Here Shines the Sun (2 page)

Rook’s hand deftly flipped the dagger around, presenting the subtly curved hilt and the black, leather-wound handle to Chazod’s neck. “I mean to buy her from you for all time. I offer you a trade. Your sister for this dagger. Take it. It’s yours.”

Chazod eyed Rook skeptically and then snatched the dagger from his hand. He seemed to marvel at it as he twisted it, the metal sparkling oddly in the light of the winter moon. “This… this is that metal you make, isn’t it.” Nyal tried to grab it but Chazod pushed him away.

“I call it Everlight.” said Rook. “And I haven’t been able to make much of it, yet. That dagger is worth ten-times what your master paid for her. And you.”

Chazod’s green eyes fixed on him. He tucked the dagger in his belt. “How do you know how much he paid for me? Who the fuck do you think you are?” he sneered. “You think you’re some little prince?” He pushed Rook hard on the shoulder, nearly spinning him. “You think you’re something?” he pushed him again. “You think you’re something because your master’s been letting you earn money?”

“Trade me.” said Rook, catching Chazod’s hand as he went to push him again. Rook tossed his hand away. “Keep the dagger. Keep it hidden. And when you turn twenty-one, use it to buy your freedom and all of your friends’. Let it be your hope for a better day.”

Chazod’s face twisted in anger. “My hope?” he spat. He brushed his hands down his beat-up armor. “There’s no hope for those who have to fight in the arenas.” He grabbed Rook around the collar and drew his fist back. “I’m gonna beat you senseless, you fucking little prince!”

“Enough.” came a gruff voice.

Chazod looked up and his face went pale. He released Rook and stood up straight. The other boys all fell into order as well. Kierza pressed herself against the wall and shrunk back into the alley.

Grandon Faust was a short, stocky man dressed in all black. He stood in the road, his arms akimbo, as he assessed his boys with his sharp, gray eyes. Upon his back he wore four swords, two handles protruding from behind each shoulder. His short, black hair was as dark as the night around him and his beard was plaited with silver beads. He puffed out a long breath that smoked in the chill air. Then he strode forward and stopped before them all. He regarded Rook for a moment, then turned his eyes to Chazod and the others before he took notice of Kierza. “Girl, what are you doing out here with my boys? You get out of those shadows.”

Kierza slunk her way from the shadows of the alley, holding her broken veil over her face. “I…” she began, her eyes cast down. “I was just…”

“She’s been out here whoring herself to this brat.” spat Chazod. He pushed Rook on the shoulder. “This brat thinks he’s a prince or something. Thinks he—”

The back of Grandon Faust’s hand struck across Chazod’s cheek and the boy fell over. Chazod held his mouth as he looked up at his master. “He’s the one I should have bought three years ago.” said Grandon. He looked down at Rook. “This one here earns his keep.” He looked back down at Chazod. “Boy, I should have cut out your tongue that day for poisoning my thoughts. I could have had this one.”

Chazod cast Rook a fiery gaze. “He’s been earning money!”

Grandon eyed Chazod skeptically. “Get up.” He turned to Rook. “That true, boy? Your master been letting you keep earnings?”

Chazod slunk back to his feet, his venomous eyes catching Rook’s. He pointed at him. “He thinks he’s gonna buy Kierza. Says he wants to buy her. He sneaks around here and meets up with her.”

“That’s not true.” said Rook. “He was—”

Rook felt the fabric of his shirt tighten as Grandon grabbed him by the collar and drew him in, lifting him up so that he had to stand on the tips of his toes. Grandon turned to Kierza. “You been whoring yourself to this boy?”

“No!” squeaked Kierza. “I would never—”

“Girl,” said Grandon. “I find out you’re lying…”

“She’s never done that.” said Rook, placing his own hands around Grandon’s thick, hairy wrist. “Let me go.”

Grandon smacked him across the face. “Boy, you learn your place with me. You tell me the truth now. You been sneaking around, meeting with my property?”

“I’ll buy her from you.” said Rook. “Let me go.”

Grandon tightened his grasp. “Your master letting you earn wages?”

“Rook!” came a loud voice that seemed to rumble the night air. “Rook!” called Callad again as he lumbered quickly down the road. Callad Venzi was something of a mountain of a man. He was tall and burly with hands more like bear paws. The flannel shirt he wore could hardly contain his barrel-chest, and thick hair sprouted from the top like weeds. He ran one of his giant hands through is short, soot-streaked hair as he came upon them. “Rook, son, you all right?”

Grandon released Rook, practically tossing him aside as he turned to face Callad. Grandon, in both size and stature, was dwarfed by Callad, but Rook had seen Grandon fight in the arena. Grandon was a championship swordsman and was fast, powerful, and deadly in combat. “Your boy here thinks he can take off with my property.” he said, pointing a meaty finger toward Kierza. “I know she’s damn-near worthless—can’t hardly please a man to save herself—but she’s mine nonetheless.”

Callad stroked his ham-hand down his bearded chin and looked at Rook. “Rook, son, tell me what’s going on here.”

“Buy her,” said Rook, looking at Kierza as she stood slouched in the shadows, holding her broken veil over her face. “You can’t let her stay with them. Buy her from them.”

“She stays wherever we want her to stay,” spat Chazod. “You can’t—”

“Boy, shut your damn mouth before I break that jaw of yours.” barked Grandon. He turned to face Callad, placing his arms akimbo. “Your boy there is out of line, Callad. You’d do best to teach him some proper respect. Stop making him think he’s your son and teach him what it means to be a proper slave.”

Callad scowled at Grandon briefly and then knelt beside Rook, placing his hands on his shoulders. Rook could smell the pleasing scent of woodsmoke and coal on him. “Son,” he said softly. “You know it’s not like that. You can’t just tell a man you’re going to—”

“Buy her.”
pleaded Rook. He peered into Callad’s deep, brown eyes. “Use my money. Use all the money I’ve earned. I don’t care; use it all. Just
buy
her.
Please
.”

Callad breathed out loudly through his nose, it smoked in the cold and ruffled the coarse coating of beard on his face. His lips pursed into a frown. “Son…”

“Your boy ain’t allowed to have money.” said Grandon. “I hear you’ve been letting him take earnings. I could report you.”

Callad turned his eyes up to Grandon and scowled. He lumbered back up to his feet. He looked down to Rook. “Son, let’s go.”

“No!” cried Rook. “We can’t! Buy her!”

“She ain’t for sale to you.” said Grandon. “You’re a slave, boy. Not his son. You’d do best to learn that. And as a slave, you can’t buy anything. But I’ll tell you what, if you want her to go home with your master so badly, I’ll make you a proposition.”

“What?” shot Chazod. “You can’t—”

Chazod’s head whipped to the side as Grandon’s hand smacked him across the cheek. He faced the boy and jammed a thick finger into his chest. “That’s the last warning I’m giving you tonight, boy. You mind your place.”

Chazod nodded meekly as he held his cheek.

Grandon turned to face Callad. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll trade you. Your boy for my girl.”

“No!” barked Callad. He shook his head vigorously. His giant hand clenched down on Rook’s shoulder. “Come on son, let’s go.”

Rook tore himself free. “Yes. Fine. I’ll trade.”

“Absolutely not.” said Callad. “Let’s go.”

“Then let our boys fight.” said Grandon. “Your boy beats mine,” Grandon slapped Chazod on the shoulder, “and you can have her free. But if my boy wins, I get to keep yours.”

“No!” said Callad. “Absolutely not!”

“Yes,” said Rook. “Let me do it. I can fight him. I can beat him.”

Callad’s eyes flashed with an anger Rook had never seen before. “Rook, this is not up for discussion.”

“Callad,” said Grandon. “If you’ve been letting your slave earn wages, that’s an offense. I’ll turn you in and they’ll take him. Then neither of us gets him. They fight. Right here, right now. Winner gets to keep the others’.”

Callad regarded Grandon, and Rook was certain he saw fear on his father’s face. “Grandon…”

“It’s done.” said Grandon. “You got nothing to bargain with. You’ve been letting your slave earn wages. I could have him taken from you this very night. Now, we’re going to do this my way. We both win. I get a chance to get the slave I should’ve bought, and you get the chance to keep your slave without me turning you in.”

“And we get Kierza,” said Rook, pointing to her. “If I win, Kierza comes home with us.”

Grandon nodded. “That was my deal. But you ain’t going to win, boy.”

“I’ll do it.” said Rook.

“Son…” Callad placed his hand on Rook’s shoulder. “These boys, they fight, Rook.” he said softly. “They train. They train to fight and kill.”

Rook looked up at Callad. “I can fight too.” he hissed. “Diotus has been—”

“Rook, I told you I don’t like you and that Diotus—”

“You have to let me do this.” said Rook. His eyes pierced into Callad’s. “Somebody once told me that when you look upon evil, you cannot blink. You can’t be afraid. You have to let me do this.”

Callad closed his eyes and shook his big head softly. “Rook, son, you can’t save everybody. Me and Sierla, we love you. If we lost you…”

“But we
have
to do this,” said Rook. “Sometimes we have to do things that are scary. Sometimes, that’s what good requires. If we don’t stand up for her, who will?”

“You can’t stand up for everybody, Rook.”

“I can stand up for her today. And one day, I
will
stand up for everybody. And everybody else will stand up too.”

“Come on, Callad.” growled Grandon. “The night’s wasting. I ain’t going to offer you this chance again. We do this right now or I’ll report you. Then we both lose.”

Callad exhaled, his eyes pinched shut and his hands squeezed Rook’s shoulders.

Rook patted the top of Callad’s hand and then peeled himself away to face Grandon. “I’ll do it. It’s a deal.”

Grandon huffed a laugh as he looked upon Callad, his breath smoking. “Your boy’s as good as mine.” He now turned to Chazod, pulling a cigar from his pocket. “Don’t you lose, boy, or I’ll have you spend the winter stoking the smithy furnaces.” He struck his match and puffed at his cigar.

“The sword.” said Callad, pointing at Chazod. “No weapons.”

Grandon blew out a plume of smoke and nodded at Chazod. “Knock him out. How I showed you.”

Rook watched as the older boy unfastened his scabbard and it fell to the ground at his feet. He didn’t immediately see the dagger on him.

“Rook, son,” said Callad, placing a giant paw on his shoulder. “You don’t have to do this.”

Rook looked up at him. “Yes, I do, dad.”

Callad closed his eyes and exhaled deeply.

Grandon Faust gestured to his boys to make room and they formed something of a circle around Rook and Chazod. Rook felt his heart beating faster. His breath smoked in the chill night. His hand found the Golothic in his pocket; that small, red, sandy-textured stone in the shape of a partially closed fist. It was the demon, Bulifer’s, promise to him; their covenant. Rook had traded his and his sister Ursula’s safety for it three-years ago. It was always warm to the touch, but right now it seemed to burn in his pocket. Chazod was with Grandon Faust the day he was up for sale on the platform. The Golothic had burned in his pocket then, prodding him to be taken by Grandon. Rook had seen to it that Bulifer did not get his way that day. He wondered if the demon might get his dues tonight.

Chazod stood about five-feet from him, his green eyes catching the light of his master’s cigar, giving them a terrible, fiery intensity. “You won’t think you’re such a prince once you’re living with us, brat.”

“Girl,” said Grandon. “Get over here. You’re going to watch your brother bloody up this fool. And boy, you best not damage him too much. I want his skills.”

Rook watched as Kierza slunk toward her master, her head down and her hand holding the veil over her ruined face. He could see the slave brand on her neck, the scar tissue standing out in pink contrast to her pale skin. Rook squeezed the Golothic, taking its fierce heat into him. He hated that there were slaves. He hated what the people of Narbereth did to their women. He hated kings and nobles, but most of all, he hated the Saints Caliber. They would all get their’s one day. His covenant with the demon was for a weapon. One day—and he did not know how far away that day might be—the demon would come to him for a weapon and he would have to make it for him. Such was their pact. Rook was still determined to give it to the demon, right through his heart. And then he would turn that weapon upon everyone he called his enemy.

Rook looked at Kierza. He smiled at her. “Take off your veil.”

Kierza turned her brilliant eyes up to him. He could almost detect a faint smile from beneath the veil, but she shook her head softly.

“Take it off, girl.” said Grandon. “Let him see the creature he’s fighting for.”

Kierza let the veil fall into the snow. She turned her noseless face away.

“No matter what, I’ll be able to protect you now.” said Rook. “I won’t ever let them hurt you again.”

Chazod and the other boys all snickered. “You can’t even protect yourself, brat.” spat Chazod. “Look at you: you’re a little prince weakling.”

“Princess.” corrected Nyal, to the laughs of the others.

The words stung Rook more than any of them knew. He hoped he would do a better job protecting this girl than he had done with his sister, Ursula.

“Enough chat.” said Grandon. He puffed at his cigar. “Get this over with, boy. I want to go home for supper.”

Chazod moved in at Rook and swung a punch. Rook ducked and moved in but Chazod brought his knee up into Rook’s chest. Rook felt himself stumble backward and then Chazod’s fist struck him across the face and he tripped and fell onto his butt. The boys all laughed.