The Crimson Campaign

Taniel had a feeling it wasn’t a lower-ranking officer, though. He suspected a colonel, or maybe even a general.

Kresimir paced slowly in one corner of the keep courtyard. Every few minutes he’d turn his one good eye toward Taniel.

Taniel stared back in defiance. He’d brought down this god. He’d put a bullet in Kresimir’s eye. He’d proved a god could feel pain.

He wouldn’t give Kresimir the satisfaction of watching him grovel.

Of course, Taniel knew he might think otherwise after a few days of torture. He had to be realistic. Ka-poel’s wards seemed to protect him from sorcery. Perhaps even from permanent physical damage. But he knew from experience that he could still feel pain.

Funny, that. Her protection might just be his undoing. The Kez could torture him indefinitely.

Footsteps approached from a hallway adjoining the courtyard. Taniel rocked back on his knees. He’d see this traitor and spit in his eye before he died.

“My lord, you summoned me?”

Taniel’s head jerked around.

The traitor was an older, heavyset man. He wore the epaulets of a general, and the left sleeve of his blue Adran uniform was pinned across the shoulder to make up for the missing arm.

General Hilanska.

“Who is this assassin?” Kresimir gestured toward Taniel.

“My lord?” Hilanska turned. His eyes grew wide at the sight of Taniel, and his mouth worked silently for a moment.

“You know him?”

“I do indeed, my lord. He is the very man you seek: the eye behind the flintlock. Taniel Two-Shot.”

“I feared…” The words came from Kresimir’s mouth as a whisper.

Taniel got to his feet. It was like trying to stand beneath the weight of the entire keep, his knees buckling beneath him, legs shaking from the effort.

“I’ll kill you,” he said to Hilanska.

“Was he sent here?” Kresimir asked.

The general seemed troubled. “No, my lord. He should be under arrest in the Wings of Adom camp right now.”

“Why?” Taniel demanded. “My father trusted you!” Everything that had happened: the arrest, the court-martial, the attack on Ka-poel. Had that all been Hilanska?

“He mentioned someone named Pole,” Kresimir said.

Hilanska frowned. “I don’t know anyone… ah. There is a girl named Ka-poel.”

“Is she a great sorcerer? Why did I not know of her?”

Taniel surged forward. The guards clustered around, menacing him with pikes and air rifles. “Not another word, Hilanska!”

“She’s just a child, practically. Two-Shot’s companion. A savage.”

“And a sorcerer?”

“A Bone-eye. A savage magician of some kind. Negligible powers.”

“Kill her.”

Taniel snarled wordlessly. He felt a pike blade catch his shoulder, tearing through his skin and flesh as he forced his way through the circle of Prielight Guards. One of the guards threw himself in front of Taniel. Barely even slowing down, Taniel snatched the guard by the throat and crushed his windpipe.

Hilanska turned to run, but he was too slow. Taniel leapt after him, fingers grasping, ready to crush the traitor’s skull between his palms.

And he would have, had Kresimir not stepped between them.

The god raised a hand, and Taniel felt that same sluggish weight fall upon him.

He tore through it, batting away Kresimir’s hand. His body didn’t feel like it was his own, and he gave in to the rage flowing through him.

Taniel expected his fists to strike steel when he touched the flesh of the god. Instead, Kresimir crumpled before him, crying out. Taniel’s knuckles cracked hard against Kresimir’s jaw, then his face. Kresimir’s mask clattered to the ground, and Taniel found himself straddling the god, pounding away.

Kresimir’s nose was a fountain of blood, and his teeth gave way to the beating.

Taniel’s fingers curled around the god’s throat when the Prielights pulled him away. He flailed about with his fists, sending several of the Prielights to the floor before he himself was beaten down.

“Don’t kill him!” Kresimir shrieked, scrambling to get to his feet. His face was crimson, his white robes soaked with blood. “Don’t kill him,” he said again. Kresimir returned the mask to his face and backed slowly away from Taniel. “Hang him high. I want the world to see what becomes of a man who thought he could kill God.”

The Prielights dragged Taniel across the hall. He kicked and screamed, throwing what punches he could. As he was pulled out of the hall, he could hear Kresimir speaking once again to Hilanska:

“Tomorrow I burn the Adran army.”

“Are you sure, my lord? What about Adom?”

“He will burn with the rest.”

Adamat spent the night in the arms of his wife and rose early to make his way to the riverfront.

It was only about seven o’clock, but a thin crowd had already turned out. By the blaze of the sun rising in the east over the abandoned Skyline Palace, Adamat could tell it would be a beautiful day. Few clouds hung above him. The sky was blue and gold.