The Phoenix of Kiymako

by Ashley Capes

  Chapter 25

  The forest of Yalinamo stretched before them on the horizon; a dark green line beneath the blue, distant yet, though Never expected to reach the trees before nightfall. If strange, disappearing guards or the Three Hammers didn’t delay them. So far, the only people Never had passed on the eastern highway were travellers or merchants, most leading long wagon trains with extensions to carry piles of bamboo or other timber.

  Ayuni had seemed more composed when they’d set out. He’d asked Muka to let her sleep through and now she was standing in her saddle, shading her eyes against the bright sun. “I think I see a road-side temple ahead. I’d like to visit it to pray.”

  “Is that safe?” Never asked.

  “Such temples are tiny – two rooms only, for travellers. I don’t think I’ve ever visited it... but if you think it’s too dangerous, I understand.”

  He looked to Muka then back to Ayuni. “You two know the Temples better than I. What are the risks?”

  “Communication between the temples is swift. At a stretch, it’s possible a roadside shrine like this will have means to communicate with Mondami or Yalinamo,” Muka said.

  “You mean the opals?” Never asked.

  “Yes. Though contrary to the rumours you may have heard, not every temple has them,” he said.

  “All the divine temples and city temples do,” Ayuni said. “Many others also, but few road-side temples. They are too valuable to risk.”

  Never untied his charm and handed it to her. “Just to be safe.”

  “I will be swift,” she said.

  When they reached the shrine, which was as she’d described, small, with a low roof and a statue of the Phoenix at the entrance, Ayuni ducked within. Never kept his hood raised and positioned Muka between himself and the windows. Perhaps an ineffective precaution if he’d already been marked but why invite trouble if he hadn’t? There was plenty of trouble around without him seeking it.

  “What can we expect in Yalinamo?” Never asked Muka as he watched a tiny robin hop across the statue, pecking at insects as it did.

  “It is similar to most Kiymako cities. The temples are a major force and the Isansho works with them more often as not. But Yalinamo folk are close to the forest and the hin that inhabit it.”

  Hin. The word was familiar, hadn’t Hanael said it was like Marlosi for spirit? “How so?”

  “Some people have contracts with the hin – in exchange for being fed, the hin will perform certain tasks for them. The task might be finding a lost item, helping a garden grow or even cleaning and other duties of the house.”

  Never raised an eyebrow. “Cleaning? What are they being paid?”

  “Lunai.”

  “Isn’t that dangerous?”

  “They usually do not need much to perform their tasks – and without it, they wouldn’t be able to in any event. The Temple believes the hin are actually manifestations of excess lunai to begin with, and that centuries of human attention and interaction have given the hin some manner of sentience.”

  “No-one has ever spoken of this to me before; I’m quite curious.”

  “I believe in Hanik and Vadiya, people call the hin by another name and think of them only as children’s stories from ‘that strange island’ across the sea,” Muka said. He frowned a moment. “Fairies, I think is the word they say.”

  “In Marlosa we have them too, and they are said to make the wheat ripen during harvest, but it is a tale for children.”

  “Well, the hin are real, and no doubt you will see them,” Muka said.

  Ayuni appeared in the doorway. She wore a serene expression now as she hurried across the road to return the fang. Did she truly feel better or was she hiding her pain? Doubtless she’d had to do so for most of her life. “The temple was empty.”

  “Is that something we need to worry about?” Never asked.

  “No, not all road-side temples are attended each day.”

  “Someone from one of the villages probably visits,” Muka added.

  Never slipped the fang over his head and hid it beneath his tunic before urging his horse forward once more. “Good. Let’s cover a little ground then, I want to reach Yalinamo or anywhere with hot food and a proper bed.”

  The sun was starting its long dive when they finally reached the edge of the Yalinamo Forest. It reared up, a mighty wall of dark pine trees, needles still in the dying warmth of late afternoon. The road drove in straight and true, eventually lost in shadows at the limits of Never’s view.

  And flanking the entry were two mighty trunks, their tops missing, standing like giant pillars. Even so, they still rose half a dozen storeys high and would have measured nearly as wide as a house.

  “The Red Gates,” Muka said. “Said to have been cut and set in place by the Green God to welcome us to his abode. In myth, there were once arches of golden thread spun between them and any who climbed to the top was rewarded with an audience with him, where he would, if you were found worthy, grant you a single boon.”

  “Had anyone climbed it?” Never asked.

  “It is said that none could do so, for earthly hands were too coarse, earthly bodies too heavy. The arches broke one by one under the stubbornness of humanity until they were all gone and then no-one could try ever again.”

  “Ah. Sad but unsurprising, I think.”

  “Within, the highway will eventually turn north to Yalinamo. We have four, five days before we reach it.”

  “And how many opportunities to be ambushed again?”

  “Many. If the Hammers truly do know where we are then this will be a dangerous next few days,” Muka said.

  “It might be a chance to lay a trap of our own,” Never said.

  “Any ideas?” Muka asked as they rode between the trunks.

  “Not yet but give me time.”

  The air beneath the trees was cooler, the shade welcome, though patches of light were still plentiful as the trees did not clump together until further in. Now, on the edges of the forest, there were plenty of gaps between the large pines, fewer saplings and a heavy covering of old needles on the ground, smothering undergrowth.

  The swift warbling of robins filled the branches as they rode.

  “Peaceful,” Never said after a time.

  Occasionally they passed branching trails, some faint, some well-used. Ayuni knew what lay at the end of each, be it village, ruin, or bamboo farm. “I used to see them through the bars of my window,” she said. “Once they told me which path led where, I would memorise them to make the trip seem faster.”

  Before full dark they found a well-concealed campsite between the trees. The forest had grown steadily thicker as they travelled, enough that there was no clear line of sight from their camp and the highway.

  All of which suited Never fine as he sifted through the greying ashes of an old campfire. A melted piece of steel caught in the shape of a horseshoe lay within, perhaps it had been a necklace once. He tossed it into the pine needles and started arranging twigs and smaller branches for their own fire.

  “Tomorrow we can take a bed at the Blueberry Inn,” Muka said. “I know the owner, she will treat us well.”

  “Will we place her in danger by staying there?” Ayuni asked. “I’ve not heard the Hammers to be careless, but I would still worry.”

  “She is a strong woman, but I will warn her. Like you, I have only ever heard of the Hammers as being creatures of dread precision.”

  Ayuni drew forth a pot and skillet ‒ part of the goods they’d been afforded by the generosity of Fuda ‒ and handed them to Never. “Get the pan hot; I think we have some eggs here.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She waved a carrot at him, fixing Muka with a look too. “And this time you better let me do my share. I’ll take the first watch, no arguments.”

  Never raised his hands and
Muka offered his faint smile.

  Chapter 26

  The village of Tisura appeared nearer to the image in Never’s vision of his father, with half the homes resting aground, and the other half suspended in the trees and connected via bamboo walkways with hand rails. Coloured ribbon had been tied to the walkways, hanging before the buildings, bright beneath the morning light. The colours were grouped together and seemed to mark different parts of the village; even the Blueberry Inn – which rested on the ground below – bore a flag of dark blue over its entry.

  A few villagers greeted them as they approached the inn, many of whom were heading into the woods with axes and saws. Muka led them to the inn’s stable, where he paid the stable hand to care for their horses, then he took them into the common room, where a softly spoken monk sat before a group of children, who were in turn, seated on the floor.

  “And after that night, said to be the longest night, the Phoenix was reborn and rose from the scorched land and the great bird of fire took to the skies then, and flames dripped from each wing, falling down upon the people.”

  A little boy gasped.

  The monk smiled. “Worry not, Haon. For the people did not burn – do you know what happened?”

  He shook his head, but two other children raised hands. “I know, Brother Wikaru, please?”

  “Very well.”

  “The sparks went into everyone’s heart.” One young lad beamed.

  “Exactly,” Brother Wikaru said. “And those sparks became the kindness and caring that we all have within us.”

  “Even old Piromon?” another child asked.

  “Yes. And it’s up to us to keep the spark alive by caring for those around us, our family and friends, and fellow villagers.”

  A fine sentiment, but not one that would survive childhood. Never couldn’t prevent a twinge of sadness at the sight of their earnest little faces.

  The door creaked open and a greying woman approached Brother Wikaru.

  He met her gaze and smiled. “Greetings, Fuo. Do you seek me to share your gratitude?”

  “Yes, Brother.”

  “I will be but a moment longer.”

  “I’ll find Teyeon,” Muka said softly, heading toward a door that presumably led to the kitchen. As he did, Ayuni took a chair to listen to the monk but Never drifted to one of the windows, at the sound of a commotion in the street.

  Two men were arguing over a broken crate. Melons littered the street; it seemed one man had walked into the other without realising. The argument began to ease somewhat, though the two men still had not reached an agreement, it was the fellow standing just beyond them that caught Never’s eye.

  The disappearing guard.

  The same sombre expression rested on his face but now the young man wore clothing more suited to a monk; and bore no weapons. He gave Never a small nod, then moved on from the argument, slipping between two houses and heading into the trees.

  “I’ll be back soon,” Never told Ayuni and dashed for the door.

  He ran across the street, avoiding the arguing pair as he followed the mysterious man’s trail. The houses flashed by, the rasp of a saw and scent of fresh pine fleeting as he stumbled onto a dirt crossroad. One path led up behind the row of homes and the other into the trees.

  Brother Morose stood at some ways along the trail, resting against a trunk.

  “Hey!” Never started forward and the man turned into the forest. Never quickened his pace, scratching his hand in his haste, before sliding to a halt before the tree. If the fellow was working with the Hammers, this was a fine way to lead Never away from Muka and Ayuni. Never drew a blade and resumed his pursuit, a little slower now, with one ear on his surroundings.

  But there were no sounds beyond his own footfalls, no birds – and even the village seemed to have fallen under a cloak of silence as clouds covered the sun.

  The faintest suggestion of a trail led Never deeper into the wood – and still no sign of the blasted man. Here, fallen branches were strewn across the forest floor and shrubs were pushing through the covering of needles. He climbed onto a grey log, then dropped into a crouch.

  A pile of clothing sat before Never, a monk’s dark green robe against the brown needles.

  Yet the forest was empty.

  Never crept forward. A small clearing lay ahead; he pushed between a sloping pair of trunks and found clear ground before an altar. It was no more than a square construction of large logs, now turning to rot but on its top stood a figure of carven stone.

  The statue was that of a woman with a lovely smile, her face upturned to the sky, expression of peace so vivid that Never had to admire the sculptor. But it wasn’t her face that captivated him, it was her wings. They spread behind her, in a glorious span that seemed as though they were wings of fire not feather.

  As he stared, a flicker of movement appeared at the edge of his vision – a green butterfly with two yellow spots. It flitted closer, alighting on his hand, grazing the blood from his scratch. And then it flew away, disappearing into the trees.

  He frowned.

  Why had the phantom man led him here?

  Never turned a slow circle but there was no doubt, he was the only one in the clearing.

  ***

  “He disappeared, completely,” Never explained where he sat with Ayuni and Muka in his room. He gestured to the robe. “That’s all he left behind; I found it near the altar.”

  “The Phoenix as a woman,” Muka said. “An unpopular belief among those placed high in the Temple now. In my childhood, it was much more common to see the Phoenix carved so.”

  “I would love to visit it, if we get the chance,” Ayuni said, her eyes alight with curiosity.

  Muka moved to the window, parting the curtains enough to see into the street. “As we leave perhaps. Which I am now unsure of when that should be.”

  “Our ghostly friend doesn’t seem to have anything to do with the Hammers,” Never said.

  “It seems less likely now.”

  “We had planned to resupply here and continue on – can we reach the next village before nightfall?” Never asked.

  “If we eat swiftly.”

  “That’s still probably the best choice, isn’t it?”

  “I had wanted to use the inn as a haven to gather information. I hate being blind to the Hammer’s movements,” he said.

  “The Temple might know,” Ayuni said. “I’m sure either of us could pass as monks if needed.”

  “Such a thought had crossed my mind,” he replied.

  “Would a smaller village like Tisura have such informed monks?” Never asked. “Even with the opals? I can’t imagine Hiruso contacting the temple here to let them know where he’s sent the Hammers.”

  “True, but the opals are less a direct communication and more of a shared... pool of knowledge,” Muka said. “Monks can draw from whatever is shared by the Grand Temple in Mondami.”

  “I see.” Never grinned. “Then it looks like we’re heading to worship, doesn’t it?”

  “I’m not sure Iri’s charm is that strong, Never,” Muka said.

  “Hmmm. The temple would certainly be an unpleasant place to discover the fang’s limitations.”

  Ayuni nodded. “It would be safer for you here.”

  “Probably,” Never said. The very same thought echoed in his head but he did not express it aloud; he had to trust her. “But if you expect me to simply sit and be, then you’re fools. I’ll handle the supplies.”

  “Start with Teyeon,” Muka said. “She’ll know the best merchants.”

  “Right. Watch over each other,” he said as they started toward the door. He followed them into the hall and to the now empty common room where he had to unclench his jaw and force his feet to stay put.

  Stay, idiot.

  The inclination to keep Ayuni in sight w
as the very thing that would put her in danger if he let it.

  “Well then, can I feed you?”

  Never turned to the bar. A tall woman leant on the wood, smiling. Her hair was shaven high like most women he’d seen, tied up in something of a topknot. However, her tunic revealed her upper arms, which bore their share of old scars.

  “Teyeon?”

  “I am. And you’re Muka’s friend? You’re worried about the girl.”

  “My sister.”

  “Well, don’t be. Muka won’t let anything happen to her. Sit.”

  Never did as she offered. “I trust him but it’s hard not to be the older brother.”

  “Well, let him take that role for now.”

  “Did I mention where they’re going?”

  “I heard you speaking before,” Teyeon said, her expression still one of confidence. “Here, take a drink of this.” She knelt, and the sound of bottles clinking followed. When she rose, she held a bottle of clear liquid that slid within the glass, almost slow, as though it were thicker than most alcohols.

  She poured a small cup for him. “A moment longer.”

  Teyeon then produced a small circular tin. Pale powder rested within and she sprinkled it into the drink, stirring it with a spoon. A vivid blue swirled, chasing the spoon as she worked.

  “This will help.”

  He lifted it and inhaled. A sour scent. “By keeping me wide awake? This is batena in here, isn’t it?”

  “Right. And the clear liquid is sometimes called Smiling Fool.”

  Never had to laugh; for he sensed no guile from her. “So what are you trying to do to me?”

  “Take your mind off your worries.”

  “Let’s see how that goes then,” he said as he lifted the cup. The first taste was sharp and sour, and the texture bordered on unpleasant. But he took a bigger drink and found himself smiling by the time he set the cup back down. “I see what you mean.”

  Teyeon laughed. “There you go.”

  She told him several stories about her time as a warrior, how it helped when it came to dealing with drunks as an innkeeper, and once, a particularly persistent admirer. It seemed she’d known Muka a long time, they’d trained together but both left the Temple due to changes brought about by Brother Hiruso, not in the least, supplanting Wanatek with Isansho Shika.