Chapter 8: Auric – Oil Eyes

They set out in the morning, before sunrise, weary and road-sore. None of them had gotten much sleep. None of them felt particularly rested. They had taken watch in turns, though Liandra had said she would know if any of the creatures were near, said she was always at watch in her mind. Auric didn't doubt it. The more he learned about the young girl, the less he envied her existence.

But nothing had come. For Auric, the only nightmares were the regular ones, the ones of fire and blood. The shakes, too, returned in the night. A drink would settle them, he knew, but the chances of coming across any booze were about the same as Auric waking to find himself in his bed. It would seem, even in the face of new horrors, he could not escape the old.

Beecham's pain had eased in the night. He was now able to walk on his own, but he moved with a languid gait, and he complained about a blurriness in his left eye. Stroud shot him dirty looks whenever they happened to glance each others' way.

Liandra and her mother had said little after the conversation of the night before, electing to travel behind everyone else. No one talked about it, but Auric knew it was on everyones' minds. The heir to the entire empire, to Nostrum, daughter of a warlord conqueror, travelled amongst them. Not only that, but she possessed unheard of powers. He suspected the knowledge put them in more danger than they would admit.

The sky turned cold and grey. A gently rain came down in sheets from the dull-green hills, and made rivulets through the mud and stones beneath their feet. Auric and Stroud now wore the two scabbards that remained. They had all agreed they would be more effective with the weapons than Beecham and McJames would. Though McJames had been reluctant to arm the prisoners, apparently, desperate times called for desperate measures.

The road led the group through a dense forest, and, eventually, onto a winding path that rose into rocky jagged mountains. By midday, the road had narrowed into a perilous ledge, carved into the mountainside itself, where they had no choice but to travel single file. The rain turned the stones slippery as ice, and slowed their progress to a crawl.

They stopped to eat in an alcove—seemingly cut from the black stone of the mountain, some unknowable time in the past—that looked down on an expansive, sweeping valley. As they hid from the rain and shrugged off their packs, Auric thought of the countless travellers who had sheltered there, over countless years. Some had chiseled their names in the hard rock at the back of the alcove, forming a wall of names and history.

"How far is it to Whitehall, anyway?" Stroud said, as they munched on hard bread and dry cheese.

When no one deigned to answer, eyes turned to McJames. "Well I don't bloody-well know."

"I thought you were ranking officer now? Shouldn't you know where we're going?" Stroud said.

"I know where we're going, but it was the captain knew the route. I'm just following the road, same as you. It's not as if we can get lost now."

Stroud shook his head, leered at McJames. "Famous last words, if ever I heard 'em."

"At our current pace we should be at Whitehall in three days," Fairwell surprised the others by saying. "Barring any unforeseen delays, that is."

The priest's final words hung in the air. He spoke as if he was expecting to be held up by an upturned carriage, or a spell of bad weather, rather than deadly terrors. But then, Auric wasn't sure if the priest had fully comprehended the danger they were in. He hadn't shown any real fear, had only prayed to his god. Indeed, his faith seemed to be blind. Auric envied that, even. It was better not to see what was hunting them.

"Three days," Stroud said. "That's not so bad."

Auric finished eating and rose to tend to his uncomfortably full bladder.

"Where are you going?" McJames said.

Auric gave him a frown. "Don't worry, I'm not running away. I'm going to take a leak. You want me to show you how to hold it?"

McJames spat on the ground, looked away, didn't answer.

"I'll come with you," Stroud said, stepping forward out of the alcove.

"Fine," Auric said.

"Are we just gonna let the two prisoners go off and collude like that?" McJames asked the rest of the group. "Am I the only one concerned?"

Auric heard no response, as he and Stroud stepped back into the drizzle, and moved a ways down the slippery path. Stroud stood nearby as Auric took care of his business, urinating off the edge of the cliff.

"I assume you didn't come just to watch me piss. Can't say as I like the advantage you have over me."

Stroud moved a little closer, checked over his shoulder, lowered his voice. "We need to talk about what we're going to do."

Auric sighed. "There's nothing to talk about. We're going to Whitehall."

"You really think that's the best thing to do? Those things out there are after the girl and her mother. Why are we still with them? We have the swords. You and I can take that weasel kid if we have to. The other one isn't going to give us any trouble, not with his face all fucked up."

"Why?" Auric said, as he put himself back in his trousers, and turned to Stroud. "You still thinking about escaping? What would be the point?"

"Living, would be the point. Not getting disembowelled or decapitated by a fucking shadow would be the point. Not to mention, that girl has the leader of the whole fucking Ossilian empire after her. If he finds out we helped her, what do you think he'll do?"

Above, a white-headed bird with deep brown wings cawed, as it flapped southward through the falling rain. "And what will you do then? If you run, you can consider your pardon void. Are you willing to stay a fugitive your entire life? I doubt you'll be lucky enough to get another opportunity like this one."

That seemed to give Stroud genuine pause. He scratched at the back of his neck. "Unless there's another way."

Auric simply stared, folded his arms, and waited for Stroud to continue.

"The man I killed, he was some cousin or other of the Ossilian royalty. It's them that put out a warrant on my name. It's the emperor I need to make amends with."

"And you think you can buy your freedom from him, that you have something he wants?"

Stroud raised his eyebrows, gave Auric a long look. "Not yet, but with your help I could."

"If you think I'm going to help you kidnap that girl, and deliver her to someone who wants her dead, her own father no less, you can forget it. I don't blame you for wanting to save your own skin, but I did not think you stoop to such levels. Did you not say the man you killed was the type of man who hurt children? Now you want to do the same?"

Stroud sighed. He looked down into the valley for a moment, and linked his fingers together behind his head. Finally, Stroud turned back to Auric. "No, I do not think I do. It would be rather unforgivable wouldn't it?"

Auric stared back for a moment, then, stepping back towards the others, said, "That's for you to decide."

---

The rain grew as they climbed the side of the mountain, strengthening to a blustering squall. They pulled their hoods about their faces. The sky darkened to a purple-black, and biting wind roared along the side of the mountain. Yet still, they climbed, up into the splintered, glassy rock at the precipice.

McJames and Beecham had walked together, perhaps finding some camaraderie in their shared history. Beecham's wounds had begun to heal into a leathery, wrinkled, oozing scab that covered much of his face, and swelled one of his eyes shut. Stroud walked alone, electing not to engage with the others, and mother and daughter resumed their quiet focus on the path ahead. Fairwell, ever the enigma, trudged along with characteristic aloofness.

Auric stopped at the top of the mountain, stepping out onto a rocky outcrop that looked down into the south-east of Nothstrum, setting his feet against the wind and the rain. A wall of grey clouded the land a few kilometres distant.

Fairwell came up beside him, his arm across his brow, shielding his eyes. He raised his voice so that all could hear him. "If not for the haze, we could see Whitehall there, to the south-east." He pointed down the mountain. Auric could just make out the edge of a forest, far below.

"Does it remain three days distant?" Alessa shouted.

"Depends on this weather, I'd say," Auric shouted back. "If it clears, then yes. If not…" He left the rest of the notion unsaid, and gave a simple shrug.

They continued on, down the southern side of the mountain. The path turned steep, widened and simply became the side of the mountain. Auric was glad to no longer be walking so close to a perilous drop, but a fine gravel covered the ground, threatening to throw the travellers off balance if they didn't step carefully. The gravel bed deepened as they descended, turning to an almost coarse, grey sand. Auric found the best method was to walk near sideways, digging his boots into the soft stuff for purchase. At one point, Alessa fell and slid a way, before coming to a halt. Liandra rushed to her, helped her to her feet. The girl's mother came up with dust and rock through her hair, her face sandy.

Eventually, the slope levelled somewhat, and near-barren trees, aged in their resiliency, dotted the hillside. The rain and wind eased to a gentle shower, and they followed the path into a rocky pass, great walls of stone rising into the sky. A stone gate, thrice as tall as any man, made of polished stone cut into right-angled slabs, stood resolute at the entrance.

Auric stopped, and the others came to a halt behind him. Beneath the gate stood a man, clad in ornate armour, not of steel, but of what looked like wood. Some type of plate skirt hung at his waist, and a pair of antlers jutted up from a helmet wrought into the visage of a demon-mask. The armoured man held a slim sword, with a slight curve in it, across his front, and looked down at it as if inspecting the edge. In all his years of warring, Auric had seen nothing like the figure before them.

"He doesn't look like the welcoming sort," Stroud said, stepping beside Auric, his hand on his sword hilt.

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Auric reached down, and loosened his own sword in its sheath. "No, he does not."

The man looked up and towards Auric and the others with a casual air. With a flourish, he moved his sword down to his side, and held it there, his arm and wrist tense.

Auric turned to McJames. "Take the others. Go back the way we came. Find another way down the mountain. If you sense any more of those creatures, run, run as fast as you can to Whitehall. "Auric drew his sword, scanned the faces of the others. Fairwell's face was blank, but he could see the panic start to bloom in the expressions of the rest.

"What are you going to do?" Alessa asked.

"What do you think? Something tells me, he's not just gonna let you walk away. At the least, we can slow him down."

"We?" Stroud said. "Who exactly is we?"

"We is you and me. You agreed to protect the others, didn't ya? Earn your freedom? I hope you don't think that sword is for decoration."

Stroud looked over to the man, chewed at his lip for a moment. "Alright then," he said with a shrug. "Why not?"

Auric gave the others a few seconds, then said, "Why are you still here? Better head off now."

They turned away slowly. Liandra met Auric's eyes for a second. She gave him a sad smile.

"Look after your mother," Auric said.

"Look after yourself."

Auric sniffed. "Never been very good at that."

"Sounds like you could use the practice, then."

Auric shook his head. "Think I ran out of any capacity to learn new tricks a while ago. Us old dogs, we get set in our ways."

She looked back at him for a moment, then winced. "I don't think you really believe that." And she turned away, walked back up the path.

Auric regarded her for a moment, then turned back to the gate, moved up to stand next to Stroud. The man in the strange armour hadn't moved a muscle. He stood there, looking as if he were waiting for them.

"Well, at least he's good at standing his ground. Would've been awfully rude if he'd rushed us before we were ready," Stroud said.

"Let's hope that's all he's good at."

"Doubt it," Stroud scoffed. "I don't know about you, but in my experience, a man doesn't get to wear armour that pretty unless he knows how to keep it that way."

"Hmm."

Auric stepped towards the gate, and Stroud followed. The armoured man lifted his off-hand to his mouth, his first two fingers up in a heavy gauntlet, murmured something—a prayer by the looks of it—then advanced through the gate.

"Do you want his weapon side or his off side?" Stroud asked as they closed the gap.

"Which do you think is more dangerous?"

"I'd have to assume his weapon side."

"Then that's what I'll take."

Stroud scoffed once more. "Suits me."

They drew within a few paces of one another. The man dropped low, lunged forward. In a heartbeat, he was on Auric and Stroud, slashing from overhead. Auric dodged left, Stroud right, and the man's thin sword split the air where they had stood. Auric brought his own sword up, ready to strike, but the man had already moved, had dived and rolled away, skidding in the gravel, his body low.

Auric charged, lifted his sword high, brought it down right between the antlers on that gaudy helmet. The man's sword came up, and they clashed, blades ringing, locked together for an instant. Auric looked into the man's eyes, visible through slits in his demon mask. They were the darkest he had ever seen, not brown, but black, like oil, and they swirled, gave off a rainbow sheen.

Stroud was there, running in to swing his sword at the man's side. Something smacked Auric in the face, a gauntleted fist, he realised, and he stumbled backwards. There was a ringing clang, as Auric blinked away the shock of the blow he had received. He gave his jaw a wiggle, feeling it grow hot with pain.

Their attacker had brought his sword up to block Stroud's strike, but already the big man was bringing his sword back around for another cut from the other direction. For someone of his size, Stroud moved like a lithe animal, ferocious and quick. He drove the other man back with blow after blow. Their assailant was barely able to deflect them in time, and Auric had the faint thought that, if it ever came to it, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to put the big man down.

But Stroud pushed too hard, wild and spitting, and the smaller man spun around him, jabbed him in the back with the pommel of his sword as he went. Stroud let out a burst of air, and stumbled into one of the rock walls to the side of the gate. The oil-eyed man pulled his sword back, ready to skewer Stroud through the spine, would've managed it too if Auric hadn't leapt forward, charging into him shoulder forward. They both went flying. Auric twisted through the air, tumbled onto his back on the wet, gritty ground, near lost the breath from his lungs. Auric didn't know where their attacker went, but the next thing he knew, a hand had reached down, grasped him by his coat, and hauled him to his feet.

"Where did he go?" Auric asked Stroud, looking about himself.

"I don't know. I turned around, and you were on the ground, he was gone."

"Keep your guard up. He's here somewhere."

Auric and Stroud stood back to back, turned in a slow circle below the gate. A blast of wind rushed down the side of the mountain. Rain splashed Auric's face. The man certainly was quick, but Auric had never heard of someone disappearing like he had.

The air changed. He felt movement above, sensed it in the way the rain fell. Auric twisted, pushed Stroud back as their attacker came down on them from above, sword point aimed at them like a spear-tip. Auric swung his sword around, stepped to the side. He meant to bring it into the man's flank, cut at his armour, cut at his flesh, but he got the timing wrong, rushed his blow, and his sword came down on the man's wrist, bit into his gauntlet, sent the skinny sword flying from his hand. It clattered onto the stony path a few feet away.

Stroud came at their attacker once again, with a great arching slash. This time, the man with the black eyes leapt away, twisted in the air like a circus dancer, and landed a few feet away, a hand at the small of his back. The hand whipped out, and Auric felt something bite into his thigh. He looked down at a triangular bit of polished steel with a skinny handle, jutting from his leg. Beside him, Stroud grunted, and Auric looked over to see him holding a hand over a cut in his upper-arm.

Auric grasped the knife in his leg, yanked it out, threw it to the ground. A trickle of blood leaked from the wound. The wound stung, but did not seem too deep. In his distraction, their attacker rushed for his sword, had turned his back on them. Auric charged, stabbed his sword forward as the man rolled over his own. He came up with it in his grasp, deflected Auric's sword to the side. Auric kept running, crashed into the man once more, got an arm around his waist, and lifted him off his feet. He drove the man hard into the rock wall with a crunch. The man's head snapped back. His helmet cracked against the stone, and his thin sword fell to the ground again.

Auric held him there as Stroud dashed forward, sword held over his shoulder, ready to cut. "Hold him," he shouted.

The man's dark eyes looked down at Auric, and he saw panic there. "Auric, stop," the man gasped. His accent was strong, stumbling awkwardly over the words. "You don't know what you're doing. The girl will kill us all."

Auric recoiled. It took a heartbeat for the words to sink in, and Auric loosed his grip on the man just long enough for him to break free. He leapt to the side as Stroud swung. The big man's sword hit nothing but stone, clanging and leaving a white chip in the dark rock. Their attacker scrambled up and over the stone walls, disappeared down the other side, and was gone.

Stroud and Auric stood panting for a moment, staring after their mysterious assailant.

"Why the fuck'd you let him go?" Stroud said, his face and hair wet with rain and perspiration, his coat torn and turning red with the blood oozing from his arm.

Auric looked down at the strange sword, of no design he had ever seen before. He picked it up, inspected it. It was more ornate than any sword he had seen before, with a beautiful wavy pattern worked into the length of the blade. Despite its lack of width, it seemed as strong as the best broadswords he had held.

"He knew me," Auric said, and threw the weapon to the ground.

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