Giliad

Giliad stared at the hanging remnants of Sul and Cape Town hunters. Once they’d been friends, at least until the truth came out, now he didn’t feel anything. He came here to save Tzin, but she’d been saved. There was nothing Giliad could do for Sul and hunters. Butcher was in the Imperial hands, most of his crew was killed or fled.

Steps announced Zuma. The innkeeper approached Giliad from behind. There was hesitation in his voice as he spoke up.

“They didn’t deserve it.”

“No one ever does,” Giliad replied.

“I can’t believe that Butcher got away with this.”

“He didn’t.”

“He’s alive.”

“And he’ll regret that soon enough. He knows things that’ll get him killed. If we’re lucky, we’ll be far away when it happens.”

“Will they come after us?” Zuma asked anxiously.

“Yes. Though, I don’t think you should worry. It won’t be the House of Quilla who comes. It’s me, the scout, and the other Royalblood who must run, which I planned anyway.”

“I’ll go with you, Giliad.”

“No.”

“There’s nowhere I can go. I can’t return to Cape Town or move back to the Red Cities. I don’t have any coins with me to start over and I’m a terrible hunter.”

When Zuma put it that way, Giliad had no choice but to provisionally agree. Once they found a safe place, they’d part ways. He liked the innkeeper, but Bartnick and Valaré had shown Giliad how weak he was. And both men weren’t even average in terms of strength. If the House of Kerandella decided to send someone truly strong, Giliad wouldn’t even see his death coming. He was aware that out there were Royalbloods who made look other Royalbloods like commoners, but it’d always been an abstract knowledge.

They returned to the provisional camp, Valaré had decided to set up. The young scout confirmed that all the Imperials withdrew, taking with them Zyan Quilla’s and Verran’s bodies. They left nothing behind and neither of the gathered men wished to use the bandits’ den. Although some of the bandits managed to escape, they weren’t likely to return after the massacre.

“Any news of Wandering Rain?” Harvey asked.

“If anyone can find him, it’ll be … your scout.”

Giliad noticed Zuma’s hardship when he faced the young scout. He’d been in the inn when Izin had been murdered, and Zuma couldn’t get over her death. The innkeeper didn’t have the same callouses Giliad possessed. He needed much longer to heal the scar in his heart.

“I don’t think your missing friend’s our biggest concern right now,” Valaré said. Despite the damage, he didn’t discard the coat. It had only one full sleeve, the other one was torn from the shoulder down. He seemed completely unfazed by this, nor by the fact that his hat was badly mangled, making him look like a junkie. “First, we should get the hell out of here. I can’t say how much time we have before Kerandellas or Quillas come after us, but rest assured, they are coming. We’ve learned their secret and they won’t like it.”

“You could leave us out of this,” Harvey said darkly.

“What about Cape Town?” Zuma asked.

“I can’t be sure about the mayor. She’s in deep shit, but the rest of the village … let’s say that the Royal Houses are usually discreet, and wiping out an entire village doesn’t lie in their agenda.”

“How do you know?” Zuma was insistent.

Valaré sighed.

“The Royal Houses maintain the appearance of impervious and destructible. At the same time, they operate in a very hostile environment, struggling for a better position within the empire. Each Royal House has more enemies than allies and often allies are quick to jump camps. Wiping an entire village would be a potent weapon handed to the enemies of the House that does it. It may sound hard to believe but the empire has strict policies when it comes to the Royal Houses. I’ve been witness to several Royal Houses being completely eradicated by the empire. They aren’t kidding about it. When the empire’s hand comes down, it comes hard. Not a single member survives it.”

Giliad felt the effect Valaré’s words had on the rest. He didn’t know about the Royal Houses, neither he cared and the other’s man words didn’t impress him. Zuma was shocked to the bone, while Harvey didn’t seem surprised. Giliad didn’t comment on this, retreating into his own thought.

“You don’t look awfully worried, Giliad,” Valaré said.

“Because I am not.”

“But you should. This can get very ugly, very quickly.”

Giliad didn’t reply. There was nothing to talk about. It was time to move on. He needed to put miles between himself and this place. He turned to go when Harvey asked.

“What are we going to do now?”

Zuma joined Giliad and the other two spotted that they were about to leave.

“You don’t mean to go alone?” Valaré asked.

“I won’t be alone,” Giliad told him. He appreciated his help in defeating Butcher but they had nothing else to say to each other. They made a few steps and it seemed that the day wasn’t out of surprises yet. Emm came out of a bush between two buildings. Giliad did hardly notice him so stealthy the young scout was. Zuma froze, then looked away. Pain evident on his face.

“Did you find him?” Harvey asked.

“No,” Emm replied. “But the entrance to the cave’s gone.”

Giliad didn’t mind that Wandering Rain had disappeared, the tribesman had their own reasons to come here. Then Giliad learned about the strangeness of the cave that shouldn’t be there and now it wasn’t. He wouldn’t have noticed it if not for his encounter with the water woman. It shattered his idea of going against the empire. Not completely, but he knew he needed to be smarter. The fight with Butcher and Bartnick showed him that brute force didn’t always work.

“It must be doing of the goddess Giliad met,” Harvey blurted out.

To Giliad’s surprise, Valaré had a look of a man who saw a ghost. It didn’t fit his character. This stopped Giliad from walking away. A spark of curiosity rooted him in place, waiting for crumbles.

“She wasn’t a goddess,” Giliad replied. “Just some mad woman.”

Valaré’s eyes stared in the distance, almost as if he wasn’t here. Emm added that Wandering Rain’s trail disappeared at where the entrance to the cave should be. No matter how enticing the idea of figuring this out sounded, Harvey and Emm agreed to leave Soto without delay.

Valaré nodded soundlessly and the three of them, two ex-bandit and one bounty hunter, joined Giliad and Zuma.

“We should stick together,” Harvey said. “At least for now.”

“No,” Zuma’s reply was quick and sharp.

“I didn’t kill anyone. I told you already, Butcher had killed my expedition crew and only my slick tongue got me out of my grave. Ask Emm, he’s—”

“A murder, I know,” Zuma snarled.

Emm withdrew, not challenging Zuma’s words. Valaré gave Giliad a glance. There was something of an understanding in it. They were both the Royalbloods and they possessed a different perspective than their three companions. Giliad didn’t share anything with Valaré but living in the jungle at the end of the world spoke volumes.

While the argument between Zuma and Harvey was brewing anew, Giliad said to them.

“Sort it out. I need a moment.”

He and Valaré walked away from the rest. Stopping out of the commoner’s earshot, Valaré said.

“This is an odd place.”

“I don’t need you to tell me this.”

“Fine,” Valaré nodded. “You remind me of myself when I was younger.”

“I don’t need you to tell me this either.”

“Maybe,” Valaré’s eyes took in the surroundings but whatever decision went through his head was lost on Giliad. “I wish to join you on whatever quest you’re on.”

“No.”

“Whatever you’re running from it’ll eventually catch up to you and I don’t think you’ll be ready.”

“I think we’re done here,” Giliad said simply, but Valaré wasn’t finished.

“You couldn’t defeat Bartnick because you can’t use the Aegis Field.”

This stopped Giliad, he’d heard about it when he’d been a kid. It was the closest thing to magic this world possessed. It allowed to coat one’s body with a strong, invisible force that made it harder to damage. Giliad had tried to learn it, but he never got a hang of it and gave up.

“You have the strength and speed but the Aegis Field users will come ahead. I can teach you how to properly wield it.”

“And what do you expect in return?”

“Either Quilla or Kerandella are after us. It’s only a matter of time before they got to us. I’d rather have an ally watching my back when it happens.”

It wouldn’t matter either way. The Royal House coming down on them meant their death, except for Giliad didn’t feel like dying. Maybe Valaré’s proposition wasn’t that bad? At least, he’d learn the Aegis Field.

“Fine,” Giliad said. “But you are following me. Not the other way around.”

Valaré snorted but didn’t argue. They beckoned the rest and set off toward the north. Giliad only knew he wished to get away from Soto and Cape Town, from the mad mayor and a memory of a fragile doctor Charcot.

Yellow Bud

Bud yawned, stretching his arms out. He did it. He’d had to leave a false trail behind, in case Butcher survived and decided to chase him. No one was going to figure out where Bud had gone. After buying a northern passage from Farakesh, everyone would assume that Bud ran off to Kauri City or further north.

But this was a well-seeded misconception. One that was initiated by Butcher years ago, when he wanted a way out if things got hairy. Butcher’s initial plan was to set up a bank account in Serawada City – the capital of the Fifth Region and the seat of the ruling House – Suttons.

The idea never took off the ground as the reality of Serawada City was different from the rest of the region. A rumor went that Suttons were paranoid about their safety and checks on everything were abnormally thorough. Bud was warned that his scheme would quickly crumble. Butcher didn’t know about it.

Instead of the north, Bud traveled south. Coastal towns and cities were excellent for someone who wished to disappear. Obtaining the Imperial Bank Check from Tucan, Bud could deposit out coins anywhere in the empire. He had enough to buy a bit of land and build a house and open a small business. A good way to start life anew. Yes. That sounded nice.

He still had a solid chunk of a day before he needed shelter. It was best to avoid small villages where everyone remembered every traveler. If the Drowner Monsoon wasn’t so close he’d run his horse to death, but with the deadly humidity, Bud wouldn’t get far.

A sound ahead stirred him from thoughtfulness. He found two people walking his way from the opposite direction. To an inexperienced eye, they looked like random travelers. Bud spent his life with bandits and learned how to spot them. The two men were bandits. Bud reached underneath the shirt, keeping a grip on a revolver. It wouldn’t help him much if this was an ambush. Not many bandits carried guns but a bow or their numbers would do the trick.

Bandits unsheathed their swords. Light and designed to chop the branches rather than people.

“Ahoy, there,” one of the bandits called out. Given the humidity, Bud expected them to sweat at least. They seemed too much at ease.

“Ahoy,” Bud called back, thinking about retreating. Wasn’t that hilarious? Outsmarting everyone just to fell prey to some common bandits. “How can I help you, gentlemen?”

Bud stopped the horse forty feet from the bandits. A third man appeared from the side. He recognized him immediately. How was this possible?

“Perkins…”