Jaleigh Johnson - Unbroken Chain

“Learn from you?” Ashok said, laughing. “Listen to your friend. I’m not of this city, and that makes me your enemy. Why would you want to make your enemy stronger?”

“We’re not enemies, Ashok. That is the first thing I hope you’ll learn during your time among us,” Uwan said. “In any case, you could not join the ranked soldiers, not without first swearing fealty to Tempus.” Uwan lifted his sword from the table. “None may rise in the military ranks without giving that oath. But you may dwell among us, as my guest.”

“For how long?” Ashok asked.

Uwan offered an enigmatic smile. “Until I have a sign as to your worth,” he said. “What is your choice, warrior? Dwell in a prison cell until your soul drifts away, or live among us and learn all you can?”

“There is no choice,” Ashok said, “as you know. I accept.”

“We are agreed, then,” Uwan said as he held out his hand.

Ashok did not take it.

After, Uwan gave instructions to Skagi and Cree about where Ashok was to stay, then he left the three of them and went back inside his chamber to Natan. “You continue to question my judgment,” he said when he was alone with the cleric.

Natan bowed his head. “Forgive me, my Lord,” he said again. “But you heard him yourself. He does not come to us at Tempus’s behest. If that is so, my vision says he brings danger.”

“Or it could mean that Tempus works unseen in him,” Uwan said.

“My Lord, it is very easy to see things as we wish them to be, rather than as they truly are,” Natan said.

“You’re right,” Uwan replied. His gaze strayed to the portrait, its unrelenting detail of the city, every shadow, every flaw. “We rarely see things as they truly are. Absent is our reminder of this.”

“But not lost,” Natan said.

“Did I choose the right course,” Uwan said, succumbing to the uncertainty, “keeping him here? Perhaps I should have told him about your vision.”

“He is not …” the cleric faltered. “I can’t find the words. He is not whole. The times I’ve seen him, he seems always on the verge of fading. Even if he is not an enemy, he can’t help us in his current state.”

Uwan laughed softly. “So I’m to remake him?” he asked.

“Or send him away,” Natan said. “Perhaps he cannot be saved.”

“He has no regard for Tempus. I saw it in his eyes,” Uwan said. “I could have cut him down for it.”

“But you didn’t,” Natan said.

“No,” Uwan replied. “I believe it is Tempus’s will that he remain here. So I will do what I can.”

Skagi and Cree led Ashok down the tower steps to the barracks levels. Smells of leather, steel, sweat, and smoke filled the air, reminding Ashok briefly of home.

They’ve given me up for dead by now, he thought.

Skagi stopped before a door on the second level. “This is home,” he said.

Inside, a pair of lanterns had been turned down low. Six bunks were chained and bolted atop each other against two walls. Two of these bunks were occupied by shadar-kai men.

Ashok recognized one of them: the scarred man from the training yard.

“What have you brought us, Skagi?” the other man said. “Something to amuse, I hope.”

He was tall when he stood, but slender, and he moved with slow grace. Black hair fell in a tightly bound horsetail down his back. He came to stand before Ashok, his gaze speculative.

“He’s our guest,” Skagi said dryly. “Ashok, this is Chanoch”-he pointed to the scarred man-“and Vedoran. You’ll share space with all of us while you’re here.”

Ashok nodded to them both. Chanoch, the scarred one, had dark, unruly spikes of hair jutting out all over his head. Up close, Ashok could see his cheeks had been scored as if by claw marks. Ashok guessed by the size and the spacing that the wounds had been self-inflicted when he was a child. The scars and mass of hair gave the young man a chaotic, unfettered appearance. When he came across the room to greet Ashok he moved in jerky strides, like a young animal just learning to walk.

“Are you all in training?” Ashok said.

“All but Vedoran,” Skagi said. “He’s a sellsword. He’s only squatting with us.”

Cree chuckled. Vedoran made a rude gesture in Skagi’s direction. “Officially, I belong to a trading consortium from Pyton,” Vedoran said. He had a deep, rhythmic voice. “But I train within the military ranks in order to”-his lips curled in a mixture of amusement and disdain-“improve myself.”

“Arrogant bastard already knows he can best any of us in this room,” Skagi said.

Vedoran glanced at Ashok. “Perhaps not anymore,” he replied.

Ashok said nothing. He went to one of the bunks and sat on the edge with his back to the wall.

After a breath of uncomfortable silence, Skagi spoke. “You wanted amusement, Vedoran,” he said. “What did you have in mind?”

Vedoran was still watching Ashok curiously. He shrugged and turned his attention to Skagi. “I have business in Pyton at the next bell,” he replied. “Time enough for a drink after. What say you?”

“Not without me,” Cree said, and Chanoch was quick to agree.

All eyes turned to Ashok. Vedoran raised a brow, his eyes lit with challenge. “Coming, stranger?” he asked.

Ashok stayed where he was. His pale brow furrowed in consternation. “There are four of you,” he said.

“Well, he can count,” Chanoch said, and the others laughed.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ashok heard his brothers’ voices.

Come with us, Ashok .

Yes, come. We’re tossing the dice. We’ll show you how to play, little one .

Ashok remembered smiles, outstretched hands like bait. Young as he was, he had known better than to bite. His brothers never sought amusements together, never made themselves vulnerable to one another, lest someone take the opportunity to rise in the ranks with their father.

“Let him be,” Skagi said, when Ashok only stared at them. “There’s no forcing him.”

“Look at him. He looks like a lost pup,” Chanoch whispered to Cree, as they turned away. Only Vedoran didn’t move.

“We could show him the Span,” Vedoran said. “He’s new to the city. I’m sure he’d find it interesting.”

“Speak, silent one,” Skagi said. “Are you afraid of a challenge?”

“Am I afraid?” Ashok echoed the words, and the memories flew apart, his brothers’ voices faded. Skagi, the arrogant man singling him out-that he understood. They were challenging him, looking for weaknesses. He was back in familiar territory. “No, I’m not afraid,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Rhudk stood with his shadar-kai brothers on the dusty Shadowfell plain, watching the horizon for signs of life. Behind him lay a steep, rock-filled valley, which protected the caves of his enclave.

His black shirt was soaked in blood. With his right hand Rhudk clutched a gut wound that was slowly eating away at him. He had only a little time left.

It didn’t matter. The wind was on his face, the battle was won, and even dying, Rhudk had never felt so alive.

When he was satisfied that no other enemies approached the caves, he turned his attention to the body at his feet.

His father’s corpse was stretched out on the ground, burned almost beyond recognition. Exposed skull bones and teeth, and a few wisps of hair were all that remained of the face of one of the great leaders of their enclave.

Other corpses lay strewn about the plain, dead where they had fallen. Magic had killed them all. The witch had struck from afar, before their superior numbers could overwhelm the patrol. They had lost more warriors than they should have, but at least they had prisoners to show for it. His brothers would begin interrogating them as soon as they tied up all the loose ends out on the plain.