Here Shines the Sun (63 page)

Mordikir was silent.

Etheil turned back to him. “Will he live?”

“Give me some time to answer that.” said Mordikir. “Tell me, that thing that did this to him, it was after the Mard Grander, wasn’t it. I don’t suspect it made off with his arm for no reason.”

Etheil nodded.

“Is the rest of the hammer safe?” asked the Jinn. “Once it realizes it only has but one of the fragments, I expect it to be back.”

“It will never find them.” said Etheil. “Only me and the lieutenants know where they are, and we would all die before giving up their location.” He looked at Mordikir more grimly now. “How did it know? How did it know to fire the flare to seal the Grimwalk?”

“A revenant was once a person.” said Mordikir. “They retain their memories, but in a twisted and disjointed form. I suspect it once knew of the Grimwalk.”

“But, that would mean that it was once one of us.” said Etheil. “One of our own.”

Mordikir nodded. “No better revenant to send here than one who already knows the place. Do you know who sent it?”

“The Council? Lord Tarquin?” Etheil looked at Mordikir. “The Jinn?”

“The Jinn would not send a revenant to do their work.” said Mordikir. “Necromancy is forbidden among my Order.”

“That never stopped the Iron Witch.” said Etheil.

“No, it didn’t.” said Mordikir. “Still, my Order would not raise a revenant. If one of the Jinn is behind it, he or she is working for somebody else. That somebody would likely be the Council, or even King Dagrir himself.”

Etheil shook his head. “Dagrir would never send something like that after his own brother.”

“No, perhaps not. But the Council would.” said Mordikir. “The Council will not rest until they get the Mard Grander back. If you wish to find that creature, I would start at the Council. The next time it appears, there is no telling how many more men will need new parts.”

Etheil turned and stared down at Brandrir, an anger rising in him. “I will find it and return it to death. And I will find who sent it.” Etheil took Brandrir’s hand in his own. “Will he survive this? Can you make him whole again?”

“He’s going to have many new parts.” said Mordikir.

Etheil looked at him. “But will he
survive?
Will he…”

“He won’t be as complex as Syrus, if that’s what you mean.” said Mordikir. “But much of his left side will have to be rebuilt. I will do the best with what I have.”

“No.” said Etheil, shaking his head. “What do you need? I’ll get it myself if I have to.”

Mordikir regarded Etheil for a moment. “Many men here need parts. This wall needs parts. And I’m afraid it is not just that. I need help, Etheil. I am one man, and I am old. What will this wall do when I am gone?”

Etheil held his head low for a moment. The Grimwatch once had many Jinn. Mordikir only stayed because Etheil was his creation, his Dark Star Knight. And there was a certain shame in that, Etheil knew. Shortly before the phoenix failed to rise in Brandrir’s name, King Garidrir had named Etheil an enemy of Duroton and had him locked away in the Black Cells. Brandrir broke Etheil out before returning to the Grimwatch, and it was then that King Garidrir released Mordikir of his duties in shame. Mordikir stayed here, choosing to spend his days with the men and women of the Grimwatch who he had come to love, rather than banish himself to one of the other countries. There was a certain sadness to that, Etheil thought, and he regretted that Mordikir had to bear the responsibilities alone that once two-dozen of his peers helped carry.

Etheil looked back to Mordikir. “With Brandrir like this, I am the Grimwatch’s leader. I will go to Durtania and seek talks with King Dagrir. I will appeal to him for equipment and aid, and more Jinn.”

Mordikir shook his head. “The Jinn will not come here, not unless the Mard Grander is given back to Durtania along with the Grimwatch. Brandrir would have to renounce his crown, and all the men here would have to bow fealty to Dagrir and the Council.”

“That would never happen.” said Etheil. “I will speak with Dagrir. Dagrir is compassionate. Dagrir still loves his brother. It was Dagrir who allowed Lord Egret and Saint Isley to bring the Mard Grander here. If I speak with him, he will send aid. He will give us Jinn.”

“Go to Dagrir.” said Mordikir. “Seek aid. Seek supplies. But no other Jinn will come, Lord Etheil. Not even if King Dagrir orders it.”

Etheil looked at him. “Why? Is your Order’s hatred of Brandrir so great that they cannot at least come to help the others? There are many here who need repairs and new parts. There are many throughout Duroton who would come here could we accept them.”

Mordikir turned to Haylon and Gabrella. “I must speak with Lord Etheil alone, please.”

The two women nodded and took their leave. After they were gone and the door shut, Mordikir turned to Etheil. “Do you know why the prophesies say that Brandrir’s reign will bring Duroton to ruin?” asked Mordikir. “Do you know why the phoenix failed to rise in his name? Why the Lands denounced him?”

Etheil looked at Mordikir but didn’t say anything.

Mordikir took the black hood of his cloak up and turned his back to Etheil. “Brandrir wanted to be a Dark Star Knight, but the Jinn could not mark him.” said Mordikir. His hands worked at something on his face. “It wasn’t because he was the son of a King. Throughout history Kings have had their sons marked as Dark Star Knights. It was an excuse, and King Garidrir only enforced the law once he came to know the secret I am about to tell you.”

There was a soft
click
and Mordikir hissed, as if in pain, and he drew something away from his face. He adjusted his hood so that the black sides of it overhung his eyes, concealing them. He turned around and held out his goggles to Etheil.

Etheil looked at them. Around the edges were sharp spikes, and from within the sides of the inside lenses were thin, copper wires, wet with blood.

“Take them.” said Mordikir. “Hold them to your eyes and gaze upon Brandrir.”

Hesitantly, Etheil took the goggles. He held them to his eyes the best he could, then turned around. The world looked different to him. Certain things luminesced in the emerald vision they provided. Everything was in a strange, sharp contrast, and even things hidden in the shadows of the lab became clear. His gaze fell upon Brandrir. All over his flesh were strange runes that were at once beautiful and terrifying. They held an infernal grace to them, and they seemed to radiate with fire.

Etheil took off the goggles and turned back to Mordikir.

Mordikir took his goggles back and turned around, affixing them to his eyes as he spoke. “Brandrir is marked by a demon. Not a Kald, but something more infernal.” He turned back around, looking at Etheil. “Brandrir walks hand-in-hand with one of Apollyon’s own, and it is this demon who lays claim to Brandrir’s destiny.”

“But… Are you sure?” asked Etheil. “When?
How?
”

“We don’t know.” said the Jinn. “We only know that he is marked.” He fixed Etheil with his emerald-lensed gaze. “Go to Duroton. Ask King Dagrir for aid. But do not ask him to send any of my Order, for they shall not come.”

Etheil breathed out a long breath. He turned and looked down at Brandrir. “I will get you help, old friend. Whatever demon makes claim against you, he also makes claim against me. I shall not let him collect so easily.” Etheil leaned over and kissed Brandrir upon the brow.

“Solastron came through here.” said Mordikir. “Came bounding over the entire wall shortly before you and the others were found.”

Etheil turned to the old man.

“The watchers on the wall said it was quite the sight.” said Mordikir. “They said he jumped over it as if it were nothing.”

“Was he alright?” asked Etheil. “He was wounded.”

“I don’t know.” said Mordikir. “He took off to the south.” Here Mordikir regarded Etheil more fully. “Your wolf has always born scars, much like Brandrir’s, only his are deeper and crueler. But I expect you already knew that.”

Etheil nodded. “Have you always known? Have all the Jinn always known?”

“The Jinn know many things.” said Mordikir. “And many things we keep to ourselves. Some knowledge is not for all to know. Some knowledge is best left a secret.”

Etheil looked at the old Jinn, wondering what else he might know about Solastron.

“Don’t worry, Etheil. I will ask you nothing about Solastron.” said Mordikir. “I am old. Many new things will be revealed to me soon enough. Your secrets are yours to have.”

“Thank you.” said Etheil. “Let the others know I have gone to Durtania, but tell them I have ordered them not to follow. My presence will stir enough animosity there, and I don’t want this to turn into a battle.”

Mordikir nodded. “Be safe, Etheil Freydir.”

Etheil bowed and turned to make his leave when Mordikir stopped him, grabbing his arm.

“Saint Isley is in Durtania. Saints are healers.” said Mordikir. He looked at Brandrir. “The Grimwatch could use a healer.”

— 29 —

Free Narbereth

Rook woke from a dreamless slumber to the sound of a robin’s cheery whistling in the tree just beyond the bedroom’s far wall. Drowsy, golden sun came through the curtains and Kierza’s amber locks were cradled in his neck. Her soft arm was over his chest and the striped, pink scars on it shined in the diffuse light. He looked down at her and saw her brilliant eyes smiling up at him, her unveiled face happy and content. He smiled back. “Good morning.” He kissed her forehead as the robin sang out its morning song once again.

“We could make it a better morning,” she purred, throwing the sheet from his naked body and pressing her own against his. Her hand caressed its way from his chest, down his abdominal muscles, and settled upon the last place her gentle fingers could reach.

Rook smiled and leaned in to her. Their lips locked as his hand brushed through her hair. “I love you.”

She pressed her body more forcefully upon his, making her way atop him as her lips moved from his face to his neck. Her hands massaged over his chest and shoulders. Rook reached up, her breasts filling his hands, and they made love as the birds outside sang to the dawn’s sun.

They laid in bed, forehead to forehead, lost in each others’ eyes until the sound of horses and carts coming up the road broke the peace. Rook could hear Callad exit the house. His father always managed to shut doors too loudly. Outside, he heard Callad speaking with Blake and Dontis and heard the sounds of people unloading wood and stone.

“I guess they were serious about coming to rebuild the house today.” said Kierza, her forehead still against Rook’s.

He nodded. He drew a finger across the scar on her cheek and across her noseless face, and then down her lips. He smiled as he looked into her eyes. “Which means one of these walls might be coming down at any moment.”

“Should we give them a show?” Kierza playfully bit at his lip.

Rook leaned in, pressing his lips to hers. Her hand stroked down his back. And then there was a knocking on the bedroom door. “Time to wake up, my lazy children.” came Sierla’s voice.

Rook and Kierza groaned in unison as they both rolled over on their backs and stretched.

“Maybe not quite as lazy as it might seem.” said the voice of Saint Ertrael.

Rook and Kierza looked at each other. Kierza’s cheeks flushed red and they both giggled.

Then there was a rapping on the window. “Rook, you ought to get up and see your surprise!”

Rook looked at Kierza. She smiled, knowingly. Rook rolled his eyes. “Alright, what is all this about?”

“You’ll see.” she chirped. She pecked him on the cheek.

Rook rolled off the bed and onto his feet. He put on his black, leather armor and strapped Starbreaker to his side. Rook couldn’t help but watch as Kierza slipped into a green, silken summer dress. He smiled. Green really was her color, he thought, as she tied a matching veil over her face.

Outside the bedroom stood Saint Ertrael with Diotus. Ertrael had been staying with them at the cottage and had made the ruined living room into something of his own bedroom. He didn’t seem to mind that it meant he was basically sleeping outside. Rook felt a little humbled by how quickly Ertrael was becoming one of the family. Rook even thought that Ertrael had come to enjoy how much Sierla doted on him, as if he were some long-lost son who finally came home. He could tell Ertrael even looked forward to all the home-cooked meals and seemed fascinated by family life. It was obvious he wasn’t used to being looked after and cared about, and Rook recalled how he actually seemed to enjoy the first time Sierla scolded him for coming home too late. But Rook was surprised to see Saints Asteroth, Sodiel, Raziel, Hadraniel, Cabiel and Loganiel all gathered in what remained of the living room. They had been keeping mostly to themselves at the church in town. The Priest, Sin Eaters and all the clergy had fled when the fighting started so the Saints had it all to themselves, except for those who came to pray in silence.

Jocab and Tomas were also in the mix. They too had come to live here. Currently they slept with Callad and Sierla in their bedroom, but Rook knew that one of the plans with rebuilding the cottage included another bedroom just for them. Tomas was only nine and stood beside Sierla like a lost, frightened puppy. Rook hoped his young age might help him forget the horror he endured two weeks earlier. Rook didn’t think that Tomas had seen him kill his mother, but Jocab definitely had. Even now Jocab eyed Rook hatefully from Sierla’s side.

“Who’s tending Galen?” Kierza asked Diotus. Despite Ertrael’s best efforts at healing, Galen was still in rough shape and was laid up in Diotus’s basement. Once the cottage was repaired the plan was to bring Galen home. For now, however, Kierza, Ertrael and Diotus helped take care of the boy during the day. At night a few of the local women took turns tending him.

“Val and her children are there now.” said Diotus. He no longer wore his Jinn outfit. He was back to his civilian robe, the brown one with the hood with black circles that concealed his eyes.

“Oh good,” said Kierza. She turned to Saint Ertrael and placed her hand upon his breastplate. “We should go see him after all this.”

Ertrael nodded.

Blake, Dontis and Callad came into the room through one of the toppled walls. Blake’s eyes lit up when he saw Rook. “Have we got something for you! Just wait until you see it.”

Rook looked at all the gathered people. “Wait until I see what? What is this about?”

Sierla smiled. “Well, my son. I’ve finished it. It’s not much, but here it is.” She walked over to the couch where there was a large, white, rolled up bundle of fabric. Callad, Blake, Dontis and Ertrael helped Sierla unroll it and then held it up for all to see.

Kierza looked at Rook, smiling brightly. Rook looked at it and couldn’t believe his eyes. It was a great banner. It was a field of white, and upon its center was a golden sun. Around the top, in golden embroidery accentuated with silver, were the words, ‘Free Narbereth’, and around the bottom, ‘
Hic Sollas Lumin’.

“I helped her get the words right.” croaked Diotus.

“I don’t know what to say.” said Rook. “What… what is this for?”

“It’s a flag, silly boy.” said Sierla. “For flying above one’s country.”

“We took a poll.” said Dontis. “Well, as best we could, anyway—so many people and more coming each day. Most people want to call our country Free Narbereth.”

“But everybody agrees that our country’s motto has to be ‘Here Shines the Sun’.” said Blake, smiling. He came up to Rook and slapped him on the back.
“Hic Sollas Lumin,
Rook.”

“Wait, wait, wait… Our
country
?” asked Rook.

Blake nodded. “
Our. Country.
” he said. “Like you said that day, there were no kings and no gods among us. We took this land. We freed this land. This is no longer the Kingdom of Narbereth. This land is all of ours. That means this is
our country
.”

“I don’t know what to say,” said Rook.

“Well you better think of something fast.” said Blake. “The people are in the town square waiting for you to raise the flag this morning.”

Rook swallowed hard. Kierza kissed him on the cheek. “Let’s not keep them waiting.” she said.

It had been more than two weeks since King Dahnzeg and his daughters fell to the swords of their own army. In that time Rook had little chance to do anything but tend to city affairs with Diotus, Blake and a few select others who he trusted unconditionally. Rook never thought such a revolution would have been started by his actions, and he could never have imagined that he would be thrown into a position of such leadership over so many people. But more and more, Rook realized that was what he was becoming, and it was not at all by his own will. Everybody was looking to him for answers, and in many cases, they were answers he just didn’t have. The population of Bellus had exploded overnight with all the knights and soldiers, and already people from neighboring cities were flocking here. News that the King and his daughters were dead spread fast, and faster still spread the rumors that Bellus had become a free and independent city without rule. Food supplies were a primary concern, as was the infrastructure to support so many people. Buildings and streets still needed repairs from the initial skirmishes and housing was becoming a premium. Outside the city walls a village of tents had already gone up.

But there were other, more dire concerns. Ertrael and Diotus didn’t think Bellus had seen the last of its enemies. The Queen of Narbereth, Queen Lustille, was out there somewhere, as were all of Narbereth’s Exalteds and Saints. Ertrael and Hadraniel didn’t believe that they’d see any Saints for a while. Sanctuary would keep them as far from Bellus as possible and would do everything in their power to prevent word from spreading that they had lost the ability to recall their Saints. It was rumored that Queen Lustille had been seen fleeing the capital city of Narberia with her Exalteds the day after the King and his daughters fell. However, that did not mean they wouldn’t seek to attack. They could be trying to amass an army, or seeking aid from Sanctuary or another kingdom. Bellus, for all the people here had achieved, was far from safe right now. Rook had sent scouts out far and wide to monitor the countryside for attacks. Thus far, all was quiet. But for how long, Rook couldn’t be sure.

Right now, however, battle plans and city infrastructure issues went to the back of Rook’s mind as he and his entourage made their way into the city square. The streets were choked with people. When they saw him coming, their cheers roared through the avenues like an ocean wave and they all parted for him. Rook felt hands reaching out to touch him; saw people pointing at him and waving banners painted with a sun. Through the tumult he heard his name cheered, thanked and praised.

Rook felt himself shrink into his armor as he walked behind the Saints who all helped to clear the way for him. He had been cheered in the streets before; he had been cheered when the King and his daughters fell. But that had all been for victorious battle. These cheers, however, were for something else. They held a different kind of weight, and it was crushing him. These were the cheers of people looking upon a leader; a ruler; an idol; a hero. He wasn’t any of those things. He was just a slave of Narbereth who had stood up one day. It wasn’t anything more than the rest of these people could do. But more than that, deep down he felt himself a villain. His actions had led to the deaths of Karinael and Marisal, and nearly the deaths of Galen and the other Saints. He had called upon the demon, and those close to him had paid the price. He wanted to run.

Rook slipped his hand into Kierza’s. At his other side Diotus leaned into him and said, “In Duroton there was once a young man named Rankin Parvailes. He was an orphan and stole food from vendors in the streets when times were tough and the orphanage was overcrowded and could not provide for all the children. But one day he was caught and tried as a thief, and then he was sent to be a laborer, indentured to the Lands. He was a slave really, such is the fate of many thieves in Duroton.

“He was about your age when the Iron Witch rose to power in the east of Duroton, near Mount Yotun. The Iron Witch was once a Jinn, but her mind was twisted by the blood magic and spells of the dead she dabbled in. She rose to great power, and none dared venture to her tower, for even the King feared her curses. The people cowered in the night, never knowing when she would strike next, coming to steal away children for sacrifices to her blood magic.

“One night, the Iron Witch and her servants struck upon a small village near the Blue Wilds. It was the village where Rankin grew up, and he knew many of the young children the Iron Witch stole from the orphanage. Rankin was strong from laboring and digging the trenches for gas lines, but he was not a warrior. Still, he vowed that he would put an end to the Iron Witch, and asked that any who had the courage might follow him. But nobody would join him, for he was nothing but a laborer.

“But Rankin was determined to end the reign of the Iron Witch and her servants of the dead, the revenants. Few had stood against such creatures, and fewer still lived to tell their tale. It was said that only a blessed hand or blessed weapon could turn them away. Knowing this, Rankin thought to obtain the one blessed artifact he knew of. It was a sword named the Valclarinax, a holy weapon that had been blessed by Saint Rachiel of the Blessed Hand during the First Age. The sword was kept as a treasured artifact in the great church of Durtania, and Rankin stole it away one night.

“With the holy Valclarinax in hand, Rankin went to the tower of the Iron Witch and faced her alone. She sent her revenants upon him, but by the light of the Valclarinax they were turned. Then he came upon the Iron Witch herself, and a fearsome foe was she. They battled, and like King Tharick who broke the Mard Grander when he struck down Apollyon, Rankin broke the holy sword when he struck it upon the Iron Witch. As she died, the army of revenants crumbled to dust, their souls free and at peace at last.

“Rankin returned home with many children and brought the mask of the Iron Witch back with him as proof that her powers were no more. He was hailed a hero and even the King summoned him to the throne to receive titles and honors. The King sent men to tear down the cursed tower, and in its place put a statue of Rankin, so that all might remember that heroes are born of courage and not their skill with a sword.