by Kirby Crow
“Ser Keriss, ap kyning.” The guard lifted the heavy flap and nodded respectfully as he allowed Scarlet through. A small brazier was burning inside, curling smoke wafting upward to the egress in the domed roof.
“I never had to be announced to get into bed at the Nauhinir,” Scarlet groused, dusting a few flakes of snow from his shoulders. He turned the lamp wick up a little.
Liall was seated on a low stool, looking over a map unrolled onto his knees. The words on the painted parchment were in Sinha and Scarlet could not read them. Liall hadn’t answered him.
“Where’s your mind wandering now, wolf?”
Liall tossed the maps aside and rubbed his face. He looked tired. Shed of his armor, Liall still wore the padded gambeson over his tunic and breeches. It appeared thick and warm and Scarlet did not wonder why Liall had not taken it off. There must be a point when even Rshani get cold.
“I weary of studying border and place-names,” Liall said. “I wish these scrolls told me more about where we’re going.”
“I thought we were going to the Blackmoat.”
“We’re only stopping at the Blackmoat to re-supply. I meant after that, when we approach Ged Fanorl. I've realized that, even after fighting the Ava Thule for years, I still know very little about who my enemies are. What is their history, who are their leaders? Do they have stories, heroes, legends? I only know what others have told me. It isn’t enough to know how they think.”
“Well, is that necessary?” Scarlet sat down on a pile of furs heaped high on the bed-pallet. “I didn't know you were planning on getting so close to them. In my experience, there isn't much talking between swinging a sword and a man dying. If they’re truly as bad as you say they are and you’re set on wiping them out, why do you need to know so much? What does it matter?”
Liall looked troubled, as if there was something he would not say, some secret he was keeping. Or was that just imagination?
“Count on you to ask the difficult questions,” Liall said. “But yes, the wisdom of war teaches us that you must know your enemy to defeat him.”
“At least some of your soldiers must know these things. Why not ask there?”
“An enemy’s word is not reliable. No, I need to speak to one of them, one of the Ava Thule, and there are none.”
“Some must have been taken prisoner before,” Scarlet ventured, but Liall denied it.
“They fight too fiercely and will not be captured. I’ve seen cornered Ava Thule slit their own throats or throw themselves over a cliff before they will accept capture. Put them in a cell and they’ll starve themselves, which is a slow death. Or else they won’t drink, which is a faster one. Put them in chains and they strangle themselves with them.”
“They must have a great fear of your people, to do that.”
Liall glanced at him quickly. “Perhaps. It’s possible my people have made a habit of revenge.”
“Revenge for what?”
“It is not a pretty story, and perhaps not one I’d like you to hear.”
Scarlet felt a flash of irritation. Nothing ever changes for him. I was a boy when we met, but that’s long past. I left the boy in me behind the day Lysia was burned, the day we buried my parents in a field.
“I will not clutch my skirts and faint, ser,” Scarlet said stiffly, using a tone he borrowed from Jochi.
Liall looked surprised. “I didn’t mean to insult you. Your upbringing in Lysia was more sheltered than you realize, I think. You’ve been exposed to much of the world since you left Byzantur, but not everything.” He clenched his hands together and looked worried. “There are things you should not know, for your own sake.”
Scarlet’s irritation vanished in the face of Liall’s stark concern. He reached out to squeeze Liall's arm. The thick, quilted padding felt soft under his fingers, but Liall's muscles beneath it were like iron. “Don’t be a great ninny. I'm a lot stronger than you think.”
Liall looked no less worried, but he reluctantly began to speak. “The warmth of the growing season we have in Kalas Nauhin does not extend to the far north. In the Tribelands, the light returns for the moss and lichens to grow, and the hard grasses flourish for a short time, but beyond game and predators, there is little else. There are Rshani settlements in the north, too, beyond Uzna. Most are too far from the coast to depend on the sea. Food is scarce, and every bit of it is hoarded against the long cold. Yet, many times, it is still not enough.”
“If it’s so bad there, why don’t they just move south? They can do that, can’t they?
“Of course, but south means laws and taxes. In a city or even in the forests of a barony, the king's law would apply. Some men cannot tolerate any type of authority, and Rshani are perhaps worse about this than other folk.” Liall frowned and picked up the map again, studying it.
“You said revenge?” Scarlet prompted, knowing Liall was hoping he would just let it go.
“Revenge for what the Ava Thule are known to do to their enemies when captured,” Liall muttered. “I’ve said before that food is scarce in the far north. Rather than starve, the Ava Thule devour their captives.”
Scarlet stared. The skin of his face prickled with dawning horror. “You mean they eat...? I don’t believe that. It can’t be true. Men do not do such things, even evil men.”
“Desperate men do. Or perhaps you’re right. Maybe they cease to be men at all when they commit such atrocities, but it has happened. I’ve seen it.” His pale eyes flickered. “I’ve seen the bones of men heaped outside their camps, and the marks of teeth on them.”
Scarlet swallowed hard against a wave of nausea. “I’ve never heard of such. Never.”
“I would rather you not have heard it at all,” Liall said crossly, tossing the map aside again. He was silent for several moments, staring into the coals of the brazier.
“You’re right. I shouldn’t have asked,” Scarlet murmured. He fervently wished he hadn’t. His belly did, too.
“I did warn you,” Liall groused. He glanced at Scarlet. “Are you tired?”
“Some.” Scarlet stretched and yawned hugely, trying to shake off the lingering dread and sickness that clung to him. “The cold makes me stiff, gets into my bones. Or maybe that’s just my imagination, but it feels like it. I ought to get down from the saddle and walk every now and then.”
“You can if you want. Just keep your horse well in hand. There are things out on the ice that can spook them, and the light can play tricks on the eyes of both beasts and men. Don’t go chasing after him if he bolts.”
He certainly was not going to ask about what things, not after that story. “I won’t,” he promised. He studied the map that Liall had discarded, tracing his finger over the black lines of hills and valleys. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something that’s been much on my mind lately.”
Liall grunted. “That sounds dire.”
“It’s not. I was just wondering why, if life is so hard for Tribelanders here and they can’t make peace with your people, why don’t they just leave Rshan?”
“Why would your father not leave Lysia when he could?” Liall returned immediately.
It was hardly the same thing. “Because his father had worked that land, and his father before him. Land is more than just dirt, like the sun is more than a light in the sky. Scaja’s farm belonged to him, and he to it,” Scarlet said, stoutly believing every word. “It was a sacred trust.”
Liall chuckled. “Spoken like a Hilurin.” He sobered quickly. “Aye, the land. Perhaps the Ava Thule have reverence for that, since they seem to have none for anything else. If I ever get one to talk, I’ll let you know.”
Scarlet covered another yawn. “When’s supper? I want to eat before I fall over.”
Liall smiled and mussed Scarlet’s hair, his touch gentle. “I’m glad you’re sleeping well. Would you consider staying up a while for me?”
He wants me tonight, Scarlet realized. It made him feel warm and loved and banished the lingering darkness of his thoughts.
“I can manage that. Falling asleep is easy, but staying that way is hard. At the palace, I could just draw the curtains if the light bothered me.”
“You'll sleep,” Liall said, and winked.
He slept like the dead, and the next day's travel was easy and routine, although the land did not cease producing new wonders.
“What in Deva's name is that?” Scarlet pointed to what looked to him like a lake of black glass at the bottom of a steep valley to the east. In the center of the lake rose a dark monolith shaped like a cone pointing to the sky, perhaps fifty feet high.
“We call that a higa. It’s water and oil and black mud, frozen together,” Liall explained. “The black oil is deep underground, but there are places where it seeps out very slowly under pressure and melds with the land to forms shapes. Sometimes the shapes become covered with snow over the years, and they look like conquering giants striding over the land.”
Scarlet recoiled from it. It was too alien and strange, and he fancied he could smell it from here, a stink like a smoking lamp. “I don't like it.”
Liall slid his gloved hand fondly through Scarlet’s hair and touched the back of his neck in an intimate gesture. “Then we'll stay away from those. Did you have a pleasant night?”
He grinned. “Before I slept, or after?”
Liall tugged on a lock of Scarlet’s hair. “Before,” he whispered, his voice like a caress.
WHEN NEXT THEY CAMPED, Scarlet sat with Liall as he read his maps again. Liall’s brow furrowed with worry as Scarlet brewed a pot of che over the brazier, dropping fragrant, curled green leaves into a black iron pot.
“Do you really think you'll find an answer in there?”
Liall grunted. “It's possible. The names of the lands held by the Ava Thule offer some clues, though not many. One mountain is named after Ramung, who was exiled to the Whitehell after he was deposed. He may have survived, or they may have another hero named Ramung, or perhaps the light on the mountain is simply red.”
“Ramung means red? Like keriss?”
“Ra means red. It's a root-form. Raja means deep red or crimson.”
“Or Scarlet,” Scarlet grinned, taking up a cloth to wrap around the iron handle.
Liall yawned and folded the map. He put it aside. “Or Scarlet,” he agreed. “Though you're named for the flame-flower. My lady mother initially suggested Raja, but Keriss suits you better.”
Scarlet poured che into two rounded, iron cups and brought one to Liall. Liall smiled his thanks and sipped it. “You’ve put honey in this.”
“Only for you. I know you like sweet che when you're tired.” Scarlet sat on the deep pallet next to Liall and pulled one of the furs over his legs. “So, what does Ramung mean?”
“Red arrow, or red dart, depending on how you see it. Maybe even red death, considering his reign. He was not a good ruler or a kind man. There were many deaths while he straddled his stolen throne. It's him I have to thank for thinning out my ancestors.”
Scarlet hadn't known that. “Was he an evil king?”
“More like a desperate king, with a fragile hold on his crown and a claim to it as thin as spider silk. He got lucky once and seized power, but he couldn't hold it while surrounded by enemies. When people are desperate to live, they will do anything. The Ava Thule are raiders, but like Ramung they prey on their own kind as well.” Liall drained his cup and set it aside. “Do you know what Ava Thule means in Sinha? It means frost rider.”
“What do they ride?”
“Dragons, if you believe the old tales. They weren’t horses, but saura.”
Scarlet shook his head. “I’ve not heard of those. What's a saura look like?” He stumbled over the unfamiliar name.
“You know what wyrms are? They are—” A man arrived at the ger flap and slapped it several times to announce himself. “What is it?” Liall called.
Theor poked his head inside. His beard was rimed with frost. “Sire? We’ve captured one of them.”
Liall threw back the furs at once and rose. “There was an Ava Thule inside the camp?”
Theor gestured with the blade point of his axe. “On the outer ring of the patrol. The trackers thought they heard a wolf. They tracked a wolf’s prints, but when they trailed it back to a cave, it was no wolf they found.”
Liall’s jaw went tight. He glanced at Scarlet.
“Seems a bit lucky,” Scarlet opined. “You were wanting to talk to one of them.”
“I don’t trust luck.” Liall pulled a heavy cloak around his shoulders. “I won’t call it luck, either. I’ve had a feeling for days that something was following us.”
Scarlet stood up, too. “May I come?” He could see that Liall’s first impulse was to refuse.
Liall shrugged. “If you like. Keep silent, though. And don’t get too close.”
Scarlet donned his cloak and gloves, wrapping a thick scarf around his mouth and nose against sudden gusts of wind. Back in Sul, when the air was still, the warming spring weather had been no worse than a Byzantur winter. The further north they rode, the colder it got. Liall said spring had fully arrived now, but Scarlet had seen little he could call warm weather since coming to Rshan, and none at all since they left Sul.
We are riding away from light and life, he thought, but the misty sun, like a giant glowing pearl low in the sky, never left them now.
Outside, the sky was a tinge bluer than it had been at Starhold, almost the color of a wall of ice Liall had pointed out some days ago. Scarlet followed as a small company of guards gathered around Liall and escorted him to the rear perimeter of the camp.
As they walked, Scarlet had a worrying thought that it was all far too convenient: the enemy spy showing up as if wished into existence, and Liall being led away from the soldiers sworn to protect him with only a detachment of guardsmen. He glanced at the guards around them, noting that most men watched the king, but a few were close on his heels, eyes for him alone. Liall’s orders, he thought, and wondered how many times Liall had given secret instructions for his protection. Many times, if he knew Liall, who left very few matters to chance. Or to luck, he thought. He doesn’t trust fortune, fate, nor kinsmen. Only my love. The thought warmed him against the cold.
“This way, sire.” Theor carefully led them away from the column and off the road into the bare snow, glancing back several times, as if even he feared to leave the safety of the Ancient’s path.
They approached an oddly-shaped boulder nestled at the foot of small black ridge that seemed to be made of flint or coal. It glittered like quartz but appeared as brittle as shale. New-fallen flakes of it lay all around in the snow.
The spy was on his knees, a ring of soldiers with spears around him, standing proudly as if they had brought down a bear. The men parted for Liall.
Liall barked something in Sinha at the captive, his tone commanding.
Scarlet stared curiously at the captive. The prisoner was a thin, lank man with some years on him, grizzled and whiskered, his brown face lined as an old glove, the grimy ends of his white hair flat on his shoulders. He was clad in a motley of faded leather and fur held together with sinew, and stank with a heavy, brassy stench that reminded Scarlet of the higa they had seen. Overall, not a whit like the fearsome Ava Thule warriors the Rshani were so eager to kill.
“Why are you out here all alone, old father?” Scarlet asked gently. “What’s your name?”
Liall hissed in irritation. “I told you to be silent.”
“I have none,” the captive answered in coarse Byzan, surprising Scarlet. “I gave it to the wind, same as my children and woman and all my years. Gone now. Taken by the cold. You’ll get the same, mighty king. Wind and ice; that’s all for you here.”
Scarlet pulled his fur cloak around him tighter and looked down on the man, and he had a surge of pity for this old, battered creature alone among enemies.
The raider slowly raised his head and looked at Scarlet, smiling slyly. He had a few teeth left, and eyes so narrow they were merely
slits with a splash of pale blue.
“Pik, that’s me. Old Pik, they call me.” He looked at Scarlet and those strange eyes glittered with either malice or delight. “It is you, eh? The wind told me you’d come. Didn’t believe it at first, me. But then I saw the line of torches snaking through the valley, like a serpent of fire. That’s what the wind said: that the fire would bring you, and you’d burn us the way back.”
Scarlet took a step closer. “Back to what? Tell me, I won’t hurt you.”
“Scarlet,” Liall warned.
“Back to the beginning,” Pik crooned. “Back to the days when all men were free and knew their power.” Without warning—and faster than his aged appearance would credit—Pik lunged at Scarlet, arms outstretched, fingers hooked to claws to rend and tear.
Quicker than a deer, Scarlet was out of reach, and the guards leapt on Pik and beat him back to his knees.
What power?
Liall took Scarlet by the shoulder and hustled him well away from the captive’s reach. “I’ve told you what they’re like,” he scolded. “You know nothing of these vermin and what they’re capable of. He could have killed you before anyone could stop him. Be silent, I say.”
Pik’s dry laughter, cold as a frozen branch, tittered around them. “I won’t eat the quick one, no fear. Too wee. Too stringy. But it’s said that the blood of an Anlyribeth turns old bones to young, heals the sick. He could spare a little for me.” Pik turned his attention to Liall, and his features turned mean and sullen. “Oh, but you’d make a right royal meal for some, you would. Yes indeed, king. There’s red king in the mountain will suck your sweet bones right up.” Another round of tittering laughter echoed hollowly around them.
Scarlet stared. The red king.
Liall strode to the prisoner. His bare fist crashed against Pik’s jaw. The old man slumped instantly. Liall pointed at Scarlet. “Guards. Escort ser Keriss safely back to my ger.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“You’ll do as you’re told.”
“Oh, will I?” But Liall wouldn’t look at him. The king’s face was closed, as if iron doors had slammed shut on everything Scarlet was familiar with. “What’s happening to you, Liall?” Scarlet demanded.
