Walk Through Fire (12 page)

A mercenary went down two steps from Krytien and he nearly tripped over the man’s lacerated body. Ronav stepped in, and swept out his sword with strokes that looked more tired and sloppy with each swing.

He cannot do this forever.

It seemed that Ronav and Glacar kept the frayed remains of their outfit intact by themselves, neither willing to give in to their fatigue. If not for Ronav, Krytien felt he also may have buckled long ago from exhaustion. Yet, he could not let Ronav down. Knowing this would be their last stand, he would fight until his final breath.

* * *

The narrow street constricted the closer they got to the docks. Now, barely twenty feet spanned the distance from one side of the road to the other. Jonrell never saw anything so bizarre in Cadonia, but he was leagues away from the home of his youth. If the ancient Quoron Empire had reasons for its unique construction of Asantia, it was lost on him.

Panting, Jonrell’s legs ached with each step. Like the others who could walk on their own, he dragged another who couldn’t.

Just a little farther. The dock should be around this bend.

Cassus turned the corner, holding Yanasi by the hand. Jonrell watched the corners of his friend’s mouth rise into a half smile.

The ship’s still there, just like Ronav said it would be.

The merchant galley rocked gently against the docks,
Nuisance
written on her side, visible by the light of swaying lanterns. A leaden sky backlit the scene as the faintest hints of sunlight drifted over the horizon. Jonrell pushed past Cassus. “C’mon, let’s go.”

* * *

“Seems like you boys been in a bit of a scuffle,” said a man standing on the gangplank.

Jonrell looked up as he neared the ship. “Captain Trekkel? Ronav told us you were our ride to Slum Isle.”

The captain nodded. “I got his message.” He looked out over the dull gray morning. “Looks like you made it just in time. My crew’s getting her ready.” He paused and turned his gaze back to them. “I hate to be callous. But you’ll either have to leave your dead on the docks or toss them into the bay. I won’t take the chance of disease on my ship.” He nodded to the man Jonrell carried.

Confused, Jonrell eased the mercenary he held to the ground. He checked for a pulse and found none. Blood ran from the man’s gut down his legs.

One Above, when did that happen? I was in such a hurry. . . .

He said a quick prayer for not only the man, but all the others lost in the last week. With a heave, he dumped the body over the side. The splash was followed by two more. The gesture left an ominous silence over the group.

The captain stepped aside and gestured with his hand. “You can get your men settled below. I’ve got a man good with herbs and such. I’ll send him to give you a hand with your wounded.”

Jonrell nodded. “We’re in your debt.”

The captain shook his head. “I’m repaying the one I owe.”

* * *

Krytien knew they were dead. Sparing a glimpse toward Ronav, the mage saw that even his commander’s will was no longer enough to withstand the endless onslaught.

A mercenary’s body fell into Krytien and he staggered. Quickly, he regained his footing, stepping over the dying man. The mercenary begged for help, but Krytien could do nothing for him.

Glacar roared to Krytien’s left, arm bloody down to the elbow, as he swung his ax. He dismembered a soldier and planted his boot in the groin of another before striking the top of the man’s head off. Ronav moved in beside him once again and the two tried to serve as a rallying point to the remaining men.

It won’t be long now, I can feel it.

* * *

Less than a minute after taking the surviving members below, Jonrell stood on deck, staring into the city. The fog that plagued them earlier had dissipated. Despite the busy crew, the muted sounds of fighting could still be heard. He balled his hands into fists.

Break off, Ronav.

“You got the look of a man ready to do something crazy, you know?”

Jonrell noticed Raker standing next to him. “If they don’t make a run for it soon, they’re done.”

Raker spat. “I reckon that was the plan all along, don’t you?”

Jonrell inclined his head.

“C’mon, Jonrell. You’re a smart man. You don’t really believe Ronav ever intended on getting back to the ship when he sent us on ahead, do you? He was buying us time.” Raker’s voice faded to a whisper.

Jonrell squeezed his fists harder until the knuckles of his hands whitened.
We shouldn’t have left them.
“I’m going after them.”

Raker spat. “I figured you’d say that. I’m going with you then.”

“No. If I go, then I need you here to watch over the others.”

“What about Cassus?”

Jonrell gave him a look. “Cassus means well, but you know how he can get under pressure.”

Raker swore and worked his jaw. “Fine. Go. But don’t think I’m going to hold this ship up for you if you ain’t back in time. If you leave me in charge, I’m going to take full advantage of it.”

Jonrell gave a worn smile and set off toward the city.

* * *

Yanasi peeked out over a barrel of salted cod the crew had yet to move below. Despite the constant motion of the men on deck, she remained relatively hidden as she watched Jonrell and Raker. She couldn’t make out the exchange, but for now contented herself with keeping an eye on Jonrell.

She remembered the stories her mother used to tell her about heroes and how they would put themselves above all others, no matter the cost. Jonrell did that for her. But more importantly perhaps, he gave her a purpose. She wanted to be a soldier now more than anything, someone who would make him proud. She knew it was a silly thought, being a girl, too small or weak to ever be good with a sword. But Cassus found a way around that.

I’ll be the best archer there ever was.

Jonrell parted company with Raker, disappearing over the railing as he descended the gangplank. She assumed Jonrell went to check the ship’s condition in closer detail now that the others were settled, but then she caught a glimpse of him jogging down the dock, back toward the city.

She tensed.
What is he doing?

Then she realized that like those heroes in the stories her mom once told her, Jonrell needed to help the others.

But by himself? Who will watch over him?

She darted from her hiding place and pressed her back against a stack of crates. She worked her way closer to the railing, moving as quickly and as silently as she could.

I can’t let him get too far ahead.

Reaching the last barrel that stood between her and the gangplank, she looked up and saw Raker staring at the city. She took off in a sprint. But a grimy, blood spattered hand reached out and snatched her off her feet. She let out a squawk.

“And where do you think you’re going?” asked Raker.

Yanasi’s eyes darted to where Jonrell neared the edge of the docks. “Nowhere,” she said.

Raker spat. “I’ll bet. Jonrell doesn’t need a shadow to look out for. You’re staying right here.”

“But who’s going to watch his back?”

“He’ll watch his own back if it needs watching.” He turned her round and pointed. “Now get back down below with Cassus.”

“But. . . .”

“But nothing,” said Raker, patting her on the backside. “Jonrell left me in charge and I’m not one to put up with any lip. You get below deck and stay there until we’re out to sea or I’ll tan that little backside of yours.”

That’s what father used to say when he was mad at me.

Without thinking, she wheeled around, unhitching the bow from her shoulder. She whipped the bow up in a blur and slammed the black wood between Raker’s legs. She watched his eyes bug out and heard the sharp intake of breath whistle through his dry lips. He dropped to his knees, anger infusing his face.

She ran by in a blur as the mercenary fell to the deck in a slew of curses, calling her things she had never heard of before.

Reaching the end of the gangplank, she watched Jonrell disappear into the city, heading back the way they had come. She ran off after him, notching an arrow in her bow.

Yanasi raced along as fast as her feet would carry her, desperate not to lose sight of Jonrell. She looked up at the soaring buildings that blocked out the sky and then at the thin alleys, hidden from light. Although the battle raged ahead, here it was deathly still. She shivered, suddenly scared. She had grown so accustomed to having someone near her the last couple of weeks that she almost forgot what it felt like to be alone. With no one by her side, the city frightened her. The gray gloom of morning cast the surroundings in light that reminded her of a graveyard, the looming structures above like worn headstones.

Biting her lip, she pushed aside her fears and padded along the road, assuming that Jonrell simply back-tracked their path. Too focused on what was in front of her, she never saw the hand that grabbed her from behind. Someone lifted her off her feet and dragged her into a narrow alley. She lost her bow as she struggled against the strength of the man who grabbed her. She tried to scream but another meaty hand cupped her mouth.

The man spun her around. Jonrell wore a disapproving look. “What are you doing here? I thought I told Raker to keep everyone on the ship.”

“I wanted to help you.”

“It’s too dangerous.” He stepped aside and Yanasi saw a dead soldier at Jonrell’s feet. “If he hadn’t attacked me, then he would have come after you.”

She teared up. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I only. . . ."

Jonrell shook his head. “Later.” He extended his hand. “Here. You dropped this,” he said, handing back her bow. He grabbed her by her free hand. “Now hurry. I’ve been delayed enough.”

* * *

Krytien’s head hummed. His limbs felt numb from the endless assault.

They had reached the most narrow point in the tapering road where only a handful of men could stand shoulder to shoulder.

Krytien knew they would retreat no further. The final stand would be here.

Only a few moments longer,
he thought, watching the sky from the corner of his eye change from gray into a faint bruise.

Covered in his own blood, a man in red armor hit the ground near Krytien, gasping for air. His last breath whistled in a high pitch that cut through the noise of battle.

The sound of dying.

Another man fell next to the first and Krytien felt the renewed effort of those mages he fought against as they tasted the imminent victory. A sudden calmness came over him as he prepared to die.

A battle cry fiercer than any Krytien had ever heard came from his left. Ahned had finally joined the battle, bringing fresh troops with him. They pushed toward Krytien, but Ronav would not give them passage.

Why? We can’t do this forever.

Ahned shouted a command and his men parted, giving him a path to meet Ronav head on. He charged the commander and his sword crashed down on Ronav’s shield, shattering the heavy wood. Watching the two men fight, Krytien had no doubt that Ronav could have taken him under normal circumstances. But, his commander’s body could no longer function at the level he needed it to. Ronav came across with a tremendous strike, but Ahned stepped aside and thrust his sword into Ronav’s side. Ahned forced the blade deep and lifted Ronav off his feet. Glacar barreled into Ahned, knocking him away but it was too late. Ronav was down. The Hell Patrol’s line that had somehow held for so long, collapsed. A wave of soldiers eager for revenge rushed forward.

Time slowed.

Krytien looked to his best friend. Ronav lay with a sword in his side, the movement of his chest barely visible. Tears welled in Krytien’s eyes and anger coursed through his body. He stood taller. Digging deeper than he ever had before, he pulled and pushed the forces of the world around him with a determined resolve. Snake-like flames danced around his body and pooled in his palms. The ground shook beneath him.

I know the way. Philik told me how and I’ve accessed it successfully now.

One eye on Ronav’s body, the other on the enemy troops staring wide-eyed and frozen in fear, he lashed out absent of remorse. Raising their shields and arms in defense, soldiers sprawled backward as balls of fire consumed them. Krytien’s nostrils flared at the smell of burning flesh. He found the aroma sweet, satisfied to reap retribution for the lives the Hell Patrol had lost at their hands.

He felt Hezen’s mages attempt to retaliate. He laughed. Having so much power in his grasp, he easily located their position and caused the earth to open beneath them. Scores of men fell into the abyss he created. He could not hear their screams over the burning men around him, but he imagined it.

Krytien gritted his teeth. He no longer wanted to die. He wanted to make them pay for the senseless slaughter of his friends.
A debt that they can only satisfy with their lives.

With Krytien’s emotions overwhelming his senses, he found that burgeoning well of power that all mages drew upon easier to access than ever before. He felt his body absorb the power now that he had opened the path completely and knew he could kill them all. But a flicker of movement caught his eye from above. A small boy peered through dilapidated shutters, watching the carnage.

What am I thinking?

He wasn’t on some open plain, one army barreling down on another. He was in a city and although they had shown them little love, not all could be blamed for Hezen’s actions.

One Above, I can’t destroy so carelessly. The innocent people it’ll kill. . . .

He struggled to siphon the power he had accumulated slowly, but it was too much to bear. Rather than diminishing at his command, his panic sped its release. The excruciating pain of so much power leaving his body caused him to scream in agony. He watched in horror as wind gusted, sending soldiers flying through the air. The ground rumbled with such force that buildings toppled and spouts of fire shot through cracks in the earth. He did his best to shield those members of the Hell Patrol he could see. But as the sorcery exploded outward, he knew he had failed in protecting them all.