“Your friend will awake. If she had cried out and attracted unwanted attention, then you would have true cause to worry. Besides, this way, she is safe and far from harm.” The Ronin stared straight ahead as they maneuvered through the dusky street. “In a few hours, both she and Darius will wake up with only a bump, and a memory of something they won’t believe.”
“We’re here,” he said at last, turning to the Ronin. Before them was a guard tower he had seen on the way in. It was a high-roofed building of white stone that hugged the town’s wall.
“So the sword is in there?” Maris asked.
“I’d assume so. That’s the only tower I’ve seen, and that’s where he said they were taking the blade, to the tower. So, what’s your plan? I’m pretty sure it’s guarded.”
“Well, we’re just going to saunter up and ask them in a sweet voice if we can have it,” Maris answered.
He scowled. The man was beginning to get on his nerves.
Omni grumbled beneath his cloth mask. “Get on with it, Dared.”
Dared was so utterly silent, Gray had forgotten that the last Ronin was even with them. Tall and handsome, with thin lips and dark, emotionless eyes, Dared looked truly the description of a man lost in immortality. He threw down his pack and Gray noticed his cloak and its insignia. Two crescents of a moon united in a circle, one part light, and the rest dark. Kingdom of the Moon. Dared riffled through his pack and pulled out a coiled strand of rope and something metal that had three rods of steel.
Gray leaned in curiously. “What is that?”
“A kri hook,” Maris explained, sounding as if it should be obvious. He took it from Dared and flicked his wrist, and two of the flat metal rods flipped up on invisible silent hinges. They locked in with a click. With one arm, Maris lobbed the hook. It landed in a crenel in the battlements at the top of the roof, thirty paces up.
“Up you go,” Omni said to Gray and motioned up the wall.
“Aren’t you coming? Can’t you get it easier yourselves?”
Maris laughed, “And risk our own hides?”
Omni looked to Maris and the man cut short his laughter.
“If we’re discovered we’ll have a whole city in an uproar. If you’re found stealing your sword back, it’ll only be mischief,” Omni explained. “We’ll keep the alley safe for your return.” And make sure I don’t run away, Gray thought.
He turned, barely believing what he was doing, grabbing the rope, and he climbed hand over hand. When he reached the top, he looked back down. The Ronin had vanished.
A stone turret sat upon the roof, looking over the town of Lakewood like a sentinel. Gray slowly crept up to the watchtower, staying low, and peeked over the lip of the stone. The turret was empty. Climbing inside, he found a ladder. It led down and into the guard’s hut.
What in the seven hells? He wondered again. First the stories come to life, and now I’m about to risk my life for them? But the sword was his, and he wanted it back. He paused upon the tower, looking out, knowing they were out there somewhere, watching.
Then, with a deep breath, he descended
Arrival
G
RAY GRUNTED AS HE LANDED ON
the balls of his feet. He rose and brushed himself off, looking around the small room.
It lacked any décor, aside from a few crude tapestries to cover the stone walls, and several weapon racks filled with wooden weapons. The hearth before him still glowed with orange embers, and on the nearby table he noticed a half-eaten loaf of bread. He reached out and touched it. Still warm. They’ll be back soon. I’ll have to hurry. There was only one door in the room, his only option was forward. Tiptoeing across the room, he grabbed a wooden spear off a rack and approached the door.
He pushed open the heavy door and entered the hallway. There are others near. It was the same calculating voice that told him Vera was more than she appeared. Cautiously padding through the hallway, he came to a split.
One hallway led straight ahead with a series of doors on either side. Laughter and voices emanated behind the nearest one. Suddenly the door flung open. Gray threw himself to the wall. A guard in chainmail appeared. Bright light poured forth from the room. The guard tossed words with those inside, and then closed the door with a thud, cutting off a chorus of laughter. With a deep belch, the man stretched and moved down the hall, away from Gray.
The other hall snaked, winding down and smelling of pitch. Clutching the wooden spear tightly, Gray followed the flickering torches. He reached the end of the hall and saw a giant cast-iron door with more bracketed torches flanking its side. It stood wide open. Cautiously, he neared when he heard grumbling and grunting from inside. He gripped the spear tighter and slipped into the dim room.
Kneeling in the darkness with his back turned was a small gangly man. He mumbled angrily, as if arguing with himself. Gray moved closer and watched as the man, hunched before a giant chest, fumbled with a large ring of keys. In the light of the torch, he saw pockmarked cheeks and silver rings in his ears. It was the trader whose cart he had snuck upon at the gates of Lakewood. Erebos.
“Merhass! Which stinking one is it? If I find out you lied, I’ll wring yer’ filthy neck,” Erebos grumbled, oblivious to his presence.
Gray saw something dark pool around his feet. The torch light resolved its red tint. Blood. He turned and in the shadows was a body. He approached, keeping his eye to the trader. The man on the ground, a guard by the look of his armor, was still alive. With a look of anguish the guard reached out, gripping Gray’s ankle with surprising strength. Gray wanted to tell the man it was going to be all right, to impart strength in him, but before he could, the guard gurgled, choking on his own blood and gave a final breath.
“Are you finally dead?” Erebos asked and twisted, squinting like a creature unaccustomed to light. Gray lifted the spear. The trader squawked, and flung the set of keys towards him. Gray batted the keys from his face, giving the man just enough time to grab a metal blade. In the lurid light of the torches, Gray saw the small man’s dark eyes and sickly pale face.
“I don’t want to fight,” he said hastily. “We can both drop our weapons and…”
“Shut up!” Erebos snapped, and then tempered his voice as if afraid of others hearing. “You just say that because I have the real weapon. Who are you? Did the Shadow’s Hand send you? And answer quickly or I’ll cut you!” he jeered, thrusting the dagger.
Gray dodged the blade and answered, “No one, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“No one? Then you’re of no use, and no one will care if you die,” Erebos replied.
“Fine!” He said quickly, before the man could move. “I didn’t want to tell you, but…” He dropped his hands and assumed his most confident tone. “Drop the blade and I’ll tell you all. I swear.” He stood tall, and swallowed, towering over the little man. “Believe me when I say, if one drop of my blood is spilled you will see justice, and the Hand will not be kind.” Gray watched as a sudden light of recognition entered the small man’s beady eyes.
“Then you mean to say you are of the Kin, as well?”
Gray was more cautious to accept this title. Though he didn’t see any choice. “I am, now give me the blade, and slowly.”
Erebos shook his head. “But she said I was the only one… I was to get the sword before they arrived and deliver it to them by hand. That’s what she said! She promised me,” he voiced, as if pleading. He looked up, his face a mixture of confusion and betrayal. The look was replaced by a sudden mask of rage. “She promised me!” he shouted, spittle flying from his mouth as he rose to his full height—far taller than Gray imagined.
He cursed, having guessed wrong. “Calm down, I was…” he searched for a word to not offend the man, but found none. “I am not the Kin!” he said at last, but the man’s eyes were wild, as if consumed with only the desire for blood.
Erebos strode forward, raising his dagger.
“Worth a try,” Gray whispered beneath his breath, gripping the spear tighter.
The trader circled him. “Ah, I was worried for a moment, but I see it’s simple now. If you are of the Kin, I have only to kill you and the oath will be mine,” Erebos said with a crazed laugh. He tossed the blade to his other hand and slid it along the inside of his forearm, then licked the bloodied steel.
Ambidextrous, the voice inside Gray’s head shouted. Suddenly, time slowed as a picture was painted, not so much in real scenes, but in feelings, deeply embedded, moves and strikes and counters—all of it against warriors that fought with both hands, and all of it as if he had done it a thousand times before. Ambidextrous fighters are always more skilled at attacking than defending, the voice said. Strike first and you will have the advantage.
Gray’s eyes snapped open as the man lunged. The dagger dove for his stomach. Gray lifted the spear in the nick of time. The blade clipped the wooden haft in two.
Attack! The voice commanded, fusing his limbs with energy. He ducked, the blade whistling over his head. He charged forward. Erebos swung again, swiping at his neck. In the last moment, he flipped the spear around, and rammed the splintered end through the man’s jutting jaw. It happened so fast that Erebos’ expression hardly changed. His small eyes split wide in surprise and his blade clattered to the ground. With a gurgle, he fell to his knees, dead.
Dazed, Gray dropped the spear and moved to the door. The hall was empty. He listened for any sound. Nothing. Turning back, he snatched the metal ring of keys from the ground. He fumbled trying to match one to the chest’s ornate lock…words sounded inside his skull. Often the smallest of keys unlocks the greatest of treasures, Mura’s voice echoed.
Gray found the smallest iron-cast key and slid it into the chest’s slot. It slid home with surprising ease. He laughed in surprise, and with a twist and a clicking sound, the lid popped open. With haste, he moved aside weapons until he uncovered it. A polished gem amid rough-hewn rocks, Morrowil. In the light it appeared simply a perfectly forged steel blade. Suddenly, whispers bounced off the stone.
Quickly, he untied the white cloth from around his waist, and wrapped it around the sword again, then strapped the bundle to his back. Silently, he treaded back down the hallway. At the split, he turned left, and as voices neared, he swiftly slipped out the nearest side door without a breath.
Luckily, he found himself outside. A soft rain fell and mist covered the ground. He glanced left and right. Nothing but dead-end alleys. Straight ahead, the narrow alleyway bisected with the main avenue. Distantly, he heard sounds of the festival, but otherwise, it was deserted. He stepped forward when the mist parted. Figures stepped from the shadows.
“Omni,” he said. “You scared me, where did you come from?”
“You should be scared,” another said from the shadows. It was Seth’s voice. “Did you think you could evade us so easily?”
“Aye, I’m wondering what you were thinking as well,” Maris inquired.
“I wasn’t thinking anything. I simply needed another way out.”
“Did you have trouble?” Omni asked.
“There was a man there already.”
“Did you kill him?”
“He attacked me. I had no choice.” As he said the words, he realized the breadth of what he had just done… It had been easy. Something about that terrified him.
Maris slapped him on the back. “Good, I only hope you did it silently.”
Seth stepped out of the shadows, anger in his stride. He had a sharp nose, dark eyes, and long black hair, and carried Heartgard, as if ready to unleash it at any moment. “What in the blight did you do that for?” He snapped. “Was your goal to alert the whole town? Why don’t you just announce yourself as an intruder while you’re at it?”
“You’ve been less than subtle in your deeds as well, Seth,” Aundevoriä replied. Seth shot him a look, fingering his blade. Aurelious took to his brother’s side.
“Silence! Enough, you three,” Hiron said. “Let the boy respond.”
“No one was alerted, there is no need to check,” Gray said.
“Was it your first kill?” Omni asked, touching his shoulder.
“I’m not sure,” he answered truthfully. “That is, I can’t remember.”
Maris, rolling his dagger through his fingers, sheathed the blade and looked up. “Well then, that sounds like an interesting past you have.”
“A tale for another time,” Omni said. “The man you killed, what was he doing when you found him?”
We were searching for the same thing, and I’d seen him before.”
“When?”
“Entering Lakewood,” he said. “He was the cart driver. A trader named Erebos, he called himself. He helped me get in, though unwittingly. I snuck onto his cart after the gates were closed. The man seemed suspicious at the time, but I never really thought much of it.”
“Just now, did this Erebos say anything?” Omni questioned, blue eyes glinting in the mist.
“Other than wanting the blade? He didn’t make much sense. He seemed mad.”
Omni gave a nod and looked to the dark sky. “Most of them are, driven by their desire and the false promise of immortality from their masters.” Omni gripped his blade in one hand. “If you are telling the truth…” The Ronin paused. “Did he call himself anything?”
“Kin,” Gray said, remembering.