Heirs of the Fallen: Book 02 - Crown of the Setting Sun (25 page)

Not long after they escaped the stairs, another passage brought them within sight of a torch thrust into a hole in the wall. A figure waited in shadow.

“Ulmek?” Ba’Sel called.

“It is I, brother,” the man said, coming fully into the light. He wore robes sewn from mismatched rags. When they drew closer, Ulmek halted Leitos with a withering stare. “Is that him?” He was shorter than Ba’Sel and of an age with him. His deeply bronzed skin clung to the bones of his face, making it into a brooding, sinister mask.

“Yes,” Ba’Sel said, affectionately clapping a hand on his shoulder. “We cannot hold him to account.”

“You may soon change your mind,” Ulmek said gruffly.

“Has something happened?” Ba’Sel demanded.

“Besides the enemy at your heels,
Alon’mahk’lar
are swarming the eastern hills near the Arch of Tracien, and more have been spotted just south of the White Dunes. We have heard nothing out of the north or west. Daris and Sumahn should have returned before now, but have not.”

“Our enemies have been closer before. As to our brothers, they are both of them young and strong—”

“And reckless,” Ulmek interjected. “It would not surprise me if either of them joined battle with one of the Sons of the Fallen, hoping to collect a trophy to prove they had.”

“They know better.”

“As did we,” Ulmek said with a harsh chuckle, “but that never stayed our hands.”

Ba’Sel ignored that. “Is the Sanctuary ready?”

“Before the last sounding faded, all were armed and waiting,” Ulmek said with a note of pride.

“
Alon’mahk’lar
come behind us,” Ba’Sel said gravely, “and also their wolves.”

“Wolves?” Ulmek spat. “I knew the day it was decided to help those wretches we would pay a price.”

Leitos looked between them, trying to understand why they would have let wolves into the Sanctuary.

“Come,” Ba’Sel said, “we must join our brothers and prepare to fend off our enemy.”

Ulmek shook his head and cursed bitterly. “Even now, you cannot admit that you erred.”

“Rest assured, we will speak of this later,” Ba’Sel said, looking ten years older.

“If we live that long,” Ulmek growled. He stalked into the waiting gloom, leaving Ba’Sel and Leitos to follow or stay.

“Do not mind him,” Ba’Sel said wearily. “Ever has Ulmek been given to wrath for wrath’s sake. But there is no better man to have at your side in battle.”

Leitos looked after Ulmek. “What did he mean about ‘helping wretches?’ ”

“Let us hurry,” Ba’Sel said, pointedly ignoring the question. “As I said before, there is someone waiting for you.”

“It is Zera, isn’t it?” Leitos said, glad for the distraction.

“Love,”
Ba’Sel muttered with a shake of his head, and turned away.

Grinning sheepishly, Leitos followed.

A
dozen doors of thick, iron-banded wood—all of which were shut and barred by robed watchmen upon their passing—stood between them and the Sanctuary. Leitos had never fully imagined the fortress of the Brothers of the Crimson Shield, but he had anticipated more than what he encountered when he passed through the final doorway.

In the light of dozens of torches, the chamber reached no more than ten paces high, spread twice as wide, and ran half again as long. Along the curve of one wall, wooden ladders led up to a ledge that gave access to what could only be sleeping quarters, which were not so different than the cells in which he had slept in the mines. And where he had thought that perhaps there would be hundreds of warriors, their numbers proved pitifully small, no more than four score. All save a handful had assembled at the far end of the chamber, while the remainder ran past Ba’Sel and Leitos with brief nods of greeting.

“I hoped you would have more time for your reunion, but you must hurry,” Ba’Sel said.

Looking for Zera, Leitos asked, “Where is she?”

Ba’Sel gave him an unreadable look, then pointed to a man firing arrows into a plump sack. Something about the man’s posture caught Leitos’s attention. The man who turned was the last he expected to see. His mouth fell open in disbelief when his grandfather’s gray eyes found his.

“Leitos!” Adham cried, hastily stuffing the arrow he had been about to fire back into the quiver at his waist. He sounded less hoarse than Leitos remembered, and he looked stronger. He caught Leitos in his arms.

Leitos awkwardly returned the embrace. Of Zera, there was no sign, and despite his joyful surprise, he wondered why Ba’Sel had never said outright that his grandfather was waiting and not the woman who had rescued him from the Hunters.

The next Leitos knew, he had sat down at his grandfather’s feet, his legs too weak to hold him. He tried to say something, anything, but confusion ruled his mind.

Adham squatted down, his eyes showing concern. “Are you injured?” He ran his hands over Leitos’s shoulders and arms.

“You … I thought….” Leitos’s words dried up and he drew back to get a better look. Ever had Adham been emaciated, and he was still thin, but now he looked younger, his flesh filled out. Even his wisp of shoulder length white hair was thicker and shot through with streaks of iron gray.

“I saw you die,” Leitos muttered, unsteadily gaining his feet. Leitos backed a step away, then another. “Are you a … a spirit?”

“He is no spirit,” Ba’Sel said.

“You need water, food, and rest,” Adham said.

“I saw you die in the mines,” Leitos insisted. “How can you be here … unless—”

All weariness drained away, and he lurched clear. “Who are you?” he spat.

“You know me,” Adham said, raising his hands to show he meant no harm. “I escaped the mines soon after you did. It was a terrible battle, but we drove the slavemasters back. Others fled with me, but in our search for you, the desert took our kindred, one by one, until only I remained. The
Alon’mahk’lar
who survived the rebellion drove me far to the north. In time, I was able to escape.”

Leitos shook his head, unable to believe his grandfather was alive. But he was. There could be no question that the man who stood before him was the same who had raised him.

Slowly, Leitos approached his grandfather, heart swelling, tears brimming. He caught the old man in a fierce hug, feeling as though a part of himself that had been long dead was blossoming into new, vibrant life. Adham returned the embrace.

At last they broke apart, and Leitos faced Ba’Sel with a hopeful grin. “Where is Zera? Have you hidden her away somewhere?”

“There is no time to explain,” Ba’Sel said distractedly. “If our enemies have not found their way into the lower passages by now, they soon will.”

“Is she safe?” Leitos asked. “At least you can tell me that.”

Ba’Sel raised himself up to his full height. “I share your concern,” he said stiffly. “She is as a daughter to me.”

“But is she alive?” Leitos pressed.

“I have little doubt that she is,” Ba’Sel said.

Before Leitos could ask anything else, Ulmek trotted up with a harried expression. “Word has come that
Alon’mahk’lar
have passed under the Arch of Tracien and are converging on the Gates of the Sleeping Jackal.”

“How many?” Ba’Sel asked.

Ulmek swallowed. “
Hundreds
. An equal force marches from the south. Thank the gods that neither group is led by their wolves. Nevertheless, we have little time before they attack.”

“How could they have found this place?” Adham demanded, sounding as he had the day he rose up to challenge the slavemasters, like a king of men. “Unless one of your own has betrayed you?”

Ba’Sel and Ulmek shared a look with Adham that verified his unthinkable question. Adham cursed under his breath.

“If you can use that bow,” Ba’Sel said, “there is a place for you in our ranks.”

“It has been a long time,” Adham said, raising the double-curved bow before him, “but my arms and eyes have not forgotten its use.” He took a deep breath. “You have given me refuge, and now I must ask you to extend that courtesy to my kindred. Keep Leitos with you … and keep him safe.”

Ba’Sel said, “There is nowhere safe, and the most dangerous place at the moment is among our number. But I give my word, I will guard Leitos with my life, as long as it lasts me.”

“You told me your snares could hold off an army,” Leitos protested, unable to believe what he was hearing.

Ba’Sel shook his head. “An army that has no knowledge of our defenses would suffer great losses, but—”

“But since those who betrayed us and were removed from our order are among the demons that attack us,” Ulmek said, grinding his teeth in rage, “those traps are all but useless.”

“We are caught,” Ba’Sel admitted, looking between Ulmek and Adham. “I did not believe we could be, but we are. To make our stand here ensures our deaths, to the last. Yet, even if we flee, many of us will perish.”

“A few of us can stand,” Ulmek said grimly. “Our counterattack will serve as a diversion so the rest may escape. You are our leader, Ba’Sel. Take our brothers from here. I will stay behind with a few others.”

Before Ba’Sel could argue, the heavy door blocking the entrance to the lower passages exploded in a blast of indigo fire. One moment Leitos was looking between Ba’Sel, Ulmek, and Adham, wondering how things could have turned out so badly, and the next moment a hot fist of fire and smoke smashed into him. He floundered on his back, ears ringing. Shards of splintered wood and twists of iron rained down around him.

As the worst of the smoke began to clear, Ba’Sel roared and faced the invaders. One side of his robes blazed, but he entered the fray with sword bared. Ulmek shouted something over his shoulder, then joined his brother against two wolves struggling to squeeze through the narrow doorway. Growls became agonized yelps as the two men attacked, swords slashing.

“Get up!” Adham shouted, his voice muted to Leitos’s ears.

Leitos struggled up and followed after his grandfather. They did not retreat far before Adham turned back. No fear marked his expression, nor did he hesitate. As the chaos spread, Leitos’s only dazed thought was to wonder just who his grandfather had been before the
Alon’mahk’lar
had chained him.

Adham circled to one side and nocked an arrow. He waited until Ulmek and a smoldering Ba’Sel danced back a pace from their foes, then fired the shaft. The arrow streaked into the eye of the nearest wolf. Still jammed tight against its companion, the beast let out a terrible squeal, and began swinging its great head back and forth. Another arrow flashed into its bristled neck. The creature’s remaining eye dimmed, and blood spilled over its lolling tongue.

Ba’Sel charged in again, Ulmek by his side. They hacked at the wolves, steel ringing off thick skulls. Leitos’s insides turned at the reek of crushed bone and spilled blood that flooded from the carnage.

“Is that all?” Ulmek challenged when the wolves went still. A wild light glazed his eyes, and he gave the nearest wolf another swipe with his sword. His laughter, harsh and bellowing, mixed with the steel’s clang to make a brutal, ugly song.

A dozen brothers had come near, weapons held ready. The two wolf corpses began to shift and slide. Something was pushing against them from behind. The gathered brothers fell into wary stances, forming an arc of edged steel, spears, and drawn bows poised to attack whatever came through the doorway.

Adham pulled Leitos farther back, then placed a dagger in his hand. His grandfather seemed more imposing than he ever had before. There was nothing left of the chained man in his posture or in his gaze.

“No matter what comes,” he said in a stony voice, eyeing the dead wolves, “fight until there is no breath in your breast or blood in your veins. You are a child of the north, and that is our way.”

Leitos focused on drawing strength from his fear, the way Ba’Sel had said, but fear did not trouble him. One thought, however, did. All he had done to stay free had been for nothing. He would die this day. The dagger in his hand felt heavy and blunt, utterly useless, so he tucked it into his belt. If he fought, it would be with his bare hands.

“Do you understand?” Adham asked, a note of sorrow tingeing his voice.
We are about to die,
he might have said,
but we will die proud
.

Leitos nodded, wishing he had seen Zera once more.

Silence fell, broken only by the grotesque sounds of the shifting carcasses. One tumbled clear in a boneless heap. The creature’s broad skull, nearly severed from its neck, lolled. Where the corpse had been lodged, an irregular patch of darkness looked with festering malice upon the waiting warriors.

Instead of heaving the other wolf out with first, whatever sheltered within that darkness pulled it from sight by slow increments. Leitos waited, not daring to breathe.

The swath of darkness gradually redefined itself into an open doorway. Materializing from within, growing larger, twins points of emerald fire burned with hellish life. Leitos moaned low in his throat, knowing what he saw, but refusing to believe it.

“N
o!” Leitos tried to scream, but the denial languished, never gathering the strength needed to escape his mind. Those green eyes drew nearer. Leitos fought for a deep breath, but shock and disbelief squeezed his chest tight.

“Make ready,” Adham said, taking three resolute strides forward to stand with the brothers. He nocked arrow to string and drew it back. The bow’s bone-and-wood limbs creaked as they reached full draw, and Leitos thought he could hear his grandfather’s pulse singing softly through the taut string.

Zera moved into the smoked light of the Sanctuary, dragging behind her a pair of dark, vaporous wings. Hers was a face of beautiful death in the eldritch light blazing from her gaze. As with the sooty gloom swirling in her wake, there was something ethereal about her, an aspect of transparency.

Leitos met her stare and something unspoken passed between them. A part of him wanted to run to her, wanted to feel her touch. That part tried to convince him that he was dreaming, that even now they were together, evading demonic wolves in some high mountain pass….