Here Shines the Sun (46 page)

The group shared some moments of silence before it was broken by the distant sound of trumpets.

“It’s going to start soon, boy.” croaked Diotus. He grabbed a bolt-thrower from the table and strapped it over his shoulder. He fixed Rook with his emerald lenses. “Know your path, whatever it is.” He walked up the stairs.

Rook took a last look at his sleeping mother and then stood. “I’m going to go see what’s happening.” He grabbed his sheathed sword, Starbreaker, from the table and began strapping it to his waist.

“I’m coming with you.” said Kierza.

“The hell you are.” stated Callad. “You’re in no shape. And Rook, I want you to lie low too. Look after Kierza and your mother. I’ll go.”

“No.” said Rook.

“Son, this isn’t up for debate.”

“I caused this.” said Rook firmly, looking at Callad. “I’m going, and you’re not stopping me. Ma needs you now more than ever.” He looked at Saint Ertrael. “Are you with us, whatever the course might be?”

Ertrael regarded him for a moment. “I could be recalled at any moment. My Caliber is tired from healing. I am with you all, but my place should be here. Let me use my Caliber to ease their suffering until the time comes when I am gone.”

Rook nodded. He looked at Callad and Kierza. “Please, stay with Ma. I’ll be back soon.”

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Upstairs, Diotus was peering out of a curtained window. It was late morning and golden sunlight streamed in, casting rays of dusty light upon the shelves of potions and tinctures. Out in the streets there was nobody, but Rook could hear the trumpets sound from some distance away. Likely from the city gates, he thought.

Rook came up behind Diotus. “What’s going on?”

“Listen.”

Floating on the wind came a distant voice through a bullhorn. It was the mayor of Bellus, Rook was sure of it. It was too distant to be heard clearly, but the mayor was saying something about the treason of the Venzi family. Rook opened the front door a crack and the voice came more clearly. “Give up the members of the Venzi family—Callad and Sierla Venzi and their slaves, Rook Gatimarian and Kierza Fausts—and you might yet be spared! If they are in hiding, then I urge them to come forward and meet with their justice so that they might spare the rest of this city! Come forward Venzis! Come forward and face your justice!”

Rook closed the door. Diotus was looking at him. “Well, boy? What say you? What shall you do?”

Rook frowned. His eyes turned to the floor where beneath his feet his family hid. All around him were countless citizens cowering in their homes. Soldiers would be coming. They’d have Saints with them. The King and his terrible daughters were likely there too. They would hunt him down. They would kill him. They would kill
everybody
to get to him. He looked at Diotus. “I give myself up.”

Diotus’s green lenses flared in the sunlight. “A Knight of the Dark Star would not give himself up to a justice levied against no crime. No Son of Duroton would willingly walk to the gallows an innocent man. To do so is a crime itself. To support injustice is a sin. The laws of Kings can write evil into good and good into evil. Such laws are not to be obeyed. Laws of the conscience—laws of liberty—are the only true laws, that when broken, a crime is committed. You tell me when yesterday you broke any true law.”

“They’ll kill everyone.” said Rook.

“They could do that anyway, boy.” said Diotus. “The King can kill whoever he wants, for that is his law.” He pointed to the sword that hung upon Rook’s hip. “
Hic Sollas Lumin
—Here Shines the Sun. The sun can set into darkness or rise upon a new dawn. So now it comes to it, boy. Which shall it be?”

The doorknob began twisting and turning. It rattled a few times. Then came the pounding. “Rook! Rook!” It was Ralf’s voice. Rook looked at Diotus. He ran to the door and unlocked it, and in poured the fat man. “Rook! Rook! They’re looking for you!” blubbered the man. In his pudgy hand he carried a makeshift club, a timber from a door frame or something. “I won’t let them get you, Rook! I won’t!” He waved his club high.

“Ralf,” Rook grabbed the man by the shoulders. “You have to go home. It’s not safe for you to be with me.”

“I won’t do it!” said the man. “I won’t let them get you, and neither will they!”

“Who…”

The bell above the door chimed as Blake, one of the city guard, cautiously poked his head in. Blake looked at Rook and his eyes lit up. He stepped in. He was in the armor Rook had made him and had a bolt-thrower over his shoulder and a sword hung at his hip. “They said we’d find you here.”

“Who?” asked Rook in disbelief. “Who said—”

“Come on, Dontis.” said Blake.

Dontis took a few steps in, looking around. He seemed to be taken off-guard by Diotus, but then he looked at Rook. He smiled faintly.

“Dontis?” Rook was puzzled. He hadn’t even made him any armor or weapons. Dontis was in the same beat-up armor he had the day he tried to arrest him. Like Blake, he carried both a sword and a bolt-thrower. “But, why?”

“When I was a boy,” said Dontis, “they accused my father of blasphemy against the King. I was forced to watch as they flogged him to death. Blake told me he was going to fight for you. I figure if something is going to go down, why should I fight for the King? He’s never done anything for me. You didn’t even know me and offered to make me new armor.”

More shadows at the door. Val’s husband, James, walked in with a limp. In his hand he held an old broadsword. Behind him, out in the street, Rook could see a swarm of people. “James?”

“I knew you’d be here.” said James. “You’re always here.” He winked at him. “Aeoria as my witness, they won’t take you or your family so easy. Not before I help you polish that armor and Val teaches that girl of yours to bake a proper cookie.”

Rook walked out of Diotus’s shop. The avenue was choked with three-hundred or more men. Among their numbers the armor of at least fifty city guards shined, all of them with bolt-throwers. Rook did not know all of the people out in the street, but all of them had weapons of one form or another in their hands, and all of them cheered when they saw him. Some were slaves, many were not. As the sun beat down on Rook’s head they all raised their arms in another cheer. Rook’s mouth opened and closed, unable to speak. He felt a hand fall on his shoulder.

“Speak to them, boy.” croaked Diotus into his ear.

Rook turned around. Behind Diotus stood Callad. His giant arms folded over his chest and his bearded face curled with a smile. Slung over his back was one of Diotus’s bolt-throwers. “They won’t just come for you, son. They’ll come for Kierza and Sierla. They’ll come for Diotus and Val, Gabidar and his family. They’ll come for anybody who has ever called you a friend.”

“They will.” said Blake. “I can’t speak for anybody else, but I’d rather die for you than for the King.” Blake pointed out to the people in the street and leaned into Rook’s ear. “Why do you think the mayor hasn’t sent the troops through the city yet? Half of us refused our orders to hunt you down.”

Rook looked at the cheering people in the streets. Diotus spoke into his ear again. “Speak to them.
Hic Sollas Lumin.
”

Rook stepped out further. The sun heated the shoulders of his black, leather armor. He scanned the people in the streets. His heart raced. Hell below, he had no idea what to say. “People of Bellus,” he shouted, his voice shaking nervously. “You know me as Rook Gatimarian, a slave of Narbereth.” Rook paused, his stomach ached with nervous tension but he steeled himself and his voice. “I came here from Jerusa where they starve their citizens. My parents died of hunger when I was a boy. I was abducted and taken into slavery. I was beaten and raped, punished cruelly for no crimes! And this was done not by Saints or Kings or Exalteds, but by my own countrymen! And when I came here, I bore witness to the same injustices! Slaves are bought and sold, women and children raped! The Venzis bought me and made me their son. They treat me well, and have taught me to let go of anger, to spread only joy. I have made myself wealthy by working the forge. I have made swords and armor for nobility. And yet I am still beaten in the streets like a dog, or arrested like a criminal for no wrongdoing! And this is not done by Saints or Kings, but by my own people! Everyday there are shadows around me, everyday there is darkness!

“Still, I share my wealth with those in need. I share my skill. I offer my hand wherever I can. I do this not because I am a slave, but because I don’t believe that every road leads to darkness! I don’t believe that every man is swayed by evil! I believe that all this world needs is a light to shine in dark places!
And I want to be that light!
I want to believe that all men wish to be loved despite the deeds that darken their path! I want to believe that all men seek a higher road, even if it is not visible to them!

“If you fight this day, do not fight for me! Fight because you too want to be a light in dark places! Fight because you want a brighter day! Fight because you want your sisters and brothers, daughters and sons to wake upon a new dawn and not another long night! Fight because you want to shine light upon the evil in this world—not for me or yourselves, but for all those who will
not
stand with you on this day! And that is why
I
will fight! And if you stand with me, I raise my sword for you!”

Rook pulled Starbreaker from its sheath and held it high for all to see. Its golden blade seemed to come alive in the sunlight. “
Hic Sollas Lumin!
Here shines the sun!”

“Here shines the sun!” cried the people as one. Weapons were raised. Bolt-throwers fired into the air. Their chanting shook the windows of Diotus’s shop. “Here shines the sun! Here shines the sun! Here shines the sun!”

— 21 —

Arms Race

The pristine, white surface of the icefields radiated in the moonlight, creating an otherworldly terrain surrounded by darkness and eerie snowdrifts. Brandrir ordered a quick halt and immediately Syrus, Aries and the thirteen remaining soldiers came to a stop, resting their hands on their knees, their breaths creating smoking clouds that mingled with the falling snow. Braken had been using Etheil as a crutch and the pause gave Etheil’s shoulder a much needed break. Etheil watched Brandrir scan the Shardgrims behind them for any sign of movement. After a moment, Brandrir asked Braken to take a look.

Gripping his bleeding stomach, Braken turned his ruby-lensed eyes to the Shardgrims which stood a few miles off. At night they were ghostly sentinels, their sharp spires all aglow in the moon’s silver light. Braken slowly scanned back and forth. “All clear. Nobody is following us.”

With those words it was all Etheil could do not to collapse into the snow. Battling the Kald had taken a lot out of him and there had been no time to rest afterward. Shortly after Solastron fled they stumbled upon Brandrir and he immediately ordered a retreat. He had kept them running for miles without so much as a pause and Etheil’s shoulder was sore where Braken and all his bulk had been leaning. But although Etheil’s body needed a rest, his mind could not until he knew if Solastron was all right. As the others all caught their breaths, Etheil looked around the snowfields for any sign that the wolf might have come this way.

“There,” said Braken. Etheil hissed as the man placed his weight back onto his shoulder. Braken pointed to the left. “Tracks.”

Etheil hurried a few dozen yards away to where the man had pointed. There were large paw prints in the snow, droplets of blood between them. He knelt, inspecting them further. They ran north from the Shardgrims toward the south. The fact that the falling snow had not covered them meant that Solastron had been through here recently. Etheil guessed the wolf was a couple miles ahead of them.

Etheil stood up. He looked to the southern horizon where the mountainous valley stood. The jagged, craggy things were silhouetted against the night sky, their snowy peaks lit by moonlight and the lone star shined above them. Etheil felt his mind ease and a long breath streamed from his lips, carried away by the cold winds. Solastron was going back home to the Grimwatch.

Etheil heard boots clomping through the snow toward him and he turned. Brandrir came up to him, the others all sitting or laying in the snow a short distance away. “I need to speak with you alone,” said Brandrir. He took Etheil by the shoulder and led him a little further from the others.

“What did you find?” asked Etheil. “The soldiers said you left them behind.”

Brandrir frowned. He looked back toward the Shardgrims but didn’t say anything.

“We heard the cry of a beast.” said Etheil. “Something large. Is that what you found?”

Brandrir turned back to Etheil and nodded his head.

Etheil smiled and slapped Brandrir on the shoulder. “Then you have what you need. You can appeal to your brother for aid.”

Brandrir turned his eyes down.

Etheil’s jaw nearly dropped. “You have to be kidding,” said Etheil, a little more loudly than was appropriate. The weight of his armor and the soreness of his body suddenly took their toll on him. He turned from Brandrir and puffed out a smokey breath, then turned back to him. “You promised me that you would ask your brother for aid if we found anything out here. Apollyon below, Brandrir, we all heard that creature. Whatever it was, certainly it warrants having found
something.
”

“If you witnessed what I witnessed, you’d know that I can’t bring my brother into this.” said Brandrir. “At least, not right now. I need time to think; to come to terms with what I saw. It was something very personal.”

“Personal?!”
said Etheil, the cold, night winds whipping at his shroud and hair. “What is that, some secret Brandrir-code for, ‘I want the glory of defeating it to myself’?”

“Etheil,” Brandrir looked over his shoulder, as if to make sure they were out of earshot from the others. Syrus, Aries, Braken and the soldiers were all laying down in the snow, their breaths like little geysers spewing steam as they rested their exhausted bodies. “I know it’s impossible to understand, but you have to trust me on this.” He looked Etheil in the eyes. “I cannot bring my brother into this.”

Etheil was incredulous. He couldn’t even get his words out.

Brandrir grabbed Etheil by the shoulders. “I’ll tell you more once we get the men safely back to the Grimwalk. But we have to get away from here, and quickly.”

Etheil shook his head. “Do you want to know what is impossible to understand? It’s impossible to understand that the Grimwatch is led by a King who can’t be bothered to look at the books every once in a while. It’s impossible to understand how the Grimwatch has stood since the dawn of time, yet ten-years into your rule its on the verge of collapse!”

Brandrir pursed his lips. “You’re out of line, Captain.”

“No, Brandrir, y
ou
are out of line!” snapped Etheil. “Aries told me that they ran out of artillery. She broke her arm trying to open the last storeroom. Braken and his men used the last of the bolts.
The. Last.

“The Grimwatch is dying, Brandrir! If you’d ever take the time to look at the books, you’d know that we have no supplies! We have little food. All it would take to bring the entire place down is a single, large attack. Your men go without pay. Your men go without repairs. By winter, the men will have to go without food. Water and grain will all have to be rationed. And for what? Your silly pride?”

Brandrir grabbed Etheil, his mechanical hand crumpling the collar of Etheil’s breastplate. “You are out of line, Captain!” he growled. “We are friends, but I am still your King. Mind your tongue!”

All the men sat up in the snow, staring. Syrus, Braken and Aries began to stand up.

Etheil stood face-to-face with Brandrir as he held him by the collar. “The men of the Grimwatch are loyal to a fault. They all love you, Brandrir. I love you. You are a brother to me. But, if you love your men the way they love you, you will speak with King Dagrir about getting aid.”

Brandrir pushed Etheil away and turned from him. At this point, all the men were coming to see what was going on.

“My Liege,” said Braken. “What—”

“Move out!” barked Brandrir, waving his mechanical arm.

The moon traced its way across the night sky, but Etheil hardly noticed the hours or the miles. His mind was occupied by alternating thoughts of Solastron and his anger with Brandrir. Mostly, however, his thoughts were on Brandrir. He tried to tell himself that Brandrir would come to his senses, but the more he thought of it, the more he was certain that the man’s pride would always get in the way. The Grimwatch could not survive a large-scale attack right now, and it could not survive another coup attempt. Both were becoming inevitabilities. By winter, if the Kald did not finish off the Grimwatch, the discontent of the soldiers would.

Etheil did his best to push those thoughts aside, hoping beyond hope that when they returned home Brandrir would speak with him sensibly. Perhaps he could even find out what, exactly, Brandrir had witnessed, and what was so damn personal about it. For now, he busied himself with the pains and cramps in his legs. He had let the other soldiers carry the weight of Braken a couple miles back, but even still, he didn’t know how much longer he could keep this pace up. Then, just when he thought he could go no further, the entrance to the Grimwalk finally came into view over a snowdrift.

Etheil could almost feel the relief wash over the men as they came upon that large boulder that sat at the foot of the mountainous valley. Brandrir hit the hidden switch and the men cheered as the boulder rumbled down into the earth, revealing the dark corridor that led home. There would still be miles to go, but they’d be out of the wind and snow and they could take a more leisurely pace, possibly even break for the rest of the night.

Brandrir turned and was about to usher the men inside when Etheil noticed his eyes focus on something. Brandrir froze. As one, Etheil and the others turned around. Standing there, bathed in the glow of the moon, was a tall figure in an iron shroud. Snow fell all around it, and the wind blew, but it remained motionless, as if it could not be touched by such worldly things. In its hand gleamed a long, obsidian dagger.

“What is that thing?” asked Aries.

Brandrir focused on it like a lion ready for its meal. “I don’t know, but I mean to find out.”

With his one remaining arm Syrus took a saber from his back.

“Brandrir, we have injured.” said Etheil, warning in his voice. They both knew this was the same creature from the other night; they both knew it was quick and deadly, but they didn’t know what it wanted. Solastron had told him that it was something not of this world, and that the odor of death was hidden behind its reek of wet rust. Etheil suspected it was a revenant, like the creatures in the tales of the Iron Witch, and he didn’t want anybody in the way who was already injured.

“Braken, Aries, Syrus!” called Brandrir. “Inside! Make for the Grimwatch.”

“But boss,” protested Syrus.

“In! Now!” yelled Brandrir, leaving no room for argument.

Etheil threw off his cloak. Snow swirled up around him into a disc at his waist. He drew Firebrand and ignited it, the fiery blade lighting up the night and casting the snowfield in flickering reds and oranges. Behind him, Etheil heard Brandrir’s sword, Raze, ignite into its steady hum. Steel hissed from scabbards as the soldiers drew their arms. The being strode forward and the thirteen soldiers charged, shouting out, “For the King of the Grims!”

The creature bent forward at the waist and slithered on its feet into the ranks of soldiers. It wove its way between them, slashing and stabbing in flurries before any could so much as turn to face it. The men began working their swords defensively, but the being was too quick. At every opening it would stab through their armor and then slink to the side just in time to avoid being hit itself. Crimson began to paint the snow in dots and swashes as the soldiers fell to its blade.

Despite the soldiers’ proficiency in battle, Etheil could see that this being was beyond their skill and he refused to let any more harm come to them. He also wanted them out of his way so that he could engage it more effectively. With a flick of his wrist he caught the remaining soldiers in his aura and sent them spinning away harmlessly as he shot in at the being. Firebrand roared through the arctic air. The being flowed around strike after strike. Etheil spun just as the being lashed out with its dagger. He tried to catch it in his spiraling aura, but the being seemed completely immune. The obsidian dagger punctured his armor, right beneath his left arm, but Etheil turned and rolled before it could find his flesh.

And then Brandrir’s sword buzzed in. The being ducked and slid forward, coming up behind Brandrir. It slashed its dagger back and forth, but Brandrir was able to turn and dodge before its blade had time to do anything more than spark off his armor. Brandrir whirled his sword around in an upward strike. The creature flowed around it, and Brandrir brought the sword around his head and back down with all his momentum. The being slunk sideways, avoiding the strike, and grabbed Brandrir’s mechanical arm. Brandrir turned away, but the thing’s fingers were inhumanly strong and one of the plates tore off, revealing a dull, black piston beneath that sparkled with all the colors of the rainbow.

Etheil and Brandrir both had a sudden realization. “It’s after the Mard Grander!”

Etheil shot in, Firebrand sweeping up in an arc. The being wove to the side and lashed out with its dagger, ripping another hole in Etheil’s armor. Brandrir wheeled his sword around. The being ducked with lazy efficiency and slithered forward, coming up right inside Brandrir’s arms. As it stood, it hooked its dagger up and Brandrir only narrowly caught it by the wrist with his mechanical hand. Gears moaned as he tried to push the thing’s arm down. Just before the being got the better of him, Brandrir leapt backward and the creature swam at him, its dagger flashing in all directions.

Raze hummed through the air as Brandrir worked it up and down and to the sides, trying to make purchase on the thing. But no matter how fast he was, the being was always just a little faster and his sword did nothing but cut the arctic winds. Now it was at his side, slicing. Brandrir whipped his sword around, but the being slunk beneath it and came up on his other side, stabbing. Brandrir leapt back, sweeping his sword out, but again the thing wove around it and came for him.

The disc of swirling snow intensified around Etheil and he lifted off his feet and flew at the creature, Firebrand a roaring missile before him. Brandrir ducked and rolled to the side just as the being turned. It got its dagger up but Firebrand impacted its chest. Etheil felt the creature crumple around the tip of his blade. He came down atop the being but a portal opened beneath it and it vanished. Etheil turned right just as a portal opened and the being came out, its blade whipping back and forth.