Beyond Redemption 39 Chapter 37

—KING VERBLa.s.sEN'S LAST WORDS

Morgen feigned sleep and soon Wichtig and Stehlen broke off their futile argument. It was as if without an audience there was no point. He didn't have to wait long before Stehlen began fidgeting with nervous tension. Sitting quietly at a fire didn't suit her. Wichtig didn't do much better. With no one to impress or manipulate, he sank into a dark depression. Morgen understood: for people like Wichtig and Stehlen, moments of quiet contemplation were anathema.

Through slitted eyes he watched the two, waiting for the moment he knew would come.

Stehlen glared at Wichtig—who ignored her—and spat into the fire. "Where's your sparkling wit now?"

"Probably out searching for your personal hygiene." Wichtig didn't look up from the fire.

Nostrils flared, she seemed to take a moment to consider this. "You are poor company," she stated as if just discovering she'd invited a boor to a fine social event.

Wichtig finally glanced up, flashing her a sweet smile. "Stop pretending you want to fight with me and go find Bedeckt."

"I doubt he wants company."

Wichtig turned his face back to the fire and Morgen watched the sweet smile transform into a mischievous grin. "Why do you think he hasn't returned? You think he wants to freeze his a.r.s.e off alone in those woods?" He snorted with mock disgust. "No. He's waiting for you."

Stehlen scowled uncertainly. "Liar."

"Suit yourself," said Wichtig, pretending he cared not one whit whether Stehlen believed him.

Morgen watched the Kleptic's innate paranoia wrestle with her desire. Even knowing the outcome, he found it interesting to watch her convince herself she was not doing exactly what she would soon do, and that the doing was all her own idea.

An important lesson, he thought. Trust your fears. When a quiet voice whispers, You are being used, listen. Ignore your baser desires.

Thinking back, he saw that the two most important men in his life, Aufschlag and Konig, never gave in to their more vulgar appet.i.tes. Apparently some lessons went unspoken. How many other subtle teachings had he missed?

"I'm going for a walk," announced Stehlen to the night sky. "You bore me."

"Only boring people get bored," said Wichtig to the fire. "Enjoy your walk."

"I'm just walking."

"Of course. Enjoy it"

"a.r.s.ehole." Stehlen disappeared into the trees without a sound.

Wichtig sat in silence for several minutes, occasionally poking at the fire with the charred tip of a long stick. "I know you're watching me," he said without looking up, and for a moment Morgen thought he'd been caught. "Stehlen, you're a minor Kleptic at best."

No answer came from the forest. Wichtig seemed not to care. Half an hour later the Swordsman tossed the stick into the dwindling fire with a petulant sigh.

"G.o.ds, I am bored," he muttered so quietly Morgen barely heard.

Stehlen, hidden in the woods, slunk away with a victorious smirk. Though he could neither hear nor see her, Morgen knew she was there and sensed her emotion. She would go in search of Bedeckt. Though he hoped they would enjoy the short time left to them, he knew they wouldn't. They were as incapable of taking comfort in each other's company as they were incapable of honesty. Happiness, he thought, is beyond reach for some. Fate didn't stand in the way. Rather, they themselves were their own worst enemies.

Morgen watched Wichtig grow increasingly restless. The Swordsman briefly entertained himself by having one-sided arguments with imaginary Bedeckts and Stehlens in which he was devastatingly witty (sometimes on the third attempt) and his opponents were stunned by his intellect. After a petulant argument with himself that he somehow managed to lose, though, the Swordsman once again grew despondent and quiet. With a grumbled curse at Bedeckt and Stehlen for leaving him here alone, he finally lay down, curling up in his sleeping roll. Seconds later the man was snoring gently, sleeping the sleep of the innocent. Or at least of those incapable of feeling guilt, thought Morgen

When Wichtig's breathing slowed, Morgen crawled from his sleeping roll and slid quietly to Stehlen's pack. He knew what he needed would be there; the dancing flames had shown him. Wichtig's deep breathing never changed. It took Morgen only seconds to find what he sought. The oiled knife slid free of its sheath with less noise than breath from a snake. Everything about it epitomized Stehlen. A narrow blade, razor sharp and dangerous. The knife glinted in flawless perfection. No tarnish showed anywhere. It felt light in his hand, agile. He'd expected more weight, some heft to something so final.

For several minutes Morgen watched Wichtig breath. Was this really what had to happen? Was he sure?

He wasn't even sure there was a supposed. Those glimpses of the future, were they written in stone? It certainly seemed so. He wished Aufschlag had taught him more of the various Geisteskranken powers he would develop. Did the Geborene scientist seek to somehow shield him in ignorance? Or had Aufschlag simply not known . . . or had there been darker reasons?

Always looking for the concealed truth now, aren't you? But it made too much sense. He couldn't deny he'd been kept ignorant of things he should likely have known. How different would things have turned out had he known to question? Had he learned distrust sooner, perhaps he wouldn't be here now. He might still be back in Selbstha.s.s with Aufschlag and Konig.

Waiting to die.

Morgen's breath caught. How blind have I been? To Ascend, he'd have to die. But no one had ever told him how his death would be achieved.

Konig wants what's best for the Geborene and for all Selbstha.s.s. He would have figured out the best, safest way for Morgen to die. Konig would have planned everything to the last detail. Except even that somehow rang false. Aufschlag was the planner, Konig . . . what did Konig actually do?

He glanced again at Wichtig. Questions leading to more questions, and no answers to be found. Morgen craved a.s.surance he made the right choices, but couldn't even be sure there were right choices to be made anymore. What if the reflections merely showed possibilities and the future was chaos? He shuddered at the thought of disorganization on such a colossal scale. Reality should be neat, tidy. It should follow rules.

Unable as he was to see his own future, certainty remained something he could never achieve. Still, some things can never be undone. Murder definitely counted among those things.

Morgen glanced at the dwindling fire. Are you sure? he asked. His anger hadn't faded—far from it—but contemplating violence wasn't the same as actually doing it.

Again the flames showed Wichtig's endless manipulations. He thinks you're an idiot, the fire seemed to hiss. He uses you. Everyone uses you. The fire replayed dimly remembered conversations Morgen had shared with Konig. He also doesn't love you. He doesn't know how. Morgen saw Konig awkwardly tussle his hair and the concealed look of distaste as he hugged the boy.

Morgen's heart broke. His breath came in short gasps and he felt strangely dizzy. What was this emotion gripping his heart, strangling every thought, collapsing his vision to a dark tunnel with but a single red ember throbbing at the far end?

He was nothing to Konig and he was nothing to Wichtig. These men thought him little more than a means to an end. Morgen stared at the sleeping Swordsman, tears smearing his vision.

Wichtig. The selfish b.a.s.t.a.r.d betrayed his trust, twisted his innocence to his own purpose. He cares nothing for me.

Did anyone?

His chest constricted like it was trying to throttle his heart, suffocating rational thought. He'd never felt anything like this before, had nothing to compare it to.

What was this maelstrom of emotion?

Sadness?

No, that wasn't quite right, though there were echoes of despair.

They're using me, all of them. He tasted the words in his mind and his teeth clenched so tight his jaw ached. I feel . . .

Rage.

The fire sputtered, throwing sparks into the air like spattered blood. The knife felt hot in his hand. Hungry.

Morgen knelt beside Wichtig.

Did this really have to happen the way the fire showed?

It didn't matter.

I want this.

Stehlen found Bedeckt with ease. The old man had made no effort to disguise his tracks, and besides, it was d.a.m.ned difficult to hide something from a Kleptic when she wanted it badly enough. He'd lit his own fire and made himself comfortable. Clearly he had no intention of returning to their camp. Was Wichtig correct, does Bedeckt wait for me to join him?

She stayed in the dark, watching. Much like Wichtig, Bedeckt poked at the fire with a stick. She wondered if the need to poke things was some kind of stupid man thing. Unlike Wichtig, however, Bedeckt seemed at peace with the solitude and quiet. Stehlen envied his comfort.

"You might as well join me," Bedeckt said without looking up from the fire.

Stehlen stepped from the dark. "How many times have you said that tonight?"

"Dozens."

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She snorted. "Why does everyone think I have nothing better to do than spy on them?"

"Maybe we know you."

She squatted by the fire, feet flat, elbows resting comfortably on knees. She could sit like this for hours and knew just watching her made Bedeckt's knees ache. She chose a spot not quite across the fire from Bedeckt. She wanted to see his face.

"It's going to get cold tonight," she said.

Bedeckt grunted.

"We've got a good-sized fire back at the camp." She twitched something between a sneer and a smile. "If the moron hasn't let it go out. Though after the last time he—"

"I'd like to be alone."

"Me too."

Bedeckt gave her a strange look.

"What?" she asked. "I thought we could do it together."

His brows furrowed but he said nothing.

"Be alone, I meant. Not what you . . . unless . . . you wanted to . . ."

"With you and no one else," said Bedeckt, "I think we could be together and alone."

Stehlen felt a rare glow of warmth in her chest. "That's what I thought."

He let out something between and groan and a sigh. What did that mean?

"We can sit quietly, right?" he asked.

"Of course. As long as Wichtig isn't here. I tell you, he—"

Bedeckt scowled, his scarred face all scrunched up with the effort.

"Sorry," she said.

They sat in silence for a handful of minutes before Stehlen stood and muttered something about getting more wood. When she returned with an armload of twigs and branches, she sat closer to Bedeckt. When he didn't comment she shuffled closer, saying something about her b.u.t.t being uncomfortable. When he remained quiet she moved closer until their elbows touched.

Bedeckt finally glanced at her. "I have to p.i.s.s," he said.

Stehlen watched him disappear into the trees and gave a philosophical shrug. Perhaps he wanted to relieve himself before . . . She smiled wistfully. It'd be nicer here than in some dark, puke-filled alley.

An hour later Bedeckt still hadn't returned.

"G.o.ds d.a.m.n it!"

Morgen crouched over Wichtig, knife clenched in both hands. Where should he stab the b.a.s.t.a.r.d? He had no idea. Wichtig and Stehlen made it look so easy. He thought about the throat. How long did someone take to die from a throat wound? The heart? There seemed like an awful lot of bone in the way. The softness of the guts seemed like an easy target. Lots of important organs, and no bone to get in the way. Morgen raised the knife, focusing on a spot just under the sternum. Surely a central strike would be best.

"What the h.e.l.ls are you doing?" Wichtig drawled, sounding unconcerned.

Morgen drove the knife downward with all his strength.

Bedeckt wandered in the dark until he felt sure Stehlen wasn't following. It was pointless. If she really wanted to trail him, he'd never know. The woman moved like a spider. This time he refrained from lighting a fire. No point in making it easier for her. Sure, he'd be cold and miserable, but at least he'd be alone.

Once he'd settled in and the local fauna accepted his presence, the forest noises returned to their normal nighttime level with the tree frogs leading the way.

"You might as well join me," he called to the trees to no effect. If Stehlen was watching, she remained quiet and hidden. Perhaps the best I can hope for.

He sat in the dark, the damp earth slowly soaking the a.r.s.e of his pants. It was so rare to have the time or quiet to think. The constant bickering of his companions was a distraction. He found himself thinking about Morgen. There was something about the boy Bedeckt couldn't help but like. The lad's innocence was a nice change from the brutal, self-serving violence of Wichtig and Stehlen—h.e.l.l, of himself, for that matter. The boy listened, feigning attentiveness, when Wichtig blathered on in his never-ending attempts at manipulation. In truth, Bedeckt doubted the Swordsman was even aware of what he did. Instinct and habit drove him more than any directed desire. Wichtig had neither the brains nor the attention span to maintain a plan for longer than it took for the next shiny idea to cross his path.

Morgen, suspected Bedeckt, saw through Wichtig's endless c.r.a.p. It was like the boy humored the Swordsman rather than hurt his feelings. Bedeckt couldn't think of anyone else who would be so kind.

Bedeckt bent and picked up a nearby stick. He poked at the ground as if working a fire.

He owed the boy a debt. Morgen had saved his life. He'd been dying after they'd taken him from Selbstha.s.s, bleeding out his life from scores of wounds. Stehlen and Wichtig would have left him to die. Sure, they would have raced about, ineffectually trying to save him, but too much damage had been done. Stehlen, ever the pragmatist, would have seen it first. Bedeckt had been teetering on the edge of stepping into the Afterdeath. He remembered seeing his father. A dream?

The boy never talked of saving his life. He'd returned Bedeckt to health and not once made mention of a favor owed. Then Morgen had literally brought Wichtig back from the dead. The lad acted as if the deeds were beneath notice, not worthy of comment. Something he'd done and promptly forgotten about. Much as he wanted to, Bedeckt couldn't forget. He owed the boy his life.

"You might as well join me," Bedeckt again said to the night. Nothing. Either Stehlen hadn't bothered to follow, or chose, for whatever reason, to remain hidden.

Bedeckt chuckled. "There isn't really a plan," he admitted to the dark. "I don't know how to ransom the boy back." He sighed. "I had an idea, but it went to s.h.i.te when Konig sent his Tiergeist to kill the boy."

Maybe Wichtig is right. Maybe my plans are all s.h.i.te.

"I don't know what I'm doing anymore," he said to the tree frogs as he poked at the damp soil with his stick. "This was supposed to be the end, a last big score to make up for all the colossal failures." He shook his scarred head. "It won't work. If Konig wants the boy dead, who the h.e.l.ls can we sell him to?"

Water dropped from the leaves above and ran trickling down his neck. He shivered and scowled into the caliginous canopy above. He sat up suddenly.

"That's why Konig wants the boy dead. G.o.ds d.a.m.n it to all the h.e.l.ls, I can't believe I didn't see this before. The boy has to die to Ascend. Konig doesn't have to pay ransom, all he has to do is kill the lad." He thought it through to the only logical end he could see. He felt the tug of old scars as he bared his teeth in a grin. "If Konig wants the boy dead, we keep him alive! We threaten to keep him alive forever. No dead Morgen, no Geborene G.o.d. Konig will pay us to kill the lad!"

So simple, so perfect!

And then his shoulders slumped.

It can't possibly work.

The more he thought on it, though, the more his confidence returned. Yes, the new plan wasn't without its faults. But he felt he could bring it off. Luckily, his companions would never think to question him.

You owe Morgen your life. Are you really going to kill him?

Bedeckt shoved his worries aside. Promising Konig he'd murder Morgen for money didn't mean he actually had to kill the boy. Bedeckt had lied once or twice before.

DAWN FOUND HIM cold and damp and covered in snails. In the dewy morning light he easily followed his tracks back to where Stehlen had joined him, and from there to their original camp.

Launisch and the other horses looked dejected and sodden; their saddles and blankets hadn't been removed from the previous night. Launisch gave Bedeckt a reproachful glare as he entered the clearing. Wichtig still slept, wrapped tight in his sleeping roll, and Stehlen sat crouched nearby on her haunches. The fire had long since gone out and she stared into its soggy remains.

"G.o.ds d.a.m.n it," growled Bedeckt. "Can't you two idiots think to care for the horses when I'm not around? Do I have to tell you everything?" He gestured at the dead fire. "Thanks again. I was looking forward to a hot breakfast." He noticed Morgen's empty sleeping roll. "Where's Morgen?" he asked Stehlen.

"Gone," she said without looking up.

"Gone? That's bad. We kind of need him. Sort of integral to the whole kidnapping and ransom plan." He scowled at Wichtig's sleeping form. "Wake the idiot up. Let's go looking for the boy. He can't have gone far."

Stehlen finally looked up, her eyes rimmed red with tears. She looked exhausted, like she'd been crying for hours. "Wichtig is dead."

Bedeckt studied the motionless Swordsman. The blanket didn't rise and fall with the intake and exhalation of breath. "He's not faking?" he asked. "If this is one of his pranks . . . if I check and he attempts to startle me, I'll kill him."

"Dead. Stabbed in the guts. He took hours to bleed out." She snorted and blew a wad of snot from a nostril. "He was wrapped too tightly in his sleeping roll. Couldn't defend himself."

Bedeckt stepped across the dead fire and gave Wichtig a shove with a booted toe. The Swordsman rolled onto his back and stared, eyes unblinking, into the overcast sky. His skin shone pale, glistening with the morning dew. A fly landed on an open eye, pausing to drink from the dampness gathered there.

Dead like the fire, thought Bedeckt. His mind, still sluggish, struggled to accept this. "Who?" he asked.

"Morgen," said Stehlen. "No other tracks. Used one of my knives." She shook, her entire body shuddering with jerky spasms. Bedeckt couldn't tell if it was submerged rage or anguish. "He's dead." Somewhere between lamentation and threat.

Bedeckt looked away, uncomfortable with her show of emotion but even more uncomfortable with his own feelings. Wichtig had spent years trying to manipulate Bedeckt, always seeking advantage. And yet . . .

"Stupid b.a.s.t.a.r.d," Bedeckt swore under his breath, unsure if he meant Wichtig or Morgen . . . or himself.

"He looked up to you like a father," muttered Stehlen.

"Horse s.h.i.te. I was just another person he could use."

"Why do you think he stayed with you so long? All the manipulation c.r.a.p was for his own benefit."

"I know—"

"No," she said, chopping the air with a sharp wave. "Not like that. I mean . . . he needed to think he didn't need you. He needed to think he used you. Wichtig lied to himself more than he lied to anyone. He needed you. Your direction. Your guidance." She swore quietly and spat into the ashes. "Your approval."

Have I lost another friend to pointless violence?

"No," he said. "You're wrong. Wichtig is a lying, manipulative, self-serving b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

"Was," Stehlen corrected angrily.

"You saw how he acted around the boy. I'm guessing he pushed it too far, wasn't as glib and silver-tongued as he thought. Morgen saw through him. Killed him for it."

"He was just a boy," she whispered, and Bedeckt wasn't sure whom she meant.

Stehlen crouched, arms wrapped tightly around her chest, rocking slowly. She made a high-pitched keening.

"We go after him," Bedeckt said.

"We go after him," she agreed.

What they would do once they caught him, he didn't know, but there was definitely a lack of plan without him. "Which way did he go?" he asked.

She pointed east, back toward Neidrig.

Bedeckt opened his mouth to speak and then remembered Morgen saying they'd end up going east. When had he said that? Back in the inn where he'd brought Wichtig back from the Afterdeath? Bedeckt wished he could remember more of what had been said, but the hangover he'd suffered at the time obliterated almost everything.

"You've already been through his stuff?" Bedeckt asked.

Stehlen gave him a disdainful look.

"Did he have much coin?"

She spat into the sludgy ash of the dead fire. "Cretinous t.u.r.d died a pauper."

No doubt she lied, she couldn't help herself. He didn't care.

Bedeckt thought back to the previous night. Another plan turned to s.h.i.te.

"Fine," he said. "We ride east."

Wichtig sat up in a sudden convulsion and clutched at his guts. Nothing. No stabbing fire. No icy steel. Only the distant memory of pain.

h.e.l.l of a dream, he thought, kicking aside his sleeping roll and standing. The fire had long gone out and naught remained but damp ash. Morgen, Bedeckt, and Stehlen were nowhere to be seen, their packs and gear gone too.

"They left me here! Took my d.a.m.ned horse too."

No. Something didn't feel right. He stood and gazed east. East. He had to go east.

"Why east?" he asked the gray sky. "We headed west toward Folgen Sienie in Reichweite." And then he remembered asking Morgen if they'd make it to Folgen Sienie and the answering look on the boy's face. "Right. We were never going to make it anyway. So . . . I'm going east."

Wichtig bent to pack his gear and sleeping roll and stopped when he saw the bloodstained sheet. His guts tightened. He looked to the gray sky. He looked to the bent and grizzled trees. No life. No real color. Everything appeared gray, faded.

Only a true artist, he told himself, would notice the difference.

It helped that he'd been here before.

"I'm dead," he said flatly. "Again."

Die with your boots on, they always say. That which is buried with you or is on your body when you die will be there in the Afterdeath.

Since his last death he'd taken to sleeping with his boots on. This time he was ready. He'd stashed some gold in each boot and slept wearing his swords.

Wichtig pulled off his boots and searched about within. Empty. He stared dumbly into them. Nothing in there but foot odor.

"Oh, Stehlen, you G.o.ds-d.a.m.ned b.i.t.c.h." She'd robbed him.

But when?

Does it matter?

No. Not really. The last time he had been here, it wasn't like he'd needed money anyway.

He stared east, knowing now why he had to go there.

"And so soon after the last time." He thought he'd have longer. He thought he'd have a lot longer. "I'm not finished yet!" he called to the eastern sky. "The boy-G.o.d may think he's done with me, but I am not finished with him!"

"Hey, a.r.s.ehole."

Wichtig spun, startled. A considerable crowd stood gathered behind him, watching and listening. Had he not been so confident he looked great, he'd have been tempted to be embarra.s.sed.

A scarred brute of a man stepped forward, rolling muscled shoulders and glaring at Wichtig. He looked familiar.

"Ah," said Wichtig. "Vollk Urzschluss, we meet again."

"You took even less time than the last time," the scarred man growled. "Still think you're so great?"

"Of course." Wichtig smiled at the crowd of people he'd slain over the years, avoiding the eyes of a few and nodding c.o.c.kily at others. "We go east to await the death and Ascension of a new G.o.d." He felt the need to start moving, a relentless tension, like he'd swum too deep and his ears would soon pop. "We won't have to wait long." He laughed at their doubting faces. "This is not the end of Wichtig Lügner, the Greatest Swordsman in all the World. Oh no," he said, wagging a finger at the crowd. "This is but the beginning, another step down the path to greatness. This is destiny!" Wichtig watched them watch him. They still looked doubtful. "This soon-to-be-G.o.d owes me!"

Vollk sneered but didn't have the wit not to look curious. "Why does this G.o.d owe you?"

"Two reasons, my dead friend. One, I helped shape him. I made him the boy he is today."

"And?" asked Vollk.

"The little b.a.s.t.a.r.d killed me."

Vollk grunted. "Good luck."

Wichtig collected his swords—at least Stehlen had left those—and walked east. Vollk jogged to catch up and walk at his side.

"At least you brought your own swords this time," the scarred warrior muttered, patting the sword hanging at his hip. "I had a h.e.l.l of a time getting this after you disappeared with my last one."

Wichtig and his army of victims hadn't walked for more than an hour when they saw an even larger mob of people ahead, also heading east.

"Not good," said Wichtig.

The other crowd saw their approach and stopped to wait.

"No point in putting this off, is there?" Wichtig asked without expecting an answer.

"They might kill us," pointed out Vollk.

"But we're already dead."

"In my experience," said Vollk, "there's always more death."

Wichtig grunted.

A large woman stepped out of the crowd and stood waiting. Her hair, hewn short and rough, was a pale orange bordering on strawberry.

"The G.o.ds are truly smiling on me today," she said as Wichtig approached.

He stopped before her and bowed low. "You have me at a disadvantage," he said.

"Yes. There are quite a few more of us."

"I meant, rather, that you know me and I don't know you." He looked her up and down. "Though you do look familiar."

"I am Lebendig Durchdachter, the Greatest Swordswoman in Neidrig."

"Ah yes. We almost fought. A shame. Not that we almost fought, but rather that we almost fought. I was looking forward to killing you."

"Your friend did it for you," snarled Lebendig.

"Not for me. A minor quibble, but an important one. She did it to p.i.s.s me off."

Lebendig gestured at the gathered crowd behind her. Many looked familiar, but Wichtig couldn't put names to the faces.

"We have you outnumbered," she said.

"Yes, as you've mentioned."

She nodded at his swords. "Those are mine."

"Oh."

Wichtig handed the swords over with a philosophical shrug. Easy come, easy go.

"Vollk," he said, "it seems I'll be needing your sword again."