Blade of Glass: Chapter 11

I’m an idiot. That’s it! And it’s all my fault. Meriwether hung by his hands and feet from a pole. It was lugged between two hulking Vhemin. He didn’t like being trussed up and carried, especially since the Vhemin didn’t have the courtesy of using locks. He couldn’t tickle rope open. The strands were coarse and chafed his wrists as he swung like a dead hog. Above him, his knife skewered the wood, wedged in there nice and solid. Tied up as he was, he wouldn’t be able to work it free without attracting a great deal of attention, which he supposed was part of the cruel joke.

If he craned his neck he could spy the giant Israel behind, and the slender form of Vertiline ahead. Both were trussed like he was, but also out cold, which was probably a mercy as otherwise there’d be no end of, You’re an idiot, Meriwether! commentary from them. At least, he hoped that’s what they’d say, as opposed to, You’re a dead man, Meriwether!

He deserved to be dead. Meriwether drugged Knights of the Tresward and led a pack of ravagers to their camp. Despite being doped on enough angel’s kiss to drop a stallion, the Knights fought against the Vhemin, cutting the brutes down. Meriwether watched as glass swords carved a path through the enemy, severing arms, legs, heads, and torsos. What didn’t happen was use of their cursed Light magic. They fought like ordinary humans, albeit highly trained ones.

Does the narcotic stop use of their Sacred Storm? It felt like an important operational detail Meriwether should research further. Knights without the Storm were still vicious bastards. The red-haired Geneve killed thirteen people without using it once. Twenty Vhemin was an entirely different proposition though, and without the Storm at their call, the Knights fell.

The Vhemin hadn’t been easy on them, clubbing them to the dirt, then hitting them over and over until their faces were bloody, noses broken, eyes swollen shut. Meriwether almost went to their aid, the little knife Geneve gifted him in hand. Then he reconsidered. Meriwether, he’d said to himself, if two Knights can’t win, what am I going to do?

He’d turned, rabbited, and run straight into a Vhemin. He’d swung the knife, which the Vhemin laughed at, disarmed him, and punched him in the gut with the force of a horse’s kick. The brute dragged him back to its fellows, ignored Meriwether’s retching, tied him up, and rammed the little knife through the wooden pole. The Vhemin leered at Meriwether as he’d done it.

I’m getting tired of folk dismissing my threat level. If I stabbed someone with the blade, it’d leave an impression. He let his head sag back, watching the ground travel by.

This is my fault. He gritted his teeth. Well, not all of it. The whole imprisonment-by-the-Tresward lark is on the Knights, but leading a pack of monsters to their door … that’s on me. Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t have spared a second thought for Knights getting their just desserts, but Vhemin weren’t normal.

They also shouldn’t have been this far south. Still, give ‘em credit: they’ve got a work ethic. The Vhemin’s marching speed was a slow run, and they kept it up, hour after hour, despite the weight of their armor, weapons, and those giant hunks of rock they carried.

About midday, the Vhemin broke from their forced march. They dropped Meriwether to the ground, then set about felling trees, building a pile of branches in the clearing they made. The wood wasn’t seasoned, but one of the Vhemin poured oil on the branches before setting them alight. They gathered close to the flames, setting their stone weights into the heart of the blaze.

The rocks keep them warm. The cold-blooded bastards need hot rocks to stop freezing up. Meriwether hadn’t heard of Vhemin using this trick before. It felt above their usual mental level and spoke of a darker future for the south. 

A groan distracted him. He wriggled and caught Vertiline shifting. She woke, only one eye opening. The expressions of disbelief, anger, and acceptance went across her face in less than two heartbeats, before settling into an implacable mask. Well, as implacable as you can be with a cracked lip, swollen eye, and split cheek.

Her open eye roamed the clearing, marking the Vhemin, their fire, Meriwether, and finally settling on Israel’s prone form. She seemed to relax a hair’s breadth on seeing the Valiant with them, then looked at Meriwether again. “You.” The word came out as cracked and broken as her face.

“Me,” he agreed.

“What was it?” Her voice was like a saw sticking in wood.

“The Vhemin.”

An eye-roll, a valiant effort considering her condition. “What did you drug us with?”

“I didn’t—”

“What was it?” Her tongue probed her lip, found the split, and withdrew.

“Angel’s kiss.” Meriwether tasted his own disappointment.

She grunted. “Nice work, sinner.”

“Hey. Hey! It was you assholes who—”

“No talking!” A Vhemin turned from the blaze, eyeballing Meriwether. “Boss said we get you. Boss didn’t say we couldn’t break your legs a little.”

Meriwether rethreaded that line a couple times. “How do you break legs only a little?”

The Vhemin glared. “Frail, ugly human want to find out?”

“Who you calling ugly?” Meriwether bridled. “It’s just—”

“Shut it, sinner.” Vertiline closed her eye. “Or, don’t. To be honest, I don’t care if they break your legs. The Tresward isn’t particular about your state when we put you on trial.”

“I thought I was under your protection?”

“No talking!” the Vhemin roared.

Her eye opened for another valiant roll. “You’re really going to try that after slipping me angel’s kiss?”

The Vhemin broke from its fellows, lumbering toward them. Meriwether shrank back, or tried to, but the pole-rope combo held him immobile. The creature made it to Vertiline, dragging the Knight upright by her throat. It didn’t seem to mind she was hog-tied, bound limbs and pole between them. “Speak again, human. I dare you.”

Face mottling as the Vhemin squeezed, she choked. It relaxed its grip a fraction. Her eye found Meriwether before going back to the monster. “Go fuck yourself.”

It roared, slamming its fist into her gut, face, gut, and face again. She took the blows, shaking like a doll with each impact. Meriwether tried to get up, to do something, but he was tied fast. As the Vhemin rained punch after punch into Vertiline, Meriwether helpless not five meters away, he thought, You’re still under their protection. She’s shielding me the only way she can.

Yeah, he thought. It’s my fault.

* * *

The Vhemin knocked Vertiline out. Before she’d gone under, she hadn’t whimpered. Made no plea for clemency. Didn’t hold bound hands up to ward the blows. The Knight took the beating like it’s what she was made for. Hardwood under the skin. Steel in her marrow.

Meriwether watched the whole time. He figured it was the least he could do after drawing the monster’s attention. The sliver of good news was the Vhemin’s heat stones readied quick enough, meaning the band set off once more.

He’d heard a hundred stories of the Vhemin. Immune to the kiss of the blade. Stronger than a horse. Faster than a Feybrind, and always, always angry. Or was it hungry? Meriwether once met a woman in a tavern, both of them worn thin by the cold, who told him her caravan were eaten by the monsters. She’d escaped, but showed her the smooth, rounded stump of her arm, cut off below the shoulder. They eat you, she’d insisted, hand rubbing the stump, but not all at once.

It’s bullshit. They don’t eat people. Meriwether jounced along, wrists numb, fingers purple above him. Do they?He glanced at the Vhemin he could see. Eyes front, focused like a predator. They had vertically slitted pupils like the Feybrind, but Vhemin didn’t look playful or kind. They just looked hungry.

Okay. So, yeah. Maybe they’re gonna eat us. Question is, what am I going to do about it? The problem with being bound by rope of all the backwater things was he couldn’t get free. He’d need to wait until someone bought him a little time.

All the thoughts of being eaten reminded him he hadn’t snacked since yesterday. Macabre it might be, but his stomach growled. He wondered whether he’d eat meat if offered. How could you tell whether your steak was human or bovine? His eyes moved to the bouncing load of Israel, still out cold. The Knights would know. They’re experts at knowing all the parts that make up a man.

Day wore into afternoon, and then to evening without concern for Meriwether’s wrists. The sun peeked through trees above, but the light never warmed him. A chill settled into his bones, an aching coldness that stopped at his wrists and ankles. The Vhemin ran on, their tireless rush suggesting at least one rumor was true: they really were strong as horses.

The forest ended suddenly enough that the late afternoon sun dazzled Meriwether. He blinked, eyes bleary for a moment, and was rewarded with the sight of a collection of Vhemin clustered in a clearing. A cave mouth leered, a gash in a stone wall stretching hundreds of meters above. The Vhemin didn’t slow, carrying Meriwether and the Knights toward the cave.

The smell of roasting meat made his stomach roar. A massive fire burned, and he thought it was for more hot rocks until he spied a huge stake leaning over it. Strapped to the stake was the roasted body of a person, mouth open in a silent scream. The clothes and hair had burned away long ago. Meriwether felt sick. That’s what smells good. Roasted human’s on the menu. He wanted to throw up but swallowed it down. Focus! There’s got to be a way out of here. It’s not like they attacked three Tresward Knights for lunch. Something else is going on.

The cave swallowed them. Rough walls led inward, the chewed stone showing marks of recent expansion. Ten meters in the floor smoothed to large, square pavers. Another ten meters, torchlight eased back the dark, showing walls of smooth brick, faded by time but still standing tall. Had the Vhemin found an ancient temple? Expanded the entrance? That didn’t bode well. The dark heart of the earth held secrets that should stay hidden.

Corridors stretched past. Meriwether saw old and broken doors, Vhemin by the handful, but no humans. He’d expected them to keep human slaves, but maybe they were fresh out. Or maybe they’ve eaten them all. How’s that for an incentive to keep the floors clean?

The Vhemin took them to a room about ten meters long, half that wide. Rings were set into the walls. A skeleton moldered in a corner, chains from its wrists tethering it to a ring for all eternity. Meriwether oof’d as the Vhemin dropped him to the floor. They left him with the unconscious Knights, shuffling off and slamming the door behind them. He heard the unmistakable sound of a wooden beam sliding into place. “What’s wrong with these people? Not a decent lock in sight.”

No response. Israel and Vertiline were out for the count. Perfect. No sense in proving I’m a sinner to the Tresward. If nothing else, it’d spoil the surprise. Meriwether worked his hands, getting a little blood flowing back into them. He stretched his arms and shoulders as best he could while hog-tied to a pole, then eased his clever fingers around the haft of the knife the Vhemin so arrogantly left for him.

It was stuck well and good, but Meriwether had one asset on his side: he was motivated. He grunted, straining, then paused for a moment. Leverage. You need leverage. He got to his knees, then dragged the pole toward Israel’s comatose form. The man was a mountain, no mistake, and while he no doubt personally contributed to at least half the Tresward’s food bill, in this case it would prove useful.

Meriwether put the pole on the ground, humped Israel closer, and used the Knight’s pole as a little lever under the knife’s cross guard. He eyed his makeshift freedom device. It’ll do. A hop, a huff, and the knife popped free to clatter on the cold stone floor. Meriwether fetched the knife, sliced his bonds, turned back to Israel, and found the giant had one bleary eye focused on him. He tried on a bright smile. “Morning. Or, evening, I think.”

The eye moved to the knife. “You wait until we’re fallen to bare blade against us?”

Meriwether tapped the knife’s blade against his palm. It was sharp enough to shave with. “I can see why you’d think that.”

Israel’s eye roamed the room, coming to rest on Vertiline’s supine body. “You owe her. Spare her life, at least.”

Meriwether laughed. “Oh, I know I owe her.” He tapped the knife’s point against his temple, wincing as it pricked his skin. “That’s why I’m getting you out. Both of you. Tonight. Right now, even.”

“You’re what?” Israel looked to him, the knife, then back to Vertiline. 

“Before I do, I need a promise.”

“We can’t let you go.” Israel stared at Vertiline for a long time. “No matter what the bargain might buy us.”

“Don’t insult my intelligence, big man. I’ll look after myself.” It’s what I’m best at, anyway. Times like this I appreciate why leaving home wasn’t the wisest course of action. Meriwether hunched over Israel’s surprised face, blade bare, edge catching the dim light. “I’m going to cut your bonds. Before I put this steel to the rope tying you down, I need you to promise me you won’t go hurt anyone until I give a signal.”

“Why?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Israel growled. “No sinner is worth this much trouble.”

“That doesn’t sound like a promise.” Meriwether sat back on his haunches. “You’ve got to ask yourself whether choking the life from me right now is worth dying for.”

“It might be.” Israel regarded him for a moment. Two heartbeats, no more. “I give you my word, sinner—”

“It’s Meriwether.”

“I give you my word, Meriwether. Until you give me the signal, I won’t hurt anyone.”

Meriwether regarded the Knight before him. It’d be so simple to end him here. Slit his throat, letting his blood pool and cool against the stone. Sidle over to Vertiline, ending her life too. Two fewer Knights running rampant on the ‘sinners’ of the world. All it’d take was a slip of his knife, and the job’d be done.

He thought of a red-haired Knight who’d given him that knife. A blade, given without concern for him hurting her. An arrogance behind the move, but something playful too. Actions have consequences. Geneve put a blade in my hand, and here’s a chance to repay the favor. Turn that edge on her fellows, and I’ll damn myself. Also, it’d be a dick move. “Good enough.” Meriwether set to work on Israel’s bonds.

The giant eased himself to a sitting position without wincing. He must be in pain, discomfort wracking him, but he gave the impression he’d just woken from a deep sleep on a feather mattress. Meriwether backed up, a healthy caution encouraging space between them, but true to his word Israel didn’t attack.

He found his feet, swaying, before heading to Vertiline’s side. His big hands were gentle as he turned her face over. “There are one or two chances in our short lives to make the world better, sinner. The best of us might have as many as a handful of moments, but for the rest, it’s one or two.” He sighed. “Don’t squander yours.”

Meriwether padded to his side, crouching. He sawed the blade through rough rope holding Vertiline. As her hands fell free, Israel massaged his fellow Knight’s wrists, eliciting a groan but not a lot else. “My time for greatness is done, Knight. Your kind hunt mine to the ends of the earth. We don’t have room to breathe, let alone change the world.” Despite his words, he cut the bonds holding Vertiline’s feet. Meriwether remembered her taking a beating from the Vhemin to keep him safe. Until trial, at least.

Israel nodded, but Meriwether wasn’t sure which part he agreed with. “Geneve?”

“Not here.” Meriwether wanted to be far away from Israel, and what might be in those eyes when the Knight next looked at him. He didn’t want to say, Probably dead, boss. Because I drugged you all, then led a horde of Vhemin to your camp.

“Did you see her die?”

Meriwether took a step back, then held himself still. Israel’s voice held concern, not hate. “No. I mean, it was dark. I was running—”

“From the horde of Vhemin you led to our camp.”

“Yeah, those assholes. And when I burst in, she—”

“Geneve?”

“Yes. She was upright, swinging steel, but then she…” He backed away from the memory. “She fell.”

“Because you drugged us all.” Israel glanced at Meriwether, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “You know what this means?”

“You’re going to hit me?”

“It means she’s alive, sinner.” He stood, stretching his arms. “Let’s kill some Vhemin.”

“She’s alive?”

“She’s a Knight of the Tresward. We don’t die easy or quiet. We don’t slip from the world without others remarking our passing.” Israel touched his chest, over his heart. “I feel hope, so she lives.”

“Uh-huh.” Meriwether waggled his blade. “No killing Vhemin.”

“What?”

“You promised.” Meriwether beckoned with the knife. “Let’s get you tied up again.”

“You jest.”

“This will be pretty funny, but not in the way you think.” Meriwether sighed. “Vertiline said you were taking me to trial.”

“That’s right. We’ll test you, and if you’re found—”

“I get it. Burned alive, or something.” Meriwether paced. “Until now, you’ve yet to see me sin, whatever that means. Right?”

Israel’s eyes were calculating. “That’s right. You’re clever. Angel’s kiss?” Meriwether nodded. “I don’t know how you got free of the cage, but a skilled thief might manage it. So far, no magic. Why do you ask?”

“Because I’m about to sin, and it’s going to save your life.” Meriwether outlined his plan, watching Israel’s expression go from incredulous to brooding, then moving to darker still, brows pulled together until his face looked like it would close entirely.

“No.” The big man shook his head. “I can’t allow it.”

“You,” Meriwether leaned closer, “promised.”

“You’re a very clever man. But I didn’t promise to allow you to hang yourself.” Israel glanced to Vertiline. “If you can do what you say and I see it, I must report it.”

“One problem at a time.” Meriwether offered the knife to Israel. “How’d you put it? One or two chances to change the world?”

“I thought Geneve the only one to use my words against me, but perhaps it’s a problem with youth.” Israel stared at him, eyes so hard it felt like a weight pressed on Meriwether’s chest. The Knight reached his hand out, nice and steady, and took the blade from him. “I owe you one promise, sinner, and a promise you shall have.”

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