Chapter Two

The scrambling and shouts of Kiran’s people scrambling through the muddy streets may as well have been as distant as the sound of clashing weapons on the wall. Her ears rang as the blood rushed out of her head. “…Ryland?”

She found her shock being mirrored in her childhood friend’s face, punctuated by gauntness he didn’t have the last time she’d seen him. “Kir—”

“When did you get back?” Kiran lowered her weapon. A thousand more questions were warring for priority, and he was going to answer every one of them. “Why are you running? From us?”

“Kiran, we don’t—”

His answer was corked by the echo of a chilling cackle. It came from the direction of battle and caused everyone nearby to stutter in their steps before they picked up their pace. If it came from a person, it was not a person who cared about what it meant to be human. Whoever it was wanted to out-chill the snow, and he was succeeding.

Ryland jerked his head to look toward the far wall, then he moved to take Kiran’s arm and encourage her toward the wall. “Run.”

“Wh—” Kiran didn’t need him to keep hold of her to go along. He was back. Ryland was back. From out of nowhere!

“Kiran!” Vael called out from just behind. “Where are you?!”

She paused just long enough to cup her hands around her mouth. “Vael! Here!” She jumped and waved to get the blacksmith’s attention before she hurried to catch back up with Ryland. “What are you doing? Where have you been?”

“Bad time, Kiran!” Ryland took point—whether to lead or get away from her, it was hard to tell. Keeping pace with him was hard on a good day, and he was not making it easier now. The only certain thing was he was doing everything in his power to head in the opposite direction of the sounds of a haunting lullaby-like refrain sung by the same man who kept cackling between notes. “Out, out, out, out,” Ryland chanted as he worked his way to the opposing wall.

More disconcerting to Kiran was that the mad singer’s voice continued on as he was accompanied by the grind and squelch of soldiers dying. And Ryland’s clear distress put an edge on her nerves. Screamed once more for Vael—where was he? They couldn’t leave him!

Seconds later the blacksmith broke through, huffing but putting his all into sprinting across the newly opened ground. “Kiran, are you—”

“It’s Ryland!”

Vael stuttered in his step, flailing his arms to keep his balance, before he burst back into a run. “What?!”

Ryland glanced back. “Oh for—”

“What is going on?” Vael shouted as he caught up.

“Just move, Vael!” Ryland wasn’t flappable. He didn’t get nervous—he made people nervous. But the grimace on his lips was not one of sheer determination or even irritation. That laughter was reaching more than his ears.

Kiran and Vael met each other’s glancing eyes. They could—and absolutely would—interrogate later. First, survival.

As soon as they got close to the fort wall and the many soldiers readying themselves for further breaches, Ryland stopped, looking for his next move. “Hide,” he panted. “Get somewhere safe. Underground, anywhere, and don’t make a sound.”

“Hide?” Kiran spat. “No! You are not leaving us behind twice.” She pulled up next to Ryland as she also searched the soldiers’ stalls that made up the lower level of the wall. If they were hiding, they were hiding together. “What’re you gonna do, fight that thing alone?”

“Whatever it is,” Vael mumbled as he caught his breath.

“No, I am getting that ‘thing’ away from here!” Ryland snapped back. “He wants me! Now—”

“Keme!” The laughter and singing gave way to an unhinged Te’iltic cry. “Cemen raaaaaaat?”

Ryland went pale. “…Hide.” And he turned heel and ran for the nearest door in the wall.

The color drained from Kiran’s face. Whatever that was, she didn’t want to find out any more than she wanted to leave Ryland to deal with it alone. She exchanged a glance with Vael, and with a nod took off after their friend.

Ryland pulled his hood down and hurried past the soldiers, his comrades. Kiran clenched her teeth as she followed along in the shadow of his furtive movements. Nothing was right. He approached no one who could help, and no one even seemed to notice him. Not even the mercenaries who stood by the double doors they ended up at. Night and the limited number of torches nearby could only excuse their inattention so long. Facts that made it all the more unbelievable when he grabbed the heavy padlock that kept the handles of the doors secured together. “Shit!” Ryland hissed as he yanked at it. No one was going to say anything about two civilians and a wayward scout trying to break out? Really?

Vael stepped up next to Ryland, and Kiran hoped the cousins would talk some common sense.

No such luck. “Move.” Vael lifted his hammer over his head. Ryland didn’t follow instructions until he noticed the tool go up, and then his steps backward were right quick. The blacksmith struck the lock with all his might. A few sparks flew, but that thing was meant to hold back an onslaught. It didn’t suffer a dent.

Kiran sighed. T’Vair boys…

“Damn it,” Ryland hissed, and he took the stubborn lock into his hands and yanked. It was as steadfast as before. “Lemme out, lemme out, lemme out you—”

“Garast’naaaaaa!” The hideous man cackled across the sky—and was he getting closer? Kiran turned around and gripped her weapon, looking up to the poorly lit top third of the wall. Only so much fire was safe to have during a raid, so she could see little more than frantic movements of men and women attempting to take down the enemy before they signaled their end with a thud on the floor planks beneath them.

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Ryland hissed every curse that came to the tip of his tongue as he shook the stubborn padlock. Then he outright screamed at it: “Let us out!”

Kiran heard a click. It couldn’t have… She turned her head to see a now unlocked hunk of metal in Ryland’s hands.

Vael’s jaw fell. “What in the sun’s name…?”

“What was that, Ry?” Kiran followed up as she turned her back on the battle she could barely see.

The look on Ryland’s paled and blinking face gave way he had little more idea than they did. “…Bullshit being less bullshit,” he answered before he threw the lock off and yanked the doors open. “Move!” And he shoved Vael through first, then motioned for Kiran.

“Go!” Kiran shoved Ryland so he would go in before her. If he’d thought she was letting him out of her sight for a moment, he had another thing coming. Once he stumbled through, she followed, grabbed the doors, and slammed them shut behind her. No latch, though. They’d swing open without something to prevent it.

They now stood in a long-standing, iced-over snow tunnel with gravel underfoot to prevent slipping. A candle lamp hanging from a hook set into the roof further down the way was their only source of light. “Alright,” Kiran spoke, though her jaw was starting to strain from clenching in stress. “Get the doors locked!” She walked down the tunnel to retrieve the lamp.

Ryland grit his teeth and hooked the padlock around the door handles, pushing it so the mechanism would catch with little thought…but he froze as it immediately fell open. “No…” Ryland tried to engage the lock again, only to find it would not. No amount of force or quickness would render a satisfying ‘click’ of safety. “Son of a whore’s—lock!”

“Did I break it?” Vael swallowed. He looked at Kiran as she returned with the candle.

“Probably?” Kiran had just watched that thing refuse to open even after Vael struck it, but maybe it needed a few shakes to show the damage? Made no sense, but the thing just falling open of its own accord didn’t, either.

“Lock,” Ryland hissed at the offending contraption, “or I will throw you into the first damn forge I see!”

Vael raised a single eyebrow as he rubbed at his forehead, his wide eyes saying every bit of what she was thinking. Eight months had done a number on Ryland’s mind.

“Ry,” Kiran said, “That’s not how locks work.”

“I’m aware!” he snapped back, contrary to his own actions.

“Good! I’m glad you’re aware! Because we need to move, and we need to move now. If they’re after you and they saw us, we’re cornered and dead in here.”

Ryland growled through his clenched jaw and let go. “This leads to the tundra. If he follows us and we have nowhere to hide, we’re just as dead out there as we are in here.” He rubbed his mouth as he looked down at the length of the tunnel.

“So we need whatever time we can get,” Vael concluded with calm determination. He pulled his forge hammer from his belt again and kissed the top of the mallet. “I know this isn’t your job, old girl, but we need your help. Keep this door closed as long as you possibly can.” And he slid the shaft of the hammer through the iron door handles. “Alright, let’s move.” He took Ryland’s arm in hand and nodded at Kiran to lead with the lantern.

Ryland looked back at the hammer, then at Vael. “Look for a place we can make a stand. There’re rooms along these tunnels for guards to keep supplies and rest.” He set his face to a grimace and pushed past to walk just ahead of Kiran.

The tunnel was quiet, save for their heavy breaths and the sound of gravel and ice crunching beneath their steps. Kiran couldn’t let them continue on like that, though. Too many questions, and who knew how much time they had? “Ry, what is after us?”

“What’s after me,” he countered.

“Us. Answer.”

The huff of Ryland’s breath was as cold as the packed snow surrounding them. “He’s called Tienja. The Drums of Death.”

Vael glanced back at the door once with a frown. “Doesn’t sound like drums. Sounds more like crazy.”

“Sure does announce himself, though,” Kiran pointed out.

“What is he, though?” Vael asked. “I’ve never heard a man make noises like that.”

“He’s a pet,” Ryland sneered. “He tracks, he tortures, and he kills. That’s what he does.”

“A pet?” Kiran huffed as she shivered. “Who’s his master? And why is he after you?”

Ryland’s answer was not entirely forthcoming even after a pause this time. “He’s a Te’il. He answers to his people. Keep up.”

“Sun’s blaze, Ry, what did you do?” Vael murmured.

“Nothing!” Ryland snapped and rounded on his heel, his scowling eyes wild. “I. Did. Nothing.”

Oh, Kiran’s blood started heating up despite the cold. This man had disappeared on them for eight months, and then had the gall to be angry at the most natural question their sweetest friend could have asked? “Would you calm down and keep walking? I’m gonna have your entire ass,” she finished with a grumble.

“Take it!” Ryland threw his arms open. With the cloak pushed back, she saw he was no longer wearing any of his old uniform. All of his clothing looked to be of Te’iltic make. “Take my ass and everything that comes with it! Maybe I’ll get some fucking sleep!”

The twinge of worry for her friend’s obvious distress and delirium did not quell Kiran’s fury. If anything, it further stoked her. They were good at fueling each other, always had been. But she couldn’t very well put him in his place, let alone find out who or what really needed to be the target of her ire, if they were all dead. “We’ll sleep when we’re safe. Keep moving.” She grabbed his shoulder to turn him back around and then shoved him forward.

Ryland sank into himself, huffed out a breath, and marched.

Vael moved to march next to Kiran. “That ‘pet’ won’t stay at the fort, will he?”

“No,” Ryland said quietly. “Not if I’m not there. …But he will leave a mess.”

Kiran paled at the thought of the loss. The fort prepared their whole lives for an attack. Every one of them grew up with stories of the war their fathers and grandfathers had fought that necessitated Fort Salité in the first place. Still, none of it helped her get used to the idea of ‘if’ becoming ‘when’, let alone ‘now’. “No one’s going down without a fight,” she said, hesitant at first, but gaining a soft kind of conviction as she went. “And if he’s really after just you, whatever the reason, the best thing we can do for them is draw him away.” They weren’t running. They were doing what they had to do.

“Mm,” Vael agreed quietly, lips pressed into a thin line.

Ryland drew his cloak closer about himself. “If that hammer holds, and it’s just him… Maybe he’ll run. Maybe.”

Both Vael and Kiran paused walking so they could stare at Ryland’s back. Vael was the one to ask what they were both thinking. “Just him?”

“Who storms a whole fort by themself for one man, Ry?” Kiran followed up as they started walking again.

“Someone who calls himself Death Drums, for starts,” Ryland mumbled.

“Fine,” Kiran acquiesced. “But why you? What does he want out of you? Why are the Te’ils risking war over you?”

If Ryland had an answer, he wasn’t being forthcoming with it. He barely turned his head for a moment, not far enough to actually see either of his friends, as he kept on marching.

“Ryland,” Vael pushed, softening his voice, “please. You’ve been gone so long, and you show up dressed like a Te’il of all—”

“They take your things when you end up a prisoner,” Ryland snapped back. “I wasn’t escaping bare-assed.”

“Alright, fair.” The blacksmith sighed. “Are you hurt? Do you—”

Ryland cut him off. “We don’t have time. We either need a room we can barricade ourselves in or a place we stand a chance of fighting back from. We survive, we can talk.”

They had better. Ryland’s strangeness was only compounding the unease Kiran already felt from listening to the invisible cackling intruder. Entire seasons had passed while he was gone, and now that he was back…it wasn’t right. None of it. Not right, not fair. She clenched her teeth, but she kept marching after Ryland. Someone was going to be held to account. Soon.