The weight of Filip’s black cloak was heavy over Aleks’ shoulders, but it was a necessity. It, and the silver pin, were the keys to getting close to Nereden. For whatever reason, this kill and the ones looming on the horizon put a tremor in his hand, despite the many years Aleks had been doing this. But for his freedom, and the freedom of Ogien, it was a weight he would just have to bear.
Filip’s cloak smelled of blood and the suffocating smell of Nivian smoke, a popular strand of tobacco in the Ogien mountains. In spite of the musky, overwhelming scent, Aleks found it somewhat of a comfort. It was not dissimilar to the Virtheldan strands he’d often smoked back home. It, and the soft pulse of the mask, calmed his nerves.
For days, Aleks had wandered the upper floors of Wiernock, cloaked by the mask in the hopes of learning what the Sons would do next. The arrival of the Court meant that they had to do something, as an all out civil war would leave their numbers devastated. And judging by the increasing number of fights and rising anger, open dissent against the Sons of Inan was at an all time high.
But all Aleks had learned was that the number of full-blow Sons had increased in the weeks he’d been here. And that was no surprise—whenever there was a regime change, there were always those who hopped on the bandwagon.
Aleks had found and followed several different members of the Hundred Sworn, but most of them were being sent below. As far as he could tell, they were there to put down any large gatherings of dissenters and prevent fights from escalating into a full-blown rebellion.
He’d also followed several of the Called, high-ranking members of the Sons who answered to Nereden directly. Aleks had learned a great deal about them in the weeks before he killed Dion, the would-be-Emperor. Tacticians, bankers, politicians—men and women from all persuasions had been brought in as Nereden’s advisers. He hadn’t taken Wiernock unprepared—he knew that once he had the city, and by extension Ogien, he’d have to delegate to run the nation efficiently.
But that didn’t help Aleks one bit. Each of the Called he’d followed had been a dead end. Some taught lessons on theology to the newly initiated, some settled petty disputes among the Sons, and all of them took daily meetings with Nereden himself. As much as Aleks would have loved to be privy to those meetings, he could not risk being spotted by Nereden. He had no hopes of killing him yet, and despite Matias’ wealth of knowledge, he was unsure what it would take to do so.
And so, Aleks waited. He haunted the corridors of Wiernock, following those he deemed important, waiting and hoping for a shred of information that would hint at the Sons’ next move. He’d begun to worry that it would present itself too late—and if it did, he may have to take drastic action. But after Filip, he knew he hadn’t the stomach for it anymore. So, his desperation grew.
The gentle lull of the mask’s beat kept it at bay, however, allowing Aleks to keep a clear head. Careful of his steps, he trailed behind a pair of Hundred Sworn he’d spotted moments earlier jogging down the ramp from Nereden’s quarters. It was only as the hallway narrowed that Aleks noticed dozens of pairs of Sworn hurrying in the same direction.
“Any clue what this is about?” A woman called, jogging up beside the pair Aleks was shadowing.
“No idea.” The man answered, huffing deep breaths. “More riots below. Maybe Rown wants us to be a bit more convincing in our dissuasion.”
His partner hummed in response and the woman’s scowled at the thought, the lot of them slowing as they approached an archway carved into the stone wall. The arch was so narrow it necessitated them entering one by one, and Aleks had to step back and press himself against the wall as dozens more Sworn followed them in. The mask blared a warning—the shadows inside the room retreated enough for Aleks to get a good look in. It seemed almost all of the Hundred Sworn had gathered in there, and for Aleks that meant only one thing.
The mask could not hide him—too many eyes to avert.
Cursing under his breath, he retreated down the hall. He dipped into a small alcove, removing the mask and shoving it into FIlip’s cloak. Filip’s cloak and twisted pin would have to suffice—this was the reason he’d stolen them, after all.
Pushing his shoulders back, Aleks strode toward the archway, following another pair of Sworn in. It was a dining hall, wide and spacious with a fire burning in a hearth beside a set of stone stairs that curved toward a mezzanine above. The Hundred Sworn crowded around tables, some of them seated and nursing mugs of ale and wine. Those who could not find a seat grouped around stone pillars, carved in the sharp-lines of ancient Ogien art, or leaned against walls. Aleks, too, leaned against the back wall where he could find space, his eyes scouring the room.
He spotted a handful of figures above, the flickering firelight from braziers only revealing their silhouettes. It wasn’t hard to make out Rown, her tall, square frame standing out even at this distance. Aleks would love to have a chance to speak with her—interrogate her as he had Filip. The woman was the Sworn’s representative in the Called, and would no doubt have a lot of information to give. But Aleks knew better than to believe she would spill—it took only a glance at her to see she was made of tougher stuff than Filip, and he’d hardly spilled anything but blood.
After a few minutes, the trickle of Sworn making their way into the dining hall died down and Rown made her way to the railing that overlooked the room. The murmur hushed as she lifted a hand.
“My brothers. My sisters. I have brought word from the Returned.” There was a burst of cheer and a rush of applause that lasted only until she raised a hand again. “He is grateful for our hard work down below. He knows the difficulty we are faced with, knows the stubborness of the faithless. And he understands that sometimes, words are insufficient.”
So, she was more than just brawn. She could speak, and speak well. That didn’t come as too much of a surprise to Aleks; there had to be a reason beyond her faith and her strength that Nereden had raised her to Called. She had a charisma that drew eyes to her, and it seemed she’d earned the respect of the Hundred. A leader in more than name. Aleks scowled; that made her a danger.
“He thanks you for your steadfast faith, and for your commitment. But, he pleads with us to be cautious. To, if possible, stay our hands.” Rown’s eyes swept over the crowd, meeting Aleks’ gaze for only a moment before moving onto the next. “In the coming days, there will be a change. A shift in the faithless. We need only wait. Until then, the Returned has asked us to preserve life. To maintain the peace.”
There was a smattering of confused whispers, silenced by nudges and hisses. “That is not to say we have been doing good work. It means only that as He grows and changes, so must our plans.” Rown paused, muttering something to the man beside her and the crowd took that opportunity to talk amongst themselves. Aleks was interested to note that not all of the Sworn were thrilled with Nereden’s words—as he’d expected, there were more than a few who’d signed up just for the opportunity to kill.
Rown turned back, raising her arms over her head. “We will be starting new shifts for below. Those who have just returned may head to their quarters and rest up. The rest of you, wait there and Jedrek will find you with new assignments. Remember, we go below only to keep the faithless from killing our own. Incite nothing yourselves.”
There was a silence as she stepped away before the crowd once more burst into chatter. Some of the Sworn rose from their seats or stood up straight, heading for the door. Knowing there would be no assignment for him, Aleks took that as his chance to escape. He followed behind two burly men, speaking in quiet voices to each other as they squeezed through the archway, before he spotted Rown making her way down the stairwell. And she spotted him.
Her eyes narrowed and she shook her head, extending one long finger in his direction. “Stop him!” The two hulking men in the archway stopped and Aleks cursed as they turned from her to him, their faces darkening.
Aleks smiled at them. “Now, boys, don’t do anything silly. Don’t look as spry as you used to.” He chanced a look over his shoulder and felt his heart drop. The chatter had stopped and the eyes of all remaining Sworn were on him. The mask throbbed an anxious beat in Filip’s cloak and Aleks couldn’t help but agree, things did not look good. He raised his hands, realizing that attacking anyone without a plan would not end well. “Would you believe I’m here to sign up? Seems you lot have a good thing going.”
“You hide your accent well,” Rown said as she approached. “Almost sound like a native.”
Aleks let a smile find its way to his face, dropping the Ogien accent. “Well, it’s a simple accent to mimic. Just pretend I’ve lost control of my tongue.”
She ignored him. “I knew there was something off about you.” She shook her head, her eyes dropping to the twisted pin that hung limp on his chest. “You were the Napir, but I cannot feel you. Tell me, what have you done with Filip? Is he dead?”
Of course she knew all of the Hundred by name, Aleks should have guessed. But what did she mean should couldn’t feel him? “Gods, I hope not. Else he’s taken a nasty fall and I’ll feel obligated to clean up the mess.”
If Rown was amused, she hid it well. “Your fun ends here.” Rown stepped forward again until she loomed over Aleks, looking down her wide nose at him. “His Holiness will see you.”
Aleks took a cautious step back, his hand gripping the hilt of his dagger. “Don’t think he will. Was planning to cut his throat from behind, you see.”
Her smile widened. “I’m sure He’d let you, if you ask. Will do you no good, however.”
The man at her flank—Jedrek, Aleks guessed—laughed. “He’s a god, lad. A god walking Yurek, after millennia imprisoned.”
“Maybe,” Aleks shrugged. “But everything dies. Just in the figuring out of how.”
Rown tutted, her lips pulling back in a sneer. “Enough talk. You will come with us.”
Aleks pondered a moment, eyes flashing between the two, the crowd behind them and the two larger than normal men at his back. Two options, he supposed. Knock the two men on their arses and make a break for it, or give himself over to Rown. It took only a moment’s consideration before he launched a kick at the woman, his foot burying into her gut and sending her rolling over herself in a heap.
“Afraid not,” Aleks turned on his heel, ducking below a wild swing from one of the men. He snapped a kick into his knee, charging forward and pounding his elbow into the giant’s face. There was a crunch and a spray of blood and the man tumbled backward, into his partner and through the arch.
Before Aleks could take advantage, he heard the air crack as it had with Filip and dropped to the floor on pure instinct, rolling away as the explosion of power collided with the wall, sending a hail of rubble where Aleks had just been. The archway collapsed in on itself, but somehow the walls held firm. Magic mountain, Aleks had to remind himself. He rose to his feet as Rown did, Jedrek pulling his bare fist from a small crater in the mountain wall. The skin on his hand was unmarked, save for shards of broken stone.
Aleks paused again, his heart pounding a rapid beat in his chest. No escape for him now, and he couldn’t fight all of the Hundred Sworn. If he took the mask out, he could level everyone here. But then what? What would he lose in return? He bared his teeth and raised his arms over his head. “So, you said he wanted a chat?”
Rown pulled two wooden sticks from her belt and sent Aleks a withering glare. “Too late for pleasantries. Pissed me off.”
Aleks pulled his mask from his cloak, seeing no other choice. “I’m not too chuffed either, you know.” The mask shifted and squeezed, adjusting to the contours of his face, and then stilled. The dining hall stood stark in greater contrast, every life in the room a flickering pulse of light for the mask.
Rown darted forward faster than he’d given her credit for—she was agile, despite her size. She jabbed at his midsection with one stick, a feral snarl ripping from her lips. Aleks dodged inside the blow, pulling his dagger free and burying his elbow in her gut. She wheezed, but to Aleks’ surprise did not step outside of his guard. She instead swung her other stick in a wide arc that would land nowhere near Aleks, but the mask screamed for him to escape.
And he trusted his mask. He shifted his hips, ducking below the swing and stepping outside of her. But before he could take advantage, the whole world shook.
A deafening clap exploded behind him, driving him to his knees. The world went quiet besides a ringing, and a sharp pain shook his head from the inside. Aleks felt his body shake with echoes of the explosion, agony ripping through him. Before he had time to recover, a blow struck the side of his head and he found himself staring at the distant, dark ceiling.
The world went fuzzy and through the pain, he felt the muted, panicked thrum of the mask. But his body was no longer his own. The mask’s hum buzzing in his mind, Aleks slipped from consciousness.
* * *
Muffled sounds came back first. Dampened voices that sounded as if they came from beyond a thick door, the constant beat of footsteps on stone and beneath it all, the masks frequent, blaring pulse. Aleks opened his eyes and closed them again almost immediately, suppressing a wince.
The world was too bright. The stabbing pain in his head thumped violently, like small pins extending from his eyes to the back of his skull. A concussion, he realised. The mask slowed its pulse, so Aleks focused on it, letting his head empty so he could figure out what had happened, and where he was.
The warm pressure of the mask still rested on his face. His hands were bound at the wrists, and his feet at the ankles, and he seemed to be slung over someone’s shoulder, jolting with each slow step. Small snippets of conversation finally cleared.
“—nothing special. Should we not simply execute him?”
“No, His Holiness wants to speak with him. We are not killers, Jedrek. We only kill if we must.”
He recognised her voice immediately; Rown—the tall woman, one of the Sons of Inan, had beaten him. And quickly. He remembered a brief exchange, and then a sudden darkness. But what had caused the darkness, he couldn’t say. The memory was not there, or if it was, it was hidden to him.
Whatever had happened, Rown had proven herself better than him. So escape now seemed unlikely. He quelled the rising panic, forcing his mind to push past the fogginess. He needed a plan.
“Will the other Called be there?” The man’s voice.
“No. His Holiness wishes to see him alone.” They stopped moving a moment, so Aleks braced himself and opened his eyes. The pain in his head was still sharp, but after a moment, he adjusted. All he could see was the floor and Rown’s long legs. Nothing to indicate where they were. “Wait outside.”
Aleks cursed inwardly. They must have arrived. A door clicked open, and they began to move once more. Aeks racked his brain, willing himself to find a way to escape. If he’d lost to Rown as badly as he thought he had, he stood no chance of killing both her and Nereden. He just needed a moment’s distraction and a way to free his limbs and he’d find a way to deal with them later.
“You’ve done well, Rown. As expected.” Nereden’s voice sent a chill down Aleks’ spine, as deep and sonorous as a boulder rolling downhill. “Place him in the chair and you may leave. Let the Called know I will be down to see them shortly.”
Rown dropped Aleks in a chair and he had to fight not to curse at the agony that sent through his head. “He killed two of the Hundred Sworn, sire.”
Nereden stared at Aleks, as if aware he was awake and he was just as frightening as he had been earlier. The large tear in his flesh seemed to have grown wider, billowing smoke drifting from the opening and toward the large window behind him.
“I will replenish your ranks, of course. Select two of the Sons to be risen and I will bless them.” Nereden sat straight, his chair creaking beneath him, his hands folded on the table that separated them. “You lead the Hundred well, Rown. Raising you to Called has proven wise.”
“You honour me.” Rown’s voice came from beside Aleks. “I have some in mind already. I will report them to you at the Called council.” Her face dropped into view momentarily as she dipped into a bow before her footsteps retreated, the door clicking shut behind her.
Nereden sighed and leaned forward, cradling his chin in his hand. “Has Rown shamed you into silence then, boy?”
Aleks hesitated a moment before sitting himself up straight and placing his bound hands on the table before him. “Not at all. Not my first time being carried by a tall woman. But I fear this story has a more disappointing ending.”
Nereden chuckled, cracked lips spreading wide to reveal a toothless grin. “Amusing.”
“More amusing if I had my hands free?” Aleks joked.
“Depending on your demeanor at the end of our talk, I may let you leave.” The creature leaned forward, dark eyes boring into Aleks’ despite the mask. “Now, will you hear me out, boy? Or shall I take your head?”
Hands and feet bound, Aleks found it hard to argue.