“They’re too tired to keep running,” one man said. The leader, the one who had saved his own life in exchange for their escape from the mine.
“And the girl is injured,” another agreed.
“Spread out. Search every boulder. Holler if you see one of them and we’ll come running.”
They did, each man choosing a different spot, using torches to chase away the shadows. There were seven of them. The leader plus six newcomers, from the other side of the mine. At least the other five were hurt badly enough they had to stay back, Gat thought. Or dead. He still couldn’t believe what Sonika had done, drawing the man’s own blade across his throat as easily as a knife through soft butter. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it yet, only that it might’ve saved their lives. At least so far.
He shook away his thoughts, focusing on the present. No one was headed toward where Sonika was hiding yet, but they would, eventually. He hoped she had enough sense to stay well-hidden. It was a good spot, and a cursory search would reveal nothing. The crawlspace was tight—they might not even think someone could fit through there.
But there was still a chance they would try.
I can’t let that happen. I won’t.
He took a deep breath, and then stepped from the shadows.
He uttered a curse loud enough the guards would hear, pretending to be surprised upon stumbling into them.
He turned tail and ran. The sounds of pursuit fell in behind him. Though he was tired, his legs felt light now that he wasn’t carrying his sister on his back. Instead of racing further into the rocklands like they might expect, he circled a large boulder all the way around and shot back toward the sea.
One man blocked his path. The master opened his mouth to shout for the others, but Gat didn’t stop, lowering his shoulder and barreling into him. The man lashed out with both fists at the same time. One blade whistled past Gat’s ear while the other sliced open his shoulder. He stumbled, but used the guard to keep his balance, driving his knee into his midsection, pushing off of his chest.
However, the guard managed a final kick, catching Gat in the abdomen with his bladed foot.
Luckily, Gat was still moving away and the bite was shallow, but he still felt the warmth of blood. He clutched the wound, still running, trying to stem the flow.
He burst from the rocklands, cutting left toward the ocean. Sunlight was working its way over the horizon, and a fire seemed to burn along the water. It truly is the Burning Sea, he thought.
He looked back to find all seven men in pursuit, though the seventh—the man who had kicked him—was slower.
Gat smiled. Sonika was safe. And she was resourceful. Her ankle would heal. She would find food—maybe even a way to cross the border into Calypso, which was exactly where he was headed. To a land of freedom, a land without slavery. Empress Sandes would be his ruler now, and he her loyal subject.
He would find Sonika and they would have allies. Together, they could carry out their parents’ dream of a rebellion in Phanes. Together, they would change the world for the better.
The water was so close now he could smell the salty tang of the sea breeze, feel the misty spray on his face as waves crashed against the rocky shoreline. He stumbled down a slight slope, careening toward a low cliff with a large flat rock only partially wet. Carefully, he clambered across the slick surface, using his hands to maintain his balance. Below, the sea was angry, crashing against the cliff.
Behind him, the men stopped, realizing their prey was either cornered or about to escape their clutches to a more unpredictable danger.
Gat waved, more to be a bastard than a farewell.
And then he turned and jumped.
Sonika Vaid
Sonika had watched as the searchers spread out, as one of them drew closer and closer to where she was hiding, like she was the flame and he the moth.
But then there had been a muffled curse and shouts, and the guard had raced off, along with all the others, or so she believed given the number of footfalls slapping against the rocks.
Oh gods, she had thought. They found Gat.
Now, however, as she listened to the night, which was swiftly becoming dawn, a realization began to rise to the forefront of her mind with the coming sun.
He led them away from me. He saved me. First, when he’d carried her this far, and then again when he’d distracted their pursuers away from her.
She bit her lip, trying to hold back tears. They would catch him, she knew.
And they would kill him.
A sound caught her attention, a single rock bouncing and bounding down the slope. She drew her head further inside her hidey hole, trying to determine whether the wind had blown the stone from above or if someone had kicked it.
She jumped when a voice said, “I know you’re in there.”
Hands slid into the hole, reaching for her.
Gat Vaid
The Phanecian slave masters hadn’t jumped in after him. No, they’d simply watched from the shore as Gat struggled against the powerful currents and rolling waves, before turning their backs.
They probably think the sea will finish me off, Gat thought. Only it wouldn’t. He’d been pretending to struggle, drifting beneath the water for longer and longer stretches, flailing his arms dramatically.
Those who lived in the canyon city of Phanea generally couldn’t swim. There was simply nowhere to learn. Gat’s parents, however, had believed it to be an important skill, and had taken he and his sister to the reservoir when they were children, showing them how to move their arms, to kick their legs, to stay afloat.
Now that the guards were gone, Gat swam with long easy strokes, barely kicking his exhausted legs, letting them rest while his arms did most of the work. Thankfully, the current was with him, though he had to fight the waves for a while. Although he was comfortable in the water, he didn’t enjoy that certain aspects were out of his control. A storm could come upon him, for example, and then his life would be forfeit. Or a predator could arise from the depths and finish him with a single snap of its mighty jaws.
He tried not to think of these things, however, focusing his energy on each stroke, on each breath, watching as the distant shores grew less and less distant.
He was far out to sea, but he tracked his progress as the red rocklands of Phanes inched along, eventually giving way to a wide river, which poured into the Burning Sea. The Spear, he thought. The mightiest river in all the Four Kingdoms, or so his father always said. Beyond it was Calypso.
Once he was well past the point of no return, he angled himself toward shore, letting the waves wash into him from behind, using their momentum to drift landward.
He tried not to worry about his sister. Instead, he thought of how their reunion would be when he finally found her again.
The thought buoyed him up, spurring him to kick faster.
He reached the shoreline, which was less rough than that of Phanes. Just a sandy slope, gradually getting shallower, until his feet touched. The water fell beneath his shoulders, then his hips, and then he was sloshing onto dry land.
The land of freedom, he thought, with excitement. This is the start of something great. A new life. A chance to make our parents proud. A hope for—
He froze when he saw the forms rise up from behind the dunes of the Scarra Desert. They wore sand blown leather armor that blended with the terrain so well he had to stare right at them else he’d lose track of their positions. Two of them rode enormous scaled beasts while the other two stood. One of the beasts snapped its jaws.
Though Gat had never seen one of the fabled monsters, he knew them well enough by description. The guanik, he thought. Which meant these men were the guanero, the elite Calypsian warriors commanded by Empress Sandes herself.
My new allies, he thought, firming his chin. Striding forward to meet them.
“I am Gat Vaid,” he said as he approached. They didn’t respond, four sets of eyes staring at him. Their skin was various shades of brown, the a
ntithesis to the powdered white flesh of the Phanecian elite. He moved closer. With each step, Gat realized just how large these men were. They were packed with muscle and bristling with weapons—scimitars and longswords and daggers.
“I come seeking refuge. My sister and I were—”
“You are Phanecian,” one of the guanero finally said.
Gat didn’t think he needed to respond to that. His narrow eyes and strong features certainly gave that much away. “Like I was saying, I am seeking refuge.”
“The only refuge for our enemies will come in death,” the man said.
Gat stopped. “Wait, just listen to what I have to—”
“Death will find you, eventually. But not today. Today you are our prisoner.”
“What? No, I can prove what I’m—”
“When Phanecians speak, they lie. Therefore, anything you say is a lie.”
Gat shook his head. This wasn’t going the way he’d planned at all. “I’m telling you the truth. I will say the same to your empress. I will prove I am an ally, not the en—”
“Silence! Bind him!”
One of the guanero dismounted to join the other two on foot, and the three moved toward him.
Gat’s arms dropped to his sides. He had nothing left, and anyway, he didn’t want to fight these men. They were on the side of freedom for the slaves. They were not his enemy. As they shackled his arms behind his back and his legs together, he asked the man still mounted, “Where are you taking me?” In the back of his mind, there was a ray of hope, a spark of light that told him he would be fine as long as he went to Calypso. There he could convince someone to grant him an audience with the empress. He could pretend to have information that would help them win the civil war. Something.
But the guanero’s response chased all hope away.
“You are going to Zune. You will die in the fighting pits.”
The moment before the dark bag was thrown over his head, Gat thought, Goodbye, Sonika. Make us all proud.
Blackness surrounded him.
Sonika Vaid
She clawed at the hands, tried to grab them and bite them, anything to survive for a breath longer, a moment longer, to make her brother’s sacrifice worth it.
“Ow!” the voice cried, withdrawing.
That’s when Sonika realized it was the voice of a woman. Caught in the throes of fear and survival, she’d missed it the first time. Still, it could be a trap. A ruse of some kind.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Gods. Did you…bite me?”
“And I’ll bite you again if you don’t answer my question.”
“I’m trying to help you! I saw those men chasing you. Slavers.” She spit the word out like a vile taste in her mouth. “I saw you hide. I saw your friend lead them away.”
“You saw my brother?”
“Is that who he was? Tall, strong. Yes, I saw him.”
“Is he…alive?”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry. I lost sight of him. But those slavers looked pretty determined.”
“What are you doing here?”
“What do you think I’m doing? Hiding, like you.”
Sonika tried to think, though it was hard with her ankle continuing to throb. “Why are you hiding?”
The girl paused for a moment. “Maybe I should show you. You don’t have to come all the way out. Just peek into the light.”
Sonika considered. It could be a trick, but it didn’t feel like one. Still, as she eased forward, she remained on guard. The moment she emerged into the sunlight, she saw the arm hovering before her.
The skin held a soft reddish hue. This girl was Teran.
And the only Terans in Phanes were slaves.
“See?” the girl said. “I’m not your enemy. And I know anyone running from the slavers is my friend.” She stuck out a hand. “I am Shanti Parthena Laude. And you are?”
Sonika stared at the hand in disbelief. She’d never spoken to a Teran like this. The only Terans she knew were slaves, their minds twisted by the emperor. And this girl was young, slender but strong-looking. As brash as the day was long.
She took her hand, squeezing it. “I’m Sonika. Sonika Vaid.”
The girl nodded. “C’mon, Sonika. I know somewhere safe, where you can rest and we can talk.”
Sonika watched as the girl—Shanti, she remembered—bound her ankle with the flexible roots of a plant known only to grow in the desert. She wondered what her story was, how it was possible for her to be here. Her neck was free of the typical black markings of slaves—the mystical tattoo of a collar and chains. Every Teran over the age of ten in Phanes had the marking.
But she didn’t. Somehow, she had escaped.
“Tell me your story,” she said.
The girl’s eyes darted up, and for a moment they became deep blue pools of sadness, but then she blinked and they seemed sheathed in pearlescent armor. “I lost my family. My father. My sister. Maybe my mother, too. I don’t know. So I left. I ran away.”
Sonika stared at her, in awe. “Just like that?”
“Just like that. Don’t ask me how. I was marked, and now I’m not. That’s all I know.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” Sonika said. “Thank you for helping me.”
A smile ghosted across Shanti’s face but then vanished, just like the sad look in her eyes had. “I have food and water. Not much, but I think it’s enough for both of us for a while. You can stay with me if you want.” There was hope in the suggestion. Hope that she didn’t need to be alone anymore. Sonika felt it as much as she was certain the girl was thinking it.
She spotted an inkwell, quill, and swatch of parchment. They were in a small cave, well-hidden by the girl, who had created her own makeshift avalanche over the entrance. Sonika had been impressed by how realistic it had looked from the outside. There was a secret way in, however, by clambering up to the top of the fallen rocks and then dropping down through a hole. The landing had aggravated Sonika’s ankle, but at least they were safe. She continued to study the writing materials, an idea forming in her head.
She wasn’t sure why she thought it, only that their shared losses seemed to magnify in this small space. She felt the urge to do something to commemorate those they’d lost, the beautiful souls they carried with them everywhere they went. She felt the tears forming behind her eyes, but she didn’t want to cry, not anymore. These losses were permanent, just as her tears were permanent, even if they never fell.
“I stole them from my master before I left,” Shanti explained, noticing where Sonika was looking.
“Do you have a knife?”
Shanti raised a coppery eyebrow. She was a beautiful girl, Sonika realized. A little dirty, a little ragged, but even that couldn’t hide the strong beauty she wore like a second skin. “Why?”
“I want to…” She struggled to explain. “Let me show you. I’ll need the inkwell too.”
The girl hesitated but then shrugged, pulling a knife from a satchel and sliding the inkwell over. Sonika held the knife firmly, dipping it in the ink, just enough so the tip was coated but not dripping.
She held the knife up to her cheek.
“What are you doing?” the girl said quickly.
“Giving myself a tattoo,” she said, trying to zone in on the right spot, just below her right eye.
“Let me do it,” Shanti said, reaching for the knife. When Sonika pulled back, she added, “You can’t tattoo your own cheek. You can’t even see where you’re aiming.”
It was a fair point. Sonika handed her the knife. “A black tear,” she said. “One beneath each eye.”
Shanti bit her lip. “For your mother?”
The girl was shrewd for her age, Sonika had to give her that. “And father. One for each person I lost.”
“Your brother?”
Sonika ground her teeth together. “No. I don’t know that I’ve lost him. He doesn’t get a tear until it’s certain.”
Shanti nodded. “Lay back. Hold s
till.”
She did, closing her eyes, and then felt the sting of the blade entering her skin. She didn’t cry out, didn’t flinch. Instead she poured every positive memory of her parents into the pain she felt, infusing the black tears with the spirits of those she loved most.
When Shanti had finished, she leaned back, inspecting her work. “Well?” Sonika said.
“Tears,” Shanti said. “They look like black tears.”
Sonika nodded. “Thank you.”
“Now do me.”
“What?”
“Two,” Shanti said. “One for my father. One for my sister.”
Sonika squinted. This girl was so young, and yet she wasn’t naïve. She’d been to the Void and back again, the maturity gained from her experiences making her seem at least five years older, a woman grown. This was her choice. “Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
“And your mother?”
“No,” she said. “She doesn’t get a tear until it’s certain.” Sonika felt a flutter in her chest at hearing her own words echoed back at her.
As Shanti lay back and Sonika dipped the blade in the ink, this unexpected friendship felt like the start of something important.
No, she wouldn’t waste the sacrifices of her parents or brother.
They hadn’t liberated any slaves, but they had struck a blow to the empire. And an injury like that had a way of festering.
She pressed the blade to Shanti’s cheek.
Black Tears, she thought.
15: Sir Dietrich
The Northern Kingdom- Circa 528
Long before he was Sir Dietrich, the swordmarked knight was known as David Dietrich, a career soldier of sixteen, who’d left home at age twelve, four years after his father was murdered publicly on the streets of Gearhärt.
He was murdered by none other than Wolfric Gäric, the Dread King himself, as punishment for refusing to join the northern army during a time of war.
Though David had vowed on that day, now eight years past, never to work for the king, he didn’t consider being a soldier a breach of that promise. No, being a soldier was about protecting the innocents of the realm, which included his mother. More personally, it was his own punishment for being so weak all those years ago.