Book Eight

Calling to Freedom

 

The Frosthold Song is so-called because it is edged on two of its sides by the sea and on the other two by mountains whose knife-like peaks shine with snow all year round. Between these walls of rock and ice are countless acres of temperate plains and low, rolling hills. Two broad rivers carry melted snow from both eastern and western ridges on a meandering route through pastures and orchards to a meeting point in a lake in the centre of the Song. Barges ply those routes, and the food they bring in from around the Song rides carts – and now trains, too — off the isthmus and out into the rest of the world.

On the shore of the lake, called Corsmere, stands the city of Saviour’s Call. Her thick, grey walls are dotted with points of reflected light where armoured guards stand sentinel. The keep at her heart casts its long shadow over thousands of homes and people that generate an endless bustle of life. If one were to stand in one of the fields of barley that surround the city, listening to the soft sound of the river passing by and watching the glimmer of the falling sun on the tranquil surface of the lake, one might think they stood at the very centre of a perfect slice of peace.

If one looks closer, however, they will begin to see the cracks and smell the stench of rot.

 

 

 

A man finds himself in an orchard he has passed through dozens of times before. His horse’s shoes clop against earth compacted by a history of similar impacts that stretches back to his great-great-grandfather’s lifetime. The sun lives in the gaps between leaves, tapping gently against the stubble on his left cheek as each turn of his wagon’s wheels draws him closer to Saviour’s Call. Ahead, he can see the last of the orchard’s trees giving way to the sky like the mouth of a tunnel. By the last tree is a stone, roughly carved to tell a weary traveller that they are only six miles from their destination. The man finds the sight of it eases his heart, as he supposes it is designed to do.

“I’d stop your cart, if I were you, friend,” a voice says from his left.

The ease he feels is ripped to shreds, replaced by a cold, gripping fear. He glances over and finds a woman stood by a tree, a loaded crossbow pointed at him. The reigns feel like lead in his hands, but his mind rushes forward. If he ducks low and lashes his horse, the woman will probably miss. Crossbows take some time to reload, so as long as that first bolt doesn’t hit him, he can escape.

The moment before he throws himself forward, two more bandits step into the road ahead. One is slight and greasy haired, the other a bull of a man. Both are armed, the one with a cruelly-hooked halberd and the other with a massive hammer. If either of them takes a swing at his horse when he tries to run, the whole cart will probably tip over.

“See?” the woman says, walking at a slow pace alongside the cart. “Pull it over.”

The man draws his horse to a halt and closes his eyes. He tilts his face to the sky. If he is lucky, he will survive. But what life would that be? Everything he has grown this season is in the cart, and the bandits will take it. He will be destitute. His family will be hungry. The guards will come for their ever-increasing war taxes and there will be nothing to give them.

Something cold hits his forehead and he opens his eyes. In spite of the warm afternoon sunlight and the careless, whisper-thin clouds roaming a sheet of blue sky, it is snowing.

“What the hell?” the bandit woman says.

The man glances around to find fat flakes drifting to earth all around. A few more bandits emerge from amongst the trees, their crossbows showing the man just how naïve his plan of escape had been. For the moment, however, they have forgotten about him. The man turns and, over the top of his wagon, sees more travellers on the road through the orchard.

“Get down from the cart,” the woman says, her voice a knife.

He hops down hastily, flinging the reigns onto the seat.

“Get behind that tree. Keep. Fucking. Quiet.”

The bandits leave the road, vanish into the dappled shadows. The man sits down behind the tree and listens. He hears the lacklustre wind trying to move the leaves above him. He hears his heart, prancing in his chest in unhappy fits. He watches the tip of the woman’s crossbow bolt, still pointing at him from the next tree along, and he thinks of his children. The Priests of Vellum have a chapter in Saviour’s Call, and there is an old church of the Word in his town. He has never believed, but he knows that people once did. Knows that they asked for things like mercy and deliverance. It is moments like this that probably made them do so.

“What would you use it for, though?” a voice says from the road.

“It reminds me of home,” another says. This voice is strangely tonal.

“I get that.” A third voice. “Sometimes I like to stare into the fire and remember home.”

“What about you, Rolleck? What reminds you of home?”

“I do everything I can to forget where I’m from, thank you.”

“Oooh, mysterious,” the first voice says. “Hey, whose cart is that?”

The bandit woman is fixated on the road, so the man shifts himself slightly closer to the edge of the tree. She doesn’t notice, and he is afforded a brief glance at the people now standing by his livelihood. His heartrate picks up again as he returns his gaze to the orchard. One of the voices belongs to a man with a wolf pelt over one shoulder. An honest to goodness police officer. The kind who had once ensured the people of the Frosthold Song could travel these roads in peace.

But the Frosthold police force is no more. Now the only hope of refuge is the guards, whose salvation is cold and fearsome. In fact, most of the police force now belongs to the rebellion. The man has heard they stop carts themselves and steal all that is in them for the sake of their unending guerrilla war. The man and his aquamarine pelt probably only represent more danger.

Did they just leave it here while they went to take a dump?” the same voice asks.

The snow stops as abruptly as it began. The last flakes hit the soil and it’s as though the freak flurry never happened.

“What’s with the tension, guys?” the voice says. Then, “Ohhh. The cart is bait for some kind of bandit trap, isn’t it?”

“Seems that way.”

“There are eight of them,” the tonal voice says.

“This is like the fourth time,” the first voice complains. “Is everybody in Frosthold a bandit?”

“There’s certainly a lot of them. I guess the police aren’t doing their jobs properly.”

“Don’t look at me,” the deepest of the voices says. “I wasn’t even a police officer the last time I was in Frosthold, and that was a long time ago, anyway.”

“So how come we haven’t been ambushed yet?”

“Maybe they’re scared of Emerald?”

“I do get that, sometimes.” The voice sounds a little down about not being jumped by bandits.

“Hey, don’t worry. That says way more about them than it does about you.”

“Thanks, Ravi.”

The man glances across at the bandit woman. She is peering past the trunk of her tree and wearing a perplexed frown. The tip of her crossbow has dipped towards the ground, and the man begins shuffling away from it. With the curve of the tree trunk at his back, he eases around towards the road and away from the woman.

“So, what do we do?”

“Can we just… leave? We’re really close to Saviour’s Call now.”

“And just leave these bandits to attack the next person to come through?”

“I mean, that’s life, right? We can’t clear every group of bandits out the Frosthold Song.”

“These ones are right in front of us, though,” the police officer says.

“Hey, maybe we could arrest them! They might even have a bounty we could collect.”

“That’s not an entirely bad idea,” the police officer says. “Hunting’s getting harder with all this farmland around. We’re going to have to start buying supplies sooner or later.”

The man has made his way around the tree and out of the woman’s sight. From his new position, he can see his horse, still standing patiently by the side of the road. He shuffles a little further before the bandit woman realises he is gone, and his yell of surprise at the sight of a dragon standing next to his cart comes alongside her angry order to fire.

Four crossbows snap, spitting at the most dangerous target.

Four bolts stop dead in the air a metre or so from her.

The dragon counts them and sighs. “It’s still hard not to take it personally, sometimes, y’know? There’s actually quite a lot of people around with animal traits like Ravi. Surely I don’t look that distinct?”

“Sorry, Emerald, but you kind of do,” a short blonde woman says. She walks around the dragon, plucking the crossbow bolts out of the air and then offers them to her like a bouquet of flowers. “But I think you’re even more beautiful because of it.”

“Aww,” she takes the bolts and picks at the fletching shyly, “thanks, Riyo.”

“Um, should I get them?” the tonal voice says. It takes a moment for the man to realise that none of the group had spoken. The large metal storage container they have with them has a quizzical face drawn on it, and it slowly dawns on the man that it is standing by itself on two spindly legs. Surely, however, it couldn’t have been the one speaking.

“That’s okay, Glitter,” the blonde woman says. “I got it.”

The conversation has given the bandits time to reload their crossbows, and the leader now steps out, still pointing hers at the dragon.

“I don’t know what the hell any of you are, but you’re surrounded.”

The two melee fighters that had blocked the man’s escape now stand in the road again, and there is a woman with a blindfold barring the way back through the orchard. There are two crossbowmen on the other side of the road, and a second joins the leader by the man’s tree.

“I don’t care,” the blonde woman says. “You hurt my friend’s feelings. Sit down.”

With a clatter and some yells of surprise, all of the bandits’ weapons zip through the air and form a pile in front of the woman’s feet. The man raises his head in disbelief and finds that the bandits are indeed sitting. All but one.

The police officer comes between the blonde woman and the blindfolded woman in time to stop a flying kick. A wave of air pressure knocks the man’s hat from his head, but the blonde woman doesn’t blink, only frowns past the police officer at the woman as she blackflips off the police officer’s sword.

“She’s completely ignoring it,” the blonde woman says. “It’s like trying to craft at Ravi.”

The blindfolded woman stands completely still, her body turned sideways with her right hand up in front of her. Her hair is red, tied in a braid that falls a short way down her back. A streak of silver runs through the fringe that drops over her blindfold. Her clothes are different from the other bandits’ – silken and almost robe-like.

Snow rushes out of the storage container and the woman springs backwards to avoid becoming a snowman. She leaps up a short ridge into the forest on the other side of the road and the dragon leaps after her, her wings unfolding across the road to propel her forward. She pulls them back in to keep them from hitting the low-hanging branches of the orchard and falls just short of swiping at the woman. She bounds after her for a moment on all fours, but when another leap doesn’t carry her far enough to pin the woman down, she slows to a halt.

The bird man has remained with the rest of his companions, and he now holds an arrow at his cheek. There is a whisper of something blue around him, and then the arrow is gone.

“Wow,” he says a second later. “It grazed her, but she dodged it. Just like Riot.”

The dragon returns a moment later. She looks a little sheepish. “I couldn’t follow her through those trees, sorry, and I didn’t want to breathe in there.” She touches the closest tree and closes her eyes. “Seems like she’s angling towards the city.”

“Sorry I couldn’t catch her, either,” the metal creature says. “She was so fast!” The snow he has coated the road with rises and flows back into his box.

“Strong, too,” the police officer says.

“She was missing her left arm,” the bird man says.

“It’s fine,” the blonde woman says. “She caught us all by surprise.” The blonde woman glances at the bandit leader. “And yet her friends seem pretty normal.” The leader rises from the ground and drifts through the air, where she hangs in front of the blonde woman like she’s dangling from a noose. “Who was that blindfold lady?”

“Who the hell are you?” she says. Her voice is much higher than before. “You’re not human.”

“Sure I am. I’m just a crafter. Who was your friend?”

“I don’t know! She said the boss told her to come with us on our raids for a while. She never spoke after that.”

“Who’s the boss?” the police officer asks.

“I ain’t telling you anything!”

“Um,” the man says, crawling the rest of the way out from behind the tree. He then flails as he, too, rises from the ground. “Wah!” His head spins, trying to tell him that he is falling, rather than floating, despite what his eyes are telling him. He is deposited next to the bandit leader and almost falls over as the whole world seems to flip sideways. He manages keep upright, and stares at the woman with wide eyes. A moment later, his hat lands neatly on his head.

“Who are you?” she asks.

“Um,” he says again. “I… this is… my cart. I was being robbed when you showed up. Um. Thank you.”

“Oh. Well. You’re welcome. Do you know who her boss is?”

“Um. It’s probably Cotter Lee.”

 

 

“I see,” Riyo says, though she has no idea who that is. “Do you think there’s a bounty available for these people?”

“Um. No,” the man says. “The Frosthold police force has disbanded and the guards don’t do bounties.”

“Well, that’s no fun,” Riyo says. “How far is it to Saviour’s Call?”

“About six miles. Um.”

“That’s not too bad. I’ll carry them there and give them to the guards anyway. Better than leaving them out here to steal more vegetables. Let’s go, team.”

The rest of the bandits rise from the ground and drift together, back to back. Their weapons float over to the cart and plunk down on the back in a gap between two crates of cabbages.

“This is going to look very strange,” Glitter says.

They all turn to look at him. A moment passes.

“Oh! Yeah. I guess there aren’t that many ice robots around, either?”

“I will be honest,” Rolleck says, “you are the first I’ve met.”

Everyone nods, including the bandits.

“It’s okay. I have an idea.”

 

 

“I’d argue this is just as strange,” Ravi says, glancing at Glitter. He is now lying on his back, where a set of what he calls ‘treads’ have emerged. They are similar to whatever moved the snow plough in Coldton, and he buzzes quietly as they crunch away at the dirt. They leave the same uniform, square tracks as the plough did. He has created a cage of ice on his ‘face’ and the bandits now sit in it, shivering.

“At least they’re not flying,” Emerald says.

“Are people really going to be more comfortable with a mechanical ice cage than a crafter?” Riyo says.

“Probably not,” Rolleck admits. “But you have to look a lot closer to recognise this as something special than you would if they were just floating. As long as Glitter stays behind the cart, then from a distance it’s just an extra cart with some prisoners in it, which isn’t that strange.”

“Fine,” Riyo grumbles. She ambles closer to the cage. “Hey,” she says to the bandit leader.

The woman turns away from her. The tightness of the enclosure means this puts her face in the armpit of her hammer-wielding colleague. She grimaces. The man has enough bovine traits that there are small horns poking through his matted black hair. Riyo can smell him from where she stands outside the cage.

“How’d you end up being a bandit?”

Glitter buzzes away. The cartwheels crunch and bump their way over the uneven road. Ravi’s quiet conversation with the driver and the songs of nearby birds throw their inconsistent chatter into the medley, making the afternoon at once cacophonous and peaceful. The amicability of it seems to bother the bandit, and eventually she turns back to Riyo with a growl on her lips.

“There was nothing else, okay? The inn I worked at got burned down by the guard because they thought we were harbouring resistance members. My mum died when I was a kid and my dad was taken to the keep two years ago. I haven’t seen him since. I don’t even know if he’s alive or dead.” She hugs her knees, becoming a little smaller. She can’t be much older than Riyo. “I guess maybe I’ll find out once I get thrown in there too.”

 

“Who’s Cotter Lee?” Ravi asks. The broad walls of Saviour’s Call are close enough now that he can see the multitude of guards atop them. They wear bucket-like helmets and lean against spears, and more of them look into the city than out towards the fields.

“The leader of the resistance,” the man says. He is grateful to these people for saving him, but he can’t help feeling uneasy around them after seeing how easily they did so. He keeps glancing back towards the blonde woman. She’s barely more than a girl, but she hides a monstrous power. At least the dragon looks scary. The crafter could be his neighbour, and he would never guess she was capable of crushing him with a thought.

“He was a police officer, back before all this started. Now he steals from those he swore to protect in order to feed his pointless rebellion.”

“Why did the rebellion start in the first place?”

“Politics,” the man spits. “Nobles spoiling for any opportunity to grab the crown and put it on one of their heads, even if thousands have to starve to see it done.”

 

“Cotter Lee gave me a chance to pay them back for everything they took from me,” the bandit says. “It’s dirty work, but it’s not like there’s anything else on offer.” She glances over her shoulder towards the cart and the city it rolls towards. “The king makes sure people stay poor. The guards on the gate will check everything this guy is bringing in and make sure the best of it goes to the keep. They’ll pay him next to nothing for it, too.

“Cotter Lee fights for the people. He wants to put an end to the king and the nobles both. We’ll finally be free.”

 

“We had peace, before. Real peace. The people loved the king – it was only the nobles that ever had a problem with him, and that only because they wanted his power for themselves. Now, the only people really trying for peace are Prince Tolmet and Princess Fortissa. Everybody else is just out for themselves, and it’s the common folk who suffer most.

“If Lee would just stand down, everything would go back to the way it was.”

 

Riyo falls back a little to match strides with her friends.

“Sounds like stopping in Saviour’s Call might not be such a good idea,” Rolleck says.

Riyo shakes her head. “I need to see if what she says is true.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I took them prisoner. If she is telling the truth, I can’t just give them to the corrupt guards. But she could still be lying to try and make me let her go. I can’t risk that, either.”

“Please let’s not get involved in another civil war,” Rolleck says. “The last time we did that, Folvin burned to the ground.”

“It would have done that anyway,” Riyo says. “Besides, we don’t have to resolve this one. We just need to ask people some questions and figure out whether to release these guys or not.”

“Who do we talk to, though? Everybody’s going to tell us they’re fighting for the good of the city, or the people, or for peace. Nobody ever outright tells you they’re out for themselves.”

“Sure they do. You just have to ask them convincingly.”

Rolleck sighs. “Right. And who, exactly, are we going to ask?”

“This Cotter Lee guys seems like a good place to start.”

Emerald starts laughing, while Rolleck covers his face with his hand.

“It’s just a few quick questions, Rolleck,” Emerald says. “But that’s only one side of the story, right? We’d have to talk to the king for the other.”

“Good point,” Riyo says. “Cotter Lee and the king. Two quick interviews, and we can decide what to do with the prisoners.”

Rolleck glares at Emerald, but she just giggles.

Ravi lets the cart trundle on until the group catch up with him. He glances around at their faces and then says, “Oh.”

“You guys worry too much,” Riyo says. “Let’s stop here.”

Glitter does so, immediately, jolting everyone in his cage into each other.

“We’ll need someone to stay with the prisoners until we know what’s up.” She glances around. “Glitter, Emerald, do you mind?”

Emerald shakes her head. “I didn’t much fancy wandering around a town full of humans in the middle of a war anyway – crossbow bolts still sting, even if they can’t get through my scales.”

“It’s fine by me, too,” Glitter says. The cage starts moving backwards, then tilts and hits the ground. Its contents holler angrily as those near the front tumble into those at the back. Glitter emerges from underneath it and the other end crashes to the ground. He stands up, then stares at the cage with a furrowed brow drawn on his face. After a moment, snow bursts from his shoulders and enshrouds the cage in a twisting blizzard. There are screams from inside, but they fade into puzzled noises and then silence as the snows recede. They have been shoved over to the side of the road, and their cage is now bigger. They also no longer have to sit on an icy floor. Instead, the bars disappear into the ground.

“There,” Glitter says. His face has changed to one of satisfaction. “We can wait here until you get back.”

“Thanks guys,” Riyo says. “See you soon.” She turns to Rolleck and Ravi. “Let’s go.”

“This is stupid,” Rolleck says as they begin walking after the cart once more.

“It’s not the stupidest thing we’ve done, though,” Ravi says. “It’s going to take a lot to beat going into a volcano full of dragons.”

“You didn’t even come with us.”

“I know. I think I deserve to take part in a stupid escapade before we start ruling them out completely.”

“We’re going looking for the sunlight stone. Every day, you get to be part of a stupid escapade.”

“Ha,” Riyo says. “You said ‘we’.”

 

 

The gates of Saviour’s Call are big, wooden and bound in iron. They remind Rolleck of the gates of Malvis, but on a much grander scale. They stand open, but a handful of bucket-headed guards wait before them, and Rolleck spots a guardhouse just inside the walls. As they wander into the shade, three of the guards approach them. The slits in their buckets find their weapons in short order, and they linger for a long moment on Rolleck’s pelt.

“What business do you have in Saviour’s Call?” The lead guard chooses to direct his question at Rolleck. His tabard is the same dark blue as the others, but it bears a coat of arms over his breast. It shows a shield with a flame on it, all picked out in icy blue.

“We’re travellers in pursuit of the sunlight stone,” Riyo says. “But first, we captured some bandits in the orchard down the road. We need to speak to that Cotter guy and the king to determine whether to hand them over to you or let them go.”

The guards glance at each other, then burst out laughing.

“Your daughter is a funny girl,” the lead guard says when they are done.

Rolleck steps on whatever Riyo is about to say. “She certainly is. She claims she wants to perform in taverns, but I can’t tell if that’s also a joke.” He pats Riyo on the shoulder and smiles at her. “She wasn’t lying about us being travellers, though. We’re just looking for an inn for the night.”

“Where’d you hale from?”

“Little town in Eversong called Malvis. This here is our friend from a couple of towns over.” He points at Ravi. “Excellent hunter. He’s been a Written gift on the road.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Ravi says.

Riyo, wisely, remains silent.

The guards give them another once over. “Those are some interesting swords you’re carrying.”

“Well, you can’t be too careful, out there. I hear there are bandits around. The girl’s sword is made from the talon of an Eversong creature. It’s a lot lighter than a true steel blade, so she can swing it around easier. Been teaching her a little, too. I don’t want her growing up defenceless, you know?”

The bucket nods along with the head inside it. “That’s fair. Well, you seem like nice enough folk. I’d suggest you don’t hang around Saviour’s Call too long, though. It’s not the safest place at the moment.”

“I heard a few things on the way in,” Rolleck says with a nod. “You fellows have it rough.”

“We do, but the Frostburne line has kept us peaceful and happy for a long time. They’ll see us through this, too.” He glances back at one of the other guards, who subtly shakes his bucket. He turns back to them. “Have a safe night, now.”

“We will,” Rolleck says. “Thank you.” He looks at Riyo. “Thank the man.”

“Thank you,” Riyo says, just about managing to sound meek.

Ravi nods. “Thanks.”

They walk into the city in silence, their boots clunking on uneven cobbles. They turn the first corner they find, and Rolleck and Ravi both start laughing. Riyo punches Rolleck in the side.

“I do not look young enough to be your daughter.”

“What do you have to be angry about?” Rolleck says. “He thought I looked old enough to be your father. That’s mortifying.”

“I hate it when families fight,” Ravi says, then skips backwards as they both take a step towards him.

“Let’s just find Cotter and the king and get back to Emerald and Glitter,” Riyo says. “I don’t want to leave them out there too long.”

“What’s your plan for that, by the way?” Rolleck says. “I assume you have one?”

“Well the king is easy enough to find,” she says, glancing towards the looming keep atop its little hill in the middle of the city. “But getting in there will be risky. We should probably find the other guy before we set off the alarm.”

“Okay. Solid so far. How about the rest?”

“No idea.”

Rolleck sighs.

“I have an idea,” Ravi says.

“See?” Riyo says. “Ravi’s got it covered.”

“Well, they’ve been stealing food and stuff before it gets into the city, but that guard as much as said they’re mainly operating within the city…”

“So, they’re getting their stolen goods in somehow,” Rolleck says. “But apparently they’ve been doing that for a decade and the guards haven’t plugged the gap. What makes you think you can find it in a single day?”

“My eyes are really good.”

“That’s a pretty weak plan.”

“Well I like it,” Riyo says. “Where do we start?”

“We can ask around at the market, posing as concerned travellers, to figure out where most of the bandits are operating. We can find the ‘safe’ routes where there are more guard patrols that way, too. Once night falls, we stealth our way onto the wall and around to the place with the best ratio of lack of guards to bandit activity and watch for movement outside the city. Even if I can’t see exactly how they’re bringing stuff in, they’re bound to have look-outs around to make sure the guards aren’t on to them. It’s not a sure thing, but I think it gives us a pretty solid chance of finding something out. What do you think?”

“Uh,” Riyo says.

“I think we just captured a bunch of people who probably know exactly what we need to know,” Rolleck says.

Ravi stares at him for a moment. He blinks a few times. “We really suck at plans, don’t we?”

“I’m not entirely sure Riyo even knows what ‘plan’ means,” Rolleck says.

“Whatever it is, it sounds tasty,” Riyo says, her voice flat.

“Can you nip over the wall to ask the bandits once it’s dark enough, Riyo?”

“Sure. Until then, let’s go look at the keep. Maybe we can come up with a way of getting inside to see the king.”

“You mean like a plan?” Rolleck says.

“Shut up, you’re making me hungry.”

 

 

“Shit,” Emerald says. The sound of hoofbeats rings out over the fields, rising from a gentle tapping to a rumbling clatter just as the sun touches the horizon. She glances at Glitter, who draws himself an uncertain face.

“Maybe we can move further from the road?”

Emerald searches their immediate surroundings but, aside from a few stone walls that barely reach her waist demarcating the boundaries of each farm, there is nothing to hide behind for hundreds of metres. She can already see the group of horses crowning the nearest rise in the road. They might well see her, too.

“Doesn’t look like we have time,” she sighs. “We really didn’t think this one through.”

“Could we just… talk to them? Explain what’s going on?”

“I think that’s about the only option we have.” Emerald pulls up her hood. Her cloak does a poor job of hiding her, but in the past, she has managed to convince people she is just a very tall human with a very pronounced hunch. Those people might just have been being kind, though. “I just really don’t think it’s going to work.”

“I’ll, um… Pretend to be inanimate, for a bit, shall I?”

“If you don’t mind? I’ll probably be a big enough shock for them as it is.”

Glitter whistles an agreement and backs up to his cage. He then retracts his legs and goes dark, hoping whoever is coming will assume he is a machine that makes ice cages. He lets a few puffs of cold air mist the evening around him and whirls up his motion motor to create a mechanical noise.

Emerald sits to further conceal her height, then waits as the cavalry approaches. It turns out to be a guard patrol, which she really should have expected this close to a city under martial law. There are eight of them, led by a woman in armour that shines like the surface of the lake. Feathers of steel that look so real Ravi would be jealous fold over her shoulders, forming pauldrons, while silvery wings spread from either side of her helm. It is open-faced, unlike those of her cohort, so Emerald can see her ice-bright eyes and fringe of auburn hair.

“Shit!” the bandit leader says behind her. “That’s princess Fortissa!”

Emerald squeezes her eyes shut and groans softly. “Why would she be here?”

“She rides out with the patrols all the time. Other bands have tried to capture her but she’s a damn monster. Hey! Let us out and give us weapons or we’re screwed!”

“Shut up,” Emerald growls, then looks at the road so that her hood will hide her face from the guards. She sees a collection of hooves trail into view and then stop.

“What is going on here?” the princess says. She has a surprisingly soft voice, but it is backed up by eight people with hands on their weapons.

“These people are bandits,” Emerald says without looking up.

There is an uncomfortable pause.

“I am aware of that. We have been looking for them.”

“Uh, well, I’ve captured them. So, I guess you don’t need to worry about them anymore?”

“It’s quite impressive for one person to capture six armed bandits.”

“Uh, my friends have gone ahead to the city. I’m just waiting for them to get back.”

“Then please allow us to escort you there to meet them and put the bandits where they belong?”

“Where is that, exactly?” Emerald asks, causing another stony silence.

“Why, in prison, of course.”

“Without trial?” Emerald says.

“They haven’t been granting trials to their victims, have they?” There is some anger in her voice, now.

“If there’s no trial, how can you prove that there were any victims in the first place?” the bandit leader shouts. “You can just shove anybody you like in that keep of yours and say they were a criminal.”

“Silence, bandit.”

“She’s right, though,” Emerald says. “My friends have gone to confirm whether what she says is true, but it seems we can’t just hand these people over to you.”

Princess Fortissa is very good at cold silences. Emerald feels as though she is being dissected.

“Standing in the path of justice is a crime, traveller. If you do not hand these bandits over to us, we will be taking you to the keep as well.”

Emerald sighs. “I was afraid you would say that.”

“Arrest her.”

Emerald stands and lowers her hood, causing some gasps that echo inside some buckets. The princess’s eyes narrow.

“I knew it. Those drakes were working for Lee.”

“I am no drake, your highness.” Emerald undoes the clasp of her cloak and lets it fall to the ground. The spread of her wings hides the sun and casts the princess in shadow. “And if you attempt to arrest me, I can’t guarantee you or your guards will survive.”

The princess looks towards the city, then nods, apparently to herself. “Get to the city. Find one of the captains and return here immediately.”

“But… your highness,” the lead guard says.

“Do it now, sergeant.” Her voice is still as soft as before, but it is laced with poison.

“Yes, your highness.”

The knights all salute their princess and then kick their horses into a gallop. Their hooves throw dust from the road to twinkle in the last of the light. The princess herself calmly dismounts her horse and leads it to the other side of the road. She unpins her arctic blue cloak from her pauldrons and slings it over her saddle. Then she comes to face Emerald. She draws her sword – a slim, silvery rapier – with a quick, precise movement and holds it out horizontally. Her eyes close.

Emerald feels… something. For a moment, it is as though charming sunset has turned to dead of night in but a heartbeat. The cold heart of the abyss encroaches and breathes on the back of her neck. Then reality seems to stretch out and snap back into place, reasserting itself. Three blue flames appear along the side of the princess’s blade, sputtering like dying candles. The princess whips the blade down towards the ground in another flash of blue that is uncomfortable to look at, then raises it ahead of her into a fencer’s stance.

“What was that?” Emerald says.

“None of your concern.”

“Uh-huh.” Emerald tucks her wings and darts forward. She throws a feint punch at the princess’s face then follows her when she ducks aside, catching her heel with a sweep that sends the princess tumbling. She makes to knock the sword from the woman’s hand, but the abyss is there again. It seems to cling to her, drain the sound and life from all around. It holds her back as the princess climbs to her feet, and then it is gone again.

Emerald lurches out of the ethereal grip and just manages to bat aside a thrust. The blade feels like ice against the scales on the back of her hand, and it scores a line of pain through one of them. She turns her hand and grabs the princess by the wrist, then falls back. This pulls the princess off balance, and Emerald twists her arm hard enough to force her into a front-flip that lands her on her back in a clatter of armour. This time, her sword goes skittering from her hand.

The abyss grips hard, dragging Emerald away from the princess. She grits her teeth and inhales her pilot, letting raw, burning power suffuse her. While she is struggling, the princess scrambles to her feet and reaches out. Her sword flies into her outstretched hand with another nauseating blue flash. She points the blade at Emerald and then makes a pulling motion with her off-hand. Emerald feels the abyss shift, dragging her forwards to be impaled upon the princess’s blade.

Pink flame leaks from her and she flares her cowl, rushing fire against her unseen puppeteer. The abyss falls back, and Emerald hears a distinctly human yell of pain inside her head. She digs her talons into the ground and roars a gout of burning rage at the princess, whose eyes barely have time to widen before she is engulfed.

Blue fire meets pink, bursting out from inside Emerald’s conflagration. In the shimmering haze between her and the princess, she sees the flickering image of a tall man with red hair and a silver crown. He turns to face her, his eyes the same fierce, crystalline blue as the princess’s.

Then Glitter smacks the princess around the head, and she falls on her face. The man and his blue flames vanish, leaving the remnants of Emerald’s to scorch the road before fading away. Emerald lets her blood go out, then frowns at the insensate princess.

“That was weird.”

“Sorry if you didn’t want me to interrupt,” Glitter says, waddling over.

Emerald shakes her head. “No, that could have been dangerous. There was someone helping her, I think.”

“You couldn’t see him?”

“Him?”

“Oh. There was a man. He felt a bit strange to me, and he was messing with the energy around here in crazy ways.”

“So, a man I couldn’t see or sense, with spooky powers.”

“Oh no!” Glitter says. He draws a wide-eyed, screaming face. “Father told me about this! It’s a g-g-g-ghost!”

“But then why did it disappear when her highness took a dive?”

“Who cares! We’ve got to get out of here!”

“You’re right about that,” Emerald says, looking up towards the city. The guards are making a small dust cloud that is fast-approaching the gate. She turns to the cage full of bandits. “We need to get gone and we don’t have time to put you in a trundling cage, so you’re going to walk. If you try to run away, Glitter will freeze you solid and throw you at the city as hard as he can.”

“I’m pretty good at throwing stuff,” Glitter says, erasing his scaredy face and trying for a menacing one with downward-tilted eyebrows. He still looks cute, though.

“We’ll walk,” the lead bandit says. She’s staring at the fallen princess.

“Great. Do you have a hideout nearby?”

“Uh.”

“The alternative is trying to run ahead of whatever mounted reinforcements are coming from the city,” Emerald says, “and if you can’t manage that then we’ll just leave you to get captured and tell Riyo we tried our best.”

“Shit,” the bandit says. Even so, she hesitates. “The boss will kick us out of the rebellion.”

“Better than getting thrown in the keep,” one of her colleagues says. “It’s been ten years and we still don’t have the first clue what happens to people who end up in there.”

“It might be nice,” the bull man says.

All of the bandits glare at him.

“What? It might. You never know.”

“Fine,” the leader says. “We’ll take you to the hideout. It won’t be empty, though, and the others are gonna be pissed.”

“That’s a problem for later. Armoured knights are a problem for now.”

“Let’s go!” Glitter says, and the cage collapses into twinkling mist.

 

 

 

“something’s happening,” Ravi says. The three of them stand by a moat filled with stagnant water, across which is another wall. Inside the wall the ground rises steeply towards the monolithic keep, whose towers bristle with archers and crossbowmen. The only gate is hidden behind a grand drawbridge, which is now beginning to fall. A group of road-worn guards sit astride panting mounts before it.

“Is this our chance?” Riyo says, looking up at Rolleck.

He gives her a frank look. “No. Stop being so impatient.”

“Hey, you’re the one who said you didn’t want to get involved here. I’m just trying to get done as quick as possible.”

“That man is enormous,” Ravi says as the drawbridge crashes down, throwing up a cloud of dust. The portcullis on the other side ill-conceals a man who could barely fit through the outer gate of the city. He wears the armour and tabard of a guard, but the bucket of his helmet could drain the lake in a handful of scoops. As the portcullis begins to rise, his vision slit looks around and stops for a moment.

“He just looked at us,” Rolleck says, narrowing his eyes. “It felt a little… pointed.”

“He must have quite good eyesight,” Ravi says, then swallows. His eyes cannot pierce the shade of the giant’s vision slit, but it feels as though he’s locked in a staring contest with the man. One that he has no hope of winning. “Maybe we should move along? Act natural, you know?”

“It’s pretty natural for travellers to be interested in stuff like this,” Riyo says. “How does someone get that big?”

“Always eats their vegetables and drink lots of milk,” Rolleck says.

“Hey! I drank milk,” Riyo says, shortly.

“He could be like me,” Ravi says. “But with, like, whale traits.”

“Or he might not be human at all.”

“Well, we probably weren’t going to get in through the main gate anyway,” Riyo says. “We’ll have to go over the back wall.”

The portcullis has now risen above the head of the giant, but he remains where he is. Instead, another group of knights ride out. They are led by a woman whose armour looks very different from the other guards’.

“Oh my,” Ravi says, glancing away.

“Is she… naked?” Riyo says, squinting.

“Um, no,” Ravi says, feeling himself blushing. “But her armour is rather… limited.”

“Isn’t that just a chain around her chest?”

“Uh, yes. And only one loop.”

“Can that even be called armour?” Rolleck says.

“Isn’t she cold?” Riyo asks.

“These are not questions I can answer just by looking,” Ravi says. He continues not looking.

“Looks like she’s going out of the city with those knights,” Rolleck says.

The sound of their hoofbeats reaches Riyo a few moments after the group take off at a hard gallop, angled for the gate they entered the city by.

“Is it possible the others are in trouble?” Riyo says.

“Those other knights must have come via the road we left them on,” Rolleck says.

“Tch. I’m going to find the best way over the wall. You guys find an inn or something. If you get a chance, go talk to the king.”

“Sure,” Rolleck says, and Riyo runs off.

“We’re not actually going to talk to the king, are we?” Ravi says.

“Not if we can help it. Let’s just go and find an inn.”

The sound of the drawbridge rising rumbles out behind them as they wander back towards the wall. With the sun now vanished behind the city walls and preparing to finish up today’s sunset altogether, the people of Saviour’s Call have trickled away to their homes. Ravi and Rolleck amble over the cobbles through an uneasy silence, looking for the sign of an inn or tavern.

Ravi pulls them to a halt as they pass into a market square in the south eastern corner of the city. Over on the other side of the empty space, two young boys are hunkered beside a heap of crates. Several lanterns burn around them, and there is a man in the window of the closest house. Clearly, he is supposed to be watching for thieves, but he has fallen asleep. The children are dressed in rags, and one of them has a broken piece of metal pipe that he is using to try and lever one of the crates open. The other boy lingers by him, his eyes darting between the window of the sleeping man and the rest of the square.

Ravi quietly relays the details of the scene that Rolleck cannot see.

“What should we do?”

Rolleck glances briefly at his wolf pelt. He is compelled to see the boys off, but, though it does not look it from a casual glance, this city isn’t much different from a war zone. The usual rules don’t really apply and denying children food isn’t something he would feel good about.

The decision is taken from them by the persistent sound of metal on stone. Another light appears and grows brighter from the entrance of a side street. Ravi gestures towards the mouth of an alley just inside the square, and they move into it.

The boys notice the sound soon after, and they panic. The one with the pipe gestures at the boxes, suggesting they hide. The other jabs his hand at the nearest road out of the square. He runs for it, while the other one throws up his hands and scurries behind the boxes. A pair of guards enter the square a second later, lanterns swinging from their spears. The running boy is out in the open, and one of the guards spots him.

“Halt!”

Further panicked, the boy runs harder, and the guards give chase. Their swaying lanterns create flickering shadow plays on the walls of the surrounding buildings, then night swoops in behind them as they disappear down the side street.

The other boy emerges from his hiding place and runs to the corner, peering round it. He then starts back towards the crates, before turning back to the corner again. He stamps his foot, and the lanterns by the crates twinkle off a tear in his eye.

“I think we should help them,” Ravi says quietly.

“Maybe,” Rolleck says. He leaves the cover of the alley and approaches the boy, who is too caught up in his worrying to notice until Rolleck is almost on top of him.

He starts to yell, then catches himself and runs for the closest escape, but his unshod foot hits an uneven cobble and he falls.

Rolleck steps over and kneels beside him, careful to keep his empty hand towards the boy. He has found that people unconsciously appreciate it when he does so.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says quietly. “I’m not a guard.”

“Who are you?” the boy stammers. He is trying to get his legs under him, but he has noticed Rolleck’s sword. He knows he will not be able to run.

“I’m a traveller. And you’re worried about your friend, right?”

The boy glances in the direction guards have gone, then nods.

“What will they do to him? If they catch him?” Rolleck asks as Ravi comes over.

“They’ll take him to the keep,” the boy says. “They take anybody out after curfew to the keep, and nobody comes back from that.”

“Seems a little harsh,” Ravi says.

“It also seems a little rude of those gate guards not to tell us about the curfew. No wonder everybody disappeared so quickly.”

“They don’t tell anybody who comes in about it. I think they want to take travellers up there.”

“What do you think?” Ravi says.

“I think I’m starting to come down on Cotter Lee’s side.”

“I’ll go make sure his friend gets away.” Ravi takes a run-up and then hops to the roof of the building on the corner.

“Where do you live?” Rolleck asks the boy.

“Um. Nearby. But…” He glances over his shoulder towards the crates again.

Rolleck sighs. “Come on.” The boy has made little head-way on the crate with his pipe, but Rolleck’s sword makes short work of the panel he has been worrying, and a cluster of large, round fruits spill out. The boy grabs a folded sack from his belt and fills it with as much as he can. It is not much. He seems happy, however. He runs over to the street the guards went down and beckons for Rolleck to follow.

“They patrol in a circle, so the next pair will come the same way.”

Rolleck nods and follows the boy through the city. They make a few turns, passing darkened windows and scaring rats to scampering flight. They enter a new patrol area and have to crouch in an alley while another pair of lantern-wielding guards clump past. Many of the windows in this area are broken, and doors hang from single hinges where they haven’t been knocked down completely. The boy leads Rolleck to a house whose door is missing, then gestures for Rolleck to enter the building first. His expression gives away his poor attempt at subterfuge, but Rolleck goes inside anyway.

He gently taps aside the thrust of a broken spear with his sword, then steps forward and catches the wrist of the teenager wielding it, who yelps. A girl with a dagger leaps at him from behind a dark curtain, so he shoves the first boy away and catches her elbow before she can plunge the knife down at him.

“Stand down at once,” he yells. Years of police authority back his command, and for a moment every child in the space is stunned by the need to obey. “I am not here to hurt or arrest you,” he says at a more reasonable volume. He plucks the knife from the girl’s fingers before she can recover and inspects its blade. It is rusty and dull, and probably wouldn’t have got through his waistcoat. “I just want to talk to you.”

The boy he initially saved peers around the door to see what is happening.

“What the fuck did you do this time, Kenta?” the older boy with the spear says. He is watching Rolleck carefully, but his question is aimed at the younger boy at the door.

“I’m sorry, Gem, I didn’t know what to do…”

“Where the fuck is Fallow?”

“He… the guards came…”

“Fuck. Did they get him?”

“He ran, but I didn’t see.”

“Fuck,” Gem says again. “Tell me you at least got the fruit.”

“Y-yeah! I did. Here.” He scurries past Rolleck and hands over the sack.

Gem grabs the sack from Kenta roughly and then shoves the younger boy away. “So, who the fuck is this guy?”

“I’m a traveller,” Rolleck says.

“Well if you’re not here to hurt us or rob us, then fuck off.”

Rolleck glances around the gloomy space. There are at least two more kids of varying ages lingering on the edge of notice. The girl whose knife he now holds has backed away towards one corner of the room but stopped a little way from the wall.

“I was actually thinking I might be able to help you,” he says.

“We don’t need your fucking help,” Gem says, then spits.

“I see. Is that because you’re big and strong, or because you have someone else’s support?”

“We don’t need anybody, you nosy fuck,” Gem says, but Rolleck is watching Kenta. The boy’s eyes widen at the suggestion they have help from elsewhere, and he glances at Gem’s back.

“I see,” Rolleck says. He goes over to the girl, who tries to stare defiantly at him while visibly shaking. She doesn’t step back onto the piece of cloth behind her, though. Rolleck flips the knife and offers her the handle. “This is yours. I apologise for scaring you.”

She glances past him at Gem, then takes the knife back.

“Wasn’t scared,” she almost whispers, looking away from him and cradling the knife.

“My mistake,” Rolleck says. Then he reaches past her and flips the cloth up. Cracked floorboards make a hole just large enough for a person. There is a wooden ladder propped against the wall, and the faint flicker of lantern light clambers up it.

“Hey!” Gem yells, but he is far too slow to stop Rolleck from rolling down the hole. He dangles from the broken woodwork to arrest his momentum, then drops the rest of the way into the basement.

“Gem?” The voice belongs to a man sat beside a heavy door. A lantern flickers on the table before him, and he has a series of playing cards arranged beside it. He is dressed mostly in black and is rapidly balding. “You’d better have those wiffle fruits.”

Rolleck steps into the light of the lantern, and the man jerks to his feet. He fumbles a knife and it clatters into Rolleck’s left boot.

“Good evening,” Rolleck says. “I imagine you work for Cotter Lee.”

The man glances down at the knife, then back up at Rolleck, taking in the sword and the wolf pelt. He licks his lips.

“Don’t worry about betraying anything,” Rolleck says, picking up the knife. It is much sharper than the one belonging to the girl upstairs. “I’m not out to cause trouble for the rebellion. In fact, I was actually thinking of joining up.”

He offers the knife back to the man, handle first.

“How’d you figure you were going to do that?” The man takes the knife and keeps it in his hand, pointed at Rolleck.

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

The man stares at him with sour eyes for a long moment. They aren’t interrupted by any of the children, who must have decided this was the kind of adult business that might get a nosy child’s nose cut off.

“Not for me to decide,” he says finally. “But I’ll take you to someone who can.” He looks over Rolleck’s shoulder and raises his voice. “Gem! You got those wiffles?”

The shadow of Gem’s face appears hanging down from the hole. “Of course I fucking do.”

“Then give them here,” the man growls.

Kenta’s sack thumps down on the edge of the lantern’s sphere of light.

“Anything else to report?”

There is slightly too long of a pause.

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

“Fuck off.”

“Tell me, now, or you never get the chance to join the rebellion.”

“For fuck’s… Fine. Fallow… he might have got got by the guards.”

The man slams his fist down on the table, disrupting his card game. “Fucking shit. I’m gonna-”

Rolleck raises his sword to stop the man’s advance towards the ladder.

“What’re you-”

“The boy wasn’t captured,” Rolleck says. “My associate went to make sure of it. Please take me to this superior of yours.”

The man looks at Rolleck’s sword, and then his eyes. Whatever he finds there, it convinces him. Whether he is convinced the boy is safe, or that Rolleck will kill him if he objects, Rolleck does not know.

“Yeah. Fine.” He gestures at the door he has been guarding. “Let’s go.” He scoops up the bag of wiffle fruits in one hand and the lantern in the other before leading Rolleck through the door and down into darkness.

 

 

Ravi bounces over a few rooftops, looking for light. There is plenty fluttering from the windows of homes made cosy by fires and candles, but only one patch stutters and wavers like a pair of guards at chase. Ravi’s talons find sure footing in thatch and on slate, and it is less than a minute before he catches up.

The boy is still ahead but, even armoured, the men that follow him are trained soldiers. They have more stamina, and they are not blinded by the panic of fear. Ravi shadows the three of them, watching ahead for anything that might offer an opportunity to intervene. The boy jukes left into an alley that he does not know is a dead-end, and Ravi leaps over his pursuers to watch from the corner. He pulls his bow over his shoulder and waits.

The boy reaches the wall between the two houses and gives a fearful whimper. He turns, presses his back to the stone. Tears begin to dribble over his cheeks. The guards slow, their buckets making them faceless and inhuman as they approach the helpless child. It is a scene that turns Ravi’s stomach, and he pulls a pair of arrows from his quiver.

“You know the price of breaking curfew, boy,” one of the guards says.

“Please,” the boy sobs. “I’m sorry.”

“He’s just a kid,” the other guard says quietly.

“And he’s out after curfew. We’ve gotta enforce the law or we’ll never stop the rebellion.”

“I know, but…”

“Fine. Let’s leave him. We can reminisce about old times while he slips away. Let’s see, what’s a good memory…?”

The boy, breathing hard, watches the two guards for a moment. When neither of them moves, he begins to slip towards the side of the alley. The guard slams the butt of his spear down on the cobbles, scaring the boy back against the wall.

“Ah! Yeah. Remember what happened to Rowena the other week when she let that little girl out of the dungeon?”

“But…”

“That’s right. We could hear her screams in the barracks for days. Good times.”

“Nobody has to know, Kel.”

“The two of us know, and that’s two too many. I’m not chancing my life for this little shit.” He advances and, after a moment of guilty hesitation, his partner follows.

Ravi draws his bowstring.

“Excuse me, gentlemen.”

Ravi glances down to find a tall man in an all-encompassing cloak standing in the mouth of the alley. His voice is rough and, in spite of the warmth of the evening, his breath mists the air in front of his hood.

“Another curfew-breaker, eh?” Kel says, turning to face the newcomer.

“I’m afraid so. And a member of the rebellion, too, if you can believe it.”

Both guards level their spears at the man, their bodies tensing. Kel reaches for a bell on his belt.

The man is quick. Only Ravi can follow his movements as he darts forwards and grabs Kel’s wrist. His other hand flashes out from beneath his cloak and Kel tumbles backwards, the hilt of a dagger protruding from his eye slit. The other guard swings his spear with a yell of surprise, but the man grabs it and squeezes. It snaps in two, and his lantern shatters on the ground. A second dagger finds a gap in the guard’s armour beneath his arm, and he stiffens. Ravi feels as though he can hear the man’s rasping breath inside his helmet.

The cloaked man gently lowers the guard to the ground, then watches dispassionately as his blood spills out and runs into the gaps between the cobbles. He then looks up, making the boy squeak in fear.

“Run along, child,” the hood says. “The rebellion is a force for liberation.”

The boy nods, but he gives the man as wide a berth as the alley will allow as he passes. He doesn’t take his eyes off him until he is at the mouth of the alley, and then he is gone. Ravi hears his footfalls fading into the night. The boy is his best chance to regroup with Rolleck, so Ravi returns his arrows to his quiver.

“What of you, rooftop watcher?”

Ravi freezes, then sighs. “I’m just watching.”

“But for whose benefit?”

“My own.” Ravi needs to be off after the boy. Even he will struggle to find him in such a vast city if he gets too far away. “I don’t mean to overestimate myself, but I’m no lumbering knight. A fight with me will probably attract more attention than you want. You can either take my word that I’m not going to cause problems for you, or you can risk alerting the city that there’s a drake fighting for the rebellion.” Ravi’s eyes are not so hindered by the night that he would fail to notice the scales on the man’s hands or the way his tail moves beneath his cloak.

The alley remains quiet for a moment.

“You see much, watcher.”

“I have good eyes,” Ravi says. “Perhaps they will see you again.” Ravi sprints, his footsteps light and perfect. He streaks over the city as though there is a dragon on his tail. When he glances over his shoulder, however, only the night follows him. He slows down and swings back around to the square where they had first seen the boys. After a few minutes, the boy staggers up to the corner and leans against the wall, panting. He looks around the square and, finding it empty, sighs and turns back again.

Ravi stalks him across the city. They pass from untidy houses to dilapidated ones and from worn-but-serviceable cobbles to litter-strewn streets. Ravi’s footing becomes more precarious as thatch deteriorates and holes appear between tiles. Broken windows and doors breath in the night air, turning homes into collections of walls.

The boy stops by one such abandoned property and raps out a code on the window frame. A moment later, he enters through the yawning doorway. Ravi drops to the street and moves in close enough that his eyes might pierce the gloom inside. It takes him a moment to realise that the gloom is a hoax. A short way back from the door, someone has hung a worn black piece of fabric. Ravi looks the house up and down and finds there are other things that distinguish it from its neighbours. The thatch looks worn out, but it is superficial. There are no holes, no portions fallen away at the eaves. The upper window still has all of its glass and, through it, Ravi can see the boards that make up the room’s ceiling. To all eyes but his, this is of no consequence, but he sees the flickering of light escaping between them.

Ravi returns to the rooftops and hops carefully over to the boy’s hideout. He closes his eyes and listens. Sure enough, he hears voices. He wanders the roof with delicate footsteps until he finds the source of the sound, then lies down amid scratchy thatch and stares up at a starry sky.

“-fucking idiot.”

“I know. I know. I’m really sorry, Gem.” This is the voice of the boy, still sounding tearful.

“Not fucking sorry enough. I should beat the fuck out of you.”

“Don’t, Gem.” A female voice, this time.

“You heard what Torn said! He could’ve cost me my chance to join the rebellion properly. I’m tired of running all these fucking errands.”

“Then maybe you should have gone with them.”

“Then who would have been here to protect this fucking place?”

“Wouldn’t have mattered, would it? That guy got in anyway.”

“You saw his fucking sword. There was nothing I could do. He even scared the fuck out of Torn.”

That certainly sounded like Rolleck.

“Wow, really?” The boy again.

“Shut the fuck up, Fallow.”

“He was really cool, though.” A different boy. “Torn didn’t even test him or anything. Just took him straight through the door.”

“Or Torn’s just a fucking coward. How’d he even know the guy could use that fucking sword?”

“Sometimes you can just tell,” the girl says. “It’s in their eyes and their bodies. It’s like you can just feel how dangerous they are.”

“You’re just saying that because you fucking fancy him.”

“What? No way! Shut up.” The last comes as a shout.

“Keep it fucking down,” Gem says. “Someone might hear.”

“Someone has,” Ravi says, loud enough to be heard inside.

Deathly silence follows, but Ravi imagines he can hear all their heartbeats quicken.

“Please don’t do anything rash,” he says. “I mean you no harm. I’m a friend of the swordsman you mentioned earlier.”

“You’re the bird guy!” the boy who isn’t Fallow says.

“Shut the fuck up, Kenta!”

“That’s me,” Ravi says. “I just want to know where my friend ended up.”

“He’s not here anymore,” Kenta says.

“Stop telling stuff to some random fucking voice, you idiot!”

“It’s okay,” Kenta says. “He helped me. I think he helped Fallow, too.”

“Someone did save me from the guards,” Fallow says.

“What the fuck? Why didn’t you say that earlier?”

“Because…”

“Actually,” Ravi interrupts, “that wasn’t me, but I saw it happen. The person that helped you was from the rebellion.”

“He was cool, too,” Fallow says.

“The rebellion’s full of cool people,” Kenta says. “That’s why we gotta join it.”

“If you want to join the fucking rebellion, learn to keep your fucking mouth shut. Otherwise it’ll get you killed before you get a chance.”

“Sorry, Gem,” the younger boys say together.

“Your friend isn’t here anymore,” Gem says. “And we’re not fucking telling you where he went.”

Ravi sighs. “That’s okay. As long as he knows what he’s doing.” He gets to his knees. “Stay safe,” he tells the children. He jumps across the street and moves a few houses along, then drops to the ground and pulls aside a rotting door to get inside. The curfew means he can’t show up at an inn this late without risking being reported to the guards. He decides that if sleeping rough is his only option, he might as well find a place close to the kids’ hideout so he will know if anything interesting happens.

There is an apple in his pouch. It has seen better days, but Ravi hasn’t eaten since before they encountered the bandits outside the city. He stares at his bruised dinner and sighs again. Such is the life of an adventurer.

 

 

Riyo Falsemoon walks up a wall. She squats by the lip and peers over it. To her, everything falls away into night sky, as though she has lighted upon the precipice at the end of the world. She is fine with that. She is used to it. She glances both ways and, seeing no horizontal guards on patrol, she rolls over the edge.

Gravity flips and she hops up into a squat, scurrying over to the other side of the wall and diving through a crenel. The world turns again, and she is running down the outside of the city. The see-saw of gravity ends back where it began, leaving her standing in the mud a few hundred metres down the wall from the gate. She closes her reality and checks up and down the corridor of cleared ground that lies before the wall. There is no sign of movement, and no call of alarm from above her. She starts jogging out towards the first fields.

For now, she keeps her reality closed. This makes her progress slow, but she wants to avoid being detected if there is a crafter among the knights she saw leaving the keep. The woman with no clothes on has her suspicious. The flickering of light over the Glittering Sands and the soft purple light of the moon are enough to let her pick her way across pasture and through the loose mud left behind by the last harvest.

A light appears ahead of her and she squints at it. It bobs over the ground like a lost ghost, looking one way and then another. Riyo edges closer, and the light resolves itself into a lantern.

“Hey. You there,” it says in the voice of a man with a bucket on his head.

“Oh. Damnit,” Riyo says. She glances around, but there is nowhere for her to hide. She looks down at her bright red jacket and boots. “I suppose I deserve that.” She needs to work on her stealth skills, and she supposes that starts with thinking ahead a little.

“What are you doing outside the city?”

“Uh, I was looking for my friends.”

The guard comes closer, bringing his sphere of light to wrap around Riyo.

“You’re breaking curfew.”

“There’s a curfew?”

“Of course there’s a bloody curfew, the city’s under martial law.”

“But… we’re not in the city.”

“Shut up. You’re coming with me, bandit.”

Riyo frowns and reaches into her jacket for a dagger, then hesitates.

“What are you going to do to me?”

“You’re going straight to the keep,” the guard growls, taking the last few steps towards Riyo and grabbing her by the upper arm.

Riyo takes her other hand from inside her jacket. The keep is one of the places she needs to go, and this will get her in quietly. Besides, Emerald and Glitter probably haven’t stuck around to be captured by this search party, so she has no chance of finding them out here in the dark. If they have been captured, then she can just meet up with them in the keep.

The guard drags her across the field towards the road, apparently confident that he can deal with her if she tries to run or fight. This, despite being able to see her sword and accusing her of being a bandit. She spots other lanterns floating across the fields around the road as her boots cease crushing grass and start clumping over compacted dirt. The guard takes her over to a cluster of lights in the middle of the road.

The insufficiently-dressed woman sits astride her big, black horse, flanked by two other guards. The rest of the unit Riyo saw outside the keep is out searching for something. Her friends, perhaps.

The guard shoves her forward and the woman takes notice of their arrival. Just as Ravi described, she is wearing a single length of chain around her upper body. It is thick enough that it keeps her modest, for a very technical definition of ‘modest’. It doesn’t, however, do anything to hide the size of her assets. Riyo glances down and finds that something similar is happening around her waist. She isn’t wearing shoes, either.

“Who is this?” She speaks slowly, and her sibilants go on for a little too long, making Riyo think of snakes in the grass.

“Hi. I’m Riyo Falsemoon.”

The woman raises an eyebrow, as though she is surprised Riyo is capable of speaking at all. She then looks to the guard.

“A bandit. I found her over there in the field.”

“Where is she?” the woman says.

“Uh, who?”

“Where is the princess?”

“I dunno,” Riyo says, because she doesn’t.

A length of chain appears in the woman’s hand and she whips it at Riyo’s face. It clashes against Riyo’s sword, but the tip still hits her shoulder. Pain lances down her arm, and she grimaces.

Another chain flashes into existence around Riyo’s ankle, and the woman jerks the other end. The ground smacks Riyo in the spine, and her breath leaves her in a groan. More chains appear, grabbing her wrists and binding them together. The clinking of metal links ravages the night, sounding like ballistic wind chimes. Riyo finds herself trussed up like a hog, her arms and legs pulled back behind her and tethered together from wrists to ankles.

“Ouch,” she says. It seems she had been right to be suspicious of the woman. She has noticed that crafters have a tendency towards the eccentric. Most of them, anyway. She is completely normal.

A thinner chain wraps around the handle of her sword and the woman jerks it up. The chain disappears as soon as it has transferred the momentum it needed to, and the sword lands neatly in the woman’s hand. She slips it through a loop on her horse’s saddle.

“We’ll get what we need out of her at the keep. Recall everyone else. If the princess has been taken, we won’t find her tonight.” Anger adds gristle to her voice. She turns fierce hazel eyes on Riyo, and they promise pain. A final chain lashes Riyo to the woman’s horse.

“Shit,” Riyo says, and closes her eyes. She can open her reality now, give herself away, and spare herself some pain. Or she can endure the short trip to the city and secure a way into the keep. She decides she needs to be a lot more resilient if she wishes to reach the end of her journey in one piece, and so she grits her teeth as the woman kicks her horse into motion.

 

 

 

Emerald has some new prisoners. She is not entirely happy about this, because one of them is only five years old. The girl sits quietly with her family in the corner of their barn, clutching her mother’s arm and watching Emerald with wide eyes.

“This isn’t quite what I expected,” Emerald says.

The bandit leader shrugs. “The rebellion relies on a lot of people. Some of them have families.”

“And you don’t feel the least bit guilty for drawing such people into harm’s way?”

“We were already in harm’s way,” the girl’s mother says. “Not knowing when one of us could be taken away to that damned keep, or whether our land and home would be seized by the crown on top of the taxes they already take from us. Helping the rebellion to remove the king and those greedy noble families is the best way for us to make this city safe for our daughter.” Her glare makes Emerald feel ashamed for having asked.

“What should we do?” Glitter asks quietly. He is not good in social situations, largely due to lack of experience. He feels uncomfortable with all these people around him.

“Good question,” Emerald replies. She is tired. “I don’t think we can afford to just wait for the others to come back anymore. They won’t even know where to find us. Riyo might get mad with us, but I’ve already decided I don’t want to hand these people over.”

“Then… maybe we can just leave?”

Emerald shakes her head, which is beginning to ache. “I don’t think leaving the princess with them is a good idea. It doesn’t make sense to protect them from an unknown fate in the city and leave her to one in this barn.”

“Okay,” Glitter says. “She’s awake, by the way.”

“What?”

“The princess. She is pretending otherwise, but her breathing has changed and the man who is probably a ghost is sitting next to her.”

There is a little quaver in his voice that was not there before.

“I think I’d like to talk to her,” Emerald says. “Somewhere away from the bandits.”

“Okay. I’ll wait here.”

Emerald grabs the princess under her arm. She does an admirable job of not reacting to it, but Glitter is right. She is awake.

“What are you doing?” the bandit leader says.

“None of your business,” Emerald says. “You’re still prisoners, for now.”

“Oh,” she says. “Right.” She glances toward the two bandits who had been waiting for them to return, then towards the back of the barn where a group of cows are huddled around a haybale.

Emerald frowns at her.

“Sorry,” she says after a moment, not meeting her eyes.

Emerald takes the haunted princess outside a short way, then shakes her. “I know you’re awake.” She doesn’t respond, so Emerald drops her. This draws out a yelp and the clatter of armour as she tries to break her fall. She scuttles away from Emerald and stands up, raising her gauntlets in a fighting stance. Her eyes flash briefly over Emerald’s shoulder, giving up the ghost.

Emerald spins and exhales flame – a controlled gout that forces the phantom to defend itself. The princess makes to punch Emerald, but she captures the woman’s fist in her talon. Her claws bend the metal around her hand, making her cry out again.

“Call off your ghost, please,” Emerald growls. “I merely wish to talk.”

“Okay,” the princess says. “Okay.” The last is almost a sob.

Emerald lets go of her and she drops to her knees. Tears start dribbling over her nose and dripping onto the grass. She tries to wipe them away, but her gauntlet clanks against her helmet.

“I’m so stupid,” she warbles through a fresh glut of tears.

“Uh…” Emerald says.

A blue flash sets her sinuses hurting, forcing her to glance away. When she looks back, the ghost stands between her and the sniffling princess. He is dressed in shades of blue and black, a coat of arms prominent on his breast. A slim silver crown adorns his brow, failing to contain a shock of red hair. He looks young, for a dead man.

“I well remember the tales my forbears told of the dragons,” he says. His eyes are narrowed and angry.

Emerald scowls back. “I’ve heard plenty, too, thanks. They’re usually exaggerated where they aren’t entirely made up to sate some vainglorious human’s ego.”

“What is it you want here, dragon? Why do you interfere in the affairs of humans?”

“Because living alongside humans inevitably means being involved in their affairs. Would you prefer it if I had just carried the princess off to my lair and waited for a valiant prince to come and rescue her?”

“I’d like to see you try! I’ll stop you like I did before!”

“Next time, I will be ready for your tricks, spectre.” Emerald gets ready to inhale her pilot.

“Stop it!” The princess has regained her composure somewhat, and she is now standing with her fists clenched behind her pet ghost. “This isn’t going to resolve anything, Tondwell. She’s stronger than us.”

“Princess…” The ghost wears a guarded expression. He wants to argue, but part of that argument is something he doesn’t want Emerald to hear.

“You said you wanted to talk,” the princess says past him.

“I did,” Emerald says.

“Then I will listen.”

Tondwell the ghost looks back and forth between them, then harrumphs and vanishes.

Emerald looks the princess up and down. By the account of the bandit woman, the royal family are tyrants, but the princess’s tears and the way she shivers in her armour do not strike Emerald as particularly tyrannical.

“Do you trust your father, your highness?” She drops the question into the expectant silence and watches the ripples hit the princess. Her eyes widen, her lips part, and she freezes. For less than a second, she shows her face, and then her eyes narrow and anger overtakes her shock.

“Of course,” she says, but she has already given away the truth. She has doubts.

“What happens to the people you take to the keep?”

“They are imprisoned.” There is a little strain in her voice.

“Do you know that to be true?”

“I-”

“Princess!” Tondwell reappears at the same moment that Glitter starts wailing.

Emerald turns to the barn. The princess’s sword, strapped to Emerald’s hip by her harness, leaps free and darts into the princess’s hand.

Glitter waddles out, a look of artificial panic etched on his glass. “Emerald! There are people coming from underground!”

Emerald growls. “More of the rebellion.” She stares into the princess’s eyes. Usually, she is good at reading people that way. Still red-rimmed from crying, they reflect her uncertainty. Her fear. “If they take you, they will do something awful to you. Perhaps something as awful as what happens to those who go to the keep. If you wish to go free right now, your highness, you must promise me you will find out what that is.”

“But… my father…”

“Has ordered whatever it is. Give me your word, or I will make sure the rebellion takes you.”

The princess scrunches her eyes closed. “Fine. We have an accord.”

“Then go.”

“Are you sure?” Glitter says. “The rebellion people might get angry with us instead.”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay. Bye bye, princess. It was nice meeting you. Sorry for hitting you on the head.”

“Um,” the princess says.

“Go!” Tondwell yells.

“Ah! Ghost!” Glitter says and runs back towards the barn.

The princess nods and starts running for the city, vaguely visible by the faint glow of the lanterns on its walls.

Emerald follows Glitter back to the barn, her headache worsening with every step. It hits its peak when she looks inside. There are now nearly thirty people in there, all dressed similarly to the bandits. A hole near the back of the barn, previously covered by wooden slats, slopes down into the darkness beneath the earth. One woman stands out among the rebels, as her head almost touches the roof. Despite this, she is surprisingly thin, with disproportionately long limbs. She bends down towards Emerald and Glitter with a scowl on her long face.

“Where is the princess?”

“I let her go,” Emerald says.

What conversation has been murmuring away between the rebellion’s squad members ceases, leaving the barn silent enough for Emerald to hear the little girl fidgeting in her seat.

“What?”

“You heard me. I didn’t want you to have her for the same reason I didn’t want your friends to go to the keep.”

The woman stares at her for a long moment.

“She was here until a minute ago,” the leader of the now-liberated bandits from the orchard says. “We can catch up with her.”

“No, you can’t,” Emerald says with a glare for the woman, who shrinks back behind her giant friend. “Because doing that means fighting us.”

“Huh?” Glitter says.

“Fine,” the giant woman says.

“Wait!” the first bandit shouts. “Elanor, that isn’t a good idea.” She is touching the giant woman on her thigh, the highest point she can reach.

“Don’t touch me.” The giant’s backhand cracks her entire arm like a whip, and the much-smaller woman crashes into the family in the corner of the barn. “Underlords, get these two out of the way and get after the princess before she reaches the city.”

A group of ugly men and women with drills and pickaxes shove some of the slower rebels out of the way and lunge past the giant, swinging whatever tool they carry at Emerald. Emerald is watching the family, though. The little girl has crawled out from under the bandit and is crying next to her mother. The father seems dazed, while the mother isn’t moving at all.

“Glitter,” Emerald says through gritted teeth. “Deal.”

A fist of snow blindsides the first of the Underlords to reach Emerald, and he crashes into several more on his way to the other side of the barn. The cows let out cries of protest as he smashes through their haybale. Emerald ignores the rest of the shocked rebels and throws a leaping right-hook at the giant woman; whose height and reach have nothing on most of the dragons Emerald knows. Her head breaks the side of the barn with a crackle of splintering wood. Her body slumps against the wall, leaving her dangling from the hole she has made.

A few more rebels eat fistfuls of snow before the entire group begins running back the way they have come. Glitter roars at them with a grumpy face drawn on his glass, chasing them as far as the beginning of their tunnel. Their panicked footsteps echo around the opening until all is faded to silence. They are left in a barn with a whimpering girl and a handful of unconscious rebels.

Emerald approaches the family, but the girl backs away from her, beginning to scream.

“I never should have encouraged Riyo,” she sighs. “This is turning out to be a real pain.”

“It’s okay,” Glitter says. “It’s all part of the adventure.”

He clears his ‘scary’ face and puts on a smiley one, then begins whistling a slow, pleasant lullaby. He waddles towards the girl, whose screams fall away as she watches the funny machine and listens to its song.

“Don’t worry,” Glitter sings, weaving his voice seamlessly into the melody. “We’re going to help you.” A little snow leaks from his shoulders and pools on the floor. Little figures rise up from it and begin dancing along. The girl is fascinated by the show and leans in closer, her tears all but forgotten.

Emerald quietly goes over to check on her parents. Her father is awake, but terrified. He leans against the wall, watching Glitter and his daughter. Her mother is still, but after a moment of watching Emerald sees her chest rise with her breath. The bandit woman is out cold, too, her face a bloody mess thanks to a broken nose.

Glitter’s tiny snow puppets have begun dancing away from her, luring her towards her father. Once she is close enough to notice he is awake, she forgets all about the snow and jumps into his arms, where she begins wailing again.

“What do we do now?” Glitter asks, still singing.

“Let’s go find the others,” she sings back.

Glitter draws a few quick faces in a row, somehow managing to animate a wince.

“So I can’t sing,” Emerald doesn’t sing. “Let’s just follow that tunnel into the city.”

“What if there are more people?” Glitter does sing.

“Stop showing off. And we’ll just fight our way through if we have to. That giant woman has put me in a bad mood.”

“Okay,” Glitter says, but he makes a wobbly-mouthed face as he waddles after her.

 

 

 

Rolleck the Lost is not entirely sure where he is. The tunnels beneath Saviour’s Call are myriad and twisting, their darkness seeming almost sentient and determined to see him starve in their depths. His guide’s lantern barely touches the walls on either side of them, and even where it does the shadows are reluctant to withdraw.

The man, who is named Torn, occasionally stops to look at the wall. Where he does so there are patterns hidden among the natural shapes made by rock and soil. They would be almost impossible to see if one was not looking for them. Their trail ends as it began, with a mysterious door in the rock. Torn glances at Rolleck for a moment before shrugging and tapping out a coded knock on the old wood.

Another black-clad person opens the door a fraction. Her eye widens when she sees Rolleck.

“You brought an outsider?!” she hisses.

“He’s an applicant,” Torn says. He still sounds uneasy.

“You know we aren’t recruiting right now. Especially tonight.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” Torn says, shooting a glance at Rolleck. “He found me at my station.”

The woman on the other side of the door growls. “I knew it was a mistake using your station for this. If you’ve-” she looks at Rolleck again. “Shit. Fine. You have the fruit?”

“Yeah.”

“Then it’s too late. Get in here.” She pulls open the door, then stands aside to let Rolleck and Torn past. She glares hard at Rolleck the whole time.

Inside is a cavern lit with a dozen lanterns, each one hanging beside a door like the first. A few other rebels are sat at a table in the centre of the room, and their hands float towards weapons as Rolleck and Torn approach.

“Send the word,” Torn says, dropping the sack of fruit on the table. “And let them know I have a dangerous recruit with me.”

One of the others gets up and runs to another door. The tension of the room feels heavier than the rock it is carved into, and all eyes are pinned to him. He glances at the table. In the middle, beside the sack of fruit, are five piles of coins and five cards – four face-up, while the final one remains hidden. Despite the presence of a potential enemy, each person at the table has placed their hand of cards face-down before going for their weapons.

Rolleck eases himself into the messenger’s vacated seat and checks his hand. By the layout of the table and number of cards, Rolleck guesses they were playing Tip the Peach Cart. The bets for the round are all even aside from the messenger’s, so Rolleck slips a coin from his pocket and matches the bet. An even bet means all players are confident in their hands — or were at least bluffing to that effect during the betting rounds. Either way, they are all still in the game. The man to his left should now tip the cart, revealing the fifth card.

Without saying anything, he does so. Rolleck eyes each of his opponents and smiles faintly. The five central cards are known as the carts, with the final one being the titular Peach Cart. In this game, each of the five suits is represented among the carts. The actual names of the suits vary by Song – in Frosthold, they are Ice, Sun, Honour, Barley, and Truth – but there are always five, and each suit has a card from one to nine plus a captain for a total of fifty. The aim now is to match one card from his hand to each of the cart cards. Rolleck places his cards neatly alongside the cart cards, keeping hold of his smile and meeting the eyes of each player in the circle as he does so. He then sits back. The other players glance at each other and the table in a flurry of eye movements, then place their cards.

The cards are revealed one bet at a time, starting from the person to the left of the dealer. Since Rolleck placed the final bet, that means the messenger was the dealer. For each bet, the person who plays the highest value card that matches the cart suit wins that pile. If no cards match the suit, then it is just the highest card. The twist comes if someone matches all the cart suits, in which case they win the entire pot.

The other option, of course, is the one that now presents itself.

As Rolleck turns over the cards by his bet, the man on his left half stands up in triumph. He then hesitates. A woman across the table groans. If two players or more match all five cart suits, then those players immediately forfeit all bets. That leaves Rolleck and two other players. Rolleck keeps his seat while the other two pore over the cards. One starts scowling a little before the other.

“That creepy eye of yours doesn’t let you see through the cards, right?”

“Unfortunately not,” he says. “Otherwise I would be a much richer man than I am.” Even so, he has won all five bets. He gestures first at the man on the left, then at the woman who also matched all the cart cards. “You two gave yourselves away by being too eager to continue the game despite a stranger slipping into it. Most people would insist the game be reset or that everyone wait until the original player returned. Eager players often have five suit hands.” He nods towards the woman on his right. “You were greedy. You could have matched the eight of ice to the cart ice and won it, but you matched the four instead and tried to win off-suit with the eight.” He nods to the last man. “You were mostly just unlucky, but both of you spent too much time looking at the cards you were going to match strongly, so it was easy for me to choose where to off-suit to avoid matching out with these two.”

All of the players are leaning in to look at the cards, now, and the man on Rolleck’s left is nodding slowly.

“This game is a lot deeper than I thought,” he says.

Rolleck nudges the sack of fruits to one side and collects all of the bets into a pile in front of him.

“I won it off a strong hand, though, so I’ll let your friend keep his winnings.” He plucks a single coin from the pile. “I’ll keep my buy-in, though, if you don’t mind.” He pockets the coin and turns to face the door through which the messenger left. A moment later, it opens.

The woman in the blindfold freezes for a split second, then scowls and falls into a fighting stance.

“Hello again,” Rolleck says.

Her clothing is now black with golden snakes crawling across it, but the design is the same – baggy silken trousers, tied up at the ankle, and a tunic that’s long in the front and split at the sides. Her left sleeve is pinned across her chest, empty. Up close, Rolleck can see hints of significant scars peeking out from below the blindfold.

A hand taps her gently on the shoulder, and after another moment of hesitation she moves into the room. She keeps her hand raised towards Rolleck.

The man that follows her in is tall and handsome. Dark-skinned, he has close-cropped black hair and stubble that covers a strong jaw. He’s broad in the shoulder and walks with a swordsman’s stride. This is reflected by the long, curved blade on his hip. He is wearing a grey uniform that has seen better days, and he wears his black wolf pelt over his shoulder, just as Rolleck does.

“Torn,” he says, keeping his eyes on Rolleck. “The fruits.”

“Yes, sir,” Torn says. He grabs the bag from the table and hands it to his boss. He reaches in and then lets the sack fall. He twists the greenish fruit in both hands until the skin splits and sprays pale juice over the floor. In the centre of the wiffle is a translucent yellow crystal, which the man plucks out and inspects.

“Good work, Torn,” he says. “This is it. We know which way they will come. Is Elanor back yet?”

“No, sir,” one of the card players says.

The man frowns. “Fine. We will have to go ahead without her.” He finally addresses Rolleck. “You wish to help us?”

“I was thinking about it,” Rolleck says.

“You’ve come to an awfully dangerous place for something you’re just thinking about,” the man says. “Tonight will be a busy night for us. Why should I spend time trying to convince you to join up?”

“He’s strong,” the blindfolded woman says. Her voice is rough and surprisingly deep, given her size.

The man glances at her. “Well, if you’re saying that I’ll believe it. What would it take to convince you, stranger?”

“My name is Rolleck the Lost. My friend wished to take your measure to figure out which side is right in this war so she could decide what to do with some of your bandits we captured outside the city. An honest answer to one question would probably be enough to make me help you.”

“Alright, then ask.”

“Are you doing what is right?”

“I don’t know.” Everybody in the cave stares at him, save for the blindfolded woman. Mouths hang open.

Rolleck nods. “Point me where you need me.”

Cotter Lee’s mouth quirks into a smile for a moment. “Everybody with me. The loyalists will act as soon as they can. We need to be ready.”

“Wait,” one of the card players says. “You… don’t know?”

Cotter walks up to one of the other doors but turns to face the room before opening it.

“Of course not. It is not possible to know. I believe what I do is for the good of Frosthold, but for every decision I make, I can never find out if another course would have been better. Would have saved more lives. Would have brought an end to this conflict sooner.” He touches the wolf pelt draped over his shoulder, casting his eyes down to its black fur. “I have done things I would not do again, made mistakes because I didn’t know enough. I’ve trusted people who lied to me and mistrusted those who spoke truly. I’m not perfect.” He looks up again. “I hope none of you thought I was. I do what I think is right. That is all.”

The rebels are all staring at him with admiration. One of them starts clapping.

“That wasn’t a speech,” he snaps.

The applauder stops immediately. “Sorry.”

“Come. We will need to take a shortcut if we wish to join the ambush team before their mission commences.” Cotter turns and shoves the door open.

Everyone files in after him, and Rolleck finds himself walking beside the blindfolded woman.

“Thank you for speaking up for me,” he says.

“I spoke the truth. That’s all.” She doesn’t look at him, though it is clear she has some method of ‘seeing’ what is around her.

“Maybe, but the truths we speak and when we speak them is a choice we make. I’m Rolleck, by the way.”

“Charmed. Call me Frost, if you must call me anything. Where is the rest of your band?”

“Band?”

“I assumed you were mercenaries.”

“Ha. No. If that were the case, we might actually get paid for all the fighting we do. My friends and I are travellers. They’re… around, I suppose. They tend to show up when things get hairy.”

“And if they do, can they be relied upon not to get in our way?”

“Absolutely not,” Rolleck says.

“Here,” Cotter says from up ahead. He has stopped at a blank wall of bedrock.

Rolleck glances around. There is nothing nearby but earth and darkness.

Cotter unsheathes his sword. In the silence of the cave, the slow rasp of steel on leather feels like a death sentence falling. Rolleck can feel his own blade responding to it, its wordless voice lusting for imagined violence. He glances at Frost, but she doesn’t seem tensed for action. Her attention remains on Cotter.

For a moment, he is still, blade held before him. His eyes snap open and he pivots to his left, lunging forward at the wall with a yell. The sword pierces the rock, sliding down to the hilt with barely a sound.

RUN.

Rolleck grits his teeth, clutches his head. His sword arm is shaking with an eagerness for battle that laughs at anything he has experienced before. He can feel his mind going black with it.

Cotter rips the sword from the wall and steps back. The rock begins folding down into itself, crunching like the footsteps of giants. The sound rocks the entire cave like an earthquake. It almost looks like a vast puzzle solving itself, everything moving into a more suitable position.

The sound falls away, and a new passage has emerged, leading on into subterranean darkness. Rolleck lets out a breath that chills his teeth. The urge towards chaos slinks away, deep into the recesses of his mind. He knows it is still there, though. That it will come back.

“That’s quite the weapon,” he says, watching Cotter slip the sword back into its scabbard.

“It was a gift from a dear friend,” he says. “It has served me well.”

Rolleck glances down at his own sword. “Take it from one who knows a little about cursed swords. Be careful.”

Cotter meets his eyes, and there is something dark reflected in them despite the light of their lamps.

“Of course.” He turns and begins walking down the new path. The rebels follow, in awe once again.

Run.

Rolleck follows.

 

 

 

Ravi wakes up cold and uncomfortable. He is not surprised by this. He is surprised, however, by the girl standing in front of him. She is leaning in so close that her whiskers brush his feathers.

“Wah!” he says.

“Wah!” she says, hopping back. “You shouldn’t be here.” Ravi reaches for the dagger he now keeps sheathed beside the quiver at his belt. It is a gift from Riyo, who has been teaching him to use it a little ever since he complained that he keeps finding himself in situations where a bow is next-to useless.

The girl has mouse traits, and they have given her a squashed nose and large, round ears. A slim, pink tail swishes about behind her. She’s wearing a close-fitting black outfit that includes gloves and a knife at her waist.

“Who are you?” Ravi asks.

Her nose twitches. “You should get out of here, before I arrest you.”

“Arrest…? You’re a guard?”

She shakes her head. “I find people for them, though.” Her eyes widen, and she covers her mouth with both hands.

“You weren’t supposed to tell me that. You were looking for me?”

“No. Not you. Anyone around here. Just… just leave, okay? Otherwise they’ll take you to the keep.” Her ears perk up. “Oh no. I was too late.”

Ravi hears nothing, but he supposes she has better ears.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“Shhhh!” She looks left and right. The room is still empty. “Just stay here and don’t do anything. They’ll be too focused on the mission to worry about you.”

“What miss-” Ravi tails off as the sound of clomping greaves finally reaches him. It sounds like a lot.

“Just be quiet,” the mouse girl says, and scurries over to the stairs.

“Wait. Why are you helping me?”

“Because the little people have to look out for each other while the titans are clashing. My mum used to say… Never mind. Just stay quiet, okay?”

She disappears downstairs, and Ravi hears her shoving the rotted door a little further open to get out. The sound of soldiers grows louder.

“Hey, get off me!”

Ravi’s heat sinks, and he moves over to the window. A crack in the mortar beneath it allows him to see through without poking his head out, and sure enough one of the kids has been pulled from their hideout. It looks to be Kenta, the boy he left with Rolleck back in the square.

The man holding him is startlingly thin, and despite his eyesight, Ravi cannot see his face. There is a shadow across it, cast by nothing Ravi can see. His arms are long, and the one not holding the boy is pulled up in front of him, wrist angled downwards. He reminds Ravi of a preying mantis. Or a ligmist.

Ravi blinks. He has never heard of a person with ligmist traits. His mother told him once that people with animal traits only share the features of Valos’ creatures, not those touched by Calis’ tainted magic. Apparently, that is not the case.

“Nothing to report, sir,” the mouse girl says. “The other houses are empty.” She glances at Kenta, and her face betrays a hint of worry.

“Good work,” the ligmist man says. His voice is harsh and unpleasant even from a distance.

There is movement in the doorway of the children’s hideout, and several more figures emerge. They are dragging children. There are six of them in total, and one is the boy Fallow. An older boy must be Gem, and the girl whose name he never learned is one of two, probably the elder one. The last is a boy of perhaps six. The people holding them all have animal traits to greater or lesser degrees and are all dressed like the mouse girl.

“What are we going to do with the children?” mouse girl asks.

“Can we kill them?” a short woman with some manner of lizard traits asks. Her fingernails are like claws, and she hooks one of them under Fallow’s throat.

“Not here,” ligmist says. “The guard represent order. We do not kill willy-nilly in the streets. Take them to the keep.”

“I would not, if you value your lives.”

All attention shifts to the new voice, whose actor Ravi cannot see from this angle. He risks glancing through the window and sees a man in a long cloak. The tip of a white-scaled tail is poking out of the bottom behind him.

Ligmist shoves Kenta at mouse woman. “Take them. I will occupy this one until the guards arrive.”

The sound of marching is a street away, at most. The guard will be on them in no time at all. The traited keep spies nod, mouse woman last, and begin dragging their charges towards the sound.

The ligmist man darts at the drake, quick as shadows, and his hand flashes out in front of him. The drake blocks the attack, but there is a familiar blue flicker that makes Ravi’s breath seize. When the drake dodges back, he leaves a splatter of blue blood on the cobbles.

The ligmist smirks. “This is the end of the rebellion. You chose the wrong side, drake.”

The drake pulls his hood down. White scales seem to glimmer despite only having the stars and the distant moon for light.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, spy.”

Another drake bursts through the window of the kids’ hideout and crashes into the ligmist man. They slam into the cobbles, and blood sprays into the air. Another flash of blue ricochets off what glass remains in the window in front of Ravi, and the two break apart. Ligmist man is limping, now, and his right arm hangs beside him, dripping red from his fingertips.

“It’s too late,” he snarls, and he is right. Behind the drakes, a troop of guards is clomping around the corner. At their head, astride a striking white horse, sits a man in ornate, silvery armour. He carries a lance with a flag trailing from the top – a flickering aquamarine fire on a field of dark blue.

Ligmist man backs towards the wall on Ravi’s side of the street, and between one backstep and another he vanishes. Just like a ligmist.

“Looks like they have us dead to rights, brother,” the first drake says, peering at the back of his arm where the ligmist man’s dagger has scored a line across it.

“Oh no,” the other responds.

“How long do we need to hold them here?” a third voice says. Ravi thinks it comes from inside the kids’ hideout.

“Not long. Get a few people out here to make it look like we’re buying time for an evacuation.”

There is a short pause, and a handful of black-clad ruffians emerge from the hideout. Their body language is panic and fear, but their faces are confident.

Ravi falls back from the window. Whatever is about to happen is not something he wants to be a part of, but six children are currently being carted off to the keep. He slips through the shadows of the house and out of a back window. The alleyway behind it smells foul, strewn with waste and old food. A chorus of skittering rats can be heard even from the second floor. Ravi wrinkles his nose, but he will be too obvious on the rooftops this close to the scene of an imminent double ambush. He drops to the ground and pinches his nose shut as he darts between the abandoned homes.

Once he is several streets away, he springs back to the rooftops for a better view. He moves between the shadows of chimneys and keeps low, scanning the streets for movement. He eventually spies the spies when they are a handful of blocks from the drawbridge. He watches them for a little while, then curses when they stop and begin to file into an old Church of Vellum.

A curse-breaker arrow smashes the wall above the little side door they are using to get in, cutting the group in half. Several more arrows force the three back from the door, then Ravi drops into the street, bowstring at his cheek.

“Release the kids,” he says.

The three left outside are mouse girl, lizard girl, and some kind of spider-man. His head is a little too tall, and a second pair of eyes peer out from above his first. The shape of his head suggests there are spaces for two more sets above those, but his traits have only given him the one extra pair. He has a normal quantity of limbs, as far as Ravi can tell. They’re escorting Kenta, Fallow and one of the girls.

“Who are you?” the lizard girl hisses. She presses a claw into Fallow’s throat again, this time drawing blood and making him cry out.

“It doesn’t matter. This is your last chance.”

“Vale,” mouse girl says. “We should-”

“Shut up, weakling,” the lizard girl hisses, and the claw goes deeper.

Her head explodes. Lances of blue lightning rain over the cobbles and shatter the windows of the church. By the time the first scream emerges, Ravi is in front of them. His bow cracks across spider-man’s forehead, sending him wheeling down the street. He grabs Fallow to keep him from falling but lets the lizard girl’s body drop to the floor. Glass rains down over them, and then the street is silent again.

Blood is glooping from Fallow’s throat, turning his ragged tunic red. Ravi grabs the lizard girl’s arm and rips the sleeve from it, then presses the cloth hard against the wound. It’s all he knows to do, but as blood begins to soak the cloth, he fears it will not be enough. He turns to the mouse girl, who has let go of Kenta and taken several steps back.

“Can you help him?” Ravi shouts, making her retreat a step further.

“I… No. I’m not a doctor. I… that’s so much blood.” She sits down hard on the cobbles, tears slinking out from the corners of her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t have a choice. They…” She scrambles up and runs, her feet barely making any sound.

“Fallow,” Kenta says quietly, kneeling beside Ravi. The girl comes over too and takes Fallow’s hand. The boy’s face is pale and tear-stricken, his breaths quick and fearful.

“It hurts,” he says. “It hurts.”

“Hold on,” Ravi says. “Just hold on.” But there is no one else around. No one coming to help. There is nothing to hold on for. Blood seeps between Ravi’s feathers and touches his skin, warm and painful.

“Fallow?” Kenta’s voice is soft, high enough to pierce straight through Ravi’s heart. The boy slips away, and all that is left is blood on the streets of a rotten city.

Ravi lifts his body and takes it into the church. He lays it on the altar, between the books of beginning and end. The two children left behind follow him, trying desperately to keep their sobs quiet.

“Is there anywhere you can go that’s safe?” Ravi asks.

“No,” Kenta says. “We only had…” He breaks down, then. His wails echo around the church, and Ravi sees his sister again. Hears her voice in the fraction of a scream she was allowed before that creature took her away from him. He clenches his fists, squeezes his eyes shut. A pair of tears escape for the lost child, for a future forever to be unwritten. But they do nothing, and all he has left after that is anger.

“Screw not getting involved,” he says. “Stay here.”

He leaves the church and takes to the rooftops. The night sky whips by, and he feels his curse-breaker rolling beneath his feathers. The air rushes around him without touching him, and it takes him only a few seconds to catch up with the mouse girl.

He lands in front of her, his talons breaking cobbles and tearing earth in savage billows of blue light. Her eyes go wide, but she has no time to raise her arms in defence as Ravi’s punch meets her jaw and sends her sprawling against a house at the side of the road. Ravi walks over to her and picks her up by the front of her coat, hauling her up the stone of the wall.

“What is it your mother used to say?” Ravi growls at her.

She whimpers.

“Did she say, ‘The little people have to look out for each other while the titans are clashing, but also, they have to kill children sometimes.’?”

“They killed her!” the girl squeals. “The rebels, they killed my mother. They torched the whole neighbourhood.”

Ravi lets her go and she falls to her hands and knees, coughing.

“So you avenge her by killing children?”

“No! I… I didn’t think it would be like this!” She looks up at him, her eyes pleading. “The guards saved me. From the fire. They said I could help them. They… But then…” She closes her eyes and lets out a sob. “I’ve been trapped. We all have. By this city and its war. I couldn’t get out, and now I’ve done something… something so terrible. And even though I know that, I can’t… I can’t see a way out.”

Ravi is still angry. His heart rushes adrenalin through the fingers of his clenched fists, but what is happening in Saviour’s Call cannot be resolved with a punch.

“Then I’m going to help you look for one.” Ravi offers her his hand.

“How? The war has been going on for ten years. Since I was younger than those children.”

“I have better eyes than most,” he says.

The girl takes his hand, and he pulls her to her feet.

“Come on,” he says.

They return to the church. Kenta peers from behind a pew as they come in, then disappears a moment later.

“Where did they take the other kids?” Ravi asks.

“There’s a passage behind one of the bookcases in the library below,” mouse girl says. Her voice is distant, her eyes focused on Fallow’s body.

“Show me.”

She hesitates for a moment, then leads him to a door in the corner that opens onto a flight of stairs. There is a lantern at the top, but neither of them needs it. They descend into a frigid stone basement lined with bookcases, where leather-bound tomes make the air smell of words.

Mouse girl picks a bookcase and hauls on it. With a little effort, it swings open, revealing a chilling passage that promises darkness and damp.

“What’s your name?” Ravi asks.

“It’s Meera,” the girl says.

“Those children have lost everything, Meera,” Ravi says. “Just like you did. Keep them safe.”

“I… okay.”

Ravi nods and sets off down the passage.

“Wait. Who are you?”

“I’m Ravi Matriya. My friends and I are on a quest to find the sunlight stone, but we’ve been stopping to right a few wrongs along the way.”

“The… the sunlight stone. You’d joke at a time like this?”

“Absolutely not,” Ravi says, and descends into darkness.