his flesh.

Chapter 39

The Dark Rider

Several long, dark hours passed before Kael finally woke. When he saw the familiar faces surrounding him, it was everything he could do to keep from crying.

He’d been hoping not to wake — to never have to see this miserable little stall or hear the giants’ gruff voices ever again. He was hoping that the lashes had killed him. He was hoping not to have to live through the pain.

But not surprisingly, Fate had other plans.

Something cold dribbled onto the raw flesh of his back, burning his wounds like he’d rolled over into the fire. He yelped and sat up quickly — so quickly that the tender, ragged edges of his stripes tore anew. The world swam in front of him as fiery pain pulsed at the backs of his eyes. He swallowed the bile down and knocked away the hands that grasped for him.

“Lay back, wee thing,” Brend said. “We’ve got to clean them, or they’ll never heal —”

“I’ll heal them myself,” Kael snapped. He blinked the last of the little black dots from his eyes and saw the whole stall was gathered about him.

Brend crouched before him. The bowl of water he held looked tiny in his massive hands. Eveningwing sat back on his knees, twisting a wet cloth worriedly at his chest. A drop off fresh blood trickled down Kael’s neck, and he eyed it.

“Don’t —”

But Eveningwing’s arm jabbed forward with lightening quickness, dabbing the blood dry before Kael had a chance to swat him.

“You’re not helping things,” Kael said, groaning as he reached back to feel the damage. His fingers passed over the first wound, and he nearly passed out again when he felt how deep it was.

“You did a brave thing,” Brend said. And for once, it looked like he meant it. “Declan’s told us how you fought at the Sowing Moon … how you’ve been fighting for us all along. I’ll admit that I wasn’t happy to find out about your fibbing,” the severe lines of his brows bent up as quickly as they’d fallen, “but I can understand why you did it. I certainly would’ve tried to stop you, had I known.”

Kael didn’t know what to say to that, and he didn’t exactly have the energy to think. So he just nodded and said: “Where’s Declan?”

“Here,” he grunted.

Two giants sat behind him, cleaning the red stripes across his shoulders. It was clear by how slowly they moved that they were trying hard to be gentle — though judging by the grimace on Declan’s face, they weren’t succeeding.

He ground his teeth against their next swipe. When they went to clean the cloth, he spoke: “My wounds aren’t as deep as yours: a giant’s hide is a mightily thick thing.” Then his face suddenly crumpled. He bit down hard on his lip, and Kael was alarmed when tears began sliding from his eyes. “I did a selfish thing, tonight. For so many years I’ve carried this burden, and when I saw a chance to lift it, I took it without thinking.”

He wiped impatiently at his eyes and signaled for the giants behind him to stop their cleaning. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and the whole barn fell silent. “But since you’ve shed blood for my hurt, I feel it’s only right to tell you why I did it. I’m the second of three brothers,” he began, keeping his shadowed brow cast down at the floor. “I was born a sickly child — smaller and leaner than the rest. My father, Callan Horseman, was our Prince’s great General. There are as many tales of his courage as there are stones across the plains. And he deserved a far better son than me.

“As luck would have it, Fate had already given him an elder child — a son that was his match in size and strength … and an older brother that was everything I ever longed to be. You’ve likely already guessed it, but his name … was Dred.”

No, Kael hadn’t guessed that. In fact, he had to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep it from falling open.

Declan’s hands balled into fists. His voice fell rougher. “Even now, my gut burns with sick when I think about how proud I was of Dred. When I watched him beat the other lads at sparring, when he tossed full-grown giants over his shoulders like they were naught but wheat bales … it was
pride
that flushed me red. That was
my
big brother, after all — the pride of clan Horseman.” Declan’s fists began to shake as he forced the next words out. “Yeh, I watched Dred with the eyes of any younger brother — looking up, longing to be able to reach the same heights as he.

“Now, I’m ashamed to think that I ever loved him.” His eyes locked down on Kael’s, holding him like a pair of desperate hands upon his shirt. “You already know about the day they discovered my … my madness. When the rebel whisperers attacked us, I went against my father’s wishes and fought. Dred turned and ran for his life — he fled to my mother’s family, clan Goatherd. And they granted him protection from my father’s wrath.

“But when the mages swept through our region, not even the Goatherds could save him. And though Dred was old enough to stand and fight, he fled with the children to the Scepter Stone.” Declan’s eyes burned red. His face contorted as if he’d just had a dagger thrust into his belly. “And now it’s time to tell you about Callan’s third son,” he said, his voice hardly a whisper. “It’s time you know about Dante.

“He was my wee baby brother, and a gentle soul.” Declan stopped. He pressed his thumbs against his eyes so forcefully that Kael feared he would gouge them out. He breathed in across his gritted teeth, and when he looked up, anguish burned his face.

“You know what happened at the Scepter Stone — you know how Titus lined us up, how he set us against each other. I tried to stop it.” Declan rocked forward, bracing his fists against the sides of his head. “But when I stepped out to face Titus, I heard Dante scream — I heard him cry. I turned around, and I saw him … I saw him …”

Declan couldn’t seem the get the words out. His fingers clawed the side of his face, scratching raw lines down his temples. Brend had to step in and grab his wrists to keep him from hurting himself.

“It’s all right,” Kael said quickly. “I know what happened to Dante. I saw it all — remember?”

“You don’t know!” Declan cried. The rage in his eyes was not meant for Kael, but it made it no less terrifying. “You’ll never know — not until you watch one of your brothers slay the other. Dred was the oldest. He was supposed to
protect
Dante. I trusted him!” He took his hands away from his face and crossed them over his chest. “But brotherhood never mattered to Dred. The only thing he ever cared about was his own hide. He drove a sword through Dante’s chest —
my
sword, the blade I’d dropped behind me. If I hadn’t set it down, if I hadn’t let it go …”

“He would’ve done it anyways,” Brend said firmly, clutching Declan’s arm. “Don’t carry his evil on your shoulders. It’s no fault of yours —”

“It is,” Declan said darkly. He glared until Brend released him, then he went on. “He used our little brother’s blood to buy his way into Gilderick’s army, and I gave him the means to do it. I’ve sworn to kill Dred,” he growled, “and I still mean to. As long as I’ve got breath in my body, I’ll hate him. That’s why I charged him tonight. And I’m not sorry for it … but I’m sorry that I dragged you into it,” he muttered, staring blankly at Kael’s bloodied shirt. “You kept me alive in there, and that was a sorry way to repay you. I cost you your hard-earned freedom … and I’ll never forgive myself for it.”

Silence hung over the stall so thickly for a moment that Kael almost forgot to breathe.

Then he laughed.

Or he started to, anyways — until the movement tore painfully at his wounds. So he settled for a hard smile, instead. “There wasn’t going to be any freedom. You know that as well as I do,” he said scornfully. Then he raised his voice. “When will you giants understand? You can’t earn your freedom in this Fate-forsaken place. You can’t wait for it, either. If you want to be free men — then you’ve got to take it.”

He put his hands to his shirt, undoing his buttons as quickly as his sore back would let him. Brend watched him curiously. The giants leaned in. Eveningwing clutched his legs to his chest and grinned widely over the top of his knees.

“What are you doing?” Declan said, looking slightly alarmed.

An involuntary smirk bent Kael’s mouth as he pulled the last button free. “You’ve told me your story, Horseman. Now it’s high time that I tell you mine.”

At first, the giants were shocked to find out that Kael was a whisperer. When he showed them his mark, every mouth in the room fell open on one hinge. There was a good amount of head-scratching and muttering, and a few of them wondered if he meant to kill them. The only one who didn’t seem at all surprised was Declan.

He laughed like he’d just won a victory, jabbed a finger at Kael’s chest and shouted: “I knew it!”

“What do you mean, you —? Well, then why didn’t you come out and say so?” Brend grunted. He pawed through his shock of hair, and it was obvious by how clenched his eyes were that he was still trying to figure it out.

But Declan offered no further explanation. “I had my suspicions,” he said with a shrug.

When Kael set about healing his wounds, it was all he could do to keep the giants from rumbling too loudly. He healed the bits he could reach, starting with the deepest patches. He didn’t heal them all the way, but worked until he could move his arms and shoulders with only a little pain. The shallower cuts would have to wait: he knew he would need every ounce of his strength for the hours ahead.

It took a bit of convincing, but Declan finally let him seal up some of his gashes. His back kept twitching every time Kael would try to pull his skin together. When he growled for Declan to hold still, he growled back:

“What am I to do? It tickles.”

As soon as he was finished, Kael told Eveningwing to go to Jonathan — and to tell him to get ready. He left in whirl of feathers.

Brend, who hadn’t stopped fussing with his hair the whole while, overheard. “Tell the wee fiddler to get ready for what?” he blurted. His eyes shot frantically between Declan and Kael. “No more secrets — I want to know what you’re up to, and I want to know it
now
.”

So Kael told him everything.

Brend was heartily against his plan, and had started off on what promised to be a very fiery rant when Kael told him about what Gilderick planned to do with the women. Then he sat down heavily.

“Not Clairy …” he murmured, after a long moment when he’d tugged so hard on his hair that Kael feared it might actually part from the roots. Then he shook his head. “I can’t do it. I won’t risk the lives of so many to save the comfort of one — not even one so dear to me as my Clairy,” he said, though his voice broke miserably at the end.

“This isn’t about Clairy,” Declan replied.

He’d listened quietly as Kael told his story, keeping his thoughts hidden beneath the shadow of his brow. Now his eyes were raised and pointed directly at Brend — and there was a fire in them that Kael liked the look of.

“This is about all of us.” Declan raised his voice, so that it echoed through the rafters and touched every stall. “This is about our chance at freedom.”

“But what if it fails?” Brend whispered back. “We’ve had no part in the planning. We haven’t had much time to think —”

“Then think of our little seedlings,” Declan replied, gesturing towards the Fields. “They don’t know when the rains will come, but do they hold out for a cloudy day? No, from the moment they’re tucked into the earth, they put their roots down — so that when the rain falls, they’re ready for it. Well, lads … we’ve had our roots buried deep in our hope for years. And now the rains have finally come.” He turned to Kael; a fierce smile parted his lips. “I, for one, am ready to soak them up.”

The grunts started in slowly, passed about from stall to stall. Then the giants began to roar. They beat their chests and their eyes caught like embers. It was only after Brend stood to quiet them that Kael realized he’d pressed himself very firmly against the wall.

He understood now why it had taken magic to conquer the plains: nothing worn or wielded by men stood a chance against the giants, once they’d been called to war.

“So it’s settled, then? We all agree?”

The giants answered Brend in a single furious bark, so loud that it rattled the shingles across the roof.

“Very well.” And Brend’s lanky limbs seemed to swell as he said it, so that by the time he turned, he wasn’t
Brend
anymore: but a towering giant warrior. “We’ll follow you into battle, wee whisperer. Just tell us where to go.”

The night was still young, but Kael knew the hours would pass quickly. He decided to let the giants figure out how to free the Pens on their own. They knew the land better than he did, after all. And he had no doubt they would be able to rally the others quickly.

Once he’d rushed through the rest of his instructions, he asked Brend to hoist him through the roof. “We’ll be thinking hard,” Brend whispered as Kael popped out into the night. “Fate go with you.”

Kael didn’t want Fate anywhere near him, but he nodded distractedly as he climbed free.

Hob’s cottage sat on top of Northbarn, their neighbor to the right. As Kael picked his way towards it, he was careful to stay low and cling to the shadows. A small patch of clouds had swallowed up the moon for the moment, muting its light behind a thin veil. But they wouldn’t hold for long, there was no telling when the moon might break free. And aside from those few wispy clouds, there was nothing but clear skies in all directions.