《Wings of Sorrow》


 Ch 1: The Dancing Bear

    Grim was comfortable. The fire warmed his bones, his mug was full, and the bar was nearly empty, which was how he preferred it. Crowded rooms made him anxious and he left the luxury of the inner city to escape his problems, not to add to them. Alcohol helped to forget. The night was late and his vision blurred from the booze. The walls were made of ramshackle boards claimed from the rubbish heaps of the inner city, the floor was dirt, and the ale tasted like piss. Grim rarely felt more at ease. In the back of his mind, he dreaded going home. He could already see the judgment in his father¡¯s eyes. He took another drink.


    The family who owned The Dancing Bear ate the leftovers of the day¡¯s food. The girl couldn¡¯t have been more than thirteen and looked pretty, if a little skinny. The mother was attractive enough that he might have tried his luck with her, were he in a better condition. At the moment, he couldn¡¯t think straight, let alone be charming.


    Besides, he¡¯d rather not piss off the father. Even looking at the man-made Grim nervous. He was thickly built, and scars covered every inch of his body. An indentation marred his left cheek where the bones snapped and never healed right. It gave his face a lopsided look, forcing his lips into a grimace. Grim had noted that he was missing the middle finger of his right hand. The Venarans had often cut the fingers off captured archers in the last war.


    ¡°Fucking Greencloaks.¡± Grim took another drink.


    Despite the father¡¯s rough exterior, the family seemed happy and the sight made Grim¡¯s heart ache. He frowned into his empty mug. Last call had long since passed and that was all the comfort he would receive tonight. He felt numb.


    ¡°Hello!¡±


    Grim jumped at the voice and looked over to see the girl standing about a pace away, looking up at him with curious eyes.


    ¡°Can I help you?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± she exclaimed. ¡°You¡¯re Grim Thorne, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    He could feel her staring at his scar. Grim self-consciously rubbed at the brand on his throat, an elongated X-shaped disfigurement that ran the length of the right side of his neck, stopping just below his jawline. It marked where he had been branded a bastard. The memory of searing hot iron and the smell of charred flesh made his skin crawl.


    He forced a smile to his face ¡°Never heard of him. With the last name of Thorne that guy must be a real prick,¡± he slurred, trying to take a drink from his mug and reliving his earlier disappointment.


    She smirked, ¡°That¡¯s what my mom said.¡± Grim narrowed his eyes as she kept talking ¡°I¡¯m Melissa Elania Haverson. But my friends call me Lissa. You can too if you want.¡±


    Grim smiled. ¡°Well, Lissa Elania Haverson, what can I do for you?¡±


    The girl beamed when he called her Lissa. ¡°Well, Sir, my mom said I couldn¡¯t bother you while I was working because you were still giving us money, but now that you aren¡¯t anymore she said I could come talk to you.¡±


    Grim glanced to where the couple sat across the room, they were both looking at him. The woman whispered in the man¡¯s ear and his booming laughter echoed across the room. It didn¡¯t take much imagination to figure out who they were talking about. Grim returned his attention to the girl. ¡°Well lass, what¡¯s on your mind?¡±


    Lissa bit her lip and looked down to the ground, brushing one of her feet against the dirt floor. The girl soon looked back up at him. ¡°I just wanted to ask what it¡¯s like?¡±


    ¡°What it¡¯s like?¡±


    ¡°To live in the castle.¡± Her eyes lit up at the mention of his home.


    Grim fought the urge to grimace and instead, forced a smile to his face. ¡°It¡¯s incredible. The halls are always filled with the smell of baking bread from the kitchen, the view from the wall is a sight to see and it¡¯s the safest place in the whole city.¡±


    ¡°What about the people there? The nobles, the Briar Guard, The Earl and Ilyena? I love seeing her when she comes outside. Everything about her is so beautiful. I¡¯d love to be just like her someday.¡± She glanced in the direction of where the castle would be through the wall.


    ¡°She¡¯s-¡± Grim paused. ¡°Nice.¡±


    ¡°What about everyone else?¡± Lissa asked, her eyes still wide.


    ¡°The Earl¡¯s the finest warrior I¡¯ve ever met. I can personally attest to that.¡± Grim rubbed at an old welt along his leg. Bastard. ¡°And the nobles throw the most wonderous parties with all the finest foods. Some of them shipped all the way from Tara.¡±


    The girl glanced at his belly. ¡°I could have guessed that last part on my own.¡± She smiled.


    Grim snorted in amusement as Lissa smirked at him. He self-consciously patted his cookie pouch and forced a smile. ¡°Maybe you can have one of these someday too.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll get lucky and marry a Briar Guard someday, then I could live up in the castle with you. wouldn¡¯t that be great?¡±


    ¡°Aye, Fair Lissa, that it would. I¡¯ll be sure to start sending them your way.¡±


    Lissa blushed and looked at her feet. Grim chuckled. ¡°Maybe in a few years then.¡±


    He might have been a bastard, but he wasn¡¯t about to crush this girl¡¯s fantasy and sense of wonder. The world would do that soon enough. As she opened her mouth to speak again, the door of the tavern slammed open, its hinges screeching. Grim winced and Lissa jumped.


    Grim whipped his head around as a man stumble through the doorway, hand pressed to his side. Blood seeped through his fingers. Upon his face rested the mask of a wolf. Grim recognized the mask as one worn by the Sons of the Reaper. Resistance and freedom fighters against the Venaran occupation. Or vagabonds and traitors depending on who you asked. Grim always believed that if you had to hide your face then you were probably a criminal.


    ¡°James, help me, they¡¯re coming!¡± the man cried. ¡°Please.¡±


    The scarred man leapt to his feet with a curse. ¡°Hilda, take him to the back and see to that wound. Melissa, hide. Now.¡± His voice had an unmistakable air of command that reminded Grim of the officers back at the castle. James said nothing to him, only giving him an imploring look as the girl crawled under one of the tables. He frowned, realizing he was the sole patron left in the building.


    Grim sat still as a statue as Hilda led the wounded man into the back room behind the bar. He didn¡¯t have to wait long. Hilda and the wounded man were barely out of sight before the door slammed open again. Two men barged inside, armored in plated bronze scales, with swords drawn. Their green cloaks billowed behind them as they entered.


    They wasted no time with pleasantries. ¡°Where is he?¡± the first demanded, a squat bald man, face creased in anger.


    James crossed his arms. ¡°The last of our guests have left. We¡¯re about to close. Sorry sir, but if you wouldn¡¯t mind¡­¡±


    The bald man walked closer to James. ¡°Bullshit, we saw him come in here and there¡¯s blood on your floor. This man helped slaughter a gathering of our soldiers. If you defend him, you¡¯ll hang alongside him. I¡¯m not asking again.¡±


    James¡¯s hard stare didn¡¯t budge an inch. And Grim felt a grudging respect for the man. James crossed his arms. ¡°I¡¯m going to have to ask you to leave Sir. I¡¯m not asking again.¡±


    The bald man¡¯s face contorted in anger and he rammed his fist into James¡¯s gut. The scarred man hunched over from the blow and the Greencloak tried to step around him. James pushed his way in front of him again, blocking the man¡¯s way. The Soldier glared. ¡°So, this is how you want to play it? Fine.¡± The man started beating James, pummeling his armored fists into the man¡¯s body, knocking him to his knees. The bald man kicked him in the chest, knocking him flat on the ground. James wheezed, gasping for air.


    Lissa ran out from under the table screaming. ¡°Stop! Please stop! Don¡¯t hurt him!¡± Tears were running down her face. As she ran to her father the second soldier grabbed her by the throat. He was a big man and slammed her onto a nearby table with ease. She squirmed beneath his grip, a mixed look of terror and pain upon her face. Grim stood up.


    James coughed, and a drop of blood dripped down his chin. ¡°Please don¡¯t hurt her.¡± It was the first time Grim heard fear in his voice.


    The bald man bared his teeth. ¡°Tell us where he is and we won¡¯t have to.¡±


    Grim couldn¡¯t stomach watching anymore. He staggered to his feet, the world seeming to spin as he did so. ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake, calm down you two.¡±


    For a moment, they were so surprised they hesitated, staring at him in shock. Grim didn¡¯t think he¡¯d ever sobered up so fast his entire life as he stared them down. The bald man broke into a grin. ¡°By god¡¯s big hairy balls, it¡¯s the bastard. The commander is going to have a field day with this.¡± His companion grunted in agreement as he held the girl on the table.


    ¡°The Son is in the back. These people are just tending to the man¡¯s wounds like any decent person would do. And let the girl go. Is that what Venaran soldiers do nowadays? Beat up children? Ten more and you get promoted from asshole to jackass? Your mother must be proud.¡±


    Grim pretended to be drunker than he was as he stumbled toward them. It wasn¡¯t hard. The man holding Lissa down released her and walked toward Grim, sword in his hand and fury in his eyes. For the first time, Grim considered that this might be a bad idea.


    Lissa stared at him in abject horror. James looked at Grim like he was an imbecile, which he probably was.


    Just as the soldier was almost upon him, Grim rushed forward and plowed into the man. He caught him by surprise and they both tumbled to the floor. Grim was a big man and what he lacked in fine motor skills, he made up for in brute force as he pummeled his fists into the man¡¯s face. Thick droplets blood soon covered his hands


    The pounding of boots heralded the arrival of the second soldier and Grim rolled to the side, flailing his way underneath the nearest table. Crawling on all fours, he scurried to the other side as the soldier flipped the table over. It landed with a crash and sat between them like a barricade. The man on the ground moaned, clutching his shattered face as blood pooled around his head. The remaining soldier stared at him, face contorted in rage.


    Grim glanced toward James, hoping some help might come from him. The scarred man tried to find his feet, but kept falling to the ground, struggling to find his breath. Grim grimaced, turning his attention back to the final soldier. As the soldier rounded the table, Grim grabbed a fallen stool.


    The man lunged at him and Grim caught the point of the sword on the stool, turning the blade. He tried to ram his shoulder into the man, but the soldier side stepped and Grim stumbled, falling flat on his face against the dirt floor. What an embarrassing way to die.


    Blood and dust filled his mouth as he crawled forward. The soldier stepped on his back, placing a boot firmly between his shoulders. Grim struggled, but the man had him pinned. Lissa knelt by her father, looking at him with terror-filled eyes. He forced a smile to his bloody lips and closed his eyes.


    The warmth of blood flowed over him and he waited for the pain to start. Then a thump sounded next to him and the weight above disappeared. Grim rolled over and saw the man in the wolf¡¯s mask standing over him, a bloody axe in his hand. His free hand clutched his side while his eyes winced in pain. He stared at Grim, flexing his fingers against the wooden haft of his axe. Grim realized the man was deciding whether or not to kill him.


    The man threw the axe to the side and offered Grim his hand. Grim took it and the Son hauled him to his feet. ¡°Thanks for not murdering me,¡± Grim said.


    ¡°Thanks for ratting me out.¡±


    Grim grinned sheepishly. ¡°Sorry.¡± He looked around the tavern. Hilda helped her husband up, a worried look written across her face. The man seemed to be breathing easier and he clutched his daughter to his chest while she shook. He gave Grim a silent nod. Grim felt something stir within him that he¡¯d thought long dead. Pride.


    The two Greencloaks lay on the ground with the stillness of death, neither breathing. Grim paled at the sight. He felt sick and was certain it wasn¡¯t from the drink. The man in the mask answered his unspoken question while he stared at the bodies. ¡°You killed the first one, broke something important it seems.¡±


    Grim swallowed, a hollow feeling running through him. ¡°What now?¡±


    The Son regarded him a moment. ¡°Go to sleep and I¡¯ll take care of the bodies. Tomorrow it will be like nothing ever happened.¡± He turned to the family and looked the father in the eyes. ¡°Thank you, James.¡±


    The scarred man scowled in return while he held his daughter. Grim could only stand there, staring at the scene. It felt as if the world were happening to him as opposed to the other way around. He tried to ground himself, but found it impossible as thoughts flashed through his mind faster than he could handle.


    He¡¯s dead. I killed him. Goddess forgive me.


    Grim¡¯s gut twisted and he gritted his teeth. He leaned against a table and nearly fell as his arm erupted in pain. He cursed under his breath, noticing the blood dripping down his arm from a ragged gash. The pain hit him like a hammer and grounded his thoughts within the present. The masked man sat on a stool, inspecting the hasty stitches over his wound. Did he do that while Grim was fighting for his life? With a satisfied grunt, he let his shirt fall and stood up, moving to see to the bodies.


    ¡°My arm,¡± Grim said, too overwhelmed to say more.


    James came up to him and looked at the wound through his torn sleeve. ¡°It¡¯s not bad, but we should stitch that up. Hilda, do we have thread?¡±


    The woman shrugged. ¡°There¡¯s some in the back. Didn¡¯t even know we had it until he found it and stitched himself up,¡± she said, nodding at the Son.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get the thread and see to the wound,¡± said a small voice, rasping as though it hurt to speak. Everyone¡¯s eyes turned to Lissa. She looked emotionally drained herself and looked at Grim with steeled eyes. James looked about to object, but seeing his daughter so determined, he stayed silent and gestured toward Grim.


    Grim seated himself on a stool while Lissa fetched the thread. James helped the Son move the bodies into the back room. Chopping sounds soon sounded from its depths. Grim didn¡¯t want to think about what was happening back there. Lissa returned. She was as pale and quiet as the Greencloaks while she poked him with that damnable needle over and over again. He hated getting stitches. As she tied the final stitch off, she broke the silence. ¡°Grim, why does the Earl let these men do this?¡±


    Grim swallowed hard, his memory going back to the first years of the occupation, when he had been a child. He remembered the riots, he saw the city in flames from his bedroom window in the castle. He almost smelled the rot, the stench so burned into his mind that he could remember it over a decade later. Grim turned his head to look her in the eyes. ¡°Because he doesn¡¯t care.¡±


    ***


    The clinking of glasses and the rustling sound of footsteps roused Grim. He held his eyes tightly shut, hoping to fall back into the painless void of sleep. Each clink and every step felt like a pickaxe being driven into his skull. The pressing demands of his dry throat waged war on his lethargy, demanding that he rise and find some water. He quietly groaned, lamenting being alive.


    A foot knocked into his side, putting an abrupt end to his internal strife. Grim blinked his eyes open. Hilda stood over him, arms crossed. ¡°Get up. We¡¯re about to open.¡±


    She walked away as Grim staggered to his feet. Straw stuck to the side of his face and he brushed the stray strands away. He had slept in the common room on a small pile of straw. There were only two other rooms in the building. One to house the family and another for storage. He wasn¡¯t invited to the first and he was loathe to sleep in the latter, where they¡¯d butchered the corpses. Even in the common room, he could still see the occasional rusty droplet staining the dirt a shade darker.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    He shuddered as he walked to the bar and took a seat. Grim cradled his aching head in his hands. He looked up as Hilda stepped into his view. She placed a foaming mug of beer before him. ¡°First one¡¯s on the house. For last night.¡±


    Grim looked dubiously at the amber liquid. ¡°Do you have any water?¡± Didn¡¯t think he¡¯d ever hear himself say that.


    ¡°I can send Lissa to the well if you¡¯re willing to risk shitting blood for the next week.¡±


    Grim grasped the mug and raised it to her in a silent salute. ¡°Beer it is.¡±


    Hilda smirked, grabbing a mug from under the bar and beginning to polish it. ¡°That¡¯s what I thought,¡± she said, ¡°and thanks for helping last night. I¡¯m not used to your kind lending us a hand, Grim¡±


    ¡°Only if there¡¯s a noose in it,¡± he muttered.


    ¡°Gallows humor? Really?¡± She smirked.


    Grim drank deeply and lowered his mug to the bar. ¡°Any chance I could get some food?¡± Hilda paused her polishing and held out a hand, palm up. Grim raised an eyebrow ¡°Don¡¯t trust me?¡± He shot her his most winning smile.


    ¡°No.¡±


    Grim chuckled and reached for his coin purse, surprised to find it still there. He pulled out a silver lion and placed it into the woman¡¯s hand. ¡°That should cover my tab for a while.¡±


    Hilda nodded and disappeared into the back room and soon returned with a steaming bowl of gruel. Grim was a little disappointed by the fare but wasn¡¯t about to complain. He was too hungry. She placed the bowl in front of him and walked past him to the main entrance while Grim dug in. The gruel lasted a mere moment.


    Grim studied the rim of his mug, tapping his finger against its glass as the door groaned open behind him. He winced at the sound and took another drink. His stomach roiled from the addition of more alcohol, but the soothing feeling in his throat made it more than worth it. The sound of conversation behind him marked the arrival of the day¡¯s first customers and the lack of screams suggested they did a good job cleaning. Grim breathed a sigh of relief.


    In a moment, Hilda reappeared behind the bar and continued polishing the mug as if she had never left. As customers settled in, Lissa appeared from the back room and began rushing about the tables. Grim¡¯s eyes followed her. She was as energetic as the day before, but her smile was forced and her eyes were red from tears. Grim turned back to Hilda. ¡°Is your family okay?¡±


    Hilda nodded. "We''ve been through worse, you only need to look at my husband to see that."


    Grim swallowed. "Understood. Would it be rude of me to ask?"


    "Very," Hilda said, crossing her arms.


    Grim nodded in acknowledgment. "So, what happened to him?


    Hilda glared at him while he fought a snicker. A hand landed on Grim''s shoulder and a brusque male voice asked, "what happened to who?"


    Grim turned in horror to see James standing beside him, hand clasping his shoulder. Hilda smiled sweetly. "Yes Grim, who?"


    Grim picked up his mug and took another drink, mumbling the words, "Never mind."


    James shrugged, seeming unperturbed. "Anyways, it''s good you¡¯re awake." He leaned in closer, beginning to talk in a hushed voice. "Our friend from last night left you a message after he and I took out the trash. You were asleep when I got back so I decided to wait till morning. It¡¯s addressed to the Earl."


    Grim raised a questioning eyebrow. "And why the hell would I want to deliver that for him? What''s it say?"


    James shrugged. "I don''t read other people''s mail." He pulled an envelope out of his jacket and passed it to Grim.


    Grim tore it open and unfolded the parchment without hesitation. His reading skills weren''t the best, but he could make out most common words. Luckily, the words on the parchment were simple. "The forest stirs," he read aloud. He flipped the paper over, but it was blank. He looked to James. "That''s it?"


    The man shrugged and stared at the envelope Grim opened without hesitation. "Really?" he asked, more than a little judgmental in his tone.


    "What?" Grim asked, feeling defensive. He held up the letter and pointed at it. "If this said, ''your lordship doth fucketh donkeys'' I sure as shit wouldn''t be personally delivering it to him.¡±


    James smirked. "Point taken, though I¡¯d like to bear witness to that."


    Grim tucked the letter into his sullied jacket and wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Yeah, you could watch me get smacked around again. Fun for the whole family.¡± Grim shook his head. ¡°So how do you know our mutual friend if you don''t mind me asking?"


    James stared hard at him. "I know a lot of men from the war. Some bonds aren''t easily forgotten."


    Grim shrugged at the somewhat evasive answer and pushed the empty bowl from in front of him. "Thank you for your hospitality mistress, but I should head back home. The Earl is likely to skin me if he noticed I was gone." Grim was doubtful.


    "I hope to see you again Grim, I really do," Hilda said.


    Grim couldn''t help but smile at her. He rose to his feet. "I''m sure I''ll sulk back someday." He turned to James and they clasped arms, gripping each other¡¯s forearms in a show of respect. James nodded to him in return. It always amazed Grim how some men could convey volumes in just a tilt of the head. He gave Hilda his most elegant courtly bow, feeling like a fop and enjoying the ridiculousness of it. ¡°Farewell my friends,¡± he said as he came up from his final bow.


    He turned to walk away. But was soon stopped in his tracks as Lissa dashed to him and grabbed him by the arm. He turned to look down at the slight girl, a question in his eyes. Her wide eyes looked up at him with an admiration he could not comprehend. She gave him a warm smile. ¡°If the Earl is even half as good a man as you are, then we are still in good hands.¡±


    Her words felt like a knife through his heart. He couldn¡¯t remember the last time a woman had called him either good or a man. He didn¡¯t speak, for fear his voice would crack, only shooting her a weak smile before walking away.


    The hinges of the door screamed as he pushed it open, making everyone in a hundred paces wince in annoyance. The sun stung his eyes after his time indoors. Dozens of passersby wandered past, each wearing the patchwork woolen clothing common to the Outwalls. He received many strange looks as he walked down the street. People from the inner city rarely ventured beyond its walls unless it was upon a horse and then, only long enough to leave the city limits.


    Grim had walked a few blocks before he thought to check his coin purse. He wasn¡¯t surprised to find it empty. He shrugged and kept walking. The thieves likely needed it more than he did. Besides, he still had the money in his left boot. Some of the Outwallers along the street were looking in his direction and he didn¡¯t like how they eyed him. Grim put a little extra pep in his step. The difference between a smart man and a brave one was an excess of stitches. He could attest to the veracity of that statement.


    He didn¡¯t know exactly where he was, but it wasn¡¯t long before he stumbled his way onto the King¡¯s Road. Its cobblestones shined in the in the sunlight giving testament to how well maintained it was. The road was wide enough for four wagons to be driven abreast and the hectic traffic showed the necessity of its scale. To his left, it seemed to stretch endlessly through the slums, straight as an arrow. Beyond the rundown buildings, he could make out the green, rocky hills that dominated the countryside.


    To his right, he could now see the great walls of the city. Thick, imposing ramparts cast deep shadows over the Outwall in the morning light. Its gates were open and seemed to swallow the massive road like a gaping maw, consuming the hundreds of people passing beneath the iron teeth of the portcullis.


    The gate was about a mile distant and Grim held his thumb up as he walked alongside the road. Dozens of wagons passed him by without a second look. Most were laden with foodstuffs and other necessities that were hard to come by in the harsh, rocky landscape of the Rills. Eventually, one slowed next to him. The driver made eye contact. ¡°In or out,¡± he yelled over the din of traffic.


    Grim didn¡¯t hesitate. He grabbed the side of the wagon and heaved himself over the edge as the man cracked his whip, sending the horses into a quick trot. The cut on his arm smarted from the exertion, but hurt far less than last night. Grim landed inside the cart with a small thud among large crates filled with iron ore. He wasn¡¯t surprised. Metal, wool, and fish were about all the Rills had to offer in way of goods.


    Grim wove his way through the crates as the cart clattered over the cobblestones and took a seat near the front, behind the driver. ¡°Thanks for the ride!¡± he called out.


    The driver looked over his shoulder, glancing at Grim out of the corner of his eyes. ¡°I¡¯d have been a bastard if I didn¡¯t. You look like a sorry sack of shit. Did you get mugged or something? Dangerous to go off the main road in this part of town.¡±


    Grim shrugged. ¡°Just a barfight, nothing worth retelling.¡±


    ¡°Ah, so you got your ass kicked,¡± the man said, more to himself than to Grim. Grim narrowed his eyes at the driver but didn¡¯t retort, not wanting to draw undue attention to the story. ¡°Where¡¯re you headed?¡±


    ¡°Bleakridge Castle. If you¡¯re heading to the market, then that¡¯s close enough.¡±


    The man nodded in acknowledgement, seeming content to let their ride lapse into silence. Grim was grateful for it. Needless small-talk was the bane of his existence. Held his head in his hands, bemoaning life, as they passed several blocks of tattered houses. Most were little more than shacks leaning against one another for support, like a house of cards waiting to collapse. Beggars began to line the main road near the gate, holding out wooden bowls. Misery mingled with hope in their eyes as they watched more affluent citizens ride by on business outside the city proper. The driver kept his eyes on the road, though Grim could sense a tightness in the way he sat, his hands clutching the reigns. It was hard to tell whether he was afraid or angry.


    They soon passed into the deep shadow of the gate and left the warmth of the shining sun above. The air chilled and Grim flexed his fingers, willing blood into them. He could see the gate guards now, split into two separate groups who stared at each other in an uneasy peace. On his right were three of the Earl¡¯s men, dressed in thick iron chain and standing at attention. On the opposite side of the gate were the Greencloaks. They were bedecked in various mismatched armors ranging from padded cloth to coats with bronze plate sewn into them. Venaran soldiers paid for their own equipment, thus the only uniformity to their appearance was the signature green cloak adorning their shoulders.


    What they lacked in grandeur, they made up for in numbers. There were a dozen of them loitering near the gate, serving no useful purpose other than to intimidate passersby. That was always the great advantage of the southlands. They bred like rabbits and had the fertile land to support it. The soldiers huddled close together, their cloaks wrapped tight around their bodies. Grim smirked at the sight. Southerners rarely liked the chill air, but he reveled in its bite.


    The two groups of guards eyed each other with distrust, seeming more intent on watching each other than the people passing through the gates. Grim was glad for that and raised his collar to try to hide the scar on his neck. He didn¡¯t particularly want either side to recognize him.


    The driver pulled up to the gate and gave one of the guards his manifest and the name of the lord he served. The soldier recorded it on a piece of parchment and waved the cart through without incident. Grim kept his eyes downcast as they passed through the thick iron gates leading into the city.


    It was like emerging into a different world. The crumbling buildings were replaced with stout wooden houses, reinforced by iron frames. Wide avenues branched off the King¡¯s Road in every direction, showcasing the vast size of the city as it shined in the intense dawn light. Grim turned his head from the view, it''s brightness sending spikes of pain through his skull. As he turned, a more macabre sight captured his attention.


    Half a dozen men hung from nearby stakes shaped like a cross. Their elbows were nailed to its wings, forcing their shoulders into an unnatural position as their weight dragged them down. He could almost feel his bones grinding just looking at them. Around each of their necks hung a sign with ¡®traitor¡¯ painted in white. On the ground below their feet rested masks shaped like the faces of various animals. Blood from the men dripped onto the masks below, giving them a grisly appearance. Worst of all, two had been captured alive. Their tortured expressions gave voice to their agony. They¡¯d likely already screamed themselves mute. He knew they wouldn¡¯t bleed out. They never did. It was a race between the inevitable putrefaction of their wounds and thirst. Grim hoped their friends would take the risk to kill them in the night.


    ¡°Poor bastards,¡± the driver said. Grim nodded his agreement.


    The cart trundled onward, still following the main road, deeper into town. Grim could now see the great castle rising high above the surrounding buildings, standing a silent vigil over the town. It sat upon the high cliff that gave both the city and the castle their names. Bleakridge. Grim sighed as he looked up at it. He was already wearying of the day.


    The smell of salt in the air told Grim they were getting closer to the port and its adjacent market. The sound of crashing waves in the distance grew louder and the familiar sounds of home somewhat soothed his pounding headache. The houses in this part of town grew larger and some were even carved from stone.


    The ringing sound of dozens of smithies echoed across the city. The incessant sound was the greatest complaint of foreigners in the town. Some people joked that the Forgers guild went to great expense to move their operations closer to the market, simply annoy the southern merchants. Grim wouldn¡¯t have been surprised if the rumors were true. The ringing of metal on metal often sounded late into the night. After two decades of living in the city he hardly noticed, but today every clang felt like a spike through his skull.


    The marketplace opened before the cart, revealing a huge plaza filled with various stands showcasing everything one could imagine, from fine jewelry to fearsome weapons. The latter often caught his eye whenever he spotted a blade with the gleam of steel. It was a new breakthrough by the Forgers guild and its making was a secret they closely guarded.


    The wagon came to a creaking halt along the edge of the marketplace. Grim thanked the driver and hopped to the ground, his boots clacking against the stones. He waved farewell and began pushing his way through the crowds, carefully avoiding any Greencloak patrols. Before long, he had forced his way to the other side of the market without spending a single copper bear. He congratulated himself as he walked the last block toward the series of switchbacks leading up to the castle gate.


    They were always hell to climb and Grim bemoaned his lack of wings every time he faced them. Bleakridge castle was built on a prominent cliff at the very edge of the city and it towered over the docks leading to the Meridian Bay. Foamy white water lapped at the cliffs it sat upon and seagulls circled the coast, looking for easy prey. As Grim climbed the switchbacks he could see the bay laid out before him. Fishing boats lined the coast as far as the eye could see and large merchant vessels lay docked in the maze of piers. He soon surpassed the height of all but the tallest buildings in the city and he could see the wooden roofs stretch for miles in every direction. The cathedral alone stood above the rest. Its stone and marble spires pierced the sky, glittering gold in the sunlight.


    A cold breeze washed over Grim, prickling his skin. The chill felt good as he began to sweat. His legs burned, and he gasped for breath as he finally reached the outer gates of the fortress. He waved up at the gatehouse. The men inside immediately recognized him and raised the portcullis. Grim crossed the threshold with mild trepidation as he eyed the wrought iron spikes above his head. Soon the ordeal was behind him, and he found himself in the keep courtyard.


    The doors to the keep proper were in sight and Grim picked up the pace, trying to not attract attention to himself. He didn¡¯t want anybody asking questions about what he¡¯d been doing or where he¡¯d been. He covered the tear in his sleeve with a hand, trying to hide his wound and thanked the Goddess that his dark clothing hid the blood well.


    ¡°Hoy! Bastard!¡± Grim shuddered, knowing his luck had run out. He recognized the voice as Captain Edgar.


    Edgar was an asshole.


    Grim sighed, having made it almost halfway across the courtyard without incident. He turned to face the man as the captain approached. Edgar was dressed in a simple shirt and breeches, seeming oblivious to the chill air. He swaggered as he approached, wrinkling his nose as he caught a waft of Grim¡¯s stench. ¡°Damn, you smell like the Reaper¡¯s ass. What¡¯d you do? Sleep in a sty last night? Couldn¡¯t find a decent lass so you settled for a sow?¡±


    Grim narrowed his eyes at the man. ¡°I tried your mother first, but the line was too long.¡±


    Edgar smirked at that. Grim hated that smirk and wanted to knock it off the man¡¯s face. Preferably with his fist. Instead, he smirked in return. Edgar took a step closer, invading Grim¡¯s personal space. Grim could smell the whiskey on his breath. ¡°You¡¯re cute you know that? Do you know what else is cute?¡±


    ¡°Puppies?¡± Grim interjected.


    Edgar let out a long-suffering sigh. ¡°Yes. Puppies. That¡¯s what I was about to fucking say.¡±


    Grim gave him a doubtful look, noticing the man¡¯s sleep deprived eyes and bedraggled appearance. ¡°You were looking for me last night, weren¡¯t you?¡± he asked with a sinking feeling.


    ¡°All. Night. Long,¡± he said, clipping off each word. ¡°I only just conceded defeat and came back to the castle. I remove my armor and come out of the barracks only to see your sorry ass. Believe me when I say I¡¯ll be seeing you in the practice yard later.¡± Grim swallowed hard, finding his future bleak. Edgar rested a hand on the axe at his hip. ¡°The Earl¡¯s looking for you.¡± He shouldered Grim as he walked past. ¡°Good luck,¡± he muttered.


    ¡°Asshole,¡± Grim muttered, thankful the man didn¡¯t seem to care enough to ask questions. He rushed to cover the remaining ground to the keep¡¯s entrance and slipped between the thick iron doors.


    The door led into long narrow chamber filled with narrow slits in the wall and ceiling. The Earl affectionately called them murder holes and Grim couldn¡¯t fault the name. He heard several guardsmen chatting through the walls and had no doubt there was a vat of boiling oil above him, waiting to be dumped.


    Grim walked faster.


    The next set of iron doors were closed and Grim cursed under his breath. He braced himself against the door and pushed with all his strength. The heavy door creaked open, squealing on its hinges. These vault-like doors were great for defense but also hell to open alone. After a long moment spent heaving, he had the door open wide enough to slip through and enter the small room beyond. A pair of guardsmen were leaning against the far wall a few feet away, giving Grim a pair of shit-eating grins.


    ¡°Thanks for the help,¡± Grim muttered, walking by. The guards chuckled behind him in response.


    Between the guards was the door to the great hall, and on either side of the door were two hallways stretching to the wings of the castle. Grim wanted to avoid the Earl, so he sure as hell wasn''t going to the great hall. Grim went right. He wanted to at least get a change of clothes before the Earl chastised him. The castle soon became a twisting maze of torchlit halls. The lack of windows mixed with the stone walls gave the halls a subterranean feel. Dozens of castle servants passed by, going about their daily business with a sense of efficiency. He passed maids, porters, guards, butlers, and more than a few noble guests. Grim was a little embarrassed by how little reaction they gave to his bedraggled appearance. The castle staff generally gave him a nod or a brief greeting whereas the noble guests ignored him or shot disdainful looks. He supposed him looking like shit wasn¡¯t that uncommon a sight.


    He soon reached a stairwell and ascended the steps to the third floor which housed the higher ranked servants. A single guard wandered the halls but ignored Grim as he walked past. Grim found his door, pushing it open.


    The room was little more than a glorified closet, just big enough to hold a bed, a chest, a wash basin and him. Grim pulled the door shut behind him and started to remove his ruined clothing. He decided he¡¯d burn it later. He peeled his shirt off his back, the blood sticking to his skin. The feeling twisted his gut in revulsion.


    He dunked his hands into the cool water of the wash basin and watched as lines of red seeped from his skin. He grabbed a cloth and began to scrub, keeping a tight lid on the emotions roiling inside him. He hoped to god that Lissa and her family could keep their mouths shut because he was a dead man otherwise. He splashed water on his face, removing most of the grime and looked at his reflection as the water started to settle.


    He looked like hell. His eyes were dull, and his face looked like somebody used it as an anvil. Rough, unkempt stubble grew across his face and neck, giving him a haggard appearance. He ran his hand over it, feeling the bristles as they prickled his fingers. He could still hear the wheezing of the dying man on the floor, the feeling of warm blood cascading over his back. A choked sob escaped his lips. He mastered his emotions, putting on the fa?ade he''d grown so used to wearing. Then he thought of Lissa. She called him a good man.


    He stared at his reflection, failing to see what she saw. Grim sighed as he walked to his chest of clothes and opened it. He took out a fresh set and put them on. As he pulled on his final boot, he ran a hand through his hair, staring at the closed door. He should really go face the Earl. It was the right thing to do.


    Instead, he bent over and reached for the bottle of whiskey he¡¯d hidden under the bed. He tapped a finger against the glass of the bottle. He licked his lips. There was time to be a good man tomorrow.

 Ch 2: The Sons

    The glass mug shined more clearly than diamonds, yet Hilda continued to polish its gleaming surface. She couldn''t stop thinking about the night before. If that boy hadn''t been there. She shuddered. He may have been a lout, but he handled himself well. He reminded her of many of the men her husband served with decades ago, all of them fools. Well-meaning fools, but fools nonetheless. She shook her head, continuing to scrub at the glass. The repetitive action soothed her and took her mind off her worries, even if only for a minute.


    She caught sight of her daughter out of the corner of her eye. The girl was gathering bowls at a nearby table, her thin arms straining from the effort. The sight made her heart ache. Gods knew she wanted to give that girl all there was to have in life, to send her to a future she deserved. Instead, she could see a deepening sadness in those once innocent eyes. Hilda knew a parent couldn¡¯t shield their child from the ugliness of the world forever. One day that beautiful baby girl you held in your arms must learn to harden herself, and with hardness comes the loss of wonder.


    The clunk of wooden bowl hitting the bar shook her from her thoughts. Lissa set another down and stepped away to find a wash rag. Hilda grabbed her daughter by the arm and two brown eyes stared up at her. ¡°Lissa, take a break. I¡¯ll handle those. The floor is pretty quiet right now.¡±


    The girl cocked her head. ¡°I thought you said idle hands breed mischief?¡±


    Hilda smiled, ¡°Then, go find some.¡±


    Lissa didn¡¯t need to be told twice, yelling, ¡°Bye mom!¡± over her shoulder as she rushed to the door outside. Hilda shook her head. The girl deserved some time to herself. Hilda released a long-suffering sigh. She looked about the room which was emptying after the midday rush.


    Nobody seemed to need her. She scooped up the wooden bowls and nudged the wooden door behind the counter open with her hip. She ducked through the cramped doorway and entered the back room where her family lived with all their valuables. The small room was dominated by sacks of flour lying across the floor, doubling as both storage and beds. A dozen barrels cheap ale were stacked on the far side of the room and atop them lay the few objects they still owned. A broken bow, a stack of clothing and a chest full of cheap coins.


    James sat on a stool in the center of the room, staring at the small table before him with the utmost attention. His powerful arms flexed with the strain of intense precision as he ran a sharp metal scraper down the length of a long piece of wood. She could already see the longbow emerging from its wooden cocoon. Her eyes involuntarily moved to the broken bow atop the barrels. The sight of the old wood made her shiver. She tore her eyes away before her husband could catch her staring and walked to the washbasin they used for scrubbing dishes.


    Hilda lost herself in the monotonous task, listening to the steady scraping of iron on wood and the rustle of wood shavings falling to the ground. She was so intent on her washing, she didn¡¯t notice the noise stop and jumped in surprise as a pair of arms wrapped around her, holding her tight. James¡¯s beard prickled her skin as he kissed her cheek. Hilda couldn¡¯t help but smile.


    ¡°Now why is my wife doing my daughter¡¯s chores? Surely it can¡¯t be out of the kindness of her own heart,¡± he said.


    Hilda looked up at him over her shoulder. ¡°What heart? I sold that for a barrel of ale weeks ago.¡±


    ¡°You did? And here I thought I¡¯d stolen it. Suppose I must¡¯ve missed,¡± He squeezed her a little tighter.


    ¡°Mayhaps you took a lung because I¡¯m finding it awfully hard to breathe,¡± she said, tugging at his arms.


    James smirked and released her from his embrace. ¡°Are you sure my charm didn¡¯t just take your breath away?¡±


    Hilda snorted, not giving that line the dignity of a response. James let out an ear shattering laugh, utterly amused with himself. His laugh was strong enough to be infectious and Hilda found herself chuckling along, much to her chagrin.


    She shook her head, rolling her eyes at her husband. ¡°Anyways,¡± she said, ¡°I let our daughter have some time to herself. The girl deserves the rest. Especially after what happened last night. Did you get a chance to talk to her?¡±


    James¡¯s grin fell from his face, making Hilda regret asking. ¡°Normally I can¡¯t get her to shut up, but last night I couldn¡¯t force a single word from her lips. I¡¯m not worried about her, you know our daughter. She¡¯s strong and too smart for her own good. Much like her mother,¡± he grumbled.


    Hilda smiled and stood on her tiptoes, giving James a peck on the cheek ¡°You picked us darling,¡± she reminded him.


    ¡°Never said I was smart,¡± James said, giving her a slight smile. He looked at the door leading to the common room. ¡°Do you think I should go find her and try again?¡± he asked.


    Hilda shook her head and tuned back to continue scrubbing the dirty dishes. ¡°No, she¡¯s probably going to go see Kid. You know girls that age. They won¡¯t say a single word to their parents, but they¡¯ll spill their guts out to any boy willing to listen.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m worried about.¡±


    Hilda snorted. ¡°Hon, have you seen that boy¡¯s face? I¡¯ve seen donkeys with prettier backsides. Lissa can do better than that.¡±


    James stiffened, and she felt as if her heart was caught in a vise. She cursed her careless tongue as she spun around to look at him. She took in the jagged scars crossing his once handsome face, his mutilated hands and the small crater in his skull where a mace had shattered his cheek bones almost twenty years ago. She opened her mouth to speak but stopped when he raised his hand. She watched the hurt and shame in his eyes turn to steel as he hardened himself. ¡°Don¡¯t try and save face. The irony would be lost on me.¡±


    ¡°James, I didn¡¯t mean-¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± James averted his eyes, seeming to have difficulty looking at her. ¡°Lissa deserves only the best,¡± he said opening the door and leaving without another word.


    Hilda stared at the door as it shut, tears beginning to blur her vision. She scrubbed them away. It had been twenty years. When would he get over it? It wasn¡¯t as if it had been easy for her either. They were married the day before he left for the war. She could still remember his boyishly handsome face grinning as he kissed her goodbye. What a bittersweet memory that had become. five years she waited, and when he came home, he was barely recognizable.


    She could still picture the bloody bandages covering his mangled body as if it were yesterday. The greatest regret of her life was screaming when she saw him. Fresh tears trickled down her face at the memory and the pain in his young eyes. But she had stood by him and supported him until he could return to work. Her hands were still stained from the year she¡¯d spent in the tannery. She didn¡¯t regret a single moment of it. She¡¯d do it all again. Hold him tight when he woke up screaming, help him to the bathroom, clean up the shattered looking glasses. It was hard, but he was still James. Still the man she loved.


    They¡¯d survived. So why did he keep punishing her for that scream?


    Hilda dried her tears and forced the rest down, finding her composure and going back to cleaning the bowls. She was almost done.


    As she picked up the last dirty bowl, she noticed a piece of parchment attached to it. She blinked in surprise and grabbed the folded piece of paper. She smoothed it out and the image it bore caused a frown to crease her lips. The face of a wolf stared back at her, it¡¯s charcoal eyes seeming to bore into her. She¡¯d been called to duty.


    She tucked the small piece of parchment in a pocket and walked to the barrels of ale on the far side of the room. She waited a moment, listening for her husband¡¯s footsteps in case he came back. Nothing. Relief mingled with disappointment. She grunted as she pried the wooden lid off the barrel farthest to the right. It was half filled with the cheapest ale silver could buy. Hilda rolled up her right sleeve past her elbow and dunked her arm deep into the amber liquid. Her hand found a rock at the bottom and she nudged it off its perch. The object beneath it rushed past her arm, it¡¯s buoyancy carrying it upward. She winced as a splash of ale struck her face when it surfaced. She opened her eyes and looked down at the wooden mask floating in the barrel. The face of a wolf stared back up at her.


    ***


    The lump in his throat was so big it felt as if he were trying to swallow a boulder. His legs ached from dangling off the edge of the wooden bench beneath him, its sharp corners digging into his thighs. He waited in darkness. The drawn curtains about him drowned out the light and made it hard to see the thin mesh separating him from the other side of the confessional box.


    The priest knew he was waiting. Southern churches always had a single priest in the nave to tend to the flock and when Kid walked into the church he¡¯d locked eyes with the man. Upon seeing Kid''s dirt stained outfit, the priest stopped praying and watched him. Kid knew he was just waiting for an excuse to kick out the Outwaller.


    The irony made Kid smirk humorlessly. It wasn¡¯t funny. Not really. But this Outwaller was determined to outwait and outwit this priest. It was going to be outstanding. The thought brought a real grin to Kid¡¯s face and gave him the nerve to keep waiting. For all the Venaran clergy preached about the love of the Goddess and her capacity for forgiveness, he had yet to see any of it. The man couldn¡¯t ignore him forever.


    Kid jumped in surprise as the curtains rustled on the far side of the mesh barrier. ¡°Are you okay son?¡±


    Kid shook his head, looking to his feet. ¡°Forgive me father for I have sinned.¡±


    Kid saw the outline of a frown through the mesh. ¡°What happened child?¡±


    ¡°I only have three to talk about father. I¡¯m ashamed,¡± he said, fighting the urge to wring his hands.


    ¡°There is nothing to be ashamed of when you come for our Lady¡¯s forgiveness. Anyone can make a mistake. Fewer can admit them. Tell me son, and be proud.¡±


    Kid wringed his hands, a chill running down his spine. ¡°My first sin, sir, is one of envy,¡± he said, forcing his hands apart.


    ¡°Go on.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve often envied the golden necklaces worn by priests and priestesses, sir. I¡¯m ashamed to say that that envy led me to another sin.¡± Kid hesitated. This was where it could all come apart. ¡°Theft, sir. And it¡¯s of a rather personal nature to your church sir.¡±


    Kid could hear the wooden bench creaking as the priest leaned forward. ¡°Did you steal Mother Helena¡¯s cross guard?¡±


    Kid swallowed. ¡°I have it with me,¡± Kid exclaimed, trying to forestall the priests outrage. ¡°Guilt overcame me, and I tried to return it last night sir but-,¡± He paused, as the priest opened the mesh between them, his dark eyes staring into Kid¡¯s soul.


    Kid tried to continue his lines, but the man talked over him. ¡°How can I help you? Do you need food? Work? I can give you either if it would help.¡±


    Kid¡¯s mouth worked silently, the prepared lies about the unfaithfulness of the priestess falling from the tip of his tongue into oblivion. Of all the reactions he expected, kindness was not among them. He swallowed and dug the necklace he had stolen out of his pocket. He looked at the leather tong and the golden sword shaped pendant hanging off the end. The symbol of God. A deity he was unfamiliar with.


    He couldn¡¯t bear to meet the priest¡¯s eyes as he passed the necklace through the window. The man grasped his hand, taking the pendant. As Kid pulled his arm back the man held him in place. Kid looked up, a lance of fear running through him.


    The priest was frowning. ¡°There¡¯s too much fear in you for one so young.¡±


    Kid jerked his hand free. ¡°If your charity extended beyond the wall then maybe I wouldn¡¯t have to be afraid.¡±


    The priest was quiet a long moment. ¡°I can only help those who seek me out. Forgiveness needs to be asked before help can be given. You did the right thing coming here. Few of your kind have respect for the God or the Goddess.¡±


    Kid fought the scowl threatening to alight his lips at the phrase ¡®Your kind.¡¯ ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± he whispered, ¡°I need help.¡±


    The priest graced him with a sad smile. ¡°We all do sometimes. It¡¯s nothing to be ashamed of.¡± He held up the golden pendant. ¡°I¡¯ll return the pendant to mother Helena. I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll welcome you to our little home with open arms.


    Kid almost winced as the man turned from him and left the booth. Kid followed him out. ¡°Sir?¡± Kid asked. The priest glanced at him over his shoulder. ¡°I-¡± He swallowed, looking at the marble tiles. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    The priest smiled. ¡°Wait here. I¡¯ll be right back.¡± He turned away and walked through a side door, leaving Kid alone in the church.


    A pang of guilt shot through him, but Kid wasted no time. He ran between the pews to the altar, skidding to a halt before it¡¯s marbled surface. He dropped to his knees, quietly praying to the donation box. ¡°Be full. Be full. Be full. Divines, please be full,¡± he whispered, pulling a small iron crowbar from his sleeve and slamming its head under the lid.


    He heaved all his inconsiderable weight onto the cheap iron and to his horror the bar started to bend. He watched the bulging wood with wide eyes, hoping it would be the first to give out. He winced as a loud snap echoed through the hallowed halls. Kid held his breath, listening for the sound of running footsteps, blaring horns, the words THEIF.


    All was silent. Kid threw the broken crowbar to the side with a look of disgust. It had cost him six copper bears. He could have eaten for two days off that. He grimaced as his stomach rumbled. Time for plan B.


    Kid ran to a nearby candelabra almost as tall as himself and hefted the heavy bronze object. With a grunt, he turned it over in his hands, knocking the lit candles onto the floor. He wielded the candelabra like a sledgehammer. Kid took a running start at the box and swung his improvised hammer with all his might. He missed.


    The base of the glorified candlestick struck the corner of the altar with the echoing sound of a gong and the crack of shattering stone. The reverberations running through the metal shaft made him release his hammer with a yelp and it clanged to the floor. Kid heard shouts of alarm through the door the priest had left through.


    Oh god, he didn¡¯t want to die. Kid smelled the acrid stench of smoke in the air and turned to see the dried wood of the pews beginning to catch fire from the candles. He could only stare in horror. Burning a church? He was without a doubt going to hell and likely soon.


    He almost bolted for the door, but his stomach rumbled, demanding he finish the job. Kid whimpered as he bent down to grab the candelabra once more. He pulled back and swung with all his might. The heavy bronze base slammed into the side of the donation box with a deafening crack and gold exploded into the air. Kid stared in wonder at the fortune scattering across the church floor. With a start, he shook himself and ran after the hundreds of clattering coins. He dove to the ground, stuffing as many into his pockets as he could. Gold! Real gold! He could eat like a king for a week with a single gold coin. Not that he knew how kings ate.


    The side door slammed open and Kid looked up to see the priest staring at the scene in abject horror. The look on the man¡¯s face made Kid die a little inside. He didn¡¯t deserve this. Kid wasted no time and bolted for the exit before the priest recovered. His heart ached for the dozens of gold coins he had to leave behind. But greed is the death of thieves, a fact he still might be proving today.


    Kid ran for all he was worth, fleeing down the center aisle as more pews caught flame in his wake. The familiar words ¡°Thief!¡± echoed behind him as he slammed through the front doors. He tripped down the stone steps as he flew from the church. Blood dripped from his skinned knees as he scrambled to his feet and kept running. He looked over his shoulder. The priest struggled to smother the growing flames with priceless tapestries from the walls.


    Kid wasted no more time thinking of the church. He fled into the anonymity of the crowded streets. His small figure weaved between the hundreds of bodies, or rather was knocked around until he stumbled through. Curses lit up in his wake as his dirty rags brushed up against the fine clothes of well-to-do citizens, often leaving smears of dirt across their colorful dress. He had to get out of the inner city. He stood out like a sore thumb on these streets. Kid knew the guards would have questions if they caught him in this part of town, questions he didn¡¯t want to answer with pockets full of stolen treasure.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    The crowd started to part before him, making Kid think he got a lucky break. Then two Greencloaks appeared, plowing their way through the crowd toward the church. He froze in terror, willing his body to move as the giant men bore down on him. Their shadows darkened the street before him, making him feel small. An elbow crushed into his face, knocking him to the ground. Blood filled his mouth as his fight or flight instinct kicked in. Flight! Flight! Flight! He crawled blindly until he ran into the wooden wall of a house and clawed at it like a trapped animal as the crowd pushed at him, suffocated him.


    Gradually, his pounding heart slowed. Rough hands didn¡¯t grab him. A blade didn¡¯t split his shoulders. And iron manacles didn¡¯t find his hands. He slumped to the ground, using the wall he had been clawing to support his back. The Greencloaks kept pushing through the crowd, running towards the smoke rising in the distance. Kid felt the tension and fear leave his body like water wrung from a rag. He pulled his legs to his chest, noting the disdainful eyes staring at him from the crowd as it moved back into motion.


    His fingers were torn and bloody, but that pain was nothing compared to the shame he felt from the wetness of his pants. He wanted to cry but knew he couldn¡¯t afford to wait or draw more attention to himself. He staggered to his feet and continued weaving through the crowded streets. He wiped the blood from his lips with a dirty sleeve.


    Soon the church was far behind him and he neared the city gates. Its high walls loomed over the nearby buildings, casting deep shadows on the road. Kid¡¯s stomach growled when he spotted a bakery by the gates. It was well placed to serve travelers arriving from the countryside. The smell of fresh bread drew him in like a sirens song. He waited outside the store, taking peeks inside through the window and trying to blend into the shadows.


    After a few moments wait he caught the bakery empty of customers. With shaky hands, he pushed the door open and slipped inside. A pale, portly man stood behind the counter, almost as doughy as his materials. Kid watched, his mouth watering as the baker kneaded his dough with practiced hands. Kid approached the counter as he would a rabid dog, just waiting for it to bite. The baker crinkled his nose, doubtless catching whiff of Kid, and turned to look at the boy. The look on his face was not promising.


    ¡°Ay!¡± he yelled. ¡°Get yer filth out of my shop boy. I sell food here, ye dolt.¡±


    Kid winced, quickly pulling a golden Hart from his pocket with fumbling fingers, dropping several coins to the floor in a metallic clatter. He cursed his clumsiness as the baker¡¯s eyes widened at the wealth. ¡°I have money. Please,¡± he said, falling to his knees and scooping up the dropped coins as if afraid they¡¯d disappear.


    The baker¡¯s eyes flashed to the door. ¡°Lock it, boy.¡±


    Kid leapt to his feet and snapped the wooden latch shut while the baker came from behind his counter and closed the shutters on the window. As the light disappeared, Kid had a sinking feeling as the big man removed all prying eyes and possible witnesses. He had not made it all this way to get beat to death with a rolling pin.


    ¡°I¡¯ll scream!¡± he blurted.


    The baker gave him a confused look, then burst out laughing. ¡°Divines boy, calm down. I¡¯m not going to take your money and put you in a meat pie. That¡¯s what rats are for. Street urchins are used by the butcher down the street.¡± As the man spoke his face grew more serious, leaving Kid not entirely sure he was joking. ¡°Besides, there¡¯s hardly enough meat on you to be worth the trouble,¡± he said, pinching Kid¡¯s arm.


    ¡°Ouch!¡± Kid yelled, swatting at the man¡¯s hand. ¡°I just want to buy some bread. Is this a bakery or not?¡±


    The baker snorted and walked back behind his counter. ¡°I¡¯ll give you a loaf for a Hart. Final offer.¡±


    Kid¡¯s jaw dropped. He could buy a new set of clothes, shoes, and a week¡¯s worth of food for that much. ¡°Are you crazy? That¡¯s blatant robbery!¡±


    The baker arched an eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯re one to talk. Am I to believe you earned that money running letters?¡± The baker snorted. ¡°I could get hanged right next to you for taking your money. Risk, reward. Simple as that.¡±


    ¡°Screw you!¡± Kid said turning to leave.


    ¡°I¡¯ll call the guards,¡± the baker said.


    Kid froze, ¡°You wouldn¡¯t.¡±


    The baker shrugged. ¡°Maybe, maybe not. They might even give me a reward.¡±


    Kid licked his lips and turned back to the man. He had maybe a dozen Harts on him. ¡°The price is too high.¡±


    The baker shook his head. ¡°Supply,¡± he patted a loaf of bread. ¡°Demand,¡± he extended his hand.


    Kid grudgingly pulled two Harts out of his pocket and slapped them into the baker¡¯s palm. As the baker tried to pull his hand away, Kid¡¯s grip tightened, holding it in place. ¡°And a sweet roll,¡± he demanded.


    The baker''s eyes narrowed. But Kid held firm. He barked a laugh. ¡°Ha! Ye¡¯ve got a lot of balls for a boy who just pissed himself.¡± Kid flushed bright red but kept his grip tight. ¡°Fine. A sweet roll too. Pleasure doing business with ye.¡±


    Kid released the man¡¯s hand and the baker wiped it on his apron as if trying to remove the filth. He then grabbed two loaves of bread and a fist sized sweet roll. He tossed them to Kid who caught them and tucked them under his arm.


    ¡°Now off with ye.¡± As Kid turned to the door, the baker spoke up. ¡°Through the back.¡±


    Kid shrugged and walked behind the counter and through the back room. A giant oven dominated the chamber and the smells of baking bread hung heavy in the air. At the end of the small room was another door and he pushed it open. Cold air rushed over his skin, feeling good after his brief walk past the stifling heat of the oven.


    He barely made it through the door before tearing into one of the loaves of bread. Within a minute, he¡¯d devoured the entire loaf, unsure how he fit the entire thing into his small frame, and for the first time in a week he felt full. The feeling brought such relief, he felt dizzy. He would survive another week. The jingle of coins in his pocket brought a smile to his lips. Perhaps a good while longer.


    He had one more obstacle to overcome before he could fade into the Outwalls and be safe from prowling soldiers. He had to get through the gate. Any guard worth his title could recognize a pickpocket. Kid need only look in a mirror to see what one looked like. He¡¯d received many a beating from the gate guards over his thirteen years and if they caught him with this much money, the consequences would be more fatal than a broken bone.


    He bided his time, watching the gate as dozens of people made their way in and out of the city proper. The Greencloaks were lazing around, all but ignoring their duty of watching the crowds which Kid was thankful for. It was never pretty when they caught a thief. Kid looked toward the crosses and the traitors hanging from them. He swallowed. Would robbing a church warrant that? He was sure he could sneak past the Greencloaks, but the Thorne soldiers watched the crowd like hawks. He didn¡¯t mind getting caught by them. They usually let him off with a cuff on the ear and confiscation of his coin for their gambling uses. But if they caught him with gold, they would ask questions. That would attract attention of the Greencloaks. He did not want that.


    A steady stream of people continued walking through the gates. Kid waited until a large merchant¡¯s cart loaded with bundles of wool approached the gateway. The gate''s tax farmer brought the wagon to a halt just inside the archway. Kid had to pick a side to walk through. Past the Greencloaks or the Thorne soldiers?


    Making his decision, he palmed one of his coins and grabbed the hand of a passing middle-aged woman. She started and tried to pull away at first before feeling the metal in her hand. She looked down at him. A silent understanding passed between them. It wasn¡¯t an uncommon practice among young thieves. A passing grubby child carrying food for his mother was far less suspicious than a passing grubby child who somehow ¡®acquired¡¯ food himself.


    Together, they walked to the gate while the wool merchant argued with the tax farmer over some such code or another. He must''ve hoped to hold up traffic long enough for the bureaucrat to wave him through just to get rid of him. Kid was thankful for the distraction as he ducked his head, trying to appear as small as possible. He was getting too old for this trick, but his small size could make him appear years younger if he hid his face.


    He guided the older woman toward the Thorne side of the gate, making sure they kept an even pace to avoid suspicion. His heart pounded and he could hear the blood pulsing through his veins. They were almost through. He chanced a peek at the guards and almost froze when he locked eyes with one of them. The guard winked at him. Kid could have kissed the man. Plausible deniability was a beautiful thing.


    Relief flooded him as they passed into the Outwalls. Kid kept walking with the woman for a few dozen more paces before releasing her hand. ¡°Thank you!¡± he yelled, racing into the nearest alleyway. The woman smirked after him, shaking her head then looked at what she¡¯d earned. Kid looked over his shoulder and enjoyed the look of shock she sent after him. It was likely the first gold coin she¡¯d ever held.


    Kid wound through the alleyways, avoiding all the gangs of older boys waiting in the shadows to rob those foolish enough to travel off the main roads. Kid had been wandering through the warrens of cobbled wood since he was old enough to walk. He knew their haunts and the ways to get around them. Bleakridge was like a maze with a thousand solutions but you only needed to be smart enough to find one.


    It wasn¡¯t long before he found himself on his home street. A peculiar sight stopped him in his tracks. Some dandy wearing the Thorne colors was stumbling through the streets like a drunken bear. His clothes were fine, but he looked like hell, with bloodshot eyes and crusted vomit about his collar. The dark fabric of his clothes was speckled with a reddish stain that Kid assumed to be copious amounts of wine.


    The man patted his pocket and smiled. It was a habit rich people had when walking through poor neighborhoods. Kid loved it. It let him know right where the dandy kept his money. Kid walked straight toward him. The man stared through Kid with clouded green eyes. His furrowed brow and distant look made it clear his thoughts were elsewhere. Kid feigned a trip, bumping into the man and slipping his hands into his pocket, enjoying the cool feeling of fresh coin. ¡°Sorry sir!¡± Kid called out, almost meaning it.


    The man didn¡¯t even seem to notice as he continued his single-minded trudge down the road. Kid checked the coins he palmed. Half a dozen silver lions stared back at him. Not bad. Not bad at all. He added them to his collection and looked up just in time to see an arm fall over his head and wrap around his throat.


    He tried to scream but his air was cut off as the arm dragged him into the closest alley. Only a squeak escaped his lips. People saw but pretended ignorance as they continued their daily business. ¡°Hey Kid, how¡¯s your ugly mug doing?¡±


    Kid kicked in the air as the man held him suspended in a headlock. After a moment of watching him squirm, the man released him. Kid fell to the ground, dropping his food into the dirt. He gasped, trying to get air into his lungs and coughed from the pain in his throat. The man waited for him to get his breathing under control.


    ¡°What do you want Marc?¡± he wheezed, rising to his feet and looking up at the man. Marc was a mean old bastard who seemed to enjoy knocking Kid around and he always seemed to pop up around the Dancing Bear at the worst possible times.


    Marc looked over his shoulder to the street. ¡°Give me what you took from that man. Now,¡± Marc said.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what-¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t bullshit me Kid, I¡¯m not in the mood.¡±


    Kid was not going to open his pockets in front of this man. Not today. There was too much at stake. ¡°Okay okay,¡± Kid said, readying his legs to spring away and run.


    He leapt and yelped as Marc caught him by the throat. Marc yanked him back and slammed him against the wall of the alley, making the whole wooden structure shudder. Marc shoved his hands into Kips pockets and dug out all the coins. His eyes widened as gold poured out of Kid¡¯s pockets into is hands. ¡°Where¡¯d you get this? There¡¯s no way he was carrying this much¡±


    ¡°From one of the churches in the inner city, he only had six lions on him,¡± Kid answered. If he got caught in a lie with this man he knew he¡¯d likely end up dead.


    ¡°By the Reaper¡¯s blade boy, I almost forgive you for trying to run. Almost.¡± Marc pocketed the gold. ¡°Thanks for your contribution to the war effort. Marc grinned wolfishly.


    ¡°Fucking Sons,¡± Kid muttered beneath his breath. Very beneath his breath.


    ¡°You know what? I¡¯m going to let you off with a warning,¡± Marc said, drawing a dagger from his belt. Kid stared at the steel, dread beginning to set in. He didn¡¯t dare struggle. A wave of fear petrified him, and he fell limp. Marc¡¯s grip was all that kept him on his feet. Marc let him go with a disgusted grunt and Kid fell to the ground.


    ¡°You¡¯re not even worth teaching,¡± he muttered, sheathing his dagger and turning to walk toward the street.


    He paused at the entrance. Kid looked up, watching the man flip a gold coin between his fingers. Bastard had nothing to fear. This world belonged to him. Marc flipped the gold coin and caught it. ¡°On second thought, you must be doing something right.¡± He looked over his shoulder. ¡°If you get hungry again and need work, go to the Dancing Bear and ask for Hilda. Tell her I sent you. We always need more runners.¡±


    Without another word, he disappeared around the corner.


    Kid struggled to his feet, legs still shaky from the bolt of terror that struck him. He was glad he¡¯d already wet himself, because doing it in front of Marc would have been far worse. He staggered over to his dropped food and wiped the dirt from it.


    Disappointment hung like a cloud over his head, seeming to darken the very air around him. He did all that for nothing but a little bread. It had taken him weeks to find a chance to steal that damn necklace and another to muster the courage to go through with his plan. And despite all his blunders, it had worked! Then it all unraveled because Marc wanted to see what was in that man¡¯s pockets. Kid cursed his greed. Greed is the death of thieves.


    Damn it.


    Kid kicked at the dirt beneath his feet, muttering about the Sons. They owned everything out here. If Marc asked for his head on a platter, it would be at the man¡¯s doorstep by morning. The only thing that kept people like Kid from ratting them out to the guards was that they were more scared of the Sons than the Greencloaks. It was better to please the wolf in your home than the one in your fields. He couldn¡¯t believe the bastard offered him a job right after he robbed him.


    Kid kicked at the ground again and yelped in pain as he stubbed his toe on a rock. He hopped on one leg, cursing and shaking his wounded foot. A feminine voice spoke to him, ¡°Are you okay Kid?¡±


    Kid looked up in horror to see Lissa standing in front of him, her round eyes staring at him with a look of concern. He blushed a deep red under her scrutiny. Could this day get any more humiliating? If Kid believed in anything, it was his endless capacity for bad timing.


    ¡°Hey Lissa, just ran into a spot of bad luck is all. Been a rough morning.¡±


    Lissa nodded in commiseration and Kid could see hints of sadness in her face. It was well hidden, but after so many years spent wandering the streets with her, he saw the slight line of worry in her forehead, the distant look in her eyes, the redness about her throat. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    She shook her head, seeming to have trouble speaking. Kid knew it was bad if Lissa of all people found it hard to talk. He reached out to her and to his surprise she tackled him in a hug, almost making him drop his hard-earned bread again. All his personal worries flew away as he hugged her back with his free arm. He tried to scoot away to avoid touching his soiled clothes to her clean ones, but she seemed beyond caring and pulled him closer.


    Lissa was taller than him by a large margin. And he was uncomfortably aware of his face pressing into her chest. The feeling was pleasant, but he could already feel its ramifications beginning to stir. He was not ready to humiliate himself again today, especially not in front of her. Kid pushed her away and looked up into her eyes which were now the picture of sadness.


    Kid swallowed the growing lump in his throat. ¡°I got you something,¡± he said, holding out the sweet roll.


    For a moment, the sadness vanished from her eyes as they widened in longing. She snatched up the sweet roll and almost took a bite before hesitating, giving him a guilty look. ¡°We¡¯ll split it,¡± she said, tearing the soft, sweet bread apart.


    Kid¡¯s mouth began salivating at her offer. He had been looking forward to eating it, but was willing to give it up to cheer her, even if only for a moment. He took his half from her. ¡°What happened?¡± he asked, taking a bite. Sweetness filled his mouth.


    She shook her head, cheeks already stuffed. ¡°Not here. C¡¯mon,¡± she said, walking down the street.


    Kid shrugged and followed as Lissa bounced down the road. Their fellow pedestrians all gave her a wide berth. It made Kid jealous. People usually went out of their way to push him around. The Dancing Bear was less than a block away and within a minute Lissa led him to the slim alley between the tavern and the neighboring house. Calling it an alley was being generous. The neighboring house leaned on the Dancing Bear, leaving a small gap about a foot wide. Just large enough for a girl or a small boy to squeeze through.


    Lissa waited by the gap until nobody was looking. Then she slid into the crevice, squeezing her slight frame between the rough wood and inching her way through. Kid followed her lead, looking both ways before slipping in. Over the past year, it got harder and harder for him to push his way through. His belly scraped against the rough wood, leaving him in constant fear of splinters as he pushed his way through. As he struggled to exit the other side, he stumbled, falling on his face as he popped out.


    Kid spat dust from his mouth and rose to his feet. He looked around the small enclosure, surrounded on all four sides by wooden walls. Miraculously, a small tree grew in the center. They¡¯d planted an acorn there together on his tenth birthday and it had grown against all odds. Kid smiled at the familiar sight. It had been a while since he¡¯d been here. As Lissa got older, her parents kept her working more often. Kid missed her company, though he would never admit it. She¡¯d probably make fun of him.


    Lissa sat down against one of the walls and Kid plopped down next to her, rolling the last loaf of bread in his hands. ¡°So, what did you want to talk about?¡±


    By the end of her story, his mouth was hanging wide open. ¡°They almost got Marc?¡± he asked, wishing they had. Not that he¡¯d tell that to the man¡¯s niece. ¡°Your dad must have been pissed that he hid there.¡±


    Lissa shrugged. ¡°Maybe. I don¡¯t know. I think he was too relieved that mom and I didn¡¯t get hurt to be mad then. Well- not really hurt.¡± She rubbed the mark around her throat. ¡°Thank the Goddess that Grim was there.¡±


    Kid felt a little guilty for robbing him blind. ¡°What was he doing there?¡±


    Lissa turned her head to Kid. ¡°Why does any man come to a tavern?¡± Kid stared blankly at her. ¡°To escape his problems," she said, ¡°his must be pretty bad for him to end up way out here.¡±


    If it was that easy to escape your problems, then maybe he should start drinking. Kid chuckled darkly, he couldn¡¯t afford it. One problem at a time.


    ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡± Lissa asked.


    Kid shook his head. ¡°Nothing, sorry. I just got caught up in my own head when you mentioned problems.¡± He told her about his day, making her laugh with how he bungled even the simplest of things and still managed to make it back to the Outwall. He left out the part where he robbed the bastard and ended the story with how Marc extorted him, making the whole trip in vain.


    ¡°He what?¡± Lissa yelled, rising to her feet. ¡°I¡¯m going to have some words for him next time he comes around.¡±


    ¡°NO!¡± Kid yelled, also jumping to his feet. ¡°No no, please no. He¡¯ll think I¡¯m trying to bring you into this. He¡¯ll beat me bloody!¡±


    Lissa pursed her lips, crossing her arms and sitting back to the ground with a huff. ¡°Fine,¡± she muttered. ¡°I won¡¯t say anything. But he sure isn¡¯t getting any more hugs from me.¡±


    Kid chuckled. ¡°Really?¡± he asked, amused


    Lissa threw her hands in the air in exasperation. ¡°What else can I do?¡±


    Kid sat back down next to her ¡°He even offered me a job as a Runner. Whatever that is.¡±


    Lissa turned to him with wide eyes. ¡°Take it,¡± she said without hesitation.


    Kid blinked in surprise, arching an eyebrow at her. ¡°I thought we were mad at him?¡±


    ¡°Kid,¡± she said, ¡°Runners get paid in silver.¡± Kid¡¯s eyes widened as Lissa kept speaking. ¡°Marc has meetings late at night in the Bear sometimes. While I was serving, they were talking about raising the Runner¡¯s payment per job from eight copper bears to a silver lion. Something about having more missions in the inner city.¡±


    Kid frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯ve never seen myself working with the Sons.¡±


    Lissa shook her head. ¡°Not with. In.¡±


    Kid¡¯s frown deepened. ¡°One of them.¡± The words tasted like curdled milk in his mouth.


    ¡°What¡¯s the alternative?¡±


    Kid didn¡¯t bother answering. They both knew his prospects. He scuffed his feet against the dirt and looked up at the leaves of the small tree. They were turning orange with the onset of autumn. The rays of sunlight illuminated the veins within, giving them an almost skeletal look. ¡°Greed is the death of thieves,¡± he whispered to himself.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Lissa asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it,¡± he said. A moment passed in silence as they listened to a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of their tree. If he closed his eyes he could almost imagine they were somewhere else. Somewhere kind.


    ¡°What did he say the castle was like?¡±


    Lissa¡¯s eyes brightened. ¡°Let me tell you.¡±

 Ch 3: Marc

    Hilda walked with purpose down the street, her well-worn cloak wrapped tight about her. With her husband and daughter away, she had locked up the Dancing Bear for a few hours while she answered the summons. Few patrons came after the morning rush. That gave her a few hours before her absence became noticeable.


    Hilda felt as if everyone were staring at her as she made her way down the winding roads. She didn¡¯t wear a hood because that would be foolishly suspicious on such a fine day. Yet, she kept her head down as she walked. She received some protection from her status as a Son, but it would be foolish to rely on it.


    Son.


    That name galled her. ¡®Sons of the Reaper¡¯ what a stupid name when half the membership were women. She shook her head as she approached a run-down shack, abutting the wall of the inner city.


    The place was a wreck, even by the standards of the Outwalls. It more resembled a pile of boards leaning against the wall than an actual building. A crude door was carved into the wood, no different than any other in the Outwall. Its nondescript look suited its purpose. Hilda pulled a small iron key from her pocket and approached the door. She glanced around to ensure there were no guards. She needn¡¯t have bothered. They only left the security of the walls to hunt people like her down. If a raid were coming, she would have been told hours, if not days, in advance.


    She ran her fingers around the frame of the door. She always forgot where that damn opening was. Her nails ran over a rough spot. It was cold to the touch and she could feel the contours of the keyhole beneath a layer of wood. With a quick pull, she popped the lid upward and it swung open on greased hinges. She put the key into the hole beneath and twisted. The locking mechanism opened with a clank. She hid the lock once more before, putting her shoulder into the door and pushing the heavy barrier open.


    Inside, she saw a man by the far wall of the building. He stared hard at her, axe in hand. He wore a mask shaped like a goat¡¯s head. He asked her a question, ¡°Does a bear shit in the woods?¡±


    ¡°A bear shits where he wants,¡± she answered, giving him this week¡¯s passcode.


    The man relaxed and waved at something to her right. A second man in an identical mask stepped from around the iron reinforced door. ¡°Welcome comrade,¡± he grunted as he heaved the heavy door closed.


    The man on the far side of the room grasped the edge of a tarp on the floor. He pulled it back, revealing a deep pit which disappeared into darkness. Were Hilda to have charged in, she would have tumbled to her death. The walls around her were reinforced with thick wooden beams. It gave the building a cramped feeling that was only exacerbated by the pile of unlit torches sitting in the corner.


    Hilda waited while one of the men lit a torch and handed it to her. She approached the edge and climbed down the ladder, flame in hand. Soon the room above was only a small circle of light in the distance. Her feet touched down onto hard rock and the torchlight revealed a tunnel bored straight through the granite stone around her. She had to crouch as she walked through it, passing dozens of wooden supports. The passage sloped upwards and the stone floor soon gave way to packed dirt. It felt as if she had walked a mile by the time she saw the opening into a chamber like the one she started in.


    A ladder attached to the wall stretched up into darkness. There was no light or any end in sight. She sighed and pushed the flame of the torch into the dirt beneath her. The fire snuffed out, sending the tunnel into total darkness. She groped in the dark for the ladder and grasped its rungs. She stretched her arms and started pulling herself upwards. Fortunately, this climb was not so long as the previous descent had been and soon her hands ran into a wooden barrier. She knocked on it once, twice, then once again.


    After waiting a moment, the trapdoor opened above her and an arm reached down into the tunnel. Hilda grasped the hand as it pulled her out of the tunnel, stumbling until she found her feet. The man who pulled her out helped to steady her. He was a giant of a man wearing the mask of a bear, yet his touch could only be described as gentle. She found herself in a large wine cellar. Rows and rows of wooden racks holding countless bottles filled the room.


    The man grunted and scratched at his chin after getting a good look at her. ¡°You¡¯re early,¡± he said, ¡°Marc ain¡¯t here yet.¡± He leaned against a large boulder poised precariously next to the trapdoor. More than large enough to crush a man. It wasn¡¯t hard to figure out what it¡¯s purpose was.


    ¡°Well that¡¯s too bad for him,¡± Hilda said brushing by the giant and walking toward the stairs. The creaky wooden steps led her into a large foyer, complete with richly upholstered furniture. A marble fireplace was lit, giving a warm glow to the golden frames of paintings hanging about the room. Half a dozen unmasked men lounged about the room, passing a pipe around and snickering like children. Hilda wrinkled her nose in distaste, but it wasn¡¯t her place to comment on how her brother-in-law let his men spend their off-duty hours.


    Their eyes seemed to float over her as she walked by. No signs of intelligence there. She walked down a long hallway, passing several rooms full of scribes. They busied themselves keeping careful records of the expenses and profits from the Son''s activities. Men and women sat at long desks, stacked with expense reports from the various operational cells. Their job was to compile the information into easily digestible reports. This was where most of the women in their operation ended up. The Sons of the Reaper didn¡¯t attract the most peaceful members of society. The temperament of the men was generally more suited toward breaking things. If she were being honest that''s all most of them were good for. The clerical work often fell to the women.


    Theft, extortion and trade in the various drugs smuggled turned a tidy profit. That and several very generous benefactors kept them swimming in wealth despite their humble origins. Marc had long ago made the decision to invest that money in the city smithies. One thing the Sons never lacked for was a steady supply of weapons and hands willing to use them.


    Hilda emerged from the hallway into the front entry hall where better dressed guests might enter the mansion. A large staircase dominated the room and lead to the second floor. A well-groomed butler stood by the main door. Upon seeing her, the man bowed. ¡°My lady,¡± he greeted, ¡°I¡¯m afraid you have arrived before the master of the house.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Hilda nodded at him. ¡°I know. One of the bears told me. I¡¯ll wait upstairs if that¡¯s alright.¡±


    The butler nodded and bowed to her once more. Hilda passed by him and ascended the staircase. As she walked upwards, a feeling of bitterness welled up inside her. This could be her everyday life if her husband weren¡¯t so stubborn. They¡¯d never have to worry about money again. Lissa could already be betrothed to the son of a wealthy merchant. There was no reason the girl ever needed to be anxious about such mundane concerns as her next meal.


    Marc had offered him a position, even begged James to join him but her husband refused. He said he¡¯d had enough of war for a lifetime. The man drove her mad some days. She couldn¡¯t even take Marc¡¯s money for her contribution to the cause because her husband would notice. The best she could do was take the bows her husband made and sell them to the Sons. She couldn¡¯t even imagine his rage if he knew. The incessant secrecy weighed on her, but she couldn¡¯t keep living the way she was. Every day was a war in and of itself and she knew she was well off by the standards of the Outwall. It wasn¡¯t in her to be a bystander.


    A long hallway extended in either direction at the top of the stairwell and Hilda followed the familiar path to Marc¡¯s office. She decided to try the door rather than wait outside and was surprised to find it unlocked. She shrugged and walked through the door.


    The inside of the office was as ostentatious as the rest of the mansion. Paintings and fine weapons hung from the walls, while plush rugs lined the floor. A grandiose desk dominated the center of the room. Hilda widened her eyes as she saw Marc sitting atop it. He was shirtless, grimacing as he dabbed a wet, brown piece of cloth against the wound he earned in the ambush last night. A bottle of whiskey sat next to him. Hilda winced as she watched him pour more of the liquid onto the rag and press it to his side.


    Marc looked up as she entered, forcing the pain from his face. ¡°Ah, good. You¡¯re early.¡±


    ¡°I was told you weren¡¯t here yet.¡±


    Marc grunted as he held the rag to his wound. ¡°There¡¯s a dozen ways I can get into this house. If my own men can¡¯t keep track of me then my enemies certainly can¡¯t.¡±


    Hilda walked further inside and took a seat by the desk. ¡°Or you¡¯ll get yourself caught in a bind and nobody will be able to help because we can¡¯t find you.¡±


    Marc shrugged, tossing the stained rag to the side and rising to his feet. ¡°The cause will survive without me. I¡¯m just the means to the bitter end,¡± he said, crossing the room to a small wardrobe and pulling on a fresh shirt.


    Hilda rolled her eyes at his back. Men always loved to be dramatic. Then they turn around and call women fragile for a few tears. ¡°Then why did you flee into my home and put my entire family in danger. If it¡¯s your neck on the line, then don¡¯t drag the people I love down with you.¡±


    Marc turned back to her as he began to buckle his weapons belt around his waist. He looked abashed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I thought I¡¯d lost them in the alleyways. I would never intentionally place you all in danger and I¡¯d never leave my niece without a mother,¡± he said, tucking a steel axe and dagger into their places. ¡°I need to gather our strength for tonight. One of our informants caught a Venaran messenger boy. He was delivering a letter to one of the Greencloak outposts. There¡¯s going to be a raid at the end of this week. It seems the commander didn¡¯t take kindly to us killing all his friends last night.¡± Marc grinned wolfishly.


    ¡°And the boy?¡± Hilda asked.


    ¡°Dead of course. What do you take my men for? Amateurs? I sure as shit don¡¯t want them to be aware we know.¡±


    Hilda nodded her approval. ¡°We always know Marc.¡±


    Marc¡¯s grin grew wider. ¡°They don¡¯t know that but I¡¯m planning to educate them. This city is not theirs and they are not welcome here.¡±


    Hilda crossed her arms. ¡°Is this why you called me here? So you could brag about how many Greencloaks you¡¯re going to kill? Because if so, fuck you. Do you know how long it takes to get here?¡±


    Marc chuckled at her as he opened a desk drawer and pulled out his wolf¡¯s mask. ¡°Sorry, have a lot on my mind today. Keep your head down this week and make sure Lissa stays indoors. It¡¯s going to be a tad unpleasant outside.¡±


    Marc grabbed a piece of parchment from his desk, dipped a nearby quill in ink and began to write. Hilda waited, tapping her foot on the wooden floor. Marc finished writing with a flourish and tucked the letter in an envelope with a few coins. ¡°You know that little tyke who runs around with Lissa? Stupid fucking name, ugly ass boy?¡±


    ¡°Kid?¡± she asked.


    Marc snapped his fingers. ¡°That¡¯s it. I caught him pickpocketing our glorious savior this morning. I caught the little shit and made him hand over the money. He had fourteen Harts on him. All real gold, I checked.¡±


    Hilda raised her eyebrows in surprise. That was enough money to keep her tavern running for a solid year. ¡°Where did he get that?¡±


    ¡°From a church,¡± Marc said, ¡°but that¡¯s not important. I offered him a job as a runner and you¡¯re his point of contact.¡± Marc held up the envelope he¡¯d sealed. ¡°This letter needs to be placed directly into the hands of the castle¡¯s resident drunken bastard.¡±


    Hilda wrinkled her nose in disgust. ¡°Are you really blackmailing him after he saved your life?¡±


    ¡°I have leverage over him and he doesn¡¯t know who I am. I¡¯d be a fool not to. Besides, I saved his life too,¡± he said.


    ¡°But he knows who I am, who my daughter is.¡±


    Marc shook his head. ¡°But not that you¡¯re a Son. And he won¡¯t put his head on the chopping block just to condemn you. The boy¡¯s a drunken sot, not an idiot and he won¡¯t even know you¡¯re involved.¡±


    ¡°Using him like this sits uneasily with me,¡± Hilda said.


    Marc came close to her and put a hand on her shoulder. ¡°Everything I do is to make our people great again. Our mission is larger than any one man or woman. He¡¯s a decent kid. But if in the future, we can use him to save hundreds of lives, then we would be selfish not to. Distinguishing between right and wrong is a luxury that we no longer have. There is only what is necessary.¡±


    He pressed the envelope into her hand. ¡°This,¡± he said, ¡°Is only an introduction. Nothing more. See that Kid delivers it.¡± He took her other hand and pressed a golden Hart into it. ¡°Use this to make sure the boy looks presentable. There¡¯s no way he can make it into the castle in his present state. And see to it that he¡¯s put through the burner. I want to test his mettle.¡±


    Hilda took the coin and pulled her hand away as Marc¡¯s touch lingered. ¡°Some people might say that what is right, is necessary.¡±


    Marc snorted. ¡°You sound like my brother.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you should learn to sound more like him yourself.¡±


    He ignored her words. ¡°You have your orders.¡± She flipped him a rude gesture and turned to leave. Hilda paused at the door as he called out to her. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to be like this, you know. I didn¡¯t want to spend three years of my life eating shit and painting the hills red. I didn¡¯t want to lose my little brother and find him broken a year later. I didn¡¯t want to watch my home decay beyond recognition while my countrymen scrounge for food like rats in a gutter. But if I did nothing to change that, then what kind of man would I be?¡±


    Hilda slammed the door shut behind her.

 Ch 4: The Earl

    The lit braziers on either side of him radiated heat, causing sweat to bead on his forehead as he stood before the dias. Grey eyes stared down at him from its heights. Grim stared back, his bastardized green eyes meeting the Earl¡¯s. A feat more easily said than done with Earl Rodger Thorne. Everything about the man spoke of control, from his highbacked wooden throne with neither cushion or adornment to his crisp and simple black attire. The single concession to luxury was the golden signet ring he wore on his right hand, but even that served a functional purpose.


    The hall was quiet as they waited for either Grim or the Earl to break the tense silence. Grim could almost feel the dozens of eyes locked onto him from either side of the audience chamber. Nobles from the southern countryside seeking to curry favor or claim influence. The Earl often referred to them as vultures picking at the carcass of a dead kingdom. Grim found the description apt. After the war, newly minted southern nobles carved petty baronies out of the old kingdom, tearing at its flesh and turning it into something unrecognizable.


    Grim ignored their stares and maintained eye contact with the Earl. The man seemed to revel in silence and over the years Grim had grown to understand why. Silence made men uncomfortable and when men were uncomfortable, they make mistakes.


    The Earl finally broke the quiet. ¡°Grim,¡± he greeted.


    Grim bowed. ¡°Father.¡±


    ¡°I called for you last night.¡±.


    Grim fought the urge to wince, keeping his face calm. ¡°And now I am here.¡±


    ¡°And now you are here,¡± The Earl repeated, tapping his fingers on the armrest of his throne. ¡°Careful with your tongue boy. Fast words often lead to a swifter end.¡±


    Grim swallowed, averting his eyes. Nervousness and fear always warred within him when he was in his father¡¯s presence. The memories of the brand always came back. They were scalded into his memory. The ultimate rejection. The man was his father, but Grim could never be his son.


    The Earl waited for a response. When he realized none was forthcoming, his nostrils flared. The only sign of his anger. Grim knew it well. Where most men were fiery and impulsive in their rage, the Earl burned cold. Grim¡¯s skin began to prickle beneath his scrutiny. The Earl leaned forward in his chair. ¡°Have you nothing to say?¡±


    Grim controlled his breathing and answered levelly. ¡°Nothing slow.¡±


    The slightest hint of a smirk appeared on the Earl¡¯s face though it could also be a scowl. It was hard to tell with him. ¡°Leave us.¡± the Earl commanded.


    Together they waited as the nobles were ushered out of the room by the Briar Guard, the Earl¡¯s elite soldiers. Each was freshly bedecked in a new fashion of armor. Steel plates covered their bodies from head to toe, creating an almost impenetrable barrier of metal. It looked heavy, but the men moved with graceful ease. Each set cost a small fortune, a testament to the Earl¡¯s faith in each man. Within moments, the hall was cleared of everyone but Grim and his Father.


    The Earl rose to his feet, towering over Grim from atop the raised dais. Rodger Thorne was nearly as large a man as Grim, though his frame had somewhat withered with age as grey invaded his jet-black hair and time softened the muscles of a hardened soldier. Old as the man may be, Grim still didn¡¯t fancy the idea of a fight with him.


    The Earl walked down the dais to the floor of the long hall, his steps echoing in the emptiness of the vast room. The lit braziers on either side of Grim were beginning to make sweat drip from his brow. It was another of the Earl¡¯s many tactics. Uncomfortable men made mistakes. Fearful men slipped secrets. Weak men were often both in this hall. Weakness breeds contempt and Grim could feel the scorn dripping from his father as the man came to a stop before him. ¡°You¡¯re drunk.¡±


    Grim had no answer to that, only averting his eyes, no longer able to meet the Earl¡¯s gaze. His father grabbed him by the chin and forced his eyes up. ¡°Do not look away. You are not a sheep, you are not a scared child. You are a member of my house, no matter how flawed.¡± he said, releasing Grim¡¯s chin. ¡°Do not mistake my leniency for mercy. Speak to me flippantly in front of the court again and I will have to make an example of you.¡±


    Grim nodded. ¡°Yes father, I understand.¡±


    The Earl stared hard into his eyes, seeming to find something interesting. ¡°What did you do Grim?¡±


    Grim kept his face impassive, maintaining the carefully crafted facade his father had hammered into him over the years. The jolt of fear that lanced his heart nearly gave him away, but he knew the man was blindly fishing. There was no way he could have known what had happened. Not so soon. ¡°I got pissed drunk and fell asleep in a gutter.¡±


    The Earl snorted, shaking his head. ¡°At least you¡¯re honest,¡± he said, the scrutiny disappearing from his gaze along with the interest in whatever he thought he saw.


    Relief flooded Grim, but he didn¡¯t let it show. He slumped his shoulders as if abashed. ¡°Why did you call for me?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I have news concerning you, but it can wait. I¡¯ll not have a serious conversation with you in this state. Sober yourself up and we¡¯ll talk in my chambers tonight. You will spend extra time in the practice ring today to make up for your absence.¡±


    Grim frowned, remembering Edgar¡¯s promise of retribution. It was going to be a shitty day indeed. ¡°Yes sir.¡±


    The Earl nodded at his acquiescence, expecting nothing less. He waved his hand and turned back to his throne. ¡°You may go.¡± Grim turned to leave through the main doors. ¡°Grim,¡± the Earl called, ¡°Go through the servant¡¯s entrance. I¡¯d like a moments peace before the vultures circle again.¡±


    Grim walked around the dais as his father climbed its steps. The Earl eased into his chair. As Grim put his hand on the door he looked up at the man. The Earl was staring back at him with eyes that almost hinted of sadness. Grim blinked and it was gone. Rodger Thorne turned his gaze away, sitting straight backed in his chair and enjoying the rare moment of peace. Grim opened the door and let him be.


    ***


    Waves crashed against the cliffs below the castle in a soothing rhythm as Grim laid out his equipment. It was standard fare for an average soldier: An iron set of mail and matching helmet, accompanying an axe of the same metal with a four-inch spike adorning its top. The metal was good wrought iron. Not like that cast-iron crap they made cheap tools and kitchen ware from. This iron was forged to take a beating and last. Grim had put it to the test over the past decade. Even now several of the iron ringlets on the armor were burst open. He needed to get it mended sometime soon, but he somehow kept finding a reason to be in a tavern instead.


    He sighed and pulled the heavy coat of iron over the thick padding of his gambeson. They used blunted weapons in practice but getting hit with an iron club still felt like getting hit with an iron club no matter what you wore. Normally Grim didn¡¯t mind and rather enjoyed sparring. Today however, he knew Edgar was going to go out of his way to give him a lesson in the meaning of pain. Grim left the axe where it lay and pulled the helmet on over his head, keeping the visor open for the moment.


    With a feeling of nervous excitement, Grim turned to the large practice area. It was little more than a large field of hard packed dirt along the seaward side of the castle. It directly abutted the cliff face, looking out over the Meridian bay in the distance. All about the yard, dozens of soldiers were sparring. Their weapons clashed in the chaotic sound of battle. To the side of the field were several tables and benches where spectators could watch and make bets on the fights. They were often more filled than the yard itself and today was no exception. Men and women from the castle staff were cheering on their chosen combatants in various duels. Money switched hands as one soldier or another ate dirt.


    Grim hoped to get out there and find a sparring partner early before Edgar caught sight of him. He had no sooner turned to fetch a practice weapon, when a blunted axe thumped into his chest. Grim fumbled with it, yelling out in surprise. A heavy shield followed the axe, almost knocking Grim on his ass as he fumbled with it. ¡°What the Hell?¡±


    Grim sighed as he caught sight of Edgar marching by him. ¡°Come on bastard, we¡¯re burning daylight, you little shit.¡±


    ¡°Asshole,¡± Grim muttered quietly. Very quietly. He followed Edgar over the hard-packed dirt as they weaved through the fighting men. He could already see the crowd on the side lines pointing at them and whispering. Grim wondered what they thought his odds were. He doubted they were optimistic. Grim was no slouch in a fight, but Edgar was quicker than a mongoose and twice as nasty.


    Edgar stopped at the far end of the field next to the parapet overlooking the sea. The waves were a beautiful sight as they shined in the afternoon light. It was one of those rare days when the sky was completely clear, and the sun shined brilliantly, warming the chill of the air. A perfect day to spend with a beautiful girl and a bottle of wine along the cliffs. Or to get your face pounded into the ground a few dozen times. One or the other.


    Grim sighed and lowered his visor as Edgar backed a few steps away. The captain favored the same armament as Grim. The tried and true axe and shield combination. Perfect for both hacking through your enemy and preventing the same from befalling yourself.


    Edgar closed his visor and readied his weapons. ¡°What are you waiting for? An invitation?¡±


    ¡°A ¡®please¡¯ would be nice,¡± Grim said, readying his own arms.


    ¡°Please eat shit and die?¡± Edgar ventured.


    Grim shrugged. ¡°Never could say no to you.¡±


    Edgar snorted, banged his shield and slowly approached Grim, coming in at a slight angle toward Grim¡¯s right. Grim waited for his approach, legs bent and ready to spring. When he was almost in range, Grim rushed forward. He slammed his shield into Edgar, but the man was ready. Edgar pivoted, pushing Grim off course with his own shield. Grim turned in time to catch the follow up strike. The force of the blow knocked him back a step and he leapt back another as Edgar punched out with his shield


    The two men circled each other before beginning the next exchange of blows. Edgar rushed Grim shield first, plowing into him. Grim held his ground and swung his axe downward. Edgar ducked and forced their locked shields upward, deflecting Grim¡¯s swing. Grim felt the underside of an axe wrap around his ankle.


    Shit.


    Grim slammed to the ground as Edgar yanked his leg and bowled him over. Grim rolled to the side, narrowly missing a stomping boot. He struck out with his axe as he scrambled away. A swing and a miss. Grim¡¯s head rang like a gong as Edgar¡¯s axe slammed into the side of his helmet.


    A moment later he found himself on his back staring up at the cloudless sky. ¡°Am I dead?¡± he asked nobody in particular.


    ¡°Nah, we¡¯re just getting started you and I.¡±


    Grim sighed, disappointed. A hand appeared in his vision and Grim reached out to grasp it. Edgar pulled him to his feet. Grim opened his helmet and spit some blood on the ground. ¡°God¡¯s balls man, watch the face. It¡¯d be pretty tragic if I ended up with one only a mother could love.¡±


    ¡°Tragic. Amusing. Suppose it¡¯s a matter of perspective.¡±


    ¡°What crawled up your ass this morning?¡± Grim asked.


    ¡°You! You little- wait shit. I mean- Ah fuck it,¡± Edgar said, slamming his visor down as Grim chuckled. It was almost worth the possible concussion. Almost.


    Grim mentally counted his bruises as the hours passed. His whole body was beginning to ache as the sun started to fall beneath the horizon.


    The ground cooled his back through his sweat stained armor while he held the back of his thigh. He grimaced at the shoots of pain running through his leg. Edgar ignored him, leaning against the battlements overlooking the sea. The Captain also breathed heavily after their final bout. Grim took the brunt of the beating. He failed to win a single match, but he landed few solid hits on the Captain. His pained grimace turned into a crude smile of satisfaction as Edgar rolled one of his shoulders, wincing in pain.


    Grim groaned as he forced himself to his feet. He staggered over to the parapets next to the captain. ¡°We even?¡± Grim asked.


    Edgar shrugged with wince. ¡°Close enough. Just don¡¯t go wandering off like that again. You think the Earl doesn¡¯t notice but he does.¡±


    Grim scowled. ¡°He can notice whatever he damn well pleases.¡±


    Edgar shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s your funeral.¡±


    Grim flexed his leg and was rewarded with fresh pain. ¡°Divines man, you hit like bear.¡±


    ¡°And you hit like my mother,¡± Edgar answered.


    ¡°Gee thanks.¡±


    ¡°That was high praise.¡±


    Grim rolled his eyes. ¡°Sorry you had to go looking for me. I can be a ripe asshole some days.¡±


    ¡°No need to state the obvious. If you¡¯d said that earlier, I might¡¯ve been a bit easier on you.¡±


    Grim sighed, leave it to him to make his life harder than it needed to be but what was done was done. Grim gave Edgar a heavy pat on his wounded shoulder, making the man wince. ¡°It¡¯s been a real pleasure.¡±


    ¡°Positively peachy,¡± The man growled.


    Grim turned towards the sea, slumping against the stone parapet and looking down at the cliffs far below as waves crashed against the stony edifice. A gentle breeze drifted through the air, cooling his body as it steamed in the chill air. Grim pulled off his helmet, enjoying relief from the constant pressure on his skull. Edgar leaned against the stone next to him, looking over the bay.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    They watched the glittering waves and dozens of passing ships for a long moment in silence. The sun was nearing the horizon, marking the end of port services for the day. Dozens of fishing boats were pulling in the day¡¯s haul while foreign merchants rushed to make it to the city before sunset. It couldn¡¯t be fun to anchor in the bay, only a few minutes sailing from a warm bed.


    The port itself buzzed with activity. From these heights, Grim could see the thousands of people passing through the city like ants crawling through a maze. Even at this late hour, ships were vomiting out their cargo onto the piers. Crates from Tara, filled with silks, spices, wine, honey, jewels and a thousand other things most people in Bleakridge could only dream of. The city was the heart that pumped the lifeblood of trade between the two empires, it¡¯s port cutting the travel time between the two capitals nearly in half.


    ¡°Ever wonder what it¡¯d look like on fire?¡± Edgar asked.


    Grim blinked in surprise. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think we¡¯re headed in that direction?¡± Edgar asked. ¡°The writings on the walls. Literally. You need only walk around the Outwalls to see it. Greencloaks disappearing while more and more Sons get their wings.¡±


    Grim frowned at the phrase ¡®get their wings¡¯ thinking of the men nailed to the cross, their shattered shoulders twisting them into a mockery of a bird. ¡°I think both are getting their just desserts. I¡¯d rather they not use my city as a pyre though.¡±


    ¡°Fire burns whoever touches it.¡±


    ¡°Including women and children,¡± Grim retorted.


    Edgar didn¡¯t answer for a long moment as he pulled a flask from a pocket. Grim listened with interest as the captain unlatched the lid and took a long draw. ¡°To hell with that,¡± he said, ¡°Want a drink?¡±


    Grim nodded without thinking, grabbing the offered flask and taking a long draw of the burning liquid. Whiskey. Good stuff too. Grim exhaled after swallowing, feeling the alcoholic burn warm his breath and belly. He passed it back to Edgar who took another drink. ¡°What made you join the guard?¡±


    ¡°Shit, lots of reasons,¡± Edgar said. He paused, seeming to collect his thoughts for a moment. ¡°You can only stand by and watch for so long. I''m sure you''ve seen a lot of death."


    ¡°Yeah, I live in Bleakridge.¡±


    Edgar snorted humorlessly and spat over the ramparts into the sea below. ¡°Ever had somebody you love taken from you?¡± he asked, passing the flask.


    Grim paused, the metal rim almost touching his lips. ¡°Not for a long time,¡± he whispered.


    Edgar nodded. ¡°The way I see it, when you do, you have two options. You either lose yourself to hatred for whoever did the killing. Or, you take a step back and try to stop the same from happening to others. That¡¯s why I joined the guard.¡± Edgar let out a slow sigh. ¡°What we¡¯ve got down there is a self-feeding cluster-fuck of death and retribution. And me, I just do my best.¡±


    ¡°Being the Earl¡¯s man is the best there is?¡± Grim asked. ¡°That¡¯s hardly hope inspiring.¡±


    ¡°The best the likes of us got, bastard.¡±


    Grim could hardly argue with that. They stood that way for a long moment as the sun continued to fall, turning the blue sky a brilliant shade of orange. They were no longer the only people along the walls. Visiting nobles began to appear, as they often did after the work was done and the reward arrived. Grim shook his head, taking another drink from the flask and passing it back to Edgar. ¡°Thanks for the drink.¡±


    ¡°Forget it. You earned it. I¡¯m going to turn in and call it a day soon. You might remember I didn¡¯t get much sleep last night.¡±


    Grim smirked. ¡°Aye, good night captain.¡±


    Edgar gave him a mocking salute. ¡°Later bastard.¡±


    Grim watched the city as lights begin to illuminate the thousands of windows. The luminescent glow reminded Grim of Edgar¡¯s earlier comment. He was shaken from thoughts of fire as a hand roughly grabbed his shoulder and pulled him away from the parapet. Grim was so surprised he nearly fell on his ass.


    Grim cursed under his breath as he found his balance and looked up, expecting to see his father, Edgar or some other figure of authority in his life. Instead, he saw a pair of nobles dressed in black and yellow, taking his place on the balcony, not giving him so much as a second look. Grim repressed his anger, knowing it would do him no good. He turned away, wincing as laughter sounded behind him. ¡°Whore son,¡± he heard one mutter.


    Grim halted in his tracks and turned around. One of the two men was leaning against the stonework, a smug grin on his face. Grim took a step forward. A hundred-foot fall into the sea should wipe that grin off his face.


    ¡°Grim!¡± a voice called. Grim turned his head to see his younger sister Ilyena. At the age of sixteen, she was ten years his junior. Black curls ringed her angular face which was furrowed in annoyance as she grabbed his arm.


    ¡°What on earth were you planning on doing?¡± she asked. ¡°Breaking his knees in front of half the court?¡±


    Grim muttered under his breath. ¡°I was going to throw him over the wall, but your idea has its merits.¡±


    Ilyena released him and crossed her arms. "Well, don¡¯t let me stop you."


    Grim hesitated, eyeing the nobles. Ilyena rolled her eyes. "All bark and no bite. That''s what I thought." Grim glared at her as she continued. "Also, I heard you spent the night in the Outwalls, came back stinking drunk, interrupted Father¡¯s audience after being late for your own and told him off in front of the nobles. Have you gone mad?¡±


    Grim furrowed his brows thinking back to the audience. Now that she mentioned it, the Earl had seemed surprised to see him enter the hall. Some older man dressed in black and yellow was in his way as he walked in and needed to be pushed out of the way. Then the herald announced Grim as the Baron Barrington¡­


    Grim chuckled and. Ilyena sighed. ¡°I was hoping you had. And as usual, you let me down.¡±


    ¡°Why on earth didn¡¯t he skin me alive?¡± Grim asked once he got his breathing under control.


    Ilyena shrugged. ¡°I think you actually managed to amuse him.¡±


    Grim balked. ¡°Our father? A sense of humor? Must be a cold day in hell."


    Ilyena shrugged while Grim removed his armor and bundled his equipment. ¡°Besides, we¡¯re not exactly on the best terms with the Barringtons. Your utterly egregious slight may have been convenient.¡± She wrinkled her nose and sniffed the air. ¡°Have you been drinking? Again? Already?¡±


    ¡°Raising morale with the men,¡± Grim answered.


    Ilyena shook her head and glanced toward the sunset. ¡°Father told me to bring you to his chambers to speak. You need to pull yourself together.¡± She snapped her fingers in front of Grim¡¯s face as his eyes began to follow a pretty serving girl. ¡°Can you focus a moment and take something seriously for once?¡± Grim frowned. ¡°Now get yourself to the kitchens and ask Mara for some food. Think garlic and onions. Not OR. Garlic AND Onions.¡± Grim nodded, very amenable to the idea of food. The drink was clouding his mind, making it hard to remember when he last ate. ¡°Got that?¡± Ilyena asked, with a look of- worry?


    Grim nodded. ¡°You got it sis.¡±


    ¡°Good. I¡¯ll stall for you. Eat quick and keep your head attached,¡± she said, ¡°or don''t." She shrugged and walked away.


    ***


    Grim navigated his way to the kitchen through the halls, following his nose as much as his memory. Tantalizing aromas of baked sweets and slow cooking meat made his mouth water. Grim passed many servants but none paid him any heed as he ghosted past. Soon he arrived at his destination and pressed open the oaken door to step into the kitchen. A billowing wave of heat assaulted him as he entered. The many ovens were all lit and the heat indicated they had seen much use this afternoon. The kitchens teemed with servants tending to the cooking while others gathered food to deliver to nobles and officers. Others sat at nearby tables, scarfing down a small meal before they began the night¡¯s work. Few gave Grim any notice. He had been a common sight in the kitchens since he was a boy stealing pie from under the cook¡¯s nose. The only person who ever paid him any heed was the head cook, Mara.


    Mara was a plump middle-aged woman with the bearing of a field commander. She currently marched around the kitchen, waving her ladle like a sword and yelling at her serving girls to hurry the blazes up. Grim walked inside and took a seat at a nearby table. Upon noticing him, Mara¡¯s face lit up into a wide smile and she leaned against the table next to him, making the wood groan in protest.


    ¡°Well hullo young master, what can old Mara do for you this fine evening?¡± she asked. Without waiting for his response, she walked away and continued speaking as she moved around the kitchen, gathering a variety of food onto a plate. ¡°Well let¡¯s see here. They say some steak is good for a growing boy- Oh and some salted ham, they say it¡¯s good for the soul. Ah yes there¡¯s some Caldean sausage. Supposed to make a man more virile or at least that¡¯s what the pig farmer tells me,¡± she said with a wink at Grim. He flushed with embarrassment. Without pause, she continued her collection of food, always commenting on what they say about it. She rarely mentioned who they were, but the woman seemed to know everything about food so Grim just took her word for it. She finally ended her chatter with ¡°And a lovely little peach. They say those make a man more handsome but if you ever seen a peach farmer you know that ain¡¯t true.¡±


    With a flourish, she laid the feast before Grim and he grinned up at her. ¡°Mind if I request some garlic and onions?¡±


    Mara narrowed her eyes but sauntered over to a nearby counter, grabbing a clove of garlic and an onion. She tossed them to Grim. Grim caught them, grabbed a knife and liberally scattered garlic across his meal before taking a huge bite of the onion as if it were an apple. Without any further ado, he dug into the meal with gusto. Eating was always the best part of the day.


    Mara winced as he bit the onion. ¡°Never understood how you could stand to do that, boy,¡± she said as she sat back down next to him. she gave him a warm smile as he devoured the steak at record speed. ¡°I heard Edgar gave you hell today.¡±


    Grim shrugged, speaking between bites. ¡°Edgar. Asshole. Get¡¯em next time.¡± Suddenly the steak was gone and Grim had a moment of panic before he realized the sausages were even more delicious.


    Mara giggled as he bit into a sausage and somehow managed to get grease squirted into his eye. ¡°Is that why you have that pile o¡¯metal with you then?¡± she asked looking at his armor and the axe strapped to his hip.


    Grim nodded in response, mouth too full of sausagey goodness to verbalize a response.


    Mara gave him a sight frown and Grim stopped eating. Something was wrong. Mara leaned towards him, seeming to examine the air. She shook her head, eyes downcast. ¡°Just don¡¯t go getting yourself into trouble Grim, people care about you here you know.¡±


    Grim stopped his eating, the seriousness of her tone making him pay attention. She took his hand and turned it palm up. She pressed another clove of garlic into his hand. ¡°I care about you. And that¡¯s why it hurts to see you don¡¯t.¡±


    Without another word, she rose to her feet and returned to her duties, leaving Grim starting at the clove of garlic in his palm. He could feel tears coming to his eyes as the familiar self-loathing began to set in. For one of the few times in his life he found he wasn¡¯t hungry. Grim rose to his feet, forcing back his emotions and leaving the kitchen with the garlic clutched tight in his palm.


    ***


    The door to the Earl¡¯s personal chambers was a thick wooden barrier, almost so dark it was black. Intricately carved designs detailing the history of house Thorne were engraved into its surface. It went back hundreds of years from the founding of the clan to the establishment of the house after the war. Grim knew every contour of that door by heart, from the smallest flourish to the greatest sweeping curve. He ought to know it well, considering he had been staring at it for the past five minutes as he built up the courage to knock.


    The patrolling guardsman on the fifth floor gave Grim a strange look as he walked by for the ninth time. Grim sighed and knocked on the hard wood.


    A voice sounded from inside. ¡°Come.¡±


    Grim opened the door. The room was spacious and decorated with tapestries and paintings hung thick along the stone walls. Hardwood replaced the castle stone and the boards creaked under his feet as Grim came to a stop inside. On the far side of the room the fireplace flickered, giving the walls a warm glow. Beside the hearth were a pair of plush sitting chairs. The Earl¡¯s arm was visible around the back of one, as he swirled the wine in his glass.


    ¡°Over here boy,¡± his father said, without so much as a glance in his direction.


    Grim obeyed, crossing the threshold and walking around the chairs. A man Grim didn¡¯t recognize sat in the other chair. He appeared as old as the Earl and bore a similar martial bearing, but Grim had eyes only for the long green cloak on his shoulders. He froze mid-step, forcing down the rising panic. ¡°Good Evening my lord,¡± he managed.


    The man wrinkled his nose in a way that was intimately familiar to Grim. ¡°So, this is him.¡±


    The Earl nodded, his grey eyes examining Grim with an intensity he found uncomfortable. Grim held his hand out to the man. ¡°Grim Thorne, sir.¡±


    The man ignored the proffered hand. ¡°Marshal Longreen, but to you it¡¯s your eminence.¡±


    Grim lowered his hand, fighting down a sour expression. A haughty southerner was the worst kind. But calling a southerner haughty was like calling a dog furry. It went without saying. ¡°May I ask what this is about, your eminence?¡±


    The Marshall waved his hand at the Earl as if granting him permission to speak. Grim caught the barely perceptible crease in his father¡¯s forehead. The sight almost made the condescension worth it. Almost. Rodger Thorne cleared his throat. ¡°What is said in this room, will not leave it. Understand boy?¡± Grim nodded and the Earl took a sip of his wine. ¡°Good. You can take it from here Randal,¡± he said, mimicking the Marshal¡¯s wave.


    Longreen glared at the Earl for a moment before turning the heat of his eyes over to Grim. ¡°It¡¯s not common knowledge yet. But last night, half my officer corps was ambushed and executed in a tavern within the confines of the inner city. The civilian casualties-¡± he trailed off, ¡°were not insignificant.¡±


    The Marshal paused as he poured himself a glass of wine. ¡°With the rising attacks and the unrest this news will cause, I can¡¯t afford to be short staffed.¡±


    He rose to his feet and put a hand on Grim¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Those godless heathens even had the audacity to light a church on fire this very morning.¡± He walked closer to the hearth and looked into its flames as if contemplating what kind of monster could do such a thing.


    ¡°To be frank son, I need men who can lead and those only come from noble blood. Your father won¡¯t lend me soldiers unless they remain under his purview.


    His lips curled in distaste. "So, I need you.¡±


    Grim stared wide eyed at the man. He had to be joking. ¡°Your eminence, I thank you for your offer-¡±


    He cut Grim off. ¡°There was no offer. You¡¯ve been officially conscripted into the Venaran Regulars. Congratulations.¡± The marshal finished his glass of wine in a series of quick gulps. He looked to the Earl. ¡°Do you have anything to add Thorne?¡±


    ¡°Only that he better treat any order from you as if it came from my own mouth,¡± he said with a slight twist of the lips Grim recognized as a smirk. Grim sighed. Asshole.


    Longreen nodded. ¡°He better. Now if you have nothing more to say, I need to get back to my men.¡± He turned to Grim. ¡°I¡¯ll see you at the barracks at dawn.¡± Without another word, he marched from the room, leaving Grim staring after him in disbelief as the door slammed shut.


    Grim turned to his father. ¡°You fucking threw me to the wolves,¡± Grim said. ¡°I knew you hated me, but this? What the hell did I do to you?¡±


    The Earl showed no reaction to his outburst, only swirling his glass of wine. ¡°Sit,¡± he said.


    Grim clenched his fists, eyes burning into his father. ¡°Why?¡± he demanded.


    Rodger Thorne lowered his voice with nostrils flared. ¡°I told you to sit.¡±


    Grim grudgingly lowered himself into the cushioned sitting chair, too distracted to enjoy its comfort. ¡°Why?¡± he repeated.


    The Earl took his time, taking a drink from his wine. ¡°If you used that brain of yours for a single moment, you would realize what an opportunity this is. Let me ask you Grim, are you happy with the way the Greencloaks operate in our city?¡±


    Grim scowled at his father. ¡°No, of course not. But what the hell do you expect me to-¡± Grim cut off as the gears in his mind finally settled into place. ¡°You want me close to the Marshall.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said, ¡°And the Marshal knows this so don¡¯t expect a pleasant reception. He¡¯s desperate not stupid. I¡¯m loaning him two of my captains and a handful of sergeants. These men will be under your command. Remember that. Do not let him exercise direct authority over my men but follow his orders yourself. Or at least the spirit of his orders.¡±


    He looked away from Grim and watched the flames. ¡°If I have instructions for you, then they will come from my lips personally. Don¡¯t let him entrap you and most of all remember where your loyalties lie.¡±


    ¡°To the family.¡±


    His father nodded. ¡°You are not my first choice for this. You¡¯re not even in the top ten but he demanded a member of my house and you were the only option.¡±


    The Earl stared at Grim a long moment, his face impassive. ¡°Make me proud.¡±


    Grim felt an unfamiliar emotion run through him at that order. One which he didn¡¯t want to contemplate. ¡°Yes, Father.¡±


    The Earl nodded as if he expected nothing less. ¡°You may go then. I understand you have an important day ahead of you.¡±


    Grim rose to his feet, bowed and turned to leave. He hesitated, then pulled the letter James had given him out of his jacket pocket. ¡°While I was passed out, this letter was put in one of my pockets,¡± he said, passing the parchment to the Earl.


    The Earl took the letter and examined it ¡°The seal is broken.¡±


    Grim shrugged while his father pulled the letter out and passed it back to Grim. ¡°Read.¡±


    Grim sighed and read it aloud. ¡°The Forest Stirs.¡±


    The Earl snatched the parchment from his hands, rose to his feet and tossed it into the fire. Grim blinked in surprise. ¡°What the hell?¡±


    ¡°Say not a word of this. Go. Now,¡± His father said.


    Part of him wanted to say something snide. Another part wanted to demand an answer. In the end, he left without a word.

 Ch 5: Silver

    Kid sat in the gloom, looking at the swaying branches of the tree he and Lissa planted. She had long since left to help her mother with the nightly rush. Kid had been loitering in the grove for over an hour, enjoying the solitude despite the boisterous noise coming from the Dancing Bear. He didn¡¯t want to go home but as the autumn air grew cold with the setting of the sun, he knew he had to.


    When the chill began to make him shake, he rose to his feet. Kid sucked in his gut, for what little good that did, and slid his way through the gap. The wind blew hard down the street, feeling like knives as it cut him to the bone. He pulled his shirt tighter about himself, trying to keep in his warmth as he walked down the block towards the squat wooden shack that awaited him. It was indistinguishable from the rest of the trash heaps lining the road. Rusted nails stuck out of the withered wood while the soft glow of firelight leaked through small cracks in the walls.


    As Kid approached, he could feel wisps of warmth leaking from the building, teasing his cold flesh with the seductive promise of warmth. As he reached to open the makeshift door, it slammed open, knocking Kid to the side. He rubbed his arm and watched as a man he didn¡¯t know walked by. ¡°Probably back to his family,¡± Kid muttered under his breath. He didn¡¯t even have the courtesy to shut the door as he stumbled out onto the street.


    Kid stepped inside, pulling the door closed behind him and latching it shut. The place wasn¡¯t much to look at. There was no furniture in the small enclosure, only a small pile of coal and a fire pit in the center of the room. Its dying flames flickered, casting shadows over the rubbish strewn floor. To the left of the pit was a small alcove filled with straw. He could see one of his mother¡¯s pale legs flopped outside and unmoving.


    The place smelled of smoke with a hint of ass. Kid grimaced as he nudged empty bottles out of his way with his toe. He walked to the pile of coal and tossed a few pieces into the fire, giving it more substance and heat. Then he turned to regard his mother.


    Clouded eyes stared up at the ceiling, looking without seeing. Her body was haphazardly arrayed, likely just how the man had left her. A blanket was tossed over her, half covering her nakedness. Kid walked over to her and checked for coins.


    Not even a single copper bear. Kid sighed. Looking at her comatose body, he didn¡¯t have to wonder how the man paid. Honestly, he was almost relieved to find her like this. The thought sickened him as he looked at her. Kid knelt next to her and pulled the blanket higher, completely covering her. He watched her with sad eyes as her pupils shot around, while her lips rose in ecstasy. He hoped wherever she was that she was happy.


    Kid took his final loaf of bread and placed in the crook of her arm. As the bread touched her skin she looked at him. Kid startled as her eyes met his and she outstretched her arms, beckoning him. ¡°Baby, I thought you left,¡± she breathed.


    Kid backed away, bile rising in his throat. She didn¡¯t even recognize him. As he stepped away she seemed to forget he was there and returned to her silent vigil of the ceiling. Kid took a moment to brush away strands of straw that had found their way close to the fire before he plopped himself onto the ground.


    He could smell himself, the scent of piss and sweat mingling with the sickly, sweet, smoky air. He had nothing to change into. That thought alone brought him shame as he watched the flames flicker. If money was the root of all evil, then he lived in a city of saints. The thought brought a twisted smirk to his lips. ¡°Shit.¡±


    ***


    Kid awoke to the feeling of small hands running across his body. He wasn¡¯t concerned since he had no money on him, but it was still annoying. ¡°What are you doing?¡± he asked, opening his eyes to see his mother crouched over him.


    Her pawing turned into gentle stroking and she gave him a hurt expression. ¡°Can¡¯t a mother watch her son while he sleeps?¡±


    Kid frowned, wondering if he was imagining her checking him for valuables. He wanted to believe she wasn¡¯t, but couldn¡¯t quite suspend his disbelief. ¡°Sorry mom, you just startled me is all,¡± he said, playing along.


    ¡°I wanted to thank you for the bread you left me dear. I woke up right hungry this morning.¡± She stroked his cheek. ¡°My little angel.¡± Kid closed his eyes and basked in the warmth. He wanted to believe it. ¡°I even saved you a little. Can¡¯t have my growing boy starve while I get all plump and round,¡± she said, offering him the stale crust off one of the ends.


    Kid took it without hesitation, eating the meager portion in two bites. ¡°Thanks mom,¡± he whispered, eyes downcast.


    ¡°Of course, honey. After all, you¡¯re the one who brought it home.¡± She ruffled his hair and plopped her butt on the ground. ¡°It seems like you had a nice windfall yesterday. Is there any chance you could spare a bit for your ma?¡±


    There it was. Kid shifted uncomfortably. ¡°Marc took the rest of what I had.¡±


    She smiled at him and put a hand on his shoulder as he tried to stand, pushing him back to the ground next to her. ¡°But my little prince is smart. Marc¡¯s a bully, but you¡¯ve got twice the brains. I¡¯m sure you found a way to outwit him,¡± she whispered conspiratorially as if they shared a great secret.


    Kid shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry mom. I don¡¯t have anything else. If I did, I¡¯d give it to you. You know that.¡±


    She frowned, removing her hand from his shoulder slowly, as though still suspicious. ¡°Then I guess you and I have a long day of work ahead of us.¡±


    Kid nodded, still studying the dirt floor of the hovel.


    His mother waved her hand dismissively. ¡°Scram. I could have paying customers coming in at any moment.¡±


    Kid knew she was lying. Nobody in this part of town had spare time this early in the work day other than the Sons and he knew none of them came here. They¡¯d be living a lot better off if they did. Kid rose to his feet and walked to their ramshackle door.


    His mother spoke, as he opened the door. ¡°Kid, we know what happens to liars right?¡±


    Kid flinched, a tingle of fear gripping his spine. He nodded and rushed out the door.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Clouds blanketed the sky above, giving Bleakridge an atmosphere that matched its name. The sun had risen above the horizon and cast long shadows across the street. Dozens of pedestrians walked with purpose along the road. Some ambling into the Dancing Bear for a quick meal or some hair of the dog, while others went to work.


    Kid already knew where he was headed. His mind had been long made up and seeing his mother had only reinforced his choice. He wanted more from his life. He wanted to wake up feeling pride in what he had accomplished. Instead, he woke up to the stench of stale urine. Hell, he¡¯d settle for waking up with an extra pair of pants.


    Kid felt the gravity of the moment in full as he placed his hand on the door of the Dancing Bear. There would be no going back. With a deep breath, he opened the door.


    The bar was filled with patrons lining the benches along the tables. Lissa flitted between the tables, talking to each of the guests and running back to her mother to relay the orders. Hilda rushed back and forth from the counter to the back room, carrying bowels of gruel, loaves of bread and mugs full of ale. It was a hectic time of day and nobody gave Kid the slightest attention as he sauntered between the tables towards the bar on the far side of the room.


    The barstool was uncomfortable and reminded him of the confessional box as his legs dangled in the air. Hilda caught his eyes as she continued to work but ignored him. Lissa popped by a moment later and asked if he was buying anything. He¡¯d barely told her no before she disappeared back to the tables.


    Kid was growing impatient as he waited for Hilda to acknowledge him. As she walked by with another full mug he called out to her, ¡°Hey, Hilda I need to talk to you!¡±


    The woman¡¯s face furrowed in annoyance and she ignored him, continuing with her work. Kid narrowed his eyes at her as she disappeared into the back room. With a shrug, he hopped off the stool and followed her through the door way. Kid had never been in the back room before and the niceness of the room surprised him. They slept on something more comfortable than straw. They had several blankets. There was a hearth built into the wood and various iron tools hung from the wall next to it. Lissa¡¯s father sat behind a small table, hewing at a long piece of wood. The sight of the man sent a bolt of fear through Kid. Looking at James always made Kid a little uncomfortable, but now James was staring straight at him.


    A hand roughly grabbed one of his ears, tearing his eyes from James, and dragging him out of the room. ¡°Ow! Ow! Ow!¡± Kid yelled, as Hilda yanked him into a corner of the tavern.


    Hilda roughly shoved him against the wall. Why were people always doing that to him? She bored into him with a steely gaze and spoke in a terse whisper. ¡°I¡¯m only going to say this once so listen. You and I have no relationship. If you say anything to my husband or daughter, I¡¯ll skin you alive myself. You do not seek me out. You wait. You do not come into my home and from now on, you stay the hell away from my daughter,¡± she said, ¡°Now wait.¡±


    Kid swallowed as she released him and went back to her work. He slumped into one of the benches along the tables, far from any of the other patrons and waited. After several minutes, the bench creaked as somebody took the spot next to him. Kid looked up, expecting to see Hilda but froze as he saw James¡¯s scarred face looking down at him.


    The man smiled, contorting the scars on his face and only making Kid more uneasy. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about my wife, she can be a little territorial sometimes. I hope she didn¡¯t scare you too much.¡±


    She did. But Kid wasn¡¯t about to admit it. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I interrupted you sir, I just had a question for Mrs. Haverson,¡± he said.


    ¡°Well what was it?¡± James asked. ¡°Maybe I can help.¡±


    Kid forced his uneasiness down. He didn¡¯t think he¡¯d have to keep secrets from Lissa and her father. ¡°I- uh, my mother asked me to come over and ask about some -uh- women¡¯s troubles.¡±


    James snorted in amusement at Kid¡¯s apparent discomfort. ¡°Say no more. I¡¯ll leave that to my wife.¡±


    They sat for a moment in awkward silence until Kid spoke up. ¡°What were you doing in there, sir? With the tools and wood, I mean.¡±


    James, frowned, the corners of his lips tugging at the scars along his face, seeming to exaggerate the movement. ¡°I was making a long bow,¡± he answered.


    Kid¡¯s eyes were instinctively drawn to James¡¯s missing fingers before he could stop himself. James caught his eye before he could look away. ¡°Sorry,¡± he muttered.


    James smiled sadly. ¡°Don¡¯t be, it is strange after all. I can¡¯t even legally sell the bows in the market because I lack a license from the Bowyers Guild,¡± he said with a bitter chuckle. ¡°My wife thinks I don¡¯t know where she takes them, but I do,¡± he said with a downcast look at his hands.


    ¡°When I was a lad my greatest joy was the drawing of a longbow. I was a damn fine shot. Damn fine. Even won a few competitions. I actually proposed to my wife at the end of one, naming her the festival queen and then my bride.¡± James smiled at the memory.


    ¡°Festival?¡± Kid asked, not recognizing the term.


    James¡¯s smile disappeared. ¡°Ah, I forgot. They were before your time.¡±


    Kid cocked his head at the man. It wasn¡¯t often that an adult was willing to talk to him about the past. ¡°Was it so great before?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Great is a relative term. I¡¯d call it ¡®less bad¡¯ if that makes sense,¡± he said, rubbing at the scars lining his hands. ¡°The Outwalls are the same as before, just bigger. There¡¯s some more dark-skinned faces wandering around. The Goddess is our patron instead of her sister. We call our king an earl and now he has a boss. The poor eat a little less, while the rich have larger armies. Am I bitter about it? A little. But is it worth risking what I have left? Divines no.¡± He ran a hand across the stubble lining his jaw.


    Kid looked up at the man in confusion. ¡°Don¡¯t you want more from life than to live hand to mouth?¡±


    James¡¯s eyes became distant. ¡°I used to,¡± he said, ¡°and look what that got me.¡± He paused for a moment before turning his gaze back to Kid. ¡°What I miss most from the old days are the clans. Used to be that every person in the Rills was born or married into one of four clans, each bearing the symbol of some such animal. My family were once wolves for example. It gave us loose bloodlines, so we always knew where we came from and could lean on other members of our clan during hard times. It unified us. Probably why the Venarans crushed that tradition into the dirt. Few ever went hungry in those days.¡±


    James chuckled shaking his head. ¡°Sorry boy, you got me rambling. Feels like forever since I thought of the past. Been too worried about the day to day.¡±


    Kid could relate to that, but something bothered him about what James said. He couldn¡¯t keep the anxiousness out of his voice as he asked, ¡°What do you think of the Sons?¡±


    James glanced toward his wife and then looked down at the table. ¡°I came over here for a reason, Kid.¡± James locked eyes with Kid. ¡°You¡¯ve been close with my daughter for a long time now. As a father, I¡¯m just asking you to consider her before you make any decisions you might come to regret.¡± He paused. ¡°Be careful around Marc.¡±


    James patted Kid on the shoulder as the boy stared up at him with wide eyes. Without another word, James rose to his feet and walked back to his workshop. Kid swallowed and turned his gaze to the table before him. He never considered he might have a future here. He looked up at Lissa as she flitted about the room. Her smile was infectious, and Kid felt himself grinning just looking at her.


    While he and James talked, the morning rush ended. Only a few patrons remained, and they seemed happy to wallow in their dinks. Kid tensed as the Hilda took a seat next to him, fearful she might hurt him again. She spoke beneath her breath and told him his mission.


    Kid didn¡¯t know whether he wanted to laugh or to cry. ¡°You want me to sneak into the castle huh? Do you also want me to take out the Earl while I¡¯m there? Maybe seduce Ilyena and get a marriage alliance? Hell, I could-¡±


    ¡°Do you want the job or not?¡± Hilda asked. ¡°There¡¯s a thousand boys just like you who would jump at the opportunity to earn silver. If you don¡¯t want it, then waste somebody else¡¯s time."


    Kid hesitated. Silver. He could spend the night lounging at an inner-city inn for that much. He licked his lips as he admired the coin¡¯s metallic glint. His stomach growled, seeming to urge him on. Greed may be the death of thieves, but hunger was a close contender. He took the money


    ¡°What do I need to do?¡±

 Ch 6: Orders

    The weight of the axe felt good in his hands as he ran a gloved finger over the edge of its blade. The iron dug a narrow cut into the leather without the slightest drag. Damn thing had an edge sharp enough to make an executioner cry in envy. Grim placed the weapon across his knees and leaned back against the castle wall, letting his weight sink into the wooden bench beneath him. The sun had just begun to peek above the horizon, firing brilliant rays of light against the seaward face of the castle.


    Grim turned his eyes to the large double doors of the barracks set into the outer wall. With the predictability and punctuality of daylight itself, the door to the barracks thudded open, announcing the change of watch duty and the start of a new day.


    A new fucking day.


    Grim let out a slow breath, taking the time to appreciate his last few moments of solitude. The metallic clink of armor already grew louder as the soldiers dispersed. In a few moments, Grim would find out who his father assigned to his command.


    He rose to his feet and walked near the gate leading into town as iron clad men drifted past him, over a hundred spreading in all directions. Slowly, a small knot of men formed before him. As the crowd thinned about him, Grim prepared to give his first order. It felt wrong and the words seemed to stick in his throat. What if they just ignored him? ¡°Form ranks!¡± he called.


    An irrational wave of relief washed over him as the jumble of soldiers smoothed into two even rows of men at attention. He let out a breath he didn¡¯t realize he was holding, covering the exhalation with a fake cough. Then he saw Edgar standing front and center with a barely repressed look of annoyance on his face. Grim grinned. Actually, this might be fun.


    ¡°Captains!¡± he called, waving for them to approach. Edgar broke ranks along with the ugliest man Grim had ever seen. His left eye seemed to bounce as he walked, completely at odds with its twin. His hair could only be described as sparsely stringy and the smile he wore revealed teeth so broken, they almost resembled fangs.


    Grim returned the fractured smile with all the exuberance he could muster. ¡°You¡¯re fucking with me, right? Get back in line Billy.¡±


    Billy barked a laugh. ¡°No Sir. Wish I was. Got the assignment and promotion delivered to me last night. Yer father lose his damned mind or somthin?¡± He clasped Grim¡¯s arm and pulled him into an embrace. ¡°I¡¯ve been a sergeant longer then Edgar here¡¯s been pissing standing up. And now he¡¯s goin and makin me a Captain. Ripe old bastard has a sense of humor after all. Eh?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s not give him too much credit,¡± Grim said. ¡°And I¡¯d say it¡¯s been a long time coming.¡±


    ¡°Like hell,¡± Billy muttered. ¡°Had a damned fine job training the new boys up and now he wants me to go trampin around the city hunting ghosts for only an extra fifth of liquor a week. A damned travesty this is.¡±


    Grim raised an eyebrow. ¡°You get paid in booze?¡±


    ¡°Shite. I wish. I just convert it naturally after all these years. A killer with a retirement plan is only kiddin himself. Ye reap what ye sow. Any soldier worth his salt is gonna die drowning. Booze or blood. Take yer pick. Me? I¡¯m a lightweight when it comes to blood these days.¡±


    Edgar cleared his throat. ¡°Do you two need a minute alone or can we get to work?¡±


    Billy raised an eyebrow at Edgar then looked back at Grim. ¡°Methinks somebody is jealous boyo- Er, Sir.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not-¡±


    Grim cut Edgar off as he rested a hand on the man¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Rest assured captain I firmly believe in leaving no man behind,¡± he said with a wink.


    Edgar opened his mouth to retort but Grim cut him off once more. ¡°Attention!¡±


    All the men in front of him stood straight and shut up while Edgar shot him a petulant look. Divines, that was fun. Grim smirked and raised his voice to address the company of gathered soldiers. ¡°Form ranks on the captains. We have a schedule to keep.¡±


    Two columns of men formed up behind Billy and Edgar with Grim at the forefront. Grim turned to face the open portcullis and raised his hand in the air with two fingers raised to indicate the two columns. Before he could wave his hand forward to signal the advance a voice called out.


    ¡°Hoy Bastard! You weren¡¯t going to leave without us, were you?¡±


    Grim shuddered as he recognized the voice. He turned to see Harren Barrington at the forefront of a large group of southern noblemen. Harren was a man near Grim¡¯s own age with bronzed skin that matched his armor and a mean streak that Grim had the childhood scars to prove. Grim unconsciously flexed his fingers along the haft of the axe at his side.


    There were about twenty Venaran nobles arrayed behind Harren. Each was dressed in heavy bronze armor. Wide square plates were riveted into the thick gambesons they wore, giving them an extra layer of protection. Each plate was shined to a gleaming perfection and Grim could see his reflection in Harren¡¯s chest as the man approached.


    The brilliant shine of the southerners stood in sharp contrast to the dull grey iron worn by Grim and his men. He should have expected this. ¡°I wasn¡¯t told the Marshall approached the court at large.¡±


    ¡°Only a Venaran is fit to lead the Regulars. Even a mutt like you should know that,¡± he said, brushing past Grim as he walked toward the gate. ¡°Best to leave people of your breeding in charge of the auxiliaries.¡± He waved a dismissive hand towards the Rillish troops. ¡°Come along then.¡±


    Grim could only stare after the man in a silent rage. He had to either follow or be willfully late. Grim failed to swallow his anger and was about to dismiss his troops for the day when he heard the clacking of hooves on the cobblestones. He turned his head to see his sister Ilyena riding a horse towards the gate. What. The. Hell.


    She tried to ride past him without so much as a glance, but Grim grabbed her horse by the reins and yanked the beast to a halt. The horse whinnied in protest but was well-trained and didn¡¯t make a fuss. ¡°Where the hell do you think, you¡¯re going?¡± he demanded.


    Ilyenna sighed and rolled her eyes. ¡°I thought I¡¯d shack up with some Outwallers for the fortnight in one of their spice dens. Then maybe I¡¯d go bar hopping through the city brothels. Or were you planning on doing that again tonight? I¡¯d hate to intrude.¡±


    Grim closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Divines he wanted to throttle the teenager right out of her. The day that girl turned thirteen, she became unbearable. The past three years only exacerbated the problem. And the fact that the Earl often made him her chaperone only made dealing with her worse.


    Grim opened his eyes and spoke levelly. ¡°Cut the crap. Father wouldn¡¯t let you leave without an escort. Either he said you could come with me, or not at all. I¡¯m happy to make us all wait while I personally find out.¡±


    Ilyenna pursed her lips at him, but before she could respond Grim was roughly shoved away from her. Grim stumbled back from her and Harren stepped between them. Grim caught his balance and bared his teeth at Harren. The nobleman snorted and crossed his arms. ¡°I¡¯ll not see you put your hands on a lady.¡±


    ¡°This is a family matter.¡±


    Harren looked Grim up and down ¡°Please.¡± Harren turned his head to the assembled nobles. ¡°Brian back me up.¡±


    A younger man sharing Harren¡¯s features stepped forward and drew his sword. The other men behind him followed suit and stared Grim down.


    Grim felt his restraint fraying at the edges. He could see the contempt in the eyes of the Rillish soldiers and he was sorely tempted to sick them on the nobles. But he knew the repercussions would be severe to say the least. He swallowed his pride. ¡°She doesn¡¯t leave my sight.¡±


    Harren shrugged and turned away from Grim, returning to the throng of nobles. They wore smug grins as they sheathed their swords and patted each other on the back as if they¡¯d won some great victory. Ilyenna winked at Grim before kicking her horse into a canter and joining the group of young men.


    Grim seethed as Billy walked up next to him. ¡°A ripe bunch of assholes if I ever seen one.¡±


    Grim could only manage a curt nod. Edgar spoke up. ¡°Could say the same about us.¡±


    Billy snorted.


    Grim sighed as he finally mastered his anger. ¡°Do you guys ever wonder if you¡¯re on the wrong side?¡± Neither man answered, their faces carefully impassive. Grim shook his head. He expected nothing less. He raised his fist in the air with two fingers raised to indicate two columns. ¡°Fall in!¡±


    ***


    The soldiers marched behind Grim, following the captains in two equal lines. Their steps followed Grim''s in a perfect cadence as they followed the group of nobles through the streets. Ilyena rode in the middle of the Venarans, the sound of her laughter ringing out across the eerily quiet streets. When people caught sight of the nobles, they scattered like mice before a pack of cats.


    Grim watched every alleyway and each person they passed. What the Marshall had told Grim last night made him nervous. It was rare that the Sons were so forward in their attacks. An entire tavern of soldiers massacred. Grim¡¯s eyes locked on Ilyena and a spike of worry ran through his spine. Grim reached inside the coat over his mail and pulled the flask out of its pocket. He took a long draw before capping it and putting it away. Today was going to be a long day.


    He never thought he would be relieved to see the squat stone fortifications from which the Greencloaks operated. The fort occupied an entire city block. Its thick, unadorned, grey walls were an eyesore that never ceased to irk Grim. Dozens of sentries lined its parapets, their distinctive green cloaks fluttering in the wind while they observed their approach.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°Open the gates!¡± a voice called out as they neared the compound. Ahead, two thick wooden doors were dragged open and the nobles started to filter through the wall. Grim reluctantly followed, leading his men through the gate.


    As he emerged into the compound, he was surprised by what he found. A palatial estate greeted him which seemed more at home at a country vineyard than in the center of a military facility. The rough cobblestones of the city gave way to smooth stone blocks, marking the path to the estate. All along the fine road were endless rows of tents. It looked as if an army were besieging the mansion. Grimy faces peeked from the flaps of the tents, eyes full of curiosity. Conversations paused as the soldiers bowed to the nobles when they passed.


    The bows gave way to sneers as the Rillish soldiers crossed their view. To his men¡¯s credit, they kept their eyes firmly locked ahead, but Grim doubted he was the only one with a hand on his weapon.


    They soon passed the small army and reached the wrought iron fence surrounding the mansion. Beyond the gate, the tents ended and gave way to a large cultivated garden filled with plants Grim didn¡¯t recognize. It was like looking at a rainbow and the sheer extravagance almost made him halt in wonderment. Two Greencloaks opened the iron gates of the fence and beckoned them inside.


    The path through the garden was winding, giving it the appearance of being much larger than it really was. Grim narrowed his eyes as Harren picked a flower from the side of the trail and held it up to Ilyena. The girl plucked it from his fingers and tucked it behind her ear, shooting him a winning smile. Harren caught Grim¡¯s eye and winked at him. Grim grumbled under his breath.


    Marshall Longreen was waiting for them in the estate courtyard at the end of the path near a large fountain. A compliment of Greencloaks, almost as well-armed as the nobles, stood at attention behind him. Grim assumed they must be what was left of the officers. Harren broke ranks with his comrades and strode forward to meet the Marshall. ¡°Lord Longreen,¡± he greeted shaking hands with the commander and then backing a respectful distance from him.


    ¡°Harren Barrington,¡± The Marshall said, ¡°Thank you for coming. You do your people proud.¡±


    ¡°The honor is mine sir,¡± Harren said, falling into a deep bow.


    The marshal walked past him and greeted the rest of the young noblemen in a similar fashion while Grim waited impatiently for them to finish. Ilyena dismounted and handed the horse off to one of the Greencloaks before greeting the Marshall with a deep curtsy. The man only gave her a curt nod as he brushed past her on his way to Grim. Ilyena frowned after him.


    Grim bowed his head as the man approached. ¡°You¡¯re late.¡±


    Grim blinked in surprise and raised his head. ¡°Sorry your eminence. We ran into some- complications." He looked over the man¡¯s shoulder at the nobles. He noticed his sister wringing her hands and looking at the ground.


    ¡°Look at me boy,¡± Longreen snapped. Grim looked. ¡°Excuses are the tools of cowards. Never give me one again.¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t happen again.¡±


    The Marshal nodded and turned away from Grim. ¡°Listen up, each and every one of you. You¡¯ve all heard what these Sons have done. Some of the finest men in our kingdom were slaughtered while they ate at peace. Our enemy has shown themselves incapable of mercy and by the Divines we will act in kind.¡±


    The Marshall paused a moment, his brow furrowed, casting his eyes in shadow. ¡°I know that what I have asked of you is not easy, but the king honors those who serve. If you distinguish yourselves he may even take notice of you,¡± he said, staring each noble in the eyes as if implying that person could be them.


    Grim rolled his eyes. He cast his gaze around the courtyard, taking in the wandering servants, glittering stained glass windows, manicured shrubs and the large stable attached to the edge of the mansion. He compared that to the tents and shabby equipment of the average Greencloak. Grim shook his head.


    He turned his attention back to the Marshal as the man beckoned them inside. Grim signaled for his men to follow.


    ¡°Leave the dogs outside Thorne,¡± the Marshal said.


    Grim frowned but turned back to his men. ¡°Make sure nobody pisses in the fountain,¡± Grim told his captains.


    ¡°Always ruin¡¯n my fun,¡± Billy said.


    Edgar looked at Billy. ¡°If he tries, I¡¯ll push him in.¡±


    Grim smirked, then dismissed the soldiers. He had to hustle to catch up to the nobles who neglected to wait for him. An irritable looking butler in green livery shot Grim a peeved look while he held the ornate doors of the estate open for him. Grim fished a silver lion from his coin pouch and pressed it into the man¡¯s hand as he walked by. It always paid to be good to servants. You never knew what they might put in your food or do to your clothes.


    Grim¡¯s eyes widened as he came into the entry hall. Everything was made of white marble and swirling designs of inlaid gold were liberally scrawled across the floor. A grand staircase dominated the far end of the hall, leading to the second floor. Golden chandeliers draped with pearls hung in two parallel rows leading towards the stairs and from the high ceiling above the staircase a grand tapestry draped across the far wall, utterly dominating the room. The golden sun emblazoned upon the green fabric shined in the candle light, seeming to have a luminescence of its own.


    The sight took Grim¡¯s breath away. A dozen Greencloaks stood in neat rows on either side of the hall, their spears gleaming and armor seeming to sparkle. A young woman stood between them in the center of the hall and curtsied as they entered. She was dressed to impress, the elegance of her garb rivaling the room in beauty. Grim managed to catch her dark eyes as he entered, and she quickly lowered her gaze to the floor. Her hands were tightly clenched before her and her posture was rigidly stiff.


    Longreen halted their procession inside the hall and turned back to the nobles. ¡°For those of you who have not met her, this is Carys Longreen, my daughter.¡±


    Ilyena brushed past the Marshal and embraced Carys in a hug, kissing her once on each cheek in the Venaran greeting between close friends. ¡°My dear it¡¯s been entirely too long since our last visit. I missed you while you visited your brother in the capital.¡±


    Carys opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off as Harren fell into a deep bow, taking Carys by the hand and kissing it¡¯s back. ¡°I couldn¡¯t have said it better myself. Welcome back my lady.¡±


    She gave Harren what Grim interpreted as a very polite smile as she pulled her hand away a little too quickly. ¡°It¡¯s lovely to see you too Harren. I was-¡±


    She was cut off again as the next nobleman repeated Harren¡¯s gesture and expressed how happy he was to see her. Grim tapped his foot impatiently as the pleasantries extended into the tens of minutes. The Marshal watched the scene with a smug look on his face, doubtless contemplating which young man would pay the best price for his prize.


    Grim commiserated with the girl as she kept a fake smile plastered to her face. But that didn¡¯t make him any less annoyed that the Marshal berated him for being late only to then parade his daughter before potential suitors for half the damn morning. Asshole. Eventually each noble managed to get a word in edgewise to the lady and Grim felt the Marshal staring at him expectantly.


    Grim raised an eyebrow at him. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to introduce yourself bastard? Even dogs are required to have manners in my house.¡±


    Grim gritted his teeth but didn¡¯t rise to the insult. He walked toward Carys. The girl couldn¡¯t have been more than a year older than his sister and a hint of fear entered her eyes as he approached. Grim smiled to try and put her at ease but that only seemed to make her more nervous. He clasped her by the forearm. ¡°Grim Thorne,¡± he said, ¡°I would say it¡¯s a pleasure, but you hardly seem pleased to see me.¡±


    An awkward silence hung in the air after he released her arm. Carys stared at her forearm in confusion and looked back up to Grim. She stood on her tiptoes and whispered quietly in his ear. ¡°I can think of more pleasing positions to see you in.¡±


    Grim gagged on his own spit as he took a step backward. That girl was more dangerous than any weapon he had ever encountered. No wonder Ilyena seemed to like her. His sister took Carys by the arm as the girl shot him the slyest of smiles. ¡°Come darling, let¡¯s leave the men to their little war games and speak of important matters.¡±


    Carys curtsied once more to the assembled men. ¡°It was a pleasure to see you all and I hope to again soon.¡±


    ¡°Very soon,¡± the marshal interjected, giving his daughter a pointed look.


    ¡°Very soon,¡± she echoed.


    Grim could feel her eyes on him and he shifted uneasily.


    ¡°Come.¡± the Marshal commanded as the two girls turned and began to walk up the stairs.


    Grim followed the gaggle of nobles through the great hall as the marshal led them to a side corridor. The marble floor gave way to hardwood. Grim recognized the wood from its distinct reddish tinge. Wood from far away Boreal was hard to come by. Bowyers and shipwrights in the city paid fortunes to have it imported due to its combination of flexibility and strength. And this man used it to line his floors. Grim inwardly sighed as they turned into a nearby room.


    Grim entered last and found himself in a lounge of sorts. Large, plush couches sat in a semi-circle around a table in the center of the room. Servants lurked in the corners bearing trays filled with, what appeared to be, miniature pies and glasses of wine. Grim was immediately intrigued.


    While the nobles took their seats, Grim grabbed a glass of wine and a handful of pastries. He took a bite and gagged. They were filled with caviar. He placed the food back on the serving tray as he forced the bite down his throat, wrinkling his nose in disgust. The serving girl regarded him with a similar expression as she looked between him and the half-eaten pastry she now held. Grim smiled at her and shrugged apologetically. Then he turned his attention to the marshal.


    Longreen stood behind the central table. He regarded the room with solemn eyes while the nobles sat and Grim leaned against the far wall, trying to fade into the background. ¡°It has become clear to me that I have been too lenient in my handling of this city. If you take the muzzle off a rabid dog, you can hardly expect it to do anything other than bite. I take full responsibility for what happened to my men, and boys I¡¯m going to make damn sure the same doesn¡¯t happen to you.¡±


    The Marshall looked down at a sheaf of papers lying on the table before continuing. ¡°Punishment needs to be administered. We need to make a strong statement to the people that the aid and abetting of criminals will not be tolerated. Providing comfort to the enemy is now a capital offense. From this point on the man sharpening the blade be treated with the same severity as the one wielding it. Order must prevail and to this end I am giving you all extensive discretion in your enforcement.


    He paused, rising to his full height and clasped his hands behind his back. ¡°Gentlemen, the king''s law is now under your purview. Be strong, be bold and above all leave your mercy behind because animals will neither bestow nor understand it. It¡¯s time we show them that while they bite the hand that feeds them, the other holds a knife."


    Longreen paused his speech, looking each man in the eye and lingering a few seconds longer on Grim. A chill ran down Grim¡¯s spine. There was blood in the man¡¯s eyes. Grim ran a gloved finger over the spike of his axe as the marshal cleared his throat.


    ¡°My first step in this new policy is to make it known in a way even Rillmen can understand. We have many Sons sympathizers held captive whom we¡¯ve already put to questioning. I was going to send them to the northern labor camps along with all the other petty criminals, but the Sons have forced my hand. The time for mercy is over.¡±


    Longreen locked eyes with Grim. ¡°We will administer their punishment in the traditional Rillish fashion to be respectful of the culture." His eyes flashed to Grim. ¡°Grim, you and your men would know how to conduct this far better than any of my soldiers, so you will serve as the Justicar.¡±


    Grim fought a grimace as the chill in his spine turned to ice. ¡°You want me to be your executioner?¡±


    ¡°Is that a problem?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re damn right that¡¯s a problem. The Earl didn¡¯t send me here to do your dirty work.¡±


    Longreen raised an eyebrow. ¡°Actually, that is precisely why you are here. Are you refusing to carry out this order? To do so would be akin to giving succor to our enemy Grim. You know my view on that.¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t dare.¡±


    A scowl contorted Longreen¡¯s face. ¡°You will support me or be my first example Bastard. I disgraced myself by bringing one of your kind into these hallowed ranks because I wanted a show of your father¡¯s support. But if you won¡¯t give me that, I¡¯m just as happy to remind everyone who is really in charge of this city.¡±


    Grim swallowed the lump forming in his throat. All eyes were on him and he noted that every hand rested on their weapons. He felt ill. ¡°What are my orders?¡±

 Ch 7: Mercy

    Grim walked down the wide boulevard toward the market square. He could already see the raised wooden platform and the sight filled him with dread. His gaze was transfixed on the noose hanging from the gallows, waving in the wind. The market hushed as the Rillish soldiers led a procession of prisoners toward the high platform. They cut a path through the crowd, elbowing people to the side as they fought their way to the center of the plaza.


    Silent stares followed Grim as he climbed the wooden steps of the platform alongside Harren. Some people in the crowd hurried away while others drew closer, knowing what was coming and ready for a show. Some looked eager. Grim thought he might throw up. Nervousness and fear welled up inside him in equal measure as he took the place of the Justicar. Harren stood a few feet from him in the position of lawspeaker. Around the scaffolding, his men formed a rough barrier while a pair kept an eye on the prisoners.


    Harren held up a hand for silence as he unrolled the parchment. For a moment, the crowd quieted then a voice called out. ¡°Fuck ye right in yer southern twat. ¡®N shove that parchment up yer arse.¡±


    Harren pursed his lips and scanned the crowd, looking for the man responsible. A female voice called out. ¡°Take yer dandy arse back to the south.¡±


    ¡°Enough!¡± Harren roared as the insults continued unabated. Grim grinned. Harren scowled and snapped the parchment open, yelling to be heard over the crowd. ¡°Vance Halper!¡±


    Two of Grim¡¯s men hauled one of the prisoners up the wooden stairs and forced him to his knees before Harren. The man spit at the nobleman¡¯s feet. Harren backhanded him across the face. Then the man spat blood at Harren¡¯s feet. Harren shot the man a disgusted look as Vance grinned up at him with a mouth full of rot.


    Harren continued to read. ¡°Convicted of one count of smuggling. We have two eyewitness testaments and hence find you guilty. As you refuse to share the names of your contacts, you have been condemned. Do you choose mercy or the trial?¡±


    ¡°Fuck yer mercy. Ye prick.¡±


    Grim sighed as Harren shrugged and took a step back. The guardsmen let the prisoner rise to his feet and took the manacles off his hands before offering him an axe.


    Vance wrapped his fingers around the haft and hefted the weapon before him. Grim pulled his own axe from his belt. He tossed his shield to the side. He wasn¡¯t going to need it for this farce. Grim waited while Vance looked at the boards beneath his feet with a solemn expression. The least Grim could do was give him a few moments.


    Without warning, Vance leapt forward in an overhead swing at Grim.


    Grim sidestepped and slammed his axe into Vance¡¯s back as the man stumbled past. The iron head split bone with an audible snap and Vance fell to the ground, mortally wounded. Grim stepped on his back, making the man scream in pain as he wrenched the axe out. Grim dove the spike of his axe into the back of Vance¡¯s skull, cutting off the screams.


    The crowd was now deathly silent as a guardsman dragged the body away. Grim returned to his place, forcing down the bile in his throat. He tried to rub the specks of blood from his clothes, but he only managed to get his gloves bloody.


    Without further ado, Harren read the next name on the list. ¡°Kira Evansdottir¡±. Poor Evan. Grim watched the guards haul a pretty young woman on the stage. Auburn curls ringed her face, partially concealing the tears running down it. She couldn¡¯t have been much older than his little sister. Her feet scraped across the wooden floor as the men dragged her before Harren.


    ¡°Convicted of adultery and fornicating with the enemy. We have a confession from the man in question and hence find you guilty. As your husband refuses to vouch for you and pay the fine of six silver lions, you have been condemned. Do you choose mercy or the trial?¡±


    Kira took one look at Grim, and her sobs doubled in volume. ¡°Mercy,¡± she whispered.


    Harren nodded and took a step back. Grim walked over to the kneeling girl and offered her his hand. She looked up at him with terrified eyes and shook her head. Grim knelt beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out his flask and offered it to her.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    She looked at it with confusion in her eyes. ¡°Why?¡±


    Grim didn¡¯t answer.


    Hesitantly she took the flask and took a drink from it. ¡°I won¡¯t waste too much,¡± she said, handing it back.


    As Grim tucked it away Harren spoke up. ¡°Hurry it up bastard. We don¡¯t have all day.¡±


    Grim ignored him but the girl¡¯s eyes widened in recognition. ¡°Are you the Earl¡¯s son? Grim?¡± It felt like a knife in his chest when she said his name.


    ¡°No,¡± he whispered, offering her his hand. He didn¡¯t want her to make a scene and there was nothing he could do in any case.


    The spark of hope left her eyes as she took his hand and he pulled her to her feet. He led her to the stool below the Gallows and placed the noose around her throat. ¡°I¡¯m sorry dad. I¡¯m sorry,¡± she repeated as Grim tightened the noose.


    Grim stared at her, unsure he could take the next step when Harren walked over and kicked the stool out from under her. The rope failed to break her neck and she thrashed, arms straining against her manacles, causing rivulets of blood to start pouring down her wrists to the ground. The blood vessels in her eyes burst as her pupils flickered at the crowd.


    Grim walked over to her and yanked hard at her feet.


    A snap echoed across the plaza and Kira fell still.


    Grim glared daggers at Harren as he returned to his place. The noble didn¡¯t even notice. He was already reading the next name. ¡°Dannil Carverson.¡±


    The man walked up the stairs of his own volition, standing before Harren and waiting for him to read the sentence. His skin was weathered, but his eyes bored into Harren with fiery defiance. He stood tall until one of the guards shoved him to the ground.


    Harren hardly noticed as he continued. ¡°Convicted one count of harboring fugitives. We have confessions from those you aided. If you have any questions, they¡¯re hanging out by the gate.¡± Harren smirked. ¡°As there is no forgiveness for treason, you are condemned. Do you choose mercy or the trial?¡±


    ¡°Trial.¡±


    Harren nodded and stepped back while the guards armed Dannil. Grim shuddered as he drew his axe. The prisoner took a step forward and lowered his axe. ¡°I have a request Justicar.¡±


    Grim paused, holding his axe at the ready. ¡°Name it.¡±


    Dannil shuffled and Grim could see tears forming in the rough man¡¯s eyes. ¡°Me daughter is after me and she¡¯s insistin on the trial. Just make it quick for her eh?¡±


    Grim nodded.


    The man shifted on his feet and threw the axe to the ground. ¡°Just let me die on me feet now aight? Don¡¯t want to live without me little girl anyhow.¡± He looked over his shoulder to the gathered prisoners. ¡°I¡¯m sorry Anna,¡± he whispered, before turning back to face Grim and closing his eyes.


    Grim swallowed the lump in his throat and swung with all his might into the nape of Dannil¡¯s neck. The blade sank deep and Grim felt it snap the spine. Dannil dropped to the ground, dead within seconds.


    ¡°Anna Dannilsdottir.¡±


    Grim watched a little girl who couldn¡¯t be older than eleven walk onto the stage. Harren hesitated as he looked at her with wide eyes. Snot dripped from her nose, mingling with her tears, yet she still managed to stare hatefully at Grim. He understood her hatred all too well. Blood already stained her dress from where she had fought the manacles.


    Harren mouthed words for several moments before he finally found his voice. At least something fazed the man. ¡°Convicted of one count of harboring fugitives. We have confessions from those you aided. As there is no forgiveness for treason, you are condemned. Do you choose mercy or the trial?¡± Grim noticed he didn¡¯t make a quip this time. Maybe the prick had a soul after all.


    ¡°Trial.¡±


    Grim¡¯s gut sank to new depths as he watched the girl reach for an axe. A hand touched his shoulder. Grim turned to see Billy. ¡°Let me take this one Grim.¡± Tears shined in the man¡¯s eyes.


    Grim watched as Billy stepped forward. The girl held the axe in front of her like a spear, as if it would ward Billy off. The Captain stepped forward and reached out to the axe. The girl froze like a statue as he slowly pulled it from her hands and let it fall to the floor. When it thumped against the floorboards Anna seemed to melt. She fell to the ground and began to sob. Billy knelt down next to her and put a hand on her shoulder. She flinched from the touch but looked up at him and saw the sadness in his eyes.


    ¡°Us orphans gotta stick together lass,¡± he said. Anna edged closer to him and cried while he held her. The entire marketplace was enraptured with silence. Not even Harren had the stomach to speak. Billy embraced the girl as she cried into his chest. They sat that way for a long moment until she embraced him as well.


    A sob emerged from Billy¡¯s lips, followed by a crack. Grim watched the girl¡¯s arms fall limp. Billy took her in his arms and carried her off the stage. Grim walked back to his place with leaden feet as Harren unrolled the parchment with shaky hands. Just twenty-six more to go.

 Ch 8: Trial By Fire

    Kid glanced over his shoulder as he climbed the many switchbacks up the cliff face to Bleakridge Castle. The main gate loomed high above him and his legs burned as he ascended the final rise before the castle gates. The view of the city was breathtaking. Kid never realized how large his home was until now. From way up here, the city walls he lived next to looked as if a mouse could scale them with a good running leap. In fact, the more he looked at it, the dizzier he felt. Kid shook his head and edged further away from the cliff face, running his hand against the rock wall.


    The wind was strong up here and it chilled the sweat on his brow. He welcomed the sensation after his long climb and tugged at the collar of his green coat to let some cool air in. He wrinkled his nose as his hand ran over the rough surface of dried blood on the inside. Hilda had provided him with the uniform of a dead Venaran messenger boy to help him talk his way past the guards. The blood was mostly invisible aside from a slight red tinge around the collar, but the dark green fabric hid it well. The thought still made Kid nervous. What was the punishment for impersonating a messenger? Kid rubbed his elbows, thinking of the men he saw hanging by the city gate.


    The portcullis was closed. Kid stared at the barrier, unsure how to proceed. He could see soldiers milling about in the courtyard. Should he call out to them? He was suddenly struck by how little he knew about castle protocol. Hilda had given him a pouch of money to get a haircut and a bath and orders to make it to the castle kitchens. He had no idea why he was supposed to go there. Kid shifted nervously.


    He stared at the iron gate a moment longer and realized he had to do something. It wasn¡¯t going to open on its own. He was about to call out when he heard the clacking of hooves on the road behind him. Kid looked over his shoulder to see the most stunning woman he could ever remember seeing. Long dark hair curled around her angular face. She had intense gray eyes that seemed to read his soul. A thick, black fur coat adorned her lithe shoulders, contrasting sharply with the white mare she rode upon. He was so taken with the sight of her, he failed to notice the Greencloak escort around her.


    Kid scampered away from them out of habit. He bowed in their general direction and the man in the lead nodded at Kid as he came to a halt. ¡°Drop the wine and open the gates!¡± the Greencloak yelled.


    Kid heard muffled cursing from high above. A head peeked over the ramparts and its eyes widened. More cursing, followed by the clanking of the portcullis as it began to rise.


    Kid stood to the side of the grandiose party and shrunk under the scrutiny of the woman on horseback. He turned to look inside the courtyard but could still feel her eyes on him. Curious faces were turned toward the rising gate and a soldier raced into the keep. Kid nervously tugged at his collar.


    ¡°Are you a messenger?¡±


    Kid jumped as the woman spoke to him. He turned to her and did his best to meet her gaze. ¡°If you please my lady,¡± he mumbled.


    She arched an eyebrow at him. ¡°I don¡¯t particularly please either way. I merely wanted to inquire whether or not you had any interesting news.¡±


    Kid forced himself not to swallow. ¡°For the Earl¡¯s eyes, only. Sorry.¡±


    She shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m headed up there anyways. You may accompany us and maybe I can listen in on whatever secret you seem so protective of.¡±


    Kid frowned. ¡°I really shouldn¡¯t-¡±


    She cut him off. ¡°Careful. Don¡¯t bite the hand that feeds you.¡±


    Kid raised his hands. ¡°That would be these, Mistress,¡± he said without thinking. The Greencloaks shot him a glare.


    For a moment, she only stared at him. Then a smile creased her lips and she released a chuckle. ¡°It was touch and go for a moment, but I¡¯ve decided I like you. Come,¡± she beckoned, riding through the gate.


    Kid wondered how close he came to a beating. Judging by the looks on her escorts faces, pretty close. Kid forced a smile and followed the group inside. He had to struggle not to gape at the sight of the keep. He had seen it from a distance his whole life, but seeing it up close was a different matter. He didn¡¯t realize people could build things so large. Even the city cathedral was dwarfed by it. And where the cathedral was all sprawling arches wide windows, this was a mass of solid stone. It was beautiful in an entirely different way. It spoke of safety and security.


    Kid tore his eyes from its towering walls. He eyed the courtyard warily, but next to the group of Greencloaks ahead of him, Kid was invisible. He watched as the noblewoman dismounted, catching sight of her shapely ankle. His day was already looking up. A groom appeared to take her horse and she turned to Kid. ¡°I don¡¯t believe you mentioned your name.¡±


    ¡°Kid,¡± he replied.


    ¡°Kid?¡±


    ¡°Kid,¡± he affirmed.


    ¡°That¡¯s hardly a name. And you have no surname?¡±


    Kid frowned. He hadn¡¯t had to have this conversation in years. The words seemed to stick in throat as he forced them out. He looked down at the cobblestones, unable to meet the woman¡¯s eyes. ¡°My mother never gave me a name.¡± He shifted his feet. ¡°So, people just called me Kid and it kinda stuck. I don¡¯t have a father, so I guess you could just call me Kid Noson.¡±


    A frown creased her lips as she paused to consider his words. She stared at him for a long moment before putting a velvet gloved hand on his shoulder. The touch made Kid blush and he made an even more careful examination of the cobblestones. ¡°Come with me. I¡¯ll take you to the kitchens, so our cook can feed you. You must be famished after walking up that hill.¡±


    Kid released a sigh of relief as she turned from him. He waited while she stood on her tiptoes and whispered into the ears of one of the men. He had a stupid grin on his face soon after.


    ¡°See you later Ilyena,¡± the Greencloak breathed.


    ¡°Thanks for the escort Brian. Ever my champion,¡± she said with a smile. ¡°Come, Kid.¡±


    Kid paled. He was talking to Ilyena. This was not part of the plan. He was supposed to avoid attracting attention and here he was striking up a casual conversation with the Earl¡¯s daughter. But now, he had no choice but to follow. Kid found it hard to keep his eyes off her swaying hips as she walked into the keep. This was quickly corrected by a guardsman who cuffed him across the back of the head. ¡°Eyes up,¡± the man whispered.


    Kid blushed, hoping Ilyena didn¡¯t hear the man. The smirk she gave him over her shoulder only made him blush a fiercer red. Kid followed her through a long, stone hallway. He couldn¡¯t discern any particular purpose for it, but there were strange holes all along its walls and he could hear soft voices speaking through them. A huge vault-like door sat at the end of the hall and opened as they neared.


    They passed through door and met two guardsmen on the other side. Both bowed to Ilyena. ¡°My lady,¡± they said in unison.


    She beamed at them. ¡°Hello Gerald, Hey Jareth. I would stop to chat but I¡¯m taking this messenger to the kitchens for a quick meal.¡±


    She brushed by them and Kid followed. The guards shot her confused looks as she walked down the hall toward the stairwell. ¡°But my lady-¡± one called out.


    Ilyena wiggled the fingers of on hand over her shoulder as she walked away without looking back. The man Kid saw run into the keep earlier appeared around a corner and walked by without a word to either of them. What the hell? Kid was starting to get a bad feeling about this. But what was he going to do? Run?


    Ilyena led him down the hall past a menagerie of people. There were dozens of girls near his age carrying baskets full of laundry, trays of food, and a thousand other mundane items. They wore black dresses as if in mourning. The way they scurried about combined with their black attire reminded him of ants and he couldn¡¯t help but stare. He didn¡¯t think he¡¯d ever seen so many attractive girls in any one place outside of a brothel. Older women in similar uniforms bearing the Thorne family crest shepherded the girls and gave orders.


    Several large porters carried heavy bags of flour past him, a dusting of the white powder marring the blackness of their garb. Aside from their tidy uniforms, they looked similar to the men Kid saw by the docks. He wondered where they were headed with all that flour.


    His attention was diverted by a beautiful tapestry hanging along the wall. It depicted Bleakridge castle standing high above the city. Its high walls seemed to touch the overlarge moon hanging in the sky. Kid reached out to stroke it as they passed. His fingers glided over the fabric. It felt like the pocket of a noble, pure silk. If he could somehow sneak it out of here, he would never have to work again.


    He tore his eyes from the tapestry as llyena led him deeper into the castle. Kid lost track of how many turns they made and was soon very lost. He wondered what idiot designed such a confusing floorplan.


    The rich decorations continued to draw his eyes. Paintings worth a small fortune hung at every corner. He now refrained from touching them after a passing Guardsman smacked his hand. Kid held the hand to his chest with a grimace while Ilyena wore an infuriating smirk on her face. Kid didn¡¯t know whether he wanted to smack it or kiss it. The thought made him blush and he made a careful inspection of his shoes.


    After a half dozen more turns, they reached a stairwell. Kid followed Ilyena up the stairs. The steps curved in a tight spiral and ascended in a never-ending circle. Ilyena climbed them with a practiced ease but Kid kept stumbling over the awkward angle of the steps. Who the hell made stairs like this? Kid¡¯s thighs still burned from climbing up the cliff and he wondered if nobles had some kind of fetish for climbing things. It felt like that was all he had done this afternoon.


    ¡°Watch your step,¡± Ilyena said after Kid tripped and fell against the wall.


    ¡°Watch your mouth,¡± he didn¡¯t say.


    They emerged into a long hallway, on what Kid believed was the fifth floor. The hall was absent of any decoration and had no branching paths. He followed her down the austere hall, adorned only with flickering torches that provided the sole source of light. It felt as if he had gone far beneath the earth, but he knew the opposite to be true. The feeling was disorienting. Kid nervously tugged at his collar as Ilyena stopped before a large oaken door set into the wall. She paused as a guardsman passed by. The man eyed Kid, but seeing he was with Ilyena, the man let him go without incident.


    She pulled the door open. ¡°After you.¡±


    Kid shrugged and walked into the room. He didn¡¯t know where he was, but it wasn¡¯t the kitchen. Weapons and tattered banners hug from the walls and the stone gave way to hardwood floors. A bowl filled with fruit sat atop a table whose wood was so polished Kid could see his reflection in it. Across from him were two sitting chairs next to a lit hearth, giving the room a warm glow.


    Kid stumbled as Ilyena pushed him further inside and shut the door behind her. ¡°Father,¡± she called. Kid froze. Shit.


    One of the chairs creaked and Kid watched in horror as a man rose from it. He was dressed in well-tailored black wool that matched hair, not yet fully grey. The man turned to face Kid, revealing grey eyes, like Ilyena¡¯s. Kid¡¯s mouth fell open. He was so dead.


    ¡°You disobeyed me,¡± the Earl said.


    Kid was about to fall on his knees and beg for forgiveness of whatever he had failed to do when Ilyena spoke up. ¡°I had to see the soldiers off. I¡¯m sorry daddy. Grim said it was alright.¡±


    Kid blinked in surprise, edging out of the way, and hoping he could somehow melt into one of the walls. The Earl snorted. ¡°You can do better than that.¡±


    She smiled. ¡°I can.¡±


    Ilyena walked over to the Earl while Kid edged toward the door. He caught the words ¡°blood on his collar.¡±


    Kid bolted for the door, but the Earl was faster. He felt a hand roughly pull his collar, then his feet left the floor and he was flying across the room. Kid landed with an audible thunk against the wood floor. He scurried backward, away from the Earl who followed him. Kid¡¯s back hit one of the plush chairs as the boots thumped closer. He froze, staring up at the Earl, panic overtaking him and paralyzing his muscles. Out the corner of his eyes he saw Ilyena eat a grape. She caught his eye and winked before popping another in her mouth.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Kid¡¯s hands shook as the Earl knelt to his level. ¡°Who are you really? And why do you claim to have a message for me?¡±


    Kid stammered. ¡°I- I-¡±


    The Earl seemed to lose his patience. He rifled through Kid¡¯s pockets until he found the letter he was supposed to deliver to Grim. The Earl took it and warmed the seal over a candle. Kid shivered as the Earl drew his belt knife, imagining it sinking into his guts. Rodger Thorne pushed the knife beneath the seal, opening the envelope without breaking it. He pulled the letter out and passed it to Ilyena. ¡°Read.¡± He then shook six silver coins from the envelope, letting them fall into his palm. He looked at them curiously.


    The girl took the note and ran her eyes across the words. She burst out laughing. ¡°Well?¡± the Earl asked.


    Ilyena shook her head, still grinning. ¡°These Sons have a sick sense of humor.¡± She walked over to the Earl and whispered into his ear. The man actually smirked. Then he looked at Kid and chuckled.


    He put the coins and letter back in the envelope and resealed it. ¡°Damnit Grim,¡± he said, shaking his head.


    Kid shied away as the Earl knelt before him once more. ¡°Do you know why you were caught?¡± he asked.


    Kid frowned, struggling to speak past the lump in his throat. ¡°The blood?¡± he managed


    The Earl shook his head. ¡°The Venarans don¡¯t hire children from the Outwalls. There¡¯d never be a messenger named Kid. I get the impression your handler didn¡¯t fill you in on this. I bet they didn¡¯t even describe the layout of the castle to you. Do you know where you are Kid?¡±


    Kid shook his head, fighting back the tears threatening to appear in his eyes.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought. They sent you here entirely unprepared. I suspect your handler wouldn¡¯t miss you very much if you disappeared.¡± The Earl ran a finger along the edge of his knife. ¡°But I have a better use for you. Tell me, do you want to live Kid?¡±


    Kid nodded, fingertips digging into the hardwood.


    ¡°Then from now on when you are given a message, you bring it to me first.¡± He sheathed the knife. ¡°If anybody tells you something interesting, you inform me. If you serve me well, you will have my protection. If you betray me, you will be my enemy. I never forget the face of an enemy, Kid.¡± The Earl leaned closer. ¡°Fortunately, I have few to remember.¡±


    The man¡¯s eyes bored through Kid, seizing his spine in a cold embrace of fear. He could only nod.


    ¡°Good.¡± The Earl reached into his pocket and pulled out a Golden Hart. He placed the heavy, golden coin in Kid¡¯s hand. ¡°For your first letter. Now go deliver it,¡± Rodger said, rising to his full height.


    Kid rose to his feet, staring wide eyed at the coin in his hand. ¡°My lord, where are your kitchens?¡±


    The Earl stared at him until Ilyena spoke up. ¡°For future reference, the kitchens are on the first floor. I¡¯ll take you.¡±


    ¡°Like hell you will,¡± Kid said, finding his voice and quickly regretting it. He winced, expecting the Earl to strike him but instead, he gestured to the door. ¡°Out. Both of you.¡±


    Ilyena left and Kid followed her to the door, not daring to disobey. As he walked through the doorway, the Earl spoke again. ¡°I expect to be seeing you soon Kid.¡±


    Kid looked back to the gold coin clutched in his palm. He knew he would be back. A voice in the back of his mind whispered, ¡°Greed is the death of thieves.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Ilyena asked.


    Kid blinked. He didn¡¯t realize he had spoken out loud. ¡°It¡¯s just something my mom told me when I was little.¡±


    ¡°Was?¡± she asked. Kid glared at her. ¡°A word of advice, Kid. You¡¯re not the first runner my father caught and made that offer. If greed is the death of thieves, then I suggest you become a pauper.¡±


    Kid grew a shade paler. ¡°How many?¡± he asked as they entered the stairwell


    ¡°Enough for me to know you¡¯re expendable to them. Father is your best chance.¡±


    Kid swallowed. He was pretty sure the Earl scared him even more than Marc. ¡°Why are you helping me?¡±


    She shrugged. ¡°Because it amuses me. It¡¯s rare that I get to do anything remotely enjoyable around here. And you made father entirely forget I misbehaved. Thanks, by the way.¡±


    ¡°Was I so obviously out of place?¡± he asked


    ¡°Only once you opened your mouth.¡± Kid nervously tugged at his collar. Ilyena stopped in the hall and looked at him. ¡°Stop doing that,¡± she whispered, ¡°How do you think I noticed the blood?¡±


    Kid closed his eyes and sighed in frustration as Ilyena started walking again. The two guards by the keep entryway gave them quizzical looks as they passed by again but didn¡¯t comment. Kid grumbled under his breath. It should have been obvious she was leading him astray. It made him think back to the Earl¡¯s words. Could Hilda have been trying to get him killed? He frowned. In the future, he would have to be more careful around her, just in case.


    Ilyena stopped outside a large pair of double doors. ¡°Here we are. I trust you can finish your subversive mission without the help of the family you¡¯re trying to subvert?¡±


    Kid wasn¡¯t sure what any of that meant but he nodded. ¡°Uh. Yeah.¡±


    Ilyena rolled her eyes at him and started to walk away. She pinched his butt as she passed. Kid jumped and turned beet red. Equal measures embarrassed and annoyed, he still couldn¡¯t help watching her walk away. Kid shook his head. He needed to get his shit together. This whole day was turning into one of those twisted nightmares where you forget to put on pants all day. Except instead of forgetting his pants, he lost his wits.


    Kid sighed in exasperation and pushed the kitchen door open. He started salivating as a vibrant rainbow of aromas assaulted him. Warmth from the fires rolled over his skin, already making him start perspiring beneath his jacket. Kid walked inside and watched the dozens of kitchen staff chopping vegetables, cooking meat, and baking fresh loaves of bread. The mere sight of it all made his stomach rumble. Not knowing what else to do, he took a seat at one of the tables.


    Within seconds a portly middle-aged woman appeared before him. She leaned on the table in front of him and in a very grave tone asked, ¡°How long have you felt like a goat?¡±


    Kid sighed and pursed his lips. ¡°Since I was a Kid.¡±


    The woman snorted. If I ever catch who comes up with these dumb phrases, I¡¯ll fong him over the head meself.¡± She shook her head and extended a hand. ¡°I¡¯m Mara, welcome to my kitchen.¡±


    Kid clasped her arm and shook it. ¡°I¡¯m Kid. Just Kid.¡±


    Mara giggled and rolled her eyes. ¡°Sure ye are.¡± She lowered her voice. ¡°I¡¯m going to need you to wait here until the kitchen closes after dinner. If anybody asks, tell them you got wrangled into cleaning the stoves tonight. I¡¯ll get ye some food in the meantime.¡±


    Kid nodded his understanding and watched as the portly woman walked around her kitchen, gathering various food. First, she grabbed a loaf of bread and tossed it to Kid. ¡°They say that in the Outwalls if you give a pretty girl some bread she¡¯ll give you some head,¡± she said. Kid winced. It wasn¡¯t far from the truth.


    As Kid devoured the bread, Mara grabbed a plate and started heaping dinner rolls atop it. ¡°They say a roll a day for a roll in the hay.¡± Then she grabbed a haunch of lamb with the fat still dripping off it. ¡°They say for a handful of meats you¡¯ll be in the sheets.¡± She added an ear of corn to the plate. ¡°For bit¡¯o corn she¡¯ll see you in the morn.¡±


    Kid was blushing yet again. This was shaping up to be one of the most embarrassing days of his life. Mara put the plate in front of him. ¡°There ye go young master, all the tools ye need to become an aspiring young philanderer. Never forget, the way to a woman¡¯s heart is through the belly,¡± Mara said patting her ample stomach and giving Kid a wink. He wished he could crawl into a hole and die. Many of the kitchen staff were smirking and shooting glances at him out of the corner of their eyes.


    ¡°Ey! Back to work all of ye!¡± Mara cried, grabbing a ladle and thwacking one of the grinning staff across the backside. All eyes immediately left Kid as they returned to work in earnest. Kid felt vindicated and allowed himself a self-deprecating smile before digging into the food. It was hands down the best meal he had ever eaten.


    Several hours passed while Kid lounged about in the warm kitchen with a full belly. If he was going to get paid by Marc and the Earl to do this all day, then maybe this assignment wasn¡¯t so bad after all. Kid released a happy sigh as he patted his full stomach in satisfaction. The last few members of the staff were finally exiting the kitchen, leaving Kid and Mara alone.


    Mara closed and locked the door behind them. Then she turned to Kid. ¡°Come boy.¡±


    Kid followed her to one of the large stoves. ¡°Up you go then,¡± she said.


    Kid stared at her with the expression of a particularly confused cow being led into the slaughterhouse. ¡°Up? There?¡± he asked, turning his head to the chimney.


    Mara nodded. ¡°Yup.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re joking.¡±


    Mara raised an eyebrow. ¡°I am surely not. Didn¡¯t they mention this to you? They didn¡¯t pick you for your dashing good looks. They sent you here because you¡¯ll fit.¡± She looked at the chimney. ¡°In there.¡±


    Kid swallowed. ¡°And why exactly can¡¯t I take the stairs?¡±


    ¡°If you want to dance to the gallows, be my guest. You¡¯re not the subtlest boy who¡¯s come through here, but at least you had the sense to give me a fake name. Kid? Phaw.¡±


    Kid mentally berated himself, but didn¡¯t correct her. Idiot.


    Mara continued, ¡°Messengers aren¡¯t allowed on the upper floors without an escort and believe me, ye don¡¯t want them looking too close at ye. Some might look the other way, but I know enough hard-asses not to want you to bet yer life on it.¡±


    Kid nodded. ¡°Okay. But how does climbing a chimney help me?¡±


    Mara furrowed her eyebrows at him. ¡°Yer seriously not having a spot of fun with me?¡± Kid shook his head. Mara frowned. ¡°Word of advice Kid, watch your back. Information is life in your line of work and somebody¡¯s been holding out on ye.¡±


    Kid swallowed a rising bubble of anger. He was going to hit Hilda over the head with a frying pan when he got back. A scowl lined his face. He was getting back.


    Mara gestured to the stove. ¡°The chimney connects to the ventilation system for the fireplaces throughout the castle. Too small for a man to get in, but just big enough for a pipsqueak like yerself to shimmy through. But, if too many fires are burnin, It¡¯s gonna be damned hard to breathe so you gotta be quick.¡±


    Mara pulled a rag from her waistband and dunked it in a nearby barrel of water. She held it out to Kid. ¡°Tie this around your head. It¡¯ll make it a little easier to breathe.¡±


    Kid took the rag from her. ¡°Could you give me some directions?¡±


    Mara nodded, the frown still creasing her lips. ¡°Eh, to Grim¡¯s room- Yer going to want to climb straight up two stories to the third floor and-¡± Mara started counting on her fingers. ¡°Eh. Six- No! Seven rooms to your right. Go down that chute and you should pop out in his fireplace. Here¡¯s to hoping it ain¡¯t lit.¡±


    Mara grinned at him. Kid sighed. ¡°Then I wait for him to come home, hand him the letter and leave the same way?¡±


    Mara¡¯s grin slipped away. ¡°Yer giving it to him in person? Not leaving it? That¡¯s- highly irregular.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Mara shrugged. ¡°What¡¯s the point of all the chimney crawling if you¡¯re going to let him see who you are. The whole point of this system is the secrecy.¡±


    ¡°Are you saying I shouldn¡¯t do this?¡±


    ¡°Did you take the money?¡±


    Kid nodded. Mara gestured to the stove.


    The rag was moist against his lips as he tied it around his head, its coolness seeping into his flesh. He took one last breath of fresh air before climbing into the stove and looking up the chimney. It was pitch black. ¡°How am I supposed to see?¡±


    ¡°Yer not. No way you can climb that without both hands. You¡¯re going to have to feel through it.¡±


    Kid chuckled nervously.


    Greed is the death of thieves.


    He reached his arms into the chimney and with a jump, pulled himself into darkness.


    There was barely enough room inside for his shoulders to fit uncomfortably. His arms were scrunched against his chest with a modicum of space for him to claw his way upwards. His shoes ground against the soot lining the bricks. Small crumbs fell to the floor of stove beneath him. Their clatter and his already heavy breathing were the only sounds as he clawed his way forward. He scraped his feet against the wall, struggling to find purchase between the cobbled bricks. His fingers fit into the cracks between the stone, but he could already feel cuts starting grow as he struggled to climb higher.


    He reached for his next handhold and his hand missed the wall. At first, he was confused, then he realized he had reached the second floor. Kid grabbed the ledge and pulled himself higher until he could reach the wall above the chute. Kid kept climbing. The air was acquiring a smoky stench and each breath was starting to burn his lungs. He clawed harder, his muscles burning from the exertion. It was getting hot. Blood flowed down his hands as the cuts grew larger. He was getting desperate, his shoulders shaking from the abuse as his legs scrambled to find footholds.


    He reached another hand up, it disappeared into the wall. He reached the third level. If he had the energy to cry out in joy, he would have. Kid heaved his shoulder onto the ledge and pushed himself onto it. He hung like that a moment, torso, flopped against the warm stone, while his legs dangled out over the abyss. He could stay like that forever.


    A violent cough wracked his body as the air burned his throat. No. He had to keep going. Which way? Kid could barely remember where he was anymore. He crawled into the tunnel he hung from, hoping it was the right one. This chute was even more cramped than the previous, but it angled downward, allowing him to slide his body along the soot, through darkness.


    He saw the flickering of firelight to the right and left as he passed the first set of rooms. Then the second, the third. Sweat was dripping down his forehead, stinging his eyes as the heat became unbearable. Kid reached a hand forward and he touched cloth. A fit of coughing wracked him and when he finally managed to breathe in, the acrid smell of smoke was mingled with rot and the stench of burnt meat. Kid pawed at the cloth and realized there was a leg under it. He struggled not to vomit. The corpse was in his way. He had to move it. But where? It was getting hard to think and the air only seemed to grow thicker.


    He grabbed the leg and hauled it toward him, feeling the skin beneath the cloth peel away. Kid vomited, but he kept pulling. Inch by inch, he pulled the corpse through his own vomit until he reached a side passage. Kid scrabbled at the corpse, pushing it to the right and shoving it deeper into the dim light emanating from the side passage. As he pushed it out of his path the light from the fire illuminated its face. Kid didn¡¯t think he would ever sleep again. He wasted no time clawing his way through the sloughed skin and vomit. That was not going to be him.


    He passed the fifth room. Or was it the sixth? He shook his head. Now wasn¡¯t the time for doubts. He couldn¡¯t stop coughing, but he kept moving. He passed the sixth room and pulled himself around the right corner of the seventh. There was no light at the end of the tunnel. Thank the Divines, and bless the Goddess for her mercy.


    The air was better over here, but he was still struggling for breath as he crawled the last few feet. The floor gave way, revealing a room below. Kid reached down, and his hand hit a metal grate. He began to cry and started beating his fists against the grate like a crazed animal. He coughed, and specks of blood came out, spotting his hands. He could feel the grate giving way. It was starting to bend. He lost all semblance of time. He needed to get through.


    The grate snapped and crashed into the floor of the fireplace with the deafening clatter of metal on stone. Kid almost leapt through the opening, but a voice in the back of his head told him to wait.


    A knocking sounded from the door. A pause. A second knock. Kid shrank back from the opening as he heard the door open. Blackness was encroaching on the edges of his vision. footsteps echoed from the room below. Kid silently sobbed but no tears came forth. A moment passed. The door closed.


    Kid gave himself one final pull. He had the sensation of falling-

 Ch 9: Under the Sun

    The midday rush was finally tapering down, giving Hilda a moment to breathe behind the bar. The Dancing Bear was still nearly full, but the patrons were all served and fresh mugs of what passed for beer, rested in their hands. Lissa had the tables under control, and Hilda was left alone with her thoughts. She unconsciously grabbed a mug and began to polish its surface with a rag.


    The patron¡¯s voices were hushed, but they all talked about the same thing: The executions going on in the square. Hilda chewed on the corner of her lip and glanced at her daughter. She¡¯d never been more worried. Maybe James was right. Maybe she was being a fool. Their lives weren¡¯t so bad. Lissa may never be anything more than a barkeep, but at least she would be alive. Safe.


    Her throat tightened. And she set the mug gently on the counter. But if it wasn¡¯t for these people, then there never would have been danger. Her worry caught flame and turned into a simmering anger. She thought she hated them before, but it only got worse and now the Earl¡¯s men were helping with this abomination. And Grim¡­ She couldn¡¯t help the feeling of betrayal. She¡¯d always looked up to the Thorne family. Her husband, her brother in law, and her father had all served them faithfully in the war and it was the Earl who brought her husband home.


    Tears began to form in her eyes as her emotions writhed within her. She struck the mug from the bar. The glass skidded across the dirt floor, not even giving her the satisfaction of destruction.


    ¡°Something I said?¡±


    Hilda jumped and looked up to see Marc sitting across the bar from her. She chuckled mirthlessly. ¡°I was practicing for next time you try to be witty.¡±


    Marc grinned, but there was no humor in it. She could see the anger in his eyes that reflected her own. He pulled out a golden Hart and laid it on the table. ¡°Something strong. Two if you¡¯re interested.¡±


    Hilda nodded and knelt low to the ground. she reached her arm into a small crack in the wall. Something hiding inside scurried away from her grasping hand. She ignored it and found the bottle within. She pulled out her prize. It was nothing fancy, but the bottle of whiskey was of a high enough quality that an inner-city tavern might consider putting it on their bottom shelf. She pulled out two cups from the bar and filled them to the brim.


    Marc raised an eyebrow at her. ¡°A woman after my own heart.¡±


    She reached out and lightly smacked his face. ¡°Your first warning.¡±


    Marc chuckled, a hint of true mirth creeping into his eyes. It soon faded. He lifted his cup and took a long draw. Hilda followed his lead.


    Lissa came up to the bar and looked up at her uncle with her hands firmly planted on her hips. Marc looked down at her with the first real smile Hilda had seen on his face today.


    ¡°Hey dove, how¡¯s my favorite little lady doing today? Come give me a hug.¡±


    Lissa stayed right where she stood while Marc¡¯s arms hung awkwardly in the air. The man slowly lowered them and sighed. ¡°I sure have a way with women today,¡± he grumbled to himself.


    Lissa narrowed her eyes at him. ¡°Maybe you can get a hug when you stop robbing my friends.¡±


    Marc blinked, taken aback. ¡°What do you mea- Oh. You¡¯re talking about Kid.¡±


    Lissa nodded, brow furrowed. ¡°I thought better of you. I guess you proved me wrong.¡±


    Marc frowned. ¡°You¡¯re right Lissa. It seems wrong of me to take that money from him. But believe me, I did the boy a favor. You know how it is around here. How long do you think he would have been able to hold onto that money?¡±


    Lissa frowned. ¡°That¡¯s not the point.¡±


    Marc nodded. ¡°I know. You¡¯re right. How about this? I assume you know he¡¯s working for me now?¡± Lissa nodded. ¡°Okay then, I¡¯ll pay him back the money slowly as he finishes jobs. That way he isn¡¯t so tempting a target and I can do right by him.¡±


    Lissa narrowed her eyes at him. ¡°What¡¯s the catch?¡±


    Marc smiled. ¡°No catch.¡± He opened his arms for a hug. ¡°Do we have a deal?¡±


    Lissa smiled and embraced her uncle. Hilda cleared her throat. ¡°Lissa, go work the tables. Marc and I need to talk for a bit.¡±


    The girl nodded and bounced away to her duties. Marc closed his eyes, newfound irritation written across his face. ¡°The catch is that I¡¯m going to beat the little bastard half to death with his own arm if he makes it back,¡± Marc growled in a low voice.


    Hilda smiled, her dark mood rising for a moment. ¡°Go easy on him. I doubt that was his idea. Kid¡¯s a lot of things, but he¡¯s not stupid.¡±


    Marc sighed and dove back into his drink. ¡°I was in the marketplace Hil.¡±


    Hilda froze as she reached for her drink, her eyes finding Marc¡¯s. He continued, ¡°As soon as we got word of the stage being set up and the prisoners being marched out, I gathered our forces and made for the market. Those are the loved ones and friends of men and women who gave their lives for me.¡± Marc paused and took another drink.


    ¡°We had the whole thing set up. A clear line of fire to the stage, wagons to block the roads and a safe house to hide them till things calmed down. Then they came surrounded by the Earl¡¯s men. I couldn¡¯t do it Hil. I couldn¡¯t give the order. I just watched those people die. No. I let them die.¡± He choked on a sob, planting his hands on his forehead and leaning against the bar. ¡°Divines Hil. I need you to tell me- I need-¡± Marc paused, struggling to find the words. ¡°Did I make the right call?¡±


    Hilda lifted her drink to her lips and drank deeply, the liquor burned her throat and seemed to light the fire inside her that had been doused. ¡°You said it to me best yourself, Marc. There is only what is necessary. You made that call. Starting a war with the Earl does nothing for us. We have to keep our mission in sight. We can¡¯t save every life. We can only make their deaths meaningful.¡± She reached out and grabbed him by the hand.


    He squeezed her hand and looked up into her eyes. The sorrow she saw there was slowly replaced by a piercing coldness. ¡°I¡¯m going to make them pay a bucket for every drop of blood they spilled today. I swear by the Reaper, on my life be it.¡±


    James chose that moment to walk out of the back room, sawdust coating his patchwork shirt. Hilda snatched her hand from Marc¡¯s, realizing immediately afterwards that that only made her more suspicious looking.


    James¡¯s disfigured face contorted into a scowl as he approached his brother. He grabbed Marc by the shoulder and leaned in closely. ¡°I thought I told you not to come around here anymore.¡±


    ¡°James please,¡± Hilda said.


    James closed his eyes tightly and held a hand up to her. ¡°Don¡¯t defend him.¡± He turned back to Marc. ¡°Get out.¡±


    Marc shook his head. ¡°Please don¡¯t make me go James. I know I haven¡¯t been the best brother, but today of all days, I just want to be uncle Marc for a few hours. Please.¡±


    James¡¯s visage softened, and he released his hand from Marc¡¯s shoulder. He hesitated. ¡°Okay. But from now on if you want to talk to me or my family you send one of your little rats over. Don¡¯t come into my home.¡±Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Marc nodded. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ***


    A dozen shades of blood covered the stage. Grim sat panting on the stool by the gallows as he nursed his shoulder. After executing another two prisoners, the rest started to opt for mercy. But that final bastard must have been an old soldier. He gave Grim a solid blow on the shoulder and even split some of the links in his mail. Luckily, they dulled the axes given to prisoners. Grim chuckled humorlessly.


    Harren stood on the far side of the platform, watching as the guardsmen carried the last of the corpses off the stage and piled them onto a wagon. It was already beginning to smell. A frown creased his face.


    ¡°Not as glorious as you hoped it¡¯d be?¡± Grim asked him.


    Harren shook his head and walked down the stairs of the stage, ignoring Grim. Grim sighed and rose to his feet, the last to leave the stage. His boots stuck to the ground beneath him as he walked. The congealed blood beginning to squelch. The sound chilled his bones.


    When he reached the bottom of the stairs he turned to Edgar. ¡°Captain, take the bodies and ensure they receive a proper burial.¡±


    Edgar nodded and turned to leave but Billy grabbed him by the shoulder. ¡°Let me. Please.¡±


    Grim nodded and Billy looked about to say something, but he closed his mouth and walked away without another word. Grim watched the man go. He would have to talk to him soon. Grim was already working hard to repress the memories of today. Divines, he needed a drink. His flask had run out long ago.


    Edgar put a hand on his shoulder. ¡°You okay Grim?¡±


    Grim blinked and shook his head. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°The men are ready to move out.¡±


    Grim nodded and raised his fist in the air, signaling with two fingers for two columns. The guardsmen quickly formed up behind him and Harren took a spot next to Grim. Grim threw his hand forward, signaling the advance. Then they began to march, leaving Grim alone with his thoughts once more. He was almost relieved when Harren spoke.


    ¡°You¡¯re right. This wasn¡¯t what I was expecting.¡± The following silence hung heavy between the two men as they walked through the quickly parting crowd. Eyes stared at them. Equal amounts fearful and accusatory. Grim understood shame. It was practically bred into him. But what he felt now was deeper, darker. It rippled under his flesh, threatening to consume him. He understood it as hate.


    Grim clenched his fists. They made him the monster. It all made sense why Longreen wanted him. The streets grew quiet wherever they marched as Grim led them back to the Greencloak keep. A thousand eyes were always on him, and Grim knew more than a few would like to stick a knife in him. He was half expecting an arrow to come flying towards him at any moment.


    Grim¡¯s nerves were frayed by the time they reached the keep doors. He didn¡¯t think he¡¯d ever be relieved to walk through them. But there he was, being saluted by Greencloak soldiers as he walked down the path toward the estate. Grim pulled the green cloak from his shoulders and tossed it to the side of the road. The weight of it made him sick. More than a few of the men behind him followed suit as they entered the garden before the estate.


    Marshal Longreen was waiting in the courtyard in front of a complement of Greencloaks. He must have received advance word of their arrival. Grim wanted nothing more than to plant an axe between the man¡¯s eyes. ¡°It¡¯s done,¡± he said.


    The marshal nodded. ¡°Excellent work Harren.¡±


    The nobleman frowned but he nodded all the same. ¡°Thank you, sir.¡±


    ¡°You look troubled son. Something on your mind?¡±


    Harren hesitated before speaking. ¡°It just seemed a bit excessive sir.¡±


    The Marshal nodded slowly. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to write that in the letters I have to send to widows in Venar. Harren Barrington thought my response to the death of their loved ones was excessive.¡± Longreen narrowed his eyes. ¡°I think they¡¯ll disagree.¡±


    Harren swallowed and looked down. ¡°No need for that, sir.¡±


    The Marshal walked up to Harren and put a hand on the man¡¯s shoulder. Grim¡¯s pulse quickened as Longreen neared. It took all the restraint his father had hammered into him not to attack the man. The Marshal didn¡¯t so much as look at Grim as he spoke to Harren.


    ¡°There is something that you have to understand, son. It¡¯s something that every leader in Venar must come to terms with. Ignore whatever divine bullshit your priest told you about what is right. The sins we create today pave the path to a better tomorrow. It¡¯s a bit before your time, but only twenty years ago people in this godforsaken nation used to burn the northern flatlands of our home for sport and wealth.¡± He turned his head to Grim. ¡°This bastard¡¯s father used to capture our people by the dozens and sell them across the sea to the Tarans. An unforgivable crime.¡±


    The marshal removed his hand from Harren¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Come. We¡¯ll have a spot of brandy while we talk. As they walked away the Marshal called over his shoulder. ¡°You too bastard.¡±


    Grim scowled. He had been hoping to be done with Longreen for the day. He followed them through the main doors, into the elaborate entry hall. Longreen nodded to the men standing guard as they saluted sharply. Grim looked over his shoulder through the open door, watching as his men began to find comfortable places to lounge about the courtyard.


    Divines, that phrase still felt strange in his mind. His men. A feeling of responsibility weighed on him. He had to think of them before he did anything stupid. Was this what his father always felt like? The thought made Grim frown as he climbed the stairwell behind Harren.


    They emerged onto the second floor and turned right, passing the giant banner bearing the crest of the king. The second floor was no less extravagant than the first. Porcelain vases sat upon tables liberally decorated with gold leaf. More soldiers dressed in heavy bronze armor patrolled the halls, spears shining in the light from the candelabras. Wide windows let in generous amounts of sunlight, making the gold shine and underlining the incredible level of cleanliness. However, he didn¡¯t see a single servant in sight. The place seemed too pristine, almost sterile. It felt like nobody lived here.


    The Marshal stopped at a door and twisted a bronze bulb coming out of the wood. There was a click and he pulled the door open. Grim looked curiously at it as he passed. Where was the latch? He shook his head and walked into the room. It appeared to be a small sitting room with two chairs, a fireplace and a small bar holding elaborate glass bottles filled with clear and brown liquid. A butler in a neatly tailored green jacket stood at attention beside it.


    ¡°Tan, three Borish brandies,¡± Longreen said.


    The butler immediately set to work fetching glasses and pouring the liquor.


    The marshal took a seat in one of the chairs and gestured for Harren to take the other. Then he turned to Grim. ¡°Light us a fire.¡±


    Grim bristled, but he kept a calm fa?ade painted across his face as he bent over to put logs into the fireplace. If nothing else, his father had prepared him well for hiding his emotions. As Grim struck the tinder, the Marshal began to speak. He gestured at Grim.


    ¡°See that. He wants nothing more than run me through with that fire poker. You can see it in his eyes. He understands how I used him, how I weakened his family.¡±


    Grim grimaced. It was as if the man read his mind.


    ¡°But he won¡¯t.¡± Longreen turned to Harren as the butler placed a glass of brandy in his hand. ¡°He knows who holds the reins of power here. He knows that if he touches me, hell will rain down on not only this city, but his entire country.¡± He took a sip of his brandy as Harren took his glass from the butler.


    ¡°The Rillman is not a stupid creature, only an infuriatingly stubborn one. We took a census after the war and found that we had to kill almost a third of the male population before they capitulated. We lost nearly twice that number. I was only a captain when we first occupied this city and Divines help me, but I will never forget the early riots. Those damnable masks they wore and still wear. It was nearly a year before the city stopped smelling of putrid blood. If we hadn¡¯t killed the king in battle, then God only knows how much longer they would have fought the inevitable. Peasants are easily replaced but every officer fallen makes Venar the lesser. It is my duty to make sure another war like that never happens.¡±


    The Marshal paused to take another drink, then he stared into the now budding fire. Grim took his glass from the butler and drained it in a single drink. The Marshal regarded him. ¡°It¡¯s not their fault really. They can¡¯t help their nature, their lack of self-control.¡± Grim gritted his teeth. ¡°Like the Borish and the Caldeans before them, we have to tame them to build a world where men no longer act like beasts. The Rillman is-¡± He paused, searching for the word. ¡°Uncivilized. It is our duty to tame him.¡±


    ¡°And what if you fail?¡± Grim asked, through gritted teeth.


    The marshal shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s enough that you obey for now. Fortunately, your sister is turning into a quite quaint Venaran lady and I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll make a lovely bride to some fine Venaran nobleman.¡± Longreen chuckled. ¡°It¡¯s already over Grim. You just haven¡¯t realized it yet. My job is just to maintain order until it becomes clear.¡±


    He turned back to Harren. ¡°Do you understand now? We are not here to do what is right. We are here to secure the destiny our people deserve. Someday our king will rule all that is under the sun and our world will be better for it.¡±


    Harren nodded slowly. ¡°I understand.¡±


    Longren turned to Grim. ¡°And you bastard, do you understand?¡±


    Grim said nothing, not bothering to hide his distaste.


    Longreen chuckled. ¡°See? Nothing if not predictable. You may go Grim. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.¡±

 Ch 10: The Briar

    The switchbacks up to the castle seemed longer than usual. But then again, they always did. The portcullis immediately rattled open as Grim led his men up the final approach. Grim looked up at the walls. The sentry seemed oddly attentive today. He walked through the gates, a nervous tingle running down his spine as he forced himself not to look at the spikes hovering above his head. The soldiers inside shot him guarded looks, likely taking in the dried blood covering Grim. Most wouldn¡¯t meet his eyes. He supposed they already received word of what happened today.


    Grim raised his hand in a clenched fist to signal a halt and turned to the men following him. Billy had yet to return from burying the bodies, so he addressed Edgar. ¡°Make sure everyone gets some rest and something to drink,¡± he said, pulling his coin purse from his belt and tossing it to Edgar.


    Edgar nodded, a forced smile on his lips. ¡°Can do. Are we dismissed?¡±


    Grim nodded and raised his voice to address the group at large. ¡°Dismissed!¡±


    The soldiers immediately fell out, heading straight to the barracks. Edgar lingered. ¡°You did what you had to do, and everybody made it home. Focus on the small victories. It¡¯s what¡¯ll keep you sane in this line of work.¡± He patted Grim on the shoulder and followed the men into the Barracks.


    Grim numbly watched him go. He was emotionally drained and wanted nothing more than to have a drink and go to bed. He turned to enter the Keep, but was intercepted by a Briar Guard. The man¡¯s steel plate and golden brooch shined in the sunlight. He came to a stop in front of Grim.


    Grim raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Earl wants to see you,¡± the man said.


    Grim sighed. ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll head there straight away.¡±


    The man nodded and brushed past Grim, walking through the open portcullis and into town. Grim walked to the keep doors. He made his way inside and passed the long defensive corridor to the iron door at the end. He was surprised when its hinges began to squeal as it was pulled open before him. Grim stepped through. The two guardsmen inside saluted him fist over heart and head bowed, in the Rillish fashion. Grim nodded at them as he passed, and the men relaxed.


    That was unusual. Grim made his ways through the halls. Servants who used to wave and say hello, shrunk away from him and clung to the opposite wall as he passed. The darkness of the halls matched his mood as he found the stairwell and ascended the steps two at a time. He ran into a pair of nobles on his way up and roughly shoved them out of his way. Curses followed him the rest of the way to the fifth floor.


    He came onto the floor and was surprised to see Ilyena down the hall waiting outside Father¡¯s door. His eyes met hers and she averted her gaze as she walked to meet him halfway. Grim was surprised when she embraced him in a hug. It¡¯d been a few years. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around her. He felt tears come to his eyes unbidden and he blinked them away.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said, slowly releasing him.


    Blood from his clothes stained her garb and a streak of red ran across her pale cheek. She hardly seemed to notice. He tried to wipe it away with his hand but only managed to smear it.


    Grim was silent a long moment while she wiped the blood with the sleeve of her dress. ¡°What could you possibly like about those people?¡± he asked.


    Ilyena hesitated. Then finally met his eyes. ¡°They¡¯re just people Grim.¡±


    Grim shook his head and walked past her but she grabbed his arm. She lowered her voice. ¡°The Sons tried to send you a message. Father knows. And if I¡¯m not mistaken, there¡¯s a very tiny surprise waiting for you in your room.¡±


    Grim paled. The day just seemed to keep getting worse. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    Ilyena grabbed his hand and squeezed, then let him go. Grim walked down the hall to his Father¡¯s door. He paused outside the oaken edifice. The last thing he wanted to do was face his father and talk about what he had done. Grim raised his hand to the door and knocked.


    ¡°Come in.¡±


    Grim pushed open the heavy door, its hinges squeaking in protest. The Earl sat in his usual position by the fire, but stood as Grim entered the room. A cloth bundle was in his hand. Grim approached and the Earl held the bundle out to him. Grim took it from the Earl and unwrapped the covering. The glint of gold shined in the firelight. It was one of the brooches worn by the Earl¡¯s Briar Guards. Twisted vines of gold wrapped around each other with thorns sharp enough to cut, forming the sigil of his house.


    Grim looked up to his father. ¡°I can¡¯t take this. Not for that.¡±


    The Earl shook his head and Grim caught a hint of sadness in the man¡¯s hard eyes. ¡°You have to. This city has never had a Justicar who wasn¡¯t a Briar Guard. Longreen made a mockery of one of our most sacred traditions. Such things were never meant to be a show.¡±


    Grim closed his fist around the brooch, feeling its thorns prick his skin but not caring. ¡°And yet, here we are.¡±


    Rodger Thorne nodded. ¡°And yet, here we are.¡±


    A silence followed and for once Grim was grateful for it.


    The Earl spoke first. ¡°You probably don¡¯t want to hear this, but you did well today.¡±


    ¡°I did my duty. What you told me to do. They treated me like an animal.¡±


    ¡°Animals are born of impulses. Men reject them. The ability to choose is what makes a man. I made a mistake in letting him take you, but it¡¯s too late for regrets.¡±


    ¡°Plenty of time for regrets. All the time in the world.¡± Grim took a step closer to his father. ¡°Now how do we make him regret this?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t. You know what will happen If I get involved. I¡¯ll not risk making matters worse.¡±


    ¡°Coward.¡±


    The Earl¡¯s nostrils flared, and he turned from Grim, walking back toward his chair and taking a seat by the fire. ¡°You¡¯re by no means the first to call me that, only the first to say it to my face in a long time.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you should be reminded more often.¡±


    A scowl pierced the calm fa?ade on the Earl¡¯s face. ¡°Don¡¯t test my patience boy. You speak of things you know nothing about.¡±


    Grim followed his father to the chairs and stood before him. ¡°Then educate me.¡±


    The Earl regarded Grim for a long moment, his grey eyes probing and searching for something Grim could not comprehend. ¡°Where do you think the bread, you eat comes from Grim? The wheat to make the beer you¡¯re so fond of? The grapes for wine? The grains for porridge?¡±


    Grim blinked in surprise. That wasn¡¯t what he was expecting. He shrugged.


    The Earl closed his eyes. ¡°You¡¯ve probably never seen a farm in your life have you Grim?¡±


    Grim shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t see what this has to do with anything.¡±


    ¡°If you listened for a moment or paid attention to something other than the bottom of your tankard for more than a second then maybe you would.¡±


    Grim scowled and the Earl continued. ¡°Do you know why we used to raid the southlands?¡± Grim shook his head. ¡°Because we were starving. Our land is harsh. Desolate. Nothing grows here. Only so many people can live off the sea and from herding. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard how many men died in the war. What you don¡¯t know is what happened when the rest came home. Our population exploded and grain from the south came pouring in to support it.¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    The Earl ran a hand across the stubble lining his jaw. ¡°Do you know what would happen if that trade dried up?¡±


    Grim swallowed. ¡°Famine.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯d be an unmitigated disaster and make our losses in the war look like a petty border skirmish. There¡¯s hundreds of thousands of people your age spread across the Rills. More than there ever has been. We could start the bloodiest war the world has ever seen, but we¡¯d all be dead by winter.¡±


    A long silence fell over the room. The Earl leaned back into his chair and Grim fell into the one beside him, suddenly thinking of all the carts of grain that were always lined up outside the city walls. ¡°Fuck me,¡± he whispered.


    Rodger Thorne sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not telling you to not take vengeance. I¡¯m only saying to take care in how you find it. You¡¯re a Briar Guard now and that means you now represent me more than ever. And it means you must take the oath.¡±


    ¡°Now?¡±


    ¡°Now.¡±


    Grim rose to his feet and the Earl followed suit. Rodger held out his hand and Grim placed the briar brooch back in the man¡¯s hand. The Earl regarded it solemnly for a moment before drawing his belt knife. He drew the blade across his hand. Blood welled up from the cut and he pressed the wounded hand to the brooch, covering its pristine surface in blood. Grim had seen the process a dozen times but never thought he would be on the receiving end. It was the highest honor his father could bestow, and he knew he hadn¡¯t earned it.


    ¡°Kneel.¡±


    Grim knelt.


    ¡°Give me your hand.¡±


    Grim reached out his hand and the Earl placed the brooch in his palm.


    ¡°Now grasp it. Hard.¡±


    Grim hesitated a moment before squeezing his hand into a fist. The sharp thorns on the brooch pierced his skin. Blood dripped freely from his hand.


    ¡°Do you swear to serve our Order until the Reaper takes you?¡±


    ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°Will you uphold the law in my name and that of my descendants.¡±


    ¡°I will¡±


    ¡°Will you honor the Reaper in all her glory and do her work in my name?¡±


    ¡°I will.¡±


    ¡°Would you stand by my side against the darkness in men¡¯s souls?¡±


    ¡°I would.¡±


    The Earl nodded slowly. ¡°Then rise.¡±


    Grim rose to his feet and unclenched his fist which was now covered in blood. The thorns tugged at his flesh as they exited, and it felt as if they writhed. The sensation mingled with the pain sent chills down his spine.


    The Earl put a hand on Grim¡¯s shoulder. ¡°We are now twice bonded by blood. Don¡¯t forget your oaths Grim and nobody will ever call you a boy again.¡± His father removed the hand. ¡°I sent a messenger to Longreen saying I require your services tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°What do you want me to do?¡±


    The Earl glanced at Grim¡¯s hand. ¡°Get that seen to. There¡¯s plenty of time for talk tomorrow.¡±


    Grim nodded and turned to the door. Before he opened it, the Earl called out to him. ¡°Grim, be careful.¡± Grim looked over his shoulder at his father. The man¡¯s eyes bored into him giving weight to the gravity of his words.


    He glanced at the brooch in his hand. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    The Earl made no response, only turning back toward the fire and staring into its flames.


    ***


    Something poked at his side. He groaned at the unpleasant sensation and immediately started to cough. Something wet dripped from his mouth. Kid opened bleary eyes and saw a ceiling made of stone. He tried to sit up and fell when his muscles screamed in protest. Soreness mingled with a burning sensation that took his breath away. Divines, everything hurt. Then the memories of the tunnels started to come back to him. The burned flesh peeling off the boy¡¯s skull. The slimy feeling of flesh and vomit. The burning air.


    ¡°What the hell happened to you?¡± a voice asked.


    Kid turned his head to follow the voice and saw a bear of a man standing over him. His face seemed fixed into a grimace and blood stained his fine clothes, giving him a grisly appearance. Kid shrank away, trying to melt into the floor. His eyes were fixed on the man¡¯s axe. He saw death.


    When the man didn¡¯t make a move to hurt him, Kid calmed enough to think. He tried to speak but his voice failed him. He struggled to get a single word out.


    ¡°Water,¡± he rasped.


    The man took a waterskin attached to his belt and tossed it to the floor next to Kid. It sloshed as it hit the stone. Kid made a titanic effort to sit up, his muscles groaning in protest as he pulled the skin to his lips.


    He drank deeply and gagged on the contents. He sputtered and spat out the liquid. That wasn¡¯t water. The man standing above him chuckled darkly. ¡°I¡¯ll get you some water. I¡¯d say don¡¯t run, but you look like you could hardly walk.¡±


    Kid watched the man leave the room while he concentrated on getting his breathing under control. His throat burned, his hands were bloody, and everything was covered in soot. His fingers hurt as much as the rest of his body did combined. Everything felt uncomfortably warm and ached. He shuddered at the memory of his crawl.


    His throat was so dry, he was having trouble breathing. Kid''s eyes found the wineskin. He licked his lips before he lifted it to his mouth and began to drink deeply of the liquid. The wine burned his throat painfully, but instinct urged him on. He needed to drink something, anything.


    By the time the man returned bearing two buckets of water, Kid was lying motionless on the cool stone. The empty wineskin sat beside him, and the world was starting to get hazy. The man set the buckets down beside Kid and picked up the empty skin. ¡°Divines boy. You¡¯re going to have one hell of a night.¡±


    He grabbed Kid by the collar of his uniform and pulled him upright. ¡°C¡¯mon you need to drink some water. That wine isn¡¯t going to actually help.¡±


    Kid¡¯s was starting to feel lightheaded and some of his pain began to feel blunted. He nodded as the man lifted one of the buckets up and tilted it toward him. He put his lips to the wooden rim and began to drink as the cool liquid entered his mouth. His throat was instantly soothed, prompting him to drink more and more.


    The man abruptly took it away from his lips. Kid cried out in protest. ¡°No!¡± he yelled, finding his voice.


    ¡°Calm down. The water¡¯s no use to you if you just vomit it all back up.¡±


    Kid opened his mouth to protest once more but then he noticed his belly did, in fact, feel close to bursting. He barely noticed beyond all his other ailments. He nodded to the man. ¡°You¡¯re Grim, right?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m actually feeling rather sunny if you must know.¡±


    Kid blinked at the man, refusing to so much as fake a smile at that.


    The man sighed and ran a hand across his face. ¡°Yeah I¡¯m Grim.¡±


    Kid reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out the letter he had been given. It was crumpled, stained with sweat and the seal had a dozen cracks in it, but he had completed his mission. A feeling of relief washed over him. It was almost over. He handed the letter to Grim.


    Grim broke the seal of the envelope and pulled out the letter within. His eyes scanned the parchment. A frown creased the man¡¯s face, followed by a grin. He tucked the letter into his jacket then tilted the envelope and a handful of silver coins fell into his hand.¡±


    ¡°So, you¡¯re the little tyke who robbed me the other day.¡± Grim chuckled as Kid¡¯s eyes widened.


    ¡°No No No. I-¡±


    Grim raised a hand, cutting him off. ¡°Calm down.¡± He put the coins back in the envelope and handed the parchment to Kid. ¡°You earned it fair and square. That¡¯s quite the mean trick they pulled on you. Amusing, but mean.¡± Grim shook his head. ¡°Who sent you here?¡±


    A tingle of fear ran down Kid¡¯s spine. He shook his head. The room seemed to spin as he did so.


    Grim spoke again, this time with iron in his voice. ¡°Don¡¯t test my patience. You¡¯ll find it lacking.¡± He kicked one of the buckets of water over with his boot.


    Kid reached out to the precious liquid as it spread across the floor then he looked up to Grim¡¯s eyes. What he saw made his blood run cold. This was not the same man he saw on the street a few days ago. Kid tried to shuffle backwards but quickly hit a wall. Paralyzing fear gripped him as the man stood over him, bloodshot green eyes rimed in red, the smell of stale gore wafting from his clothes, the freshly blooded gold brooch clasping his cloak. He tried to speak but no words came out, only tears. He pulled his knees to his chest and tried to be as small as possible. He closed his eyes and braced himself for the pain to come.


    But none did. After a long moment, Kid opened his eyes to see Grim sitting across the small room on his bed. He had a bottle of brown liquid in one hand and the other gripped the haft of the axe at his side in a white knuckled grip.


    Kid slowly unraveled himself as the man took a drink from the bottle. ¡°You¡¯re not going to hurt me?¡± he asked.


    Grim shook his head. ¡°The letter said I should either send a message back with you or carve one into your skin.¡± He took another drink.


    Kid shuddered. ¡°Carve one into my skin?¡±


    ¡°If I wasn¡¯t interested,¡± he said, ¡°Death is a message of sorts. A bit final, but it gets the point across.¡±


    Kid paled at his words. He couldn¡¯t find the strength in him to respond.


    Grim ran a hand through his hair. ¡°Sending a message back isn¡¯t good enough. I want to meet these people now and you¡¯re going to take me.¡±


    Kid hesitated. Then the memories of his crawl came back to him unbidden. His anger began to burn hotter than even those damn tunnels. Fuck em. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll take you. But you already know my handler. Hilda at the Dancing Bear.


    Grim¡¯s eyes shined in recognition. He put the bottle down and stood to help Kid drink from the remaining bucket of water. Kid could already feel strength returning to his limbs. Everything still hurt like hell, but he no longer felt like he was on the edge of dying. Grim splashed the last bit of water over Kid¡¯s head. Black soot dripped from his hair and face in dark rivulets. Divines it felt good.


    Grim pursed his lips as he regarded Kid. ¡°It¡¯ll have to do. Stand up boy. We have places to be.¡±

 Ch 11: Old Wounds

    Kid was having a very difficult time keeping his feet under him. His muscles ached, and the wine made it feel like he was walking across the deck of a ship during a storm. Grim held him by the collar, half dragging him through the streets of the inner city. He was probably worried Kid would try to run away, but Kid doubted he could make it more than a block before falling on his face. Walking was difficult enough as it was. And Grim kept a hard pace, his much longer legs eating up ground as Kid stumbled to keep up.


    Kid could now see the gate leading to the Outwall. A complement of Greencloaks were pulling the corpses from the crosses by the gates. As they passed, Kid noted that arrows protruded from several of the bodies. The sight made him grimace, but it was better than being left to hang.


    Kid grew nervous as they approached the gates. The Greencloaks and the Thorne soldiers faced off in their usual staring competition. There was little foot traffic between the gates after nightfall. Both were sure to take note of their passing.


    Sure enough, as they neared the great stone archway, one of the Greencloaks called out. ¡°Hold.¡±


    Grim stopped and watched as a pair of Greencloaks approached them. Kid swallowed and tried to edge himself behind Grim. Both southerners had their hands on their weapons as they approached. Grim scowled at the men.


    The Greencloaks stopped several paces away, eyeing Grim nervously until four more of their number came to back them up. Kid could see the pair of Thorne soldiers by the gate edge closer to the scene. ¡°It¡¯s the bastard,¡± one of the Greencloaks whispered.


    The southerner in the lead nodded and asked, ¡°What¡¯s your business in the Outwall?¡±


    Grim jerked Kid in front of him. Kid yelped as the fabric dug into his throat and ripped. ¡°I caught this little shit with his hands in my pockets and now I¡¯m going to take him to his mother¡¯s house and nail his fucking hands to her door. If you have a problem with that then take it up with the Marshal.¡±


    Grim walked toward the gate, brushing past the Greencloak but the soldier put a hand on his chest, stopping him. ¡°Hold on a minute-¡±


    Grim cut him off. ¡°Get your hands off me and get out of my way or I¡¯ll report your whole damn company to the Marshal for insubordination. He doesn¡¯t take kindly to that.¡± The southerner¡¯s tanned skin paled a shade and he backed away.


    Grim shouldered the man as he passed, almost knocking the Greencloak to the ground. The Thorne soldiers released the grip on their weapons as Grim was let by. Both men saluted him fist over heart as he passed. However, they shot Kid quizzical looks as he tried to keep his head down. He hated being scrutinized. In his line of work, if people were looking at you, something had gone terribly wrong. Kid sighed. People were often looking at him.


    Grim led him through the warren of dirt roads. Kid was expecting to get ambushed by a group of thugs at every intersection, but he supposed a large man in full armor with a giant axe made for a poor target. They made it to his home street unmolested.


    ¡°Wait. Wait,¡± Kid tried to say but his words were lost on Grim as the man single-mindedly marched to the door of the Dancing Bear. Kid struggled in his grip. He did NOT want to go in there with Grim. He ineffectually tried to pull himself free, but Grim just started to drag him, hardly seeming to notice.


    Kid winced as the hinges of the tavern door squealed open and light illuminated them. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the candlelight inside. Kid fought to find his feet. At the very least he could walk to his death rather than be dragged. He swallowed as he caught Hilda¡¯s eyes from the bar. Maybe this wasn¡¯t such a good idea.


    Grim marched up to the bar and took a seat, pushing Kid into the stool next to him. Kid sat uneasily. There was no point in trying to run now. At least Hilda was looking at Grim rather than him.


    ¡°What the hell do you think you¡¯re doing?¡± Hilda hissed.


    ¡°Finding out what you want from me. The letter you sent was hardly endearing. Are you really going to report me for those Greencloaks when they were killed on your own fucking floor?¡±


    Hilda leaned closer to Grim. ¡°Quiet down you dolt.¡± She glanced around the room. A dozen or so patrons sat at the tables. Most were looking at Grim out of the corner of their eyes. ¡°Are you mad? You walk into my bar looking like you just committed a massacre and have the nerve to demand information from me?¡±


    Grim grimaced, his voice raising. ¡°I did just commit a massacre. Or hasn¡¯t the news arrived yet?¡±


    Hilda glared at Grim but as she opened her mouth to speak, the door to the backroom swung open and James walked out. ¡°What¡¯s going on out here?¡± he asked. His eyes met Grim¡¯s. ¡°Grim?¡±


    Grim spoke up. ¡°Well I was just asking your wife here-¡±


    Grim was cut off as Hilda slapped him across the face. Kid scrambled away as two men from the tables behind them leapt to their feet and tackled Grim across the bar. Glass shattered as Kid ran from the brawling men and put his back against the far wall. Everyone in the bar was yelling and Kid turned around just in time to see Grim break free from the grip of one man and punch the other across the face. The man stumbled away, ineffectually trying to hold in the blood pouring from his nose.


    The unblooded man punched Grim in the kidneys, but he seemed not to notice as he turned and rammed his shoulder into his assailant, driving him across the floor and slamming him onto a table. Its rickety legs snapped and both men fell to the floor, Grim throwing punch after punch into the man below him.


    Kid edged his way to the door, but Hilda grabbed him by the arm. ¡°What the hell were you thinking?¡± she demanded as the man with a broken nose came to his senses and tackled Grim off his friend.


    Kid paled but he felt his anger flare. ¡°I almost died a dozen times in there. Were you trying to get me killed?¡± He winced as more furniture broke. James was screaming at Grim and the two men fighting him.


    Hilda tightened her grip on his arm. ¡°Listen here you little bastard. You are shitting all over my personal life right now. And I had nothing to do with what happened to you. Marc was the one who wanted to put you through the ringer.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Grim roared as one of the men kicked him in the back of the knee and the two men started forcing him back to the ground. Kid tore his eyes from the scene. ¡°What the hell did I do to piss him off?¡±


    Hilda sneered. ¡°Look at yourself boy. You¡¯re not strong, you¡¯re not fast, you have a face not even a mother could love. If you didn¡¯t have a brain and strength of will, then you¡¯d be no use to him. You survived. Congratulations. But so help me god, I¡¯m going to make your life miserable.¡±


    The two men managed to pin Grim to the floor. Blood from split skin and cuts ran freely from all three of them. Grim writhed beneath them. The man with the broken nose smashed his head into the dirt floor over and over until he stopped struggling.


    All the other patrons had fled the bar, leaving a vacuum of silence after the uproarious fighting. ¡°Fucking, god damn bastard put up one hell of a fight,¡± said broke nose.


    The other man drew a serrated knife from his belt. ¡°We ought to do him like he did all those folk today.¡±


    Grim started to struggle beneath the men again. The man with the knife slammed the pommel into the back of his head and Grim stilled. Kid thought he was knocked out until he released a pitiful groan.


    James interceded. ¡°I¡¯ll not have you kill this man under my roof. Back off.¡± He glanced to his wife. ¡°Hilda, what the hell is going on?¡±


    ¡°Fuck off old man. You lost the right to speak when you put down the sword,¡± Broken nose said.


    ¡°You think Marc will want to talk to him?¡± asked the man with the knife.


    Kid winced as Hilda¡¯s grip tightened like a vise on his arm. ¡°Don¡¯t hurt him. You know Marc wants to see him,¡± she said.


    Broken nose shrugged. ¡°Fuck Marc. I saw what the bastard did. He¡¯s no better than the rest of those southern shits. For fuck¡¯s sake, he had a damned green cloak on his shoulders.¡±


    ¡°He-¡± The hinges of the front door squealed, cutting Hilda off.


    Marc was in the doorway, holding Lissa¡¯s hand. Lissa had her free hand on a sweet roll while Marc kept his close to the sword at his waist. ¡°Farth, Gorm get off him.¡±


    ¡°But sir-¡±


    ¡°Now.¡± Marc walked inside while the two men grumbled. They released Grim and rose to their feet. Grim wheezed and rasped for breath on the floor, the pressure of two grown men finally lifted from his chest.


    James cut Marc off as he released Lissa and walked toward Grim. ¡°Who the hell are these men Marc? I told you to keep your damned business out of my house.¡±


    Kid gritted his teeth as Hilda¡¯s grip somehow grew even tighter. The woman had forearms made of steel. She leaned close to Kid. ¡°A living hell Kid.¡±


    Marc raised his hands to James. ¡°James, I-¡±


    Kid¡¯s eyes widened in surprise as James clocked Marc across the face. Marc looked even more surprised than Kid as his ass hit the floor. Kid glanced out of the corner of his eye at Hilda. Her mouth hung wide open, but her grip on him never slackened.


    Marc blinked in surprise up at his older brother. He looked away and spat blood on the floor. ¡°So, you do have some fight left in you after all you old fucking coward. And here I thought the southerners took your balls along with your face.¡±


    James roared and kicked his brother in the stomach. Marc retched on the ground, blood staining his teeth red. His retching slowly turned into laughter. ¡°How long have you been waiting to do that eh? Before or after I fucked your wife?¡±


    James turned pale as a sheet, but Kid only had eyes for Lissa as he watched her blinking away fresh tears. His own heart lurched for her. Marc¡¯s men shifted uneasily by the far wall while Grim still struggled to find his feet. Hilda¡¯s grip disappeared from Kid as she walked toward James. Kid began to edge his way toward the door. His steps were still unsteady from the drink, but he was certain he would find it in him to run for his life.


    ¡°She waited barely a month after you were gone,¡± Marc said as he rose to his feet.


    ¡°That¡¯s not true,¡± Hilda said, reaching out to touch her husband.


    James smacked her hand away. ¡°Don¡¯t lie to me. I¡¯m sick of it. It¡¯s plain as day to anybody who¡¯s seen you two together for more than a few minutes.¡± His voice began to raise as he turned to his wife. ¡°And you think I don¡¯t know that you still run around with that damned mask on your face, doing your best to get our family killed? How many times have you told me you would stop?¡±


    Hilda opened her mouth to speak.


    ¡°No!¡± James screamed. ¡°I¡¯m done. Get the hell out of my house. All of you.¡±


    Kid wasted no time following that command and he bolted for the door. A rough hand caught him by the throat and hoisted him into the air by his neck. Kid gagged, kicking his feet wildly as he looked into Marc¡¯s eyes. Marc turned to look at James. ¡°We were just leaving anyways.¡±


    Kid writhed in his grip as Marc turned to the door. Lissa stood in his way. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she managed to speak with authority. ¡°Put. Him. Down.¡±


    Marc paused by the door, staring into his niece¡¯s eyes. He grunted and threw Kid to the ground. Kid gasped for breath on the dirt floor while Lissa rushed over to him.


    Marc looked over his shoulder. ¡°Come on Hilda. You heard the man.¡±


    Hilda was shaking as she stared at the hand James struck. Her eyes lifted to look at her husband. ¡°James,¡± she whispered.


    ¡°Go.¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m not giving up on you.¡±


    James snorted. ¡°You already did. We¡¯re better off without you.¡±


    Hilda¡¯s face twisted in anger. ¡°You didn¡¯t say that when I was tending to your wounds, when I supported us and our newborn. You didn¡¯t say that when you woke up screaming at night and I held you while you cried.¡± She shook her head, fighting the tears. ¡°Go to hell James.¡± She turned away from him.


    James¡¯s anger slipped from his face, but he said nothing as she walked away. She shot Kid a hateful look as she walked to Marc. Marc held a hand out to her, but she passed it by and slapped him across the face, brushing past him as she opened the door and slammed it behind her.


    Marc held out his hand to Lissa. ¡°Come on dove, a girl shouldn¡¯t be without her mother.¡±


    Lissa knelt on the ground, holding Kid while he tried to find his breath for what felt like the hundredth time today. She released him when Marc spoke and rose to her feet. Indecision creased her tear streaked face as she looked between her father and Marc. James said nothing, seeming unable to meet his daughter¡¯s eyes. She edged toward her father and grasped his hand. A small, sad smile creased James¡¯s lips as he finally met her eyes.


    ¡°This is my home,¡± she said.


    Marc frowned at the girl, seeming unsure how to proceed.


    ¡°You heard her,¡± James said, putting himself between Marc and Lissa.


    Marc scowled, his finger teasing the hilt of the sword he wore. His face was a rictus of hate and in his eyes, Kid saw darkness.


    Kid struggled to his feet, forcing his body to move through sheer force of will. His voice rasped as he spoke, but it did not waver, ¡°I¡¯ll go with you. Just leave her alone,¡± he said, ¡°please.¡±


    Marc regarded Kid, the hate slipping from his face to be replaced with curiosity. The boy stumbled toward Marc. Marc looked back to his niece who stared at him with fearful eyes from behind her father. His anger melted away and his hand fell from his sword. He looked ashamed and a frown creased his lips as Grim finally managed to rise to his feet. Marc looked to the bastard. ¡°We¡¯ll be in touch Grim.¡±


    Kid winced as Marc grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away. Lissa cried after him but her father held her back. The last thing Kid saw was her face as the door slammed shut behind him.

 Ch 12: Melna

    Grim managed to stay on his feet until the door shut, then he fell to his knees, clutching his stomach. Divines, his gut hurt like hell. The back of his head felt sticky and wet from where one of the men nearly cracked his skull open. Grim groaned. That did not go how he planned. Rough hands grabbed him beneath the arms and hauled him up. Grim struggled in their grasp.


    ¡°Easy son. Calm yourself,¡± a voice said, James.


    Grim stopped struggling and began to help as the man half dragged him to the singular table he hadn¡¯t destroyed. ¡°I¡¯ll pay for the damages,¡± he mumbled.


    James Ignored him and heaved him up onto the table. Grim moaned and tried to curl up around his midsection but James pulled him apart. ¡°I need you to work with me Grim.¡±


    Grim gritted his teeth as the man began to probe his stomach, asking if it hurt when he pressed down. Grim ignored him until his gut exploded into pain when the man pressed down. ¡°Stop, Stop Stop.¡±


    Lissa walked up to Grim and took his hand. She winced as he squeezed it harder than he meant to but did not object. She stroked his hair with her free hand and wiped away the sweat along his brow.


    James grimaced down at Grim. ¡°Shite. Something inside him ruptured.¡±


    Lissa looked up at her father. ¡°What does that mean?¡±


    ¡°Bad things, hon. Will you be okay alone with him? He needs a healer.¡±


    Lissa nodded to her father. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure nobody hurts him.¡±


    James smiled at his daughter. ¡°I know you will. I¡¯ll be back soon.¡± He kissed her on the forehead. ¡°Hang in there Grim.¡± He turned from them and rushed out the door, his sense of urgency evident in his pace.


    Lissa squeezed Grim¡¯s hand tighter as he grunted from a fresh lance of pain. Her large brown eyes met his and the sadness he saw there only made him feel more wretched. Grim forced words from his lips through sheer effort of will. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t mean for any of this.¡±


    Lissa lowered her head, seeming to not want to meet his eyes. ¡°It¡¯s not your fault. Mom thinks I don¡¯t notice when she disappears, and dad acts like nothing is ever wrong. I¡¯m not surprised, only sad.¡± She paused, swallowing the lump in her throat. ¡°Why¡¯d you do it Grim?¡±


    Grim let a slow breath out, mastering the pain. ¡°I wanted to know what the Sons wanted from-¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she cut him off. ¡°Why¡¯d you do-¡± her voice faltered. ¡°It.¡±


    Grim darkened. He knew what she meant. ¡°My life was on the line. They were going to die either way.¡±


    Lissa opened her mouth, looking as if she were going to correct him. She paused and looked away from him. A long moment passed before she spoke. ¡°I once asked Dad why Uncle Marc did what he does. He told me something your father said, ¡®These lives we give, for the remembrance of tomorrow.¡¯¡± Lissa met Grim¡¯s eyes. ¡°Is this how you want to be remembered, Grim?¡±


    Grim scrunched his eyes, not from the pain, but to hide the tears in his eyes. ¡°It hurts,¡± he whispered.


    Lissa wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of her shirt. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    Grim shook his head, gritting his teeth. ¡°No.¡± He shook it again. ¡°No, You¡¯re right. I needed to hear that.¡± He paused. ¡°I was afraid. A coward. I should have stood with those people rather than against them.¡±


    Lissa frowned, looking uneasy. ¡°We¡¯re all afraid,¡± she said, more to herself than him. ¡°I just want my family to stop fighting and for my friends to be safe. The Sons hurt them and the Greencloaks hunt him- I mean them.¡± The girl blushed, but Grim scarcely noticed. ¡°I just think people deserve better.¡±


    Grim released the girl¡¯s hand and forced himself to sit upright, ignoring the stabbing pain in his gut. He put a shaky hand on her shoulder, looking her in the eye. ¡°It will get better, I promise.¡±


    He blinked in surprise as she pushed him back, flat against the table. ¡°Get back down you idiot. What are you thinking?¡±


    Grim groaned. The door did too. Lissa whirled around, staring wide-eyed as a man who wasn¡¯t her father walked in, axe held firmly in his hands. Lissa screamed, not moving from her position between Grim and the door.


    The man in the doorway winced. ¡°Divines lass, quiet down.¡± Girm recognized the voice. Edgar.


    The Captain¡¯s face was illuminated as he walked closer to the dim candlelight. Lissa backed up further against the table, seeming to try to push Grim and the entire table backward. Girm raised a hand to her shoulder, and she looked over at him. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± he said.


    Edgar looked Grim up and down as he walked closer. ¡°God¡¯s balls man. What the hell were you thinking, coming into the Outwalls after today? Honestly, I¡¯m surprised I found you still in one piece.¡±


    Grim sighed through the pain. He really didn¡¯t want a lecture. ¡°Why are you here?¡±


    Edgar rubbed his eyes. ¡°Well, half the castle saw you dragging a kid covered in soot through the halls and out the gate. I¡¯ll tell you, the maids seemed particularly upset about that-¡±


    ¡°Have you found your point yet?¡± Grim growled.


    Edgar narrowed his eyes at Grim. ¡°After the night I spent looking for you, I wasn¡¯t about to let you out of my sight, lest daddy send me after you again.¡±


    ¡°Gee thanks, you were a lot of help here.¡±


    Edgar shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t get paid enough to get my face smashed in on my own initiative. Definitely not while I¡¯m off duty. I¡¯ll leave that to you.¡±


    Grim chuckled, the motion making him cough. Pain wracked his body. He tasted iron.


    Edgar frowned. ¡°You look like somebody took a meat tenderizer to you. The hell happened?¡±


    Grim shook his head. ¡°This is Lissa.¡± He just wanted to stop talking.


    Lissa perked up at the mention of her name and turned to Edgar. She held out her hand. ¡°Melissa Elaina Haverson, but my friends call me Lissa. You can too.¡±


    Edgar couldn¡¯t seem to help smiling as he clasped her arm and gave it a firm shake. ¡°Edgar of Nordburrow, at your service m¡¯lady.¡±


    Lissa gave him a weak smile but couldn¡¯t seem to contain her curiosity despite the somber mood. ¡°Are you a Briar Guard? Do you work with Grim? Would you like something to drink? Or eat? Have you ever been outside the city? Is it nice in the castle?¡±


    Edgar blinked in surprise, mouth open and looking unsure how to respond to that.


    The door groaned open and James walked in. He started at the sight of Edgar. ¡°Hey! If it isn¡¯t obvious, we¡¯re closed.¡±


    Lissa turned to James. ¡°It¡¯s okay. He and Grim are friends and now so am I.¡±


    Edgar raised a skeptical eyebrow. James relaxed as he walked to the table, an angry expression on his face. ¡°Asshole healer said he wasn¡¯t going to walk the streets this late at night.¡±


    Edgar grabbed Grim by the arm and began to haul him off the table. ¡°Come on, I know somewhere nearby to take him.¡± Edgar pulled Grim to his feet.


    Shooting pains raced through his side and Grim lurched forward. Edgar stumbled, nearly dropping Grim to the ground before James caught him by the other arm.


    ¡°Divines, he¡¯s heavy. Lissa, get the door.¡±


    Lissa raced to the door. Its hinges screamed as she opened it for the three men to pass.


    Grim winced with every step and his head spun as Edgar and James pulled him outside. Moonlight illuminated the empty streets, glinting off the puddles along the side of the road. A door opened a block away, the warm glow of firelight spilling out on the road. A woman peeked outside and emptied a bucket in the gutters. The door shut, and the light disappeared as quickly as it came. Hounds barked in the distance.


    Grim focused on putting one foot in front of the other as the two men pulled him down the street. Each step sent waves of agony coursing through his abdomen. He fought the urge to vomit as nausea threatened to overtake him. How much further?


    Edgar led them down several streets with a familiarity that made Grim uneasy. As James began to lag under Grim¡¯s weight, Edgar shouldered more weight onto himself without so much as slowing his stride. Lissa followed on their heels, her arms crossed about herself as she shivered in the cool night air. That above all else kept Grim moving. If she could get through this night, then he sure as hell wasn¡¯t going to give up.


    After what felt like miles, Edgar came to a halt before a wooden door as fine as any Grim had seen in the inner city. The house attached to it looked like a proper house, complete with wooden supports and a thatched roof. It stood in stark contrast to the shacks that surrounded it.


    James stopped before the door, his face aghast. ¡°No, we cannot bother her with this.¡±


    Edgar ignored him, walked up to the door and pounded his fist against the wood. James winced and Lissa shrunk back into the cold and darkness. Grim puked onto the street, his vomit red with blood. Edgar grimaced, shaking it off his boots while they waited in silence.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    The night was quiet. Grim could hear the creaking of stairs from beyond the door over the pounding of his pulse. A light came on inside, its glow creeping through the closed shutters. The creaking of floorboards grew nearer, then the door opened.


    Grim lifted his eyes from the ground to see an old woman regarding him. Her skin was withered with age, and her hair colored a silver that glowed in the moonlight. She wore a robe that seemed to be made of feathers plucked from ravens and from her neck dangled a necklace laced through with the skulls of small creatures. Her eyes were sharp enough to cut and locked onto Grim, seeming to sense the weakness in him. She leaned heavily against the door frame, not in the least diminishing the power Grim felt radiating from her.


    ¡°Like a child, you still bring me wounded creatures to be healed. Some things never change do they Edgar?¡± she asked.


    Edgar smiled up at the woman. ¡°Nice to see you too, Mom.¡±


    ¡°Come,¡± she beckoned, gesturing for them to enter. James and Lissa shifted uncomfortably as they entered the house.


    Grim¡¯s head was woozy but it was impossible to miss the sight that greeted him inside. Beyond the hearth and foyer sat a large wooden altar. Dozens of candles were stacked upon it, illuminating the tapestry hung above. It depicted a woman in black, her eyes cast in shadow. In one blood-drenched hand she held a similarly stained dagger at her side. In the other she held an orb, blacker than the darkest shadows. Her lips were curved into a smile, at odds with the tears of blood running down her cheeks. A creature covered in armored plates lay curled about her feet, seeming content. The work was the finest craftsmanship Grim had ever seen and the sight halted him in his tracks.


    James and Edgar had to pull him forward before he averted his eyes. The healer cleared the table in the foyer and the two men lifted Grim onto its wood. ¡°He¡¯s bleeding inside, can you fix him?¡± Edgar asked.


    The old woman rolled her eyes at him. ¡°You know I can, you lummox, but why should I?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s the Earls son.¡±


    The woman sniffed. ¡°Those who give death should be prepared to accept it themselves. I don¡¯t see why I should take on his burden.¡±


    ¡°Mother, please.¡±


    Grim¡¯s vision grew hazy as the two argued his fate. A scraping noise drew his attention from the far corner of the room. A ball of scales on the ground seemed to unravel into a creature that resembled a badger crossed with a dragon. It was the same creature depicted in the tapestry above the altar. The beast rose onto its four short legs and lumbered towards Grim. The claws of its forelegs carved gashes into the wooden floor with every step. It was then that Grim noticed the ground looked as if an army of cats had used it as a scratching pole.


    The creature flicked a forked tongue towards him. Lissa noticed it first and let out a small shriek as she backed away from the beast. James rushed to her, putting himself between her and the creature. Edgar spared it a glance, then turned his attention back to his mother.


    The old woman looked to James and Lissa. ¡°Calm down you two. He won¡¯t bite until I tell him to.¡±


    That didn¡¯t seem to put either of them at ease, as they watched the creature make the last few steps to the table. The plates along its sides and back rasped, as it raised its head to look at Grim. Grim met its gaze, watching as it flicked its tongue out at him like a snake. He reached his hand out to it and caressed its head.


    The creature let out a low rumble. Grim flinched as the plates beneath his hand exuded warmth and seemed to flutter. His eyes widened as The scales along it¡¯s body rippled like the waves of the ocean, each pulse giving off a wave of heat that warmed the room. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he stared, mesmerized by the beast before him.


    The old woman smacked his hand away from the animal and the pulsing heat abruptly stopped. ¡°By the Reaper, boy. Are you trying to give an old woman heat stroke?¡±


    Grim blinked in surprise as the creature flicked out a long, narrow tongue, licking his hand and seeking to rekindle whatever had just happened. He struggled to sort through his feelings as Edgar unlatched the shutters on the windows, letting in cool gusts of air. The sweat on Grim¡¯s brow quickly cooled and chilled his skin. He felt even more tired than he had a moment ago. But The warmth had felt so good, and he was so cold. Grim sat up and reached toward the creature again.


    ¡°Edgar,¡± the woman called.


    The Captain turned to Grim and rushed toward him. His hand slammed into Grim¡¯s chest, forcing him down against the table. Grim grunted as his head banged against the wood. The old woman touched a hand to his forehead.


    Sparks of pink light came from her fingers and danced across his eyes as they flowed down his body and sank into his skin. Warmth cascaded through him with the light. His eyes rolled up, and his eyelids drooped.


    Images and sounds flashed through his mind. The echoes of screams mingled with whispers just beyond his hearing. Shadows flickered without light, darkness seeming to bend. A forest of vast trees swayed in the wind, a field of corpses before it. The bodies rose to their feet, every head turning to him. Empty eye sockets stared accusingly at him. He could hear the buzzing of flies. The sound grew louder and louder. He blinked, and it stopped. His eyes opened to look into a familiar face he had seen in dozens of churches. The Goddess stood before him, her golden irises giving off a warm glow as they regarded him. She reached out a warm hand and caressed his face. The touch seared his flesh. He tried to scream but no noise fled his lungs. She gave him a sad smile.


    Grim bucked upwards, heart pounding and heaving for air. He scanned the room with wild eyes, finding himself back in the old woman¡¯s house. He locked eyes with her. Her skin seemed paler, and her eyes a shade more intense than before. She graced him with a grimace. ¡°Don¡¯t play with things you don¡¯t understand boy.¡±


    Grim blinked in surprise and felt his stomach. The overwhelming pain that was there had disappeared. His bruises and split flesh remained, but he felt whole. Better than he had felt in years. He looked to the old woman. ¡°You¡¯re touched by the divines.¡±


    She made no move to respond, only stared into his eyes. She waited a long moment, forcing an uncomfortable silence over the room. Grim was unfazed, used to long silences from his time with the Earl. James and Lissa shifted uncomfortably, as far from the creature by the table as possible. Grim watched it, as it settled onto the floor and curled into an armored ball, seeming to have lost interest in what was happening.


    The old woman finally spoke up. ¡°I¡¯m Melna. And as you probably noticed, this lummox is my son,¡± she said, gesturing to Edgar. The captain narrowed his eyes at his mother but didn¡¯t speak up.


    James relaxed as the creature stilled. He approached Melna and fell to his knees with his fist over his heart and head bowed. ¡°I see you, priestess Melna. Reaper guide your way.¡±


    Melna rewarded the man with a wide smile. ¡°It¡¯s wonderful to meet a man of decency and respect in these times.¡± She shot Grim a pointed look out of the corner of her eyes. She walked over to James and touched a finger to his forehead. ¡°I see you, child of the Rills. Reaper guide you home.¡± She smiled. ¡°But not too soon I hope.¡±


    James nodded with solemnity and rose to his feet as Grim climbed off the table. He couldn¡¯t help but stare at the creature curled up into a ball by his feet. Laying down, it¡¯s back rose higher than his knees. ¡°What is that?¡±


    ¡°A Keeper,¡± Melna answered. There used to be a few dozen of them in the city alone, but the Greencloaks took a liking to hunting them for their skins. Old Kryll is the last I know of here, but you can find thousands more in the Highlands.¡±


    Lissa cautiously approached the beast. ¡°What does he Keep?¡±


    Melna gestured to the tapestry on the wall, "The fire under his scales is said to keep the coldness of death away. A load of rubbish If I ever heard it. But he makes for good company and keeps the riff raff away.¡± She turned her eyes to the Keeper. ¡°Kryll.¡±


    The Keeper unfurled itself, it¡¯s long, heavy tail stretching outwards as it rolled to its feet. Kryll looked to Melna. ¡°Rise,¡± she commanded.


    The creature curled its armored tail beneath its feet and levered itself into the air. Standing with its tail fully extended, it was as tall as Grim. The old woman reached out to its soft belly and stroked the tender flesh there. The Keeper trilled in pleasure, it¡¯s short legs wiggling in the air.


    Lissa giggled at the sight. ¡°Can I pet him?¡±


    Melna nodded and gestured to the Keeper. Lissa looked to her father. James bit his lip nervously, as he looked at the creature but nodded his assent. The girl slowly approached Kryll who turned to regard her with beady, black eyes. She reached out her hand and stroked his underbelly. The Keeper trilled at her touch. A long, narrow tongue shot from his snout-like mouth and licked Lissa along the cheek.


    The girl let out a yelp and leaped backward. Kryll slammed to the ground, curling into a ball faster than Grim could blink. Melna laughed at Lissa¡¯s reaction. ¡°He likes you girl.¡±


    Lissa blushed in embarrassment. She knelt down to the ball of plates and stroked Kryll¡¯s armored back. The Keeper shifted his tail and peeked at the girl from behind his armored shell. A gentle trill echoed from inside. Lissa smiled, seeming content to sit next to Kryll.


    Melna shared the girl¡¯s smile for a moment before turning her attention back to the men in the room. ¡°I suppose you all are staying here for the night?¡±


    James spoke, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to infringe on your hospitality.¡±


    Melna narrowed her eyes. ¡°That wasn¡¯t a question. I¡¯ll not have a little girl wandering these streets at night.¡± She turned to Grim. ¡°I know you feel full of energy after being healed, but you need to rest more than anyone in this room.¡±


    Grim still had his eyes locked on the Keeper. The creature didn¡¯t seem to have pupils, but Grim could have sworn it was glancing at him from inside its ball of plates.


    ¡°Did you hear me boy?¡±


    Grim blinked. ¡°Uh. Yes. Rest. Sure.¡± He shook his head. ¡°I thought the Venarans took all the god-touched south after the war.¡±


    Melna frowned, her wrinkles mirroring the motion of her lips. ¡°As much as it pains me to admit it, I am far past the expiration of my usefulness. I can¡¯t even begin to remember how many men I healed in the war, only for them to go back to the front lines and get themselves killed. Every wound I healed took a toll on me. To give life, you must take life. There is a balance and an order that must be observed.¡±


    Melna staggered to a chair by the table. Edgar rushed over and took her by the arm, helping her ease into the seat. She patted his arm in thanks. ¡°By the end, I was so shriveled up, they left me behind. They had plenty of fresh bodies touched by the goddess to take home.¡± Her hands clenched into fists. ¡°Those touched by the Reaper were less fortunate.¡± Her eyes grew distant, as if reliving old memories. ¡°That trollop they worship gives out her favor like a whore at midsummer festival. No, I was not needed.¡±


    Melna looked up to her son. ¡°Edgar. My bones feel hollow with weariness. Be a dear and help me to my feet.¡±


    Edgar nodded and helped Melna rise to her feet. She looked at Lissa who still petted Kryll with a look of wonder on her face. ¡°Darling, I don¡¯t think I caught your name.¡±


    Lissa perked up and hopped to her feet. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m Melissa Elaina Haverson but my friends call me Lissa. You can too! Uh- ma¡¯am.¡±


    Melna smiled at her exuberance. ¡°I have an extra bed you can sleep on upstairs, my dear. I¡¯m sure my son won¡¯t mind you using it.¡±


    Edgar quietly sighed.


    Lissa¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°An actual bed?¡±


    Melna nodded. ¡°Yes. Come, help an old woman up the stairs and I¡¯ll show you.¡±


    Lissa leapt over to the old woman and took her by her free arm. Melna turned to Edgar. ¡°I think I¡¯m in capable hands, Edgar. You boys make yourself at home down here.¡± Lissa helped Melna ascend the stairs to the second floor. ¡°Goodnight,¡± she called down.


    The men responded in kind before sitting down at the table. James held out his arm to Edgar. ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve been properly introduced. I¡¯m James.¡±


    Edgar clasped the man¡¯s arm from across the table. ¡°Edgar.¡±


    James nodded. ¡°Never thought I¡¯d ever be in this house unless Lissa was on the edge of death.¡±


    Edgar unclasped his weapon belt and placed his axe along the table. ¡°What she did is not something you ask lightly,¡± he said looking at Grim. ¡°She gave you a piece of her life to make you whole. Don¡¯t ever forget that.¡±


    Grim frowned and nodded. ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± he promised. ¡°But how is she your mother? She looks older than any woman I¡¯ve ever seen before.¡±


    Edgar leaned toward Grim. ¡°Never say that around her, bastard. And If I hear you speak of it again I¡¯ll make the beating you took today look like a tickle fight.¡± He paused. ¡°My mother is forty-five Grim. What you see is the price she paid to save hundreds of lives and you will respect her for it.¡±


    Grim ran a hand across his face. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t know.¡± He turned to look at the altar. ¡°Isn¡¯t worship of the Reaper forbidden?¡±


    James snorted. ¡°Yes. But if you think anybody in the Outwalls would let something happen to her, then you¡¯re a fool. The priestess can do as she pleases.¡±


    Grim turned his eyes to the altar. Its candles flickered, casting shadows that seemed to writhe across the tapestry. The rusty hue of old blood stained the wood. His eyes were drawn up to the woman. Despite her shadowed eyes, he felt as if she was watching him. The sensation sent tingles down his spine. He turned his head to look at Kryll. The Keeper stared intently at him from inside his shell.

 Ch 13: Blood

    The drip of water on stone was the only sound he heard. The fabric of the blindfold was the only sight he saw. His hands were bound, and a large rock wrapped in fabric was wedged in his mouth, making it impossible to speak. It was too heavy to spit out so all he could do was shake in his chair and scream incoherently through the gag. He had tired of that hours ago and now sat, quietly awaiting his fate. Tears ran down Kid¡¯s face as he thought of all the things he would never get to do. All for the sake of a single piece of silver.


    Greed truly was the death of thieves. Kid choked on a sob as it failed to escape the gag. Marc had blindfolded and gagged him as soon as they were outside. It felt as if they had walked across half the Outwalls before Marc finally opened a door and pulled him inside a building. Kid repeated the mantra in his head he had been reciting for the past hour. Forty paces straight, fifteen paces right, twelve paces left, fifteen steps down, thirty-two paces straight, ten paces right.


    If he was given any chance at all, he was going to make it out of here alive. When he had first been put in this room, there had been yelling from outside. He recognized Hilda¡¯s voice but couldn¡¯t make out the words. It had been nerve-wracking, but the silence that reigned now was far worse. What if they just left him here until he died of thirst? Kid could think of few worse ways to go. More tears fell from his eyes as he screamed again, more just to hear something than with any expectation of help.


    Kid jumped with fright as he heard a door open, followed by bootsteps thumping across the floor. ¡°Come on boy, it¡¯s time,¡± A voice said. Marc¡¯s.


    A rough hand unbound him from the chair and hauled Kid to his feet. Kid stumbled forward, arms still tied behind his back as Marc pushed him onward. He kept careful count of the steps in his head. Marc opened a door and shoved Kid into a new room. It was silent inside save for the sound of someone weeping ahead. However, Kid could sense the presence of dozens of men inside. The room was far too warm.


    Marc dragged Kid forward and threw him to the floor. Kid¡¯s head bounced against the hard-packed dirt. He tasted blood and felt one of his teeth chip against the stone wedged in his mouth. Kid fought the urge to sob. As he tried to roll to his side, a boot was planted between his shoulder blades. This was it. He was about to be executed along with whatever poor bastard was crying next to him. Kid tensed for the blade that would end his miserable existence.


    It never came. Instead, his bonds fell away. Kid immediately reached into his mouth and pulled out the gag. He gasped and coughed as it came out. Divines, his jaw hurt like hell. Kid pulled the blindfold from his face and stared in terror at the sight around him. He was surrounded by Sons armored in thick iron armor. In their hands were weapons that any thief worth his salt would recognize as steel. A wall of shields ringed him. The Sons wielding them wore their masks and watched him like statues on a silent vigil.


    Marc stood in the ring alongside Kid and the other prisoner. He was a boy, maybe a few years older than Kid. A flimsy beard grew on his face, damp with the tears that flowed from his eyes. Kid noted his tanned skin and distinctly southern heritage.


    Marc held up his hands and turned in a circle as if calling for silence despite there being no sound. He grinned wolfishly. ¡°Brothers, today is a glorious day because today we add another to our ranks. Kid of the Outwalls. He may look like a scrawny little shit, but believe me when I tell you he has more courage in him than most grown men I¡¯ve met.¡±


    Marc paused in his speech to place a hand on Kid¡¯s shoulder as he hesitantly rose to his feet. Kid met Marc¡¯s eyes. ¡°He surprised me and I¡¯m not afraid to say I¡¯m proud of him.¡±


    Kid felt a stirring in his breast and looked away, unable to meet Marc¡¯s gaze a moment longer.


    Marc continued, unabated. ¡°One thing that every one of our brothers and sisters must come to understand is that we must pick up the sword if we are to have any hope of one day putting it down. The blood we spill today will nurture the pastures of our grandchildren and the sacrifices we make will ensure their freedom.¡±


    Marc drew a steel dagger from his belt and flipped it in the air, catching it by the blade. ¡°The Reaper takes all, sees all and will find each of us when the time comes to pay our due. May all of ours be a long time coming.¡±


    Kid¡¯s eyes widened as Marc held the dagger out to him. The room was deathly silent as every eye bored into Kid. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the blade and took it from Marc¡¯s fingers. Marc grinned down at him. He lowered his voice, speaking only to Kid. ¡°I must admit I didn¡¯t expect to see you again. You¡¯re stronger than you look boy. Are you ready for your final test?¡±


    Kid looked at the armed men ringing him. He suspected he didn¡¯t have a choice. Kid nodded.


    Marc grinned and gestured to the southerner. ¡°Every man among us is bound by purpose. Show me you mean it Kid.¡±


    Kid looked from the dagger in his hand to the man before him. Kid¡¯s eyes widened, and his heart began to beat even faster. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.


    Marc put a hand on his shoulder. ¡°Always remember Kid, blood is but water and men will drown. Prove to me that you are more than a child from the gutters. Prove to me that you have the strength to do what needs to be done. Prove to me that you are a man.¡± Marc raised his voice. ¡°End this Bastard!¡±


    The men around Kid began to chant, yelling in time and rhythmically beating their weapons against their shields. Kid stood in the center of a maelstrom of sound, completely petrified. The chanting grew louder around him, and men cheered him on. He began to shake. The southerner moaned but the sound was lost in the clamor.


    Marc knelt next to him. ¡°Every southerner is a threat to the people we love. Would you let him hurt Lissa?¡±


    Tears filled Kid¡¯s eyes. ¡°No,¡± he whispered.


    ¡°Then show me.¡±


    Kid¡¯s grip tightened on the dagger as he thought of the crosses by the gate and Imagined Lissa¡¯s small arms unnaturally bent into a mockery of wings. Her lifeless eyes- Kid shrieked and plunged the dagger into the southerner¡¯s gut. The man shrieked in pain as blood welled from the wound and dripped from his mouth. Kid stared, mesmerized by the sight.


    ¡°Again.¡±


    Kid obeyed, finding the second time easier and the third easier still. Soon he lost track of how many times he plunged the blade into the man. In the back of his mind he was aware that he was now just stabbing a corpse, but the voices cheered him on, told him to keep going. He could barely see through the tears in his eyes and his voice was hoarse from shrieking. Blood coated his arms and its warmth was splattered across his face. He stopped only when Marc caught his arm.


    Kid blinked away his tears as Marc held a mask in the shape of a wolf to him. Kid grasped the intricately carved wood and took it from Marc. It looked different than the other masks. The color was off. It lacked the reddish hue. Kid knew what he had to do and without waiting for instruction he placed his hand into the growing pool of blood and smeared it across his mask.


    Marc smiled down at him in approval as Kid set to the grisly work. Cheers sounded all around Kid as he finished. The Sons broke ranks and gathered around him, patting him on the back, clasping his arm like a man, congratulating him on his first kill. Through it all Kid didn¡¯t know whether to laugh or cry.


    ***


    Grim awoke to the smell of bacon. He couldn¡¯t think of a single better way to wake up. His body ached from the beating he had taken last night but Melna had rid him of the worst of it. Edgar and James both lay fast asleep on the wood floor a few feet away. Grim quietly rose to his feet. The candles on the altar still burned, seemingly unchanged from last night. A tingle of discomfort ran down his spine but was quashed by the intriguing smell of frying bacon.


    Grim followed his nose past the altar and found a small kitchen around the corner, past the stairs. Melna leaned against the wall next to the stove. She regarded Grim as he approached. ¡°You look so much like your father.¡±


    Grim halted in his tracks. That was the last thing he expected her to say. ¡°I¡¯m nothing like him.¡±This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Melna shrugged and turned back to her cooking. ¡°If you say so.¡± The sizzling of the bacon grew louder as she flipped it with a wooden spoon. The sound made Grim¡¯s stomach rumble. ¡°I wanted to say thank you for last night.¡±


    Melna waved a hand at him dismissively. ¡°Bah. A healer¡¯s work is never done, only abated. If you want to thank me properly, just make sure your insides don¡¯t become your outsides. An old woman like me only has so much time left to-¡± she trailed off as Kryll padded over to them. He sat back on his haunches, using his tail as a chair while he stared up at Melna expectantly.


    The old woman shook her head. ¡°You two seem to have a lot in common.¡±


    ¡°Great minds think alike.¡± As Grim spoke, Kryll turned his head to regard him as though listening in on the conversation. Grim reached his hand out to pet the Keeper on the head. Melna smacked his hand away with the wooden spoon.


    Grim yelped and pulled his hand away. ¡°What the hell?¡±


    Melna narrowed her eyes at him. ¡°I told you to stop doing that last night.¡±


    ¡°Doing what? I was just trying to pet him.¡±


    Melna sighed. ¡°Reaper help me. The young are so ignorant these days.¡± The old woman turned from Grim and returned her attention to the bacon that was turning a crisp brown.


    Grim waited a long moment for her to elaborate. When she showed no sign of turning back to him, he spoke up, ¡°Are you going to educate me or keep giving me cryptic answers.¡±


    Melna snatched a piece of bacon from the pan and flicked it into the air. Kryll¡¯s head snapped up to follow the flying piece of meat. His tongue flicked out like a frog and wrapped around the food. He retracted it as fast as it extended, grasped the bacon in his foreclaws and slammed into a tight ball. Grim heard frantic chewing from within. He stared at the Keeper dumbfounded. He¡¯d never seen anything like it.


    Melna removed the pan from the lit burner and turned to face Grim, hands on her hips. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare talk like that to me boy. You will address me with respect or not at all.¡±


    Grim looked down at the small, shriveled woman, her intense eyes meeting his own. Grim averted his gaze. ¡°Sorry.¡±


    Melna stared at him a moment longer before turning to the pan, pulling the bacon onto a nearby plate. ¡°Make yerself useful and pour some of that grease into that tin on the counter. I¡¯m going to be using that for dinner.¡±


    Grim nodded and followed her instructions, grabbing the pan and pouring the hot liquid into a tin set aside on the small counter by the stove. As Grim let the last drops fall, Melna spoke up. ¡°Everything has some latent power in its blood. It¡¯s why we used to sacrifice to the Reaper,¡± she said, nodding to the stained altar. Keepers are special animals. If you had half a brain you should have already guessed that. They can latch onto a sliver of that power and feed on it. When they do they turn into walking hearths. Useful during a cold winter.¡±


    Grim set the now empty pan down. He looked at the Keeper, still wrapped up behind its wall of plates. ¡°Are you saying that I¡¯m god-touched?¡±


    Melna snorted. ¡°Get your head out of your arse and deflate that ego before I put a pin in it. If you were god touched, you would know. Power is in the blood and some bloodlines are stronger than others. How do you think kings became kings and lords became lords? Divine right. All that Kryll is showing us is that you¡¯re well-bred. I¡¯d say-¡± Melna paused to think. ¡°Maybe one in a hundred people in the city could make him do that. Possibly less now that the Greencloaks took most of the touched south to the capital.¡±


    Grim chuckled. It was the first time anybody had ever called him well-bred. ¡°So, I can¡¯t touch him without that happening?¡±


    ¡°Not until you get your intent under control. Right now, you¡¯re like a little boy taking his first piss. Your little willie is waving all over the place, hitting everything except what you want it to.¡± Grim narrowed his eyes as Melna continued. ¡°It makes it damned easy for Kryll to leech a little when you touch him.¡±


    ¡°How do I control it then?¡±


    Melna turned from him and began to place more bacon into the pan. ¡°You don¡¯t. there¡¯s no point in bothering with it if you can¡¯t use it anyhow.¡±


    Kryll unfurled himself and looked expectantly at Melna. She tossed him another piece of bacon and he fell into a ball even quicker than the last time. Melna turned to Grim. ¡°Now be a dear and fetch me some water,¡± she said, gesturing to a pair of buckets in the corner of the room. ¡°The well is a block to your right when you leave the house.¡±


    Grim opened his mouth to object, then he looked at the bacon. His stomach rumbled, and he thought better of it. Grim fetched the buckets and walked out of the kitchen and into the foyer where Edgar and James still lay, snoring softly. Grim walked up to Edgar and nudged the captain in the side with his boot. Edgar groaned and opened his eyes, waving away Grim¡¯s foot with one of his hands.


    ¡°I¡¯m up. Divines, I¡¯m up. Stop poking me.¡±


    Grim prodded him one more time. Edgar grumbled as he rose to his feet. Grim handed him one of the buckets. ¡°C¡¯mon, we¡¯re fetching some water.¡±


    Edgar sighed and followed Grim out the door. Dark clouds blanketed the sky above them, growing lighter as the sun began to peek over the horizon. Fog blanketed the streets in a misty haze. Passersby ghosted in and out of sight through the mist as the two men walked down the street.


    ¡°I hate days like this,¡± Edgar grumbled. ¡°Makes watch duty even more boring than usual.¡± He looked to Grim. ¡°You feeling alright? Yesterday was-¡± He paused. ¡°A lot.¡±


    Grim felt the claws of hatred wrapped around his heart tighten. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    Edgar snorted. ¡°You¡¯re a shitty liar. It¡¯s easy to see you¡¯re wound tighter than a Keeper around his meal.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Fine,¡± Grim repeated.


    Edgar grabbed him by the shoulder and turned Grim to face him. ¡°Listen. I know you¡¯re not, so stop trying to play the hero. You¡¯ve got nothing to prove to me.¡±


    A flash of anger flared up in Grim, but he quashed it. Edgar was right. ¡°I want to burn that damned estate down, piss on its ashes and give every one of those bastards their wings. I want to suffocate Longreen under the corpses of everyone he loves. I want to bury his head in the castle outhouse after every goddamn person in this city fucks his skull. That is how I feel.¡±


    Edgar blinked. ¡°Sounds like a great way to spread the Southern Pox.¡±


    Grim opened his mouth to respond but couldn¡¯t find the words to answer that. He shook his head and kept walking. The clouds above became lighter as they walked, turning from almost black to a light grey in color. More people began to take to the streets as the work day neared. Grim kept his head down, not wanting to be recognized. He was particularly grateful for the fog today.


    The well soon emerged from the fog. It was little more than a hole in the ground with a stone rim surrounding it. Grim wondered how many careless people had stumbled to their deaths in there on a day like today. Then he wondered how many of them were still in there. He shook those thoughts from his head as he tied the bucket to a small rope staked into the ground.


    He and Edgar set to filling the buckets in silence, punctuated by the occasional padding of feet past them. Grim broke the silence. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were from the Outwalls.¡±


    Edgar grunted. ¡°It¡¯s not exactly something you advertise proudly.¡± He hauled at the rope, pulling the full bucket out of the well. ¡°I make enough to get her a place in the inner city, but the old bat refuses to leave this shithole. Says her bones are too old to move.¡± He shrugged. ¡°She¡¯s probably safer here anyways, far away from the Greencloaks.¡±


    ¡°Strange to think of this place as safe when I can¡¯t seem to visit without getting my face beat in.¡±


    Edgar grinned. ¡°Maybe if you stopped picking fights with everyone you come across, that would happen less often. I gotta say, I enjoy not having a black eye.¡±


    Grim narrowed his eyes at the Captain, but it came out as more of a wince. ¡°I¡¯m just glad I don¡¯t have to see Longreen today.¡±


    Edgar nodded. ¡°Yeah, he might have some questions about what you were doing in the Outwalls last night and why you were beat within an inch of your life.¡± He stared pointedly at Grim.


    Grim hesitated as he met Edgar¡¯s eyes.


    Edgar spoke, ¡°If this is something that could affect my safety and that of my men I deserve to know about it.¡±


    Grim nodded slowly. He considered lying but thought better of it. It would only piss Edgar off. ¡°The Sons contacted me last night. I came to try and see what they wanted. As you can imagine It didn¡¯t go as planned.¡±


    Edgar raised an eyebrow. ¡°There was a plan?¡± Grim glared at him. The Captain continued. ¡°You should have gone straight to the Earl.¡±


    Grim threw the second bucket into the well. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to involve him. He¡¯d only hold me back.¡±


    ¡°Did you ever stop to consider that might be a good thing?¡±


    Grim grimaced. He had. ¡°I¡¯m supposed to see him this morning,¡± he said, ¡°I¡¯ll tell him everything then.¡±


    Edgar nodded, seeming satisfied with that. Grim finished hauling up the second bucket and the men walked back to the house through the fog. the bucket at Grim¡¯s side sloshed as he pushed open the door to Melna¡¯s house.


    James and Lissa had awakened while they were away. The two now sat at the dining table, plates of food set before them. They shoveled food into their mouths while Melna watched with a look of satisfaction. Her attention turned to Grim and Edgar as they walked inside.


    ¡°You two can put those in that corner there,¡± she said, gesturing to their right.


    They obeyed her direction as Kryll padded toward them. They¡¯d barely set the buckets down before he stuck his face into one and slurped the water. Grim watched in fascination as the Keeper drained one of the large buckets within seconds. Grim shook his head and took a seat at the table.


    Conversation over breakfast was sparse. Each person had far too much on their minds to indulge in small talk. Time whittled away along with the food until James and Lissa rose to their feet and bid them farewell. Lissa gave Kryll a kiss on his snout before she left, and the Keeper trilled in pleasure.


    Then it was Grim and Edgar¡¯s turn to leave. The two men rose to their feet and Melna followed them to the door. She caught Edgar¡¯s arm as he was about to leave and pulled him into a tight hug. ¡°Be careful out there, you lummox. I¡¯ve only got one son and you have yet to give me any grandchildren.¡±


    Edgar smiled, but it didn''t reach his eyes. ¡°Someday mom.¡±


    Melna pinched Edgar¡¯s cheek and he shook her off. She turned her attention to Grim. ¡°Be more careful out there, boy. The world¡¯s a dangerous place.¡±


    Grim nodded. Why was everyone always telling him to be careful? ¡°Of course.¡±

 Ch 14: Underground

    Kid awoke to the taste of stale vomit and a pounding headache. He groaned as he lifted himself from the soft linen of his bed. It felt as if somebody were using his head as a drum. Even the candlelight seemed too bright as he opened his blurred eyes. the scent of wine immediately set his stomach to roiling. He thought he was going to puke again but managed to hold it in. He coughed into the sleeve of the fresh shirt Marc gave him after the initiation.


    The first thing he did after was take a bath. He cleaned the soot from his body, watching with disgust as crisp flakes of dead, singed skin fell from him. The water burned like all hells and, after the bath, he¡¯d found the skin where he¡¯d crawled on his forearms was a reddish mess of seared flesh. His fingers were covered in deep gashes from his climb, the flesh an angry red. They more resembled demonic claws than the hands of a human boy.


    After he emerged and had clothed himself, a woman in a mask shaped like an owl tended to his wounds. She had smeared an ointment along the worst of his burns that soothed the pain in his flesh. Then she wrapped bandages around his arms and hands. It hurt to move his hands but they still worked and for that, he was beyond grateful. Marc had told him that the best cure for pain was a jug of wine. Admittedly, his memory faded away after that.


    Kid let out a deep breath and began to feel woozy on his feet. He sat back down on the bed beside him and looked at his surroundings, taking in the two dozen bunkbeds crowding the small room. There was barely enough room to move between them. Kid considered going back to sleep. He couldn¡¯t remember the last time he¡¯d had the chance to sleep in an actual bed.


    Instead, he rose to his feet, fighting the light-headedness that followed. He stumbled his way between the beds, struggling not to bump into any of the men and women still sleeping. He unlatched the door of the room and slipped into the hall. Wherever he was, there were no windows. The floor was cold stone like one would find in a castle. The wall and ceiling consisted of thick wooden boards. Every twenty paces a large wooden pillar, reinforced with iron brackets dominated the center of the wide hall. Several sons stumbled down the corridors, the smell of drink hanging heavy in the air about them. Some wore their masks while others had them hanging at their belt. Kid unconsciously felt the mask on his hip. The blood was still sticky. A chill ran down his spine and for the second time today he felt he might puke.


    With little to no sense of where he was, Kid turned right, down the hall. Branching corridors went off in all directions, giving it the feeling of a maze. A loud sound came from down the hall. The noise drew Kid¡¯s attention and he followed the periodic thwacking.


    It grew louder as he neared one of the branching halls. He followed it toward an open door. He could now hear the distinctive twang of a bowstring accompanying the thwack. He peeked his head inside to see a very long, narrow room. A rack filled with dozens of longbows lined the walls. Marc stood in front of them, slowly drawing one of the great bows. Marc¡¯s forearms strained with the weight as he drew the string to his ear. The wood creaked and bent towards him before snapping back with tremendous force as Marc released the arrow.


    Kid¡¯s eyes flashed across the room, following the arrow as it pierced a straw target in the shape of a man fifty paces away. It went so deep the fletching had disappeared into the target. Kid¡¯s eyes widened. He¡¯d never actually seen a longbow be shot before.


    As Marc reached for another arrow, he caught sight of Kid watching. ¡°You¡¯re up early. I¡¯d have thought the drink would keep you down til midafternoon.¡±


    ¡°There are worse things than feeling queasy. How early is it?¡± Kid asked.


    ¡°Morning. But the sun hasn¡¯t risen yet. I¡¯m rarely able to sleep more than a few hours these days. Too many dreams.¡± Marc nocked another arrow and drew the string, grunting with the effort of it. He released it. Kid watched the arrow slam into the head of the dummy. Marc rested the stave on the ground and leaned against it. ¡°You¡¯ll understand soon enough.¡±


    Kid¡¯s hand brushed the mask resting against his hip and Marc¡¯s eyes flashed down to it. ¡°Then again, maybe you already do. The things we do are not meant to be easy Kid.¡±


    A chill ran down Kid¡¯s spine. ¡°Then why do we do them?¡±


    Marc locked eyes with Kid. ¡°Nothing worth doing is ever easy. The price of grain is measured in silver. The price of freedom is measured in blood.¡± Marc¡¯s eyes drifted down to the mask. ¡°That,¡± he said, ¡°is to make sure you never forget.¡± Marc ran a hand along the wood of the bow stave. ¡°You impressed me the other day. The easy thing, even the smart thing, would have been to stay silent. But you opened your dumbass mouth and made a stand.¡± Marc chuckled. ¡°I like that.¡±Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t do it to impress you.¡± Kid pulled the mask from his belt. ¡°And I don¡¯t want to pay your price.¡±


    Marc raised an eyebrow. ¡°If you did it to impress me, I¡¯d have let Hilda kill you.¡±


    Kid swallowed.


    Marc looked at the ground for a long moment before continuing. ¡°So, you don¡¯t want to pay the price? Have you ever considered the cost of doing nothing?¡± He walked up to Kid. ¡°When you stand with me the price you pay will be measured in the blood you spill and the life you give.¡± Marc¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°But if you stand by and watch, the price is paid by those you let die, by those you turn your back on.¡±


    Marc¡¯s eyes gleamed in the firelight. ¡°My father formed the Sons the day the war ended. He asked me to join him, if not for his sake then for the sake of the brother I¡¯d lost.¡± Marc shook his head. ¡°I was like James back then. I told him no. Then I watched a month later as they gave him his wings.¡±


    Marc¡¯s hands tensed around the wood of his bow. ¡°That night, I went to end his suffering. His bones were shattered. Puss seeped from his wounds. A pool of blood surrounded his cross. The man was barely conscious but when he saw me his eyes met mine. Do you know what he said to me?¡±


    Kid shook his head.


    ¡°He said, ¡®You let this happen¡¯¡±


    Marc¡¯s gaze was so intense, Kid didn¡¯t dare breathe.


    Marc raised his bow. ¡°Then I lifted this bow in the air and shot him in the heart. I only wish my brother had returned in time for that night. It might have changed him.¡±


    Kid looked down at the mask in his hands. Its vacant eyes glared back at him. Dread seeped into his heart.


    Marc sensed his fear and pulled his own mask from his belt. It was shaped the same as Kid¡¯s albeit larger. ¡°Do you know what this means?¡±


    ¡°It means I¡¯m part of your clan?¡±


    Marc nodded. ¡°Yes, but also so much more. There are four clans in the Rills, each descending from one of the mythic heroes of our past. Ours is the youngest and that mask you hold links you to Gareth Sorrowsbane.¡±


    ¡°As in the Sorrow men?¡± Kid asked. He had seen their ships on the horizon in the past, catching stray merchant vessels. Watching such scenes had been a rare pleasure growing up.


    Marc nodded. ¡°Yes, those who worship the Reaper as the Lady of Sorrows. They used to call her the Lady of Victory and that name was once justified. We were a shattered people, split into petty kingdoms by the clans. When the Islanders came, we were divided and individually we fell. Those were the dark years, much like the time we are in now.¡±


    Marc ran a hand across his face. ¡°It was Gareth who united the clans and fought the insurgent war that drove the Islanders out of the Rills. He burned their ships and slaughtered every single one who dared set foot on our shores. So many of them died that they renamed their goddess the Lady of Sorrows and from then on, we grew to call them Sorrowmen. Seven sorrows for the seven islands, one for each horror Gareth inflicted upon them.¡± Marc grinned wolfishly.


    ¡°Gareth founded the wolf clan and was elected the first king of the Rills. An honor that cycled between the clans until Venar came. Our people have a history of occupation, but if there is one thing we are known for, it¡¯s gnawing the boot on our throat. Someday we¡¯ll make them bleed.¡±


    Marc put a hand on Kid¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I want you to be by my side that day Kid.¡± Marc pulled a dagger from his belt. The steel gleamed in the torchlight. ¡°I meant to give this to you last night. Every man needs a weapon and you¡¯ve earned this one.¡±


    Kid tentatively took the hilt in his bandaged hand. The familiar weight settled into his palm. He remembered how easy it was to slide into a man. He grimaced. Nothing worth doing is ever easy. Kid looked up to Marc. It was hard to meet the man¡¯s eyes, but Kid forced himself to. ¡°How will we make them bleed?¡±


    Marc grinned. ¡°Come, I¡¯ll show you.¡± The man pulled the string from his bow, letting the wood relax, and placed it with the rest. Kid followed him as he left the room. Marc turned into the main hallway and led Kid past several of the large, wooden supporting columns.


    ¡°Where are we?¡± Kid asked.


    ¡°The Sons headquarters beneath the Outwalls.¡±


    ¡°Beneath?¡± Kid asked, ¡°So your underground movement is literally underground?¡±


    ¡°Our movement,¡± Marc corrected, ¡°And the irony isn¡¯t lost on me.¡±


    Kid smirked and followed Marc deeper into the complex. The man made an abrupt turn down a side hallway, coming to a stop before an iron-banded, wooden door. Kid waited while Marc reached into his pocket and pulled out a key. He pushed it into the lock and twisted, opening the door with a click. Marc heaved the door open and walked inside.


    Kid followed and stared with wide eyes at the vast room. It had to be at least ten times the size of the Dancing Bear and was filled with weapons. The gleam of rows and rows of steel arms reflected in the light of several low hanging chandeliers. Huge crates were stacked along the edge of the room and when Kid looked into one he saw it was filled with chain armor. This armory was big enough to field an army.


    ¡°We have a dozen more just like it,¡± Marc said.


    ¡°I thought only the Forgers guild made steel?¡±


    Marc smiled. ¡°Who do you think made the Forgers guild?¡± Marc chuckled at the stunned look Kid gave him. ¡°Maybe ¡®made¡¯ is the wrong word. Our members are heavily invested and a good number of the smiths have gone through the same ritual as you.¡±


    Kid could only look around the room in wonder. Marc must have been fabulously wealthy. ¡°Where did the money for all this come from?¡±


    ¡°The Goddess provides.¡±


    Kid didn¡¯t press him.


    ¡°I have a task for you since you¡¯re so conveniently awake.¡±


    Kid swallowed. ¡°What is it?


    Marc grinned at him, then handed him his missing coin pouch. ¡°Relax. Enjoy the money you earned and come back at sundown.¡±


    Kid let out a breath of relief as he took the money. He¡¯d been afraid he wouldn¡¯t get it back. ¡°Thank you,¡± he whispered.


    Marc nodded and turned back to look at the room full of arms. Kid turned to leave but stopped in the doorway when Marc spoke again. ¡°And Kid, I won¡¯t ask where you got the extra Hart. So long as I don¡¯t catch you with another.¡±


    Chills ran down Kid¡¯s spine and he rushed from the room.

 Ch 15: Sorrowmen

    Grim and Edgar walked up the final switchback to the castle gates and found the portcullis wide open. Hundreds of soldiers filled the courtyard beyond, standing at attention in neat ranks. It looked as if the half the castle guard was assembled. Several hundred soldiers in various states of armament stood in neat rows. Over their heads, Grim saw the Earl.


    His father stood on the steps leading into the keep, high enough to for every man to see. Rodger Thorne stared imperiously over his men. Grim lingered in the back by the gate, waiting to see what would happen.


    The Earl spoke, ¡°Last night something unprecedented happened and I want to be straightforward with you. twenty-six of our number did not come home.¡± The man¡¯s nostrils flared. ¡°We don¡¯t know what happened to them, but It¡¯s safe to assume the worst. For the foreseeable future, all patrols will be at double strength, all guard posts will have at least two men, and I don¡¯t want any of you to so much as piss without informing your commanding officer.¡±


    The Earl rested a hand on the hilt of his sword. ¡°You men are the backbone of this city. Without you, we would be lost. And I will do everything in my power to resolve this. You have my word. Our brothers will be found one way or another.¡±


    ¡°Act with honor, Think with clarity, Fight with valor and I assure you we will overcome this. Dismissed!¡±


    As one, the entire courtyard clapped their fists over their hearts and bowed their heads. The Earl returned the gesture and the soldiers fell out, scattering in all directions.


    Grim clapped Edgar on the shoulder. ¡°Find Billy and get the men ready. I¡¯m going to speak with my father.¡± Edgar nodded and turned to the barracks.


    The Earl¡¯s eyes were already on Grim as he walked through the crowd of soldiers. Rodger Thorne waited while grim fought the crowd. As he reached the stairs, Grim saluted his father. The Earl returned the gesture and Grim relaxed. ¡°Father, I need to tell-¡±


    ¡°Why were you in the Outwalls last night?¡±


    Grim blinked in surprise and before he could verbalize a response, the Earl continued. ¡°You think my men don¡¯t tell me when you pass through the gates? I think you¡¯d be surprised what I know Grim.¡± The Earl took a step closer to Grim. ¡°From now on you will not see your-Friends without informing me first. I will not have you traipsing in the most dangerous parts of the city when my own soldiers are disappearing in the night.¡±


    ¡°Worried about me?¡± Grim asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m worried that Longreen will learn of your sympathies and extend that to our entire family. You represent me Grim. Do not make me appear a fool and do not take me for one.¡±


    Grim swallowed. ¡°Yes father.¡±


    ¡°Do you have any important names or places?¡±


    Grim thought of the man in charge at the tavern. Lissa and James knew him and could tell the Earl. But they¡¯d saved his life and if he was being honest he was a growing a little fond of the girl. ¡°Nothing, just managed to get the shit kicked out of me.¡±


    The Earl stared at him for a long moment before turning his gaze to the gate. ¡°There are two things I need you to do today. First, I need you to go to the Forgers guild and get fitted for a suit of armor, you¡¯re a Briar Guard now and you need to look the part. Second, your sister will accompany you to help pick out some formal attire for this evening.¡±


    Grim nodded along to the Earl¡¯s words but froze at the second command. ¡°Wait, what? This evening?¡±


    ¡°Marshal Longreen is hosting a party to commemorate the twenty-first anniversary of the war¡¯s end. And you are coming. Consider it a punishment.¡±


    Grim fumbled for words. ¡°You- can¡¯t be serious. I- I can¡¯t imagine I was invited.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a Venaran officer. You have a standing invitation.¡±


    ¡°Please tell me you found a sense of humor and are pulling one over on me.¡±


    ¡°Ask if I¡¯m joking one more time and I¡¯ll make you come in motley and be the entertainment.¡±


    Grim grimaced. ¡°Fine. When should Ilyena and I be back from the city?¡±


    ¡°We leave at sundown.¡±


    Grim nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll go fetch her.¡±


    Grim walked past his father into the Keep but before he entered, the Earl put a hand on his shoulder. ¡°One of your men didn¡¯t come back Grim. Bill Billson. I believe the men refer to him as Billy. I thought you should know.¡±


    Grim swallowed hard and nodded. The Earl released his shoulder and let Grim enter the Keep. Gods he wanted a drink. Grim licked his lips as he walked through the entry chamber and down the hall, barely noticing the guards as they opened the iron door. His mind was trapped in the past, remembering the man who¡¯d taught him to fight. The one thing he¡¯d ever been good at.


    Grim shook his head and kept walking up the stairs. There would be time for mourning later. He needed to get through the day first. Take things one at a time. He emerged onto the third floor and went to his room. He washed the blood from his skin in the wash basin, watching as wisps of red drifted in the recently clear water. He stripped his ruined clothing and pulled on fresh clothes from his wardrobe. Divines, it felt good to not be covered in blood.


    Grim climbed to the fifth floor and walked down the long hall to his sister¡¯s room. The guardsman patrolling the hall saluted Grim as he passed. Grim nodded in return as he approached Ilyena¡¯s door and knocked against the hard wood.


    He waited a long moment outside before knocking again. No answer. Grim shrugged and opened the door. It swung open on noiseless hinges and Grim walked into the well-furnished foyer. Cold stone gave way to soft carpet. Lavish furniture circled an unlit monstrosity of a fireplace. Gold leaf covered everything. the room resembled a miniature of Longreen¡¯s estate. Paintings containing abstract objects and blurred figures adorned the wall. Grim didn¡¯t want to even hazard a guess as to how much the picture of a circle with a triangle in the center cost his father. In fact, he often wondered how he and his sister could possibly be relatives. Where Grim was practical his sister was ¡°refined¡± as she liked to call it. Grim preferred to call it ¡°uptight.¡±


    It was well past the hour any sensible person would have woken, so Grim walked to her bedchamber door and hammered his fist against the wood. A groan sounded from the other side, followed by the ruffling of bedsheets. Grim tapped his foot while he waited, glancing out the seaward window as the sun gradually rose higher into the sky. He knocked again, even louder than before.


    ¡°Who is it?¡±


    Grim didn¡¯t answer. She''d move slower if she knew it was him. Another moment passed before the door cracked open. Ilyena wore a white shift, and stared at Grim with a peeved expression. ¡°What the hell are you doing in my rooms?¡±


    ¡°I tried knocking.¡± He glanced at the sun again. ¡°I assume father told you we¡¯re going to the market today?¡±


    Ilyena nodded. ¡°Yes. But we have all day. Go away.¡±


    She tried to shut the door. But Grim caught it. ¡°I also have to get fitted for armor and I¡¯m not walking up that damned road to the city twice in one day on your account.¡±


    Ilyena pushed against the door but couldn¡¯t budge it against Grim. She sighed. ¡°Fine. Let me get dressed.¡±


    Grim released the door and she shut it in his face. He turned away from her room and fell into one of the sitting chairs by the fireplace. He was sure he could comfortably lay down and stretch his arms out within its confines. The fireplace before him had more amenities than the average prison cell. As Grim let his gaze drift over it, his eyes caught something in the ashes. He rose to his feet and moved closer for a better lookThis tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Grim knelt before the fireplace and pushed away some of the ash. He found curled, blackened parchment with the distinctive hint of words scrawled across it. He tried to grab one, but it fell apart in his hands. Grim cursed under his breath. It was just as well. The parchment was now illegible. He wondered what his sister was trying to hide. An affair perhaps?


    Grim shook his head and returned to his seat. Whatever it was, it was his father¡¯s problem. Within a few moments the door to Ilyena''s bedchamber creaked open. She emerged, dressed in a white fur shawl over a shoulderless black dress with red diamonds stitched across its length.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± she said, walking past him to the door.


    Grim narrowed his eyes at her as he rose. He¡¯d never seen her get ready so fast. She hadn¡¯t even done her hair up. Grim glanced about the room once more before following her into the hallway, nothing seemed amiss aside from the parchment. Grim put it from his mind.


    They walked to the stairs in silence, the guardsman patrolling the halls bowed to Ilyena as she passed. The girl rewarded him with a bright smile which fell as soon as they passed. Grim led the way down the stairwell, servants rushing out of his path as he descended with is sister in tow. As they entered the ground floor, Ilyena spoke. ¡°You¡¯re different lately.¡±


    Grim raised an eyebrow at her. ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not face down in the gutters for one.¡±


    ¡°Been too damn busy for that particular pleasure.¡±


    She pursed her lips. ¡°I also don¡¯t remember you getting into half so many fights before now.¡±


    ¡°People tend to want to beat your face in when you kill their loved ones.¡±


    Ilyena let the silence linger a moment as they walked. ¡°It¡¯s more than that though. You¡¯re more guarded than usual. Your hand hasn¡¯t left the axe at your side since you knocked at my door.¡± Grim grimaced and forced his hand away from the haft of his weapon.


    Ilyena met his eyes. ¡°I know people Grim. And I¡¯ve never seen a man wound so tightly.¡±


    ¡°What of it?¡±


    ¡°Nothing. I¡¯m just wondering what will happen when you snap.¡±


    ¡°If you keep badgering me, you might find out be sooner than you think.¡±


    Ilyena smiled. ¡°Have it your way. Whether you want to admit it or not we both know you¡¯ve been rubbing shoulders with unscrupulous types.¡± Grim bumped his shoulder into hers and she rolled her eyes.


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t help myself.¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°Could you be serious for a moment?¡± She paused as a guardsman stopped by them in the halls, bowing as they passed. ¡°Not everything has to be a joke Grim. They¡¯re going to offer you things and I need you to remember that above all family comes first.¡±


    ¡°Your words make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, dear sister.¡±


    Ilyena narrowed her eyes at Grim while he forced down a mirthless smirk. ¡°Why do you think they want to talk to you, Grim? I¡¯m wondering what that raisin you call a brain cooked up.¡±


    Grim shrugged. ¡°Probably something to do with Longreen.¡±


    Ilyena grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him to a halt. She waited until the hall was clear of passersby. ¡°Or, maybe they approached father with a proposal and he rejected them. Now perhaps they want to offer you the same.¡±


    Grim snorted. ¡°What could I possibly have to offer?¡±


    ¡°Right now, nothing. But if father were to fall ill, and I were to- disappear. That would leave you in an interesting position.¡±


    ¡°What are you trying to do? Entrap me?¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°No. Father wants to keep you in the dark as long as possible, but I want to be upfront with you. Why do you think father wants you in his sight tonight? When was the last time you were ever invited to a social gathering?¡± she asked, ¡°You know what they say, keep your friends close and your enemies closer.¡±


    Grim¡¯s blood ran cold.


    ¡°And what are you hoping? That by telling me this, your disappearance might be a little less permanent?¡±


    Ilyena smiled.


    Grim kept walking. They emerged from the keep in silence. Fog still hung over the city, but it was thinner from the heights of the castle. They had no sooner stepped outside than a horn blared from the seaward wall. Another joined it. Soon there was a chorus of horns echoing from the castle. Bells began to toll from the city below and for a moment, the constant din of the city fell silent. A heartbeat later, the sounds returned to normal. For most of them, it meant nothing.


    Grim jogged from the steps of the keep to the seaward wall. He wasn¡¯t the only one. everyone in the courtyard was heading to the stone stairs leading up to the parapets. Even Ilyena held up her dress up as she rushed to follow in Grim¡¯s wake. The guardsmen deferred to Grim and Ilyena so they were among the first to climb to the top.


    Grim leaned out over the ramparts, peering into the fog. Then he saw them, closer than he ever had before. He could pick out the individual men on the red-hued longboats, their black sails billowing in the wind. Five of them circled a large merchant vessel like sharks. Poor souls. He watched the men on the deck get cut down by arrow fire from the circling ships. Those who didn¡¯t die from the volleys hunkered down, awaiting the inevitable.


    Grappling hooks flew from the circling ships and as one they closed in for the kill. Grim glanced at the tower to his right. It should be ready about now-


    A crack sounded, followed by a whoosh. A flaming ball of pitch launched from its heights and sailed across the sky toward the ships. The guardsmen around him started making bets as everyone held their breath, watching its descent. Another ball of fire appeared from the tower far to his left.


    The first ball of pitch began its descent. It looked to be on target. Grim grinned, anticipating the ensuing explosion. People lined the docks far below, all watching and some cheering as the ball fell the final stretch. Grim held his breath and a hush fell across the wall.


    The ball of fire crashed into the water next to one of the longships, the ensuing wave nearly capsizing it. The Sorrowmen on board stumbled back to their feet and shot rude gestures at the castle as a collective groan sounded from the wall. Money exchanged hands and then all eyes were on the second ball of fire which had now begun its descent.


    The Sorrowmen were onboard the vessel now, hewing their way through the crew and carving a bloody swath to the cargo hold. A crack sounded, and the first tower launched another fireball.


    The second ball missed by a wide margin, falling into the bay in a puff of steam. The Sorrowmen were emerging from below decks, their bloody business concluded. As the ball disappeared, many pulled their breeches down and shook their asses at the castle. The guardsmen roared in indignation and yelled encouragement to those manning the catapults.


    The Sorrowmen leapt back to their ships, leaving the grappling hooks attached. They took up their oars and rowed with all their strength. The third ball of fire approached and Grim knew this would be the last. The ships would soon disappear into the fog now that they had their prize. The longships fanned out, pulling the ropes of their hooks tight. The merchant vessel picked up speed, beginning to soar over the waves.


    The last shot went high, but a cheer sounded as it glanced the sails of the merchant ship, lighting them aflame. The fireball itself disappeared into the sea, but the sails blossomed in flame. The fire traveled down the mast and engulfed the ship. The Sorrowmen let out curses loud enough to be heard from the shore as they cut their ropes. The merchant ship drifted loose, a burning pyre gliding across the waves. As they faded into the fog, the Sorrowmen shook their weapons at the castle.


    Grim grinned. They didn¡¯t get a longship, but damn was it satisfying to deny them their prize. He leaned against the wall, watching the longships disappear. As the attackers fled, dozens more ships emerged from the fog and made a beeline for the docks. They¡¯d doubtless heard the horns and sought to avoid a similar fate to the crew of the late merchant ship. Soon, even the flames of the burning ship disappeared as it drifted into the fog.


    Grim pulled himself from the wall and looked to Ilyena. She met his gaze with a smile. ¡°That. Was satisfying.¡±


    Grim shared her smile. ¡°C¡¯mon we had best get going.¡±


    They descended the stone steps as the castle returned to normalcy. Grim led his sister to the stables and left her to find her mare. Edgar had assembled the men under his command while he fetched his sister. They stood to attention as he approached and saluted, but he waved them down, letting them relax.


    Edgar walked up to Grim. ¡°I can¡¯t find Billy.¡±


    Grim frowned, his good humor evaporating. ¡°He didn¡¯t make it back.¡±


    Edgar¡¯s eyes widened a moment. Then he reached into his coat and pulled out his flask. He took a drink and passed it to Grim. Grim took a draw and handed it back. Edgar tilted the flask and let some of the burning liquor fall to the cobblestones. ¡°Reaper take you well.¡±


    Grim nodded along. ¡°God judge you by the best of your deeds.¡±


    ¡°And Goddess save you, you old shit bag,¡± Edgar finished.


    Edgar clasped Grim¡¯s hand and they embraced.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have my mother make an offering.¡±


    Grim nodded and turned to the stable as hooves clacked on the cobblestones. ¡°Get the men formed up.¡±


    Edgar turned to the soldiers, shouting out commands as Ilyena approached atop her mare. The white of her shawl matched perfectly with the horse¡¯s coat that shined even in the bleak lighting.


    She looked down on Grim as she pulled abreast him. ¡°Why do you never ride?¡±


    Grim shrugged. ¡°Don¡¯t have a horse and last time I took Demon into town, the old goat nearly gnawed some poor woman¡¯s hair off.¡±


    Ilyena smirked.


    ¡°Shall we?¡± Grim asked, gesturing to the gate.


    She nodded and nudged her mare to a walk.

 Ch 16: Home

    Kid walked toward city gates, feeling dizzy from his time in the marketplace. It was an entirely different experience from the perspective of someone having money. Rather than a place filled with tantalizing objects just out of reach, everything was his for the taking. His coin purse was much lighter, but so was his heart. Clean clothes adorned his flesh, his stomach was full, and he still had money to spare. He was almost able to forget the price he paid for it all. Almost.


    Kid¡¯s smile faltered. As he neared the gate he forced the smile back to his face, just like Marc had told him. The Greencloaks took notice of him. Kid waved at them and wished them a good morning, as Marc said he should. The men nodded at him in acknowledgement and didn¡¯t spare him a second glance after that. The Thorne soldiers didn¡¯t even spare him that much.


    It was amazing what a bath and a fresh set of clothes could do. Kid marched through the gates alone and unchallenged for the first time his entire life. The feeling was liberating, cathartic. He felt- More.


    He walked a few blocks down the Kings road before veering onto one of the side roads. He grew nervous as he navigated the warren of alleys, afraid somebody would try to take what he¡¯d earned. He didn¡¯t know whether he was more stressed now or when he was a pauper. At least when he had no money and soiled clothing, he knew nobody would stick a knife in his back. Kid found himself looking over his shoulder every few steps. The dagger felt heavy at his hip and he tightened the pack on his back, afraid it might be wrenched away at any minute.


    As he creeped through a narrow alleyway, he heard the distinctive snap of bone from around the corner. Kid froze, listening. He heard the scuff of dirt, followed by gnawing, and panting. Kid backed away slowly, trying his hardest to make no sound. The only thing more dangerous in the Outwalls than the people were the animals.


    The gnawing sound stopped, a terrible silence replacing it. Kid didn¡¯t dare move another step. He watched as the dog emerged from around the corner. Its ribs showed rippled through its fur and its left shoulder seemed entirely made of scar tissue. The animal walked with a noticeable limp and upon seeing Kid, bared its teeth.


    Kid made no abrupt movements as the beast watched him, the hackles of its fur rising. Dogs were usually killed on sight in the Outwalls for food and because they were dangerous. But, like rats, some always seemed to survive.


    The dog edged closer to him as Kid pulled the pack from his back and opened it. He reached inside and took out a loaf of bread. Kid drew his dagger. The dog came faster, egged on by the smell of food. Kid¡¯s pulse pounded as he watched the creature approach. The thing probably weighed more than he did, and he knew damn well that it could outrun him.


    Kid used the dagger to cut off a slice of bread. Just as the dog leaned on its hind legs, looking ready to charge him, Kid tossed the slice of bread in front of it. The dog hesitated, sniffing the air. It took a step forward and snatched up the bread, swallowing it in a single bite.


    Kid cut another slice and tossed it a few paces in front of the dog. It came forward and ate up the bread. It looked expectantly at Kid. He threw another piece, drawing the dog closer.


    He was running out of bread. Kid threw the last piece on the ground only a pace from his feet. He forced himself not to tense as the dog growled at him. It padded toward him, not taking its eyes from him- until it went for the bread.


    Kid struck, stabbing the dagger into the side of the dog¡¯s throat. The tip sank deep and grated against bone.


    Kid was flung from his feet as the dog thrashed, slamming him into the wall of the alley. The entire structure shook, eliciting curses from inside. The dog¡¯s jaws snapped, seeking his throat as he pushed at the dagger.


    Gargled noises escaped the beast as its blood cascaded over Kid¡¯s hands. It had him pinned against the wall and its efforts to get to him only sank the blade deeper into its throat.


    Kid pushed with all his might, but his arms were caving in, the jaws getting closer to his throat. He screamed as the scabs over his burns split from the strain.


    The dog began to slow, the hate in its eyes fading to the dullness of death. The snapping ceased and it fell to the ground. Kid pushed it over. He held it down while it kicked at him. The ragged breaths it took grew more sporadic until it stilled.


    As Kid pulled the dagger from its throat, it emerged with a bubble of air and a burble of blood. He stumbled to his feet and looked down at his new clothes. They were soaked in blood. Kid groaned. He would never be clean. But at least he was alive to be filthy. His arms shook with pain as he wiped the dagger clean on the dog¡¯s fur and sheathed it.


    He grabbed his pack and stepped over the dog¡¯s corpse, continuing his walk down the alleyway. He reached the corner the dog emerged from. The smell coming from the side alley warned him of what he would see but he still vomited from the sight. A rotting, desiccated corpse lay splayed across the alley. Maggots teemed in what was left of its flesh and half its bones were gnawed almost beyond recognition.


    Kid stared at what had been his breakfast for a long moment before stepping over it and walking through the putrefying blood permeating the ground. His boots squelched with every step and the smell made him gag. He couldn¡¯t force himself to breathe through his mouth for fear he might somehow taste the corruption.


    He shook with relief when it was finally behind him. He was almost home.


    Kid slid through a narrow crevice between two shacks and stumbled out onto his street, about a block from the Dancing Bear. Several people were walking down the boulevard and the blood on him attracted their attention. They kept their distance and that suited him fine.


    Kid held his bloodied arms close to his chest as they throbbed in time with his pulse. A grimace lined his face as he approached his mother¡¯s house. He paused outside to check whether she was working. That was not a sight he wanted to stumble into ever again. He couldn¡¯t hear any sound through the door or the thin walls.


    Kid eased open the door and peeked inside. He could see his mother¡¯s feet peeking from out of her alcove. Bottles and trash littered the floor as usual and the fire in the middle of the shack was little more than embers, leaving the house nearly as cold as it was outside.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Kid froze as he heard the scraping of nails against wood mingled with indistinct muttering. Kid took a step back toward the door but his foot clinked into one of the many bottles cast about the floor. The scratching and muttering stopped, followed by the rustling of straw as his mother scrambled to her feet.


    She came around the corner and regarded him with an expression that reminded him of the dog from the alley way. The skin about her face was stretched while her eyes were red and wild. She wore nothing but a stained slip, oblivious to the chill. Her hands shook, nails surrounded by crusty blood. She gave him a smile that resembled bared fangs and walked toward him.


    Kid¡¯s heart began to beat faster, and he removed the pack from his shoulders. He pulled out the loaf of bread he brought for her. ¡°I brought you some food mom.¡±


    He held it out to her and she snatched it from his hands, sitting down and gnawing at the crust of it with a ferocity that alarmed him. It was too late to leave now. Kid pulled out the second thing he got her, a thick, grey wool cloak.


    He edged around her while she devoured the food and draped the fabric over her shoulders. She didn¡¯t seem to even notice. He added coal to the dying embers and stoked a fresh flame into existence with a discarded bottle.


    When he turned back to his mother she was staring at him with bloodshot eyes. She grinned at him in a mockery of a smile. ¡°Thank you, darling, I can¡¯t remember the last time I ate.¡±


    Kid could. It was the last time he brought her food.


    She shifted onto her knees and crawled closer to where he knelt by the fire. ¡°You look so well today. Where have you been? I haven¡¯t seen you since last night.¡±


    Kid frowned at her words, glancing at the blood. She didn¡¯t even seem to notice. He spared her the details. ¡°I did it mom. I joined the Sons.¡±


    His mother lit up, eyes growing even more wild. ¡°You did? Then you have some money. I know you do.¡± She reached out and gently stroked is cheek. ¡°Please, my little prince. Spare a little for your ma? I¡¯m so hungry and cold.¡± She pulled the cloak tighter around her without any indication of knowing where it came from.


    Kid hesitated a moment before reaching into his pockets and pulled out three of his last six silver lions. His mother practically salivated at the sight. Kid placed them into her palm. As he pulled his hand back she snatched his forearm and jerked him toward her. Kid cried out in pain as she abused his burned flesh.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be greedy Kid. You know we need the money.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t afford any more. Please.¡±


    She squeezed his arm harder, making tears come into his eyes. She jerked him by the arm and threw him into the wall. His head smacked into the wood. She stood up over him and fear exploded inside him. He felt like he was five years old again, the first time he had brought money home. He tried to scramble backwards, to melt into the wood. He tucked his knees to his chest and buried his head between them, letting his trousers soak up his tears.


    She grabbed him by the hair, forcing his head up. She slapped him across the face then held out her hand. His hands shook as he placed the silver in her palm. As quickly as the violence started, she turned away from him.


    Kid crawled toward his pack as she sat by the fire and fingered the silver in her hand. It was probably the most money she had ever held at once. Before she could take notice of him again Kid grabbed his belongings and fled through the door. She didn¡¯t so much as glance at him as he left.


    The faces of people staring at him blurred from the tears in his eyes as he raced past them toward the Dancing Bear. He dove into the gap between buildings and shimmied his way through the tight confines, dragging his pack behind him. He spilled out into the small space and stumbled against his tree. He held it tight, struggling to catch his breath as he finally felt safe beneath its boughs. He was okay. He was home.


    ¡°Divines Kid, Are you okay?¡±


    Kid jumped in surprise. He released the tree and scrambled away from the voice, putting his back to the wall. The pounding in his ears subsided as he saw Lissa rising to her feet, worry plastered across her face.


    Kid shook his head, dropped the pack and raced into her arms. She held him while he shook.


    ¡°Your mom?¡± she asked.


    He nodded, choked for words.


    She didn¡¯t say another word, only stroking the back of his head while he struggled to find control of his breathing. Kid lost track of how much time they stood like that it seemed an eternity and he could have spent a second forever there, but he released her. He knew he was being selfish.


    As he let her go he noticed her red eyes and the snot dribbling down her nose. Blood from his arms stained her gown but she didn¡¯t seem to care or notice. ¡°I¡¯m sorry Lissa. I didn¡¯t mean for last night to happen. I didn¡¯t want any of it. Just please don¡¯t hate me.¡±


    She frowned and took his hand, leading him to the wall they always sat against. ¡°I don¡¯t know who I blame but it¡¯s not you,¡± she said as she made him sit down. Now stay here while I get something to replace those bandages.¡±


    Kid nodded, staring at the ground as she slid through the gap. Your mom. He felt wretched every time he entered that cursed place but if he didn¡¯t take care of her who would? He pulled his knees to his chest and looked up at the boughs of the tree, swaying in the fog. He¡¯d never give up on her. It just wasn¡¯t in him.


    The sound of horns echoed far in the distance, followed by the hollow sound of ringing bells from the Inner City. Kid shivered Involuntarily. When he was young his mother used to tell him the Sorrowmen would steal children who didn¡¯t bring food home, regaling him with the tales of each Sorrow. The men from the Sorrow of ashes scared him the most. He¡¯d watched from the docks once as they captured a ship with little bloodshed, stole the cargo, locked the crew below decks and set the ship aflame. The crew¡¯s screams had managed to reach the shores. He hoped whoever was caught today met men from another island.


    He emerged from his thoughts as Lissa reappeared through the gap. His gaze alighted on the bottle of whiskey in her hand and his eyes widened. He scooted away from her. ¡°No, No, No No No.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Yes, Yes Yes Yes,¡± she answered. ¡°Stop being a baby. If you get yourself hurt, you must either clean the wound or lose the limb. You know how it works. I can¡¯t imagine a successful thief with no hands, can you?¡± she smiled.


    Kid couldn¡¯t help but smile back but it soon turned into a grimace as he took in the bottle. He sighed. ¡°Fine.¡±


    Lissa knelt next to him, wrinkling her nose as she unwrapped his bloody bandages. It was impossible to tell how much was his and how much belonged to the dog. Her expression changed to one of horror when she saw the split, burned skin beneath the bandages.


    ¡°Divines above. What happened to you?¡±


    Kid told her. Everything.


    He paused only to bite down on his dagger¡¯s scabbard while she poured the burning liquid over his arms, washing away the blood and nearly sending him into unconsciousness.


    When he got to the initiation ritual and what Marc told him, she stopped him. ¡°No,¡± she said.


    ¡°What?¡± Kid asked.


    ¡°No,¡± she repeated. ¡°That is not true.¡±


    Kid blinked in confusion. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Lissa paused, searching for the words as she wrapped his arms in rags from behind the bar soaked with the alcohol. Kid winced as she applied them but the pain was nothing next to the waterfall of agony he experienced a moment ago.


    ¡°You never have to hurt anybody for me. I would never ask or want you to lose your soul to save my life.¡± She finished tying off the makeshift bandages. His fingertips were exposed but he supposed it was all they could do. Lissa sat against the wall next to him and put a hand on his knee.


    ¡°It¡¯d be a small price to pay.¡±


    She rolled her eyes. ¡°Ugh. Puh-lease don¡¯t start talking like Uncle Marc. If you listen to him for more than five minutes you can almost smell the crap coming out of his mouth.¡±


    Kid grinned despite himself.


    Lissa put her hand against his cheek and turned his head to her. She looked him in the eye. ¡°Listen, Kid. Never give up who you are for who you could be.¡± She wrapped her arms around his bicep and laid her head on his shoulder. ¡°Because who you are is my best friend.¡±


    Kid¡¯s heart ached. He was bruised, burned and battered. But for the first time in what felt like ages he relaxed, enjoying the moment of peace. He watched the boughs of their tree sway in the fog while her breath warmed his neck. He was home.

 Ch 17: Steel

    The Forgers Guild headquarters was more of a compound than a single building. A huge stone building dominated the yard. Vast wooden canopies supported by thick stilts surrounded the central hub. Beyond the canopies and before Grim was a wrought iron gate into leading to the complex beyond. The unwalled area opened the yard for viewing through the iron fence. However, the other half of the complex was barred from public view, likely to avoid prying eyes.


    Hundreds of men worked in the open beneath the canopies, operating various pieces of forging equipment from anvils to iron blooms to the newer blast furnaces. Thick stacks of smoke rose into the air, darkening the fog. The ringing of hammers was deafening this close to the guild.


    Ilyena yelled at Grim over the clanging. ¡°Do I have to be here?¡±


    Grim pretended not to hear her and walked up to the pair of guards at the gate.


    ¡°Who¡¯re ye?¡± one of them asked.


    ¡°Grim Thorne. I¡¯m here to requisition a suit of armor. The Earl sent me.¡±


    One of the guards nodded. ¡°Aye, we got word of ye. Yerself and the lady can go on in, but we prefer to keep visitors to a minimum. Trade secrets and all that shite.¡±


    Grim nodded and turned to Edgar. ¡°You good out here?¡±


    The Captain¡¯s temple throbbed. ¡°I¡¯ll be good when we¡¯re far away from here.¡±


    Grim nodded in agreement and turned back to the gate which the guards were already opening. Ilyena dismounted and handed her reins to a Thorne soldier. One of the mercenaries walked into the compound and the siblings followed in his wake down the cobblestone path.


    On either side of the path, sweaty, tired looking men performed a variety of tasks beneath their shelters. Grim watched as a man pulled a white-hot ladle from a crucible forge with iron tongs. He poured the molten liquid from the ladle into the top of a long rectangular mold. Next to him, another man ground a steel file against a rough looking bronze sword.


    Beyond that pair, a dozen more were hard at work drawing thin, heated strips of iron through draw plates and creating wire. A sweat-stained apprentice collected their work into a wheelbarrow and carted it inside the stone building. The guard followed the boy inside, holding the door open for Grim and Ilyena.


    Grim stepped inside and found that the indoors wasn¡¯t much different from the outside. The first floor seemed to consist solely of a single high-ceilinged room made entirely out of stone. Giant stone pillars supported the upper levels. Hundreds of men in the shabby clothes common to the Outwalls stood in lines alongside iron tables cutting wire, hammering it into rings and riveting it shut into sheets of mail. The sound was even worse within the confines of a building. Ilyena covered her ears with her hands while Grim grimaced at the sound. The guard they followed barely even seemed to notice. The man must have left his hearing by the wayside a long time ago.


    As they were led along the edges of the work area Grim noticed a dramatic increase in the number of guards he saw. Few had bladed weapons like the one he followed but instead carried iron truncheons at their hips as they watched the ironmongers.


    Wide iron arches were set into the walls far to the right and left. Through them, Grim could see into the east and west wings of the manufactory. What he glimpsed intrigued him. Iron gears buried in the ground seemed to turn of their own accord. The cogs of the gear levered massive hammers into the air which slammed into the iron bars held beneath them with tremendous force, over and over.


    His gaping was soon cut short as the guard opened a door set into the wall leading to a stairwell. ¡°Second floor,¡± he said.


    Grim led his sister up the stairwell that was only slightly more comfortable than the one in the castle. He stepped onto the second-floor landing and opened the door. The sounds from below and outside were dulled but still made his ears ache. He emerged into a small stone room consisting solely of a reception desk. A pretty, bored looking girl stood behind it and perked up when Grim and Ilyena entered.


    ¡°Name?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Grim Thorne.¡±


    She smiled as if that were the best news she¡¯d heard all year, ¡°This way please.¡±


    Grim followed her through a door beside her desk.


    ¡°How on earth do you stand this racket every day?¡± Ilyena asked.


    The girl looked over her shoulder. ¡°When you don¡¯t live in a castle, it¡¯s amazing the things you can get used to.¡±


    Grim smirked at the wide-eyed expression that extracted from his sister.


    The hall she led them down was also unadorned stone with torches lighting the way every dozen or so paces. Many of the doors on either side were open and Grim could see dozens of scribes sifting through sheaves of parchment and making notes. Most of all, he noticed the small wax plugs in their ears. Grim grumbled under his breath. He wasn¡¯t about to bring that to the attention of his sister.


    The girl they followed stopped outside a large double door and knocked. A muffled ¡°Come in,¡± sounded from the other side. She pulled the door open and gestured for them to enter. They walked inside. The room beyond the door was made of the same utilitarian stone but was furnished with some of the most beautiful weaponry Grim had ever seen. Intricate designs ran along the blades of the swords. A series of axes resembled the moon in various stages of waxing. Spears with tips of gold were crossed under shields better painted more than most portraits. A large bronze desk, etched to resemble wood, dominated the center of the room.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    The grandeur stood at odds with the man leaning back in his chair behind the desk, resting his feet on a chipped, rusty anvil. He wore an old linen shirt that was more grey than white and had been stitched back together several times. One sleeve was folded and pinned to the shoulder where his left arm was missing. The scuffs on the boots atop the anvil betrayed their heavy usage.


    His eyes flicked across the piece of parchment in his hand, not so much as looking up while they entered. Grim didn¡¯t mind. He was content to gawk at the ostentatious display of craftsmanship. After a moment, the man put the parchment on the desk and cleared his throat. ¡°Ah Grim, welcome. Sorry to make you wait, I was almost done going over that damned expense report.¡± He rose to his feet and walked around the desk. Grim met him halfway and they clasped arms.


    ¡°Master Renfield at your service.¡±


    Grim¡¯s eyes widened. He knew the name. Miles Renfield was the Guildmaster of the Forgers.


    Renfield turned to Ilyena and fell into a deep bow. ¡°Lady Ilyena, a surprise and a pleasure.¡±


    Ilyena held out her hand and Renfield kissed her ring before rising. He turned his gaze back to Grim. ¡°I saw you looking around. See anything you like? Everything is for sale.¡±


    Grim let his eyes drift across the walls covered in weapons that more resembled art than the tools they were. ¡°It all seems very- impractical.¡±


    Renfield chuckled. ¡°Ah. You got me hopes up when I saw your eyes wandering. Some fops who get brought up here shell out good money for a pretty weapon.¡±


    Ilyena stepped forward. ¡°Speaking of fops, why did you make us walk through that god-awful racket and why on the name of God would you keep your office right above it? I can still feel my teeth shaking.¡±


    ¡°That god-awful racket you hear is the sound of money. I can¡¯t think of anything more soothing. Besides, after so many years at a forge, it¡¯s comforting to hear. I may not be a smith anymore because of me arm but I¡¯ll be damned before I turn me back on the art. The same way a commander should be close to the battle, a guild master should be close to his work.¡±


    Grim shrugged. ¡°Whatever makes you happy. Can we get the sizing done?¡±


    Renfield snorted. ¡°You think daddy doesn¡¯t already have half a dozen servants who know your dimensions?¡± Grim blinked in surprise. ¡°That¡¯s not why you¡¯re here.¡±


    Grim glanced at Ilyena. She shrugged.


    ¡°Come and find out,¡± Renfield said, walking past Grim to the door.


    Ilyena sighed and followed him, leaving Grim no choice but to join them.


    As Renfield approached the stairwell, Ilyena groaned. ¡°Must we go back down there?¡±


    ¡°Only when you leave. We¡¯re going further down.¡±


    He opened the door and led them down the stairs, walking past the door to the first floor and descending beneath the earth. The walls quickly shifted from quarried stone to rough rock resembling something you would find in a mine shaft. The stairwell dead-ended in a small room with a huge vault-like door similar in appearance to the one at the castle. A small hammer hung from a nail on the wall next to the door.


    Renfield grabbed the hammer and smacked it on the door one, twice, three times, and then once more.


    A responding clang came from the other side.


    Renfield reached into his pocket, pulled out a key and stuck it in the door. As he twisted it, the lock opened with a clank. He waited a moment, making no move to open the door. A second clank sounded from the other side of the door. Then it began to open outwards. Grim stepped back as the heavy door swung wide.


    A burly man in a smith¡¯s apron grinned at them from the other side. ¡°Master,¡± he said with a nod.


    ¡°Good morning Karl. Go ahead and keep the door open. This shouldn¡¯t take too long.¡±


    ¡°Yes sir.¡±


    Grim grew a little nervous as Renfield led them further down the corridor. If the Earl hadn¡¯t asked him to bring Ilyena he might have wondered if he were about to die. Nevertheless, he found himself thumbing the axe at his side.


    Doors made of wrought iron bars began to appear on either side of the corridor. Each had an inscription next to them that was a permutation of ones and zeros.  In the distance, Grim could hear running water and the sound of machinery. What the hell? Even Ilyena looked curious about what they were approaching.


    Grim glanced through the bars of the doors as they passed. One room appeared to simply be a forest of spears standing straight in their racks. The next was filled with dozens of crates leaving him wondering what was inside. Another room had rows and rows of axes lined up on wooden racks. The one after that, swords.


    ¡°What is all this?¡± Grim asked.


    ¡°Storage.¡±


    Grim fought the urge to smack the man with the haft of his axe. ¡°And why do you have an entire armory in storage?¡±


    ¡°Your father commissioned it years ago, but never came to pick it up.¡± Renfield shrugged. ¡°He pays the storage fee.¡±


    Grim frowned at the dozens of rooms. ¡°Why?¡±


    Renfield stayed silent a long moment. ¡°It¡¯s not my place to speculate. I¡¯m just an old smith.¡±


    Grim didn¡¯t bother to continue questioning him. The sound of running water grew louder. It sounded almost as if he were on the banks of a river. Then the left side of the corridor fell away. Grim¡¯s eyes widened as he took in the cavern, the swift current of water running through it and the twelve grand waterwheels spinning in a line. The thick planks of the wheels interlocked with the large iron gears he had glimpsed upstairs. They kept the gears turning at a steady pace and he could hear the giant hammers above clanging in time. Thick, stone pillars lined the underground river. The waterwheels were riveted into the pillars which held both them and the high ceiling up.


    Ilyeana looked up at the high wheels. ¡°Wow.¡±


    Grim nodded in agreement, unable to find better words to describe it.


    When they stopped walking Renfield turned around. ¡°I¡¯d ask you both to not talk about this widely.¡± He turned to look at the apparatus. ¡°We call them trip hammers because the hammer up there keeps falling on its face over and over. But that¡¯s not why we¡¯re here so quit gawking.¡±


    Ilyena glanced at Renfield a moment. She turned back to the water. ¡°Where does it come from?¡± she asked, looking to where it seemed to gurgle straight out of a stone wall.


    ¡°It branches off the Bleakcreek, tunnels into one of the hills, flows under the city and empties under the castle.¡± He chuckled. ¡°We were expanding our storage down here and the miners damn near shat themselves when they found it.¡±


    Grim noticed a net peeking out of the water near the side of the cavern where the river emerged. A barrel bobbed up and down, snared by the net. ¡°What¡¯s that for?¡± Grim asked, nodding toward it.


    Renfield glanced where he was looking. ¡°Ah. Debris sometimes gets sucked in from upriver on the Bleakcreek. The nets just there to keep the wheels safe. They¡¯re a right bitch to fix.¡±


    Grim could only imagine. ¡°Alright, lead on.¡±


    Renfield continued down the corridor. Branching halls began to appear, making Grim wonder how large this place was. It had to take up at least as much space as the complex above them. Renfield turned down one of the side passages and stopped at the third door. He pulled out the key he used to unlock the vault. Grim¡¯s eyes widened as he pulled the tip of the key and it clicked. Renfield then glanced at the inscription next to the door and began rotating the six teeth of the key. He looked from the key to the inscription, grunted in satisfaction and unlocked the door.


    The gate swung open on greased hinges. Grim walked around the corner into the room and froze. The room was far smaller than the rest. Only one object stood in the center, torchlight reflecting off the burnished steel. He stared at the suit of armor with the Briar etched into its breastplate.


    ¡°How?¡± he whispered. It had only been a day since he¡¯d received the Briar.


    Renfield walked close to the suit. ¡°It¡¯s been sitting here for the past two years. The very first one the Earl commissioned.


    Grim swallowed the lump in his throat, struggling to find the words. There were none.

 Ch 18: Memories

    Hilda let her feet dangle in the running water, enjoying the chill of it washing over her skin. With all the torches burning in the room, it was much too hot and stuffy. The clatter of coins sounded from behind her, followed by Marc¡¯s grumbling. She looked over her shoulder to see him on his knees next to a fallen barrel scooping up handfuls of golden Harts from the ground. The chamber they were in was so far beneath the ground it felt like a tomb. A chest full of gold sat in one corner, two dozen empty barrels sat in the other and between them was a trough of water.


    The only sound was the rushing of water at the bottom of the square hole Hilda dangled her legs into. She wondered what would happen if she just jumped. Would Marc dive in after? Would he even notice? Would James miss her?


    The thought of her husband sent a spike of pain lancing through her heart, but she shook it off. Marc grunted as he lifted the heavy barrel and placed it into a trough of water. ¡°God damn it,¡± he muttered as it sank to the bottom. He pulled it out of the trough and set about counting the gold coins as he removed them.


    ¡°I hate doing this.¡±


    Hilda rolled her eyes. ¡°Then learn to delegate.¡±


    Marc grumbled under his breath some more. ¡°I¡¯m not trusting anyone with this much money at once.¡± He grunted as he heaved the barrel back into the trough. This time it bobbed to the top. Marc nodded in satisfaction before pulling it back out. He grabbed the barrel¡¯s lid and hammered it in, making a water tight seal.


    Marc took a moment to wipe away the sweat beading on his forehead before heaving the barrel back into the trough. He pushed it under the water, watching intently for air bubbles leaking out. ¡°Oh, thank god.¡±


    He hauled it back out of the water and set it on its side. A groan escaped his lips as he stretched his back. The sound of clattering coins echoed as he rolled the barrel toward her. He stopped the barrel next to the ledge and looked down into the rushing water below.


    ¡°We should throw a southerner down there sometime and see if he makes it to the other side in one piece.¡± He grinned. ¡°That¡¯d sure give the Forgers a nice surprise.¡±


    He kicked the barrel over the edge and it splashed into the water, bobbing once before disappearing with the current.


    ¡°Just six more to go,¡± Hilda said.


    Marc glared at her and went to fetch another barrel. As he rolled it to the chest he caught her eyes. ¡°You could help, you know.¡±


    ¡°Fuck off Marc.¡±


    ¡°You can also leave. I¡¯m not forcing you to stay here.¡±


    Hilda frowned. She had nowhere else to go. She couldn¡¯t go home. She didn¡¯t think to grab money as she stormed out, so she couldn¡¯t rent a room. She sure as shit wasn¡¯t going to ask Marc for money. And it wasn¡¯t hard to imagine what would happen to a lone woman living on the streets. So here she was, stuck watching Marc toss a fortune down a hole. And he damn well knew that.


    ¡°Why did you do it?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m paying for the last shipment of weapons.¡±


    ¡°Not that,¡± she spat, ¡°Why did you tell James?¡±


    He paused in his counting. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you?¡± he shot back.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t tell him because I didn¡¯t want to hurt him. You meant to.¡±


    ¡°I was upset.¡±


    Hilda¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°You were upset? Did you see Lissa? Do you have any idea what you just did to my family?¡±


    Marc let the coins in his hand fall back into the chest. ¡°Don¡¯t pin this all on me.¡± He turned to her. ¡°Twenty years ago I thought he was dead, just the same as you. I was going to do my duty as his brother and take care of his wife. I didn¡¯t expect it to become more than a duty. I¡¯m sorry I told him but I¡¯m not sorry it happened.¡±


    Marc¡¯s brow furrowed in anger. ¡°I kept my peace for twenty years. Twenty years that you never told him. I didn¡¯t force you into my bed.¡± He glanced at the mask on her hip. ¡°Just as I didn¡¯t force you to slit the throat of that boy all those years ago.¡± He looked her in the eyes. ¡°I admit it. I betrayed him, but I never once lied to him.¡±


    Hilda shook with anger and rose to her feet. ¡°You¡¯re so god-damned self-absorbed. Even now you¡¯re making this about yourself. All that talk about fighting for the good of the people, serving justice, and getting revenge. It¡¯s all just for your ego, Isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Marc¡¯s visage darkened. ¡°Don¡¯t presume to know me, woman. I-¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t call me woman.¡±


    Marc¡¯s jaw tensed. ¡°Hilda. I have given my entire life to this cause. Do not reduce the sacrifices of the men I¡¯ve watched die. Do I like my position? You¡¯re damn right I do. Who the fuck doesn¡¯t like being in charge? Why the hell shouldn¡¯t I be proud of what I¡¯ve done? My father laid the foundation, but I built this.¡±


    ¡°Now, I¡¯m sorry, but my brother¡¯s feelings rate pretty fucking low on my list of concerns.¡± He turned away from her and returned to counting coins out of the chest.


    Something warm dripped down Hilda¡¯s fingers. It was only then that she felt the pain from her fingernails cutting into her clenched fists. She waited a long moment before speaking. ¡°I made the mistake of trusting you for the last time.¡±


    Marc tensed. She thought he would turn around, look at her, say something. Marc kept counting. That was what hurt most of all.


    She left without another word.


    ***


    She walked the streets, a maelstrom of fury and grief. And still she was beneath notice. The faceless crowd about her touched but never felt, looked but never saw, heard but never listened. As indifferent as they were self-important. Faces of stress, pain, anger, worry, and loss crowded her sight. Their suffering called to her like a sirens song. She was beneath notice in a faceless crowd, but she was not alone.


    What she saw in the people around her was hunger. A desire for more, a thirst that could only be slaked with blood. The threat of violence hung heavy in the air, permeating through the city thicker than fog. Southerners wore hoods to hide their heritage, yet she knew them by the richness of their garb. Sons wore the clothes of the commons, but she knew them by the hate in their eyes.


    Guards traveled in packs, seeking safety in numbers. They walked with confidence belied by the white of their knuckles. Their hands held their weapons like a king his crown. They watched the crowd with a singular expression. Fear. Green, Red, Venar, Thorne, it made little difference. Nervous eyes, shifting feet, hushed talk; weakness. She could almost smell it, taste the blood in the water. She hoped Marc died in the feeding.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Bastard.


    Shouting sounded from ahead of her in the direction of the market. The pounding of boots followed. A squad of ten Greencloaks plowed through the crowd to her right. They disappeared and sounds of pain soon followed in the distance. In the hour she had been walking, this was the third incident. As she moved on, her foot fell into puddle. She looked down and saw she was leaving red footprints behind her.


    The Inner City was disintegrating before her eyes. She¡¯d be lying if she pretended it wasn¡¯t satisfying. She snaked her way closer to the gates. Hilda could see the crosses in the distance. A dozen new victims had found their wings. She wondered what they did, if anything. She looked to her right down an alley. A pair of bodies sat in its mouth, collecting flies. The people around her ignored them. She passed without a second glance.


    Worry increasingly gripped her. She wasn¡¯t with her daughter, didn¡¯t know if she was okay. She was sure Marc had men watching her but that was cold comfort. Men die all too easy these days. She passed the crosses, recognizing one of her patrons. The woman¡¯s eyes followed her to the gate. Hilda passed the guards, feeling them look her up and down. A scowl creased her face.


    Horns sounded from the castle. The whole city froze in a moment of utter silence. A brief mourning for those about to die. The city came back to life.


    Hilda broke out into a run. She shoved the man in front of her to the ground and barreled past. Curses sounded behind her as she raced down the King¡¯s road. Guards shouted for her to halt.


    She supposed it looked suspicious, but she could think only of the rain. Hilda ran. Her heart pounded. She needed to get home. Alleys blurred at the edges of her vision, flashing by faster than she could count. An old fear stirred within her. Memories leaked through the tight wall she¡¯d wrapped around them. The Sorrow of Rain.


    It was the last thought she had. Something hooked her foot and she crashed into the ground. Pebbles on the road lodged into her flesh as she skidded. Footsteps approached. She struggled from the ground. Everything hurt. She wiped blood from her lips with a shaky hand.


    A scream escaped her as a hand grabbed her by the leg and dragged her closer. She kicked with her free leg. It thumped hard against flesh, extracting pained grunt. The hand released her leg and she scrambled to her feet, trying to run, more afraid than ever.


    She choked as the collar of her dress was snapped tight against her throat. Fabric ripped. She reached for her belt knife and drew it as she gave in to the force pulling her backwards. Hilda turned, knife in hand and stabbed with all her strength.  The tip of her blade cut along a man¡¯s throat.


    His hand released her and slapped to the right side of his neck where blood squirted from between his fingers. There were three more staring at her in shock. She tried to run but they recovered too quickly. Hands grasped both of her arms. She struggled in their grip, but it was useless. The third man plucked the knife from her fingers.


    The two holding her forced her into an alleyway and slammed her against its wall. Passersbys watched her struggle, watched the man holding his throat fall to his knees in the growing puddle of blood around his feet. Yet they did nothing. They pretended not to notice, just like she had.


    She stopped struggling, realizing the futility of it. The man not holding her, grabbed her by the chin and turned her head to the left and right. ¡°This Marc¡¯s bitch?¡± he asked the others.


    ¡°Yeah I told you she lived over here. She was with him down under.¡±


    The man holding her chin nodded and ran a finger down her lips. Revulsion welled in Hilda and she fought the men holding her. A hand slapped her face. She didn¡¯t stop. It hit her again. She struggled. When it came again she bit the fingers, relishing the snap of bone and taste of iron. She let the men holding her carry her weight and lifted both feet. She kicked out with all her strength. Her boots slammed into the man¡¯s chest with an audible snap. He crashed into the wooden wall behind him. The flimsy structure shuddered and groaned. Wood snapped and the whole building collapsed. Splinters flew and bits of wood rained down.


    The men holding her tensed. She tried to break free. Fists slammed into her from both sides, beating her into the ground. the blows blasted the air from her lungs, cutting off her screams. She curled into a ball as they kicked her.


    Hands grabbed her and dragged her deeper into the alley. Faces watched from the opening. Faces of stress, pain, anger, worry, and loss crowded her sight. Suffering was like a sirens song. She reached out to them. They turned from her.


    The man she kicked into the shattered building wheezed as he rose to his feet. His hateful eyes turned to her as he followed them. Hilda felt too weak to fight, her entire body throbbing in pain. The men dragging her chucked her against a wall and left her sitting. The man she kicked knelt before her.


    ¡°Marc let my daughter be killed. I followed him to that square and watched my Kira die.¡± The man choked. His hand fell to the axe at his side. ¡°Don¡¯t worry too much. We need you alive to tell him he has no fucking right to decide who lives or dies. I can¡¯t get to him myself and his little bitch of a niece is always surrounded by his men. But you.¡± He pulled at her dress. ¡°You¡¯ll do just fine.¡±


    He began to tear at her clothes. When she struggled, the other two held her down. A groan sounded from deeper in the alley. The man paused his pawing at her chest to glance in its direction. Hilda followed his gaze. A balding man with bug eyes and grey stubble shifted on the ground. Vomit crusted his black woolen jacket and dried blood caked the side of his face.


    As he rose to his knees, his eyes locked onto Hilda. His eyes hardened as he stood. ¡°Enough.¡±  His voice was strong, and commanding, at odds with his appearance. His hand rested on the head of the axe at his hip. Its edge was coated in red.


    The man tearing at her clothes laughed and stood. ¡°Go home and sleep it off. No need to get yourself involved here.¡±


    The newcomer pulled his axe from his belt. ¡°I thought I told ye to sod off boy.¡±


    One of the men by Hilda spoke up. ¡°We¡¯re getting back at Marc for-¡±


    ¡°I fewking heard ye the first time. If ye want vengeance, then ye should know I helped hang them.¡±


    Her attacker drew his axe and his friends followed suit. ¡°You looking to die?¡±


    The man didn¡¯t answer.


    Hilda mustered her strength and tackled the legs of the man nearest her. He fell with a cry, smacking his head into the dirt. She scrambled up his back as he thrashed under her. She wrapped her hands around his face and dug her fingers into his eyes. They caved with a wet pop. His screams drowned out the struggle of the other three men. He shook under her and she dug deeper into his skull until he fell limp beneath her. Hilda forced her eyes closed, unable to handle any more.


    She heard the swoosh of axes through the air, the sickening crack of bone, the dull thump of fists. Violence echoed in the confines of the alley. Boots scraped against the dirt. One man fell to the ground. The sounds of choking. Then silence.


    Hilda opened her eyes. The man from the alley straddled the man she had kicked, his hands wrapped around his throat. Fresh blood speckled his face, likely from the man lying face down with an axe wedged in his neck. The bug-eyed man rose to his feet on shaky legs, his victim¡¯s shaking stilled forever. He walked toward her. She flinched as he reached out to her.


    With surprising gentleness, he pulled her fingers from the man¡¯s eye sockets. Hilda gasped for breath, finding it hard to breathe. She scooted back against the wall of the alley and pulled at the torn fabric of her dress, trying to keep out the chill that already numbed her skin.


    The man took his jacket off and offered it to her. She shook her head. He shrugged and placed it in front of her. Then he fell to the ground at her side, leaning against the wall.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said.


    ¡°Sorry?¡±


    ¡°Sorry that men are beasts.¡±


    Hilda shivered. ¡°Thanks for being decent. You got a name?¡±


    He nodded. ¡°Ye can call me Billy.¡±


    ¡°Hilda.¡± She paused. ¡°Were you actually at the executions?¡±


    He didn¡¯t answer.


    ¡°I¡¯m Sorry-¡±


    He interrupted her. ¡°Aye, I was there. Yesterday was the day I lost me faith in the Thorne name. Came here looking for a fitting end to an old soldier.¡± He turned to her. ¡°Unfortunately, all the boys out here are fewking milksops.¡±


    Hilda curled her legs to her chest, breath frosting in the air. She turned to look at the man next to her. She recognized the look in his eyes. It was a mirror of her husband when he first came home. The look of a man broken by circumstance. The thought of Lissa called to her but she couldn¡¯t turn her back on him.


    Her skin crawled at the touch, but she forced herself to place her hand on his. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Sorry?¡±


    ¡°Sorry this is a world of beasts.¡±


    He grinned humorlessly, revealing shattered teeth that more resembled fangs. ¡°Aye, lass. So am I,¡± he said, ¡°Can I help ye get home?¡±


    Hilda frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t have one,¡± she whispered. The cold overcame her, and she put on Billy¡¯s coat. She put her hand back on his.


    Billy paused a long moment. ¡°What about that Marc fellow they mentioned?¡±


    She scowled. ¡°Don¡¯t remind me.¡± She tried to pull her hand away, but he grabbed her. A shot of fear ran down her spine.


    ¡°They said he has the power over life and death. Sounds like an important bastard. I¡¯d like to meet him.¡±


    Hilda paled. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    Billy¡¯s eyes took on an intensity few men could match. ¡°A soldier never retires he only drowns. Drink or blood.¡± He paused.  ¡°Or memories.¡±

 Ch 19: The Quiet

    Grim tugged at the straps of his breastplate, trying to get some more space to breathe. Divines, he needed to cut back on the ale. Ilyena watched him as they passed through the gate of the Forgers Guild.


    ¡°Maybe you should cut back on the drink.¡±


    Grim scowled at her and she grinned.


    The men took notice of them as they walked onto the boulevard. The soldiers rose to their feet and gathered before Grim. He watched them inspect him appraisingly while they formed into lines. Edgar approached Grim at the forefront.


    ¡°Looks a little tight.¡±


    Grim narrowed his eyes. ¡°Piss off.¡± Edgar smirked while Grim addressed the men behind him. ¡°Two columns, let¡¯s go.¡±


    Ilyena mounted her snow-white mere and walked the beast abreast Grim while he led the soldiers toward the market. The mood of the people was as somber as the weather. Thick grey fog hid faces and gave the world a feeling of anonymity.


    Grim tugged at his armor again. It was uncomfortable around his midsection, but he had been loath to take it off. It was a marvel of engineering. He had seen men move with ease in them but thought it had been from practice. It had only taken him a few minutes to get used to the weight evenly distributed across his body. The joints gave him enough freedom to move as he would normally.


    He was also struck by how warm it was. The steel plate and chain completely cut the wind, while the thick, padded gambeson worked as an exceptional coat. He felt invincible within its steel confines and was grateful for the protection. Eyes followed him as he walked through the city. People had recognized him before but now it seemed like everyone knew his face. The reactions ranged from a polite nod of the head to open hostility.


    Graffiti had spilled in from the Outwalls. Every corner of every street seemed to have the face of a wolf etched onto the wood with charcoal. Cartoonish drawings of people Grim knew appeared all around him. A drawing of the Earl wearing a crown was right next to another where he was taking it up the ass from a Greencloak. That one made Grim smirk.


    Then he saw himself, a noose about his throat. Grim ran a hand over the chain covering his neck. A drawing of Ilyena appeared a block further down the road. She was naked and surrounded by men in green cloaks, the word ¡®Whore¡¯ plastered in red beneath it. Ilyena kept her head high and didn¡¯t so much as glance at it as they passed, though Grim could see the tightness in her jaw.


    The market was just ahead. The fog thick enough that he could only see halfway across the vast plaza. Hundreds of people drifted in and out of sight like shadows at the edge of his vision. The mood of the oft boisterous square was somber, doubtless a combination of the times and the weather.


    People scattered before the complement of soldiers, giving them a wide berth. Grim led them around the edge of the marketplace, avoiding the stalls and the thick traffic therein. He led them toward the more upscale stores of then east side of the square. Buildings with expensive, wide, glass windows stood in a long line, showcasing all kinds of luxuries. Grim looked into the windows as they passed, admiring the fine jewelry, golden flatware, drapes made from silk, bowls full of Taran spices, velvet slippers, and a thousand other things.


    Ilyena pulled her horse to a stop in front of a storefront displaying the most elegant clothing Grim had ever seen. Coats with silver buttons, dresses with enough lace to drown a small child, pants lined with thread of gold. Each looked more elegant than the last. Grim sighed while Ilyena dismounted. He wondered how long this was going to take.


    Ilyena hopped up to him and pinched his cheek. ¡°Don¡¯t look so glum, this will be fun.¡±


    Grim shook his head as she walked through the door. He turned to Edgar. ¡°You can all wait outside.¡±


    A slight frown creased Edgar¡¯s lips. ¡°Oh. Okay.¡±


    Grim rolled his eyes and walked into the store. It was filled with clothing of a thousand varieties, neatly folded along tables while fine dresses and coats hung on racks along the walls. All was well beyond the price range of the average citizen, who often spun their own clothing. Only the very rich could afford to buy it. That meant that the vast majority was in Venaran styles. Green was the color that dominated.


    Ilyena was already walking down the main aisle toward the wooden counter at the far end. A woman near Grim¡¯s age stood behind it. Her skin was bronzed while her hair was black, betraying her southern heritage. The woman behind the counter looked up from the dress she was stitching. Her eyes widened, and a bright smile lit her face. She walked around the counter and moved to meet Ilyena.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    They met in the middle of the store. ¡°Melindra, how are you?¡± Ilyena greeted, kissing the woman on each cheek.


    ¡°My lady, Ilyena. I am wonderful, thank you for asking. What brings you to my humble shop?¡±


    Ilyena glanced over to her shoulder where Grim sulked toward the two women. ¡°My brother needs some evening clothes and since he has all the taste of a blind leper, Father made me come.¡±


    Melindra smiled and turned her brown eyes to Grim. ¡°I assure you are in good hands, Lord. Your sister is as knowledgeable as I am. Together I¡¯m sure we can find something to your liking.¡±


    Grim grunted, looking around the room. He wanted to refute his sister, but she was right. He was clueless. ¡°Sure. Anything but green is fine.¡±


    Ilyena clapped her hands. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll let you two get to it.¡± She turned away from them and walked over to the dresses.


    Grim blinked in surprise. ¡°I thought you were supposed to help me out,¡± he called.


    Ilyena waved her hand at him dismissively, not bothering to respond.


    Melindra smirked. ¡°I¡¯m sure we can work this out. Come on now.¡±


    Grim grumbled under his breath and followed the woman toward the jackets.


    She gestured to the long line of coats. ¡°If anything catches your eye, let me know.¡±


    Grim walked down the aisle, eyes examining each article of clothing. The fabric glinted in the candlelight, the silk sheen making it seem to glow. Grim ran his hand over the smooth surface of the fabric. ¡°Where does all this come from?¡± he asked.


    Melindra seemed surprised by the question. ¡°Uh- we import most of the materials from Tara until the winter storms. In winter, we buy from Venar when the roads are clear.¡±


    ¡°The materials? So, you made all this yourself?¡± Grim asked looking around at the room full of clothes.


    Melindra smiled and shook her head. ¡°Divines no. I couldn¡¯t even imagine how long that would take. Our store contracts with local weavers. We sell them materials at cost and they return a finished product. When it sells, we deliver them a commission.¡±


    ¡°How often do they sell?


    ¡°Rarely. Most sit here for years until we have to throw them out.¡±


    Grim frowned. A bolt of silk had to cost a few Harts. He was standing in a room of broken dreams. ¡°It feels wrong.¡±


    Melindra shrugged. ¡°Alone, we can¡¯t provide the selection our clientele requires. Alone, they¡¯ll never come within a dozen feet of them.¡± She looked at the coat racks. ¡°I¡¯ve known a few Outwallers who were able to move into the Inner City off one commission. The money is not insignificant.¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°Southerners,¡± he muttered under his breath.


    ¡°I was born here m''lord.¡± Grim raised an eyebrow at her as she contunued. ¡°I may have been born in Venar but I was raised here for most of my life. I¡¯m as Rillish as you are.¡±


    Grim snorted, casting his eyes around the lavish store. ¡°Yeah, I can tell you¡¯ve had a real hard time of the occupation.¡±


    A slight crack appeared in her sales smile but she quickly recovered, plucking a black jacket laced with sliver from the rack. Thread of sliver was laced in a traditonal Rillish weave along the hem of the sleeves. "I think this one would suit you nicely. It''s one of the last ones my father made."


    Grim''s eyes drifted over the fine fabric. "Last ones?" he asked.


    All pretense of a smile fled her features. "He was in the tavern where the Venaran officers were executed three night''s hence. I''d rather not speak more of it."


    Grim frowned, taking in the redness of her eyes for the first time. "I''m sorry." The words felt strange coming out and an awkward silence hung between them. "I''ll take the jacket."


    Melindra nodded and walked over to his sister. Grim followed in her wake, regretting the sharpness of his tongue. Ilyena was looking in their direction, shamelessly listening in on the conversation.


    Melindra held up the jacket. ¡°This is what he chose.¡±


    Ilyena looked the over teh black jacket laced with thread of silver and shrugged. ¡°Good enough. I trust you to complete the outfit.¡± She plucked a piece of parchment from her sleeve. ¡°These are his dimensions. We need it tailored by sundown.¡±


    Grim¡¯s eyes shot to his sister. ¡°Wait. You knew I didn¡¯t need to get measured for armor?¡±


    Ilyena looked to him. ¡°Of course,¡± She thumped his breastplate. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to ruin the surprise.¡± Grim narrowed his eyes at her. Ilyena turned back to Melindra. ¡°How long will it take to tailor?¡±


    ¡°About an hour.¡± She turned to Grim. ¡°You can wait either here or outside.¡±


    "Fresh air sounds nice." Gods, He wanted to get out of here. Grim turned and walked to the door. As he pushed it open, he heard a twang in the distance. His eyes followed the sound. The breath was knocked out of him as an arrow slammed into his chest. It deflected from his breastplate, staggering him. Grim dove to the floor, extremely conscious of his unprotected head.


    The Thorne soldiers reacted immediately, rushing into formation and creating a shield wall. Edgar tossed Grim the helmet he¡¯d left in the saddle bags. Grim slapped the metal cover onto his head, the thick padding constricting his skull but taking the edge off his terror. He felt his chest where the arrow hit him as he rose to his feet. A coin sized dent sat right above his heart.


    Grim strode through the doorway and crouched behind the wall of shields his men had created. He looked to Edgar. ¡°Did anyone see anything?¡±


    The captain shook his head.


    Around them the world continued as if nothing had happened. People walked between stalls. Carts halted by stores and unloaded merchandise. Pedestrians passed, giving the soldiers strange looks. The sounds of the city continued unabated.


    After a time, Grim rose to his feet, tensing as he expected another arrow to slam into him.


    Nothing.


    The city was quiet.

 Ch 20: Wait and See

    The house looked just like every other in the Outwalls. Its walls looked deceptively thin. The wood on the outside, brittle and chipped. Whatever paint was once on it had long since flaked away. The only remarkable feature was the thick oaken door, slightly larger than the others along the road, a closed eye slot marring its smooth surface.


    Hilda looked over her shoulder at Billy. The man was scanning the streets. His eyes locked on every passerby before moving on. His hand had never once left his axe since they started walking. His bug eyes were the first of their kind she would have ever called dangerous. She¡¯d led him in circles all over the Outwalls, trying to make him loose his sense of direction. The lack of worry on his face made her nervous. Hilda pulled Billy¡¯s coat tighter about her as a chill wind blew down the street. Could she really bring this man inside? What if he was here to hurt Marc?


    Hilda scowled. Fuck Marc.


    She stepped forward and rapped on the door twice, once, then twice again. The eye slot clacked open. Two brown eyes stared out at her, taking in her and her companion. ¡°Why isn¡¯t Lord Thorne popular at parties?¡±


    Hilda closed her eyes in irritation. ¡°Because he¡¯s a real prick.¡±


    Billy snorted behind her while the latch clicked open. The door swung wide, revealing a large man wearing a bear mask. ¡°Welcome comrade,¡± he greeted Hilda. His eyes shifted to Billy. ¡°I don¡¯t recognize him.


    Hilda followed his gaze. ¡°I¡¯ll vouch for him.¡±


    The bear stared a moment longer then nodded. ¡°Alright.¡±


    He stepped aside and gestured for them to enter. Hilda walked inside the safe house with Billy in tow. A single torch lit the dark space dominated by a long, dark hole in the ground. Hilda waited while the Son fetched a torch and lit it for her. Billy was standing near the edge, looking down into the darkness. He swallowed. ¡°How far down is it?¡±


    ¡°Jump and find out.¡±


    A small smile cracked through the man¡¯s dour expression. ¡°Well, let¡¯s get this over with.¡±


    Hilda began to climb down the ladder. Billy clambered down the rungs after her. She watched in the torchlight as the wall beside her slowly shifted from dirt to stone. Her feet touched the cold rock at the bottom and she held the torch high, considering the darkness beyond. It had been a while since she entered this tunnel.


    Billy plopped to the ground beside her and followed her gaze. ¡°God¡¯s balls, how deep does this go?¡±


    Hilda shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know the engineering behind it. But we¡¯ve been working on these systems for the past twenty years with the best miners in the world." She looked over her shoulder at him. So, deep.¡± She started walking down the tunnel.


    Billy ran a hand over his patchy beard as he followed her. ¡°Shite. How¡¯d the hell ye keep this a secret?¡±


    ¡°Nobody watches the Outwalls. It¡¯s easier than you¡¯d imagine to dump the dirt in the bay.¡±


    ¡°Along with the talkative miners?¡±


    She didn¡¯t answer.


    They walked in silence through the downward sloping tunnel for hundreds of paces. The tunnel branched at several points and Hilda kept to the right each time. Left turns tended to end in pits of spikes or were made to cave in. as the tunnel curved to the left she started to see torchlight in the distance.


    ¡°We almost there?¡±


    Hilda nodded.


    The light grew closer and she could see the door looming larger. She stopped a few paces from it. Billy Reached his hand toward the handle. Hilda slapped his hand away.


    The man cursed. ¡°What¡¯s that for?¡±


    Hilda looked up. Billy followed her eyes to the net above their heads, bulging with the weight of the rocks it held above their heads.


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    Hilda shook her head. ¡°Don¡¯t touch anything unless I say so.¡±


    Billy nodded.


    Hilda turned toward the wall on the left. She felt along it until she saw the crack. She put her shoulder against it and pressed hard. A click sounded from within the stone and she heard the ropes above her head tighten. The sound sent a nervous tingle down her spine. She walked to the door and pushed it open. She and Billy walked through, and she shut the door behind them. It closed with a sharp click as the trap reset itself.


    ¡°I thought I was paranoid,¡± Billy muttered.


    They were in the complex now and the unworked stone walls soon gave way to wooden paneling, illuminated by torches hung in sconces. Hilda tossed her torch into a trough of water, extinguishing the flame. People began to appear ahead of them. They passed a Bear and two Goats gambling at a table. The pair of sentries barely glanced at them as they passed a wine skein between themselves.


    The pair continued down the hall, the men¡¯s laughter following them. ¡°Are all yer men so well disciplined?¡± Billy asked.


    ¡°The word man and discipline rarely go together in my experience. I¡¯ve always thought of the Sons as the best of the worst. You wouldn¡¯t want to be caught in an alley with any of these boys but at least they have the guts to fight for what they believe. Your people might want to take notes.¡±


    Billy stared at a trio of Sons they passed in the hall. The distinctive tinge of rust along ran the rings of their mail. Their eyes bloodshot, and movement sluggish from having partook of too much spice. ¡°Aye, plenty of guts for the Southerners to spill.¡±


    Hilda ignored him and together they turned down a side hallway. More Sons began to appear, hauling crates of supplies, and patrolling the halls. Billy seemed to grow more disgusted with each man he saw. ¡°Is there a single man among ye old enough to have fought in the war? These lil shites look as green as the grass I used to wipe me ass back then.¡±


    Hilda looked over her shoulder at Billy. ¡°Most of them are dead.¡±


    ¡°Well, fuck.¡±


    They passed several open doors revealing women scribbling on pieces of parchment. Divines. She wished James would let her take Lissa here to learn how to read. The thought of her family hit her like a physical blow. She already missed them.


    Billy glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. ¡°You alright lass?¡±


    Hilda walked faster. ¡°Yes. I¡¯m fine.


    Billy shot her a doubtful look but didn¡¯t press the point.


    They walked down two more halls until Hilda stopped in front of the door to Marc''s rooms. Muffled voices sounded from inside. Hilda tried the latch. It opened with a click and she barged inside.


    The room was bare and unfurnished save for a table, cabinet, two wooden chairs and the pile of silk sheets resting on the pallet tucked into the corner.


    ¡°God, damn it,¡± Marc muttered as he paced the room. The man he was talking to sat in one of the chairs. The poor bastard looked about to melt into the floor as he watched Marc fume with anger.


    Marc didn¡¯t even glance at Hilda as she entered the room. ¡°Who did it?¡± he demanded.


    The man at the table shrugged. ¡°You been outside today? I can barely see my own ass in the fog. I just saw him take the arrow.¡±


    Hilda walked into the room with Billy. She stood by the door and leaned against the wall. Marc stopped pacing and looked the man at the table in the eyes. ¡°Take as many men as you need and make a perimeter around him. If you catch any of ours stalking him who aren¡¯t supposed to be, kill them.¡±


    The man nodded and rose to his feet. He saluted Marc fist over heart, turned on his heel and walked past Hilda out the door. ¡°Good luck,¡± he whispered as he passed.


    Marc cursed and kicked one of the chairs over. Hilda winced as the wood snapped against the stone floor. ¡°Bad time?¡± she asked.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Somebody tried to kill the Bastard.¡±


    Billy¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°He okay?¡±


    Marc glanced at Billy and nodded.


    ¡°Who did it?¡± Hilda asked.


    Marc scowled as he shrugged. Then he looked to her. The anger disappeared from his face. ¡°Divines, Hild what happened to you?¡±


    She ignored his concern. ¡°You¡¯re losing control.¡±


    ¡°This was an isolated incident.¡±


    Hilda took a step toward him and fought the urge to wince. ¡°Then why did four of your men just try to rape me in an alleyway?¡±


    Marc froze. It was the first time she had ever seen him speechless. His mouth worked but no words came out. ¡°Hild, I-¡±


    ¡°Spare me your condolences.¡±


    Marc swallowed and nodded. ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re okay.¡±


    ¡°You can thank him for that,¡± she said, gesturing to Billy.


    Marc walked up to Billy and offered his hand. Billy stared at the proffered limb for a long moment before reaching out and clasping arms with Marc.


    ¡°Marc Haverson.¡±


    ¡°Bill Billson, But ye can call me Billy.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for intervening, is there anything I can give you in return?¡±


    Billy shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ll take a drink if ye got one.¡±


    Marc grinned and walked to the cabinet. He pulled out three glasses and a clear bottle of liquor. He set the glasses on the table, uncorked the bottle and filled each halfway. ¡°Taran vodka from the red fields. You can taste the iron in it.¡±


    Billy grabbed his glass and drained it in two long gulps. He looked ill as he swallowed but he released a satisfied sigh afterward. ¡°Ye Can almost taste the blood.¡± He looked into the bottom of his glass.


    Marc grinned. ¡°Aye, It¡¯s a damned fine drink. I-¡±


    Billy cut him off. ¡°Ye can stow it. Thanks for the drink but that¡¯s not why I¡¯m here.¡±


    The grin slipped from Marc¡¯s face and he raised an eyebrow. ¡°Then why are yee here?¡±


    Billy glared at him. ¡°I¡¯m here to join you. Ye prick.¡±


    ¡°And why do I want some old man who looks like he¡¯s about to kick the bucket at any minute?¡±


    ¡°Because I was killing southerners with the late Thane of Bleakridge while ye were still suckling yer mother¡¯s teat.¡± He looked Marc up and down. ¡°Ye look old enough to have served in the war but how long were ye there? A year? Two? How many of these boys ye¡¯ve got dying for ye have any actual military training?¡±


    Marc scowled. Hilda knew the answer to that. None.


    Billy didn¡¯t wait for a response. Marc¡¯s face was answer enough. ¡°Just walking the halls here, I could see half your men are drunk or spiced. How do ye think they¡¯d fare if the Greencloaks came down here right now?¡±


    Marc¡¯s face hardened. ¡°We¡¯d collapse some tunnels and adapt. It¡¯s what we do best.¡±


    Billy nodded. ¡°Lookin at this place I can tell yer a resourceful bastard but I couldn¡¯t with a straight face call yer soldiers worthy of the title. Half them don¡¯t even know how to care for the damn armor ye give them.¡±


    ¡°Did you just come down here to insult me, or do you have a point you¡¯re trying to find?¡±


    Hilda cleared her throat. ¡°His point is that our people are incompetent in anything even resembling a fair fight.¡±


    Billy nodded and looked to Hilda. ¡°The lass has the right of it.¡± He turned back to Marc. ¡°I trained half the garrison up at the castle. I could convince a few of those boys to cross the line over to your side and then we could work on turning your people into proper soldiers.¡±


    Marc¡¯s eyes widened with sudden interest. ¡°And why should I trust you? For all I know, the Earl sent you here himself.¡±


    Hilda set her jaw. ¡°Marc.¡±


    Marc looked to her, taking in the blood and the bruises. She could almost see the gears turning in his head, the cold calculating stare of a man who weighs every decision with the knowledge that lives depend on it. Then his gaze softened, a slight frown creasing his lips. ¡°Welcome aboard Billy.¡±


    ***


    He fingered the dent over his heart, it''s round indentation smooth except for the razor thin edge in the depths of the crater where the steel had almost split. The skin beneath it prickled uneasily. Of the shooter, there had been no sign, only fog and the faceless crowd.


    The tailor had finished sizing his clothes soon after, her hands doubtless hastened by fear and a desire to see them leave. He had been nervous as they walked the streets to the castle, but it amounted to nothing. The city was quiet.


    Grim looked over the sprawl of buildings from the heights of Bleakridge. The fog that had blanketed it all day was dissipating, golden rays of sunlight finally beginning to shine through. Grim turned his back on the city and let his men through the portcullis to the castle. As they walked, he glanced at Ilyena out of the corner of his eye. Today was one of the few times he had seen her shaken. She had refused to ride her mare on the return trip and stuck close to the group of armored soldiers. Even this close to the castle, she nervously eyed their surroundings.


    "You holding up okay?" Grim asked her.


    Ilyena glanced at him out the corner of her eye as they passed the teeth of the portcullis. "People want you dead. And by extension, me. You could say I''m quite well."


    "Since you''re feeling so fine I suppose you won''t mind telling father what happened."


    Ilyena narrowed her eyes. "You could show the slightest ounce of gratitude and see him yourself."


    Grim frowned, running a gauntleted finger over the dent in his breastplate. He came to a halt before the castle barracks. The soldiers behind him were waiting expectantly.


    Grim set his eyes on Edgar. "Put the men through drills for the next few hours. All they''ve done today is stare at my ass."


    Edgar let out a low sigh. "Yes sir." He turned to the soldiers, signaled for them to follow and led them toward the practice yard.


    Grim watched them go, disappointment evident on their faces. He turned his attention back to Ilyena. "You''re right." He scraped his boot against the cobblestones. "I''ll see you this evening."


    He felt her eyes on his back as he walked away. The doors to the keep swung open noiselessly as he walked through. The murder hall passed in a blur. The vault door ahead was wide open and the entry chamber was filled with a half-dozen Briar Guards.


    Grim walked into the room. He could feel their eyes on him. Grim nodded toward the closed doors of the audience hall. "Earl in there?"


    Captain Roland, one of his father''s oldest retainers answered. "Yeah."


    Grim tried to walk past the men into the hall but Roland put his hand against Grim''s chest and pushed him back. "You''re not allowed in bastard."


    Grim narrowed his eyes. "And why not?"


    "Nobody in. Earl''s orders."


    Grim looked around the room. "Where are the usual guards?"


    "They were relieved. Earl''s orders."


    "My father seems to be giving a lot of orders today."


    Roland shrugged. "Mine is to obey, not to question." He glanced down at Grim''s armor. "Yours too now."


    Roland glanced at the other Briar Guards. "Damned embarrassment." Murmurs of agreement sounded from the room.


    Grim''s nostrils flared. "Do you have a problem with me?"


    Roland met his stare. "My only problem is that some of us earned our place in this brotherhood."


    Roland nodded to a man on Grim''s right. "Jax over there led an outrider patrol past the town of Emorhill while raiders were in the midst of putting it through the Sorrow of rain. He and his five men singlehandedly pushed them back into the sea. Jax was the only one who made it home."


    He turned his gaze to a man on Grim''s right. "Calvar was there with me the day the last king died. Your father pressed his soldiers on like a madman to try and reach the spot he was overwhelmed."


    Roland shook his head. "We never made it and for every inch of ground we pressed forward, we paid in blood." He took a step toward Grim. "Calvar and I dragged your father out of that battle and fucking carried him to Bleakridge while the rest of the army scattered."


    Roland looked to Calvar and gave the man a nod. He turned back to Grim. "And what the fuck have you done boy? Kill some women and children while being spawned from the right set of loins?"


    Grim''s hand clenched along the haft of his axe. "I''m not your fucking boy." Grim bathed his eyes in ice. "Just you wait and see what I can do."


    Roland snorted but before he could respond, the huge double doors of the audience chamber opened.


    A man dressed in a robe of blue as bright as a cloudless sky stepped through the doors. A gryfalcon, spun in thread of gold sat above his right breast. At a glance, Grim recognized the man as from Tara. Between the sky-blue colors, the sigil, and his dark brown skin it was obvious.


    Roland immediately handed the man a thick wool cloak. The Taran pulled the woolen cloak about his shoulders and hid his features within the shadowed recesses of its hood. The white of his smile caught the light and shined through the darkness. Grim could feel the man''s gaze upon him. His scar itched.


    "Ah, so you''re the bastard."


    The man''s accent put a great deal of stress on the last word. Or it may have just been an insult. Grim nodded warily. The Briar guards in the room began to encircle the man in a tight guard formation.


    "That''s what my friends call me. You can call me Grim."


    The man''s smile didn''t fall an inch. "Grim Thorne. Rather morbid for a name don''t you think?"


    Grim forced the scowl from his face. "I think it matched my father''s mood when I was born. Rather apt for a child who killed his mother at birth, don''t you think?"


    Roland put a hand on the Taran''s shoulder. "Mr. Gazril, the Earl wanted us to move quickly and discreetly. I don''t think-"


    Gazril raised his hand and Grim was surprised when Roland shut up. Grim raised an eyebrow at the Taran. "Mr? No title for you?"


    "In Tara a man doesn''t hide his name behind a title. A man either respects my name or he doesn''t." Gazril shrugged. "My family owns eight Spears, of which I command three. I let this speak for me." He paused. "My lord."


    The man''s grin inched wider as Grim glared at him. "Never heard of you. What do you want from my father?"


    Gazril brushed passed him. "Pleasure to meet you young Thorne."


    Grim turned to grab the man but the look Roland shot him made him hesitate. Then it was too late. Grim watched the cloaked man fade into the shadows of the murder hall, surrounded by half a dozen Briar Guard.


    Grim chewed on one corner of his lip as he turned towards the doors of the audience chamber. It was time to face his father. He pushed the heavy double doors open, wincing as hot air billowed past him.


    His father sat upon his dias at the far end of the hall. The Earl leaned forward, resting his head in his hands as if bearing a great weight. As Grim entered he looked up, grey eyes boring into his son.


    Grim immediately began to sweat within the thick padding of his armor as the braziers flickered on either side of him. Their flames cast deep shadows across the wall, making the Thorne banners seem even darker than usual.


    Grim stopped at the foot of the dais and waited to be addressed. His father let him stew in silence, never taking his eyes from Grim. Grim met his gaze as sweat began to drip down the back of his neck. The heat and quiet made Grim nervous despite himself. Aside from them, the hall was empty.


    The Earl spoke. "Does it fit?"


    Grim swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yes," he lied. Another silence. "It saved my life today. Thank you."


    The Earl nodded, his eyes shifting toward the dent in Grim''s chest. "I didn''t expect you to test it so soon. Did you catch the man responsible?"


    Grim shook his head. "Probably a Son. Greencloak bows can''t pierce chain. They''d be useless against plate." He ran a finger over the dent and grimaced.


    "Learn to set a perimeter boy, it could well save your life one day." Grim forced his sigh to remain internal. "Your sister is safe?"


    Grim nodded. "Yes." He ran a hand along the head of his axe. "Are we going to do anything about this?"


    "And what would you do if you were in my position?"


    Grim knew the right answer. He said nothing.


    The Earl nodded. "Wait and see Grim. That''s all you and I have the power to do."


    "What was the Taran doing here?"


    "Wait and see Grim."

 Ch 21: The Altar

    A gentle prodding shook his shoulder. He mumbled under his breath, the fogginess of sleep drawing him back in. The prodding grew into shaking. He groaned and surrendered to wakefulness. Bleary eyes opened to the dreariness of reality. The grey colored sky cast the world into a drabness that suited the city¡¯s name. A hand shook his shoulder, fully bringing him awake. He blinked as strands of hair fluttered into his eyes.


    ¡°You started snoring.¡±


    Kid blushed as he pulled his head from Lissa¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Sorry.¡±


    She smiled. ¡°It¡¯s okay. It was kind of cute. You sounded like an adorable piglet.¡±


    Kid narrowed his eyes, unsure how to respond to that. ¡°How long was I out?¡±


    ¡°Only a few minutes. I didn¡¯t want to wake you but then you started growling in my ear.¡± She pinched him.


    ¡°Ah! Gods. Don¡¯t pretend you¡¯re an angel when you sleep. I can hear you across the street some nights.¡±


    ¡°Can not.¡±


    ¡°Can too.¡±


    She stuck her tongue out at him.


    Kid smiled.


    Her eyes widened. ¡°Oh. Oh. Oh. Do you want to see something amazing?¡±


    Kid cocked his head. ¡°Amazing?¡±


    She grinned. ¡°You have to see it.¡±


    Kid hesitated. The last time she had shown him something ¡®amazing¡¯ it was a particularly large puddle that she promptly pushed him into. ¡°Sure.¡± Kid ran a hand through his hair. He was going to regret this.


    Lissa lit up and grabbed him by the hand. She pulled the two of them to their feet and they dashed past their tree to the crack between the two buildings. They edged through the gap and popped out into the street. The fog clinging to his skin like a wet blanket was dissipating in the heat of the day, and beams of sunlight shined through the clouds. The added warmth barely took the edge off the chill. Kid pulled his bloodied jacket tighter about him, wincing as his exposed fingers burned with the effort.


    Lissa caught his pained expression and frowned. ¡°Where we¡¯re going, there¡¯s somebody who can help with your hands.¡± She rushed off down the street, leaving Kid jogging to catch up with her. Passersby eyed Kid warily, taking in his bloodied clothes. But nobody seemed to care much. What were they going to do? Call the guards? Kid snorted.


    Lissa led them several blocks deeper into the Outwalls and as they walked past the dilapidated shacks, Kid noticed they were being followed. At first, he thought it was an older boy looking to roll him over for an easy score. It wasn¡¯t an uncommon occurrence. Then he caught a glimpse of their stalker as they rounded a corner. It was a grown man. The glint of steel at his hip was burned into Kid¡¯s eyes as the wall separated them.


    Kid grabbed Lissa by the arm. ¡°Run.¡±


    She didn¡¯t question him or hesitate. She took off, racing down the street. Kid followed in her wake, his feet pounding against the dirt road in time with his heart. A moment later he heard a distant curse sound behind them. Kid chanced a look over his shoulder and saw the man racing after them. His heart beat faster and his feet quickened with fear. He pulled Lissa down a narrow side alley. Rusted nails stuck out from the walls, threatening to reward their haste with blood. Running away was one of the few times being small served him well.


    They darted through the alley, dodging the nails. As they reached the end, Kid looked over his shoulder to see their pursuer barreling towards them, heedless of the fresh blood flowing through the ragged tears in his shirt. Kid followed Lissa down the street they emerged into. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he looked for a place to hide. Nothing. Just empty street and bare houses.


    Kid began to panic as he saw the man emerge from the alley, rage drawn across his face. Kid shuddered as he imagined the blade of the man¡¯s axe slicing through his flesh. He became acutely aware of the blood flowing through his veins. Kid ran faster, following Lissa as she turned a corner. He could hear the pounding footsteps of the man getting closer.


    Kid bowled into Lissa, almost knocking her down. He blinked in surprise as he found his footing. Why did she stop? Kid looked up. Three more men stood a dozen paces from them, weapons bared. The panic began to overtake him, and he felt his limbs begin to shake. Lissa ran to the door of an oddly upscale house and began banging on the door. Kid turned around to look for somewhere to run.


    A hand grabbed him by the arm and flung him to the ground. Kid¡¯s head bounced against the dirt. Black spots danced across his eyes. He scrabbled at the dirt, his hands feeling like he was back in the chimney again. A boot kicked him in the side, flipping him onto his back. Kid wheezed, looking into the eyes of the man who had chased him.


    ¡°This was a new shirt you little shit.¡± The man raised his axe.


    Kid rolled away from the man. He screamed as the axe clipped against his shoulder blade. He tried to move that arm to scramble away but it exploded in pain, collapsing under his weight. He looked up. Lissa was only a few paces away, still hammering at the door. ¡°Melna!¡± she screamed.


    One of the men who cut them off was almost on her. Kid¡¯s eyes fixed on the glint of steel in his hands. The claws of terror sank deeper into Kid. Warmth spread across his legs. His limbs were going rigid. The man behind him cursed. The man in front grabbed Lissa by the hair, yanking her chin up. The dagger rose to her throat.


    Kid drew the dagger Marc had given him. He pushed off the ground with his injured arm. Something in his shoulder popped and he collapsed, screaming.


    The door next to Lissa slammed open, knocking into the girl and the man holding her, sending them stumbling. An old woman stood in the doorway next to the strangest creature Kid had ever seen. Its eyes locked on the man holding Lissa. It leapt forward on all fours and plowed into both Lissa and the man holding her, flinging them from their feet. Lissa scrambled away while the beast stomped across the fallen man. Bones snapped wherever it¡¯s feet landed. It reared back, thick claws raised.


    ¡°Kryll. Heel.¡± The old woman commanded. The beast leapt from the screaming man and padded back to the woman, wobbling on its short legs. Kid glanced over his shoulder at the man behind him. His attacker seemed as dumbstruck as he was. Kid took advantage of the distraction and crawled to the creature guarding the women. The man let him go.


    The only sound was the muffled sobbing of the man Kryll mauled. The other three men stared at Melna and shared uneasy glances. The old woman ignored them and walked to Kid, pulling him to his feet by his good arm. ¡°Get behind the Keeper,¡± she whispered.


    Kid stared at her, biting his lip to keep from moaning in pain. She stepped around him toward the men. They dropped their weapons as if afraid to point them toward her. The man who attacked Kid fell to his knees, head bowed. His mouth worked silently, as if trying to find words.


    Melna spoke first. ¡°Carver, I trust your sister is recovering past the worst of the flux?¡±


    The man swallowed and nodded. ¡°Yes ma¡¯am. Thank you.¡±


    She looked to the other two who similarly dropped to the ground. ¡°And Ghram, Your son-¡±


    ¡°Me boy¡¯s dead.¡± Ghram stared hard at the ground.


    Carver spoke. ¡°He¡¯s dead because Marc-¡±


    Hilda raised her hand and the man silenced. ¡°I¡¯ve heard enough. Whatever Marc has done does not excuse murdering children because you¡¯re too craven to face him yourselves.¡± The men bristled but didn¡¯t speak against her.


    Melna shook her head. ¡°Sons of the Reaper.¡± She spat. ¡°Her sons are all men and I don¡¯t see any of those here. Go home boys.¡±


    Carver looked up at Melna. Kid could see the shame and anger warring in his eyes. Carver looked away, stashed his weapons and walked to his fallen friend. The three men hoisted him and walked away.


    ¡°Carver!¡± Melna called.


    Carver looked over his shoulder at her.


    ¡°Don¡¯t forget to pick up Ghretta¡¯s medicine tomorrow.¡±


    The man nodded, eyes on the ground. Then he led his men away.


    Kid slumped against the wall of the old woman¡¯s house, a dull throbbing pain shooting from his shoulder and down his arm. The adrenaline took off the edge, but it still made him grit his teeth. Tears beaded at the corner of his eyes while he watched their attackers disappear around a corner.


    When they were out of sight, Melna turned to him and pulled him inside her house. ¡°Come inside. Both of you.¡±


    Once everyone was indoors, she bolted the door shut. Kid looked around the room. The first thing that struck him was the feeling of finished wood beneath his feet, an untold luxury in a place where most houses were cobbled from scrap. Claw marks covered the floor like the scrawling of a madman. Aside from that, the house seemed- comfortable. How he imagined the poorest of the inner city might live. Little was worth stealing but every creature comfort was provided for. Then he saw the altar at the far side of the room. Candles illuminated the rust-colored surface and the tapestry above it.


    The tapestry depicted a woman dressed in black, her face cast in shadow, kneeling over one of the dark-scaled beasts. She rested a hand on its head as if petting a dog. Tall pines towered in the background. Kid blinked and almost cried out. He could have sworn the head moved up an inch, as if seeing who had entered.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    Something licked his hand and Kid jumped. He looked down at the scaled thing. It was licking the blood on his hands. He pulled his hand away but it¡¯s tongue extended from its small mouth, following him and lapping at the blood. Kid stared at the thing in bewilderment.


    ¡°Kryll. Off,¡± Melna commanded.


    The beast snapped back it¡¯s tongue and slammed to the ground, wrapping itself into an armor-plated ball. ¡°Boy. Get on the table.¡±


    Kid complied just as quickly. Walking to the dining table in the center of the room. He hesitated, looking at the pewter candlesticks and white tablecloth. Melna rushed around him and tore the cloth off the wooden surface, sending the candlesticks clattering to the ground. Kid stepped to the table, now aware of the old blood stains covering its surface. He winced as he used his abused hands to lever himself atop it and sat, feet dangling over the edge. The shirt on his back was growing sticky with blood.


    His eyes darted to Lissa while the old woman dug around in a large trunk. She sat next to the Keeper, her arms wrapped around the head peeking out from its armored shell. They both stared at him, Lissa with a look of worry, the creature with one of curiosity.


    Melna walked to him holding a pair of shears and a small wooden box. Kid flinched away from her but eased when she started cutting at the fabric of his jacket and shirt. He thought to protest but the cloth was ruined beyond repair after the day he¡¯d had. Kid sighed. Besides, taking the damned thing off seemed an arduous task with his pulsing arm.


    She cut the fabric from his back and down each arm. pain exploded in his shoulder as she peeled the fabric from him. He gasped ragged breaths. The divines must truly hate him.


    ¡°Mhhhhhmm. The bleeding isn¡¯t bad. He just nicked you, clipped your wing so to speak. But yer shoulder blade is wrenched out of place.¡± Her lips twisted into a frown. ¡°Lie facedown.¡±


    Kid complied, shuddering as his cheek pressed against a dark stain in the wood.


    ¡°Lissa hold his arm up like this.¡± Melna gently lifted his injured arm into the air. He gritted his teeth against the pain and felt Lissa¡¯s small hands hold his arm up.


    He felt Melna¡¯s hands trace his shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t worry boy, this won¡¯t hurt a bit.¡±


    ¡°Rea-¡± Kid screamed. He heard a pop and blacked out.


    ***


    Images raced past his eyes faster than he could register as warmth suffused his mind. The ports of Bleakridge, ships in the distance. The streets he grew up on, bodies hiding beneath their surface. Kryll licking the blood on his hands. The images froze as he looked up at the flaming boughs of the tree he and Lissa planted. The heat warmed his face despite the frigid chill. A hand squeezed his. He turned, looking into Lissa¡¯s eyes, their orbs as black as night and devoid of all feeling. A cut ran along her cheek, oozing blood. As their eyes locked, the dark in her eyes grew larger as if he were being pulled closer. The darkness enveloped him. He frantically looked around. All was dark.


    ¡°Kid.¡±


    He whirled about to see his mother standing behind him. Her gaunt cheeks and gnarled hands standing at odds with her golden irises and the finery she wore. She grinned a yellow toothed smile, that was almost- motherly. He tensed as she approached and took him into her arms.


    ¡°I love you,¡± she whispered.


    Kid broke.


    A hand shook his shoulder. His eyes fluttered open and he gasped for air, a world of pain washing over him once more. He fought to control his breathing and wiped at his tears with the back of his hand. He caught a spark of pink light dancing over his arm and blinked in wonder. He noticed that he was wiping with his injured arm and stared at the limb. It ached as if he had only strained it. Kid brushed a hand along his shoulder to find it perfectly formed. Rough scar tissue was the only evidence he had been cut.


    Kid yelped as Lissa tackled him into a hug, almost knocking him from his perch on the table. He grabbed her and held her tight, his breath still heavy. After a long moment, he released her. He looked into her brown eyes and a shiver ran down his spine.


    His gaze shifted to Melna. The old woman looked drained, leaning heavily against the table, her breath almost as ragged as his own. ¡°What hap-¡± he hesitated. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    The old woman smiled. Kryll padded across the floor to her and nuzzled at her hip with his head. Melna stroked the smooth plates of his forehead. The creature trilled in pleasure while Melna pulled out a chair and fell into it. ¡°You¡¯re welcome boy. I¡¯m Melna.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Kid.¡± He paused. ¡°Ma¡¯am.¡±


    Her skin was pale and stretched thin across her bones, crinkling like parchment when she moved. She was by far the oldest woman he had ever seen, and Kid couldn¡¯t help but wonder what was holding her bones together.


    The woman¡¯s eyes shifted to Lissa as she shot a strange look at the tapestry above the shrine. ¡°What brings you here girl? Company or protection?¡±


    ¡°Company,¡± Lissa said with a smile. ¡°I wanted to show Kid Kryll. It didn¡¯t go quite as planned. Thank you for helping us.¡±


    Kid looked at the thing, it leaned backward and used its thick tail as a makeshift chair. Kid shook his head in bewilderment. It might¡¯ve been the strangest thing he¡¯d ever seen. Melna waved a hand dismissively. ¡°Men hunting down children in the streets. The world really is going to hell. Think nothing of it.¡±


    She shook her head and turned to Kid. ¡°I have some of my son¡¯s old clothes stashed away upstairs. I¡¯ll get you a fresh shirt and pair of pants.¡± She wrinkled her nose. ¡°And maybe we can burn yours later.¡±


    Kid clenched his hands into fists, noticing that they were still shaking. ¡°Ah- yes. Thank you.¡±


    The old woman rose to her feet and walked to the stairs. Lissa hopped to her side and took her by the arm. Melna smiled at the girl. ¡°Thank you, dear.¡± Kid watched a moment as they ascended the creaky staircase, then turned his gaze to Kryll who stared back at him with beady black eyes.


    The Keeper shifted its stare towards the tapestry on the wall. Kid followed its gaze to the woman in black. Her lips were twisted in a cruel smile. Kid swung his legs over the edge of the table and hopped to the ground. He walked toward the altar, feeling as if she were watching him. A warm glow fell across his skin as he neared the burning candles. He took in a deep breath and placed a raw hand on the rusty surface of the altar. The fresh blood on his hands began to move, flowing into the wood like a sponge. Kid jerked his hand away in terror, glancing nervously up at the woman in black.


    He scanned the surface of the altar. Offerings lay scattered across it. The bones of small animals, interspersed with copper bears and even the occasional silver lion. Kid felt tempted to pocket a few but Kryll stared at him like a guard dog. The thing still made him uncomfortable and he fought to ignore its searching eyes.


    He was about to put some distance between himself and the altar when the glint of gold caught his eye. He couldn¡¯t help himself. He took a step closer. Careful not to touch the surface of the altar, he brushed away some small bones to reveal the twisted golden thorns of a small brooch. He grasped it with two fingers and lifted it into the air. Kid winced as one of the thorns pricked his finger. A drop of blood fell from his hand and disappeared into the altar. Kid frowned after it. Divines, this place gave him the chills.


    ¡°Careful with that boy. It¡¯s sharp.¡±


    Kid jumped, fumbling with the brooch and pricking himself a dozen more times. He cursed, cradling the gold in his palm. He turned his head to see Melna walking down the stairs, led by Lissa, a bundle of clothes in her hands.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Kid mumbled. He lowered the brooch back onto the table, shuddering as the blood on its spines flowed into the altar. He backed a step away while Melna laid the clothes out on the dining table.


    ¡°That was my husband¡¯s Briar. From before the war. Never got his body back. Just the Briar.¡±


    Lissa raced over to the altar and looked down at the trinket. ¡°Your husband was a Briar Guard?¡±


    Melna nodded as she hobbled over to the trunk she had retrieved the shears from. ¡°Yes.¡± She raised her hand, revealing a gold band around her ring finger. ¡°Now all I have left are his two promises.¡± She looked to the brooch on the altar. ¡°For some men, duty is the most important thing in the world. He gave his life to prove it.¡±


    She grabbed a small box from the trunk and as she turned, her lips twisted. Kid couldn¡¯t tell whether she was trying to smile or frown. ¡°The Earl brought it to me himself, nigh on twenty-one years ago. Put it right into the hand of my son. Little shit has been trying to follow in his father¡¯s footsteps ever since.¡±


    Kid pulled on the fresh sweater while she opened the box. It was much too big and draped down to his knees. He pushed the sleeves back around his wrists, staring at his mangled hands as he did. Whatever she had done to his shoulder, she hadn¡¯t given his hands the same treatment. The makeshift bandages were filthy and stained with blood.


    ¡°When I touched the Altar it-¡±


    ¡°It took your offering. That¡¯s what it¡¯s supposed to do.¡±


    Kid blinked. ¡°My what?¡±


    ¡°Did you plan on using the blood it took?¡±


    ¡°No, but-¡±


    ¡°These are lean days for the Reaper, most places like this were torn down after the war. There is power in blood and our lady is starving.¡± Kid looked to the tapestry, wondering at the paleness of the woman¡¯s skin. ¡°If you didn¡¯t want her to take it then you should have made your intent clear.¡±


    Lissa walked over to the altar. She eyed the brooch then pricked her finger on one of the thorns. She watched as a drop of blood fell and disappeared into the altar. The second drop splashed against its surface. Kid waited for it to sink in, but it didn¡¯t.


    ¡°You¡¯re a natural girl.¡±


    Lissa smiled, looking up to Melna with wide eyes.


    Melna tapped Kid on the shoulder. ¡°Hands.¡±


    Kid turned to her, seeing fresh bandages and a jar of ointment on the table. He placed his hands on the wood and Melna began to treat them, unwrapping the fouled rags, spreading the ointment and applying fresh bandages. While she worked, Lissa continued to play with the altar. Kryll nuzzled up to her waist and watched the drops of blood with interest.


    As Melna finished wrapping the first hand, a knock sounded at the door. Melna started to move to answer but Lissa raced past her. ¡°Let me,¡± she said in passing.


    Kid watched Kryll follow close on her heels, his armored plates bristling. Lissa undid the latch and cracked the door open. She peeked through and slammed It shut. She turned back to them with an annoyed look on her face as she walked away from the door.


    A voice came from outside. ¡°Lissa? What the hell? Melna! Open the door!¡±


    It was Marc. Melna sighed. ¡°It¡¯s unlocked ye lummox.¡±


    Kid stared as the door cracked open and Marc strode in. Through the doorway, Kid could see a dozen heavily armed Sons behind him. Marc, himself was draped in heavy steel chain, it¡¯s links glittering in the candlelight. Marc raised an eyebrow when he saw Kid. ¡°Boy, you¡¯re like the southern pox. Always in my business and I can¡¯t seem to get rid of you.¡±


    Melna scrunched her nose. ¡°Tell me you¡¯re not actually here because of that.¡±


    Marc shook his head. ¡°What¡¯s my niece doing here?¡± He turned to Lissa. ¡°You should be at home. It¡¯s not safe outside.¡±


    ¡°They came to my door chased by men looking for blood. Your men if my memory serves. They get the picture.¡±


    Marc paled, and rushed to Lissa. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    Lissa scrunched her face and backed away from him. Marc halted, a hurt look across his face. He nodded and turned back to Melna. ¡°I want names.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    Marc closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.


    ¡°Kid. Names.¡±


    ¡°Carver and Ghram. I don¡¯t know the other-¡± Kid yelped as Melna smacked his unbandaged hand.


    ¡°Lil shit,¡± she muttered. ¡°What do you want Marc?¡±


    Marc walked to the table and took a seat next to the old woman. ¡°I need your help.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re beyond my help.¡±


    He narrowed his eyes while she finished bandaging Kid¡¯s other hand. Marc¡¯s visage softened, and he looked down at the table. ¡°I¡¯m not asking you. I¡¯m begging. Please.¡±


    That got Melna¡¯s attention. Her eyes shifted from her work to regard Marc. The man continued. ¡°I need you to give me the Lady¡¯s blessing.¡±


    ¡°Piss right the hell off.¡±


    Marc reached out and took her by the hand. ¡°Melna, please. If the Sons start to fracture under me the Outwalls will erupt into chaos. Mine won¡¯t be the only family to die.¡±


    Kid fought the urge to wring his hands. What the hell was happening? He¡¯d never seen Marc like this.


    ¡°I need to make a statement and strike a blow so great that nobody will be able to question my place. A show of your support and the strength the ritual will give me is the first step. I need this Melna.¡±


    Melna met his stare. ¡°Have you ever considered that maybe leading is not your place.¡±


    Marc leaned forward. ¡°Never for a moment.¡± He lowered his voice. ¡°You and I both know what¡¯s at stake. It¡¯s bigger than you, me or even the Rills.¡±


    That piqued Kid¡¯s interest but Marc didn¡¯t elaborate.


    Melna glanced over her shoulder at Lissa. Weariness washed over her face. ¡°Why does this fall to us?¡±


    ¡°Because southerners lack the mettle.¡±


    Melna didn¡¯t respond. Marc rose to his feet and walked to the altar. Kid watched him draw a steel dagger and run the blade across his palm. He pressed his palm flat against the altar and looked up at the woman in black. the reddish hue of the altar pulsed like the beating of a heart. Marc¡¯s brow furrowed and the muscles in his neck went taut.


    Then, as quickly as it started, the pulsing ended. Marc drew away his hand and let his shoulders slump. His breathing was heavy and he looked almost as pale as the woman in the tapestry. ¡°Do you think it makes a difference?¡±


    Melna tied off the bandage on Kid¡¯s hand. ¡°A drop of rain in the driest of oceans.¡±

 Ch 22: The Night Before

    Hilda fidgeted, wishing she had a glass and a rag to clean it with. She hated not having something to occupy her hands. Billy sat across the table from her, dressed in a fresh tunic and pants borrowed from Marc. They had long since lapsed into awkward silence in the hour since Marc left, leaving only the unhelpful order of ¡®wait here.


    She watched Billy pour another glass of Marc¡¯s vodka, his fourth since arriving. She grabbed the glass before he could pick it up. She held it our over the floor and let it fall to the ground. The glass shattered, sending a spray of liquor across the floor.


    ¡°The fuck was that for?¡± Billy asked.


    ¡°We have a job to do tonight.¡±


    Billy grumbled to himself then grabbed the bottle, taking a long draw from it. Hilda sighed. She was going to die tonight. Her relief was palpable as the door clicked open from behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see Marc finally returning with Kid in tow. She narrowed her eyes at the boy. Divines, she¡¯d like to wring his skinny little neck. He seemed aware of this and kept Marc between them.


    Hilda tore her eyes away from the boy and looked up to Marc as he came to a stop before them. His pallor was sickly, as if he¡¯d caught pneumonia in the hour he¡¯d been away. She noticed a bloodied bandage wrapped around his hand. She fought the urge to roll her eyes. She just knew he¡¯d found an opportunity to be dramatic.


    Marc cleared his throat. ¡°Hilda are the preparations for tonight in order?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but we should stick with the original team. I don¡¯t know how to work with Billy.¡± She looked to Kid. ¡°And why the hell is he here?¡± The little shit got her family broken up and she couldn¡¯t seem to get through a day without running into the bastard.


    ¡°I¡¯m as happy about this as you are but tonight is the only chance we have to get inside within the next few months.¡± He put a hand on Kid¡¯s shoulder. ¡°And he¡¯s here because he¡¯s going with you.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Marc stared hard at her.


    Kid looked between them. ¡°I¡¯m going where?¡±


    They both ignored him. Marc took his hand from Kid¡¯s shoulder and leaned against the table. ¡°He could come in handy. Besides, you might need a pickpocket.¡±


    Hilda¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°And you want him to fill that role? He¡¯s the worst thief in the Outwalls.¡±


    Kid pursed his lips but didn¡¯t respond.


    ¡°No. I don¡¯t. But I trust him, and trust is something in short supply.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see why Carver can¡¯t-¡±


    ¡°Carver,¡± Marc snapped, ¡°just tried to kill your daughter.¡±


    Hilda¡¯s mouth worked but no sound came out. ¡°What?¡± She blinked, slowly regaining her faculties. ¡°Oh gods, is she okay?¡± She leapt to her feet. ¡°Where Is she Marc?¡±


    Marc raised a hand for silence. Hilda forced her panic down and calmed. He wouldn¡¯t have been so nonchalant if something had happened to her. ¡°She¡¯s fine and staying with Melna. Nobody will hurt her while she¡¯s under her roof. I sent word to James about it as well.¡±


    Hilda nodded, heart still racing from the bolt of fear that had pierced her. ¡°She¡¯s okay?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s okay.¡±


    Hilda sighed in relief and eased back into her chair.


    Marc glanced at Kid. ¡°You ought to thank the boy. The way Lissa tells it, she wouldn¡¯t have even seen them coming without him there.¡±


    Hilda looked at Kid. The boy looked uncomfortable and like he wanted to bolt for the door. Mixed feelings fought inside her. The silence stretched until Billy spoke up. ¡°So, are we gonna to get to it or keep bitching about how much we don¡¯t want to play together?¡±


    Hilda sighed. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll get the uniforms.¡±


    ¡°Uniforms?¡± Kid asked.


    ¡°Venaran serving uniforms. They hire extra help for special occasions. That¡¯s our way past the gates.¡± Hilda rose to her feet.


    ¡°How¡¯d we get the uniforms?¡± Kid asked. He looked a little queasy.


    Marc answered. ¡°Who do you think makes their clothes boy? We put a little extra money in the hands of an inner-city seamstress. She was only too happy to help. Apparently, her employers are assholes.¡± Marc grinned. ¡°Getting hired was easy, some of our number actually work for a living.¡±


    Billy tried to take another drink from the bottle, but Marc snatched it from his hands. The man scowled. ¡°Arsehole,¡± he muttered. ¡°Won¡¯t they notice we¡¯re not the people they hired?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a staff of over three hundred. Just keep your head down.¡±


    Hilda paused at the door. ¡°Wait, what is Kid supposed to wear?¡±


    Marc drank from the bottle on the table. She could tell he was stalling. Hilda narrowed her eyes at him. He very slowly swallowed. ¡°I already had his clothes made.¡±


    ¡°Why would you have done that?¡±


    ¡°Because I want him to deliver the message.¡±


    Hilda gritted her teeth. ¡°And why haven¡¯t you told me this until now?¡±


    Marc grinned. ¡°Because I knew you¡¯d be mad.¡±


    ¡°Why Marc? Just Why?¡±


    ¡°Because you look cute when you¡¯re angry.¡±


    Hilda slammed the door behind her. She could hear Billy giggling from the other side. Divines, this was going to be a long night.


    ***


    His father and sister awaited him in the courtyard. His sister wore an elegant gown that matched his own attire. Silver, Rillish weaves ran along the hem of her dress and rose along her sides. The Earl was still dressed in his customary black on black, his jacket''s golden buttons glimmering in the twilight.


    Grim approached the pair, eyeing the carriage behind them with a look of relief. After the morning he had, he felt no desire to ride exposed into town with only a silk jacket as protection.


    The Earl looked him up and down. "It''ll do."


    Ilyena was more gracious. "It''ll do very nicely. Tonight should be-" she paused. "Interesting."


    Grim and the Earl snorted at the same time then looked to each other. Rodger Thorne narrowed his eyes. "Interesting is one word for it." He gestured toward the carriage. "Best not be late."


    Ilyena pulled up her dress and stepped into the carriage. Grim hesitated, looking around at the dozens of soldiers readying their mounts. The thickly muscled goats bleated as the men hauled themselves into the saddle. Hooves stomped around the courtyard as the beasts pawed at ground, snorting and knocking their wickedly sharp horns against each other.


    "Are we going to a party or to war?" Grim asked. The ill-tempered beasts were rarely taken into town. They had a tendency to take pieces out of passersby.


    "In these times it hardly matters," the Earl answered.


    Grim nodded and stepped into the confines of the carriage. Plush pillows and satin drapes greeted him. His sister was already lounging across one of the long benches, taking up half the carriage. Grim managed to keep the vexation off his face and sat across from her. His father soon followed.


    Grim waited a few moments before thumping his fist against the roof of the carriage twice. The driver outside whipped his reins against the horses, setting them into motion. Grim grinned as the clapping of hooves sounded from outside. He''d always wanted to do that. Ilyena rolled her eyes at him then turned her gaze out the grated window.


    The Earl reached past Grim and snapped the wooden shutter shut in front of Ilyena''s face. She scrunched up her lips but didn''t argue the point. Grim fought the grin from his lips.


    Rodger Thorne looked to his daughter. "You know your task tonight?" She nodded.


    Grim raised an eyebrow. "Task?" he asked.


    The Earl ignored him. "Relay what you find to me immediately."


    "Yes father."


    "Relay what?" Grim asked.


    The Earl turned to him. "You are inexperienced at this boy. Do what your sister says tonight. Follow her lead and be damned careful. Don''t antagonize the Marshal. If you think he doesn''t know about your visits beyond the wall, then you''re a fool. You''re on thin ice Grim and soon, not even I will be able to pull you from the water."Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    A blood curdling scream sounded in the distance, momentarily drowning out the sound of hammers pounding steel. It was impossible to tell which hammer pounded nails into flesh


    ***


    The Earl let them open the windows as the carriage trundled the last few dozen paces to the Greencloak fort. There were a few carts ahead of them carrying casks of wine and other assorted foodstuffs. Guards dressed in coats of thick bronze plates searched the carts and inspected the papers given by the drivers.


    They waited as the guards waved each cart through. The man vetting the guests didn¡¯t even look at their papers, seeming to recognize the Earl. Grim watched as the threescore soldiers who escorted them veered to the right of the gate and dismounted. The carriage continued onward. They were alone.


    Greencloaks in fine armor held shining spears pointed over the roadway in salute to the guests. Grim watched them from his window. As the cart passed, each man snapped back to rigid attention. It seemed Longreen brought out his finest for the occasion.


    Empty carriages passed by them, their passengers dispensed. They weaved through the garden, the flowers seeming even more vibrant in the orange light. Their driver led the horses in a wide arc around the fountain, bringing the carriage to a halt before the ornate double doors of the estate.


    A footman waiting outside opened the door to their carriage. The Earl exited first, his boots clacking against the cobblestones. Grim followed him out. Dozens of servants bustled about, giving their carriage a wide berth. Nobles lounged near the doors and loitered by the fountains, eyes sneaking glances in their direction.


    Grim found himself acutely aware of his manners. He turned about and held his hand out to Ilyena as she exited. The girl took his hand and stepped down next to him. She rewarded him with a sly, knowing smile.


    Grim turned back to the house. Trepidation for the night to come washed over him. He was never prepared for anything like this before. He stretched one of his legs to the side, trying to make a little extra room between his legs. The pants were just a little too tight. His efforts were in vain.


    Grim sighed and followed his father as the man walked toward the door. Grim held out his arm for his sister. She shook her head and brushed past him. He awkwardly lowered his arm as a footman opened the estate doors.


    The nobles by the entrance hushed as the Earl walked past, arms behind his back and grey eyes staring straight ahead. He didn''t spare them a glance. Grim followed his example but his eyes widened as the came into the entry hall. Two long banquet tables stretched the length of the grand room and between them, near a hundred people dressed in finery milled about the open floor. Every single noble was wearing clothing matching the green of the banner hanging high overhead.


    Grim had the sudden uncomfortable feeling the Earl was making some kind of statement. Eyes turned as they entered and a herald shouted their names out over the din. He heaped titles onto the Earl that Grim didn''t even know the Earl had. Apparently, his family were the proud owners of a small village outside Venar, making them Venaran nobility.


    The herald had barely managed to announce the Earl before Longreen emerged from the crowd, red-faced and with a glass of wine in hand.


    A shadow fell over his face as he saw how they were dressed. He recovered his composure, the slight sneer returning into a welcoming smile. "Lord Thorne, I welcome you on this auspicious occasion. But I doubt you require any reminder of what day it is today."


    His father''s stony visage didn''t slip an inch. "The day I signed away the kingdom."


    "To the true king," Longreen added.


    "To the true king," Rodger Thorne agreed.


    Longreen''s eyes drifted over to Grim. "A fact we''d all do well to remember."


    Grim''s jaw tightened but he held his composure. Ilyena smiled brightly. "Come Grim. Let''s not impose on the Marshal. I''m sure he has matters of import to discuss with father." She pulled his arm.


    Grim didn''t budge. "Of course," he grated." He matched Longreen''s stare for a long moment before allowing Ilyena to lead him away.


    When they were out of earshot and out of sight Ilyena pulled him close. "What do you think you''re doing?" She pinched his arm and Grim winced. "Do you want him to have you watched all night?" She paused a moment. "Actually, that may be a good thing. If he''s focused on you then he may forget me."


    "What are you trying to do?"


    "If father didn''t see fit to tell you then I certainly won''t. Just do me a favor and create a ruckus."


    Grim narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"


    She smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Dear brother. You need only be yourself tonight."


    Grim glared at her but before he could respond, she slipped away. Grim stumbled after her, not wanting to be left alone in this place. As they weaved through the crowds, heads turned to regard them. The hairs on the back of Grim''s neck prickled. He hated the feeling of their eyes crawling across his flesh.


    They came to a halt by a section of the tables laden with glasses of aromatic red wine. The air smelled how Grim had always imagined a vineyard. Ilyena plucked two glasses from the table and handed one to Grim. She took a small sip from her glass, the red wine staining her lips.


    Grim followed her example. "What are we doing?" He growled under his breath.


    Ilyena narrowed her eyes at him. "Enjoying the party dear brother." She took another drink. "Relax, the night is still very young."


    Grim fought the scowl from his face and quaffed the rest of the wine. He grabbed another glass.


    "Fine. Have it your way." He leaned closer to her. "Whatever it is, be careful. Alright?"


    She grinned. "Come, let''s head to the salon. All the interesting conversation happens there."


    She dashed off into the crowd, leaving him to stumble after in her wake. He mumbled half-hearted apologies as his bulk bumped into people. Curses followed in his wake but Grim ignored them, following Ilyena as she slipped into one of the many side corridors.


    Flashes of vivid color surrounded him, accompanied by the sounds of lyres and the incessant, nattering voices of the crowd. Gods, what he would give to be patrolling the Outwalls with his men. He turned into the corridor just in time to see the hem of her dress disappear through an open door. Grim grumbled to himself as he turned into the doorway.


    He emerged into a small candlelit room whose steady flames cast a warm, inviting glow. A dozen young nobles lounged in plush couches, their bronze colored fingers wrapped around the stems of wine glasses. The furniture was arranged in a circular pattern around the room, forcing the occupants to look at each other. A few heads turned to regard him but drifted back to the lively debate already occurring between Harren and a nobleman Grim didn''t recognize. Grim sulked into a corner while Harren spoke.


    "-beside the point. King Vitran himself said that ''to govern is mundane but to rule is divine.'' Sure, any individual with strength to enforce his will can control his fellow man but it takes a king blessed by the Divines to hold it together in perpetuity and maintain order. Look at what happened to the Rills. They elected their own king from among them and they were weak. Now a king blessed by a divine Rules here. It''s the natural way of things."


    The other noble balked "My lord, you speak dated platitudes as if they were a gospel truth. The Taran experiment has shown that stable governance can be achieved without a king. The crown is a means to the end, not the end in itself-"


    Harren cut him off. "Lord Gabriel, careful with your tongue, you border on treason."


    "And you tread ignorance sir."


    Grim smirked. Carys Longreen stood, raising her hands to the two men before they could come to blows. "Gentlemen, please. This is a venue to exchange views and ideas, not insults and accusations."


    The two men looked abashed as she glanced to each in turn. "I believe Lord Gabriel makes a valid point. The success of the Taran Republic is indisputable. But they rely on the divines as much as we do if not more. The Goddess is less a part of their society and the ways of the Reaper are foreign to us. Perhaps she bestows her favor differently."


    Harren wrinkled his nose. "''Favor'' is certainly a delicate way to put it. Her favorites are often sacrificed in her name. They consider it an honor." He shook his head. "Barbaric. Truly."


    Carys pursed her lips. She didn''t seem ready to refute that. Gabriel spoke up. "The Reaper is the shadow to the light of the Goddess. Both are subject to the will of God and both are valid representations of the duality of man. Each is a part of us and we should seek to understand."


    He turned his head to where Grim''s sister lounged on the couch, swirling a glass of wine. "Lady Ilyena, your family once worshiped the Reaper as your patron. Perhaps you could enlighten us as to the purposes of these-" he paused. "Barbaric, rituals."


    Ileyna took a sip from her wineglass and tucked a lock of black hair behind her ear. "The worship of the Reaper is simple. There is only one law. And that is the preeminence of strength. It''s why states who worshiped her were, and are, so chaotic. Warlords and chiefs were toppled with the passing of each generation. The Rills rarely elected a King without a war to decide the matter." She shrugged. "I know little of the rituals. I''ve never seen one and they were before my time."


    Her head swiveled to Grim. "Perhaps my older brother could enlighten us on the subject."


    Grim inwardly sighed. She would throw him under the carriage. This turn of the conversation took him back to his childhood in the later years of the war. They were more vague recollections than actual memories. Disjointed images of wounded men screaming in the halls of Bleakridge, the castle turned into an infirmary. Withered husks of bodies fallen among them. God touched healers who drained themselves to save others. Their skin flaking like ash in a fire pit.


    Chills ran down his spine and he drank from his wineglass as he avoided thinking of those touched by the Reaper. He didn''t want to look weak in front of these people and they weren''t worth sharing the memory. One of the few that gave him comfort.


    He pulled the glass from his lips. "You speak of it like a crime. A man with little meaning in his life may find great comfort in giving his life to a higher purpose. Should one wishing for death be subjected to the cruelties of life?"


    Carys spoke. "And what of those who are sacrificed against their will?"


    "That, my lady, is what we in the Rills like to call murder." Grim took a drink from his glass. "You can''t sacrifice something that isn''t yours to give. Just how you shouldn''t hang people who aren''t yours."


    An awkward silence settled over the room. Its occupants stared at Grim as if he were some strange, exotic animal. Gabriel spoke first. "If they didn''t rebel against the strong then mayhaps they wouldn''t have to hang."


    "I find myself in rare accordance with Lord Gabriel," Harren said. Murmurs of agreement sounded from around the room.


    Grim shrugged. He hadn''t expected them to understand, or to care. He drank.


    Carys cleared her throat to be heard over the low voices. "Perhaps there is something to be said for leniency with the law. The first King of Venar himself said that all citizens are equal in the eyes of the Goddess and deserving of her forgiveness."


    Gabriel shook his head. "I doubt he meant that statement to extend to traitors."


    Grim set his empty wineglass on a table. "Maybe if people didn''t have to watch their loved ones hung or nailed to a cross, there''d be less traitors."


    Harren scoffed. "And maybe if there were less sympathizers then they''d be less successful at murdering our country men."


    Grim scowled at him. "Is there something you''d like to say?"


    "Yes. You speak against the hangings, yet you carried them out yourself. Does that not strike you as hypocritical?"


    Grim''s visage darkened and he had to restrain himself from reaching for his axe.


    Harren sneered. "Nothing to say to that? I didn''t realize they both branded and gelded you."


    Grim had hardly taken a step toward the man before Ilyena was at his side, holding him back by the arm. "The conversation seems to be getting rather heated. Grim why don''t you step into the courtyard to cool down a minute."


    Grim''s jaw hardened. He took a deep breath and nodded forcing his feet to walk to the door. It took an effort of will to resist slamming it behind him.


    He walked down the hallway toward the entry hall, his boots clacking against the Borish wood. The halls were less chaotic than before as many of the guests had filtered to other areas of the estate. Grim skirted the throngs of southerners engaged in animated conversation and headed toward the large double doors. Some fresh air actually sounded nice.


    A footman in green livery opened the door for him and Grim emerged into the brisk air. The silver of his jacket gleamed in the starlight. He watched his breath frost in the air. The nights were growing cold and chill breeze tore the stifling heat from his body. He felt free and his humor quickly improved. The cold seemed to have driven off all but a few guests. The only sounds were the whistling of the wind and the trickling of the fountain.


    He walked to the stone rim and sat with his back to the water. The noise calmed him. Grim sighed. Harren was right. He was a hypocrite. He looked up at the estate before him. Despite the extravagance of the place, it was truly beautiful in the moonlight. The walls reflected the silvery light while it''s windows glowed with candlelight.


    Something wet hit his cheek. He wiped it away and blamed the fountain. His flesh grew cold. It made him think of the thousands of people huddled in shacks beyond the wall, struggling to stay warm. Struggling, while he sat outside a palatial estate filled with enough wealth to feed them for a year.

 Ch 23: A Plop of Slop

    The cart clattered across the cobblestones while Kid enjoyed the high vantage point from the driver¡¯s bench. The ability to see over the heads of the crowd and scan for threats alleviated some of his anxiousness. He had to resist the urge to flinch every time he caught the glint of metal in the distance. Divines he wanted to be safe, to fade into the background of the streets like he had used to. Marc had given him a handful of Harts for his part in helping Lissa and they hung heavy in his pocket. He was beginning to realize that wealth did not equal security and the thought terrified him.


    He just had to survive another day.


    Kid sighed. He was fucked.


    Next to him, Billy guided the draft horses by the reigns with white knuckled hands. The man was so tightly wound he made Kid appear relaxed. His bug eyes scanned the streets, never lingering on an individual for more than a moment, as if that were all the time he needed to Take the measure of a man. Kid caught Billy glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. He couldn¡¯t help but wonder what he saw. A permanent frown creased his face, so Kid doubted it was flattering.


    They had set out from Marc¡¯s manse in the inner city. The extravagance of the place had blown Kid away. Until then, he had never quite grasped the resources Marc had at hand. Before becoming a Son, he had always thought they were delusional but now¡­ If Marc could hold everything together, it might be possible.


    The scrape of a blade dragged Kid from his thoughts and his eyes shot towards the noise. A Greencloak soldier sat on a stool by the edge of the road, sharpening his blade. Kid took deep breaths, trying to calm his beating heart.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    Kid blinked, looking to Billy? ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Sorry my generation wasn¡¯t better and sorry ye have to pay the price for our mistakes. Yer too young to be doing shite like this. Too young for scars.¡±


    Kid didn¡¯t know how to respond to that. He shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m alive. That¡¯s what matters.¡±


    Billy frowned. ¡°Life without joy rings hollow boy. Take the advice of an old man.¡± Billy turned to look him in the eyes. ¡°As soon as ye get some coin in yer pocket, run. Turn yer back on this city and don¡¯t look back. Ye¡¯ll find no rest here. Find a place where men grow old and die surrounded by their sons.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that what we¡¯re fighting for? Peace?¡±


    Billy hacked and spit over the side of the cart. Hilda glanced at Billy and made a disgusted sound from the back of the cart. Billy turned back to Kid. ¡°I just want to kill the bastards who took that life from me. Anyone preaching a cause higher than that is either lining their pockets or hopelessly delusional.¡±


    Kid snorted. ¡°I think Marc fits both those qualifications.¡±


    Billy grinned. ¡°Aye, but mine and his goals seem to line up nicely for now¡±


    Kid tugged at the collar of his serving uniform. It still felt odd to wear green and gold. He could see the walls of the Greencloak fort in the sun¡¯s dying light. Carts waited in a long line at their gates while sentries paced the battlements above. He expected them to point at him, yelling an alarm, at any moment. But they didn¡¯t, and Billy guided the cart into line.


    Hilda stepped her way carefully between the crates of wine and leaned in close to Kid and Billy. ¡°Billy switch seats with me.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because you talk like you were shat out of the highlands and raised in the gutters of the Outwalls.¡±


    Billy blinked. ¡°Oh, alright then.¡± The man leapt into the back of the cart while Hilda climbed into the driver¡¯s bench. She grabbed the reins and turned her attention to Kid. ¡°Your accent isn¡¯t as bad as his but keep your mouth shut all the same. Keep close to me once we¡¯re inside and keep your head down.¡±


    Kid nodded. ¡°Yes Ma¡¯am.¡±


    Hilda hesitated then turned back to him. ¡°And thanks for helping my daughter.¡±


    Kid smiled awkwardly. She ignored him, and they waited in silence as the line grew shorter. Twenty minutes later they were pulling up to a half dozen Greencloaks dressed in armor so polished it seemed to glow even in the dim light. The man in the lead raised his hand, signaling for them to halt. Kid fought to keep his face expressionless and his breathing level.


    Hilda gave the man a wide smile as he approached her. ¡°Hello officer.¡±


    The man held out a hand, ignoring her greeting. ¡°Papers.¡±


    Hilda¡¯s smile didn¡¯t falter as she reached into her satchel and drew a sheaf of parchments. She passed them to the man. Kid watched his eyes flick over the writing. After an excruciatingly long time, the man nodded and handed the papers back to Hilda. ¡°Welcome miss Lynndottir.¡± He raised a hand into the air and waved his men forward. The soldiers climbed in the back of the cart by Billy and began opening the crates.


    ¡°Just lots of wine captain.¡±


    ¡°Make sure one falls off the back of the cart.¡± The officer called back.


    Kid¡¯s eyebrows raised but he didn¡¯t say anything as the Greencloaks offloaded a dozen jugs of wine.


    The officer pointed through the gates. ¡°You¡¯re going to head down the main boulevard through the gardens. Once you get to the estate, pull off the main road to the right and loop around to the back of the house. Somebody can guide you from there.¡±


    Hilda nodded. ¡°Enjoy the wine.¡± She whipped the reins and set the cart into motion.


    When they were out of earshot Kid leaned close to her and spoke in a low voice. ¡°The wine isn¡¯t poisoned or anything right?¡±


    Hilda snorted. ¡°Gods no. Nobles always order twice the wine for a party because the guards are like as not to steal half the drink on the way in.¡±


    Billy laughed from the back. ¡°Aye and if the guards started dropping, we¡¯d be quick to follow.¡±


    Kid glanced back at the crates of bottles clattering in the back. ¡°And how did you know that?¡±


    ¡°Because I once threw a very disappointing party. This wasn¡¯t always my life boy.¡±


    Kid thought to inquire further but the look on Hilda¡¯s face dissuaded him. Instead, he stared out at the forest of tents and campfires. Hundreds of soldiers huddled around the flames, seeking relief from the frigid air. The chill deepened as the sun disappeared and Kid almost wished he could join them.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Soon, Kid was capable only of gawking as they drew closer to the estate. Beyond the open wrought iron gate was a vast garden and even in the dying light, its beauty was evident in the cascade of color leading to the towering mansion. Hilda twisted the reins, guiding the horses through the gate and winding through the garden. Logistically, the road made no sense, taking as scenic a route as possible. Kid supposed that was the point. Fireflies drifted over flowers and between trees, casting a soft glow over the vegetation. For a moment, Kid forgot his worries.


    Then they came crashing back as the garden ended sharply, giving way to large courtyard dominated by a fountain and the carriages parked around its periphery. Nobles dressed in green and gold milled around the large double doors of the house. Hilda pulled the reins and lead the cart off the main boulevard onto a side path wrapping around the house. Kid exhaled as they turned the corner, not realizing he had been holding his breath.


    ¡°Relax Kid, we¡¯ll be in and out real quick.¡±


    Kid eyed Hilda doubtfully.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I tell all the ladies,¡± Billy said without missing a beat


    Hilda closed her eyes and sighed while Kid chewed his lip.


    The cart turned the rear corner of the mansion, revealing a small army of heavily laden carts. Dozens of men were hard at work unloading and carrying the supplies inside A single woman stood by a lit brazier outside an open door. She rubbed her hands together over the small fire but stopped when she noticed their cart.


    Hilda maneuvered the cart in line with the others and brought it to a halt as the woman approached them. Hilda climbed to the ground and Kid followed her lead. A thump sounded from the back as Billy¡¯s feet struck the dirt. Kid watched the woman approaching them as she closed the last few paces. Her southern heritage was evident in the darkness of her skin and hair. She crossed her arms.


    Hilda addressed her. ¡°Good evening mistress, we¡¯re-¡±


    The woman cut her off. ¡°I don¡¯t care who you are. I need porters and servers, not friends.¡± She pointed at Billy. ¡°You, help the others unload the carts.¡± She turned back to Hilda while Billy trudged away.


    She looked Hilda up and down and scrunched her nose. ¡°I suppose you¡¯re pretty enough to serve in the main hall. ¡°Go through the door by the fire, walk to the end of the hall and ask somebody there for Emilia, she¡¯ll set you up.¡±


    Hilda looked to Kid. ¡°I¡¯ve been working on training him to serve, would it be alright-¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s not serving here with a face like that, he¡¯s like as not to scare the guests. I told you your orders, now go.¡±


    Kid averted his gaze. Ouch.


    Hilda¡¯s lips formed into a thin line. ¡°As you wish.¡± She walked toward the door and then Kid was alone.


    The woman looked him up and down and he shrunk beneath her gaze. She pursed her lips. ¡°I can¡¯t imagine what we took you on for. She shook her head. ¡°I can¡¯t put you out front and you¡¯re too small to haul.¡± She sighed. ¡°Come on inside. You can feed the prisoners dinner while I think of what to do with you.¡±


    Kid¡¯s jaw dropped as she turned from him. Was it actually going to be that easy? Hilda had been planning on spending half the night flirting with the prison guard or in the worst-case scenario, having Billy knock his skull in. And they were just going to let him inside? Kid was so dumbstruck he almost forgot to follow the woman and had to run to catch up. As he walked to the door, Billy shot him a gap-toothed smile from over a crate of wine. Then he disappeared as Kid walked through the door.


    It was like walking into a kitchen from another world. The floor was consisted of identically sized tiles and he couldn¡¯t help but admire their meticulous perfection. It was unlike anything he had ever seen, and this was an area for servants. Dozens of cooks raced around, crafting dishes as though creating great works of art. He didn¡¯t even recognize most of the things heaped atop the plates, but damn were they pretty.


    He would have to remember to keep his gawking to a minimum. He was so focused on the food he nearly ran over a serving girl carrying a jug of wine. He stumbled to a halt while she shot him a nasty look. She kicked him in the shin as she passed. Kid grunted and sucked air in between his teeth. Fuck, that hurt.


    Kid scurried after the woman as they crossed the kitchen. Kid was careful not to get in anybody¡¯s way. He didn¡¯t need a second reminder. She led him to an annoyed looking cook who was struggling to tear a loaf of bread apart. He cursed as he tugged at the thick crest and had to resort to bending it across his knee before loaf snapped apart. Kid could have sworn he saw dust fly out from inside it. The man mumbled under his breath as he tossed the two halves on a pair of rust stained metal trays.


    Kid¡¯s handler spoke to the man. ¡°Winson, I¡¯ve got you a delivery boy.¡±


    The man scowled at Kid. ¡°Really? Are you sure I shouldn¡¯t take it to the dungeons myself?¡± He scoffed like that was the most ridiculous thing in the world.


    ¡°If you mouth off to Chef again you might have to.¡± She pushed Kid forward. ¡°Here. He¡¯s your problem now.¡± She turned and walked away, leaving Kid behind.


    Kid raised a hand in greeting before nearly dropping the tray Winson threw at him. ¡°Half a loaf per prisoner, and a ladle of-¡± He scrunched his nose. ¡°That.¡± Kid followed his gaze to a large vat in the corner of the room. As he watched, another cook poured a pot full of grease into it.


    ¡°In the Kitchen, we call it a hunk of rot and a plop of slop. If you want to add a little seasoning, feel free to spit on it.¡± Winson pointed to a nearby door. ¡°The stairs to below are down that hall and to the right. It¡¯s hard to miss the guards there.¡±


    With that, Winson turned from him and mumbled under his breath as he fought with another loaf of bread. Kid stood dumbly with the tray before realizing that was all the instruction he was going to get. A hunk of rot and a plop of slop. Got it.


    Kid grabbed two trays and walked to the vat. He set them down and grabbed the ladle hanging at the side and reached inside, taking a deep scoop of the congealed mess. He dumped it on the tray and it was immediately evident why they called it a plop of slop. He probably would have turned his nose up to this. The green of the bread seemed to leech into the slop. Kid wrinkled his nose. No, he didn¡¯t think he¡¯d ever been desperate enough to eat this.


    Kid cast an uncertain gaze around the room, but nobody seemed to be taking any notice of him. It was as if he were invisible. Kid shrugged and walked through the doorway Winson had indicated, trays in hand. Kid¡¯s boots squeaked against the floor as the tile gave way to wood. It was so brightly polished he could see a glimmer of his reflection in the red-hued wood. The hallway was wider than most houses in the Outwalls, able to accommodate four or five grown men walking side by side. Paintings of places and people Kid didn¡¯t recognize adorned the walls.


    He paused when he saw a figure wearing a crown, depicted standing on a hill above the remains of a battlefield. He held a banner bearing the golden sun of Venar. The hills looked a lot like the land beyond the confines of Bleakridge. Kid stared at the figure wearing the crown, an uncomfortable feeling welling up in him. So, that was the man who shaped the world he lived in. Kid had an insane urge to tear the painting down. He quashed it and loosened his grip on the trays. He let out a deep breath and continued down the hall.


    Winson was right. The stairs to the prison were hard to miss. The lavish decorations gave way to a hard, stone archway in the wall flanked by two men who looked even harder. The bronze plates along their chests were clean but didn¡¯t shine like the other men Kid had seen tonight. Thick bladed swords hung at their sides, their hilts worn with use. There was no pomp or grandeur about them, only a solemn sense of danger.


    Kid struggled to keep his nervousness from showing. He didn¡¯t know how they would have gotten through these two. Kid had serious doubts about Hilda¡¯s charm and while Billy looked tougher than old leather, Kid didn¡¯t think he could get through both of these men.


    Kid approached them. ¡°I¡¯ve been told to feed the prisoners.¡±


    The guard on the left looked him up and down. ¡°You think they could pull him through the hatch?¡±


    The other guard narrowed his eyes and inspected Kid. ¡°Maybe. He looks scrawny enough.¡± He turned to his comrade. ¡°Hey, remember that one kid who thought it¡¯d be funny to take a piss through it?¡±


    The guard on Kid¡¯s left snorted. ¡°Yeah. The prisoner reached through, grabbed him by his cock and slammed the hatch shut on it.¡± The man smirked. ¡°Divines that was a bloody mess. Remember what the little shit was yelling?¡±


    The guard on the right laughed. ¡°Yeah. I was on duty up here and I hear him hollering ¡®Me cock! He¡¯s got me cock!¡¯¡± The guard shook his head. ¡°Stupid fuck.¡± He looked to Kid. ¡°Go on in, but do try and keep your pants on.¡±


    The guard on the left shrugged. ¡°Or don¡¯t.¡±


    Kid looked down the torch lit stairway and swallowed. That was reassuring. He steeled himself, walking between the two guards into the archway. The air grew progressively colder as he walked deeper beneath the earth. Laughter sounded from behind him.


    ¡°Divines, did you see the look on his face?¡±


    ¡°Fucking priceless.¡±


    ¡°What should we tell the next one?¡±


    Kid pressed his eyes closed and sighed in annoyance. Assholes. He continued walking down. The stairs didn''t extend far, only about one floor. The small tunnel opened up into a wider hallway lined with thick wooden doors and lit torches held in metal sconces. Kid hesitated, taking a deep breath before walking to the first door.

 Ch 24: Gabriel

    His hands were starting to go numb. Grim clenched them, trying to move warm blood into them but it was no use, the night was too cold and the finery he wore did little to keep the wind at bay. He was about to resign himself to going back inside to the party when the front door opened. Gabriel appeared in the doorway and when the man saw Grim he walked outside, shutting the door behind him. Grim waited on the edge of the fountain while Gabriel approached.


    The man rubbed his hands together. ¡°You still cooling off out here? By now I expect you¡¯re more frozen than relaxed.¡±


    Grim shrugged. ¡°When you¡¯ve lived here long enough you get used to the cold.¡±


    ¡°I know. I¡¯ve lived in the Rills my whole life.¡± Grim blinked in surprise but he supposed Gabriel was probably only a few years older than Ilyena. The man continued speaking. ¡°I wanted to apologize on behalf of Harren because I know he doesn¡¯t understand the concept. What he said- It was a bit of a low blow.¡±


    ¡°Why are you apologizing on his behalf?¡±


    ¡°Because we are unfortunately relatives, though fortunately distant,¡± he said, ¡°However, his actions still reflect on my family name.¡± He paused. ¡°Excuse me, I just realized I didn¡¯t properly introduce myself.¡± He extended a hand. ¡°Barronet Gabriel of the West Flows.¡±


    Grim stared at the proffered arm for a moment before standing and clasping it. ¡°Grim Thorne.¡±


    The man grinned. ¡°Excellent. Now could I interest you in a drink?¡±


    Grim was tempted to tell him to piss off but this southerner seemed better than the rest. If he had to be with the worst of humanity he may as well be with the best of the worst. ¡°Alright. I never turn down a drink.¡±


    The noble gestured to the door. ¡°Shall we?¡±


    Grim nodded and led the way back inside the mansion, emerging back into the chaotic frenzy of finery. The dancing had begun in earnest. Some nobles moved with grace and dignity while others drunkenly stumbled through the steps while laughing in delight. It seemed Longreen knew how to throw a party. Grim and Gabriel walked around the frenzied dancers to the table where the wine was being served. Ilyena, Carys and Harren were already there. The two girls watched the man with vacant expressions while he talked.


    Gabriel walked a wide arc around them and sidled up to the table as far from them as possible. He grabbed two full glasses of wine from the table and passed one to Grim. He raised his glass. ¡°To bastards and Bleakridge. Long may they both live.¡±


    Grim rolled his eyes and together they drank. Grim examined the wine glass, absently wondering if the man had poisoned him. ¡°Why?¡±


    Gabriel cocked his head. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I think you can appreciate that being asked to drink by one of your kind is unusual for me.¡±


    ¡°My kind?¡±


    Grim raised an eyebrow. ¡°You know, southerners.¡±


    ¡°I told you I¡¯ve lived here my whole life. I¡¯m as Rillish as you are. Never even seen Venar. If you insist on forgetting that, I may have to take offense.¡±


    That made Grim feel uneasy and a more than a little old. ¡°I- sorry. But my original question still stands.¡±


    Gabriel shrugged and took another drink. ¡°Us Barringtons are the largest landholders in the Rills and Harren is going to be my family¡¯s next patriarch. The list of people who don¡¯t have their nose firmly lodged in my cousin¡¯s bunghole extends to you, your sister and Carys. That makes you one of the few people I can stand talking to while he¡¯s around.¡±


    He glanced to where Harren still talked at Ilyena and Carys. ¡°And if you actually want to get any talking done, it¡¯s best to be far from him.¡±


    Grim grimaced. ¡°When I was a kid I used to have to play with him when his father visited. Asshole always wanted to play Rill rats and Regulars. You can probably guess which I had to be.¡±


    Gabriel nodded his sympathies. ¡°Yes, he¡¯s certainly not the most openminded chap. Nor the brightest.¡±


    ¡°Not the brightest?¡±


    Gabriel cocked his head. ¡°I suppose you haven¡¯t had to watch him at every single party. It¡¯s embarrassing, really. The man is dead set on courting Carys. Follows her like a damned puppy while it¡¯s painfully obvious that neither she nor her father have any real interest in him. In terms of title, he is to her, what a house cat is to a lion. Probably hopes she¡¯ll kiss him and turn him into a prince.¡±


    Grim raised an eyebrow. ¡°A prince? I thought the Marshal was some kind of general.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Can¡¯t say I know a lot about the royal court.¡±


    ¡°Wish I could say the same. My tutor made me recite the name of every member and their position in alphabetical order when I was a boy,¡± he said, ¡°Of course, half them are dead now that that information has any relevance to me.¡± He shook his head. ¡°There¡¯s two Marshals at a time, the right and left hands of the king. They speak with his voice wherever he is not. The fact that Longreen is with us, way out here, suggests that he¡¯s the hand the king wipes his ass with.¡±


    Grim chuckled. He liked that image. ¡°How does the Earl measure up next to the Marshal?¡±


    Gabriel shrugged. ¡°Technically the Marshal is of higher standing. But he¡¯s in the Earl¡¯s home, so to speak. In another subjugated kingdom, they would be near equals. But your family was never royal, was it?¡±


    Grim shook his head and took a drink of wine. ¡°Thornes were never elected kings and the line of the last one died in the war. So did the clan chiefs. Hell, we weren¡¯t even noble until after the war was done.¡±


    Gabriel raised an eyebrow. ¡°Do tell more. I¡¯ve never heard this from a Thorne before. I¡¯d like your take.¡±


    ¡°My family¡¯s history is not really a subject for polite conversation.¡±


    Gabriel raised his glass. ¡°Well then, to the basest of language and most brutish of tongues.¡±


    Grim rolled his eyes and drank to the toast. He eyed the dancers on the floor. They moved together like vibrant grass swaying in the breeze. His black attire made him feel like a stain on the whole affair. He took another drink and glanced back to Gabriel. ¡°House Thorne leads the Briar Guard.¡± Grim sighed. That used to mean a lot more. "We served as Justicars for the clans, not just in trials over crimes, but over issues that would have fractured the clans. Our order stopped wars before they began.¡±


    Gabriel cocked his head. ¡°And people would just accept the outcome? That- seems unlike people.¡±


    Grim leaned against the table behind him. ¡°If they didn¡¯t, they¡¯d also face us in the field. Sometimes the will of the Reaper needs to be enforced. Half the guard used to be God-touched by the Reaper. Reavers, your people call them. Not the kind of people you want to fight. I think you know what happened to them after the war.¡±


    Gabriel nodded, looking like he''d swallowed something sour. ¡°Yes.¡±


    Grim stared at the young man. He actually seemed regretful. Grim put a hand on his shoulder. ¡°it was before your time.¡± Divines, now he really felt old.


    Gabriel didn¡¯t answer, his eyes drifting into the crowd. ¡°I think your sister wants you.¡± The corners of his lips curled upward.


    Grim followed his gaze to Ilyena who stared at him with wide eyes. She flicked her gaze between him and Harren, who was still talking. Grim considered leaving her trapped in conversation but Father had told him to follow her instructions. He sighed and turned back to Gabriel. ¡°So, if you had to get rid of Harren how would you do it?¡±


    ¡°With a club in a back alley.¡±


    Grim snorted. ¡°Seriously.¡±


    Gabriel grinned and clapped Grim on the shoulder. ¡°Tell you what. I¡¯ll take care of him if you put in a good word for me with your sister.¡±Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Grim¡¯s eyebrows raised. ¡°Believe me, you might do better without.¡±


    Gabriel shrugged. ¡°At the very least I can dashingly save her from the clutches of my eeevil cousin. That has to be worth a few brownie points, right?¡±


    Grim rolled his eyes. ¡°Yeah, whatever kid. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    Grim led Gabriel through the crowd of green, using his size to bull through the southerners. Annoyed looks followed in his wake but Grim ignored them. He could hear Gabriel¡¯s periodic apologies behind him. Harren stopped speaking when he saw Grim approach. The girls looked dead in the eyes. but a brief spark of hope lit at his entrance.


    Grim nodded to the man. ¡°Harren.¡±


    ¡°Bastard. Did you come back for another verbal lashing?


    Grim didn¡¯t answer, just crossing his arms and waiting for Gabriel. The young man walked up to Harren and put a hand on the noble¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Your father¡¯s looking for you. Said it was important.¡±


    Harren looked annoyed. ¡°What does he want?¡±


    Gabriel shrugged. ¡°Something about your brother. You know he doesn¡¯t tell me anything.¡±


    Harren sighed. ¡°Fine. Let¡¯s get out of the crowd then you can take me to him,¡± he said, walking through the throng of people. Gabriel followed in his wake but turned on his heel and bowed to Grim and the girls with a mischievous grin on his face.


    Grim grinned in return. ¡°I like him.¡±


    Ilyena snorted. ¡°You would.¡± Grim noted her eyes following Gabriel as he walked away and fought the urge to chuckle.


    Carys spoke up. ¡°If I had to listen to him talk about another horse race he won, I think I may have puked. Good thing his father needed him.¡±


    ¡°That may have been less than true,¡± Grim said.


    Carys cocked her head. ¡°Then I suppose I owe Gabriel a word of thanks. Let¡¯s go upstairs before he figures out.¡± She began to walk through the crowd.


    Grim moved to follow her but Ilyena put a hand on his chest and grabbed a flagon of wine from the table, placing it in his hand. ¡°Distract her for me.¡± She turned and followed Carys toward the stairs.


    Grim looked down at the wine in his hands, pursed his lips and shook his head. She was going to get him killed. Once they made it to the stairs, the crowd abruptly disappeared, replaced with a line of stern-faced guards. As Carys approached, they parted to let her pass. Grim could feel their eyes on him but they let him through behind her.


    Grim stumbled as he climbed up the stairs, sloshing wine onto the stairs. The red liquid ran down the marble stairs and he cursed his drunkenness. He should¡¯ve taken it easy earlier. He finished the glass he still carried and abandoned it on the marble rail at the top of the stairs.


    Carys led then down the now familiar halls. Gold leaf shined in the torchlight and the wooden floors gleamed with an unnatural shine. The eyes of paintings seemed to follow him with dead eyes as his boots creaked against the floorboards.


    They arrived at a door and Carys twisted the strange knob. A click sounded, and she opened the door. Grim walked into the room. It much resembled Ilyena¡¯s quarters at Bleakridge. The hardwood floor gave way to the soft carpet of the foyer. A low fire was burning in the hearth, casting a soft glow over the sitting chairs ringing the flames. Beyond the hearth, a hallway leading to a half-dozen more doors.


    Carys took a seat in one of the chairs, running a hand through her hair and sighing. ¡°Do you think I made a sufficient appearance tonight?¡±


    Ilyena took a seat across from her and crossed her legs. ¡°You were seen by your father being seen by others. You¡¯ve accomplished your daughterly duties for the evening.¡±


    Grim set the jug of wine on a small table next to Carys. ¡°You have any glasses in here?¡± he asked. Carys nodded toward a small glass cabinet. ¡°In there. They¡¯re meant more for decoration than drinking so they may be a little dusty on the inside. If you¡¯re pouring, make it two.¡±


    Ilyena raised a hand. ¡°Make it three.¡±


    Grim nodded and fetched the glasses from the cabinet while the girls began to talk. ¡°What do you think our fathers are talking about tonight?¡± Ilyena asked. Grim pulled the glasses from the cabinet, hooking his fingers between their stems. The crystal sparkled in the firelight, but they were indeed a little dusty.


    Carys shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m sure they¡¯re fighting about something. Last time it was drafting Grim, this time it¡¯s probably something to do with the Sons. I hear they¡¯ve been getting out of control.¡±


    Ilyena looked to Grim while he wiped the dust out with the hem of his jacket. ¡°Grim took an arrow to the chest today.¡±


    Carys¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°You¡¯re joking.¡± She looked to Grim as he walked back to the chairs.


    Grim set the glasses down on the small table beside her and poured wine into one. He handed it to Carys. ¡°Surprised me more than anything. My armor-¡±


    ¡°Surprised?¡± Ilyena interjected. ¡°From the look on your face, I thought you soiled yourself when you hit the floor.¡±


    Grim narrowed his eyes at her. He may have peed a little bit, but he wasn¡¯t about to admit that. Carys patted him on the arm. ¡°I¡¯m sure you acquitted yourself very nobly from your backside.¡±


    The girls laughed at his expense while Grim pursed his lips, pouring the last two glasses. He brought one to Ilyena as they calmed down, resisting the urge to upend it on her.


    She plucked it from his hand with a smile. ¡°But seriously Grim, I¡¯m glad you were okay.¡±


    Carys raised her glass. ¡°To Grim¡¯s health, long may he sulk.¡±


    Ilyena grinned and raised her glass. ¡°Cheers.¡±


    Grim sulked over to a chair by Carys, drinking with them out of politeness. He fought the urge to glare at them. He didn¡¯t sulk.


    Carys leaned back in her chair. ¡°So, Gabriel?¡±


    Ilyena blushed. Grim blinked in astonishment. Carys raised an eyebrow. ¡°Ilyena Thorne, actually blushing over a boy? The girl who once told me men are like puppets on strings of emotion?¡±


    ¡°The opinions of most men shift with my every word to what they think I¡¯d like to hear. I¡¯m not saying he¡¯s special, but he is interesting.¡±


    Grim snorted. ¡°You did seem awfully interested in his backside earlier.¡±


    Carys smirked over her wineglass. ¡°Can hardly blame her.¡± Grim choked on his wine. She turned to face him. ¡°What do you think of him Grim? Good enough for your sister?¡±


    He affected a mocking tone. ¡°Nobody is good enough for daddy¡¯s little angel.¡±


    Ilyena, rolled her eyes. ¡°What I¡¯d give to see you call our father daddy.¡±


    Grim grinned. ¡°Give me a few more drinks and you might get your chance on the ride home.¡±


    ¡°Give you a few more drinks and you¡¯ll be praying to the privy pipes.¡± She rose to her feet. ¡°Speaking of which, would you both please excuse me a minute?¡±


    Carys¡¯s smile faltered. ¡°Of course.¡±


    Grim nodded. ¡°Hurry back,¡± he said with a pointed look.


    Ilyena shot him a quick wink as she passed. As the door shut behind them a silence descended over the room. Grim supposed this was what his sister meant when she said to distract her. Grim cursed under his breath. He turned to look at the girl beside him. Carys watched her hands, twisting them in her lap. She looked up and met his eyes.


    Over the years, Grim had found the best way to make a woman like you was to talk to her as though she were a human. A concept many men failed to grasp. ¡°How are you?¡±


    She blinked as if taken aback. ¡°I¡¯m fine I suppose.¡± She cocked her head at him. ¡°Why do you ask?¡±


    Grim shrugged. ¡°You seemed relieved to escape your friends-¡±


    She cut him off. ¡°A woman in my position doesn¡¯t have friends, only people who want something. A good word to my father, marriage, status.¡±


    ¡°The pleasure of your company,¡± Grim added with a smile.


    She rolled her eyes at him. ¡°Please. We both know why you¡¯re here.¡±


    ¡°And why¡¯s that?¡±


    Carys hesitated, taking a drink from her glass. She sighed, then spoke. ¡°To keep me occupied while Ilyena does whatever it is she does when she disappears.¡±


    Grim¡¯s heart skipped a beat. ¡°Likely falling on her face in the hall, if her empty glass is any indication.¡±


    Carys snorted and took a drink from her glass. ¡°Don¡¯t take me for a fool. I¡¯m sure she suspects I suspect something, but we¡¯ve never brought it up.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Because I don¡¯t want to face the fact that my best friend is using me as a means to an end. And I don¡¯t want to lose that friend. Sometimes it is better to live a lie than face the hard truth. Something you seem very familiar with.¡±


    Grim¡¯s face hardened. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±


    She stared at him. Grim met her gaze. After twenty-six years of dealing with his father, it was trivial. ¡°Why do you always do what you¡¯re told?¡± she asked.


    Grim blinked. That was the last thing he expected. ¡°I rarely do.¡±


    Carys snorted. ¡°Harren already mentioned the prime example of you doing what you¡¯re told. Then, when you¡¯re just about to make this party interesting, your sister tells you to stop and you do. Your little sister.¡±


    Grim glared at her. ¡°Are your trying to piss me off?¡±


    Carys shrugged and leaned back in her chair ¡°You have so much freedom and you put yourself in a box of other people¡¯s expectations. It¡¯s pitiful.¡± She drank from her goblet.


    Grim raised an eyebrow. ¡°That box is often all that¡¯s keeping me alive. Don¡¯t dismiss it so casually. I have done things I regret but at least I¡¯m here to regret them.¡±


    Carys absently swirled her goblet, not even looking at him. ¡°Maybe you¡¯re right, but giving Harren a black eye wouldn¡¯t be the end of you.¡±


    ¡°Then maybe you should if you want it so bad.¡±


    ¡°That would be the end of me.¡± She looked to him. ¡°I¡¯m sure you saw the iron fence around the garden?¡± Grim nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve been past that fence twice in the twelve years I¡¯ve lived here. My box is much more literal than yours. If I embarrassed my father at a public gathering I wouldn¡¯t be seen at another.¡± She shook her head. ¡°I can¡¯t even escape this blasted city through marriage because nobody is suitable this far north.¡±


    She drank. ¡°The lie I live is that I have someone in the world who is my friend without strings. The lie you live is that you don¡¯t control your fate.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a bastard. I lost all control the day I received this.¡± He pointed to the X shaped scar on his neck.


    ¡°Another excuse. The tool of a coward.¡±


    Grim¡¯s blood ran hot. She really knew how to get under his skin. He kept his tone level. ¡°Not an excuse, a fact of life. Your people take everything I love and twist it into something unrecognizable. Because of you, I¡¯ve had to fight for my life more times than I care to count.¡±


    She fiddled with one of her nails, picking at the green lacquer. ¡°When boys are scared, they run and hide, or they fall in line. Then they tell themselves they had no choice and have the nerve to call themselves men. For all your talk against my father¡¯s work, you failed to notice that it worked. You¡¯re too scared to step out of line.¡±


    ¡°The same could be said of you.¡±


    She nodded. ¡°We sit in a room full of hypocrites.¡±


    Grim grimaced. ¡°Why are you telling me all this?¡±


    ¡°Because your brooding irks me, and I find myself looking forward to something new to talk about.¡±


    Grim stared into his empty wine glass and set it onto the table next to him. When I was a child my father told me that Rillmen do not bend, we break. And the one thing Thorne¡¯s never do is break.¡± He looked into her eyes. ¡°I will bear my guilt. I will serve my family. And I will do my duty.¡±


    ¡°Then you will never happy.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize that was in the cards.¡±


    She smirked. ¡°Sometimes you need to stack the deck.¡±


    She brushed his hand. Grim watched her fingers trace his. ¡°You call me a coward and a hypocrite then expect me to be okay with this?¡±


    She smiled. ¡°Everyone gets used, Grim.¡±


    Grim pulled his hand away. ¡°And everyone has their limits.¡±

 Ch 25: Party Crashing

    Kid climbed the stairs from the dungeon for the twentieth time in the past two hours. The guards were only half kidding. Near a dozen times, grasping hands covered in weeping cuts and sores reached out for him through the grates in the door. He¡¯d had to strike them with a torch from the walls to keep them at bay. The pungent stench of burned flesh still filled his nostrils. Kid shuddered at the thought. However, the pained screams and curses were nothing compared to the face of the man he was looking for.


    Kid had nearly screamed when what was left of the man emerged from the darkness. He had no nose. No ears. No lips. Only seared, blackened skin remained to hint at where they had once been. It gave his face a ghoulish, skeletal look but that was nothing compared to the rising hope in his comrade¡¯s eyes when Kid showed him the seal. Whatever was in the letter crushed that hope into the deepest of despairs. Kid knew then that he was looking at a dead man.


    Kid showed him Marc¡¯s signet for proof and burned the letter after as he was instructed. It wasn¡¯t as if he could read it anyways. The man in the cell faded back into darkness as if he were never there. Kid wished that were true. The image of the man¡¯s face was seared into his memory. Kid licked his lips as he emerged into the hall.


    The guards had long since begun to ignore his comings and goings. Kid passed them without a word. All he had to do now was survive the night. How hard could that be? He wandered back into the kitchen, hoping to fade into the background and sneak some food when nobody was looking. The staff bustled about him while he kept his head down, making his small profile even less noticeable. He eased into the corner by the vat of slop, out of sight and out of mind. In all the chaotic tumult, nobody so much as glanced toward him. That suited Kid just fine.


    He soon lost track of time as the minutes slipped by. The cooks were far too busy to take notice of him and periodically, he would swipe a handful of small, though delicious pastries. All told, this was one of his less horrible evenings ever.


    He caught sight of Hilda standing in the doorway. She carried a jug of wine and as he looked to her, they locked eyes. Her gaze conveyed a distinct message of ¡°Get the fuck over here.¡±


    Kid scampered across the room and ducked through the doorway. Billy was there too, standing with his arms crossed. He kept swiveling his head down either hall, as if the guard would come charging at any minute.


    Hilda leaned in close to him. ¡°We need to make a quick plan to get you into the dungeon. I saw the guards and-¡±


    Kid cut her off. ¡°I already did it.¡±


    She blinked. ¡°You what?¡±


    ¡°I delivered it. It¡¯s done.¡±


    Hilda just stared at him. Billy cackled. ¡°And you didn¡¯t want to bring him. Divines. The boy did all the damn work for us. Shite. I gotta get back outside or somebody will miss me.¡±


    Billy turned and walked down the hall. Kid watched him go while Hilda stared at him in bewilderment. ¡°You¡¯re telling me that I came here just to spend an entire night serving and being felt up by these southern whoresons? How the hell did you do it?¡±


    Kid crossed his arms. ¡°Maybe I crawled through the kitchen stove. I hear that¡¯s what expendable people do.¡±


    Hilda narrowed her eyes at him. Her gaze flicked over his shoulder and she turned from Kid, walking with haste down the corridor. Kid cocked his head at her as she hurried away, then a hand grabbed his shoulder.


    It spun him around and he found himself face to face with Grela, the woman who had greeted them outside, or as Winson affectionately called her- that bitch. Kid swallowed as her eyes burrowed into him. ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    Kid pretended to cough to give himself a moment to think. ¡°Nothing.¡± It was still the best he could come up with. The urge to fall dead on the spot was overwhelming but his prayers went unanswered.


    Grela grabbed him by the collar and dragged him back into the kitchen. ¡°You¡¯re lucky I have a use for you or I¡¯d give you a flogging to beat the laziness out of your bones. She pushed him forward and he fell against a crate full of wine.


    Kid gasped for air and rubbed at his throat. Grela pulled a full jug from the crate and deposited it into his hands. He had to fight the urge to wince as his burns flared. She pointed to the door. ¡°I need you to take this to the Marshal. He sent one of his guards for more wine and god forbid the man carry it back himself.¡±


    Kid paled. ¡°I- I thought you didn¡¯t want me serving?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t. But I¡¯m shorthanded as it is and he probably won¡¯t bend you over a table for fifteen minutes. He¡¯s in back end study. Go down the hall to the end, make a right and it¡¯ll be the fourth door on your left.¡±


    She turned and left Kid holding the jug of wine. Did she say probably? Kid swallowed and followed her directions, exiting the kitchen. He walked the long, gilded hall until the very end. The glass windows were pitch black. Night had fallen in earnest. He had to resist the urge to touch the glass panes. It was rare that he was allowed so close to anything this fragile or expensive.


    Kid followed Grela¡¯s directions to the study door. It was guarded by a southern guard bedecked in a coat of shining, bronze plates. He eyed Kid as he approached, placing his hands on the hilt of his sword.


    Kid halted a good ten paces from the man. ¡°Wine for the Marshall.¡±


    The man knocked twice on the door then nodded for Kid to enter. As Kid neared the door he stared at the strange bronze knob protruding from the wood. Where was the latch? Seeing no obvious apparatus to open it, he touched the knob. It twisted at his touch. Kid committed himself to his hunch and twisted it further. A click sounded and the door opened before him.


    Kid shifted his gaze from the strange, yet fascinating latch to the room. His eyes widened as they met the grey eyes of the Earl. It took a conscious effort to keep his legs from shaking. His first instinct was to run but that would just end in a quick trip to the gallows. The man¡¯s eyes weighed on him like an oppressive weight. There was no chance the Earl didn¡¯t recognize him.


    ¡°Are you going to go inside or stand there like an idiot?¡± the guard asked.


    Kid started. He had been standing there like an idiot. He made his decision and scurried inside. The Earl¡¯s eyes followed him as he walked to the table. The gnawing fear in the back of his mind welled up as he drew closer to the man. Each step he took was the hardest step he had ever taken.


    He averted his eyes from the Earl, unable to even look at him any longer. Instead, he looked to the Marshall. His eyes were no kinder and his was the face of the empire who had made his life such a hell. The image of the faceless man in the dungeon flashed through his mind. Kid looked at the floor.


    It took every ounce of will he had to keep his voice steady. ¡°Wine your grace.¡± He placed the jug on the table between the two men.


    The Marshal nodded curtly. ¡°Get out boy. I have things to discuss.¡±


    Kid tried to bow while backpedaling and stumbled in his haste to leave. He mumbled apologies and rushed to the door. Behind him the Earl spoke. ¡°Excuse me. The Privy calls.¡±


    Kid¡¯s spine went cold as he crossed the threshold into the hall. The Earl¡¯s chair skidded against the hardwood behind him, followed by thumping footsteps. Kid quickened his pace. As soon as he rounded the corner of the hall to the kitchen he broke out into a run. He didn¡¯t make it two paces before his collar snapped tight aroung his throat. A strong arm pulled him from his feet and hauled him backwards.


    The Earl dragged him into the closest room. The door closed with a sense of finality. Kid struggled in the man¡¯s grip, scraping his feet against the floor while he struggled for breath. Rodger Thorne tossed him to the floor. Kid scrabbled backwards, knocking over a set of chairs that crashed into the nearby table. His back grew suddenly hot and he stopped. Kid glanced over his shoulder and realized he¡¯d almost ran head first into the hearth. The Earl followed him across the room and looking into the man¡¯s eyes Kid considered making the plunge.


    Kid struggled to maintain his breathing as the imposing man towered over him, one hand on the hilt of his sword. Rodger Thorne knelt over him and Kid¡¯s breath caught. The man uttered one word. ¡°Talk.¡±


    Kid shook his head. The Earl leaned closer. ¡°Boy, don¡¯t make me do something you¡¯ll regret.¡±


    Kid kept his silence more because he was too scared to talk than any desire to keep Marc¡¯s secrets. The Earl grabbed him by the throat and pushed his head backwards. the heat behind him intensified as he was inexorably driven toward the fire. Kid flailed against the man, hitting his arm and trying anything to ease the iron vise around his throat. The discomfort at his back became pain. Tears streamed from his eyes.


    Then, it stopped. The Earl pulled him away from the fire. ¡°I won¡¯t ask again.¡±


    Kid coughed as his throat throbbed. Blood pulsed through his temple so loud he could hear it. He worked his mouth, trying to find his voice through the pain and overwhelming sense of terror. With the flames at his back and the difficulty he had breathing, his mind flashed back to the vents of Bleakridge. His hands burned and he couldn¡¯t tell if it were his imagination or real.


    The Earl seemed more patient this time, only staring at Kid with eyes as dispassionate as their color.


    ¡°Letter,¡± he managed to get out between breaths.


    The Earl waited.


    ¡°To a prisoner.¡± Kid panted. ¡°Don¡¯t know what¡¯s in it.¡±


    The Earl stared hard at him. ¡°Did you succeed?¡±


    Kid nodded. The Earl reached into the pocket of his jacket and flipped a golden Hart into Kid¡¯s hands. ¡°Don¡¯t run next time.¡±


    The Earl rose to his feet and turned away from Kid, walking to the door as if nothing happened. Kid managed to get his breathing under control and he staggered to his feet, still wary. As the Earl opened the door back up Kid edged closer to it himself. The Earl walked through it then his head whipped to the left. His eyes went wide and his hands sprang into the air. He was too slow. Kid stared dumbstruck as a vase crashed into the Earl¡¯s head with a deafening crash.


    Kid winced as porcelain fragments clattered to the ground along with the Earl. Billy rushed around the corner and grabbed Kid by the arm. ¡°Let¡¯s get the fuck out of here.¡±


    As the man dragged Kid down the hall he stared behind them in horror. Streams of blood ran down the Earl¡¯s face as he struggled to his feet. ¡°Why? Dear god. Why did you do that? He was letting me go.¡±


    Billy pulled him into the kitchen. ¡°Well, shite.¡± He shoved a serving girl out of the way and she fell to the floor with a scream followed by the shattering of more porcelain. Billy didn¡¯t pause or give her a second look. He ignored the angry shouts and kept walking. ¡°Nothing for it now. It¡¯s time to go. Hilda¡¯s gettin the cart.¡±


    They rushed through the door and emerged into the cold night. Kid felt safer in the darkness. He retraced his steps from earlier in the night back to the cart they came in on. He expected guards to come charging from the house at any minute but the night was quiet. The only noise being the sound of distant music and laughter. He could see Hilda now. She sat in the driver¡¯s seat, wiping her hand against the inside of her jacket.


    Kid watched the cart so intently he almost tripped. He looked down at what had hindered him. Grela lay at his feet, throat slashed and lifeless eyes staring at the sky. Kid used her corpse to help him step into the back of the cart.


    ¡°Billy toss her in the back. The less evidence we leave behind, the better.¡±


    Billy sighed and heaved the corpse into the back of the cart next to Kid. Hilda whipped the reins, setting the cart into motion as soon as Billy climbed up. Kid helped Billy pull Grela¡¯s corpse into a corner and cover it with the tarp from the wine crates.


    As the cart clattered around the outskirts of the manse, Kid waited for the alarm to sound, for the distant gates to slam shut. Nothing happened. They made it to the gardens without incident. ¡°Calm down boy, ye look ye just killed somebody.¡±


    Kid unclamped his hand from the edge of the cart and focused on keeping his breathing even. He looked to Billy, noting the kitchen knife he had clasped his hand. Kid didn¡¯t even notice him swipe it. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you hit the Earl in the head with a vase.¡±


    Billy chuckled. ¡°Been wanting to do that for years. This is the best job I¡¯ve ever had.¡±


    Hilda turned her head to look at them, brow furrowed. ¡°That¡¯s what you meant when you said you¡¯d handle it? Have you lost your fucking mind?¡±


    ¡°Of course. Why else would I be here?¡±


    Hilda closed her eyes, let out a deep breath and turned back to the road.


    The garden seemed to go on forever. Kid fought the urge to wring his hands. The wrought iron gate appeared in the dark, still open. The cart passed with only a cursory glance from the guards. Kid exhaled a breath he didn¡¯t realize he had been holding.


    They followed the paved road to the outer wall. Campfires from either side of the trail illuminated their path. The Greencloaks huddled by them passed jugs of wine around the fires. Laughter was heavy in the air, completely at odds with Kid¡¯s mood. The road felt longer than he remembered it being.


    The guards at the gate had clearly long since cracked into the crate of wine appropriated from their cart. However, the officer who had stopped them earlier still stood by the entrance. As the cart neared, he smiled at them and waved the cart through without a second glance. Kid stared, trying to keep the disbelief from his face.


    Once they were out of earshot he asked, ¡°Why didn¡¯t he stop us?¡±


    ¡°Lucky for you idiots, nobody cares who leaves a party, only who comes in.¡± Hilda flicked the reins and the horses sped up to a canter.


    Kid leaned against the edge of the cart, letting the waves of relief wash over him.

 Ch 26: Plans

    Grim walked down the stairs in a haze. He felt as is his feet were not his own and they betrayed him every third step. He clutched the handrail as he descended one step at a time. Below him, the floor had started to clear. Couples leaned on each other, glassy eyes filled with drunken glee. Through the open door, Grim could see carriages being brought around to the front. Footmen hauled drunken nobles into their seats and set out for the long ride home. Some to the castle, some to homes in the inner city, and others to estates beyond Bleakridge.


    Grim emerged into the emptying floor, passing the guards by the stairs. He spotted his father by the wine table. The man held a red spotted rag to his head, scowling as he drank from a goblet. Grim crossed the room to meet him. The Earl took notice of him as he neared and his scowl deepened.


    ¡°Where¡¯s your sister?¡± he asked.


    ¡°What the hell happened to your head?¡± Grim countered.


    The man¡¯s nostrils flared, and he drank from the glass. ¡°I tripped.¡±


    Grim snorted. ¡°Fine. Don¡¯t tell me.¡± He looked up the stairs behind him and shrugged.


    His father stared at him. ¡°Your man¡¯s alive.¡±


    Grim cocked his head. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°The men call him Billy. He was here tonight.¡±


    Grim''s suspicion that there was more of a story to his father¡¯s wound grew. A pang of guilt ran through him. With all that had happened in the past few days, he had forgotten Billy was gone. ¡°If he deserted, then why would he be here?¡±


    Rodger Thorne leaned closer. ¡°I thought to ask you the same thing.¡±


    A lance of fear shot through Grim. He leaned against the wine table and met his father¡¯s stare. ¡°I know nothing. And your insinuation borders on insult. The Sons tried to fucking kill me today in case you forgot.¡±


    The Earl grunted and looked across the sparsely populated hall. The closest guest was over a dozen paces away and music still wafted through the air. Grey eyes settled on Grim. ¡°Grain.¡±


    Grim raised an eyebrow. ¡°Grain?¡±


    The Earl nodded. ¡°The Taran Ambassador, he and I came to an arrangement. After the coming winter storms subside, Taran ships will bring grain to Bleakridge. Enough to feed the whole of the Rills for a year.¡±


    Grim¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°What? Why would-¡± Then it hit him. Grim¡¯s lips twisted. ¡°We¡¯d starve if grain didn¡¯t come from the south.¡±


    The Earl nodded. ¡°Dependence is the collar that shackles us.¡±


    Grim found it hard to breathe, fighting the urge to look over his shoulder. ¡°Can we even afford that?¡±


    The edges of the Earl''s lips twisted upwards as he barred his fangs. ¡°Gods, no. You¡¯ve seen the armory beneath the Forgers guild. Steel doesn¡¯t come cheap. I can barely afford to run this damned city.¡± He paused. ¡°Plenty of gold in the south though.¡±


    ¡°Soldiers like to get paid.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d be amazed what a man will do for three meals a day and assurances that his family will be cared for. Men made remarkable sacrifices in the final years of the last war. Most unsung. Even more, forgotten.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    The man turned away. His stare became distant for a moment before he returned his gaze to Grim. ¡°Besides, if the only reason men follow you is for gold, you don¡¯t need more gold. You need better men. Your generation is filled with repressed rage Grim. I am not blind to this. I doubt I¡¯ll have difficulty finding recruits.¡±


    Grim let out a deep breath, mixed feelings of dread and excitement washing over him. ¡°This is happening.¡±


    The Earl nodded.


    ¡°Where do the Sons fit in?¡±


    The Earl waved dismissively. ¡°They don¡¯t.¡± He grabbed a glass of wine from the table and drank. As wine passed his lips, a southern nobleman stumbled past, supported by his lady. Both were laughing as they wandered to the door.


    The Earl set the glass back onto the table. ¡°However, they keep Longreen occupied and that makes them convenient for my purposes. They¡¯ll fall in when the time comes.¡± The man sighed and ran a hand through his mostly grey hair. ¡°We need only hold it all together until winter thaws.¡±


    Grim kept quiet, listening to the now distant murmur of voices. He flinched as his father laid a hand on his shoulder. A trickle of blood ran down the Earl¡¯s face and the man wiped it away with his rag, expression unchanging. ¡°Now I¡¯ve been honest with you.¡±


    The question was unspoken but the implication was obvious. Grim leaned closer to his father and in a low voice told him about the Greencloaks he killed, about saving Marc¡¯s life and how the Son promised they would meet again.


    Rodger Thorne ran a hand across his face, eyes focused on Grim. ¡°He would meet with you again?¡±


    Grim nodded and turned his head as he heard approaching footsteps. Ilyena descended the final steps to the hall¡¯s floor. She strode to them, shooting Grim a look of annoyance. ¡°What the hell Grim, where did you go?¡±


    Grim shrugged and she brushed past him, looping her arm into the Earl¡¯s. She frowned up at his bloodied face but made no comment. Together they began to walk toward the large double doors. Grim had no choice but to follow them or be left behind. Green-clad nobles formed a small crowd outside as they waited for their carriage to be brought around. Grim followed his father as the man shamelessly cut to the front, pressed a hart into the hand of a footman and told him to fetch their driver. The man took off at a sprint. Good coin bought good service. The huddled nobles stared at them but didn¡¯t dare say anything. Not loud enough for Grim to hear at least.


    Within moments their carriage pulled around the fountain, a footman opened the door and they climbed inside. A tense silence settled over the interior as they were jerked into motion. Grim watched as the huddled nobles and the manse grew smaller, the doorway a beacon of light in the dark. He let out a deep breath, watching the fog appear more like smoke in the darkness. His sister¡¯s eyes glinted as they flicked to him.


    Grim frowned. ¡°What?¡±


    The silence stretched. ¡°Nothing.¡± Her eyes turned from him to the gardens passing by. The only sound was the thumping of hooves and the muted conversation of guards by the wrought iron gate. Campfires along the road lit the interior of the carriage as they passed through the army of Greencloaks. Grim could now see the fire in his father¡¯s eyes that he had long thought dead. His heart quickened as he looked across the field of drinking men, knowing they would all be dead before long. The thought chilled his spine as he imagined the grass watered with blood. Grim swallowed.


    The main gates opened at their approach and the waiting Thorne guardsmen fell in around their carriage. The clacking of goat hooves on the cobblestone drowning out the foreign voices.


    As they passed through the two great double doors, the Earl turned to Ilyena. ¡°Well?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s drawing the coastal garrisons into Bleakridge. He¡¯ll have another five hundred men within a week.¡±


    The Earl ran a hand across his face. ¡°And the work camps?¡±


    ¡°At full strength through the winter.¡±


    Grim raised an eyebrow. ¡°He¡¯s consolidating his forces here? Does he suspect something?¡±


    ¡°Longreen is many things but not a fool. He¡¯s survived the War in the north and the last Taran War after it. The steps to the title of Marshal are paved with the bodies of one¡¯s foes. Let us be certain not to be next. He may doubt my loyalty or simply fear the Sons. It matters not. We will bury them when the time comes,¡± The Earl said.


    He turned back to Ilyena. ¡°Anything else of note?¡±


    She shrugged, ¡°Just the usual plea to the King to return home,¡± she said, ¡°And the usual letter of refusal.¡± She paused. ¡°In the letter, he made mention of steel possibly being of use to the crown.¡±


    Rodger Thorne leaned back against the bench. ¡°Did the king make note of his suggestion?¡±


    Ilyena shook her head.


    ¡°Then we are safe for the time being.¡±


    Grim closed the heavy wooden slat over his window. He felt anything but safe.

 Ch 27: The Ritual

    The torches in the underground hall flickered as Hilda led the two men deeper into the Son¡¯s haven. She wanted to hit Billy over the head with a vase, but there wasn¡¯t one handy. The halls were strangely empty. The guard at the entrance said Marc was gathering the available Sons for a grand assembly. He¡¯d be in the audience chamber.


    Hilda led the way there through the quiet until the murmur of voices could be heard in the distance.


    ¡°What do ye think the bastard is doing?¡± Billy asked


    Hilda shrugged. ¡°Something dramatic.¡±


    The murmur grew louder until she turned the corner to see the huge double doors, leading into the chamber. She pushed them open and the murmur turned into a roar. There had to be over a thousand Sons assembled in the vast room. The walls were formed from rough-hewn stone and at the stage at the far end was a simple, raised platform carved from the rock beneath her feet. Hilda¡¯s eyes widened as she sighted a half dozen men carrying an altar onto the stage. The rusty color of it make her skin crawl. It had been years since she¡¯d seen one of those. Could it be real?


    She spotted Melna on the stage and all doubt fled her. Marc managed to convince the old bat to help him after all. Hilda pushed her way through the crowd to the stage as the men reverently set the altar on the ground. Marc leaned against the wall at the rear of the stage, looking nonchalant about the whole affair. As if this were all a common occurrence. After a great deal of shoving, Hilda reached the stage and hopped up as if she were supposed to be there. Marc grinned when he saw her.


    ¡°You¡¯re back earlier than expected,¡± he greeted as she approached with Billy and Kid in tow.


    ¡°Ran into complications. Billy took it upon himself to relieve the Marshal of a vase by dashing it over the Earl¡¯s head.¡±


    Marc¡¯s eyebrows raised, and he looked to Billy. ¡°Divines below man. Why?¡±


    Billy shifted uneasily and glanced at Kid. ¡°I saw him grab the boy. I wasn¡¯t thinking straight.¡±


    Marc shrugged. ¡°What¡¯s done is done, though I wish I could¡¯ve borne witness to that.¡± He grinned and looked to Kid. ¡°You deliver the letter?¡± Kid nodded. ¡°Good. Now what did you tell the Earl?¡±


    Kid paled, and all eyes locked on him. The boy looked like he wanted to run. Marc chuckled. ¡°Everything you knew eh? Good.¡±


    Kid blinked. ¡°Good? You wanted me to tell him?¡±


    Marc nodded. ¡°It¡¯s why I wanted you to deliver the letter. He caught you in the castle and gave you that extra Hart I found on you. I know you boy. You¡¯re a greedy, craven little shit. You¡¯d go to him if he didn¡¯t find you. In a way, it¡¯s good he caught you tonight. The fact you¡¯re all alive means I have my answer.¡±


    Hilda narrowed her eyes at him. ¡°Your answer? You didn¡¯t mention this to me.¡±


    ¡°My question was whether he would try to stop what¡¯s coming. My answer is that he doesn¡¯t want to get involved. We¡¯ll know for sure tomorrow.¡±


    Hilda walked close to him and spoke in a low voice. ¡°You didn¡¯t already know that?¡±


    Marc grinned.


    ¡°Someday you¡¯re going to get us all killed Marc.¡±


    ¡°But not today.¡± He stepped around her and looked at Kid.


    ¡°I planned for it, but you still betrayed me boy.¡± His gaze drifted to the altar. I thought about tying you to it and making you my sacrifice. There are many ways to make one a willing participant.¡±


    Kid stepped back from Marc, looking over his shoulder at the crowd. He wilted as he realized there was nowhere to run.


    She put a hand on Marc¡¯s sholder. ¡°Marc-¡±


    He cut her off with an upraised hand. Her instinct was to snap at him, but she didn¡¯t want to anger him. Not now. In the corner of her eye she noticed Billy reaching for the kitchen knife at his waist.


    Marc knelt to Kid¡¯s level, looking into his eyes. To his credit, the boy met his gaze. ¡°However.¡±


    Billy¡¯s hand moved from the knife.


    ¡°You¡¯re not strong, you look like the product of an invalid fucking a goat and you¡¯re not even particularly clever.¡± Marc smirked. ¡°But you¡¯re fucking lucky and that is something that nobody in Bleakridge ever is. You live in the home of the Reaper and If she refuses to take you, then who am I to object?¡±


    Marc patted Kid on the shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ve inflicted a hundred fates worse than death Kid. Don¡¯t make me have to think up another.¡±


    The boy looked as if he were ready to faint as Marc rose to his feet. ¡°Melna,¡± he called, ¡°Are you ready?¡±


    The old, withered woman nodded and walked closer to their group. ¡°You act all high and mighty, talking about your respect for the Reaper. Is there anybody you won¡¯t use like a tool? The reason he¡¯s alive is that you know I wouldn¡¯t help you otherwise. Don¡¯t play the fool.¡±


    Marc scowled, but didn¡¯t contradict her. He turned to the crowd, put his hand to his mouth and whistled. A pair of Sons wearing their masks pushed a man forward. Carver. Hilda had to fight the urge to kick the man in the face as he climbed onto the stage. If he¡¯d actually managed to hurt Lissa- She quashed the fire welling up in her heart.


    The two guards walked back into the crowd, leaving Carver standing on the stage. ¡°Are you ready?¡± Marc asked.


    Carver didn¡¯t answer. Melna looked to Marc. ¡°A sacrifice has to be willing. And I¡¯m not going to do your dirty work for you Marc. If you want him dead, do it yourself.¡±


    She turned from the altar, as if about to leave the stage. Carver grabbed her by the elbow. There were tears in his eyes. He blinked them away. ¡°Please. You have to.¡±


    Marc nodded. ¡°I assure you. He¡¯s very willing.¡±


    Hilda couldn¡¯t find pity in her heart for the man but Melna was visibly upset. She looked to Carver. ¡°Are you sure? It¡¯s not an easy way to go.¡±


    The man gave an unconvincing nod. Melna frowned. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure Ghretta is okay for you.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Carver didn¡¯t answer, looking to the altar. ¡°Do I just lay there?¡±


    Melna followed his gaze. ¡°Best to close your eyes.¡±


    Carver walked to the altar and laid his hands along smooth surface. Marc clapped his hands. ¡°Excellent work everyone. Now, all of you, get the fuck off my stage.¡±


    Hilda, Billy and Kid followed his instruction, joining the crowd below. Above them, Marc stepped to the edge of the platform and raised his hands. Silence washed over the room like a wave. Marc stood above, watching them, letting his gaze drift over the crowd in such a way that every man thought they locked eyes. The silence lingered. The only sound was the shifting of men and their breath.


    Marc spoke, ¡°Today is a dark day in our history. The day our country fell. But as with the darkness of every night, there comes a dawn. Tomorrow we will rise. The fires that burn in our heart will be the spark to the kindling of our revolution. The blood we spill will be the fuel for the flame and it starts with one man.¡±


    Marc turned to Carver who still leaned against the rusty stone. He put a hand on the man¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Carver. My friend, you have been with us almost as long as I have. For that you have my eternal gratitude. And for your sacrifice, the thanks of our nation.¡±


    Marc hugged the man. Carver tensed in his grasp, but the crowd cheered. Marc released him and gestured to the altar. Carver stared at it for a long moment before lowering himself to its surface. The room was deathly quiet as Melna walked to the altar. She held out a hand to Marc. The man drew the dagger at his belt and handed it to her hilt first.


    Melna¡¯s fingers curled around the blade and she took it. She pricked her thumb with the point of the blade and held her hand out over the altar, letting droplets of blood fall into the stone. The altar pulsed red as the droplets hit it. Then, Melna spoke in a language Hilda hadn¡¯t heard since she was a girl. The harsh tones of the Old Rillish language chilled her and the room seemed to grow darker as Melna spoke. One by one, the people around her fell to their knees. She knew that for many of the younger Sons, this was the first human sacrifice they¡¯d seen.


    She joined them on her knees, looking up at the proceedings. When Melna finished her prayer, she grabbed Carver¡¯s arm and lifted it into the air. She drew the blade along the veins of his wrist, cleanly splitting them. The man¡¯s jaw tightened as blood flowed down his exposed arm. Hilda watched the flow, waiting for it to touch the altar. A mixed feeling of excitement and dread welled up in her. Dread for what she was about to see, excitement for what it would wrought.


    The blood flowed onto the altar and the stone pulsed red, then turned black as night. The air chilled and Hilda¡¯s breath began to frost. The darkness from the altar seeped into the blood flowing from Carver¡¯s arm. The liquid turned black, the color red fleeing up his arm to the wound. When the darkness touched the wound, Carver screamed. The noise rent the air, a noise of primal terror. He began to shake, trying to thrash but the altar held him down. Carver¡¯s veins turned black, spider webbing from his wound which no longer bled. Hilda could tell when it reached his heart because the black exploded outwards into his other arm and into his face, ringing his brow like a crown of thorns. His screams cut off.


    Hilda knew what to look for. She watched his eyes. The dark seeped in from the edges, slowly enveloping the whites, then the iris and finally joining his pupil. Then he began to sink. The stone dragged him downwards, consuming him. As he faded from sight, he raised an arm. His fingers twitched as they disappeared into the altar.


    All was quiet as the black swirls ran across the altar. Melna handed the dagger back to Marc. ¡°Finish it,¡± she said.


    Marc took the blade, unwrapped the bandage around his hand and reopened the wound. He placed his bloody palm on the altar. As with Carver, the darkness of the altar rushed into his wound, up his arm and exploded across his body when it reached his heart. Marc¡¯s expression was one of ecstasy. He moaned as his eyes slowly turned black. When the darkness reached his pupils, the altar pulsed and the dark seeped into the air, billowing over the crowd like a wave.


    Hilda held her eyes wide open and breathed deeply. The older Sons in the crowd did the same. The young recoiled, not understanding. They would soon. On the stage Marc began to laugh, mania taking hold of him. Hilda felt it enter her veins, a rush of power running into her. It exhilarated her, filled her with life, with Carver¡¯s life. She felt lighter, more lithe in body and clearer in mind than ever before. Her eyes began to itch.


    Next to her, Kid rubbed at his eyes. She grabbed his hands, stopping him. He looked to her. The veins in his eyes had turned pitch black, making it look as if the whites of his eyes had shattered. Hilda grinned at him as he stared into her eyes.


    Shouts and joyous laughter sounded around the room. Hilda joined in it. The horror of moments before, faded into foggy memory. A smile split Kid¡¯s face. ¡°What it this?¡± he asked.


    ¡°The Reaper¡¯s blessing. She accepted our offering.¡± Celebration broke out around them as Marc leapt from the stage and began clasping hands and embracing his people. The white of his grin at odds with the pitch black of his eyes. ¡°How long will I feel like this?¡±


    ¡°A day. A week.¡± Hilda shrugged. ¡°Depends on your blood.¡± She sighed contentedly. Marc walked up to her and embraced her. She knew she should hate his touch, but couldn¡¯t find it in herself. He released her and whispered in her ear. ¡°James is in my office. He asked to see you.¡±


    Hilda smiled, the mania running through her veins overwhelming.


    James.


    Her smile faltered. ¡°What does he want?¡±


    ¡°He asked a favor of me, and asked for a moment to speak with you,¡± he answered.


    The fear running through her warred with the blessing, dulling it¡¯s cutting edge. ¡°I don''t know,¡± she whispered.


    ¡°Go,¡± he said with a sense of command.


    Hilda felt the compulsion wash over her, and before she knew it, she was walking from the room, all doubt washed away.


    The crowd of Sons around her roared in cacophonic glee, madness in their eyes. Reaper below, it was comforting. She made it through the writing mass of humanity to the doors. It felt like a physical loss as she passed their threshold. The torches in the long halls flickered and there were eyes in the shadows, watching her as she glided down the halls. Energy coursed through her, spurring her to move faster until she raced down the halls at a reckless pace.


    She reached the door and threw it open. James looked up at her from Marc¡¯s bed. She froze, seemingly stuck in place.¡±


    James frowned at her as he rose to his feet and crossed the room to her. ¡°Hild,¡± he whispered as he took her hands.


    She averted her eyes from him. She didn¡¯t know why. His hand touched her cheek and gently turned her head to face him. ¡°Marc said he would send you here as soon as you got back. I guess you got here during the blessing?¡±


    ¡°Right when it started.¡± She didn¡¯t know why she lied. Her eyes widened. ¡°Wait, where¡¯s Lissa?¡±


    James frowned. ¡°I keep asking myself that lately. I found her at Melna¡¯s house earlier today, but you know that story.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Marc gave Melna a room and I left Lissa in there. I didn¡¯t want her at the blessing, and I wanted to talk to you alone.¡±


    ¡°Talk? I thought you cut ties with Marc.¡±


    James frowned, and she could see his pride warring with his heart. He grimaced as if in pain. ¡°I swallowed my pride and came to him, asking for forgiveness. My daughter is in danger and he can protect her.¡± James took her by the hand. ¡°And I miss my wife. Come home Hild.¡±


    The scars on his face were a storybook of pain. She stroked a hand along his face, his hurt, like a knife running through her heart. She knew what she had to say, what she should have said years ago. What she never had the courage to say aloud without the darkness running through her veins. ¡°I love you, but I can¡¯t give you what you want.¡±


    James frowned more deeply, tears appearing in the corners of his eyes. ¡°I know. I¡¯ve known for a long time. I¡¯ve just kept hoping you¡¯d change your mind¡± He chuckled darkly. ¡°It sounds foolish, saying it aloud.¡±


    She took his hand in hers.¡±It¡¯s not foolish. It¡¯s noble.¡± She hesitated, her breath catching. ¡°You¡¯ve been everything a woman could ever hope for in a husband, and I ruined you.¡±


    James shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s not true. I-¡±


    She put a hand against his chest, silencing him. ¡°I can¡¯t wait this out. I can¡¯t weather the storm and be happy with the scraps we have left.¡± She took a deep breath. ¡°I think of the life we used to have before the war, and gods, I would give up anything for Lissa to have a chance at that.¡±


    ¡°Even me?¡± James asked.


    Hilda felt the tears dripping down her face. James reached out to her and wiped them from her face. His hand came away, black as night. She forced out the single hardest word of her life. ¡°Yes.¡±


    Without another word, he slipped past her and left through the doorway. It clicked shut behind him. Hilda didn''t know how long she stood in that room willing the blessing to drown out the gaping wound in her heart. She knew it never could.

 Ch 28: Compulsion

    Kid stared abound the room in a dark haze, his eyes drifting over a scene of madness. Pleasure as black as sin ran through his veins, giving new life to his flesh. Crazed laughter rang about the room. In the far corner a man and a woman were tearing the clothes from one another, heedless of observers.  The youngest in the room, like him, stared with wide blackened eyes around the room.


    Marc walked through it all with a wide grin on his face. Men and women parted before him like a sharp knife through flesh. He patted shoulders and clasped arms as he went around the room, whispering in ears. At each parting, the Son would nod and move from the room with purpose Then Marc¡¯s eyes locked on him. A rush of joy filled Kid and he couldn¡¯t help but smile, a giggle escaping his lips.


    Marc knelt before him to meet his eyes, putting a hand on Kid¡¯s shoulder. Marc¡¯s eyes flashed a darker black at the contact. Kid felt the veins in his shoulder writhe. He gasped.


    Marc leaned closer, putting his lips almost to Kid¡¯s ear. ¡°Every transgression warrants a punishment boy. Do you understand?¡±


    Kid nodded, a vacant smile splayed across his face.


    ¡°Hand me your purse.¡±


    A twinge of something ran through Kid but he brushed it away, digging gold coins from his pockets and pressing them into Marc¡¯s hands. Marc smiled at him and Kid grinned back, basking in the man¡¯s approval.


    ¡°Now, I want you to walk into the bay, until the water rises above your head. Swim if you are able and ignore the cold, it will not bother you. Go to where the ships disappear over the horizon and wait till morning. Then you shall return to me.¡±


    Marc¡¯s grip tightened on Kid¡¯s shoulder until it hurt. ¡°Goodbye Kid.¡±


    The man rose and moved to the next Son, whispering in his ear. Every muscle in Kid¡¯s body tensed. He felt doubt. It hung in the back of his head, lurking like carrion birds before the slaughter. Shivers ran through his body, only to be overwhelmed by the feeling of warmth and life coursing through his body. The doubt was quashed, the circling birds struck with arrows and falling to the ground with the snap of bone.


    Kid blinked and found himself in motion, his legs already moving before his mind registered the command. He knew what he had to do. Of Marc¡¯s intent, there was no doubt. Kid would follow his instructions. Kid dodged around the swinging legs of larger men and made his way to the door on the far side of the room. He caught sight of Hilda disappearing around the corner far down the hall. He followed in her wake.


    The halls passed in a haze as he walked them. He could catch hints of whispers drifting from the shadows but no words. Muffled voices sounded from behind a door ahead of him and then it opened. James stepped out. There were tears in the corners of his eyes, but the man blinked rapidly, and they disappeared. His eyes drifted to Kid.


    The man opened his mouth to speak but the words seemed to catch in his throat. He let out a deep breath and tried again. ¡°Hey, Kid.¡±


    Kid nodded in greeting and continued down the hall. James fell into step beside him. They walked together, each lost in their own thoughts. Kid wondered how cold the water was at night.


    ¡°Where does Marc have you headed?¡±


    ¡°Home for the night.¡± The lie slipped so easily from his lips he almost believed it.


    James nodded to himself. ¡°After all the shit he¡¯s put you through, you deserve a break. If you don¡¯t want to see your mother, you can stay at the inn.¡±


    Kid nodded more in acknowledgment of James¡¯s words than any desire to stay. ¡°How do you know what he¡¯s put me through?¡±


    ¡°My daughter tells me some, then the older men here will fill in the blanks. Did he give you a job for what comes tomorrow?¡±


    Kid shook his head. ¡°Not tomorrow.¡± This time he didn¡¯t even have to lie.


    ¡°That¡¯s good. This ritual is one for war. Whatever comes tomorrow, it¡¯ll be no place for a boy.¡± James glanced at Kid and the boy met his eyes. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen eyes like those in twenty years.¡± James dug his nails into his palms, a hungry look entering his eyes. ¡°Took all my willpower not to walk in there and join you all. A man gets addicted to such a feeling, craves it more than his soul.¡±


    Kid grinned as another rush of pleasure ran through his body. ¡°What does it do?¡± he asked, though he felt he already knew.


    James paused as they reached the door leaving the main complex and pushed it open. They walked into the long tunnel. ¡°It feels good. It feels damn good. Lowers your inhibitions and makes fear a distant memory. The man who completes it can compel you to do most anything with but a word.¡± James looked over his shoulder, frowning but kept walking.


    ¡°During the war the penalties for abusing it were severe. Once saw an officer tell a man to go fuck himself and didn¡¯t stop the poor bastard when he started trying to.¡± James shook his head and ran a hand over the scars on his face. ¡°The next day I saw that officer impaled on a stake from ass to mouth.¡± He glanced at Kid. ¡°Accountability is important, and it terrifies me to think what precedent my brother will set for your generation.¡±


    Kid gripped the rungs of the ladder ahead of them and started to climb. His hands felt no pain. James followed behind him as they pulled themselves through the dark tunnel. The rock and dirt around Kid fell away and he pulled himself into a small building of reinforced wood. A man in a bear mask leaned against the wall, regarding him.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Lucky little shit,¡± the man muttered as he walked to the door and unlocked it for them. Kid laughed, a crazed grin lighting his face. The Son at the door, backed away from him as Kid left the building. Kid breathed the night air, reveling in the cool feeling of the air filling his lungs. Every pleasure seemed magnified ten-fold.


    The street about them was devoid of life. When the nights grew cold, few ventured from their fires. James clapped a hand on his shoulder. ¡°Come on. I know you don¡¯t feel it, but you need to rest. I¡¯ve heard a few horror stories about men coming down from the high and dropping dead from exhaustion. Best not join their ranks.¡±


    Kid nodded, only half hearing James. He was busy looking at the stars. He wanted to die watching something beautiful. The distant crash of waves called to him. Their draw was inexorable. His feet were moving before his mind registered. James still walked beside him. Kid wondered if that would pose a problem. He still had his dagger and considered stabbing the man and running.


    Kid licked his lips. No. It was too risky. He¡¯d have to play it by ear. They walked in silence and Kid was glad for it. Kid always liked people who didn¡¯t feel the need to fill silence. The sounds of horns echoed through the air. Kid looked up to the castle perched on the cliff far away and high above. A ball of fire streaked from its parapets, racing across the sky like a falling star.


    ¡°Divines, how many has that been this week? Four? Five?¡± James asked


    Kid shrugged. ¡°Should we be worried?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t think I have room in me for more worry. Come on. Let¡¯s get inside and get a fire going.¡± James turned off the road.


    Kid kept walking, following the fire. It was a few moments before James noticed Kid had left him. The man called after him. ¡°Kid. Where are you going?¡±


    Kid ignored him and kept walking. He heard the thump of James¡¯s boots following him. Kid broke out into a run, charging toward the sounds of crashing waves. Behind him, the man hesitated but soon decided something wasn¡¯t right. James charged after him.


    The darkness of the night writhed like something alive as Kid raced past black alleys and murky windows. His feet pounded against the hard dirt and his breath clouded the air in his wake. His heart raced from the exhilaration and the pounding of blood through his veins filled him with energy. He thought he could run for days.


    The crashing waves were loud now and in the distance, he could see the white foam along their crests. The dirt road turned abruptly from the coast. There were no docks in the Outwalls. Nobody wanted to leave their valuables here. Kid jumped from the road, racing down a steep incline. His foot caught on a rock, sending him bouncing down to the sand below. The clattering of rocks behind him announced James¡¯s arrival. As if Kid could miss the man¡¯s wheezing.


    ¡°Kid. Stop.¡± The man called between breaths.


    Kid scrambled to his feet and ran, kicking up sand behind him. His feet sloshed into the water, cold enveloping them. As the water rose to his waist he began to slow, and a hand wrapped around the collar of his shirt, dragging him backwards. Kid fell from his feet into the icy water. A wave crashed over his head and he choked on the salt and brine. The hand pulled him backwards, away from the ocean. Kid fought violently and heard the tearing of fabric.


    He drew his dagger and sawed at his shirt. The fabric split easily, and he was free.  He barely made it to his feet before an arm wrapped around his throat and hauled him entirely out of the water. Kid screamed and fought the grip. He tried to slash with the dagger, but his movement was sluggish. James grabbed him by the wrist and pressed hard on the veins in his wrist. Kid felt no pain, but the dagger fell from his grip. He cursed and tried to thrash but his body was overtaken by an uncontrollable shaking. His breath came in shaky gasps.


    James shook too but less violently. Horror shined in the man¡¯s eyes like the white of a skull. James lifted Kid into his arms with a grunt Kid tried to fight but his body refused to respond to his commands. He could only weakly push against James¡¯s chest. The man didn¡¯t seem to notice as he hauled Kid back up the slope to the road. Darkness crawled into the edges of Kid¡¯s vision and he lost track of how much time passed.


    The darkness was replaced with light and after a long moment of staring he realized it was a fire. He heard voices behind him. ¡°What the hell was he doing? Going for a swim?¡±


    ¡°Marc must have told him to.¡±


    A girl¡¯s voice, close to him. ¡°Will he be okay?¡±


    Kid heard no vocal answer but a moment later he felt a small hand rest on his shoulder.


    ¡°Can you undo the ritual?¡±


    Silence.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    The hand moved from his shoulder and a larger hand rolled him over. Kid raised his arm weakly. He was beginning to be able to move again. James, Melna and Lissa stood over him. A long tongue licked his face. Kid winced, and his eyes flicked to Kryll.


    James held Melna by the arm and helped her lower herself to the ground where Kid lay. She pressed his arm to the ground. Kid couldn¡¯t fight it. She caressed his face with a withered hand. ¡°I¡¯m sorry boy.¡±


    Pink light danced across his eyes, springing forth from her hand.  No, it was going into his eyes. Kid closed them, but he knew it was no use. He could feel the veins in his eyes burning as the darkness was sluiced from them. As his eyes cleared, the sensation of pain began to return. His hands were aflame, the salt from the sea burning like the embers of a fire. The rest of him was a deeper cold than he had ever known. His flesh was ice and the warmth of the fire sent needles of pain through his skin.


    Kid gritted his teeth and the veins in his neck bulged as exhaustion from the night seeped back into him alongside the piercing pain. His limbs began to convulse once more as if spurred to life by his agony. Melna fell away from his sight, gasping.


    Lissa appeared above him and he felt her rubbing him, trying to put warmth back into his body. Worry filled her eyes and he felt droplets of water splash against his face. Her hair smeared the wetness across his face. She clung to him, but he could barely feel her.


    James put a hand on her shoulder. ¡°Lissa.¡±


    She shook the hand from her.


    Kryll waddled up to Kid and lay next to him, trilling softly. The beast crossed its clawed arms and lay its head across Kid¡¯s bare chest.  Its throat was strangely soft next to the armored plates along its backside. The beady black eyes stared into his own.  Lissa turned her head to Kryll and laid her palm across its head. The beast trilled in pleasure and the plates along its back rose into the air. Warmth radiated from Kryll like a second fire.


    Where the Keeper¡¯s throat touched his skin, warmth seeped into Kid. Needles raced across his flesh as the room rapidly heated. Kid gasped as life returned to his body. The shaking slowly subsided and he found the strength to move of his own will. He raised a hand and rested atop the hand Lissa placed on Kryll. She smiled at him, sweat beginning to bead on her forehead. Kid forced a smile to his lips.


    James pulled her hand from Kryll¡¯s head. ¡°Divines, that¡¯s enough. You¡¯re damn near to cooking us alive in here.¡± He knelt next to Kid. ¡°You feeling okay boy?¡±


    Kid shook his head then let it loll to the side. He saw Melna sitting against the leg of her table, clutching her hand. It looked-wrong. Where it had been withered with age, now it was skeletal, as if the muscle had been stripped from it and all that was left was skin and bone. They locked eyes and Melna hid the hand within the folds of her cloak. Then Kid closed his eyes. He didn¡¯t plan on opening them for a long time.

 Ch 29: All In

    Grim¡¯s eyes snapped open as hands shook him. Edgar¡¯s face greeted him. Grim groaned as his head pounded. Sleep filled the corners of his eyes and Edgar wouldn¡¯t stop fucking shaking him. ¡°God Damnit I¡¯m up. What the hell do you want?¡± It was then that Grim noticed Edgar was in full battle dress.


    Grim leapt to his feet. ¡°What happened?¡±


    Edgar shrugged. ¡°Don¡¯t know. Urgent summons from the Marshal. Messenger damn near killed his horse, riding it up the switchbacks.¡±


    ¡°Shit. Doesn¡¯t he have his own soldiers?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re probably not as fun to wake up an hour before sunrise.¡±


    Grim sighed.


    An hour later Grim was approaching the gates to the Greencloak fortress. A man hung from the gatehouse by a noose. He appeared more a skeleton than a man. Yellow teeth were bared in an eternal grin on a lipless face. Where his nose should have been, there was only blackened flesh and a pair of slits. Bloody pools marked where his eyes were recently removed. Grim passed the corpse without a second look. One of the men behind him smacked the feet, sending the corpse swinging like a pendulum.


    The army within the walls was in motion. On either side of the road, Greencloaks were gathering weapons, donning armor and forming ranks. It looked as if they were preparing for a battle. Grim slowed his march and looked to Edgar. ¡°Any ideas?¡±


    Edgar shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t think they¡¯d invite us here if they were going to storm the castle so it¡¯s got to be something with the Sons.¡±


    Grim nodded, brow furrowed. They passed the wrought iron gate and marched through the winding garden path to the fountain. A large group of officers were gathered before it. The Marshal leaned over a small wooden table bearing a map and a helmet. He was dressed for battle. A full coat of bronze plates, inlaid with gold covered him from shoulders to knees. To his right and left the man¡¯s officers crowded around.


    At Grim¡¯s approach the Marshal looked up from the map. ¡°You¡¯re late.¡±


    Grim scowled at the man. ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡±


    Harren answered. ¡°If you were here an hour ago, you¡¯d already know, Bastard.¡±


    Longreen waved him down. ¡°Save it for the real enemy.¡± He turned to Grim. ¡°One of our prisoners broke. Told us everything he knew. The Sons cower beneath the earth like rats and today we flush them out.¡±


    Grim walked closer to the table and glanced at the map. It was a detailed rendering of Bleakridge from the Outwalls to the castle. A dozen small X¡¯s were scattered beyond the city wall. One great X was within the city walls, a mere six city blocks from this very fort. The X was circled as if its very presence didn¡¯t already catch the eye. Grim fingered his axe. ¡°Has this all been confirmed?¡±


    ¡°Do you take me for a fool? Last night your father abandons me mid-discussion and now you insult me. My patience with your family runs thin. Be quiet and do as you are told.¡±


    Grim swallowed. He had been considering telling the man about the Son¡¯s presence at the party last night. Grim did as he was told. He kept quiet.


    ***


    The preparations for the assault were hurried, but still took over an hour to prepare as officers were drilled on the route to their targets and the soldiers were formed up before the gates. Grim was assigned to the manse in the inner city. He and his men would accompany Longreen and a company of three hundred Greencloaks. Apparently, fodder was needed for where they expected the heaviest resistance.


    It alarmed Grim how little they knew of what to expect beyond the doors of each building, but the Marshal was convinced they needed to act before news spread beyond the walls. Surprise combined with overwhelming strength would lead them to victory.


    Grim let out a slow sigh as he shifted his weight from his right foot to his left. He had long since returned to where his men waited in the garden. His presence among the officers was neither wanted nor acknowledged beyond the occasional reprimand.


    To Grim¡¯s right, Edgar stood, tapping the toe of his boot impatiently. ¡°Gods I hate this part.¡±


    ¡°Me too. Just want to get it over with.¡± Grim glanced at Edgar. ¡°You ever been in a fight like this?¡±


    ¡°Not against Sons. A few years ago, I fought off an Islander raid with Captain Roland. First time I saw the Sorrow of rain. Poor fucker was tied to the ceiling, slit from cock to chin, his wife huddled in a ball naked beneath him. Asked me to kill her. Did it herself the next day.¡±


    ¡°And yet we¡¯re here killing each other instead of those monsters.¡±


    ¡°And yet,¡± Edgar agreed. ¡°To be fair, we started that feud.¡±


    Grim shook his head. ¡°We ended it.¡±


    ¡°Four horns in the last week. They¡¯re up to something.¡±


    Grim didn¡¯t answer. He watched as the green-clad nobles patted each other on the back and clasped arms. Slowly, they began to separate from the table. It was time. As the Marshal passed him, Grim fell into line behind the man. He raised his fist into the air, elevating two fingers. His men fell in behind him in two columns. As they passed through the gardens, Grim ran a hand over the dent in his breastplate. He donned his helmet.


    The small army was assembled in the courtyard. Near twenty-five hundred men in neat ranks. At least half a legion. It seemed the Marshal wasn¡¯t holding back. Grim followed the man to the gates where a white horse waited in front of a large contingent of Greencloaks. The men fidgeted with their equipment but straightened to attention when they caught sight of the officers walking between them to the head of their commands.


    Grim raised a clenched fist to signal his men to halt while the Marshal mounted his horse in a swift, practiced motion. The man pulled the reins of his mount and turned to regard the assembled men. He locked eyes with each officer, giving each man a nod. Except for Grim of course. Then he turned to the pair of Greencloaks by the gate. The two men didn¡¯t hesitate, hauling the great double doors open. The first regiment immediately broke out into a jog, pouring through the gate and rushing to their target. Cries of surprise sounded from outside at the sudden outpouring of men. Longreen instructed them to move faster than news could travel. Grim felt bad for the men who had to run to the Outwalls. That was quite a trek.


    Longreen¡¯s company was the last to leave. The man¡¯s eyes fell upon him and Grim signaled an advance. He broke into a slow jog, on the heels of the last man in the previous regiment. The gate passed over head and he was on the streets. Greencloaks poured through the city in all directions while terrified townspeople huddled against walls, struggling to keep out of their way. Grim ran straight ahead, his armor clacking with every step. He found the daily sparring he was required to participate in tiresome, but today he was glad for it. He didn¡¯t think he could maintain this pace in full armor without it.


    Every muscle in his body was tense as he waited for an arrow to slam into him from one of the houses. Nothing about this was right and here he was, charging headlong into it. Grim gritted his teeth and kept running, the thunder of boots echoing behind him. Grim reached the area marked on the map and signaled a halt. The thump of boots slowed and then ceased.


    Hooves clattered on the cobblestone as Longreen rode nearer to Grim. He looked down at Grim then to a large gated manse, unremarkable from the others in the affluent neighborhood. But Grim supposed that was the point. He took a deep breath.


    ¡°Breach it and my men will follow,¡± Longreen said.


    Grim nodded and released his breath. He turned to Edgar. ¡°Take a dozen men through the back. I¡¯ll take the front.¡±


    Edgar saluted fist over heart and gathered a dozen men, leading them to the gate. It swung open without any resistance. Grim followed behind the Captain with the rest of the men, peering into the windows. The glass was mottled making it hard to see through, but there were definitely shadows moving in there. His men took up positions along the wall of the house by the windows and front door without direction. His father trained them well. Grim dashed to the door and leaned against the wall next to it, axe drawn. He was the best armored, so he would go first and face whatever was on the other side.


    Grim locked eyes with the man across from him. The soldier¡¯s knuckles were white along his axe. The shuffling of boots went quiet as everyone waited for Grim¡¯s order. Grim slowly pulled the door latch, it clicked open and that unsettled Grim more than anything.


    Then the door exploded, flying off its hinges as a battering ram crashed through the wood. The head of the ram snapped Grim¡¯s shield and wrenched his arm to the side. Then the door slammed into him, sending him flying a half-dozen paces across the yard. Grim landed beneath the wood with a grunt.


    The sound of breaking windows and snapping wood exploded into being. The wood above Grim creaked as it was levered off him. One of his men heaved it to the side and offered Grim a hand. The twang of longbows sounded and the man above him went down in a spray of blood. Grim¡¯s heart raced as he clambered to his feet and charged back to the doorway. Behind him, the Greencloaks roared a battle cry and followed.


    The sounds of battle were in full swing. As he entered the house, Grim discarded his shattered shield and took his axe in both hands. Ten of his men were fighting in the entryway before a great stairwell. A half dozen more were on the ground, arrows sticking from them like pincushions. Archers stood on the stairs, sending arrows into the melee raging in the foyer.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Grim charged forward, using his bulk and armor to bull through the melee. Curses sounded as Grim crashed through a pair of Sons. He stuck the point of his axe into one¡¯s throat. he didn¡¯t stop to bother with the other. An arrow slammed into him as he took to the stairs. It deflected harmlessly, but the force nearly flipped him on his back.


    Grim roared and rushed the first archer, noticing the veins in the man¡¯s eyes were jet black. The man dropped his bow and tried to draw the dagger at his waist. Too slow. Grim¡¯s axe cleaved into his shoulder, snapping bone and sending the man to his knees.


    Grim wrenched the axe out, sending the man¡¯s corpse tumbling down the stairs. Bows clattered to the floor as the remaining three archers drew blades. One man thrust at him, a clumsy, slow attack. Grim dodged, grabbing his wrist. He yanked hard, sending the man into the midst of the melee behind them. Grim deflected the next blow with an armored forearm and rammed his spike into the man¡¯s gut.


    The man didn¡¯t seem to notice, continuing to slash wildly at Grim, a manic grin splayed across his face. Chills of fear ran down Grim¡¯s spine. He wrenched the axe out, ducked a swing and crushed the blade into the man¡¯s knee. He crumpled to the floor, rolling down the stairs.


    The fallen Son grabbed Grim¡¯s leg as he tumbled. Grim crashed to his side along the stairs. The remaining arched leaped atop him, pinning Grim¡¯s axe beneath his feet. He wrenched Grim¡¯s helmet up with one hand, exposing his throat. With the other, he drew back for a killing blow. Grim¡¯s dagger was faster, slicing the tendons in the hand holding his helmet.


    Blood poured into Grim¡¯s mouth as the Son¡¯s blade grated along his faceplate. Grim struck his dagger through the man¡¯s throat. The Son kept fighting, trying to strangle Grim but he was weak. Grim threw the dying man from atop him.


    As Grim sat up, the battle beneath the stairs was concluded by the arrival of the Greencloaks. They poured through the house like ants, scattering through the downstairs. Grim gasped at his brief reprieve. The air smelled of blood, shit, and hard liquor. Broken bottles were everywhere. And all the wood in the house was mottled with stains. It looked as if a great party had been thrown and nobody bothered to clean up.


    The voice of the Marshal snapped Grim back to reality. ¡°Grim get off your ass and clear the upstairs.¡±


    Grim grimaced behind his helmet and rose to his feet. Edgar and the men from the back had joined up with what was left of Grim¡¯s breaching force. Of the thirty men he brought, only ten were left standing. He told half to see to the wounded and signaled the rest to follow him. They cleared the rooms one at a time, kicking the door in and charging inside. Every empty room was a relief beyond words, followed by the dread of the next door. The rooms were strangely bare, as if they had been ransacked and hurriedly emptied. The smell of stale booze turned Grim¡¯s stomach, bringing back unfortunate memories.


    Every room was clear save for the final great double doors at the far side of the house. Grim took a deep breath and burst inside. There was a man inside sitting atop a fallen cask the cask had its cork pulled and a golden-brown liquid leaked out across the floor. He leaned backward against the wall, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a torch in the other.


    Grim¡¯s stomach dropped with the torch. The flames hit the floor and spread across the room in a wash of blue flame. The man drank deeply from the bottle as the flames engulfed him. ¡°Run!¡± Grim screamed, pushing back against his men as the flame raced toward them. Broken glass crunched beneath their feet as they raced the flames. Grim more fell than ran down the stairs.


    He clambered to his feet before the Marshal. The man furrowed his brow at Grim. ¡°What the hell are you doing. There are tunnels down-¡± he cut off as he caught sight of the flames devouring the alcohol-drenched wood.


    Grim grabbed the man by his helmet, forcing Longreen to look at him. ¡°Recall your men. We need to get the hell out of here.¡±


    The Marshall opened his mouth to respond when a deep rumbling sound echoed like thunder from beneath them. Like a gaping maw, the earth opened up beneath them. Grim screamed as he fell, and the house collapsed around him, the wood above rapidly catching flame.


    He thudded against loose dirt. Something writhed beneath him. Grim ignored it and curled into a ball as wood came crashing to the ground around him. He shut his eyes tight, screaming until the rumbling ceased and all that remained were the screams of other men. He opened his eyes and acrid smoke burned them, causing tears to spill down his soot-streaked face. Something writhed beneath him again and Grim looked down.


    They were hands. Dozens of hands sprouted from the ground like a field of weeds, spasming as the owners struggled to escape their dirt prison. Grim dug frantically at the earth, trying to reach them. The smoke made him cough violently and he soon realized he had more pressing concerns. He was in a wooden tomb and he could see the flicker of flames a dozen paces from him through the debris.


    Grim started banging on the wood, screaming for help.


    ¡°Grim,¡± A voice called from inside the wood.


    Grim turned to it and saw the Marshal struggling to escape from beneath a pile of wood. Blood dripped freely from his lips.


    Grim stared at the man.


    ¡°Please,¡± the Marshal begged.


    If the man died, there would be consequences for more than just him. Grim swallowed his hate and crawled to the man¡¯s side. With all his strength, Grim heaved at the pile of wood atop the man¡¯s legs. It budged only a fingers width, but that was enough for the man to scurry out from under and into the grasping hands of dying men.


    With the Marshal free, Grim returned to banging on the wood above him and trying to pry it free. He choked on the smoke. It was getting hard to breathe. Nothing would budge. A part of his mind knew that he was more likely to bring it all crashing down on his head than find a path to freedom, but logic was crushed beneath primal panic.


    Grim surrendered and fell to the ground, watching as one by one, the hands stopped twitching. His gaze drifted to the Marshal. The man¡¯s right leg was badly mangled from the collapse. Longreen spat blood while Grim stared at him. The Marshal met his gaze.


    ¡°Thinking about killing me?¡±


    ¡°Always,¡± Grim confided.


    The man grinned and wheezed a choking cough. He looked toward the raging fire, growing ever closer. ¡°Divines, I just wanted to get out of this hellhole. Saw my chance to finally send the King some good news.¡± Longreen sighed. ¡°Now I¡¯m going to die here.¡±


    The chopping of axes sounded from above.


    ¡°Think they¡¯ll make it?¡± Longreen asked, coughing as the smoke grew thicker.


    Grim shrugged, then an axe split through the roofing above their heads. Smoke spilled out the gap like a chimney.


    Grim coughed some more and banged against the wood. ¡°Right here! The Marshal is here!¡± he screamed.


    Muffled voices sounded above him, and the hacking of axes redoubled. Beams of sunlight shined down on them as axes crunched through the wood. The Marshal hacked more blood onto the ground as Grim coughed. His throat burned, and the heat was stifling. His sweat was starting to evaporate faster than he could make it.


    With a crash, a large piece of wood fell to the ground before him. Grim looked up to see Edgar with a half dozen Greencloaks. The man leaned over the edge of the gap, reaching his hand down into the pit.


    Grim scrambled to the Marshal. The man was scooting away from the far wall which was now wreathed in flames. Grim grabbed him and wrapped the man¡¯s arm around his shoulder. He heaved Longreen to his feet. The effort of it made Grim¡¯s head spin as he staggered to the wall by Edgar. ¡°Take him,¡± Grim ordered. Edgar nodded and grabbed Longreen¡¯s arm as Grim pushed the heavily armored man into the air.


    Grim¡¯s legs shook as the Greencloaks helped haul Longreen out. The man¡¯s feet disappeared over the edge. Then Edgar reappeared, hand reaching into the pit. The fire wreathed the wood to Grim¡¯s left and right. He knew it would soon engulf the wall Edgar leaned over. Grim struggled for air, but there was none.


    Edgar screamed his name and Grim realized he was looking up at him from his back. Black smoke obfuscated Grim ¡®s vision, seeming to sear his eyes as the flames grew hotter around him. Boots crashed into the dirt next to Grim, snapping one of the dead hands. Edgar reached under Grim¡¯s arms and hauled him up, dragging him to the small stretch of wall not burning. Edgar heaved Grim up against the wall.


    The Greencloaks looked down at them, seeming uncertain. ¡°Help them damnit,¡± Longreen ordered. The men snapped into action. Grim raised a shaky hand in the air and a man clasped it, pulling him upwards. As he was pulled over the edge, the taste of fresh air met his lips. Grim wheezed in great lungfuls of air.


    Down the street, townsfolk were starting to race toward the flaming wreckage, buckets of water in hand. Fire was a danger to everyone. Behind him, Edgar screamed. Grim looked over his shoulder. The Greencloaks were cursing as they pulled Edgar from the wreckage. The shirt under his mail had caught fire. Edgar rolled in the dirt of the yard, trying to douse the fire. A woman from the street dumped a bucket of water on him. The flames disappeared, and Edgar lay on the ground moaning.


    A pair of Greencloaks pulled Grim and the Marshal across the street and out of the chaos. They commandeered a bucket of water for the Marshal to drink. Grim supposed he would just have to make do. He watched the conflagration rage, wondering if any more of his men had survived.


    The Marshal tapped his arm and Grim turned to look at him. Longreen offered the bucket. ¡°Drink.¡±


    Grim accepted it and gulped water. Nothing had ever felt so good. He drank so fast he choked on it. He coughed, then leaned back against the wall behind him, gasping. Horns sounded in the distance along with the sound of galloping hooves and marching boots. Grim looked to the castle. Sun shined from the armor of thousands of Thorne soldiers marching from the castle. Grim stared. He couldn¡¯t remember the last time his father raised their banners.


    The fire still raged and Grim could tell it was getting out of hand. The wind was blowing it onto the houses next door and flaming debris was scattered all across the street. Grim struggled to his feet. He was dizzy but found he could stand. He staggered over to where a passingThorne patrol had dragged Edgar. The man lay next to five more of his men, all wounded in some fashion.


    Edgar had removed his shirt and mail. The flesh along the right of his waist and ribs was red and peeling. His eyes were tightly shut in pain and the veins in his throat bulged. Grim collapsed next to the man. ¡°I know you don¡¯t want to hear this right now, but thank you.¡±


    ¡°Fuck you.¡±


    Grim smiled. He reached to his singed cloak and undid the golden briar brooch. Soot covered the spines, tarnishing the gold. Grim blew on it as best he could. He stared at the brooch for a long moment. Grim placed the briar in Edgar¡¯s hand. I want you to have this.


    Edgar¡¯s eyes opened to look at what he held. His eyes widened. ¡°Can you give this to me?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a Thorne, and it¡¯s mine to give.¡±


    Edgar grimaced as he sat up. Grim put a hand on his chest. ¡°What the hell are you doing. Lay down.¡±


    ¡°I have to take the oath.¡± Edgar¡¯s words carried a sense of finality that Grim couldn¡¯t argue. He removed his hand and helped Edgar to his feet. Grim held out his hand and Edgar returned the briar brooch. Grim regarded it solemnly for a moment before dragging a spine of the briar across his palm. Blood welled up from the cut. Grim squeezed his hand over the brooch and let the droplets fall across its face.


    Grim looked to Edgar. ¡°Kneel.¡±


    Edgar knelt.


    ¡°Give me your hand.¡±


    Edgar reached out his hand and Grim placed the brooch in his palm.


    Edgar grasped it tightly without hesitation. The sharp thorns on the brooch pierced his skin and blood dripped freely from his hand.


    Grim paused a moment in trepidation. He¡¯d seen it done over a dozen times, but this was the first he¡¯d ever spoken the words himself. He forced himself to speak, ¡°Do you swear to serve our Order until the Reaper takes you?¡±


    ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°Will you uphold the law in my name and that of my descendants.¡±


    ¡°I will¡±


    ¡°Will you honor the Reaper in all her glory and do her work in my name?¡±


    ¡°I will.¡±


    ¡°Would you stand by my side against the darkness in men¡¯s souls?¡±


    ¡°I would.¡±


    Grim nodded slowly. ¡°Then rise.¡±


    Edgar rose to his feet and unclenched his fist which was now covered in blood. Grim put a hand on the man¡¯s shoulder while Edgar stared at the bloody brooch.

 Ch 30: Wings

    Thorne soldiers poured through the streets in a show of strength. His father seemed to have raised the entire castle garrison. News must have reached him of Longreen¡¯s attack. Grim doubted the other assaults in the Outwalls fared better than his own. He hadn¡¯t realized it during the fighting, but his left arm throbbed with a blinding pain where the ram had shattered his shield. He thought it likely fractured and feared the sight of it when he got a chance to take his armor off.


    Longreen would not release him for rest yet. The man insisted they regroup at his villa and await news of survivors. Of the four hundred Greencloaks who had entered the Son¡¯s manse, only twenty-four remained. Grim commandeered a passing group of his father¡¯s soldiers and they joined him with a shrug, reinforcing Grim¡¯s belief that their presence was more for show than anything else.


    Edgar and what was left of his squad were carted away, leaving Grim and a fifty-man strong contingent with Longreen and the remainder of his men. The Marshal was helped atop his horse and winced in pain with every step the beast made. Grim was surprised he could keep the saddle at all. The man¡¯s right leg was shattered with bone bent at awkward angles.  Just looking at it, made Grim¡¯s legs itch.


    The first thing Grim noticed of the fort was that the gate was open. The Marshal noticed as well and called a halt.  The marching boots ceased. Longreen looked up at the empty parapets, green and gold flags drifting gently in the wind. The Marshal looked to Grim and gestured toward the gate. Grim sighed. Some things never change.


    He raised his hand into the air and waved it forward, signaling an advance. The gate loomed over him, thankfully there was no portcullis. It was the one thing he liked about this place. Then the stale stench of blood and burning drifted to him on a breeze. Grim emerged into a blackened field. Smoldering tents lined the road with singed bodies lying among them. Hundreds of Blackened arrows protruded from corpses and stuck in the ground. Grim looked up at the walls, seeing the corpses of sentries given similar treatment. Thin rivulets of blood trickled down the stone. He heard the men behind him drawing their weapons. He followed their example.


    It looked as if the attackers had burned every tent in the field, but the fire had failed to spread through the well-watered grass. At least the Marshal¡¯s premium on beauty had some practical application. Grim led his men down the cobbled road toward the villa. Its gates hung open, ominously inviting. The men posted there could be seen face down on the road in the garden. Arrows protruded from their legs and their backs were cut to ribbons. They had been played with. Grim¡¯s boots squelched as he passed their bodies.  He looked over his shoulder at Longreen. The man was pale as a sheet, seeming to have forgotten his pain as his eyes shifted across the scene.


    The fountain still burbled as if nothing had happened. The yard in front of the villa was oddly serene. A horse whinnied in the distance. All else was quiet. Grim approached the double doors of the mansion, willing strength into his body. Divines he felt weak, but morbid curiosity drove him onward.


    Grim stood between the door and the fountain. ¡°Shield wall,¡± he ordered. The Thorne soldiers formed a wall of shields four men deep around Grim.


    ¡°You two, open the doors.¡± The men Grim indicated fell out of formation and ran to the doors. He could sense their nervousness and it was a feeling he shared. The men held the bronze rings of the doors and looked to him. Grim nodded and they pulled them open.


    Grim winced involuntarily, expecting a volley of arrows to come flying from inside. Nothing. Grim slowly rose to his full height, mouth agape. Bodies littered the ground. Their blood drenched the white marble floor. It looked as if they were floating atop a sea of red. Grim put a hand on one of the soldier¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Tell the Marshal he needs to wait in the garden.¡±


    The man nodded and broke formation at a jog. Grim followed him from safety and walked to the doors.  The men holding them open watched him with fear filled eyes. Grim crossed the threshold and cast his gaze across all the places Sons could be hiding in wait. He saw nothing save the bodies of more Greencloaks. This was where they made their last stand.


    Grim walked to the center of the hall, past the bodies of soldiers and serving girls alike. Bloody handprints marred the walls by the doors, showing where the wounded fled. Grim stood in the center of the carnage, waiting for the roaring battle cries of men blessed by the Reaper to come tearing from dark corridors. He imagined black eyes watching his every movement. But he knew it to be his imagining. Those who did this were already long gone. The singed remains of the great Venaran flag above the stairs lay on the ground, soaking in the blood like a sponge, turning the green red. In its place hung a great banner with the face of a wolf. The sigil of Gareth Sorrowsbane, first king of the Rills and scion of the fourth clan.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    The seven sorrows were his legacy. Rain, birth, love, drink, feast, joy, and sacrifice. Grim finally allowed his eyes drift to the punishment many considered to be the eighth. On the landing of the great stairwell a wooden cross had been hammered into the tile. Carys hung from her elbows, her arms twisted into a mockery of wings. Her clothing had been ripped from her and blood dripped form her every orifice. Her unseeing eyes gazed down at him. Grim stepped over the corpses in the hall, making his way to her. Behind him, he could hear the Thorne soldiers filing into the room. Their low muttering and the wet sloshing of boots in blood were the only sounds.


    Grim ascended the steps, kicking the discarded sledgehammer out of his way as he reached the landing.  He grabbed the ladder from the stairs and laid it against the wall next to the girl. He climbed its steps to the heavy steel nail holding her right arm in place. Using his borrowed axe, he pried the nail out. The six-inch piece of steel fell to the tile with a metallic clang. Her corpse slumped. A snap and the tearing of flesh followed as her left elbow gave way. Grim cursed and tried to catch her but her corpse fell to the ground with a dull thump.


    Grim gritted his teeth, climbing down the ladder. His men were milling aimlessly about the room, looking around in shock. ¡°Clear the house,¡± Grim barked.


    His voice echoed in the hall and the soldiers jumped then followed his command, grouping up and setting off down the halls. Grim laid Carys flat along the ground. He removed his cloak and laid it over her.


    Grim fell to the floor, leaning back against the cross and shuddering. He¡¯d hardly had a moment¡¯s peace before the Greencloaks entered the hall with the Marshal at their rear, still astride his horse.


    Horror crossed their faces, but none was more pronounced than that of the Marshal. He kicked the horse into a trot, it¡¯s hooves echoing in the vast hall. ¡°Thorne,¡± he cried, ¡°Who was on that cross?¡±


    Grim looked at the man but didn¡¯t answer. Longreen was asking questions he already knew the answer to.  When the Marshal reached the stairs, he more fell to the ground than dismounted. He crawled up the stairs. A Greencloak rushed to his side, trying to help but the Marshal pushed the man away, clawing up the last few paces.


    He crawled to the covered corpse and with a shaky hand, drew the cloak back from Carys¡¯s face. The scream that followed boomed through the room. The purest note of pain Grim had ever heard. In that moment, looking at the man crying over his daughter, it was the most human Grim had ever seen him.


    ***


    Grim sat on the edge of the fountain, the blood freshly washed from his hands and the soot rinsed from his face. A dark, ruddy cloud hung in the water where he washed, wisps of red fading in the blackened water. It reminded him of the Son¡¯s eyes today. Veins of darkness. He hadn¡¯t seen the like since his childhood. At the memory, an uncomfortable longing stirred in his breast, resembling the feeling he had when going too long without drink. He let out a slow breath, forcing his mind to other matters. Melna must have done it for them. He wondered what Edgar would think of that.


    His thoughts were cut off by the distant groan of the wrought iron gate. Grim looked up to see his father astride his Wargoat, bedecked in full plate, similar to Grim¡¯s.  He was flanked by the majority of the Briar Guard astride their own mounts, a smattering of horses and goats. Each man had their preference. He sat waiting as they drew closer, weapons drawn. There was no need for that. They¡¯d cleared the entire house and found nothing.


    His father pulled in the reins of his mount. The beast fought it, snorting but the Earl¡¯s will proved stronger and the goat relented, baying unhappily as the Earl dismounted. Grim rose to his feet as his father crossed the last few paces separating them.


    The man gave a slight nod and clapped a hand on Grim¡¯s shoulder. The injured one. Grim fought the urge to wince. The Earl pulled him alongside him as they began to walk toward the double doors. ¡°What do I need to know?¡±


    Grim told him everything that happened. As he reached the end, he finished, ¡°Survivors have been trickling in from the Outwalls.¡± He was sorry to say Harren was among them.


    ¡°The Sons gave token resistance, drew the Regulars in and collapsed the tunnels on their own heads. Buried damn near the entire southern Garrison.¡± The memory of the twitching hands sent chills down his spine.


    The Earl stood in the doorway, gazing across the massacre with cold eyes. Grim had no doubt he¡¯d seen worse. The Earl released a soft sigh. ¡°His daughter?¡±


    Grim nodded.


    The Earl cursed under his breath. ¡°I¡¯ve instituted martial law. The city militia has been called to arms and will work in tandem with our own men. The city is quiet for now but news of this will spread like a plague. The back of the Southern troops has been broken.¡± He ran a hand across his face, looking up to where Longreen sat cradling his daughter¡¯s body.


    ¡°In this city of two hundred and fifty thousand souls, at least four thousand are of southern heritage. I expect most will be dead by the end of the week.¡±


    Grim fought the urge to swallow. ¡°Do you think the king will send a legion?¡± His mind filled with memories of the last purge, the bodies pushed to the side of the road to make way for carts of metal and spice.


    ¡°Perhaps. I need to consider our next move carefully. You did well to keep him alive. We might still find a way to forestall a final confrontation.¡± He hesitated.  ¡°This might be the first time you¡¯ve done what I¡¯ve expected of you.¡±


    Grim raised an eyebrow. ¡°And what¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Made me proud,¡± he said, ¡°Now go rest.¡± With that, he walked into the bloodied chamber, not sparing Grim a second glance.

 Ch 31: Cracks

    Kid awoke to the slamming of the door. His eyes snapped open. A man¡¯s voice roared in the distance. ¡°Mother!¡±


    Kid sat up and groaned. Every muscle in his body ached and he had a pounding headache. He glanced at his arms and found splotchy bruises covering their skin. Then the memories of last night came back to him in a rush. His skin crawled and he pulled his knees to his chest. Marc told him to die and he damned near did. He fought to get his breathing under control, then looked around him. He was in somebody¡¯s bedroom, woolen sheets wrapped about his legs. Distant voices echoed beyond the closed door of his room.


    The scraping of a chair drew his attention. Kid turned his head just in time to see Lissa throw her arms around him, tackling him back into the bed.


    ¡°You¡¯re up!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m up!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re up!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m up!¡±


    Her exuberance brought a smile to Kid¡¯s lips and he held her tighter. She broke off the hug and hopped back to her feet, letting him sit back up. She grabbed both of his hands and danced a little jig.


    ¡°How do you feel?¡±


    Kid grinned. ¡°Much better.¡±


    She pulled him to his feet and he groaned at the aches in his muscle. It felt as though every single one had cramped overnight. He supposed they may very well have. He had slept hard enough to put the dead to shame.


    She put an arm around his waist, helping to steady him. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s go show everyone you¡¯re okay.¡± Her smile was infectious.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Kid whispered.


    ¡°For what?¡±


    ¡°I think you might have saved my life.¡±


    She scrunched her nose and shook her head. ¡°No, my dad did that. I just helped warm you up.¡±


    ¡°Still, thanks.¡±


    She got him into a fresh shirt then opened the door to a small hall abutting the stairwell downstairs. In the room across from his, Kryll was lying on his back, twitching in his sleep and trilling softly. Lissa released Kid, a mischievous smile lighting her lips. She scampered into the room, knelt next to the beast, and tickled its soft underbelly.


    The Keeper sprang to life with a shrill trill, it¡¯s stubby legs flailing. Kid stared in horror as it grabbed Lissa with its great clawed hands and pulled her to its chest. Kid stumbled forward on awkward legs, franticly thinking of how to save her.


    The Keeper rolled over with her in its arms, snout poised above her face. Then it began to lick her face. Lissa struggled in its grasp, laughing as it¡¯s tongue searched her face. Kid stumbled to a halt before them, uncertain what to do about the three-hundred-pound monster licking his friend.


    Kryll¡¯s tongue flicked back into its mouth and Lissa raised her head, kissing it on the snout. The Keeper¡¯s nose waggled back and forth, then it licked her one more time as it released her from its death grip. Kid stared at the thing as it waddled to the far side of the room and lay back down, it¡¯s stomach hidden by the floorboards.


    Lissa hopped to her feet and returned to where Kid leaned against the doorway, his heart still racing. ¡°You¡¯ve gone mad.¡±


    Lissa wiped at the spittle with her hand then tousled his hair. Kid wrinkled his nose and batted her slimy hand away.  She grinned. ¡°I¡¯m not the one who tried to swim to Tara.¡±


    Kid conceded the point with a huff. She took him by the arm and lead him to the stairwell, helping him descend the steps. As they crossed the threshold into the parlor below the voices became more distinct.


    ¡°So, you¡¯ve plotted with the leader of the fucking sons behind my back? do you have any idea how many people have died? I watched two dozen of my brothers die today and Reaper knows how many southerners.¡± A man screamed. Kid didn¡¯t recognize him, but he was dressed in Thorne colors and had an axe at his hip. He leaned against the dining table as if standing straight pained him. Even wounded, Kid shied away from him. His wrath radiated danger the way a fire gives off heat.


    While the man let off a string of curses, Lissa leaned over to Kid. ¡°That¡¯s Edgar, Melna¡¯s son. We like him.¡±


    Kid raised an eyebrow at her. ¡°We do?¡±


    Edgar finished his tirade and let out a low wheeze, falling into one of the table¡¯s chairs. He panted, shame creeping into his visage. He looked down. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡±


    Melna nodded and walked to her son, taking him into her arms. Kid noted she wore gloves. While they embraced, Kid¡¯s eyes flicked to James who looked as if he were trying to melt into the wall.


    Melna spoke in a soft voice, ¡°Don¡¯t blame the Sons for killing your brothers. Blame the lord who sent them to kill their kin.¡± She released Edgar. ¡°He led your father to the same fate and I fear he¡¯ll throw you away just the same.¡±


    Kid didn¡¯t dare breathe and had a strong urge to creep back up the stairs. Edgar looked up to his mother. ¡°I received the Briar today.¡±


    Melna turned from him and there were tears in the corners of her eyes. ¡°Then I¡¯ve already lost you.¡±


    ¡°Mom,¡± the man whispered, grabbing her by the hand.


    She yanked her hand from his grasp. Edgar stared at the hand that had touched hers, then his gaze slowly drifted to the hand he¡¯d touched. The right hand, the one Kid saw withered as bone.


    ¡°Take off the glove.¡±


    Melna shook her head, not looking at him.


    Edgar leapt to his feet, grimacing as though in great pain. The veins in his neck bulged as he grabbed Melna by the wrist and tore off the glove. Skeletal fingers greeted them, the skin stretched and pale. Melna balled her dead hand into a fist, trying to make it less noticeable.


    ¡°Let go of me.¡±


    She needn¡¯t have said anything, Edgar fell to the ground as if she had struck him with a physical blow. He stared dumbly up at her as she walked over to where he had thrown the glove. Lissa released Kid and raced down the stairs, beating her to where it had fallen. She knelt and picked it up for the woman.


    Lissa held the glove and with her other hand, touched Melna¡¯s skeletal fingers. She winced at the contact, then she slipped on the glove.


    ¡°Thank you darling.¡±


    Lissa looked up at the withered woman with wide eyes, ¡°You¡¯re dying.¡±


    Melna graced her with a sad smile, then stroked her hair with the healthy hand. ¡°I¡¯ve known you such a short time, but your intent and intuition never fail to impress me.¡±


    Lissa didn¡¯t answer, only wrapping Melna in a tight hug. Kid eased his way down the stairs. The creak drew Edgar¡¯s attention, the man¡¯s dull eyes drifting to him. He looked like he was in shock. Kid walked past him to where Melna stood. ¡°Thank you,¡± he whispered, unable to speak louder.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    She turned to him and put a hand on his shoulder. ¡°There is no need to feel bad. It¡¯s the fate of all healers and I¡¯m not dead yet so stop acting like this is a funeral.¡±


    Kid nodded, then jumped as the door slammed behind him. He looked over his shoulder. Edgar was gone. Melna looked to the closed door and sighed.


    James peeled himself from the wall he was leaning on. ¡°He¡¯ll come around. He¡¯s just upset.¡±


    Melna nodded slowly and sighed. ¡°I know he will. What will you do now James?¡±


    A sour expression took over the man¡¯s face, his eyes drifting over to Kid then to Lissa. He ran a hand through his hair. ¡°I can¡¯t sit back and watch what¡¯s happening anymore but-¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of the girl,¡± Melna interjected.


    James¡¯s eyebrows raised. ¡°You want my daughter?¡±


    ¡°I need somebody to pass my knowledge to.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s not god-touched.¡±


    Melna shrugged. ¡°It matters little. Her intent is strong, and she can draw power from the altars, same as me. Besides, one does not need power to stitch wounds, prevent infections, give birth and the thousand other things people so desperately need help with here.¡±


    Lissa turned to her father, excitement shining in her eyes. James looked uneasy and Kid shared his misgivings. She hadn¡¯t seen the ritual. He couldn¡¯t imagine her holding that knife. James opened his mouth to speak. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± He turned to his daughter. ¡°Are you okay with this>


    Lissa nodded. ¡°Uncle Marc goes too fa,r and you know you¡¯re the only one who can do anything to rein him in.¡± She walked to her father. ¡°He already took mother from us. Don¡¯t let him take anybody else.¡± She looked to Melna. ¡°We can take care of ourselves.


    ¡°Aye, nobody else,¡± James whispered, ¡°This is what you want?¡±


    She nodded fervently. ¡°Then so it shall be.¡± He turned to Melna. ¡°I leave her in your care.¡±


    A small smile broke through the woman¡¯s turmoil as Lissa skipped to her side and took her hand. ¡°And what will you do James?¡±


    James looked at his scarred hands, each missing a finger then clenched them into fists. ¡°See my brother.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m coming.¡± They all stared at Kid.


    ¡°Are you mad?¡± James asked.


    ¡°Probably. But, I can¡¯t sit here doing nothing.¡± His eyes darted to the picture of the reaper on the wall. She held out a blade, pommel first, as if in offering. A white grin split her shadowed face. Shivers ran down Kid¡¯s spine. ¡°I¡¯m tired of running.¡±


    James frowned at him for a moment. ¡°I¡¯ll protect you son.¡±


    Kid froze but James didn¡¯t seem to notice. It was the first time a man had ever called him that. ¡°I¡¯ve got to fetch a few things from the tavern. Take whatever preparations you need.¡±


    James walked to his daughter and scooped her into his arms. ¡°I love you,¡± he whispered.


    Lissa held him tightly and burrowed her head into his shoulder. James smiled and after a moment he put her down, nodded to Melna and walked out the door. Kid followed him, catching the door just before it clicked shut. He pushed it open, cold air rushing against his face. As he stepped through the threshold into the gloomy light of the cloudy day, a hand caught his. He looked over his shoulder to see Lissa following him outside.


    The streets were quiet and those who ventured outside walked with a hurried step, heads shadowed beneath their hoods. Lissa pulled him to the side of Melna¡¯s house. ¡°Don¡¯t go.¡±


    Kid swallowed. ¡°He¡¯s taken everything from me. And I can¡¯t let your father go there alone. He¡¯s been good to me.¡±


    ¡°Marc tried to Kill you.¡±


    Kid frowned and looked at his feet. ¡°You have no idea what he¡¯s put me through.¡±


    Lissa grabbed him by the head and forced him to look her in the eyes. ¡°I was happy before all this. I had a family and we got by okay, not great but okay. But I knew I¡¯d wake up in my own home, surrounded by people I loved. This pointless fight between north and south is destroying that.¡± Her voice started to crack. ¡°My family is too caught up in it to escape, but Marc thinks you¡¯re dead. You can get out. You don¡¯t have to leave me.¡±


    Kid let out a shaky breath. ¡°I-¡± He was cut off by her lips being pressed to his, a gentle pressure. Kid was so shocked, that his mind barely registered it before it was over, and she clung to him. He wrapped his arms around her.


    ¡°I¡¯ll stay.¡±


    Her grip around his ribcage became tighter, the pressure approaching pain. When she finally released him, he fought to cover the wheeze escaping his lungs. Her smile was radiant. Kid couldn¡¯t help himself, he walked up to her and kissed her again. He had to stand on his tiptoes.


    Her giggle was infectious and soon they were both laughing. When his laughter subsided, Kid looked up at her. ¡°I¡¯ve wanted to do that for a long time.¡±


    She pecked him on the cheek then whispered in his ear. ¡°Then maybe you should have.¡±


    He blushed as she took him by the hand. ¡°Let¡¯s go back inside.¡±


    Kid shook his head. ¡°I have to check on my mother. I¡¯ve left her alone for too long.¡±


    Lissa¡¯s smile wavered. Then she nodded. ¡°Then we¡¯ll go. Together.¡±


    A nervous feeling welled up in Kid. ¡°You don¡¯t have to-¡±


    She put a finger over his lips, silencing him. ¡°Together,¡± she said with finality.


    Kid nodded, his gut twisting with trepidation.  ¡°Okay.¡±


    He led her from around the side of the house and down the street. In the distance, he could see James walking. The man moved as if millstones were tied around his legs. The dread was almost palpable. ¡°Is your father okay?¡± Kid asked.


    Lissa nodded. ¡°There¡¯s nobody stronger in the world.¡±


    Kid hoped she was right as they walked down the street, hand in hand. His own feeling of dread creeped up on him slowly like the growing darkness of night as his home drew closer. As James disappeared into the tavern down the street, Kid and Lissa stopped before his home. She squeezed his hand. Kid let her go and approached the door.


    It was quiet inside. No visitors. He pushed the boarded wood open. The hinges creaked as he stepped inside. Kid thought he would be ill from what he saw. Life had long since fled the fire. Not even its embers glowed. His mother was curled up in the ashes, as if struggling to find the last vestiges of warmth. Vomit crusted her lips and her glassy eyes stared across the room.


    He ran to her, falling to his knees. His hands shook as he touched her. The flesh was as cold and hard as ice. He then realized the glassy look in her eyes wasn¡¯t from the spice but from the small crystals forming inside them. Kid gasped, finding it hard to breathe. The overwhelming feeling washing over him was not grief or sadness, but relief tinged with guilt. What kind of son couldn¡¯t find it in him to mourn his own mother?


    A small hand touched his shoulder, but he shook it away. He didn¡¯t want to be touched. He looked across his mother¡¯s body, to the hands that had caused him so much pain, to the lips who poured honey and vinegar in equal measure. The same hands who warmed him at nights when he couldn¡¯t sleep in the frigid air. The same lips, once full of life that were now as white as snow.


    His gaze drifted past her head to where a small pouch sat on the ground. Kid numbly rose to his feet, staggered to it and took it into his hands. It was heavy. He undid the drawstring and looked inside. The gleam of gold greeted his eyes. The money Marc had taken from him. Kid shook, and it was not from the cold. He screamed and threw the pouch against the wall. Coins exploded across the room in a shower of gold. His breath came in ragged gasps. Marc was here, and he left her like this.


    A burning anger he didn¡¯t think he had in him washed through his veins. He knew in his heart that he hated that woman but the idea that he left her-


    Memories washed over him, of her hurting him, taking his hard-earned coin, throwing him on the street for a customer, calling him her little prince. It was all just a game to her. Before he knew what he was doing, his feet began to pound her icy flesh. Unintelligible curses and cries were ripped from his lungs as he pummeled her.


    ¡°Kid,¡± A voice cried. Hands pulled at him and he shook free. He whirled on whoever dared interrupt him. His open palm crashed against Lissa¡¯s face.


    Kid froze.


    Lissa stumbled backwards, tripping and falling to the ground. She clutched her face, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. she removed her hands and a trickle of blood ran from her lip.


    Kid ran. He burst through the door in a panic, racing down the street.


    She cried for him to stop but the pain in her voice only drove him away faster. He ran, tears blurring his vision. He dodged through what little foot traffic there was. Ramshackle buildings towered over him, their shuttered windows staring at him accusingly. He didn¡¯t know how long he ran. Hooded faces followed his path. Their dull, dead eyes, too much like his mother¡¯s. He couldn¡¯t bear the sight and closed his eyes.


    His feet pounded the ground, then he missed. In his astonishment, Kid opened his eyes. He was falling. The ground met him with a sharp taste of mingled dirt and iron. He rolled down the incline, far from the road he had started on. When his flailing limbs came to a halt, he felt sand beneath his hands. He crawled to the sound of crashing waves, almost wishing James hadn¡¯t pulled him from their cold embrace.


    He looked across the grey waters, their rising waves crashing across the beachhead.  The incoming tide almost reached where he knelt before the water. Gulls circled overhead cawing as if nothing had happened. The thought that the very world hadn¡¯t broken beneath the weight of his pain seemed inconceivable. Yet the ocean carried on, it¡¯s waves inexorably crashing before him.  Kid pressed a hand into the wet sand, watching as the water washed it away.


    A glimmer in the water caught his eye. The waves carried it closer then drew it away over and over. He staggered to his feet and walked to where it shined. As the wave carried it in he stepped into the water. The memory of last night sent shivers down his spine but he carried on until he was up to his knees. Kid reached into the water, hand burning like fire from the salt. He wrapped his hand around the hilt of his dagger, drawing it from salt and brine. The steel gleamed even in the dull light.


    He clutched it to his chest as he staggered from the waves, a chill settling into his legs. It hurt but not so bad as last night. Kid fell to the sand and held the dagger before his eyes, the dagger he killed his first man with. The length of steel that made him a man. It was all he had left.

 Ch 32: Brothers

    Hilda clutched at her eyes as searing pain ran through them. Screams of pain echoed through the room but they did not belong to her. She gritted her teeth. She knew it would be over soon. Black droplets fell from her pupils, running across her hands and splashing against the stone floor. Another scream rang out. Hilda fought to resist the urge to scream herself. She gasped and fell to her knees panting. It was over.


    The pain of the dark leaving her body was replaced by an overwhelming sense of loss. The rush of life flowing through her blood was gone. A man roared in pain. Mad cackling laughter followed from the crowd of onlookers. Hilda wiped at her eyes, staining her sleeves black. She cursed, wishing she were wearing darker colors.


    The gears in her mind slowly turned as they went over the past day¡¯s events in a new light. The memories felt as if she had been watching someone else commit the deeds she wrought. She felt ill as it registered in her mind that those hands were hers. The ringing of the hammer and the screams of the girl echoed in her mind. Panic raced through her and with a thought she closed it off and once more it felt as if those hands were ones of a stranger.


    A hand grabbed her by the arm and helped her to her feet. She looked up to see Marc grinning down at her, eyes still as black as the depths of night. His touch sent shivers of revulsion down her spine. The things they¡¯d done to that child, the things he¡¯d done to her. She yanked her arm from his grip and stumbled away from him. She backed into another man and he pushed back at her, nearly knocking her from her feet.


    A spray of warm fluid fell across her hand. Hilda looked to where it came from. A young man fell to the ground, arms bound behind him. The gash in his throat leaked blood onto the stone floor. Next to him one of his comrades was crying softly, hands and feet bound. A Son grabbed him by his green cloak and dragged him to a rectangular nook in the wall, large enough for two men to lay in.  Brick and mortar lay next to the wall. The Son deposited the corpse in the cubby then returned to the sobbing man, grabbing by his cloak.


    The man screamed for them to kill him too. His eye shot wild looks of horror about the room, at the thirty cubbies already sealed. Muffled screams still echoed from behind a few of them. The Son deposited the man atop the corpse of his comrade, grabbing his hands and attaching the binds to a hook, preventing him from hindering the two men already laying bricks before him.


    Hilda knew he would eventually escape his binds, but it would be far too late to escape his fate. The sorrow of feast was a terrible one. She wondered how long it would take him to succumb to his hunger. The thought made her shiver and she turned away.


    ¡°The roots of our past freedom were in the Seven Sorrows. If you don¡¯t have the stomach to watch it carried out then you may leave,¡± Marc said.


    The coldness in his tone surprised her. Her hands still shook from the shock of the darkness leaving her body. She clenched them into fists, steadying herself. Conflicting feelings of anger, nausea, and disgust washed over her as she looked into his black eyes. She wanted more than anything to hit him, but fear stayed her hand. Marc had lines he wouldn¡¯t cross, but looking into those pits of black, she had no doubt that if she moved against him in this moment, he would seal her behind the next wall.


    Her eyes drifted to the weeping despair of the Greencloak, his thrashing body disappearing behind the wall, one brick at a time. ¡°I¡¯ll stay,¡± she whispered.


    Hilda watched the last dozen survivors receive similar treatment, the subtle vibrations of pounding fists sounding from behind freshly made walls as men broke free of their bonds. Marc gazed around the greatly diminished room, face dispassionate. The six Sons accompanying them waited for his next command, quiet as death. The pounding and muffled screams sent chills down Hilda¡¯s spine.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Marc said. Without a second glance, he turned from the room and left through the heavy wooden door. Hilda followed him, the six Sons in tow. As they walked down the hall outside Hilda looked over her shoulder, watching as a Son locked the door shut. Beyond the solid oak, all was quiet. It was as if nothing had happened.


    The torches flickered in what was left of their underground sanctuary. Half the tunnels leading into it had been collapsed in the attack this morning, entombing hundreds of Greencloaks. They passed a branching corridor filled with debris, a bloodied arm stuck out from under the pile of wood and stone, the only evidence it¡¯s owner ever existed. She wondered if he were a Son or a Greencloak. Not all the collapses went as planned. For every one of their number that disappeared at least ten southerners fell, but it was still a costly enterprise. The count of the dead was near a hundred. The missing, closer to two.


    A man turned a corner ahead of them, his black streaked bug eyes locked onto Marc. Marc came to a halt as Billy stopped before him. Rusty flakes of dried blood still covered the man¡¯s steel mail. Billy cleared his throat. ¡°A man¡¯s here, says he¡¯s your brother. The other men confirmed it for me.¡±


    Marc¡¯s eyes widened in what could have been surprise. It was hard to tell with eyes so dark. ¡°Then I had best greet him.¡± He gestured for Billy to lead the way. They followed him down the twisting halls, even diminished as it was, the complex was large. It took them near five minutes to reach Marc¡¯s room.


    Billy opened the door for him and they crossed the threshold where James waited, seated at Marc¡¯s small table. At their entrance, he rose to his feet. Hilda¡¯s gaze was locked on James.


    ¡°Brother,¡± James greeted.


    Marc¡¯s eyes slithered to James. ¡°Brother. Why have you come?¡±


    James answered. ¡°I¡¯ve come to join you. I see now that you were right. This is a fight worth seeing through and it¡¯s one we can win.¡±


    ¡°So, you come on the day of my victory, seeking scraps of glory?¡±


    James bristled but held his composure. ¡°I come to lend my advice and my arm. I expect nothing in return.¡±


    Dark eyes considered James. Marc shrugged. ¡°Fine.¡±  He turned to her. ¡°Hilda, take James and put him through the rites. We still have a few Greencloaks to spare.¡±


    Hilda felt sick as she looked at James. She thought her shame would crush her beneath its weight. She felt herself nod and drift through the doorway into the hall. Then James was abreast her. She couldn¡¯t find it in her to meet his eyes. They walked in silence a long moment before James came to a halt.


    She felt his eyes on her and she made a careful inspection of her feet. ¡°What did he do to you?¡±


    Hilda winced at the question. ¡°I never should have left.¡±


    ¡°No, you shouldn¡¯t have.¡± He kept walking.


    ¡°Why are you here James?¡±


    He glanced at her out the corner of his eye. ¡°Because I¡¯m afraid. This is no act of bravery on my part. War is on the horizon and this is the only side I know to choose. There¡¯s no stopping it now.¡± He let out a deep sigh and his hand brushed hers. ¡°Lissa misses you.¡±


    Hilda¡¯s breath caught. ¡°I just wanted more for her.¡±


    ¡°What wasn¡¯t enough? Our home? Her friends? Me? The only thing the girl wants for now is her mother and a childhood.¡±


    Hilda felt ill as they reached a door with a Son leaning next to it, arms crossed. He looked to Hilda, sighed then pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. They walked inside.  Iron bars lined the hall, framing cells containing bloody and battered men. The reek of shit and death was overwhelming. To their right, sat neatly stacked wooden masks in the shape of a bear, a goat, a skull and a wolf. James picked up one in the shape of a wolf.


    The Son grimaced at the smell of the place. ¡°He doing the rite?¡±


    Hilda nodded. ¡°Any will do.¡±


    The Son nodded and unlocked the nearest cell.


    James drew a short knife at his belt and pulled the iron door open. The man inside scurried back across the floor, hands splashing through a puddle of his own making. James walked up to him and kicked the Greencloak in the face, the heel of his boot knocking teeth from the man¡¯s mouth. The soldier fell limp to the ground.


    James knelt next to the fallen man and Hilda walked up next to him. She put a hand on his shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    James Grimaced, ¡°At some point that¡¯s not enough.¡± He slit the man¡¯s throat, letting blood fall across the mask.

 Ch 33: The Aftermath

    The night sky shone with stars. Their light illuminated the roofs of the countless buildings laid out before him. A black scar now ran through the city where the fire had raged for hours before burning itself out. They had managed to keep it contained to a single city block but everything there was gone. Grim could see the survivors picking through the ashes. They looked like ants foraging for food at this height. He sighed and took another drink from the flask he held. The alcohol burned his tender throat fiercely, but it distracted from the pain echoing through his body. His left arm resembled a single mottled bruise.


    Beyond the city wall, deep gashes were drawn through the slums as if a giant were tracing his finger through sand. These marked where the tunnels beneath the earth had been collapsed and were the graves of over two thousand men. Grim poured a dash of whiskey over the parapets, watching as the liquid fell down the high cliff and into the crashing waves.


    ¡°To the dead,¡± he whispered. They may have been pox ridden southern scum but he¡¯d fought with them today and would honor their death. Soft footsteps padded up to him across the dirt of the practice field. Grim grumbled under his breath. He was here because nobody else was supposed to be at this hour.


    He looked over his shoulder to see his sister approaching. Her eyes were red and puffy, her hair was disheveled, and her dress was as wrinkled as it was plain. The sight made him frown and his mood darkened. As she approached, she opened her mouth to speak.


    Grim stepped forward and embraced her before she could. She was cold, her skin like ice to the touch. She tensed in his arms then slowly relaxed and returned his hug. ¡°Father won¡¯t tell me what happened in the mansion,¡± she whispered.


    Grim released her from his embrace. ¡°Is that why you¡¯re here?¡±


    Ilyena shook her head. Only part of why. ¡°I¡¯ve been looking for you for the past hour.¡± She crossed her arms, fighting the urge to shiver.


    Grim shrugged the cloak off his shoulders and wrapped the fur around her. The girl pulled it tight around her and huddled near the wall. Grim leaned against the cold stone next to her. ¡°Everyone there is dead.¡±


    ¡°Did she suffer?¡±


    Grim didn¡¯t have to ask who she meant. He paused. ¡°No.¡±


    They both knew that for the lie it was. A long moment passed as they looked down at the city.


    Ilyena ran a hand along the rampart. ¡°I used to think the view up here was so beautiful, now it just fills me with dread.¡±


    ¡°Monsters hide in the dark,¡± Grim agreed.


    Ilyena shivered and Grim was unsure whether it was from the cold. ¡°Promise me something, Grim?¡±


    Grim looked to her. She stepped closer to him, so near that the fog of her breath billowed before his eyes. ¡°When the time comes, kill them all.¡±


    Grim didn¡¯t answer, only staring into her grey eyes. When he didn¡¯t respond, she spoke again. ¡°Father wants you.¡±


    Grim drained the rest of the flask in a single gulp, then tossed it over the edge of the wall. He let out a deep breath. ¡°Well, what are we waiting for?¡±


    She led him across the yard and into the castle. The halls were quiet, as if the occupants were too scared to speak above a whisper. The clack of his boots against the stone stood in stark contrast to the soft padding of his sister¡¯s steps. The castle was depleted of soldiers. The majority of the garrison was in the city trying to ensure the streets didn¡¯t explode into anarchy. The lack of guards made Grim nervous. Their position on the cliff made them secure from attack, but the Marshal had thought the same of his home, didn¡¯t he?


    Grim ran a finger across the haft of his axe, eyes darting across the nearby shadows. Ilyena stopped before him and took his other hand in hers. ¡°Calm down,¡± she whispered, ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡±


    Grim slowed down his rapid breathing. He didn¡¯t realize how worked up he had been getting until she pointed it out. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He released his white-knuckled grip from the axe.


    She frowned up at him.


    ¡°I¡¯m okay,¡± he said.


    She bit her lip but didn¡¯t say anything. He followed her up the stairwell to the fifth floor where the family quarters were held. Soldiers were in evidence here. One of the empty rooms were flanked by a pair of haggard-looking Greencloaks while Captain Roland stood watch outside his father¡¯s door. He was mostly watching the Greencloaks. It galled Grim that the Marshal was allowed to temporarily reside in the family quarters but he was not. The Earl was treating him with too much respect. They were planning on slitting the man¡¯s throat in a few short months after all.


    Roland¡¯s gaze shifted to Grim as they approached. ¡°Seem¡¯s like you aren¡¯t completely worthless after all. My mistake.¡± Grim narrowed his eyes at the man. Roland ignored him. ¡°Heard you gave Edgar the Briar. A good man from a good line and a welcome addition.¡± He nodded to the door. ¡°Earl¡¯s inside.¡±


    The Captain opened the door for Ilyena and let it close on Grim. Grim fought the urge to get into a fight outside his Father¡¯s door. One that he admittedly probably wouldn¡¯t win. His pride bristled as the door closed behind him.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    All thoughts of pride disappeared as his eyes locked on the boy he had found in his room a few night¡¯s hence. What was his name? Kid?


    The boy stared at him. His eyes looked hollow, like the eyes of men he¡¯d seen during the War. Men who had seen too much and loved too little. The sight twisted Grim¡¯s gut. He wondered if Kid was thinking similar thoughts while looking at him. The boy rose to his feet as Ilyena approached, letting her take the second sitting chair by the fire. Grim joined the boy, standing by the fire.


    The Earl let the silence linger, taking a sip from his goblet.


    Grim had no patience for games tonight. ¡°What do you want? And why is there a Son here?¡±


    The Earl¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°The Son is here because he seeks protection that I once offered him.¡±


    ¡°Alright, then why is he here?¡±


    ¡°Because he has information that is of interest to us.¡± The Earl gestured to Kid, granting him permission to speak.


    Grim¡¯s gaze shifted to the boy. He shrunk beneath the combined gazes of the Thorne household. Kid let out a deep breath and seemed to find his courage. ¡°I can take you to the Son¡¯s Headquarters and show you many of the remaining entrances. I know faces, names, where some of their operations are.¡±


    Grim raised an eyebrow. ¡°And why are you coming to us with this?¡±


    ¡°Because Marc compelled me to kill myself after the ritual. I have nowhere else to take it and it¡¯s all I have to give in return for safety.¡±


    Compelling reason. Ilyena spoke up. ¡°Please tell me we aren¡¯t considering attacking how the Regulars did?¡±


    Rodger Thorne shook his head. ¡°No, I have no desire to bury my soldiers. And I don¡¯t want us to explicitly side with the Greencloaks. To say that it¡¯d upset the people would be an understatement. We are maintaining law and order, not enforcing the will of the King. I don¡¯t have the stomach to spill the blood of men who will help us in the months to come.¡±


    Kid¡¯s eyes widened at the admission. Ilyena clutched the arms of her chair and leaned forward. ¡°So, they will see no punishment for the atrocity they committed today?¡±


    ¡°Such is war,¡± the Earl answered, ¡°Like life, it isn¡¯t fair.¡±


    She gritted her teeth. ¡°At least the ringleaders then, we could draw them out and-¡±


    The Earl raised a hand, cutting her off. ¡°You speak from the heart at the expense of your mind. Killing them would alienate the whole movement from us.¡±


    Ilyena¡¯s brow furrowed but she said nothing more. Grim looked to Kid. ¡°Should we even be talking about this with him?¡± The boy¡¯s eyes were so wide they seemed about to burst from his skull.


    The Earl glanced at Kid. ¡°His fate is tied to ours now. If he leaves our protection he¡¯ll be dead within days and if he talks then it¡¯s baseless rumors. Followed by death.¡±


    The boy swallowed, looking at his feet.


    The Earl turned to Grim. ¡°You once wanted to talk to the Sons. Now¡¯s your chance.¡±


    Grim let out a deep breath, remembering the blackened eyes. ¡°What would you have me say to them?¡±


    His father steepled his fingers, considering his words carefully. ¡°That we demand peace be held within the Inner city. Commerce is not to be interrupted and massacres are not to be held.¡± The Earl took a long drink from his wine glass. ¡°And, should the King send a legion to purge the city, we will stand with them in defending it.¡±


    ¡°What about the Grain?¡±


    The Earl ran a hand across his face. ¡°I¡¯ll not watch them rape my home again. If they come, we will face them and make do. As all men must.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure those words will be great consolation to their families,¡± Ilyena said.


    ¡°More than Venar would, should the king be angered. You¡¯ve never met Vitran girl. He is no fop of a king and not one to be crossed lightly. I have little doubt he¡¯ll send a legion of ¡®peacekeepers¡¯ to ¡®pacify¡¯ the populace. Longreen¡¯s head may even roll for such a failure.¡±


    Ilyena shifted forward in her chair. ¡°Then why not wait for the king¡¯s word to arrive? We could try to bring Longreen to our side. He could sway the nobility camped on our lands and make this a proper civil war instead of a rebellion. We would have all the castles in the Rills, and legitimacy without having to fight for it.¡±


    Grim snorted. ¡°You¡¯d ask our people to fight to keep the collar around their throat?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d ask them to fight for concessions instead of vengeance. Boreal and Caldea achieved autonomy over time.¡±


    Grim shifted the axe at his hip. ¡°Only because they hate each other more than they hate Venar and the Sun Kings were always happy to watch them kill each other so long as they paid their taxes.¡±


    ¡°You twist my words.¡±


    ¡°You twist their motives.¡±


    ¡°Enough,¡± the Earl said, silencing them both. ¡°Longreen¡¯s son is the king¡¯s guest in Venar. Unless that changes, I don¡¯t ever see him on our side. Ilyena, the plan has been decided.¡±


    She pursed her lips but said nothing more. Grim felt little satisfaction from the outcome. ¡°When do I go?¡±


    ¡°Tomorrow.¡± The Earl¡¯s eyes drifted to Kid who slunk by the wall near the fireplace, feigning disinterest. ¡°Ilyena, get the boy properly clothed and find him a bunk in the barracks. Inform Captain Edgar that he will be responsible for the boy¡¯s training since he is in no condition to fight.¡±


    Kid¡¯s eyes widened a smidge. ¡°Training?¡±


    The Earl¡¯s gaze turned to Kid and the boy¡¯s eyes fell to the floor. Rodger Thorne rose to his feet and walked to Kid. He put a hand under Kid¡¯s chin and forced eye contact. ¡°I am your lord now and that means you must obey me in all things. If fearing me helps, then so be it. But never let that fear show. You are a part of my household and must act as such.¡± He removed his hand.


    Kid maintained eye contact. Though he looked on the edge of bolting for the door. The Earl nodded and gestured to the door. Ilyena rose to her feet and led Kid from the room. The door clicked shut softly behind them. Grim looked at the door. ¡°You¡¯re making him a guardsman?¡±


    ¡°Never said I thought he¡¯d be good at it. It¡¯s a convenient cover for why he¡¯s here.¡± He gestured to the chair. ¡°Sit.¡±


    Grim sat. ¡°Was there something else you need of me?¡±


    The Earl nodded, finishing the last of his wine. ¡°Should this Marc character refuse our offer and you think you can come out of the meeting alive, kill him.¡±


    ¡°I thought you told Ilyena that you didn¡¯t want to alienate the Sons?¡±


    ¡°Only because I don¡¯t want her to do something foolish. Gods it feels strange, saying that to you.¡±


    Grim smirked and the edges of his father¡¯s lips curled upward. ¡°We could just tell them your plan,¡± Grim said, ¡°They would listen.¡±


    ¡°And by midday tomorrow, the entire city would know. And within a fortnight, the King as well. We are not without evidence of treachery. Somewhere in the port shipping logs is the name of the R.S Valdis, a known ship of a Taran councilor. A smart man would also inquire with the Forgers Guild about recent orders. Of which, our name is on every one. It paints quite the damning picture. Don¡¯t think that our city is without spies to investigate such rumors.¡±


    The Earl sighed and ran a hand through his greying hair. ¡°If the war starts now, I want our first battle to be against a single legion unprepared rather than a dozen howling for our blood.¡±


    Grim nodded. ¡°I understand.¡±


    ¡°Then go rest.¡±

 Ch 34: Deal with the Devil

    The Outwalls resembled a ghost town. The streets were empty, and the homes were deathly quiet. However, Grim could feel the eyes on him, watching from cracks in boards and from between shutters. The presence of life given away by the creak of a floorboard or the cry of a child followed by a smack. By far, the most noticeable noise was the marching of boots as Grim lead a contingent of fifty guardsmen through the streets. The men fingered their weapons nervously and held their shields at the ready, waiting for the telltale twang of bowstrings.


    Kid was at Grim¡¯s side, pointing the way through various back alleys and twisting roads. A pack of mangy looking dogs chewed on a corpse in the middle of the road. At their approach, the beasts bared their fangs in challenge but thought better of it and ran off. It was the only resistance they met on their march. Grim was utterly relieved when they arrived outside an unremarkable hovel and Kid told him that this was the place.


    Grim turned to the men behind him. ¡°Set up a perimeter and make sure we aren¡¯t taken by surprise.¡±


    He donned his helmet as he approached the door, remembering very well the arrows springing from the mansion yesterday. Before he could knock, a wooden slat on the door was opened, revealing a pair of eyes with black veins running through them. The dark lines in the man¡¯s eyes seemed to writhe.


    He waited for Grim to speak. ¡°I¡¯m here to see Marc.¡±


    The man stared at him. ¡°And if he doesn¡¯t want to see you?¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll make my own entrance and return with your head as answer.¡±


    The eyes didn¡¯t even blink at Grim¡¯s threat, only staring, considering. ¡°You come alone.¡±


    ¡°Five men,¡± Grim countered.


    The man considered. ¡°Five men,¡± he agreed.


    The slat snapped shut and was followed by a metallic click. The door opened, revealing a pile of torches and reinforced wooden bracings against the walls. Grim let out a low whistle. They would have needed a battering ram to get inside. Grim tapped five men on the shoulder and gestured for them to follow. They looked nervous and Grim shared the feeling, though he didn¡¯t let it show.


    As he led them through the door, the Son lit a torch, illuminating the dark room and revealing a pit dug into the ground and a ladder leading into darkness. The Son walked to the edge of the pit and looked at Grim. His eyes were even more disturbing behind the mask of a wolf.


    ¡°Follow me, if you would.¡±


    Grim looked into the black pit and sighed as the man began climbing down the ladder. He grabbed the wooden rungs and followed, five guardsmen in tow. As the open door disappeared above him, Grim¡¯s eyes locked with Kids through the doorway. The boy looked afraid. Then he was gone, replaced with hardpacked dirt that soon gave way to stone. The clack of boots below him told Grim that the Son had reached the bottom.  Grim hit the floor with a metallic clank soon after.


    He faced a long tunnel stretching into darkness. Grim shuddered at the thought of charging down it and hearing the rock give way over head. The Son led the way, telling them to follow his steps exactly. He led them on a zig zagging path down the tunnel, avoiding the obvious paths in favor of small side passages. Grim soon found himself hopelessly lost but he supposed that was the point.


    The tunnel abruptly ended, giving way to a wider hall with wooden paneling and thick pillars holding up the ceiling. It seemed to stretch endlessly into the distance. The Son led him down the branching hallways of a floor plan nearly as disorientating as Bleakridge castle itself. It took ten minutes of wandering before the man stopped before a door and gestured for them to enter.


    Grim opened the latch and pulled the door wide, revealing a small room furnished with only a single desk with a chair on either side. Marc sat on the far side, eyes a smooth carapace of black. the sight was unsettling and made it impossible to tell exactly where the man was looking. Was he looking him in the eye? Or over his shoulder at the man about to stab him in the back? Grim forced himself not to look over his shoulder as he approached the chair.


    His gaze drifted over the ten Sons arrayed behind Marc, each bearing a mask. Kneeling before the Sons were a half dozen Greencloaks bearing the armament of officers. Gabriel was among them. The men were battered and bloody and Grim doubted all the bruises were from the failed assault yesterday. Gags adorned their mouths, but they looked up at Grim with pleading eyes. Grim tore his gaze from them, returning it to Marc as he took a seat before the man.


    Footsteps behind him announced the entrance of Grim¡¯s men then the door clicked shut behind them. Silence reigned, neither side willing to be the first to speak. Grim stared into the dark and as he looked into Marc¡¯s eyes, the shadows in the corners of his own seemed to writhe. Unsettling was an insufficient word.


    Grim told himself this was going nowhere but he knew he¡¯d broke first. ¡°You seem well prepared for my arrival.¡±


    Marc folded his hands on the table. ¡°I knew you were coming from the moment you left the inner city. Too few men to do any damage but too many to be easy pickings. And a suspiciously small man leading the way. How did he survive Thorne?¡±Stolen story; please report.


    Grim snorted. ¡°He swam to where ships disappear over the horizon and came back. Just like you asked.¡±


    Marc¡¯s eyes glinted in the torchlight and his head tilted back. Did he just roll his eyes? Grim didn¡¯t think he¡¯d ever know for sure. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. I have doubts he¡¯ll make it back to the castle with you. Anything can happen in the Outwalls¡±


    Grim frowned. He¡¯d expected as much. All it took was one well-placed arrow. Marc continued, ¡°Enough about him though, what brings you here Thorne? I hardly expect this is a social call.¡±


    ¡°The Earl has a deal to propose.¡±


    Marc snorted. ¡°Let me guess, I should fall to my knees before him and beg for protection against southern retribution?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be a fool, there will be a reckoning not just for you, but for all the Rills for what you did.¡±


    Marc grinned. ¡°So, he does want to offer me protection. We seemed to do just fine without his protection yesterday.¡±


    ¡°And the people above your head? How will they fare without his protection while you hide in your hole? Those people you claim to protect.¡± Marc¡¯s face darkened. Grim continued, ¡°What happens to them if the Greencloaks decide they¡¯re not worth the cost of keeping alive? If a legion or even two came to Bleakridge, all they would need to do to end you is close the gates and watch you starve. The Outwalls would tear itself apart within two weeks. If we let them entrench themselves here again, we will never dislodge them.¡±


    Marc was silent for a long moment. ¡°Let¡¯s say your assessment is in the realm of possibility. What exact terms would the Earl suggest?¡±


    ¡°You leave the inner city in peace and don¡¯t disrupt commerce. In return-¡±


    Marc cut him off with a laugh. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Is he asking me not to kill southerners in a negotiation about killing an army of southerners?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a clear distinction between killing residents of your own city and an invading army.¡±


    ¡°Tell that to Greencloaks then. I think they missed that lesson in basic training.¡± Marc waved his hand dismissively. ¡°And don¡¯t pretend the Earl has a soft heart. It¡¯s insulting that you think I¡¯d believe that. I served with the man in the first war. I¡¯ve seen what he¡¯s capable of.¡±


    Grim clenched his jaw. He¡¯d been wrong to think this would be a simple matter to resolve. ¡°If we were to let the southerners here be massacred, then every southerner with a title would be set against us from the onset. It¡¯s hard to fight a war when your enemy holds every castle in your own lands.¡±


    Marc paused to consider that. ¡°If we start the fight, the people would rise.¡±


    ¡°And if they don¡¯t, you and I are dead.¡±


    Marc stared intently at Grim. ¡°He would free us, only to have foreigners control half our country?¡± Grim grimaced. When he put it that way, it sounded less than appealing. Marc kept staring. ¡°There¡¯s more you¡¯re not telling me.¡±


    Grim didn¡¯t answer.


    ¡°Why, after all these years, is he just now deciding to fight back? I find it hard to believe I helped him find his courage.¡± A slow grin spread across Marc¡¯s face. ¡°He¡¯s been planning this hasn¡¯t he?¡±


    Grim gritted his teeth. That was the one thing he wasn¡¯t supposed to let slip ¡°And it would be very inconvenient if the king were to get word of that earlier than necessary. Things might be found to make such claims more than idle rumor.¡±


    Marc looked over his shoulder at the Sons. ¡°You will all speak nothing of this conversation.¡±


    Grim sighed inwardly. The fact Marc felt the need to do that told Grim they were fucked, if not today then tomorrow. He fought the urge to finger his axe. It might be better to cut his losses and make sure nothing said here left this room. His eyes flicked across the Sons and reason crushed that flight of fancy. Even if he and his men could defeat twice their number, god only knew how many other Sons were lurking in the halls outside.


    Marc rested his elbows on the table. ¡°So, in return for my people¡¯s restraint and helping you drive off the first Venaran assault, what do I get in return?¡±


    Grim leaned forward. ¡°You get to continue living free from the Greencloaks.¡±


    ¡°And if that¡¯s not enough?¡±


    ¡°Just tell me what you want. This is getting tiresome.¡±


    Marc¡¯s eyes flashed and Grim didn¡¯t think the man rolled them this time. It was a long moment before he spoke. ¡°I don¡¯t want to serve a Thorne King. I want the clans to be reinstated and the king to be elected as it was in the years before the war. Your father was given his position by Venar but, if anything that is a reason he shouldn¡¯t rule.¡±


    Grim could hardly believe the man. ¡°And let me guess, you would expect to be named chief of your clan?¡±


    Marc grinned. ¡°Clever boy.¡±


    ¡°Then who would lead the other three in this scenario?¡±


    Marc shrugged. ¡°As to the legacy of Olg Ironclaw and Ralor Beastmaster I couldn¡¯t say. But the legacy of Yerna Reapersdottir is already accounted for. The chief of the skulls still lives.¡±


    Grim raised an eyebrow. ¡°And how would you know that?¡±


    ¡°Because he¡¯s one of my benefactors. Let¡¯s just say that one of the legions who ventured into the great northern forest never came out. Speculation abounds.¡± Marc leaned forward. ¡°So Thorne, what say you?¡±


    Grim took a deep breath and released it slowly. Could he even say yes to such a thing? The whole point of this war was to return to how things once were, wasn¡¯t it? Grim never thought the course of history could rest on the tip of his tongue. His breath ended. ¡°The electing of a king will happen one year from the day the clan chiefs are named. Until then, my father serves as regent and the Sons will be subjects not allies. You will follow his command without question.¡±


    Marc stared. ¡°Six months. God knows how long it will take to name the clan leaders, let alone decide on a king.¡±


    Grim considered his words, his eyes drifting to the Greencloak prisoners behind Marc. ¡°What do you plan on doing with them?¡±


    ¡°I was hoping you¡¯d be so kind as to deliver their heads to Longreen for me.¡±


    The men began writhing in their bonds but the Sons behind them held them in place by their shoulders. ¡°No. I won¡¯t,¡± Grim stated simply.


    Marc raised an eyebrow. Grim continued, ¡°If I accept your terms then you are subject to my authority as well as my father¡¯s. The bloodshed will cease.¡± Grim¡¯s eyes locked on Gabriel. ¡°And when the war begins they may go free to decide what side they fall on.¡±


    Marc snorted. ¡°You¡¯re a fool to think this will matter to them, they have no sense of gratitude or honor.¡±


    Grim shrugged ¡°Six men matter little in the grand scheme of things.¡±


    Marc snorted. ¡°Unless they¡¯re the ones who stab you in the back.¡± He rose to his feet and extended his arm.


    Grim followed his example and clasped Marc by the arm. The man¡¯s veins writhed beneath his grip. Marc bared his fangs in a grin. Grim matched it.


    Marc released his grip. ¡°I await your orders.¡±

 Ch 35: Forgiveness

    Kid paced nervously outside the door Grim disappeared into. Around him, the Thorne soldiers were in formation, blocking the road in every direction.  It felt as if he were fenced in, trapped. He could feel eyes on him from the surrounding houses. Guilt and grief waged war inside him, both striving to make him more miserable. He wanted nothing more than an arrow to come flying down the street and end him where he stood. Then, in the next moment, he wanted nothing less.


    He didn¡¯t want to die not having said he was sorry. Divines, he sounded like his mother and just as insane. Kid grinned. If he didn¡¯t, he would have cried. And doing that surrounded by men he now had to live with was unthinkable. Kid kept pacing, the quiet of the streets weighing down on him. The Outwalls were never this quiet. Something was happening out there, and everyone knew what it was except him.


    He cursed beneath his breath. Lissa. The blood on her lips. What did she think of him? The thought killed him inside. He thought he might vomit, then he did. Kid gagged then choked it back down. The Earl told him not to show fear, to avoid weakness. He would learn. Kid spat on the hard-packed dirt. Who was he kidding? He couldn¡¯t face an angered man without soiling himself. Shame joined the inner conflict.


    Kid stopped pacing. He couldn¡¯t just wait here. He might not be able to fix being a coward or what was broken inside him but there was one thing he could try to mend. His eyes lighted on a missing board in one of the neighboring houses. The space was too thin for a man to fit through but might be just big enough for him. Kid didn¡¯t hesitate, he walked to the gap and slid through. The adjacent boards scraped his chest and back but managed to push his way through the narrow gap. So intent were they on watching the streets, Kid doubted the soldiers noticed he was gone.


    The hovel looked long abandoned, containing only a broken rain barrel and shattered glass. Kid made sure he stepped around the glass as he walked to the door on the opposite side. He opened the latch and cracked the door open, peeking through. The alley beyond was empty. Kid creeped through the door then walked to the far end of the narrow path that connected to a larger road.


    He peeked around the corner of the last house and leapt back into the alley, hoping they hadn¡¯t taken much notice of him. There had to be a hundred Sons marching down the road. They wore their masks and the gleam of steel was evident in their hands. Kid slunk back down the alley, racing to the other side. He peeked around that corner and the road was empty.


    He ran down the road, praying another company of Sons wasn¡¯t about to turn the corner. He made it three alleys down the road before a quiet creaking sound sent him diving into the closest alley. A twang followed, and an arrow punched through the wood behind where he had just been standing. Kid stared wide eyed at the impact site a moment before jumping to his feet and getting ready to run out the other side of the alley. He hesitated. The huge group of Sons he¡¯d seen was in that direction.


    He looked at the walls on either side of him, looking for a way out. His eyes alighted on a hole dug beneath one of the homes. It looked like a dog had once burrowed beneath the wall. Kid bit his lip. It¡¯d be a tight fit, but he might be small enough. He fell to the ground in front of the hole and burrowed his way through. He got his arms to the other side and clawed at the ground, pulling himself through the tight space. As his face entered the building, the stench of rot assaulted him.


    Rotted meat hung from the gnawed bones of what was once a small boy. Of the animal that had done the deed, there was no sign. Kid kicked his feet against the dirt, forcing his way the last few inches through the hole and into the shack. He kept his breath as steady and quiet as possible as he crept to the door. It opened to the street he had been shot from. The rays of light shining through the cracks darkened as a man-sized shape raced by. Kid waited a second. There was only one. He cracked the door open and slipped onto the street.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    The man was facing away from him, getting ready to pry the arrow from the wall. ¡°Bastard didn¡¯t tell me I¡¯d have to chase the fucking boy through the city,¡± he grumbled.


    Kid¡¯s first instinct was to run, then he looked at the dagger on his hip. The man would only keep following him. This might be his only chance. He drew the blade and creeped forward. His mark was only a few paces away.


    The arrow snapped as it came out of the wall. The Son cursed and threw the broken shaft onto the ground. As he did, Kid charged the last few steps and leapt at the man, fighting the urge to scream. He caught onto the man¡¯s shoulder with one arm and with the other, pushed the dagger into the meat of his neck.


    Blood came out in a rush over his hands. The man let out a scream that finished as a wheeze as he fell to his knees. Kid withdrew the dagger and rammed it in again.


    The Son fought to turn around, weakly waving his arms but the strength was sapped from his limbs as blood rushed from his throat. Kid was able to easily overpower him, forcing him to the ground until he stopped twitching.


    A pool of blood spread around where Kid knelt, hugging the corpse, dagger still lodged in the man¡¯s neck. Kid released a shaky breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob. He pulled himself from the corpse, wrenching the dagger out of its throat. The feel of steel grating over bone made him shudder. Kid looked down at his black and red garb as he rose to his feet, beginning to appreciate the practicality of Thorne colors. He wiped the dagger across the back of the man¡¯s cloak, feeling the links of mail beneath it. If he had aimed anywhere else, he¡¯d likely be the one dead. Kid shuddered.


    He turned from corpse and walked from the alley as calmly as his shaking body would allow. Adrenaline still pumped through his veins as he walked the twisting roads. He didn¡¯t see any more Sons on his path and sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Reaper for sparing him.


    The prayer caught in his throat as he stopped outside Melna¡¯s door. His hand shook as he raised it to the wood, drops of blood running down his wrist. Even more than when he faced the Son moments ago, he wanted to run. He lowered his hand. Maybe it would have been better if that arrow had gone through his throat. Perhaps a clean death was better than his mess of a life. Kid began to turn from the door as it opened.


    Lissa stood inside the frame, the warm glow of firelight radiating behind her from the hearth. She held a pair of buckets. They fell to the ground as her eyes met his. Kid¡¯s eyes immediately drifted to the cut on her lip. He had to force his feet to stay in place.


    She looked him up in down, noting the blood lathering his hands and clothes. ¡°Kid, are you okay?¡±


    He swallowed and nodded. ¡°Not my blood,¡± he managed.


    The corners of her lips creased downward. She reached out and took him by his bloody hand. Her flesh stuck to the blood on his skin. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, he whispered. I didn¡¯t mean-¡±


    She cut him off. ¡°I know. It¡¯s okay. You were upset.¡±


    Kid looked to his feet, feeling ill. It was very close to what he had told his mother the first time. He told her what she said. ¡°It won¡¯t happen again.¡±


    Lissa hugged him and he held her. When he released her, she looked down at his black garb. ¡°Did you join the army?¡±


    Kid forced a smile to his lips. ¡°Something like that. I¡¯m going to be staying at the castle from now on.¡±


    Her eyes drifted to his hand as a drop of blood fell to the dirt. ¡°That¡¯s probably for the best. Will I be able to see you there?¡±


    Kid shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. They don¡¯t let people inside who don¡¯t have official business.¡± Lissa frowned. He bit his lip. ¡°But if you wanted, I could meet you in the city at the foot of the cliffs?¡±


    The frown disappeared. ¡°That would be perfect.¡±


    ¡°Sunday at nightfall?¡±


    She smiled. ¡°Yes.¡± Her arms wrapped around him again. ¡°Don¡¯t run from me again.


    ¡°I won¡¯t run,¡± Kid said. ¡°I¡¯m not afraid,¡± he lied.

 Ch 36: The Days to Come

    Grim grasped Marc¡¯s hand and the man pulled him from the pit. Grim emerged back into the reinforced shack where he had descended into the tunnels. Marc had insisted on personally guiding him back, much against Grim¡¯s wishes. The man left a sour taste in his mouth as if every word exchanged was poison. And those eyes were unsettling to look at for too long. It brought back memories of his father during the war. Obsidian eyes, gathering soldiers to lead beyond these walls and returning battered and bloody for more men. The worst were the days when it wore off while he was home. Grim had witnessed it once. The withdrawal was worse for the blessing¡¯s leader than it was for the recipients.


    He waited for Marc to unlock the door while he helped the rest of his men off the ladder. Instead, Marc grabbed a torch from the pile and lit it.


    ¡°Are you not going to let us out?¡± Grim asked.


    ¡°Patience, Thorne.¡± Marc hefted the flame into the air and fished a key from his pocket. Walking to the door and unlocking it with a click. He pushed it open and walked through. Grim followed, his men in tow. As Marc emerged into the day he began waving the torch through the air in wide arcs. Grim looked around as he crossed the threshold.


    His fifty men were in formation, holding the street just as he asked. But beyond them stood hundreds of masked figures, blades in hand. Grim stared wide eyed at the sea of Sons, their ranks stretched for as far as he could see. A horn sounded from above, drawing Grim¡¯s eyes upwards to the roofs. Dozens of archers rose from their prone positions atop the adjacent shacks, one with a horn to his lips.


    Grim¡¯s heart beat faster as he took in the sight. Marc let the torch drop to the ground, it¡¯s flames flickering uselessly atop the dirt. He looked to Grim. ¡°You didn¡¯t think I¡¯d let you go if this went poorly, did you?¡±


    ¡°How did you do this so quickly?¡±


    ¡°I knew you were coming the minute you were in sight of the gate. It was just a matter of waiting to see where you would stop.¡± To Grim¡¯s right, the army of Sons opened up, a gap forming between them. ¡°Go home Thorne, and tell your father what we spoke of.¡±


    Grim looked around. ¡°Where¡¯s Kid?¡±


    Marc frowned, and his eyes flashed as they moved around. But he didn¡¯t answer.


    Grim grimaced, figuring that was a bad sign. Grim roared for the soldiers to fall in formation behind him and he led them down the street through the small gap the Sons left for them. Blackened eyes and a smattering of clear ones stared through masks at him as he walked through their ranks. The Sons made no movement, no sound. They only watched. The effect was worse than screams of anger. Dread creeped into Grim¡¯s spine and he had to force himself to keep a steady marching pace. There had to be near a thousand of them on this side alone. Far more than he had expected. But beyond the Sons, in the row nearest him he could see men and women standing without weapons in hand. Darkness was absent from their eyes and they stood without the steady confidence of the men nearest him. New recruits?


    Grim could only imagine how the sudden shift in power had swelled Marc¡¯s ranks. Within a week it would likely be impossible to dislodge them, short of burning the Outwalls to the ground. Grim ran a hand across his face as he finally broke free of their encirclement. As the last of his men passed through, the gap closed, and the Sons followed them down the roads, all the way to the gate. There they stopped, looking past the terrified gate guards into the city, like caged animals waiting to be set free.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ***


    Grim sawed the knife through the tender meat, red juices flowing over the blade. He scowled as he pierced the flesh with his fork and took a bite of the roast. Ilyena glared at him while his father sat across the long table, hands folded in contemplation.


    ¡°He wants the clans returned,¡± the Earl more stated than asked.


    Ilyena snorted then swallowed a spoonful of peas. ¡°What he wants is to be king. And my imbecile of a brother is handing it to him on a silver platter. Instead of a southerner for a king we¡¯ll have a psychopath. Excellent.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t hand him anything,¡± Grim said, ¡°I simply agreed to a return to the old ways.¡±


    ¡°Yet, he is the one who broke the back of Venar. Who do you think the people would flock to given a choice?¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter who they¡¯d flock to, only who the chiefs vote for,¡± Grim answered.


    Ilyena placed her fork atop the table. ¡°And you promised him a position as chief, so he already has a vote.¡±


    ¡°So does father, as leader of the Briar.¡±


    Ilyena opened her mouth to speak but closed it when the Earl raised his hand. ¡°Ilyena is right Grim. You only half know what you speak of. I don¡¯t get a vote, I decide in the event of a tie between the four clans. An event that more often ends in civil war than civil agreement. There were once eight clans, but you can imagine how the other four met their end.¡±


    Grim frowned as the Earl shook his head. ¡°But you weren¡¯t wrong to accept the deal. As de facto King, I¡¯ll be able to name the chiefs. However, they¡¯ll have to be of the clan and accepted by their people as worthy of their founder¡¯s legacy. Marc is the obvious choice for Gareth Sorrowsbane. Picking anybody else would have been a laughable farce after yesterday.¡±


    Grim talked through another bite of roast, ¡°He said the clan of Yerna Reapersdottir still had a living chief. Is that true?¡±


    Rodger Thorne scowled, abandoning his calm fa?ade. ¡°Ulf is still fucking alive?¡±


    Grim shrugged. ¡°He didn¡¯t give a name, just claimed the chief had been one of his benefactors.¡±


    His father cursed under his breath as he sawed into his meat. He thrust his fork into the piece let loose, raised it to his mouth, stared at it for a momen,t then put the fork down in disgust. ¡°The guild master of the Forgers will have to take on the legacy of Olg Ironclaw. He¡¯s a bear and has greatly improved on the man¡¯s metallurgy.¡±


    ¡°And Ralor Beastmaster?¡± Ilyena asked.


    The Earl shrugged. ¡°A man of note will make himself known in the coming months. Hard times make great deeds shine all the brighter. We have six months to bring them to our side.¡± He sighed. ¡°Grim, you will have to go north.¡±


    Grim¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°I¡¯ll have to what now?¡±


    ¡°Somebody needs to bring Ulf and his exiles home. We¡¯ll give the Marshal some pretense about you patrolling the coast against Sorrowmen.¡±


    ¡°You send me north with winter so near?¡±


    The Earl leaned forward in his chair. ¡°This is your plan and you will bear the consequences of it.¡±


    Ilyena smirked at Grim from her seat between them. Grim scowled at his plate. This was going to be a very unpleasant winter. ¡°Of course, father.¡± He fought not to spit the final word.


    ¡°While you are north, you will also liberate the northern labor camps. We have arms but will need many more men to bear them.¡±


    Grim looked up to his father. ¡°What of the southern garrisons?¡±


    ¡°Kill them. I¡¯ll not have them at my back.¡±


    Grim nodded, fighting the urge to sigh. ¡°I also negotiated the release of several Venaran officers.¡±


    Ilyena¡¯s fork clattered against her plate. ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°Gabriel was the only one I knew by name.¡±


    She looked away from him as if she had lost interest but Grim caught the slight twitch of her lips she fought to hide. His father was less amused and more bemused. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because I know one to be a good man.¡±


    The Earl nodded as if that were enough for him. He pushed his plate from in front of him. Grim half expected a servant to take it but then remembered his father had banished them from the room. ¡°Ilyena, over the next few weeks I want you to account for the city food reserves and how long we can stretch them. Fill them as much as you can. Cost is no issue. Sell the tapestries from our very walls if you must. It¡¯s going to be a long, bloody winter.¡±

 Ch 37: The Death of Theives

    The point of Kid¡¯s shovel bit into the cold, hard dirt. He stomped on its head, pushing it another finger into the ground. With all his weight, he pushed on the handle, levering the dirt out of the ground. Then he tossed yet another handful of dirt onto his growing pile. Sweat dripped from his brow, chilling his skin in the cool air.


    The only light came from the gaps in the wall where beams of sunlight shined through, illuminating his mother¡¯s pale corpse. The iron bit into the frosty ground again. Kid repeated the motions, grunting with the effort. He had been doing this for over an hour with the shovel he borrowed from Melna. He had barely made it three feet into the ground.


    He dug again, bits of dirt rolling from his pile back into the hole. He would have sighed had he not been breathing so heavily. The air entering his lungs was oddly fresh, the cold air keeping the body from rot. He didn¡¯t know how long she¡¯d been there and the fact that he just left her there made his stomach turn. He¡¯d made a mess of everything.


    The shovel grated against a rock and Kid cursed, tossed the shovel aside and fell to his knees. With shaky hands, he brushed the dirt away from the rock. Dread washed over him as a cracked, round, white surface greeted him. Kid dug harder around it. Dirt caked beneath his fingernails, but he hardly noticed as he pulled dirt away.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    The grinning face of a skull slowly emerged. It seemed to smile at him from the dirt. Kid shuddered. His mother¡¯s wouldn¡¯t be the only shallow grave here. Kid picked up the shovel and tossed it from the hole. He couldn¡¯t stomach the idea of digging further. His breath came in ragged gasps and he leaned against the edge, trying to catch his breath. Once it slowed, he pulled himself from the grave.


    His mother¡¯s body was stiff, and as unyielding as steel. Her limbs were splayed awkwardly, making it hard to roll her across the dirt. She fell across the lip of the hole with a sickening thump, her breasts landing across the skulls face. Kid sighed, the bastard could thank him in the afterlife.


    He turned to fetch his shovel, pausing as the glittering gold strewn across the floor caught his eyes. Kid took a moment to collect the coins and put them back in their pouch. Kid stood by the grave, hefting the gold. It was heavy, enough for him to live in something resembling comfort for the rest of his miserable life. Looking at the gold, he realized he could run. Flee to another town where nobody had ever heard of Kid Noson. He licked his lips.


    Kid tossed the bag into the grave, the coins spilling out across his mother¡¯s body. He bent over to pick up the shovel in his blistered hands, the skin having long since fled his palms. As he thrust his shovel into the pile of dirt he whispered to himself, ¡°Greed is the death of thieves.¡±