Chapter 8

Regina Louisa Marino had her head down against Lance’s back to keep it out of the wind. She’d volunteered to ride double with him because she was the smallest and Lance was good looking. He was a higher class than he was pretending to be, and she also wanted to get friendly enough to figure out what was going on. Her money was on Lance for having some damn answers. Even if he didn’t, she was not above stringing him along for a while until she found some dirt on him. It was amazing the kind of situations you could create or get out of if you had dirt on a high-class.

Regina had strung along powerful men before. She was good at it. She knew the kind of effect her looks had on men. Especially in something form-fitting. She was currently wearing almost everything she’d brought to try and ward off the cold. She looked like a pile of clothes riding a horse.

Regina knew secrets about most of the good looking nobles and even a few of the royals in Highfall. She’d been in the palace a time or two, and once for pleasure, instead of work. Her political games were part of her private life. Her efforts to build enough political status that she could become a Citizen and legally own property. More importantly, so she could stop working for the Order and work for herself, without worrying about the Order finding out.

She’d been pulled off a job in the city, where she was tasked with infiltrating a gang called the crimson hoods. She was to learn the leadership structure, and then kill head and replace with an agent to be assigned. Her orders to leave had been sudden. She’d been handed an envelope, marked priority when she’d checked in. She was sent to Sigrun’s unit that day. Orders made it clear failure would result in loss of status, and possibly treason against the king. She was to accompany this group to Thonos Gap, and quietly disappear anyone who recognized their charge. She’d recognized the name. It had sent a chill through her. She’d believed the man was dead.

She’d been little when he’d sacked Highfall and taken the throne. She’d been living on the streets as a thief, no family or guild not even knowing her own age.

She’d seen the wall fall though. She’d been hiding in a belfry to avoid the press gangs who were putting anyone who could hold a weapon on the wall. It had cracked, the sound like the snap of lightning before the thunder, something felt more than heard. Then it had collapsed inward, with a sound worse than thunder. When the dust cleared, there was a gaping hole, almost perfectly round, with one man standing in it, atop the rubble: Tythos Tyrannous Rex. In that moment, he was the most powerful man on pearth.

Even from a distance and in hiding, she could feel the weight of his presence. The man was already a king. He was just here to take what was his. He led his army forward, lashing out with a dark sword and cutting men down. She could still remember the sound of his voice as he shouted commands. She’d wanted to be standing next to him. To be important. She’d almost come out of hiding and joined him. She would have if she believed he would have let her.

During his reign, she trained herself, learning to kill. Tythos had ascended to sit beside the gods, and if she wanted to join him, she had to become an acolyte of death. She became relentless in her study and discipline. The Order noticed and recruited her. Formalizing her study of the deadly arts.

The wind whipped the hood back off her head, despite sheltering behind Lance, and she cursed at the bitter cold.

“Baldracca! Tell me how it is that we are lost?”

Lance either didn’t realize she was cursing him, or let it slide.

“We are not lost. They ranged ahead, willing to ride blind at a gallop, while I value my life more highly, and therefore we are slow to catch up,” he said, the wind working with him to carry his voice, instead of against.

“I really think we should stop and make a fire,” Said Peony.

“In this?” Regina gestured at the building blizzard around them. “Can you magic some shelter? No? Then fire is no good!”

“But I can’t feel my toes!” Peony said. “Or my fingers! We could shelter under some of these trees and have just a little fire?”

“We are not,” Lance said. “If I was not playing nursemaid to you two, I would have found both our bumbling commander and the mad old man upon whom all of our futures now depend. It’s cruelest twisted fate to have it once more in the hands of that madman. Once was enough for a lifetime.”

They’d followed Sigrun and the hunter, but the snow had blown away the tracks and they’s lost the trail at the first bend.

“Oh?” Said Regina, “So we are slowing you down? You would be faster to have gotten lost without us?”

“You want to take charge? Wrangle our fates with a more deft hand?” His tone was mocking.

“Yes. I know at least how to follow a road.”

“Good. Then you can walk.”

Lance turned in the saddle and shoved her. He was fast. She was taken off guard and fell backwards off the horse. She landed in a heap, the snow softening the fall somewhat. Furious, she stood up and brushed the snow off, ready to shout Lance down, but he’d ridden on.

“Cagacazzo!” She yelled after him.

Peony had reigned in nearby and was looking at her sympathetically. This grated at her sensibility. She didn’t need the sympathy of a green kid. She did need the horse. The snow was deep enough she would have trouble walking in it. Especially with baggy pants on. She grudgingly let herself be helped up behind the kid, who shivered when she put an arm around him for balance.

She debated making a joke about being the first woman he’d mounted with, but she knew he’d probably take it wrong. Becoming withdrawn and taking the jab as serious interest. She’d been traveling with this group for the last two moons and had been watching all of them.

“Well?” She asked. “Are we going after him, or not?”

Peony still had not urged his house forward.

“I really think we need to find some sort of shelter,” Peony said. “I’m not even sure we’re still following the road.”

Regina looked around. She realized he was right. The snow was falling so heavily she could no longer see the tree line or the bluff. The road they’d been following wasn’t hugging the big landmarks anymore. They could be in the middle of a field.

She couldn’t even see Lance. He couldn’t be that far ahead. Except Peony had turned his horse to help her up. She looked down at the ground to try and find Lance’s horse tracks. A gust of wind blew bitting snow in her face.

“Cazzo!” She growled. “Let’s backtrack. When we find the road again, we look more carefully for the others. Let lance rot. I bet our fearless leader went off the road.”

Peony and Regina rode back the way they’d come, trying to follow the tracks before they completely filled in with blowing snow.

***

"That's him," said the nightmare, practically on top of the crossbowman. "The one I want. Remember? With the special skull shape. Kill him so I can devour him. I need his bones. Can I devour him? Ooh, that would be delicious. That would flavor the skull for my collection. Please, say I can devour him."

The heavily falling snow had turned the landscape into a scene from another lifetime. Tythos kept having to shake off unwanted memories, about people to whom he was now dead to, or who were now themselves dead. His feet stung with cold, the blood he had rubbed back into them once again retreating to warm itself in his core. It was time for him to try and find some boots. He was not a boy anymore.

The phrasing caught his attention. He turned and looked at the nightmare.

"Why are you so intent on getting my permission?" Tythos asked.

The nightmare tried to look innocent, putting its clawed hands behind its smoky form and kicking at the snow, though its form had little impact. Tythos noticed it did have some. As long as it had the hand, it seemed to have some measure of ability to interact with the world.

"Um," said the nightmare. "No reason. Nothing really. I just wanted to talk it over. Like intellectual equals. You know, like friends. The way normal people talk."

"Uh-huh," said Tythos. "The way normal people talk about devouring people?"

The nightmare nodded enthusiastically, the jab apparently lost on it.

Tythos took a step back from the crossbowman and studied the creature. "No," he said. "You cannot devour him."

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The creature looked genuinely affronted at this. "You brute," it said. "You never let me do what I want to do. Well, kill him quickly so that I can have his bones," it said.

Tythos grinned. "You can't do anything I have expressly denied, can you?"

The creature's lambent eyes widened at this. "What? Whatever gave you that idea?" it said. "I don't think so."

"Tell me the truth about it."

"I don't want to."

"I order you to tell me the truth about it," Tythos said. He felt something pull hard inside of his chest, a tug that felt similar to tearing a muscle. He winced with the pain and the unexpected presence of it.

"Oh, fine. I'm now bound to you more like contractual authority. You're too clever for your own good," the nightmare said.

"So when you left my presence and devoured someone in the valley…”

“You hadn't told me expressly not to devour kings' soldiers. In fact, I remember the last time we were prowling about, you had told me that you wished I would, if only I could. So I took liberty."

Tythos reached up and massaged the point in his chest where his will had been strained with the command. He would have to be careful until he could get back in shape. The crossbowman on the ground was staring at Tythos and also the nightmare, looking back and forth between them, trembling. Tythos didn't know if it was from the cold or shock or both, but he probably had a limited amount of time to work.

Tythos growled, wishing that things made more sense and that people had had the good sense to leave him alone instead of poking their heads in the snow-bear's cave. He walked over to the man who still knelt where he had been spit out. Kneeling down so that he had a better chance of reaching the man's few remaining wits, Tythos asked, "What are your orders? Why are you here killing farmers?"

The man's eyes once more slid off Tythos and rolled to the nightmare. The nightmare leered at him.

"Oh, come on, just let me eat him," it said.

"What is that thing?" the man stammered.

Tythos sighed. This was unusual. He'd never met a man that could see the nightmare before, but at least this man's mind was not lost to horror. He snapped his fingers in front of the man's face again, pulling his attention back.

"Look at me. That, is what I'll give you to if you don't pay attention and answer my questions," Tythos said.

The man swallowed hard, but gave Tythos more rapt attention. "Order came down to move out of Pallbrook," the man stammered. His lips blue and teeth chattering.

"Come on," Tythos said, hauling the man to his feet. "Start stamping your damn feet, otherwise you're going to freeze."

The man did as he was ordered.

"Where were you garrisoned before that?"

"Uh, it’s always been Pallbrook. I ain’t a regular. I serve with them call-ups and seasonal types, just my round to get called up."

"All right. What are your orders?" Tythos said.

"Orders were to dispose of every living person in the valley that could string together a sentence," the man replied.

"Last man I questioned said it was to put down everyone who knew my name," Tythos said.

The crossbowman nodded. "What's the difference between anyone who can string a sentence together and who knows your name, huh?"

“Why?”

“Weren’t given no specifics.”

“Why would the army muster local militia, and hide seventy career soldiers over the hill? Why is the king’s army here?”

“The king’s army is here? First I heard. We got orders to put down a rebellion, which is always just something political where we have to get our hands dirty.”

“You’re a soldier, all soldiers gossip. What rumors have you heard? ”

The man eyed the nightmare, who was stalking about, swallowing the bodies with a messy sounding squelch, Tythos cursed and looked back at it, “Save me a pair of boots, that fits!”

“How am I supposed to do that? I can’t see clothes.”

“Then stop, damnit! I want to keep my toes!”

“Fine. This one is still alive. Can I devour him?”

Tythos looked over. The person it indicated looked to be the second scout. “Leave him, we’ll talk to him when he wakes.”

“Leave him? You never let me have any fun. Why are you so selfish?”

Tythos was curious if the crossbowman's ability to see the creature was a product of their new condition or if the man could have seen it in the past. When he had conquered the kingdoms, he had never met a man who could see the creature, or at least, who was willing to admit they could.

Tythos got back in the crossbowman's face, pulling his attention. "Hey, what do you see?" Tythos asked.

"Uh, I don't know," the crossbowman said.

What had the name been? Tythos tried to recall. Camper? Cameron? Connor? It was unimportant. Tythos couldn't remember. Being able to use a soldier's name was a powerful tool, as they had a response to their name drilled into them by years of training. But Tythos had other tools at his disposal. With a force of will, he caused the outline of the insubstantial black hand to become solid enough that he could grab the man's chin and pull his gaze back to his own.

"Just describe it," Tythos said. "I know what it is. I want to know what you know."

The man swallowed hard and nodded, pulling away from Tythos' phantom grip. Tythos looked at the man's chin where he'd grabbed him. He realized bruises were forming. Recalling the sensation, he wasn't sure he'd grabbed the man's skin. It felt more like bone. That was very curious.

The man stammered, "It's some sort of smoke or shadow with teeth and claws. I can’t always see it. It’s like a bad feeling, like what you get when you know there's something hunting you. When someone has stepped on your grave. That thing, is that feeling." He swallowed hard. "It's eating people."

He looked down at his feet; one of his shoes was smoking. “I was halfway down its gullet.”

Tythos eyed the shoe. There was a tiny glob of viscous clear liquid that was slowly eating a hole through the man's shoe.

Tythos nodded. "All right, enough of that. I’ll feed you to it if you can't tell me what I want to know," Tythos said.

“What if I don’t know what you want to know?”

“Not my problem.”

“Fate’s a hard nosed bitch. Fine then. Rumor was there’s some new god handing-down to the upper mucks, secrets and magics or whatever. Another says that magic is coming back something without the gods. There’s even a whisper, that the wilds is gonna be safe— like that’s even possible. Course, there’s also a rumor that you conquered the north and are marching, but that rumor shows up every two years, you always marching. You is the Black hand, ain’t you?”

Tythos eyed the black outline of his hand, watching as a fat snowflake fell through it. “I was.”

“You really killed gods?”

“When was the last solstice sacrifice?”

“Couldn’t say.”

“You ever seen a dragon?”

The man laughed like Tythos had cracked a joke, but then caught the look in Tythos’ eye. “No… they is, make-believe, ain’t they?”

“Any other rumors?”

“I heard Margery’s is gonna have a half off special next mew moon. I’m hoping she does, been near a year since I last rode anything that ain’t had four legs.”

“Enough!” Tythos did not want to know if the man meant sitting a saddle, or something else.

“Do I get to live?”

“I haven’t decided. Help me find some boots, then carry your friend. If you fall behind, I’ll let my creature have you.”

***

First commander Titus Atticus stared at the map laid out in front of him. It showed a serpentine valley laid out in detail, farms marked along its winding length. One farm in particular was marked with red, neat writing beside it that read: Tythos Tyrannous Rex.

The snow was complicating things. There were two ways out of the valley: north and south. If Tythos had gone with unit commander Sigrun Wellbourn, he should have been headed north. If something had gone wrong, he would be headed south. Commander Atticus needed to know which way he had gone.

Reports had come in that balefire had been sighted. The blizzard outside the command tent, currently attempting to bury the world, confirmed the sighting. Either the storm was a coincidence, or someone had called a lot of balefire. The question was, why?

The man Commander Atticus had watching the farm had met up with another scout. He’d reported Tythos had left the farm without unit commander Wellbourn or her unit. They’d split up, one man to track Wellbourn and one to track Tythos. The man following Tythos had then proceeded to fall off the pearth. The scout that made it back reported the man had been with him one moment and gone the next, like he’d fallen into a deep hole. However, searching had revealed there was no hole to fall into. The man’s tracks led up to a point and ended.

Commander Atticus had put the scout under guard so he could question him further. The story he told didn’t add up, unless…

The Commander stood from the table and began to pace the tent. They were too far south. He had received no reports of the creatures breaching containment in the north. The answer had to be something else. He shook his head and made himself stand still. He returned to the map on the table.

Two local units had been dispatched from Pallbrook, with orders to ride through the valley and put down some malicious dissenters. Commander Atticus had reports of the local units arriving on time. This had been a pleasant surprise. Then the zealots had gone to work early. Instead of waiting for Sigrun’s unit to ride out of the valley, they’d begun putting the question to the commons.

The situation could still be managed, but the storm had worsened and reports had stopped coming in. The Commander sat and pinched the bridge of his nose. If he was losing men to the storm, sending more scouts out was a mistake. If there was a hostile force of dissenters in the area, not sending out more scouts was a mistake. This last was unlikely, but if he was losing men to an unexpected pocket of darkness, sending men out without a thaumaturge was a mistake. Sending a thaumaturge out for any other reason would be a career ending mistake. Maybe even a status ending one.

Titus Atticus shuddered. The very idea of it made his skin crawl. The shame of having his humanity stripped away to become a filthy common. To have to grow a beard and wear his disgrace on his face…

Commander Atticus rubbed his cheeks vigorously with rough hands. He rubbed until they hurt. They felt smooth. He took a deep breath. He doubted he could even grow a beard. He was a first class Citizen and his father had been a first class Citizen. He knew what he had to do.

Looking down at the map, he called in his second.

“Sir?” The short man said, stepping up to the table.

“Send out four units. They are to find and escort Sigrun’s unit out of the valley. Once word returns they are out of the valley, we are going to scour this valley of life and find out what happened to the king’s men from Pallbrook.”

The short man eyed him, looking like he had something to say. It was his job to give advice, but he’d never volunteer it unprompted. On days when he had more patience, Commander Atticus would try to wait him out. To stare him down until the man volunteered his thoughts. This notion seemed idiotic right now.

“Damnit Paulson! Stop staring and speak your mind or I’ll knock you down to third.”

Second class Paulson looked unperturbed. He began speaking, his voice low and even as usual,

“If we deploy so many men, there’s a strong possibility word will get back to Seigneur Endelmyer.”

Commander Atticus nodded, “That man’s a toad on a hill, ruling over maggots and flies.”

“Perhaps, but he does have the ear of the King.”

The Commander grunted. This was true. “Possible outcomes?”

“He may demand to have you recalled.”

“Unacceptable. Very well, issue orders to have any local units the men encounter put down. We cannot have word getting back to Endelmyer. Make sure the men know to make it look like it was dissenters.”

“Sir.”

Paulson was quiet for a minute, looking thoughtful. The Commander waited him out. He’d learned to let the man think.

“What about Tythos Black Hand?” He said at last.

“What about him?”

“Might he cause… complications? Perhaps we should keep the men here until he leaves the valley.”

“What’s he gonna do? He’s a bearded old man, no status, no banner, no men, and crippled on top of that.”

“There were the reports of… balefire.”

“The man’s under escort with a palace trained thaumaturge and one of the high guard. Even if he’s regained access to magic, he’s in his fifth decade. I can’t foresee any trouble he could cause that his escort can’t handle.”

Aside from having somehow already left without his escort. Perhaps the man had run.

First commander Atticus shook his head. It was no matter. Once this storm cleared up, he would be found, then he would be taken to Thonos Gap.

“Send the units out. I want Tythos on his way with unit commander Wellbourn as soon as possible.”

“Sir.”

Second class Paulson stood to leave.

“Sec’Paulson…”

“Sir?”

“Can you foresee him causing trouble that I don’t?”

The short man smiled, “Not unless he’s got an army hidden away somewhere that we don’t know about.”

***