He stopped.
I don’t want to deal with this.
It’d be easier to go back down and fight with the corpses.
He eased onto the top step, just before the turn that would take him into view. The two spears bumped against his shoulder. He set them against the wall and slumped down, elbows on his knees, listening without wanting to.
Not listening, really. Letting the noise roll past him.
The horrible taste from the fight still coated his tongue. He stared at his hands. They trembled, small uneven shakes he couldn’t talk himself out of.
A scrape broke the quiet. He glanced up too late. The spears he’d propped there slid, then toppled. They hit the stone with a hard ring and clattered down to the next landing.
The arguing cut off at once.
The landing above filled with a rush of hurried whispers, too low and tangled to follow. He couldn’t bring himself to care enough to sort them out.
Soft footsteps followed. Careful. Light.
They came around the turn and stopped, shifted, then moved to stand a step behind and a little off to his right. It didn’t take enhanced hearing to know it was Jo. She waited a moment, maybe to see if he’d turn and speak first.
“May I sit?”
Harry didn’t answer, only shifted quietly over to make room.
She lowered herself beside him, settling on the step with her bow still slung across her back. No sound at all came from upstairs.
“Hi, Harry.”
“Hey.” It came out thin.
“You heard that, did you.”
"Some… not really." He looked down at his hands. At least they’d stopped shaking.
"What you are, Toby thinks it's just a class. Like being a berserker." She gestured vaguely with one hand. "Not who you are, like if you were a dragon or a demon."
“Yeah. Does that matter?” His voice was flat. Tired.
“Of course it matters. It makes all the difference.”
Harry turned to look at her.
“Harry, it means you’re one of us. Just a person.” She shrugged. “True, a person with a class that takes some getting used to, but we will.”
A small smile tugged at him. It didn’t last. “Does everyone feel that way?”
Jo lifted one shoulder. “Stan is willing to wait and see. He has a surprising live and let live attitude.”
Harry looked at her, waiting.
She scowled. “Cedric…”
“Yeah, Cedric. You know he really did see something.” He gestured at the spears on the landing below. “I fought one. It had a gash where he hit it.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You should tell him.”
He leaned away from her against the wall. “You can tell him.”
“I will. And he can tell you… he told us why he…” She paused, drew a slow breath. “He told us why he acted like he did.”
Harry let that sit a moment, interest creeping in despite everything. He straightened and looked over at her. “He did?”
Jo nodded. “Come up and hear his story.”
“How will that help?”
“Look, in all the time we’ve known each other, have I ever asked you a favor?”
Harry raised his eyebrows. “In all the time…” A real smile broke through this time, brief but there.
It faded, and a shrug took its place. “Alright. If he’ll tell me, I’ll listen.”
Jo pushed to her feet and looked down at the landing. “But get the spears yourself. Not my mess.” She started up the stairs, paused, and glanced back. "No, leave them for Toby. It'll make him happy." She turned back toward the stairs. "Come on."
Harry let out a low groan and hauled himself upright to follow her.
Harry followed Jo up. Cedric and Stan were still sitting with their backs against the wall.
Stan looked up, doubt written across his face.
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Cedric was still fidgeting with his dagger, eyes locked on Harry like he expected to be attacked the moment he looked away.
Toby stood with his back turned, poking at the dull surface of the gray portal.
“Toby,” Jo said, “can you be a squire and get the spears?”
He turned and nodded fast. “Will I get them? Sure thing, Jojo. I mean… Jo.” He flushed and hurried past them down the stairs.
Jo dragged a hand over her face, then shot Harry a quick grin. She crossed to the corner between the stairs and the two men on the floor and dropped down cross-legged.
Harry settled onto the top step, facing the group.
No one spoke.
Harry’s mouth twitched. Martha had always called this ‘taffy silence’, sticky and uncomfortable. Except she said ‘silencio caramelo’.
Below, Toby clattered around, sounding like he’d dropped one of the spears again.
They waited. He came back up, a spear in each hand. Harry leaned back to make room for him to pass.
Jo pointed at the far wall. “Put them over there.”
Toby leaned the spears against the stone and returned, sitting on the floor facing Stan and Cedric, close to Harry on his left.
“Right,” Jo said. “Cedric, tell Harry what you told us.”
Cedric scowled and stared at the floor.
“I think I’d like to hear it again,” Toby said. “It’s like a story the bards tell.”
Stan bumped his elbow into Cedric’s arm. “Go on. You told us, you can tell everyone.”
Cedric looked up. First at Jo, who gave a single nod. Then at Harry, jaw tight. He let out a long breath and set the dagger across his lap. “Alright.”
Cedric stared at the far wall and began. “My father is Baron Whitehall. I am his oldest son. My whole life was preparing to someday take over. The time was getting close to when I’d finally receive my Interface. It is family tradition that on that day, my future bride would be announced.”
He drew a slow breath. “When I was twelve, we began visiting neighboring regions. Potential allies. Trade partners. I was to meet their most promising daughters. Eventually we came to Brightwell. They are a coastal power. Father hoped for closer ties.”
“I met Stefanya, the Duke of Brightwell’s niece. She was older than I was. Sixteen. And she had just received her User Interface.” He stopped and glanced around at the others, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his face. “I was only twelve, mind. I fell in love immediately. At least, what a twelve-year-old calls love.”
“We were to go on a picnic. Speak a while. Become acquainted. We rode out on white horses, with a guard and her chaperon. She took me to her favorite spot, a glade looking over a waterfall.”
He paused, eyes distant. “We talked. She was eager to tell me about her Interface. Her class was Phoenix Heart, a fire mage. A rare class, though common enough in her family. Father was pleased. He said adding that bloodline to ours would strengthen Whitehall for generations.”
“She wanted to show me one of her skills. We walked to the edge of the falls and she cast, a stream of fire. I don’t know which was brighter, the glow of the flame or the smile that lit her face.”
“But then…” He went quiet. The room did too. Everyone waited.
“Then we heard the scream.”
He swallowed. “We looked back. The chaperon was already on the ground, swarmed. The guard was fighting. Undead. Carrion Walkers. The horses were screaming, being pulled down.”
“Stefanya grabbed my hand and we ran. They came after us. There was nowhere to go. The river on one side, open field on the other. They were right behind us.”
“We reached a tree. Stefanya helped me up. She pushed me until I got hold of a branch. I climbed as high as I could, but when I looked back she was still on the ground.”
“I called to her. Begged her to climb. But they were there. She fought them. They burned. Bright pillars of fire. Rolling in the field. Dropping into the river. But they kept coming. They kept coming.”
“There were too many.” His jaw tightened. “They pulled her down. Tore her throat. Ripped open her belly.”
“I was stuck. They surrounded the tree.” He paused. “I waited.”
“A short time later. Too short. She stood up.”
He didn’t look at anyone now. “She stood under the tree and looked up at me. Her eyes were solid black. Her throat was open and her insides were spilled out of her stomach.”
“She called up to me. The voice was the same, but hollow. ‘Husband, come down.’ ‘It will be alright.’ ‘Don’t be afraid.’”
"Several of the Walkers gathered around her, a chorus of hollow voices. 'Come down.' 'Don't be afraid.' They waved up at me, beckoning."
“I clung to the tree.” His voice lowered. “I was only twelve.”
“At dusk my father came with his men. They ran down the Walkers. Slew them. I watched as his captain cut down Stefanya and removed her head.”
“I couldn’t climb down. The captain came up the tree and carried me down.”
“They piled the undead and burned them.”
Cedric drew a long breath and looked around at the group before continuing.
“Later, the Duke of Brightwell demanded my father pay tribute for killing his niece. My father refused. The danger was his fault, he said. They should pay.”
“It stays the same. Not war. Not allies.”
“When my time came, I did not receive an Interface. We waited. Maybe I would be one of the late ones.”
“The seers said it was the attack. I was broken. No longer fit for an Interface.”
“Eventually I was disinherited. No longer in the line of succession.”
“My fate was undecided. Perhaps the church. Perhaps the guard.”
“Then word came from Brightwell. An invitation. They would be happy to offer me training as chamberlain.”
“My father was ready to declare war.”
“I left.”
He fell silent. No one spoke.
Cedric picked the dagger up from his lap and began fidgeting with it again, eyes fixed anywhere but on Harry.
Toby sniffled loud enough to break the quiet and wiped at his face.
That made Cedric look up. He gave Toby a small smile and a nod.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Harry said.
Cedric’s head snapped toward him, but he only gave a thin, wry smile before looking down again.
“Alright,” Jo said. “So now everyone knows why you… you ran.” Cedric met her eyes. “But we still have a room full of undead downstairs. Will you be able to help?”
Cedric shrugged. “I’ll try.”
Stan cleared his throat. “Sometimes try’s all we got.” He tapped his bound arm with his busted hand. “Better than I can manage.”
Cedric looked over at him and let out a short grin. “You are a big fellow. Maybe you can sit on one.”
A ripple of laughter went through the group.
They sat quiet for a moment. Harry felt the tension draining away.
Jo pulled her bow around and checked the string. "Right. We need a plan. Harry, what did you see down there?"
***
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