Hallek

Hallek-

I'm fine. Lekarik plans to marry me at the Forging of the Sun. I've got time. I'll have

connections in the city I don't have out here. I know you're going to want to mount a rescue,

but I'm okay. No charging in unless the wedding is imminent and we haven't fixed things, okay?

Norak being taken to Balrok prison. Lekarik mentioned Verris's lover is already there. Worry about them first.

Lekarik has a new infusuer. His name is Dalluth. Has to be connected, right? To your sword.

I'm safe for now. I'm okay.

Mother dead.

He'd read the letter a dozen times. Those last two words were what really killed him. There was no good reason to send them along in a message about strategy, which is what it was in the end. In fact they were counterproductive, because there was no way in all the hells Hallek wasn't going to rescue her from the people who'd killed her mother. And since there was no way Shylldra would have done it, that had to be what happened.

The only reason those two words could possibly be there is that the pain and grief had welled up so thick and high inside of her they'd had to come out, just the tiniest bit, for someone who cared about her to read. T'challi had delivered the letter and flown away over a week ago (and where did that little dinosaur ever go?) and since then Hallek had been very, very focused on not following her advice. They'd chased Lekarik's canal barge for miles, hoping for a chance to attack it, but on the river and with no need to stop and sleep or eat the barge had outpaced them.

“He's definitely in there,” Dyryl said, pointing to the imposing black pyramid. “For whatever good that does us.”

“Balrok prison doesn't do anybody any good,” Krazzek pointed out. “It's where they send you to die.”

“And how about just shut your gods-forsaken fucking mouth?” Verris snarled.

“Oh,” Krazzek said. “Right. Sorry.”

“Gods I'm such an idiot,” Verris cursed. “Of course he took Fylati. It's what I'd do, if I had me for an enemy.”

Hallek wasn't sure what to say. He hadn't thought Verris had it in him to care about anything like that except himself.

“We'll get her back,” Hallek said.

“I know we're going to get her back!” Verris whirled on him. “Hate makes us strong, and right now I could kill a Fang with my bare teeth to get to Lekarik! So I don't need your godsdamn platitutdes right now!”

Hallek nodded. He'd spoken because he'd felt like he ought to, but Verris had a point. They were going in there anyway, and the two of them weren't exactly on a words of kindness basis. He'd have been happy to let it go at that, but Verris wasn't done.

“And what about you, Hallek?” Verris demanded. “What are you going to do? Why are you here?”

“To get Shylldra back. And Norak.”

“And then what?”

“And then we'll figure it out.”

“Gods damnit, Hallek this is what I can't stand.” Verris snarled. “Fine, let's say we win. Let's say you win. Lekarik is dead. Your princess is back. Let's even say I'm not emperor and making her marry me. Not that you beat me, not gonna happen, but let's say I've found better opportunities. Then what are you going to do?”

“That's way too far ahead to even think about!”

“There's nothing to you Hallek,” Verris snarled. “That's what I can't stand. There's nothing there. All the power of a Fang wasted on someone who thinks he can use it to go back to Downwind and be a better shoveler. Gods you probably wouldn't even want to make foreman. Sweet gods Hallek is there anything you dowant?”

“You should both be quiet now,” Dyryl said.

“I'll shut up when I feel like it,” Verris snapped.

“Does the fact that we're surrounded make you feel like it?” Krazzek said. “Because we're surrounded.”

Hallek and Verris froze like startled animals. Without the argument pounding in their ears they could hear movement in the palm forest all around them, hidden in the brush.

“Soldiers?” Hallek asked.

“I don't think so,” Dyryl said. “They sound like animals, but not...not like eoraptors hunting. They're moving like imperial scouts. They're moving smart.”

From out of the trees three pale skinned figures with wispy patches of gray feathers stepped into the light. Hallek tensed, grabbing his sword.

“Troodons,” he said. His eyes darted to the trees, looking for the assassin.

“Forest ghosts?” Verris said, holding on to his whip. “Why aren't they attacking us? And why did they let us see them before they hit?”

“Maybe because they're afraid of Hallek,” Dyryl said. “He killed four or five of them a couple of weeks ago.”

The troodons were staring at them like inquisitive birds. The two at the ends were aggressive, hunched low and ready to attack, but the one in the middle just cocked its head and stared at them.

“Kkkargain,” it said.

“What?” Hallek blinked.

“They can talk,” Dyryl blanched. “I've heard stories that said the forest ghosts could talk.”

“Kngargain!” the troodon insisted. “Nnngake kkkargain!”

“Bargain?” Hallek asked. “Is that what you're saying?”

The three troodons hissed in agreement.

“Kkalrok,” the lead troodon said. “Kkngow door. Zzecret way. Dankkkeroukk...”

Hallek's mind raced. They must have been listening at least since the message got here. And understood. Enough to know they needed a way into Balrok prison...

“And what do you want?” he said. “For showing us the door?”

“Nnngiztrekk!” the troodon hissed plaintively. “Kkave nngiztrekk!”

Save Mistress. The other two troodons let out a series of mournful hoots that were echoed from the trees, too many times to count.

“What the hells are they talking about?” Verris demanded.

“Lekarik sent an assassin,” Hallek said. “She had a kind of pact or bond or something with the troodons. I thought I killed her.”

On the one hand he was glad he hadn't. On the other hand, he thought he'd known about the first person he ever killed. Now the first person he'd every killed was...someone in the battle. At Maukra's cottage. And now he couldn't even remember who they'd been, and probably never would.

He felt a little ashamed about that.

“Lekarik must have locked her up in Balrok for not killing you,” Verris said.

“If they know a secret way in,” Krazek said, “why don't they go get her themselves?”

“Kkkalrok old,” the lead troodon said. The “o” noise was more of a swallow than a letter. “door dankkerous. Ngeed kunan.”

“Why me?” Hallek finally asked. “Why come to me?”

“Kkiztress nglost,” the troodon said. “Zzdrong. Kkargain?”

Hallek looked back at the others.

“Oh not this again,” Verris groaned. “Just do it already. I'd take it but they want you, not me. The others just nodded, though they all looked as nervous as Hallek felt. Actually that wasn't true. Only Krazzek actually looked as nervous as Hallek felt. He wondered if he was hiding it as well as everyone else was?

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“Alright,” Hallek said. “Bargain. Show us the door, and we'll break your mistress out too. How long will the journey be?”

“Kkun, ngoon,” the troodon said, raising and lowering a claw in time with its words. “kkun, ngoon. Kkun, ngoon. Door.”

Three days traveling with a pack of troodons, Hallek thought ruefully. This ought to be interesting.

Shylldra

Lekarik was holding a victory parade. Because the city was going to celebrate, no matter what it felt like doing. After all, their glorious emperor had defeated a dangerous band of rebels.

Shylldra had never ridden on a brachiosaur before. Under other circumstances she might have enjoyed it. Except the getting on part, that had been horrible. It always looked so majestic when the emperor—any emperor—walked up the stairs built into the imperial brachiosaur's neck armor, almost like they were ascending to the heavens. It was actually cold and unsteady, the steps were too small and too thin, and she'd only gotten through it by mutter prayers to Maia under her breath. And now she sat on the imperial brachiosaur's back, looking down at the crowds lining the imperial road.

The crowds had all the joy of a man who's just broken his leg smiling so that his children won't worry.

From her vantage point she could see places where the street was cracked or burned, where riots had broken out when Lekarik's arrests hadn't gone quite to plan. That's what he'd been doing since they got back to the city, the arrests. Clearing up rebels. Except no one was exactly sure what made you a rebel, and there wasn't a lot of warning, and everyone remembered the rumors that the spectacles in the arena weren't just for the worst of the worst anymore. Or that possibly the worst of the worst had been redefined. And at a time like that it's good to go out and cheer the emperor, and stretch a smile across your face whether it feels like being there or not.

Shylldra didn't bother to try and smile, but she didn't look away from those horrid grins either. Emperors came and emperors went. Nobles stabbed each other in the back and poisoned each other at dinner. It happened all the time. But it was supposed to stay in the palace. Lekarik had brought it out into the city, where people who weren't part of the game could get hurt. And that was against the rules but, to beat a metaphor to death, for now Lekarik held all the cards.

She had to see if she could change that.

Her first opportunities came after the parade. Now that she was officially in the city, and the emperor's intended, nobles came to her cell to welcome her. It was a well gilded cage, a suite of the palace's comfier rooms, but a cage nonetheless. But it beat Balrok prison. That was for sure. They'd even let her pick her servants, after of course inserting a few spies that she just had to take. Well fine.

Thinking about Balrok made her wonder how Hallek was doing. T'challi sat curled up on her lap, having finally returned a day ago without the message. Was it strange that she had no doubt he could save Norak? And Verris's friend? She'd developed an almost mythical belief in his abilities. She just wished she had the same confidence in her own. And it was her own abilities the situation called for, because it takes an expert and years of training if you're going to be sorting nobles.

Nobles came in three (nuanced) categories. The first was enemies. These would be Lekarik's partisans or opportunists Shylldra judged would, if it came down to it, assume Lekarik was the best bet and jump his way. None of those meetings were especially interesting, Shylldra just took their flattery and their gifts and sent them on their way. The second category was useless people. These ranged from people who just wanted the world to leave them alone to people who felt like their duty was to—well, whatever their official duty was. A town, a region, etc. And would not risk that to deal with the emperor. Those last Shylldra actually had a lot of respect for. It was easy enough at court to forget you were in charge of villages and people. But their devotion to their duty made them, for Shylldra's purposes, completely useless.

The third category was friends. She had precious few of those. The only one she was even half sure of was High General Fennik.

“I've got a bone to pick with your young man,” the general said when they were alone in the room together. “Promised me he'd keep you safe.”

“He did,” Shylldra said. “But things happened, and now I'm here. And he's...doing other things.”

Fennik stared at her.

“The emperor is a maniac and a fool,” the old general finally said. “He'll ruin us all if it keeps going on like this”

“I know.”

“So you do plan to do something about it. What?”

“I'm working on that.”

“I'll ask no more,” Fennik shook his head. “I have oaths to keep, and taking in your secrets might make me break them. I can't stand beside you, not until—not unless Lekarik is more than just a bad emperor. And for now that's all he is, a bad emperor. You understand?”

“I understand. And thank you.” Because the thing he hadn't said was that, if Lekarik really pushed it too far, really DID go beyond the realm of being just a bad emperor, then he could do something. And they both knew it was just a matter of time. But would the legions come with him? Hard call. But it was something, nonetheless.

There was, if you wanted to get technical about it, a fourth category. These people were either friends or enemies, but Shylldra had no real way to figure out which or what they'd do when things started happening. The first of them sent a representative.

“The patrician regrets being unable to visit himself,” Ballum said with a bow, placing a gift in front of her. “He is still recovering from your shared trials. He hopes you understand his need to escape when he could,” Ballum said, “in the hope of sending help for you once he had reached safety. That you will place his actions in the proper context.”

Probably everyone in the city, aside from herself and Lekarik, believed by now that she and Jajess had been prisoners of his mad son Verris. He'd spread the story everywhere by the time they got back, along with declarations of eternal loyalty to their heroic emperor. It had, somehow, kept him alive despite Lekarik's recent fondness for large scale arrests.

“When I see a compsognathus in the street,” Shylldra said, “or a rat scuttling in the gutters, how can I blame it for burrowing in the trash? It is what it is.”

A tiny smirk appeared at the corner of Ballum's mouth.

“It seems you understand my master perfectly,” Ballum said. “I leave you to your...let us call it joy, shall we? At the coming union.”

The warrior turned to leave.

“I thought you and Verris were close,” Shylldra said, before he could reach the door. “Doesn't what Jajess did bother you?”

Ballum stopped.

“This you do not understand,” Ballum said. “You are not Kuraga. The scraping knife forms the sword. The shattered stone releases the gem. Doesn't your goddess say the same? Light and life through pain and blood? Verris is Kuraga. If he was too weak to survive this, better he die now.”

Ballum left. When Shylldra pulled the cloth away, the gift he'd brought was a solid gold gemstone studded sculpture of Maia. Typical for Jajess it was gaudy and useless, but represented a substantial bribe. There might still be opportunities there, if she was careful.

The second wild card was...unsettling.

She knew something was wrong as soon as he walked through the door. There wasn't a smell there was...the thought of a smell. The strange man in the black robes with the triangular hood and metal grates felt like the smell of corpses.

“My lady,” he bowed, placing a small wooden box in front of her. “I am Master Infuser Dalluth. It is an honor to meet my patron's betrothed. Please accept this small token of my esteem.”

“And an honor to meet you,” she said. “I've heard of some of your accomplishments. Is there a sample of your work in the box?”

“Just a simple toy,” Dalluth said. “But I hope it pleases.”

“Why did you lie to Lekarik?”

“How do you know I lied?” Dalluth asked. “Not denying it, just wondering.”

“Hallek and I found your journal. In Tivek.”

“And this new Fang warrior everyone's talking about has my sword! I thought so. I'm working on much bigger projects now, but I was very proud of that sword.”

“You got everyone in Tivek killed.”

“Yes,” Dalluth shrugged. “I did. But so what? What I learned will change the very nature of the world. I will advance Infusion beyond most people's wildest dreams. I think one village is a fair enough price for that. In fact I think it’s cheap.”

“How can you say that?” she demanded, reaching out to grab his wrist. “How can you just..”

She had to fight the urge to vomit.

It felt like she'd been punched in the gut. Suddenly the air had a rancid taste to it, and the skin of her fingers shifted, like it had a will of itsown and was trying to peel away from where it had touched Dalluth even through his leather.

“Everyone in Tivek died,” she said. “Didn't they?”

“Yes,” Dalluth said. “I...died.”

He seemed uncomfortable with the subject, but he raised his clawed, skull adorned leather gloves up in front of his hood.

“But I'd failed my first attempt at a masterwork,” he said. “Soul was bound when I didn't intend it to be. So there was a way in, you see. I had a hole in my skull and I think my brain had been stabbed through, but there was just enough of me left to...infuse. It wouldn't have worked if I'd made the runes right, but as it is...”

He clenched his fists.

“I'm going to make wonders. Wonders. The whole world is going to stare in awe at what I create. Even death couldn't stop me.”

“Except the dying hasn't stopped, has it?” Shylldra said. “How many people have you killed since you died?”

“You don't know I've killed anyone!” Dalluth snapped.

“Yes I do. I can feel it coming off you in waves. Human infusion is taboo for a reason. I won't blame you for trying to survive. No one could. But you're a human soul jammed into a pair of gloves along with the soul of something else walking around in a body made up of...what? Bits and pieces of everyone in Tivek? Are there rats and forest animals in there too? And you want me to believe you haven't changed at all?”

“I needed pieces,” Dalluth said. “Materials. For my research. And to make the face mask. So I killed. And I'll kill again, and again, until I've done it, until I've...I'm on the verge of something. Something amazing. When I left my body I saw...I saw a shape I could never draw, you couldn't make a model of it we've only got up and down. I saw the shape and I had an idea, a wonderful idea, and I'm going to make everything different. I'm going to make wonders.”

“Wonders or horrors?”

“Same thing, really. I'm nothing like the scared stupid little boy who died in Tivek.”

“Or are you exactly like him? Isn't everything you've done the same as killing the Fang's child?”

“I didn't kill it!” Dalluth said. “That wasn't me! It wasn't my fault!”

“It was though,” Shylldra said. “It was a stupid mistake, but it was your fault. Because you wanted to make your wonders, and you didn't stop to think. And so now what, since you killed a whole village all the other deaths don't really matter?”

“The deaths don't matter because what I'm doing is important.”

“Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe you haven't changed. Maybe you never cared about anything but your pointless little wonders, and who cares if the whole world burns down? Maybe all that happened is you went from being reckless to being dangerous.”

She watched Dalluth clench and unclench his fists and wondered if she was going to die, but the infuser shook like a wet animal and when he was done the tension had left his body. Mostly.

“Enjoy your gift,” he told her. “A trinket like that is nothing, nothing, compared to what I'm about to create.” He stormed out, leaving Shylldra alone. She opened the box and pulled out Dalluth's gift.

It was a beautiful thing. Made of three compy skeletons, just their skulls and spines, with the rest worked into the round base. When she pressed a rune they danced and spun around each other in an elegant, hypnotic pattern. But the eye sockets of the skulls had a sinister cast to them, and if you looked hard enough the bones’ playful dancing looked more like they were writhing in pain. And every time she held it Shylldra couldn't shake the feeling the entire toy was screaming.