The Shadow Realm (The Age of Dawn Book 4) (10 page)

“One of my vast talents.” Grimbald bowed with an exaggerated flourish of his meaty arm.

“Can’t say I know what I’m doing. So… what should I go about doing?” Juzo asked, his voice cracking.

“Well,” Grimbald said taking a step back and his boot sinking through the mud up to his knee. “Damn it!” Only after he put the saw down was he able to drag it out with both hands.

“The ground here doesn’t seem like the best place to build upon.” Juzo said, tapping the hammer in his palm.

“Yeah. We’ll just have to dig deeper. Why don’t you put that hammer down and start digging where I started.” Grimbald put another board on the sawhorses and marked a line through the center with a nub of charcoal.

Juzo dropped the hammer with a plop into the mud. He crawled into the trench and snatched the shovel, hauling a great chunk of earth over the side. “Nice to work with my hands again.”

“We’ll fill it with about five feet of fresh Cypress wood, so keep digging.”

An hour passed of sawing, grunting, sweating, farting and flinging earth from the foundation.

Juzo took a heaving breath, his gray hair almost black with sweat. “Could use some help in here. Maybe from someone hefty and full of brawn. Know anyone like that?” Juzo spat in his hands, pinked with fresh blisters.

“Can’t say that I do.” Grimbald wiped his cheek, dragging a line of charcoal across it.

“Glad you’re on our side, Grim.” Juzo chuckled. “Wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of your axe.”

“Could say the same for you. I saw you at the Tower…you’re fast, faster than any Death Spawn. Even the ones who blend into their surroundings. Skin—” he let the word hang in the air and snapped his fingers. “Skin Flayers.”

Juzo blew out his cheeks, stretching out a long white scar running down to his mouth. “Well, I didn’t ask for this. Strength and power always come with a sacrifice it seems.”

“You mean how you need blood?”

Juzo nodded, not looking at him and swallowed. He hauled a slopping clump of mud and sand onto the topsoil.

“Nothing to be ashamed about. Like you said, you didn’t ask for it. I didn’t ask to be big, but just have to do what we can.” Grimbald narrowed his eyes, marking a line on a timber with a ruler.

“Right. It’s a tough thing to live with sometimes. Everyone looks at me like I’m a god damn Fang Cress addict about to rob them.”

“You’re not going to eat me, are you?” Grimbald raised a bushy brow at him.

“As long as you promise not to step on my feet.” Juzo grinned, flashing his sharpened teeth at Grimbald.

Grimbald groaned. He had felt a lot like he was rotting wood on the inside, ever since he had left his dad to man the Hissing Gooseberry alone. His Pa had sacrificed a lot to help him achieve his dreams. And he had, now a captain of the Midgaard Falcon. Now half-way across the realm, digging holes and cutting wood. Some things never changed. “Just a little deeper and we can start with the frame. We’ll build on the piles of wood, nail it and peg it, thick beams to keep it off the mud. Maybe use cedar planks for the floor if we can find some. It’ll give the place a nice smell.”

“Anything but urine and shit sounds swell to me. Smells like I’m digging into a latrine over here.”

“Maybe you are.”

Juzo took a deep inhale through his nose and frowned.

Nyset rode up on a jet-black gelding, its hair gleaming in the breaking sun. He’d been so lost in making measurements, he hadn’t noticed her approach. She nimbly dismounted, even with all those glowing silks. She looked tired, deep lines around her lips and eyes puffed with red. Her nose was still bloated and purple from yesterday’s incident in the Middle. She had denied healing, said the pain was a reminder for her to be less careless. Two armsman had followed behind on mounts of their own, their horses now grazing on the scrub.

Maybe she had been crying, he wasn’t sure and wouldn’t dare ask. He needed a woman, one like her. Now that Walter wasn’t around anymore maybe… No! A ridiculous idea. He had a duty to his men and the future of the realm. He didn’t have time for luxury. Now was a time of survival.

“Hey, Ny. Er… Arch Wizard.” Juzo bowed low and spread his arms wide, wolfish grin spreading over his lips.

“Oh stop, you’re ridiculous.” She walked up to Juzo and punched him in the arm. She planted her hands on her hips and peered into the budding foundation. “Things seem to be coming along well. I can’t wait to move out of my room in the Worthless Fowl. I can’t get any rest with all the racket of a tavern.”

“Shouldn’t be much longer. I can’t wait to get out of there too.” Grimbald sighed. There was something about people having a roaring good time, while demons were only half a day’s march away that left him mighty unsettled. They were numbing the pain of the inevitable. What use were marks if your soul went to the Shadow Realm?

“We can clear the land over here for training,” Nyset gestured at the rest of the plot west of the construction. “I’ll see if the armsman and… Grim, think your men could help?”

“They’ll help. If they give you any trouble.” He jabbed a finger into his chest. “Tell them I said so.”

The two armsman looked at her for a moment, likely at their mentioning.

“Let’s put a smith here, a workshop there, an office over here.” Nyset walked to the back of the pit directing with her arms. She tapped a finger on her lips. “We’ll have to find a mason to make a chimney and a stone forge. Start with one and expand as we get more recruits. We’ll have a balcony that runs along the perimeter in the Helm’s Reach fashion. Maybe decorate it with whores and drunks to fit in.”

“It should have a well sloped roof to keep all this rain off. An attic for storing food would be useful, given we won’t have a ground room.” Juzo drew the shape of the roof in the air with a ghastly finger. He was looking in need of sustenance, hopefully not his blood.

Grimbald could see the picture taking form in his mind “Think we can do that.” He scribbled their ideas on parchment resting on a wide board, noting rough dimensions. “Just an issue of having enough marks for the tasks, especially for the whores. How are our coffers looking?”

A violet lizard emerged from a bush, tongue sucking a fly out of the air.

“We’ve already blown through what little we cobbled together between us. Suppose marks weren’t particularly useful when running for our lives.”

“No.” Grimbald said, sharpening his charcoal nub on the edge of Corpsemaker.

Nyset walked over, examining his sketch. “You’re not only a carpenter. You’re an artist, an architect!”

Grimbald paused before his next saw cut, frozen, blood flooding through his limbs and cheeks. He scratched the back of his neck, insatiably itchy.

“Can you make my office a little larger? Room for a bookshelf would be great.” She pushed her finger into the square on the sketch that would be her office, dotting it with a smear of mud.

“Uh, sure.”

“I wish I had something to pay you with, Grim.”

He thought a kiss would be acceptable, welcome even. What was wrong with him? He had to get control. Seeing her smile at him was a crushing delight. Where was this coming from? His skin prickled at seeing her eyes, his breath catching. She was Walter’s, but Walter was dead. She would have to move on eventually.

“Grim?”

He realized he had been staring at her, his jaw held stupidly open. He quickly averted his eyes. “Just glad to be here,” he managed. How long had he been staring?

“So,” Juzo said between shoveling out globs of mud. “I might have come upon some marks.”

“Oh yeah? How?” Nyset said.

“I don’t think you want to know.”

“Let’s hear it.” Nyset said, crossing her arms and smiling somewhat hesitantly.

There might be trouble brewing here. Grimbald found himself wanting to make his way back into the city for more building materials. He had caught enough thieves in the Hissing Gooseberry to know the tone a man took when he was concealing something.

Juzo shrugged. “Is it really important?”

“Out with it then.” Nyset nodded pleasantly.

Juzo soared from the trench in one powerful leap, landing a foot away from Nyset. He would’ve expected Ny to move to give him room. Grim noticed she had dug her feet in, rooted like an old Cypress. He licked his lips and popped the cork from a waterskin. The water was cool in his throat, assuaging the dry tickling.

“I’m building us an army,” he said as casually as if pointing out that clouds had moved in.

Nyset stared. “What?”

“What?” Grimbald grunted, stowing the precious nub of charcoal into his pocket. Grim knew Juzo kept off hours, but this was news to him.

“You said we needed soldiers, new recruits. Just thought I could help.” Nyset waited for a long minute for him to offer more, blinking. Juzo squirmed, knee bouncing and hands opening and closing.

“I don’t understand.” Nyset planted a hand on her hip and the other on her narrow chin. “What army? Where? Can you help me understand what you’re saying?”

“Uh.” Juzo scratched the back of his head.

“I don’t have time for games, Juzo.”

“Right.” He exhaled a long breath, seeming to be bracing himself. They were coming soon, the words he knew Ny didn’t want to hear. He could see it in Juzo’s mouth working out where to start. “I—” His mouth moved but words stopped following.

“Juzo,” Nyset barked.

“Alright, damn it.” He had the look of a kid caught taking more than his fair share of honey candies. “I’ve been creating surrogates.”

“Shit, Juzo,” Nyset whispered.

“What’s a surrogate?” Grim asked. The sun was pressing on him, could feel his hairless head already burning. When had he last had hair? Too long. His tunic felt too hot. He wanted to strip his shirt off. Crests of mud were drying into crumbly dirt, stratified against the sodden earth.

“New Blood Eaters, under my control.” Juzo met his stare, challenging him with his sinister eye.

“Shit,” Grimbald breathed, looking down at his boots and finding Juzo’s eye hard to hold. That meant he was murdering, or attacking people. He was making people like him. It wasn’t right.

“How many, Juzo?” Nyset said quietly, tilting her head back and bathing it in sunlight.

Juzo started counting on his fingers. “Six.”

“Six,” Nyset echoed and returned her gaze to him. “Six Blood Eaters.”

Juzo stammered. “They’ll make amazing fighters. They have my speed, strength… healing abilities.”

“Your hunger for blood,” Nyset cut in.

Juzo’s white cheeks pinked where his bones protruded. “Hadn’t thought of that, sort of.”

“How do you plan on feeding them? Please tell me they’re not in the city.”

“No, not in the city. Give me a little credit, Ny.” Juzo shuffled his feet. “I’ve sent them off to a cave to the west, not too far off. Left them with some, eh— food.”

“I assume it’s not honey cakes?” Grimbald asked, frowning. He could sure go for a honey cake right about now. He thought plodding off for food at this moment probably wasn’t the wisest idea, given Nyset was a thunderhead. He thought he might’ve even felt the air crackle a little bit.

“No, not honey cakes. Death Spawn.” Juzo forced an unsure smile.

“Death Spawn!” Her eyes bulged. “Where are you finding Death Spawn?”

“Uh, well. Around the remains of the Silver Tower. The forest north of the Tower, to be specific.”

Grimbald wanted to pretend they weren’t there, not so close. He didn’t want to hear it. He had done a good deal of pretending so far, allowing him the ability to sleep most nights. He didn’t think he would be sleeping well tonight. Memories came back in a torrent, bloody faces and dismembered bodies of Falcon soldiers. Their bloody faces flashed and engulfed his vision. His great hands curled into fists.

“You failed me!” An old face baring a helm topped with a red plume screamed at him, face split open down the side.

“No, no,” he stammered, pressing his palms into his eyes. “Go away now. You can go now.”

He tried to make himself think of a pleasant moment. He made himself remember camping at Eagle’s Edge with his parents, back when his mother was still alive. The grounds were flat, the boiling sea unobstructed by trees. A red hawk with gray, brown and black tail feathers soared over the smoking water. Her hand was on his neck, massaging it. He and his Pa had worked the axe hard that day, his neck muscles ached. She smiled at her Pa, then at him, her walnut eyes soft with caring. “I love you.” Her voice was a night’s breeze.

He missed her, he realized. A pit in his chest was dropping into his guts. Pleasant memories were the worst form of self-flagellation. A time that would never be again. A wish for the way things were. The way we remembered things had always been like the edge of an axe from five feet away. A wondrous sight from afar. When you got close, you saw it was marred with imperfections, things you wanted to forget were ever there.

She was frail now, laying in his parents’ bed. She was so tall the sheet fell short of her feet, leaving them unprotected from the harsh world. She writhed against the sheets clinging to her moist skin. The right side of her face was green and black with rot, a bog of yellow-green pus.

She had cut herself on a thorn in the garden. Hadn’t thought anything of it. A day later, it was bright red, days after that, yellowed with pus. A week after it was hot as a teakettle and big as an elixir cherry. In two weeks, the infection had spread down into her jaw, up her nose, around her eyes. “This is your fault!” she screamed at him. Her eyes protruded from the sockets, red as fire at the edges. “I told you to trim the fucking roses!”

Why hadn’t he listened? If only he listened.

“What do you think, Grim? Grim? You still with us?” Nyset’s voice rang in his head, distant.

Something rapped against his shoulder. He returned to the present, his eyes focusing down on Nyset’s raised eyebrows. They were fine lines of hair. Was she born like that or was she doing something to make them that way? Her hands were planted on her hips, a touch of scowl on her lips.

“What do you think?” she repeated.

“Huh?” He smiled sheepishly. “Well—”

“Even Grim thinks it’s not a bad idea, right buddy?” Juzo clamped his powerful hand on his shoulder, squeezing too hard for Grimbald’s liking. “Ny, you said so yourself we need an army and we need one fast. Yeah, there are a lot of
potential
wizards here, but they all need training.”