The Lord of Death (The Age of Dawn Book 2) (16 page)

Grimbald stomped up beside him gripping, Corpsemaker and Nyset’s volley whizzed through the air.

“Ny, no!” Walter shouted. He watched as the burning rings split at the last second, veering around Juzo and slamming into stone. Walter couldn’t see clearly because of the shield, but he knew Juzo was looking at him. The discs sizzled as the stone around them became blobs of magma.

“Just leave me alone!” Juzo screamed.

“Wait—” Walter cut off as Juzo grunted with another incredible jump, landing on another foothold. He leaped vertically again, grabbing onto a small notch in the rock and then vaulting himself to the top of the plateau with an explosive pull of his arms.

“Juzo! Juzo! Come back! I came for you. I never forgot you… come back,” Walter said, as the pain spread from the front of his shoulder to the middle of his back. Baylan’s shield evaporated and Nyset crouched beside him, eyes and hands probing his face and shoulder.

“Juzo is gone, Walter. He’s not the same man anymore,” she said, putting a handkerchief over his wound.

“When did you get so wise? No, he’s just confused. He just doesn’t remember us, he will.”
Right? What the fuck happened to you Juzo?
“We should’ve come earlier, I knew it,” he said with a groan.

“That thing was your friend?” Grimbald said, his voice sounding distant, yet there he was, standing beside him. Something felt wet on his face and he rubbed his cheek, pulling his fingers to find them red with blood.

“That’s not necessary,” he said, eying Nyset’s hand on his shoulder. Walter slowly rose to his feet and took a few steps. The pain in his shoulder magnified like the beat of a drum. His mind was swimming and his stomach fluttered. “I don’t understand, why did he go?” he said slowly, staring at his dusty boots.

He wanted to be alone. He stared up at the top of the plateau, imagining himself falling from its heights onto the rocks below, head exploding into a bloody mess, soul drifting into the Shadow Realm.
It all ends the same, doesn’t it? No. Get it together,
he thought.
There are men marching into battle and this the path you allow your thoughts to travel? Erudition, strength, leadership, discipline, courage, do not forget the tenants,
Noah’s voice beat in his mind.

“I don’t get it, why? Why did he fight me?” He turned, staring at Nyset.
My best friend almost killed me.

She put her hand over her mouth, and then reached out to take his hand. Her hand felt warm and seemed to fit perfectly in his.
Why is it so cold? Wasn’t it hot before?

“C’mon, let’s set up camp over here,” she said, leading him to a flat rock to sit on. Grimbald and Baylan gathered the mounts and tethered them to a dead Cypress.

Inhale. Exhale. Calm the mind and cleanse the spirit with your breath,
Noah’s words said in his mind. He curled up on the rock, laying on his side. His eyelids felt heavy and Baylan’s hand gripped his shoulder. Walter looked up at him, eyes deep-set and crow’s feet sharpening with a soft smile. Baylan’s hand glowed with a soft blue and Walter felt an overwhelming sense of calm wash over his mind and body as he felt himself drifting into sleep. The pain in his shoulder softened, though not entirely. The pain was a strange comfort, a reminder that Juzo was still out there.

The sound of a tent being set up and the cook fire being prepared were a distant background noise. Juzo. A memory of him teaching Walter how to perform the perfect lash carotid artery choke flashed across his mind. Another image appeared, one of them laughing at the Cerumal‘s legs dangling from a hole of the Shiv Fang’s den. Another appeared of Juzo caressing the sword Blackout, whispers coming from the blade.
Whispers from the blade, the blade speaks. How did I miss it before?
His tired mind asked.
It’s the blade that corrupts his soul.

A
horn sounded
in the distance and Walter awoke with a start.
It was just a nightmare, we didn’t find Juzo yet. Did we?
Waves of reality came crashing back along with the pain that wracked his shoulder. He shielded his eyes as Grimbald pulled the tent flap open, white light washing across the dark interior.

“What’s happening? What’s that sound?” It blew again, louder and longer this time.

“The sound of war. Here drink this,” Nyset said hurriedly, kneeling and handing him a cup of amber colored tea. “It will help with the pain and give you some energy. It’s no elixir, but it will do.” Walter rubbed his eyes and groaned as he sat up, taking it from her hands.

“What is this?”
The blade, it’s the damn blade. I have to separate Juzo from Blackout to get him back,
he thought.

“Baylan thinks the Falcon has ran up against the Death Spawn, He’s preparing the horses.”

Walter’s mouth became a deep frown as he stared into the cup of hot tea
. Death Spawn. Not just a few of them, but potentially thousands.
He downed the cup of tea and almost gagged on its horrific taste. He grabbed his shirt and stepped from the tent into the light. The tent’s heavy fabric felt coarse between his fingers, well made. Walter held up the shirt, examining the three angular tears from Juzo’s lash attack. He looked to the sky, it was clear now, but the remnants of ash still littered the ground.

“Are you sure that swill was good for me?”

“It was actually my urine, tastes the same at least,” Grimbald chimed in. “Finally decided to wake up sunshine?” he said with a grin, stropping Corpsemaker with a sharpening stone.

Walter turned to Grimbald, “It’s incredible, your piss should be bottled. I feel like the Phoenix just fucked me all night,” he said with a chuckle.

“Get your things together. We need to go help the Falcon, they’re going to need it…” Baylan said, tying a tent pole on his mare.
Duty is a heavy burden,
Noah had said.

Walter looked at his shoulder, inspecting the wound. The skin around the wound site was black and a ring of angry red surrounded that.
No time for that now, I can worry about that later. This may be the day we die.
A heavy quiet hung on the group as they dismantled the tent and put away sundries.

“Who brought me in last night? I thought I fell asleep out here…”

“I did, you’re heavier than you look,” Grimbald said.

“Oh, thanks. How far do you think are they?” Walter said, stuffing his cotton bedroll into his pack.

Grimbald scratched at his beard that had become more gnarly as the days passed. “I’m not sure...”

“I tried to heal your wound a few times, you might have to try your method of healing, but perhaps later. Don’t drain yourself too much now, unless you feel you must,” Baylan said. The deep horn sounded again, this time with a pulsing fervor. Walter rubbed the back of his neck as he watched Baylan and Grimbald strap the last tent pole to Grimbald’s donkey.

Will the Falcon be a slaughtered mess when we get there?
How can we help without getting ourselves killed? Bloody Dragon, thousands of Death Spawn.
Walter inhaled deeply and closed his eyes.
All men need to follow before they can lead. The time will come when you will need to lead.
He nodded as he remembered Noah’s advice.
What would I have done without his tutelage?

“Alright everyone, gather around,” Walter said. Leather rasped against steel as Baylan slid his long dagger into its sheath. Grimbald sauntered over to Walter with a nod and Nyset strode up beside him, tightening her belt, which was now filled with vials of various colors. Walter twisted his torso a few times, feeling the vigor return to his body and mind.

“We don’t know what we’re going to see when we get to the battle, or even if there will be any fighting. I estimate that we’re no more than a half hour away. With our abilities, we have no choice but to help. We stick together, stay close, and don’t lose one another.”

“Sound good to me, Walt. I’ve got Corpsemaker sharper than she’s ever been. I’ve been sharpening her for the past three hours, could slice a damn hair in half,” Grimbald said, running a finger along its edge.

Walter couldn’t help but grin at his adoration for the weapon, feeling the same about Stormcaller.

“We need some type of tactic, don’t we?” Baylan asked.

“We’ll move in a two-by-two configuration. Grimbald and I will take front, you and Nyset provide support,” Walter wiped his hands on his pants and cleared his throat.

“By the Phoenix, I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Nyset said. “Is there any other choice?”

“I wish there were, truly I do,” Baylan said, fingering his dagger.

“We may die today and… and I want you to know that I love all of you. And that if I do die today, there’s no other people I’d rather do it with,” Walter said, eyes glowing with a vivid green in the morning sun, highlighting a bright gold starburst that surrounded his pupils.

Grimbald put a strong hand on his neck and gave it a squeeze. “Aye, same to you, Walter. It’s been a great adventure and I wouldn’t have had it any other way, you fucking sap,” he laughed.

“And thank you, all of you, for coming with me to find my friend…”

“I love you,” Nyset said, her face red, eyes stricken.

He smiled and gently tilted her chin, kissing her soft lips. Baylan and Grimbald stepped away, finding the horses more interesting.

“Get a tent, you’re gross,” Grimbald said.

“Ah, sorry about that,” Walter said.

“It’s been a pleasure, Walter,” Baylan said, taking a quick note, no doubt transcribing his words.

“Alright, we’re not dead yet, and given our luck so far, we may not be. Don’t forget the plan, let’s stay close.”

T
hey made their way north
, riding hard towards the sounds of blowing horns and beating drums. The Blood Donkey was surprisingly nimble at this speed. Cypress trees flashed by on either side, and the road tumbled beneath him. His ears filled with the clopping of hooves and rattles of harnesses, punctuated by horn blows. The air pushed its way into his mouth, dry air stinging his eyes.

As they drew closer, the fury of men screaming and beasts shrieking carried through the air. The distinctive sound of steel against steel crashed between the plateaus.
Yes, today we will most certainly be fighting.
Walter’s heart beat almost in tune with the distant drum and his armpits felt sopping wet. Time seemed to endlessly drag on as he kept waiting for the next bend to reveal the battle.
They’re all going to be dead. The Falcon was notorious for their harsh training, they’ll be able to stop them, right?

They came upon an oversized tent on the path, white with red patches. The putrid smell of death bit his nostrils. Walter surveyed the tent, bracing for an ambush as they drew near. No ambush came and Walter brought Marie to stop.
They’re not red patches, they’re blood stains.

“Let’s check it out,” he said, dismounting, his body tense.

“Do we have time for this? We should go,” Baylan said.

“Look, there are weapons over there,” he nodded towards a bow and three swords that stood point first in the sand. “Falcon weapons… maybe there’s something we can use.”

“Be careful, I’ll cover you guys,” Nyset said, jumping from Ashes, eyes glowing with the amber glow of the Dragon.

Grimbald grunted and dismounted, catching up to Walter as he marched to the tent. Walter held his nose, trying not to gag. He pulled the tent flap aside, turning his face at the grisly site. Walter counted six bodies mutilated and ripped apart.
No man did this.
There were two women and four men, partially clothed.

“These were scouts,” Grimbald said, pulling the pin free from one of their collars. Walter met his eyes and they both shared a hard expression.

Nyset and Baylan peered through the tent flap and then stepped away. Walter squatted beside Grimbald, examining a young man’s body. The neck had a large gash near the carotid artery.

“It looks— it looks like something was eating at this man’s neck,” Walter said, a hand held over his mouth.

“Same with this one,” Grimbald said, standing over a muscular woman’s body.

“Their unlucky day, but I think this might be our lucky day,” Walter said, walking to the back of the tent. On the table were six sets of armor, polished and arranged in perfect rows. There were only a few drops of dried blood on the pieces. He started strapping on the Falcon armor, tugging on straps and grinning at the feeling of its weight on his back. The armor was a hybrid of plate and leather. Plate covered the shoulders, back, and torso and thick leather laced it all together.

“Shit. Of course, there isn’t a set big enough for me,” Grimbald sighed.

“Look at the set on the end over there. It looks like it belonged to that big guy,” Walter nodded to a burly man whose guts had spilled from a deep, horizontal slash. “The shoulder pieces and bracers might fit, certainly not the chest or back plates, better than nothing…” Walter tucked two stabbing daggers into his belt.

“Great, the one guy who can’t heal himself with magics doesn’t get armor, just great,” Grimbald muttered.

Baylan entered the enormous tent and walked to the table with a scowl. “Stealing from the dead? I think I’ll pass.”

“This is war Baylan. The longer we stay alive, the more Death Spawn we can kill, and the more people we can save,” Walter said, cinching a strap on his thigh.

Baylan groaned and started putting on a set of armor after rubbing off the flecks of blood. “Your logic is sound,” he said quietly.

Nyset came in behind Baylan and started pulling on a smaller set of armor, presumably worn by one of the slain women. They finished putting on the armor in hurried silence, listening to the sounds of tightening straps and clinking steel.

W
alter wet
his lips as the din of war drew nearer and Marie slowed to trot. He looked at Grimbald, whose face was red from excessive scratching. Baylan seemed to be continually uncomfortable on his mare, constantly shifting in his saddle. Nyset pulled up on her shirt’s collar, repeatedly rubbing at the crease. Walter closed his eyes, focusing on the warmth of the sun on his face.
This is another cusp, one where we live or die.

They rounded another sharp bend, opening to a flat trail that sloped down towards a wide expanse of scrubland. Walter exhaled a long held breath and his eyes bulged. There they were, a mass of men with red plumes and glittering armor interspersed with a horde of Death Spawn. If battles were won by the shinier side, they would have had this battle won without a problem. It was a damn shame they weren’t.

Men screamed in death and other’s roared in attack. Their numbers appeared to be roughly the same, which was good, but it meant the Death Spawn still had the upper hand. Faces of friends and falling Breden guards flashed across his mind, their eyes pleading for mercy. The group looked like ants against the lofty plateaus on either side of them.

At the back of the mass of Death Spawn was a golden chariot with four wheels, reflecting the sun with the green hints of emeralds. Walter could see there was a feminine form, hardly clothed, perched at the front and watching intently.
What is that doing here?

“Those fucking bastard!” Grimbald roared.

“Let’s go! Stay strong! To me,” Walter said, kicking Marie’s haunches. She neighed and burst into a gallop.

“How are they going to know not to kill us?” Nyset yelled.

“Because we’re not Death Spawn,” Baylan said, his face a hard grimace.

Gray trees and brown boulders zipped past Walter’s peripheral vision. In the middle of the fray was an enormous creature, sweeping soldiers into the air like rag dolls. Arrows bounced off its armor and those that did make it through didn’t seem to faze it.

“What is that?” Walter shouted to Baylan.

“I don’t know!” Baylan said, robes billowing in the wind. They came to the end of the sloping path that intersected with the plains, edged with looming Cypress trees.

“Alright, let’s secure the horses” Walter said, dismounting and tying Marie to a tree. The others did the same and Walter rubbed the broken Breden hilt at his belt.

“Wiggles, come here boy,” Walter said, beckoning to the hound. The dog whined, wagged its tail, and cocked its head at Walter. Walter fished a piece of dried lamb from his pocket and squatted low, offering it to Wiggles. The dog bounded towards Walter and swallowed the meat in one bite. He secured Wiggles to a tree beside the horses with a short section of rope.

“Protect the horses,” Walter said, rubbing the dog’s ears.

“We’ll see you soon, Wiggles,” Nyset said gravely and giving him a pat.

“This is it guys. Nyset, Baylan this is probably going to be long, conserve your power. Remember the plan, and don’t die,” Walter said, forcing a smile. Nyset nodded, wiping sweat from her brow.

“Everyone ready?” A loud clang cut through the air and Walter’s head whipped over his shoulder, seeing a soldier block another spear thrust with his shield. He looked back at the animals, finding Wiggles gnawing at the rope.
He’ll give up eventually.

Grimbald grunted, drawing Corpsemaker from the crisscrossing straps around his back, venous muscles flexing. Nyset’s fingers ran along the colored vials along her belt and Walter gazed into her doe eyes. He broke eye contact and nodded sharply.
I can’t believe this is real. When does the nightmare end? Be strong, you must lead, they need you.

“Let’s go,” he said, breaking into a jog.
Now would have been a good time to have that Cerumal armor, but I guess this will have to do.