The Knave of Souls - Fantasy - Sequel to The Jack of Souls

Chapter 1b

A fool is brave at the beginning of battle,

A true heart is brave in its midst.

—Arkendian Proverb

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ON THE BRINK

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Cold sweat prickled Harric's spine as he crept from the fort. High above, the Bright Mother moon hung mid-leap between the crags on either side of the pass. Full and bright, she painted the crags with silver and shadow.

Stealing along the few moon-shadowed walls in the courtyard, he managed to avoid the eyes of the watchmen, and the chatter of the river masked the sound of his footfalls. Just as likely, the watch wasn't even awake to see him; after the utter destruction of Sir Bannus's army, they had celebrated along with everyone else and probably passed out at their posts.

Scents of sweet pine and wildflowers greeted him as he stole up the river road behind the fort, but even these charms of late summer lacked the power to banish the dread in his stomach. There would be no tricking his way out of this situation. He couldn't swindle the imp like he could a West Isle slaver. The imp was too shrewd to be tricked into a Rash Promise like Sir Willard. He couldn't con him or hide from him.

But he had to try. He had to find something to negotiate with. He could not follow through with Fink's terms.

He picked his way along the moonlit ruts and stones of the road until he found the bottom of the stairway cut into the side of the cliff. A breeze sighed in the crags. As he started up the stairs, he tried to imagine he was at the card table. He imagined he had only one card, and the dealer was about to call the flop. He tried to imagine another card in his sleeve...but came up with nothing. Still no tricks.

Well then. What was the card in his hand?

He slid his hand into his shirt and grasped the egg-shaped stone that linked him to the power of the Unseen Moon. This was his only card. He had Fink's stone. If Harric didn't agree to Fink's terms, Fink would demand the stone back. Which was impossible. With this stone Harric had defeated Bannus's army. With it he'd saved himself and his friends and their quest for the Queen and the whole cobbing kingdom. With this stone he would become the greatest protector the Queen had ever known, a hero alongside Sir Willard and the Blue Order. It was his dream. It felt like his destiny. And he would devote his life to it.

But Fink required more than his life.

He had to find another way.

Dread and fear whispered frost in his veins. There is no other way. But he couldn't accept that. As long as the stone was in his hand, maybe he had a chance. Maybe the stone was the only card that mattered. And if not, he would have to make it matter.

Thighs burning, he reached the top of the cliff stairs and stepped out onto the ledge. The sleeping fort lay below him, bathed in silver moonlight. The ruin of its dove tower still smoldered from the recent siege. A few embers glowed red like burning eyes, as if the whole fort were an injured dragon guarding the pass. Traversing the ledge, he passed directly above its walls, where he saw the watchmen sprawled or curled up at their posts with bottles by their heads.

Harric scanned the ledge ahead for the imp. He'd chosen the spot so he could show Fink the battle field, show what he'd done, in case it might give him something to bargain with. Now the location seemed foolish, like he'd given the imp another card in the game: at twenty fathoms above the pass, the imp could simply knock him from the ledge and retrieve the witch-stone from his body.