The Living Sword 3: The Burden of Legacy

by Pemry Janes

Leraine hesitated, but she felt more than one set of eyes on her. So she urged her horse forward to pass the gate after her sisters.

  Entering the hold, it was easy to see the warriors who had been hiding on the top of the wall. They were still holding their bows and looked on silently as more and more of their group filtered in.

  “We’ve heard of you,” Joyous Bell said to Silver Fang. “So Raven Eye sends her most accomplished daughter to the festival as well.”

  Leraine inclined her head. “I only did what any warrior of Snake would do: aid an ally. I thank you for your hospitality.” Meager as it is. The protestations of poverty rang hollow once she caught sight of the rich decoration on the warriors’ helmets and the tapestries hanging inside the longhouse.

  Joyous Bell’s settlement was twice the size of Silent Ice’s, and all the warriors Leraine could see were well-equipped. Poor indeed. But she was Urumoy’s neighbor.

  “Couldn’t turn away travelers heading for Chappenuioc, now could I? But I should tell my people to wait until daybreak before herding the pigs. We don’t want any of your people ending up on the butcher’s hook.” Joyous Bell let loose a bark of laughter that her household quickly joined in with.

  Leraine did her best to keep her composure, and to not sigh at the gratuitous insult. This is going to be a long night. Joyous Bell thought herself a rival of Mother, but she was about as subtle as the pigs she kept bringing up.

  I should have just rolled out my blanket under Rock’s shelter. The company wouldn’t be any less crude, even if they preferred to roll in the mud instead of slinging it.

  ***

  Bringing up the slabs of compressed earth that would serve as his shelter for the night was easy. He did so on the edge of the group he was traveling with. Most of them were women and the men that had come along all seemed to be attached to one group or another.

  Erecting the shelter brought him more attention, but he’d gotten used to that. Kind of. After slipping Misthell’s baldric off his shoulder, he held the sword in front of him. “All right, looks like we’ll be staying out here tonight. Do you—”

  “Drop the sword,” a woman said behind him as he heard wood ticking against wood.

  Turning around, he was confronted by two armed and armored women from this settlement. One had her hands on her hips, a younger one with a short draen had been the source of the ticking sound. It was the arrow being nocked to her curving bow.

  “Could you repeat? My Thelauk is . . . not great.” And her accent had been a little different than what he’d gotten used to. Her l’s dragged a bit.

  She bared her teeth in a lopsided sneer. “Drop the sword, boy,” she said, pausing after every word. “Now.”

  “I do not think he would like that.”

  “I would not. This place is filthy,” Misthell said.

  The bow went up, arrow now pointed at him though the string wasn’t drawn. Right, men aren’t allowed to touch weapons around here. After he’d gotten no comment about carrying Misthell around in Urumoy, he’d forgotten that this was a thing. But if he just dropped the living sword he’d be hearing about it all the way to Chappenuioc.

  “This isn’t Urumoy. We do things the right way here. Quiet,” the older soldier snapped at the men who had set up their tent next to his. One of them had stepped forward to say something but now froze at the woman’s glare. Her attention returned to Eurik. “Drop the sword and you might get it back when you leave. Drop it, or she shoots you.”

  Wait, she’s going to steal Misthell? “No.”

  The speaker’s eyes grew two sizes, the arrow wavered. “What?”

  “Shoot me and get this over with.” Eurik shrugged. But also frantically pulled as much earth chiri up from beneath his feet and into his body.

  The bow looked different than the ones he’d seen before, a more elaborate curved shape with both ends bending sharply up so that the string rested against it. No way to know how powerful it was exactly, but the arrowhead looked sharp.

  “There’s no need,” Misthell said. “I’m not actually a sword, you see. I’m a, uh, a horn. Yes. A . . . Linesan flathorn.”

  “I’m not going to argue with a man, let alone a talking sword.”

  “No, I’m a flathorn. Here, listen.” Music began to emanate from the sword. It started as a high pitched tune he’d heard first at an inn in Pons Vorce, then it descended into a bassy hoot.

  “Misthell—”

  “I got this,” the sword said in a low voice while the music kept going. “Is she buying it?”

  “You tell me,” Eurik said, lifting up the sword so Misthell’s eye could see. The bowwoman reacted to the motion by drawing her bow. But the arrow slipped out of her grasp halfway through the draw and slammed into Eurik’s chest.

  Misthell’s tune broke off as the archer stammered something that got drowned out by the older soldier’s cursing as she wheeled on the archer. Eurik himself hissed and winced as he pulled the arrow out. Not too deep. Still hurts.

  It barely bled as the arrow had hit a rib. He opted not to harden the blood, better to have it close off naturally. Instead he dropped the arrow as the archer’s jaw dropped.

  “What? Are you ignoring me?” The older soldier turned her attention back to Eurik, her eyes growing wide as she looked down at the arrow and then back up at what little blood stained his tunic. The fading light hid more and more, but not the fact that Eurik wasn’t wearing armor. And had still barely been hurt by an arrow loosed from about six steps away.

  “Looks like you both got lucky,” another woman said, leading a group of armed soldiers toward them. Eurik recognized them as members of their traveling party, and they were led by one of Silver Fang’s sisters. “If you’d managed to really hurt or kill a guest, Joyous Bell would have had to offer us your heads.”

  The archer gesticulated with her bow. “It was an accident!”

  The older soldier grabbed her by the shoulder and cut off any more protests. Only after a hard stare and a twitch of her head did she turn her attention to the people who had come to Eurik’s defense. “Your man is hardly hurt. And he’s holding a weapon. The law is clear, Joyous Bell has a right to enforce it. Even with guests.”

  “Perhaps your old eyes strain to see much with so little light. Look again, he’s not of the People.”

  The soldier snorted. “That doesn’t matter. Horse men, even short-men, they give up their weapons while inside these walls.”

  “Excuse me, I can easily solve this.” Eurik decided not to mention what had been said about keeping Misthell. Not when he received those two glares. Tempers were hot enough as it was. “Sorry, Misthell.”

  “Eurik, what are y—” A hole opened up beneath the living sword and Eurik dropped Misthell into it. Then closed it with a wave of his hand while pushing the living sword deeper with his other. He also firmed the soil around the blade so that no tunneling creature could easily reach Misthell. Not that the living sword would thank him for that consideration.

  “There, I’ll pick him up tomorrow. Problem solved.”

  Golden Tongue rocked back on her heels and regarded him with a raised eyebrow. “And your injury?”

  Shrugging sent a prick of pain lancing through his chest, but he did his best to smile anyway. “Only a flesh wound. I am sure it was an accident. Anyway, it’s getting late and I am getting hungry.” He turned back to the older woman. “Do you need anything else?”

  “Don’t pull any other stunts, spellslinger. We’re keeping an eye on you. Come on, you,” the older warrior said as she shoved the young archer and stomped away. “You obviously are slacking off.” The rest of her words were too faint to hear. Those on the wall and near the longhouse relaxed as well.

  The group from Urumoy took a little longer to disperse, and when it did Golden Tongue came over to Eurik. “The shot was abysmal, but the arrow should still have skewered you,” she said, pulling at his tunic and placing a finger near the wound.

&nb
sp; Eurik set his jaw and could barely keep from cringing as that set off a fresh ripple of pain. “It did not. Could you stop poking the wound?”

  “I’m not,” she said, stepping back. “I heard you fought alongside my sister against the demon and about a spar you had with her back in Urumoy. Still, your ability is impressive when seen with my own two eyes.”

  Eurik shifted his weight, his face warming up. “Yes, well, thank you . . . for speaking to them. It helped.” That wasn’t quite what he wanted to say, but he was tired and Thelauk could be finicky. “I appreciate your help.”

  Golden Tongue grinned. “Bah, think nothing of it. Got to keep these people in their place. Can’t have them bossing around our own. Or people who are with us. It would only give them ideas later on.”

  “They . . . were talking about keeping my sword.”

  She nodded. “See, got to keep a close eye or they’ll rob you blind.” Golden Tongue put an arm around him and squeezed his shoulder. “Come, join my fire. We’ll get that scratch looked at and we can share a meal. Before I have to make nice with Cup of Venom. And maybe tell me something more about that magic of yours.”

  “Ah, I can do that. Uh, thank you?”

  Her smile got a little more toothy. “Think nothing of it.”

  ***

  Leraine frowned when she met Eurik the next morning. “Where’s Misthell? Please tell me you didn’t let him gamble himself away.”

  He shook his head and looked back at the wall of Joyous Bell’s hold. “No. There was an . . . argument. It got resolved, but Misthell will not be happy with me. I am avoiding the confrontation.” Rock grimaced. “I can not do that any longer. Perhaps cover your ears.”

  He made a gesture, like grabbing something from a shelf and pulling it over to him. More of the group passed them by, but for some reason Golden Tongue stopped.

  Leraine waited for her to speak, only to find that her sister ignored her completely to address Rock instead. “You didn’t forget your sword, did you?”

  “No, no. I am getting him now.” He brought his hand up and Misthell emerged from the ground, held aloft by a crude arm of shaped dirt which crumbled away the moment Rock had a hold of him. “See.”

  “I’m sorry I used your real name. I know they don’t like it.” Words poured from the living sword in an unrelenting flood. “But you locked me up in the ground! I could hear things crawling around, I could feel them! They were hungry, Eu—Rock! And it was damp, too!”

  “Misthell! Misthell! Please, calm down.”

  “What is this about hungry creatures?” Leraine stilled as Golden Tongue approached them. “When I saw you leaving the hold without it, I got worried. But I see you had not forgotten him.”

  Rock inclined his head. “No, I did not want to risk it in there.”

  “Wise. I wouldn’t put it past them to argue just to waste our time. Though I don’t think they would push it as far as they did last night. How is your injury?” Golden Tongue stepped closer to Eurik.

  “Did something happen?”

  “Yes, some of our host’s warriors pestered your man here. I was settling in our people when I heard the commotion. They objected to Rock having the living sword. One of them shot him.”

  “Shot you?” Leraine said the words too loud, startling the riders nearest her and one had their horse step away from her before they got their mount back under control. “Where?” She looked him up and down and noticed that Rock wore a different tunic than yesterday.

  “It is not so bad. Barely a wound.”

  “Yes, your magic is very impressive,” Golden Tongue said. “Perhaps we can talk more of it tonight at our next stop. Until then.”

  Leraine waited until the other woman was barely far enough away before speaking. “You got into a fight serious enough to injure you and you weren’t going to tell me?”

  “It was not a fight, but an accident.” Rock shrugged. “As I said, I barely have a wound and the problem was resolved. At least I think it was resolved.”

  She sighed. “Since nobody told me anything until now, I suppose it has been. Though my sister was absent for a lot longer than the time it would take to settle a small argument.”

  “She offered to bandage the wound after. It was not necessary, but we talked, we eat. Ate.”

  “Yes.” Leraine shook her head. There was the impulse to keep silent, but her family seemed determined to involve Rock in their affairs. “Golden Tongue leads a group that advocates we no longer need the Great Truce. She might be more interested in what your powers could do for her and hers once they are free to attack.”

  “I have no interest in joining a war. Any war.”

  She put a hand on his shoulder. “We are over a week away from Chappenuioc. Be careful, yet respectful, and we’ll get to the festival in one piece. I hope.”

  Chapter 9

  At the End of the Road

  Silver Fang’s warning seemed overblown in the light of the days that followed. Certainly, Golden Tongue sought out his company, but it seemed harmless to Eurik. They talked about his travels, his life on San, and how a warrior of Snake was trained.

  Silver Fang wasn’t mentioned, not by Golden Tongue. And the conversation would always end up on some other topic whenever he brought up the topic of her sister. Either of them, really. There seemed to be a tension there between the three.

  Today, however, the issue between what might be a new friend and his old friend was not at the forefront of his mind. He’d heard last night that they would reach Chappenuioc today and they appeared to be right.

  They’d been back on the Road since yesterday. Around them the landscape quickly changed, farms and settlements giving way to manmade hills and erected stones engraved with images of people and animals. Ahead, the Road still threw up a haze that kept a traveler from seeing too far up its length.

  The traffic on the Road had grown into a crowd, just about all of them heading in the same direction. They succeeded in making the final stretch of the Road feel oppressive, not helped by the earthen mounds looming over them.

  Then the haze lifted away like a curtain and Chappenuioc sprawled out before him. It was a little hard to grasp what he saw at first, to make sense of the riot of colors snapping and fluttering in the wind.

  People behind him didn’t give him any chance to stop and take it all in, they all pushed to leave the Road and spread out over the circular plain that had appeared. The grass-covered mounds had been built at a distance from Chappenuioc itself. None of those ancient people had seemed to dare to erect their monuments too close to the place.

  The modern Mochedan were different. A city of wood and cloth covered the entire place, spilling out from the Inza structure he could just make out underneath the scaffolding.

  Eurik was so caught up with his examinations he didn’t notice most of the rest of his traveling party had already left the Road. Only when Silver Fang spoke up from his left did he notice it was just the two of them surrounded by strangers. Some of them at least gawked like he had.

  “Where did everybody go?”

  Silver Fang led her horse through the crowd, one hand resting on its neck. “To the west. All of the tribes have their own piece of land around Chappenuioc, their own quarter. Ours, Snake’s, lies past that of Boar. Outsiders have their own quarter; we already passed most of it,” she said, indicating a couple of hundred tents to the right of the Road. They stood separate from the rest of the settlement and had clearly been put wherever their owners felt like. Just not too close to what the Mochedan considered their own territory.

  “Should I go there as well?”

  “No, you are our guest. You can stay in our tent. Now, come. It’s been a long journey and I don’t want to miss the opening ceremony. I think you’ll like it as well.”

  “Right.”

  He followed her. They got closer to Chappenuioc proper, giving Eurik a better look. The stone pillars that lined the Road also lined the edge
of Chappenuioc. Beyond them were even larger standing stones on which flat ones had been placed to form a ring of squared arches. And all of it was buried under wooden frames, ropes, and large stretches of fabric.

  Chappenuioc was a tent city, in that it could be both considered a collection of tents or one giant tent. And much of the fabric was dyed and decorated with all manner of designs. Not only animals, but people and geometric shapes as well.

  “Is this built every year?” He had to repeat himself, raising his voice to be heard over the din of a hundred songs and a thousand conversations.

  “Yes and no.” Silver Fang shook her head. “It used to be that only the shamans and loretellers were allowed to live here. But it became impossible. It would take months to set everything up and then break it down again. So they allowed others to stay so they could maintain everything and from there it just grew and grew.”

  “I see.” But he could also see that not everything was ready yet. People were still hoisting up canvas in places and between the notes of flutes, drums, and string instruments Eurik could hear the pounding of hammers.

  “They didn’t abandon all propriety. It is still forbidden to use stone for construction within sight of Chappenuioc,” Silver Fang said. “And just about all who come to visit will live in a tent or lean-to.”

  Moving along, Eurik noticed that the various quarters as Silver Fang had called them were clearly separated. Their borders marked with banners and statues of animals. They passed a group which used kites shaped in the form of a bird, tied to tall posts. After that came posts with climbing ferrets carved into them.

  Snake had something similar, though he could see one or two of the kite-snakes he’d seen in the fields used here as well. They’d caught up with the rest of their group, but Silver Fang stopped him and quickly pushed him behind her horse.

  “What is it?”

  “Do you see that banner? The yellow one with a blue adder strangling a rooster.”