Blood and Honor

“I don’t care,” Brey snapped. “I know something is still in there, and I’ve got to find it. What if someone survived?”

“What if that thing they summoned is still there?” wondered Tarrel.

“Thing?” asked Decker.

Nobody answered him.

“Look,” said Mordan, “Fort Zombie is the only solid lead we’ve got—and we don’t have much time. Once they get word that their friends in Karrlakton are out of business, they’ll …”

“They’ll just send someone else,” Brey interrupted, “or they’ll start shipping the zombies to different markets.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” said Tarrel.

Everyone looked at him.

“If the Ministry found the swords in Falko’s place,” Tarrel continued, “they’ll be able to guess what’s going on—even if he didn’t tell them himself.”

Brey snorted. “So what could he tell them? He bought some swords from Fort Zombie. So? They don’t know about the undead!” She shot Tarrel a piercing glance. “Do they?”

Tarrel shrugged.

“What did you do?” she demanded.

“Well,” said Tarrel, “I was in the Sivis office sending a report back to my client”—he held up his hands defensively as Brey reacted to this news—“I only told him I’d confirmed you were in Karrlakton, you’d apparently moved on, and I was trying to track you.”

“Never mind that,” snapped Mordan. “Answer the question.”

“Well,” said Tarrel, “I sent an anonymous tip to the Ministry telling them to look into that construction site.”

“You did what?” Brey’s face was beginning to change. Tarrel backed away from her a little.

“Good for you!” Decker gave the half-elf a clap on the shoulder that nearly knocked him down. “So they’ll go and release the undead slaves?”

“And they’ll realize they came from Fort Zombie,” Mordan continued, “and they’ll get to Fort Zombie just as soon as they can.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. Everyone stared at Tarrel.

“I had it all figured,” he protested. “We could still get there first, and if things went wrong, we’d know the cavalry was right behind us!”

“That settles it,” said Mordan. “We can’t take the time for a detour—especially to a place that might not even be there any more.”

“Well,” said Tarrel, “It might take them a few days to track down the zombies. If your fat man is worth his weight as a crime lord, he probably has someone on the inside to tip him off. He’ll simply hide the zombies and …”

“No,” said Brey, “he won’t. I killed him before we left.” Her voice was perfectly even; she might have been discussing last night’s dinner. “What?” she said, realizing that all eyes were now on her. “You expected me to sit and polish my nails while you two were out doing—whatever you did?”

“So we have to get to Fort Zombie first,” Mordan said. “Decker, can you make this boat go any faster?”

“Maybe,” said the warforged, “but we’d have to stop while I made alterations.”

“Never mind that,” said Brey. “I know where that place is. I know your Lancers were there, and I know for damn certain the people I’m looking for were there. What if they still are? What if there’s some clue to where they’ve gone?”

“That’s too many ‘what ifs,’ ” said Mordan, “We know the smugglers are working out of Fort Zombie, and we know Hintram …”

“All we have,” Brey interrupted, “is one man—now dead-linking one of the two units with undead smuggling.” Her eyes bored into his, a red light stirring in the back of them.

“We—have—to—go—in—there,” she said.

“Save it for the enemy,” said Mordan. “I’m not that easy to control.”

“Meaning you’re too pig-headed.” Brey sulked. Mordan opened his mouth to reply, but Tarrel broke in.

“How about this?” he asked, trying to sound reasonable. “Brey goes and looks for the base, you carry on along the river, and we meet up at Fort Zombie?”

“I’m not going in there,” said Decker.

“Well, this isn’t so bad,” Brey said. “Whatever else that mist does, it keeps the sun off. I could keep going all day.” She stopped and looked back at Mordan and Tarrel, who were struggling through the shattered terrain. Both looked exhausted.

“You speak for yourself,” said Mordan. “We’re going to need some rest at some point.”

Brey shot him a sarcastic smile. “What’s the matter, soldier? Can’t keep up with a girl?”

“This had better be worth it,” said Mordan. “I can’t believe I let you two talk me into this.”

They crested the ridge and looked out over the weird landscape of the Mournland. The ridge itself was a wave of glassy-green rock, frozen in time. Below them lay an undulating plain of the same color, circled and criss-crossed with smaller ripples. Atop one small wave, a bare tree struggled to thrust its branches into the gray sky, like a drowning man holding up his arms. Out of the middle of the plain rose a great reef of jagged black rock, topped by a fortified tower that drooped to one side like an unwatered flower.