Another volley of arrows flew from the wall, landing amongst the slave army. They’re shooting their own people! Raven realized. That’s when she noticed something else about the slave army heading on a collision course with them:
“They have no weapons!” she shouted over the pounding of guanik foreclaws. In reality, those on horseback were armed to the teeth, but the foot soldiers were clearly unarmed, being picked off by the archers on the wall. And the men had long hair, which was highly unusual for Teran slaves.
Fire shouted back, “They’re trying to escape!”
The moment her sister said it, Raven knew she was right. This was no army, no threat. If anything, the thousands—whose numbers were decreasing under the barrage of arrows—were allies, in the sense that they had a common enemy.
“Do not attack the slaves!” Fire commanded, and several riders slowed to pass the message back through the lines.
“Bloody fools!” Goggin growled, staring at the slaves as he rode. “They cannot hope to breach the wall without weapons.” Just as he said it, an arrow ripped past him. He flinched, and when he turned back to Raven, blood poured from his head. His ear was gone, ripped away by the force of the arrowhead. He grimaced and snarled, “I’ll take a hundred enemy ears as retribution!”
Raven didn’t have time to respond, as the wall was approaching, so close now she could see the faces of their enemy as they sighted down their arrows.
“Archers!” Fire shouted. The call went down the lines, hundreds of men dropping to their knees as the guanero and foot soldiers marched onward. “Fire!”
Though the empress’s cry was lost amongst the screams of the approaching slaves, the archers got the message anyway, unleashing a flock of arrows toward the wall’s ramparts. Several enemy archers were hit, one tumbling off the wall and landing face down on the ground, his body crushed under the trod of a guanik, snapping as it passed.
They rode along the shadow of the wall, the stone blocks even larger from close range, taller than any of them, even while mounted. The wall rushed past in a blur. From the left, the slave riders danced deftly between them. Wheeled carts clattered behind the horses, attached with short ropes. Raven was surprised to find all the riders to be women, their faces spotted with strange black markings. Except for one, a dark-haired young-looking man with white fear in his eyes, which were larger than most Phanecians. He rode behind one of the women, his arms roped around her stomach. And then they were gone, skidding to a stop near the foot of the wall.
The man dropped from the horse into a fighter’s stance, while the woman landed lightly on her feet beside him. She screamed something, but her words were lost to Raven as Iknon thundered out of sight.
The stone gave way to a thick sheet of iron.
The first of four Gates built into the wall.
Protected by the guanero, Fire dropped from her steed and pressed her hands to the Gate.
Jai Jiroux
Everything had gone according to plan. Until it hadn’t.
As Jai had suspected, none of his people had taken his offer to turn back. Even Joaquin had clasped his shoulder and said, “You may be a soft-hearted pyzon-killer, Jai Jiroux, but I will not leave you now.”
The people were quiet as they exited the rocklands, moving across the desert plains like ghosts. Not so much as a single baby wailed in the night. The horses’ padded hooves were mere whispers in the dirt, and Shanti’s cart creaked so softly the sound was lost on the wind.
The lights of Sousa sparkled to the northwest, but they were well clear of the warcity, aiming their path for a point on the wall somewhat east of the iron gates. Jai led them, targeting the spot based on what his father had said: The hollow in the wall is a hundred paces east of the easternmost Gate, northeast of the famed warcity of Sousa.
Though he believed his father, his trust didn’t stop a deep pit from forming in his stomach, growing larger with every step.
What if he was mistaken?
What if Vin Hoza had since had the wall repaired?
What if a fire arrow strikes our barrels of fireroot before we reach the wall, sending us all into the Void?
What if this journey was all for nothing?
What if what if what if…
This is my destiny. Right?
He didn’t have the time for such thoughts, because they were approaching the wall. He saw fire to the right. The glint of steel in the light of the moons. Shadows moving. Some of them larger than others. “What the Void?” Sonika Vaid said, noticing the same thing.
“An army,” Shanti said. “We have to leave the people behind and open the wall.”
“Wait. Look!” Sonika said, pointing. A flag flapped in the breeze, displaying a sigil:
A dragon rising over a red sun.
“Calypsians,” Jai breathed, incredulous. How is this possible? What are they doing here?
Before he could contemplate further, the wall’s armed defenders began shouting, having realized what was happening. Arrows flew through the air, landing amongst his people. They dropped in droves, screaming. Running now, charging the wall in a mass of humanity, stumbling over the dead.
Shanti grabbed Jai around the waist and scooped him up onto her horse. She spurred her mare forward, while the other Tears did the same, charging for the wall. “I have to go back to my people,” Jai cried above the pounding hooves.
“There’s nothing you can do for them now,” Shanti said. “The wall is all that matters.” Truth burned in Jai’s heel.
And then the Calypsian army was among them, flashing past. One of the soldiers held a flaming sword, her red leather armor smoking. She was surrounded by guanik, the reptilian steeds of their Southron neighbors.
But none of that mattered. Like Shanti had said, nothing mattered but the wall. If they couldn’t breach it, they were all walking corpses.
Jai almost flew from the saddle when Shanti’s horse skidded to a stop on command, but her strong arms held him back. He flung a leg over the side and landed naturally in phen lu defense stance on the ground, while Shanti came down lightly beside him, immediately untying the ropes wrapped around the barrels in the cart. “Help me!” she shouted, but Jai was already grabbing one side of a barrel, lifting it while she did the same on the opposite side. The other Tears gathered around them, firing arrows toward the top of the wall, picking off enemy archers.
They hefted the barrel into position. “Is this the right spot?” Shanti asked as they set it down.
“It’s the best guess I have,” Jai said. The knot in his chest grew thicker.
“Then it’ll have to do.” They went back for another barrel, then another, placing them in a neat row. One of the Tears had fallen, a Dreadnoughter, an arrow protruding from her stomach. Even still, she continued to fire from her knees.
“Get back,” Shanti ordered.
Jai rushed back amongst the Tears while Shanti uncoiled a large length of twine, shuffling backward. Arrows rained down upon them, and another Tear went down. Sonika, the arrow’s feather protruding from her shoulder. Jai knelt by her side. “Help Shanti, not me,” she gasped. “She’s our only hope.”
“I won’t leave you,” Jai said, grasping her under the arms and helping her to her feet. Nearby, the other Tears were doing the same for their other fallen sister. As one, they fought their way back from the wall, reaching Shanti as she finished unraveling the twine.
“Light it,” Sonika said between gritted teeth. An arrow flew past, narrowly missing Jai’s hip.
Shanti struck her flint and sparks flew. One of them caught the dry twine, smoking for a moment before bursting into fire. The orange flames danced along the rope, running toward the pocket of barrels. More arrows soared down from above, but they were no longer aimed at them. They were aiming for the rope. Someone had realized what was happening, and they were trying to stop it, to break the twine with a pinpoint shot.
Those Tears still capable of shooting fired another volley of arrows at the top of the wall. The
flames were halfway to the barrels.
Jai looked back at his people, who were still charging the wall, stumbling over bodies. So few, he thought, tears blurring his vision. Though there were thousands, it was like their numbers had been sliced in half. The rest are dead or injured, he knew. Women. Children. Men. Good people. My people.
Jai held out his arms as they approached, as if he was going to hug them all. “Stop!” he shouted. Somewhere behind him he knew the flame was still making its way toward the kegs of fireroot.
The people crowded against them, jostling from behind, driven by panic and fear. Those at the front tried to hold back the mass of humanity, but slowly it pushed forward. And then—
BOOM!
Compared to the blast that had caved in the entrance to Garadia, this explosion was an act of the gods, a giant hammer pounding the earth. The force of it was so strong it was like a shove against Jai’s back, throwing him into the churning mob of people. They went down hard, a tangle of arms and legs, their cries swarming together like a hive of bees.
Stone shrapnel fell like rain, piercing their skin, bruising their bones. Jai covered his head with two hands until it was over.
Dazed, he fought to his feet, trying to make sense of the fog swirling around him. Smoke, he realized, the acrid stench curling his nose.
An arm grabbed his and he whirled. Shanti. She wasn’t grinning this time, although the explosion must’ve sent a thrill through her gut. There was too much death and destruction to smile. Maybe ever again. But still, some of them were alive, which meant there was hope. Only a sliver perhaps, but better than nothing.
“Go!” Jai roared, pushing her toward where he thought the wall was. She looked back at him, surprised. “I have to stay with my people. You finish the job,” he said. She nodded and turned away, off to find her remaining barrels hitched to her horse.
Jai reached down and grabbed the nearest person he saw, pulling her to her feet. Next he picked up a fallen boy, his face smudged with ash and blood. It was Jig, his eyes wide. “Follow the others,” he said, giving him a shove.
More and more people charged for the wall, which was just coming into view as the smoke cleared. Jai couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw it. For, amongst the shattered stone and mangled bodies of the archers who had fallen from high above during the blast, was the truth of his father’s words:
The wall was like a cracked eggshell drained of its yolk, yawning open to reveal a narrow hollow in its center. A way through. Already Shanti and the other Tears were hauling the fireroot kegs into the stone corridor. “Run!” Jai shouted, reinvigorated, shoving bodies toward the gap in the stone.
A pair of forms materialized in front of him, as if born from the rising smoke itself. One was a boy wearing a dark cloak, his pale head shaved to the skin. The other wore a gray cloak that shrouded his face, not a shred of skin visible beneath the thick cloth.
The boy spoke, his voice deeper than his age would suggest. “Our plans have changed. You want peace? Infect the slave army,” he said, speaking to the hooded man beside him.
The Beggar
It would be so simple an act: pull off his gloves, throw back his hood, and touch them. If he infected enough people, the plague would spread out of control, like a wildfire, burning Phanes alive from the inside out. The empire would fall. With one side of the Southron civil war destroyed, the fighting would have to stop. Peace would reign in the Southern Empire once more.
He would be using his power to do good. Right? That’s what Bane told him.
My friend.
My brother.
All it would take was a simple touch, and then Bane could save his energy to kill another warmongering ruler.
Peace will dawn upon the Four Kingdoms before winter comes…
The Beggar pulled off his gloves and threw back his hood.
Though chaos ruled the night, smoke hanging in the air, mixing with the screams, one man stood watching him. His eyes were too wide to be fully Phanecian, and yet he was no slave like the others, his skin tanned rather than red like the Terans. He spoke: “Who are you?”
The Beggar glanced to the side, but Bane was gone. Had he abandoned him? No, he realized. He trusts me to carry out the plan. He has other work to do. The Beggar stepped forward, hand outstretched. “I am a friend,” he lied.
The dark-haired man moved closer. He had a knife in his belt, but he didn’t draw it. “I have to go,” he said. “My people are escaping through the wall.”
The Beggar frowned. Escaping? But they are slaves—Vin Hoza’s slave army. They are supposed to be fighting the Calypsian army, enacting violence. Threatening peace. I am supposed to stop them. But if they’re not fighting, then why am I here?
“Who am I?” he murmured, feeling empty inside once more.
“What?” the man said. “I don’t have time to linger. Our window is closing.”
“No,” the Beggar said, and he wasn’t sure if he was speaking to himself or the man. “I—I—” He took another step forward, so close now that if he were to lunge he would almost certainly make skin-to-skin contact.
Do it. He knew the voice was in his head, inexplicably, but still, he whirled around, looking for the source of the command. He cradled his head. “No no no no,” he muttered.
Do it.
The man said, “Are you hurt?” His expression of concern was too much for the Beggar, especially because of what he was about to do. What I have to do. What I was born to do.
He lunged, and the man was so surprised by the move that he froze, not even trying to get out of the way. The Beggar snatched the knife from its scabbard.
Jai Jiroux
The unnaturally pale man had his knife, brandishing it before him. His grip was at an odd angle, but still, one cut and he’d be finished. There was something off about him…
“It’s fine, I’m not going to hurt you,” Jai said, casually falling into defense stance. He could easily take the knife away. Disarming a foe was one of the first lessons you learned in phen lu. Not to hurt them, but to subdue them. Somewhere nearby, there was a second explosion. Shanti. She did it. A swell of satisfaction rolled through him. Some of his people would escape. So many were dead, but not all.
Not all.
“I know,” the young-looking man said.
“Then why are you doing this?”
“Because I must. Because it is who I am.”
He raised the knife over his head, the blade cast in green light from Luahi shining from high above.
The Beggar
This was all the Beggar had left. This is who I am.
“I am no killer,” he whispered. “Not anymore.” No, he was a boy again, not scared of his shadow anymore, but innocent. He was the boy his mother had once named, the last word that passed by her lips before the evil inside him had killed her.
I am not the Beggar. Not anymore. This time he would truly kill to save thousands of lives.
“I am Chavos.”
And he brought the knife down, stabbing it into his own gut.
Jai Jiroux
Oh gods, he’s killed himself.
The man fell, blood dripping between his fingers, watering the dust with crimson rain.
Jai rushed to his side, preparing to put pressure on the wound, to do everything in his power to staunch the flow of life, to save this stranger, this—
“Stay back!” the man hissed, kicking out a boot.
So startled was Jai by the sudden attack that he stopped dead in his tracks.
“I am the Beggar of Calypso, the Plague Reaper, the Destroyer of Souls. I have murdered thousands in cold—” He gasped, his lips and eyes widening in tandem. The Beggar, Jai thought. So it’s true. He is the origin of the plague. The man’s voice weakened. “I am lost. Don’t let him emerge victorious.”
“Who?” Jai’s voice was a whisper.
“The mad one. He will destroy us all.”
“Who will? Emperor Hoza?”
The Beggar shook his
head slowly, his eyes fluttering closed. “No. My brother. The Kings’ Bane.”
His body convulsed violently, his back arching, and then he went still.
He was gone.
When Jai finally managed to climb amongst the rubble of the wall and navigate the narrow passageway, the majority of the survivors were already through, as well as the Black Tears. Shanti waited, breaking into a grim smile when she saw him. “I feared you were dead.”
“I survived a hungry red pyzon, remember?” Jai said. “Everything else is child’s play.”
Shanti hugged him fiercely, surprising him, and it took him a moment before he squeezed back. Together, they stepped over the final stone blocks and into the west, a land of freedom.
Jai’s eyes darted to the top of the wall, but it was empty. There was no one left to stop them.
Jai’s people were laughing and crying, celebrating their freedom while mourning those they’d lost. Jig ran up and Jai stooped to embrace him, spinning him around. Viola was next, and then Marella, followed by dozens of others. Even the Dreadnoughter twins, Gorrin and Orrin, came to him, though they clasped his arm rather than hugged him.
Jai forced himself not to count the survivors, but it was clear they were less than a thousand, a mere fifth of the number they’d left the Red Rocks with. The mix of joy and sadness was the most conflicting feeling he’d ever experienced.
Sonika approached, and he reached out to clasp her arm. She pulled him into a hug, whispering in his ear. “You did this, my friend.”
Thousands dead, all to save so few. Is this what I’ve done? Is any of this worth it? Jai pulled back. “No. We did this.”
She nodded, and Jai was about to embrace her again, when he heard a shout. Together, they turned, locating a commotion near the destroyed portion of the wall.
“Go back,” someone commanded. Jai recognized broad-shouldered Joaquin. Just beyond him was another man, his brown skin sheened in ash and sweat as he stumbled over the blocks.