Heirs of the Fallen: Book 03 - Shadow and Steel Page 7

  In the uncomfortable silence that followed, Leitos avoided his father’s pointed look, and tried not to think about standing on the place of Zera’s birth. Unlike Ulmek, he had no trouble believing Zera in this matter.

  Feeling more exhausted than ever, Leitos settled onto the sand. Through the night, while the tide was out, the Brothers had gathered every weapon they could find from both ships. After that, they hauled the prisoners ashore, along with a small stockpile of barrels, crates, and any other supplies they could rummage. After the tide retreated again, Ba’Sel intended for them to return to the ships, and retrieve whatever else they could find of use.

  Between the battle on Witch’s Mole and that aboard the Night Blade, the Brothers of the Crimson Shield had lost a dozen men. Thirteen lost, if the murmurs about Ke’uld’s chances proved true.

  Leitos looked down the shoreline. Ke’uld briefly thrashed about, and Halan stilled him with a gentle hand. His scimitar lay across his legs, and he eyed the roped Kelrens.

  With all that had happened since departing Witch’s Mole, Leitos had nearly forgotten about Ke’uld’s wounds. Now the Brother’s occasional outbursts served as a stark reminder of his declining strength. A fever burned in him, and even at a distance Leitos could make out the sweat coating his skin. Fresh bandages covered his shattered leg. Those wrappings only served to keep flies away. Had the Brothers still been on Witch’s Mole, they could have used various healing herbs and potions to aid him. But in this strange land, they had not had time to hunt for anything that might help.

  “If he has any chance,” Ba’Sel said now, following Leitos’s gaze, “we’ll have to take off his leg at the knee. Even that may not be enough.”

  “Better to give him to the sea, than to make him a cripple,” Ulmek countered. “It is what I would want for myself.”

  “As would I,” Adham said, using a thick splinter to pick his teeth. “I have seen such wounds before. No man can survive the corruption that has seeped into him.”

  “Before … before we do that,” Ba’Sel said, “I will ask him what he wishes.”

  “Try as you will,” Ulmek allowed, “but Ke’uld may never be able to answer. More and more, he raves like a madman. His blood spreads the poison, blackening his veins. Soon, he will fall into a stupor.”

  “I will not kill one of ours without making the effort to find out what he would choose for himself,” Ba’Sel said.

  “And what of these Yatoans?” Ulmek said, refusing to let the matter rest.

  “We do not know if enemies await us here,” Ba’Sel said. “There is just as much chance we have unknown friends spying upon us.”

  “With so much doubt as to what these lands hold,” Adham advised, “we should put a few of these sea-wolves to the question.”

  Ba’Sel closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “In time, Izutarian, in time.”

  Leitos looked away from Ba’Sel, trying not to hear the words that came unbidden to his mind. Weak … indecisive … useless.

  Glaring, Ulmek abruptly jumped to his feet and strode down the shoreline.

  Adham gestured to Leitos, and they walked to the surf. “I fear Ba’Sel has grown incapable of leading.”

  Leitos thought to argue, but he found no words to counter his father’s observation. “What can we do?”

  “What soldiers have always done,” Adham said grimly. “We follow his commands, until enough of us die that the living revolt.”

  “Can we not reason with him?”

  Adham toed a bleached shell half-buried in the sand. “Ulmek is his lieutenant, the man he should heed, and still Ba’Sel refuses to listen to him.”

  “Maybe Ba’Sel refuses to listen,” Leitos said, “because Ulmek lives only for the destruction of his enemies.”

  Adham shot him a quizzical look. “And all you have done in the last year, my son—the training, driving yourself beyond the requirements of even the Brothers of the Crimson Shield—you did those things because you wish to make amends with the Faceless One? Is yours not a heart bent on vengeance?”

  Leitos frowned. “It’s different for me. I—”

  “You lost your love,” Adham said bluntly. The breeze pushed back his gray locks, and he squinted against the glint off the sea. “Do you think Ulmek was born with rage and hate in his heart for the Faceless One … or do you suppose that he, too, has suffered loss?”

  “I never thought about it,” Leitos admitted. In truth, he knew nothing of Ulmek’s youth, and only a little of how he had become a Brother.

  “Do not judge Ulmek too harshly. He and the rest of us are fighting a war with small hope of victory. But we will fight it, because we must. As I have always taught, you must become strong and cruel. To fight against the Faceless One and his demon-born armies, a man must be hard and utterly merciless … and the leader of such a man, all the more so. If Ba’Sel cannot see that the loyalty of the Brothers is disintegrating, if he cannot accept that he must stand and fight, then I see no other choice than to replace him.”

  “Would you lead?” Leitos asked.

  Adham shook his head. “I am an outsider. They must choose one of their own. Ulmek is the rightful choice, and he will need supporters. You, my son, can be the key to making that happen…if you are willing.”

  Troubled, Leitos rested a hand on the hilt of his sword. He had coveted the weapon a long and trying year before passing his tests. Now he had it, and had used it to prevail against the agents of the Faceless One … and now his father wanted him to betray Ba’Sel, the man he had entrusted with his life, the man who had taught him so much, even beyond waging war.

  “I cannot stand against Ba’Sel,” Leitos said, making up his mind. “When the time comes, he will stand for us, and all men. I know he will. He must.”

  “I pray you are right, for time is short.”

  “How do you mean?”

  Adham glanced back at the waking Brothers, then farther down the beach, to where Ulmek stood looking into the forest. “Ulmek will act, even if opposed, because he, too, feels that he must. If the change of power is not smooth, infighting will destroy the threads that hold the Brothers together.”

  Leitos sighed “We have to give Ba’Sel time to come around. I will talk to him myself. If I say nothing, and let Ulmek overthrow our leader, then I become a conspiring scoundrel. Such a road can only lead to destruction.”

  “I understand your heart, my son. And without the threat of the Faceless One, I would agree with you. But we live in an age where pity, softness of any kind, leads only to death. I will not command you to go against your convictions, but trust that the odds are against those beliefs bearing good fruit.”

  With that weighing on Leitos’s heart, they returned to Ba’Sel and the others, who had gathered around Ke’uld. Ulmek looked their way, his lean face a brooding mask.

  Ba’Sel knelt beside Ke’uld and took his hand. “Brother,” he began, “you are not well.”

  Ke’uld’s dark eyes rolled. Sweat beaded his sable skin, dampened the brittle fronds beneath him. “Surely you jest?”

  “Your leg is….”

  “Rotten,” Ke’uld finished for him, “and must come off, if I have any chance to live. Is that the way of it?”

  Ba’Sel nodded, his eyes wet with unshed tears. The Brothers shuffled their feet, some peering at Ke’uld, others looking away, perhaps fearing to ever have to make such a decision for themselves.

  “You have been as a father to me, since my own was killed,” Ke’uld whispered. “I’m glad you found me, but our time together has passed. Pa’amadin calls me home.”

  Ba’Sel acknowledged this with a silent nod.

  “Give me to the sea,” Ke’uld urged. “The sea will take me the rest of the way.”

  “Brother,” Ba’Sel said, “are you sure this is what you want?”

  “There is nothing you can do for me. Quickly now, give me the death I choose. Quickly. I hear Peropis’s breath in my ears, I feel her unholy touch upon my soul. She will devour my
sin … but I will be free.” He grinned then, lips trembling. “Unlike you sad lot of bastards.”

  A few rueful chuckles met this, but Ba’Sel looked horror-stricken. “I…. No. No, I cannot.”

  “I understand. I do. But if not you, then Ulmek will do as I ask.”

  Ba’Sel abruptly stood and moved off, struggling through the sand.

  Halan gestured to Ulmek, and the stoic warrior dear near. Face unreadable, he looked after Ba’Sel for a time, then down at Ke’uld.

  “Are you ready?” he asked without preamble, though his tone was gentle. When Ke’uld nodded, Leitos thought sure he saw a flash of remorse cross Ulmek’s rigid features. Then it was gone, replaced by a visage of stone.

  “Help me,” Ulmek ordered. Not waiting to see if anyone would, he caught Ke’uld under the shoulders. Halan and five others joined him, and they gently lifted their fallen brother.

  Leitos glanced at Ba’Sel, who had fallen to his knees, head bowed, shoulders shaking.

  “Go to him,” Adham said gently. “Though I wish you would not, tell him what you feel you must.”

  “What of Ke’uld?”

  “He is with his kindred. At a man’s end, there is little else he could ask for.”

  Leitos was halfway to Ba’Sel, when a shout from the forest drew him up short. Ulmek and the others, waist deep in the cove’s gentle surf, with Ke’uld floating between them, paused as well.

  For a long moment, nothing moved. Then a Brother burst out of the forest, and behind him came a dozen men, tall and slender, with the most striking features Leitos had ever seen. Despite their peaceful expressions, he instinctively gripped his sword hilt.

  The newcomers paused, observing all, then found Ulmek and the others standing in the surf.

  “Bring your companion to us,” the tallest of the newcomers called.

  The rest of the Brothers standing watch erupted from the forest. Swords bared, they crept close, apprehension alive on every face.

  The strangers showed no indication of fear. That, more than all else, bothered Leitos. They reacted as if the armed men closing in on them were no more threatening than gnats.

  “Bring your man to us,” the apparent leader said again, “and we will restore his life.”

  Chapter 12

  Hours seemed to pass before anyone moved. Then, all at once, Ulmek and the others returned to shore, bearing Ke’uld. Ba’Sel walked slowly toward the strangers, while the Brothers around the newcomers formed into a tight circle.

  Leitos studied the strangers. The men were tall—the tallest standing head and shoulders above Ba’Sel. Besides delicate golden torques worn at their throats and matching armbands, they wore soft boots of pale leather, and unadorned ankle-length kilts white linen. Their arms and legs were extremely long, almost freakishly so, giving them a spindly appearance. Taken as a whole, he decided they could not be Yatoans—not if Zera had been of that people.

  The closer Leitos came, the more he found to trouble him. Their skin had a faint golden cast, and without wrinkle or blemish. To the last, their narrow heads were shaved smooth. Those not keenly focused on the Brothers bringing Ke’uld ashore, gazed about with slitted eyes that tilted up at the edges, and were colored the hue and sheen of polished bronze. They are not men. Cannot be. And if not men, they must be—

  “Alon’mahk’lar!” Leitos cried, drawing his sword. The word ripped from his throat at the same instant someone else shouted, “Changelings!”

  In moments Halan, Ke’uld, and the Kelrens were the only ones not standing around the strangers. For all the swords and hard expressions, the golden folk seemed dismissive.

  “I am Adu’lin-kalat a’Kuadaye,” the leader said placidly, his voice carrying an unmistakable note of disdain. His smirking lips mirrored that tone. “You may call me Adu’lin.”

  “You have a strange look,” Sumahn said tactlessly. “Are you human?”

  “We are as human as you.” Adu’lin seemed untroubled by the question. “We are known as Fauthians, an ancient and reclusive race dedicated to absolute peace and harmony. We mean you no harm. Be warned, however, there are those who creep over these islands who would seek to destroy you, as surely as they seek to destroy us. It is good that we found you, before they attacked your party.”

  “You speak of the Yatoans,” Ba’Sel said, seemingly entranced.

  Adu’lin’s amber gaze became speculative. “Since our arrival to these shores in the early years after Upheaval cast us adrift from our homelands, the Yatoans have sought to eliminate us. They are all of them barbaric, and bent only on destruction. We pray daily for them to embrace tranquility, but so far we have done so in vain.” As he spoke, his eyes roved over the men around him, then the bound Kelrens. As his scrutiny passed over Leitos and Adham, Leitos thought he saw more than passing interest.

  “What do you want?” Ulmek demanded.

  “Only to help,” Adu’lin said. “As soon as we learned strangers had run aground, we set out from our city. Although we are not sea folk, we have among us those who can repair your ships. In the meantime, we invite you to join us at Armala, our home. You will be safe there.”

  “You claimed you could restore Ke’uld,” Ba’Sel said, stepping past Ulmek’s raised sword. “Unless you can cure death, there is nothing you can do.” Despite his words, he sounded hopeful.

  “Often, the injured are not as near to death as they think,” Adu’lin said.

  “This is foolish,” Ulmek snapped. “We cannot blindly trust them.”

  “Be still,” Ba’Sel said.

  Adu’lin smiled faintly. “Let us help. Afterward, I will answer whatever questions you have.” This time when his eyes flickered over Leitos and Adham, Leitos was sure he saw more than idle curiosity.

  “You must hurry,” Ba’Sel said, striding toward Ke’uld.

  When Adu’lin did not follow, Ba’Sel spun to find Ulmek and the others had not budged. “Lower your swords!” he ordered. The Brothers did so, but hesitantly.

  “Very good,” Adu’lin said after the last sword whispered back into its scabbard. He motioned for his fellows to join him. The Brothers parted ranks, but hovered on either side of the Fauthians, hands never releasing their hilts.

  Adu’lin’s group gathered around Ke’uld. Despite his worsening state, he began thrashing, eyes swelling with panic. “Demon-born! Flee, my brothers, flee!”

  Adham leaned toward Leitos, and said, “Wait, but be ready.”

  Adu’lin knelt over Ke’uld’s wounded leg, reached out with a long-fingered hand. At his gentle touch, Ke’uld suddenly went still, his expression softening. After drawing back the bandage, the Fauthian’s blade-thin nose wrinkled.

  “He is, perhaps, closer to death than even I believed. Pray with me,” he said to his fellows.

  Forming two ranks, the Fauthians pressed closer, blocking sight of the wounded man and their leader. For a time, nothing seemed to happen, then Leitos heard a low chanting. Unfamiliar words washed over him, filling him with palpable pressure, as if the air itself had grown dense. Startled gasps from the Brothers told him he was not alone in what he sensed.

  The chanting went on and on, and a serene drowsiness fell over Leitos. He resisted at first, but in due course the chanting put him at ease, and he sat down. It felt good to relax, and he could not come up with a reasonable explanation why he should avoid resting. Not long after, he fought to keep his eyelids from drifting shut. The warmth of the morning, the sound of the sea mingling with the chanting, all worked together to release the burdens of his heart. He began nodding, eyes closing…….

  When he opened them, he looked at the beach from an odd angle. It took a moment to understand that he had stretched out in the warm sand. He could not quite recall what had happened. There had been a shipwreck, talk of turning against Ba’Sel, and people … strange, golden-skinned folk—

  Leitos pushed himself up and clutched for the hilt of his sword, sure it had been taken. He found it at his hip, where it should be. The gol
d folk—Fauthians, he remembered, as things became clearer—huddled a little way down the beach. Halan and Ba’Sel, both with looks of wonder on their faces, sat before Ke’uld, who spoke quietly but with excited gestures. Ke’uld looked as if he had never been sick a day in his life, let alone near death. Ulmek and most of the others were keeping an eye on the Kelren prisoners and the Fauthians.

  The light had changed, and Leitos judged that it was past midday.

  “Was your rest as good as mine?” Adham asked calmly, his eyes on the Adu’lin.

  Leitos brushed sand off his cheek. “I’m not sure I’ve ever slept better,” he admitted. “What happened?”

  “Those Fauthians are as good as their word. They healed Ke’uld—so well that he was dancing about earlier, just to prove he could.”

  Leitos glanced over the various groups again. “Why is everyone divided?”

  “I gather that Ulmek is unwilling to accept any gifts from these snaky folk, while Ba’Sel is eager to do just that. The sea-wolves, well, they do not have much choice where they sit.”

  “Do you trust these Fauthians?”

  “No,” Adham said without hesitation. “Something is wrong here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The way they healed Ke’uld, for one. Not with poultices and splints, but with words, a song. My father spoke rarely of the powers that escaped the Well of Creation, and my mother mentioned them even less, but most of what I remember is their fear of the Powers of Creation, those used by the Three in the making of this world. In the hands of men, they feared only evil could come of such power, for it was never meant for mortal hands.”

  Leitos’s eyebrows shot up. “You think these Fauthians used these Powers of Creation?”

  “With words alone,” Adham said, “they healed a deadly wound, and brought a man back from the brink of death.” He paused long enough to lock eyes with his son. “In your heart, do you really believe they used only words?”