Sefiros Eishi: Chased By War (The Smoke and Mirrors Saga Book 2)

by Michael Wolff

  LXI

  It started as such a normal day. The hills were green, carpeted with white dandelions as far as the eye could see. Here and there beehives hung on stout oak branches, adding a honeysuckle taste to the air. Overhead birds glided across the sky with their children in tow, their cawing alternating with the beating of their wings. Even the sky was gorgeous, a breath-taking blue shorn of any clouds. Ah, spring.

  Then a vortex opened and vomited out a woman. In a wedding dress.

  So much for normal.

  “Are you okay?” Are you okay? Sefiros Cayokite winced inwardly. That’s all you can say? Of course, I’m not okay. What’s wrong with you?

  Closer inspection revealed she was a tall woman, fiery red hair framing a broad-boned face. To most men it would be odd to see her garbed in wedding white, but Sefiros Cayokite had seen things that would curdle most men’s short-hairs. In fact, this one encounter didn’t really measure up with the last few weeks.

  A groan brought Cayokite’s attention about. The woman opened tilted emerald eyes and screamed bloody murder. “No, wait!” Silently Cayokite cursed himself for hunching over so close. “I’m not going to hurt you! I’m on your side!”

  “That’s what they all say!” Fierce, this one was. Though obviously shaken, the woman began the slow circling every duelist grew up with. Her fingers were clawed, and her eyes were green fire.

  “Look. Let’s start over. I’m Sefiros Cayokite. Who are you?”

  “Oh, is that the proper etiquette for your kind, huh? Talk your kidnapped to death?”

  “Kidnapping? Who said anything about kidnapping?” His eyes bulged as the conclusion struck home. “You think I kidnapped you?”

  “Oh, don’t play cute with me, you sallow-sacked freak! I know how your kind works! A compliment and a cup of tea, and then the women get abducted! What are you? A slaver? Limp-dick? You need some drugs to get excited?”

  “I’m none of those things! I’m the bystander here! I was minding my own business when you showed up!”

  “Oh, and I think you have a tale for that too, don’t you?”

  Sefiros was about to respond when a finger of dust climbed from the horizon. Oh great. Dust didn’t announce itself with horse-hooves, or the jangle of chain-mail. The soldiers – all too young for any posting – made a big show of kicking dust and the neighing of their horses.

  “Milady, we heard something down the road. Is this man bothering you?”

  “Bothering me? He’s kidnapped me, you idiot! I’m lucky to be alive!”

  “Wait!” Sefiros didn’t like the light in the soldiers’ eyes. It bordered on stupidity. “She’s confused! We just met by chance!”

  “Chance, huh? A lot of bandits have been singing that tune. Better see if he has any friends in the cells, just in case.”

  The trip to the prison cells was as one might expect. The guards strutted about as though they’d fought a war to take their captive. They even had the nerve to yank the chained manacles just because they could.

  The dungeon hadn’t been used in years. Spiderwebs clung to the corners, and the miasma of mildew was sharper than any dagger. At least there were no rats, Sefiros comforted himself. That would have added an entirely new element to the embarrassment.

  “Milady Temble, I think you’re confused!”

  “To hell with confused! Take your hands off me! I’m a public citizen! I know my rights!” Lady Temble marched right up to the cell, still in her wedding dress, mad as a fury. Suddenly Sefiros was glad the cell door was between them. “You! You tell me where I am right now!”

  A thousand answers came at once; the greater part of which were too tempting to voice. Fortunately, he was saved by the timely intervention of the guards. Sefiros smiled as two guards proceeded to chain Temble’s hands behind her back while the third advanced to the cell with a long-necked key in hand.

  “I’m sorry, sir.” The callous youth that decided his imprisonment. “She just started rambling about cities and horseless carriages and something about the year 4126. There’s no denying she’s a loon.”

  “It’s all right.” Sefiros rubbed the life back into his wrists. “You were just doing your job.” He jerked a nod towards Temble. “What is to happen to her?”

  “Well, given her madness, an Inquisitor will be called to purify her soul. Until then the local healers will leech the humors from her.”

  Sefiros’ eyes narrowed. He was old enough to know “purify” was just another word for torture in the tongue of heresy-hunters. Leeches would only cast her deeper into the shadow of madness. “I rescind the charges.”

  “Sir?”

  “I will take her into my custody. That is my right, I believe.”

  “Of course.” The youth hurried to his superiors, who after a moment of heads bent in congress shuffled to Sefiros’ side. “Are you sure, sir?”

  “I am sure. Release her.” They did, and the youth brought forth the documents necessary to transfer responsibility. Sefiros signed it with a false name – the last thing he needed was someone gushing over legends too warped with time – and had Temble’s manacles taken off.

  “Again, I am sorry, sir. Shall I escort you to the gates?”

  “No. No, I think we can manage.” Sefiros took Temble’s hand and bent his voice to a whisper. “If you want to get away from here then follow my lead.”

  They made an odd pair, a woman in her wedding dress and a man in exotic designs. So weary were the villagers that only the children drew stares before being shuffled inside by parents. Sefiros didn’t even breathe until the town gates loomed before them, and only then by half.

  “Okay. I’ve just saved you from the noose and probably worse. So, let’s start over, shall we? I’m Sefiros Cayokite. You are...”

  “Dana Temble.” She quivered with the effort of reining her temper. “Can you get me home?”

  Sefiros almost laughed. I’m a time-traveler who’s seen the birth of empires and the fall of dynasties. “Yeah. I can get you home.” Just like that, a new adventure began.

  LXII

  The money went immediately towards funds for the next leg of the journey. Mykel couldn’t count how many times the twine-tied sack ran dry.

  Transportation came first. Boats were the first things that came to mind. Only the nearest docks were poor; just a few planks of wood bound together by rawhide. The water below was dark and foreboding. The boats were slim skeletons of wood, alive with the drunken songs of their crews. Ifirit boiled with anticipation. Drunkards were as common as monks, and they were easily enraged. It was deeply gratifying to deny Ifirit its meal, even if it meant more walking.

  It took them a good hour to walk the length of the docks and back, and still a suitable boat could not be found. Most were pitted with warped wood; others with tears in the hull so jagged it had to be carved from a glance of wayward rock. Still others had crews that had not bathed in a year, and of course there were the crews that latched hungry eyes to the company of women like sharks to blood.

  The stories continued.

  “I curse you, Sefiros Cayokite! I name you destroyer of worlds!” Then the marble arches gave way, and Sorvad, Lord of Steel, was no more. His words followed Sefiros through the Teleport. What have I done?

  “Penny for your thoughts?”

  “Oh, Dana. It’s nothing. Just thinking, is all.” He ducked his eyes, forcing Dana to circle about to keep her gaze.

  “You listen to me, Sefiros Cayokite. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Sorvad took your choices away the moment he declared war on the planet.”

  Sefiros was unconvinced. “Perhaps none of this wouldn’t have happened if I –
”

  “What? If you killed him? You don’t know that. What’s the first rule every hero must learn?”

  “He can’t save everyone.” A smile and a few words sent Dana on her way, hugging the survivors in turn, exchanging congratulations. Sefiros tried to squeeze some joy from his black mood, and failed miserably. When his eyes passed his mortal companions all he saw were tombstones.

  Eventually they all left, back to their times and places, returning to loved ones and lives of boring mediocrity; the last a great relief compared to the grand adventures completed. At last Sefiros and Dana were alone.

  “Why so glum? We just saved the planet!” Sefiros was like stone. He had to be, to survive the next few minutes.

  It happened quickly. Dana was burbling questions of a possible destination when a great pain bent her double, hands clawing on the rails for support. Sefiros didn’t come to her side. If he did he might cry, and he had run out of tears a long time ago.

  “It’s the ranid.” Dana stood under her own power now, though a trembling hand on her brow told an incredible pain. “I can feel it burning. Oh gods, it hurts.”

  “Dana –”

  “Shut it. Just shut it.” Her eyes were bright with desperation. “Don’t think this is your fault, you loon. It’s not.”

  But it was. Had chance not conspired to throw them together Dana would be happily wed, with the same passion and fire that had seen her through the terrible trials without so much as a scar. And now look at her. Her own mind dying with secrets too hot for the mortal mind to handle. All because of me.

  “Don’t you even think it.” Now it was Dana holding his shoulders, her eyes locked with his, shining with determination. “The Realms needs you, Sefiros. It needs you whatever it wants you or not.”

  “No one should have to die because of me.” The last was a strangled yelp as Dana’s hands came up to twist his ears. “What—”

  “Shut it. You think you are poison? You are not. I’m proof. You changed me. I was a self-serving, arrogant fool who thought there was nothing beyond my own aims. I was so angry all the time. Angry at my parents, angry at the world. And then you came along. You opened the universe for me. I can never repay you for that.”

  I can never repay you for changing me. Only the words refused to come out; the fire in his throat wouldn’t let him. Then a twitch seized everything in his mind and threw it out the window. Possibilities skimmed the surface of his mind, building in intensity until one final solution shone in its simplicity.

  “No.” Dana’s eyes sparkled in its usual fire. “I’m not going back. Not to that self-absolved woman.”

  “But –”

  “No, Sefiros. How many times do I have to say it?” A great shudder went through her. There wasn’t much time left. “I’d rather not existed at all than go back to being that woman again.” She gave another twist of the ears for effect. “Promise me that. I’ve never asked you for anything. Please. Promise me.”

  Damn you, girl. “I promise.”

  The disintegration began. Dana dropped to the ground as a golden light unwove the threads of her legs, glowing hotter and hotter as it consumed the rest of her body inch by inch. Within moments all there was left was her face.

  “You don’t have to be alone,” she said. “You think you do but you don’t. You have so much to share. Don’t let it die with me. Just don’t.”

  And then Dana’s face dissolved, and Sefiros Cayokite was alone yet again.

  “Goodbye Dana. Thank you.”

  Riding a horse was out of the question. A pregnant woman, riding on the saddle? The baby would be born deformed, if it managed to survive the womb. Plus, the winter was doubly dangerous to an expecting mother. If Mykel or Shayna slipped, then they could wince away the pain and resume riding. If Caryl fell, the impact would shatter the unborn child so delicately bound. And of course, the child born from a cold-possessed mother was one born with a tombstone on their shoulders. The only reasonable notion was to travel in a horse-carried wagon, and even then, the prospect had its own list of troubles.

  “She’s the best I got.” The man, Bowen in name, was talked much in the stables. The man was offense incarnate, always greased-hair and dirt-splashed and reeking of manure. Not unexpected given his profession, save for a joy for being dirty. Of course, there was the innate smugness of being an open vendor when others had closed their doors. Caryl, remember?

  “She’s the one you’re looking for, sir. Eighth-generation pony. Her great-father was Eeronus, the Champion of the Races.” He paused, expecting a local’s awe at the title and tightened his mouth when the ploy failed. “I’ve got an entire litter with her. Every one of them a favorite at the race track.”

  Mykel was a statute, grim-faced and struggling not to betray his ineptness. A thousand thousand stories he had read of horses, but beyond the yellowed pages the librarian didn’t know a pony from a warhorse. And then there was a cast to the merchant’s face that he knew haste was required. Then Shayna appeared with hands full of reins, guiding the horses so delicately they all but glided over the ice.

  “Oh, North-stock. Well, those I have plenty of.” Funny that he hadn’t mentioned it in the first place. “You’ve a good eye, girl. Those horses were raised in the Northlands. Enough endurance the ride the whole world and back.”

  “What is their price?” Mykel burned at the merchant’s dismissal, and then at the glimmer in his eyes now that he had decided the librarian as no more than a house servant. The horse-master looked back and forth between them, then took scroll and quill from a hidden pocket, tore the parchment away and handed the librarian the scrap.

  Mykel nearly gagged. The price was so high that he suddenly wished Orson was here to play a discount on some deal between local bloodlines. Or to rattle his swords at the too-smug horseman. Right now, both notions carried some weight. “Do you have feed?”

  “Do I have feed? Do I have feed? I have every kind of feed there is. I’ve traveled all over the world to obtain grains, wheat, even flowers.”

  “Do you have any unfrozen feed?” That from Shayna. Mykel smiled inwardly. The fat bastard thought himself more the match of a simple peasant girl. The librarian almost felt bad for him.

  “Unfrozen feed...Unfrozen feed...Yes. I think so. Wait here.” His eyes goggled when his customers followed him step for step. “I said you to wait.” For a moment, the rage filled his eyes and dispersed just as quickly upon the realization of selling himself short a customer. “I-I mean...Yes of course. Let me take you on a tour of my stable.”

  His stable had more in common with a labyrinth from the fairy-tales. The stench of horse was a thick fog here, punctuated by an errant neigh from the stables. The librarian glanced a question to Shayna, who nodded. The beasts were in good health. Most were adults. Some of them were good breeders.

  “Here we are. The feed vault.” Indeed, it looked a vault, the walls armored with tall shelves, creaking under the heavy weight of grain packages. In fact, the hay and the satchels were so similar in shade that it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended. “This feed is of my own design. Rose Petals, I call it. It makes the...The uh...” Suddenly Bowen was a little boy caught with his hand on the dessert, his eyes darting in an unexpected show of caution.

  “Their shit,” Mykel replied. “It makes their shit smell like roses.”

  Bowen blinked; whatever his faults, his mother taught him something of manners.

  “How many sacks do you have?”

  “Seven. Another three by the end of the week.” His practiced ear caught the moment of urgency in the librarian’s words and smiled. “For you, I ask five gold dragons.”

  Mykel didn’t need to weigh the twine-roped sack to know
how much coin they had, or how much the pouch would be lighter once the horses were theirs. Caryl, remember? Hesitantly Mykel emptied the small sack coin by coin. “I want six horses. All female. I’m not going to have any mating on the road.” There was little need for the warning. Whatever the gossip praised or soured at his name, it was said that Bowen kept only female mares for the aforementioned reason. Unfortunately, Mykel had to leave the specifics to Shayna. The money for the wagon wasn’t going to magically appear by itself, after all.

  ***

  He was so frail. Clothed in the white robes of his planet’s traditions, the man named Someone was the very picture of death. The face that once watched suns burn and life struggle from the oceans was cragged and wrinkled. The eyes that had beheld empires rise and fall were now too heavy with age. Air pulsed through him, but so slowly. He was dying, and Sefiros knew no sadder thing than the loss of the star’s protector.

  One eye opened, shuddering as though anvils pinned the lashes. “I thought you might come calling, Cayokite.”

  “I came as soon as I heard, Someone.”

  “You missed all the fun. A party and everything. Can you imagine a party for a funeral?” Sefiros chuckled with Someone, then wilted when the laugh became a hoarse groan that spit up as much blood as it did air. “Told them I didn’t want one, but they wouldn’t listen. “You’ve had a miracle of a life. Let us celebrate it.” The vein-lined face twisted in his youth would have been a snarl. “A celebration without the authority of the celebrated is no homage at all.”

  A homage didn’t do Someone justice. Legends and fairy-tales were only a fraction of reality. How could one sum up lives of ceaseless devotion, of tragedies averted and balances tipped, righting wrongs that the common man never knew was taken up by another? Someone had been that guardian, fighting for humanity ever since childhood.

  “It’s their way,” Sefiros said finally. “They see you, and you dying. It reminds them of their own mortality.”