Walk Through Fire (7 page)

“He’s dying. I think he’s been in my things again.”

Hag shrugged. ”I ain’t seen him come this way.”

“Well, then someone else broke into my things. And if that’s the case, he’s probably not the only one like this.” He pulled out a small vial, something he had thrown together last time Raker decided to experiment. The vial would help strengthen the few healing spells he knew. “We may need help from Effren’s healers since I don’t know enough of that discipline to be effective over a large group.”

Hag sighed and started to waddle out.

“Where are you going?” asked Krytien.

“Someone better tell Ronav so he can talk to Effren,” said Hag.

Krytien nodded and she left the tent. He forced a few drops from the vial into Raker’s mouth and then placed his hands on him. Krytien’s hands warmed as the poison left Raker in a mist and dissipated harmlessly into the air around the mercenary’s body. Raker’s condition improved, the color returning to his skin. He would survive though it would be at least a day before he’d be of any use.

Heavy footsteps caused Krytien to look up. Glacar strode through the tent, scowling at the limp form he dragged in his wake. He dropped the man unceremoniously to the ground. Hag came barging in behind him. “Not there you big hairy idiot. Take him over to the corner.”

Krytien admired the guts of the woman. A quarter of the man’s size and she talked to Glacar like he was a misbehaving toddler.

Glacar eyed the old crone, but moved the soldier to another empty cot. “The next time you can move them yourself, woman. Ronav told me to bring him here, not to listen to you. There are too many more to worry about than just him.”

Krytien’s eyes widened. “How many more?”

Glacar inclined his head. “Let her explain. I’ve said my part once before. Ronav wants me to get some men together to haul those affected back to camp.” He threw aside the tent flaps and pushed his way back out into the night.

Krytien hurried over to the mercenary Glacar had dropped off. Though not quite as severe, his symptoms matched Raker’s.

“So let’s hear it,” he told Hag as he worked on the new one.

She sighed and stretched her back. “I was telling Ronav about Raker when Glacar showed up with this one. The big idiot said that half the men were drunk and acting worse than usual inside of Effren’s camp. They were offered the chance for one last celebration before we reached Asantia. Kroke of all people warned Glacar that he had a bad feeling something was going to go down tonight and convinced the oaf to drag this one back to camp,” she said, eyeing the mercenary. “He also told Glacar to tell Ronav what was going on.”

Maybe he’s not as bad as I thought.

“So where is Kroke now? With Ronav?”

Hag shook her head. “Nope. I haven’t told you the best part. Apparently Kroke went after Jonrell. Ahned took him to see Hezen.”

“What? What did Ronav say?”

She shrugged. “Not much. He gave Glacar the orders that you heard and then went barreling into Effren’s camp himself.” She smiled then. “He said you’d take care of the rest.”

Krytien’s head swam with the implications as he pieced together the events of the past few weeks.

You’re too late Ronav. It’s already happening. And Kroke and Jonrell are in the middle of it all.

He didn’t have time to worry about the thousands of things he could worry about just then. Krytien would have to trust Ronav to do his best.

“I need you to gather whoever is still in camp and tell them to dress out, full armor and weapons. Then tell them to start breaking down camp, but only the essentials. We need to be ready to move on a moment’s notice. Oh, and they need to do it without raising any suspicions.

She muttered a curse. “I thought you might say that.” She looked down at the mercenary. “You best get started on him. Seems like you’re gonna be busy.”

* * *

“So you see, these changes were necessary if we’re going to keep pushing forward into the next campaign. I need unity in the army and now I have it.”

Jonrell’s head spun after listening to the crazy ideas Hezen had about conquest and military strategy, making note that Effren was absent in his plans. “I’m still not sure how all this involves me.”

Hezen smiled. “It’s obvious that Ronav thinks highly of you. I know you’re one of his most trusted captains.” He paused as if waiting for Jonrell to respond to that and appeared disappointed when he didn’t. “I’ll just come out and say it then. I want you and the Hell Patrol to stay on and continue aiding us in the conquering of Thurum. Ahned may think it’s unnecessary but I’m not as foolish as he.”

“If that’s what you want, then you’re talking to the wrong man. Ronav makes the decisions, not me.”

Hezen smiled wider. “No, I am talking to the right man. Ronav and I are not on the best terms. He has no interest in what I have to say and last I heard, he wanted to retire somewhere on Slum Isle.” He laughed. “But you’re too young to retire, and all your men care about is money. What better way to earn the riches they desire than to stay here? I want you to lead the Hell Patrol yourself.”

Retire? Where did he hear that?
“Do you expect Ronav to just hand over command?” asked Jonrell with a snort.

“Of course not,” said Hezen. ”You would need to solidify your command through other means.” His eyes drifted to the dagger at Jonrell’s belt, the one Kroke traded him.

The implication of Hezen’s words struck Jonrell like a mace to the head.
He wants me to kill Ronav. He doesn’t know me half as well as he thinks.

Jonrell wasn’t about to say as much though, not with the harsh looks cast his way and no one around to guard his back. He put the pressure back on Hezen. “So, you’ve convinced your father of your intentions?” He knew Effren had not approved such a move and would be furious when he found out his son’s plans.

Hezen started walking again and Jonrell followed. They stopped in front of the largest tent in camp. Jonrell found himself sweating under his mail, growing ever more concerned about his situation.

Why did I let myself come here alone?

Hezen gestured Jonrell forward. He pulled the flap back and heard Effren shout in surprise. Jonrell leaned over and saw Effren’s large naked frame held down and straddled by three nude women. A fourth woman, looking much like the others with long black hair and tanned skin, sawed a knife across Effren’s throat when she saw Hezen’s subtle nod. Blood spurted over the first three. They climbed off in a hurry and watched Effren’s life slip away. The woman who held the knife bowed.

“Thank you, Anasha.” Hezen stared down at his father’s body. “See that you and your sisters get cleaned up. Then return to my tent for the evening. We have much to celebrate.”

The woman bowed again. “Yes, Emperor.”

Emperor? That’s what he sees himself as? He doesn’t even have enough land to be named a duke in Cadonia.

Hezen swung back to Jonrell and flashed a smile. “It appears that my father’s opinion no longer matters.”

* * *

Kroke had enough of the stares, the nervous twitches, and faint whisperings as he passed. He let a small knife slip from his sleeve and into his palm. The cold steel calmed his nerves.

Heading toward the large tent that dominated the center of camp, he reached a clearing. He saw Hezen and Jonrell standing near the large tent’s entrance. Soldiers stood in clumps nearby, eyeing the two as they spoke. Hezen pulled the tent flap back and Jonrell peered inside. Kroke saw the slight jump and knew whatever he saw, it was unexpected. The flap closed and Hezen turned back to Jonrell, speaking to him with arms crossed, as if issuing a command.

Kroke quickened his pace. Two guards moved to block his path, one raising a hand. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Kroke inclined his head. “I have a message to deliver to Jonrell.”

“He’s talking to Hezen. You can give him whatever message you have when he’s done. Turn around and head back to your camp.”

“The message is urgent.”

“Look,” said the guard, jabbing his finger into Kroke’s chest. “Either you turn around, or I’ll just have to embarrass you in front of all these people, little man. What do you think about that?”

Kroke looked down at the finger on his chest.
What is it with people and their obsession over size? The tall ones die just as easily as anyone else.

The blade in his palm slid forward, ready to strike out at the man’s wrist. But the other guard pulled the first away. He whispered in the man’s ear and the first guard’s eyes widened. He shoved the other man aside.

“Zoak says you’re the Hell Patrol’s assassin. That true?”

Kroke nodded.

The man cleared his throat. “Well, just so we understand each other I was only joking about embarrassing you in front of everyone.” He paused, waiting for a response, but got none. “Anyway, I will take you there. But not armed like that,” said the guard nodding to the knives Kroke visibly carried.

“I ain’t about to disarm.”

The two men conferred again and finally the first man spoke. “We’ll take you to him, but we’ll have our spears on you the entire time.” The guard tried to put on a tough visage.

Kroke shrugged and pushed past them. “Then let’s go.”

* * *

“You’re right.” Jonrell shrugged, trying to appear indifferent while hiding his disgust. “I guess his opinion doesn’t matter now.”

“Then all that’s left is for you to accept my offer.”

“And if I refuse it?”

Hezen shrugged. “Then you die and so does the rest of your outfit. By now, most of your men are drunk, some perhaps on the verge of death.” Hezen smiled, seeing Jonrell’s surprise. “I had some men raid your mage’s tent. Krytien is quite the collector of elixirs. Don’t worry, all you need to do is accept and I will have my healers help him care for those affected.” He paused. “I’ll even take care of Ronav for you myself. In fact, it would be my pleasure.”

Jonrell worked his jaw, not knowing what to say. He opened his mouth to respond when a familiar voice called his name. He turned and saw Kroke walking toward him, two guards trailed with leveled spears.

Over Jonrell’s shoulder, Hezen cursed. “What is this?”

They began to stutter but Kroke cut them off, ignoring Hezen. “Everything all right?” he asked, looking at Jonrell.

Jonrell realized he found a way out. It was a risk. A huge risk.

He walked up to Kroke and slapped the man across the face, the sound echoing over camp. Although activity could still be heard elsewhere, those nearby watched in anticipated silence. “Did I ask for you to follow me?”

The two guardsmen let out a gasp and stepped back. Kroke’s head had turned with the force of the strike. The sudden tenseness in Kroke’s neck was evident as he slowly faced Jonrell once again. There was a small line of blood on his lip that he licked with his tongue. They stared at each other for one of the longest moments in Jonrell’s life.

See what’s really there, Kroke.

“My mistake,” said Kroke through narrowed eyes.

Good. I have him. At least for now.
He lightened his tone. “Well, you’re here now so consider yourself honored to be the first to know. Hezen has made me an offer I’d be a fool to pass up. An offer that
all
of us would be stupid to pass on. He wants to renew our contract for a sum that’s nearly double what Effren was paying. We will help him conquer Thurum.”

“Ronav won’t go for that.”

“That’s why Hezen extended the offer to me.”

“It sounds like you’ve accepted my offer,” said Hezen from behind Jonrell.

“I have.” He looked over his shoulder. “But under one condition. Your men are not to touch Ronav. I’ll take care of him myself.”

“Can you handle him?”

“I keep my skills closely guarded. Ronav won’t be a problem.”

“I see.”

“Besides,” said Jonrell turning back to Kroke, “my new second in command is more than capable of sticking a knife in the man’s heart should I stumble. Either way, I think it best to take care of things within the Hell Patrol. Like you said, it would solidify my command.”

Kroke gave a slow nod.

“Good,” said Hezen. He eyed Kroke. “I see you have the skill to handle your men. Very good, indeed.” He paused. “I’ll have some of my men follow you back to camp.” He smiled. “Just to make sure all goes according to plan.”

* * *

When the two men were just out of earshot from Hezen, Jonrell whispered. “Do you speak Cadonian?”

Kroke nodded.

Jonrell continued, switching languages. “I’m surprised you trusted me.”

“Who said that I did?”

“Then why did you go along with it?”

“Anyone dumb enough to slap me either doesn’t know me, is a moron, or is someone about to try something crazy.”

“And which am I?”

“I’m hoping for the last option since that one is the most fun. But given the circumstances you could very easily fall into the second category.”

“No argument here.”

“Either way, if you ever try something like that again, I’m going to have to kill you.”

Jonrell smirked and looked over to Kroke, expecting a grin on the man’s face. Instead he saw a look of stone and his smile faded. He cleared his throat. “Right. So why were you looking for me anyway?”

“I had a feeling something was going to go down tonight and you seemed like the best person to tell. Then I ran into Glacar and reasoned they were going to kill us. So I told him to get word to Ronav while I went searching for you.”

“Hezen told me what he had done to our men. It wouldn’t be difficult to wipe us out given most are stumbling around in his camp unarmed.”

“That and outnumbering us seventy to one.”

“Well, there is that as well.”

Jonrell glanced over his shoulder as the men following them seemed to grow with each tent they passed.

Everyone wants to see how this ends. Or rather see how Ronav dies.

“So,” said Kroke, “what’s the plan?”

“I’m still working on that part,” admitted Jonrell.

“Yeah, you definitely fall into the second category.”

They continued in silence, a desperate tension tightening Jonrell’s gut with each step. Countless soldiers from Hezen’s army followed in their wake. They closed in around him and Kroke, wearing intense glares. He had no idea how to get the Hell Patrol out of their situation without killing his commander, something he could never do.