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.
“Has there been word from our brother Ashok?” Rhudk asked his brothers.
They answered that there had not been. Ashok, his father’s favorite, was either dead or fled from the enclave. One of the others would take their father’s place. Had Rhudk not been dying, it would have been him. He was the strongest. Had he not been injured, he could have taken on any challenger. They all knew it.
They circled like ravens, waiting for him to die. There was no need for them to take action to help the process along. Killing him in his weakened state would not stimulate them, would not set their hearts racing or bring the fevered light to their eyes. If killing him would not bring them those sensations, it was not worth the effort.
Rhudk smiled and tasted blood in his mouth. His own heart was racing, and the surge in his blood was beyond pleasure. It was almost worth it, trading power for his slow death, a suffering that kept his soul so tightly anchored to his body that he felt immortal.
Their enclave had been too long sequestered in the caves. The longer they stayed in the dark, the faster they were fading. Fighting amongst themselves no longer brought enough pleasure to sustain them. Battles such as this were what they craved. They’d traded their souls for a defensible home.
But there was nothing Rhudk could do about that.
“The patrol,” he said. It was growing difficult to speak. Rhudk breathed through blood. “Find out where they came from. Start with the witch.”
His brothers said they would. Rhudk sent them away to tend to the enclave and lay down on the ground amid the corpses. Staring up at the gray sky, he wondered which one of his brothers would emerge the strongest. He had always thought it would be Ashok. Ashok was the most intelligent and cunning among them. Rhudk was disappointed that the hounds had taken him; he hoped Ashok had given them a good chase. He wished his brother a good death, and closed his eyes to let the wind caress his face.
CHAPTER SIX
Ashok thought he had seen wondrous sights enough in Ikemmu, but when they approached Tower Pyton, he had new cause to gape at his surroundings. The scent got him first.
“Brace yourself,” Skagi said, laughing when he saw Ashok’s wide-eyed countenance. “It’s a drug the first time.”
And it was. Pyton, Hevalor, and everything on the ground between the towers made up the trading district, and it was a teeming mass of many races, more than Ashok had seen near the wall. His curiosity overcame him, and he pointed and asked Cree to tell him their names. The group laughed at his ignorance, but Ashok didn’t care. He wanted names to put to all the strange faces, and he remembered each one as Cree spoke.