The Crimson Campaign

Taniel backpedaled, trying to stay on his feet. He wouldn’t be able to wrestle a Warden down on the ground — not if the Warden was in a powder trance. Taniel set one foot behind him to stop his backward movement and wrapped his arms around the Warden’s middle. He jerked the Warden off balance and let go.

The Warden rolled away from Taniel and slowly got to his feet.

The creature’s face was a mess of pulped flesh and slivers of wood. Blood streamed from his nose and mouth, and one of his eyes was swollen shut. He bared his teeth at Taniel. Half of them were missing.

“What the pit are you?” Taniel said.

The Warden cocked his head to one side. He lifted his brown hair, which was tied loosely over his right shoulder in a ponytail, to reveal the raised red welt of a brand. The image of a rifle about the length of a man’s finger had been burned into his skin.

It was the brand that Kez Privileged gave to powder mages before their execution.

The Warden let his hair fall back into place. He watched Taniel for a moment, then looked to his side. Ka-poel was there, her long needle in hand, crouched low. She snarled at the Warden.

“Pole, get back…”

The Warden leapt toward Ka-poel. He moved with incredible speed, crossing the distance in the blink of an eye.

Taniel was faster now that he was in his powder trance. He shot toward the Warden, only to see the Warden twist at the last second. Taniel’s fist soared past the Warden’s face and he felt the Warden’s fingers tighten around his neck once again.

The Warden wouldn’t try to choke him this time. He’d wring Taniel’s neck, snapping it like a child snaps a matchstick.

Taniel jabbed his hand at the Warden’s chest. The Warden barely grunted. Taniel jabbed again and again, lightning fast. He felt the Warden’s fingers lose their strength. Ka-poel threw herself at the Warden. He backhanded her, tossing her to the cobbles.

Taniel saw red in the corner of his vision. His mind’s eye saw Ka-poel’s body in the street, her neck bent at the wrong angle, lifeless eyes staring into the sky.

The Warden suddenly sagged. Taniel made a fist with his hand, pulled it back…

And stopped in horror. His hand was covered in the Warden’s black blood. Between his fingers, the flesh still clinging to it, he held one of the Warden’s thick ribs. He looked down. The Warden, collapsed, stared back up at him. His coat was soaked through with blood.

Taniel saw the vision of Ka-poel’s lifeless body again in his mind and rammed the Warden’s own rib through its eye.

He stood for several moments, gasping in ragged breaths. Something touched him and he nearly screamed, his body was so tense. It was Ka-poel. She wasn’t dead. She put one small hand on his, heedless of the Warden’s blood.

“I’ve never seen a powder mage do that,” Fell said, breathless, as she approached them through the empty street. The front of her secretary’s smock was covered in black Warden’s blood, as well as in some of her own. One cheek was red and swollen, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Where’s the other Warden?” Taniel asked.

“He ran,” Fell said.

“You’re not just an undersecretary,” Taniel said, remembering the long stiletto Fell had fearlessly jammed into a Warden’s throat. “Wardens don’t run.”

“He did when he saw what you did to his friend,” Fell said. “I kept him busy until then.” She sniffed. “You’re not an ordinary powder mage.”

Taniel looked down at his hands. He’d punched through the Warden’s skin and ripped out its rib. No one could do that. Not even he could, in the deepest powder trance. Then again, maybe a god killer could. Something had happened to him up on South Pike.

“I guess not.” He looked around at the carnage. The closest people were over a hundred paces away, watching and pointing. He heard Adran police blowing their whistles as they grew close.

“This was a trap,” Taniel said. “A Kez trap. How are they in the city? I thought Tamas rooted out the traitor Charlemund and his Kez accomplice.”

“He did,” Fell said. She seemed troubled.

Taniel fingered a powder charge and closed his eyes. Back in a powder trance. It felt incredible. His senses were alive. He could smell every scent on the air, hear every sound in the street.

His heart still thundered from the fight.

“I’m leaving,” he said, taking Ka-poel by the hand.

“Ricard…” Fell began.

“Can go to the pit,” Taniel said. “I’m going south. If Tamas is truly dead, and the Kez are making Wardens out of powder mages, then the army will need me.”

Tamas rode beside Olem at the head of the Seventh Brigade. The column stretched out behind them, twisting along the Great Northern Highway as it rose and fell through the foothills of the Adran Mountains. His men were already dusty and tired, and the journey to get back into Adro had barely begun.