taller, until they reached fifty feet in the air. The voices of the Soufis were silent. Only the roar of Gewey’s anger could be heard.
As he allowed the flames to subside, Gewey scanned the area for the Vrykol, but he was already gone. The burned stumps of the Soufis dotted the sands, and the sickly sweet smell of charred flesh fill the air. A great circle of pale, green glass had replaced the desert sand. It glittered in the sun, with contrasted beauty to the carnage. He turned and ran back to Aaliyah. When he reached the clearing, she had already dressed her wound and sheathed her knife. Her face turned grim when she saw Gewey.
“They are gone?” she asked.
Gewey relaxed his muscles and nodded. “Yes. They’re all….gone.” He took her hand and led her from the clearing.
The image of the flames still remained in his mind, and as they approached the entrance to the Oasis he halted. Gewey didn't want her to see what he had done. He almost held her back as she moved past him and stepped onto the sands. For a moment she stood silently surveying the carnage. Timidly, he followed her out.
“All gone, indeed,” she remarked.
“I was just….” Gewey paused. “I was just so angry.”
“The wrath of a God is truly not to be taken lightly.” She turned to him and smiled. Her face was awash with pity and understanding. “But you did what had to be done.”
“I know,” said Gewey. “This is not the first time I've killed. It’s just I never imagined unleashing such power.” He held up the medallion around his neck and examined it. “Only the Gods know what I can do when I learn to use this. I fear that it may be too much power for me to control.”
“I doubt it,” said Aaliyah. “The one you must vanquish wields more power than you can imagine. You will need this, and more.” She glanced one more time at the smoldering corpses. “We must go. My time grows short.”
With that they headed off in the direction of the shore, in hopes that they would make it in time to save Aaliyah's life. Gewey swore an oath to kill the Vrykol who poisoned her. He would teach it to fear death.
Chapter 16
Frost covered the bleak landscape as Lee and Jacob rose from their tent, shivering and rubbing their arms. The bitter cold of the far north was nothing even a Hazrian Lord could ignore. Fires already burned around the camp and the scent of bacon wafted on the frigid air. Darius was already up. Something uncharacteristic for the fat merchant. He was kneeling down by a fire, cradling a cup of hot coffee in his gloved hands. Lee and Jacob joined him.
“Are you sure about this?” asked Darius. “It seems foolish to me.”
“I'm sure,” Lee replied. He grabbed the tin kettle from the spit and poured himself a cup. “If what I hear is true, we will gain passage north if we join the army. All new recruits are brought to Kratis for training and deployment. And that's where we need to go.”
“I haven't asked you your true business,” said Darius. “And I won't. But you seek the palace of the Reborn King, it would seem. If you do this, you will be caught, and you will die. You don't want to know the stories I've heard about what they do to spies.”
“I can imagine,” Lee said, soberly. The thought of his son suffering torture caused his stomach to knot. “Still, we must try.”
“Well, if I cannot dissuade you,” said Darius, “at least allow me to help you.” He reached in his coat and pulled out a piece of folded parchment. “It's a letter of endorsement stating that you have been in my service for the past five years. I am known in these parts, so it will pass scrutiny.”
Lee took it, and smiled gratefully. “Yes. This will certainly help.”
They ate, and then packed their gear. Fennio and three others awaited them by the road. Lee knew it was a risk to travel with the others. Should their cover story be questioned, any of them could say that Lee and Jacob had only just joined the caravan. If that happened, the endorsement letter would be a liability. Darius was there as well, holding five small purses.
“Alright, lads,” said Darius. “Don't you ever say I'm not a fair man.” He handed out the purses to the men. The jingle of coins sounded as they bounced them up and down. “Don't you go counting it just yet. You've been paid already, so wait until I'm gone to complain about how little is there.”
“Thank you for all your help,” said Lee. He shook Darius’ hand firmly and smiled.
Darius laugh heartily. “And thank you for saving my life.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Now go. I have a business to run, and wine to drink.” He spun on his heels and strode back to his tent.
The recruiting station was three miles away, at the Whiterun Pass garrison, just south of the city proper. It only took them an hour to arrive, but the town could be seen from more than a mile away. Tall buildings of burgundy stone rose from behind thick granite walls. Lee was impressed. Cities and towns this far north were little more than trading posts for the most part. In fact, Hazrah was by far the largest city north of the Razor Edge Mountains, and it was small compared to Baltria or Althetas. Clearly, Angraalhad been hard at work.
The garrison was impressive as well. It resembled an ancient fortress, similar to those in paintings he had on his walls back in Sharpstone. The twenty-foot curtain walls were smooth and seamless, as if carved from a single block, stretching out two- hundred feet, left to right. In the center, an arched iron gatehouse door, covered in vicious spikes, was closed shut. At the corners of the wall, round towers loomed another twenty feet, with dozens of arrow slits looking outward, and capped with a domed turret manned by three watches. Atop each turret dome, the now familiar banner of Angraalflapped in the strong north wind. The walls were patrolled by at least two dozen archers and pike-men.
Just outside the gatehouse door, someone had set up a long table. Two soldiers stood at both ends, and a slightly built man in a red linen suit and thick wool coat, sat taking information from four new recruits. Lee, Jacob and the others filed in behind them. Each recruit was told to wait a few feet away from the table after their information had been taken.
When it was Lee's turn, he handed the recruiter the letter. The man examined it for a moment, then sighed.
“More sell-swords,” he muttered. “Do you have any military experience?”
“No, sir,” Lee replied. “But my nephew and I are both good with a blade. We're from-”
“I don't care where you're from.” He glanced up, then shook his head. “I'm sure you are both eager to join up, so we'll make this quick.”
The man took their names, (the false ones, naturally), and wrote down what skills they listed. After he finished, he had them sign a large parchment and instructed them to wait with the others. After the rest joined them, they huddled together trying to fight off the cold. For hours they just sat there as dozens of men came to join. By late afternoon their numbers had swelled to nearly one-hundred. No offer of food or drink had been made, so Lee and Jacob shared what little they had with Fennio and the rest of Darius' former guards, who had clearly not thought to bring anything for themselves.
An hour before sundown, the recruiter stood and announced that anyone else who wished to join must return tomorrow. The two guards picked up the table and followed the man into the gatehouse. The sun was nearly gone, and the air began to turn even colder. It wasn't long before the new recruits became restless, and disgruntled whispers could be heard.
“Enough of this bloody nonsense,” yelled a stocky, dark-haired fellow, clad in thick, leather mail. “I did not come here to freeze and starve.” He strode off south.
There was a whistle and a thud, as an arrow pierced the back of the man’s neck. He fell to his knees, grasping desperately at the arrow, then crumpled to the ground, gurgling his last breaths.
“In case you were wondering, you are not permitted to leave.” A tall, lean man stepped from the gatehouse. He was wearing a shining metal breast plate with the broken scales of Angraaletched in gold across it. His blond hair was cropped close, and even in the fading light his chiseled features and square jaw were evident. He was as broad as Lee in the shoulders and carried himself with supreme confidence. A thick, heavy broadsword hung from his belt and in his hands a short, curved bow. He dropped the bow to the ground and walked toward the men. “I am
