Warbringer - Chapter 8
The forest was silent as Romaine guided his horse carefully between the trees, taking care to avoid the deep drifts beneath the trunks...
★★★★★ "Great start to a new series! Interesting characters and a unique storyline set in a world that begs to be explored or in this case survived. Definitely worth checking out!"
Centuries ago, the world fell.
From the ashes rose a terrible new species—the Tangata.
Now they wage war against the kingdoms of man. And humanity is losing.
Recruited straight from his academy, twenty-year-old Lukys hopes the frontier will make a soldier out of him. But Tangata are massing in the south, and the allied armies are desperate. They will do anything to halt the enemy advance—including sending untrained men and women into battle. Determined to survive, Lukys seeks aid from the only man who seems to care: Romaine, the last warrior of an extinct kingdom.
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The forest was silent as Romaine guided his horse carefully between the trees, taking care to avoid the deep drifts beneath the trunks. There was no path here and with the tall pines stretching up around them, Romaine was navigating by instinct. At least the Archivist’s map had been detailed—they were making for a plateau in the foothills. The area was beyond their usual scouting routes, but Romaine hoped it might be far enough east to avoid any Tangatan forces marching north.
He marked a tree with a cross as he rode past, then glanced back to check on Travis. They had decided it would be best if he and Cara did not scout together. Someone needed to ride ahead to check for ambushes and ensure the way was passable, but not the both of them. This way if the worst happened, the main party would still have a guide to get them back to Flumeer. Romaine had asked Travis to join him on Cara’s horse instead, to be a runner between the groups should they encounter the Tangata.
The recruit offered a nod and Romaine returned his gaze to the way ahead. If the horses were struggling with the snow, he didn’t like to think how Lukys and the other recruits were managing. Marching through the snow, in the dead of winter, was not an enviable task.
At least there had been no sign of Tangata tracks so far. That could not last. A party of forty men and women could not go unnoticed forever. The Archivist was bargaining on their force being too large for a Tangata pair to challenge. The beasts would need time to gather more of their fellows to tackle the Perfugians. With luck, they would be long gone from Calafe before then.
At least, that was the hope.
The thump of snow falling came from off to their right. The hiss of inhaled breath followed from Travis, and even Romaine tensed, gaze sweeping the undergrowth. After a moment he shook himself and shared a grin with Travis. The recruit smiled back, though it did not reach his eyes. Romaine couldn’t blame him. The Perfugian was in unknown territory now.
Even Romaine was struggling to find the usual peace he felt at returning to his homeland. The heady scent of pines was all around and the familiar trees stretched above, untouched by the axes of man. Gone was the cloying stench of smoke and human waste, the incessant pounding of hammers and clashing of practice weapons. This was his home, heavy with the silence of winter…
And yet…he felt something had changed. There was an edge to the air now, one Romaine had not felt before, not even when fleeing the Tangata on his last visit.
The two rode on, what little they could see of the sun through the canopy stretching higher into the sky, but still the source of Romaine’s anxiety escaped him. Finally the trees began to thin, pines giving way to spruce and hemlock, and eventually beech. As the sun dipped back towards the horizon, clouds appeared to obscure the sky, and Romaine guessed it would snow again that night.
Thankfully he knew of an abandoned village slightly higher in the foothills. Now that the trees had thinned, he could use the mountain peaks for navigation, and tugging on his reins, he adjusted their path. The village would not be as far as the Archivist had wished to reach on their first day, but with the snow growing thicker, Romaine doubted the recruits could keep pace with her schedule anyway.
He and Travis reached the village several hours before dusk. Here the forest had been cleared to make way for stone cottages. Though there were only a dozen in total, each had been built from rocks of different sizes, likely taken from a nearby stream. The stones had been placed together like a jigsaw to form a whole, and mortar added later to make them whole.
The place had been abandoned less than a year before, but already signs of deterioration had set in. The thatched roofs of several had collapsed beneath the weight of snow, and saplings now grew amongst the stones, as the forest sought to reclaim what had been taken.
With Lukys and the others still some hours away, they dismounted and set about making the place ready. In the end, eight of the cottages were habitable, though Romaine had Travis climb up and dislodge the snow from atop several. Then they set about collecting firewood. They would not risk the smoke during the day, but once the sun set, the flames could be hidden inside one of the buildings.
“It’s strange,” Travis said when they finally stopped to rest.
They were seated on a stone bench outside one of the cottages, and rummaging in his saddlebag for the beef jerky, Romaine almost missed what the recruit had said. Finally finding the right package, he drew it out and tossed Travis a piece before claiming a strip of his own. He took a bite before looking at his companion, one eyebrow raised.
“What’s strange?”
Travis shrugged, then grinned. “It’s just this place,” he replied, “it almost looks…normal. I thought the Calafe were nomadic.”
Romaine snorted. “That’s what the Flumeerens think as well,” he grunted, then tore another bite from his jerky. “It was always more a general dislike of cities,” he answered at last. “Places like Fogmore and Charcity and Mildeth, they fight to keep nature out, to separate humanity from the land that bore us. Though, there are many of us who prefer a life in the forests.”
“And this?” Travis asked, gesturing to the cottages.
Romaine snorted. “Winter houses,” he replied. “Even for us, the winter is no time to be walking around in the forest.”
“Oh really?” the recruit asked sarcastically. “You should have said something earlier—I never would have come had I known.”
Despite himself, Romaine chuckled. “This is nothing yet,” he said, gesturing to the nearby trees. “Once we get onto the plateaus, the winds blow straight off the mountains. There’ll be no shelter our last night, not unless we get lucky and find the Archivist’s ancient site quickly.” He paused. “Which seems unlikely, given it hasn’t been discovered in a millennia.”
“Half a millennia,” Travis replied absently, then when Romaine raised his eyebrows, continued: “At least, that’s what they teach us in the academy: that The Fall took place five centuries ago.”
“Useful,” Romaine said wryly.
“It would make the Gods slightly less ancient than some would have us believe,” he replied, though his tone made it clear he was sceptical. He paused, then glanced his way, eyes shining. “Have you ever seen them?”
“Who, a God?”
Travis nodded, though given his nature, Romaine still wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t joking.
“Where would I have a seen a God, lad?”
“Up there!” he exclaimed, pointing. Through the treetops Romaine could still make out the highest peaks of the mountains. “That’s where they’re meant to live, right? I always thought the Calafe must have some secret knowledge of them, living so close.”
“Afraid not,” Romaine replied, though Travis’s words sent a tremor racing down his spine. “The Mountains of the Gods are forbidden, even to the Flumeeren and Gemahan. No one goes there—or at least, no one that does ever returns.” He frowned. “Isn’t it the same way, with the ancient sites you’ve found in Perfugia?”
Travis shrugged. “Yeah, but those are different. The Gods left those. Besides, we fear those places…we’re taught that the Gods didn’t want to cause The Fall. It was an aftereffect of their magic, when they tried to destroy the Tangata.”
“They failed,” Romaine replied, then shrugged. “Though I suppose the reason hardly matters, after all this time.”
“It matters to me,” Travis murmured, his tone changing, becoming serious. His eyes drifted to the mountains. “I’ve always been fascinated by them.”
Romaine grunted. “Perhaps you should talk with the Archivist.”
“Perhaps I will,” he replied, “though…I think Erika is only interested in their magic, rather than the Gods themselves.” He fell silent.
“There are rumours,” Romaine offered after a moment, “legends, from those who claim to have seen the Gods.”
“Really?” Travis asked quickly. “What do they look like?”
Romaine sighed, already regretting speaking up. “There are some who claim they’re giants,” he rumbled, “that they look like us, with human features, but standing as tall as the great redwoods of southern Calafe.”
Travis snorted, the excitement draining from him somewhat. “Seems unlikely. I’ve seen sketches of these ancient sites the Archivist is so interested in. Some of the tunnels could barely fit a human.”
“True.” Romaine smiled despite himself. “Though perhaps their magic allows them to change shape.”
The recruit nodded, and after a moment, Romaine continued.
“Others claim the Gods exist now only as spirits. That they retreated from the physical world after The Fall, in shame for what they had unleashed. More still claim they soar high above, up amongst the clouds, watching us even now.”
Travis glanced upwards at his words, as though they might even now catch a glimpse of the Divine. Then a sheepish smile appeared on his lips and his gaze returned to Romaine.
“Our priests say the same,” he replied.
“Who knows, lad?” Romaine waved a hand. “I haven’t seen them. Though…I find it hard to believe they’re watching. Not with the Tangata invading our lands, murdering…families, innocents.”
The smile slipped from Travis’s lips. “Maybe…maybe they fear using their magic again, lest they bring about another Fall?”
“Another few years like the last, and humanity will be doomed anyway.” Romaine shook his head. “The Flumeerens believe the Tangata are a test, to show whether we are worthy of the Gods’ return.” He forced himself to laugh. “Trust them to find something divine in the act of war.”
Travis said nothing at that, and he saw the man’s eyes had returned to the mountains. Romaine let out a sigh, unwilling to stomp any further on the man’s dreams. Let the Perfugian recruits pray for deliverance. It could hardly hurt.
“So,” he said, deciding at last to change the subject. “Has anything happened between you and Cara yet?”
“What!” Travis exclaimed, head swinging around so fast it must have given him whiplash.
Romaine chuckled but did not elaborate further.
“I…what…” he trailed off, his cheeks growing bright. A sheepish look crossed his face. “No. Ah…who else knows?”
“Relax,” Romaine replied, still grinning. “I don’t think anyone else has guessed. Too busy worrying about the Tangata, no doubt.”
Travis nodded, though he still seemed worried. Finally he stood and began to pace up and down in front of the building.
“That’s it isn’t it?” he said at last. “We have bigger things to worry about. I shouldn’t be getting distracted by…things!”
Romaine suppressed another bout of laughter. “Ah lad, you’ve got a lot to learn.”
Travis scowled. “I didn’t see a Calafe wife back in Fogmore.”
Ice gripped Romaine’s chest at his words and he sucked in a breath, struggling to control a rush of rage. Exhaling slowly, he forced aside the pain.
“That’s…personal,” he said softly.
Travis looked up sharply and his eyes widened at the sight of Romaine’s face. He opened his mouth to speak, but Romaine spoke over the top of him:
“Look lad, it’s never the right time, okay?”
The recruit hesitated, but after a long moment, he nodded. Silence fell between them once more, and Romaine leaned back against the stone wall of the cottage, eyes on the sky. The clouds were growing darker. It would start to snow soon, and with night approaching, he hoped Lukys and the others were close.
As though summoned by the thought, the distant whinny of a horse carried to them on the breeze. Letting out a long sigh, Romaine levered himself to his feet and glanced down at Travis.
“Coming?”
Travis started as though he’d been caught unawares. A frown twisted his lips as he glanced at the trees, and his shoulders slumped.
“It’s just…I failed, you know?” he murmured, slowly coming to his feet. “At literally everything.”
“Forget the past, lad,” Romaine sighed. “We’ve all failed at…something. That’s no bad thing—so long as you learn from it. And from where I sit, you’ve done well these last weeks.”
“If you say so…” Travis trailed off, then laughed. “Ah well, she probably wouldn’t go for a city boy like me anyway.”
“You’ll never know unless you ask,” Romaine replied, stepping past the man. “Now come on, they’ll be tired from the trek.”
He started down the slope towards the path they’d taken. Already movement was visible amongst the trees. Stones crunched a moment later as Travis followed. A smile touched his lips. The man had a good heart—
Romaine stumbled as realisation struck him; he suddenly knew what was off, the edge he’d felt ever since crossing the Illmoor. It wasn’t something that had changed in Calafe at all.
It was him.
Always before when he’d come on these scouting trips, it had been with Flumeeren soldiers. Strangers. He didn’t care whether they lived or died.
“Godsdamnit,” he whispered to the winds.
This time, he cared.
Lukys marched at the head of the column for much of their first day. Cara walked at his side, helping to pick out the marks Romaine and Travis had made for them to follow, though she said little. Returning to Calafe seemed to have left her lost for words. Lukys didn’t press her—after all, how would he react in her situation? He could hardly imagine Perfugia falling, let alone returning after his land had been claimed by the enemy.
Unfortunately, the conversation was little better with the one who came behind them. So far, the Archivist had shown little interest in anyone but Romaine and, briefly, Cara. As for the rest of them…Lukys had spent enough time around the noble born in Perfugia to sense when someone thought herself above him.
As the day stretched on, the silence began to weigh on Lukys. Occasionally, he wandered back down the line of recruits, checking on their progress. Speaking with the others at least helped to dissolve some of the burden that grew in those silent hours.
It seemed to help the other Perfugians too. Despite their brave words the day before, many marched with their heads down, while others stared at the trees to either side of the thin trail, open fear on their faces. When he addressed them, they would look at him in fright, as though he were announcing the Tangata were upon them. Then their eyes would show recognition and their shoulders would relax, and they would nod and comment about the snow or their boots or the blasted Archivist sitting on her horse.
Lukys did his best to encourage them, though at times he felt it was more for himself than the others. In Romaine’s absence and the Archivist’s lack of interest in anyone but herself, he felt almost responsible for his fellow Perfugians. There was a voice in his head, whispering that he should have done more back in Fogmore, should have convinced them all to train together.
At midday he called a stop. That was probably the Archivist’s responsibility, but she didn’t seem interested, and several of the recruits looked close to dropping on their feet. Groans whispered through the trees as men and women lowered themselves to the ground and took out packages of food.
It disheartened Lukys to see their exhaustion. Despite the snow, the trek had been easy compared to their overland hike through Flumeer. The ground had climbed gently so far from the river, but from the path Romaine had outlined before setting out, soon they would start into the foothills. How would his fellow Perfugians manage that climb if they struggled on the flat?
Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before the Archivist grew impatient and they were forced to continue. With their late departure, Erika was eager to press on and recover lost time. Never mind that she rode a horse while the rest of them walked.
They set off with Lukys still in the lead, Cara and the Archivist close behind. It wasn’t long, though, before Lukys dropped back again, standing to the side while the others continued. Cara lingered though, amber eyes watching him.
“You worry for them,” she murmured.
Lukys shrugged. “Maybe.” They started walking again.
Cara frowned. “They’re not your responsibility.”
“No,” Lukys sighed. “Maybe I’m not doing it for them though.”
The woman’s frown only deepened at that and Lukys continued before she could speak, “Maybe I’m just trying to convince myself of something.”
“Convince yourself of what?”
“I’m not sure,” Lukys replied, then grinned. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out. Go on, I’m going to talk with some of the others.”
He waved her on and turned to wait for the rest of the column. Cara lingered, but after a moment she nodded and hurried to catch up with the Archivist.
“Bradbury, how’s your legs?” Lukys commented as he fell into step with another of the recruits.
It was a moment before his new companion responded. “What?”
Lukys forced a smile and tried again. “Your legs, man! How are they?” he said, adopting a false bravado. “Mine feel as though they’re about to fall off.”
Bradbury stared at Lukys for a long moment, then returned his eyes to the road. “They’re fine.”
A sigh escaped Lukys’s lips. Clearly this wasn’t working. He needed to jerk the recruits out of this stupor that had come over them since entering Calafe.
“Shame we can’t just give up, hey?” he continued. “Seems as nice a place as any to set camp, but what do I know. Good thing we’ve got Romaine, he’ll know the best place to stop. This forest is probably infested with wolves or something!”
“Wolves!” Bradbury gasped. Eyes wide, he glanced around, as though the beasts might be creeping up on him at that very moment. “There are wolves in this forest?”
“Ahhhh.” Lukys cursed inwardly at the fear in the man’s face. “Maybe, but don’t worry, don’t you remember biology class? Wolves don’t bother humans.”
“That’s not what the old tales say!”
“The old tales say a lot of things.” Lukys slapped the man on the back. “Remember that one claiming the Calafe are part Tangata? Well, you’ve met Romaine, right? Does he look like one of those beasts to you?”
“I…no…” The recruit trailed off, before adding, “Though he is ferocious.”
Lukys forced a laugh. “And he’s on our side,” he said. “Something to be thankful for, right? And look, the trees are beginning to thin, you can even see the mountains! I’m sure it won’t be long before we catch up with Travis and the old Calafe.”
With that he gave Bradbury a final nod and strode back up the line. Approaching the front of the column, he saw the Archivist had dismounted and was taking a turn at walking. Even more surprising, Cara sat on her horse, a large piece of paper held out before her.
“You see the red star?” Erika was saying.
“Where did you get this?” Cara murmured, eyes wide as she stared at the unfurled paper.
“One of the ancient sites,” the Archivist replied. “Do you recognise the area?” Her voice took on an excited tone.
Drawing closer, Lukys saw that the paper Cara held was in fact a map. His heartbeat quickened as he realized this must be the relic the Archivist had discovered, the one directing them to the undiscovered site of the Gods. Lukys still loathed the thought of stepping foot in those ancient tunnels, of desecrating what had once been a sacred place of the Gods…
Sacred, secret, death.
…a shiver ran down Lukys’s spine. The Archivist said that reclaiming the magic of the Gods was the only way to save humanity…but Lukys hadn’t missed the glint in the woman’s eyes when she spoke of that magic. She wanted more than just protection; she wanted power. His gaze was drawn to the gauntlet on her hand and he swallowed. Rumours had swirled amongst the recruits as to what it was, but Lukys knew. Romaine had told him.
It was another artefact, one with true magic. A weapon.
“It is…close to my home,” Cara said hesitantly. “Though…I do not know the terrain well.”
At least Cara was talking again. She seemed fascinated by the Archivist, though Lukys couldn’t see why. Perhaps it was the novelty of meeting a Flumeeren aristocrat, or the woman’s study of the Gods. Either way, the interest had not seemed to be reciprocated until now.
“May I see?” Lukys asked as he joined Cara on the other side of the horse from the Archivist.
“Why?” Erika asked sharply. She grasped the reins, as though suddenly fearing Cara would flee.
Lukys raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know the terrain. It would be good to know what to expect if we’re to protect you, Archivist.”
The woman stared at him across the horse, as though if she looked long enough, she might read his mind. Finally, she shrugged and gestured her permission.
“Careful,” Cara murmured. Dismounting, she handed it over to him. “It’s…old.”
“No kidding,” Lukys replied as he took it from her hands.
He unfurled the map as he walked, taking care to keep one eye on the uneven ground. It surprised him to see that colours filled the paper, greens and browns and blues and whites and many more. A quick glance suggested what he held was more painting than map. Certainly it was nothing like the charts back in the academy. Those were all black lines and empty spaces on yellowed pages.
As he inspected the mixtures of colours, landmarks started to leap at him from the page. There, a large mass of green and white set apart from the rest, surrounded by blue. He could not read the names on the map, but it had to be Perfugia. He followed the coastline south, amazed at the detail the ancients had captured, until he found a great river. Its position had shifted, but it could only be the Illmoor. Further inland and to the south, he found the red star the Archivist had mentioned.
“This is where we’re going?” he asked.
Stepping back into the saddle of her horse, the Archivist ignored him, but Cara leaned closer.
“Yes, I…think it is a part of the foothills.” She frowned, brow furrowing. “That dark green, I think that means it was forest, but there are no trees there now.”
“I see,” Lukys murmured, his eyes continuing. “Then these here must be the Mountains of the Gods?”
“I…” Cara hesitated, glancing at Lukys then up at the Archivist. Swallowing, she nodded. “I think so.”
“Yes, it has to be,” he continued excitedly, pointing to white and grey blotches on the paper. “You see these lines? They circle around the white spots—those must be the peaks. The closer they come together, the steeper the slope. They’re called—”
“Contours,” the Archivist interrupted from her horse.
Lukys glanced at her. “We learnt about them at the Perfugian academy. But…” He hesitated, glancing back at the map. “I’ve never seen any so detailed.” Then he frowned, noticing something else. There was another red star. “And this…there’s another site, in the Mountains of the Gods themselves.”
No, no, no!
On her horse, Erika chuckled. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Perfugian.”
“I…but…” He swallowed. “If this is truly a map of their sacred sites, you realise…”
“No!” Cara exclaimed unexpectedly. Before he could react, she snatched the map from his hands.
“Careful,” Erika hissed, swinging her horse in front of them. “The boy is right, that star could be the home of the Gods themselves!” She dropped from the saddle and almost stumbled. Cursing, she caught Cara by the arm. “Gods, woman, I did not think the Calafe so superstitious.”
A tremor shook Cara as she clutched the map to her jacket. Even Lukys found himself shaking. If what the Archivist suspected was true…Gods, surely that was blasphemous knowledge? To know where the Gods themselves lived…
“But it’s forbidden!” Cara whispered.
“Definitely not a good idea,” Lukys said at the same time.
“Oh, calm down,” Erika said, rolling her eyes. “We’re not actually going there. The queen has prohibited even speaking of it.” She paused, then muttered another curse. “I should have known better than to show you the map. Quick, give it back.” Lips pursed, she held out her hand to Cara.
The woman bit her lip, glancing to Lukys then back to the Archivist. Finally she nodded and handed over the map. Erika rolled it back up and slid it into a metal cylinder before placing it in her knapsack. A grin touched her lips as she looked at them again.
“Our superstitions never cease to amaze me,” she murmured. “Don’t you see? The Gods left this for us to find. It is an invitation. They want us to come to them.” As she spoke, she lifted her gauntleted hand and clenched it into a fist. “Though of course, only the worthy will be welcomed.”
A faint light seeped from the woven steel.
It turned Lukys’s insides to ice.
Romaine groaned as he lowered himself onto the wall at the edge of the village and watched the recruits going about organising their camp—although there wasn’t much organisation to be seen. A watch had been set to keep eyes on the forest, but otherwise the Perfugians were doing a poor job of dividing up the eight habitable cottages between them.
Given that the general had put him in charge, Romaine probably should have taken more responsibility, but his mind was occupied. On other scouting trips, he had rarely gone a day without glimpsing signs of the Tangata. That was why they’d spent so little time this side of the Illmoor. So far though, there hadn’t been a whisper, not even a boot print in the snow.
After the attack on Fogmore, he’d half expected these forests to be crawling with Tangata. Yet now they found northern Calafe empty. The enemy’s tactics often seemed incomprehensible, but this was stranger still. The assault, though made up of at least a dozen Tangata, had never stood a chance of taking the city. Curtis had assumed it had been a precursor, a probe before a greater force attempted the crossing.
Now, though…could the attack have been punitive? Romaine and the scouts had killed two of their number…but no, the Tangata were prone to rages, but they rarely threw lives away on hopeless causes.
Romaine found himself shaking his head. He could make no sense of it. And that worried him.
Movement came from nearby, and Romaine looked up to see Cara approaching. The frown on her face was a mirror of Romaine’s own, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight.
“Why the sad face, lass?” he asked as she walked up.
Cara started at his voice, then gave a shrug. Romaine gestured for her to join him on the wall.
“I thought you’d be happy, being back here. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“I…coming back is not what I imagined.” She rolled her shoulders, eyes turning to the sky. “I never expected…” A sheepish smile tugged at her lips. “To make friends.”
A lump lodged in Romaine’s throat as she echoed his earlier thoughts, but he pushed it aside. “You’re still young, lass,” he replied. “Nothing wrong with making a few friends.”
Cara sighed, shifting slightly on the wall. It had been constructed in the same manner as the cottages, rocks fitted one on top of the other, though no mortar had been used here. It made finding a comfortable position difficult, and Cara spent a long moment wiggling before settling again.
“I…I have to go, Romaine,” she whispered.
“What?” His heart gave a painful throb. “Go where?”
“I told you,” she murmured, still looking at the sky, anywhere but at him, it seemed. “I have to…find my family.”
“You’re sure…” He trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence, but it had to be said. “You’re sure they’re still alive, Cara?”
She shrugged, not saying anything, but he could see the darkness in her eyes. She didn’t know. Maybe she even thought them dead. But until she saw, until she knew for sure…a spark of hope would live on. Romaine knew that feeling well. For too long he had clung to it, like a man clutching to a jagged ledge, knowing it could not save him, and yet…unable to let go.
Living torture.
“I understand,” he said at last.
“Why am I not surprised!” Romaine looked up to see Travis approaching.
The recruit whistled as he walked; of all the Perfugians, he alone seemed to be unaffected by their predicament. At least outwardly. Romaine’s heart twisted as he recalled their earlier conversation about Cara.
“Leave it to the Calafe to skirt work,” Travis continued as he reached them, grinning. “Where do I sign up?”
Romaine grunted. “When you lose your kingdom, we’ll talk.”
“I…ah…sure…”
The recruit trailed off, looking awkward, and Romaine laughed. “Come and sit, lad,” he said, gesturing to the wall.
A smile lit Cara’s face as Travis sat beside her, though now Romaine did not miss the edge of sadness that crinkled the corners of her eyes. He sighed. The lad deserved to know…
“So when will you go?” he murmured softly, looking at Cara, “Looking for your family, I mean.”
Cara stiffened at his words and she flashed him a glare that could have melted stone. Beside her, Travis looked from Romaine to Cara, a frown twisting his lips.
“You’re leaving?”
Biting her lip, Cara looked at the young man, and nodded. “I have to,” she said. “My family…I can’t stay with you.”
“I…see.” Travis swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Of course…”
He trailed off, and an uncomfortable silence fell between them. Romaine cursed inwardly. It had needed to be done, but he should have let Cara broach the subject. After a few minutes, Travis let out a sigh and rose.
“Well…I’d better see if the others need any help,” he said, rising. He flashed a smile, though even to Romaine it seemed forced, then wandered back towards the village.
Flashing Romaine another glare, Cara leapt to her feet and chased after him. She did not glance back.
Letting out a sigh, Romaine rose and set off along the waist-high-wall that marked the perimeter of the village. The sun had set and he wanted to check on the lookouts he’d set before it grew completely dark. All were where he had left them.
He found the last standing nervously watching the forest, spear and shield held tight to her chest. Recognising her as one of those who had been training with him, he waved her over.
“Go find yourself some food, lass,” he said. “I’ll take the watch.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, though her expression revealed her eagerness to be away from the trees.
Romaine nodded. “Go, I could use the quiet.”
She left, leaving him alone with the night. Letting out a groan, Romaine took her place on the wall, his joints popping. Cara would get over her anger, if she did not leave immediately. She’d said the ancient site was close to her home; he hoped that meant she would stick around at least another day.
Overhead, moonlight touched the sky, setting the distant mountains aglow. They hulked like giants on the horizon, reminding him of the stories he’d told Travis. Perhaps that was the true source of the Calafe legends. Had their ancestors after The Fall come to see those hulking peaks as Gods, passing down tales until modern men viewed them as the birthplace of the Divine?
He almost preferred the idea. For if the Gods truly roamed those remote peaks, how could he not but hate them? It had been their magic, stolen or otherwise, that had given birth to the Tangata. Yet if the legends were true, instead of aiding humanity, the Gods had cast them down, abandoning them to the darkness.
“We lit the fire where you said,” came Lukys’s voice from the darkness. A second later the recruit appeared, face lit by the cold light of the moon. He held out a bowl made from bark, something Romaine and Travis had prepared before their arrival. “Gruel?”
Romaine nodded his thanks, then took a spoonful and almost spat it back out. It was saltier than jerky. Managing to swallow the mouthful, he set the bowl aside.
“Travis…isn’t much of a cook,” Lukys said. He hesitated, standing in the darkness, eyes on the trees. “Cara…told us.”
“Is she okay?” Romaine asked, turning his eyes towards the trees.
Lukys shrugged and took a seat beside him. “She’s fine. Travis will be alright,” he hesitated, flicking a glance in Romaine’s direction. “It’s the rest of them I’m worried about. I tried to encourage them today, keep their spirits up. I don’t think it helped much.”
Romaine grunted. “They don’t need mothering, lad,” he said. Reaching up, he took the axe from its sheath on his back and held it up. Its twin blades shone in the moonlight. “They’re not children; you can’t tell them everything is going to be alright. They know it’s not. Chances are, some of us are going to die before this journey is done.”
“Then what do I do?” Lukys whispered. “They’re terrified, on the verge of giving up. How do I hold them together?”
A sigh slipped from Romaine’s lips. Lukys was taking too much on his shoulders, but then…what else could he do? Romaine couldn’t do everything by himself. Someone had to step up.
Taking a firmer grip on his axe, Romaine drove its twin points into the earth. Lukys flinched, but did not look away as their eyes met.
“Show them your strength,” Romaine said quietly. “When everything is dark, soldiers need to believe in their commanders—even if they don’t believe in themselves.”
Lukys swallowed, his eyes wide in the darkness, but finally he nodded. “I understand,” he murmured. “I’ll do my best.”
“That’s all anyone can ask, lad,” Romaine replied, his heart swelling as he saw the resolve in the other man’s eyes.
An image flickered into his mind, of another boy, eyes staring up from a bed of snow. He clenched his fist closed around the hilt of his axe, trying to keep the pain from his face.
“You want me to take over the watch?” Lukys asked.
Romaine raised an eyebrow at the young Perfugian. “You think I’m too old to look out for a few Tangata?”
A wry grin appeared on Lukys’s lips as he stood. “Just being polite,” he replied, “but since you’re apparently happy to sit here in the cold, I think I’ll go see if our second cooks any better.” He raised a hand in farewell, then turned and disappeared into the darkness.
And Romaine was left alone with his pain.
Mountains in a grey sky.
A blood-red moon.
Stark slopes of rock.
Screaming in the earth.
Desperation, despair, lost.
Then…hope!
Life!
A flash, then an image, not like the others…
Colourful, blue and green and white and grey.
Lines of black.
A star of red.
Life!
Lukys gasped as he jerked awake, sitting bolt upright. Curses came from alongside him as the two recruits he shared the tent with mumbled in their sleeping rolls, though neither woke.
Clutching at his chest, Lukys strained to see in the darkness, but no light penetrated the heavy canvas. The sun had not yet risen, and finally he lay back against the hard ground, trying to force his mind to calm. The dream was already fading, though it had seemed so vivid, almost real. He could not have said why, but it left him feeling disturbed. It must have been his exhaustion.
They had marched hard their second day, leaving behind the forest and moving into foothills. Despite the lack of trees, there the going had become harder, as the recruits were forced to scramble up slopes of loose gravel. Even the flatter sections were inundated with spiked shrubs that would catch at their clothing and tear their skin, until they were forced to use knives to cut their way free.
It would have been even worse if not for Romaine’s scouting. Travis had ridden with the Calafe again, though at times the column had caught them as they backtracked from a false slope. Thankfully, their efforts kept the rest of them from hiking up the wrong hills; otherwise, Lukys doubted there would have been a single Perfugian on his feet by the end of the day. There had been a collective groan of relief when they’d finally spied Romaine and Travis waiting for them at a notch in the hillside.
Romaine said they would reach the Archivist’s plateau by dusk the following day. Though it was half a day behind the Archivist’s schedule, Lukys was just glad they still hadn’t encountered any of the Tangata.
Finally realising he wasn’t going back to sleep, Lukys stifled a moan and slipped out of his bedroll. Unbuttoning the tent flap, he pulled on his boots and stood, closing things again behind him. Then he went searching for one of the lookouts.
The night was clear, though the air was so cold it hurt to breathe. He shivered as he saw the moon overhead, recalling the scarlet globe from his dreams, though here it remained a brilliant silver. It illuminated the dusting of snow on the ground, left over from the fall they’d had the night they’d stayed in the village.
Though Romaine had chosen the campsite for its shelter, a light wind still blew through the valley, raising goosebumps on Lukys’s neck. He pulled his fur cloak tighter around himself, then froze as a noise carried to him on the breeze. Suddenly alert, he scanned the hillside around the tent, but in the darkness, it was difficult to tell rock from enemy.
Movement flickered in the shadows. Lukys was about to cry out a warning when the sound came again. Voices. The hairs on his neck stood on end. The Tangata did not speak, but who would be out here in the night? Heart racing, he crept through the lines of canvas tents, eyes fixed on the point he’d seen movement.
“Lukys?”
He started as a whisper came from nearby, reaching for the dagger on his belt. His hand was on the hilt when he realised it was only Cara. Letting out a long breath, he released the blade. For a moment he thought she’d been the speaker, then the whisper of voices came on the breeze again.
“Quiet,” he hissed, eyes returning to the hillside. Had they heard her? Stepping closer, he raised a finger to his lips. “What are you doing out here?”
Her eyes widened. “I…couldn’t sleep?”
Lukys frowned. “Are you leavin…”
He trailed off as the whispers came again. This time Cara heard them too and swung around, eyes fixed on the darkness. “What are they doing up there?”
“They?”
“Some of your recruits,” she replied softly.
Squinting into the night, Lukys cursed, still unable to spot the speakers. “I don’t know,” he murmured, “but we’d better find out. Come on.”
He started forward, crouched low to the ground and taking care not to disturb the loose stones as he moved. Cara followed, her step so light he had to keep checking to know where she was. The voices came from further up the valley, on the slope that sheltered the camp from the mountain winds.
There was meant to be a scout posted nearby, but they found the position empty. Lukys cursed. If they couldn’t even trust the other Perfugians to keep watch…
“…only a…of em.”
Lukys froze as the voices grew louder, allowing him to recognise several scattered words. Beside him, Cara froze, casting an uncertain glance in his direction. He bid her to wait. Blood pounded in his ears as he strained to hear the rest of the conversation.
“…you seen…that axe…”
Still unable to make out all the words, Lukys crept closer, trying to make sense of them.
“Better than the Tangata!” a man exclaimed, far louder than the others.
Whispers hissed in the night as others quieted him, then silence. Lukys held his breath as he sensed movement above, then a flash of white as someone peered out from behind a boulder and looked down the slope. Crouching lower amongst the rocks, Lukys prayed for Cara to do the same. He wasn’t sure what the recruits above were planning yet, but it couldn’t be anything good.
A moment later the recruit retreated and the conversation resumed.
“You know they’re out here,” the last speaker continued in a softer tone. “We’ve been lucky so far, but how long is that going to last? Sooner or later the beasts will find us. I don’t want to be around when they do.”
“I dunno…” another argued. This time Lukys recognised the speaker—Bradbury. “You think we can survive without them? The Tangata aren’t the only things in these woods, you know…”
Another of the recruits laughed. “You still on about them wolves, Bradbury?”
“We have to go,” the first voice repeated.
“What about the Archivist? If she makes it back, we’ll be branded as traitors.”
“Then we make sure none of them make it back.”
Silence answered the speaker’s words. Below, Lukys’s heart pounded against his chest. He shared a glance with Cara. Her eyes were wide, shining in the moonlight, and he swallowed. They were talking about a mutiny, though from here he could not tell how many.
“We say the Tangata attacked,” the speaker continued. The other’s silence seemed to have made him bold. “No one will question it. You heard the general, he already thinks this is a fool’s errand. Mark my words, he’ll be thankful any of us returned!”
Lukys’s shock turned slowly to anger. How dare they! Romaine had volunteered to come, to protect them all, yet these recruits planned to murder him. He clenched his fists, though he knew he could not risk a confrontation. With only his knife and Cara for support, he’d be quickly overwhelmed.
He rose and slipped back towards the camp. If they could raise the alarm, the traitors would not have a chance to enact their plan—
The moon slipped behind a cloud, plunging the night into utter black. He cursed, stumbling on the uneven ground…
Crack.
His foot struck a rock, sending it tumbling down the slope. Lukys froze where he stood, praying the darkness would shield him…but then the moon reappeared overhead, casting its silver light across the valley.
“There!”
Stones rattled above as shadows raced towards him. Stomach twisting in knots, Lukys looked in the direction of camp. They’d come farther than he’d thought. No way he’d make it before the recruits overtook him. He looked at Cara.
“Go warn Romaine,” he murmured.
Cara glanced at the approaching shadows, eyes wide, face pale in the moonlight. For a second it seemed she would do as he said. But shuddering, she pulled her cloak tighter around herself and faced the traitors. Lukys nodded. It was probably too late for her to escape anyway.
The traitors slowed as they approached. There were a dozen of them, each armed with their spears, though they didn’t wear armour. They spread out around him, weapons at the ready.
“Lukys,” Bradbury gasped, his weapon held awkwardly to his chest.
“Of course.” Another recruit pushed past the man, a sneer on his lips. It was a moment before Lukys recalled his name—Dyge. “Little bastard, always sticking his nose in other people’s business.”
Lukys scanned the ring of Perfugians, noting those who seemed doubtful, others who looked ready to run him through. Dale stood amongst the circle, though for once he did not appear to be the ringleader. Drawing in a breath, Lukys faced Dyge.
“Quite the commotion you lot are making out here,” he said softly, fighting for calm. “Think you’d best return to your tents, before you catch your death.”
“Is that a threat, peasant?” Dyge snarled, stalking forward until they stood face-to-face.
Lukys did not flinch away. “It’s a cold night,” he said, spreading his hands. “Anyone with half a brain should know to be in his bed.”
Whispers came from around the circle as those who had looked uncertain shared glances.
His foe only growled and grabbed Lukys by the front of his shirt. “What’s the matter?” Dyge laughed. “No Calafe warrior to come to your rescue?”
Lukys calmly looked from the man’s hands to his eyes, though inwardly his heart was racing. His hand crept to his belt as he spoke. “Release me.”
“Like The Fall,” Dyge snapped. Then he grinned, the gesture a cold, hungry look. “You know, I think you were right. In this cold, you might just catch your dea—”
He broke off as Lukys pressed the point of his knife into the man’s groin. Dyge’s mouth opened but Lukys pushed the knife harder.
Death, death, death.
“I suggest,” Lukys said again, “that you return to your tent.”
“I…” Dyge swallowed, then nodded eagerly. “Yes, you’re right. I think I’ll do that.” He released Lukys’s shirt and raised his hands, gesturing at the knife.
Lukys lingered, holding the man’s gaze before finally drawing back. Dyge licked his lips, still appearing nervous, while Lukys turned to look at the others.
“We’re all afraid, remember,” he said, “but our only hope is to stay together. Alone, we don’t stand a chance out here.”
The others said nothing, unable to meet his eyes, and Lukys nodded his satisfaction. In silence he shared a glance with Cara, then led her towards a gap in the circle.
“I’d rather die alone than stand with the likes of you,” Dyge’s voice came from behind them.
Die, die, die.
Lukys spun, knife still in hand, but his foe now held a spear. The razor-sharp point flashed for Lukys’s throat…
…and was knocked aside as another recruit leapt to his aid. A roar of anger came from Dyge, but before he could bring his weapon around to attack again, the newcomer slammed the tip of his spear into the man’s chest.
A stunned look appeared in Dyge’s eyes as he looked up at the recruit that had stabbed him.
“Da…Dale?”
Blood burst from his lips as Dale yanked back his spear, allowing the traitor to slump to the ground. He stepped back, eyes still on the body, spear clutched at the ready. Lukys could only stare at the man, unable to believe it had been Dale who had come to his rescue.
Finally Dale lowered his spear. He still did not look at Lukys, but instead turned to face the circle of recruits. They stared back at him, open fear on their faces.
“Dyge was a fool,” he said softly, “and if any of you think the same as him, you’re fools as well. None of us would last a day out here without the Calafe. The Tangata would have you by suppertime.”
“The Tangata will have us anyway,” Bradbury said, looking despondent.
“Maybe,” Dale replied. Finally he looked at Lukys. “But I’d rather die with honour than as a traitor.”
“Dyge was the only deserter here,” Lukys said, his voice hard. He ignored the others who’d looked ready to murder him—they could not fight them all. “Go back to your beds and speak no more of this.”
The eyes of several flickered to Dyge’s body, and Lukys caught a glimpse of anger there. But it faded as they looked again at Lukys and Dale and Cara, giving way to resignation. Without further word, they collected up their spears and started off towards the camp.
Lukys let out a long breath as he watched them go, and allowed the mask to slip. He swallowed, legs suddenly trembling as he realised how close he’d come to death.
“Thank you,” he said, offering a hesitant smile to Dale.
The young noble grunted. “Don’t take it personally,” he replied. “Like you said, doesn’t matter if we’re friends or enemies. We need to stick together this side of the Illmoor.” With that he turned and followed the others, leaving Lukys standing alone with Cara.
They stood there a while, saying nothing. Lukys stared out into the darkness, replaying the moment again and again. Inevitably, his gaze was drawn to the body of Dyge. He’d underestimated the man—but had it been his hatred, or his desperation? A shiver ran down his spine and he forced himself to look away.
“I’m sorry,” Cara whispered, drawing Lukys’s gaze.
She stood with her arms wrapped around herself, eyes staring into the distance, tears streaking her cheeks. Surprised, he shook his head.
“Sorry for what?”
“I should have stopped him,” Cara whispered. Her amber eyes flickered to Dyge’s body, shining in the moonlight. A shudder went through her. “So much…blood.”
Blood, blood, blood.
“Hey, it’s not your fault,” Lukys exclaimed, stepping close and opening his arms to hug her.
She flinched away, eyes wide, and he remembered her fear of being touched.
“Sorry,” he said, turning his hands palm out. Then he smiled. “But I’m okay.”
Cara watched him for a long while before responding with a nod. “Okay.” She yawned, stretching her arms, before a grin appeared on her face. “Guess we’d better head back to camp then.” She gestured at the mountain slopes around them. “Who knows what else is out roaming in the moonlight?”
Lukys started as his dream came rushing back to him, the scarlet moon, the shadows rushing across a barren slope, the thumping of blood in his ears.
Not seeming to notice, Cara started off towards the camp. Lukys followed after a moment’s hesitation, though his mind was elsewhere, lingering on the dream, on that moon. The same moon that hung above them, though without the red…
…he glanced back towards where Dyge lay, though in the darkness he could no longer make out the body.
Nor the blood that now stained the rocks.
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