Dire Sparks (Song of the Aura, Book Five) (18 page)

She stopped, and would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her. It seemed too ludicrous to be true.

“
Why?”

“
Because the rebellion was doomed, Elia! If I hadn’t betrayed them and spirited you away,
we
would have died, too!”

“
Death is better than cowardice,” she sneered, but she felt too hollow to put force behind the words.

“
No, it isn’t,” he said, supporting her and starting them moving again. “And now, your friends in Vast will have a fighting chance for the first time in months.”

“
What?” she felt like a child, questioning everything he said… but she felt so cold, so numb… it didn’t matter. Nothing did. Why had any of this happened? “Why?” she whispered.

His answer was not what she’d expected.

“
Because I’m bringing them
you
,” he told her. “
You
changed me.
You
are the reason I fight. And… I’ve had visions. Dreams.”

It can’t be…

“
I’m just like Gribly,” Gramling finished. “That’s why Sheolus thought I was so important, and he was
right.
You know what I’ve seen, Elia?” She didn’t dare guess. “I’ve seen
you
. And it won’t be Lauro, or Gribly, who leads Vast to victory in the Last War. It’ll be
you
.”

~

Gramling had felt more than his share of fear in life. He knew that this chase, with an angry god behind, and the terrifying unknown ahead, should scare him. Badly.

But it didn’t. For the first time in his life, he felt strangely… peaceful. It was a new sensation, and one he savored. It gave him strength, and that was one thing he needed in vast amounts if he was to bring Elia and himself out of this alive. When he had first fled the Sepulcher with Elia, the gem-cave had hidden him from Sheolus’s retaliation. Now, a full fifth of the Golden Nation’s length lay between him and Goldenport, where he planned on leaving the mainland behind.

It was a deadly gamble. Sheolus knew that Goldenport was the closest avenue of escape, and he knew Gramling knew. Would he think his former slave foolish enough to choose Goldenport, then? Or would he suspect Gramling’s intelligence to lead him South, to Goldenpoint, where escape would be harder and therefore least expected? He was counting on the latter, but in the end it might not matter at all.

Were it not for Elia’s presence, he would have given up immediately. She seemed to have given up all hope, letting him lead her as he saw fit. Very well… his life’s mission would be to bring her back, despite her handicap, and restore her to the destiny he had seen. Or foretold. Or made up. It all seemed deceptively similar, now.

Shaking himself to stay awake, Gramling once more took stock of their surroundings. They were in a stony gully just east of one of the Golden Nation’s many city compounds, and it was night. He had to wake Elia in a moment. They had to keep moving. He’d stolen much of what they needed from this place. Pit Striding made for excellent thieving, if one did not wish to be seen, but all his cleverness wouldn’t help them if they were sighted and caught by one of the wartime patrols.

For a time, he waited. The events of a week ago still plagued his dreams, and he had not slept for several days. Closing his eyes, he could remember it all clearly.

I stabbed you. I broke free of the wind-bonds, and I stabbed you. I felt the dagger cut your mortal form. I felt it pierce the metal and pierce your heart from behind.

I saw the rage in your face as you dropped her and turned on me. I saw the betrayal. I saw that you would crush me like an insect if you let your anger take hold.

I told Elia the dagger slowed you… weakened you. Did it? It should have. It might have. But when I ripped it free of you, and the ichor poured out… you didn’t even pause.

Sheolus. You weren’t hurt at all. Or at least, not enough. You could have killed me right there, or taken the blade and stabbed my soul with it. But you didn’t.

You didn’t look frightened. You didn’t even look betrayed any more. I just stood there, staring… I couldn’t believe you hadn’t even been affected. And you stared back.

Then you laughed. You LAUGHED. Why? You laughed in my face, and then you ignored me. You ignored Elia, too… though I thought you had killed her at the time.

You became a thing of fire and ash, and you massacred the Lordytes who sprang to my aid. You cut off the rebellion’s head there, and then you burned its body.

But you did nothing to me. And you did not finish Elia off, even after she denied you. I don’t understand… but I don’t trust you. I never did.

What are you planning, Golden One? I have read your sacred books, in the dark places you thought you had hidden from me. I know your name among the Legion.

You are the craftiest, those books said. The one who plans. Plots. Backstabs. You are a master of betrayal, yourself, Sheolus. Only the Master of the Legion himself is your rival.

You confound me, Demon. Perhaps you knew all along I had read those books. Perhaps you knew that one day, I would turn on you. Perhaps.

But if you did… why let me go? Can you see the future? Is there something I have missed, in my plans? There must be. If you wanted, you could catch me. But you haven’t.

What have I missed? What is it? Fate is breaking, you say… but is it? Has not everything come to pass in its own way, no matter what we try? Prophecy cannot be defeated.

I WILL defeat you, Sheolus, even if I must join the Aura to do so. And then it will be I, and not you, who plans the fate of heroes.

I am not a hero. But I will guide the paths of heroes, and then you will be powerless to stop me. You taught me too much. Too well.

Are you ready to die, Sheolus?

Elia was stirring. Gramling snapped back to reality, and shook her the rest of the way awake. “Elia. Elia. It’s time. We have to go, before Sheolus sends out the other Agrivors. They could come any day, any minute now.”

He doubted it, actually. If his suspicions were correct, then Sheolus would not spare his top assassins on a hunt he
wanted
to lose.

“
Alright,” Elia said quietly, and pushing her blanket aside, sat up and put out her hand.

That was how they had worked it. She would reach for him, and he would guide her. He had helped her walk, and run, and eat. He had prepared a bed on the hard ground each night, and slowly taught her to do what she could on her own.

He helped her up, pressed some dried fruits into her hand, and set about gathering the few things they carried around for camping. She still would not Stride, or even try, out of trauma or depression… and that worried him more than her blindness. He felt sorry for her… but he refused to believe all was lost, and blast it if he didn’t make her believe the same, in the end! Her gentle apathy frightened him more than the threat of Agrivors, by far.

Camp was packed in less than a minute. They ate a cold meal of dried fruit and roots: trail food such as the Golden Nation armies thrived upon, enhanced with Pit Striding growing techniques… which he neglected to tell her, of course. Then they were on their way again, for the ninth day since the massacre in the Golden Sepulcher. This time he hoped to travel through the night and the rest of the next day, if possible.

He could heal injuries, but not exhaustion. And exhausted was something they both were.

Uncounted days seemed only to prove Gramling’s theory. The Golden Nation was mobilized, and troops marched to Goldenport and Goldenpoint every day… but no Agrivors came, and his dreams gradually grew silent, if not perfectly contented. The land was populated, and the Kinn were a stubborn people, able to thrive even when totally enslaved and bound to the harshest of conditions. With stealth, they almost never lacked for shelter or provision… tasteless as that provision might be.

And gradually, Elia began to improve. She did not Stride again, but she grew even tougher than she had been in the Sepulcher… more silent, and more ready to deal with her condition than he would have expected. She could soon do most things on her own, to the degree that he almost suspected she was not totally blind after all. She disagreed. The world was ever-dark for her, but she seemed able to sense things that no ordinary blind man or woman could. She spoke of “air-water,” and “feeling,” which he accepted as some lingering part of her Sea Nymph nature.

And ever closer they drew, to Goldenport… and freedom.

Stay alive, Brother,
Gramling prayed, casting his thoughts out in hopes of somehow kindling a connection. It never worked, but he kept trying.
Just stay in one piece. Fight the tide. Stem it. I’m on my way… just stay alive.

Ever closer. Ever stronger. But always in danger.

The game was far from over.

~

Goldenport was far from golden, in Gramling’s opinion. He had been there several times during his life and training, and each time the city seemed to grow dingier and more… washed-out. Paler, as if the life was slowly being sucked from sandstone buildings and brownwood piers by the cold northern air.

There was a remarkably healthy criminal element to the place, though, despite the iron-handed garrison that oversaw the Golden Nation’s naval functions. In fact, there was good business between certain underworld factions and the Golden Navy. Some of the best Deathfins in the navy were piloted by brigand-captains who dealt with both sides, and came off the richer for it. Submission had not hurt the natural vices of the Kinn race at all.

And that was more than good for Gramling. Especially now, as he hurtled from the roof of one building to the balcony of another, on his way to make the deal that would ship Elia and him out of the Golden Nation. Balancing on the edge of the balcony, Gramling searched the mantelpiece of the door for the telltale signs…

…
Three slashes of black. Blast. That meant this mist-house was being watched. It was suspect, and business-minded individuals were to stay away until conditions were more favorable. Corruption could only get one so far in the Golden Nation… this wasn’t Ymeer, after all.

Gramling sighed, taking a quick look around on all sides to make sure he was not being watched himself. The Kinn on the bustling streets below hadn’t noticed him; they never looked up if they could help it, in his experience. It was quite a drop, though he felt confident Stone Striding could save him if he fell.

Next, he checked the domed roofs that stretched out in sprawling zigzags on all sides. No one was visible, though they hardly would be if they were spies. He’d have to be more careful, then. His stolen white cloak and hood would hide his identity only partially. There were strange stories told of the Golden One’s Paleskin Agrivor, here on the coast. Few would know that he was the truth behind the tales, but still…

Gramling arched his back, dropping off the balcony in a backwards flip that carried him through the air in slow-motion. When his body pointed almost straight down, he spread his fingers and slapped the sandstone wall with all his might. Stone Striding was more effort than Pit Striding, at least for him, but he was far from incompetent.

His hands latched to the smooth structure as if they had been nailed there. His body whipped downward faster than the eye could follow, and he hit the wall with his bare feet, Stone Striding again.
Whump.
It hurt, but he bore it with pleasure.

Perfect execution. His hood hadn’t even come off.

Gramling began a rapid descent, hand over hand over foot, down the wall and behind a large pile of partially-hewn sandstone bricks that lay in the alleyway haphazardly, as if the lazy workers in this portion of town had just walked away from the job. He chuckled as he dropped off the wall into a crouch behind the cover of the blocks. Not likely, that. Laziness was punished with death, here.

Rising, he dusted off his cloak, cinching it tighter with the embroidered scarlet belt that identified him as a lesser agent of the Law, allied with the Northern Argentor, high administrator of the Golden One’s will. With his hood up, gloves on, and a black silk mask across his face, he would look to the street-goers as an important Kinn who wished to remain anonymous. Hiding in plain sight… it appealed to him hugely, and was probably the best course of action in a place where he would be expected to skulk and hide from view.