Project: Shadow Walker. Dalin Moss
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They allowed the still, small quiet to permeate the mourning. Hero and human, hand in hand, watched as the flames turned the fallen into ash. The air stayed somber until the last of the pyres had changed to charcoal and embers.
The female Hero stood, addressing Jim and Emma. “Thank you for your respect.”
Jim nodded and moved his hand. He pushed himself to his feet, testing his body. Standing was easily done, but pain constantly showered down his spine. With some difficulty, he was able to take small steps and hop from foot to foot. Each minute he healed more, and the pain slowly dissipated. But these wounds would take him a few days to fully heal, even with his Hero advantages.
“Glad to see you’re still alive,” the male Hero said.
He had a round face with slightly pudgy cheeks. His dark hair blended with the night sky, hiding the stars from directly above his head.
Low born, unknown chosen faction.
A crude, double-sided ax was strapped to this Hero’s back. Its blade was clean and freshly sharpened. The man cared for his weapon.
Jim nodded at the man. “Thank you for believing my companion. Not many would have listened to a human.”
The man let out a rumbling chuckle. He said, “There wasn’t much to believe.” He clapped Emma on the back. “Between gasping for breath and drinking all my water, Fencer here could barely say two words. And ‘husks, East’ would make for a poor lie.” He gave a large, toothy smile. “We’ve got some extra portions if either of you are hungry.”
They followed the large man to a makeshift camp. The female Hero was picking at the meal she held, tearing off pieces of discolored meat and dehydrated corn and greedily plopping them into her mouth. Jim studied the meal as well as the eating Hero. She had raven colored hair that shaped her face and sat on her head almost like a hat. Her golden eyes glowered behind a hooked nose. Jim’s practiced eye knew her faction, knew her name. She’s a Willow.
Jim took a place by the fire and partook of the offered food. He devoured the maroon meat and crunchy corn in minutes. These meals were made for easy travel and multiple-day storage. They usually tasted of salt and stale flour. Flavor was a commodity rewarded to Hero patrols after a successful night beyond the wall, not during one. Jim ignored the taste and dwelled on the full feeling in his stomach. Emma sat beside him, her hand resting on her satisfied belly.
“So,” Jim said, “Your true name is Fencer?”
The Willow Hero sat stoically, her eyes never leaving the flames, as if fascinated by them. She waited for the meal to end before speaking. “I’ve made a decision.” Jim noticed the jolly Hero stiffen at her words. “At sunrise, Captain Blackthorne and I will escort the two of you to Paradise.” Jim stared in disbelief at the woman. “You will be our official guests, and you will be guarded at all times while within the city walls.
Emma’s eyes went wide. She glanced at Jim to see his reaction, which he did not give.
The Hero continued. “You assisted us in the cleansing of three husks. Your names will be added to the History Hall, and you will be rewarded with the same glory as any Hero.”
Captain Blackthorne, looked in awe at the Willow woman. “Brig, Fencer is a human. It’s been nearly a decade since the last human entered Paradise’s wall as a guest. The Twenty-Four will be irate and….”
She cut him off. “I will deal with the Twenty-Four, Captain. Emma earned the right while fighting the husks, same as we did tonight.”
Emma beamed, her excitement erupting into the night. This was her dream, the dream of most humans. She would be an honored guest in the city of the Heroes. Jim fondly remembered when he first laid eyes on the History Hall. All the names chiseled into golden bricks; it was a marvel that had no equal. Emma would be allowed to add her name. But…
Go back inside the Hero city? See the fountain and the halls? Could it be so bad?
Emma cheerfully asked the Blackthorne what the inside of Paradise looked like. What wonders would she see, and what melodies would she hear? He replied with exhilaration. A smirk populated even the Willow's face.
Emma turned her attention towards Jim, his turmoil unknown to the ecstatic girl. He could return, watch as the first human in a decade entered the scarred gates—the towering walls closing him in the city. He could allow Paradise to suffocate and strangle him, walk those wicked and winding streets that led towards….
“No.” Jim’s word cut through the palpable joy.
“Excuse me?” the Willow woman raised an eyebrow. “You would deny the riches of a husk killer?”
“Yes, I would.” Emma’s confused stare bit into Jim’s side. “We have a camp waiting for us. We will need to leave at sunrise.”
“I’m afraid you may have misunderstood.” The Willow's voice stayed cool and piercing. “My invitation was more of a command than a request. We will enter Paradise and inform the Elders of what we encountered.”
“No.” Jim’s word threatened to snap the fragile friction that lingered in the air.
Emma spoke, “Jim, we can be a little late. The festivities usually last a few days. We could….”
“No, Emma. I will not step foot in the False City.” Jim’s voice came out colder than he intended.
The Willow Hero stood, one hand resting on the hilt of her sword. “I don’t think you know who I am. You would not insult our great city if you knew who I serve.” Her voice dripped with venom.
Jim stayed seated. “You are Brigadier General Willow. Your faction is charged with defending the Western Walls. And you mistake my denial for ignorance.” Emma was standing behind him, her hand gripped tightly around her rapier.
The Brigadier's mouth fell agape. “But, to have your name in the History Halls is the highest honor and to deny the chance would be.…”
“My name is on its walls,” Jim cut in again, emotion steeping his voice. He could not allow her claims to continue. She was so lost in her thinking, so blinded by the ideals of glory and gold.
Her grip tightened on her hilt. “Which is your faction?” Her voice was low and blunt.
Jim stared into her eyes. He knew the power in his name, knew of the danger and the outrage that came when it was ironically praised in songs and whispered in brothels. The forbidden faction of wretched killers. Most Heroes forsook the faction’s name once Jim left the city walls, his faction ruined by his most traitorous act.
“My name is James.” He spoke each word with deliberation, feeling the power in every syllable. “My faction is my birthright. I am the first born of the Southern guardians. I am the Heir of Ash.”
In a blink, the Willow had her sword unsheathed and dashed towards the traitor. Jim’s dagger was ready to intercept her blade. Emma gasped. Lumberjack wrapped his arm around Jim’s torso and threw him backwards.
Pain exploded from Jim’s aggravated wounds, but he jumped to his feet and prepared to defend an onslaught. To his surprise there was no need. Where Jim sat a moment ago, Lumberjack now stood. His ax blade pressed tightly against his commanding officer’s sword.
“Brigadier General Willow,” Lumberjack said, his voice apologetic but firm. “Jim and Fencer fought with us. They have earned the right of friend and ate beside us. We may not take action against them until the sun rises, an agreement which you signed when you accepted the rank of Brigadier.” Lumberjack’s face was contorted from exertion. “Even as an Ash, he has earned his life for tonight.”
The angry woman glared at Jim, but she pushed her sword into the dirt. And, instead of speaking, she screamed at the thief just beyond her reach. Then, she walked away from the fire and into the darkness of the trees.
“She is honor bound,” Lumberjack spoke,