James West - The God King

“We will take our friend,” Azuri said firmly. “Should any of you follow, you will find that you have plenty to eat.”

The prisoners stared blankly, as if Azuri had spoken in a foreign tongue. Then, with no warning, the hunters of the Pit surged forward.

Azuri swung the torch and struck the first man to reach him full in the face, a shower of sparks engulfing his head. The reek of seared flesh and burning hair suddenly filled the chamber. Another prisoner saw only a chance to fill his gut. He fell on Kian’s leg with his mouth agape, and began worrying it like a starved jackal. Kian sat up wheezing in pain. Ellonlef threw herself protectively over him, trying to drive the ravenous prisoner away, but he resisted, growling and snapping at her.

Hazad’s sword slammed into the prisoner’s spine, withdrew, and fell again, higher up. The crown of the man’s hairless skull soared away like a crude bowl and hit the ground with a rattling thud.

Azuri, torch in one hand and dagger in the other, waded into those blinded by thoughts of fresh meat. Bellowing an unbroken stream of oaths, he beat one man to the ground, wheeled, and slashed another across the face. Even as he sought another foe, a fist-sized stone struck his cheek with a sickening thud. Azuri staggered, but did not fall. With a brutal calm, he attacked, dagger and torch finding all likely targets, burning or cutting, by turn.

Hazad focused his rage on those now scampering away. Despite his great size, he moved with the precision of a master painter, no stroke wasted or hedged. Blood flew in delicate drops from the slashing edge of his sword, splashing the dusty walls. A skeletal man reeled backward, screeching, attempting to hold his cleaved groin in one piece, even as his guts boiled out from another gash across his middle. Another deranged fool laughed aloud, thinking he had jumped free of Hazad’s blade, but the laugh became a bubbling hiss when the back of his head tottered back on a slashed neck and kissed his spine. His quivering corpse pitched over and hit the ground.

As suddenly as it had begun, the assault ended. All that remained were the silent dead and the dying, their clutching fingernails digging grooves in the dust. Most of the prisoners had simply fled. Ellonlef could still hear their aggrieved voices fading away into the bowels of the Pit. Azuri coaxed the smoldering torch back into life and looked upon Kian, his despair mirroring that of both Ellonlef and Hazad.

“Gods good and wise,” Hazad whispered. Where a moment before his eyes blazed with fury, now they were wide and filled with sorrow.

With the grisly tableau spread out around him, Kian looked like a fallen king brought low by lesser men, despite his valiant effort to win through. Ellonlef’s heart broke anew at the sight of him, knowing he would not long survive Varis’s tortures … and without Kian, Varis would rise to heights of power never dreamed of by a mortal man.

“What did they do to him?” Hazad muttered.

“Not they ,” Azuri corrected, his voice filled with an anguish that did not seem possible for such a warrior. “Others might have participated, but it was Varis who commanded this. And for this , he will die.”

Ellonlef dried her eyes, set her mouth. There might still be a chance, but it would not be had here. “We need to get him to Hya. She will have the means to help, and more skill than mine.”

With the gentleness of a father cradling a sickly child to his chest, Hazad lifted Kian. Ellonlef led the way, while Azuri took the rear, watching their trail for any prisoners who had missed the lesson learned by their peers. When they reached the second door, Ellonlef took the keys Hazad had taken off the now vanished guard. Ellonlef unlocked the door and stepped through. Hazad bustled through next, followed by Azuri, who closed the door at his back. Ellonlef relocked and the trio hurried along.

To Ellonlef, it felt like they were on a leisurely stroll, but by Hazad’s sweaty brow and gulping breaths, they were moving as fast as possible. In short order, Kian’s wounds had reopened, slicking his skin with fresh blood. Despite this, Hazad’s grip never failed, and soon they came to the bottom of the stair and climbed up, urgency driving them.

At the top of the stair, Hazad slumped against the wall, still bearing Kian, while Azuri took the keys and moved to the door. Knowing Hazad could not do anything more than he already was, Azuri looked at Ellonlef. “Make ready. If Durrin and our gold did their work, only Ixron will stand against us. If not, then we fight until either they are all dead … or we are.”

She nodded, even as Azuri began pounding on the locked door.

After a few moments the lock clicked, and Ixron swung the door open a few cautious inches. His eyes widened at the sight of those before him. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.

Understanding belatedly dawned, and Ixron tried to slam the door in Azuri’s face, who in turn jammed his shoulder against the heavy wooden door. Although he was slender for an Izutarian, Azuri was no wisp of a man, and his strength proved too much for the Aradaner. Azuri leaned into the door, easing it open, inch by inch. Outside, Ixron’s feet scrabbled in the loose, sandy soil. He knew he was losing ground, and called over his shoulder for help.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Azuri’s hand flashed through the opening, caught hold of the gaoler’s neck, and violently jerked his face against the doorframe. There came a crunching thump, and Ixron fell away. Sword coming to hand, Azuri burst through the door, ready for anything, but there was no one to fight. Hazad carried Kian into the open, with Ellonlef coming last.

Durrin moved into view, sparing a regretful glance for Kian. “I have horses and a wagon ready, but you must hurry. The change of guard is due any moment.”

“What of the others?” Ellonlef asked.

“Have no fear of them.”

As proof of his assurance, a pleased looking pair of guards approached with two saddled mounts, while a third led a horse-drawn wagon. All the rest of the guards made a show of studying the frigid, night-shrouded street beyond the wall.

Azuri and Hazad hastily placed Kian into the back of the wagon, and Ellonlef drew Azuri’s cloak off her shoulders and covered him. Without hesitation, she crawled into the wagonbed next to him, trying to force her warmth into his cool skin. She felt a queer tingling in her fingers, which spread outward through the rest of her body. Strange as that was, it seemed somehow familiar, but she concentrated on keeping Kian warm.

After the pair hurled a groggy Ixron down into the stairwell and locked the door, Azuri leapt into the cart’s seat and took the reins, while Hazad and Durrin mounted the horses.

“Are you joining us, then?” Hazad asked.

Durrin drew himself up, his lined face hard. “I am leaving. With the rise of this new king, my soldiering days have come to an end. After we pass through the gate, I will go my way, and you will go yours.”

“And these others?”

“Thanks to your gold, they will take their leave, as well. If not, they are fools that deserve the punishment King Varis will deliver onto their heads for allowing Kian’s escape.”

Azuri nodded in acceptance, and clucked the horse into a rattling trot that would take them quickly back to the Chalice and Hya’s shop.

After dismissing his incompetent counselors, Varis continued to study a huge and detailed map stretched taut across the banquet table. Its bright inks seemed to glow within the well-lit Golden Hall. The map was made from a hundred pieces of the finest vellum, each square of soft lambskin stitched together so precisely that the seams were nearly invisible. West of the island kingdom of Kelren, north of Izutar, east of Aradan, and south of Geldain, artfully painted clouds filled the map’s edges. Beyond those clouds lay mystery. Some thought nothing waited beyond, save danger and death leftover from the creation of the world. Varis silently vowed to discover the truth.