The Miscreant (An Assassin's Blade Book 2) (27 page)

“Seems he created the conjurers just fine.”

Rav coughed. “Create… no. Molded. They existed before, see. It’s all up here.” He tapped a finger to his head. “The book showed my brother the information needed to teach, to mold a new generation of conjurers.”

Rav could well have been misleading me, for one reason or another. But in most cases of deception, there exist morsels of truth. It seemed a waste not to seek them out.

“I’ll play along,” I said. “Let’s say he did create the conjurers, that this is all true.”

“It
is
.”

“Right. Well, you know what question’s going to follow. Why? Seems to me the conjurers were one colossal waste of time and money. Reaped certainly seem more efficient in eliminating wide swaths of life than conjurers.”

Rav winced as he sat forward in his chair, frail hands gripping the armrests. “My brother… he wants to
create
, see? He wants to be god. But he can’t, yes? The power is beyond him, for now. He could influence without repercussion, however, if the conjurers took your world. He’d still have beings with which to play, who he could direct, order, breed…”

“Till Ripheneal swatted him away, yeah?”

“If the creations are removed, then so too will be the creator. Trust me; I’ve read the words.”

“Ripheneal’s… the creator?”

Rav grinned. “If the creations are removed, then so too will be the creator. After all, my boy, if you infuse yourself in something and it dies, would the same not happen to you? My brother thought he would weaken him by eliminating all life except conjurers. They
were
your last hope for humanity. But you stopped them. You stopped his plan, and now you face annihilation. Indeed perhaps my brother does not know the recipe for creation, but I do not doubt in due time he will find it. Especially without a god pursuing him.”

Simplicity and directness had taken a stroll into abstract territory now, pockmarked with riddles and other nonsense. Things I didn’t have time for.

“So this Ripheneal chap is a god. Why doesn’t he put his big boy shoes on and, you know, call down a cataclysm or some godly shit to obliterate the reaped?”

“There are boundaries, free will among them. Don’t get too caught up in the god business. High and mighties create in the beginning, but all they do after is observe. ’Less you steal from them, then they get downright personal.” Rav cackled. He clearly regretted that decision as a pained look twisted his face. “But to involve another of his creations? No. Laws against that and all.”

Funny. It seemed Ripheneal was all too happy to lend a hand in taking out Occrum, what with ten thousand reaped at my side. Maybe there was a technicality with that, given it was only an offer, and I had to make the ultimate decision.

“Where’d your brother flee to?” I asked.

“I’ve told you. I don’t know. But given his life is tied to his plan of world extinction…”

“Somewhere that guarantees its success,” I said.

“Indeed.”

Discomfort tightened my chest. The world’s a big place, so I’d been privy to learning. By that notion, Occrum could have been anywhere. But understand a man’s motivations and you can expose his place of refuge. Occrum wanted the populace — every man, woman and child — gone from this world. The only threat to his strategy lie in Lith. He had to have known his reapers hadn’t found Serith and Nilly. He was going there to find them himself.

Vayle
, I thought. She was walking right into it.

“I’ve got to get off this island, and you’re going to help me,” I said. “Conjure me a phoenix. And tell me which way Lith is. Then… I’ll put you out of your misery.”

Rav sat back tall in the chair. “You’ll want to go downward. We’re rather high in the air at the moment. Hopefully not too high for the birdies to fly past. Release me, and I’ll conjure you whatever I can.”

I straightened my sword at his face. “No funny business. Understand?”

“I wouldn’t think of it.” He grinned. He wouldn’t be grinning for long.

I cut away his chains. He tried to stand and promptly fell in a heap, his thin, concave face kissing the unforgiving stone.

“Fuck, you better not be dead after all this,” I said, crouching down and inspecting his head.

He made some noises. I picked him up, threw his bony frame over my shoulder and trudged past the reaped. Or rather, into the reaped, since their numbers were never-ending. Out of the fortress I walked, to the edge of the island, where I put the old man down. He braced himself against me, his veiny legs wobbly and as brittle as autumn leaves.

Rav ogled at the fog, seemingly lost in its thick, smoky curls. A haze swept across his lenses, muddying the green of his eyes. That lost, murky stare — I’d seen it before in men who were clinging to life. Or rather, clinging to death.

I was about to shrug him off, wake him up from whatever stasis had claimed him, but then… well, he went fucking mad. Grunting noises came from his mouth, and his lips trembled. Snot dripped from his nose, and his head crashed against my shoulder.

And he said this: “Barghagh! Barghagh!” And he gasped, clutched his temple and flung himself backward, where he fell to the ground. The back of his skull sunk into the sand.

Bones looked at him, alarmed.

From behind me, a
whoosh
. And another. Flames glided through the fog, boiling the mist into nothingness. The phoenix came to a rest beside me, its fiery plumes hissing.

“Is he dead?” I asked Bones.

The reaped put an ear to Rav’s mouth. “
No
.”

“Good. Take a few of your friends here and bring him to Silma of Crokdaw Village. You know where that is?”

“
Yessss
.”

“Tell her he’s the brother of Occrum, creator of the reapers. Mention that it’s a gift from Astul. Oh, and give Taryl this.” I unsheathed an ebon dagger. “He’s been good to me, and I think he’ll enjoy it. Everyone else, go back through the tear and wait in the meadow.”

The way I figured, better to make friends in Amortis than enemies. Especially if I had to spend eternity there, and eternity might be coming sooner rather than later. True enough that I’d promised Rav a quick death, but I’d also promised him he would greatly regret ever fucking me over. And I tend to keep first promises over seconds and thirds.

“After you drop him off,” I said, “go to the Prim. Tell Lysa I sent you, and inform her of the others at the meadow. She’ll know what to do.”

I bade my fleshless friends goodbye as they filtered into the cove, then turned to the phoenix. “Girl? Or boy?”

The phoenix rolled its head.

“Sorry, you’re right. Terrible way to ask a yes-or-no question. Let’s try this again. Blink if you’re a girl, roll your head if you’re a boy.” The phoenix blinked. “Well, girl, we’ve got ourselves the journey of a lifetime to embark on. Let’s hope we have another after this, huh?”

I stuffed my hand inside the pocket where I’d always kept my secret vial. I’d be damned if Occrum brought me to the edge of death, only to take me as a reaper. The vial was still there, and so too was the folded piece of paper Lysa had given me. I’d forgotten about it.

I pulled it out and read it again.

Wonder what that poem would’ve been like
, I thought.
Probably some sappy thing abou—

And that was the moment it all made sense.

I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why Lysa had taken refuge in Lith and so brazenly announced her location and intentions out there in the form of her thoughts, and in the written word. But now… now I understood.

Lysa Rabthorn was only in Lith in her mind.

I
made the decision
. A decision that had my phoenix spurning the clouds and descending to the pancaked earth below. A decision that…it just didn’t feel right. No good decision to make here, only the right one.

Fact is, I could have saved Vayle and Rovid. Could’ve intercepted them before they made it to Lith. Warned ’em about the trap they were walking into. But what was the endgame there? Save the lives of my friends and let Occrum take the riches?

Every thought I’d had since stepping out from Amortis was being scribbled into his fancy book. Including the realization that popped me like a strong fist to the jaw. The trick Lysa had pulled. Occrum would read all about it soon enough. Maybe even was reading it right now, while the library of Lith lay smoking and burning.

Judging from the shapely landscape to the north, scarred with black mountains and jagged crests, I suspected Occrum made his home on a floating piece of rock high above Evastra, near the channel that severed this continent and Mizridahl.

This was an important piece of cartographic information to have. Assuming Occrum was currently flipping Lith upside down, it meant I was closer to Vereumene than he was. Soon as he’d open his book and take a peek into my mind, he’d discover the truth as to Serith and Nilly’s whereabouts. And he’d make his move to take the city.

But he’d be one step behind yours truly. And that’s all the information I needed to make my decision. Look, if I could’ve intercepted Vayle and Rovid before they’d arrive in Lith
and
get my ass to Vereumene before Occrum — if there was any way — I’d have done it. A hundred times out of a hundred.

But I couldn’t risk it. People out there have all sorts of opinions about me. That I don’t care about anyone except myself and my Rots. That I’d off a man for something shiny to stick in my pocket. That I could never be inconvenienced by honor and morality. There’s truth in all those opinions, but you’ve gotta be a demented kook, straight fucked in the head, not to care about the eradication of hundreds of thousands of men, women and children.

Plus, I couldn’t let all that Lysa had done, all that she’d sacrificed — I couldn’t let it go to waste. Vayle would understand. I hoped.

Spotting Occrum’s mass of reaped storming across Mizridahl, or by this time
through
Mizridahl, had been my hope while soaring so high, but the Bay of Selaph land bridge was empty. And everything looked like miniature chess pieces scattered about a life-sized board from up here. Trees were green bulbs, and my eyes couldn’t distinguish hills from flat stretches of clay.

I was on the lookout for a creek or lake, but then remembered Tylik’s laments that his world had been spoiled, and all that remained was the cold reminder of dirt, rock and sand. Well, grass and trees too, but rule of three. There was little water, even less game. Nothing to fill my belly or wet my throat. Bad time to leave my supplies sitting in Amortis.

Sometime after dusk, southern Mizridahl lay beneath me, resting silently on this side of the world. Well, silently, assuming everything went according to plan and the reaped marched to Watchmen’s Bay first.

A windy lake cut between some hills and trees, and I aimed the phoenix toward its banks. The pretty girl lighting the night ablaze drank her fill, and I mine. Caught a few crayfish, ate ’em raw, and went back at it, flying and thinking.

First thought I had when we got into the air again was good gods did raw crayfish taste like… well, raw crayfish. About as bad as you’d expect. Stunk like a tainted creek and tasted worse. Also, their shells are hell on the fingers. Shredded the skin around my nails.

I needed tougher skin. I’d have to get on that soon as this world-saving business was over.

The flight to Vereumene would likely take a couple hours. Could go faster, but I didn’t want to push my fiery girl too hard and have exhaustion take her. Plus, it gave me time to sort out the finer details of my entry into the city.

Here was what I knew: Kane Calbid was, at last glance, waving his cock at Erior. That was two weeks ago. Two weeks is a lot of time. Probably enough for the East to organize and attempt to drown the seaborne bastard in the belly of his “Mother.” Success would put the South in disarray. I couldn’t possibly predict the stability of Vereumene in that case. If Kane had managed to pull off a miracle and hold his own, or at least retreat without heavy losses, things would likely be tense in the city, but not chaotic. Not until the East arrived, which wouldn’t happen immediately.

How had Lysa snuck her way in? She couldn’t possibly have shown up with a couple reaped, said she’d like to conduct a few experiments and gotten the okay from Kane’s court. But she had lived here for most of her life, excluding the stint in Lith. Probably knew a few ways to get in and out of the city that most did not.

I’d wished she had told me about this secret at the Prim. Why hadn’t she? I mean, a fucking riddle disguised as a poem? A quiet whisper would have sufficed just fine, thank you very much. Unless she feared Occrum had a presence in Amortis. Or was warned. It
did
seem like she’d met Ripheneal before. I wondered…

T
he eastern wall
of Vereumene faced the outcropping of volcanic mountains. The only way for a hostile army to encroach upon that side would be to split off from their northern, southern or western approach and slip between the mountains and the wall. For this reason, the eastern parapet remained largely unmanned. That would be my point of entry.

The cuspated silhouettes of battlements drew near, and behind them the shadowy backdrop of a silent kingdom. With a few mindful instructions, I laid out the plan to my phoenix, the most important of which was avoiding death by an inevitable barrage of arrows.

Puffy clouds converged on the moon, suffocating its white glow. Apparently I had a bit of luck still in my reserves of good fortune.

With her wings tucked in, the phoenix sped toward the eastern battlements. The hiss of wind in my face dulled the sounds coming from Vereumene. There were screams and cries, but I could not decipher the words.

My thighs clenched tighter to the phoenix’s body as she rolled unexpectedly. Another roll, this one to the right. Her descent slowed as she navigated the treacherous airspace strung with whistling arrows.

She hovered above the battlements, eyes fixated on the archers who were surging up the stairs to the opposite parapet.

I lay as low as I could on her back, face buried in her plumage. If they saw me, the plan was fucked.

She lurched one way and the other, then finally settled onto the parapet below. That was my sign.

I released my hold on her body and more or less fell onto the cold stone floor. The impact punched the air from my lungs, but that’s a small price to pay for unauthorized entry into a kingdom.

My gorgeous girl set fire to the night as she took to the sky, an orange trail sizzling behind her. I lay low until she flew across the southern wall, taking with her the eyes of panicked guardsmen. Then I got to my knees and peeked over the crenellations. Stairs leading down into the courtyard were clear, and not a single inquisitive guardsman peered in my direction. Not yet, anyhow.

Like a hunchback late for an appointment with a savant who could straighten spines, I hurried across the parapet, bent over as far as I could in attempt to conceal my silhouette behind the crenellations.

Then it was down the steps, into the courtyard. On the balls of my feet, minding debris that would crunch or crack with a misplaced step, I sidled up to the backside of a building. Moved along its peeling walls, stabbing splinters into my hands. At the corner, I stopped and listened.

A stuffy-nosed guardsman wondered what the fuck it was that he just saw. Another said it was a big crow, probably a grand ole illusion from the Glannondils. An authoritative voice silenced them, then ordered a platoon to the eastern parapet. Another order was given to arm the trebuchets and alert some lord who I guessed was standing in for Kane.

A quick survey of my surroundings revealed a lot of open space. Vereumene was unique in that regard among the five great kingdoms. Buildings were dispersed here like trees in the barrens. A few popped up here and there, with huge swaths of emptiness between. Unlike Edenvaile, Erior, and the rest, Vereumene was not home to peasants and the poor. They lived in clumps of nearby villages.

So a stealthy advance required nimble feet and impeccable timing. Confident nothing loomed around the corner, I scurried to and took cover behind a small shack with a triangular open roof.

My destination lay about a hundred feet thataway, at the corner that joined the eastern and northern walls. Lysa hadn’t divulged where she’d kept Serith and Nilly, but I had a good idea of where to go: her secret hiding spot. The one where I’d confessed to her my intentions of killing her father.

Behind a stable I slunk, then around a forge and a bakehouse. The residue of ale hung in the air like rain after a summer storm as I passed behind a brewery. Crushed volcanic rock lay deep and unraked beneath my feet. I had to mind each step, careful to not drag my toes across the stuff and kick a handful into the back of a building.

As the moon escaped its prison and flung its white light across the kingdom of Vereumene, I arrived at my destination.

Into the hole that was once to be the foundation for Vereumene’s new sewage system I went. The ground descended sharply, twisted and turned one way and the other. I saw fuck-all, forced to rely on my hands along the wet, muddy walls for guidance. Smelled like decay down here. Rather similar to rankness you’d expect to greet you when walking into an ossuary and putting your nose to a corpse or two.

The deeper into the tunnel I went, the worse the stench. My resistance to gagging began to wane. I put a hand to my mouth as my stomach rumbled and warned me it might begin spewing bile any moment now.

Feeling as though I’d been walking for an eternity and was closing in on the belly of hell, my fingers came into contact with something new. Something not at all wet and muddy. Something rather hard. Bony, you might say.

It pulled away from me, and grunted.

“Er, Serith?” I asked. “Or Nilly? Lysa’s” — what were they, exactly? They probably wouldn’t appreciate being called reaped, or experiments. “Lysa’s patients?” I finally said. That seemed like a good, non-hostile word.

“Are you Astul?” The voice was warm, masculine and composed, entirely unlike the dissonance of the other reaped I’d encountered.

“I guess you’re expecting me?”

“Lysa told us about you,” Nilly said.

“Hopefully only the good parts about me.” I chuckled, then cringed. Making jokes with a couple people who’d been killed, essentially reborn, mind-fucked and whatever other torture they suffered from? Highbrow stuff there, Astul.

Heavy feet trudged from somewhere deeper in the tunnel. “Huh? What? Did I hear that properly? Astul?”

“Fuck me,” I said. “I thought you were bloody dead.”

“I’m bloody confused, that’s what I am!” A couple fingers reached through the darkness and groped my shoulder. “Shit on a stick, it is you. Listen, that girl of yours, she’s trouble, Shepherd. I’m tellin’ you. I wake up in this… this… where are we, exactly?”

“Vereumene,” I said.

There was silence. Then, “Fuck. How’d I end up here? She put me to sleep. I’m telling you. She put me to fucking sleep. I wake up, and she’s gone. And I’ve got two skeletons with a bit of flesh on them beside me, and — look, I know this sounds insane.”

I laughed. I patted Kale on his shoulder. Or rather, attempted to. Accidentally slapped his face instead, given I couldn’t tell his cheeks from his toes in this tunnel. “How long have you been here?”

“A while. I tried to leave, but… my mind, Shepherd. It wouldn’t let me. Swear upon the Black Rot she did something to me. Bound me to these two skeletons or something.”

“They’re not skeletons,” I said. “They were reaped. And now they’re not, thanks to Lysa. We have to leave, quickly. Serith, Nilly — those are the names Lysa gave you. What are your true names?”

“Ava. I never thought I’d hear it again.”

“Boon,” the other said. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Right. Boon and Ava. Do you know what’s going on out there?”

“We were part of that horror,” Ava said, caution in her voice.

I rubbed some warmth back into my hands. It was much colder down here than up above. “And now you’ll be part of the redemption. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Kale grabbed my wrist. “Shepherd, wait. You got an escape plan?”

“One of my best ever. I think you’ll agree.”

In retrospect, it’s never a good idea to say that. The problem wasn’t with my exit strategy, but rather with an unexpected invasion of Vereumene.

Halfway back toward the would-be sewer entrance, dire cries poured through the kingdom.

“Over the walls! Over the walls!”

“The trebuchets! They’re on fire. They’re—”

“Knock the bloody ladders down!”

A horn bellowed a warning into the night.

“Reapers,” I said. Had to be reapers. Occrum must’ve sent them when he realized he couldn’t make it here himself. I pointed at Boon and Ava. “You two, stay right here. Kale, come with me.”

Kale and I hurried through the tunnel, swords drawn. A halo of milky moonlight clung to the mouth of the tunnel that rushed toward us as we broke into a run.

“Archer!” Kale shouted, grabbing me by the arm and slinging me against the mud wall. An arrow hissed past.

“I owe you one,” I said, spitting out dirt that my face-plant into the wall had shoved in my mouth.

“Looked like a Red Sentinel,” Kale said. “Not many others shoot that accurately
and
wear crimson cloaks.”

“Crimson? You’re sure?”

“Go on,” Kale said, “stick your head out there and look for yourself.”

I put a fist to my mouth and sighed. What a time to land in Vereumene, just as war was coming to its walls. Or rather overtop them. Well, not war precisely. War implies legions of soldiers and artillery and mass death. It seemed what we had on our hands here was a small force of Sentinels intent on taking a city whose military was mostly out at sea.