“No one doubts your courage, boy.” Frankie nudges his horse closer to Connor’s and claps a huge hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Logan just likes to make sure his people know the risks before they follow him.”
“And also, I might be a little scared of your mother,” I say. “But no, I don’t doubt your courage. I just can’t promise to protect you. I can promise to do my best, but if you were at my trial in Lankenshire, you know my best hasn’t been terribly effective.” I speak matter-of-factly, but it’s hard to scrub the doubt and regret out of my voice. Every decision I make, every plan I formulate, every worst case scenario I consider carries behind it the weight of all the people I lost to Ian as I led our group across the Wasteland.
Frankie glares at me and opens his mouth as if to argue with my words, but Connor beats him to it.
“I’m of the opinion that any leader who cares about his failings is a leader worth following. I’m going. I’ll carry the staff and stand as Lankenshire’s witness on your behalf. I wager killing you in an underhanded fashion will be more difficult for the Commander to accomplish with the specter of my mother looking over his shoulder. God knows my mother has that effect on me.”
Connor nudges his horse forward, and I follow suit as I consider Connor’s belief that the Commander is actively looking for ways to learn what I know so that he can get rid of me before the showdown in Rowansmark. I know Connor’s right because I’d be doing the same thing, and the Commander is many things, but he’s no fool.
He won’t try to double-cross me yet, but the only thing keeping him from making good on his promise to reunite me with my mother is the fact that he doesn’t know how to dismantle the Rowansmark beacons or how to replicate the tech that we’ll need to protect our army from the threat of the tanniyn. The second he no longer needs me for either of those things, he’ll do his best to kill me. Connor’s presence will help, but the truth is the Commander’s sword has been hovering over the back of my neck since the moment he walked into Lankenshire’s dungeon.
Which is why I need to kill him first.
As the last of the thick oaks scattered across the meadow gives way to a stretch of grass dotted with hawthorn trees and clusters of wild blueberry bushes, I take a hard look at my options.
Best Case Scenario 1: Once the battle against Rowansmark has decidedly turned in our favor, and I no longer need the Commander to lead the troops, I bury my sword in his heart. This option depends on the Commander being focused on the battle, and on the Brute Squad paying more attention to the fighting than to protecting their leader. Which is unlikely to occur. It also depends on me being near him and not inside Rowansmark hunting for Rachel. Again, unlikely to occur.
Best Case Scenario 2: I challenge the Commander to a duel, thus forcing his soldiers to allow him to fight his own battle. He may be more experienced than I am, but he’s also significantly older. I could take him, but could I trust the Brute Squad not to try to immediately avenge his death? I don’t think so.
Best Case Scenario 3: I do what I told Rachel I would do—build tech that is specifically engineered to destroy the Commander. This option allows me the most distance from him, eliminating the need to take him by surprise or deal with his guards, but it’s fraught with risk of its own. What if the tech malfunctions? What if the injury to him is minimal, and I’m left with no backup plan but my sword and the hope that I can kill him before his guards kill me?
Worst Case Scenario: Every plan I come up with fails, or the Commander manages to kill me first.
The thick stone gate guarding Hodenswald’s entrance is barred shut. Two guards dressed in uniforms that match the brown stone of the wall stand on the parapet above, metal arrows loaded into crossbows and pointed straight at us as we approach. Long, spear-like weapons protruding from the two closest turrets are pointed at us too. A whirring sound—like a well-oiled chain running swiftly along its track—comes from behind us. I turn to find that four stone columns, all equipped with spring-loaded spears, have risen from hiding places beneath the meadow and are turned toward the gate. One wrong move and weapons will converge on us from multiple angles.
No one could escape from that.
I pause midstep and slowly scan my surroundings. Spears to the east, west, and south of us. Arrows to the north. A circle of destruction, impossible to overcome.
Impossible to survive.
My gaze rests on the Commander as he glares with an arrogance that dares the Hodenswald guards to speak to him.
A circle of destruction. Impossible to survive.
That’s what I need. Not just my sword. Not just tech aimed at the transmitter in his wrist or at the necklace he wears to keep the tanniyn at bay. I need to surround him with weapons he can’t outrun. Can’t outfight.
Can’t defeat.
“State your name and the reason for your visit,” one of the guards, a woman with a square jaw and suntanned skin, calls down to us.
“Commander Jason Chase of Baalboden here for my yearly diplomatic visit with your leader, Lyle Hoden.”
The same woman speaks again. “You aren’t scheduled to visit for another two months.”
The Commander’s back stiffens, and his words are clipped. “I do not need to inform you when my schedule changes. Tell Lyle that I am here.”
The guards exchange a quick glance, and then the woman’s companion, a man with deep lines on his face and a few scraps of hair on his head, leaves. The woman watches us in silence, her crossbow held steady. The sun beats down on us without mercy while we wait.
“And also, I might be a little scared of your mother,” I say. “But no, I don’t doubt your courage. I just can’t promise to protect you. I can promise to do my best, but if you were at my trial in Lankenshire, you know my best hasn’t been terribly effective.” I speak matter-of-factly, but it’s hard to scrub the doubt and regret out of my voice. Every decision I make, every plan I formulate, every worst case scenario I consider carries behind it the weight of all the people I lost to Ian as I led our group across the Wasteland.
Frankie glares at me and opens his mouth as if to argue with my words, but Connor beats him to it.
“I’m of the opinion that any leader who cares about his failings is a leader worth following. I’m going. I’ll carry the staff and stand as Lankenshire’s witness on your behalf. I wager killing you in an underhanded fashion will be more difficult for the Commander to accomplish with the specter of my mother looking over his shoulder. God knows my mother has that effect on me.”
Connor nudges his horse forward, and I follow suit as I consider Connor’s belief that the Commander is actively looking for ways to learn what I know so that he can get rid of me before the showdown in Rowansmark. I know Connor’s right because I’d be doing the same thing, and the Commander is many things, but he’s no fool.
He won’t try to double-cross me yet, but the only thing keeping him from making good on his promise to reunite me with my mother is the fact that he doesn’t know how to dismantle the Rowansmark beacons or how to replicate the tech that we’ll need to protect our army from the threat of the tanniyn. The second he no longer needs me for either of those things, he’ll do his best to kill me. Connor’s presence will help, but the truth is the Commander’s sword has been hovering over the back of my neck since the moment he walked into Lankenshire’s dungeon.
Which is why I need to kill him first.
As the last of the thick oaks scattered across the meadow gives way to a stretch of grass dotted with hawthorn trees and clusters of wild blueberry bushes, I take a hard look at my options.
Best Case Scenario 1: Once the battle against Rowansmark has decidedly turned in our favor, and I no longer need the Commander to lead the troops, I bury my sword in his heart. This option depends on the Commander being focused on the battle, and on the Brute Squad paying more attention to the fighting than to protecting their leader. Which is unlikely to occur. It also depends on me being near him and not inside Rowansmark hunting for Rachel. Again, unlikely to occur.
Best Case Scenario 2: I challenge the Commander to a duel, thus forcing his soldiers to allow him to fight his own battle. He may be more experienced than I am, but he’s also significantly older. I could take him, but could I trust the Brute Squad not to try to immediately avenge his death? I don’t think so.
Best Case Scenario 3: I do what I told Rachel I would do—build tech that is specifically engineered to destroy the Commander. This option allows me the most distance from him, eliminating the need to take him by surprise or deal with his guards, but it’s fraught with risk of its own. What if the tech malfunctions? What if the injury to him is minimal, and I’m left with no backup plan but my sword and the hope that I can kill him before his guards kill me?
Worst Case Scenario: Every plan I come up with fails, or the Commander manages to kill me first.
The thick stone gate guarding Hodenswald’s entrance is barred shut. Two guards dressed in uniforms that match the brown stone of the wall stand on the parapet above, metal arrows loaded into crossbows and pointed straight at us as we approach. Long, spear-like weapons protruding from the two closest turrets are pointed at us too. A whirring sound—like a well-oiled chain running swiftly along its track—comes from behind us. I turn to find that four stone columns, all equipped with spring-loaded spears, have risen from hiding places beneath the meadow and are turned toward the gate. One wrong move and weapons will converge on us from multiple angles.
No one could escape from that.
I pause midstep and slowly scan my surroundings. Spears to the east, west, and south of us. Arrows to the north. A circle of destruction, impossible to overcome.
Impossible to survive.
My gaze rests on the Commander as he glares with an arrogance that dares the Hodenswald guards to speak to him.
A circle of destruction. Impossible to survive.
That’s what I need. Not just my sword. Not just tech aimed at the transmitter in his wrist or at the necklace he wears to keep the tanniyn at bay. I need to surround him with weapons he can’t outrun. Can’t outfight.
Can’t defeat.
“State your name and the reason for your visit,” one of the guards, a woman with a square jaw and suntanned skin, calls down to us.
“Commander Jason Chase of Baalboden here for my yearly diplomatic visit with your leader, Lyle Hoden.”
The same woman speaks again. “You aren’t scheduled to visit for another two months.”
The Commander’s back stiffens, and his words are clipped. “I do not need to inform you when my schedule changes. Tell Lyle that I am here.”
The guards exchange a quick glance, and then the woman’s companion, a man with deep lines on his face and a few scraps of hair on his head, leaves. The woman watches us in silence, her crossbow held steady. The sun beats down on us without mercy while we wait.
