The Living Sword 3: The Burden of Legacy

by Pemry Janes

“The san don’t have flesh,” Eurik said even as he closed his eyes again. Misthell’s words—or Zasashi’s—had sparked an idea. He moved his arms, connecting with the wind once more. However, rather than reaching, Eurik pulled.

  He drew the wind to him, from the street and past him through the alley to blow out the other side of the warren of buildings that had formed this passage. And as the chiri flowed around him, he sampled the memories it carried.

  There, the song of a messenger swift, here, someone plucked on the strings of his instrument to tune it. Conversations, the clinking of cups, geese honking, water bubbling, wood creaking—all of it passed him.

  He didn’t know what half the sounds were actually about, much of the voices too distorted to hear the words, but one of them was significant. A deep, rhythmic blowing, like the breathing of a giant monster.

  The smithy on the island didn’t use a bellows; they had no need for something like that when they could manipulate the fire itself, but Eurik had come across them in his travels. This was the sound, though louder than he thought it should be.

  He plunged back into the streets of Urumoy and set out to follow the flow of chiri to its source.

  Chapter 5

  Sins of the Mother

  Leraine didn’t have far to go; Irelith’s house wasn’t that far from Raven Eye’s. It was a modest dwelling, nothing like the sprawling complexes some other families in Urumoy had. It curved slightly outward around a bump in the ground, the single tree that dominated its small soul garden peeking out from over the longhouse’s roof.

  That sight stopped her, her hand squeezing the scabbard of Irelith’s sword. Leraine had said her goodbyes already; it wasn’t the dead she dreaded to face. But standing here does me no good, it only increases the shame.

  She let go of a shuddering breath and—with legs that trembled just a little—Leraine marched over to the door set in the left side of the alcove. Pulling at the cord hanging next to it, she heard the bell clang inside. A few more pulls and she let go, waiting for the door to open.

  It didn’t take long, but it opened with unexpected force. White Gale, Irelith’s oldest, didn’t look surprised to see her. To be expected. What wasn’t was White Gale’s snarl. “Get in,” she said, looking past Leraine rather than at her, before getting out of the way.

  “White Gale, I—”

  “I will not repeat myself.”

  Leraine hesitated for only a moment before hastening inside. The door slammed shut behind her. White Gale stalked past her and Leraine followed her to the main hall where much of Irelith’s family stood, waiting.

  Flashing Reed, Irelith’s other daughter, for once was not smiling. Her sister joined them at the foot of the low podium where the head of the family would sit. The rest of the family observed from the side.

  Weathered Flint, Irelith’s man, had his arms crossed and his lower lip quivered before he looked away from her. Irelith’s son Violet still hadn’t joined another family, and he looked so pale and vulnerable today. Flashing Reed’s man, their young daughter, White Gale’s husband, Dew, who held two babes in his arms—all of them were looking at her in silence.

  Leraine swallowed a sudden lump away and with a quick prayer to the Great Serpent she approached and bowed before them, holding up Irelith’s sword. “Irelith has returned to the mother of us all. She fell in battle, a true warrior to the end.”

  Silence filled the hall, only interrupted by a squirming baby. It took an eternity before a hand grasped the sheathed sword in between Leraine’s own hands and lifted it up. At last, Leraine could straighten out.

  As she did so, she retrieved the blooddrinker’s fang. It was wrapped in a piece of fabric and had been so for months now. The cloth had become stiff from grime and had to be peeled away.

  “I offer you proof that her killer has paid the full price for his transgression,” Leraine said, offering the fang up. “He died by—”

  A hand struck out, slapping Leraine’s hands to the side and sending the fang flying. “I don’t care,” White Gale yelled. “The one who truly killed her stands before me.”

  Leraine reared back. “I . . . I . . .”

  Flashing Reed stepped forward, joining White Gale with a hand on her sword. “She would be here if not for your selfish desire to see the world. You thought yourself clever, but we all knew. You abused tradition for your own pleasure, but it was our mother who paid the price for your transgression.”

  Leraine shook her head. “That’s not what happened.”

  White Gale put a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Our mother may have treated you like a daughter, but we don’t have to treat you like a sister. Leave.”

  Leave? Without attending the rites? As if I’m some stranger? “No.”

  Steel hissed before White Gale smacked Flashing Reed’s hand back down. Her eyes never left Leraine. “It wasn’t a request. From this day forward, this family cuts its ties with you. You and your mother. Now leave. There is no shelter for you here.”

  Her mouth opened and shut, but no words came. Closing her eyes, she took a deep, shuddering breath. Leraine didn’t bow, didn’t say goodbye or farewell. She turned around and walked through the hall that had been familiar to her and out the door.

  It shut behind her with a very final crash.

  ***

  As it turned out—and he should have guessed—Urumoy had more than one smithy, and Eurik had to square his shoulders as he faced the fourth one. So far, nobody had heard of a blacksmith named Ardent who’d left the Federation about twenty years ago.

  It didn’t help that he had no clue how old his mother had been, either when she left or when she died. And it was possible that she’d been born to parents who didn’t live here in the Federation in the first place.

  Silver Fang had told him about the community of Mochedan living in Pelagrianorum. There could have been one in Linese, or elsewhere. The thing was, he didn’t know. And there was only one way to fix that.

  He stepped into a dark cavern filled with noises, illuminated only by the red glow of several coal fires. The reason all these smithies had been placed next to the river revealed itself.

  They used the river’s flow to power bellows and hammers. But all of those wooden axles, gears, and leather belts combined with the normal sounds of a smithy to produce a racket that had driven Eurik out the first time he entered one.

  Men and women worked the metal, sweating underneath their aprons. Men only worked on things like horseshoes, pots, pans, barrel hoops, anything that didn’t have an edge. Even a kitchen knife was invariably forged by a woman. He’d visited three Urumoy blacksmiths so far, and in this fourth one it was no different.

  The person in charge looked promising, a lot of gray in her hair and skin that looked like aged leather. She had to be old enough. Her arms were still powerful, and she easily lifted the heavy hammer as she demonstrated something to a much younger smith.

  “There, see the difference in color. It’s not absorbing heat equally because the iron’s thicker here. Put it back into the coals, then get it to a more uniform thickness.” She stepped back and handed the tongs over to her student, who did as she’d been ordered.

  The older blacksmith puffed and looked around, catching sight of Eurik. He knew when she noticed the blade on his back, her thin eyebrows rose up. She stepped away from her anvil and walked over to Eurik. “So then, what brings Silver Fang’s new buck to my little shop?”

  Eurik bowed lightly first. “Greetings. I was hoping you could help—”

  “Are you now? Well,” she said, gripping his upper arm and giving it a light squeeze. “Got some nice muscles there. You any experience working metal? I know that sword wasn’t your work.”

  “Uh, some. I was sometimes assigned to the island’s smithy.” He shook his head. He needed to get back to why he was here.

  The woman, however, had wrapped her arm around his shoulders and was sort of marching him over to a nearby room t
hat held a desk and a stack of papers. “Ir Serom? Can’t say I’ve heard anything about their work. Now,” she said, kicking the door shut behind her and sitting on the corner of her desk. “How far along in your apprenticeship were you before you decided to head out into the world?”

  “I . . .” Eurik took a deep breath and willed his heart to slow down. “I am not here for work. I am here about my mother.”

  The left corner of her mouth rose up. “Now I know you’re not mine. Only one who might have a kid growing up on the outside is Patient Eye. And you’re a little too old to be hers.”

  He opened his mouth, then thought better. He needed to be concise and quick. “My mother was Kaite the Ardent. She was a blacksmith who left more than twenty years ago. I am looking for someone who knew her.”

  “A blacksmith named Ardent?” The old blacksmith leaned back, her eyes focused on the wall above Eurik. “Not here. With that name, she’d have grown up in the Copper Hills. Nearer to Fox territory than Urumoy . . .”

  She stilled, then cursed. It was quick and Leraine hadn’t focused on that part of the language, but her tone of voice told Eurik enough. “What? You know something.”

  The blacksmith let out a breath. “I do. Not many remember it happened . . . I was an apprentice back then, has to be more then twenty years ago now. I think. A juicy story back then but with Ardent disappearing people forgot.” She gave Eurik a sharp look. “But some still remember. So you better not mention that name anymore and pray to the spirits that the news Ardent has a son doesn’t reach them.”

  “What, why?”

  She intertwined her fingers and rested her hands on her thighs. “Because your mother is a murderer, Rock.”

  ***

  Leraine found herself at a loss. She didn’t want to go home right now, but the only other place she’d ever called that had just thrown her out with the understanding that she could never return. Instead, she wandered through Urumoy. Only to find herself stopped every ten steps by someone who hadn’t seen her in a year and wanted to know what it was like killing a demon.

  Nobody asks about Irelith, about avenging her.

  She fled from the busy streets and out toward the docks jutting into the Dark Lake. The faint stench of the tanners and the fishmongers enveloped her but at least it was quiet here. Those who plied the lake for their livelihood were out there now. And those who came to trade docked farther to the west.

  Closing her eyes, she enjoyed a little peace and quiet, but only a little. The wind rushing through the reeds was nearly always drowned out by the noise of Urumoy. Lake gulls screamed as they wheeled through the sky and fought among each other for scraps.

  This wasn’t how she’d pictured her return to Urumoy, not at all. But was her disaffection not childish? How many warriors had killed themselves striving for the recognition Leraine now received? Any sept would welcome her, any leader of warriors in Snake and beyond would offer gold and wine for the prestige of having Silver Fang the demon slayer at their side.

  To be shown off like Griffenhart’s paintings.

  Her snort surprised her; the memory was bittersweet. Irelith had held her peace during the tour, but her dissection afterward of the scenes of battle depicted had nearly split Leraine’s sides. And that story would never be shared with Irelith’s daughters.

  Irelith didn’t blame her, she knew that. But that didn’t mean White Gale was wrong. She had been selfish and her decisions had had consequences.

  A wooden plank creaked and Leraine spun around, her hand going for a sword that wasn’t there. No, I’m not in enemy territory anymore. She needed to stop feeling that, though it was harder to do when she saw her sister Ferisha approaching.

  “Sister,” Ferisha greeted her. “You’ve been hard to find.” Leraine’s sister’s outfit was a little odd. She’d seen it several times today. The padded vest looked functional enough, but the worked copper plates affixed to it didn’t really offer any additional protection. Just drew attention to the breasts and belly of the wearer.

  But it sent another message as well, to wear any armor out on the streets of Urumoy when you were a member of the community. Especially to do so in this heat. So she’d seen members of the Truce Warriors, then.

  A quick look around and she spotted a crow. An ill omen, as if she needed the warning. “Sister. I’m not hiding.”

  “Or doing a poor job of it,” Ferisha said with a smile as she walked over to stand by Leraine’s side and look out over the lake. “But this is a good place to gain some perspective.”

  Leraine kept an eye on her sister from the corner of her vision. “It is.”

  “The future presents itself with many options, many choices. Do you have an idea yet what you’ll do?”

  “My perspective, alas, is not yet wide enough. But perhaps you can help me there. How do you see the future? With the emperor of the horse people summoning demons and the emperor of the soulless increasingly angry with the People, it seems we are surrounded by danger.”

  Her sister smiled. “You’ve spoken to Mother. But that’s the dreamweed talking. It has clouded her vision. The horse people are summoning demons, and it is up to us to put a stop to that. Forget the Linesans, they’ll never do more than shake their spears and rattle their shields. It is the horse people that are a threat to us all.”

  “We are allied with the horse people of the Oathfellowship. You want us to break our given word?”

  “Not at all. Not unless they prove as great a danger as the others. I never did hear what they did with the heart of the demon you slew.”

  Leraine looked away and rolled her shoulders. “When we left, the mages of Glinfell were arguing they should keep both. But the people of Stohlhavve demanded they share their bounty.” She’d been sure she’d seen three, but between her injuries and the limited visibility it wasn’t that hard to believe she’d made a mistake. It would have been better if there were none.

  “It had two? Let’s hope then that they don’t have any accidents. But Mother will have an eye on them, I’m sure. She should,” Ferisha said before breathing in deep through her nose. “But we’re getting off topic. We were talking about you. The deeds of Silver Fang are on everybody’s lips.”

  “Not all my deeds.” Leraine couldn’t hide a grimace after the words slipped out. “What of you?” This time, she managed to keep an impassive expression, though she cursed herself for a fool.

  Why do I always end up a mumbling idiot around Ferisha?

  Her sister, however, merely smiled wanly. “Me? Nothing as eye-catching as you. I’ve been working quietly to prop Mother up. All too many taste opportunity after her accident.” She nodded. “In times like these, we need strength; strength like yours.”

  “The stories have been exaggerated. I didn’t kill that demon all by myself.”

  “Do tell. As I understand it, everybody’s just repeating Mother’s words and well, you know her relation with the truth.”

  Leraine took a deep breath, then blew it all out. “When we saw the rift open, Rock ran toward the battle as swift as the wind. I had to get a horse. But without his ability to command the earth, without him lending me his living sword, I would have died.”

  “But you did deliver the killing blow?”

  Leraine shrugged. “It was a team effort. Even killing Rik I didn’t do on my own, I needed Misthell to save my hide or I would have been the blooddrinker’s supper.”

  “Misthell?”

  “That’s the name of the living sword,” Leraine said, turning back to her sister. She . . . looked a lot more like Mother than she herself or Anseri did, especially right now. Perhaps she should not have mentioned Rock, though she couldn’t hide him either. “I hope you’re not going to bother Rock. He’s my guest.”

  “When have I ever bothered anybody? I would think the boy would appreciate being welcomed back home. He’s clearly of our people, even if he didn’t grow up among the People. Ah, one of his parents was Snake
, right?”

  Leraine hesitated, but knowing Rock, he was probably already asking around himself. No point in hiding it then. “His mother. Someone called Ardent. His father was a Puma. But they both died a long time ago.” She looked a little closer at her sister. “I don’t think he’s interested in actually joining either tribe. I think his home is still back with the san.”

  “A warrior like that would be wasted in our tribe anyway. Unless our laws change, which may happen. Those aren’t set in stone, after all, and the world is changing. Keep that in mind as you decide your own path.”

  Her sister nodded to her and walked back up the docks to two warriors who were dressed very much like Ferisha. They fell in behind her without a word being exchanged. The crow cawed as it flew away.

  Chapter 6

  Embrace

  Leraine headed for her sept’s training field, located behind the longhouse between the soul garden’s boundary hedge and the stables. Peace and quiet hadn’t worked; perhaps swinging a weapon around and hitting something—or someone—would.

  It shouldn’t stir too many memories. Irelith had mostly trained her in her own yard or outside the walls of Urumoy. But she got a surprise as she neared the sand covered circle. There were about eight warriors there and only two hadn’t stopped what they were doing to watch Rock.

  He faced a pillar of stone that had to have been erected by him and attacked it with a speed only a few Snake warriors could hope to rival. The strikes were light; she could barely hear the impacts.

  Misthell had been propped up against one of the posts that held up the rope that separated the practice area from the rest of the yard. “You sure you don’t want me giving it a face? I can even have it appear to move, make it all more real.”

  “This is fine,” Rock said, not relenting one bit in his assault. “It’d confuse me.”