Beyond the Edge of Dawn (30 page)

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Authors: Christian Warren Freed

Tags: #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Fantasy, #Epic, #Teen & Young Adult

BOOK: Beyond the Edge of Dawn
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FIFTY-TWO

Gessun Thune

“It’s time.”

Kavan heard the horns blaring from the southern end of the encampment. He climbed out of his sleeping bag and stretched off the stiffness from the night. Muscles hardened from decades of battle flushed the sleep away. He felt tired, despite all of his experiences. A lingering sense of dread hung in the back of his mind like a miasmatic cloud. He’d never felt so desperate before. The oracle’s words were strong yet left him with grave doubts.

He wasn’t a leader. He knew that. A solitary man, Kavan couldn’t help but wonder if he was up to the task. Aphere was more than capable, confident in her abilities. She, out of them all, felt the oracle’s inspiration. He envied her. She had a brand of faith he would never possess. Perhaps it was the mutation of her blood bond. Pirneon certainly seemed convinced. His anger and disapproval had slowly fed into an undercurrent of hatred towards her. Kavan scoffed. If faith kept her going, who was he to argue against it?

Aphere emerged from her tent, yawning. “What’s happening?”

Her eyes were bloodshot. Kavan regarded her in new light. He respected her more. He also knew that he needed her more than either of them could guess.

“I think the hunt is beginning,” he replied.

Mabane had heard the horns in his sleep. The sounds produced volatile memories. He awoke in cold sweat. The Vengeance Knights watched him closely. If he was going to break and run, now was the time.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

His shoulders trembled. “Those horns.”

“Yes. An official party comes,” Kavan replied.

“I know.”

It suddenly dawned on Kavan that they’d been forgetting the one important piece of the puzzle: Mabane. Kavan moved beside the one arm man.

“Mabane, listen to me,” he began. “We have sorely underestimated you. I have personally. For that, I apologize.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been the key to this quest the entire time, and only now do I realize it. You’ve done all of this before. The hunt, I mean. We should have been seeking your guidance from the start.”

Humorless laughter tainted his voice.

“How could we have missed that?” Aphere asked, the idea suddenly dawning on her.

Mabane wanted to cry. The last thing he expected was a confession of ignorance from two venerable warriors. Old fears tormented him, more so now that he was sober. He lacked personal courage necessary to enter this fight. His nerve was gone. A coward maybe, though not by his own choosing, Mabane knew it would take more than fanciful accolades to change his mind. Yet still….

“Yeah,” he said after calming down. “I’ve been here before. It’s all the same. All I see are dead men.”

“Dead men?”

He barked derisive laughter. “Every last one of us. Dead. All dead.”

“It doesn’t have to end this way. We can still find victory,” Aphere tried to sooth.

“How so?”

It was a tired conversation. The Gaimosians seemed to have a deep-rooted need to know they were doing the right thing, which he failed to understand. They’d become an insistent lot focused only on goals meeting their needs. In his mind, they were also naïve.

“Do you have any idea what’s going to happen next?”

Kavan struggled to contain his irritation. “We already know about the werebeasts in the pit. What we need to know is how to get in without being noticed. Tell us what happens in camp. How does the hunt begin?”

Mabane took a steadying breath. He was reluctant to speak of such things, despite being under their protection. Further argument was pointless. The best course of action was to tell them and hope for absolution in his own words. “All right. Those horns are Corso’s own party. King Eglios always sends his minister to oversee the event.”

Aphere and Kavan exchanged a knowing glance, not lost on Mabane.

“Corso will take his place at the head of the camp on a great stage. He’ll give a rousing speech appealing to our egos and then send the hunters in.”

“How does he determine who goes first?” Aphere asked. Suspicions awakened. She decided Corso was a figure needing a closer look.

“There’s no order, if that’s what you mean. Guards start a line and send in twenty at a time. The caverns are huge. A man could get lost forever in there. The groups are staggered every half hour or so. They claim it is to give us time to find our glory.”

“That words gets used often in this kingdom,” Kavan frowned. The more he thought on it, the more he didn’t like Eglios or Aradain. A rot consumed the souls of this kingdom, and they were all too blind to see it. He questioned how a man like Corso managed such power.

“There’s no glory here,” Mabane replied coldly. “Only pain and suffering. Hundreds of men and women, Dwarf and Elf have died down there. Their blood stains the ground red. You lose track of time. It seemed like we walked forever without seeing another soul. How deep and how many miles, I don’t know. Then the killing starts.”

Not the words I wanted to hear
. Kavan asked, “Does this Corso keep count of who goes in?”

“I’m sure there are administrators. We didn’t pay attention to that. Our blood was aflame in the moment. We surged into the caverns in search of fame. Fools all.”

Aphere asked, “Did you notice if Corso remained throughout the duration of the hunt?”

Mabane thought. “Long enough, I suppose. Come to think of it, he seemed to show interest in what we did. I remember getting an ill feeling from him when he visited me in the hospital tents.”

Kavan turned to Aphere. “Corso is the one we’ve been looking for.”

She agreed, arriving at the same conclusion. “Will this end if we kill him?”

“Possibly, but it might already be too late. The dark gods are close to breaching the veil.”

“Dark gods?” Mabane asked.

Kavan cracked a wry smile. “You didn’t think this would be easy, did you?”

“You can’t fight a god!”

“Watch us,” Kavan challenged.

Mabane backed down. Quite frankly, he was tired of fighting.

“How much longer before Corso gives his speech?”

Mabane shrugged. “Not long. Most of the hunters are eager to begin. They already had their downtime in Rantis.”

Strapping his sword across his back, Kavan rose. “Let’s go see what the man has to say.”

They gradually eased into the gathering crowd. Armed guards shimmering in black livery marched up the wind-worn stairs leading to a wide stone platform. Fresh flowers of every color lay heaped upon the mantle. Twenty feet above the plain, the stone was a natural platform for speakers. Sloping ground added to the effect. The guards filed up and took rehearsed positions one meter apart across the width of the stage. Hunters crowed around the base, hungry for Corso to deliver his benediction.

Kavan led his group to a spot in the middle of the crowd. He figured Corso knew who they were and that they were here, making the decision to blend in with the crowd easy. None of the hunters bothered with them, each having his own agenda. Drums began to beat, thick, monotonous. Electricity sparked throughout the crowd. People tensed as the booming echoed. The guards drew swords as one and began slamming them on obsidian shields.
Boom. Boom
. Several hunters followed suit. Kavan didn’t doubt they were plants to heighten the frenzy. A man like Corso would have multitudes of spies.

“Is this normal?” Tym asked Mabane.

He nodded softly. “Exactly the same as the last time I was here.”

Corso appeared. He wasn’t very tall or elegant to look upon, but he had a certain air of authority. Kavan could tell by looking at him the man had come from nothing. Dressed the same as the personal guard, Corso had an iron fist emblazoned on his tunic. A short sword, for ceremony no doubt, was belted to his waist. His eyes were narrow, pinched. He came to the edge of the platform and raised his arms to the applause of the gathered hunters.

“My friends!” he called. The crowd quietly. “Brothers in struggle. Heroes of Aradain. I welcome you to this glorious hunt.”

A cheer broke out.

“You have all heard our king’s words. Our land is under siege by creatures with no claim to this world. Monsters and worse plague our nights. They slink through the darkness to kill our people. Many like you have heard the call and found glory on these cursed grounds. Hundreds of the beasts have been slain by ordinary men and women like yourselves.”

He swept his gaze over the assembly. “Now it is your turn. Hundreds have been slain, but more struggle up from the foul pits to murder our world. This is your day! Your first steps towards immortality! Heroes are not the men of legend we grew up learning about. There are no men doing impossible deeds during times we can’t begin to dream of. True heroes are born from the sacrifice of the common man. Today is your chance to become heroes and, hopefully, expunge the heart of darkness nestled in Aradain.”

Another vivacious cheer. Corso gestured for the drummer to begin anew.
Boom. Boom. Boom.

“Go forth! Go now, and seek your glory for the greater good of Humanity and our future. Kill for glory, and live forever!”

A series of three horn blasts crashed over them. The crowd surged. Eager warriors funneled towards Corso’s men. The hunt had officially begun.

“Quite the speaker,” Aphere told Kavan.

He secretly agreed. “A lesser man might be swayed by fancy words. He is dangerous.”

“Why not put a shaft through him?” Tym asked. His fellow Fist nodded agreement.

Kavan replied, “A man like that has dark powers surrounding him. He’ll not be without protection wards. Any arrow would be wasted.”

“How can we best such a man?”

The Gaimosian eyed him sternly. “With cold steel through the heart.”

 

 

 

The day dragged slowly by. Kavan and the others returned to their campsite to await the thinning of the crowd. Two hundred warriors had already disappeared in Gessun Thune. None had returned. Acolytes roamed those who remained, quelling rising whispers of uncertainty. The caverns were enormous, they explained. It was perfectly natural for individual hunts to last many hours.

Kavan listened to one of them speak. His first instinct was to rip the man’s throat out. Common sense prevailed, and he kept his seat by the fire. Unseen by all, an acolyte stared hard at the Gaimosians. Shock and recognition twisted his face. He scurried back to his master before Kavan spied him. Everything Corso had predicted was coming true.

He found Corso resting on a cushioned couch, being fanned by a pair of female slaves. Corso’s disinterested look faded when his acolyte kneeled.

“Speak.”

“My lord, they are here.”

Corso’s eyes narrowed. “Impossible. My agents were to have killed them back in Rantis. You are mistaken.”

The acolyte swallowed his rising fear. Corso was known to flay people for speaking falsely. “Sir, I saw the man and the woman. They are accompanied by a man with only one arm. I am certain it is the Gaimosians.”

Corso rose swiftly. This close to the eclipse, he felt fresh power coursing through his veins. The dark gods were giving him strength.

“Why haven’t I heard of this until now, if what you speak is true?” he snarled.

The man dropped his forehead to the ground. “I only speak of what I see.”

Always these damned Gaimosians
. He hated being forced to rely on incompetent help. One thousand years, and all he’d striven for was now in peril. Centuries of influence and subterfuge might be unraveled at the hands of two warriors and a cripple. He wanted to laugh. He was too close to fail. Victory must come at any cost, even if he had to slaughter every living soul assembled in the camp.

He turned to his captain. “How many have been converted thus far?”

“Near two hundred, my lord.”

Two hundred fresh werebeasts. More than enough to deal with the remaining hunters. Of course, he’d lose most of his new pets, but it was of small consequence. Once the dark gods were released, he’d no longer have need of them.

“There will be no more entering the ruins today,” he said quickly. “I have something special planned.”

The captain bowed and went to issue orders.

FIFTY-THREE

Old Friends

Most of the encampment had already quieted down and gone to bed. The main excitement of the day was gone, drained away to nervousness and boredom. All of the best had already gone on the hunt. The others were forced to wait for the dawn in what was considered an unprecedented move.

“Our turn didn’t come until well into the night,” Mabane offered. “I’ve never heard of this happening.”

“Corso is making his move,” Aphere whispered.

He shrugged. “Call it what you will, but know this is unnatural.”

“Mabane, you may not realize this, but you are caught up in the middle of a terrible war. That man, Corso, is probably the most dangerous you will ever encounter. He is the puppet master we’ve been searching for. Kill him, and we might just stop the enemy from succeeding.”

“You’re a very bleak people,” Mabane replied.

Kavan actually laughed. “I’ve been called worse, my friend.”

“Now that we’ve got that settled, what is Corso up to? Do you think he knows we’re here?” Aphere asked.

“It’s possible. Those black robed fools are just fancy spies.”

The two Fist looked suddenly nervous.

Kavan took note but continued. “One thing bothers me about this operation. Assuming Corso knows everything about us, why hasn’t he stopped us yet? Clearly, he’s willing to sacrifice everyone in the way. The Fist, the Gnomes, and the people of Aradain. Why, though?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Why does he want us dead? What about us drives his hatred?”

Aphere didn’t have the answer. How could she? She hadn’t thought much about the figure who became Corso until now. “We’re clearly a threat.”

Not good enough. “Why? None of you have ever been to Aradain before. There are fell powers at work here, obviously seeking our demise,” Kavan replied.

An uneasy silence settled over them. Not even Kavan was sure where that answer had come from. They sat in muted silence until fatigue crept in. Kavan started the night watch and allowed the others to bed down. Thieves and petty criminals ran rampant in gatherings like this. It wouldn’t do to awake the next dawn and find their horses and gear missing.

“I never thought to find your sorry ass in a place like this,” rumbled a deep voice.

Kavan reached for his weapons before looking at the speaker. He was a burly man dressed in dark brown leathers. Tufts of white hair poked form the v cut in his jerkin. Twin scars crisscrossed one of his thick forearms. Both his beard and hair were pure grey, the color of old snow. Time had wrinkled his skin, but his eyes remained sharp, clear — much like the huge double-headed battle axe across his back.

Kavan snarled. “I don’t really give a damn what you think.”

“Insolent whelp. I ought to have my man put you over his knee and take a strap to your hide.”

“You’d do it yourself if you were half a man.”

Then the big man smiled. “Well met, Kavan.”

“Dag, good to see you again. I didn’t think you’d be staying.”

Aphere, who hadn’t made it into her tent yet, tried to conceal her surprise. “You two know each other?”

“Aye, lass. Since before you were a gleam in your papi’s eyes, I’d wager,” Dag answered.

“Careful, Dag. She’s one of my blood,” Kavan cautioned.

Dag seemed genuinely impressed. “My, my. I can’t say as I ever met a female Gaimosian. Always figured you guys was created, not born. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Dag of Souderlik Keep, and it is my immense pleasure to meet you.”

Aphere took his hand, a rosy tinge kissing her cheeks. “As well as mine, though I doubt you’ve ever been called humble by anyone but yourself.”

Dag winked at Kavan. “I like her. Got spunk.”

“She has her moments,” he agreed. “What brings you here? And with men at arms. You’re a long way from home, old friend.”

“My lads and I heard there was trouble brewing in these parts, and we come to put an end to it.”

Kavan arched an eyebrow. He gestured for them to sit. “I think you made a mistake in coming here.”

“Nonsense. You know me, lad. I’ve never run from a fight and don’t see reason to begin now.”

“You don’t understand. This place is evil. I don’t think any of us are going to walk away,” Kavan insisted.

Dag’s curiosity peaked. “What are you going on about, Kavan? We’ve fought together a dozen times. Never been defeated. Get to the point. Riddles don’t suit you.”

Kavan gave him the short version of their tale, leaving out pieces irrelevant to Dag and his men. The moon was rising by the time he finished. Several of Dag’s men had lost the color in their faces as Kavan spoke. Clearly, none had come to Aradain expecting to fight gods or monsters. Only Dag betrayed no emotion.

“If I didn’t know you, I wouldn’t believe a word you said. Gods and demons. What’s this world coming to?”

“An end unless we can stop it.”

Dag rubbed his kneecap. “I’m staying. My boys, too. We came to fight, and we’re not going home unblooded.”

“There’ll be plenty of blood for all of us,” Kavan said.

“And none of you know why this Corso fella wants you dead?”

“Not a clue. He’s been after us, we believe, since we crossed over the Kergland Spine,” Kavan replied. “It doesn’t matter anymore. This is the final hour. It all ends during the coming eclipse.”

“Desperate situation.”

Kavan lowered his voice to a bare whisper. “I’ve never felt so helpless.”

“What’s the plan? I can’t let you stand alone. What can I help with?”

Dag was a born warrior. He’d spent the majority of his six decades in the middle of one war or the next. Determination forced his loyalty.

“I wish I had a thousand more like you at our side,” Kavan finally admitted. “Aphere, Mabane and I need to get inside the ruins. We have to find this nexus and stop Corso from freeing his dark gods.”

“Us as well,” Tym spoke up. None of the group had gone to bed, having returned to the fire to hear Kavan and Dag. “We gave our word to Pharanx Gorg. Our swords will not leave your side.”

Dag glanced sharply at the lad. “Pharanx Gorg? You travel in strange company these days.”

“Wait until you meet the Gnome,” Kavan grunted.

“Ha! All this talk of doom makes me thirsty. Lars, break out the mead,” Dag called to a golden haired youth behind him.

Drinks were passed out, and the two groups merged into one cohesive unit.

Aphere finished the warm honey mead and asked, “Dag, how did you two first meet?”

Dag waggled a finger at Kavan. “It must have been twenty years ago. This young fool was about to get thoroughly whooped by ten brigands at a card table in a cheap Antheneon whore house. Claimed they were the ones cheating.”

Kavan held up his hands in defense. “There were only three of them, and I was managing just fine by myself.”

“Only cause you didn’t see the one coming at you from behind with that knife in his hands. It only seemed right we become friends after that. He traveled with me for a time, as you Gaimosians are wont to do. I never understood your whole good deeds for the weak concept. But I found Kavan to be a decent enough fella.”

Dag stopped long enough to drain his mug. “He visited Souderlik over the years. Even came to help my father quell an insurrection. That’s where I busted my right knee, and he saved my life.”

“Someone needed to save you. Trouble finds you too easily.”

Dag stiffened. “Who says I don’t go looking for it? That’s why I’m here.”

“I still suggest you take your men and leave while you can.”

“My mind is set, Kavan. Now, what’s really happening here? Your tale was well and fine, but I want to know what to expect from here on.”

“I don’t know,” Kavan replied. “But I have a feeling we’re being set up.”

“Ambush?”

“Looks like it, but we don’t know when or where.”

Dag nodded once. “This man really wants you dead. Don’t you worry, lad. Me and the boys will do our part. We’ll make this damned sorcerer wish he’d never come here.”

Kavan hoped Dag was right, else they’d be the ones wishing.

 

 

 

“You should be asleep,” Aphere said, walking up behind Kavan.

He gave her a half-hearted smile. “I can’t sleep. It’s no big deal. I get like this all the time before a fight. What are you still doing up?”

She eased down beside him. “I wanted to apologize before it was too late.”

“For what?”

“Earlier. It wasn’t right of me to speak of Pirneon so. He was your friend and mentor, and I disrespected you both,” she forced the words out.

Kavan kept looking at the fire. “You spoke your mind. There’s nothing to it.”

“No, there is more,” she added.

Kavan waited patiently for her to continue. He was the sort who tried to listen, though more times than not it came down to a sword in hand. Her apology was already more than enough, and unnecessary. She was a Gaimosian Knight. That was word enough.

“I saved Pirneon’s life in the desert. We got along well enough at the time, but it didn’t last. He found out about my unique abilities and started turning cold on me. I think he gradually came to hate what I represented.”

“What you say makes no sense. Why would the Knight Marshal of Gaimos hate one of the few remaining knights?” Kavan countered.

He stopped himself, realizing he was already trying to defend Pirneon.

She fought down her rising ire. “Did you not see the look in his eyes when he spoke to me? The man avoided me as much as he could, but that’s not what I have to say. It’s the oracle.”

“The oracle? We were told all we needed to know back in Hresh Werd. The oracle had no secrets, Aphere.”

“Yes…it did,” she confessed. “Right before I went to touch it, the oracle warned me about Pirneon. He said that Pirneon would turn on us, and one of us would have to fight him to the death.”

Her words hung on the air, sour notes permeating their minds.

“Why would he do such a thing? Pirneon was the best of us. Hundreds of brothers and sisters trained under his hand. Any betrayal is abandonment of our principles. He is not capable of such,” Kavan argued.

“I spent weeks trying to figure it out. He’s changed, Kavan. He’s not the same man we once knew.”

He eyed her sharply. “We have all changed, Aphere. You have powers none of the rest of us possess or understand.”

She stiffened. “What are you trying to say?”

“Just that we change.”

“This isn’t about you or me, Kavan.” Her voice trembled as she tried to remain calm. “The oracle has spoken, and I have no reason not to listen. Everything else he foresaw has come to pass.”

She fell silent, and an uneasy tension settled over them. Neither truly wanted to believe the oracle. His words were anathema to their core being. Pirneon was the shining son of all Gaimos once stood for. His deeds were legendary, his stature equally so. He was the domineering presence on every battlefield he’d ever fought on. To hear Aphere speak now, Kavan suddenly knew doubt. Doubt led to more deaths than the sword.

After much internal deliberation, Kavan asked, “What do we do?”

“One of us must fight him,” she exhaled.

“Is he near?”

Aphere nodded.

“So be it.”

Kavan left her alone. He had much to think on and would remain troubled until the final battle. He wondered if he had the strength to stand against his former mentor, let alone kill him. There was no doubt he was meant to face Pirneon. Fate was cruel that way. Kavan crawled into his sleeping bag and settled in to an uneasy sleep. A few hours later, the screaming began.

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