The Gift of Battle (5 page)

Godfrey sat on
the stone floor in the underground chamber of Silis’ palace, Akorth, Fulton,
Ario, and Merek beside him, Dray at his feet, and Silis and her men across from
them. They all sat gloomily, heads lowered, hands across their knees, all
knowing they were on a death watch. The chamber trembled with the thumping of
war up above, of the invasion of Volusia, the sound of their city being sacked
reverberating in their ears. They all sat there, waiting, as the Knights of the
Seven tore Volusia to pieces above their heads.

Godfrey took
another long drink from his sack of wine, the last sack left in the city,
trying to numb the pain, the certainty of his looming death at the hands of the
Empire. He stared at his feet, wondering how it all could have come to this.
Moons ago, he was safe and secure inside the Ring, drinking his life away, with
no other worries but what tavern and what brothel to visit on any given night.
Now here he was, across the sea, in the Empire, trapped underground in a city
under ruin, having walled himself into his own coffin.

His head buzzed,
and he tried to clear his mind, to focus. He sensed what his friends were
thinking, could feel it in the contempt of their glares: they never should have
listened to him; they should have all escaped when they’d had the chance. If
they had not come back for Silis, they could have reached the harbor, boarded a
ship, and now been far from Volusia.

Godfrey tried to
take solace in the fact that he had, at least, repaid a favor and had saved
this woman’s life. If he had not reached her in time to warn her to descend,
she would certainly be up above and dead by now. That had to be worth
something, even if it was unlike him.

“And now?”
Akorth asked.

Godfrey turned
and saw him looking back at him with an accusatory look, voicing the question
that was clearly burning in all of their minds.

Godfrey looked
around and scanned the small, dim chamber, torches flickering, nearly out.
Their measly provisions and a sack of ale were all they had, sitting in one
corner. It was a death vigil. He could still hear the sound of the war up
above, even through these thick walls, and he wondered how long they could ride
out this invasion. Hours? Days? How long would it be until the Knights of the
Seven conquered Volusia? Would they go away?

“It’s not us
they’re after,” Godfrey observed. “It’s Empire fighting Empire. They have a
vendetta against Volusia. They have no issue with us.”

Silis shook her
head.

“They will
occupy this place,” she said somberly, her strong voice cutting through the
silence. “The Knights of the Seven never retreat.”

They all fell
silent.

“Then how long
can we live down here?” Merek asked.

Silis shook her
head as she glanced at their provisions.

“A week,
perhaps,” she replied.

There suddenly
came a tremendous rumble up above, and Godfrey flinched as he felt the ground
shaking beneath him.

Silis jumped to
her feet, agitated, pacing, studying the ceiling as dust began to filter down,
showering over all of them. It sounded like an avalanche of stone above them,
and she examined it as a concerned homeowner.

“They have
breached my castle,” she said, more to herself than to them.

Godfrey saw a
pained look in her face, and he recognized it as the look of someone losing
everything she had.

She turned and
looked at Godfrey gratefully.

“I would be up
there now if it weren’t for you. You saved our lives.”

Godfrey sighed.

“And for what?”
he asked, upset. “What good did it do? So that we can all die down here?”

Silis looked
glum.

“If we remain
here,” Merek asked, “will we all die?”

Silis turned to
him and nodded sadly.

“Yes,” she
answered flatly. “Not today or tomorrow, but within a few days, yes. They
cannot get down here—but we cannot go up there. Soon enough our provisions will
run out.”

“So what then?”
Ario asked, facing her. “Do you plan to die down here? Because I, for one, do
not.”

Silis paced, her
brow furrowed, and Godfrey could see her thinking long and hard.

Then, finally,
she stopped.

“There is a
chance,” she said. “It is risky. But it just might work.”

She turned and
faced them, and Godfrey held his breath in hope and anticipation.

“In my father’s
time, there was an underground passage beneath the castle,” she said. “It leads
through the castle walls. We could find it, if it still exists, and leave at
night, under the cover of darkness. We can try to make our way through the
city, to the harbor. We can take one of my ships, if there are any left, and
sail from this place.”

A long,
uncertain silence fell over the room.

“Risky,” Merek
finally said, his voice grave. “The city will be teeming with Empire. How are
we to cross it without getting killed?”

Silis shrugged.

“True,” she
replied. “If they catch us, we will be killed. But if we emerge when it is dark
enough, and we kill anyone who stands in our way, perhaps we will reach the
harbor.”

“And what if we
find this passageway and reach the harbor, and your ships aren’t there?” Ario
asked.

She faced him.

“No plan is
certain,” she said. “We may very well die out there—and we may very well die
down here.”

“Death comes for
us all,” Godfrey chimed in, feeling a new sense of purpose as he stood and
faced the others, feeling a sense of resolve as he overcame his fears. “It is a
question of how we wish to die: down here, cowering as rats? Or up there, aiming
for our freedom?”

Slowly, one at a
time, the others all stood. They faced him and all nodded solemnly back.

He knew, at that
moment, a plan had been formed. Tonight, they would escape.

Loti and Loc
walked side by side beneath the burning desert sun, the two of them shackled to
each other, as they were whipped by the Empire taskmasters behind them. They
trekked through the wasteland and as they did, Loti wondered once again why her
brother had volunteered them for this dangerous, backbreaking job. Had he gone
mad?

“What were you
thinking?” she whispered to him. They were prodded from behind and as Loc lost
his balance and stumbled forward, Loti caught him by his good arm before he
fell.

“Why would you
volunteer us?” she added.

“Look ahead,” he
said, regaining his balance. “What do you see?”

Loti looked
ahead and saw nothing but the monotonous desert stretched out before them,
filled with slaves, the ground hard with rocks; beyond that, she saw a slope to
a ridge, atop which labored a dozen more slaves. Everywhere were taskmasters,
the sound of whips heavy in the air.

“I see nothing,”
she replied, impatient, “but more of the same: slaves being worked to their
deaths by taskmasters.”

Loti suddenly
felt a searing pain across her back, as if her skin were being torn off, and
she cried out as she was lashed across her back, the whip slicing her skin.

She turned to
see the scowling face of a taskmaster behind her.

“Keep silent!”
he commanded.

Loti felt like
crying from the intense pain, but she held her tongue and continued to walk
beside Loc, her shackles rattling under the sun. She vowed to kill all of these
Empire as soon as she could.

They continued
marching in silence, the only sound that of their boots crunching beneath the
rock. Finally, Loc inched closer beside her.

“It’s not what
you see,” he whispered, “but what you
don’t
see. Look closely. Up there,
on the ridge.”

She studied the
landscape, but saw nothing.

“There is but
one taskmaster up there. One. For two dozen slaves. Look back, over the valley,
and see how many there are.”

Loti glanced
furtively back over her shoulder, and in the valley spread out below, she saw
dozens of taskmasters overseeing slaves, who broke rock and tilled the land.
She turned and looked back up at the ridge, and she understood for the first
time what her brother had in mind. Not only was there only one taskmaster, but
even better, there was a zerta beside him. A means of escape.

She was
impressed.

He nodded in
understanding.

“The ridgetop is
the most dangerous job post,” he whispered. “The hottest, the least desired, by
slave and taskmaster alike. But that, my sister, is an opportunity.”

Loti was
suddenly kicked in the back, and she stumbled forward along with Loc. The two
of them righted themselves and continued up the ridge, Loti gasping for air,
trying to catch her breath beneath the rising heat as they ascended. But this
time, when she looked back up, her heart swelled with optimism, beating faster
in her throat: finally, they had a plan.

Loti had never
considered her brother to be bold, so willing to take such risk, to confront
the Empire. But now as she looked at him, she could see the desperation in his
eyes, could see that he was finally thinking as she was. She saw him in a new
light, and she admired him greatly for it. It was exactly the type of plan she
would have come up with herself.

“And what of our
shackles?” she whispered back, as she made sure the taskmasters were not
looking.

Loc gestured
with his head.

“His saddle,”
Loc replied. “Look closely.”

Loti looked and
saw the long sword dangling in it; she realized they could use it to cut the
shackles. They could make a break from there.

Feeling a sense
of optimism for the first time since being captured, Loti perused the other
slaves atop the peak. They were all broken men and women, hunched mindlessly
over their tasks, none with any defiance left in their eyes; she knew at once
that none of them would be of any help to their cause. That was fine by
her—they did not need their help. They needed but one chance, and for all these
other slaves to serve as a distraction.

Loti felt one
final hard kick in the small of her back, and she stumbled forward and landed
face-first in the dirt as they reached the peak of the ridge. She felt rough
hands drag her back up to her feet, and she turned to see the taskmaster shove
her roughly before turning and heading back down the ridge, leaving them there.

“Get in line!”
yelled a new taskmaster, the sole one atop the ridge.

Loti felt his
calloused hands grab the back of her neck and shove her; her chains rattled as
she hurried forward, stumbling into the work field of slaves. She was handed a
long hoe with an iron end, then given one last shove as the Empire taskmaster
expected her to start tilling with all the others.

Loti turned, saw
Loc give her a meaningful nod, and she felt the fire burning in her veins; she
knew it was now or never.

Loti let out a
cry, raised the hoe, swung it around, and with all her might brought it down.
She was shocked to feel the thud, to see it lodged into the back of the
taskmaster’s head.

Loti had swung
around so quickly, so decisively, clearly he had never expected it. He had not
even time to react. Clearly no slave here, surrounded by all these taskmasters
and with nowhere to run, would ever dare such a move.

Loti felt the
buzz of the hoe throughout her hands and arms, and she watched in shock, then
satisfaction, as the guard stumbled forward and fell. With her back still
burning from the lashes, it felt like vindication.

Her brother
stepped forward, raised his own hoe high, and as the taskmaster began to
writhe, he brought it straight down on the back of his head.

Finally, the
taskmaster lay still.

Breathing hard,
covered in sweat, her heart still pounding, Loti dropped the hoe in disbelief,
sprayed with the man’s blood, and exchanged a glance with her brother. They had
done it.

Loti could feel
the curious stares of all the other slaves around her, and she turned and saw
that they were all watching, mouths agape. They all leaned on their hoes, stopping
work, and gave them a horrified look of disbelief.

Loti knew she
had no time to waste. She ran, Loc beside her, shackled together, to the zerta,
lifted the longsword from its saddle with both hands, raising it high, and
turned.

“Watch out!” she
yelled to Loc.

He braced
himself as she lowered it with all her might and slashed their chains. It
sparked, and she felt the satisfying freedom of their chains being severed.

She turned to go
when she heard a shout.

“And what of
us!?” shouted a voice.

Loti turned to
see the other slaves come running over, holding out their shackles. She turned
and saw the waiting zerta, and she knew time was precious. She wanted to head
east as soon as she could, to head to Volusia, the last place she had knew
Darius was heading. Perhaps she would find him there. Yet at the same time, she
could not stand to see her brothers and sisters shackled.

Loti raced
forward, through the crowd of slaves, slashing shackles left and right, until
all of them were free. She did not know where they would go now that they
were—but at least freedom was theirs to do with as they wished.

Loti turned,
mounted the zerta, and held out a hand for Loc. He gave her his one good hand
and she pulled him up—then gave the zerta a fierce kick in its ribs.

As they took
off, Loti exhilarated at her freedom, in the distance, she could already hear
the shouts of the Empire taskmasters, all spotting her. But she did not wait.
She turned and directed the zerta down the ridge, down the opposite slope, she
and her brother bursting out into the desert, away from the taskmasters—and on
the other side of freedom.