The Vitalis Chronicles: Steps of Krakador (39 page)

“
Thank you,” he said as the soldier took it back and pinned it to his chest. “We need to transport the bodies back to Elandir for burial,” he said as he looked from man to man. “The assassins were killed out on the pillar, but I want a search made to ensure that none of them survived. Who's in command?”

“
I am, sir.” A spindly lieutenant stepped forward from behind the rank and file soldiers that surrounded the pit.

“
There's no need for your engineers to keep working; we'll surrender as soon as Silverdale arrives. But I want a thorough search for any Hunters we may have missed, and I need you to send the bodies back immediately.” But the lieutenant wasn't listening to him any more, he was staring off at the pillar.
Beyond the pillar
, Phelts realized. Everyone was.

Quinn Phelts turned as utterances of fear and disbelief began to break out among the soldiers around him. It only took him seconds to realize exactly what they were looking at. Beyond the smoking remnants of the pillar, standing like a lone candle blown out before its time, came the black sails of the old tales. The invasion force of the Relequim had returned.

T
WENTY-
S
IX

A
RDIN KICKED UP THOUGHTLESSLY AS
S
HILL'S MOMENTUM PUSHED HIM BACKWARDS
. He caught the old man in the chest, sending him over and to the side as he continued past. The knife that was now firmly lodged in his chest had come within a hair's breadth of his heart. He could sense it as the pain of it ripped through him with every motion.

He called upon the warmth, but in its place found nothing but a deep sense of sickness that ached in him from the core of his very bones.
MARD
.

He rolled to his side, but was held back by the pain and couldn't bring himself to sit up. Blood was bubbling in his breath and frothing into his mouth; he had to do something. Panic rose in him now.

“
It takes a lot of courage to stab a Mage-Man twice, you know?” Shill wandered into his line of sight, kneeling just feet away from him to look into his eyes. “I mean, the odds of surviving attacking someone like you are... well, slim to none.”

“
Shill?” He clenched his eyes and grimaced against the pain. “It was you... not Branston? Why?”

Shill took a moment to consider the question. He wasn't in any rush, Ardin realized. Shill was certain that he had already accomplished what he had set out to do. “There are so few things in this world that can give an old man pleasure. You'll never know this now, but when you reach a certain age you no longer care for what you used to love. The simple pleasures in life take on different forms, and if you aren't careful, you may lose track of them all together.”

He stood and took another few steps towards Ardin until he knelt directly over him. “Sometimes all you want is to be remembered, to have your deeds sung and your name carved in stone. And when that's taken from you, when others stand in your stead and you fade to the background, well, sometimes the only way to be remembered is to betray the ones who owe you so dearly.”

“
But Branston.”

“
Branston saved your life,” Shill scoffed. “Highbred bastard put me in the state that I'm in now, all to save you from a fate that finds you in the end regardless. His one good deed, and I just nullified it.”

Ardin spat blood on the ground, but he choked on it now. He could barely breathe, and the burning in his throat began to set off flares in his mind.

“
I managed to slow you down well enough, but I never thought you'd give me such a good opportunity to kill you.” Shill smiled in the dark, the sliver of moonlight illuminating the self satisfaction on his lips. “Though I guess it was our mutual friend who gave me the time I needed in the end. After you're done bleeding out, I should be able to make it north in time to see him come into his power once and for all.”

Ardin didn't dare move any more than he had to, the knife so close to his heart already causing so much damage.

“
No good without your magic, are you? Just some boy with a blade in his ribs.” Shill patted Ardin's arm as he stood. “It's ok, boy, being human is all we're meant for, and you're no exception.”

“
He is meant for godhood!”

Shill spun to the voice as a staff struck out of the darkness and landed a blow against his shoulder. He stumbled, thrown off balance, and barely caught himself before rolling away from another strike.

“
You!” Shill circled the cloaked figure in the darkness. “What are you doing here?”

Hevetican's voice boomed with authority. “I am here to protect he who is meant to save us.”

“
You wretched old fool!” Shill produced a short sword from within the folds of his own travel cloak, something Ardin hadn't even realized he carried until he saw the glint of the night sky run along its edge. “You're too late! He's dying even now, your precious Swift god! And even should he have risen to the challenge, what chance could he possibly stand against the Relequim? What chance do any of us have?!”

He launched himself forward as Hevetican took a step to the side, blocking the blade with his ashen staff and guiding it into thin air. He spun, bringing the wood around as he aimed for Shill's head, but Shill, too, spun and blocked in time to hold him there.

“
It's over!” Shill screamed. “Veria falls, and Grandia is subdued!”

He kicked hard, catching Hevetican in the stomach and sending the old Truan a step backwards. Shill brought the blade around and down on the old man. Shill caught him in the shoulder and spun him to the ground with a snarl.

Hevetican shouted in pain as he slammed down, then grunted as he forced himself to roll away from the finishing blow. Shill howled in anger as he missed his killing strike, and kicked Hevetican in the chest before he could get far enough away.

“
Ardin!” Hevetican groaned as he tried to pick himself up. “You are more than Mage or man!”

“
Silence!” Shill kicked him again and drove down with his sword, catching the old man in the stomach and driving the blade clean through him.

It was Hevetican's turn to howl, though his came from pain and desperation. “Ardin!” He was wailing as Ardin fought to maintain consciousness. He could barely see the two fighting in the dark through the tears and the pain. “You are among the Swift! Be not limited to your magic!”

My magic...
Ardin repeated it in his mind, and then something clicked. The words of the Greater Being, the Brethren, and Hevetican all took root in one fell swoop.
I'm more than just a Mage... I am something far greater.

He made the jump.

Why he hadn't thought to do so before only struck him as foolish. He realized now that there had been more going on in his confrontation with the Relequim than he had believed. He only needed a few moments in this form to heal, and then he would jump back in. In whatever way that knife had been designed to spread the
MARD
throughout him, it had been far too effective for his liking. But it couldn't affect the Shade in him.

He jumped back as Shill stood waiting, Hevetican's broken body barely visible in the dark of night.
The warmth...
Ardin realized with a shock.
It's not coming.

“
That knife was a special one, boy.” Shill was breathing heavily. He wasn't so weak as he had led Ardin to believe, but he wasn't in good shape either. “Given to me specifically for you.”

He raised his sword with one hand as he caught his breath between sentences. “And now I finish what the dragons couldn't do.”

Ardin almost smiled at that. He could still take Shill in a fight. But before Shill could take even a step forward he arched his back in a gaping shock. A blade as white as bone appeared through his cloak, jutting into the moonlight through his left breast.

“
You,” Hevetican took a raspy breath, “are nothing compared to dragons.”

He hauled down on his staff, the blade at its end vanishing in the motion, and spun, bringing the ashen staff around and connecting against Shill's temple with a crack. And with that, the Master of the Renault bodyguard dropped dead in a heap.

Hevetican slumped down as well, the last of his life wavering before Ardin's eyes. He grabbed the old Truan, trying to call up the warmth to heal him, but nothing came. It didn't respond.

“
Ardin.” Hevetican placed a bloody hand on Ardin's white-clad arm. The smear it left as his strength departed looked black in the night. “Take... your place.”

The old Truan's life left him in that moment, the last of it spent to save Ardin's, and Ardin was rendered unable to return the favor. He held onto Hevetican for a moment longer in the stillness that surrounded them, gripping the cloak around his arms until finally he laid his body down along the ground.

Ardin sat through the night, unable to sleep and unwilling to try. The warmth would not stir, no matter how he thought to call it up. It simply was not there. His fears only grew as he thought on his choices and how limited his options to deal with them had suddenly become. He couldn't get to Veria now, not in time, not without his power to move him at speed. Should he even make it, how could he hope to fight an entire army with only the power of one Shade? A power he had yet to fully explore on his own.

How then could he hope to face the Relequim's armies with the Renaults? He might make it in time if he set out immediately on horse, but what would he do when he got there?

The Brethren...
the thought gave him hope.
They'll know what's wrong with me. They have to.

He stood, unable to believe still that Shill had been the traitor in their midst all along. It made Ardin both angry and sad to think that they had all demonized Branston in the wake of his finest moment.

And now he couldn't even so much as burn Hevetican's body. He was out of choices, and though his options in action were few, he had to do what little he could. He walked back to where he and Shill had originally camped and untied their horses. A third horse stood among theirs, nuzzling them as if happy to be reunited. He jumped on his, taking the reins of the other two horses and tying them to his saddle.

How did Hevetican find us?
But the mystery wasn't so thick to Ardin. They hadn't been moving at much of a pace for some time, and the Truan actually knew the territory.

He rode hard, making up for lost time by running as long as the horses could stand to go. There was no warmth to pour into them, no power to augment their speed, only the raw desperation of his need. The world's need. He thought of Rain, and hoped he could make it to her before it was too late.

R
AIN SET OUT WITH THE OUTRIDERS AT THE BREAK OF DAWN
. She hadn't been able to sleep, not really, not after she had been given her orders. Hembrody causing trouble wasn't helping. There was no guarantee that that was what was happening, but it was at the forefront of everyone's minds. Branston had betrayed them at one of their greatest moments of vulnerability, and if Hembrody was anything like his son, his own opportunity was dawning.

Bramblethorn would keep an eye on Hembrody though, of that much she was certain. What wasn't certain was how things would turn out if her brash uncle did something foolish, whether or not Hembrody deserved what he got. Bramblethorn had been acting even more peculiar and prickly as they traveled north. He was itching for a fight. She had to do her best to leave those worries behind. There was no hope of altering events she wasn't present for; she had to focus on finding the Demon's fortress.

Krakador.
Why it had remained hidden all of these years was a mystery to her.
What are you hiding in the desert?

She divided her band of scouts into seven parties, just as her brother had requested, and set them off to investigate each chimney they had spotted from afar. It could take them hours to get to their targets, but for all they knew, each chimney could be in impassable territory. They could wind up out here searching for weeks.

She went with the westernmost group, hoping to cross through the territory she had guessed would house the fortress. There were seven of them with her, all of them wearing reddish-tan clothing intended to blend them into the surrounding terrain. She didn't put much faith in its effectiveness, but at least it gave her men peace of mind.

The canyon they entered the desert mountains through was broad and relatively flat. The mountains themselves soared over them as their sheer sides launched into the sky, only to have their heads cut off hundreds or thousands of feet overhead. Some of the mountains grew out from those surrounding them, but many left broad swaths of land between themselves and their neighbors as the ground steadily rose in elevation beneath them.

Rain turned to the left after passing two such peaks and began the trek west. Hers was the longest path, and it would take her at least a day, if not two, to reach her destination. They left the other parties behind quickly, each taking different courses based loosely off of a map and largely off of their own sense of direction. These men were experts at exploring and reading terrain; she only hoped that most of them would come back alive.