The Knife's Edge (23 page)

Seth spoke, “You may very well fear us if you listen to the stories, but we are real, and so is the danger that you now face.”

“What chases us?” A man in the crowds asked.

Baro’s voice boomed over the sea of heads. “Nightmares of men, known as the Kage, who pose as us.” Whispers roared anew, but Baro’s voice continued, cutting them off, and Gray was jostled among the crowd as they leaned in. “They are the piece missing from your stories, and the true evil of the Lieon.”

“How can we believe you?” A voice shouted in reply.

“You have no choice,” Omni said. “The Kage aim to destroy every living thing in Daerval, until they find the item of their desire.”

The villagers looked at one another, whispering and stirring anxiously. A woman spoke defiantly, “Even if we did believe you, Daerval is not defenseless. The lands will come to our defense!”

“The enemy has taken every city from the Eastern Kingdoms to the western plains, and now Lakewood. What you hope to defend, no longer exists,” Omni said.

A pandemic of voices replaced the Ronin’s. Shouts and whispers of denial and anger, while disorder roiled among the villagers. Gray fought to stay near Darius and Ayva.

“How can that be?” A voice amid the crowds asked.

“Their dark army is larger than before when the nine kingdoms with all their might failed long ago. There is nothing to stop them.”

“And what about you?” A woman asked.

“They mimic our powers, but they are whole and we are not. As we stand, we cannot defeat them,” Omni answered.

An explosion of voices erupted.

“Impossible!”

“There must be something we can do!”

“We have to run!” another voice shouted. Others cried the same, and the crowds swelled.

A man strode forward. “Cowards!” he roared. “You are all gutless cowards! We can fight! I, for one, will not run!” He stood like a barbarian, his large chest puffed in defiance. He had no one around him, Gray noticed.

“Reven, your family is gone, and I weep for you, but mine is not, and I will not lose them to suicidal plans!” Another snapped.

“They are coming! We have to go!” A woman shouted, and others began to cry out as well.

“And follow the Ronin? Surely there must be another way!”

“We all saw the enemy first hand! They are nightmares! We must follow the Ronin. They will protect us!”

A voice rose above the rest. “The Ronin are evil! They can’t be trusted!” Gray followed the voice and saw a small wiry man robed in layers of rags. Eyes turned to him, and he scuttled quietly back into the thicket of the crowds.

“What about Tir Re’ Dol?” someone shouted. Gray turned, recognizing the voice, and saw Darius. He stood, perched on a fallen beam to see above the heads of others. “Surely Tir Re’ Dol is safe!”

“We must flee to Tir Re’ Dol!”

“Tir Re’ Dol is gone,” Seth said, silencing the rising shouts like a thunderclap. “Reduced to a mountain of ash and charred stone. If your so called great capital was sacked in one night, you don’t stand a chance. Even if you did, there is nothing to fight for. What you know as Daerval is no more.”

“You said they seek an item,” a woman asked. “What item?”

“Yes!” said another, “Perhaps if we give them this item, they will stop!” Others spoke up, agreeing avidly.

Gray clutched Morrowil tightly.

Omni glanced to him out of the corner of his eye. “No,” the Ronin said, “If they gain the item, then even Farhaven will be destroyed. You have but a single choice. If you follow us, there is no certain safety, but we will protect you as best we can. If that is your decision, gather supplies for a journey north. Bring blankets, food, water, and anything else you can find that you will need to survive. Spare all else. We move before the sun sets.”

Gray watched the faces of those around him, and he saw uncertainty. At last, he looked north. Beyond, were mountains that reigned like spires of ice, and beyond that, sat the monolithic Burai’s.

“I don’t believe it,” Darius whispered.

“Daerval can’t be gone. An entire land can’t be taken without a fight,” Ayva said.

Gray wasn’t so sure. Suddenly, the crowds stirred, life rippling through the throng. The villagers rose, and without ceremony stripped the deceased of their possessions, the very same bodies they had wept for only moments ago. They scattered, gathering cloaks, blankets and other necessities. As they moved, they slowly gained purpose.

“We should help,” Ayva said. She seized Darius’ arm, and headed towards a large burned building in the center of town.

Gray followed. They approached the fallen structure. Inside, he rummaged for supplies while Ayva and Darius went up the rickety staircase. A sign amid the broken tables read, “The Willow Yen Inn,” and he propped it upon the hearth’s mantelpiece made of thick yen wood. It was the only thing that seemed unharmed. It seemed right leaving it there.

Ayva came charging down the stairs. Behind her, Darius stumbled with clothes brimming from his outstretched arms, bags strapped around him like a packhorse. He laughed and Darius shot him a grimace. Outside, they counted their luck.

Ayva listed their bounty. “Three packs, clothes, a sack full of dried salted pork, as well as two blankets and several skeins of water.”

“Not bad, he said.”

“Pssh, no help from you,” Darius replied shoving him.

Gray scoffed, feigning injury. “That’s not true, I helped.”

“Sure, if sitting back while I did all the hard work is helping,” the rogue said.

Ayva shoved a leather pack into Gray’s hands and another in Darius’. “Here—stop your bickering,” she said and then gave a toss of her hair. “We all know it was all my work anyway.”

Darius rolled his eyes, and then they quickly divided the rest. Gray filled his pack with clothes and water, and strapped it to his back where Morrowil was already placed. Once they were done, they made their way back to the villagers.

Ayva paused, looking around. “Where’s Darius? Wasn’t he just here?”

Gray scanned the soot-streaked faces. What was he doing? Sightseeing? Every building was toppled and charred, so all the alleyways were blocked, every exit but one. It led deeper into the ruined village. “Let’s find out,” he said, and Ayva followed him. Most of the structures rose no higher than their head, but a few still loomed precariously.

In the corner of the village, huddled against a wall, were four terrified horses, on the verge of bolting. Darius knelt before them.

“Darius what in the seven hells of Remwar are you doing?” Ayva whispered. “You’re going to be trampled.”

Darius held up a hand and a sprite young mare the color of snow whinnied and reared onto its hind legs sending a shower of hooves. Darius remained motionless. Slowly, he stood. He approached the creatures while issuing soft words, and slowly put a hand out toward the stallion. It had a black coat, and a white blaze. The creature’s dark eyes watched him. Then at last, it bowed its neck and let him stroke his muzzle.

Ayva sighed in relief.

“You’ve got to give it to him,” Gray said.

Darius looked back with a smug grin, “Not bad, right?”

The snowy mare was the perfect height for Ayva, and beside it was a plain brown pony. But there was one that stood alone, a chestnut stallion with a golden mane. He flicked his head and snorted in warning. Gray approached.

“I wouldn’t,” Darius advised. “That one is mad.”

The horse snorted rearing up on its muscular hind legs. Gray pressed out a hand. In the horse’s wild eyes something swirled, the chaos of the scene that had destroyed Koru village. Gray reached closer, and lashing hooves skimmed his head. Gray reached in the back of his mind and the wind whipped around him. A hoof scrapped his cheek cutting a shallow groove.

Ayva and Darius cried out. “Wait! It’s all right,” he said speaking to the thrashing horse. “I understand.” He reached out a hand and touched the stallion’s velvety nose. The animal’s muscles flexed revealing daunting strength.

Darius breathed through his teeth. “Nicely done.”

The animal nuzzled his palm. The fear in its eyes was gone. “I guess this one is mine.”

“It’s as if they’re meant for us,” Ayva said. “What are the odds?”

“My lucks not run out,” Darius said and leapt onto the black stallion.

Together, they found saddles and rode to the village square. Gray dragged the stubborn pony along. Out of the corner of his vision he saw a flash of gray cloth. He swiveled in his saddle. Wind rustled debris through the empty street.

Ayva and Darius looked at him. “What is it?” she asked.

“I felt something.” His eyes scanned the destruction, and he turned the corner. A verg’s head stared at him with a face frozen in horror—mouth twisted and black eyes peeled wide. It sat on a blood soaked wooden post. A few threads of wispy hair fell from its pate and stuck to the blood. The cut at its neck was clean; the skin hadn’t even puckered yet.

Ayva put a hand to her mouth and turned away.

“Who could do this? And what is it doing here?” Darius said.

“It’s a message,” Gray whispered, peering into the distance, as if he could pierce the walls.

“What kind of a message?” Ayva asked.

“Who cares? It’s a dead verg, that’s all that matters, and I don’t plan on sticking around to find out,” said Darius. “Come on, Gray.”

But the glint of metal caught Gray’s eye. He neared and saw that a small dagger pinned a fragment of gray cloth. He grabbed the edge of his own cloak. A small swath was cut from the corner. He wrenched the fragment free from the dagger, and they matched perfectly. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Ayva and Darius had already moved away. He crumpled the cloth scrap in his hand, and turned away from the gory head.

They reached the village square and saw the others were already moving. They formed a long train out of the village, following the dusty trail northward.

Gray anxiously rubbed the cloth between his thumb and forefinger. He debated telling the others, but decided against it. What would he say? The betrayer of mankind is trying to kill me? No, he had no idea what Kail wanted. But whatever it was, it was between him and the traitorous Ronin.

Approaching the others, he handed off the brown pony to the nearest couple with a small child. He caught up with Ayva and Darius. Mura, Rydel and Karil were at their side, and all of them were just short of the Ronin. He swayed in his saddle while his thoughts churned. The ruins seemed to be full of lurking shadows. Kail was out there, somewhere. To take his mind off it, he decided to name his steed as they passed through the last shattered gates. He looked down at the stallion.

Fendary? Fendary the Stormbreaker. Fendary the Sentinel. Fendary Aquius, a High General during the Lieon had supposedly fought the Ronin. As the stories went, he had only a hundred men to the Ronin’s nine—which side won was a mystery in the stories, but the fight alone solidified Fendary as a legend. However, now that was all mixed up… truth and fallacy, who was good and who was bad, all blended together. No, he thought, patting the horse’s flank affectionately. That name doesn’t fit you.

Fael’wyn, the word came to him. Strangely it seemed right, familiar somehow. Gray nodded, for the first time feeling that he had a companion, someone to share his troubled thoughts with. Looking up, Death’s Gate soared in the distance. It was as if they summoned him.

A Clash of Heroes

T
HEY TRAVELED FOR DAYS.
G
RAY WATCHED
the land change after leaving Koru Village. The grassy hills turned to the flat lands of the Yimar Plains. As they rode, Gray witnessed more of the Kage’s devastation.

The land was scarred, flayed by an army of hooves and tracks from machines of war. Anything green was charred and shriveled, the roving hordes burning all in their path. Several times Gray skirted pools of inky black, remembering Maris’ warning.

Once or twice, they spent a cold night in the shelter of a partially ruined farmstead. Gray slept inside a small farmhouse, like the others, but the smell of death kept him awake. After that, he preferred sleeping on the ground under the sky. Still, he had trouble sleeping. He tossed and turned with nightmares of a burning Lakewood, heads stacked on poles, bloody vergs, and bloated bodies.

One morning as he was riding beside Ayva and Darius, fingering the gray scrap of cloth he’d found, a shrill scream broke the morning air, cascading over the hills.

“What in the dice was that?” Darius asked, watching the skies.

The villager’s all around were equally frightened, whispering amongst themselves.

Maris appeared from thin air at his side, watching the sky with narrowed eyes. The Ronin wore a light green vest, what the stories called a Haori. The man looked just as he had imagined with piercing eyes, an angular face, and white flames of hair.

“Well?” the rogue probed.

“A dragon,” the Ronin answered.

“A dragon? I thought they were just stories,” Ayva said breathless.

Maris smirked. “Like us?”

“Do dragons serve the Kage?” Gray asked.