Blackhand (31 page)

The tunnel was cool and the footfalls of the marching army echoed against the stone walls. Many tunnels webbed beneath the Abanshi land, but this was the greatest among them. Columns a hundred feet high disappeared into the darkness above their heads. Archways carved with elaborate scenes of victory opened into natural caverns adorned with towering stalagmites. Soaring stone bridges carried the army over chasms hundreds of feet wide. Quintel wondered how the tunnel had remained hidden for so many centuries.

The army traveled for a week beneath the gouged surface of the earth. At night, the men took rest and food in darkness. They had removed many days from their journey and were grateful for the safety of the tunnel.  They also knew such safety would not last.  Already the vanguard of the column was nearing the far end of the passage. Quintel would have to move to the front soon.

On the seventh night within the tunnel, he felt Aul waiting for him at the foot of a stone bridge. She was still angry, but he saw something else in her heart. She had another secret to share. Something she had never wanted him to know. His curiosity pushed aside any lingering dread he had over her judgment.

Standing beside her horse, she wore a half smile of forgiveness. Or at least acceptance. He smiled back knowing he could expect no more.

She led him into a small alcove away from the marching column.

“There is something I must tell you,” she began. “Something I wished never to share.”

“What is it?” he asked, seeing an intricate pattern to her luminescence. She had given this conversation much thought. Strategies wove complex braids between her heart and her head. There would be more behind her words than what she was about to speak. Her eyes moved over his face and her brow gathered.

“After the rebellion, Aran was executed by my command,” she said.

A small ache tightened beneath his ribs. The god in his heart grew still, not recognizing the change within its host.

Aul continued. “It was necessary.”

A specific memory came to him. He remembered Aran teaching him to ride a horse for the first time. He had been six years old. Aran was patient and attentive, understanding his fear of the huge animal and knowing what to say to give him courage. By the end of the afternoon, Quintel could ride at a gallop.

It was a skill he would never use again.

Without any sense of restraint, he let his vision pierce into Aul's heart, plunging to the depth of all she was. He wanted to see if anything else awaited him there. He saw her memory of the execution. She had not relished it. Aran was her rival, but she had loved him, even sought his council throughout her life. A war had raged within her that day. Love battled loyalty. To Aul, the kingdom was a responsibility that overshadowed everything else. Affection fell to duty. In her mind, there had been no choice.

He also saw the intricate web of her current strategy. Somehow her confession had been a test.

“I understand. You had no choice,” he said without letting her see his pain. He felt Aul stiffen. Her smile faded and a part of her withdrew. He had not reacted the way she had hoped.

“Is there nothing human left in you, brother?” she began and he heard the faintest quiver in her voice. “Aran was a father to you. You were the only one who professed loyalty to him on that final day. It was for him you were cast into the wilderness. Are those memories gone? Has your heart become stone?”

His lips parted, but no words came to him. What did he feel?

Aul was not done. “I told you this so that I might see some spark of humanity within you. Even if it made you hate me. I wanted some indication that you were still an Abanshi. If you cannot be moved by such news, how can you ever know love?”

Before he could speak, he felt the killings. Eight men, Abanshi and Vaerian, fell dead at the end of the tunnel miles away. Their lives ended by violence.

A groan squeezed from his lungs and his knees buckled. He had not witnessed the bloodshed, but the god screamed.

“They know about the tunnel,” he said bracing himself against Aul. “The Forestland has ambushed us. They're waiting on the far end.”

Another ten men fell. The Abanshi were fighting back. A half dozen Forestlanders lost their heads. Arrows from both sides found throat and eye. Warning traveled down the length of the column like a rat in a snake.

“What?” Aul said.

“I should have been there!” He shot from her side with the speed of an arrow and passed the line of soldiers. He came upon a narrow passage and the congested troops blocked his path. Death continued to rampage at the tunnel's end and he felt every blow.

“Make way!” Quintel screamed so loudly his voice broke. The armored men tried to clear a path for him, but he could barely squeeze by. He took to the ceiling. Pikes and halberds tore his clothes and cut his flesh as he passed overhead. The wounds healed as they were made.

His mind shot forward. He saw the Abanshi vanguard trying to close the tunnel door. Arrows poured through the opening, killing, killing, killing. Lives snuffed to black, leaving holes in the universe. Bodies clogged the entrance. The Vaerians scrambled to arm their strange weapons but the melee was too intense. A thousand elite Forestland warriors had been waiting for the tunnel to open, aware of its existence all along, but not certain of its exact location. Now they knew.

He saw a jet of fire spew through the wide seam of the door. He saw the Abanshi engineer who had opened the tunnel die screaming in flames.

In his heart, the god wept, pleading for him to flee. It could not bear the sight of the killing. Although tears streaked his cheeks, he did not listen. There was still time to stop it.

He should have stayed at the front of the advance. He should have seen the ambush. His desire for Aul had made him stay back. Now it was too late. Grief made him tremble.

It took him half an hour to cover the distance. The Abanshi had pushed the Forestlanders back with two hundred dead between both sides. Abanshi elite crawled over the bodies of their dead to advance. Trying to arm their weapon behind the skirmish, the Vaerians were twice overrun. The Forestlanders fought wildly, but the Abanshi whittled their number with tactics practiced for this very scenario. Their spears and swords killed with coordinated efficiency.

He burst upon the battle, pushing his allies aside and rushing the Forestlanders. Lance and spear splintered. Swords, plucked from their bearers, clamored to the floor. He halted long enough for them to see he was not a spirit, and then disappeared again. Forestland warriors flew through the air, landing hard, but not fatally.

After forcing the attackers out, Quintel stood at the mouth of the tunnel and let the entire Forestland army see him. Many had believed him to be an enchanted wind, now they saw he was a human.

“Stand aside men of the Forestlands!” he shouted from the top of the mountain face. “I am the Thog Stacker! Slayer of the Agara! Let us pass or I will kill you all and burn your bodies like kindling!”

His words strained through sorrow. He was bluffing, but the god convulsed, horrified by his threat. He clutched the breast of his tunic as if trying to hold his heart in one piece.

A volley of a hundred arrows arced through the air toward him. All were well aimed and on target. He batted the shafts back toward his foes without effort, piercing thigh, shin and shoulder.

Many realized his might and ran away. A few dozen veterans and lunatics charged. He grabbed one of the armored ones by the leg and used him as bludgeon to scattered the rest. More warriors turned and fled. Those who remained moved away as he stepped down the slope.

“Let us pass or... die... without... glory!” Quintel shouted, forcing the words.

Now he could see fear among the majority. The light of their courage grew dim. The fight had left them. They now saw the impossible Abanshi warrior spoken of by their scouts and knew they could not stand against him. All he had to do was part the line and Aul's army would pass.

Thunder exploded from the tunnel entrance. A fiery spray of metal ingots ripped into the ranks of the Forestlanders, disintegrating forty retreating soldiers. Quintel saw them fly to pieces. Now he knew what the Vaerian weapons did.

He screamed. Pain ripped through his grafted soul. The god flailed like a trapped animal. Quintel dropped to his knees. The Forestland army was in chaos. Men scattered in every direction. The dying and wounded cried for help.  A single archer, lost in the confused throngs, let loose an arrow. Quintel did not see it arcing over the battlefield and the shaft landed firmly in his chest. A red stain spread across the breast of his tunic. The fleeing soldiers stopped.

“The Abanshi hero bleeds!” One of the Forestland officers shouted. “He can be killed!”

A wave of newfound courage swept through the elite Forestlanders. Some who were running turned and picked up their discarded weapons.

Quintel pulled the arrow from his chest and the wound closed. No such force could kill him. His mind jumped to the tunnel. Twenty Vaerians were pushing a second wagon toward the liberated tunnel exit. Another one of the weapons was ready to fire.

“No!” Quintel shouted with shredding grief and leaped to the tunnel mouth. The Vaerians ignited a strand of rope at the cylinder's breech just as he landed beside them. Quintel threw himself against the armored wagon and it toppled like a wounded elephant. One of the Vaerians did not move in time and was crushed beneath the weight of the bronze weapon. Quintel saw a flare of terror in the man's soul before emptiness filled his body. The death kicked Quintel to the ground. He had caused it.

The burning rope at the end of the toppled weapon reached its finish and the tunnel exploded. Red hot projectiles ricocheted off the stone walls, tearing dozens of Abanshi and Vaerians to shreds before his eyes. The Forestland army rushed in. Overwhelmed by the carnage, Quintel jumped over the swarm and tumbled down the mountainside without control.

Inside, he sensed word speeding down the tunnel, passing from man to man, finding its way to Aul's ears.

The Thog Stacker had betrayed them.

He stood and ran toward the green expanse of forest, away from the battle, away from the humans, his legs carrying him faster than the wings of a bird. Death erupted from the mountain behind him like a volcano.

Chapter 36

He ran until the pain faded and the cool shade of the forest surrounded him. He could still feel the killing, but the sensation grew weaker, becoming a sickening rumble over the horizon. After a while, the god within him calmed and moved shivering to the corner of his mind.

What was next?   Now that his plan had failed, what exactly would he do? Cross the Forestlands and face the god alone? March into Ru’s castle armed with only his sword? 

Had there ever been another way?

Guilt over deserting Aul and the Abanshi smoldered within him, but the emotion was nothing compared to the god’s grief. The Vaerian weapon was devastating. Forty men dead with a single volley.  A second would have pushed him into madness. Staying with the army was not possible now that the fight had begun. His original plan had been naïve.

He would miss Aul and that was his only regret. Already her absence nicked his heart.  He did not care that her confession had been a tactic to manipulate him. He only regretted not having the chance to forgive her. 

Quintel dwelled no further upon the consequences of his actions. There had been no choice. He turned from the past and looked to his next step.

In front of him, he saw Sirian Ru mounting a defense. Rows of Thogs gathered at the god’s border, forming a phalanx to block his way. Quintel marveled at the futility of Ru’s effort. The defense would not even slow him down. When the time came, he would plow through them with ease. The god must have been desperate to launch so feeble an attempt. Why would Ru even bother?

But Quintel was not without concern. Scanning the countryside, he saw a new breed of Thog loping across the landscape. They were a hodgepodge of anatomical contradictions, and their power stones cast gray patterns that varied from beast to beast. Their brains were larger and he sensed primitive thoughts forming inside their skulls. They moved quickly and had already passed Ru's border. He would have to deal with them first.

Leagues away, he observed six of the asymmetrical creatures trotting down a dirt road toward a Forestland village. Malevolence burned within their rudimentary minds. No sense of truce restrained their rage. They were going to attack a village allied with Ru. Was this another flaw in the Thogs' design? Or was Ru turning upon his human followers?

Quintel watched as the creatures entered the hamlet. They slaughtered a patrol of humans in the street and charged into the log buildings populating the village. Caught by surprise, the inhabitants didn't even fight back. Men, women, children, infants. Their deaths lashed at Quintel's soul like barbed whips.

He changed direction and headed for the beset village. Even at his supernatural pace, it took him hours to close the distance. When he arrived, the Thogs had moved on and the buildings were ablaze. No one was alive.

The attacking band was several miles up the road, heading toward the next unsuspecting town. Quintel bolted after them. As he got closer, he saw their design more clearly. It was true.  Ru had introduced reason into their minds. The new Thogs had the ability to make decisions.