CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
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Kovey Walber
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25th of Decepter, 935 PC
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“Why do they call it the Widow’s Den?” Corbin asked.
They’d just arrived in the small but infamous portion of the much larger Nevergreen Forest. Which, to this point, had proven worthy of its name – old, gray trees with less life in them than magic in Kovey’s soul and sloppy, brown mud everywhere. So thick in spots they had to climb off their horses at times to avoid the extra strain on their legs. One of the few things that wasn’t a dismal sight was the flowing water he could see through the thin line of trees beside them, accompanied by the same song every river sang. That and Belvedere. Even in the rain and mud, she somehow kept her grace and beauty as she sat atop her brown mare. Her white hair was tucked up beneath the hat she’d bought from a traveling merchant the day before. Kovey had offered to buy it for her but she refused to let him spend his money on her. He’d sulked about that for a bit afterward.
“Kovey,” Corbin said. He pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. Raindrops ran down each lens like they were tiny window panes. His hair was drenched and matted to his pale forehead. An improvement from his usual look. He sniffled the snot at the bottom of his nostrils back into his nose while he waited for an answer. The boy could have sniffled a thousand times over and it wouldn’t be enough to clear that nose of his. Hadn’t stopped with the sniffling since they’d left Thronerock. Rain or shine. Sniff. Sniff. Sniff.
Kovey still didn’t respond, hoping the boy might think he’d fallen asleep at the reins. He’d already answered two dozen of Corbin’s random questions – two dozen and one is where he drew the line.
Surprisingly, Elgar answered for him. “Because a bunch of pissed off wives banded together after they lost their husbands in some old war and started living in here.”
“That’s right,” Velvetine said, flicking half a soggy smoke stick through the rain. “Turned ‘emselves into a group of bloody murderers to prove a point to the royals. Gotta love pissed off cunts.”
“Murderers?” Corbin glanced at Kovey nervously, apparently believing they had an unwritten agreement that Kovey would protect the scrawny runt. Admittedly, it felt good to be needed. His contributions to this cause were deeply rooted in obligations more than capability. He wanted nothing more than to prove to his father, Creator rest his soul, that he was more than just an irresponsible pill addict, that he’d become a man that kept his word and did what was right.
Elgar smirked at the runt. “Aye. Nothing to worry about now though. One of the kings put an end to them years ago.”
“King Elezra,” Belvedere said, then went back to her peaceful humming of something like a lullaby.
“That’s the one. Sent his whole fucking army in here to wipe ‘em out.” Elgar shook his head as he thought about the carnage that must have happened all around them.
Corbin’s nerves subsided quickly once he knew the group of angry women had been slaughtered and he was much safer for it.
“King Elezra did not send his whole army,” Belvedere said. “Only a few dozen of his best knights.”
“What’s it matter?” Elgar said. “Still had them killed.”
“It matters because one makes the man look like a vicious tyrant and the other makes him look sensible.”
“All kings and queens are tyrants,” Elgar said.
Velvetine spit. “He’s got a point, Bel.”
The way Elgar and Belvedere went back and forth resembled flirting closely enough to put a bad taste in Kovey’s mouth. The only positive note was that she’d barely glanced at him, choosing instead to watch the water through the trees.
Suddenly, Elgar stopped his horse, followed closely by everyone but Corbin whose white mare with the gray mane mozied on by, its rider fighting back a sneeze that was tickling his nose.
“Get back here, runt!” Elgar said.
Only now did Corbin blow snot through the rain drops. When he realized he was out in front he quickly stopped his horse. The boy rode his hose like his wealth would suggest, smoothly and with familiarity.
“What’s that?” Velvetine said. Her eyes fixated on the trail ahead. A deep thumping sound was coming through the trees like a group of angry drummers. It was distant but intimidating enough to cause concern immediately.
“Wreckers,” Elgar whispered. As if the Lotus driving them might somehow hear him.
Belvedere instantly started waving her arms toward the side of the road. “Off the trail! Off the trail. To the trees! Now!”
“Leave your horses!” Elgar yelled, dropping into the swampy mud, brown dots flying. “Let the horses go. We won’t be able to ride them much longer anyway.” A terrible melody of words in Kovey’s ears, like he was listening to a song with all the wrong words. No horses meant walking and despite what Elgar had said, Kovey was almost certain they were nowhere near the clearing they needed to reach to meet Elgar’s connection. But, he did as he was told. The time for him to call the shots had passed long ago. And, he’d seen more than enough Wreckers to know they were horrible things, beasts on wheels, created to destroy everything in their paths. He wanted to be anywhere but on that dirt road when the stampede arrived.
He smacked his horse on the haunches and tried to shove it on but it didn’t budge. “Go dammit!” He smacked it again.
“Leave it, Walber!” Elgar yelled. He and Velvetine were already moving through the even thicker mud along the side of the road. Suddenly, a louder bang erupted in the distance, scaring most of the horses into a gallop.
Belvedere’s motherly instincts unnecessarily helped Corbin off his mare and sent him after the others before turning to Kovey. “Come on Kove! We have to hide!” Her arm was waving to her urgently. A sight he’d give anything to see under different circumstances. The ground slurped and squished with every step as they trudged toward a patch of dead oak trees sitting on a hill some twenty yards off the trail. Their branches bent and twisted up into the sky, making no sense with the routes they took to get there. Cold water seeped through his boots. Probably should have gotten some new ones from the merchant, but he’d spent all his time trying to flatter a woman that was too good for him. Worth it.
He dropped to his knees behind a wide oak, right beside Belvedere, feeling scared and helpless but still noticing the sweet scent of her hair. The ground trembled beneath him. They could see big, green blotches through the trees from up here as the Wreckers came around a bend further up the road. There were four of them lumbering along with no cares in the world as to what might get in their way. Every few seconds one of them would let out that same explosive bang. Once, when he’d seen one of these things in Leoren, the flame that burst out the back of the armored vehicle had almost scorched a boy that had gotten out of his mother’s grip. People threw trash and rocks at the vehicle as it plugged along unfazed. Scared him half to death thinking he might end up in some kind of riot.
“I can hide us better,” Corbin said, looking at Kovey who didn’t dare overstep his role as a tagalong.
“Do it,” Elgar said from a tree over.
“I have plenty of debris to build a wall with if we need it, “Belvedere said.
“Ah! Fuck your wall. I’ll rip them apart before they ever get close,” Velvetine said. You only had to see her snarl once to know she didn’t care what she did to Lotus.
Each declaration sent Kovey further down the path of worthlessness.
Corbin waved his hand in front of himself slowly. As he did, small mounds of dirt and roots appeared between the trees, growing taller inch by inch until they were high enough to lay behind but didn’t disrupt the landscape too noticeably. And then all of it was gone. Once Kovey’s brain acknowledged the illusion was there, it couldn’t believe it.
“Good job, runt.” Elgar had positioned himself so he could see the Wreckers through what should have been a mound of dirt but, instead, was just thin air.
“You’re sure they won’t notice?” Kovey asked. No reason to, he knew the powers of illusions first hand, but having been stripped of his own, he suddenly doubted it.
Corbin was already dropping to his stomach and didn’t respond.
“Get down, Kove.” Belvedere was on her stomach as well. No better coverage than Elgar but a much better sight to behold. He crawled to the ground just as one of the Wreckers let out a loud eruption. Then another. They were almost as loud as the sound of his heart pounding on his chest, trying to escape into the earth. Maybe Kovey was wrong but there’d been no plan to fight this early in the trip. He should still have some time to get his head wrapped around all that.
The first real glimpses of the ferocious vehicles coming out of the denser trees ahead froze him in place, mind so entranced by the evil artistry put into the inventions that he barely noticed Belvedere’s hand squeeze his own. They were big ugly things. About as long as a wagon and its horses with wide wheels made of iron featuring grooves cut into the metal to help with traction. There was green metal all over the vehicle too, bent at sharp angles and giving the whole thing a jagged, angry look. At the front was a large pane of glass, tinted dark to keep the drivers concealed from the more dangerous types of magic that required Purists to see their targets. Most worrisome though were the single Lotus popping out of the hole in the top of each vehicle, scanning the area as they went along.
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“I’ll take care of this,” Velvetine said. She was the only one still crouching behind a tree. She put one palm over the other and closed her eyes, sensing the fibers of one of the Wreckers. He’d seen her use her magic on people a few times. What was about to happen to these vehicles… and then the Lotus. It was straight out of a nightmare.
“Work quickly, Vel,” Belvedere whispered. It was as much a plea to the woman not to toy with her victims as anything else.
Velvetine’s hands spread apart rapidly. Kovey’s wide eyes shot to the trail, expecting to see millions of pieces of iron tearing through the air and confused Lotus stranded in the mud, waiting to be killed by something they couldn’t see. But nothing happened. What’s going on? Nothing can withstand being ripped apart from the inside out. At least, he didn’t think so.
And by the look on Velvetine’s face, she thought the same.“Well… fuck me with a stick.”
“Are you empty?” Elgar asked.
“Fuck no!”
“Alchemy then,” Belvedere whispered. “Something like what they have on their gambesons.” Lotus gambesons were nearly impenetrable due to a secret alchemical they were doused in. They couldn’t withstand something like Velvetine’s magic though. Whatever was on these Wreckers was new and immensely concerning.
*~~~**~~~*
Kovey’s hands rested on his rotund stomach as he watched his breath float into the cold air. The Candlebury River could be heard racing behind him. If he wasn’t terrified the sound would be peaceful, calming even. But, as it was, a silent discussion had quickly agreed he was the least useful one of the group. Empty and expendable. Even more useless than the runt. Corbin hadn’t exactly blown anyone away with his pile of dirt but at least he had done something while Kovey had been smelling Belvedere’s hair.
He took a deep, deep breath, trying hard to gather up all his fear and exhaled it loudly. Nervous was hardly descriptive enough to describe the state of mind he had fallen into. The others were crouched behind their own trees nearby, looking as anxious as him but with less sweat. Lords be good, this all better work out in the end. All the courage he intended to muster while staying in Thronerock was still in Thronerock, forgotten and left behind during the chaotic shuffling around of leaving a tenday earlier than scheduled.
Stupid Elgar. My back is stiff, my feet are swollen, and my belly’s empty. All I want to do is kick my boots off, eat some food, and lay down. Not this shit. The knots on the bumpy root hardly helped ease him as they rammed themselves into his tailbone.
“Are you done crying about it, Walber? Get going,” Elgar whispered. He rubbed his bare hands together to warm them then blew his breath into them.
Shut up asshole. You go. You’re the leader. Kovey wiped his hands on his pants. “I’m good. I can do this. Just give me a minute. I haven’t done this in a while.” He tried not to look annoyed as he stared the other man in the eye.
“Aye, fuck off Elgar.” Velvetine stuck a twig back in her mouth and gave the blonde a dirty look. She dislodged something in her throat with a disgusting growl of a sound and then spit it in the slushy mud at her feet. There was grass in her stringy white hair that may have made her look sweet had she put it there purposely. Kovey couldn’t think of a time he appreciated her foul-mouth more than in that moment. She moved on from the conversation quickly though, picking at dry blood on her ragged jacket and looking at her sister. She mouthed something to the other woman then put her palm out but dropped it quickly and let her shoulders slouch.
Belvedere moved stealthily from her tree to Kovey’s and crouched in front of him. She grabbed his beefy, dry hand and said, “If you get into trouble I will protect you.” Elgar laughed. Kovey turned his head to burn the prick with a glare but Belvedere’s hand caught his cheek and chin, bringing his eyes back to hers. “You’ll be fine.”
“Let’s just all go together,” Kovey said.
Elgar shook his head. “We ain’t all walking out there. If it’s a trap, it’s better we don’t all die at once.”
Belvedere waved a hand at Elgar then stared into Kovey’s eyes. “Just like old times. Last I checked, arrows still pierce flesh… just don’t hit the gambeson. Nothing gets through those things.”
He wanted to say, “I think you’re looking at someone you used to know, Bel. I haven’t done this in years.” Instead, he nodded and tried to speak but nothing came out.
“Lords! Just get goin’,” Elgar said. “Before I yell over to the chap and ask him to put me out of my misery.”
Velvetine said, with brilliantly performed sincerity, “No reason to waste his time. I can do it for ya.” Even removed a bit of the raspiness that lived in her throat.
“Just go, Walber. There’s only one of them,” Elgar said.
“And if there isn’t?” Kovey asked.
“Like I said, that’s why we're not all-” Elgar was cut off.
“Then we’ve got you covered,” Belvedere said sweetly.
Velvetine had changed her tune from before. “Alright Walber, it’s time to go. I wanna eat and we ain’t setting up camp until you kill this son of a bitch.” He nodded and climbed to his feet.
“Can’t you just use your magic?” he asked Velvetine.
Her face lit up with murderous excitement.
“If I want to steal his appearance, I'll need to see his face,” Elgar said. “I can’t walk around looking like a million pieces of blood and guts.”
“The offer still stands,” Velvetine said.
Kovey pulled the bow off his back. It was older than any of them, given to him by his mother, since his dad had already died, when he became a man some twenty years ago. The limbs had creaked like old bones when he practiced with it the night before. “Let me use your shield,” he said to Elgar. Another thing he’d considered buying from the merchant but never got around to.
“Then you can’t fire the bow,” Elgar said, disgusted with the man. “Just get your ass going.”
Kovey scowled at the man then turned toward the clearing and spotted his target. A couple hundred feet away was a man leaning against a fallen log, his back to them, staring at the rapid river in front of him. The infamous green gambeson of the Lotus Army was clear as day, even in the dimming light of the setting sun. This should be simple enough. A perfect way to get my fighting legs back under me. He had hung up his weapons after his magic had run dry, figuring depression and sharp blades were a bad combination.
“Good luck,” Corbin whispered. He wiped his nose and nodded at Kovey with his dopey smile. Damn kid has his book open on his lap.
Kovey’s first step was met with a symphony of crunching ice beneath his boot. As was his second. Great start. The figure across the clearing didn’t move. If he doesn’t hear my footsteps he will surely hear my heart racing. Why did I have to get myself into this? Step by step Kovey made his way further across the clearing, past the disheveled fire pit and its stone seats, past the old merchant cart that looked empty and abandoned. Don’t see why I can’t strap Elgar’s shield to my back just in case. Stupid asshole. Suddenly, it occurred to him that he had not yet nocked an arrow. He reached over his shoulder and grabbed the feathery end of one of his father’s old silvertips. The surrounding trees remained still and silent as he scanned for other Lotus.
He was within twenty feet of the man before he knew it. The sound of the racing river was considerably louder now, making it quite clear why the Lotus still hadn’t heard anything behind him. He continued his menacing stalk as he raised his bow and took aim. He swung to the right to get a better angle for his shot. His eyes were locked on his target firmly. Until they weren’t. He stumbled as his foot caught a rock. If the ground wasn’t slick he may have stayed on his feet, but it was, and he didn’t. His arms flailed to catch himself, the arrow flew off into the distance. Cold mud splattered on his face as he hit the ground. His hands and knees stung slightly from the ice. Get up. Get up. His desperate slipping and scrambling made him feel like a pig wallowing in the mud. His eyes shot to the man when he got to a knee. He hadn’t moved an inch. A second arrow was nocked and aimed.
Embarrassment suggested, no, demanded that he prove a point. The silvertip plunged into the man’s skull and stuck out the other side. No blood splattered, but the head jerked before it tipped forward, the upper body slid to the left a bit behind the force of the impact. Kovey gave his comrades a weak punch into the sky and waved them over.
“Well done,” Elgar said as he approached. There was a grin on his face as he slapped Kovey on the shoulder. “Haven’t laughed that hard in a while.” He made his way to the dead Lotus.
Velvetine sneered and shook her head as she walked by in silence but her sister stopped, Corbin by her side. He would have paid any amount of money for Belvedere to have not seen that.
“It happens, Kove. Either way, thank you,” she said with her head tilted sympathetically. Kovey nodded embarrassingly.
Corbin opened his mouth, but Kovey shook his head and walked away.
A half-empty bottle of whiskey sat beside the dead Lotus, his hands were on his lap. One was open to the sky, the other held a small piece of parchment. His green gambeson was covered in dry mud and what was probably black vomit or spit. His discolored skin hugged the bones in his face tightly as if someone had left him in the sun to dry out. You shot an arrow through a dead man's skull. He shook his head at himself.
Velvetine said, “He must have felt it coming, found a nice little place to let that nasty filth dry him up.” She looked at Kovey. “Good thing we don’t die when we run dry.” He nodded. At least not physically.
“Not a bad shot, Walber,” Elgar said as he approached the body. “Be sure, not dead. That’s what Alaric always says.” He ripped the arrow from the Lotus’ head with a hard yank and tossed it to the hero. He knelt in front of the man. Look at him, cataloging every detail so he can pull his appearance from memory at the drop of a hat. I should be doing that, not that arrogant ass. But no, I’ve been left to lying to find new ways to be whatever I want people to see. He figured Elgar would be hard pressed to replicate the man’s true appearance based on the condition of the body, but if necessary he could always surprise an unsuspecting passerby by acting dead.
Velvetine was next. She grabbed the picture and examined it briefly, then tore it up and tossed it in the corpse’s face. She snatched the golden pin in the shape of a lotus flower off the gambeson and tossed it to Elgar. “You might need this.”
Seeing the pin made Kovey feel better about shooting a corpse. Bastard deserved an arrow through the head if he’d done something similar to a Purist.
When Velvetine reached into the man’s coat pocket she said, “There she is.” In her palm were three purple crystals,
“Hand that over, Vel,” Belvedere said nervously. Yes, get that stuff out of her hands. After his well had run dry, Kovey had wrestled with the prospect of trying lotus magic, but he eventually decided against it after learning more about what it did to your body. He wasn’t convinced Velvetine was as cautious.
“Relax, I know better than to fuck with this shit.”
Elgar extended his hand. “Give them here, I’ll smash them.”
Velvetine barely acknowledged the man as she crushed the capsules between her fingers. White powder sprinkled the top of the wet mud beneath her as the smell of a lotus flower drifted into the air. “They say it’s delicious. Too deadly for me though. I prefer to survive my addiction.”