The Way of the Blade (17 page)

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Authors: Stuart Jaffe

Tags: #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Epic, #Sword & Sorcery, #Science Fiction, #Post-Apocalyptic, #Magic, #Monsters, #sword, #apocalypse, #Fantasy

BOOK: The Way of the Blade
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“I’ll find him. But you seem eager to avoid ... oh, no.” Malja placed a hand on her hip, feeling every bit like Fawbry’s mother. “You didn’t get one the girls pregnant, did you?”

“No!” He paused. “At least, I don’t think I did.”

The echoes of a door banging open surrounded them and were followed by steady footsteps. Shual and Canto entered from the small discussion room to the side. Malja expected to see Javery come out as well, but only the two men appeared.

Canto carried a chair which he set in the center of the room. He moved quickly back to Shual’s side and escorted the elderly man to the chair. Shual had painted a black stripe down the side of his robe, and though his face remained dry, he looked as if he had not stopped crying since the death of his daughter.

Placing a hand over his stomach, Canto stepped back and to the side of Shual. “Thank you for coming up here today. And thank you for all you have done to help us achieve our victory.”

“Victory?” Fawbry whispered.

“We were glad to be of help,” Malja said, a bit louder to cover Fawbry.

Shual coughed — or perhaps, he laughed. Malja couldn’t be sure, but it sounded painful and unsettling. “Help? Without you, we would all be either slaves or dead. You have no idea how important your contribution has been.”

Canto nodded. “For the first time in decades — not since the arrival of the god, Harskill — we have a chance to return the Scarite bastards to their place.”

“They think they can spoil our lands, our food, our people with their filth, but we showed them that with some ingenuity, we can make a lot from the little magic we have.” Shual peeked at Tommy. “Even he proved helpful.”

“Even?” Fawbry said. “Without Tommy, we’d have been crushed.”

Canto ruffled Tommy’s head. “And what a fine job he did. Shual only means that we’re not as comfortable with magic like he has, and so we were pleased that he used it for our benefit.”

“Oh, I see. You’ve noticed how comfortable Malja is with magic.”

Before he could start ranting, Malja cut in. “We’re happy that this has turned out so well for you. But you didn’t call us all the way up here just to thank us. What do you still need?”

“You, of course.” Canto paused with a broad smile — a politician’s move. “We’re simple farmers, but we’re not stupid. Without you, we don’t have the power to repel the next Scarite attack, and we have no hope of defeating them. We’ll be overrun.”

Fawbry flapped his one hand as he said, “So, you want us to stay here forever?”

“Once the Scarites are no longer a threat, you’ll be free to go wherever you wish.”

“You are stupid, if you think that the Scarites will never be a threat. Even if you defeat them, they’ll always be harboring a secret hatred towards you. That’s what happens when those who hate raise a generation to hate. It starts a cycle that’s almost impossible to break.”

Shual cleared his throat. “Then it will be our task to break them. But we cannot even begin such an attempt until we no longer have to fear their attacks.”

“And what do you mean saying we’d be ‘free to go’ afterwards? You’ve seen Malja fight. Do you really think you can stop us from leaving if we want to go?”

Canto crossed his arms, pressing his muscles into a bigger image. “I may not be able to stop her, but I know I can stop you.”

Fawbry looked to Malja, and part of her wanted to let him dangle a bit on his own. But he was family, and she knew one didn’t leave family hanging in danger — even when they caused the danger to begin with. Besides, she had no intention of leaving until she figured out how to handle Harskill. “We will stay a bit longer, but you need to prepare your people and yourselves that we will be going eventually. At some point, you must stand on your own.”

The main doors clanged open, and Malja spun around, her right hand behind her, gripping Viper. The man who entered looked similar to the Carsites but clearly came from somewhere else. His clothes were of the same thin fabric, yet instead of robes, he wore billowing pants and an open vest that displayed his hairy, muscular chest. His facial hair obscured his mouth, making it difficult to read his expressions; however, Malja could never mistake the twinkling in his eyes — a warrior’s glee.

“Shual, it’s good to see you on such a great day,” the man said, his booming voice reverberating around the empty hall.

To Malja’s surprise, Shual rose to his feet, and instead of the traditional hand on stomach with a slight bow, he grabbed the burly man by the shoulders and hugged him. “Krunlo, I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to see you.”

“The moment I heard of your victory, I knew the time had come. We set out last night and refused to stop until we reached the Assembly Hall.”

“Then you didn’t come alone?”

Krunlo laughed — a sound simultaneously devious and joyous. “I have brought with me every man and boy that can fight. And even a few too old to fight that wouldn’t turn back. One hundred and twenty soldiers in all. Ready to stand by you and help liberate Carsite from those pieces of dreck.”

“One hundred and twenty. Do you mean it?” Canto said.

“Of course. I don’t lie.”

“Then we could do more than simply defend ourselves. With this force, we could launch an offensive, hit the Scarites before they can return to harm us.”

Krunlo lit up like a child winning a prize. “I like the sound of that.”

Returning to his seat, Shual said, “Both of you need to ease back. It’s a good idea, and one we must plan out carefully. Even with Krunlo’s hundred-and-twenty, such a bold attack would be risky. So, let’s think this through, and if we are satisfied that it can work, then let’s raze them to the ground.”

Malja’s stomach chilled at their enthusiasm. Every word spoke of escalating this conflict into a full-blown war — escalation, just as Harskill had predicted. She headed towards the exit, happy that Fawbry and Tommy wasted no time in following her, when she heard their animated conversation cease.

“Will you not help us?” Shual called out.

Fawbry whirled around. “You’ve got a whole army now. Leave us alone.”

Malja placed a hand on his shoulder. “We may not be done, yet,” she whispered, thinking of Harskill and what she might have to ask Fawbry and Tommy to do for her. Once Fawbry turned back, they walked out of the Hall, their footsteps echoing among the stunned silence of the Carsite leaders.

 

 

 

Chapter 16

Javery

 

Two days passed before Javery could fly to the Wrenley farm. The first day, he had suffered too much from the alcohol and didn’t want to see his sister’s grave in that condition. The second day, he had simply lacked the courage.

How could he face her when his mind thought up one method after another to remove Canto from his position of leadership? What could he say to her when his heart wanted Canto weakened and humiliated?

But by the afternoon of that second day, he had no choice. Soralia always had been the cold check on his meandering thoughts, the logical reason behind his wild ideas, and the careless enthusiast tempering his angry defeatism. After watching the praise hefted on Canto, Javery needed Soralia more than ever.

The higher altitude of the farm left the air crisp and fresh. Next to the mound of dirt, Javery spiked a simple, wooden marker. He sat with a drawing pad and his finest ink.

“Si-Si,” he said, his tone soft and loving. “Don’t be upset with me. I’m going to make your portrait so you have a proper grave, and I won’t let a day go by without visiting you. I’m sure it gets a little lonely up here, but the Wrenley’s have agreed to let you remain untouched and that’s how it should be. Anyway, it’s better like this. It gives us the privacy we need so I can talk with you.”

Javery dipped his pen in the ink and began sketching the shape of Soralia’s face as best he remembered it. As he drew, he told her all about his ambitions and the way everyone in the town seemed to undercut his achievements. He hesitated to mention Canto, but in the end, he told her about how Canto had taken the position that he had sought.

“I don’t blame you,” Javery said. “In fact, had you lived, I might have been a bit happy for Canto because I know you would have enjoyed being the wife of the town’s leader. But instead, you are gone and I’m stuck. Betrayed by Father, betrayed by the town — how can I help them all, if they keep rejecting me?”

Javery’s hand slashed in the lines of her hair. He poked the ink and spilled some of the dark liquid onto the ground.

“I wish I could talk with you for real. Thank Carsite and Pali I still have Druzane.” He frowned and his pen cut into the paper. “I haven’t seen her since the big party. Truth is, though, that I haven’t tried to see her.” He chuckled bitterly. “I know, I know. But she should have left with me. There are times when the political thing to do doesn’t matter. I needed her. Yet keeping away from her seems more of a punishment to myself.”

Though his hand continued to draw, he no longer saw the portrait. “Do you remember the little cave we would play in. Well, you called it a cave. Really it was where they dug for the Great Well the first time and missed. I loved that place — our Great Hideaway. Do you remember the last time we were there? We traded all we knew about sex and I told you everything about boys and you told me everything about girls and we talked about how wanting someone could actually hurt when the need was so strong. That’s Druzane.”

He stood and gazed at the grave. “These two days have tortured me without her. You’re right, Si-Si, as usual. I’ve been stupid to deny myself the one pleasure I have — especially after Canto stole the rest from me.”

He placed the portrait on the marker and stepped back to admire his work. The image did not resemble Soralia at all. It resembled nothing but mad scratching. Except ... as he inspected the portrait closer, he saw a demonic head with narrowed, hunting eyes and a ridged crest. Its mouth drooled, and coarse hair grew from its jaw. Worst of all, it had a hooked nose like one he saw every morning in the mirror.

“No!” Javery smashed his fists against the grave marker. He grabbed the paper and ripped it, tossing the pieces behind him. “Not me!” With one hand, he yanked the marker out and batted it against the ground. Tears dribbled down his cheeks. His rage choked his words, and unable to articulate, he screamed out, slamming the marker down over and over until it splintered into five, jagged pieces.

At length, breathing hard and wiping the snot dangling from his nose, Javery stumbled off to his autofly. Soralia knew best. He wanted Druzane; he should seek her out. She probably had been waiting for him to get over his loss to Canto. She would be ecstatic to see him, and knowing her so well, she would be anxious to take off her clothes and bed him.

As he flew towards the surface, he hardened thinking about her naked body pressing against him. He would show her how brave he could be. He would show her that he could still find a way to become the leader of the town. Because together they were unstoppable. That’s why they had such incredible sexual experiences together — it was a testament to their unique connection.

Two children playing with sticks in the street scrambled when Javery plopped the autofly down in their path. People gawked as he hopped out. He guessed that many of them wanted to complain about his improper parking, but none would dare for a few more months — not until Shual ceased openly mourning Soralia’s death.

Besides, they never gave him the credit for the things they did approve, so why should he care if the people disapproved?

He turned his back toward the town and faced Druzane’s building. Only Druzane mattered. With her by his side, the rest would be easy to fix — somehow.

She lived in the room at the end, and the hall seemed to stretch further with each step he took. His mouth dried, and his fingers danced along his side. He had ignored her for two days. How mad would she be? Would she forgive him? Of course, she would. If nothing else, Druzane’s desire to help him rise to the top could not be denied. She would be cross and might even hold it against him for a bit, but in the end, they belonged together.

A tubby woman passed him in the hall. Her face squinted into a tight, worried ball. She said something, but Javery’s mind had locked into playing out scenarios of the coming moments with Druzane.

He didn’t hear the woman.

He didn’t hear his own footsteps.

He didn’t hear the deep, rough voice groaning.

He didn’t hear Druzane’s pleasured squeals.

But he saw.

He stood in her doorway and stared at the naked forms of Druzane and Canto. She smiled as if caught peeking at a present, as if nothing serious could come of this. Canto’s hands covered her breasts while she straddled him — like she had done for Javery times before.

Though Druzane giggled, Canto’s face became serious as he lifted her off and stood. He did not put on his robe, though, and his nakedness angered Javery even more.

Canto put out his hands. “Now, Javery —”

“Bastard!” Javery hurled forward, throwing his fists without skill but armed with rage.

Canto deflected the attack with ease, stepping at an angle which forced Javery to slip by and tumble onto the floor. To Druzane, he said, “You told me that you were no longer with him. Why is he acting like he caught you cheating on him?”

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